#v; tonight we run into the sun into the corners of the earth to places I have never been [jjba x rdr] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spicycreativity · 3 years

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Howl - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Fic Content Warnings: Blood, injury, suggestive content, alcohol use

Characters: All

Pairing: Analogical, background Moceit because apparently I can't help myself

Add'l Notes: dw if you don't know what a loup-garou is or how the lore works; all is explained in the story / Have I ever been to Louisiana? No 💕Did I write an entire story set in rural-ish Cajun Louisiana anyway because I hate myself? Yes 💕 / If you're from Louisiana and noticed any screw-ups, pls correct me so I can fix it

It also comes with a playlist! For ambience, not necessarily for the lyrics

Summary:

Two things happen to Virgil Landry on Halloween:

1) Logan Doucet, his longtime friend and slightly-less-longtime crush, asks him out

2) He becomes cursed to spend his nights as a half-man, half-wolf monster: a loup-garou

Despite his new affliction, Virgil strives for normalcy all the way up until he can't anymore and everything falls apart.

The floorboards creaked in their familiar pattern as Virgil paced over them, his feet sliding around awkwardly in his over-the-knee boots. He was supposed to meet Logan alone in an hour, an hour! His heart thumped painfully under his ribs. What did Logan want?

Virgil yanked his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message for the 85th time, ignoring a few new messages in his assorted group chats:

Logan: If it's not inconvenient, could you meet me early at the Plaza tonight? Maybe 6:30?

Virgil: yeah sure

Virgil: everything OK?

Logan: Yes :-)

What did it mean? Was everything okay? Or was Logan just lying to make him feel better? Because if so, it wasn't working. Virgil ran his hands through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup. It had taken him an hour and a half to perfect his vampire makeup in the mirror and he didn't want to risk messing it up.

With a sigh that turned into a groan, Virgil threw himself down on his couch. It made the walls rattle, nearly displacing a few trinkets on his crappy, rickety shelves. He heard a tell-tale scrape above his head and knew that his favorite painting had gone crooked again. God, this place was a wreck-- Just like Virgil. He made a mental note to ask Patton for help patching up the leaky roof. It was as good a time as any, as they were well out of rainy season, but it did seem a little rude. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Patton, I know carpentry is literally what you do for a living, but could you help me for free since I'm broke and sad? Thanks, bud. Yeah, right. He sighed again and tugged at his medallion, a rusted old thing with a glass gem in the center. He had picked it up from a thrift store months earlier in anticipation of Halloween, but maybe he should have made some effort to restore it. It smelled strongly of rust and decay and felt terrible between his fingers, all oily and sticky.

So far, the only saving grace of the day was that it wasn't raining now. Virgil had spent his workday in silent anxiety, eyeing the storm clouds through the shop window and rubbing a small piece of sunstone between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed to have worked, as the clouds had dispersed a little and allowed the watery light of the autumn sun to peek through.

Virgil's phone lit up with a few more messages in his group chats: Roman having hysterics over some detail of his costume, Janus and Remus discussing how to avoid the small army of toddlers that always ran rampant at the Halloween parade. Virgil ignored them all. He was in no mood to be friendly, would probably snap at them. Logan hadn't said anything since his message to Virgil, which he had presumably sent on his lunch break. The question haunted Virgil, that great unknown lurking behind him and instilling a fear that no ghost ever could: What did Logan want?

Virgil set his phone down and leaned forward, heaving a sigh that turned into a yawn. Great. Whatever. That meant he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his breathing already irregular. Damn it, Logan knew better than to leave him hanging like this! They'd known each other for so long and he'd always been more perceptive to Virgil's needs than the others.

Especially lately… They'd been spending more time alone, and Virgil couldn't deny the sweet, warm giddiness that enveloped him every time they were alone together. First meetings were always his favorite, seeing Logan's face light up with a smile. He hadn't dared to think that Logan might feel the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his fantasies on a leash. Worst-case scenarios and best-case scenarios dueled in his head: Logan kissing him, Logan telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Logan confessing, Logan announcing that he had some incurable disease.

Virgil grabbed his phone and jumped to his feet. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't sit here and torture himself. He would just leave now. He would rather arrive freakishly early than face another minute of this self-inflicted torment

He double and triple checked he had his wallet and his plastic fangs, which he

was planning on putting on later. The medallion bounced against his exposed chest as he walked and he wondered briefly if it might be more trouble than it was worth. He could always swap it out for one of his pendants, maybe amethyst to calm his nerves. But it looked so good against his skin, falling perfectly in the deep V of his flowy white poet shirt. Unlike his other necklaces, it screamed vampire. And Janus would tease him if he caught Virgil wearing a subpar costume, and then Roman would join in, and Remus, and it would turn into a whole thing . He could wear the stupid medallion for one night.

Virgil regretted this decision as soon as he got his moped going. Even at its 30 mph crawl, the heavy necklace bounced against his chest in a maddening rhythm. At least it was distracting. Every time he started to worry about Logan, the erratic tap-tap-tap of cold metal on his chest brought him back to Earth.

It was a long ride into town down a windy country road. He hugged the shoulder as best as he could despite the lack of traffic; Virgil's neighbors were few, but they all liked to take corners at frighteningly high speeds. The one person who did drive by honked at him and flashed their lights. Virgil's heart dropped and he nearly flipped them off before he realized that they liked his costume. It occurred to him then that he must look pretty absurd: A vampire riding a purple moped, cape fluttering on the wind.

Upon reaching the Plaza, Virgil did a few laps around downtown, smiling at the spiderwebs decorating Vaillant City Hall. Another lap revealed that empty parking spots were already becoming scarce, so Virgil pulled into one and checked his phone. Nothing from Logan. Just more hysterics from Roman, and Patton's best attempts at comfort. Virgil rolled his eyes. Maybe Roman did need some tough love. He scanned through the messages to orient himself, to make sure he didn't look dumb, and then typed out his reply.

Virgil: look, Prince Charming. 2 rolls of body glitter is more than enough. Stop freaking out

Roman: That's DOCTOR Prince Charming to you

Virgil: :*

He put his phone away, tucked his keys in his pocket, and forced himself to walk slowly toward the Plaza. He was still excruciatingly early, but maybe he could pop into a bar or grab a coffee or even swing by his work-- Oh.

There, standing by the reflecting pool with his hands in his pockets, was Logan. Virgil smiled despite his nerves and sped up. Leave it to Logan to somehow be earlier than early.

"Hey, Data," Virgil said once he was in earshot.

Logan's face lit up, and even the yellow contacts he was wearing couldn't mask the fondness in his face. "Evening, Virge," he said. His smile dropped too quickly and he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil surveyed all this with dread. Was he reading too much into it? Most definitely. Could he stop? No way.

"Everything okay?" Virgil asked, tugging at his medallion and turning his nervous gaze upon the placid waters of the reflecting pool. Great. Now he had two awesome reasons to be nervous. It was an old Vaillant legend that anyone who disturbed the waters of the pool would be cursed, and Virgil did not mess with curses. He usually took pains to avoid the Plaza, even if it meant he had to take the long way to work.

"Yes, Virgil," Logan said in a voice that was far too breathy. He cleared his throat. "As you know, we have been friends for a long time. I…" He paused, blinked. "I forgot what I was going to say."

"Jeeze, Lo," Virgil tried to tease. "You're making me nervous."

"But I--" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Virgil. I had prepared something far more eloquent than what I am about to say, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Forgive me if this comes across as confusing."

"All good," Virgil said, making only a minimal effort to hide his confusion. The medallion was cold and oily under his fingertips, but he couldn't stop messing with it, tugging at it, rattling the chain. He needed some outlet for all this nervous energy.

"We've been spending more time alone together and I

thought-- I wanted--" Logan touched his face and Virgil realized a second later he had tried to push up his glasses, which he wasn't wearing. Oh, how cute. "Virgil, I would like to go steady with you."

A rush of vertigo smacked into Virgil with such force that he had to take a step back just to keep his balance. "Go steady?" he heard himself say. "Like-- Like, boyfriends?"

"If you are amenable to that," Logan said, furiously running his fingers over the piping on his uniform. "If not, I-- We can pretend this never--"

"Yes," Virgil interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. Logan, I do want that."

"Oh," said Logan, his face breaking into a smile. "Good."

Virgil clenched his fist around the medallion wondering if it was too soon to ask for a kiss. He took a breath and felt something give with a quiet snap. The broken chain snaked along his neck, dragged down by the weight of the pendant. Virgil watched in silent agony as the necklace landed in the water of the reflecting pool with a quiet splash. "Shit."

"Allow me," said Logan, already in motion.

"No!" Virgil caught his hand and held it. "The curse." He realized what he had done and let go of Logan's hand.

"I don't believe in such things, Virgil, but if it's important to you, then I'll leave it."

"Thank you." Virgil stared down at the water and sighed through his nose. He'd already disturbed the water. Would it be better to leave the necklace or take it out? Littering seemed more disrespectful, he supposed. So he bent and grabbed the necklace before he could change his mind. "I'll, uh, de-curse-ify myself later."

Logan nodded, looking preoccupied. "Let me know if I can help. I might be able to repair the chain."

"Actually," said Virgil, stuffing the wet necklace into his pocket, "I was wondering if maybe, um…"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please do."

Virgil closed his eyes so he wouldn't get weirded out by Logan's contacts. He had been expecting a short kiss, sweet and chaste, but Logan's hand tightened in the loose fabric of Virgil's poet shirt and his teeth grazed Virgil's bottom lip. Fuck propriety, then; the Plaza was still fairly empty. Virgil raised a hand to grab a fistful of Logan's hair and ran his tongue along the edge of Logan's lip.

They were interrupted by a wolf whistle and golf claps. "I'll be damned." Crap. Why did it have to be Janus? He was never going to let Virgil live this down.

Virgil pulled away so fast it made pain shoot through his neck. He exhaled sharply and covered the area with his hand for all the good it would do, turning to face Janus with a blush blooming on his cheeks. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking Janus up and down. Janus had always been unnecessarily private about things that really didn't matter. He had evaded all of Virgil's attempts to guess his costume, and now presented wearing an old-fashioned suit including top hat, gloves, and cane.

"Don't change the subject," said Janus, dismissing Virgil with a wave.

In true vampire fashion, Virgil snarled and bared his teeth, then remembered something. "Oh, shit, my fangs!" He dug in his pocket for them, leaving Janus to do… whatever he was going to do.

"Logan, I presume?" Janus asked. Virgil stopped in the process of sticking on one tooth, heart hammering again. Janus and Logan had never met, and they could both be… a bit much in their own ways.

Logan nodded. "Logan Doucet." He held out his hand for a shake.

Janus took it. "Thank God you didn't bother to paint your face, else Virgil would have more than smudged lipstick to contend with. You've got some on your mouth, by the way."

"Thank you," Logan said stiffly. He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his face. "Nice to meet you, Professor Moriarty."

Virgil's eyes darted back to Janus, who smiled. "When I'm not acting as the Napoleon of Crime, you can call me Janus. Janus Bellefontaine."

"Where's Remus?" Virgil interjected, looking around. "Didn't he ride with you?"

"He got waylaid by some angry mothers because his costume made their kids cry," Janus said, nonchalantly running a

fingertip over the brim of his hat. "He'll be along." To Logan, he said, "Virgil tells me you're an accountant."

"Yes," said Logan.

"And you haven't killed yourself yet, so I assume you must like it."

Virgil busied himself sticking his fangs onto his canines so he wouldn't worry about the conversation at hand. A sideways glance at Logan revealed that he seemed to find the comment amusing, thank God . "I've always been good with numbers. People, less so."

"Never would have guessed," Janus said, and Virgil didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling that crooked, tight-lipped smile that might have been genuine or might have been mocking. Asshole. "Well, if you have any rich clients, send them my way, won't you? I sell nice suits to dumb men with low self-esteem and too much money and I'm always on the lookout for another rube to swindle."

"If the suits are any good, I'd be happy to," Logan said.

Satisfied that his fangs were in properly, Virgil's attention shifted suddenly to the cold, wet medallion in his pocket. Right. He was cursed. Despite his interest in the occult and the supernatural, Virgil didn't have much experience with curses. His friends weren't really the type to play around with magic (well, maybe Janus, maybe- maybe Roman) and he wasn't the kind of guy who made enemies. No one had ever cursed him before. How soon would this one take effect? Should he go home and come back? Should he hop into the bayou, makeup be damned? Did bayous even count as running water?

He was so caught up in his panic spiral that the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders made him jump. "Fuck!"

To his surprise it was Roman, not Remus, who laughed from somewhere behind him. "What, are Logan and Janus boring you?"

Virgil looked up and flinched again. While Roman looked relatively normal in his glittery Doctor Frank-n-Furter costume, Remus, who was lurking just behind his brother, was a horrorshow of fur and face paint and fake blood. "Um…" He shook himself and noticed Patton standing a ways off, peering at Remus. Distracted, he went to introduce Patton to Remus and Janus only to learn that he and Roman had run into Remus on their way over and rescued him from a brigade of shouty young mothers.

"He's Macavity," Patton said in a tone like he was pronouncing the death of the family goldfish.

"The other Napoleon of Crime," Janus agreed. "And you are?"

"Patton Haydel!"

A pause. "I gathered that. " Janus gestured at Patton's costume, which he had also kept a secret. Virgil had been staring at it as well, trying to figure it out. Patton was wearing what appeared to be a headless bear costume, round glasses, and what might have been a cowboy hat, though Virgil wasn't 100% sure. "What are you?"

"You have to guess!" Patton said, extending his arms and backing up so everyone could get a good look at him.

Virgil stared at him, running his tongue over the edges of his plastic fangs. "I got nothin'."

Logan took a sideways step and tapped Virgil's hand. Virgil nodded, and Logan interlaced their fingers as casually as he might clock in for work. "He's Teddy Bear Roosevelt."

They all groaned. "Good work, Pat," Virgil said begrudgingly.

"You have a big wet spot on your crotch," Remus pronounced, pointing at Virgil.

Janus raised his eyebrows, turning to Virgil with undisguised schadenfreude, but Logan stepped in before anyone could say anything. "It's water. He dropped his necklace in the reflecting pool."

"Well," said Patton, "that's not good."

"You dropped something in the reflecting pool and didn't immediately run for the nearest source of running water?" Janus asked. He looked from Virgil to Logan, then to their intertwined fingers and grinned. "Ah. More pressing matters at hand?"

"Maybe it's not too late," Roman said, drumming his acrylic nails against his thigh. "We can still dump him in the bayou."

"There's alligators in there!" Virgil said. "Fuck that. You know my house is plastered with wards. I'm sure I can make it through one evening."

"Your funeral," said Remus, leering. "Let me know if your dick falls

off.

Despite his friends' concern, Virgil had a wonderful evening. Logan stuck close the whole night through, and they even snuck a few kisses here and there like infatuated teenagers. Each one sent a lightning thrill down Virgil's spine and made him want a dozen more. His friends noticed in turns and either teased or cooed, but each reaction was encouraging.

Logan kissed him goodbye at the end of the night and he practically floated back to his moped. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he only remembered the curse when he caught sight of the nazar hanging on his kitchen wall. Cursing under his breath, Virgil went to his bookshelf and began to compile a few methods of curse-breaking. Did a shower count as running water? God help him, he was not getting in the bayou. Maybe he could combine methods.

A few moments later, Virgil had everything set up in the bathroom. He lit the last candle, tightened the herb sachet around his neck, and stepped into the shower. Okay, time to focus. He was washing himself free of the curse and wouldn't it be nice if Logan were here? Logan didn't believe in magic and his clear-headed confidence would undoubtedly make Virgil feel better, too-- Focus! Wash away the curse. Logan would probably help him if he asked, helping Virgil set up the crystals and making sure his candles stayed lit-- Virgil! The curse! Wash away the curse.

The bathroom smelled of candles, incense, and herbs. Almost like Virgil's workplace, except that Virgil was using lavender and his boss preferred nag champa.

He stepped out of the shower and inhaled deeply, letting the mixture of scents relax him and draw him toward sleep.

#sanders sides #analogical #sanders sides fanfic #spicypost #spicywrites #spicywrites howl #Spotify

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saeyoungs-sunflower · 4 years

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As Sweet As It Is Bitter (Jumin Han)

I personally feel that this part of Jumin’s story doesn’t get talked about enough. So I wanted to give my interpretation of it.

Warnings / Notes:

Spoilers for the Secret Endings

Alcohol abuse, grief, general sad times. Big ol’ bag of angst here.

Brief mentions of violence/injury.

This isn’t intended to be Jumin x V, but if that’s how you wanna read it then go for it. It’s down to your interpretation/what floats your boat.

Playlist:

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

Say Something - A Great Big World

Saturn - Sleeping at Last

Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel

Artwork also helped inspire me when writing this, especially art by the absolutely incredible @sikuzxxx . They are ridiculously talented and I encourage you to check out their art if you haven’t already. Here are the pieces that inspired me most: 1 / 2 / 3 /

It was straightforward, really.

Unlock door. Enter. Shut door. Hang up coat. Take off shoes.

It was routine, the same as it was yesterday and the same as it will be tomorrow. Yet, it couldn’t feel more wrong. Something as simple as unlocking a door became foreign to him when a steady hand was replaced with clumsy fingers, and a quiet mind became swarmed with static.

Jumin loosened his tie and undid the top button of his black shirt. He stepped into the centre of his penthouse, a bouquet of chrysanthemums under one arm and his head reeling. He stood motionless, staring out into the city through the large glass panels. He couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t understand how it was that, despite everything they had, this was the way it ended. After every family dinner, every walk home from school together, every bottle of wine shared, this was the way God had planned their friendship to come to a close. Before, he would have guessed that it would end in a hospital, with silver hair and cracked skin, fond memories and shared joy in abundance; but instead it ended with bullets and screams and whatever it is that nightmares are born of. It was no place for the end.

Jumin surveyed the room, a dark and hollow space only visible by the illumination of nearby buildings. He was completely and utterly alone.

Therefore, for the first time in his twenty-seven years of life, Jumin Han let himself break.

He took out a bottle of red wine, pouring himself a generous glass. And then another, and then another, until he gave up on the glass all together, instead opting for strangling the neck of the bottle as he emptied it of its poison. With every drop that passed his lips, the scene that played in his head grew more vivid as reality began to blur.

The scene started with him sprinting through the building, guards on either side of him as they rounded the corner, stopping in their tracks when they spotted the intimidating doors that lay ahead. He had made one step towards them when he heard the gunshot, and then did not hesitate to charge towards the doors, bursting through.

He can see his body now, limp and resting in a pool of rich red. He could literally see the life flowing out of V with every passing second as he merely looked on, utterly helpless. He couldn’t help, he was too late.

He didn’t say goodbye.

With a frustrated grunt Jumin stumbled towards the bedroom but stopped himself halfway, his eyes landing on the bunch of flowers that he had brought back from the venue, already starting the wither and the petals starting to fall. That was the first crack.

It started with a single drop gliding down his cheek, that rested on the tip of his chin before falling onto his dark tie. He impatiently wiped his face, standing tall and looking straight ahead, but it all in vain. Without warning nor control, every tear that had remained unshed had surfaced and poured.

He should just go to bed. Leave this day behind him. He had his closure now, it was time to move on and to be the man he was before all this chaos. To be Jumin Han again.

Then why did he remain where he stood?

Jumin dug the heels of his palms into his eye sockets hard enough to see stars as his knees buckled beneath him, his frame crumbling to the floor. He was renowned for his stoicism, practicality, and his unwavering ability to keep whatever pain that threatened to bite to only get as far as barking at his door. But tonight, he let himself entertain the torturous idea of the hypothetical, the ‘could have’s and the ‘should have’s that may have saved the life of the only man, the only human being who he wanted to be by his side until his last breath. The one who stayed with no conditions attached, who loved Jumin truly and effortlessly. A companionship, a bond like no other; Jumin and Jihyun. The rich kids. As similar as night and day, but just as perfectly matched. Friends, brothers.

What if he had tried calling him an extra time? What if he had gotten into his car and hunted him down himself? What if he called the helicopter five minutes earlier? Was that all it took? Could he have done it?

But he still couldn’t understand. His door had always been open, his light always left on, waiting for V to come to him. To ask for his help, to tell him where he’s been hiding away, and why he thought that the darkness was more forgiving when walked through alone.

He wanted to scream, not realising that he already was until his voice broke and died out.

He just simply couldn’t understand how V didn’t realise his own worth. How he didn’t know the extent to which the world needed his kindness, his warmth. How he could let his life be thrown away like that, a life as rare and giving as his was.

Maybe it wasn’t that Jumin couldn’t understand, perhaps he just wouldn’t. If this was the bliss of ignorance, then what kind of hellish agony did knowledge feel like?

Jumin’s hands trembled as he grasped the empty wine bottle so fiercely that his knuckles turned white, contrasting the red of his blood-shot eyes. His impulses took over as he launched the bottle at the wall, droplets of red wine scattering across the cream walls as shards of glass showered around him.

He rested his forehead against the icy floor and slammed his fist against it, hardly registering the sharp pain of glass piercing his flesh. He intertwined his fingers whilst he desperately prayed. Not to God, but to whom he had lost.

Please, V, not yet. Don’t let go yet. Tell me it’s not true.

We were going to grow old together. You were going to be my best man, and I yours. What about all the laughs, smiles, memories, that now we’ll never have? We were meant to have longer than this. I’m begging you, Jihyun. You always believed in magic, please believe in it one last time. Come back.

For the love of God, don’t leave me here alone.

Minutes, maybe hours past in that position, until his tears ran dry and his voice grew rough. Jumin tried to move, but the dizzying effect of sitting up meant it took him a moment to become steady before he dragged himself to the wall. He rested his back against it, elbows on his bent knees and his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Grief was a funny little thing. It gnawed at you from the inside, feeding on everything that had any flavour of regret or devastation. But, in a twisted sort of way, it was such a beautiful thing to love so deeply that the wound was just as deeply felt. Unfortunately, the love Jumin felt during his grief also ate away at him, since it was left abandoned with no place to go when the one person it would run to was gone.

Perhaps God saw how tired and wounded his friend was and showed mercy on him by letting him rest, by bringing him home. In that case, was Jumin not home? Did Jihyun not have a home on earth at all? What a tragic life, if the only home you have to go back to at the end of the day is Heaven. But at least Jihyun had peace now, even if that was something that Jumin couldn’t provide.

Jumin used these ideas in an attempt to convince himself that grief was bittersweet. He only wished that the taste which lingered on his tongue was as sweet as it was bitter.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he did recall the flashing images of Jihyun’s lifeless and icy body as it laid frozen before everything went black, and he slowly began to slip into the realm of a dream.

A warm light pierced through the darkness, revealing a tall figure as they made their way towards Jumin, and his eyes pricked when he identified the burst of mint-coloured hair.

Jihyun embraced Jumin and his tears resurfaced, streaming down his face before floating away into the oblivion. Jihyun pulled back, looking into the eyes of his oldest friend, his voice soft as he spoke.

“You’re okay, Jumin. You’re not as alone as you’ve tricked yourself into believing you are, alright? I’m never too far away, but you’ve also got to take a look around you. Stop being afraid now. Stop letting your emotions run just below the surface. If you open up your heart, you aren’t going to bleed out; you’re going to set yourself free.”

Jumin’s lips curled into a faint smile, “Always so cheesy.”

“That’s me,” Jihyun chuckled. “Be brave. For me.”

“If it’s for you, I’d do anything.”

“Then live. Please, for Christ’s sake, Jumin. Just live.”

“…Alright. But,“ he had to ask, he had to know, “Jihyun, what could I have done-“

But Jihyun faded away before Jumin had a chance to finish, before he had time to ask what could have saved him, and to say everything that he didn’t get to say the day he left. To say thank you for everything he taught him, to ask where it went wrong; to say goodbye. But he disappeared, just like he did before. Without warning, without explanation. As if he was never there at all.

The light of the morning sun blinded Jumin when he pried his eyes open the next day, a pounding in his head and every movement sending a wave of nausea through him. He found himself lying in fragments of glass, the ringing in his ear returning as he sat up straight. He checked the time.

8:17am. He would usually be at work by this time-

His thought was interrupted by an incoming call, every ring feeling like a strike against the head. Jumin squinted as he read the contact name before answering.

“Assistant Kang.”

“Mr. Han, is everything alright? You are scheduled to have a meeting in less than an hour, would you like me to cancel it?”

“No need, just push it forward by an hour. I’ll be there soon,” Jumin croaked, his voice coarse and weak.

“…Mr. Han, if I dare to make a suggestion, I think you should rest today. You must have had a rough-“

“Jaehee.”

The woman on the other side was caught off-guard, which was evident by the pause before her response, “Y-yes?”

“Move the meeting,” he attempted to say sternly, but it came out with a tinge of desperation, “Please.”

“…Okay, sir. I will see you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon.”

Jumin hung up, prying himself off the floor when his gaze once again fell on the bunch of white flowers, some now stained with red wine. He reached for the only pristine one, extracting the flower and moving towards his desk, taking out two pieces of parchment paper and the heaviest hardback he could find on the bookshelf. With careful hands, he placed the flower in the middle of the sheets of paper, before slipping them between the pages of the book. Lastly, he rested a paper weight on top and stepped back. Jumin never used to be overly sentimental, but he had experienced a lot of firsts recently, so what was one more?

He showered, he ate, he dressed himself. He fed Elizabeth the Third and brushed his teeth. There was a knock at the door as he was fixing his tie in the mirror, and he told them to enter as he smoothed down his jacket.

“The car is ready when you are, sir,” said Driver Kim.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

When he heard the door click shut, Jumin peered out the windows, looking out into the sky where the clouds gathered and the sun shone. He smiled. An unconvincing one, but a smile nonetheless.

It was a pleasure, old friend. Rest well now. I will see you again, but not soon. I have some things to do before I join you.

One day he would be able to start afresh. One day he could fulfil Jihyun’s wish. To seek help, to open up his heart, to set himself free of his threads. To live.

But today was not that day. Today he had to be the Jumin Han that everyone knew. Executive Director, heir of C&R International. Leader of the RFA.

It was routine, the same as yesterday and the same as it will be tomorrow.

Put on shoes. Shrug on coat. Open door. Exit. Lock door.

And yet, it couldn’t feel more wrong.

He let his mind wander on the drive to the office as he watched out the car window, letting the sun’s rays caress his face. It was a comfort, a gentle and constant reminder that his friend was, indeed, never too far away.

I miss you, and I won’t forget you, but I’ll let you go now. In time, I’ll do what you’ve asked of me. Be patient, have faith.

I will live. For you.

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reddielibrary · 5 years

Text

everything changes (when the sun goes down)

Written by @richictozicr

Gift for @stansbooty

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 10,167

Rating: Mature

AO3 Link

Summary: Gifted separate powers from Maturin, the seven Losers are brought together at age 13 and given five years to perfect their gifts before ultimately coming to face the unnamed monster that they call IT. Richie Tozier knows their survival odds are slim, they don't know enough about what they're fighting for it to be any other way, and before the time to face this monster comes and they inevitably die, all he wants is to be brave enough to finally tell Eddie Kaspbrak how he actually feels about him. But his clock is close to running out.

Eddie was waiting for him around the corner of the school, in an alley that was often left empty and secluded. The moment he saw Richie’s bruised face, he gaped at him and moved forward, hands coming out to touch him by the shoulder. The first time Eddie had reached for him like that when he was bruised and injured, he had flinched away on instinct. He didn't now.

“Shit, Rich, what the fuck happened?”

Richie shrugged. “Tyler and his dickhead friends. The only thing that ever happens, really.”

Eddie studied him carefully, knowing there was more and trying to decide if he would get anything more out of Richie if he pressed him. He wouldn’t today and he seemed to know it because he just said, “Okay, sit down then, fuck.”

Richie hesitated and then shook his head. “Let’s just go to the Barrens. Do it there.”

“Your face is fucking blue and black, Richie! What if we run into your mom? What are you going to do then, dickwad? Tell her you tripped and tonight tell her that it just went away? Really? Because if you do that, you better fucking record it because I’m going to want to see that shit go down.”

“When do we ever run into her?” Richie asked in exasperation. He knew he was right, the way to the Barrens was pretty much empty and the odds of running into either of his parents were a million to one. But he could tell by the way Eddie spoke that it came from worry for Richie so he lowered himself onto the ground against the wall for Eddie to work. “Just be fast.”

“I’m always fast,” Eddie said with a roll of his eyes.

Richie smirked, unable to help himself, and said, “For whatever girl swipes your v-card, I really fucking hope not.”

Eddie scowled at him furiously. “Hey, asshole, do you want me to fucking do this or not? Cuz you can just stay all swollen and bruised up and gross and shit, won’t bother me.” He stared down at Richie challengingly for a moment and then cupped Riche’s face in his hands, ignoring the taller boy’s hiss at the feeling. Once the initial sting left, Richie tried to ignore how hard his heart was beating in his chest because of the contact, keeping his eyes set on the ground below them.

Richie could feel the tingling sensation of the bruises and split lip healing up and then it was over and Eddie’s touch was gone and, even though he’d just been fucking healed, he felt almost as if he were missing something. “Thanks,” he said quietly, pushing himself to his feet clumsily. Eddie reached to help him, his hands clasping around Richie’s left arm, and Richie looked at him just in time for their eyes to meet. He glanced away quickly, unable to bring himself to hold contact, not when he still had the words that had prompted his dumb ass to hit a bully in the face ringing in his head. Fag, fairy . He hated it, he was sick of it, and standing up to them had been worth the ass-kicking he had gotten just thirty minutes ago. “We should go.”

He could feel Eddie’s confused gaze tearing into him as Richie started to walk through the alley, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It was only seconds before Eddie had caught up to him, which was rather impressive given how much longer Richie’s legs were. “You’re getting good at that,” Richie said, unable to stand the silence between them. "At fixing us up like that."

Eddie offered a half-shrug in response. “It’s been a few years.” Five, to be exact.

It had started with Bill, the year they turned thirteen. His little brother had died horribly, his arm torn off never to be found, and then Bill had heard Georgie’s voice one night when he had gone into his empty bedroom. It kept happening and Bill had thought he was losing his mind with grief until he saw him in the basement. That was Bill’s gift: mediumship or something like that.

Right after Bill was Mike, even though they weren’t quite friends yet. When being nearly run over by Bowers, he had managed to create a force field for himself that had probably saved his life or at least saved him from several broken bones. Stan was next; discovering that he had the ability to leave his body and travel through various realms of existence.

Next to gain abilities had been Beverly. She had sought them out because of her visions, claiming that if they didn’t band together they would all be dead in five years’ time, and so would half the town at least. Eddie had soon after healed Ben from his run-in with Bowers. In the following days, Ben realized he had control over the earth and its properties. Richie was last, much to his frustration.

His abilities had refused to show at all until the day that they met Mike, the day that they became the Lucky Seven. It was immediately following the rock fight when, as Bowers and his crew went clambering back up the hill, Richie had managed to animate a piece of rope that was lying on the ground. It had immediately set itself to tripping Bowers, further humiliating him as he made his exit.

The truth was that life as witches was really not much different from life had been when they were thirteen-years-old. Richie still went to school, hung out with his friends, got his ass kicked either for existing or some dumb comment he had made (granted, his gift of animation also led to him getting himself into trouble when attempting to get back at bullies), and then hung out with his friends some more. The only thing that had changed was that instead of just sitting around reading comics or building dams, they practiced.

They had to be ready was the short of it. Mike, Bill, Bev, and Stan kept reminding them of that, that they had these powers for a reason, that It was coming back. It, that had killed Georgie and several other kids, had been biding its time and waiting but time was almost up. Stan was the one who had initially passed the message along. He claimed that their abilities had been gifted to them by Maturin, that he had called Stan to another Realm and explained that they were the only ones who could stop It.

It and Maturin were ancient creatures from another dimension. There wasn’t an exact word for whatever It was, really, but Bill had taken to calling it a Glamour, after a Gaelic entity, and that fit well enough. It had crossed over to their realm and, while Maturin was unable to follow, he had gifted the seven Losers their abilities so that they could stop It when it struck again.

Richie didn’t understand it and had been very vocal about it through the years, that picking seven kids seemingly at random to save the fucking world or town or whatever was illogical, but the others only ignored him when he brought it up and the truth was he knew it wasn’t important. Illogical or not, it was true and they had to learn how to possibly fight something that they knew nearly nothing about.

Now, he stopped as they reached the entrance to the clubhouse, the main place that they had taken to practicing during the day. At night they’d branch out to the barrens or the quarry, but not usually during the day. He looked up at Eddie through his glasses with a small smirk. “Want me to go first so I can catch you?”

“Shut up asshole,” was the simple response, though the other boy was smiling as he moved past him and climbed down. Richie chuckled to himself as he followed, dropping easily onto the dirt as he turned and surveyed the other losers. They’d grown up a lot over the years. Mike and Ben were both shaped like jocks, though only Mike was out of the two. Ben had a particular disdain for the main coach at school.

Beverly had grown into herself beautifully, and if Richie wasn’t painfully in love with someone else or good friends with someone in love with her, he might have asked her out. She sat on the old hammock now, a cigarette placed between two fingers as one ripped-jean-clad leg hung out of the hammock. Richie easily made his way to her side and she handed him a smoke without a word. “You’re old enough to buy your own as of last month,” she said simply but lit the end of it for him anyway.

“Ah, but yours are so much better Bevvy,” he told her, grinning around the cigarette between his teeth, his hands coming to rest on one of the beams holding it up as he easily swung himself back and forth. “You give them to me with love.”

“I give them to you out of tolerance ,” she replied with a loose grin, putting one booted foot up against his abdomen and pushing a little so that the hammock swung slightly back. Richie laughed and glanced back at the other Losers, bringing one hand down to pull his cigarette out of his mouth as he exhaled the smoke.

“Do we know when exactly we’re all set to die by the way?” Richie asked lightly, leading to Bev kicking him lightly and dropping her foot.

“Beep beep,” she said as she swung back and forth and Richie shrugged his shoulders lightly as though he wasn’t actually fucking terrified that Bev had said they would be dead in five years five fucking years ago.

“I haven’t seen anything,” she said quietly. “Not yet.”

“Then we better puh-puh-prepare,” Bill said, shoving himself off of the wall.

______

It was another month before anything changed and the waiting was easily the worst part. Richie found himself crawling through Eddie’s window more nights than one in an attempt to find some way to get through the night. Sometime this year, they would all die, but it wasn’t his own death he was afraid of. He couldn’t shake the vivid image that Bev’s words had painted that day so long ago, couldn’t shake the image of Eddie bleeding and wounded, impaled over him.

The day it all changed started with a bang. Richie woke up with sunlight streaming into the room and Eddie frantically shaking him to the point that he ended up rolling right off of the bed and crashing with a thud onto the ground. Grunting, he pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked at his friend with a sleepy expression, trying to figure out why the hell he was on the floor instead of the warm bed with the familiar, warm body.

Panic hit him then, panic that he had said or done something to give himself away, that he had spoken in his sleep, said Eddie’s name or something else, or that he had- For a terrible moment, he wondered if he had gotten morning wood but quickly realized that wasn’t the issue.

“We overslept,” Eddie hissed at him, throwing himself out of the bed as well and going to open the window. “You gotta go! Do you know what will happen if my mom catches you here? She will actually fucking combust, okay? She will fucking explode and you and I will both fucking die so I need you to fucking leave.”

Groaning Richie got to his feet and rolled his shoulders back as his face twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. We used to have sleepovers all the time, I don’t know why it would suddenly be so bad.” But neither of them said anything to that because they both knew. They knew when Sonia Kaspbrak had become less tolerant of Richie being around the house, being around Eddie. They both knew that it was when whispers and taunts started being thrown the way that he liked boys. That was when she had gone from barely tolerating him to seeing him as too dirty, as something that would infect her little Eddie-Bear . Never mind that they were just rumors, or that he wasn't even gay, he was bisexual (not that Richie actually thought she would think that better). None of it mattered.

Richie opened the window again and slid his lanky legs out of it, leaning back with his hands on the raised window to look back at Eddie. “See you at the clubhouse later, Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie shot back as Richie laughed quietly, blew him a dramatic kiss for flare, and slid out of the window.

He went home, snuck in through his own window, changed clothes to a Rolling Stones t-shirt, an open button-up, and black, ripped jeans. He pulled on purple high tops and then went to the kitchen to eat with his parents. He was doing one of his impressions as his father laughed with the paper open (Richie was pretty sure his parents were two of the only people on the planet who actually read the paper anymore) when his phone beeped with a text.

He slid it out of his pocket and glanced down, his stomach dropping instantly as he saw it.

Bev 8:45 AM: Clubhouse. Now.

The text was rather ominous as it was, but as soon as he saw that it was to the entire group, he felt it. She knew something and all that Richie could do was hope that it wasn’t too late, that nobody was dead yet and, selfishly, he hoped that if someone was, it wasn’t one of the Losers. He excused himself as quickly and subtly as he could, hoping he didn’t look as sick as he felt, and started his trek to the Clubhouse, forcing himself not to cave and go by Eddie’s first.

As soon as he climbed down into the clubhouse, he felt the melancholic vibes, felt the seriousness of it. “What’s going on?” he asked, eyes flickering between them.

“Dunno yet,” Ben said, glancing at Bev, who was sitting on the ground against the wall, her hand shaking as she brought her cigarette to her lips. “Bev wanted to wait till we were all here to go through it all.”

Richie glanced at her and nodded before looking over the others. Bill stood next to Mike and Stan, all three of them pale with eyes set on Bev. Finally, his gaze stopped on Eddie, who was laying in the hammock, face creased with worry and anxiety. He went to stand beside the small boy on the hammock, one hand going to rest at the rope tying it to the ceiling. Once he was still, Bev started to speak.

_____

They were going to die. That was pretty much set in stone, even if no one was going to say it. It was back and they had one day to prepare to stop It. If they didn’t, they would die and it would feast on the town with nothing to slow it down. Bev had seen it all in her dreams the night before, had seen every detail. She didn’t tell them everything, but she didn’t have to. It was easy to see in how pale she was, how she shook as she sat there that it was going to be gruesome and none of their deaths were going to be easy. They would hurt, they would probably be bloody, and they probably wouldn’t end fast enough.

After she had finished, Stan had sat down in a corner and gone into another dimension in hopes of finding something to help them. So far he had found nothing but he seemed determined to keep trying. Richie was sure he would try all through the night.

The entire day was spent in practice, each of them working on their individual abilities, knowing they had to be better if they had any hope. Every so often, Bev would try to take a look at the future to see if it had changed. It hadn’t. They used different ideas of how to work together in both offense and defense, but it was to no real avail from what Beverly could tell.

When Bill called it for the night and told them all to go home and rest, to take advantage of time with loved ones, it was clear. This was a classic “last night on earth”.

They went separate ways, no one setting out to walk entirely on their own. Ben and Richie went together, hands in pockets as they wandered down the darkening streets. It wasn’t until they reached Richie’s block that Ben spoke up. “You should tell Eddie,” he said, voice scratching a little as it left his throat.

When Richie dared to look up, Ben’s eyes were settled on him and they shone with that determined look that Richie had always admired in him. He considered playing dumb, but it would be stupid. The truth was, he and Ben had never sat down and had a heart to heart about their individual pining, but they both knew. They bonded over it, somehow, even with the reluctance to speak of it. “I dunno,” he said quietly instead, feeling more cowardly than he ever had before.

“I’m gonna tell Bev,” Ben said finally. “I’m going to go home and call her, invite her over, let her hang out with me and my mom. My mom loves her, you know? And then… I dunno, after Mom goes to bed, I want to tell her.” He shrugged his muscular shoulders with a small smile as Richie gaped at him. “I have nothing to lose, right? If we’re going to die tomorrow… I want to die with my cards on the table.”

Richie felt like the ground had dropped out below him, unsure of what to say or even what to think. What would it be like to not harbor that secret? It was too difficult to imagine, too foreign. It was hard to remember a time that he wasn’t yearning for Eddie, that he wasn’t trying to act like every touch didn’t make his heart skyrocket in his chest.

“I think you should too,” Ben said softly, watching Richie with an empathetic look that said he understood. Richie knew he did.

“It’s different,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It’s more complicated.”

He almost expected Ben to get frustrated, maybe tell him that love was love or some shit. Instead, Ben gave him a sad smile and said, “I know.” And something about those two words of confirmation actually made Richie feel better. Maybe it would be easier if they didn’t live in Derry, if Eddie’s mom wasn’t so prejudiced and hateful if the odds weren’t that Eddie was fucking straight. “But he looks at you too.” Richie stopped in his tracks, staring at Ben as if he had just spoken Klingon. Before he could even think of a response, Ben just smiled and patted him on the shoulder before going into his house.

Rich walked the rest of his way home alone, hands in his pockets, and when he got home, he ate with his parents and watched them as if trying to memorize their movements and the way they spoke. He watched his dad do a terrible Cookie Monster impression in an attempt to get Richie to lighten his mood, and he succeeded a little bit, though not enough to make them think nothing was wrong. Even Richie didn’t have a real cover to hide behind tonight. In the morning, he would go to meet the Losers to get ready and he may never see the two people who had raised him again. And nothing about that thought was okay.

He stayed up with them until they headed for their room at about ten o’clock, his mom pausing to kiss the top of his head and brush his cheek with her knuckles. He turned around, arm resting on the back of the couch, and watched them disappear from view. He sat there for another fifteen minutes before he made up his mind. He pulled out his phone and sent Ben a quick text of Thanks and then went out the front door.

By the time he was outside of Eddie’s window, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to follow through, if he would be able to tell Eddie the truth, that he had been in love with him since he knew what love was, but he knew that if he was going to die in 24 hours he wanted to spend this last chance for quality time with him at his side. It didn’t take long at all for him to realize the window was already opened and with a small flutter of his heart, he wondered if Eddie had done that purposefully in hopes he would come over. With the help of the once again animated tree, Richie hoisted himself into Eddie’s bedroom window into the dark room.

He landed ungracefully on the floor and when he looked up, he saw Eddie sitting on the edge of his bed with a small smile of amusement, dressed in a light purple t-shirt and checkered sleep pants. “Nice landing, Rich,” he said dully. Richie grinned up at him and crawled to the bed, pulling himself up to sit beside Eddie, only for Eddie to push him back onto the floor. “Hey, Rich, you’re still in your clothes you were in today and they’re filthy. We were in dirty water and dirt and Ben’s powers literally are controlling dirt, do not put your dirty ass on my bed and will you stop fucking grinning at me? I’m serious and I’m getting you clean clothes to sleep in.” He was still muttering about Richie’s filthy clothes and how he had half a mind to make him shower before letting him anywhere near his bed. Richie sat on the ground with a grin and leaned back on his hands.

Then Eddie stood over him with folded pants and a shirt in his hands and an expectant quirk of his brows. Richie got to his feet and took the clothes from him, watching as Eddie went to lay in one side of the bed and picked up his phone, the light of his phone shining against his face and against the headboard... Richie hesitated for a brief moment before shrugging off his overshirt and tugging off his t-shirt. He replaced them quickly with the clean one of Eddie’s and then unbuttoned his jeans to pull them down and off his hips. Before he could, his eyes lifted and he realized with a jolt that Eddie was looking at him, his features illuminated by the light of his phone still facing towards him. Richie couldn’t read his expression to save his life, especially since the moment that their eyes met, Eddie flushed and looked away, taking away any opportunity for Richie to figure it out. He pushed his jeans down most of the way and kicked them off the rest of it before pulling on the sleep pants and crawling into the bed beside Eddie.

As soon as Richie was in the bed, Eddie put his phone away and rolled over so that they were facing each other, the only sound in the room the quiet breathing between them. Richie found himself overwhelmed by the desire to reach out and touch Eddie’s cheek, to pull him into his chest and hold him like he hadn’t dared to for years. Eddie touched him first, causing Richie’s chest to contract around his furiously beating heart.

Eddie brushed his fingers over the glasses still on Richie’s face, tracing the frame all the way to Richie’s ear. It was suddenly very hard to breathe and Richie was forcing himself to, wondering if it sounded labored or not, not daring to take his eyes away from Eddie’s, not even daring to blink. “You left your glasses on,” the other boy whispered into the darkness.

The look on Eddie’s face was one that Richie hadn’t seen there before, he was pretty sure. There was something open and hard to read about it all at the same time, his eyelids lowered as he stared at Richie’s face, his lips parted just a little, just enough to be the biggest temptation Richie had ever faced in his life. He couldn’t even hear Eddie’s breathing it was so shallow.

“All the better to see you with my dear,” Richie croaked out in the best Grandma voice he could possibly do with Eddie this close and looking at him like that. Eddie snorted and carefully pulled off Richie’s glasses, the taller boy lifting his head off the pillow to help him. It was an intimate movement, Eddie’s hand brushing over Richie’s face carefully and, even without his glasses, Richie could see the care that Eddie folded them with before setting them on the nightstand.

“Ben’s telling Bev he’s in love with her,” Richie blurted, not even sure why. Part of him thought that it was to try to get the courage to tell Eddie the same thing, but part of him was thoroughly convinced that there was no way he’d find the courage at all.

Eddie nodded his head slowly, his hair brushing over the white pillowcase as he did. God, Richie wanted to run his hands through it in a completely non-platonic way, just once in his life. He wondered briefly if Eddie would say anything if he tried. “I thought he might,” he whispered back.

“Would you?” Richie asked softly, amazed at how strange his voice sounded, how unlike his own. “If you were… in love with Bill?”

Eddie stared at him then as if he had turned into a frog. “If I was in love with Bill,” he repeated dumbly and it almost sounded like he was giving Richie a chance to correct himself. Richie, however, had no idea what to say and, given how close they were and that they could die tomorrow, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with his question so he just nodded.

They looked at each other for a long moment then, Eddie’s gaze disbelieving and borderline annoyed, Richie’s a numb surprise that might have been at his own statement or at Eddie’s response. Finally, Eddie groaned and whispered, “You are the smartest dumbass I have ever met”, cupped Richie’s cheeks, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He didn’t even feel surprised, Richie would notice later when he looked back on it. It felt too right to question it. Richie kissed Eddie back with fervor, his hand fumbling to cup the back of his neck and pull him in closer to him, suddenly frustrated that he was laying on his left arm. But it was over before he could free it, Eddie not even an inch away, lips still parted just like earlier (though now slick with saliva), eyes still closed. Richie took in the sight, his own breathing so shallow that he was surprised that he was getting enough oxygen at all.

He slowly brought his hand from the back of Eddie’s neck to his cheek, thumb tracing over his jaw gently, wiggling his right arm out from under him and reaching up to take one of Eddie’s. “I was gonna do that,” he whispered.

“You took too long,” Eddie murmured, slowly opening his gorgeous brown eyes. “And then you started talking about Bill and I just-” Richie cut him off, kissing him deeply and passionately with a low hum.

Eddie surprised him again, taking charge quickly as he ran his tongue over Richie’s bottom lip, which encouraged a moan from the taller boy. Seemingly spurred on by the response that he received, Eddie moved his hands to either side of Richie’s waist and rolled him onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling him easily without breaking the kiss once. Richie made a muffled sound of surprise into his mouth, one hand coming to rest at Eddie’s hip and one finally burying itself in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie made a sound that made something low in Richie’s gut coil and all he could think about was getting him to make that sound again. He wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist then before flipping them over so that Eddie’s back landed on the mattress, prompting another low groan from the back of Eddie’s throat and Richie smirked into the kiss. But then Eddie was parting from it and they were staring at each other and Eddie’s pupils were blown with want.

“Is it okay if we… just do this tonight?” he whispered finally.

Richie blinked in surprise before saying, “Yeah, Eds, I didn’t even-”

Eddie cut him off before he could finish, “I just- I want to. I really want to, but I also… God, I want us to have… I don’t want to die before I get to have sex with you and so maybe…”

Richie felt himself grin a little as he finished, “Maybe we’ll stay alive then. So we can.” Eddie flushed and nodded, looking embarrassed. “You’re so fucking cute,” Richie whispered, reaching down to pinch at Eddie’s cheek. Eddie was fighting back a grin as he smacked Richie’s hand away playfully. “You know what? I think that’s pretty fucking smart.” Richie ran his fingers carefully through Eddie’s dark hair before using his hold there to tug him lower. “But c’mere and kiss me some more before bed, hmm?”

With a wide grin, Eddie leaned up, pausing with his lips a tantalizingly close distance from Richie’s, his hands coming to the hem of Rich’s shirt. “What do you think about having a little more contact though?” he whispered, lips almost brushing against Richie’s.

“I think you’re a fucking genius,” Richie said with a grin, leaning up to pull off his shirt. When his eyes fell back to Eddie, the smaller boy was in the process of doing the same and then his shirt landed on the floor somewhere next to Richie’s. He was tempted to make a joke about Eddie’s mom, just to cut the tension, but he found it impossible to speak when he was suddenly able to look at Eddie like he had been wanting to for so fucking long. He slowly traced his fingers over the lean muscles of Eddie’s abdomen and sucked in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes meeting Eddie’s hungrily. The other boy looked just as affected, just as lustful, his hand on Riche’s chest as well, and then they were kissing each other again, more desperately than before.

They spent most of the night like that, kissing, touching each other, whispering things like “We’re gonna make it”. By the end of the night, with Eddie in his arms and their chests pressed against each other, Richie almost believed it.

_____

Eddie’s alarm was the first thing that Richie heard in the morning, and he spent about five seconds trying to ignore it before he remembered what that alarm meant and what today was. He forced his eyes open and blinked hazily at Eddie, who was curled into him, head dipped into Richie’s chest, his breath tickling the skin and hair there. With some difficulty, Richie reached over and fumbled to find Eddie’s phone without disturbing him. When he finally got the alarm to stop, he pulled his arm back carefully, bringing his hand to cup Eddie’s jaw lightly as he let his eyes roam over his sleeping form.

His shirt was still off, his pants hanging loosely on his hips, revealing the curve of the bone beneath it and making Richie’s throat go dry at the sight. He let his other hand go down to Eddie’s hip and carefully rested his hand on it, his fingers tracing his hip bone in a feather-light touch. Eddie twitched a little in his sleep and Richie froze his fingers, looking down at his form as he wrestled with himself, knowing he ought to wake him up, that they had alarms set for a reason. He wanted to stay like this, to feel Eddie against him like he might not get to again, wanted to take in the sight. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous for taking so long in the first place.

He slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple, letting his thumb rub circles just above the hem of his pants. “Morning, Eds,” he whispered softly, ducking his head to nose affectionately at the skin. There was a soft mumble of response as Eddie burrowed his head further into Richie’s chest. Richie carefully ran his fingers through Eddie's hair, leaning down to kiss his temple again. "I really would prefer us to stay here but…"

Eddie made a soft sound and pulled his head away from Richie's chest so he could look up at him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Shit, right," he half mumbled, stretching carefully. He slid his hand to the back of Richie's head and carefully tugged him down and kissed him softly on the mouth. When he parted, Eddie’s eyes looked a little bit more alert as he looked back at Richie, his fingers still going through his dark curls. “Should have done this sooner.”

Richie closed his eyes and found himself leaning forward, letting his forehead brush lightly on Eddie’s. “Yeah, I know.” He leaned forward and kissed him again, slowly, adoringly, before parting and whispering reluctantly, “I need to go home… Before my parents get worried… I can pick you up on the way to the Clubhouse?” Eddie nodded slowly, his forehead rubbing a little on Richie’s as he did. Slowly Richie reached past him and took his glasses from the nightstand, sliding them onto his face with ease.

It was with severe reluctance that Richie slid out of bed and worked his way out of Eddie’s sweatpants before pulling on his jeans. When he glanced over his shoulder he saw brown eyes watching his every move intently. Eddie’s eyes were dark with lust and he looked unashamed to be caught looking, though his face was turning redder by the second. Richie grinned and buttoned his jeans before sliding back onto the bed, cupping the side of Eddie’s neck as he kissed him deeply. The kiss was returned with a forcefulness that before last night Richie wouldn’t have expected, but he knew now.

He had to force himself away so that he could pull his shirt on before pulling on his socks and shoes. He felt Eddie rubbing his back and closed his eyes as he leaned into it, letting out a soft hum. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he murmured quietly.

Eddie pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and whispered, “I know. I’ll see you then.” Richie turned and caught his lips in a quick, soft kiss before getting up and crossing to the window. He glanced back and looked at Eddie for a long moment as if he might never see him again which was ridiculous because they were going to see each other in a few hours and surely wouldn’t die before that. But all the same, how could he act like it was just another day? Like there wasn’t a reason they had finally had the courage to be honest with each other?

Forcing himself away, Richie climbed out of the window.

The morning was long. It was hard to pretend to be normal with his parents that morning, but Richie did his best, probably even better than he had done the night before. He laughed at the jokes from his dad, shot some back in return, did the voices that he knew they liked the best. And then he hugged his dad and kissed his mom on the cheek before leaving the house to get Eddie, trying to distract himself from how heavy his heart was as he did.

Getting Eddie was easier though and he felt a little bit more able to make himself think that they weren’t about to die tonight. Mrs. K opened the door when he knocked and Richie channeled all of his nervous energy into being the obnoxious kid that she knew and hated, instantly saying, “Hey-o Mrs. K! Top o’ the mornin’ to yah now! I’m here to collect Eddie, I am! We have important business of which to attend, yah see!”

Her eyes narrowed in that way it did when she was about to say something nasty, but before she could Eddie was shouldering past her. He paused to kiss her on the cheek and say a quick ‘bye mom’ before grabbing Richie at the elbow and pulling him down the walkway.

“Ah, yes, must be going now! Chop chop!” Richie said loudly as they rounded the corner. He could almost see the stink eye that he was getting through the tree and side of the house.

Eddie ducked his head, his lips curving as if trying not to laugh. “You don’t have to turn it to 150% with her every time, you know. She already doesn’t like you.”

“Aye,” Richie said, not dropping the accent until he continued, “but that’s just because she knows how much I like you.” He tossed his arm around Eddie’s neck and pinched at his cheeks. “Cuz you’re cute! Cute cute cute!”

Eddie made a strangled sound and leaned his entire body away from Richie, smacking lightly at his side as the taller boy’s arm dropped. “I hate it when you do that!”

“No you don’t,” Richie told him with a smile. Eddie failed to hide his own warm smile as he set his eyes on the sidewalk beneath them, instead of reaching out to intertwine his fingers with Richie’s.

As soon as they got into the Clubhouse, Richie’s eyes went to Stan sitting on the ground, eyes glazed over as he leaned his head back. By this point, it hardly took even a second for Richie to recognize that his friend was traveling astral planes. He glanced at the others wearily in a silent question. Without needing words at all, Mike said, “He’s getting information, he finally started getting stuff this morning. So far he’s figured out where It is. Under the house on Neibolt, in the sewers.

Eddie groaned and muttered, “Of course it is. Fucking disgusting.” Richie felt his lips quirk in the corner and reached out to take his hand again, not caring about the other Losers. He wasn’t sure if it was Last Day On Earth mentality or simply how long he’d wanted to do this, but he found it hard to care and judging by the way Eddie was gripping his hand in return he didn’t either.

It was only then that Richie noticed Bev positioned between Ben’s legs on the hammock, her head on his chest as they swung idly back and forth. Good for them. Richie caught Ben’s eye and smiled softly, offering a small thumbs up that made Ben laugh a little as he returned it.

They didn’t stay idle for long, quickly falling into their individual training exercises. Richie, Mike, and Ben moved to practice at the Quarry as they often did, and when they returned, there was a collection of weapons on the ground between their friends. It was a good idea, really, given that of the gifts, Richie and Ben had the most aggressive ones among them, but the sight of the weapons still filled Richie with an uncontrollable sense of dread. Maybe it was the reminder that this thing they were doing really was so dangerous to require things like an old machete, a fire poker, and so on. If they needed that stuff, they were really in deep shit.

When the sun started to set, the Losers climbed out of the Clubhouse and headed for the Neibolt house, all still on their bikes instead of cars, even though several of them owned cars now. Part of Richie had always thought the preference for bikes was because they reminded them of the days when they were younger and five years felt like an eternity and even with these new gifts they’d felt safe.

None of them felt safe when they got to the house. Even Richie was quiet as they moved inside until the smell hit him and he made a wisecrack about Eddie’s mom’s underwear drawer that led Eddie to elbow him lightly in the ribs and offer a week, “Beep, beep, Richie.”

Stan led them down, below the house, into the Derry sewers, where It apparently lived. “How do we find it?” Ben asked, glancing around their surroundings wearily.

“We won’t have to,” Stan breathed. “It knows we’re here.”

Sure enough, none of them had even taken a step before a red balloon started floating towards them, eerily slow and quiet. Richie couldn’t even hear the sounds of his friends’ breathing, or maybe he was so scared that he just couldn’t notice. The balloon came to a stop about half a foot in front of them, spinning around in a circle. On one side, the first one to face them, it had I ♡ Derry and then, as it turned, they saw You’ll Float Too printed clearly on the other.

The balloon popped with a crushingly loud sound that echoed all around the cave around them, but the sound was a thousand times better than the blood that flooded out of the balloon and rained over them all, drenching even the rocky ground below them. Richie wasn’t even sure that that was the worst part because they were still dripping, only seconds after that fucking balloon exploded when a sickening, clown laugh rang out.

There were two things that Richie had always been scared of. One was werewolves and the other was clowns. But no clown was as terrifying as the one that was now visible at the opposite end of the cavern. Richie reached automatically from Eddie’s hand, struggling to grip it when they were both still soaking with blood that they had all forgotten about.

The clown darted, gone just as suddenly as it had been there, though the laughter still filled the cave. The Losers gathered in a circle, back to back, all but Richie and Ben gripping the weapons tightly. A shield slowly grew around them, thanks to Mike, and Richie felt like he could breathe just a little better. Until the clown reappeared in a new spot but it quickly started to change. Its arms shook and stretched, its hands becoming claws that landed and dug into the ground in sudden claws.

Then It grew , sprouting up and up as new claws sprouted out of his sides. It became some kind of new thing as if a spider with claws for legs had decided it was a good idea to mate with a clown. It started to come towards them, each step making the floor of the cavern quake with such a force that Richie nearly fell over.

One claw came right down on the shield with such force that there was a sickening crack and all of them stared up in surprise. Nothing had ever been able to harm one of Mike’s shields before, nothing. But then there was another direct hit, right where the first had been, and a terrible, deep crack appeared in the top, like a crack on a hard contact lense.

The cavern ceiling started to shake, pieces of rock falling towards the monster. It was Ben’s doing, clearly, most likely in an attempt to distract It, which only worked when a large chunk hit it in the head, finally silencing the ringing laughter. “Mikey tuh-take it down! We’ll spuh-split up!” Bill screamed over the chaos as It lifted its claw again.

No sooner had the shield come down that It dove its claw right in their center, all of them throwing themselves away from it just before being impaled. Richie pushed himself up, eyes scanning the area for any sign of Eddie, relief filling him when he finally saw the other boy pushing himself to his feet stubbornly.

“Is everyone okay?” Eddie screamed out, but the only result of the question being asked was It turning its gaze on Eddie. It was in the same sickening moment that Eddie and Richie each realized that Eddie had dropped his machete when leaping from the circle.

Eddie jumped out of the way just in time, rolling away fast enough to put feet between him and It. Richie quickly sprang to action, animating the machete that had been dropped to the ground. The weapon sprang up, standing on the handle before spinning towards the giant monster and sinking itself into Its shoulder. The monster screamed, the sound echoing out of that terrible clown head but it quickly turned into that horrific laugh instead, the head swiveling to look right at Richie.

Richie backed up quickly, nearly stumbling over himself as he did, watching the thing take a step towards him, the claw sinking through one of the pieces of the ceiling, dividing the large clump of rock as if it were nothing at all. The same bit of ceiling suddenly twitched and Richie felt himself smirk, knowing already what was happening.

The rocks flew upwards towards the belly of the beast, splitting ways before reaching him and flying around and above him, only to clamp down on either side of his vicious, ugly head. “Yeah, Haystack!” Richie yelled, tossing his fist into the air.

The beast roared, stomping backward as it reeled from the blow. Richie saw what was about to happen just seconds too late to open his mouth, saw Stan on the ground behind the beast, staring up at it, just before the claw went piercing right through his friend’s left shoulder. Stan screamed and Mike and Bill both lurched towards him. As soon as It pulled its claw from Stan, Bill and Mike each took a side, pulling Stan to his feet as carefully as they could. He yelled out in pain that sounded so real and tormented that Richie felt his heart stop in his chest, his eyes glued to his oldest friend. Finally, he tore his gaze to Eddie. “Go!” he yelled, nodding after them. “They need you!”

Eddie hesitation lasted for such a brief period that if Richie didn’t know him so well he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Then he gave Richie a nod and ran back towards the tunnel. Richie saw It start to turn towards the others making their move to get Stan to safety and hollered, “Hey, dumb ass!” It turned to him slowly, eyes narrowing, and Richie took that opportunity to grab the machete off the ground and throw it as far as he could, the enchanted weapon doing the rest of the work for him as it zipped towards the monster and hit it in the face.

Richie paused briefly before darting into the tunnel himself, half sliding and almost certainly skinning his side fiercely under his shirt. He pushed himself up, not even feeling it with the adrenaline pounding through his body. He saw Mike throw up a force field and exhaled in shaky relief, quickly shrugging out of his flannel and tossing it to Mike, who added it to Stan’s wound a top of another overshirt that looked like Bill’s. “How’s he doing?” Richie panted.

“Hanging in there,” Stan grunted hoarsely. “Wh-Where’s Bill?” His voice was weak enough that it made Richie feel like he might be sick, but he fought it back.

“He said he saw Georgie over there,” Eddie said, nodding towards deeper into the tunnel. He knelt down beside Stan and lifted the shirts to get a better look at the wound. His face twisted into an expression of such concern that, for the first time, Richie wondered if Eddie’s powers would be enough.

“Bill,” Stan grunted and Mike squeezed his right hand, looking desperately for someone to go get the seventh Loser.

Richie swallowed and nodded. “I’ll go.” He jogged down the tunnel, almost pausing when he heard the laughter echoing from behind him, in the cavern. He pulled to a stop beside Bill, who was crouched on the ground in deep conversation. Had Richie not seen Bill’s powers in use so many times by now, he would have thought his friend had lost it. “Bill? Stan wants you, I- Fuck, Bill, it’s so bad, I don’t know if Eddie can-”

Bill held up a hand and then nodded once at whoever he was talking to before looking up at Richie with worried eyes as he got to his feet unsteadily. Richie threw out a hand to help him up. “He has to if we have any ch-ch-chance,” he said unevenly. He didn’t stop to explain, instead of leading the way in a run to the others.

Stan didn’t look quite as terrible, the blood that had initially been coming from his lips had dried and wasn’t being replaced so Richie took that to be a good sign. Bill fell to his knees on Stan’s side opposite Mike and looked around at them. “Juh-Juh-Georgie and the others,” he said, half panting. The stitch Richie felt in his side from all of the running and diving of the last hour didn’t blame him. “They s-s-said-” He closed his eyes and took a long breath to steady himself, a long moment that the claw beating against the wall of the force field with sickening thuds and an occasional crack said they didn’t have, and said, “It’s from the other dimension, ruh-ruh-right? Its cuh-core is still there. That’s how we kuh-kuh-”

“That’s how we kill it,” Beverly finished slowly, her eyes lighting with sudden realization. “We need Stan to go kill it.” She closed her eyes and Richie knew she was scanning their future for change.

“It’s an e-e-egg,” Bill managed to get out, eyes flickering from Bev to Mike and then back to Stan. “It’s tethered by its o-own egg.”

Stan nodded, even as his eyes were half-lidded. “If it’s in its lair that would be why Maturin never knew.”

Mike shushed him in a gentle tone, hand cupping his cheek as he glanced at Bill again with worry in his eyes. “I’ve never held it under this much weight. It’s too strong, the field’s gonna come down any minute.”

“Using his powers is going to take a strain on him,” Eddie gasped out as the claw hit the side again and this time Richie could see the crack, like a sliver of a crack in a hard contact lense. “I think I’m going to have to keep the wound from reopening.”

Richie nodded, looking at Ben with a heavy exhale, a question in his eyes. Ben gave a single nod and lifted a hand, his eyes fixed on something behind It. “Ready?” he asked.

“Wait.” Bev scuffled with something on the ground before lifting with the fire poker. “I’m going to help you distract It. If Stan dies, we all die.” There was only a second’s hesitation on Ben’s face but then it was gone and he nodded once. Bev moved closer to him, her hand rubbing from his arm to his shoulder, whispering something that Richie didn’t even try to hear. He was sure it was private.

Richie caught Eddie’s gaze, noticing how scared the smaller boy looked. Eddie didn’t have to say it, he knew on his own that it was for Richie’s well being out there more than his own. Richie offered him a small smile that he hoped was comforting and got a weak one in return. Stan nudged Eddie lightly on the knee and nodded towards Richie. Eddie got up and moved to Richie, going to touch his face but pausing due to the blood on his palms.

“Be careful,” he said quietly.

Richie opened his mouth to make a wisecrack but closed it again before he could. He took in Eddie’s worried, tired, dirty face and said, “I love you.”

Eddie stared at him for a long moment, as if he couldn’t believe the words, or maybe he just couldn’t believe the timing. But then he lurched in and kissed him, purposefully keeping his hands from touching Richie. Richie reached out and took both of Eddie’s hands in his anyways and squeezed them as he kissed him back. But it was over too soon and Eddie whispered, “I love you too.” And nodded at him before pulling his hands back and kneeling down beside Stan.

Bev looked at Mike and nodded as if to tell him they were ready. Mike watched her for a long moment before turning his gaze on Ben and Richie as well. “Be careful. I’m going to throw up the shield again as soon as I can, so give us a warning if you need-”

“Just do it!” Richie half yelled, watching the claw thud again and the crack grow an inch.

“3,” Mike said, glancing at Ben. Ben curled his fist and a rock behind It slowly lifted and suddenly Richie understood. “2.” They watched it go higher. “1.”

The rock dropped and It screamed again, turning its head to look behind it. The field dropped and the three of them bolted outside, splitting up to take different sides of It. Ben had rocks flying, Bev occasionally climbed up the side of the cavern to scream at It to get its attention and sometimes throwing whatever she could, and Richie animated every weapon they had dropped that he could see, anything at all that he could see.

One of those fucking claws went flying towards Beverly and she leaped from the wall, tumbling onto the ground. Ben and Richie both shouted her name in unison until they saw her clamber to her feet. It became preoccupied, trying to pull its claw back out of the wall, as Bev darted away quickly. “I’m fine!” she shouted back at them.

“How much longer?!” Ben shouted towards the tunnel.

“He’s been in there a while!” Mike yelled back to them. “But we don’t know!”

Richie exchanged looks with Ben, easily catching the exhaustion on the large boy’s face. He felt it himself and he could see it in Beverly as well, could see it in the way she was moving just a little slower than before. “Come on, Stan,” Richie breathed to himself. “Bevvy, how we doing?”

“What, you want me to check now?!” Beverly shouted back, sounding like she might laugh if the situation wasn’t so fucking dire. Because even though they were getting exhausted, It wasn’t. It was just getting angrier, but its energy wasn’t lessening any as far as Richie could tell.

“Come here, I’ll cover you!” he shouted back. Beverly nodded once and sprinted to him, sliding to her knees behind him. Richie glanced around the cavern desperately, eyes finally catching on an old, rusty sheet of metal peeking out of some of the rock. It had probably been buried down here long ago. It animated to life quickly, wiggling its way from the rocks, though Ben saw what was happening and pulled the remaining rocks away from it. The sheet metal flew in front of Richie and Bev just as Its attention had gone to them.

Its claw, of course, pierced right through it, but it slowed the momentum enough to stop Richie from being impaled. It bounced around, continually blocking blows until Ben managed to get Its attention fixed back on him.

It was a few minutes of that when It smashed a rock thrown its way and its claw went barrelling towards Ben. The metal shot to him, slowing the blow by taking it long enough for Ben to dive out of the way. “Bev?” Richie half-shouted desperately, but her name had hardly left his lips when she appeared at his side.

“It kept changing until the end,” she panted. “But-”

She didn’t get to finish. It screamed, a terrible, deranged sound, and curled in on itself. One claw pierced the ground with such force that half of it vanished into the earth, but It didn’t seem to notice. It was still screaming and actually deteriorating. It fell apart, bit by bit, and they could see shining light beneath its flesh.

“- have to get in there!” Bev’s voice finally broke through Richie’s stupor, bringing his gaze over to their shielded friends. The force field was going down, Richie realized, and it was only then that he realized what was happening. Beverly grabbed his hand and they both ran to the entrance of the tunnel, meeting with Ben a few steps away. They dove inside once it was lifted enough and then Mike slammed it back down.

It was just in time. It exploded with a shriek and the light-filled the entire caver, so bright that it almost burned Richie’s skin even through the shield. Bits of the monster hit the shield, looking so disgusting that under different circumstances Richie might have hurled.

Instead, he just fell to his knees and then arms were around him and he felt Eddie’s forehead pressed against his own and heard Eddie’s exhausted whisper of, “We did it, Rich. We did it. We’re all alive. It’s over.” Richie brought his own shaking hand to cup the back of Eddie’s neck and sighed with relief.

____

“We had to be there,” Stan explained tiredly in response to Richie asking why they had had to go in the first place if killing it was in a different dimension altogether. He was leaning against Bill’s shoulder with Mike leaning on his. The three of them looked picture-perfect sitting like that in front of the Quarry, Richie thought.

Ben was sitting on the rocks, leaning back on one arm with Bev’s head in his lap as she lay on her side, looking at Stan as he spoke. Richie, for his part, was holding Eddie stubbornly on his lap against his chest, perched on a log with his own chin settled on Eddie’s shoulder.

After the battle had ended, they had all sat in the tunnels for what had probably ended up being an hour, laughing and crying and holding each other. Stan was going to be fine, he healed up fine once it was over, once he was able to relax and let Eddie help and wasn’t straining with his powers. Then they had gone to Bill’s and all fallen asleep together spread out across Bill’s bedroom, no one, not even Eddie, bothering to shower, though they all pretty much wrestled each other to go first in the morning. Once clean and fed, they had all gone home, reassured their parents that Bill had had a crisis and needed their help, and then met up in the Quarry where they were now.

“We had to be there,” Stan repeated, “because I travel astral planes, not locations. I could never have done that if we hadn’t been in the lair or if we hadn’t located It. It had to be there for the egg to be in reach and we had to be there to find It, do you see?”

Richie hummed in approval and tilted his head to kiss Eddie’s clothed shoulder before looking back up. “So. Is Maturin like our Charlie now?”

All of the Losers stilled and glanced at each other as if at a loss before Ben finally asked, “What?” with a laugh in his voice.

“Like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?” Eddie asked with a slow blink as he turned to look at Richie.

Richie smirked and laughed, shaking his head. “No. Charlie like Charlie’s Angels. He’s this secret voice only Stan met who told us what to do and guided us through saving our whole town. Uh, hello? I think we’re basically super witch spies now. Super hot witch spies.”

Eddie was the first to start laughing, curling in on himself from laughing so hard and Richie grinned, gratified. The rest followed quickly, even Richie. “Beep, beep, Richie,” Bev managed to get out, shaking her head as the laughter subsided.

“I’m just saying, if we do this too often he ought to pay us or something,” Richie said, only to be beep-beeped again by Bill. Eddie was gazing up at him with adoring amusement and Richie just beamed right back, leaning down to kiss him long and deep enough that the other Losers started howling, whooping, and groaning dramatically.

It was hard to care though, and even Eddie didn’t seem to if the way his tongue was halfway down Richie’s throat was any indication. They had lived and, more importantly, they were together. So what could possibly dampen any of their spirits now?

#reddie #halloween event 2019 #richictozicr

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thorkidumpster · 5 years

Text

a quickie based on this weirdness that happened to me tonight.

-- -- --

“What in the absolute hell?”

A series of rapid clicks emit from the battered keyboard as Loki slams his fingers down, typing in the name of yet another streaming service. Finding a movie shouldn’t be this difficult; it’s never been this difficult before. And yet, Loki scrolls down the page to see, once again:

This title is not available for streaming.

He’s checked everywhere he knows. Amazon Prime Video was his go-to and when they didn’t have it, Loki tried Netflix. Then iTunes. Hulu. YouTube. Google Play. The movie was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, Loki even searched on Pirate Bay, intent on seeing this damn movie even if it meant “stealing” (he rolled his eyes at that thought) it.

But no.

Loki slumps down the back of the couch in a sulk, taping his index nail on the mouse pad of his laptop. He’s a touch sauced from a night of shotgunning both horror movies and wine.

What if…? Well, it was worth a try. Loki entered in the website of his local library and was assaulted by a page that had been designed sometime in the early 2000s and never updated since. Still, they had an online catalogue so Loki, once again, entered the movie into the search bar.

And nothing.

“Fine!” He snaps, slapping his hand on his beleaguered laptop. “I’ll just buy the fucking thing!”

Back to Amazon he goes, only this time, he searches for just the DVD or BlueRay. There is a single listing, offering eleven copies of the movie used, beginning price set to an even hundred dollars.

“...What?” The frustration lingers, but morphs into a sort of morbid fascination. Why can’t he find this movie? Did someone sue? Die? Did the director molest a kid? Why did it seem like this movie had completely disappeared off the face of the earth?

Loki googles the title again. Articles pop up from the release year, 2014 -- “Best horror movie, hands down!” -- and one from 2018, proclaiming it to be a “game changer!”

“Well, that’s really goddamn weird,” Loki says to his cat, who is profoundly disinterested and only offers him a yawn for solace.

He’d been interested because, well, the trailers had looked so cool. And he’d seen some gifs on ye olde Tungle, those looked just the perfect amount of fucked-up Loki likes in his horror movies.

Still, he can’t find it, and there’s nothing to do about it. Loki drains his wine, snaps his laptop closed, and heads to bed.

-- -- --

Dawn comes, yadda yadda, Loki gets ready to face the day, we all know this part of the story, right? And where we might normally expect to find our protagonist heading to work, Loki is instead (in a way) the opposite; he’s trudging along to a garage sale with his boyfriend, who enjoys that sort of thing.

You know -- waking up early, being in the sun, talking to people.

And moreover, Thor loves garage sales. He checks the newspaper like a Presbyterian checks their bible, scanning the personals for ads up about them. Mostly he just likes collecting junk. Well, junk to Loki -- Thor seems to think the random assortment of shit in their own garage is of value.

But happy wife, happy life and all that.

So on Loki trudges -- and yes, the trudging is an important part; he wants to make it explicit that he in no way enjoys this.

He does poke through here or there, but mostly he casts his eyes out over the array of souvenirs from other people’s lives.Little bits of them, of their family, of who they are, laid out in neat rows on white collapsible tables. On one such table there’s a box labeled ‘M O V E IS M OVI E S $1’ in hasty, blocky scrawl.

Loki pokes through. He tries to ignore the sweat gathering on the back of his neck under the curtain of hair. There’s the beginning of a sunburn on his forearms and for fuck’s sake, will Thor hurry up? Loki’s mood is not pleasant on the best of days and this certainly is not even a mediocre-to-lackluster day.

A flash of red catches his eye as he shoves aside plastic cases.

“No…” he mutters, “no fucking way.”

Carefully, Loki takes out the DVD and pops the case open to check the CD. Yes, it’s the same title he’d been looking for last night.

“Huh!” Loki breaths in wonder. What luck, right? He pays for it in dimes that he scavenges from the car cup holder because he never brings cash with him anywhere, much less to a place like this.

“Find something?” Thor asks from behind Loki, waiting his turn to no doubt haggle down the prices of the mountain he carries between his beefy arms.

Loki shrugs in response. “Yeah, a movie I’ve been wanting to see.”

“Lucky!” Thor whistles. “Good haul for me, too. Why don’t you wait in the car for me? I’ll be done in a sec.” Thor turns his body so Loki can grope around in his pocket for the keys, unashamedly taking advantage of the situation to give a little stroke to bitty Thor that’s decided to hang around the left side today.

Thor tosses him a wink as Loki takes the keys.

The car is hotter than hellfire, but Loki starts the engine and cranks up the AC to ‘arctic’. He examines the DVD case in his hands. It’s a bit dusty, and there’s an unidentifiable stickiness lurking in one of the corners -- nothing a quick wipe down with a damp paper towel wouldn’t fix. Cracking open the case, Loki pops out the actual disk. Again, dusty, but Loki’s face is clearly reflected on the shiny back with no obstruction. It looks like no one has ever so much as put the DVD into a player before.

Though the inside of the car is still hot, a strange, icy shiver runs down Loki’s spine.

-- -- --

also real shit if this actually happens at the open market i’m going to tomorrow, i’m burning that DVD right there. swear to god.

#thorki #thor #loki #thorki fanfiction #thorki fic #thorki fanfic #thunderfrost #my writing

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junghelioseok · 5 years

Text

change. | 05

↳ a kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

◇ taehyung x reader | jungkook x reader ◇ angst | fluff | smut ◇ 3.1k [5/10]

notes: it’s literally been one year (a little over?) since i posted chapter 1 of this fic and i am so fucking sorry it’s taken this long. but! things are finally happening, y’all. hope you enjoy? maybe?

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | epilogue ✓

Nineteen unread messages.

For a long moment, you can only look at your phone in disbelief, as if the words on the screen will disappear if you stare long and hard enough. But when they stubbornly remain, you heave a sigh and click open the notification, already knowing exactly who is responsible for bombarding you with so many texts last night.

[8:24pm] Jin: Fucking finally! It’s about time you left

[8:25pm] Jin: Have fun with Taehyung. But not too much.

[8:29pm] Jin: Are you there yet?

[8:36pm] Jin: Hellooooo, earth to {Name}. Are you dead? Do I have to call the police?

[8:42pm] Jin: There’s no way you’re not at Studio V by now, young lady. Don’t ignore me

[8:42pm] Jin: What’s this Taehyung kid doing to you? Don’t forget that you have a boyfriend

[9:21pm] Jin: Okay, now I’m starting to get a little worried

[9:22pm] Jin: Don’t make me come over there

And so forth. Jin’s last message, sent at precisely eleven o’clock, declares his intent to file a missing person’s report if he hasn’t heard from you in the next twenty-four hours, and you can’t help but laugh as you open up the keyboard and type out a response.

[8:12am] You: Wow Jinnie

Your phone buzzes with an incoming message almost instantaneously.

[8:12am] Jin: SHE LIVES

[8:12am] Jin: Now spill, what the hell happened to you last night?

Rolling your eyes at his insistence, you swipe open his contact tab and tap the phone icon. As the call connects, you meander into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste onto the bristles. Seokjin picks up two seconds later, squawking incomprehensibly, and as you put him on speaker and plop your phone on the counter, you marvel at how easily you can still hear him over the sound of the faucet.

“Hi Jinnie,” you greet dryly. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, good morning and all that.” Jin’s pleasant tenor filters through the speaker, undeterred. Vaguely, you can make out the sound of sizzling from his end of the line, and deduce that he must be cooking breakfast. “Now spill, damn it! What happened yesterday?”

“I went to an art gallery,“ you reply, giggling when Seokjin lets out a derisive snort. “Because unlike you, I’m a cultured lady.”

“Cultured, my ass,” Jin retorts, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Are you going to tell me about Taehyung or not?”

You laugh, tapping your phone’s screen to life in order to check the time. “I have to be at work in an hour, bud. Why don’t I tell you over dinner tonight?”

He lets out a pleased hum. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring the food and you provide the wine?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Jin says. “Seven okay?”

You nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you. “Seven’s perfect. See you then.”

“Bye, {Name}.”

Smiling, you end the call and finish brushing your teeth, already beginning to plan what you’re going to wear for the day. As you wander into the kitchen and start up the coffeemaker, you unlock your phone again to scroll through the most recent headlines, but a little red message notification catches your eye before you can open up the news app. Curiously, you tap it open, eyes widening when you see who the sender is.

[10:24pm] Taehyung: it was really nice to see you again. sorry we had to cut our conversation short but i hope you got home all right!!

A smile breaks across your face as you read his message. It was sent yesterday, shortly after you left the gallery, and you deduce that it must have quickly been buried beneath Jin’s slew of messages. Pulling a mug out of the cabinet, you spoon in some sugar while formulating a response.

[8:31am] You: It was nice to see you too! I got home just fine, thanks for the cab. I’m getting my own next time though :)

You stare down at the screen for a few more moments after pressing ‘send’, a fond smile lingering on your face. But then the smell of coffee is assailing your nostrils, the last dregs dripping down into the pot, and you tear your gaze away from your phone in order to pour yourself a generous helping.

///

Your inbox, when you arrive at work and log into your computer, is nearly bursting with new emails. Immersing yourself into your work, you don’t get another opportunity to check your phone until lunchtime, but as soon as the clock on your monitor reads noon you are leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms overhead with a sigh. Working the kinks out of your neck, you idly tap your phone’s screen to life and are immediately greeted by the sight of two new messages. A smile creases your face as soon as you see the senders’ names, and your smile only grows as you read the first text.

[9:12am] Taehyung: not if i can help it :) and you’re welcome. glad you made it safely

The second text, however, wipes any happiness away and replaces it with concern.

[11:28am] Jungkook: God, I’m having the worst day

Immediately, you type out a response to Jungkook. You’re certain he won’t see it until much later—he’s always been terrible with responding to messages, even when not inundated with work—but the fact that he’d taken the time to text you still warms your heart.

[12:07pm] You: Sorry babe. Don’t forget to take a break and eat lunch, okay?

You remember to send off another quick thanks to Taehyung before replacing your phone in your pocket and pulling out your own lunch. Meandering your way towards the kitchen, you greet a few colleagues before heading inside to plop your food in the microwave. As the timer runs down from one minute, you pull out your phone again and see—much to your shock—a new message waiting there.

[12:14pm] Jungkook: I won’t. Eating now, actually. But my kimchi fried rice isn’t as good as yours

A laugh escapes you as the microwave dings. Opening the door, you pull out your own container of kimchi fried rice, still chuckling at the coincidence.

[12:16pm] You: oh yeah? Guess what I’m eating then

[12:17pm] Jungkook: You’re joking. Kimchi fried rice? Really?

[12:17pm] You: I cannot tell a lie

Taking a seat at one of the several tables scattered around the kitchen, you begin eating leisurely, keeping one eye on the news broadcast playing on the television mounted to the wall. It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to respond this time, and you wonder if work is giving him trouble again.

You’re proven right when his text finally comes, popping up onto your screen with a soft ding.

[12:21pm] Jungkook: Fuck, how are people so incompetent? I have to go, sorry

Biting your lip, you type out a quick goodbye.

[12:21pm] You: Don’t bite too many heads off. Love you.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t respond. With a soft sigh, you set your phone back down on the table and fix your attention on the television once more, idly watching the headlines scroll along the bottom of the screen as you finish your lunch.

///

You don’t hear from Jungkook again for the remainder of the workday. The sun is already setting by the time you leave your office building, and with an added stop at the wine store, your commute home takes fifteen minutes longer than usual. You change into sweatpants and an oversized sweater the minute you walk inside, and half an hour after you crack open the first bottle of wine, Jin is knocking at your door with a gaudily decorated white plastic bag in hand. “I see you started drinking without me,” he says dryly as he steps inside, hanging up his jacket and immediately making a beeline for the cabinet where you keep your wineglasses.

“Guess you’d better catch up then,” you reply with a grin, taking the bag from his hand and peering inside curiously. “Chinese?”

He hums. “Of course.”

“Perfect.”

Together, you and Jin make your way into the living room. Your best friend makes himself comfortable on your couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and you playfully nudge him off as you try to find a place to put down your food. He shoots you a mock glare and takes an enormous sip of wine, watching as you take a seat beside him and dig into a box of kung pao chicken. “So?”

“So what?” you ask innocently, selecting a piece of pepper and popping it into your mouth.

Jin slaps the armrest in indignation. “What do you mean, so what? Don’t test me, missy!”

You giggle as the tips of his ears begin to flush pink. “Okay, okay,” you relent. “Taehyung. Let’s see. Taehyung was… well, he was just as charming as I remembered. We wound up talking for almost three hours yesterday, so I’m sorry I didn’t text you.”

Jin sniffs, but you can see the smile twitching at the corners of his plush lips. “Whoa, three hours? Damn. You can’t even talk to me for that long.”

“That’s because you’re insufferable,” you retort instantly, drawing a chuckle from you companion.

“Duly noted,” he says. “So, what did you talk about, anyway? Your whole life story?”

“All my deepest, darkest secrets,” you say, trying and failing to maintain a solemn expression. “No, but really, we just talked about the usual. Friends, family, pets. That sort of thing. He’s got a puppy named Yeontan—a Pomeranian. Super cute.”

Jin tilts his head curiously. “A Pomeranian? Those are yappy little dogs, aren’t they?

You shrug. “Taehyung said that Tannie doesn’t really bark all that much, actually.”

“Mm.” Jin lets out a thoughtful hum, tilting his head back and taking a long sip of wine. His gaze slides back over to you after he sets down his glass again, his brown eyes glimmering with mischief as he waggles his brows suggestively. “So, what else happened? Did you get his number like you wanted?”

Wordlessly, you click open your phone and scroll to Taehyung’s contact information, stored safely away under his name. “He gave me his business card too,” you say, showing Jin the screen. “And he called us friends when he introduced me to Yoongi, so that was nice.”

His brows furrow. “Who’s Yoongi?”

“One of his college friends,” you explain. “He was at the gallery opening too.”

“Ah.”

There’s another question on the tip of his tongue—you can see it forming in his eyes as he licks his lips in preparation to voice it, but a knock on your front door interrupts him before he can even open his mouth. Jin jolts at the unexpected noise, his eyes widening in bewilderment, and you offer him an equally confused shrug as you rise to your feet and pad over to answer it.

To your utmost surprise, Jungkook is standing on your welcome mat when you swing the door open, bundled in a dark wool coat and a black scarf. “Hey,” he says, raising his gaze from his phone to give you a wan smile. “Just saw your message. I didn’t bite any heads off, I promise.”

Laughing softly, you step aside to let him in. “That’s good to hear.”

Jungkook echoes your amusement as he crosses the threshold, tucking his phone back into his pocket and beginning to shrug off his coat. As he unwraps his scarf and moves to hang it on one of the hooks near the door, his gaze skitters down to the men’s shoes sitting on the ground beside your own, one dark brow disappearing up behind his neatly-parted hair as he stares at them. “Is Jin here?”

You nod, and Jin must have heard his name because a moment later his head pops around the corner of the entryway. “Hey, Jungkook,” the older man greets, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I thought I heard your voice. Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jungkook replies, gripping the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. “What are you two up to tonight?”

“Wine and Chinese food,” you say, reaching out to smooth down the rumpled lapel of Jungkook’s charcoal suit jacket. There’s no doubt that he just left the office, and your heart flip-flops in your chest when you notice the exhaustion lining his handsome face. “Do you want some?"

“I’m all right,” Jungkook says, and maybe it’s your imagination but you swear you detect a hint of annoyance in his tone. Shrugging it off, you instead grab his hand to pull him into the living room where the takeout boxes are still scattered across the coffee table, interspersed between two half-full wine glasses. Jungkook takes in the sight slowly, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around yours, and when he speaks again you are certain you hadn’t imagined the annoyance in his voice. “Looks like you two were having fun,” Jungkook says slowly, releasing your hand in favor of picking up one of the white containers of food and peering inside. Then he looks toward Jin, who is still hovering near the entryway uncertainly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. Guess I should’ve called beforehand to see if you already had company.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jin reassures, and you wonder if he can sense the sudden tension in the air as clearly as you can. When he begins inching toward the coatrack, you decide that he can. “I should probably get going, anyway.”

Jungkook places the takeout box back on the coffee table. “Have other plans?”

Jin shrugs, and you marvel at his ability to feign ease despite the tense atmosphere. “I’ve got some work to do. Duty calls, you know? Besides, I’m sure you want to spend some quality time with {Name} without me hanging around.”

His laugh sounds entirely too brittle, and when Jungkook glances away, Jin meets your gaze and forcefully mouths text me later.

You nod. Jin hesitates a moment longer, as if unwilling to leave, but another look at Jungkook’s furrowed brow has him grabbing his jacket off the rack and sliding his arms into the sleeves. “Well, I’m off then. Have a good night, guys.”

“You too,” Jungkook intones coolly.

“Bye, Jin,” you call after your best friend’s retreating figure, waving farewell as he disappears around the corner. You listen as his footsteps recede down the corridor, and it’s only once the front door opens and clicks shut again that Jungkook speaks, his voice soft.

“I see you were having a good night without me.”

He’s upset. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched, his throat bobbing harshly as he resists the urge to raise his voice. You’ve seen him yell before—he gets worked up during conference calls far too often for his own good—but you’ve rarely been on the receiving end of his anger. Something must really be bothering him, and you tentatively reach out and lay a hand on his arm. “Jungkook,” you breathe. “I would’ve invited you over—“

“But you didn’t,” he interrupts bitterly, wrenching away from your touch and leaving your hand to fall aimlessly to your side. “You invited him.”

“I made plans with Jin this morning,” you try to explain. “You’re always welcome to join us, of course, but you seemed busy earlier and I didn’t know when you would be done with work, so it didn’t occur to me to ask.“

Jungkook scowls, his dark brows furrowing even further. “So Seokjin was the first person you talked to today?”

“What?” you ask in disbelief. “I… I mean, I guess so? But that’s not out of the ordinary; he’s my best friend. You know that.”

The words don’t seem to reassure him in the least. Jungkook’s expression remains pinched, and when you look into his eyes you’re alarmed to see the anger simmering there. “How am I supposed to know that for sure?” he snaps.

Your jaw drops. “What?” you ask, utterly dumbfounded by his jealousy. “Are you seriously doubting if we’re just friends?”

He cocks a brow. “Are you? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Jungkook,” you begin, your mind reeling wildly as you try to process what you’re hearing. “What are you even talking about? Of course we’re just friends… he has a boyfriend, for god’s sake—“

The dark-haired man barks out a humorless laugh. “One I’ve never met.”

“Namjoon’s really busy!” you defend. “And it’s not like you have a lot of free time to socialize with my friends either—“

“So this is my fault?” Jungkook interrupts, his other eyebrow rising up to join the first.

You let out an exasperated huff. “That’s not what I said. All I know is that Jin has made an effort to invite us out for happy hour on multiple occasions, and you haven’t been able to make a single one.”

Jungkook snorts. “Like you so kindly pointed out, I’m busy. But you’re more than happy to go skipping off to join them for drinks, huh? You mentioned that they’re both bi once—how am I supposed to know that nothing’s ever happened?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes beginning to prickle at the corners, but you swallow the tears back down and look up your dark-haired boyfriend. “Don’t you trust me?”

His gaze drops to the carpeted floor before rising up to meet yours. “I don’t know anymore,” he says after a few seconds. And then: “But I do know that I need to leave right now.”

“Jungkook…” you begin, voice wavering as you try and fail to find your next words.

He gives you a long, hard look, his expression unreadable. Then he’s turning on his heel, his suit jacket flapping as he strides silently down the hall. You hear the rustle of cloth as he grabs his coat off the hook, and wince when the door slams shut behind him.

A full minute ticks by—each second passing at an agonizingly slow pace as you hope against all hope that Jungkook will come to his senses and return with an apology on his lips. But the night steadily darkens outside, and you remain alone in your living room with cold takeout and unfinished wine. Slowly, you make your way over to the front door and twist the lock shut.

And only then do you allow your pent-up tears to overflow, streaming down your cheeks as you crumple to the ground.

[previous] [next]

#jungkook #taehyung #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #jungkook x you #taehyung x you #lia writes

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thehelleniclunarwitch · 6 years

Text

Change of Heart (Eddie Brock x Reader)

Prompt: He never asked to be an assassin, and as he stands in a bedroom looking over two sleeping toddlers, he regrets his profession more than ever.

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader

Fandom: Marvel, Venom

Warning: Language, Mention of violence

He never asked to be an assassin, and as he stands in a bedroom looking over two sleeping toddlers, he regrets his profession more than ever.

He was trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. He has never been commissioned to kill kids before. Women and children. That’s where they agreed. Women and children were never on the list, but tonight? Tonight it was going to change it all. These kids were mutants. A danger to the future of the world. Their powers were too dangerous to keep alive.

Let me do it, Eddster.

Eddie shook his head as he raised his hand. He had to be the one to do it.

It’s my fault, Eddster. They know you’re a monster because of me.

Eddie’s hand shook as he continued to debate about what the hell was he doing.

“I can’t do this,” Eddie whispered.

Then let me do it.

“No, I mean we can’t do this, V. They are innocent children,” Eddie snarled in a low tone.

They are too powerful for their own good.

“Out of us, you should understand how wrong that is. I should be killed because of the power you give me,” Eddie shot back.

So then what do you suggest we do, Eddster?

“I can’t kill them,” Eddie admitted.

They’re going to know if we back out.

Eddie let out a sigh.

They will only send another assassin. One that won’t care about them being children.

Soft footsteps could be heard outside of the door. Eddie quickly staggered backward and into the dark shadows of the corner of the room. Just as the bedroom door swung open. Eddie’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew her.

Eddster you’re not breathing.

Eddie let out the breath he was holding slowly.

That’s their mom. Why does she look familiar?

That’s Y/n

Your high school sweetheart?

I have an idea.

Eddie, I know you’re desperate, but don’t.

I can have her again and save the kids.

Think about this, Eddster.

Eddie was passed the point of thinking about this. Eddie stepped out of the shadows, his footstep creaking the floor. She froze before quickly whipping around. Her eyes grew wide.

“Eddie?” She whispered.

Eddie said nothing.

“Eddie,” She said again waiting for him to reply.

Instead, he retreated back and let Venom out. As the black ink slipped over his body he saw the look of fear cross her face. Before she could even react and wake her children, Venom acted quickly.

Her screams filled the night air as Venom made quick work.

Eddie sat at his desk pouring over paperwork and documents. Venom had been eerily quiet for the past few hours. Eddie only looked up from his work when he heard the door to his bedroom creak open.

There she stood in all her beautiful glory. Her hair was tousled and his shirt hung off her body. She quickly crossed her arms and settled a hard glare his way.

“What’s going on Eddie?” She asked.

Eddie sighed as he pushed away from his desk turning in his chair to face her.

“I panicked,” Eddie admitted.

Y/n was confused.

“Why? What the hell is going on?” She demanded to know.

“I’m sure you’ve the heard rumors about me,” Eddie said.

Y/n’s arms dropped down next to her.

“I’ve heard the murmurs,” Y/n admitted.

“They took advantage of me, Y/n. They turned me into a monster. I’m an assassin,” Eddie said.

“Why,” Y/n choked, “why were you at my home?”

“There are some powerful people out there that want your children dead,” Eddie said blatantly.

Y/n held back the tears.

“My twins, they are harmless,” Y/n said.

“They’re listed as mutants. Powerful mutants,” Eddie said.

Y/n fiercely shook her head. “No, honestly, Eddie, they’re just normal little kids,”

“Are you absolutely positive there is nothing off about them?” Eddie asked her.

She nodded. Eddie was confused. Y/n took a few steps closer to him before stopping in her tracks.

“Can I ask who put the hit on them?” Y/n asked cautiously.

Eddie turned back away from her and shuffled through his paperwork.

“I can’t read the signature. E something. E Nygma, I think, something along those lines,” Eddie said.

When he returned his attention back up to Y/n she had paled. Eddie shot to his feet and hurried over to her.

“Do you know who that is?” Eddie asked.

“Edward Nygma,” Y/n breathed out.

“Why is that name so familiar to me?” Eddie asked.

“He’s more famously known as the Riddler,” Y/n said quietly.

Eddie looked down at her.

“Why would the Riddler want your kids dead?” Eddie asked.

Y/n gulped and then looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“Because he’s the father,” Y/n whispered.

Eddie said nothing instead he grabbed her and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“I didn't know about the Riddler. I didn't know that he was a psychopath. I fell for his charm and like an idiot, I wasn’t careful,” Y/n said.

“What happened to make him want to go after his kids?” Eddie asked.

“After I told him that I was pregnant he blamed me. Said I did it on purpose,” Y/n said.

Eddie sucked in a breath out of pure anger.

“He wanted to me to abort and I wouldn’t. Then he tried going behind my back to give them up to an adoption agency, but that didn't work for him,” Y/n explained.

“Is that why it seemed like you fell off the side of the earth?” Eddie asked.

Y/n nodded. “I moved home for the first two years, my dads helped, and then when we hadn’t heard from Edward anymore I moved out with the twins,”

“Why didn't you ever reach out to me?” Eddie asked her.

Y/n gave him a confused look. “We grew apart Eddie. You’re not always going to be there for me,”

“Fuck that,” Eddie snapped.

“Eddie,” Y/n sighed.

Eddie pushed away from her and stormed away over to his desk. She watched him with cautious eyes. He flipped through more paperwork and then pulled out a file folder. Storming back over to her he shoved the folder into her hands. Y/n looked at him in confusion but he urged her to open it.

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Y/n opened the file and started to flip through it. What she realized very quickly was that Eddie had put together new identities, passports, licenses, and birth certificates. She looked up at Eddie.

“What is all of this?” Y/n asked him.

“I have a lot to get off my chest,” Eddie said as he pounded it a few times.

Y/n stood there waiting for him to continue.

“I never should have let you go all those years ago,” Eddie began.

“Eddie, we were too young,” Y/n began, but he cut her off.

“You were, no, you are the love of my life, Y/n,” Eddie said.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat.

“And I can’t go back in time to change any of our past. I know that part of me scares you, but I need you to know that I still fucking love you,” Eddie said.

Slowly Y/n nodded.

“And I’ve been wanting a fresh start, you know? Start over, but I never thought in a million years I would get that opportunity,” Eddie said.

Y/n took a step backward as Eddie began closing the distance between them. Once her back hit the wall she let out a small sudden gasp.

“But with you, I can get that,” Eddie said.

“Eddie, I’m not that girl from high school. I’m a mother, I have scars and battle wounds,” Y/n said.

“And I don’t?” Eddie shot back.

Y/n gulped.

“What do you want from me? What is this file supposed to do for us?” Y/n asked.

“Run away with me. Let me love you the way you were meant to be loved and let me be a father to your kids,” Eddie said.

Y/n felt faint.

“This is too much,” She finally breathed out.

“You’re saying over these years you fell out of love with me? That you never dreamed and hoped that I would come back and save you?” Eddie asked.

“Eddie, I can’t dream like that anymore. I have kids and an ex that wants them dead,” Y/n said.

“Venom and I can keep them safe. Keep you safe,” Eddie urged.

“They’re a handful,” Y/n said.

“Are you trying to talk me or yourself out of this?” Eddie demanded to know.

“What’s your plan?” Y/n asked him.

“We leave. Tonight. We get in a car and we just drive and then we can leave the country. We can go anywhere in the world. Wherever will make you feel the safest,” Eddie said.

Y/n bit her bottom lip as he mulled it over.

Eddie boxed her in against the wall with his arms.

“Please, let me back in,” He pleaded with her.

Surprising them both, Y/n lunged forward and caught Eddie’s mouth with hers. A deep guttural growl escaped him. Eddie picked Y/n up and slammed her against the wall.

“I never ever stopped loving you,” She admitted.

“Then run away with me,” Eddie said.

Y/n nodded.

Eddie set her back down. “Go get the kids, I’ll get the rest,”

Y/n slipped out of his grip and back into the bedroom.

Are you sure this will work, Eddster?

“I’m good at disappearing,” Eddie said.

Then I will do whatever I can to keep them safe.

“Thank you Venom,” Eddie said.

Opening the closet he pulled out the bags he had packed while Y/n and the kids slept. He had dropped them both on the floor when Y/n came back out with both of the boys in her arms.

“Let me carry one,” Eddie said.

Y/n handed one of them over to Eddie. She watched as in his sleep he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck. Eddie leaned down and grabbed the bags.

“Do you still have the file?” Eddie asked.

Y/n bent down and picked it up from the floor. “Got it,”

“Good, now let’s get out of here before you change your mind,” Eddie said.

Y/n gave him a look. “I would never,”

Eddie dipped down to shush her with a kiss. “I was teasing,” Eddie said.

The couple slipped out into the dark sky. The sun would be rising soon. Y/n and Eddie put the twins in the back seat and buckled them in. As Y/n made sure they were tucked in, Eddie through the bags into the trunk. The couple climbed into the seats up front. Y/n clung to the file.

“Where to?” Eddie asked.

“Anywhere?” She asked.

“Anywhere you want to go,” Eddie said

Y/n gave him a small smile.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Ireland?” She whispered.

Eddie grinned. “Ireland it is,”

Taking her hand in his, Eddie pulled away from the curb and headed onto the road and towards their future together.

#Eddie Brock #Eddie Brock x reader #venom #marvel #slight mentions #of #edward nygma #the riddler #prompt #violence #language

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isekai-inserts · 6 years

Text

Like Sunshine

Fandom: Final Fantasy: XV

Pairing: Prompto x Reader

Warnings: None

Gender Neutral Reader

Since coming to this world it's been kind of hard to fit in. Especially since you've been traveling with a Prince and his entourage. Now you're traveling to Lestallum but will the royal retinue ever get used to you?

Why did it have to be so hot?

The sun held high in the sky, beating down on you as the Regalia sped across the burning asphalt. The leather of the seats was beginning to stick to your back and you can't help but try to adjust yourself something that was hard to do in the cramped back seats.

On one side of you was Noctis. He was leaning against the door, head resting in his hands, his eyes closed in silent slumber. How he could get away with wearing all black, you couldn't understand. Being a prince and all you would think he would be complaining more than you, but no, he was too busy dozing.

The other seat was taken up by Gladio. Being both tall and muscular he took up most of the space. His added heat probably wasn't helping your situation. He probably didn't mind how hot it was, being as he almost never wore a shirt beneath his jacket.

You let out a long sigh, slouching in your seat. Even with the top down the Regalia still felt like an oven.

"Getting antsy?" Prompto turns from his place in front, a smile spreading over his face. He was a good guy, all sunshine and happiness. Looking at him reminded him of the sun, with his bright hair and blue eyes.

You shake your head, "Not so much antsy as way too hot. Can't we put up the hood and run the AC?" The whine in your voice causes Ignis to glance at you through the rear view mirror.

"Perhaps we should make a quick pit stop," His accented voice lilts over the wind rushing past your ears. If there was a responsible one in the group, it was Ignis. It seemed that he always knew what needed to be done.

"What, was your world an ice planet or something?" Gladio says, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You knew he didn't quite trust you yet. Why would he? You'd randomly dropped into their laps with a story that would make anyone else throw you to the curb. A person from another world? One that wasn't full of Deamons and Gods? Absurd.

"No," You huff, folding your arms, "I was just from somewhere a little cooler. Besides, we've been in this car for hours."

Prompto practically falls out of his seat as he comes to your aide, "Uh-They're right! We've been driving for awhile. Lets stop and stretch our legs. Take some pictures!"

Gladio huffs what could be seen as some sort of agreement.

"The next town it is then. Perhaps I'll be able to procure some ingredients." Even without looking at him, you can hear Ignis adjust his glasses. Was he going to try out a new recipeh?

The next thirty minutes is a comfortable silence. Well, as comfortable as it could be with Noctis snoring away beside you, but by this point you had become used to the familiar noise.

Finally, after what had to be an eternity of driving, Ignis finally pulled into the sprawling city of Lestallum. From what you had heard it was one of the biggest cities around. You hadn't been sure what you were expecting but Lestallum was, at the very least, interesting.

You give a sigh as you clamber out of the Regalia behind Gladio. As soon as your feet hit the ground you can't help but groan, stretching to your full height with a pop of your back. It was good to walk again.

Noctis stretches beside you, yawning as he looks around. "Lestallum?" He looks to Ignis, "Are we staying here for tonight?"

"Well-" He's immediately cut off by Prompto who grins eagerly at all of you.

"We should! Spend a night in a real hotel! See the sights!"

Noctis shrugs, "Sounds good to me."

Ignis and Gladio share a look, an unspoken conversation between the two of them before they turn back to the group.

"Only if someone stays with *this one* the entire time." Gladio points a finger at you and you can't help but raise a brow. What were you going to do? Get lost in a world not your own? Actually ... it was probably a good idea.

"Okay," You agree.

"Oh!" Prompto raises his hand eagerly, "Me! Me! Me! I'll do it!"

Ignis nods, seemingly placated. "Then I will make the necessary arrangements."

Noctis and Prompto cheer happily and even you can't help but relax at the thought of sleeping in an actual bed. You open your mouth to question exactly where your accommodations would be; Before you can even utter a word Prompto's hand has eagerly wrapped around your arm, tugging you towards the thoroughfare.

"C'mon! You have to see this!"

"W-Wait! Prompto!"

Noctis watches the two of you run off, shaking his head. "I've never seen him like this before."

"So eager?" Gladio asks, watching as your backs disappear into the crowd.

Ignis chuckles lightly, "So bold. He doesn't act this way around Cindy."

It takes you only a second to become completely lost in Lestallum's market. You were used to large stores where everything was dissected into neat isles and rows. Here, everything was splayed out on open tables. Merchants yell out advertisements for their stand; People haggle up and down prices. Everything around you is a flurry of motion and sound the only static thing amongst the crowd is the bouncing blonde in front of you.

His hand keeps a steady hold on yours, urging you ever forward. There's so many people in the market that you have a hard time keeping up. That's why, when you crash into Prompto's back, you're taken by surprise.

Prompto turns, holding you by the shoulders to steady you. "Hey there, all good?" He asks, smiling at you. You blink, nodding to him before he turns your attention towards the stand beside you. "Look at this," He presents to you a keychain, swinging from the chain is a tiny Chocobo.

"Oh! Those chicken things!" You say, letting him drop it into your outstretched hand.

"What's a chicken?" Prompto says, watching you study the keychain.

You hum in thought, how best to explain it? "It's basically a Chocobo but smaller. We usually-" You look at his face and flinch. Best he didn't know what actually happened to chickens. "-Keep them as pets."

"Wow! Really?"

"Y-Yeah..."

Prompto pays for the keychain. It was just as well, you didn't have any money of your own, only a few bills from your own world and you doubted anyone would take them. From there you take a more leisurely pace through the market, Prompto apparently catching on that you didn't want to run the length of Lestallum.

By the time you've looked at every stall in the market, the sun has fallen below the horizon and the stars were beginning to dot the sky. You assume that you'll be heading towards the hotel for the night but Prompto has other ideas.

"C'mon," Prompto says, taking your hand in his again to lead you down the street. Surprisingly he takes you to where Ignis had parked the Regalia. You hadn't noticed it before but there's an overlook here where you can view the valley below. Prompto leans against the stones there, sending a smile over his shoulder at you. "I thought you might enjoy the view."

"I do." You say, moving to stand beside him. Blanketed under the night sky the area looks like something out of a dream. Not for the first time you question if this *is* all a dream. Something your brain made up to trick you. You glance over to your companion. Prompto's face is peaceful as he takes in the sight before you. No, this wasn't a dream, someone like him couldn't be made up in your head. You swallow, looking up at the night sky.

"Oh ... wow..." You murmur into the air.

Prompto follows your gaze upwards, towards the night sky and the moon that hangs above. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

You nod. "In my world there's .... there's so much light that it often blocks out the stars. I don't think I've really looked around until now. There's ... so many stars."

Prompto looks back to you, "Do you miss it? Your world?"

"Sometimes," Your gaze falls back to the earth and the view before you, "I mean, I miss it when we're being attacked by Deamons or when Noctis leads us into one of those dungeons." You both shiver at the thought. "But there's a lot of good things about this world too..." You trail off.

"Yeah? Like what?"

You glance towards him. His hair caught the light of the moon, bleaching it almost white in the low light that surrounded you. His eyes seemed to catch every movement, every moment, they reminded you of the lenses of the cameras he loved so much. Your cheeks heat up and you dart your eyes away. "I-I don't know the foods pretty good..." You murmur to yourself.

Prompto splutters a laugh, "You mean *Ignis'* food is pretty good."

You can't help but laugh. After that the two of you fall into casual conversation, it feels good, almost peaceful. It dawns on you that your world and this world weren't that much different. People acted like people no matter what reality you were in.

It had to be about 3 in the morning before you finally headed towards the hotel. You're both dog tired but happy and you enter the hotel room expecting a warm shower and a warm bed. Much to your surprise, however, is the fact that the others are still awake. Weird, you'd thought they would all be asleep by now.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Noctis says, the worry in his voice is evident.

You blink, surprised, "We were out look around Lestallum...?" You say, what had been the big deal with that?

"We've been trying to call you." Ignis sighs, fixing Prompto with a look. The blond fidgets under his gaze.

"Oh ... yeah ... I turned off my phone." He admits and you can't help but be taken aback.

"Wait, what? Why?" You ask.

Prompto shrugs, "I guess I just didn't want us to be interrupted." He admits, but the guilty look on his face tells you there's something more to it.

Gladio's jaw tightens, "You can't go running off like that! Not with someone we barely know!"

Noctis opens his mouth to say something. Whether it was to defend you or not, you don't know, because Prompto speaks up first. "They're not a threat!" His voice cuts through the tense air. Everyone stares, slack jawed at the sudden outburst. "I've spent all day with them! I've learned more about their world! They're not lying!"

"Okay." All eyes go to Noctis and he looks around at the small group, "If he trusts them, then I trust them." He nods at Prompto who can only nod back. A look his shared between the four of them. Ignis and Gladio nod. A coil of tension releases from your chest, one that you hadn't known was there.

"Fine," Gladio says, resting a hand on his neck, "I guess you're a part of the crownsguard now."

Ignis gives the smallest of smiles, "Congratulations."

You can't help but smile and Prompto's face mirrors your own. There is very little talk after that, as all of you are tired. Each of you head to bed and when you lay yourself to rest that night you can't help but feel like this place was slowly becoming like home.

#isekai #final fantasy xv #reader insert #prompto x reader #prompto

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jediryssabean · 7 years

Text

i am free whenever you’re in front of me

listen. i know. it’s been a couple months. but it’s internship time! you know how it goes!

BUT FINALLY IT IS HERE. thank you as always to @baegerbombtastic for reading it over and probably thinking internally “i said it was FINE oh my GOD” multiple times.

but no really, i appreciate it. xoxo

Pairing: Eren/Levi Verse: Dead on Arrival (an urban fantasy au) Rating: T Summary: “Fine,” Eren replies. “Okay. Levi, do you want walk through an uncomfortable number of dead people so that we can go to my childhood home for a couple hours to see the sunrise?” Levi can see his jaw working around an expected refusal, just like he can see Hannes’ eyes flickering between them both from where he stands at Eren’s side.

It really is comical—and a little bit sad, the way Eren’s face walls itself up like that.

It is then that Levi says, “yes, I’d love to, thanks for asking.”

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii

(Hot chocolate by the waterfront on a day that all three of them had managed to merge their schedules just enough get off work before sundown. Puget Sound had held the sun afloat, turning itself yellow-gold-orange with the effort of it all—but there’d been pink and purple at its farthest edges, ready for the coming dusk. The semi-constant cloud cover had framed the sun like a cap of painted cotton.

It’d been cold enough to see his own breath.

“what’ve you been up to lately?” Farlan had asked, sniffling once. Winter had never much agreed with him, even before the calendar had told him that it’d arrived. “you’re never home when we call, you don’t leave notes, your phone is always going off in your pocket like you think we don’t notice...”

Isabel had laughed, had thrown it into the breeze coming in from the Sound. It had smelled of saltwater, mingling with the steam rising from the mouth of the cup held between his hands.

Levi had shrugged, had thought of Eren, had cleared his throat. “i’ve been busy. work shit, work shit that you give me, life shit.” Another shrug, and the hot chocolate had been warm beneath his tongue. “you two are the ones that tell me i never get out enough.”

A pause, filled with the whisper of the water, the cawing of seagulls circling the docks just out of sight, the endless chatter of traffic against pavement, deeper in the city. And then, “so, does that mean you’re getting out more?” Isabel had asked him, her eyebrows moving upward on her forehead in a way that asks far too many questions. He should’ve been more choosey with his words. “are you getting out with someone? with other people? i’m assuming you don’t mean hanji, or you would’ve said hanji.”

“you’ve been cultivating a social life and you didn’t even say anything?” Farlan had pointed at him with the lid of his cardboard cup, scattering loose beads of hot chocolate toward the Sound, only to have them pushed back to fall against the concrete. “this is obstruction of justice.”

“stop using your fucking detective words like that’ll scare me.” Even breaths had led to an even reply, hd tasted of hot chocolate and saltwater, had been heavy with the urge to describe, in brief and vague detail, just how much his life had changed recently. But instead he’d said, “use them instead to keep us updated on your body-snatcher case. how’s that going?”

Groaning, loud and put upon, and Farlan had almost thrown his cup into the wind in frustration.

Levi’s social life had been largely forgotten after that, had been swallowed by the lumbering of the police bureaucracy and Farlan’s curses against it. The sun had turned a burnt red in the water by then, and Isabel’s fingers had found their way between Farlan’s own. For moral support, for comfort, to calm him down.

For a moment, Levi could almost feel the other half of the city moving around him as it had started to rise underneath the shadows crawling through the city streets. But the city’s smell hadn’t changed, the seagulls hadn’t faded into something darker, and the traffic had been just as steady in the dusk as it had been in the late afternoon.

But his phone had vibrated in his pocket, and Levi had known that less-than-mortal things were stirring, were calling four o’clock in the afternoon the early morning, were tasting the twilight like others might taste the dawn.

And he’d smiled.)

There is something different about tonight.

The most obvious thing is that Eren is sitting outside the door to the morgue, tucked against the corner of the wall and the three-inch-thick plastic. The tile underneath his backside is probably fucking freezing, because the morgue is always fucking freezing—but he’s sitting there and staring down the hallway, his eyes lit from behind in the nauseating glare of the fluorescent lights. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails and there are no coffee cups in his hands, just like there’s no easy smile on his face, and there’s still the smell of formaldehyde and chilled-corpse hanging around in the space behind him.

Levi is caught between the urge to check his pulse and the urge to push his hair away from his forehead.

The corridor seems to vibrate with the humming of the lights, drawing out the shadows in the ugliest of places, making mildew-stains out of them, letting them crawl across the floor. Levi begins to feel the frequency in the roots of his teeth, in his sinuses. Whatever-this-is feels ominous, or maybe it just feels heavy, or maybe he just doesn’t have the word for what this feels like. It’s just… different.

And underneath everything, Levi can smell Eren’s magic—heather and rainwater and freshly turned earth.

“Eren?” It’s like a bubble pops when Levi speaks, scattering the almost-silence along the walls, lodging it into the grooves along the tile floor. He watches the force of it move through Eren’s body, from his shoulders to his feet, and it’s a little bit like watching a predator shift. It could be the angle that’s making him think that. It could be the way the shadows hover in the hollows of his cheeks, sharpening them to deadly points. It could be a lot of things.

When Eren looks up at him, his pupils are the size of moons.

“Oh shit,” he says, and he blinks slowly, as if his eyelids are heavier than they look. “Hey, Levi.”

“Hey yourself.” Levi’s knees creak when he crouches down to sit beside him between the corner-space and the door to the morgue, settling his backpack onto the toes of his shoes. Down here Eren’s magic is thick, bleeding into the space around him. Levi’s hairs rise on his arms. “So… what’re you doing down here? Did you run into a black cat in the garage?”

Eren snorts, softer than the rustle of fabric, and he shakes his head. “First of all, that fear is rooted in baseless superstition. Second of all, cats like me just fine, it’s dogs that have an issue with the way I smell. And third—“ His eyes shift out of focus, falling away from Levi’s face to follow something else on the floor, or not on the floor, or… something, “third, the garage reeked of gasoline, and my head’s killing me. I thought I’d wait here instead.” A pause, and the hospital sings to itself around them tunelessly.

Eren lets the quiet fill the hallway without interruption, stretching toward the bulbous shape of the camera at the far end, with no light blinking to show that it’s even on.

A protective measure, probably.

The chill is worming its way through Levi’s skin toward his bones. It makes his teeth grind together, a little, and he can see it lifting goosebumps on Eren’s skin. This close, he can see countless other things—the dirt under Eren’s fingernails is also on his palms and his knuckles, the hair at his temples is stiff with sweat, and the stains on the knees of his jeans are beginning to flake in the way that blood does when it’s been sitting too long.

Levi can’t taste anything except Eren’s magic when he breathes in, worry needling at his stomach, his throat, the inside of his ears. When he swallows, he can feel fresh rainfall in his mouth, unspoiled by the sting of smog or acid or city life. It’s like being smothered, like there are strings of it clinging to his lips, like it’s piling on his shoulders and curling around his collarbones.

Eren picks up a different thread of a different conversation, stretching it taut between his fingertips, before Levi can open his mouth to break the silence.

“So how was work today? Did you do anything cool?” A smile, small and a little gray, pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, you know, being in a giant refrigerator.”

Levi finds himself breathing out a laugh that reminds him of the morgue—cold and stinging of antiseptic, tasting of the powder on his nitrile gloves. It’s as if the air had changed in the space of the corridor, sending the afterimage of the night Eren’d had into a spiral down a floor drain. “Ha-ha. I’ve never heard that joke before. Were you holding onto it while you waited? Was the anticipation killing you?”

The smile widens, carves out Eren’s face, and his eyelashes go on forever. “That is a pretty funny joke.”

Levi’s cheeks go warm as he rolls his eyes, shoving Eren’s shoulder with one hand. His body gives way beneath it, wedging itself farther into the corner with a laugh that echoes, skipping down the entire length of the hallway before making its way back to them, rolling to rest at their feet. “That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it. Your sense of humor is terrible.”

Laughter, louder and rising upward. Color makes its way back into Eren’s cheeks, smoothing out the edges of his cheekbones. When his eyes come back to Levi’s face, they’re glowing, and his pupils are narrowing into something that makes more sense, that looks like it hurts less, that seems more natural.

No, wait. It seems more human.

“Come on! That was funny,” Eren says. “That was genuinely funny. You just don’t think it’s funny.”

“Nobody thinks it’s funny. I can bet you six more takeout dinners that Connie doesn’t find it funny, and you eat like a fucking—I don’t know. Like a fucking bear about to hibernate.” It’s getting warmer in the corridor, or maybe the chill just isn’t bothering him anymore, but there’s a dryness to his lips that still feels like worry.

He can’t stop looking at the stains on Eren’s knees.

Indignation, a quiet presence between them, and a tone that feels like petulance. “Using magic burns calories, thanks. And I’m not taking that bet.” There's a pout pulling at his lips. Fucking Christ, he really is as young as he looks, isn't he?

But Levi's response is already out of his mouth before he can comment on Eren's expression, or his mouth, or his age. He doesn't like the way it tastes as it shoves its way past his teeth. “Why, because faeries only take bets that they can win?”

Silence falls again, and this time not even the light fixtures dare to break it.

Moments like this happen, Levi is coming to find. Atmospheric shifts, the bending of light, the constant freeze-and-thaw of things that are safe to say and things that aren’t. Levi watches it happen on Eren’s face, sees the meeting of worlds in his expression, sees the narrowing of his eyes and the jut of his chin and the tightening of the skin beside his eyes.

(“does this mean i’m free to ask whatever questions i want?” Levi had been pushing, then. Had shoved against Eren’s walls with both his hands, the challenge sour in his mouth. He’d spit it out like fruit-seeds, like chunks of gravel, like phlegm. “you were so gracious with that last one.”

Eren’s face had done something similar, then. Levi had seen the—there had been pieces of Eren, sharp and made of stone, mashed together with his softer edges. It had been like watching two storm systems meet over an open horizon.

Levi’s throat had been burning with some kind of shame, as if he’d reached out and slapped Eren across his cheek.)

He expects Eren to brush him off, to ignore his question entirely, to keep talking until whatever tension is in his jaw disappears.

But Eren has never been predictable. Levi wonders when he'll come to terms with that.

“Something like that.” Eren’s voice is made of endless glass, catching the light and throwing it, making his words glitter like stars, or like snow, or like chips of polished rock. “Faerie wagers are a magic all on their own, and they can get people into a lot of trouble.” Eren smiles then, even if it doesn’t exactly look normal. “You more than me. I mean, I could’ve made that ‘six takeout dinners’ work more in my favor. It’s really not specific. Takeout , just like taking food out? I could make that cheap, even if I lost.”

“You,” Levi begins like he’d never said anything that had brought to mind the shattering of statues or the tearing of pages, and he keeps going just the same, “are being an absolute asshole right now and giving away all your magical secrets.”

“Not all of them,” Eren replies. “I did tell you that I love being an enigma. It keeps things interesting.”

Levi scoffs, ready to say something else, to carry this until his spine is frozen solid and his backside has gone completely numb—but Eren keeps going, rolling the shape of his words between his hands like clay in the heartbeat between one thought and the next.

“Really, though,” he says, and his knuckles crack when he flexes his fingers. The dirt beneath Eren’s nails is still distracting, “how was work?”

Levi’s backpack rustles against the toes of his sneakers as he shifts against the wall. “It was interesting, I guess. A legal dispute, but not quite involving the police department yet. A family wanted to know if the death of their business-mogul matriarch was foul-play or not before they start digging through her will.”

Eren laughs, more through his nose than his mouth, and it sticks to his lips. “Ha! Wow, that’s some Clue bullshit, isn’t it? Damn. What did you find out?” His eyebrows arch and his smile goes crooked, and for the first time tonight Eren looks more like… himself. “Unless that’s privileged information. I probably don’t need to know.”

Levi snorts, shaking his head. “What’re you gonna do? Tell your faerie friends about morgue drama? Report me to the ethics board? No one ever sees me with you, so would they really believe you anyway?”

More laughter, absolutely unrestrained. Levi’s lucky, he supposes, that he works in the basement where people rarely go. Surely someone would’ve caught them by now—or maybe it’s less about the basement and more about extra protections. Maybe there’d been a reason for the smell of magic curling around Eren’s shoulders like a second skin.

“Yikes! You’re right. Nobody would believe me, and I’d never tell anyone.” Eren stretches out his legs in front of him, and the stains on his knees crack with the motion, splitting into microcontinents against the denim. “Besides, where would I get my gossip and thrills then? There’s only so long you can make charms before your brain starts to go numb.”

The hallway tumbles when Levi rolls his eyes. “You’re trying to pretend you’re boring, and it’s not working.”

Eren nudges him, his elbow against Levi’s, and his smile is small and soft. “I learned it from you, obviously.”

“Shut up,” Levi tells him. “God. Whatever. How’s your work been? You’re looking a little too filthy to’ve been on charm duty all night. Did you get in a scuffle with a goblin?”

“You’re just making shit up,” Eren says, and his eyes move away from Levi’s face, their color going dull beneath… something. Curtains. Shutters. Walls. “Goblins always travel in packs. I’d never scuffle with just one goblin.”

This is a redirect. Tangentially relevant, but only holding itself together with threads, with spider silk, with halves of halves of hair. Levi has become very familiar with how these maneuvers feel, how they move against his skin, how they turn into rivers large enough for the original question to get lost in—just like he’s become very familiar with the act of swimming against the current.

“Of course. My mistake,” Levi replies, and his fingertips feel cold when he presses them against one another. “Did you scuffle with a pack of goblins? A horde, maybe? Or did you trip on your way across the street to get here?”

The air around them pops as if it’s alive with energy, with static, with something. And the only thing that comes out of Eren’s mouth is, “no.”

It breathes against the floor like mist, trying to disappear before it can turn into anything else, before it can form into a sentence or an explanation. It leaves footprints down the hall that wash away when the air conditioning rumbles to life, the aluminum tubing rattling softly down the hallway. Nothing else follows it, and Eren’s lips thin, chapped skin brushing against chapped skin in a way that has to be uncomfortable.

The cold is more apparent when it’s quiet like this. It’s surprising that Levi doesn’t see his breath when he says, “then what happened to you? Seems to me that you’re not…” It’s a struggle, finding the word that he needs. The one that he ends up settling for is, “yourself.”

Eren blinks, then. He blinks, and his lips twist, and the skin beside his eyes wrinkles. Shadows flicker beside the edges of his pupils, and the color in his cheeks washes out just enough to make his skin look blue or gray or—

“Levi,” Eren says, and his voice is a wire pulled tight, threatening to split apart at the center, “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Levi doesn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than silence.

It’s an explanation in and of itself, really. It’s the reason behind the atmosphere, the driving force behind the thick film of difference that’s splayed upon the walls and Eren’s features and his posture. It’s alarming enough to give rise to ice chips in his lungs, to make them gather against his sternum.

Eren begins to pick at the dirt beneath his fingernails. The sound doesn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before it fades into nothing.

That’s what probably makes it seem so jarring when Eren clears his throat. “I didn’t bring coffee today, so I should make it up to you,” he says. The skin underneath his left thumbnail is clean by then. “I can’t say that I forgot, or anything, but you know how it gets when you’re in a rush somewhere. I guess I would’ve rather been empty-handed than late.”

“Eren,” Levi’s tone feels like a warning in his mouth, scalding his hard palate. Or—hm. Maybe it tastes more like shame, a bitter weight on his tongue. He’s got a habit of stepping in shit when he speaks, and he wishes that he could just fucking learn to stop already. “I really don’t give a shit about the coffee.”

“Okay,” and Eren’s tone is lighter, this time. Levi can’t tell if he’s faking it or not, but his eyes are shining, even through whatever-it-is that’s happening inside them. “Rephrase. We should do something. Let me take you somewhere.”

Levi doesn’t know what this is, this thing growing beneath his ribs. Eren’s smile softens, pulls at the corners of his eyes, and Levi’s bones crack beneath the weight of it, squeezing his lungs, making his fingers feel like liquid despite the chill.

Eren doesn’t look human in lighting like this, with the way it cuts his jaw, his chin, his fucking cheekbones—but he doesn’t look entirely inhuman either, and Levi finds himself noticing it more often lately. He’d seen it in the library, had caught it on the street, when his whole body had been alive with laughter and the thrill of being almost-caught.

There’s something about the way the shadows of his magic waver, a little, beneath the weight of a smile like this one, though—the way the wrinkles beside his eyes lose their tension. There are so many things that happen on Eren’s face at any given time, and all of them are just this side of too-beautiful.

Levi thinks he wants to kiss him.

His brain bounces against that thought, the marrow of his bones going through some sort of ice-cold whiplash as his body tries to compensate for the force of it—going from concern to humor to this—and it makes his throat too dry to swallow properly. His toes curl inside the fabric of his shoes, and when he speaks it’s as if there’s desert sand scraping between his teeth.

“Does that mean you have somewhere in mind?” he says, and his backpack shifts again on the toes of his sneakers. The zippers rattle like wind chimes.

A hint of a fragment of humor, tucked at one corner of Eren’s lips. It seems to make his skin glow, as if he’s lit from inside. “Have you ever wanted to see a Welsh sunrise?”

Levi snorts, even as the breath gets squeezed from his lungs. “Is this the part where you tell me that Seattle sunrises are strikingly similar, and you suggest we go see one from, I don’t know, a mountaintop or something? Isn’t sunrise practically past your bedtime?” He can feel his eyebrows arch in his forehead as the barely-there amusement moves across his face like a—like a fucking shooting star.

“I mean, I guess technically it’s past my bedtime,” Eren tells him. “But that’s not the point, because this is actually the part where I tell you that we’re going to Wales.”

Laughter bursts from Levi’s throat, an unstoppable force. This is so—it’s unbe-fucking-lievable. Bringing stars to life is one thing. Casting memory spells and crafting sleeping charms is something else. But going from one side of the globe to the other? That’s unreal. It’s unreal, incredible, impossible. He’s collected a lot of poetry in his lifetime—from adventures to epics to faerie rhymes. He’s ended up reading even more than he’s owned, and he’s never heard of anything quite like this.

Then again, he supposes, if anyone could promise transatlantic travel and mean it, it’d be Eren.

“You’re serious?” Levi says, the too-loud echo of his disbelief still sliding down the walls in a liquid pattern. “You’re completely serious.”

“Absolutely,” Eren replies, and his clothes rustle as he pushes himself upright, the red-brown stains on his knees flaking as he does. Handprints shift against the denim on his thighs, the same dark color as the mess on his knees.

When Eren offers out a hand for Levi to take, his palm is completely clean.

Eren’s grip is solid as he pulls Levi to his feet, already lifting Levi’s work-bag with his free hand to hold it within reach. Levi can feel his legs creak as he shifts his weight between them, can feel his spine trying to stretch itself out from where he’d been sitting too long against the absolutely freezing tile. It’s only when Levi rolls his shoulders, loosening the tension in his neck, that Eren taps his fingers against Levi’s own sternum with that fucking half-smile still hanging from his lips.

“You’re going to need to stand back for your own safety, sir,” Eren says, and fuck if there isn’t something impish flirting with the arch of his eyebrows. “Keep your hands and feet attached to your body at all times.”

Levi snorts, taking three steps backward and crossing his arms loosely over his chest as Eren makes his way toward the plastic-and-rubber doors that separate the hallway from the morgue. He can feel goosebumps rising underneath the weight of his coat, the fabric doing nothing to eat through the chill of the freshly-dead. Or maybe that’s just the admiration, the thrill of watching magic in action. Something like that.

Eren braces one hand on the metal doorframe, tapping out a slow pattern with one knuckle of the other against the almost-hollow plastic of the doors. His voice is low and melodic, but the words are unintelligible at this volume. The only thing Levi knows about this spell is that it’s making his stomach knot, making his mouth go dry, makes... the hallway seem almost warm.

The fluorescent lights flicker as the smell of heather and rainfall rise up from the tile floor, and the atmosphere buzzes with... everything. Levi’s ears pop underneath its pressure, and a breeze pulls at his clothes with all the force of a human hand. His backpack shifts against his spine as he shifts his weight to keep himself solidly on his feet.

And then the doors of the morgue rush inward, their shape clapping against the doorframe hard enough that Levi’s almost surprised that they don’t fall from their hinges.

What’s on the other side of those doors is definitely not the morgue.

Eren takes half-a-step back, out of the reach of shadows that look like they’re writhing just outside the reach of the corridor’s lights. Tendrils of them cling to the edges of the doors, where they would be pushing through thick strips of plastic if they’d been opening into the morgue like they’d been supposed to. The impression of lights, flickering in the shadows’ depths, make Levi’s eyes ache, make his sinuses feel as if there’s something heavy pooling inside them.

Levi opens his mouth to ask a question—to wonder out loud what the fuck is in his morgue, to ask what the point of this particular show of magic is, to get information as to how this shit manifested so quickly when his workspace had been entirely clean almost half-an-hour ago.

But all the things he’d wanted to know turn to dust on his tongue as a man steps out of the darkness and into the hallway proper. There’s... nothing sharp about him. He’s made entirely of human lines, his pupils the width of a mortal man’s, the stubble stretching from the hollows of his cheeks to the curve of his chin looking absolutely and completely normal. The only thing of note about him at all is the tattoo of a single dark feather, curling around the back of his left ear and trailing down his hairline, its shaft disappearing beneath the collar of a well-worn coat.

None of the shifting shadows are clinging to him. At all.

More questions, all of them fighting for attention behind Levi’s teeth—except the man is already laughing, already speaking loudly with an accent that’s not-at-all like Eren’s own, already pulling Eren into a hug with one hand.

“Holy shit, look at you,” the man says, ruffling Eren’s hair before the embrace is even over. “You’ve gotten so fucking tall, you know that kid?” He keeps one hand on Eren’s elbow as he pulls out of his, the crow’s feet by his eyes bending with good humor—ages of good humor, though he can’t be much older than his late forties, maybe. “You’re a giant. Eren fucking Jaeger, all grown up.”

Eren’s hair is a goddamn mess as the unidentified man ruffles his hair for the second time, and Levi can see that he’s probably grimacing, even though he can’t see any part of his face from this angle.

“Can you stop that, please? You’re embarrassing me.” Eren steps away from the man who isn’t letting go of his arm, turning so that Levi has a now-unimpeded view of them both.

“Embarrassing?” A pause, and Levi finds himself meeting blue eyes the color of some washed-out photograph of the ocean in the middle of the day. He could say something here, if his brain could cacth up to the rest of this situation—to the shadows and the mysterious maybe-mortal man. “Ah. And who’s this?”

Beneath the smell of Eren’s magic, Levi can smell something else. Cedar-wood incense and rose water.

“This,” Eren says, exasperation pulling his skin tight across his cheeks, “is Levi. He’s the doctor whose morgue you literally just walked out of. He’s a friend of mine.”

“A morgue?” Eyebrows, arching high toward a sandy-blonde hairline. “What are you doing in a morgue?”

Eren smiles, then, and it loosens something in his eyes. It almost looks easy. “You’d be surprised.” He sniffs once, rubbing at his nose before he continues, his attention falling onto Levi in a way that makes his lungs flutter with the reminder that they’re supposed to be used. “Levi, this is Hannes. He was my babysitter.”

“He makes it sound a lot less glamorous than it really was, I promise.” He can place is accent, almost. Hannes’. It’s not French, and it’s not quite Slavic, so—German, maybe? Levi can’t be sure. “He got into a lot of mischief when he was really little. He was curious little bear.”

“I did not, and I wasn’t.” Eren’s nose wrinkles, his eyebrows furrowing just enough to make his eyes look darker. It might be intimidating, somehow, if his cheeks weren’t pink with sheepishness. “But I didn’t actually ask you here just to introduce you Levi. I called for a favor.”

“That’s what happens when kids grow up, they only call when they need something.” Levi doesn’t know who Hannes is talking to, but there’s a flare for the dramatic in him somewhere. Surely it has to be for someone’s benefit. “But what did you need?”

Hannes has to look up, just slightly, to meet Eren’s eyes when he turns his head back to face him. It makes Levi wonder if this must be weird for someone that Eren had called his babysitter. It makes him wonder when they’d spoken last. “I’d like you to take us to Wales for a couple hours,” Eren tells him. “The sunrise is beautiful this time of year.”

A slow blink, still human-looking enough that Levi can’t quite call it feline. “You want me to take you to Wales.” Hannes’ glance feels like a flicker of dew against Levi’s cheek before his eyes are already back on Eren’s face. “Both of you?”

Eren nods, just as slowly as Hannes’ blink at been. The fluidity of the movement looks a little less human on him. “Yeah. Both of us. He’s never seen it, and it’s something that everyone should be allowed to look at once.”

Hannes lifts a hand to his mouth, the length of his index finger pressed against the space between his lower lip and the beginning of his chin. “Does your mother know that you’re planning to step on her soil for your adventure, little bear?”

Ah, a familiar feeling in the pause that stretches between them—ice across the surface of a lake, stretching from the shoreline to the center with no discernable movement beneath it. And then, “are you going to tell her?”

Hannes’ mouth moves for an answer. His lips part, and his chest inflates with whatever might come out of it. But this time, Levi breaks into the conversation first, the pieces of all the things he’d had to say falling to the tile floor, pushed from between his lips by the question already leaping from his tongue.

“Does she need to know?” Levi asks, and he can feel his eyebrows rising in a way that has to look incredulous.

For a second, the only sound in the hallway is the humming of the lightbulbs. Not even the shadows still shifting inside the morgue—or not-the-morgue—have nothing to add to the lack of noise. But then Hannes laughs, just as loudly as he had when he’d seen Eren standing in the doorway, and it really is a fucking blessing that the morgue is located so far beneath the hospital proper. There’s been so much noise down here tonight already.

“I can see why you’re a friend of Eren’s!” Hannes scatters his words like coins, letting them clatter wherever they land. Some of them sound heavier than others—particularly when he continues by saying, “are you sure that you want to make the walk?”

It feels like a challenge, even if it isn’t one. Levi knows it isn’t one. And yet his teeth grind together and his jaw sets, and he can feel stubbornness pushing rods through the center of his bones. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“You’re human, right?” Hannes lifts one of his eyebrows, cocking out one hip in a way that reminds Levi so much of Eren, even as Eren himself is covering his eyes with one hand. The question isn’t left in the air long enough for Levi to answer before Hannes is already pushing forward, “right. Travelling through Doorways isn’t something that mankind just does. We’ll be walking Between—and mortal eyes weren’t meant to see that.”

so what? is the response already crawling its way up Levi’s throat. But Eren takes the conversation between two fingers, and for the first time since Levi had met him, his is the softest voice present.

“You know the story of Eurydice,” he says, and it’s not a question. “This would be... similar but different. You’d have to keep your eyes closed and hold onto my hand so that you don’t get lost, or trip over anything or...” He trails off, dropping his hand from his eyes, and his lips are pressed thin. He doesn’t keep speaking.

Levi sighs, and it tastes like Eren’s magic. Tension that he hadn’t even felt gathering bleeds out from his shoulders. When he speaks, it isn’t to Hannes—if he can have a conversation without Levi being involved, well, the reverse is just as true. “I can see why you didn’t open with that originally, but you probably should’ve explained what we were going to do.”

Eren’s skin goes gray, a little, the color bleeding out of his cheeks. “It’s not exactly a selling point. It’s also not very—“ his lips twist and his eyes drop to the floor. “I can’t open Doorways myself. I need someone else to—“ The same expression, for the second time, and then nothing.

“Eren,” Levi says, “just ask me again. Give me the uncensored version of what we’re going to do tonight.” Silence, stony and filled with the humming of the lights and the trailing edges of rainwater and heather and soil. “You keep asking me to trust you. Return the favor, and ask me again.”

A sudden influx of color back into Eren’s face, turning his cheeks dark. It’s funny, really. He looks embarrassed, only this time he’d done it to himself, more-or-less.

“Fine,” Eren replies. “Okay. Levi, do you want walk through an uncomfortable number of dead people so that we can go to my childhood home for a couple hours to see the sunrise?” Levi can see his jaw working around an expected refusal, just like he can see Hannes’ eyes flickering between them both from where he stands at Eren’s side.

It really is comical—and a little bit sad, the way Eren’s face walls itself up like that.

It is then that Levi says, “yes, I’d love to, thanks for asking.”

What’s funnier, of course, is what happens when Eren’s surprised—and besides, it’s only fair that Levi return that favor, in pieces. He doesn’t think he’ll ever really be able to outdo Eren when it comes to the unexpected. But this face? The way Eren’s eyebrows are arching and his face just relaxes, the way his cheeks can’t seem to decide just how deep they want their color to go, the way his eyes can’t seem to settle anywhere on Levi’s face? That’s good enough, he thinks.

Hannes’ palm against Eren’s shoulder breaks the chatter of the hospital’s electrical equipment, and the smile on his face deepens the furrows by his mouth, his eyes, across the bridge of his nose.

“Kid,” Hannes says, shifting his arm to hold Eren’s neck in the crook of his elbow, even as he’s met with half-murmured swears, “I think I like him.”

Eren shoves him away as he makes a face, stepping just out of reach, smoothing out his clothes with one hand. He shakes out his hair in an attempt to settle it, to fix the admiration that it had been through. It doesn’t help.

He turns to Levi with an open hand, looking totally abashed—fucking embarrassed, like he can’t believe any of the exchanges just took place in the middle of the hallway in a hospital basement. But his eyes are shining, and there’s still a fraction of a piece of a smile holding tightly to his lips.

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Eren asks. Levi watches the way his mouth works his way around the words as he says them, watches the way his eyelashes kiss the bruise-colored smudges beneath his eyes. “It really is uncomfortable. And you really can’t open your eyes.”

Concern, soft in the hollows beneath Eren’s cheekbones.

Levi’s pretty sure he still wants to kiss him.

(“we’re running for the door,” Eren had told him, had smelled so strongly of his own magic, and his eyes had been catching the planetarium light like the stars they’d been in another life. His voice had been threatening to buckle beneath barely-contained laughter. “hold your breath.” His fingers had been warm, and solid, and callused.

Levi’s read poems like this, over the course of his life—read poems and heard stories about mysterious and magical strangers that bewitch mortal souls. They’ve been written in religious texts and novels, passed through oral traditions and painted on murals.

He’d known then, just like he knows now, how tales like this often end.)

“I’m ready, I won’t open my eyes, and you’re taking your sweet fucking time,” Levi replies, and Eren laughs in a way that brings to mind fog on the surface of Puget Sound, curling between the support pillars of different piers along the city’s coast. It raises the hairs at the back of Levi’s neck, like everything else Eren does when his voice looks like that, when his face looks like that, when he looks at Levi like that.

He doesn’t kiss him in this hallway, with the mortal-looking stranger watching them both.

But he does take Eren’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and the fluorescent lights hum softly as they step into the shadows where the morgue should’ve been.

(Franz’s blood had still been flaking from his knees as they’d walked through the Doorway between life and its after. The shadows had whispered, had brushed over Eren’s body like worn cotton, had opened up into a barely-visible pathway made of cobblestones.

Thick branches had poised themselves in a canopy, too tightly woven to let through any in any light. Ravens and turtledoves murmured together, somewhere out of Eren’s line of sight—but that wasn’t saying much. There hadn’t been a whole lot within his line of sight to begin with, except the vague shapes that hurt his eyes to look at, the curve of Hannes’ shoulders, and the shape of Franz Kefka, holding Eren’s bicep with a rigid grip.

Levi’s hand had been shaking in Eren’s own.

The shadows in front of them had trembled when Hannes turned his head to speak, their movement making Eren’s head swim, rattling against the city-noise beating against the inside of his skull. “you don’t look very well, kiddo,” he’d said, and it had sounded as if his voice had been coming from far away, from the mouth of a tunnel, from behind a too-thick wall. “been firing all pistons lately?”

Eren had squeezed Levi’s hand, once. He’d heard Franz’s labored breathing beside him, bubbling softly through the hole in his chest. He’d been able to feel the way his blood had been congealing on his own knees, had been able to hear the cracked-ice laughter of the Sluagh.

He’d been able to taste his own blood in his mouth, and had wiped at his nose with his thumb.

“you know what they say,” Eren had replied, his words almost getting lost in the chatter of too-many ravens, still tucked away in the dark. “no rest for the wicked, and all of that shit.”

He’d been rewarded with no laughter, and if there’d been a sigh it had been lost in the ambient noises of the path they’d chosen—whispered last words and faded memories, vestiges of the dead as they made their way into the world that comes after. More than memories lived in that place.

A child’s laughter, somewhere—familiar. Heather and rainwater—and then the taste of river-mud and reeds. The pop of bubbles as they’d rose to the surface. The flicker of green eyes in a break between the shadows, the glimmer of water clinging to the eyelashes there, mud beneath fingernails stuck to the soles of shoes.

And beneath all of that, the smell of his mother’s magic—cedar wood incense and rose water.

“we’re almost there,” Eren had said, keeping his eyes forward even as he’d been speaking over his shoulder, had raised his voice to make himself heard over the rasp of Franz’s breathing. “you okay?”

“please tell me that this shit will be easier on the return trip,” Levi had replied. He’d spoken softly, had almost thrown his voice onto the cobblestones to hide against the moss there. His eyes had been closed, squeezed shut, and Eren had only barely been able to see the dead curling around his shoulders like mist.

“this shit will be easier on the return trip.”

A sigh had rattled Levi’s shoulders, even if Eren had been unable to hear it. “you mean that?”

Eren had held Levi’s fingers, then. He’d squeezed them tightly as he’d watched Hannes turn his head to eavesdrop. “do you want me to swear, like, an oath or something? i think I’ve got enough juice for that. ‘if I’m a liar, turn me into a toad,’ or... whatever.”

Laughter, and it had been surprising. “no,” Levi had told him, and Eren had been sure he had no idea what that kind of thing did to him. It felt like someone had been squeezing his heart between two hands. “you’re always saying what a shit liar you are.”

“i am,” Eren had said, and the cobblestones had begun to turn into grass under the soles of his shoes.

“and i trust you.”

Hannes’ shape had fleshed out, had become outlined in the undecided dimness of late-night-early-morning. Eren had seen the shadows beginning to break around him, had been almost able to catch the smell of the moorlands, underneath the pathways of the dead.

“yeah.” Eren’s voice was an obstruction in his throat, and it had tasted of the blood in his nose. “i know you do.”)

God above, he’s missed this fucking place.

The cemetery at the cathedral smells like the rest of town—like moorland and recent rain, like the lingering weight of gasoline and winter settling in, like old brick and the rivers on either one of its ends. It’s fucking nostalgic, reeks of childhood memories, and even with Seattle beating its rhythm at the back of his skull, he can feel the magic here. Sure, it isn’t his own, and he’s not even sure he could use it, now that it’s been so long, but he can feel it, and it makes his chest ache.

It also makes him a little bit nauseous.

“You’re good to open your eyes,” Eren’s breath comes out white when he speaks, and his free hand trembles as he wipes at a line of blood that keeps trying to leak from his nose.

“A cemetery,” Levi says from his place at Eren’s shoulder, and he sounds entirely unimpressed with where they’d ended up. But the chill is already bringing color back into his cheeks, and his hand only shaking a little within the grip of Eren’s own from the—the walk they’d just taken. “We’re in a cemetery.”

“We started in a morgue,” Eren replies. “Doorways like this connect one place where dead people are to another. It’s how gravekeepers get around.” He nods at Hannes in front of them, lounging against a headstone that might be as old as he is, moss clinging to its base. “That’s, uh—he’s one. They... collect the dead. Help them move on.”

“So they’re like the Grim Reaper, but multiplied.” Eren’s heard this tone before. It’s the calm before the storm—the kind prefaced by the noise of the Hunt, or the whisper of water leaking from a broken pipe and onto shattered concrete, or the absolute freezing feeling of an autopsy table against the naked skin of his backside.

“And better dressed.” Hannes looks up at them both, his eyes looking some weird, incandescent orange-yellow from the lights at the edges of the graveyard’s wall. It’s unsettling, even when Eren knows they’re blue. “But don’t you youngsters have a sunrise you’re waiting for? A night on the town to experience? Trouble to inevitably get me in?”

“Ha-ha.” His own footsteps are silent against the stairs, though Levi’s are just half-a-sigh louder as he follows behind him, their hands still linked. Eren doesn’t know who’s supposed to let go first. He’s never actually led someone through a Door before. “You’re funny. We’ll meet you back here just after sun-up?”

There are questions crowding Hannes expressions, and they look nothing like the questions Levi asks him. There’s too much worry there from too long ago, and there’s catching up he wants to do, and all of it is digging into Eren’s skin with half-bitten nails, their jagged edges looking for purchase.

It’d been risky to do this. He’d known that going in. Hannes had always had a place at his mother’s ear, just like he also knew a shitload of Eren’s history, and all his baby stories, and all the—everything. It’s a test, maybe. Eren’s testing himself, and he’s testing Hannes, and he’s testing... Levi?

No. That isn’t what he’s doing.

He’s sharing.

His family and the place he grew up. The views from his childhood, the way this town smells, the side streets and the landmarks, the Welsh-written streetsigns and the—rivers.

Feels more like a romantic comedy when he puts it like that.

“I’ll be here,” Hannes says into the silence that had stretched just a little bit too long. “Try not to get carried away. I know how kids today can be when they have a night off.” A smile pulls at his stubble, nudges his eyebrows up his forehead like there’s something hidden in what he’s saying, and this feels like something that could’ve happened in any number of novels that he’d read. Over dinner, maybe. With less ravens and more—whatever. He doesn’t know. More something.

The ground is somewhere between hard-and-soft beneath their feet as they cross the cemetery-proper, weaving between cross-shaped headstones and polished stone nameplates. The grass hisses with the sharp edges of winter frost every step of the way.

Levi’s fingers are still a vice on his own. They’ve gone numb.

Neither of them say anything as they reach the edge of the churchyard itself, the single-lane road stretching past their feet and into the town itself, almost-leafless trees standing to either side of the street itself. It’s a little bit atmospheric, this early in the morning. Smells like ancient magic, rising from the dirt, mingling with the newer, electric hum of modernity sitting in the powerlines and on roadways, sleeping in houses or working a restaurant.

And so Eren decides to ruin the atmosphere by speaking.

“So,” he says, a breeze whispering through empty boughs as it dances down the street, “I’m sorry about the... walk. The... Door. The...”

“Shut up.” Eren hadn’t thought that Levi’s grip could get much tighter, and is proven wrong. “I was just—surprised. I didn’t expect—“ Words in the shape of fog, a sharp exhale that looks like steam, and then, “the description was a little vague. I guess I just—“ Another pause, this time emphasized by thinning lips. “What do you hear, when you walk through a—a Door?”

Ivy glitters with frost across the road, clinging to a stone wall of the same make as the one at their backs. Eren keeps his eyes there when he replies, “that’s a complicated question.”

“‘Complicated’ like you don’t want to tell me?” It’s not an accusation per se—it’s like Levi’s waiting to decide if it’s an accusation or not. Eren hadn’t known there was a tone for that. “Or ‘complicated’ like I’d need a degree in—that.”

Eren snorts, and he can feel what’s left of his nosebleed freeze inside his nostrils. “It’s complicated like it’s complicated. The—we literally walked through dead people. What you hear depends on who’s haunting you at the time. If it’s nobody, it’s white noise, or ambient shit. Like—wind through tree branches. Crows or something cawing from some indeterminate distance. Rain on cobblestones.” It’s too cold for his palms to sweat, but he can feel them trying. “What’d you hear?”

Another breeze, and then silence settles again. It’s quiet enough that Eren can almost hear the dryads snoring beneath the bark of their trees. A Barghest howls, out in the moors somewhere, and another one answers—and another one. The sounds raise goosebumps under the collar of his jacket as they fade into... music? Into—laughter, out in the darkness and far away.

Well, he supposes, it is the faerie time of year. He’d just forgotten what rural fae were like.

Eren clears his throat to break the stalemate between the wind and the distant celebration of the fae. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t’ve asked. That was—it’s different for everybody, is what I mean—“

“Flatlines.” Levi interrupts him, and it’s quick enough that it hits the asphalt like he’d spit it there, breaking into pieces like glass. “Flatlines, like on heart monitors? Crash carts. The high-pitched whine of one charging. Someone was crying, but I—“ The ivy trembles as the nighttime drags its fingers through the leaves, and Eren watches it. “You said that—you said the return trip would be easier.”

Despite their grip, Levi’s fingers are pliant enough when Eren squeezes them gently. “Yeah. You should just hear pretty standard ‘meditation sounds’ on the way back. Going through a Door keeps the dead firmly where they belong.” Eren hums, lifting his gaze from the ivy to the stars, pinned to the sky like silver dust. Fuck, he’d forgotten that there’d been so many. “Ghosts usually hang around when they feel like they’re leaving someone behind without... support? Gratitude? I don’t know. Sounds like you were haunted.”

He thinks of the specters he’d seen curling around Levi’s body, even obscured by the Otherworld’s shadows as they’d been. They’d wanted to say something—but then, the dead always leave something unsaid.

(Tonight had, in the simplest of terms, been fucking rough.

Franz’s blood had been congealing on Eren’s knees, leaking from any number of wounds. His chest had been pulled open, a hole carved out in his ribcage. His eyes had been open and staring at nothing, and his skin had been white enough that his veins had looked like scripture against it.

Blood had been caked on his fingers, too. Had gotten beneath his fingernails as he’d checked for a pulse.

It had made him want to vomit, the way it’d felt almost like gel by then.

But he didn’t.)

“Did you know that?” Levi sounds a little bit incredulous, and Eren can almost trace the way his nose must be wrinkling one particular line of stars. “That I was being haunted by shit, and you didn’t tell me?”

Eren’s lips are chapped when he rolls them over his teeth, but he smiles anyway. “Nah, didn’t know for sure. I can’t see dead people. I didn’t get blessed with that skill. Can’t fucking raise the dead either.” A wisp of a cloud blurs a fraction of the stars in his field of vision as it makes its way to the—east? Toward the sun. “But I could’ve guessed, yeah. You were a surgeon.”

“So, what, you decided that we’d go to Wales for a cleanse?” Ah. Yeah, that’s definitely incredulity, and definitely an accusation. And it’s just a little bit unwarranted, really. Levi has a habit of making Eren out to be far kinder than he is, in some ways.

“No,” Eren tells him. “I decided to go to Wales because you took me to—you showed me where you—“ It’s difficult to describe what Levi had shown him in a way that makes sense. Eren can already feel himself failing. “Well, anyway, we live in your hometown, and I thought that—I—“ Shit, his head hurts, and he can feel his sinuses getting ready to leak blood again, and for a second the sky sways, even though he’s standing completely still. “I wasn’t actually thinking, probably. Call it whimsy. The exorcism was just a bonus. But congratulations, you’ll probably sleep even better, charm-free.”

In the second-third-fourth silence that follows, Eren wonders if Hannes might be eavesdropping on them from the graveyard at their backs. And just as quickly he decides he doesn’t care overmuch if he is. So what? He already knew they were coming to Wales, and the only thing Eren had done was present as an inarticulate tool. Nothing new.

The branches rattle and Levi’s grip eases on Eren’s fingers, but he doesn’t let them go.

“You sure as shit don’t give yourself a lot of credit,” Levi says.

“Maybe you just give me too much.” How can their hands be as warm as they are when it’s this fucking cold? “But did you want to actually start walking in the direction of the moors, or did you just want to stand, like, ten meters from where we got dropped off?”

Levi’s laughter is like—a firework. A cannon. The—the breathless sound of tires on asphalt that’s been layered over by fresh rain. Or—Eren doesn’t know. But he lets go of Eren’s hand to press his fingers to his mouth, muffling anything else with them, digging his teeth into his lower lip with a snort.

He’s gorgeous, Eren thinks. Some kind of stunning. The kind of beautiful that doesn’t feel toxic when it’s touched.

The human kind of extraordinary that his mom had told him stories about.

(“humankind is beautiful,” she’d said, and she hadn’t even known she’d think herself a liar one day. Her finger had been soft against his cheek. “like you.”)

“Okay, fine. Let’s see what this is all about,” Levi says, his cheeks pink but colored like grapefruit with the streetlight positioned as it is. “Lead the way.” The stormclouds of his eyes look backlit by moonlight when he smiles, tucking his hands back into the pockets of his coat. “I get to keep my eyes open for the tour part, right?”

“You think I’m not funny, but you ask me that?” Eren’s legs feel stiff as he starts walking toward the intersection down the street, but he thinks he can feel laughter somewhere in his body. Maybe in the warmth of his palms. “But yes, you get to keep your eyes open. Otherwise you’ll miss all the pointing that I’ll be doing for your benefit.”

There’s still a wan-ness to Levi’s cheeks as he smiles, and there are still shadows beneath his eyes, but his shoulders seem lighter when he says, “right. So what’ve we got to the left and right?”

Eren gestures with a flourish of his wrist, holding his hand, palm-up, to the right. “Well, to the right we have the River Clwyd way, way over there, and we’ll be heading that way last. To our left, past all these buildings and shit, we have the River Elwy, which is what this place is named for.”

The street is empty as they take their left, and Levi hums. It carries far in the almost-stillness. “Tell me the name of this place again.”

“Llanelwy. Church on the River Elwy. Saint Asaph in the, you know, conqueror’s tongue.”

“Ha.” Levi’s fingers brush against the stone façade of buildings in the cathedral’s style, a sigh in the sporadically-broken dark. “It’s got two Ls though. You say ‘chan-elway.’”

“Nope.” Eren’s feet are moving in a way that doesn’t feel natural here. It’s all city-pulse and the push-pull of the tide, all noise and the end of academic semesters, all Sluagh and the—and the coming winter solstice. “I say Llanelwy, you just can’t make that sound with your mouth because you weren’t taught. You can say Saint Asaph, if you want.”

Eren knows that exact expression—the set of Levi’s jaw and the almost-scathing glace. It’s the look that said ‘i don’t want to forget anything,’ the one that demanded answers. “No. I’ll figure it out, thanks.” He scuffs the heel of one shoe against the sidewalk, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders. “So you were born here? Seems kind of small for a personality like yours.”

He can taste the hint of saltwater, can feel it hitting the back of his tongue to mingle with—with riverwater. With riverwater and mud and the last swell of air in his—“Technically, I was born one town over in Bodelwyddan, because the hospital’s there, but more-or-less this is it.”

It’s just this side of hilarious when Levi’s eyebrows arch as he tries to figure out how to spell whatever it is that had come out of Eren’s mouth. It’s funnier still to watch him work his mouth around the syllables. “It’s fucking quiet. I thought this was one of those places that was supernatural central, where all the fae stories come from.”

The smell of Indian takeaway rises from up the street, one of the only places open so early, before the sun has the opportunity to even get a leg up on the stars. Eren doesn’t remember if it had been there when he was younger or not. Probably not. His stomach growls anyway.

“It is where the stories come from, yeah,” Eren says. “Because of that, smaller towns tend to mind their own business, and the faeries tend to live outside them. Mortals here and up north? They’re fucking superstitious, and they’re more likely to be able to catch glimpses of—the fae, of us—than, say, anyone who lives back home. The nightlife over there? A community within a city. The nightlife over here?” He shrugs and his shoulders grind in their sockets. “Children have a bedtime for a reason. People that don’t usually have someone they pray to, or made a deal with something that lives in the middle of some farmland no one’s touched in years.”

“So how’d you get by, then?” Eren can already see the question was a reflex, can see the way Levi shuts his in the split-second of regret. It’s not a new expression by any means, but it hurts, still. Stings, a little. “I—sorry. That wasn’t the right—“

“Kids like me age like—like people.”

“Eren, what the fuck, you’re still people—“

“Kids like me age like people until we hit our magic, and then everything slows down. I guess the fae genetic system kicks in when a human would hit some sort of puberty, and then it staves that off until fuck knows when.” Christ, that takeaway place smells good. He really shouldn’t’ve burned through his magic like he had. He really should’ve at least tucked a granola bar in his back pocket. “Besides, no one’s going to say, ‘I think your kid or your wife or whoever is a soul-sucker.’ Most of the time.”

Disbelief gives way to bemusement, gives way to displeasure, gives way to, “most of the time.” Levi’s nose wrinkles, and he kicks a loose stone down the slope ahead of them, lined with closed restaurants and the single Indian takeaway place, with businesses and parked cars. The can hear it long after it disappears from view. “Eren.”

Levi slows to a stop, just ahead of him, and he turns his body so that they’re facing one another. At his back is the rest of High Street, the River Elwy, the rest of town—the home that Eren had grown up in. His eyes are liquid mercury, circling a black hole.

“Uh,” Eren says. “Yes?”

“What do you hear when you go through a Door?” The breeze is playing with the ends of Levi’s hair, and this is a picture to savor. It’s—something else. Levi, and the town he grew up in. Levi, and his cheeks are pink and his lips are chapped and his face is so, so serious. Levi, and Eren, and magic that he hasn’t tasted in a long, long time.

God, he wants to kiss him. That’s the least romantic question ever, and Eren wants to kiss him anyway.

“I told you. Depends on what baggage you bring.” His breath is white, then peach under the streetlight, then gone.

“That’s not what I asked. What do you hear? Not, like, generally.” Eyelashes against Levi’s cheek when he blinks.

Eren’s lips are dry when he draws his tongue over them. “Depends. I don’t—I mean, it’s not like I use Doorways all the time. I haven’t—it’s been years. Tonight got a little crazy, I guess, so I’m just tired, and I—I took someone with me. I relocated him, before. He was a changeling. He’d—you know.” The pause feels like an ice sheet waiting to break, but Levi doesn’t say anything. Just waits. “Connie and I listen to police chatter, emergency calls, all that. It’s how we—before a changeling ends up in a morgue, you know?”

Levi doesn’t laugh, or smile—but he blinks, drops his eyes to Eren’s knees, and he frowns.

(Whispers from the shadows, laughter, and the smell of death-and-ice, or a frozen corpse, of something mummified crawling out of a too-cold tomb. There’d been four, maybe. Just enough to cause a problem, but not enough to take him out for good, maybe.

Someone had been playing with their food. Again.

Hands, grabbing for his thighs, covered in Franz’s blood. Shocks of magic that connected more often than not, but where ultimately unimpressive. Eren’s heart beating in his own throat, the last Slaugh falling hard on an iron knife that had hissed against his skin when it had connected.

A wheezing sort of laugh, a dying whisper, “you stole something from us. return it.”

Maybe it hadn’t been so surprising that there’d been a ghost tagging along with him.)

Eren continues, wiping and his nose. “Anyway, rough night. His name was Franz, and he followed me, I guess. I’d hoped he’d been dead long enough, that it wouldn’t be a problem. But he’d been bait, and I’d fallen for it.” His palms are sweating officially, now. It’s uncomfortable in this weather. “But that’s rare, really. Hardly ever meet a fresh corpse, and it’s not like I was you, carrying around all of... that.” That almost makes Levi smile. Eren can see it at the corners of his mouth. “Usually, I guess, I just hear me.”

An exhale, like a falling rock. Levi’s hand comes up to his own chest and presses against his sternum like he’d been hit there. “That’s—a little fucked up, don’t you think?”

When Eren snorts, his head aches. He hates that expression on Levi’s face. Hates the fact that he’s the one that put it there, too.

(Riverwater. Mud. Hands in grasses too slimy to get a grip on. Hand on the back of his head.

Life, bursting around him, filling up his mouth as he’d died the first time.)

“Hadn’t really noticed.” Eren knows there’s sweat on his palm, just like he knows that it’s cold outside. He knows that calluses always feel worse in cold weather, just like he knows that he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But he offers his hand for Levi to take, lets the chill tease at the back of his neck with a gentle touch. “But come on. I’m tour-guiding, not trying to harsh our vibe.”

Levi watches. Waits. And the breeze caresses his face, softly. “How come all this shit happens to you?”

“I’m a capable young man,” Eren tells him, wiggling his fingers. “And I’ve got you, right? Mr. ‘I-agree-to-crazy-shit-like-transatlantic-travel-for-fun.’ Keeping me on time and all that shit. A fucking enabler of all my terrible habits, like verbal puzzles and caffeine addiction. Some people aren’t so lucky. They’re just grumpy.”

“Shut up.” Levi takes his hand, falling into step beside him as they walk in the opposite direction, toward the farmland moors and the River Clwyd. “I told you before, maybe I always wanted to get stolen away on some bullshit adventure. You’re—fucking unbelievable. I—“ There it is. The vice grip, returned in all its glory. “I’m... sorry. For all the... stuff.” When Levi clears his throat, it sounds like sand in a glass jar. “So... Hannes seems nice.”

“He is,” Eren agrees. “Mostly. After we—“ A raven, chattering above the takeaway restaurant, ruffling its feathers against the cold. “After we moved from here, my mom was always busy. Like, Hannes was my babysitter before, but he was around all the time while we were in Cardiff, and then in London. I didn’t know he’d moved to the Pacific ‘til today. I just assumed he’d still be here.”

“It was always just me and my mom,” Levi says after two moments’ worth of silence. “At home, I mean. My father was a piece of shit, I’m pretty sure, and so was my uncle. We did just fine.”

It’s—equal, when Levi does that. That’s not shocking. There’d been the planetarium, the surgical atrium, the—his fucking birthday. But there’s a level of equivalence in this tit-for-tat whatever-they’re-doing that feels... overwhelming. Like—like ‘here, this is mine,’ and ‘okay, here’s mine.’

This isn’t magic, but it feels like it is. It’s too old for words.

“Hannes was—I mean, he was kind of my dad.” It feels strange, saying that out loud. It’s not something he’s ever admitted before. Then again, he supposes that he’s not quite a teenager anymore. “But don’t tell him I said that. He’s the one who taught me to swear, to throw shit, to... I don’t know. Be... human, I guess.”

“Isn’t that weird? For a—a faerie.”

Eren laughs, barely loud enough to scrape the roof of his mouth, and there’s a mix of energy in his mouth. Seattle and Llanelwy, old and new, moorland peat and asphalt. “He’s not a faerie. He’s human, just like you. Well—not just like you. But like you.”

Levi’s eyebrows arch, and his breath can be seen on puffs of white as they climb back up the hill they’d come from. The sky is softening into a deep purple, melting underneath the weight of what’s to come. “Okay, so, do you want me to actually ask the question, or are you just going to tell me?”

“Because I’m kind and giving, I’m going to tell you,” Eren says into Levi’s laughter, echoing down the street, probably hitting the Clwyd like a skipping stone. “He’s dead, but he’s like... an employee. He works for—he works for my mom. Only humans can do this job, usually. Lesser fae that’re made for this shit ride with the Hunt, punish souls, all that. Fuck if I know why. But it’s another way someone can make a bargain with the fae—service, for your life. I’m sure you’ve heard of deals like those.”

Their feet, hissing against the concrete. Music, still going in the distance. Whatever fae they are, they’re almost certainly off their faces by now, wasted on wine aged for this season. “He works for your mom.” A laugh, killed early, and it turns into a scoff. “I should’ve put that together. He—“ Levi shakes his head, looks down, looks up again, “he’s nice, kid.”

“I know.” Eren changes their direction, transitioning them from the sidewalk to grass, the soil beneath their feet the same hard-soft mixture of the graveyard. “Shit, though, keep this up, and you’ll meet my whole family eventually. Connie’ll brag that he met you first.”

There’s... something complicated happening on Levi’s face just then. A twist of his lips, a furrow between his brows—and then, a smile. It’s small, but fuck if it isn’t a smile so soft that it makes the scenery around them look like watercolor. “You’re pretty shitty at keeping me out of your goddamn business, huh?”

Levi’s lips would be chapped beyond belief if they kissed right now. Eren’s heart flutters under his ribs at the thought of that.

“You’re just really great at being nosy, more like. I’d been doing fine at it, before.”

Levi takes a breath and holds it before he lets it out like steam from a train, letting it rise toward the sky that’s getting lighter. The stars have already started to fade into pinpricks. “That? I’m not sorry for.”

“I really didn’t expect you to be, but thanks anyway.”

The grass crunches beneath their feet, stiff as it is with the frost that’s covering everything else. Will-o’-wisps dance in pairs farther along the shrub-line, some of them ducking toward the jagged edges of the trees. Eren can almost hear them whispering, even from this far away. If he shuts his eyes, it’s almost distinct—the will-o’-wisps, the faerie songs, the sound of practically silent paws on damp soil, the breeze between the frozen grasses making the scenery sing like windchimes.

Even the Seattle inside his head can appreciate peace like this.

In the center of someone’s private properly, just out of view of the River Clwyd, Eren stops.

With Eren’s fingers held in his own, Levi can’t help but follow suit.

His hand is cold when he lets Levi go, shrugging his jacket from his shoulders, shaking it out to drape it over the frosted-over ground. Here, there are almost no obstructions to the horizon, barring some trees rising from the river’s shoreline and some shrubbery put in lines that make attempts at squares to denote one person’s land from someone else’s.

Eren is sure that there are faerie rings that the shrubs were built around.

“Aren’t you going to freeze your fucking fingers off?” Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest, and there’s stubbornness tensing up the lines of his shoulders. “Is this necessary?”

Eren shifts his weight between his feet, curling the fingers of one hand under his chin. “I guess we could stand, or sit on the cold, probably-wet ground as if the hallway in the hospital’s basement wasn’t freezing enough, but, you know, it’s your choice.”

Silence, but not really. Faerie-music and wisp-whispers, wind across the dirt and through trees. The sky is going pink while they stand there. And then, “fine. But I’m buying coffee on the way back to your place.” Another pause that’s anything but silent, because Eren can feel his heartbeat drumming in his ears. There’s a dryness to his throat that has nothing to do with the cold. Because—“If... I can walk you home,” Levi continues. “I know it’s been the other way around, but we’re—“

Levi sets his jaw and Eren wants to kiss him. He doesn’t know what he wants to say to that, sure, but fucking hell does he want to kiss him.

“I want to walk you home,” Levi says. “I want you to let me walk you home. For once.”

Gold is beginning at the edge of the horizon to the east. Eren’s surprised that he can see that from here, because he feels like he ought to be laid out on the ground from the—the weight of that. Or something.

“Okay,” Eren says, and his voice comes out a hiss. He clears his throat and tries again. “Okay, sure. But can we get, like... food instead?”

Levi blinks at him, once. Blinks twice. And then—that fucking smile. That watercolor smile. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll finally be even.”

nah, Eren wants to say, even as the words get stuck in his throat. i don’t really think we’ll ever be even.

With a cough that still tastes like blood, even though his nosebleeds have probably frozen in his sinuses for the second time, he takes a seat on the jacket, beckoning Levi down with one hand. “Whatever. Sit down, the show’s about to start. This is what we came here for.”

Levi snorts, easing onto the ground in a way that he can keep his knees close to his chest, and he looks up, watching. The dimness smudges the edges between his profile and the world around them. Eren’s chest feels tight, and he wonders if he’ll survive this.

Sunrises are slow things, after all.

“You know something?” Levi says. Eren watches the way he says it.

“What?”

“This place smells like you.” It’s almost a whisper, and the sun is cresting, like a whale in water. Light begins to make its way toward them. “Your magic. It’s weird, but—“ Levi makes a face, and his eyelashes are golden. “But I can see this place in you, a little. Even when you’re definitely some city-kid.”

“Says the guy with a Prius, born in a metropolis.” It’s taking a ridiculous amount of effort to move his jaw like this, to speak like this, when all he wants to do is take Levi’s face between his hands and hope that there isn’t any more blood beneath his fingernails. He wants to know if Levi’s cheeks would warm up beneath his palms as he brought their faces together for a—

Eren pulls his eyes away, and looks out at the fields.

The sunlight catches on some treetops, works its way around their shadows, and turns the frosted grass into a kaleidoscope of color. Each blade turns into a tiny prism, throwing different perspectives of the visible spectrum of light in a thousand directions. It stretches toward them by inches, and it’s mostly red, and it’s gorgeous, and the light is hurting Eren’s eyes to look at it. It’s making them water.

Eyes like his weren’t made for sunlight, really.

But god, just listen to Levi talk.

“Holy shit,” Levi says beside him, and he’s shifting from holding onto his knees to sitting on his knees, watching the movement of the sun along the grass with one hand shading his eyes from the glare. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Eren, what the fuck.”

“Didn’t I tell you so?” Eren makes his voice a sing-song, some bastardization of a simple spell that he really doesn’t have the juice for, but does it anyway. “I told you there was nothing else like a Welsh sunrise.”

Eren presses his fingers into the dirt behind him and pushes out.

His magic is hot in his mouth, tastes like the countryside, like heather and rainwater, and he can feel the electricity of it hurtling through his circulatory system like he was sitting right in the middle of Seattle itself. A wind that’s not in any way natural whips through the grasses, shifting the prisms from red to gold, gold to orange, orange to pink, and back again, as if they’d been sitting in the middle of the ocean.

It sends two chisels of pain right behind his eyes, makes his nose go warm and oozy, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s going to felt like he’d been hit by a train tomorrow.

But Levi’s looking at the horizon, and his eyes are shining, and one of his hands is reaching out to hold onto Eren’s shoulder. He’s shaking him, and he’s laughing, a little, and there will be beautiful laughlines on Levi’s face later in life.

“You were fucking right,” Levi says, and he sounds like he’d just got done running around the world, and Eren catches his nosebleed with his thumb before Levi turns to look at him, before Eren can see his pupils go wide with awe, before he can see the way his eyes move back and forth along Eren’s face.

Eren wonders what he has to look like, in lighting like this. Wonders if he wears a sunrise half as well as Levi does.

“Hey,” Levi says, and the back of his hand is pressed to Eren’s cheek. It’s cold against his face. “You okay? Your... eyes are watering.”

“Yeah,” Eren says, and there’s a willpower he didn’t know he had that’s keeping him from leaning into Levi’s touch. “Homesick. Fucking thrilled. You should see your face.”

Levi scoffs, shoves at his cheek with no malice, with good humor, with an almost-laugh. He turns his attention back to the sunrise, keeping one hand pressed to his brows to make sure he doesn’t go blind from it, to make sure he doesn’t miss a second of the way the world looks when it’s freshly bathed in the morning.

Eren sniffles and tastes blood.

“Thank you,” Levi tells him, and maybe there’s water in his eyes too. “Holy shit, thank you for this.”

This is worth it, one hundred percent.

(When the bell above the shop door rings, it will be two-twenty-nine in the morning, Pacific Time, and Eren’s head will be fucking killing him. The city will be too noisy in his head, he’ll feel like his hands were never made of anything lighter than scrap metal, and his feet will definitely bring to mind the idea of cinderblocks, duct-taped to his ankles.

Connie will know right away, because Eren’s done this before.

But Levi will have two boxes of pizza, and they’ll still be hot, and Eren’s nose won’t quite be threatening to bleed anymore. Right then, anyway.

“oh,” Connie will say, and the store will smell like his magic—like cinnamon and maple syrup—and there will be some bullshit horror movie playing on his laptop, dyeing the wall behind him in faded shades of grey-white. “shit. hi, doctor-medical-examiner levi.”

“it’s just levi,” will be the reply. Eren will already be leaning against the counter, will already be dusting away the feeling of blood on his knees. Wales will have left the taste of memories between his teeth. “but i brought pizza. somebody implied he was starving.”

“somebody is always starving, because somebody is always up to something,” Connie will agree, solemnly. The pizzas will change hands, and the smell will be overwhelming. Eren’s stomach won’t be able to shut the fuck up. “are you staying? i was watching nosferatu. it’s on hulu.”

Levi will look from Connie to Eren, and Eren will feel—relief. He’ll feel—something. And he’ll smile, a little.

“yeah,” Levi will say, into the store that smells like magic. He’ll speak like he belongs there, and Eren will want him to, even as a part of him flinches, knows this is dangerous, knows this is fucking stupid. But he’s a fucking sucker for happy endings, isn’t he? “i’d planned on it.”

Connie will smile, and he will say, “then i’m going to get some plates. one sec.”

Oh yes. Fuck yes. God yes. Everything will have been worth it, standing there in Pacific Time. Even the fucking ghost he’d brought with him to the morgue.

Surely this will be something that Eren will remember for the rest of his life.)

#ryssafic #snk #shingeki no kyojin #ereri #eren jaeger #levi heichou #connie springer #hannes #dead on arrival #faereri au #faerie au #wheezes softly and with much desperation #i did it

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