#ive been working on this bit by bit whenever i had free time and stared at it so often it kinda got on my nerves.lerts just let it go

[ba1laur]

the chimera

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

[umbrarkzoo]

work was slow so i wrote a short story about my human au with a prompt requested by my friend- she wanted to see puppet and lefty kind of reconciling/getting along

“I’m really mad at you”

“I know.”

“I have frequent thoughts about hurting you.”

“I know.”

“You don't even have to be doing anything, your existence just fills me with rage.”

“I kn-”

“You know. And you do nothing about it. You never do anything.”

“I don't.”

There was a long pause, and upon realizing her cage was not going to retaliate, the woman loudly groaned in annoyance. God he was such a pain in the ass. Never did anything except blink once in a while, or play his stupid songs to “calm her down”. Well she wasnt calm! Who could be calm after being kidnapped? Much less in the company of such a boring person. 

Okay in his defense hes not realy himself is he Mari? She thought to herself

I dont give a fuck whatever he is - his company SUCKS

….

It sucks so bad im arguing with myself just for some entertainment. God screw this guy. 

Maybe he knew she was in a bad mood and thats why he let her out - “just for a couple minutes” he said…

“You make very strong facial expressions when you’re thinking. I wonder what youre thinking about?” The man said, his yellow eye tearing into the empty black voids she called her eyes.

oh now he wants to talk.

…

“I was thinking about how much you need to work on your staring problem, you look stupid….and creepy.” She responded- baring her sharp teeth at him.

“It’s a requirement of my job.” He responded, emotionless. 

“To look like a fucking creep?” 

“Well that… I guess… and to look after you. Always” He paused, as though in thought. “Especially after all those stunts you’ve pulled in the past.” He sounded a little annoyed. Interesting…

“Yeah well - sorry but im not about to make your job easier when it comes at the expenses OF MY OWN FUCKING FREE WILL” she yelled into his ear - just to once again get no reaction.

“You’ll get it back.” The man responded as though his ears and head were not ringing currently. 

“The time we spend together is only temporary, maybe one day you'll look back on this experience and find it was somewhat enjoyable? Just relax a bit…. For both of our sake. “

The woman was about to yell at him again for his ridiculous and very delusional suggestion, but decided she should spare her already raspy voice from more abuse. Silent treatment it was if he wanted to be an ass. 

His brow furrowed just slightly at her unusual reaction - or lack of.

“Well if it makes you that uncomfortable, I'll focus my eyes on other things from time to time. No promises if you make another escape attempt though.”

Still silence. 

“I’ll give you more time out of the “cage” too?”

Silence. 

“Okay that was messed up to say-”

“RAAAAAAAGHHHHHH CAN YOU EVER JUST SAY SOMETHING USEFUL” she betrayed her poor vocal chords but jesus this guy can never just-

Okay no, you need to calm down mari. Be calm. He is your captor- he is unpredictable. One minute hes a literal blank piece of paper and the next he starts acting like he has a personality-You know that. Hes never genuine so dont give in. Dont get angry, maybe he wants that. Be calm. Be caaaalm. 

“Ahem…” she paused. “Nevermind. Maybe its better that you stay mute.”

The man blinked.

“Oh so thats why youre mad. Ive been keeping you in the dark haven’t i?” 

….

“Yeah. literally too.” 

Okay did he smile a little just now or am i going insane-

“Well…” He started. “I suppose I could make your experience less boring by answering some questions. Just as long as you dont tell the Security Puppet or Mr. Emily-”

“Tell me about mr. emily please!” She wasted no time. There was something about that man in particular, something off. She felt so hurt whenever she saw him even though she had no idea who he was. 

“I.. Please tell me. Im not gonna say anything. Hes your boss right?”

The man looked to his side briefly, as though he was pondering something. 

“You could say that.”

“And hes the reason why im here right? Hes the one who asked for me to be here?”

“Well, he didn't really know about this whole… situation… until recently. The Security Puppet. That stripped lady. Shes the one who wanted you from the start. For Henry.”

“Oh….his name is Henry Emily?” She looked to the floor.

“Why does that sound…so familiar?” she whispered

If she had looked up, she would have noticed the very noticeable expression of discomfort that plastered itself on the larger man. He was in a great conflict with himself whether he should tell this woman everything or stick to what he was created to do. 

He ultimately stuck to the latter and remained silent. 

Screw finding answers right now, her heart started hurting. Why did she feel like she wanted to cry? She needed a distraction. If this guy saw her crying - he’d probably use it against her…

————

“Okay and that bitch who stole my look then. She created you?”

What a comment. He almost wanted to laugh. But he had to stay stoic…

“Yes,” A pause. “She is indeed the bitch who created me.” Well he could break a little bit of character one in a while. He deserved to treat himself at least a little. 

And now he wanted to laugh even harder seeing the surprised face on the small woman. He deserves a raise for how much composure he has really.. That is, if he was even getting paid in the first place. 

“Okay then….” she furrowed her brows at him. “So if I was to extract revenge on everybody whoose ever wronged me.. She would be a perfect target then, right?”

Okay now he was really starting to like this girl. If only he could drop his persona and offer to help her.

“Well she did kill me for the sole purpose of capturing you.” He internally smirked at her gasp of horror, “disemboweled me and did cruel experiments on my body for this mission. Im pretty sure Im going to get incinerated after I’ve completed this job too,” He said nonchalantly to the look of horror and rage that was forming on the womans face. If he couldn't hurt SP himself, he could at least give this captee more encouragement to do it for him, “All of this was her idea anyway, so I suppose that yes, she would be an ideal target. Though you didn't hear that from me.”

—————

Wtf….oh god no wonder this guys so weird- hes just like me!! And that BITCH shes just like william! William….. Oh that name…

——————

Her raged expression calmed itself, to the disappointment of the large man. Maybe it was immature but he was somewhat hoping shed explode right then and there and make him take her to the security puppet where he could witness a good show…. maybe join in if the brainwashing fully went away….

“You poor thing….” now her expression was turning somber. “You poor, poor man…” Tears began to form in her eyes.

Okay he wasnt expecting this….should he have kept his mouth shut?

Her shoulders started to shake and he could hear faint whimpers as she tried to control her emotions. She curled into a ball before him and started shaking back and forth.

….yeah he should have just kept his mouth shut.

“Theyre still doing this to us…” She muffled as her hands covered her face, “it must have hurt you so much… what she did to you…what they did to us,.....”

“Ummm” How was he supposed to approach this….. he didnt know she could cry.

“..how many more deaths will it take for this nightmare to end” She cried out. “DAMN HER!! DAMN THEM ALL!!!” her sobbing became louder

He really did not know what to do right now- wow this took a sudden turn.

“My friends, my family… I lost them all because of monsters like her….”

oh

“Im lost now you know. My brother…Fred…he’s not here to guide me anymore…That green man burnt them all”

OH.

“And im just a shell of myself now… I dont think Ill ever be able to leave it…. I lost them.. I think it was ‘99? What year is it anymore…”

“2017.” he blurted out, almost immediately regretting it. 

“Oh.” 

It was a rhetorical question wasn't it?

—————

The shock she was in distracted her from her pain at least. She just layed there, exhausted from her outburst, staring at the night sky before her. 

She just kept breaking her promises to herself. Now this man knew her vulnerabilities. And honestly, she didnt care anymore.

She didnt want to be paranoid. She didnt want to be angry. Not at him, not at Security Puppet, not at ….henry, not even at william. She was so tired of feeling. Numbness was all she wanted.

————

The man just sat next to her and looked up with her. It was a beautiful night. They could forget what just transpired for now, for both their sake. She was embarrassed in a way, but he didnt seem to hold anything against her.

I dont think he’s all that capable of judging me anyway.

A long time had passed, the woman's tears subsiding, though her messy makeup marked her pain for all to see. 

They sat in silence for the next couple of hours, until the man spoke up.

“Miss?”

She hummed in acknowledgement.

“What do you want me to call you if not Ch- if not that other name.”

….

“Just call me Puppet for now.”

Another minute of silence.

“And what should I call you?” She asked. 

It was about time they both introduced themselves properly anyway.

“.....Lefty” He responded rather sheepishly. 

…..

“Lefty?”

“Yeah?”

“You have a really stupid name.”

Away from her vision, he grinned at the sparkling sky. 

“I know.”

[cat3ch1sm]

Hi again!! Wow it's really cool that you do take requests, but first off, the L fic you wrote recently was really nice❤❤I can't wait for part 2!!

As for my request, could I request an angst/fluff with L where both the reader and he like each other, but he doesn't want to confess bc he doesn't think love is his cup of tea. And then they get into an argument or sth, which results in reader growing a tad bit distant from him. He ends up missing them more than he had thought he would, and when he can't bear it (or when he fears almost losing them, say bc of Kira or to another person), he finally confesses?

I hope it wouldn't be too much of a bother❤❤

💚|PLS THANK U FOR THIS

🐸|and it's no problem at all!! ive got way too much time on my hands lately so :D

🐢|this story does mention blushing? and ik i have some dark-skinned readers out there, like me lol, so feel free to just ignore that. i was only trying to make it cute lol;)

🍀|anyways i hope u like it reader! <33

・❥・・❥・・❥・

He knew you were fond of him.

It had been a couple of months, and at first you had tried to hide it. But the signs were getting more obvious; the little hiccups here and there in your usual behavior.

You fiddled more with your tie around him, you didn't really make eye contact as firmly as you used to. He'd noticed the little smiles that would appear on your lips whenever he was nearby and the way your cheeks flushed a dainty shade of pink whenever he spoke to you.

And to be honest- it was pathetic.

Your attempts to hide it had been pathetic. The way you had started to act around him was pathetic. Every time you blushed, or fidgeted, or lowered your eyes, he found it pathetic. Your even developing feelings for someone you were working with was pathetic. L should never had started feeling the way about you that he did.

But no- L liked you. Loved you, even. He had noticed it in the longer gazes at you than usual, the slight but strange sensation in the pit of his stomach whenever you smiled at him or laughed at his sarcastic quips (when you didn't match them with a smart-ass remark of your own)-dare he say- butterflies? At times, he'd find himself turning away from you to hide the own dusting of red across his almost white cheeks. His toes curled tighter when you blew by him and his heart rate slightly picked up.

He was just as pitiful as you were.

He didn't know why, or how- which drove him mad; he could solve cases the FBI couldn't, figure out solutions to problems even the most advanced thinkers couldn't, and yet he was completely unable to comprehend how he had fallen for you, he couldn't figure out something as seemingly simple as love. How had you, and you alone, managed to jilt him so much that he often spent several minutes idly staring at his computer, the only thoughts running through his head of you? Your beauty, your determined and unyielding personality- even the way you moved was mesmerizing.

He was a methodical person, too much so to be thinking like this. You were a waste of time. Love was a waste of time. L was a detective. This was not a fitting role for him.

But the subtle longing for you, deep in his chest- it was beginning to grow a bit difficult to contain. L had never once felt like this before for anybody. Sometimes, he found himself wanting to hold you, to caress you and feel your soft lips on his own.

He was going out of his mind.

L would simply have to push those feelings for you aside, in the back of his head- until they dissolved, and he could feel like himself again. They couldn't be that much of a threat- could they? But how long would that take? And did he even want to do that?

Well, what else was L to do? He was certainly never going to confess- that was suicide. To his ego, anyway. Even if you did like him back- no. Absolutely not. And what about-

"Ryuzaki?"

L's train of thought crashed as he snapped out of them to see you, a few feet in front of him, staring at him with a puzzled look on your face. "Are you alright?"

L opened his mouth to speak- but the words seemed to get jammed in his throat for a second or two before coming out. "Yes, I'm alright? Why do you ask?" He cleared his throat and hugged his knees tighter to his chest, trying to regain his composure. Agh. He needed to get rid of you, or this attraction to you, somehow.

"Well, it's just, you've been staring at me for a while now. I'm guessing you were just spaced out, but I thought I'd check."

There it was- the blush. L let his eyes rest on your rosy cheeks for a bit before looking up to meet your gaze again. "Yes, I suppose I was a bit preoccupied. My apologies, Y/N." And before you could see L's face heat up, he quickly turned away and resumed furiously typing on his computer, despite losing track of what he was actually doing.

Damn.

There were several more interactions like these in the weeks that followed this one- always ending in one or the other losing their composure regardless of their attempts to conceal it or prevent it.

And L was slowly losing it.

How were you so- so- maddening? And yet addicting? Without even doing anything? And why was this so hard to figure out? The question was so damn simple. Why was L in love with you?

But, still no answer came. The flutters in his stomach had turned into near nausea whenever you talked to him, touched him slightly- and that idiot blush of yours. It was wretched how much he adored how flustered you grew around him. The sheer emotional attachment he felt to you was actually angering.

Again he was mulling over these things in his swivel chair, working tirelessly as usual. It was late at night and the members of the task force had gone home to their families. Only you and L were left at the headquarters, and you were preparing to leave.

L did not look over at you as you stood up, slinging your classy black bag over your shoulders and pushing your chair in neatly beneath the table. He heard you sigh a little before he felt you pass him, make your way behind him. Involuntarily, L felt his body stiffen upon feeling your body behind him.

"Alright, Ryuzaki- I'll be heading home now. I think perhaps you should start wrapping things up, too... it isn't healthy to be up this late every day." The tips of your fingers brushed his shoulder lightly- and L tensed so much his shoulders rose up to his ears.

The dam was breaking.

"Please, do not touch me," L told you. His words were somewhat choppy and tone sharp- and his icy demeanor surprised you, and you withdrew your hand as if L was a hot pan handle.

"I'm... sorry," you mumbled, clenching the fist you had touched L with beside your hip. "Look, are you really okay or-"

"Y/N, I am fine. Please, refrain from asking me this again- I have never given you much of a reason to believe I am not fine. Just go home, alright?"

You tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowing and your face contorting with displeasure. "L. I'm only trying to help." Why was he behaving like this? You hadn't done him any harm- and lately, you had even been starting to think that he was beginning to reciprocate your romantic feelings for him- finding small pieces of evidence in his behavior and body language. But maybe you'd been mistaken?

"You aren't being much help." L continued to face away from you. He wasn't even typing at this point, making it evident he was just trying to ignore you.

You exhaled shortly before looking down at the ground. This wasn't something you intended on taking.

"L-"

"Ryuzaki."

"Why are you acting like this?" Your tone was more appalled than irritated- although you were very much starting to feel like that. "I'm not trying to be a nuisance."

"Acting like what?"

Was he kidding right now?

"You know-"

"I don't." L's tone was emotionless and bland, his dark eyes still focused on the still screen in front of him.

Without thinking, you snatched the back of L's swivel chair, incensed. He wasn't even letting you finish your sentences- you had no clue why you two were even having this dispute, but L wasn't about to get away with this behavior.

Roughly, you spun him around to face you directly, the chair creaking as it was swiftly pulled, and L emitted a grunt of surprise when his stoic face met yours.

You held him there, breathing a little ragged, before your expression fell and your eyes lowered. This was pointless, and you weren't in the mood. If L didn't want to talk to you, he didn't want to talk to you. There was very little you could do about that.

"Mm." You made a noise under your breath before releasing L's chair. He did not turn back around, instead peering after you as you walked quietly out of the door, not speaking any more.

╰┈➤

It had been almost a week since L and you had had your little fight, and L had noticed quite a shift in your behavior. You spent your time mostly dealing with the field work on the case rather than digital tasks with L. You didn't talk to him but rather Light, sometimes joking around with Matsuda. Nobody else on the task force seemed to notice the rift between you and L- at least you two were doing a good job of hiding it.

You yourself were just confused. Why had L lashed out at you like that? It was unlike him, especially unprovoked. And you had only been trying to get him to actually take care of himself for once- you didn't appreciate the thanks you received. There was no reason for him to act like that.

Your initial thoughts were ones of annoyance and contempt- but beneath the surface you were hurt- and equally mad at yourself for being hurt. The anger was gone, replaced with something that didn't feel like much of anything. You weren't supposed to be this person, the one who got all worked up and lovesick over tiny things. Maybe you were overreacting- it had been over a week since the interaction anyway and here you were acting like a lovesick schoolgirl.

Maybe you weren't thinking logically enough.

L could have talked to you the way he did because it was a bad day- after all, working twelve plus hours on a serial killer case wasn't exactly a picker-upper. And he was just being L- it wasn't like he was going to get up and hug you goodbye.

Wow. Now you were making excuses.

Idiot.

You had never had much patience for those who behaved inexplicably and rudely. Even if it was only one instance, you had instantly reacted with coldness, pushing that person away from you.

Damn. You were just too infatuated with L for you to feel that way. It was as simple as that, and all of this thinking was just a lame attempt to divert from that fact.

No- you had to push L away. It was the only way to eliminate all these useless and crowding thoughts from your brain. You were trying to investigate a mass murderer, for goodness' sake, and here you were whining about L? Because of a stupid crush? You were getting more and more disgusted with yourself.

Pushing him away was the only option- that would be your final verdict. Keep up what you were already doing- it wasn't like the stony detective would care.

As if he truly cared for anyone- let alone you.

╰┈➤

It had been a few more days since Y/N had spoken to L about something other than work. It was clear you were still upset with him- you were projecting all over the place, which was only obvious to L. Frankly, he was repulsed by your lack of effort to conceal this- you were really this hung up over him? Over an interaction where at most two full sentences were exchanged? Ridiculous. It had been your fault, anyway.

You were just too distracting. Everything you did made him feel things that he definitely wasn't used to. It had all just built up and he had let it out in an uncharacteristic manner- but it was your fault.

And- now here he was, missing you. That much was true. With you continuously going out of your way to avoid him, L definitely wasn't around you as often as he used to. And he missed you- he missed your half-smile, he missed catching a whiff of your floral scent as you brushed by him, he even missed the sound of your typing beside him.

Damn you. You were throwing him all off- turning him against himself. L was not this man- and love had always been a foreign concept to him. But, of course, it only made him fall for you more. Because it was you.

You were driving L out of his mind.

And now, with the increasing possibility that Light Yagami was Kira, who was working with you and L, the chance of losing you was higher as well. And that- that was something L couldn't stand.

He couldn't stand the thought of losing you. No, you were simply not allowed to leave. He was not going to permit you to make him feel such a way and then just disappear. Which meant he wasn't going to allow you to ignore him any longer.

You were done being evasive. L was going to just have to make you his.

╰┈➤

"Y/N-san- would you mind speaking with me for a minute?"

The day was over, and once again, it was only you and L left inside headquarters. You were just about to turn the doorknob and leave before the sound of L's low voice stopped you before you could open the door.

You stood still for a few seconds, hand still on the doorknob, not turning around, deciding whether you actually wanted to talk to him. Then, you sighed and shut the door.

Might as well.

"Come here."

The order sent a small chill through your body- but nonetheless, you slowly moved toward L until you stood over his hunched figure in the chair, him peering up at you as if he was waiting for something. You stared down at him, your gaze stony and apathetic. You just weren't in the mood and more or less just wanted to go home.

"I understand you've been upset with me since our last talk," L said, voice bland and monotone as usual.

You only nodded, not sure of how to respond. Where was this going?

"I thought perhaps... I owed you an explanation." Now L dropped his gaze in an aberrant display, wriggling his bare toes on the seat of his chair. He actually seemed timid- and while L had always been reserved, timid had never really been a word you used to describe him.

A little caught off guard, you blinked and your eyes softened, relaxing from their narrowed position. "Yes, I think you do," you told him, unsteadily trying to maintain a stern tone. Well, this was unexpected. L's ego never allowed him to believe he owed anybody anything.

L sighed, still not quite meeting your gaze. "I'm... not quite sure why I snapped at you the way I did. I know you meant no harm. And it was immature of me to not apologize for it sooner." He was still looking at the ground, wriggling his toes. "I hope you are able to accept my apology.'

Another blink from you- what were you supposed to say to this? Now you were just even more perplexed. But- L had apologized..

"It's alright. I accept your apology," you replied carefully.

"The truth is... I'm actually quite fond of you."

What?

Your face dropped as a surge of what was either adrenaline or seratonin rushed through your veins. "You are?"

A pause.

"Yes, I am. I have been for... some time now." L slowly lifted his head- eyes now wide. "I know this is odd for me. But..." he trailed off, suddenly losing the words. How was he supposed to sum up everything he'd been feeling for you? It was just too great for him to even try to put them into words.

Perhaps, he thought, he would have to settle for something simpler.

"I love you."

・❥・

🍃|*evil laughter* and here i leave you with that >:) may you never find out what happens next.

🌵|ANYWAYS i hope u liked this!! thanks sm for requesting<3 ily!!

[sevmch]

hq boys when you pepper them with kisses bc you're sad

characters: kenma, akaashi, kuroo

warning/s: none

genre: fluff, comfort

a/n: here's some fluff bc i think ive been writing too much angst lately aksjdkhskshs

kozume kenma

you were sitting next to kenma, staring at your boyfriend's face that had his game face plastered on his features in full concentration. you watched in silence as he played, cheek leaning against your palm.

this wasn't new, in fact, most of your time spent at his place were usually just you doing your own stuff while he played. you didn't really mind, wanting to just be around kenma and feel his presence.

he also loved having you near him, you knew that. but sometimes, especially when you're feeling down, it felt as if he didn't care a bit like right now. kenma cared a lot but he's no mind reader, so he doesn't exactly know you're upset because you failed one of your exams today.

but you really wanted to be close to him as some sort of comfort, so you moved away from the desk and lean towards kenma, resting your chin on his shoulders and catching him give you a side-eye.

"what're you doing?" he asked, focused on the screen again, fingers moving swiftly against the keyboards.

you shrugged, sighing deeply. "nothing."

"okay."

pouting at his lack of response, you placed a quick peck on his cheek. his brows jumped, the crease in his forehead disappearing for the first time tonight. you planted another one and another one and another one, soft and brief and lazy. kenma moved his face towards you when you stopped for a second due to the discomfort creeping up your neck from the position, your boyfriend whining at the sudden loss of contact.

now it's your brows that raised, not really expecting for him to ask more. he leaned closer, tilting his head a little sideways as a sign for you to keep going.

"why'd you stop?"

"my neck was starting to hurt, i thought i was bothering you though." you shifted in your seat to find a much comfortable position.

he frowned, glancing at you and quickly reaching for the neck pillow that sat on the far end of his desk.

"i love it when you do that," he said softly, pausing the game so he could put the pillow around your neck and cup your face gently. "you're never a bother to me."

"kenma," your lips trembled slightly when tears started gathering at your eyes, touched by his affection.

"i know you're not okay. i could tell since you got here. do you wanna get ice cream after and talk about it?"

you nodded, not saying a word because you were sure your voice would crack if you did and kenma knew that, ruffling your hair before turning back to his game.

"ice cream it is then," he said, pressing play. "i'll buy you two if you continue with the kisses."

giggling, you plant more soft kisses on his cheek, even massaging the back of his neck as you watched him play. later that night, he took you to your favorite ice cream parlor, listening attentively to everything you had to say.

akaashi keiji

you and akaashi haven't seen each other the past week due to both of your conflicting and hectic schedules. their practices were extended to later hours for the upcoming interhigh while you were busy with club activities. whenever you had free time, akaashi would be unavailable and vise versa.

you missed each other so much it hurts which was why the second you both had matching free time, it was spent on cuddling for hours on end. even when you were lying on top of akaashi, face hiding at the crook of his neck and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, you still craved for more.

thinking of having to separate and not see each other again for days made your heart sink into your stomach, nuzzling against his neck as if you could get even closer than you were already.

he ran his hand up and down your back in comfort, even giving a gentle squeeze on your arm to remind you he was physically there with you. you sighed deeply, landing feather-like kisses at his jaw.

"missed you."

"i know," akaashi said barely above a whisper, relaxing into the feeling of your soft lips on his skin. "i missed you too, love."

as you kept going with your ministrations, your eyes were wide in surprise when akaashi stopped you, leaning away just to turn to his side and face you. placing a hand at the back of your neck, you felt his lips on your forehead. then, you felt them next on the space between your brows, then at the tip of your nose, then at your chin.

stopping by your lips, he hovered, staring at you lovingly through half lidded eyes. blood rushed to your cheeks, heating up at the way he was gazing at you. slowly, akaashi captured your lips in his, pulling you forward by his hand on your nape as he moved his lips passionately you're glad you were laying down otherwise your knees would've gave out. it was sweet and short, slipping pecks in between before moving back a little.

"don't be so sad anymore, hm? i'm here now." he said, caressing your cheek with his thumb. the corner of your lips tug upward in a smile, releasing a contented sigh as you stared at each other for a little while.

kuroo tetsuro

he was in a middle of a phone call with yaku discussing about their chemistry homework and spitting out chemical names that were alien to you. it has been going of nearly an hour and a half and you were starting to get impatient, wanting to get back to the movie currenly paused at the screen before yaku called.

saturday nights were movie nights and it was an agreement that either of you must be free from distractions - no phone notifications, mentions of school works, and the like. unless it was an emergency. yaku calling wasn't an emergency, in fact, it was just to argue with kuroo that his answers were right and your boyfriend's were wrong.

and you wouldn't mind it if it were any other day but not today. not after movie nights have been pushed back twice in a row because kuroo has been too exhausted from training to even stay awake at 9 pm.

scooting closer to him on the couch, you locked him in place by putting your arms around his neck and resting your legs on his lap. used to your clinginess, he doesn't react - kept his mind on throwing insults at yaku.

so you proceed with your plan in mind. you weren't exactly placing kisses, just letting your lips graze the corner of his mouth to tease, knowing that it riled him up when you don't kiss him completely.

his free hand came to give your thigh a warning squeeze, a light chuckle leaving you as you kept teasing him, lips hovering at the side of his face. when you felt considerate, you'd kiss him lightly.

you're not really sure how long it went on but probably enough time for kuroo to give up.

"okay bro whatever, let's check it again on monday with kai and see who's really right. i'm busy, bye." with a tap on end call, he tossed the phone on the empty spot beside him before tackling you on the couch, making you shriek as your back met the cushion.

"my babygirl's such a tease," he said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers up and down your spine. before you could even utter a single word, kuroo's smashing his lips against yours, moving fast that it got you mind short-circuiting.

when you finally caught up with his pace and started getting into it, he pulled away. you whined, grabbing his collar to pull him down but doesn't budge, a smirk on his face.

"it's not so fun getting teased, is it?" he winked, clearly amused at your annoyed expression.

you rolled your eyes, groaning as you smack his bicep. "seriously kuroo?"

"what, you started it kitten. it's only fair if you get a little taste of it." he laughed when you scowled further, shaking his head lightly and giving you a sweet, gentle kiss. "sorry i interrupted our movie night."

"'s okay," you mumbled in between the kiss.

"we can make out for the rest of it, you know, a way for me to make it up to you," he said, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.

you scoffed, but really, the idea sounded perfect.

"just admit you enjoy kissing me."

"mmm sure, whatever," kuroo mumbled as he dipped his head, capturing your lips again. maybe movie night being interrupted wasn't so bad afterall.

rb and feedbacks r sexy ty<33

2021 (c) sevmch | strictly do not copy or repost.

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy jack and tubbo

requested: yes/no

an: part 4 of the great adventures series

pairing: platonic y/n/tommy/jack/tubbo

warning: cursing

It was the afternoon before your new adventure with your friends. you had no idea what to expect, however everyone else knew even ranboo, and he wasn’t even joining you all. you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, especially after hearing some of tommys plans for future uploads. tubbo had been trying to drop hints about what was going to happen. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was excited or nervous, either way you could tell it was going to be a once in a lifetime opportunity and boy were you excited. the sound of knocking pulled you from your thoughts.

“hi y/n! sorry for the unexpected visit, i tried to call you but it wouldn’t go through.”

“oh god sorry, tubbo, my phones on charge upstairs, ive just finished babysitting my friends twitch chat.”

“that’s okay, tommy wanted me to see if you want to stay the night as i can take you with me now. he said something about it saving time tomorrow as jack won’t have to go as far and we can get there earlier, i honestly just think he’s slightly nervous and wants to spend time with someone.”

“i’ve not prepared a bag or anything as i was just planning on grabbing everything i needed in the morning, but i’m down to go with you. i’ll pack a bag real quick, make yourself feel at home. you can stay down here or come upstairs with me.”

tubbo followed you upstairs, and helped you pick which outfits would be the best to wear for the trip. around 10 minutes later you finished packing your bag and turned around to see a very pale tubbo, dropping your bag to the floor you pulled a chair up to your bed sitting opposite him.

“you feeling okay tubs?”

“just nerves, I'll be alright, are you ready to go?”

“ready if you are!”

the journey to tommys was relatively quick, you spent it talking about group plans for when ranboo comes to the uk.

tubbo: almost here!

tommy: yes! want to stream for a bit later, just something small could do laugh and the stream ends. i’ll go talk to my mum now!

•••

tubbo: please open the door

tommy: on it

the pair of you stood at the door waiting for tommy to unlock it

“TUBBO! Y/N I'M GLAD YOU COULD BOTH MAKE IT!”

not too long later, you and tubbo had put everything away and sat with tommy planning out a small stream.

“so i was talking with my parents and we can do an outside stream, and set fire to marshmallows!”

“as much as i love fire tommy i don’t think your parents will appreciate arson in the garden.”

“it’ll be fine now grab a jacket, we need to go walk to the shop.”

the three of you set off determined to get to the shop and back before it got dark, tommy and tubbo walked on either side of you as they want you to feel safe. thankfully the shop was only around the corner so you were all only out for about 20 minutes maximum, you probably could have made it back earlier but you stopped every time you saw a pretty rock.

“y/n come on we still need to stream!”

“did you tweet that you were streaming?”

“no he didn’t.”

“then come and look at this pretty rock!”

tommy and tubbo couldn’t help but laugh at how many rocks you managed to pick up.

•••

“guys i think i’d rather just spend time with you all rather than stream.”

“that’s fine, tommy!!”

the three of you sat around the fire updating one another about plans and opportunitie, coming. the conversation swiftly came to an end when tommy had set fire to a stick claiming it was to make the fire grow. you laughed as you heard his mum yelling at him to stop trying to set you and tubbo on fire.

“sorry about that everyone, but look the fire is big again.”

it got colder as the sun went down, so the three of you sat with a blanket draped over you all. his mum offered to take photos for you and you happily accepted, the pictures looked amazing and you posted it to instagram with the caption ‘i am cold and no one is telling me what’s happening tomorrow.’

it was around 11pm when the three of you agreed it was time to go back inside and sleep.

•••

you and tubbo stayed downstairs and tommy stayed in his room. the sound of tubbos alarm woke the pair of you up.

“turn that fucking thing off!”

“this is the fourth time it’s gone off and you’re still not up?”

“that’s because i’m tired.”

“please get ready jack will be here soon enough.”

realisation finally hit today was the day you were finally about to find out what this once in a lifetime opportunity was. tubbo advised you to wear sensible clothing and not wear the zodiac necklace you always wore, so you decided to wear the hoodie ranboo sent you a week ago and leggings.

“y/n you might wanna tie your hair up.”

“tubbo are you sure you’re feeling okay? you genuinely look ill."

“i’m fine.”

jack: right i’m outside so whenever you’re ready

lani: we’re making our own way later on as the hotel we stayed at is closer

y/n: will someone tell me what we’re doing

ranboo: no

y/n: you’re not even joining us how did you get in the gc

ranboo: magic

y/n: fuck off give me a clue

ranboo: i’ve said it since you dyed your hair neon f/c you’d be able to see from way up in the sky

y/n: what the actual hell is that supposed to mean

•••

soon enough you met up with everyone else and lani started recording.

“we’re skydiving, you ready tubbo?”

“WERE DOING WHAT? HOLY SHIT!”

you honestly couldn’t wait to do this. it was something you had wanted to do for a while, tubbo on the other hand clearly didn’t agree, which was evident through his whining.

you stood with tommy laughing as tubbo sat alone questioning why he agreed to this.

“look at him.”

“he’s is not happy.”

you sat next to jack and tubbo watching the video demonstrating what you will all be doing soon. you let out a nervous laugh, as although you were excited, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous.

“you could fall into the engine and get chopped up.”

“tommy stop scaring tubbo!”

“what if the parachute doesn’t work?”

“free fall to your death.”

“y/n you’re not helping!”

you stood recording tubbo laying on the floor once again whining.

“tubbo there are so many people behind you!”

“i’m sure the parachute won’t fail tubbo, but if it does it was lovely knowing you!”

“uuuuuuugh!”

“i fully agree bo.”

soon enough you tommy and jack joined tubbo on the floor.

“look at the clouds.”

“we’re going to be in them soon.”

“hell yeah!”

“ughhhh!”

you tried not to laugh trying to calm tubbo down a bit before you all jumped out a plane, which worked until you left him alone with tommy whilst you spoke to jack for a while.

“to be fair that looks quite fun.”

“and dangerous!”

“STOP!”

“well sounds like tubbos thrilled to be here.”

the four of you sat on a bench talking about what’s going to happen, and laughing at tubbos nerves trying to make light of the situation.

“look it’ll be fun, tubbo, provided we don’t die there’s a chance we’ll be in more vlogs.. okay so ignore the black cloud of smoke!”

“that’s not a good omen.”

“shut up!”

you wrapped an arm around tubbo trying to make him feel comfortable and reassure him it’ll be fine, only to be interrupted by jack and tommy bickering about eating before jumping from the plane.

•••

the four of you went to the briefing, at this point you were struggling to contain your excitement, and couldn’t help but laugh out of pure joy.

“no, they are listening, they're just excited.”

after doing training for the jump, you stood with tommy whilst someone questioned him about how he got 9 million subs.

“I just went around being incredibly cool.. doing minecraft.”

you and jack burst out laughing whilst tommy went on to make jokes about how much money he was earning.

•••

it was now almost time to jump out a plane. it was around now nerves were kicking in, so you all went around messing about till you were told it’s time to make your way to get ready.

“let’s go gamers!”

•••

“are you a skydiver enjoyer?”

“i am.”

“well that’s always good... please, don’t let me die!”

“y/n are you scared?”

“no, my ranboo merch will protect me, but if i die can we blame tommy for coming up with this?”

“ranboos not going to believe that you’re wearing the jumper he sent you to jump out a plane.”

a few minutes later you over heard a worker say they’re nervous causing you to tilt your head and blink again, trying to process what was said.

“heh???”

it was now time for the four of you to put the equipment on, so you were ready to jump. jack started talking a lot more than usual at a quicker pace due to the fact he was getting nervous. tommy pointed it out and jack trying to argue he wasn’t made you laugh.

“y/n keeps making a lot of jokes about my parachute being shit.”

“sorry manifold should be fine...more than likely...hopefully. only time will tell really.”

“how you doing buddy?”

“i’m feeling okay. i feel my insides doing inside bits.”

“wonderful!”

you were now all waiting to go as a worker jokes about forgetting something.

“y/n you’re going with him!”

“okay, but why?”

“well you said your ranboo merch will protect you..”

someone went by going rather fast causing you to stare in awe.

“we don’t go that fast, do we?”

“no not unless something goes terribly wrong.”

you all stood there laughing.

“stoppppp!”

“y/n, i’m now thinking you should go with them instead!”

“are you trying to kill me off jack?”

•••

you all set off towards the plane, a mixture of excitement and nerves began kicking in.

“tubbos on a lead.”

“oh i’m really nervous jack.”

“look at y/n!”

lani began to record you, who was now way ahead of the others, so you stopped and waved at lani.

“BYE LANI! HOPEFULLY ILL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE!”

the others caught up and everyone had their equipment checked again.

“oh dear.. should be fine.”

“i’m alright, don’t worry my ranboo merch will protect us!” you got on first and that when you realised they set you up, so you jumped last as you were more confident and tubbo was jumping first so he could get it out the way.

you all sat on the plane and waved at the camera.

“hi there!”

“hello!”

“hi!”

“please don’t let us die!”

“we’re really jumping out a plane with a dream stan.”

“this is the highest we’ve ever been.”

“gamers in a plane whatever will they do...hopefully not die!”

“Y/N!”

“sorry tubbo!”

you were currently at 2,000 feet and sat looking out the window waiting to reach 14,000 feet. jack turned to you and tommy, “i can’t believe you’re jumping out the plane in philza merch and y/ns jumping out in ranboo merch.”

“if i die at least ill look great doing it.”

12,000 feet later it was now tubbos turn to jump, he looked back at you all.

“YOU GOT THIS TUBBO!!”

you watched as tubbo went.

“GOOD LUCK TOMMY!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN GOOD LUCK? Y/N?”

“BYEEEEE!”

you laughed as tommy went.

“see you later jack!”

you gave jack a high-five and watched as he went.

“holy shit they actually did it!”

“are you ready, y/n?”

“hell yeah, let’s do this!”

you laughed as you jumped, you couldn’t believe you actually got to jump out of a plane, you waved at camera.

lani met the others as they landed and began telling them about it.

“wait where’s y/n?”

“there they are!”

“Y/N!”

the others ran up to you as you landed.

“i’m glad you didn’t die!”

“thanks jack!”

•••

“would you all do it again?”

“yeah.”

“no.”

“maybe, i’m not sure.”

“i reckon so.”

not too long later, you were all given certificates to celebrate the fact you had jumped out a plane.

“yay it made nearly dying worth it!”

“you’re so dramatic!”

•••

you thought the day was over and that you were going home, little did you know that wasn’t the case.

“were not done for the day.”

“what?”

“heh?”

“you’re tilting your head again.”

“i know it’s because i’m confused!”

“anyway, what do you mean we’re not done?”

“you know george, he’s arrived!”

“gogy!”

“GOGY!”

“can i have a nap in the car please? i’m so exhausted."

taglist:

@l0ver0fj0y

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[moonbaby26]

Title: Escape

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Notes: Actual pairing interaction starts in the second section after the Reader character gets out of the elevator, feel free to skip down to that if you like. Reader thinks about Peter in the first section, but it is more setting up how they got so separated from the others, plus a Wolvie cameo. I wanted Peter x Reader to be able to have more interaction away from the group.

Summary: Continuation of previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse. You and the others have been taken to Stryker’s base and must survive to find your way out together.

Warnings: Wolverine cameo advisory with a 100% chance of stabby stab. Mild language.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

“The day of reckoning is here.”

Your eyes opened at once, that unmistakeable voice now reverberating through your mind as fluorescent lights passed one after another above you.

“Professor?” You breathed aloud, immediately trying to sit up on the moving gurney.

But the restraints were drawn too tightly as your head only rebounded backward just as quickly when your torso didn’t rise in tandem.

“Shit!” the guard to your left cursed, his hand drawing back from the gurney rail at your sudden movement.

You turned your head towards him, confused, even as the professor’s words continued in your mind.

Yet Xavier’s voice sounded strange, forced. And you didn’t understand the context. Was it a warning? A threat to someone?

It didn’t really seem to fit the current circumstances to say it was directed at you or your captors. But he only kept speaking.

“The dawn of a new era will emerge. For there is nothing you can do...to stop what is coming.”

The two guards were looking around too then, reacting in sync with the telepathic message leaving you no doubt that they could hear it as well.

But why would Xavier be in their heads too? Did he already know where you were?

One guard chided the other, as if the two of them didn’t both have the same frightened expression. “Damn stun pulse is wearing off it is all, just hurry up and finish this transport. Colonel Stryker wants it taken to the lower testing bay,”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t hearing that voice?” The other guard retorted, “What the hell is that?”

Did they just call you an ‘it’? What was this place? Not a hospital surely. But you could barely dwell on the implications of the guard’s words ‘lower testing bay’, and the impending threat that represented as your last memories finally began to bubble up.

The X-Mansion in rubble, the helicopters swooping in over the trees, the students and staff unconscious in the grass, that soldier cracking your ribs, and-

Peter.

He was a stranger to you still, but he’d been right there against you. Surely you had drawn more attention to him just because your powers had let you resist a few moments longer than the others. Because you’d been so stubborn, not going down until you’d been forced to.

If these men had hurt any of your friends, you would be furious. But if Peter, who had also saved so many of your friends was now in more severe danger because of your actions, you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

“Where did you take the others!?” You arched against the restraints abruptly, your palms opening to face upward, trying to summon any bit of your energy at all. A wisp, an orb, anything that could have helped you right now. You had to find your friends.

But nothing came. Not even a glow or flicker of what you truly were as you now had both guards’ full attention.

“Freak! Just shut up!” One of them shoved the gurney in retaliation to your outburst, the caster wheels rattling across the concrete floor before the bed rail hit against one of the walls, jarring you painfully.

“Those with the greatest power. Protect those without. That's my message to the world.”

Xavier concluded his words then. And somehow, that sounded more like himself than any of the rest of it. The real meaning still eluded you, but hearing him in that tone at least meant he was okay. He was somewhere urging the rest of you on. At least this part you knew was true as you took a calming breath, realizing panic and anger would serve you nothing right now.

Something was blocking your powers. That much was obvious. It would be unrealistic to think that the effects of any stun weapon would be this long lasting though.

On the other hand, you knew chemicals existed that could also temporarily block mutations. Hank used one almost medicinally whenever he didn’t wish to be in his true “Beast” form. But it had to be injected direct into the veins to have any real effect.

You could feel that they hadn’t removed any of your clothing, nor had they rolled up the long sleeves you were wearing. You doubted they would risk a chemical like that wearing off at an inopportune time and likely would have started an IV if they possessed anything of that nature.

There were no tubes or lines attached to you that you could tell, only the restraints now holding you to this bed. Leather straps across your body, metal cuffs on your ankles and wrists-

But wait, you were able to move your head as you’d already discovered. You shifted it again, trying to get a better feel of what was around your neck. Metal as well, but loose as you could still lift your head up enough to see it just a bit. It and its dull, red status light.

Inhibitor collar, you realized with an all new dread sinking in. You had heard of these of course, but it was the kind of thing that students sheltered at Xavier’s school would never have to dream of really. Something you never thought you’d have to experience personally.

How naive.

But you still couldn’t give up. Your mind was racing as you tried to come up with any strategies now. Your options were so limited, but they couldn’t keep you tied down forever. Surely they’d have to move you to a more permanent containment at some point, untie you if even for a moment.

Yet, there were guns as well. You hadn’t missed that detail, but you considered it more fully now as you glanced to the long barrells swaying behind each guard’s back as they pushed you along.

They were slowing now though. You raised your head enough again to see elevator doors nearing. The lower testing bay, you remembered them saying.

But just as one guard had started to reach for the keypad beside the doors, an alarm blared, all three of you startling at the sound.

Orange lights lit up along the walls, spinning in time with the sirens.

“Weapon X is loose. I repeat, Weapon X is loose!” A man’s unnerved voice sounded over speakers you couldn’t see, echoing down the corridors.

You could only watch as both guards spun around on their heels at that, guns immediately drawn. The one thing you could be absolutely sure of then, was that you were now the very least of their concerns.

Before you could consider how to use this surprise in your favor though, screams and the echo of gunfire erupted seemingly on top of you all.

The guards were terrified. This could be your only chance.

“Take this collar off of me, please! I can help you!” You weren’t begging as much as you were truly trying to reason with them. “Look, this is serious right!?”

More men were screaming just around the corner. Only feet away now. Clearly their time to consider had run out.

You saw one of the guards glance down at you, weighing your offer if just for that moment. The other was still staring straight ahead, gun braced, body rigid.

“FIRE!” The one not looking at you screamed, and that was it. It was too late.

You flinched as the gunfire rang deafening in your ears, the muzzle flashes just above you while empty bullet shells rained onto the floor.

You didn’t know how many bullets their gun magazines could hold, but the barrage seemed to just go on and on until an inhuman snarl rose even above the pounding gunshots.

Like a blur he was upon them. One guard was immediately thrown against a nearby wall, as if he were made of paper. His gun didn’t even faze the attacker.

You were frozen as you had to watch him die in front of you. Metal blades impaled the guard, blood splatter running down the wall as his body fell. You wished the other guard would have just turned and ran, but that probably would have been fruitless now too if you were being honest.

The attacker had turned immediately back around, one slash knocking the gun away from the remaining guard, and the second taking out his throat.

You were too in shock to do anything but close your eyes in the moment you felt some of the blood hit you. It was warm was all you could really process, before you opened your eyes again to now see the killer standing over you.

His breath was fast, eyes black, no emotion evident but rage. He had no clothing on him above the waist, just muscular and bloodied with metal cords coming out of his body and attaching to some sort of helmet.

You heard the random sound of more bits of metal hitting the ground, and thought you saw a few bullets working out in reverse from his flesh.

He was one of you then, a mutant.

But you were afraid to speak. Anything could set him off again.

He was looking down at you, through you really. You thought you saw his eyes go to your throat. The collar? Or maybe you just imagined it. Everything was happening in just seconds.

His arm swung suddenly, those blades were part of him you realized, attached to his fists as they came for you. At least it would be a quick death.

You felt a burning, heard ripping and even the metal of the bed breaking as he struck more than once.

“He’s here!” Someone else screamed from back down the hallway and the gunfire started all over again.

You moved at the sound, why you didn’t know, it should have been all over regardless. But in your amazement, you realized you could move. His claws had broken through the restraints, broken the bolts that held you to the bed. You were bleeding, but only from cuts as he’d grazed you.

He’d freed you.

The gurney tumbled over with a clatter as you jumped from it. But bullets were hitting all around you as the guards continued to fire at him. You still had the inhibitor collar on, so you couldn’t defend from that. You weren’t bulletproof like him.

And he was already charging them again, but there were so many this time. A bullet grazed your arm, and you knew you had to get out of there now.

You turned, hitting the elevator keypad. You had no choice as you wouldn’t make it out of this hallway otherwise. You ducked inside as soon as the doors opened, trying to stay against the sides even as bullets were now hitting the back of the elevator. The only way was down, and you took it.

As the doors closed, and the elevator finally sank below the firing line, you allowed yourself some real breaths.

To think, just hours ago your main concern had only been whether or not you were ready for Hank’s organic chemistry final. You’d laugh if you weren’t still trembling a little, clothes torn and blood all over, most of it not even your own.

Now it was time to find the others and a way out.

—————————

“(Y/N)?” You heard in your mind, pausing in the abandoned hallway you were now wandering down. You’d left the elevator behind some time ago, but hadn’t yet found any other way back off this level.

“Jean?” You answered aloud, both surprised and relieved. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. We are now. I saw them take you too, but where are you?”

Talking to a telepath was always a bit strange. You could feel her own stress and anxiety as she began to fill your mind. She wanted to see what you were seeing.

You looked around you to oblige her, but from what you could tell every corridor only looked like more of the same in this labyrinth.

“I got into an elevator when all the shooting started, when that man-“

“Logan. We met him too. He’s escaped now, he-” She paused, your recent memories now visible to her. “He helped you.”

“He did.” You felt she both was and wasn’t surprised at this.

“Anyway,” She continued as if something was distracting her, like she was physically talking to someone else, while mentally talking to you. “The Professor needs us. We’re sending Peter to find you. He’ll bring you to us and then we’re leaving together.”

“Okay,” Was all you could answer, as you felt Jean leave your mind abruptly at that. You remembered Xavier’s odd speech earlier, something you really hadn’t had time to deconstruct any further with everything else that had happened immediately after. You supposed they would fill you in when you were all reunited.

But you did feel a significant weight leave your shoulders at the mention of Peter’s name, even though it sounded like this horrific day was still far from over. He was okay too then at least. You hadn’t screwed up enough to get him hurt in a way you couldn’t take back.

Yet how long would it take for him to find you? Should you just stay in place, or go back to the elevator now? You hadn’t found any stairwells or other-

“(Y/N)?”

You’d be lying to say you didn’t almost fall over in surprise as a tiny gust of air was the only other thing that announced him as Peter was suddenly standing beside you.

“You’re as bad as Kurt!” You gasped, before you could stop yourself. You clenched one fist at your side, at least having the self control not to punch him right in the arm as you might have done with some of the boys at school if they had given you that kind of scare.

“That’s the blue kid with the tail right? Not to be confused with the big blue hairy guy, he’s the one that told me your name by the way, or the blue famous chick from TV?” He shook his head, but his eyes were amused. “You guys have some kind of quota on the color blue or what?”

You stared at him. He did like to talk didn’t he?

When you didn’t respond right away, you saw his eyes wander down, then back up. “Red said you’d be a bit of a mess, but you sure you’re okay?”

Your shirt was torn from well, now you knew him as Logan...that man’s claws. Those cuts were still bleeding a bit, but the guard’s blood was on you as well. The metal shackles were also still on your wrists and ankles, though their chains had been broken, and the inhibitor collar was around your neck. Yes, you must look quite a sight.

“You mean Jean,” you corrected. She must have given him some warning at least before sending him. “Yeah, I’m fine. So you found another way out of here, we should-”

But he didn’t seem to be listening, either that or you weren’t very convincing on the being okay sentiment.

He looked quite serious all of the sudden. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you when Colonel douchebag was trying to work you over.”

You blinked. What was he talking about?

“Stryker I guess they said his name was, the guy that kicked you back at the house.” He just continued. “That piece of shit bailed already.”

“How did you know about that?” You asked honestly. Peter had been unconscious as far as you’d known.

“I mean I was in and out,” He answered, seemingly understanding your confusion now. “But uh...” He hesitated, kind of an awkward smirk building then. “I definitely remember you laying on me. The impact wasn’t that great, but afterward was pretty nice.”

Your felt a heat rising to your face immediately. The absurdity of being physically embarrassed at his implication and tone, as you stood here literally bleeding in the belly of some mutant torturing black ops lab was not lost on you.

“Look, I...” You didn’t even know what to say, but you knew if you didn’t start talking now you were never going to recover control here. “I’m really glad they didn’t hurt you, and I’m sorry too if I got you involved deeper in all of this. And I want to thank you for pulling everyone out of the mansion this morning. We owe you so much. I just-” Oh man, where were you even going with this? You looked to him still feeling like you were just digging yourself deeper, “You can stop me anytime now you know?”

He was now outright grinning. “You’re welcome, babe.”

Not helping. AT ALL.

You were staring at him again. “They’re going to be waiting on us, you know,” You felt you were going to be pleading with him in a moment.

“I know, places to be, worlds to save...” He just moved closer and you tensed a little bit. He noticed, but stood his ground. “I have to brace you or you’re just going to be hurt even more when I run you back to them.”

“So is that how you do it, then? You’re just that fast?” You asked honestly. His actual mutation wasn’t something there’d been any chance to discuss. You could infer only so many ways he would have been able to evacuate those in the mansion almost instantaneously. But you knew teleporters too, even people who could move through reality on other planes. There was always more than one way to do something.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” He chuckled, smirking enough for you to know he was still just picking with you as one of his hands went behind your head and the other to your ribs to brace you. He really did know where you’d been hit then.

His hands were warm, and you could smell that damn cologne again now as you tried to ready yourself for whatever was about to happen.

You didn’t know what you had expected. You knew how it felt to take off in a jet, or slam the gas pedal down in one of the Professor’s expensive cars, or ride on a really intense roller coaster. But this wasn’t that. There wasn’t even any time for your brain to register the acceleration. It felt like just a single heartbeat before you were standing back in front of those elevator doors with him.

It was the deceleration that hit you. By the time your body knew it was moving, it had already stopped again, your organs lurching and your equilibrium completely thrown off as vertigo took over. You leaned forward immediately, trying not to dry heave as puking seemed almost imminent.

He took one of your hands, his other hand moving down from your ribs to your waist as he helped support you still.

“It’ll pass. It happens to everyone the first time,” He spoke, probably the softest tone you’d heard from him to this point.

“You’re telling me there are people who have been-” You swallowed, fighting that nausea back down. “have been with you multiple times?” You meant to say multiple times like that. People who needed to be rescued this way multiple times. You stood up, still queasy as you tried to face him and correct this blunder immediately. Why did this guy have you so flustered!?

“I’m not normally like this,” you stammered, waiting for some great retort from him as you’d just left yourself wide open with that slip.

It was only then that you realized he still had one hand on your waist, and you were now facing him, just inches apart. And the silence was worse. It was much worse while he was just looking back at you.

“No,” He finally said, “I uh...I don’t have anyone that’s stayed around long enough for that.”

He wasn’t joking at all now and you knew it.

“I didn’t mean...” You started, but stopped again when you didn’t know how to finish.

But the vulnerability was gone just as soon as it’d come. His smirk returned as he let go of you, moving forward to hit the keypad for the elevator. “I did look for stairwells by the way, if you were wondering. It only took me as long as it did to find you down here because this damn elevator is slow as hell.”

You actually were a little relieved to finally be focusing back to the task at hand. But you still felt an unspoken conversation lingering that would need to be continued later. You wanted him to know who you really were.

And honestly...you now wanted to know who he really was.

The harsh buzz from the keypad brought you back to attention as Peter hit it again.

A tiny screen blinked “CODE ERROR” in red as he groaned. “It didn’t need a damn code to come down, that makes no sense!”

You responded in a few moments, realizing the likely truth fairly quickly. “But it would make sense if you were more concerned about things getting out of the lab than you were of things getting in.” The same would be true for the lack of entry and exit points. They surely weren’t concerned with fire safety or anything else but keeping their specimens captive when they built this place.

“Ugh, that’s dark,” He answered, glancing at you and then back to the keypad. “You’re almost making me not feel so bad for all the guys that looked like swiss cheese on the way down here. But lucky for you, you’ve got me, and these five hombres.” He waved his fingers at you before immediately beginning to punch in multiple codes in faster succession than of course would have been possible for anyone else.

“Peter, I don’t think-” You started, already having a good suspicion of how this might play out, before the keypad abruptly quit accepting inputs, the tiny screen then blinking LOCKOUT. The only thing that did surprise you was a new even thicker door suddenly closing over the original elevator doors.

And you couldn’t help it then. You laughed. A real laugh. It was just the dumbest icing on the cake. “Okay, Han Solo. I think that will do.” You didn’t care if he would understand the reference or not. You needed that laugh right now.

But he didn’t let you down. Not even for a moment. “Okay then Leia, then you show me how we’re getting past here to save the ugly little ewoks.”

You were still snickering a little, but you shook your head. “I can’t,” You motioned to the inhibitor collar still around your neck. “Not with this on. It’s blocking my powers.” You had hoped once you were all back topside that Hank would be able to disarm the thing. It was probably radio controlled or something like that. “We’ll have to wait on Jean and the others to realize we’re taking too long, they’ll come for us.”

“I don’t wait,” Peter retorted. “Besides, like I said, I showed you mine. Time to show me yours.” He tilted his head, eyeing you. “Really, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Sure you have,” You were skeptical, but it was actually hard to read him right now. Was he actually that curious about you? “And I’ve already tried to take it off, it doesn’t budge.”

“Again, babe. You didn’t have me before.” The smug tone was back, as he evidently had some plan you didn’t know if you were going to like or not.

“You realize, this thing is nearly against my jugular veins, right? What are you going to do?” You had every right to be hesitant you thought. Especially after the keypad failure.

“Just be still. I’m going to vibrate it apart.” He answered confidently.

Okay, now you really didn’t like this. “Again, head, throat, things I need to stay in one piece. What if it has some self destruct thing and explodes?”

“I can pull you away from that before it even burns you. How do you think your friends lived when your house blew up this morning?”

You could have mentioned Alex’s fate then, but that would have been needlessly cruel. Alex must have already been gone before Peter even entered the building. He did save everyone else you thought.

“Trust me,” Peter looked you in the eyes and you could feel yourself relenting.

You really did believe him it seemed. Hopefully that faith was not misplaced. “Please be careful,” You closed your eyes, going stock still.

“For you? Of course.”

You heard his jacket move, which told you he was raising his arms. Internally you tensed-

And then all you heard were pieces of metal and circuitry skittering across the floor in every direction. You were still standing exactly as you had been as you opened your eyes to a too pleased with himself Peter.

“Some shrapnel did try to go into your face, but I moved the pieces. No kaboom though.” His expression changed then to happily expectant, “So come on, I’ve helped three times now, the stage is now yours,” He made an exagerrated motion to the big metal door now blocking the elevator. “What’s your poison?”

Poison? An interesting way to put it, but you knew what he meant. All mutant abilities were both a gift and a curse. Yet even after all these years of meeting people of your own kind, it was still very personal to show someone your real self for the very first time.

Especially when you evidently cared what he thought of you as you realized your nerves were suddenly about much more than just being able to get open a door or not. How would he react?

You took a breath, still extremely aware of his eyes on you as you turned your palms upward. It was always easiest to start with your hands. But you’d need to bring the energy all the way through you to get the kind of power it was going to take to pull this door out.

There was a slight relief in you as your hands began to glow white after a moment. At least you knew you were no longer defenseless, that these people hadn’t taken your abilities permanently.

In your peripheral vision you could see Peter shift, but you didn’t look to him, trying to concentrate as the energy spread up your arms and you closed your eyes. It always felt so warm, like being in the sun on a clear day. It spread to your chest, legs, up your shoulders and over your face. Even through your hair as you willed the energy to lift you up, now completely enveloped until you were a silhouette of a person. Glowing in soft white light and levitating about a foot off the floor.

You opened your eyes again, feeling you had things in control enough now to speak to him. The tone of your voice changed slightly in this form though. There was a hum to it, the energy moving across your vocal chords like every other part of you.

“I’m going to try and pull the door out of the way and into the hall. Please be ready to move as I won’t have a lot of control over it once it gives. My effort is going to all be on breaking it.”

You looked to him after a moment though when he didn’t respond. You knew he was fast enough to keep himself safe obviously, but you had to be sure he was ready. Was he really just staring at you? “Peter?”

He blinked. “Yeah, uh. That’s...” He stepped back from the door, but never took his eyes off you, this weird expression on his face. “That’s cool.”

“Please mind the door,” You reiterated gently, not quite sure what to make of his reaction to your powers.

“Sure, sure thing.” He sounded more like himself then. “Do your deal.”

Your deal as he put it, involved willing this same energy now in a field around the door as you rose your hand up to control it. Once you were sure you had it solidly, you began pulling your hand back, trying to pull the door out of its railing.

It gradually started to creak, but like you’d thought, this was going to take some real doing. You pulled harder and harder, the metal just groaning louder. “Come on,” You spoke, not really sure if you were talking more to yourself or the door.

Your arm was starting to really ache with the effort. But just when you thought you might have to try something else after all, you finally felt the door give. And when it gave, it did so spectacularly. This massive chunk of metal collapsed, exploding out of its rail as it rocketed down the hallway. You just moved to the side to avoid it, the smaller pieces hitting you harmlessly in this form.

To your eyes it only looked like Peter disappeared and then reappeared as he also easily missed all the debris.

Once that obstacle was out of the way, you glided down, back to the normal elevator doors. They were slightly damaged from the removal of the larger door. But now it only took minimum effort to force them open.

You entered the elevator, the inner keypad was also blinking that same “LOCKOUT” error from earlier. So the elevator itself was going nowhere. But this was now no longer an issue for you.

“I can carry us up,” You looked to Peter, though unsure how comfortable he would be with this new idea.

He was standing at the entrance of the elevator already, watching you still. You could see the wheels in his head turning. And then he finally asked. “So, you’re glowing...and flying. Is this like radioactive glow, or I just need some sunscreen kind of glow?”

“It’s just light energy in the visible spectrum.” You answered reflexively. “But not even UV, the wavelength itself doesn’t cause any damage. It’s only when I make it solid or make it unstable that I can do anything harmful with it.”

You could see he may have skipped the lessons on long and short wave energy and radiation in science class as he just kept staring.

“You’re fine, it’s safe” You smiled. Certainly not the first time you had heard such questions. “The Professor and Hank had me tested from the very beginning, I never would have been allowed so close to other students without more precautions if I was that dangerous.”

“So you’re...close to some other students?” He asked almost tauntingly, one eyebrow raised, and it took you a moment before you realized he may be getting back at you for your comments from before.

It was probably just the fact that you were in your energy form now, but you felt confident enough to respond just as quickly, “It’s more like the Brady Bunch than what you’re thinking. Like having a whole house of little brothers and sisters.”

You had already opened up the ceiling of the elevator while the two of you talked, looking up now to the empty shaft and elevator cables. It’d be much easier to move the two of you rather than to try and lift the whole elevator. You reached a hand out to Peter. “I can lift us up the shaft to the floor that the others are on and open the doors, then you can take us to them. Deal?”

You had trusted him to bring you here, as well as to remove that collar from you. Would he now trust you to bring him up several floors without dropping him?

He was looking at your hand. “I probably could just run up the walls you know.”

You paused, realizing you hadn’t considered that. You didn’t really know what all he was capable of truly. But just as you started to lower your hand, he surprised you by grabbing and holding it.

“Yet how many guys can say they flew with you, huh?”

“Practically none,” You admitted. “I don’t make a habit of picking up my friends.”

“You aren’t quite building confidence here.”

“I’m sure that door weighed more than you.”

“And look how it ended up. Again, not comforting.”

This guy was truly something else. “Come here, we take much longer and they really are going to be sending a search party for us.”

You extended the energy from your hand across his body gently. He was obviously much lighter than the door, and the closer you kept him, the easier it would be to move the both of you.

You tried not to make eye contact with him again as you levitated the two of you through the top of the elevator and up through the shaft. Even though you knew you were fully capable of doing this, you still didn’t want to lose focus.

But his voice didn’t sound frightened at all as he spoke up to let you know how high to go. “They’re on the top floor, we’re stealing a jet to get out of here.”

“Wow, but okay. Got it,” You sped up a little at that, no longer worried about passing your landing point as you went straight to the top.

When you reached the highest doors, you were able to force them open with a turn of your free hand, bringing you and Peter safely through and back onto solid ground.

You powered down immediately as your feet met the floor, the light fading back into your body until you were just standing there in your torn, bloody clothes once more. “Okay, I’m ready to get nauseous again, let’s go.”

He actually squeezed your hand before he let go of it in order to brace your head and ribs again. “For the record that felt pretty good. You’re really warm. Zero g’s was cool too. Thanks.”

“Um...you’re welcome?” You answered, a little flustered all over again to your own dismay, and really not knowing what else to say before he whisked you away in an instant.

It really was going to be the longest day ever.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader Epilogue

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Word Count: 6300+

[Chapter X]

Summary: The conclusion.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, injuries, etc. 

Notes: Sorry this took forever to come out! I managed to simplify this chapter from 8000+ words to around 6300 since I wasn’t exactly happy with the excessive details. Though, I hope this chapter is still enjoyable, so thanks for your patience.

February, 1984

New Jersey

Your brow twitches as noise begins to fill your ears.

A steady beep played rhythmically beside you. Accompanying it was the sound of a radio, slightly static, as well as minimal chatter that occurred a short distance away. You move your finger as physical feelings begin to return. It wasn’t long before a piercing pain seared at the back of your head before reducing to a lingering tingle.

It took a while before you could open up your eye and your usual visual field was now cut by a small bit. The whiteness of the hospital walls felt more blinding than it should have, and it only added onto the distaste of the color. Everything felt out of focus, and you give yourself a few moments to properly adjust.

Your body was treated heavily in medical bandages and equipment. A heavy weight rested over the left side of your face where your eye should be open. There was a clip on your finger, as well as an IV up your arm. A nasal tube was up your nose, and you tried your best not to gag at the feeling of something in your throat.

Adjusting your posture was a struggle, but you manage to prop yourself up. Beside you on your right was a small table that had a vase filled with a bouquet of flowers along with some balloons. A bit childish, but the gesture was what mattered.

How long have you been sleeping?

As if on time, you see a nurse stick her head in through the doorway. Upon noticing your awakened state, you turned your head only to watch her scurry off with widened eyes. It wasn’t long before she returned with a doctor tagging along, in which they both proceeded to take your vitals and remove anything you no longer needed. 

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“No.” Your voice sounded horrible, throat sore and dry and lips parched from the lack of water. The nurse seemed to get the gist, bringing over a cup of water for you. 

“Can you move your fingers for me?”

A few more questions, and then began the spiel of how memory loss after a traumatic event is common, as it’s the mind’s way of protecting itself from further harm. Or some shit like that.

“You were caught in the crossfire that occurred down at the mall a month ago.”

You nodded. Right. The mall. Images of Stitch popped up, as well as what he did to you, but that was all you remembered. Anything afterwards was blank. 

Wait.

A month?

“As far as everything else goes, everything seems normal. Your body’s recovering at a fast rate, so it shouldn’t be long before you can leave. Your boyfriend will be glad to hear that.” You caught the nurse winking before she tilts her head slightly to the left. “He’s a keeper you know.”

You withheld a remark, wanting to call her out on the statement. It was a lot to process.

“We’re going to check up on you later, so page us if you need anything.”

It was only after the nurse and doctor left that you noticed Adler situated on a chair with his arms crossed in the left corner of the room. You couldn’t see him at first until you turned your head. Was he covering your blind spot?

Adler wore a light grey knit vest with a long sleeve white button up underneath. His hair was unkempt with tufts poking out in a disheveled fashion compared to its usual combed from, the unshaven stubble topping it all off. The jacket he gave you was wrapped over the back of his chair. His aviators were hanging loosely from his ears, just on the verge of slipping from his nose. You couldn’t tell exactly, but with the soft snoring and steady breathing he was, in fact, asleep.

This was probably one of the few times you saw him ever sleeping. He was always awake by the time you woke up, and if he ever just so happened to take a nap in the middle of the day, his face was always covered, whether with a magazine, newspaper, or even his jacket. The moment you address him, he would sit up wide awake as if you never caught him in the act.

You wanted to wake him, but decided against it. He looked so exhausted on that chair. The poor bastard's probably been sleepless the past month, and he needed to rest. 

Despite the current circumstances you were in, it was rather placid, just watching Adler sleep soundly. 

Although, you couldn’t help but remember back to that fateful arctic day whenever you did look at him. There was always the flash of the whiteness of snow behind your eyes before the brief shiver of cold of the Arctic breeze. With the dive into the memories, a particular question would always conjure up with no definitive answer:

What if you had shot Adler instead?

Your hand flew to your waist then, your mind giving you warnings about his subtle movements. It was the gut feeling, your instincts acting on its own, noticing the details that gave away his intentions.

How his hand discreetly fell to his side with his back turned to you, gazing out onto the ocean as the sunlight highlighted his features. Adler looked oddly peaceful, and yet he had dared to sever ties on that whim. 

It was so easy to pull the trigger. You've done it an endless amount of times. On your own former Soviet comrades, on the Americans… You played both sides of the chessboard, so there should have been no hesitation or doubt when it came towards deciding your enemies. It was up to you in the end.

The sight was lined up perfectly. Right there, at his chest. You were both exhausted and mentally drained. It would have taken a second, and yet your finger never even lifted from its spot. Was it his expression that stopped you? But, he wore his aviators. He always did.

Yet, there was something captivating about him that day, whether it be his words or that simple outlook off the edge. It wasn't romantic by any means, but it was just that particular moment that he let his guard down around you, and you fell for it. A sign of trust you came to acknowledge, and it was used against you.

Even after the speculation, you knew you couldn't do it. You couldn't bring yourself to shoot him. Was it the fact that you believed you were long time acquaintances since Vietnam? The truth was revealed to you, but it was hard to simply debunk everything you’ve been manipulated in believing in. 

And that final look he gave you. Right before you free fell into the water. Regret, despair, sorrow… Yet firm. His face hardened and cold in an endeavor to bury his feelings as he followed through his orders. 

What would you have done, then? Would you have done the same to him as he did to you: toss him off the cliff while staring down at his shrinking figure as it plunged into the cold water below?

Maybe you would have returned to Perseus. He had taught you everything you knew now, practically shaping your life in whatever form he desired. 

But, considering that you foiled one of their biggest plans yet, there was no possibility of returning to his side. Instead, you would have had to leave everything behind and shed your identity of a CIA operative and Perseus member. Leave Adler on that cliff as red spouted from his chest and bled into his clothes while staining the ground. 

But, you didn't.

And now in that sick twist of fate, from living on that old Russian base, to being discovered and reenlisted, you almost gave your life up for Russell Adler once again— the man who caused it all.

Why did you agree to work with them again?

You could have just rotted away at Langley, or in some private prison. If they were kind enough, maybe they would even let you live as a regular civilian.

A scoff.

Yeah right. You were the CIA's MKUltra project, there was no way you would have gotten that free. It was already a gamble for Adler and Park to convince them to have you undergo the conditioning, and to insist on raising the dosage was the only way to ensure it’s efficiency. 

Unless he was scared of you. Maybe Adler actually got attached to you, and got frightened at the idea of you finding the truth— it would break the relationship he managed to build up by actually working beside you.

Relationship.

The nurse’s statement echoed in the depths of your mind, the word “boyfriend” repeating itself over and over.

What kind of high school humor was going around? You guys weren’t dating or anything. Would a kiss signify a lover’s relationship?

Yeah, right.

You both tried to kill each other at one point, but even then there was no use denying that something deeper was happening. Nothing to the extent of being in an intense romantic relationship, but there was something. 

The TV in the corner of your hospital room was currently playing the news, still talking about what happened at the mall. That there was suddenly a shoot out at night time, caused by an angry armed mob who stuck in to wreck the place in retaliation to the reopening. 

"The mall was empty when the shooting started, and only one person was reported in critical condition. Investigation efforts led by the New Jersey Police Department have gone nowhere..."

You tuned it out.

After a month of being in a deep sleep, you couldn't fall back asleep that easily. You were left on the hospital bed, and every little movement you made would result in searing pain before dissolving thanks to the painkillers. Stuck in place with the news channel on, you could only contemplate as to how you made it this far without dying. You really were unkillable.

Outside the window was a populated and vibrant city, filled with cars and bustling streets. The baby blue sky had pillows of clouds that broke the sea as the sun peeked out from behind them. There was an airplane breaking free from civilization just over the horizon.

"Bell?" 

Your mood shifts at the sound of your alias as the familiar voice bounced around. It was a bit raspy and deeper than usual, and it failed to aid your attempt to fight the grin that stretched ear to ear. With a relieved exhale, you say: "Hey Russ.”

Shock practically consumed Adler's being as he attempted to fathom the words you just spoke as he tried to readjust his glasses. Eventually he gave up on them, and let them hang from the vest. It looked like he'd just seen a ghost. The tug of his cheek, to the small jaw drop, you waited as he searched that mental dictionary for words.

"You're awake."

"That's the first thing you greet me with?"

There was that rare smile of his. Your sarcasm never left you.

Adler pulls his chair closer to your bedside. His hand twitches a bit, before returning back to his side and sitting back down. He licks his lips, unsure how to carry out his next move. “How do you feel?”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Care to elaborate?”

There was some hesitation before he started speaking. Adler proceeded to give you a heavy account of what happened as if he was at a debrief— How they discovered the N6 barrels before getting ambushed, him running to the arcade for cover, then Stitch sneaking up on him. You appeared at this moment, firing shots at their general direction before tackling Stitch off of him.

“You barely made it to the hospital.”

“And Stitch?”

Adler pauses. “We… couldn’t officially confirm the body.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? He was right there—”

“His body was gone when we did a clean up sweep.”

“You’re telling me that there’s a chance that he’s walking around with a knife in his forehead?” You lurch forward, only to flinch at the pain. 

“Bell!” Adler users you to lie back down.

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Just tell me the rest.”

He didn’t go into detail regarding the events after, but reiterated that you became conscious while being escorted to the ER, refusing to let them put a needle in your arm to sedate you, and how he needed to step in.

“Once again, Prince Charming comes and saves the day,” you snicker, only to hitch your breath. It hurt to chuckle.

Adler’s already somber expression seemed to deepen. “I’m not always going to be there to save you, Bell.”

Apparently, cracking a joke wasn’t the right move. “You know I didn’t mean—”

“You almost died for fuck’s sake!” he lets out abruptly. “Were you always this selfish? You were already injured as is, you didn’t need to run in and—”

He cuts himself off, watching that grin fade away. A pang of regret hits him.

“And what, Adler? Save your life?” you spat defensively, throat already getting dry again. “I did it for you. But I guess taking a knife for someone is a selfish act now, is it?”

“I didn’t ask you to— Ugh, fuck.” Adler buries his face into his hands, contemplating. “I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t be yelling at you but… It’s just… I see you in this state, and the thought of you dying just makes me insane. I should have just brought you to Washington. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be in this damn bed.”

You gave out a sign, lowering your shoulders. There was no point in being agitated. You were both scared, and the last thing you wanted to happen was to widen the rift once again between the both of you. “It’s fine. These kinds of things are expected in this kind of work.”

Adler takes a breath, shuddering slightly. “Even so, the last thing I want to do is carry your casket down an aisle.”

“You went two years thinking I died. You can move on.”

“No. I know, but… now it’s different. It’s you, Bell.” Adler nibbles at the side of his cheek, unsure if he should continue talking. You gave no response, the look in your eyes giving him permission to continue. He exhales slowly.

It’s always been you.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he continues, “But… I know for a fact I haven’t felt this way for a long time, until recently. The last time was with her. It didn’t last as long as I thought it would. Yet, that short spur of happiness that I got while with her was something I never thought I could be granted the pleasure of knowing.”

You could only nod. 

“But of course, being in this type of job… She couldn’t handle it, eloped with someone that wasn’t military, then broke the news to me the moment I returned.” Adler tightens his jaw, as if recalling a bittersweet memory. “Turns out, there was a lot of shit we didn’t agree about. But, like always, I moved on.”

There was a bit of nostalgia within his words, sprinkled with a bit of fondness and no ill intent. No jealousy when he reminisced about it, nor any lingering tones of regret or grudges. 

“At least, that’s what I told myself… And then there’s you.” He finally locks his eyes onto yours. “I know you still hate me for what I’ve done, and I accept that. But, as we worked alongside each other, that unexplainable feeling started to come back. I tried my damn hardest to ignore it, but even then, I made a decision that brought more pain onto you.”

It nearly slipped past you, but there were small breaks between his sentences thanks to Adler sucking in some air. His voice was beginning to weaken the longer he talked.

“You shouldn’t be here. With me, with the CIA. You survived through so much shit as is, and we forced you back into it. Just the thought of losing you makes me go insane, so… When Stitch got you, I almost fucking lost it.”

Adler clasped his hands together, pressing them firmly against each other to stop himself from breaking down. You note that his nose and eyes were just a tinge of pink. What was he getting at?

“I don’t want to leave your side. But I… don’t want you to get hurt anymore, Bell. The more I think about it, the more I realize you didn’t deserve this. I made you this way. If you continue to work with us, then there’s going to be instances where I’m not there for you. I don’t want that. What happens if I’m a second too slow—”

You cut him off, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him towards you as you lean forward. 

He freezes as both your lips make contact, but didn't fight it. He melts into it, letting his mouth do the work as he closes his eyes.

For someone as tough as you once were, it was almost pathetic to see how you managed to fall for a guy like him. What did you see in him that he didn’t? As confident as Adler was, constantly reassuring and supporting you, he could only ponder as to why everything just worked out.

In the end, despite the insecurities shared by the both of you, this was something he had been wanting to do for so long. 

It's been nearly seven fucking months since you both shared that kiss in your room. He wasn't the type for obnoxious public displays of affection, but hell, even he had a yearning for that shit. Even alluding to the idea that the one kiss in your room could have been the last was scarring, so this one needed to count.

But, the wait was worthwhile. It was slow and tender, done so with such care that it made his own heart skip a beat. With each second it became more passionate, yet still had that careful touch. He wasn't going to let any more chances slip by him.

You withdraw a few millimeters, taking a second to catch your breath, before once again making contact, this time from the corner of his mouth. Trailing up his cheek you could feel his scruff brush against your bandages. Adler refused to even move under your touch, giving out a shaky exhale.

Your lips meet his scar, and you deliver a final, graceful and slow peck on it. 

“No one's getting rid of me that easily,” you declare before pulling away. "Especially you, Russell Adler."

He shudders, wiping his nose with the back of his hand while choking back a sob. 

It wasn't something he didn't think he would desire, and yet this kind of contact is what he's been missing. And for you to give affection to the brand that he was secretly self-conscious about held more meaning than you'll ever realize.

After going years without having someone, after his ex-wife, even he believed that love was something he just didn’t deserve, nor should he be bothered to seek it out. He dedicated his life to his job since then, so innocent people could live normally. It was always for the greater good, and yet Adler himself forgot that even he needed to take care of himself. 

There were nights where he would just sit in silence, reliving past events, just wishing for someone to comfort him through all of it.

Your head fit right under his chin and you waited silently, listening to his uneven breaths. Your hands gripped at his clothes as if you were holding for dear life. 

“Thank you, Bell.”

After taking time trying to settle back in, you could feel Adler press his lips against the top of your head. It was a bit of an uncomfortable position to be in, and you could feel the painkillers beginning to wear off, but you didn’t want to move. Staying there inside the warm embrace of the man you’ve become too attached to was a moment you wanted to cherish.

Adler’s arms loosen up, giving you room to pull away. 

Still, you stay close, just a couple inches away from his face. He doesn't object as you tuck some strands of hair behind his ear. Your finger runs down the back of it before trailing down to stroke the edge of his jawline, leaving him to eye you reproachfully while finding closure. You finally were awake, animating and talking right in front of him after a month of being met with silence.

Your index stops at his chin, before following the path of his scar and up to his lips, where your finger then traced them ever so lightly with the touch of a feather. You couldn't even react in time as Adler steals a quick kiss from you, which he then sends you a triumphant grin afterwards. 

"Just making sure."

While neither of you uttered those three beloved words, it was clear enough how you felt about one another. 

"So…" you begin, gazing longingly in the sea of blue. "About that date..."

.

.

.

.

.

.

Adler pulls up into a decently crowded lot, and parks inside an empty stall. He takes the keys out of the engine, leaving the car and you follow suit. The doors closed with a nice slam and he locks his car. 

“You know, Bell… I could think of a hundred different other places to eat that are way better than this joint.”

“If I remember, you said that you would take me wherever I wanted, and this is it.”

Just thirty minutes ago you were discharged from the hospital after saying an extra week. With no medical history, or insurance, Adler had personally come to retrieve you for the long anticipated date, and the first thing you requested was to go eat breakfast somewhere.

You and Adler were now sitting at a booth inside an IHOP at 7:33 in the morning. 

He was wearing a tan long sleeve turtleneck, his jacket hanging from the shoulders. The aviators were off, sitting neatly on the table. He almost looked like a different person without them, but with the scar stretching across his face, there was no way of mistaking him.

Both of you were waiting for your order, letting the morning rays hit through the window. There was the clatter of plates and metal utensils in the background, a few waitresses going around and delivering orders to their respective tables.

Upon your request, after a week of shitty hospital food and a month of tube feeding, you needed some good food. While you were never familiar about the United States in general, this happened to be the closest place to the hospital that caught your eye. It probably wasn't the best of establishments, but anything goes.

“How’s the eye?” Adler asks. 

“It's seen better days.” 

He shook his head while sighing at your attempt at being slick. But he was smiling a tiny bit. “Nice try, [L/N]. But, seriously, what’d they say?”

“...I can still work.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You bit your lip. The eyepatch was a clear indicator of the answer.

Underneath it was a pad of gauze taped securely over your eye. You could feel it throbbing from time to time, and had to take painkillers every few hours so you could sleep. Your left arm was in a sling while your right one sat comfortably inside your black bomber jacket, although both were wrapped with bandages. At this point, every part of your body had gone through some kind of trauma. 

“...They said it was hard to tell.”

Adler nods. It wasn’t the greatest news to hear, and he would have to do more research later. “Considering that it’s you we’re talking about, there shouldn’t be an issue in rehabilitating.”

You grin at his positivity. “Of course.”

"Good."

His gaze comes to focus on your face. 

That once, untouched skin of yours now had a long and thin discolored streak that ran right down the left side, starting from your forehead, going under the eyepatch, then right down to your jaw as if a single tear rolled down and left behind an imprint of its trail. It felt unfitting for someone of your nature.

"What's wrong?" you ask. Adler shakes his head, brushing it off.

"It's nothing."

You point to your scar with a conceited look. "'You mean this? Is it noticeable?'"

"Really, [Y/N]? You're stealing my lines now?" 

The sound of your laughter that followed was relaxing for him to hear. "We're matching now."

Adler couldn't help but smirk along. "With that eyepatch? No, you resemble Weaver, if anything."

"This Weaver guy’s pretty famous. Everyone else seems to know of him. Do we really have that much in common?"

"You’d be surprised. He's Russian, for one. Also has an eyepatch for the same reason as you." He pauses to think. "I actually haven't heard from him for a while. But, hey, who knows? Maybe you'll meet each other some day."

"So… Let me get this straight. I heard it from Woods and Mason, but Kravchenko stabs this Weaver friend in the eye, then you take Stitch's for revenge. Then that bastard takes my eye—"

"We've basically come full circle."

"Damn. You guys really have some unfinished business."

"It's what we're paid for."

Everyone's history ran deep with one another, and soon enough you would be thrown into the mix of special officers with intricate ties. It had taken quite the effort to convince Adler that you refused to be removed from the team (and the CIA together). With everything you have experienced, the thought of simply returning to civilian life was foreign. 

“Speaking of pay… You're going to take the med bills from my check, right?” you ask as the thought crossed your mind. Considering your injuries and the intensive care you went through, the bills were certainly more than one page. “Because, if that's the case–”

“Already been taken care of.”

You were going to ask "by who", but judging from Adler's expression, you already knew the answer. His eyes lingered a bit longer, before drifting towards someone walking towards the table.

The waitress came over, setting down two cups of coffee. You thank her, and you could hear a soft "your welcome" as she walked away. 

Reaching out for the cup, you tried to grab the handle, only for you to completely miss and grab air. Your brows knitted in concentration, you tried again.

"Need some help?" Adler asks with pure amusement.

"No, I got it."

"Clearly not. That was my cup."

Adler placed his hand on top of yours, guiding you to the handle of your cup. His hands were big, feeling hard and rough placed on top of yours. Feeling the porcelain, closed your fingers around it. 

"Thanks..." you mutter, feeling some heat rising on your cheeks. 

"See? Not that hard."

"I wish I could see, Russ, but I'm kinda blind in one eye," you retort lightly.

The coffee mug in your hands was warm to the touch. It stung a bit, especially with your injuries, but in an odd way it felt comforting. Using a spoon, you twirled around the coffee, watching it change into a lighter shade of brown before tasting it and adjusting the flavor. Adler didn't say much, only watching just in case something happened. If you needed assistance, he was right there.

"So, when do we get back to work?" you ask, hopeful. You took a sip of your coffee, making sure it was close to your lips before tilting the mug slightly.

"You still want to work? Even after all that?"

Adler was taken aback. If he were to put himself in your shoes, he would have thrown in the towel by now. Your work ethic was impressive, even more so knowing your history, and it was extremely concerning. It was because of it that you were getting closer to him, and the association between you two would only make the target on your back larger. Stitch abducting you as a hostage was the epitome of his fears, only fueling his hatred for the man even further.

He nearly lost you because of this connection. 

"I do. I mean, we still have unfinished business with Perseus."

You couldn't exactly say that you were scared of being abandoned. Or that you had nowhere else to go if you were to retire per say. Knowing how the team worked endlessly undercover, there was a low chance of ever seeing them again, and they were all that you had. Even if your relationship with them has been tested, they still never failed you. And you won’t let them down.

“Even so, the CIA considers you a threat to national security,” Adler regards, making sure you were the only one that could hear. A danger to the general public, mentally unstable, unfit for duty… the list went on.

“You guys are the only things I have left, and you are not going to take that away from me,” you counter. The brief sensation of something sharp sparked in your stomach, so you quickly eased up and leaned back. “Besides, that’s what they said about Mason, too. Operation Charybdis, was it? And look where he is now. If he’s still an operative in the CIA despite all that, then I can as well.”

“That’s classified info, [L/N]. How did you—”

“What can I say?” You shrug nonchalantly, setting your cup back down. “I’m a person of many talents.”

“You knowing that only proves their point further.”

You pout, offended. “What are they going to do, shoot me?”

Adler groans, knowing full well that he couldn’t convince you otherwise. Though, in the depths of his mind, he was secretly happy about it. Your arrogance, along with a few other things, needed some work. “I'll see what I can do, but for now let’s not discuss any of that here.”

“Sir, with all due respect, it’s eight in the morning, and we’re sitting in fucking IHOP,” you tease. "I don't think anyone is awake enough to eavesdrop."

While the two of you were regular civilians for today, the way you both looked would easily catch the eyes of anyone passing by. A man with a huge scar on his face, and another with an eyepatch, arms bandaged from the fingertips to the shoulder. The waitress couldn’t even look at you without her eyes drifting elsewhere despite her attempts.

"I just remembered," Adler perks up suddenly, digging something out from his pocket, setting it on the table. "A gift from the team, to celebrate your release."

It was a small rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper. A bow was slapped on top of it, a tag attached to it which had "[Y/N]" written on the back of it, Adler's penmanship easily eligible.

"And, uh, this keychain from Woods." He hands you a tiny jar of sand with the Florida white engravings on the outside, and you couldn't help but grin. 

"How thoughtful of him."

You turn your attention to the box, taking a peek at Adler for permission, and he gives you a nod. Opening it carefully, you found a newly packaged Walkman, still in the box. It was a newer model, one you haven't seen yet. Slimmer and lighter, too. 

"What do you think?" Adler asks, unable to gauge your feelings.

"Are you sure I can have this?" You couldn't find any words. 

"Stop undervaluing yourself, [L/N]. You deserve it. You contribute a lot to the team, we couldn't have done it without you.”

You nod, holding the box as if it were a newborn baby. You thought of which cassette to play first, only to remember you didn't have them anymore. As if cue, Adler set two tapes down. One MIX 2 and another you have never seen before, MIX 3. How original, you thought. You reach out, your arm straining itself as you went to retrieve the tapes, only for Adler to once again take your hand and place it on top. An odd feeling bubbles in your stomach.

Butterflies again.

"You know I still can see right?" you state, looking straight at him, but he didn’t meet your gaze, instead looking out the window. "Just because I only have one eye at the moment doesn't mean you need to baby me."

"To be fair, you aren’t doing much to stop me either."

It was a habit you noticed about him. Actions speak louder than words, the only exception would be how he would address you by your actual name instead of Bell whenever it was just the two of you outside of work-related business. 

"Anyways. There's a few of my personal favorites in here." He taps the third cassette.  "Had a friend of mine compile it together this time."

"Didn't know you were a music person." You take the Walkman out of it's packaging, tossing aside the extra papers and plastic.

"I'm not, but I have a good ear for talent."

After putting MIX 3 inside the Walkman, you pondered over if you should listen to it. Deciding not to, especially when you were out with Adler, you wrapped the earphone wires around it, pocketing it alongside with the other cassette. "I'll listen to it later, if that's fine."

"By all means."

Your eyes wander for a bit, watching a waitress help another table. “What’s the date again today?”

“February twenty-eighth.”

“Ah, thought so.” You got up from your seat. “Wait here for a moment.”

Adler gives you an intrigued look, but shrugs it off as you walk off. Taking a sip of his coffee, he watches a couple cars enter and leave the parking lot from his spot. It was one of those few occasions that the mornings were seldom and chill, and eating at a breakfast joint earned him some peace of mind.

While it wasn’t the best place to eat at, your presence alone brought him happiness. You were back to your usual self despite fighting against all odds just weeks before. 

You took a glimpse at him over your shoulder, before returning to talk to the waitress, who nodded before going behind the counter. You were planning something, but he didn’t know what.

“What was that?” Adler asks a bit accusingly as you return to your seat. 

“Just remembered something, that’s all.”

“And you’re going to leave me hanging?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.”

Adler stops pestering you, surveying your face for anything that could give away your secret, but he couldn't find anything. 

You notice this, and give him a sly grin. "Someone's impatient today."

Of course he was. It was the first time you were out of the hospital, and the last thing he wanted was for you to over exert yourself and open up any wounds. 

But before he could even respond with a snarky rebuttal, the waitress you talked to earlier comes back with a plate and sets it down gently on the table, along with two forks and some napkins. On it was a stack of pancakes with a small scoop of butter on top, which was already melting and dripping down the sides. The lady brought over a bottle of syrup.

"Happy birthday," you greet. "It's free, so don't worry about paying for it."

"Two weeks ago."

"Yeah, well I wasn't exactly fully awake for your birthday, was I? Better late than never."

No one ever really did something like this for him, nor did he expect you to remember his birthday. It wasn't much to celebrate as he got older, it was just another year he managed to live, but this time it felt different. 

"Lazar also told me about this thing called Valentine's Day, but… like I said," you continue, "So, might as well celebrate your birthday and Valentine's at the same time. Since, we're you know, I guess—"

"On a date," he finishes. "We're adults, no need to get so worked up about it. But, thank you, [Y/N]."

A simple morning coffee run date turned into a tiny birthday/Valentine's celebration. Weird, considering it was weeks past, but it was heartwarming to say the least. 

No wonder he fell for you. And seeing you do these little gestures for him makes him even more determined to hold you close and protect you. To see someone like you turn into a bashful, nervous wreck when showing affection was something Adler found cute.

Adler chuckles at your embarrassment as he reaches out to the forks and hands one over to you. You take it graciously, feeling his hand bump against yours. 

Your first date.

"Something bugging you?" Adler voices his concern, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You cut a small piece with your fork. "No. Just thinking."

"About?"

"You."

You wanted to learn more about him. Not by researching or through the CIA database, but through himself. What kind of person was he, really? You wanted to hear his story and his experiences, and you wanted to be there for him to return the favor. His struggles, his efforts… All of it. No more lies and fabrication.

Adler graces you with a coquettish smile. "Well, don't think too hard now. We may be on a 'date', but don't let me distract you from the important stuff."

"But, you are the 'important stuff'."

“Keep flirting like that and you'll start to sound like Lazar.”

And, if he was interested, you would tell him about yourself, too. Whatever you remembered, where you were born… There was still lots to rediscover about yourself, but you knew he would be there right beside you.

Just like he promised.

[sugawara-sweetheart]

𝔰𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔢 (𝔪)

❥yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader

❥warnings: yandere, dubcon, ill-prepped sex, bleeding, guilt-tripping & manipulation, jealousy and possessiveness, toxic relationship, vomit (not like that dw)

❥word count: 3.7k

❣︎anon: Hello love! I hope you’re having a good day :) I was hoping to request a yandere!yamaguchi fic where he’s the team captain and reader is the manager. Maybe after a really bad practice game he manipulates reader into dating him by saying sumn like “oh if we are together the teams foundation will be stronger”. And like through out their relationship it shows how he will guilt her into staying and fucking him but she doesn’t realize he’s toxic and is just like “ he just loves me a lot and is kinky lol” (sorry idk if this makes sense essentially just Yan!yamaguchi dating manager!reader lol)

he strikes when morale is low.

you can see devastation etched on everyone’s faces. hinata’s shoulders slouch with utter dejection, kageyama’s jaw is clenched tightly and there’s worry and shame across the first years’ faces. a sense of hopelessness.

you want to cry. being manager wasn’t something you were new to- you’d been working as one of them since your first year- but this was yamaguchi’s first year of being captain. this was the first practise game of the year and the loss was devestating. any chance of going to nationals this year seemed like a far away dream, like trying to grasp smoke.

“don’t mind, guys.” you hope your smile isn’t shaky but you don’t get much of a reply as the boys head to the clubroom, leaving you and yamaguchi the only ones remaining outside the gym. the air feels cool on your skin, the sky tinged with streaks of pink and a warm glow as the sun sets below the hills.

“i’m not doing great as captain, am i?” yamaguchi murmurs. you frown at him, mouth falling open but he contunues, staring off at the scenic distance with the tangerine sun reflected in his round, dejected orbs. “i shouldn’t have been captain- if tsukki or kageyama-”

“no, tadashi.” he looks stunned and you hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel as you smile gently. “you’re an amazing captain- this was just a tiny bump in the road but i know you’ll lead the team syccessfully, just like ennoshita, just like daichi.” the mention of your former captains makes him smile slightly, a wistful longing apparent in his face. “i know you will. don’t worry, this was just one practise match and everyone knows dateko is a bitch to play with.” he chuckles, nodding and as you gaze at the setting sun you notice him edging closer towards you.

“i’m really glad you’re our manager, y/n.” he beams and your heart flutters at his sweet words, warmth tingling through you as you grin. “i feel like you’ll really help our team feel so much stronger as manager, but..” he trails off with an awkward chuckle that has you narrowing your eyes.

“tadashi?”

“no, you’ll think i’m stupid- i’m just being dumb-” hesitation is etched all over his face, brewing with anxiety and it makes your chest twinge as you shake your head, trying to ignore how endearing he looks with his freckled cheeks flushed pink.

“no, no, don’t think that! tadashi, what is it?” the corners of his lips tug in a shy smile as he rubs the back of his reddened neck.

“uh- i-i was thinking...well, you’re really pretty and i’ve always liked you, but because you’re manager too, if we- um- you know- we’d be such a stronger team…”

his cheeks glow bright pink, doe eyes widened and you can’t help the smile that stretches across your face, utter warmth flooding through you. so innocent, so sweet, your heart drums against your rib cage as you try to resist the giggle that escapes you.

“tadashi, are you trying to ask me out?” he looks worried, a little crease between his brows as he stammers over his words.

“i-ive always liked you- it’s not just for the team, that’s more of a bonus- it’s okay if you don’t want to, i know...i know i wouldn’t be a girl’s first choice but-”

“nonsense.” he falls silent, blinking in shock as you slide your fingers into his, squeezing his warm hand tight. “you’re my first choice.”

the thing with traps is that they never look obvious. a serpent under the innocent flower. and yamaguchi was the perfect trap.

it starts off sweet- it always does.

you’re not sure how such a sweet angel has been single for so long because your life becomes entirely better with yamaguchi brightening it up. he’s there every morning at the end of your garden bolding a can of coffee and his other outstretched for you to slip yours into, to let him place a gentle kiss on the back of it before you make your way together to school. he’s so proud to tell the team you’re dating- it’s such a thrill to have him announce it with a sense of pride, his eyes softening as he gazes at you whilst hinata cheers him on and yachi is bursting with questions to ask you. and he’s so besotted with you, every bit of free time he wants to spend with you- tugging your hand during breaks at practise, pulling you into empty corridors at school to make out with you pressed against the wall, his leg nudging between your thighs, his hand always entwined with yours whenever you’re both walking, every evening and weekend spent together.

until it starts to feel like too much.

“y/n,” you sigh heavily when hinata clings to your sleeve, resting his head on your shoulder with his brown eyes wide and pleading. “please, please- i’ll buy you meat buns!”

“shōyō, what are you on about?” you’re half-amused by your friend, the friend you’d had since your first year at karasuno, the same friend that encouraged not just yachi to be manager of the volleyball team but you too. if there was anyone you trusted more than yamaguchi and yachi, it’d be hinata- the sweet, vivacious boy you’d spent so many happy times with.

“help us study!” he cries, gesturing to himself and a sheepish-looking kageyama stood a few steps away. “we’re going to fail the exams without your help!” you can’t help but laugh at the same occurrence that happens every exam season without fail, nodding slowly as smiles brighten up the two boys’ faces.

“fine, fine. we’ll study tonight and on the weekend- but next time come to me earlier! you know maths is on tuesday-”

“what’s going on?” you can’t explain why your chest suddenly feels tight when yamaguchi’s bright, tender voice fills your ears. his soft scent of linen envelopes you as he takes his seat on the bench beside you, tsukishima right by his side and you’re not sure why a smile seems to hard to plaster on your face as your boyfriend slides his arms around you.

“y/n’s helping us study for our exams!” hinata beams. you’re aware of tsukishima scoffing, the three volleyball players beginning to squabble childishly, but all you can focus on is yamaguchi’s eyes burning into you. from the corner of your eye you can see the hurt flashing across his face, his head tilting to the side as he speaks quietly.

“you’re helping them study?” you frown slightly at the tone of his voice, nodding with an awkward smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah- just tonight and on the weekend. why?” yamaguchi’s face scowls slightly as his lips are pulled into a thin line. you don’t like the look that lingers in his eyes, the same look he has when you’re chatting away to a classmate instead of him, when you compliment kageyama or the second years on their abilities, when you ask hinata tenderly if he’s okay after he’s had a ball to the face. why does he always look so scorned? you hate the heavy feeling that twinges in your chest when he does.

“alone?” you have to laugh- it’s the only one way to brush it off but he doesn’t look pleased, even when you force yourself to relax in his arms and brush your lips against his cheek.

“don’t be like that, tadashi.”

but he is like that. it seems to be a regular occurrence, and it worsens. anxiety brews in your stomach, weighing you down and making you feel sick every time. hinata hugged you for a moment too long after a successful practise game, his head buried in the crook of your neck and his arms wrapped around you, and yamaguchi refused to even look at you the whole way home, a sour look on his face and his eyes fixated on the road ahead whilst you pleaded and begged for his attention. but nothing- he just left you on your doorstep sniffling and your throat raw from the constant apologies. one time you walked with tsukishima to practise after a lesson with him, smiling and laughing as he shared with you his warm childhood memories of yamaguchi, but your boyfriend didn’t see it like that. your heart dropped the moment you locked eyes with him standing by the gym expectantly, utter betrayal and hurt etched on his face you wanted to sink to your knees then and beg for his forgiveness.

“girls don’t really like me.” he’d sniffled afterwards in your bedroom. “they just use me for tsukishima, they always have- i really thought you liked me for me, y/n.”

“i do, tadashi, i do.” your eyes are hot with frustrated tears as you crouch before him, nuzzling your face into his thigh. “please believe me when i say it wasn’t like that! you know i love you.” his wet eyes sparkle when you say that, face lighting up.

“r-really?” you nod eagerly, not resisting him when he cups your face and brings your lips to his, kissing you sweetly and tenderly. and when you think it’s all solved dread begins to seep into you again as he takes your hand and presses it against his hardening cock.

“t-tadashi,” yamaguchi’s face crumples at the tone in your voice. “i-i’m not ready- you know that-”

“i thought you liked me.” he spits bitterly. it’s the same words, the same words that always makes you feel so pathetic, so useless and shitty, breaking yamaguchi’s heart over and over. so you hold back the salty tears and try not to think too hard about it when you let him use your mouth, trying not to feel hurt. this is normal, you tell yourself. yamaguchi deserves it, you hurt him earlier, but you still hate every moment of it.

eventually you start avoiding people. it feels like every interaction yamaguchi watches goes wrong and ends with him upset, hurt, betrayed, insecure and the guilt of it, the consequences where you have to make amends weighs down too heavy on you.

“you treat me like shit, i just feel like you don’t care.”

“a good manager doesn’t flirt around with the other players- you’re supposed to be my girlfriend!”

“why am i never good enough for you? i’m not even good enough for the team and now I'm not good enough for you.”

the simple thing is just to simply stay away.

the team are confused when you’re suddenly curt and cold towards the first and second years, no longer sweetly encouraging them with enthusiastic compliments and kind words. you have to hold back the tears that prickle your eyes when you see the look of hurt flash across hinata’s face, the sparkle dulling in his brown eyes, when you push him away when he tries to hug you but yamaguchi’s eyes piercing into your back serves as a reminder. your friends see less of you when you decline hanging out with them at lunch to be with yamaguchi instead and you hate how they frown at you with unfamiliarity.

“what’s wrong with you, y/n? why do you keep ditching us now that you have a man?” you want to explain, you really do, but how do you tell them that you don’t want to hurt yamaguchi too, you don’t want him to cry to you about how he feels neglected and pushed aside like you don’t care anymore? how do you tell them you don’t want to have to use your mouth or hands to make it up to him? so you let them be hurt instead, you pull away till they pass you in the hallways without even so much as glancing at you.

you think it’ll get better, that yamguchi will be happier now. but it all breaks down at the inter-high tournament when winning is so close, so close you can almost taste the sweet victory on your tongue. the gym is tense and the boys are playing hard and you’re holding your breath, heart pounding as you will them to win the semi-finals. they’re so close to getting through. it’ll save you if they do.

but they lost. bile burns in the back of your throat when the referee blows his whistle and the shock and dejection floods through the team. your bitter tears match theirs but for a different reason altogether. your body shakes when yamaguchi envelopes it, his tears staining your shoulder and you hate his fingers pressing into your body because you realise you’ll probably have to use it later.

he asks you to come over to his later that night. his eyes are bloodshot and freckled cheeks stained with tears when he asks, his voice cracking and with the rest of the team surrounding you, you can’t say no. you’re their manager, a pillar of the team, and yamaguchi’s girlfriend. how could you say no? so you go, inhaling the cold air and ignoring the dark dread that festers inside you.

“are you cold?” yamaguchi sniffles as you walk, his eyes focused on your shaking hand. you shake your head but as he reaches for you, you have to will yourself not to flinch. you’re not scared of him, you can’t be.

“i’m a rubbish captain.” he mumbles later on, shoulders slouching with dejection. your chest twinges as you sit beside him on the end of his bed, gazing at his forlorn eyes that he can’t even bear to look at you with, utter sympathy flooding you as you reach out for his hand. “everyone thinks it.”

“no one thinks that, tadashi.” you murmur softly, edging closer to him and squeezing his hand. he looks up at you slowly, his dark eyes wide and adoring. “you’re an amazing captain-” you’re cut off by his lips pressing against yours, the kiss hot and feverous as he slides your entwined hand down to his crotch, pressing it enough for you to feel his erection hardening under your touch.

“tadashi-” you groan when you try to pull away but yamaguchi just kisses you more, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he tries to force his tongue into your mouth as you grimace. “tadashi-” you push him away, saliva coating your lips you can’t help but scowl as you wipe it away, yamaguchi watching you with his face falling. “not now, i’m not re-”

“so now i’m a rubbish boyfriend too!” he cries.

you’re stunned as you watch him twist away from you, his pouting lip beginning to tremble and your heart wrenches when you see the tears beginning to flood his eyes, his freckles cheeks becoming flushed as a heaviness settles in your chest.

“i didn’t say that.” you murmur. how stupid of you. he was already feeling sensitive and now you’re making him feel worse, letting his insecurities flood him more and more when you’re supposed to uplift him. how are you messing this up so badly? “don’t say that, tadashi, you know you’re wonderful.”

“then why don’t you want me? every time you say no-” he sniffles, rubbing at the reddened tip of his nose. “why can’t i just do anything right?”

“tadashi, it isn’t like that.” a thick lump rises in your throat as he stares at you expecrantly when you wrap your arm around his shoulders, tenderly ruffling the back of his head. “i’m sorry- you do everything right.” you try not to whimper when you slide your other hand along his thigh, goosebumps pebbling your skin as an icy chill runs down your spine. “i’m sorry- let’s- we can do this.”

you try not to tremble when he peels off your clothes, mouthing kisses at your cold body as his hands roam over you. it feels weird- you’d never been touched before but it hurts when he pinches your nipples and you force yourself not to squirm when he pushes you onto the bed, straddling you as he spreads your legs.

“tadashi-” you whine when he touches your folds, a horrible coldness washing over you. it doesn’t feel like when you touch yourself but you push it away from your mind, telling yourself you’ll like it when he actually does something, you’ll get wet when he fingers you or something. but yamaguchi doesn’t, instead pulling off his clothes and your heart thumps when you realise how fucking big he is. he’s thick and long, painfully hard with the reddened tip leaking precum, a deep moan escaping him as he strokes himself.

“i’ve been waiting for this for so long- you’re going to feel so good.” he groans as he slides his cock along your folds. it feels weird and you’re not even wet but yamaguchi doesn’t take any notice of your squirming.

“tadashi- wait, i want to-” he slaps away your hand when you reach down to touch yourself, instead twining his fingers with yours and pressing your hands flat against the mattress.

“don’t worry,” he coos as he kisses you, lips tasting salty. “i’ll take care of you.”

you can’t even scream when he shoves his cock into you. it burns, the pain agonising and your back arches off the bed, mouth dropping open with silent screams. blood rings in your ears, yamaguchi’s moans as your nails drag down his back sounding so distant like you’ve been plunged under water. it feels like you could die. your tight walls are ripped apart by his thick cock, anguish burning in you and hot tears stinging your eyes as soft sobs escape you.

“oh- you’re so warm, you’re taking me so well. pretty girl, i’m so lucky to have you.” you cry as he kisses you, disgust seeping into you as he fills up your cunt. how could he be so oblivious? or does he simply not care?

“ta-tadashi- i c-can’t!” he ignores you, busying himself with kissing away your tears and you can’t fight him off as he cages you in. it’s torture when he drives his hips into yours, ripping through the flesh and you’re almost grateful for your body’s natural lubrication when you feel the odd moisture between your legs. that’s until you see the redness coating his cock when he pounds it into you and your vision is blurred by the hot tears, your sobs barely shushed by yamaguchi’s soothing hushes and tender kisses that feel so jarring, so wrong.

“i love you.” he grunts. “i love you so much- you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” hot tears run down your cheeks as you turn your head to the side, staring blankly out of his window as the sharp pains run through your body every time his cockhead bruises your cervix. “i love you.” he wants you to say it back but you just feel sick and pained, a cold sweat breaking over your body. when will this be over? you clench your eyes shut, trying to swallow the bitter taste on your dry tongue, trying to pretend it feels okay, bearable even, but it doesn’t and you’re relieved when his throbbing cock pulls out. hot ropes of cum splatter over your folds and you feel like you’ve been split apart.

“you okay?” your heart drums when you see the pinkish fluid clinging to your pussy, the deep scarlet trickling out of your abused hole. “wow, you were a virgin?” yamaguchi’s smile makes you feel sick, your stomach churning. “i can’t believe i was your first. and you were mine.” he reaches out to take your hand into his but you’re quick to turn away, to hold back your hair as you can’t fight the urge to puke all over the side of the bed, tears stinging your eyes and the back of your throat burning.

*

“hey, y/n. what are you doing here?” you can’t help but start at the sound of the voice, but relief floods through you and your racing heart calms when you see it’s just yachi, a sweet yet confused smile on her face as she approaches. you’re sat against the brick wall behind the gym, staring out at the fields and hills stretching out into the distant blue sky. “aren’t you coming to practise?”

“i don’t know.” you murmur, pausing to take a sip of your water. “i’m actually considering resigning.” you don’t want to meet yachi’s eyes when she yelps with surprise, her eyes widening.

“what? why? a-are you crazy? the team loves you so much, i don’t want to be manager alone!” you can’t help but smile dryly at her desperate wail, glancing at her from the corner of your eye.

“you’ll have the new first year manager.”

“it’s not the same.” yachi pouts, her shoulders slouching. but then the look on her face becomes serious, anxious almost, as she shuffles closer to you, her eyes a little wide. you don’t like the look of cautious sympathy evident in them, her hands clumsily fumbling with the hem of her shirt.

“y/n, is this because of yamaguchi?” you freeze. blood pounds in your ears as you stare at yachi, the look on her face too serious for this to be a joke.

“what? no!” your laugh sounds forced and she doesn’t even crack a smile as she narrows her eyes, scrutinising you carefully with a look of worry etched on her face.

“please tell me if something’s not right. h-hinata says you’re getting really distant from everyone, and sometimes you look a bit...scared? is something wrong?”

yamaguchi forcing his cock into your dry hole. his cries to weigh you down and smother you with guilt. suspicious whispers that leave you scared to even smile at a classmate. his constant presence, his hand gripping yours, because he tells you he doesn’t ever want to be apart from you, he loves you too much not realising he’s drowning you.

“no.” yachi looks surprised as your strong declaration. “he loves me a lot. and i love him. everything’s fine.”

but your face falls as you hear the harsh snapping of a stray twig and yamaguchi’s standing by the corner, his hands curled into a fist and betrayal burning in his eyes.

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[llogllady99]

Au revoir

CHARACTERS |  Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.” 

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

-

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels  adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

-

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

-

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

-

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

-

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

-

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

-

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

-

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

[himbos-hotline]

Random bits of the roommate AU Ive been talking too @ambroseasylum and @shanie-the-toyaddict about [and anyone else who wants to know, cuz its living rent free in my head]

Sami has a spare room and doesnt like living alone because it makes them sad. 

He’s 19

Maddie is going up to Montreal for college/Med school cuz im indecidive. 

he/they Sami my beloved

Sami posts an ad for a roomate online and Maddie finds it and they arrange stuff and things.

Randy is not looking forward to his baby sister leaving home and gets kinda angry when she states that she had already found a place to live because he doesnt get why she applied to go into Montreal, even thought the college she got was her last choice.

Randy drives her up despite the arguments and is just listing things that Maddie could have left behind but she hasn’t.

Sami forgets the day shes appearing and forgets to clean.

When she appears, hes trying to hide dirty clothes in the kitchen counter.

Sami works part time in a pet-store when hes not wrestling.

Maddie uses she/her pronouns but doesnt care how shes referred too. 

She doesnt present very feminine at all, she doesnt get gender roles or norms like at all.

It is gonna be implied that Sami has undiagnosed ADHD because how the hell do I write neurotypicals? 

There is a scene where Sami gets injured and tries to sew himself up.

Madelyn is deaf and Sami doesn’t know sign and so carries a whiteboard around when she doesn’t have her hearing aids is so they can still communicate together.

Trans!Kevin owens. If I get hate for this I am simply going to ignore you and hope that your shower/bath is never at the temperature you like. 

Madelyn and Kevin bond over being “different” 

Sami tries [and fails] to teach Madelyn french and she tries and momentarily wins at teaching them ASL.

Maddie is in med school and works part time in the Museam gift store. 

Sami sometimes forgets that Maddie doesnt speak french or urdu and will randomly ask her things in those languages and than just smiles when she stares blankly.

Sami zayn is just a little shit and we love him for it.

Maddie randomly appears to look after the other wrestlers when theyre hurt mostly because she is in the right place at the right time.

Neither one of them can handle the cold very well, so they both have a mass of blankets on their beds.

The originally sleep in different rooms, their doors facing and Sami normally has his room pitch dark and whenever the lights are on Maddie knows something is going on. 

Maddie doesn’t like the summer and her favourite season is spring. 

Sami’s full name is Samuel. Maddie finds it kinda funny and uses it to playfully tease him.

Kevin just appears randomly and its always at the worse times for the two of them. 

Sami likes to sing but gets anxious and so only sings when he is alone/ Maddie has her hearing aids off or out. 

Sami becomes a house husband when he starts pining.

Maddie does the cleaning because he hates it.

That is it, I love this AU more than I love myself atm

I am sorry this isnt Dara content

[warmau]

painter!au jihoon

*this post was commissioned | based very lightly off seventeen - fallin’ flowers tw: break up mention/general angst

“something in your gentleness entraps him you make it look so easy, to love and provide for something he knows a flower is one thing, a human is another - but could you do that for him too?”

you had thought jihoon was going to marry them

so standing in the middle of his studio with the remnants of their relationship, a broken vase of lilies in the corner, his undone portrait of them dripping down with the streaks of paint he’d thrown at the canvas in a fit of confusion and pain

feels .......... wrong

as if you were the one who was broken up with, and not jihoon who is on his knees a couple of feet away

hands stained in watercolors, eyes blank and burrowing

you reach for the wilting lilies first, you’ve known jihoon long enough to be aware of the fact that trying to use words to comfort him right now won’t work

so you silently begin to clean up, plucking items that belong to his ex and placing them out of sight

you take the ruined canvas with half their face sketched out and turn it over

jihoon doesn’t move from his spot as you work - doesn’t say anything - doesn’t even look at you

when you’re done you finally kneel down beside him, bring the hot wet towel to his hands and start to scrub the dry paint from his palms

you try to be gently but jihoon finally speaks

“harder, you have to scrub harder if you want to get rid of them.”

you can’t tell if he’s talking about the paint or of the memories that must be flooding into him

you had remembered how happy he had looked, being in love, being with someone who seemed to understand him 

now he was empty and you were scared of what could happen if he was left like this alone

you don’t argue, you scrub harder and finally you get some of the colors off his skin

there’s still smudges thought, the same way there will still be those pieces of his ex scarred across him 

time heals everything - you want to say that, but its too early to start preaching 

instead you tell jihoon he should go to bed now, you’ll take care of the rest of the cleaning up and put his art supplies away

he gives a vague sort of look toward the bedroom and then back at you

“i broke the vase, the one with the lilies.”

“it’s ok, ive already cleaned-”

“i should go buy fresh ones.”

his eyes glaze over, he gets up and you scramble to your feet in the process

you put a hand on his chest to stop him and jihoon stares at you, but you can tell he isnt focused 

“ill buy them, please jihoon. go to bed.”

somehow you manage to get him to turn around

and you are standing now in the doorway to his apartment, with a trash bag full of his exes things and the pathetic looking lilies 

you had bought them as a gift when you’d come over to celebrate jihoon’s successful art show

his ex had put them into a vase and gushed over how pretty they looked - jihoon had never been one to be so romantic, but he had said that they looked almost as pretty as his ex did

you had watched them be so loving toward each other just days ago

but now it was all gone and part of you is angry at both of them

at jihoon’s ex for leaving him, out of the blue and with no real reason but the excuse of having “outgrown” him

and at jihoon for calling you after it had happened

but that anger toward him is really just a cover for something else

the hollowing pit in your stomach that has always been there since you met jihoon in college. 

the pit you’ve covered with years of support for him and his relationships and his art

the pit, in which sits the actual emotion you’ve been hiding from the world

if you had picked me, i would have never hurt you like this

the thought is cruel and you tell yourself never to think such a thing like that again

but its there, it will always be there, because you love jihoon

not that you ever plan to let that truth come to the surface...... 

the next morning, you stop by the florist to pick up the lilies you promised you’d buy

you look at them, watching as one of the petals sags to the side, threatening to fall 

you dont know what it is about lilies in particular - they bloom so big and beautiful that they often steal the attention in a garden

they’re quite the opposite of you

who has always found yourself more of a queen anne’s lace, playing a side role in the main stories of all your friends

 but you adore them above all other flowers, touching the petal made of velvet and suddenly remembering that you had seen lilies when you first met jihoon

you had taken art in college as an extra credit class

you weren’t at all any good, but it was enjoyable to take a course that didnt demand much from you but creativity

one of the first assignments had been still life: drawing baskets of fruit, books on tables, flowers in vases

you had ended up with a vase with one purple lily in it. 

the only other person who had also chose it was jihoon

you didn’t know his name back then

just that he was so beautiful, like he had been drawn himself and came to life off the page

his eyes like umber, russet sunsets - his mouth slightly parted in concentration as he let his pencil flow across his canvas

you had trouble focusing on the flower, which is probably half the reason it came out terribly

but it had also allowed jihoon to look over and offer with a quiet tone, that you maybe work on shading here - and dimension here

you had told him you weren’t in the art major and he had given you the kind of look that read, i could tell

before smiling to himself in the way you caved your head in a bit of embarrassment

it wasn’t like you ever thought the meaningless, sometimes only minute long conversation you’d have with him in the art room would turn into a friendship which harbored its way into one-sided love

somehow you had just ended up being invited warmly into his small knit circle

jihoon extending his hand to you after getting a text about dinner with seokmin and jeonghan

jihoon allowing only his and your eyes to fall upon his works in progress, you taking the free time you had to spend at his studio mixing paints and organizing his drawing materials

he never ask you to do those things - but he also never chided you for it

jeonghan had mentioned it once, when you were all walking in the summer evening after a movie outing 

that you being able to earn jihoon’s trust was a higher honor than one might think

you had looked from jeonghan to jihoon - who had been walking a bit in front with the rest of your friends

head turned, his profile against the setting sun

“ah - are you buying another bouquet for your artist boyfriend?”

you jump at the sudden question and shake your head

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

you swallow and find that your throats gone dry

“he actually just got broken up with so......”

the florist frowns, taking you gently by the hand and leading you away from the lilies

“then those are not the flowers you should be getting him, you need to get him something that will say cheer up! there’s someone better out there for you - could i suggest tulips?”

you give a polite smile

“no, i think i have to take the lilies.”

when you arrive at jihoon’s apartment, the door is unlocked and jihoon is still in bed

from the way the kitchen is untouched and he’s wearing the same shirt he was yesterday you assume he hasn’t moved in all this time

“jihoon”

you softly speak

“it’s already well past lunch, have you eaten?”

he pulls his feet up so they disappear under the covers again. you look around the room and find a vase full of old paintbrushes

you take it and tell jihoon you’re going to go make him something to eat and that you’ve brought the lilies

he doesn’t reply, not until you turn in the doorway and his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard before

“can you put the lilies in here?”

“you don’t want them in the studio?”

“no, please put them here.”

you quickly fry up an egg and make some coffee, which you set down on the night table beside jihoon’s bed

you move his sketchbook away and realize that it’s open to an empty page

your eyes briefly glance to see if jihoon has reacted at all, but he’s still

you go back to wash out the waves and put the lilies in

you wrap a rubberband around his paintbrushes and set them by the others which are stock piled in the studio room

a small ping of relief floods through you when you enter the bedroom and jihoon is up, holding the cup of coffee in his hands

usually people would suggest you make conversation to help ease jihoon’s mind out of whatever dark place it has wondered into it

but you just put the lilies down and tend to cleaning up whatever other paper and things you can see on the floor

even though jihoon only finishes the coffee and maybe a quarter of the egg, it’s still a start

the pain he’s feeling is fresh and you don’t want to push anything

but as you tell him you’re off to leave again - you remind him that he does have another exhibition planned in two weeks

on the way back home you hope his love for painting can cradle him through this all

whenever you think of the sadness that comes with being unloved, you throw yourself into your hobbies, scribbling down poems or re-reading novels from your time in school

you’d done it all to stop thinking about jihoon - you hope he does the same too

about a week passes when you return to jihoon’s again, and it’s only because this time jeonghan calls you with a serious worry about jihoon’s exhibition

“he isn’t painting, that’s the problem.”

“what do you mean he isn’t painting?”

“when i came over, he was sitting in front of the canvas with his hand pressed against it - but ........ he wasn’t drawing or painting or doing anything.”

you show up to the apartment after the call and take a deep breath before you let yourself in

today might be the first time you mention the breakup to jihoon, and you don’t know if its too early yet

to make the dread bubble even harder in your stomach is the fact that sitting outside of his apartment is that undone portrait of his ex

its half shrouded with other trash bags left to be collected

you look at the familiar face and clench your fist a bit tighter

if you hadnt done this to him, if you hadnt made this mess - i wouldnt be stuck cleaning it up.

you chide and immediately fall into regret

its not a mess, taking care of your friends is not a mess.

you knock on the door and wait for a moment till you hear jihoon turn the lock

you’re relived to see that his hair is wet from a fresh shower, but the bags under his eyes like crows wings cancels it out

as well as the fact that he looks as if he’s seen the devil himself

“what’s wrong?”

jihoon’s shoulders shrink

“do i really have to answer that?”

you step inside and the door closes behind you two

“jeonghan said you’re having trouble painting”

jihoon’s head drops and the darkness of the hallway makes everything feel closer and more intense

he turns and starts to walk toward the studio and you follow, gasping a little at the sight of it

canvases broken in halves, paint spilled on the floor  - but not a single new painting, not a single completed project

jihoon sits down in the middle of it all and puts his head in his hands

he looks like he’s in agony, silent and torturous

is this what happens when an artist loses their muse?

you don’t know how to help and that makes it all the more worse

you just sit down beside jihoon 

he lets you take his hands in your own

in the corner of the room those fresh lilies youve bought have wilted again

on one of the broken canvases, the only thing jihoon has been able to paint is those scattered and browning petals

you start to come by everyday after that because as much as you share jeonghan’s worry about the art

you are more so worried about jihoon shutting down

now he has nothing to focus on, just the fact that he’s lost the love of his life

so you try and entertain and keep him alive to the best of your ability

with groceries and company, bringing over his other friends - trying to coax him into going outside

jihoon reacts on some level, but you can tell that he just wants to paint again

all he’s done is brush strokes on the white paper, the shape vaguely like that of a flower but you cant ever tell what kind

he also keeps asking you if you can bring him lilies again

you do, and this time they live longer because you tend to them - and when you do you fail to realize that jihoon starts to watch you

he takes note of the way you move the vase with both hands

the way you keep the steams between the same two fingers every time

you arent burdened by the little chore because its takes at most five or so minutes out of the day

but jihoon unfolds each step you take like a storybook page

something in your gentleness entraps him

you make it look so easy, to love and provide for something

he knows a flower is one thing, a human is another - but 

could you do that for him too?

he looks into his hands and the cup of coffee you made for him is sitting on the table to the left

have you already been doing it, all this time? 

which is why on the day before the exhibition

when you ask him if he wants you to help him cancel it 

he says no, he thinks he can fish something in time

you light up and ask if he’s finally found a new muse, but jihoon blinks slowly

“a new muse?”

“yes, i mean i thought - well i thought they were your muse and losing them meant you couldnt paint but if youre saying you can now then-

jihoon’s eyes turn to ice at the mention but then he shakes his head

“they ...... i never saw them as a muse.”

he stops to think on it, he isn’t lying

“but you loved them, i mean -”

he keeps his eyes down and you fidget, “sorry, let’s not talk about that.”

“i did, you’re right i did love them but that doesn’t mean they inspired me.”

he taps a finger and then looks at you

sitting across from him, how you’ve done a million times before

suddenly jihoon thinks if he can look at you like that for a little while longer

he can create again

he can paint something

so when he asks you to stay still, you do - and jihoon brings his pencil down to paper

only to get up half an hour later and take you with him

he sits you down again and sets up a bigger canvas this time, brings his paintbrushes

and then he moves the vase with the lily from behind him to sit at your feet

“jihoon, are you going to paint me?”

“yes”

“why?”

he looks from the lily to you

“because i want to, and it’s the first time in a while that i think ill be able to.”

you don’t realize it yourself not until you’ve fallen asleep in your position and jihoon is deep into his painting

that the muse you were talking about and thinking he’d lost

had been you all along

jihoon knew it, even when he was in a relationship, that there was no one else in this world that could make him paint

he’d felt it the first time you met in that art class, he’d watched you fumble through your drawing

and usually he wasn’t inspired to draw the mundane, the everyday

until he started seeing just how much it could mean to him

he had been painting that portrait of his ex out of obligation, they had asked him to do it 

and so it had been taking a while - it had been unfinished not even because of the breakup but because jihoon didn’t want to do it

and yet here he was, the brush strokes pouring out of him in an attempt to capture every little detail there is to you

he had been wallowing in his pain and hadn’t bothered to look at you again

until you started to be there, everyday, like those lilies 

and those lilies, beautiful and sweet 

they were yours, you were theirs. to jihoon something about the silk of the petal and the sway of your hair made sense 

he doesn’t wake you up, he’s been your friend long enough to know the parts of you he wants in the painting

he only stops when he’s done and his hair is stuck to him with sweat and the sun is rising outside his window

you’ve slumped over completely onto the couch and jihoon comes closer to move you into a more comfortable position

this is the first time in these weeks that he is taking care of you instead of the other way around

when his fingers touch your skin he suddenly feels the kind of sparking urge he has only felt with others who hes been intimate with

your small stir in his arms causes him alarm and excitement all at once, when your eyes open slightly he jumps back before he fears he’ll do something you wont like

in the morning, jihoon is passed out cold in his bed and you get up and rub your eyes 

finally you let yourself move toward the canvas to see what jihoon has painted

its you.........its you in every way..........you stare at that face of yours like a mirrored reflection

seeing it like this something ties a knot in your heart

“is this what its like to be a muse?”

jihoon’s voice floats through the room

“you’ve always been mine.”

you turn - because you don’t think you’ve really heard it - maybe its just your drowsy imagination speaking

but jihoon is there and the phone is ringing, jeonghan about the exhibition

neither you or jihoon reach for the phone

instead you ask him,

 “what do you mean?”

he doesn’t know how to explain it

instead he looks at you and then over his shoulder into his room

the exhibition doesnt start until the afternoon, and you are in his studio and you are whats brought him back from a point of emptiness

you are more than a muse

somehow you end up with his hand on yours again and this time that spark is searing up through both of you

jihoon’s paint stained fingers splay on the small of your back

you are still a little scared that its too early for this, if its just the wounds on his heart speaking

but jihoons lips only centimetres from yours promise that its more than that

its all that time wasted, his attention was yours that day in the art classroom 

and he was an idiot for ever trying to put it on someone else

but like all good things - they come with time and if you want him how he wants you then hes here 

and he’s ready to let this between you bloom into something more

you giggle when his breath tickles you before you finally kiss 

you wonder if everyone will be surprised by that painting jihoon has done of you when its up in the wall of the gallery

when the lily petals fall from the flower in that vase and land at your entangled feet. 

[wherevermyway]

like covalence // binchan // oneshot // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | past lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: friends-to-lovers, past character death, angst, hurt/comfort, insomnia, explicit sexual content. also, this fic is soft as hell and i love it, okay? word count: 9,746 also on AO3

originally posted: 09 december 2020

Waking up in the middle of the night to surprise phone calls always caused a panic to arise in Chan. The last time he received a call so early in the morning, it was his best friend, Changbin. He was panicking because his boyfriend was admitted to hospital and was dying.

This phone call, however, isn't nearly as horrifying. Changbin is having a bad bout of insomnia, nightmares preventing him from sleeping, and he needs a little help. So, Chan offers to talk him through it. Neither of them, however, expect for their conversation to take such a dramatic turn.

Sometimes, two people are meant to be together, their attraction pulling them into each other to make something greater, like covalent bonds.

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

Phone calls at two in the morning were never good. When Chan’s phone trilled, ripping him from his dream, he bolted upright, eyes still glued shut from sleep. He reached over to the nightstand, miscalculating the distance and mistaking it for his nightstand back home. A sleepy grumble rumbled in his throat as he pushed himself further and managed to half-open one of his eyes. The bright screen caused him to squint his half-open eyelid further closed in discomfort.

Changbin. Shit, why was Changbin calling him at two in the morning? The last time Changbin called him in the middle of the night… No, it was probably something minor. It had to have been minor.

Chan fumbled his thumb a bit, swiping his finger against the bottom of his phone to accept the call. “Bin? What happened?”

“Shit, I knew this was stupid,” a low voice echoed in Chan’s ear canal. “You…” the voice trailed off. The younger man cleared his throat on the other end of the line and sighed. “You said I could call you if I ever needed anything, right?”

“Did you get thrown in prison or something?”

“What? No, dude.” Changbin squeaked, then cleared his throat again, lowering his voice. “Why would you think that?”

Chan groaned, turning to the desk lamp on the nightstand, fumbling with the drawstring to turn it on. “It’s two in the morning. You don’t sound panicky, so I figured nobody died or some—” Oh. Chan’s eyes go wide, and he slaps his forehead as he realizes the gravity of what he just said. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Changbin decidedly ignores Chan’s statement, and is quiet for an extended pause. “I can’t sleep, Chan.”

“Again?”

There’s a whimper on the other line. “It’s getting out of hand, dude. I’m starting to see shit, hear things that aren’t there. I try so hard to fucking sleep, but whenever I close my eyes, I just feel so tense. I can’t stop thinking. He’s there, he’s everywhere. The dripping of his IV, the beeping of the machines, the alarms, how fucking pale he looked. God dammit.”

Chan settles up against the flat pillow of his hotel bed, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead as he stares up to the ceiling. “You’re having nightmares about Minho again, aren’t you?”

There’s a bit of a sniffle that comes from Changbin. “Yeah. I know it’s only been ten months, and I can’t imagine what I’m gonna be like when the anniversary comes around. All I know is that I miss him and it fucking hurts.”

“You’ll get through it, Binnie. I’ll be there with you once I’m back from this business trip in a couple of days.”

“That’s not gonna help me sleep right now, though.”

“I’d get on a flight back to Seoul right now if I could, just to smack you upside the head really good and knock you out that way.”

Both of them laugh. “That might be the nicest act of violence someone’s ever threatened me with,” Changbin quips.

“I do what I can.” A soft laugh comes from Chan. “I mean it, though. I’m here for you, Binnie. Let it all out. Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

“Can I,” Changbin pauses, and there’s some shuffling on the other line. “It’s gonna sound kinda stupid, but I wanna see your face. Are you decent enough for video?”

Chan’s face flushes, and he runs his lips in between his teeth for a moment, releasing them with a pop. “Yeah. Hair might be a mess, though.”

“Your hair’s always a mess.”

“Man, fuck you.” They laugh again, and Chan pulls his phone away from his face, tapping a couple of buttons on screen. “Gimme a sec and… okay, there.” There’s nothing but black on Chan’s phone for a bit. Shortly after that, there’s some shuffling and choice words coming from Changbin’s line as he turns a light on.

Chan sees what he assumes to be Changbin’s ceiling, until the younger man comes back into view, grabbing his phone, running fingers through his black hair. “I wasn’t expecting that without notice. You could’ve warned me,” he whines. There’s a bit of a glare reflecting on his glasses for a moment as he flops down onto his pillow. “Man, you look pretty out of it.”

“You woke me up at two in the morning, dude, what were you expecting?” Chan rolls his eyes, feigning irritation, but the way a smile creeps up on his face, showing off the dimple in his cheek, throws any sense of seriousness out of the window. “Those bags under your eyes aren’t helping you, either.”

Changbin frowns and flips off the camera. “You’re an asshole.”

“I could hang up the phone right now,” Chan shrugs.

“Please,” Changbin’s face twisted into a pout, “don’t hang up on me.” There was a sadness reflected in his eyes, something that looked like it had been building up for a while. The younger man turned onto his side, towards the light on his desk, and a tear fell down the side of his face. “Sorry, I know you were joking, it’s just… I’m tired of being alone, Chan.”

The older man pursed his lips, knitting his brows together as he shifted into a more comfortable position. “You’re never totally alone, Bin, you know? I’m here for you. I might not be able to be there right now with you, but I—”

“Can I move in with you?”

The question caught them both off guard.

“Wait, shit,” Changbin shook his head and groaned, burying his face into his pillow. “That was horrible timing. Fuck.”

Chan scoffed. “Of course you can move in with me. That sounds kinda nice, actually,” he smiled, showing off a bit of his teeth. “My apartment’s been quiet lately, anyways. Should probably try and settle down at some point, but I can’t seem to find the right person. While Jisung sure wasn’t good for me, I have to admit that it’s been so quiet since he’s been gone.”

“Oh, god,” Changbin awkwardly laughs, pulling his sweatshirt up over his chin and nibbles on the inner seam of the tip of the fabric. “You and Jisung,” his voice is slightly muffled through the sweatshirt, “you two were a clusterfuck of bad ideas. He was definitely not the right person for you.”

The older man scowls, staring directly at the tiny camera on his phone. “Come on, we weren’t that bad.”

“Chan,” Changbin stresses, rolling his eyes. “I really don’t need to remind you of the time you showed up at my apartment — unannounced, mind you — shortly after midnight, because you found out he was cheating on you the first time.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that.” Chan shrugs. “That was over a year ago, though.”

“He cheated on you three times and you went back twice, dude. Twice!” They look at each other over the phone, and Changbin tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “I’m glad you didn’t go back the last time.”

“Me too,” the older man huffs, then rolls on to his stomach. “He’s dating a new guy now. Some bakery owner. Think his name was Felix?”

Changbin drops the sweatshirt from his mouth and rolls onto his back. “At least he’s out of your hair now. You should seriously stop stalking him on social media.”

“I’m not stalking him!” Chan pleads, “Seungmin’s the one that told me when me met up a couple weeks ago. He thinks he’s doing me a favour by keeping tabs on my ex so that I don’t have to, or some shit.”

“You’ve got some weird friends.”

“You’re easily the weirdest of the group.” Chan smiles. “Kinda why I like you, though.”

Changbin’s eyes go wide for a very brief moment, easy to miss with how quickly it happened. He nervously laughs and looks away from his phone. “Yeah,” he says without confidence, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side. “Should I not’ve called you weird?”

“Nah,” Changbin shakes his head and smirks, bringing his free hand down his face, covering his cheek and part of his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s fine, I am weird, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why are you acting like it bothered you, then?”

Changbin waves his hand in front of his phone. “It’s nothing, dude. You’re reading too much into it. Anyway, don’t you have to work early tomorrow? I really shouldn’t be keeping you up so late.”

“Stop it,” Chan firmly presses and frowns. His tone causes Changbin to recoil and turn into himself a bit. “Don’t ever apologize for needing me. We’re best friends, this is what we do. So what if I’m a little tired for work tomorrow? I’ll get coffee and deal with it. You’re my best fucking friend and I’ll do anything for you. I can’t take away your pain, so this is the next best thing I can try to offer.”

“Chan,” Changbin starts, his eyes starting to turn glossy again. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead shakes his head, rolling onto his side and buries his face into his pillow. He drops his phone and Chan assumes that he’s about to start crying.

The older man stifles a sigh. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Changbin.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Changbin chokes a bit and muffles something incoherent into his pillow. Chan lets him unravel a bit, knowing that his friend clearly needs it.

The younger man never really showed his emotions to most people; Chan and Minho were likely the only two people that had seen Changbin cry so openly. He put on a tough exterior, only letting it fall just enough around their friend group. Until recently, Chan had only seen him cry a couple of times: once, when he got mad at Chan for going back to Jisung after being cheated on the first time; the second time was when Minho had died. Changbin had collapsed at his hospital bed and completely broke down.

Losing Minho really damaged Changbin. He had steeled himself further in never being outwardly emotionally vulnerable, but in response to suppressing his emotions so dramatically, he broke down like this more often than he would admit. There had been numerous times where Chan had called or stopped by, and it was obvious Changbin had been crying. His voice would be raspy, his eyes bloodshot, face flushed, and he was unusually withdrawn and reserved.

After a bit, Changbin cleared his throat. He didn’t pick up his phone, but continued the conversation as if nothing happened. “Sorry,” he chokes out, then clears his throat. “I don’t know what I did to get lucky enough to have a friend like you. I just,” the younger man sighs and his lips vibrate against each other with a hum, “you and Minho are the world to me, and now Minho is gone. I’ve only got you. I love you, man.”

“I love you too, Changbin.” There was a burning building up in Chan’s chest, almost like he wanted to cry because he knew that his friend was so miserable; it felt like he was going through the emotional turmoil himself. “If I could take away the pain of your loss, I would.”

“I couldn’t put you through that, dude.” Changbin picks up his phone, pointing it back down to his reddened face. “You know, I watched a movie once. Don’t remember what it was called, but there was a quote that stuck with me for a while.” He looks far past the camera, up towards the ceiling. “I didn’t really get it until after Minho died. The quote was something like, ‘there’s a poem at the temple called loss. It has only three words that the poet has scratched out, since you cannot read loss, only feel it.’ It hurts, but it’s true.”

“We watched that movie together, you dumbass,” Chan scoffed, then laughed. “Memoirs of a Geisha or something.”

“Oh,” Changbin laughs softly, biting his lip. “That was our in-house double date, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chan smiles, fondly looking back on the memory, and how Changbin seemed so happy with Minho. His smile was so bright, so carefree, so full of light and love, so much softer than it was now. “Minho picked the movie at random and none of us were really paying attention to it because we got kinda drunk. It was fun, though.”

A smile spreads across Changbin’s face. “That was a good time. Jisung was kind of annoying that night, but you looked really happy with him.”

“He was just awkward. Barely knew you two, so I can’t really blame him.”

A tsk. “Dude, you gotta stop defending him,” Changbin cocks his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Look, I should’ve told you sooner, but you always deserved better than him. I always thought he was so shallow and one-sided. Like, he never looked at you like you were his first priority in life.”

Chan tries to think of something to say in response, but simply shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right, dude. You need someone that loves you like—” Again, Changbin’s eyes go wide, as if he catches himself about to say something stupid, then he shakes his head. “Someone that loves you like you truly deserve. Like you’re their reason for waking up in the morning, someone that’s always happy to see you and will accept you for who you are, no matter what. Chronically messy hair included.”

A gnawing feeling envelopes Chan’s abdomen, causing him to feel a bit uneasy. “Someone like a best friend,” he mutters, then quickly realizes how that comes off and corrects himself, “someone like Minho was to you, yeah?”

Changbin nods, but there’s a strange tension between them now. They stare at each other with slight nervousness behind their eyes. “Like Minho, yeah, or,” Changbin says each word as clearly as possible, looking like he was carefully thinking over what he was saying, “someone like a best friend.” The words came out slowly, with calculus. He knew what he had said, and exactly how it was going to be interpreted.

The feeling in Chan’s stomach had ballooned across his entire torso as he realized what was really happening between the two of them. “Changbin,” he manages to squeak out, nearly dropping his phone on his face from how badly his palms had started to sweat. “There’s something I’ve gotta ask.” Chan sits upright, too enveloped in the moment to pay attention to how he looks on camera.

Changbin sits up, too. He brings the hem of his sleeve up to his mouth and anxiously chews at it as he nods. “What is it, Channie?”

The older man tenses at the nickname rolling off his friend’s tongue. Changbin very rarely ever called him Channie, and that somehow made him all the more nervous. “I,” he stutters out, “maybe I’m just reading into this too much, but there’s something happening here, isn’t there?”

“Something…” Changbin shrinks into himself a bit, looking down at his sleeve.

They sit in awkward silence for several moments too long. The discomfort was overtaking Chan, and he felt like he was about to explode, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He let all of his pent up thoughts spill from the bottom of his heart. “It started before Minho. Years before Minho, I know it. Back at the end of high school.”

The younger man peers over the frames of his glasses, but doesn’t move, nor does he say anything.

“I think we were too stupid to realize it when we were younger. Probably too afraid to act on it and fuck up our friendship. God,” Chan wipes his face, not realizing that the nervousness of pouring out all of his feelings had caused a couple of tears to spill from his eyes. “You started dating Minho after we started our senior year of university. I remember you being really scared about it, saying you were worried you weren’t the right person for him, but now I think you were worried he wasn’t the right person for you.”

Changbin buries his face into his elbow, saying nothing.

The burning in Chan’s abdomen starts to alleviate a bit, like a knot is unravelling, but the nervousness still courses through his veins. He was in too deep to stop now. “You got lucky with him, and I know you loved him as much as he loved you. You deserved someone like him, Binnie, you really did. It was unfair that Minho was taken from you so early.”

A choked noise comes up from Changbin as he drops his phone, the camera angled in such a way that Chan can see him pull his knees into his chest as he tries to avoid crying again.

“I know you miss him, and you should. But you’ve been running to me a lot ever since you lost him. I don’t believe it’s because you have no one else to turn to, nor do I think it’s an unhealthy thing. Clearly, we trust each other a lot.” Chan took in a long, deep shaky breath. There was no turning back, so he was going to pull out all of the stops. “You’re my best friend, Changbin. I love you and that’s never gonna change. But, it’s only fair that you know that I love you as more than just a friend, and I’m gonna guess that you love me like that, too, even if you don’t admit it.”

“Channie,” the younger man whines, still curled up in himself.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Bin. I’ve always said that, and I’m always going to mean it. I’m gonna say it again, and I want you to hear it clearly: I love you, Changbin.”

There are tears rolling down Chan’s face, now. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. The knot that had been coiled up inside of him for years had finally unravelled, causing all of the tension built up inside of him to finally release.

“I,” Changbin lifts his head from his elbow, then shakily reaches for his phone, bringing it up to his face. “I love you, too. I have for so long, but I didn’t realize that’s what it was until after Minho died. I just thought I was being an idiot about my feelings, and..” His voice trails off, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Channie.”

“You idiot,” Chan scoffs, wiping his face. “It’d take a lot more than that to scare me away. We know too many dark secrets about each other to have something threaten our friendship like that.”

“You mean too much to me,” the younger man whines, tucking his chin into his chest. “It sounds nice, though.”

“What does?”

“You telling me that you love me. It feels different now, but I love hearing it.” Changbin flops backwards onto his pillow, turning his head to the side so he can rest his phone against the pillow as he closes his eyes. “It’s like the way a satisfying chord hits in a song and you just feel warm in your entire body.”

Chan hums, gently rolling onto his back, imitating Changbin’s positioning. “That’s oddly specific.”

A grin spreads on the younger man’s face. “I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, dude. Let me be weirdly specific.”

“Changbin,” Chan whispers with a smile.

“Hmm?” Changbin cocks his head upward.

“Look at me.”

The younger man whines as he opens his eyes. “What?”

“I wanted you to see my face when I tell you that I love you.”

There’s a soft shade of scarlet that tints Changbin’s face as he parts his lips, mentally replaying the words over in his head. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Changbin.”

“Yeah,” the younger man closes his eyes again, smiling widely. “I love you too, Chan.”

“I suppose that does sound good, doesn’t it?”

Changbin softly nods his head and hums.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Chan’s eyes grow heavy as he watches Changbin slowly melt into his pillow.

“No,” the younger man whines, pulling his brows together, as if he were going to protest. “Insomniacs don’t sleep, stupid.”

Chan smiles a bit and nuzzles his cheek against his pillow. “Yeah, yeah,” he closes his eyes and listens to Changbin’s breathing on the other line. “Insomniacs…” his voice trails off as he drifts into sleep.

“Fuck!” Chan bolts upright in a cold sweat as the soft rays of dawn start to pour into his hotel room. He looks over his shoulder at the digital clock, reading 05:47. Once he realizes he hasn’t slept through his alarm, like he did in his dream, a sigh of relief escapes his lips. He unceremoniously flops back down onto his pillow, grabbing his phone to watch Changbin.

The younger man is still asleep, covering his face with his elbow. Some soft snoring can be heard if Chan really focuses on it, and taking in the moment warms his heart. There’s a moment where Chan realizes something, and he gets a look of determination on his face as he taps around on his phone.

“Oh, that’s perfect timing.” He mutters some other words incoherently to himself as he continues tapping away until he sends off something and relaxes. “Well, that’ll take care of that.”

Changbin didn’t mean to pass out on the line, but it was inevitable. For the first time in months, he actually felt relaxed enough to sleep for longer than a couple of hours at a time. His eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sunlight from his window. It felt later than Changbin expected as he stared out at the Seoul skyline. He sleepily reached for his phone, not surprised that the call had been terminated.

It was 09:13. He had a mass of texts from Chan, which he immediately opened after he unlocked his phone.

06:57 | chan: ok so i’ll admit i’ve been up for a while just staring at you, watching you sleep and it’s just 06:58 | chan: holy shit that sounds really creepy without context… whatever 06:59 | chan: i don’t know what to say 07:00 | chan: i love you binnie 07:01 | chan: sorry i have to cut our video call short before you wake up but i’m glad you finally slept for once 07:02 | chan: i’ve got a busy day ahead of me but we should chat later, yeah? 07:02 | chan: gonna say it again just because i can, you can’t stop me 07:03 | chan: no, literally, you can’t because you’re asleep lol 07:04 | chan: wow that was a stupid joke. anyway! 07:04 | chan: i love you, text me when you wake up

“Oh,” Changbin whispers to himself. Memories of the night prior had started to flood back up, causing him to flush in slight embarrassment. He really admitted that he was in love with his best friend, and he hadn’t just dreamt of it. It was completely unexpected, but he welcomed it with open arms.

He shot off a quick “morning, love you too, weirdo” text to Chan, still nervous over what exactly to say. Honestly, the encounter last night felt a bit like a fever dream, caused by his insomnia. He figured that he had exaggerated a bit of it, but these texts confirmed how real it all was.

Changbin stared at the ceiling for longer than he’d like to admit, eventually shifting his way to his feet, shuffling away to his washroom to shower. As he stripped his clothes off, nearly ready to step into the warm shower, his phone vibrated against the porcelain of the sink. Normally, he would have ignored it, but on the off chance it was Chan, he didn’t want to risk missing it.

09:40 | chan: “insomniacs don’t sleep” huh? 09:40 | chan: are you working today?

A bit of a grin curls up on Changbin’s face as he reads Chan’s messages. He shoots off a “nope, stuck at home so you should call me when you’re free” text, then sets his phone down on the sink before retreating off into the shower.

His shower is brief, just enough to quickly wash off. It couldn’t have been more than maybe eight minutes before Changbin was back out on the cool linoleum floor, rubbing a towel around his head, then wrapping it around his waist. As soon as the towel is securely tucked around him, he grabs his phone to see he’s missed two calls from Chan. He wastes no time returning the call, surprised when Chan picks up on the second ring.

“Changbin!” The excitement in Chan’s voice startles Changbin a bit. “I thought you said you didn’t have to work today?”

“I don’t,” the younger man grumbles, “I just wanted to take a quick shower. Didn’t think you were gonna be so quick to call me.”

“You said you’re staying home today, right?”

Changbin squints as he looks at himself in the mirror, parting his hair with a comb. “Yeah, I mean, I usually do on Sundays. Why?”

“What are you doing right now?” Chan sounds a bit too excited over the phone, causing Changbin to feel a bit suspicious.

“I just told you, dude,” he sighed, setting the comb down on the countertop. “I was showering, saw I missed a couple calls from you, so I’m standing in the washroom, freezing myself half to death because I didn’t grab any clothes to put on right after.”

There’s a deep breath on the other line. “Changbin,” Chan starts, his voice a bit nervous.

“What?”

“You should go to your front door.”

Changbin furrows his brows in confusion, shaking his head a couple of times. “Why?”

“Would you just trust me? Go on, just go.”

The younger man opens his mouth to protest, but the line goes dead. Changbin pulls his phone away from his ear, staring at the “call terminated” message on his screen before it disappears. “What a fucking weirdo,” he grumbles to himself, but makes his way out of the washroom and towards the front door anyways. “This is dumb,” but yet, he still unlocks his front door and opens it. He looks down at the ground, seeing nothing, then pulls the door back, looking at the front of it and, again, sees nothing.

“The fuck? Goddammit, Chan.” Admittedly, Changbin had gotten his hopes up that something or someone would be there because, honestly, why else would Chan have called him to tell him that, then hang up on him? As he slipped back behind the door, moving to close it, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know,” the voice chirps up from around the corner, and Changbin’s eyes go wide, “I did say I’d come by and smack you upside the head to knock you out, but you already slept. Guess I’ve gotta come up with something new, huh?” Chan came around the corner, wearing a cocky grin as he made eye contact with a very surprised Changbin.

“I thought,” the younger man shakes his head in shock, “you weren’t supposed to be back for… how are you even?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders and waved a hand in the air. “I may or may not have fabricated a bit of a lie, saying that someone I knew was sick and I needed to come back to Seoul to take care of them. They didn’t need me there to begin with, anyways.”

The air between them is tense, but not with a nervous tension. There’s a pining energy between both of them, causing Changbin to take an inviting step back as Chan steps forward into his apartment. He swallows hard, letting go of the door as he backs up into the wall. “So, this person that’s sick, I assume you mean that’s me?”

The older man closes the distance between them, and the front door slams shut. “Yeah,” Chan lowers his voice. “Guess you’ve come down with something.”

“That’s a drag,” Changbin’s voice quivers a bit with nervousness, yet he confidently looks up at Chan. “Suppose I need someone to help take care of me with whatever I’m sick with, huh?”

Chan takes his hands, placing one on Changbin’s hip, and places the other one on the side of his neck. The touch causes the younger man to shiver and melt into his hand, softly exhaling. “Lovesickness,” Chan whispers with a coy smirk on his face, craning his head down next to Changbin’s ear. “There’s only one thing that cures that.”

Changbin wants to laugh at the stupidity of how cheesy that sounded, but instead, he found himself bringing his hands up to Chan’s back, digging his fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt. He gently rubs his cheek against the older man’s, whispering into his ear. “How are you going to cure me?”

“With this kind of sickness,” a quiet tsk comes from Chan, and it causes the hairs on the back of Changbin’s neck to rise, “the only thing I can do is give aggressive treatment.”

Before Changbin can make a proper comeback, Chan takes the hand around the younger man’s neck, sliding his thumb around his jawline to get a steady grip. The older man pulls back, making brief eye contact with Changbin before he hastily brings their faces together, crashing their lips against each other.

There’s soft electricity that bounces between the two of them, like this moment was meant to happen for so long, and there was finally a delicious payoff. Changbin expected more awkwardness between them for their first kiss, but everything just blended together. He drags a hand up to Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer.

Chan chuckles against Changbin’s lips, opening his mouth a bit as an invitation. The younger man wastes no time pressing his tongue forward, rolling it around cautiously against the older man’s tongue. He accidentally lets out a bit of a whine, which causes Chan to pull the two of them together, subconsciously grinding up against one another.

Changbin pushes up against Chan, bringing his hands down the older man’s body, down to his hands. He pulls away from the kiss, tugging at Chan’s hands. “Come on,” he whispers, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Impatient, are we?” Chan grins, not budging as Changbin tries to pull him along.

“It just feels,” there’s a pause as Changbin sheepishly looks down at his feet. “Feels like it should happen, you know?”

Chan shakes his head and scoffs. He pulls back, then ducks down and scoops Changbin up under his knees and pulls him off the floor and into his chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” Changbin practically shouts, eyes wide with panic as he’s hoisted up into the air.

“Working on giving you what you want, duh.”

Changbin huffs in embarrassment, but still wraps his arms around Chan’s neck. “Awfully brash of you, don’t you think? We’re not even dating, dude.”

“Oh, come on. You were thinking about this, too. You literally just said it feels like it should happen,” Chan scoffs as he maneuvers them both through the bedroom door. “Like not dating someone ever stopped either of us from sleeping with people in university. If you’re worried I’m gonna see you naked and be upset,” he pauses, gently placing Changbin onto his bed before crawling over him. “Well, I mean, really, every time we’ve gone to the gym together? Really?”

“Your arrogance truly knows no bounds,” Changbin frowns as he quips.

“Admit it,” Chan smirks, “it’s a big reason you love me, isn’t it?”

The words cause Changbin’s brain to short circuit for a minute before he rapidly blinks himself back to reality. “Yeah,” he sputters out, “yeah, I love you. All of you. Your stupid arrogance and all.”

It’s apparent that Chan wasn’t expecting such a serious response, but he smiles genuinely down to Changbin. “I love you too, Binnie.” He presses a quick peck to Changbin’s forehead, then pulls back and grins. “It’s way better saying that in person.”

“It’s better hearing it in person, too,” Changbin reaches his hands up to Chan’s face, pulling him back down for a proper kiss. “It’s not fair, though,” he whines in between kisses, “you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

“That so, eh?” Chan pulls back, sitting on his heels. “Guess we’re gonna have to do something about that.”

Changbin sits up and cocks an eyebrow and smirks with arrogance. “Way ahead of you.” He reaches down to the bottom of Chan’s shirt and pulls it up, the older man easily complying with his nonverbal demand. Changbin haphazardly tosses the shirt to the floor, then catches himself staring a bit too long at Chan’s torso. “Oh,” he manages to breathe out. “I must not have looked at you close enough the last time we worked out, because this definitely would have gotten stored in my head for later.”

“For later?” Chan smirks.

“Wait,” Changbin vigorously shakes his head and his face reddens. “No, no, no, not like that. I mean, yeah, I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it, but I wouldn’t just…” He stops speaking, and sighs heavily, burying his head in his hands with embarrassment. “Fuck.”

“You think about me, hmm? You only think about me, or is there something more to that blush you're trying to cover up?”

There’s an awkward pause between them, and Changbin grumbles something to himself before speaking coherently. “Goddammit. Fine, yeah. But only, like, a couple of times.”

Chan reaches forward, gently pulling Changbin’s wrists away from his face, forcing them to make eye contact. “Guess it’s only fair to tell you that the feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now, not when I’ve got the real thing in front of me.” Chan shrugs and presses a quick peck to Changbin’s lips, then continues offering small kisses down his jawline to his ear. He takes the lobe between his teeth and softly nibbles on it. “Tell me about what you think about when you think of me. Maybe I’ll make it happen.”

Changbin squirms, gasping softly as a jolt runs through him when Chan rolls the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “All I can think about is the fact that you’re still overdressed,” he manages to speak, his voice airy and distracted. Changbin’s clammy fingers tremble as they dance down Chan’s shoulders, down his torso. “You wouldn’t be this dressed if I were to think something distasteful about you. Hypothetically, of course.”

“Hmm,” Chan steadies himself on his knees, reaching down to grab Changbin’s wrists. He pulls them up and brings the younger man’s arms above his head, looking down with confidence. “Have a little patience.”

“I don’t wanna be patient.” Changbin pauses, darting his eyes down, pursing his lips together. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like years, Chan.” His words come out at a low voice as he nervously mutters down into his chest.

Chan must have picked up on the nervousness the man beneath him was feeling. He takes one of his hands and gently lifts Changbin’s chin up. “Look at me,” he whispers as they make eye contact. “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for this for a while, too. I don’t wanna fuck it up,” he sighs and his confident aura drops a bit, “and I guess I’m a little nervous, too.”

Changbin frowns slightly. “Are you hesitating?”

“A little bit, I guess?” Chan shakes his head and shrugs. He scans Changbin’s eyes over a few times, then starts to pull back.

“No,” Changbin interrupts, taking his free hand and quickly pulling Chan in closer to him by the back of his head. They crash their lips together in an awkward, rough kiss. Chan lets go of Changbin’s wrist, softly caressing the younger man’s face as he pushes deeper into the kiss. “You wanna know what I think about?”

“What?” Chan’s response comes out muffled against Changbin’s lips.

Changbin takes Chan’s wrist, guiding his hand down to his neck. “I think about how your hands would feel here,” then he drags the hand down to his sternum, “how your fingernails would scratch against me here.”

Almost as if on reflex, Chan digs his fingers into Changbin’s skin, grazing them down ever so softly. “Like that?”

A soft gasp comes between Chan and Changbin in response. “Yeah,” the younger man breathes, letting go of Chan’s wrist. “I think about how your nails would feel as they dragged down my stomach, all the way down…”

Chan continues trailing his fingers down, as if Changbin’s words were a set of instructions. “Then what?” His fingers stop at the younger man’s hip bones, and he dips his thumb into the corner of the bone, causing Changbin to arch his back and break away from the kiss with a strangled cry.

“Fuck,” he whines, “I wasn’t expecting that.” He dips his head back down, looking up to the older man with nervousness and excitement.

“Well, what’s next?” Chan cocks his head to the side, brushing his thumb against the skin above Changbin’s hip bone. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Changbin whines, rolling his hips up into Chan’s touch. “I want you, Chan.”

For a fleeting moment, a soft smile appears on Chan’s face, before he takes his hand and slides it down, hooking into the towel around Changbin’s waist. This causes the younger man’s eyes to go wide. He licks his lower lip, then nibbles on it as he anxiously nods. “Please,” he whines.

Chan tugs at the taut towel, eventually causing it to unravel. Changbin sighs in approval, letting his eyes flutter shut. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels the bed shift and sees Chan rifling through his nightstand. “What are you doing?” He grumbles, frowning at the distraction. “Why are you going through my shit? Are you looking for something?”

“Yeah,” Chan bites his tongue as he sifts through various papers and paraphernalia in the drawer. “Where the fuck is your lube?”

“Have you ever thought about asking, dude?” Changbin rolls his eyes and moves to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. “You really think I’m dumb enough to keep it in the nightstand that’s close to my bedroom door?”

“Come on,” Chan pulls back a bit, desperately trying not to let his eyes wander down. He watches Changbin rifle through his belongings, as he brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans. The button pops out of the hole effortlessly, and he can’t help but feel relieved as he tugs the zipper down, giving his erection a little bit of relief as it presses up against his boxer briefs.

“Here,” Changbin says, tossing the bottle of lube over towards Chan, not realizing that he wasn’t prepared to catch it. The bottle smacks Chan in the chest and falls just to the side of Changbin’s legs, somehow, thankfully missing any tender areas.

“Ow,” Chan rubs his chest and glares at the younger man. “Why the fuck did you throw it at me?”

Changbin, however, doesn’t respond. He finds himself too distracted by the way the colour of Chan’s navy briefs complements his skin. His head slowly tilts to the side and he stares at the outline of Chan’s cock against his underwear and he blinks a couple of times.

“Why are you staring?” Chan tuts, resting his hand on his hip. “You’ve seen it before.”

“Context,” Changbin shakes his head and stares up at Chan in disbelief before he sits upright, getting into the older man’s face. “Yeah, I’ve seen it, but like, I’ve never seen it like this. Not hard, and definitely not hard for me.”

A bit of a smile creeps up Chan’s lips. “You don’t know that. Maybe you didn’t pay enough attention before.” He winks as he hooks his thumbs into his jeans and underwear, making deliberate eye contact as he slowly pulls the clothes down.

It’s obvious that Changbin is desperately trying not to watch Chan’s clothes sink to the bed, pooling down at his knees. “I’m paying attention now, though.”

“I can tell. Now,” Chan grabs the lube next to Changbin’s leg and takes a finger, pushing it against the younger man’s chest, “lie down, so I can give you what you want.”

Changbin rests back on his elbows, still trying to maintain eye contact with Chan. “What makes you think I belong down here? Maybe I’d rather ride you?”

“Oh, please,” Chan rolls his eyes as he squeezes some lube onto his fingers, then haphazardly discards the bottle to the side of the bed. “I know you too well. You’re an observer, not a performer. You’d rather be down there watching me put in all the effort.” The older man winks and slides his fingers between Changbin’s legs.

A frustrated huff comes from Changbin as he lies fully on his back. “Yeah, yeah,” he frowns. “I guess you have a point. I’m not always like that, though. Besides, this lack of sleep has me exhausted, so I really don’t wanna put in too much energy.”

Chan raises one of his eyebrows as he teasingly rubs a finger around Changbin’s entrance, eliciting a soft gasp from the younger man. “You know,” he whispers as his index finger slowly glides inside, “I did just get on an hour-long flight on very little sleep to come and see you. I even lied to my boss, saying you were sick. Maybe I don’t wanna put in effort either, and maybe I do wanna watch you ride me.”

Changbin’s eyes shut tightly as he loses himself in the sensation of how Chan’s finger explores his insides. “We agreed, though,” he breathes out and grips the sheets underneath him, “lovesickness, or whatever stupid cheesy thing you came up with. You said you were going to ‘aggressively treat’ me, or something like that.” He opens one of his eyes and looks up at Chan. “So do it. Show me what you’re gonna do.”

“Oh, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do, all in good time. I do have to commend you, though,” Chan tuts as he slides his middle finger inside, causing Changbin to choke on his own saliva, “you’re a lot bolder than I expected you would be in the sheets. Always pinned you as the pillow princess type, and you’re kinda proving my point.”

“Fuck you,” Changbin shakes his head and growls at Chan. “I am not a pillow princess.”

Chan slips his middle finger completely inside and grins as Changbin’s cocky demeanour falters a bit in reaction. “You totally are. You wanna roll your head back and let go completely right now, that much is obvious. You’re just pretending to channel some arrogant energy and I see right through it.”

“I hate you,” Changbin spits through his teeth as he reaches up to Chan’s shoulders, gripping them tightly.

“No, you don’t.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and shoves Chan back a bit, then rolls him around onto his back, causing the older man’s fingers to slide out of him. “You specifically riled me up because you knew I’d do this, didn’t you?”

Chan, while still a bit shocked by Changbin suddenly reversing their roles, manages to flash a cheeky grin. “So, maybe I did? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Changbin rolled his eyes, then grabbed Chan’s lubed hand as he positioned himself over Chan’s stomach. “I’m not done with you, yet, though.”

Picking up on Changbin’s intentions, Chan moved his hand closer to the inside of Changbin’s thighs. He worked his fingers back inside the younger man, causing him to stumble forward a bit and grab the headboard. “So nice of you to consider my exhaustion in all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger man sighed. “I still can’t believe you think I’d lay here and do nothing, though.”

“Come on,” Chan scoffs and slowly works his ring finger inside, making Changbin dig his nails into the headboard a bit harder. “I don’t actually think that. Honestly, I have no idea what to expect from you. All I know is that you’re easy to rile up.”

“Seriously? Fuck you,” Changbin whines with insincerity, arching his back as Chan’s fingers stretch him out.

Chan licks his bottom lip, nibbling on it a bit as he watches the arrogance dissolve from the younger man above him. He rotates his middle finger around, offering soft, circular strokes inside of him. When he pushes a bit firmer, it causes Changbin to twitch and let out a bit of a mewl. The older man arrogantly smirks, circling around the sensitive spot a bit more before he pulls each finger out slowly. As Changbin stares down at him in disbelief, Chan shrugs his shoulders. “You could do that. You seem stretched out enough to fuck me.”

For a moment, Changbin looks like he was considering saying something unsavoury, but instead bites his tongue — literally. He shifts back a bit, then grabs the bottle of lube, carelessly squeezing some of it into his hand, then works some of it on to Chan’s cock. “So much for ‘aggressive treatment’, if I’m the one doing all the labour.”

“Hey now,” Chan breathes out, clearly enjoying the way Changbin’s hand feels on him. “Sometimes, you’ve gotta put in effort to be fully healed. Besides, I did my part in stretching you out.”

Changbin shakes his head in feigned irritation. “Yeah, I guess you’re technically right. Makes you the pillow princess now, though.” He playfully winks, then rubs up against the head of Chan’s cock to prevent him from protesting. Once he’s lined up, he slowly slides down, electricity coursing through his veins as the sensation of being filled overtakes him.

“Fuck,” Chan slaps a hand down on to Changbin’s thigh, rolling his head back into the pillow. “Bin, you feel incredible.”

“You’re not even completely inside of me yet,” the younger man’s voice trembles a bit as he grits his teeth. Changbin takes his hand, placing it on top of the hand on his thigh. They both scramble around for a moment, fingers shakily interlacing into each other. “Other hand,” Changbin whines, “gimme your other hand, Channie.” The older man obliges, reaching out to Changbin. They tangle their fingers into knots, and Changbin finally takes Chan fully inside of him, tightly gripping the fingers interlaced with his.

Changbin looks down to Chan’s torso, catching his breath as he lets his body acclimate to the feeling of being connected. Chan presses his elbow down into the bed, releasing his hands from Changbin’s, as he sits upright. He takes his other hand and grips the younger man’s surprised face. “I wanted to be able to kiss you,” he whispers, then tentatively presses his lips to Changbin’s forehead.

“You could’ve just told me,” Changbin sighs, not from irritation, but from contentment.

Chan tsks, kissing a line down from the younger man’s forehead, down his nose, then softly presses his lips against Changbin’s lips. “Wanted to be closer to you,” he punctuates the space in between each word with a quick peck. “I’m not gonna fuck you like a one night stand.”

“Ah,” Changbin nods his head once, grinding his hips up, “so you’re a romantic type, huh?” His voice quivers a bit, and he presses his forehead against Chan’s. “Guess I should’ve known.”

“Doubt you’d complain,” Chan whispers, digging his fingers into Changbin’s back and gripping his neck a bit firmer. “Are you ready, Bin?”

The younger man nods rapidly, hastily pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Yeah,” he affirms, dragging his teeth against Chan’s bottom lip.

The movements are slow, calculated. Chan rolls his hips up into Changbin, letting go of the younger man’s face, placing his arm behind him to support both of them. Changbin leans forward, pressing his weight into his knees as he holds both sides of Chan’s face between his hands. He lifts himself off of his heels, slowly making his way up and down Chan’s length, both of them working in tandem with each other.

“Chan,” Changbin whines, trying to connect their lips together as he gradually increases the pace at which he moves. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Changbin,” Chan complies, bringing his hand up from the younger man’s back, digging his nails into the soft skin as his fingers glide up. “You mean everything to me.” He brings his hand to Changbin’s neck, stroking his cheek with his thumb. Chan breaks away from their sloppy kiss and presses his forehead to Changbin’s.

“I’m thankful you let me be your best friend,” Chan continues. “You’ve been there with me for over a decade now, and I know I wouldn’t have been able to get through half of the things I’ve been through without you.”

Changbin sarcastically scoffs, breathing heavily as he keeps riding Chan. “I wouldn’t be here,” he shudders as Chan rotates his hips up, changing the way he feels inside of Changbin, “fuck, I wouldn’t have made it through this last year without you.” The younger man whimpers a bit, trying to catch his breath. “I needed you, and you were there. I just, fuck— I love you, Chan. I love you, I love you so much.”

Chan pulls Changbin in closer, trying to kiss the younger man, making a pointed effort to make sure their lips connect. They awkwardly kiss a bit until Changbin moves his hands down to grab Chan’s shoulders, allowing for a bit more control. He moves faster, getting more of a verbal reaction from the older man underneath him. Changbin opens his mouth and Chan wastes no time pushing his tongue into the open space.

They let their tongues dance around each other, exploring the new unknowns, trying to memorize the warmth and dampness of the other’s mouth. Chan drops his hand from Changbin’s face, and the younger man pulls away to protest until he feels the warm hand wrap around his cock, his protest being replaced with a mewl.

“Sorry,” Chan pulls away with a gasp, looking at Changbin with a bit of embarrassment. “I’m already close and I wanted to make sure you got there, too.”

Changbin twitches and rolls his head back, letting out a desperate moan. “Chan,” he whines, “if you keep going, it’s not gonna take me long to…”

“I don’t care,” Chan interrupts, “I wanna see how cute your face looks when you come all over me.”

“Fuck you and your stupid, ah,” Changbin grits his teeth, losing his train of thought as he tries to contain his emotions and fails. “I’m gonna… Chan, I—” He involuntarily leans back on his heels, his head rolling back as his back arches. His shoulders roll up to his ears and he lets out a whine as his body convulses, cum shooting up into the air and landing on both of their stomachs.

Chan bites his lip as he watches Changbin fall apart in front of him. “Can I come inside?” His voice is breathless, words caught between pants as he continues rolling his hips, haphazardly thrusting upward as his motions become slightly jerky and more erratic.

The younger man pants as he nods and reorients himself, bringing himself to collapse into the chest in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, come inside me, Chan.” Changbin nuzzles his head up into Chan’s neck, then firmly sinks his teeth into the sensitive flesh in front of him, eliciting a small gasp from the older man.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawing out the last syllable of the younger man’s name as he curls inward and his body trembles. He grips Changbin’s back tightly, squeezing him into a close embrace as he comes. His body quivers for a few moments, then eventually calms down. As his breathing slows to a normal pace, Chan shakily sits upright, exchanging a smile with Changbin. He kisses the younger man’s lips softly, reaching up to his shoulders and pulls them both down to the bed.

A tiny squeal comes up from Changbin as he’s rendered horizontal. “Chan,” he whines as he tries to sit upright, but Chan pulls him into a deep kiss.

“Shut up for a minute,” Chan whispers against Changbin’s lips. They exchange tender, tired kisses for several minutes, until Chan pulls back. He looks up to Changbin, smiling softly. “I love you so much. I really do mean it, Bin. Like, you mean the world to me.”

“I love you too, Chan. More than I could put into words.” Changbin smiles back, brushing some of Chan’s stray hairs out of his face. “You also look really hot right now, literally and metaphorically.” He sighs, taking in the way Chan looks, glistening in sweat and covered in his cum. “As much as I love looking at you like this, though, we’re gross and should absolutely shower.”

“Ah,” Chan shakes his head, trying to force himself to stay awake. “Yeah, good point. Sorry to make you shower again so shortly after you already cleaned yourself up once.”

“It’s fine, I’d say it was a fair trade-off.” The younger man dismissively waves his hand in the air. He shudders as he gets off of Chan, making his way to his feet and offering a hand to the man curled up on the bed beneath him. “You can throw the sheets in the wash and help me make the bed later to make up for it, yeah?”

“Deal.”

Changbin rests his damp head against Chan’s chest, listening to the way his heartbeat thrums against the walls of his ribcage. “As much as I love hearing you tell me how much you love me,” he whispers, “I think listening to your heart might be my favourite thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Means you’re alive.” Changbin lets his eyes flutter shut. “I could record you saying ‘I love you’ to me and listen to it over and over, but it would be hard to capture exactly how your heartbeat sounds over a recording.”

Chan laughs, the sound blending in nicely with his heartbeat. “As romantic as that sounds, you sound like a bit of a serial killer.”

“You never know,” Changbin tuts, tilting his head up to look at Chan. “I could be. Maybe I hide the bodies in my laundry closet.”

“Oh, please,” the older man rolls his eyes, “you don’t have it in you.”

Changbin walks his fingers over Chan’s chest, towards his nightstand, but stops halfway. “I could keep a knife in there, you know.”

Chan deadpans. “Dude, I know you have one in there.”

“What?” The colour drains from Changbin’s face.

“Yeah,” a laugh bubbles up from Chan’s stomach. “I mean, I don’t know where exactly you keep it, but you told me you had one in your bedroom somewhere. Remember that one time you told me that Minho wanted you to do some kinky shit with a knife, but you both chickened out because you were too afraid you were actually gonna hurt him?”

Changbin’s forehead collides against Chan’s sternum with a thud. “Fuck,” he groans, “I forgot I told you that.”

“You were drunk and Minho was really fucking embarrassed. ‘I can’t believe you’d tell Chan that!’, he yelled at you, and you were all like, ‘Chan knows everything about my sex life, I tell you this all the time!’ and then Minho threw the last of his rice at you and missed.”

Both of them laugh so hard, recalling the memory. “Oh my god,” Changbin doubles over as he laughs. “I totally forgot about that. Then he cried because he couldn’t believe he threw something at me, but then he was more upset that he had missed.”

Chan calmed his laughter down and sighed. “He was quirky. I liked that about him.”

“Me too.” Changbin wraps his arm around Chan’s torso and closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I can still hear his laugh when I walk through the empty apartment. It’s like I can see him on the couch, cats curled up in his lap as he had his feet up on the table, working on some management proposal.

“He’d bite his lip until it bled,” the younger man continued, “he’d get so focused on his stupid work projects. ‘I can’t let them be lost without me,’ he’d tell me after I would’ve scolded him. ‘Gotta make the transition easy, since it could be any day.’” Changbin sighed and shook his head, burying it further into Chan’s chest. “That idiot was more concerned about work than his own health.”

Chan brought up a hand to stroke Changbin’s damp hair. “Concerned over work and you. I think you forgot that he was always so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin rubbed the back of his hand against the underside of his nose as he sniffled. “He put everyone before himself, which is probably why he got so sick so fast.”

“Hey, no, stop it,” Chan whispered, rolling on to his side as he pulled Changbin into an embrace. “You sound like you’re about to start blaming yourself for something you and I both know was out of your control.”

“But—”

“Changbin,” the older man interjects, “it was terminal. Sure, Minho dying was out of the blue, but you couldn’t’ve stopped it. None of us could have.”

There’s an air of tension in the room, silence filling the void for several moments. “You’re right, I know,” the young man buries his head into Chan’s chest. “Doesn’t make it suck less.”

“It doesn’t,” Chan agrees, “but you’ve gotta live on, keep living the best life you can in his memory.”

“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Changbin nuzzled his way around Chan’s chest to hear the older man’s heartbeat again. “Don’t leave me, Chan.”

“I would never dream of it.” Chan whispers as he runs his fingers through Changbin’s hair. “I’m never gonna leave you. I love you, Changbin.”

“I love you, too, Chan.” Changbin whispers back, and the two men lay there in silence, wrapped up in one another, until sleep overtakes them.

For the first time in nearly a year, Changbin finally slept through the night without a nightmare haunting him.

[jungcity]

love, eternal. | v

genre: reincarnation!au, fallen angel!au

[supernatural!au-ish, angst, use of blunts and intoxicants, extra asshole jaehyun, smut, vulgar words]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

words: 7k

warnings: unprotected sex [use protection, always!!]

note: hello, loves! since ive been stucked inside our house, doing nothing, and all i could do is write— here’s another update! thank you for your kind words and comments the last update. i appreciate every single one of you. it makes me happy to think that you enjoy my writing style and the plot that i have in my silly mind. i hope you stay healthy and please please please wash your hands and sanitize!! i love you 💕

part iv | part vi

“God, if you’re out there,

if you’re listening,

he fucks like a seraphim,

and there’s no part of scripture

that ever prepared you for his hands.

Hands that map a communion

in the cradle of your hips.

Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.

He confesses how long he’s looked

for a place to worship and,

oh,

you put him on his knees.”

—excerpts from PROFANE by Ashe Vernon

Aurora.

Aurora.

Aurora.

With every chant of her name in your mind, you take a swig of the liquor with relish that would surely give you a hell-worth of hangover tomorrow. You couldn’t bring yourself to care now that you’re in a pit of a hole you don’t know how to climb off. Jaehyun was enraged by your constant chivvying, jilting your questions about Aurora like an ex-lover. While telling you aggressively that you have no business poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

“Shut your mouth. I won’t hear questions anymore.”

Those were his words of command. After that, you kept your mouth shut the whole ride back to the hotel. And in the end, you didn’t tell them about your dreams either. If they’re reluctant to share something with you, you wouldn’t share the visions you have in your sleep with them too.

Asking Johnny about Aurora was like talking to the wind. He let your questions die unheard, excusing himself to greet the guests who needs his attention. Of course, what did you expect? All of the men who flocks around Jaehyun are his brethren, they won’t betray Jaehyun for you. They won’t answer your question without Jaehyun’s permission, that much you’re sure of because of your boss’ ubiquitous influence. Chaelin offered you no hope, dodging your question whenever she gets the chance. She offered you bits of information; about Aurora’s appearance— confirming that the Aurora you see is the Aurora of them— which you’re already familiar of because of your dreams. Besides that, Chaelin said nothing more.

It’s unusual, hearing her name in the real world. You’re not one to believe in superstitions, but there’s something about your dreams that made you want to tear off the meanings inside Jaehyun’s chest. It drives you mad, anxious, and even desperate. Yet your courage could only go far. One look from Jaehyun and all the questions bubbling in your mouth dissipates into nothingness.

Aurora being Jaehyun’s ex-lover already crossed your mind. His aloofness towards her name tells you something hadn’t gone well between them. But where is she now? Johnny knows her, so you assume that she’s close friends with Jaehyun’s friends. Why didn’t she show up in the party? Why does she only appear in your dreams?

You’re thirsty for answers and no one seems brave enough to quench your thirst. But maybe the liquor on your table could do the work.

Johnny’s party ended an hour ago. Here you are, satisfying yourself the way you did not allow to at his party. You left the hotel without giving Jaehyun a heads up of where you are. Why would you? He won’t give you answers to your questions, so you won’t give him the knowledge of your location. Not that it’s important to him anyways. He could go and do his office duties all by himself, if he dared work at one a.m. in the morning. But maybe he’s asleep, or doing his nightly ritual being that he’s a spawn of the devil come to life.

“You’re crazy, Y/N. Crazy and drunk,” You mumbled to yourself, sluggish words coming out your mouth.

“What’s a pretty lady doing here all alone while drinking herself to oblivion?”

You snapped your head to the owner of the voice. A man in his past thirty made his way on the bar stool beside you. He’s tall, hard muscles almost stretching the blue long-sleeves polo he’s wearing. You suddenly felt wary by his presence, so you moved an inch away from him.

“I won’t bite,”

The sentence came out sultry, with the man’s smirk matching it. You suddenly felt stupid to come out in a city you’re not familiar with in the dead of the night. Yet who could blame you? You wanted to lose your mind tonight, far away from the questions that tries to infiltrate every corner of your brain. However, the presence of the man beside you gave you an ominous feeling.

So you stood up, catching yourself when you slide on the same stool you sat on. The man is quick to wrap his warm hand on your arm, whispering on you to be careful.

“Thanks,” you muttered the one word laconically. Slapping a bill on the table, you dashed outside of the bar, your steps waddling as the wind greeted you outside, making you shiver.

“Shit, shit.” You curse as you clutch a handful of hair in your close palm, the liquor you pick hit hard than what you expected.

“Where are you staying?”

You ignore the same man at the bar who’s trying to catch on you. Although waddling, you tried to pick up your pace. The hotel is just five-minutes away. You have to get there untouched.

“Hey, it’s dangerous to walk these streets alone. Let me—”

He gripped your arm, hard enough to make sure you won’t budge.

“Hey!” You screamed at him, trying to pull your arm free, but the man didn’t stir. He only ran down his eyes on your body, like you’re a delectable meal he would soon devour.

“Let me go!”

The streets are dead, and the few bystanders glanced at you with concern in their faces. You inhaled a lot of air, ready to scream for help but the man only looked at the few passersby apologetically.

“I’m sorry, my girlfriend here had too much drink.”

Girlfriend? You wanted to crawl and spit on his face. How dare he call you his girlfriend when you do not have any idea of who he is? But his grip on your arm never slackened. If not, his fingers only dig deeper on your flesh.

“You will come with me without making noise or else—”

“Or else what?”

You’d recognize that voice even a mile away. Jaehyun. As much as you want to tell him to go and leave you on your own business, your nerves screams for him to help you. The slight twist of his mouth tells you that he feels your discomfort under the man’s presence. And you know he is not happy about it.

“Who are you?”

Jaehyun brushed off the man’s question by walking towards you, hands on his pocket, not a trace of emotion could be seen on his face. When he’s finally standing face to face with your captor, he swiftly pulled you towards him. Though the tight grip of the man left your flesh smarting, you felt instantly safe beside Jaehyun. But it was short-lived as the man pulled you taut towards him again. Why won’t he drop it and fuck off already?

“Fuck of—”

The man did not finish his vulgar words for Jaehyun landed a fist on his jaw right away. He stumbled on his feet, his lips kissing the pavement. Jaehyun did not waste anytime, he grabbed your hand and secured you behind him.

“I dare you to touch her again,” He said coolly when the man slowly pulled himself up. There was anger and embarrassment in his face. You thought he’d swing a punch towards Jaehyun as vengeance but he only looked at him with wary, then dashed away.

Behind Jaehyun, you feel smaller than you are. Because of your own imbecility, he landed himself on trouble again. You just wanted a harmless night of enjoying yourself, but seeing where your little endeavor ended elicited a wistful sigh past your lips.

Jaehyun stared down at you, his shadows overruling your height. You hate that he could make you feel worse and defeated than you already are.

“Stupid.”

One word. One word and all the thank yous that you wanted to tell him faded out in an instant like the gust of wind in the summer. It’s unfair, to feel this chagrined towards the man who apparently saved you from an imminent danger yet you couldn’t help yourself but to lash out on him.

“Stupid?” —you asked, and you wanted your lips to stop there, but it didn’t—“Yes! I know that! But I think it’s cruel to say that to my face when I literally was inches away from getting assaulted! At least show some comfort, Jaehyun!” The words were whiplash savage, hopefully to shake him off his callous self.

One step. That’s all it took for Jaehyun to close the gap between the both of you. You tried to stare him down, not letting him see that standing this close to him makes your knees turn jelly and your bones to become brittle inside you.

“Raise your voice towards me again, and I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.” His face and his voice doesn’t give away any emotions, but it made you flustered anyway.

You hate it. You hate the way that he could get to you every time you think that you could best him and his emotions. You hate it when he talks to you slatternly yet your body couldn’t help but tingle in his every words. You hate it whenever he brushes you off like a fly, yet you couldn’t help but melt into his touch. You hate it when he swears, yet you couldn’t help but pull him closer whenever he kisses you like he’d never sate himself. And it drives you crazy.

He walks ahead of you now, not giving a fuck about your existence again. You tried to match his step, but you need to split your legs first to match his strides. And your intoxicated state made everything worse. Your eyes are drooping and you feel hot everywhere. Cursing the liquor for your state, you shambled your way towards the hotel’s entrance, oblivious of the step that resulted to your cheek kissing the earth.

“Ouch!”

“Truly stupid,”

You heard Jaehyun mumbled before helping you stand and scooping you swiftly in his arms in a bridal style. If your face isn’t ruddy enough because of the alcohol, you’d bet Jaehyun would think that his chivalrous side made you blush— which is true, but you’d thank the intoxicants for that.

When you reached your room, he carefully laid you on your feet, demanding for the keys. You carelessly fished for it inside your little bag, turning it upside down, resulting for all its content to spill on the floor. Jaehyun sighed, clearly on his edge, but he picked up all your things and place it back on your bag. The click of the door reverberated through the silent corridors, and you wobbled inside, palming the switch that’d turn on the lights, but to no avail.

The moonlight infiltrated your room, slightly illuminating your bed. You walked towards it, feeling Jaehyun’s presence behind you.

“Hey!” You laughed, the alcohol kicking in your system now. He raised a brow, but strides towards you nonetheless.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him with you to the mattress, “Thank you!”

You haven’t realized that he’s on top of you and your face are mere inches away from each other. Maybe it’s your blurred vision, or the little light provided by the moon— but did Jaehyun blush? You would see it easily if he did. The bright red would stand starkly against his pale face.

His face. You dared touch his face then, expecting him to slap your hand away and walk out of the room— but he didn’t. He let you hold his face, his eyes fluttering from the sensation, a ghost of a smile creeping up his lips. Then you ran your fingers on his red lips— so inviting, so captivating.

“Who did your lips?” You asked, “I need to know who your surgeon is!”

You leaned forward and bite his lip, which elicited a groan from him. Laughing, you tried to push him, but the hard muscles on his chest were taut.

“Do that again,” He whispers on your lips, the mint of his breath wafting your nose.

“Oh no, we’re gonna do something we’d prolly regret tomorrow,” You chuckled, and bit his lips once again.

This time, he didn’t let you push him away. He kissed you, with enough fervor that sent jolts on your body automatically. His lips were hungry against yours, as they always are whenever you kiss. There’s biting, clashing of teeth against teeth, and there was licking. You couldn’t hold yourself back, not when he kisses you like you’re a goddess. He parted your lips to suck your tongue and you let him. Every suck of his mouth leaves you breathless, but you want more. More than this.

You spread your hips then, allowing him access on your center. He gets the notice in an instant, then he started to grind on you. You gasped underneath him, feeling tingles on your lower abdomen. He continued to kiss you passionately, only to move on and started kissing your jaw, and on the sweet spot on your neck. You’ve got a fistful of his hair tangled on your hands now, but he doesn’t seem to feel the pain on his scalp as he continues to ravenously kiss you while still grinding on you.

You felt your own wetness against your panties, your center begging to be touched.

“Jaehyun,” You said, out of breath.

He suddenly stopped and looked at you, like he’s gotten out of a bubble, “As much as I want you naked right now, I won’t fuck you intoxicated chérie.”

You look at him askance, “You’ll leave me like this?” By your words, you felt your center pulsating, making you even more hotter than you already are.

“Y/N,” He said your name with careful tones, “I don’t want you to regret anything tomorrow,”

You shake your head. And you don’t even know why the hell do you insist. But in his eyes, even though you couldn’t see well because of the light, you know he wants this as much as you want to.

“Jaehyun… I know you want this.”

He sighs, frustrated, “Yes, chérie. I bloody want to fuck you senseless right now. I’ve been wanting to since that day I kissed you on your living room.” He’s holding both your cheeks now, his breath coming out ragged.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Jaehyun wants you. He bloody does. Him, admitting it made the fire inside you burn brighter.

You grabbed him, fuck tomorrow and fuck everything. “Fuck me senseless then,”

Jaehyun groans, he gave you a ravenous kiss before unclothing himself, the only thing covering him now is his boxers. And oh, isn’t he beautiful? The perfectly sculpted muscles of his chest down to his abdomen made your mouth go dry, and the V cascading down his glory tells you it would be a painful night. This isn’t your first time, but it is your first time seeing a huge penis such as his.

He wasted no time to undress you too, but he was gentle as a man who walks with a walking stick. Every reveal of skin made his breath hitch— desire flickering in his eyes, and amazement. But he didn’t say anything, just kiss your lips again.

His lips travels down your neck, where he sucked on the sweet spot that he made sure would leave a mark tomorrow. While he does, his hands travels around your body— feeling your soft mounds on his palm. Then he popped his mouth on your other nipple, sending your body into frenzy. It’s been so long since you’ve done this that you already forgot the feeling. He took turns sucking on your nipples while massaging the other. And you palmed him against his boxers as he does do. He shivered, mouth against your ear.

“Don’t do that, chérie. I don’t wanna come all over your hand.”

You blushed— hard. And he chuckles by your gob-smocked reaction. He continued his penetration on your breasts, stopping only when he felt your wetness on his knees himself.

“Naughty,” He whispered on your ear, tickling you. Slowly, agonizingly, he peeled of your panties off you and his boxers off him—his glory slapping on his stomach as he did so. His length made you gulp. You’ve never imagined him to be that huge. He couldn’t seem to notice your awe because he slowly pulled your legs towards him, feeling your wetness on his fingers. His touch sent you writhing on the bedsheets, wanting for more.

“Patience,” He licks his fingers then, making sure you’re eye to eye as he licks your liquid clean off his fingers.

He leaned towards you, the head of his penis poking your entrance. He whispered, so husky and so raspy that you melt. “Can you lift your hips for me, chérie?”

You exhaled, doing his command slowly. He held your hips, slowly guiding you towards him. Then you felt it. First, poking your entrance. Second, slowly pushing inside you. Third, his wholeness is on you. You gasped.

He groans, “So tight and so fucking wet for me.”

His words alone could send you to your climax. He picked up his pace but he’s still pushing in and out of you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his length. He realized that the tightness is unusual, and you felt it too. Your walls stretching open slowly, tearing the muscles that made you shut your eyes. It wasn’t as painful as the first time, but the pain is still there. Jaehyun steadily push himself in and out of you for a minute or two, before you told him to pick up his pace, which he oblige with a nod.

Now you couldn’t help but scream his name for he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow. His hands on both sides of your head, his every thrust digging you deeper on to the mattress. Your toes curl, and you lifted your hips, wanting to feel more of him.

Jaehyun grunts, his sweats dropping on your chest and on your face. His eyes are shut, feeling everything. You clenched around him, sending him to moan your name into the darkness.

“So… fucking… beautiful.” He curses while looking at you, both of your bodies bouncing against the mattress. You cling on to his shoulders then, your hands feeling something bumpy on his back— like two long gashes of scars— near his shoulder blades. What is it? You shake off the questions, there’s time for that.

Jaehyun continued thrusting on you until you felt a tingle in your lower abdomen, cascading down your clit, “Jae— Jaehyun, I’m near—”

By your words, he pulled out of you, a sudden emptiness you felt in your system. But it was short-lived as he guided you towards the window and whispers, “Bend over, chérie.”

You did as you were told, the gloaming greeting you as you bend over the window. Jaehyun inserted himself on you the second you oblige his command, eliciting a gasp from the both of you. The feeling of being fulfilled came back in an instant.

Then he’s grabbing your hair, your shoulders, your upper body; his one hand wrapped around your breast, twirling on your nipple as he fucks you behind.

The horizon is gleaming in red, the sun will shine soon. And the view is spectacular. Here you are, in London, being fucked mercilessly by a man named Jung Jaehyun. You felt your clit pulsate, your climax approaching.

“Jaehyun!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as you felt your climax tore through your body— your mind went blank from the pleasure. Your body trembled in his grasp. Suddenly, the galaxy seemed so near you could grab it.

Then you felt Jaehyun tensed behind you, a loud groan escaping his lips.

“Fuck!” He shuddered. And the whole room were instantly filled with your heavy breathings.

You could feel your knees wobbling, Jaehyun catching you before you fall on the floor. He laid you carefully on the bed before wiping off the liquid off your sexes, the tissues touching your clit made you shudder a bit, still high on your climax. He tucked you on the thick sheets after cleaning both of you, “Sleep well, chérie.” He mumbled against your hair.

Perhaps it was exhaustion and the intoxication that drove you easily to slumber. But before you drift in complete blackness, you felt Jaehyun kissing your shoulder— tucking you closer to his body.

—

An unexpected headache hit you the moment you opened your eyes, the sunlight glinting on the skies above, its gleam infiltrating your room straight to your vision, making you squint.

The sheets wrapped around your naked body and the scattered clothes on the floor reminded you of what happened last night. A smile creep in your lips as you remember the memories.

Jaehyun was nowhere to be found, but the space he took on the bed was still warm in your palms, a sign that he just got out of bed. You supposed he’s back on his own room, taking a shower since the schedule tells you that today is the day you’d come back home.

Wincing by the pain in your head, you wrapped the sheets tighter on your body then you stand up and trudge towards the window. The memory of the gloaming coating the whole sky earlier came back on your mind, with it the feeling of Jaehyun’s hands grasping your body like he never wanted to let go. His groans and his moans whispering like a phantom wind on your ear as you inhale the sweet air of London.

You were somber as you look at everything around you. From the pavement, to the trees, the flowers and the clear blue sky— a dream come true. I’ll be back, you whispered. There was something familiar tugging you in the atmosphere, yet you couldn’t explain what is it.

The door creaked open, revealing a freshly bathed Jaehyun. He doesn’t smile when you meet his eyes, and he didn’t need to show or tell you about last night to know that he remembers— his eyes could absolutely do the work. It amazes you how much emotions his eyes could conjure— it’s like a glass, mirroring his feelings even though he doesn’t express them with words. But the wrath underneath his irises remains no matter how much emotions his eyes could handle.

“Morning,” He softly mumbled, and you repeated the words to him. You notice that he’s holding something behind him.

“What are you carrying?”

By your words, his ears started to redden. You find it adorable— Jaehyun blushing. But you decided not to tease him about it, afraid that you’d ruin the mood. And you’re absolutely sure that he won’t take it kindly once you point it out. He shifted, conspicuously uncomfortable.

When he didn’t answer, you push him a little bit. “Is that for me?” you cooed. His ears are crimson red now. You bite your lips to stop yourself from giggling.

Here he is, your boss, the CEO of a prestigious company, Jung Jaehyun, red as a tomato in front of you. Never in a million years you’ve imagined this to happen. You walked towards him, clutching the sheets on your body. But what’s the point? He has seen everything already. Yet the way his eyes roamed up and down your wrapped body still made the hairs on your neck prickle. He’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what lay underneath the sheets.

“Wear this.” He pushed the gift on your chest that you struggled to catch it for your one hand is busy clutching the sheets to keep you covered.

“What’s this? It’s not something scandalous, right?” You asked, peeking on the insides of the gift.

Jaehyun sighed, “Just… wear it. We have someplace to go to,” Then he’s gone to his own room.

You frown, you thought you’re going home today. But it seems like Jaehyun has another business to go to. You quickly unwrapped the gift, a flowy dress with little flowers all over is the content of it, accompanied with a little note.

I hope you don’t regret anything, chérie. Because I don’t. – J

The note locked you in your place, mouth slightly gaping from the message. You knew it. You knew he doesn’t regret a single thing. Yet his assurance made everything better— even clear as the waters of the lake glinting in the sunlight. And you feel like floating on the same water like a driftwood, unaware of where shore you’d land on, yet enjoying the thrill of the waters still.

You rinse yourself, lathering your hair with shampoo. The places where Jaehyun touched you— worshipped you— last night tingles as you trace them, feeling his calloused yet careful hands against your skin. Was it a dream? Everything that’s happened?  If it was, you pray that you experience it again. And yet you remember that your dreams holds trapped mysteries like the smoke in a crystal ball, too obscured to be understood.

Aurora. Knowing nothing aside from the woman’s appearance left you incomplete— like she was a phantom limb missing in your body, and only knowing something other than her blue eyes would complete you. Who are you? You asked, debating whether to nag about it to Jaehyun again. But you have no wish to ruin the building bond you’re starting with him, you do not want to infuriate him, or yourself if ever he doesn’t answer again. Perhaps in the right time, you’d know everything. But not now. Not when you don’t have any clue of what’s to come the moment your questions are all answered.

You’re certain about one thing, though. And that’s whatever your role might be in this chain of a story, it’s not a flowery path that you’d enjoy. You feel something destructive lying ahead and on the end of this dream, but right now, you’d let yourself run and be a coward for a while.

—

Paris, France. Every woman’s dream. And now you couldn’t contain your self as you spin around the place.

Jaehyun didn’t give away any clue when you were inside his private plane that arrived earlier. Private plane, yes. The truthiness of it made you appalled, like a fish blobbing in the sea. You just knew that you’re already in Paris when you saw the tiny Eiffel Tower from above the clouds.

Everything seemed so serene and peaceful— and you supposed it’s because of the statue of St. Michael standing proudly on the grounds of Place Saint-Michel in 6th arrondissement.

You aren’t a pious lady, but your mother was. That’s why you know the rosary and the prayers of Ave Maria. You and your little sister, Yuqi, would kneel beside her every night before dinner to whisper the prayers alongside her. As a child, you’d always tripped on your words, eliciting a giggle from Yuqi and a glare from your mother. But even though she’d give you a sharp scolding afterwards, you’d never trade the memory for the world.

Jaehyun offered you his right hand, “Come.”

That was his first word after you departed the plane and on the way here. You haven’t yet asked him why did he choose this place to go to. He was so quiet on the way— the kind of silence that you’re so accustomed to— the silence that tells he doesn’t want to talk to anybody.

You take his hand, your palms easily covered by his large ones. Holding hands and walking with your lover in the grounds of Paris was one of your lifetime dreams— and now it’s happening. Your heart couldn’t stop from beating loudly in your chest. But is he your lover? You couldn’t claim him yet, and you don’t know if he’d like that idea. Perhaps you’re stupid, to revel in this feeling, but your heart feels utterly safe whenever you’re with him. Even though Jaehyun is as complicated as a twisted rope, there’s a tug that continues to pull you towards him. As much as you want to understand where it is coming from, there’s a voice in the back of your mind that tells you not to worry about anything. You feel like the ocean water, whenever it flows around the world, it’d still come home in the shores.

“Is that a statue of Archangel Michael?” You asked, wonderment visible on your face.

You’re not good in architecture, but the intricate design of the Renaissance style pediment awed you. It contains of a tablet, the year 1860 inscribed in Roman numerals on its surface. At the central niche, you’d see the statue of Archangel Michael winning a combat against the devil.

“Wow. That must be Lucifer,”

You pointed at the other statue underneath the Archangel. Jaehyun’s grip on you tightened, making you snap your head at him. His face carried no emotions, but his eyes— you couldn’t see them at your position beside him. But he’s looking straight at the statue, like he’s reminiscing an old memory.

“But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the sinner that needed it most?” Jaehyun said while still looking at the statue. “A quote I’ve read somewhere,” he added when he noticed that you were quiet beside him.

You grew up knowing the stories in the Bible, it has many mysteries, and it’s not perfect. But it molded your little five-year-old heart into the woman that you are now. Looking at Jaehyun, and hearing his quote reminded you of your mother again, and how she taught you not to judge those who has different beliefs than you. You wonder if Jaehyun is one of those people.

“Are you sympathizing with the devil right now?” You asked, careful not to sound insulting. Religion is the one thing you have no idea how to talk with to other people. Asking Jaehyun feels like you’re walking on a thin thread.

He didn’t answer for a minute or two, just continues to hold your hand in every minute that passes. When he does, it was brief and almost breathless, “Yes.”

You inhaled, “May I know why?”

You waited for his sharp reiteration, but none came. Instead, his voice was lacking of life. “Because no one did. No one does,” Then he was silent again.

“Didn’t he betray God?” You regretted the words the moment it slid past your lips. The voice of your mother scolding you for being nosy repeating in your mind. But again, Jaehyun’s voice was toneless. His eyes seems to look at a vestige of something that is long gone.

“Did he, really? Or did I just loved him too much?”

I? But before you could ask him about it, he dragged you away from the statue. Three steps away from it, he turned around and whispered.

“Farewell, brother.”

You almost didn’t hear it. But you were certain you heard him call the statue of the Archangel ‘brother’. You’re supposed to shrug it off and leave him be, but there was hopelessness and longing in his eyes that made you inquisitive.

“Did you just call the statue your brother?”

His mouth opened up and said something, but you didn’t hear the words because of the loud wailing of a child nearby.

—

“Did you just call the statue your brother?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answered, afraid that his eyes might give away his emotions. “Yes. Because he’s indeed my brother. Once.”

Jaehyun hated it. He hated the truth that no matter how many millennia he rots in Earth, the loneliness of not being with his brothers doesn’t disappear. If not, it only makes him more of a sinner. The wanting to fight and win wars with them eats him up like a disease, suffusing all his ability to be sane. Perhaps he was crazy, delusional, to even hang on the little hope that he feels in his heart. Of the hope that one day, he’d spread his wings and fly again into heaven. Yet every time he remembers Aurora, he’s reminded of the punishment on his shoulders.

It angers him still— to think that Aurora lived a life meant to cease— that she lived a life as a vessel to punish the Fallen; him. Albeit realizing the truth, he still loved her with all that he is. And where did that lead her? Into her own doom.

And as he looked at you now, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for what he’s doing. Is this love? He questions himself every night, much more so after that night you shared.  Yet an uncertain feeling that maybe you aren’t one of his punishment makes him want to hold you closer, tighter, longer. Could he risk it? Could he risk you? He couldn’t seem to bear the thought of you withering away from him— yet that is the only way to keep you safe, protected.

He’s thought about you all night, not even a blink of sleep visited him. He’s thought about how beautiful you’d looked in Johnny’s party with your tulle dress and intricate coiffure. And the dance you shared— there’s nothing in this world who could take that memory away from him. It reminds him of Aurora, and their dance that night in her father’s fête. It was familiar yet different at the same time. The thought of her made him froze, remembering how you asked about Aurora sparked a frisson of fear in him. Why are you so eager to know anything about her? There’s a sense of foreboding in your every question about Aurora that made Jaehyun uneasy.

He laid awake beside you, watching your face as you drift off to sleep, while sundries of thoughts occupies his mind. He wonders what kinds of dreams visits you whenever you close your eyes? Is it about him? The thought of you dreaming about him etched a smile on his lips. Yet he’s been cruel to you to even deserve that.

He knows that he must be crueler and put an end to this stupidity. He couldn’t hurt you, no. He’s done a lot of destruction to the people around him already and he couldn’t bear the idea of you hurting because of him. Whether you’re not a part of his punishment, he knows that letting himself fall for you would lead only to your own ruination. That’s why he made up his mind. What he feels for you, he’s determined not to let it eat him up— he’s determined to crush it if it means your safety.

He once had become selfish, and that remissness only resulted to his own heart being shattered and the death of his lover. It’s hard to move on, and it’s harder to forget. One hundred years, the memory still clings to him; Aurora’s skin and bones slowly wilting to the state of emaciation. All of it was his fault. It was his fault because he didn’t guard his heart enough.

It was waggish, Jaehyun thinks. He was a warrior of heaven— his heart unfailingly comes second to his mind. That’s what he’s learned as God’s soldier. Yet he couldn’t believe that the little thing full of veins and arteries inside his body would be his forever retribution.

He wanted to capture the moment every time he’s with you. Specially now, while you innocently eat an ice cream in your hand, strands of your hair loosing from your bun and billowing against the wind. But he knows keeping you there would only ruin you. Everything about him is truly twisted— from the way that he treated you with his actions and with his words. But the fire inside you never once wavered whenever you’re with him. Unlike him, you do not let yourself have grudges towards anyone. Everything for you is a river that flows freely. But Jaehyun, he is a tsunami of feelings, ready to destroy anyone and anything on his wake. There’s simply no way to extricate himself from his nature and damnation.

A strand of hair strayed on your face, he tucked it behind your ear as he watched you with adoration in his eyes. “Are you fond of angels?”

He blamed himself for your question. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by seeing the statue of Archangel Michael earlier, and perhaps you’ve seen it in his eyes. He knows the question isn’t meant to harm him but it overwrought him even so.

He nodded, “You could say that,”

He was fond of angels, of course. Because he’s one of them. Even though the rules of his damnation kept him tied to Earth, the wings in his back and the ichorous blood that runs in his veins still stand as an attestation of his angelic identity. No one could take that from him.

You smiled sheepishly at him, your eyes reflecting something he couldn’t quite understand. Your irises conjures a secret he wanted to know, yet it’s obvious that you would tell him soon. But there is no soon left for the both of you. After this day, he knows you’d come back and hate him again. He knows he no longer would see the stars in your eyes and the constellations in it. He knows he won’t kiss you and hear the prayers on your lips again. He won’t be allowed to thread his fingers against the finest silk that is your hair. The star between you two would die even before it is born. And he forces himself to think that that is for the best.

—

“That’s… wonderful, sis.” Yuqi commented as she entered your room with a bag of chips in hand.

You just came back from Paris yesterday, with a bag of memories that you’d treasure for the rest of your life. The last day was by far the best trip you’ve ever had. You explored half of Paris’ tourist attractions, dined in their famous restaurants, and slept with a five-star hotel with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, he allowed himself to sleep with the same room as you. But nothing happened. And no pillowtalks was shared. Jaehyun’s not that type of man, he made sure of that. Yet the silence that you shared together was still enough to make you happy. You stared with each other, smiling, your eyes talking, and him kissing your forehead before you fall asleep. It was enough, and it was perfect.

“Is it, though?” You raised your brow at your sister, popping a handful of chips in your mouth.

Knowing about Jaehyun’s fondness of angels, especially of fallen angels, you decided to give the painting you’re working on on his birthday. Even though it is not originally your idea, the familiar tug in your heart tells you that Jaehyun won’t mind. And you have to trust your intuition. It is better than nothing.

“Yes. Never really thought you to be a Renaissance girl,”

“That’s literally my style, Yuqi.” You told her and she shrugged. “You’re not really giving much attention to your big sis’ art life.” You jokingly frowned at her. Yuqi gathered the softest pillow and hit you with it.

“If you don’t remember, I am currently specializing in finance. That is like, what, poles away from your profession.”

“Whatever.”

She shifted on her seat, “You said that’s not a commission. What’s that for, then? Don’t tell me we’d just hang that piece in our walls. I mean, yes, we could. But I know you won’t let that painting sit in this apartment.”

“Why? What’s wrong with our apartment? And I still don’t know what to do with it. Maybe give it to someone else?” That is not a ‘maybe’. You’d really give it to someone, but you’re unready to discuss the idea of gifting Jaehyun with your art to your sister.

“Someone? Who is that someone?” She chivvied. You shrugged and laugh at her. There’s no way you’d tell her.

Yuqi stayed in your room for the whole day, eating and binging dramas while you work on your canvas. Finally, you could envision how it’d turn out. Thankfully, it’s turning out the same as the one in your dream.

Then Aurora’s face flashed in your mind. Wherever she is, would she condemn you for recreating her artwork? It suddenly felt wrong, to give this to Jaehyun. How twisted it is. That the same girl who constantly appears in your dreams is connected to the people you work with in real life. The sudden realization hit you like a tidal wive. It is real. And it feels wrong to remind Jaehyun of Aurora somehow through her painting.

You tugged on your hair, blowing out a frustrated sigh because of your lack of common sense. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Yet letting the almost-finished canvas to rot in the corner of your room is worse than finishing it. Maybe you’d come up with another gift to give Jaehyun.

But why am I thinking about this too much? Why am I so invested in pleasing Jaehyun when he haven’t even texted nor called me for two days?

You shrugged and kept all your art materials. Demanding for a simple hi nor hello from Jaehyun is what you call absurdity. The bed is specially inviting tonight and dwelling on your ridiculous thoughts won’t help you get the paycheck tomorrow and pay the bills. Even though you fear for the dreams to visit you again, you have a work that would need your productivity tomorrow so you decided to sleep.

Your name— it’s being uttered by different voices; there is the voice of a child, of a woman, and that of an old person. What is happening?

“Please, wake up.” They say.

Then you heard the sobs, echoing through the whole house. The house is huge, it’s like a labyrinth of corridors. Gathering your white dress, you spin around, trying to locate the voices. The whole house seemed to gyrate in every step that you take, muffling the cries and the pleas.

You flit to nowhere, but the voices are getting louder every time you open the wrong door. It’s like an endless hallway and the cries are getting disconcerting, begging for you to find it. A huge oak door greeted you at the end of the hallway, and with your heart thundering against your chest, you pushed it open.

The room is familiar— it’s the same room where you found the canvas. A kneeling family around a queen-sized bed welcomed you as you fully entered the room. Their hands are clasped with rosaries, obviously praying.

“Hello?”

They don’t seem to hear you. You walked closer towards the bed. A frail body resting on it, her bones are jutting out and her skin looked ashen. Her chests, the way it rises and falls gave you a preposterous goosebumps.

“Y/N!”

You covered your mouth. It was Aurora. The hair. But why are they calling her with your name?

“Y/N, don’t die!” The little girl screamed, river of tears flowing on her cheeks.

The sight made your heart sunk. They are all crying, begging, praying. Yet no one seems to hear them.

“I’m sorry, Aurora.”

You whirled your head to see Jaehyun standing on the corner. He looked so hopelessly defeated. Red rimmed his eyes, with fresh tears coming out of it. He’s crying, and he’s the only one who doesn’t call Aurora by your name.

What is going on? Is this why he doesn’t want to talk about her? Because she’s dead?

But when did she die?

—

“I… had a dream.”

Yuqi continued eating, but she told you to go on by nodding.

The dreams, they are not as friendly as you think they would be. They keep on coming, getting more and more peculiar every time they visit you in your sleep, to the point that searching and reading articles about it on Google couldn’t help you anymore. They are bottling up inside your chest, and you have a jarring feeling that any time soon, they would burst.

“About… about a girl. I always dream about her. In different places… and I think she’s not from our year. Her clothes, the way she carries herself— she reminds me of a princess. Or… a lady.” You haven’t thought that opening it up to your sister would be this hard. Your words are twisting and trampling on their own.

“Have you searched about it yet?”

“Yes. Search engines couldn’t even help me in this one.”

“Maybe a fortune teller could help.”

Fortune teller? Where on earth could you find one in this modern society? You sighed, promising yourself not to tell anybody about it again. Yuqi seemed disinterested about the whole notion, and you wished you could be like her too.

—

Mind wandering off to different places, you trekked inside Jung’s Fiscals. The voices and the cries of Aurora’s family echoing in your mind elicited a grimace from you. They felt so in pain. And you know that kind of pain— the kind of pain when you lost someone dear to you.

“Y/N!”

“Morning, Soo.”

“What’s wrong? That type of face wasn’t what I was expecting from a London girl!” She teased.

You tried to smile and laugh with her, telling her stories about your trip all the way to the elevator. But before you got inside, she turned you to face her. “Mr. Jung has already arrived… with a girl.”

A girl? You blinked, wondering who she might be. But then you remembered that Chaelin is a girl and she’s friends with Jaehyun. Soojin probably doesn’t know her and you have no time to ask her about the girl’s appearance. So you shrugged off the unsettling feeling in your system and gave Soojin a quick peck on the cheek before stepping in the elevator.

Once inside, you fished your phone in your pocket. A text from Jaehyun was displayed on the screen.

[Bring two cups of coffee once you arrived.]

You frowned at the message. That’s it? No good morning or take care?

After cleaning off your desk and checking for anything amiss, you walked towards the kitchen to make Jaehyun and his guest cups of coffee. Him, arriving before you was unusual. What could possibly be the reason? You shrugged and did his command, setting the hot coffees on the tray.

You balanced the tray in your arms, careful not to spill the coffee. The door clicked, you pushed it open by swaying your hips.

You breathed, “Good—”

And all of your efforts to be careful were washed down by a cold bucket of reality as you stare at the scene in front of you.

The girl from Jaehyun’s penthouse. She’s pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around Jaehyun’s waist. She’s almost naked, with Jaehyun kissing her like there’s no tomorrow. He grasps her waist and her breast, earning a moan from her.

Your arms wobbled. And the next thing you heard was the shattering of the coffee mugs against the floor, together with your heart.