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dreamyinception-world · 2 years

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Black and Blue: Chapter 9

Genre: College!AU + Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby!AU, Con Artist!AU, Smut, Angst, Light Fluff

WC// 11.1k (I KNOW)

[18+ content ahead, please read with caution]

Series Tags: Con Artists, Smut, Mental Health Issues, Stalking, Financial Instability, Established Sexual Relations, Blood, Gore, Violence, Sugar Baby, Sugar Daddy, Rimming, Blow Jobs

Summary: Everybody has their own secrets, some more damning and horrifying than the rest. For college best friends San, Wooyoung and Yeosang, their personal lives are nothing less than intense with each other's pasts crossing into their present day lives. All three of them are desperate for a life in which they will all finally have some peace and stability. The question is: how far are they willing to take it?

----Previous chapter---- ----Next chapter----

ch t//w: This chapter contains the following topics: mentions of prior assault towards a main character, emotional manipulation, hacking, blackmail, and revenge porn. If these topics are triggering for you or towards anyone that you know, please refrain from reading! For those who choose to continue, please proceed with caution and care. Your mental is worth more than anything.

ch s//w: fingering, 69, hair pulling, crying during sex (blissful, happy tears yer), hickies, rimming, blowjob, slight overstim, barebacking, creampie, power play (guess that’s what you could call what yunho does idk bro), slight praise kink (squint and you’ll see it)

~writer’s note~: ello, its kira. goddamn this took me more than two weeks or so to finish but fuck here we are. never have i written this much but huzzah we did it, gang gang. if there are any t/w topics that i missed, please message me so i can update them. i only know the major ones but there may be smaller ones that i’m not thinking about. don’t be afraid to reach out. i want everyone to feel seen and safe <3

[Taglist will be posted at the bottom! If you would like to be added, please feel free to message me and let me know. **Please be noted that no minors/underage people will be added to the taglist. Most of my work is 18+. If I find out you asked and you are underage, you will be blocked, no warning given**]

~x~

|| This chapter will be told from mostly Yunho’s POV using 3rd person. ||

~x~

“Mr. Jung?”

“Come in!”

There was a small shuffle of feet, the door opening slowly cracking open. A rather small girl walked in. Yunho looked up from his computer with a smile. “Ah, Chaeyoung. Do what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice always had a way of coming out sweet like honey, even when he was slammed with work.

He could never be compared to any other head department leader within the whole company. While being serious and stern when he has to be, he supports his teams. Anyone who is struggling to make ends meet, Yunho helps to carry them the rest of the way through their side of the project- alongside dealing with his own work.

Communicative, passionate, and kindhearted- these were all terms that made him so well liked while simultaneously being hated.

After shutting the door, Chaeyoung’s heels quietly danced across the tile floor until she was a few feet in front of Yunho’s desk. Pulling her iPad from under her arm, she looked at the screen. “You have been requested for a meeting with a..Son Youngtaek from the corporation known as HID.”

“HID?” He tilted his head.

“Heurit Inceptx Destiny is the full name.” Chaeyoung scrolled through the screen. “I took the liberty of doing some research on them, for your convenience.” She handed the iPad over respectfully before taking a step back, her eyes falling a bit from shyness. “I hope I wasn’t crossing a line.”

“No, of course not.” He began scrolling through the information with his eyebrows furrowed lightly.

The description of the company was extremely vague, at least from what was given by the requestor and what was found online. It read as a simple production-consumption business. However, all of the details weren’t exactly clear. Neither was the main goal/purpose of the company.

“There wasn’t a lot of information that I could find. It seemed that some of it had been wiped off of the internet after some time. However, without much background information or evidence, the company claims that we have infringed on their company production through some sort of investment?” Chaeyoung held the same level of confusion as was on Yunho’s face.

Yunho handed the iPad back to her, eyebrows pulled together harder than before.

“Should I decline? We really don’t know anything about them, nor can we get any more information from them. We can’t even clarify if their claims are real or not.” Chaeyoung’s composure tighten, almost feeling insulted by someone daring to request to see Yunho without the slightest bit of information-

“I’ll meet with them.”

Chaeyoung’s face went from frustrated to confused and completely stunned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Send them an email back saying I will meet with them, if they are serious and have ample evidence of my connection to their company, within the next hour.” Yunho leaned back with his hands folded in front of him. “If they cannot provide that, then I will not meet with them. That is my deal with them. Surely they can understand that by requesting to come here.”

Chaeyoung stood there for a minute with concern on her face, unsure if it would be appropriate to provide her opinion in the position she was in.

“Chaeyoung?”

“Y-Yes sir?” Chaeyoung perks up, eyes still laced in worry.

“I appreciate your concern. If anything goes wrong, you will be the first person I contact- as a matter of fact.” Yunho went into his desk and pulled out a small device with a button attached to it, standing up and handing it to Chaeyoung.

“What is this?”

“It’s an emergency sensor. I’ll have one too in my pocket. If anything happens, I’ll press it.” He leans down a little in her face, not enough to invade her personal space. “Does that suffice?”

Chaeyoung took a moment to compose herself, though her burning cheeks lingered behind, before nodding quickly. “Yes, sir. I will also make sure the security is on standby.” She tucked the iPad under her arm and bowed quickly. “I’ll leave you to your work now.” She left the room swiftly afterwards.

A small sigh left his lips once he was alone in the silence of his room, normally comforting him but in this moment it made him feel even the slightest bit of stress. Yunho returned to his desk and tapped his fingers lightly against it, his face remaining neutral whilst his eyes had a burn within them.

“Hm..”

~x~

If Yunho was being honest, he didn’t expect this Son Youngtaek to have evidence and information prepared within an hour.

Most who have tried to throw such heavy accusations at him came up with vague claims and evidence with so many holes in them that you could barely call it argumentative. Yet, Yunho would still give them the time of day to present their case and come to some sort of resolution to whatever issue he was able to see and seek closure.

That was with businesses that he had long time connections to. This was a different scenario altogether.

With every ounce in his being, Yunho was prepared to remain professional in his decline to any sort of meeting ground with the company if he saw there was no issue. If they truly found a problem with it afterwards, they should have no problem taking him to court over it in which then they would be able to try again in gaining more evidence about this “infringement” they speak of.

Yunho walked with a small stride, eyes closed with two tall and built men walking closely behind him. Chaeyoung led the way with her iPad clutched tightly to her chest. They had taken their time to make this meeting as civil and professional as possible. However, the assistant couldn’t help the bead of sweat that rolled down the left side of her face at the thought of this situation potentially getting ugly.

Remain calm. That’s what he told me to do. Remain calm and if he needs my help he will call me. Be professional. She let out a small sigh as they reached the door, standing on the opposite side. Eyes fierce and unwavering, her voice projected calmly. “We’re here, sir. They should be in the room now. If you are in need of any assistant, please don’t be afraid to contact me.”

Yunho’s eyes opened, relaying the same fire as they did earlier, softened by his warm smile. He nodded towards Chaeyoung before looking straight ahead, the two double doors opening to the conference room.

Inside, a smaller man sat alone in the middle area of the dark wood round table. His glasses were perched perfectly on his nose as he read through the documents in front of him. His black suede blazer had been discarded on the back of the chair next to him, his red dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows neatly. No one else resided in the room besides him, something that initially stunned Yunho upon stepping inside.

Never not once had he met a businessman who was not accompanied by some sort of bodyguard or assistant.

“Ah.” Youngtaek looked up from his notes, standing and smoothing off his pants. “My apologies, it was a little warm in here so I took off my jacket.” His eyes were sharp, taking note of Yunho’s expressions and body language.

“No need. The air conditioning system has always been a little faulty due to the building being old.” Only the small corners of Yunho’s lips curved up. The two men met halfway and shook hands out of politeness, although it was obvious that there was tension between the two. “Jung Yunho. But I’m sure you are already aware of this since you were the one that sent the email, I presume?” The sound of the door closing to the room drew Youngtaek’s attention. Especially with the presence of two larger men at either door.

“Yes.” His voice trailed off slightly as he examined the two before looking back at Yunho with a neutral expression. “Son Youngtaek. I’m here on behalf of the CEO of HID, who unfortunately couldn’t make it due to other business meetings he had to attend today. He extends his sincerest apologies, otherwise he would have come himself.”

“That’s not necessary. As a businessman myself, when duties call you must answer them.” Their hands moved back to their sides with Yunho motioning for the two of them to sit down at the table. Once they were both comfortable, he let out a small sigh, smiling a bit wider.

The boy across from him was certainly well put together. The company must own some form of money in order for him to be able to afford that type of attire. Prada.

Wearing something so exclusive and yet I’ve never heard of you or your company before. Hm.. Yunho thought to himself, bringing his eyes to Youngtaek from the sound of his papers tapping on the table.

“I suppose we shouldn’t beat around the bush here. I don’t intend on wasting your time by any means so I will keep my words clean and rather short, with leaving room for any explanations or clarifications you would like for me to make.” He folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him. Yunho held back a snort and nodded his head. A little bit of pretentiousness as well. Very interesting..

“Go right ahead. I’m in no rush. You have my full attention.”

At the word, Youngtaek removed some papers from his small stack and placed them in front. Not to read off of them, merely to have them in his line of view. Deciding to stand instead of sitting, he slowly rose from his seat, palms flat on the table with a small exhale from his mouth. He straightened himself fully before speaking.

“As I’m sure you were made aware of in your email, we have contacted you today in regard to an investment that you have made that has caused an issue within our corporation.” He kept his eyes low, moving away from his seat to walk along the walls of the room. Youngtaek’s eyes glanced over the paintings on the wall as he spoke. “But I suppose I should start with what our company does and why your involvement has become such an issue to us.”

That would be the smartest and most logical thing to do, yes. Is what Yunho wanted to say. But that was not the professional aura and attitude he held within his own office. Instead he let out a small hum and continued to hold his polite smile. “Please, if you don’t mind.”

Youngtaek continued his small stroll around the room, running his fingers along the edge of the wall as he spoke. “Heurit Inceptx Destiny is a supply and demand based company specializing in music distribution and production. Our recruitment process is handled by our demand or donors, as we refer to them as.” He stopped at the window and stared out onto the street below, watching as children crossed the street with their parents. “To put it in simple terms, our donors make selections of who they want to be a part of our team. In even simpler terms, those donors can be anyone that is in connection to our company, even the members themselves.” He turned himself back to face Yunho, noticing the confused look that was laced all over his face. He might have thought Youngtaek wouldn’t pick up on the slight smugness to his expression, but the boy decided to tuck this in the back of his mind.

“I would think that would be a conflict of interest.” Yunho’s tone was neutral.

“How so?”

“Well,” The brunette leaned back in his chair, one leg folded over the other and hands in his lap. “If you were to allow people within the corporation to donate, their funding would go straight back into your pockets. In the end, they would basically be receiving their own money back, maybe even nothing at all. Financially, that would be like conning your own members out of their money.”

Youngtaek couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, one that made Yunho’s eyes narrow for a moment. The boy covered his mouth before waving it off. “My apologies. I just..” He faux wiped a tear from the corner of his eye before straightening himself, facial expression fallen. “Find it surprising how one dimensional you imagine a workplace like this to work. As a person who holds such power, I would have expected a better answer than that.”

Yunho’s eyebrow twitched, jaw set. “Enlighten me, then.”

“Gladly.” Youngtaek turned, looking out the window again. “While it may be perceived to others as us taking advantage of our members and their money in order to fill our own pockets. It’s quite the contrary.” He tapped his finger lightly on the glass. “Donating within the company allows you to achieve higher positions. Once you’ve reached a certain threshold, we will grant you permission to move up within the company. These all come with perks, of course, one of them being other business connections.”

“So by obtaining said business connections..?” Yunho questioned.

“Their social status will rise. Then, it won’t matter how much money they have, they will be worth more than what they earn.” Youngtaek answered.

His curiosity definitely peaked at this point. However, Yunho did not want to stray from what the point of this meeting was supposed to be. “Pardon my rudeness of interrupting your explanation of this business. I’m not sure what all of this has to do with myself, let alone my company.”

Something in Youngtaek’s facial expression made Yunho feel uneasy. Maybe it was the way his eyes were unmoving and lacking any emotion, like a robot. In fact, Yunho couldn’t read a single emotion on the boy’s whole face. Even the ones that he presented earlier felt stiff and cold.

He moved back to the table, opening the folder he had brought with him into the room. As if they were in some sort of interrogation, Youngtaek moved a small photo into Yuinho’s view. The brunette’s eyes widened. Y...Yeosang..? It was the boy’s university photo. Alongside it, Youngtaek placed three other pictures of the blonde boy. One inside the school building tutoring a student, another sitting outside reading a book under a tree, and another of him walking outside towards his apartment complex.

“I’m not going to waste time asking if you know this boy. I can get my answer from the expression on your face.” Yunho’s eyes flickered up and met Youngtaek’s stone cold ones as before. Youngtaek tilted his head at his expression. “I’ll put this simply for you. He’s our target.” He placed his palms face down on the table, leaning in a bit towards Yunho. “And your involvement is the reason why I’m here, standing in front of you, telling you all about the company that I work for.” His tone became sharper. “So I’ll pardon your rudeness for now. I cannot guarantee that I will be so kind as to do so again in the coming minutes.”

Yunho couldn’t help but let a short breath escape from his mouth. Everything that he had been fearing in the past about Yeosang and his situation was way worse than he thought. Not only him, but San and Seonghwa soon.

“May I continue?”

“...Yes.”

For the first time since the meeting started, Youngtaek’s lips curved into a mischievous grin.

He caught Yunho right where he wanted him, now he was holding all of the power.

“This boy, Kang Yeosang, was placed into our system this past June. He was processed with all of the background information we could obtain with finalization occurring in August. Our job is to successfully bring him forward into our team before next June.” Youngtaek moved back and straightened himself. “So we ask that you no longer be involved in our business and remove any resources that you have provided in order to keep us by doing so.”

“Excuse me?” Yunho’s eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. “You mean to tell me that you’re the ones that have sent that guy Mingi after Yeosang?” Disgust was only the smallest word you could use to describe how he felt at the moment.

“We have assigned him to this case, yes. Song Mingi was already attending the same university and was aware of who Yeosang was. He required less amount of training and information about the boy in order to know how to successfully bring him to us-”

“By harassing, stalking and literally trying to assault him?” His composure started to falter and Yunho had to keep his shaking hands hidden under the table. His eyes, however, held a fiery rage that he didn’t even attempt to hold back. His eyes became harder seeing the unmoving nature of Youngtaek.

“You must understand, as the head of your department, that things such as business are never personal. I can assure you that we were in no way aware of Mingi’s tactics of completing his task. Some of our recruitment tactics are not understood by most people.” Youngtaek spoke with his eyes closed.

Yunho couldn’t help the scoff that left his lips, shaking his head. Fucking obsurd.

“Whether or not your practices are understood by the majority, Yeosang is a friend of mine.” Yunho slowly stood up, hands on the table. His eyes snapped up. “So you can understand why it would be a problem for me to no longer be involved.”

Silence fell in the room as Youngtaek looked down at the folder that was in front of him. The two guards standing at the door couldn’t help but look at each other. There was an obvious level of discomfort that spread across both of their faces. Was this the cue that the meeting was ending? Neither one of the men moved, so the guards couldn’t tell.

Yunho continued to keep his eyes hard on Youngtaek. Like hell he would give up. Like hell he would leave Yeosang so vulnerable for this sorry excuse of a fucking business. Never personal? Everything about this was personal!

“So, is that a no to my proposal?” Youngtaek spoke quietly.

“Absolutely.”

Silence again.

“Very well.” Youngtaek collected his papers that he had spread out one by one. Tucking them neatly into the folder, he sat it inside of his black tote bag that he brought with him. Putting on his jacket and adjusting it properly, he took a short bow before walking towards the double doors.

“I have every means of reporting you to the police for those photos of Yeosang. You and your company should know more than anyone that photographing people without their consent is illegal in this country.”

Youngtaek stopped in his tracks with his back to Yunho. The brunette couldn’t see the look on his face. However, the two guards could. Although usually unphased by anyone that they come across that wish to discuss business with Yunho, the boy made note of the sweat that was collecting on their foreheads. Especially the way they both adjusted themselves and averted their eyes from Youngtaek. They’re...afraid?

“Ah yes.” His tone was flat. Youngtaek turned his head only a bit, allowing Yunho to see the side profile of his face. “Would you happen to know what the law thinks about prostitution?”

Yunho’s expression mixed with confusion and anger. “What kind of question is that?” Youngtaek rolled his neck, relaxing his shoulders.

“I’m merely inquiring if you are aware of what the law of this country has to say about prostitution.” He looked fully over his shoulder now, the smallest corner of his lips curled up. Within a mere fraction of a second the realization hit Yunho, causing his eyelid to twitch for a moment as they widened.

“What the hell are you getting at?” He didn’t bother to correct his language.

“Ah, there’s the right question then.” Youngtaek turned around fully with his smirk on display. “What am I getting at? Me? Well, let’s see.” He ceremoniously pulled out a medium sized photo of San, dangling it loosely between his fingers. “Well, you must know who I mean. I mean you must know everything since you were so quick to make a threat such as that.” One by one he pulled out many pictures of the boy and tossed them onto the ground, uncaring about how they fell.

“Everything is so black and white, so easy is it not, Yunho? You can simply point out the smallest of problems, quickly think of the solution and then boom, problem solved right?” The pearly whites of his teeth began to show. “I’ve taken photos of Yeosang without his consent. I deserve to be punished. So easy~” He threw more photos of San on the ground out of his bag. Yunho’s heart began to race, the beating getting caught in his throat.

“Oh? But that would mean you’re innocent right?” Yanking the folder out of his bag and clutching it to his chest, Youngtaek gripped the end of it with the opposite hand. Chuckling lightly to himself, he swung his bag from one side to the other. A slew of photos cascaded and fluttered down onto the ground. Some were everyday photos of San and the others were more scandalous ones. San with his legs spread in a provocative pose, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. Another from Valentine’s day with San in red lingerie, the end of white rope in his mouth and his wrists bound. The last one that caught Yunho’s eye in particular was a photo of him and San sleeping together in that hotel room. The one that they had only occupied a couple weeks earlier.

“What the…How..” Yunho fell speechless just the way Youngtaek wanted him to. The boy stepped forward, crushing the photos of San under his feet.

“You see, people are so quick to call out who is innocent and who is guilty while simultaneously trying to hide their own sinful deeds.” Youngtaek tilted his head and looked at the photos on the ground. “Never did I think that there would be so many attached to your fuck buddy. I guess you could say I was pleasantly surprised?” Noticing Yunho’s lack of response, he continued.

“I suggest you not talk with so much pride and ego about things that are illegal in this country before you look at yourself-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t know shit about this! You don’t know a goddamn thing!” Yunho’s voice projected, startling the men at the doors.

“Oh I don’t?” Youngtaek blinked with false doe eyes, not phased at all by the anger radiating from the man in front of him. “Let’s see then.” He cleared his throat before pulling out one paper from his folder, holding it up in front of his eyes. “Choi San, born on July 10th of 1999 to a single, unloved, widowed and now sickly mother. His father passed away in 2005, leaving San and his mother without money blah blah blah.” His eyes skimmed over the page. “Ah, met Jung Yunho on, what is referred to as quote ‘an app for established entrepreneurs to be linked with a potential suitor’. And after going through and analyzing the whole website, these types of apps are actually illegal believe it or not!”

The blood in Yunho’s face seemed to pool all the way down to his fingers and toes. His face had begun to look more ghastly than normal, even the bags around his eyes seemed to have sunken into themselves. The normally calm and collected CEO, gaining great power from his father’s connections but mostly from his own intelligent work, was now damn near close to looking sick. The words of what Youngtaek was saying echoed through his head but he wasn’t processing any of it. All he could think about were the array of photos.

Of course the ones that were taken without San knowing were disturbing enough. The scandalous ones? Those he didn’t even understand how they obtained. Those were from his own private messages to San, ones that no one else should be able to see or have access to. So how were they in front of him right now? How was this happening? What was even happening right now?

“Who..” Yunho’s voice quivered, all but stopping Youngtaek’s vile monologue of him and San’s back story. Perplexed by the change in his demeanor, the assistant cocked his head to one side. “Who the hell are you..?” The taller brunette tried his hardest to keep the lump that had formed in his throat from coming forward. It would certainly embarrass the shit out of him and would be another thing to add onto the list of prominent information that Youngtaek had on him.

A playful hum rang from the boy’s lips. Youngtaek swayed on the balls of his feet, chancing his arms behind his back as he kept up the coy and childish act. “Well, that question is filled with many answers, Jung Yunho.” The final swing had him landing sharply on the front of his toes, falling back into his borderline robotic statue again, face fallen. “For the sake of ending this meeting, as it has become a waste of my time, I’ll keep it short and simple.” He took four short strides over to where the brunette was still standing confused and ill-looking.

“I know everything about you, Kang Yeosang, and whoever this boy Choi San is to you. Anything you think we don’t know about, trust that we know it. All the way down to the apartment that Yeosang and San share. So it would be in your best interest to find a solution to this problem that we are having.” Youngtaek stepped closer till he was only a few feet in front of Yunho. A sinister smile tugged from the corner of his lips again, looking towards the ground at one of the sinful images of San. “Unless..” Graciously swooping up the one that caught his eye, he held it up to the CEO’s line of sight.

“Tell you what. If you give me a fair trade, I will leave without a word. Your friend Kang Yeosang in exchange for Choi San.” Turning the photo towards himself, Youngtaek’s tongue idly and slyly slid across his bottom lip, eyes falling half lidded. “I wonder how good of a pet he would be for me. If he would whimper the same way he does with you-”

A small choked sound left the assistant’s throat as he was lifted close to his tiptoes off the ground by the collar of his shirt. The guards by the door made the motion to move and stop the situation from escalating, despite their boss not being the one potentially getting hurt, until they caught a glimpse of his face. Yunho’s eyes were wide and wild as he yanked the man close until their breaths were barely meeting each other’s face.

“If you lay a hand on San, so help me I will make sure that you end up in Hell with me.” The anger had flooded his cheeks back to life, burning around the rims of his eyes. His breathing huffed out like a beast that was ready to rip their prey to shreds at the smallest move. Youngtaek, with as much breath as he could muster from the way he was being held, let out a short laugh.

“Oh please do, your precious friends will soon follow right after you.”

“M-Mr. Jung?” Yunho’s eyes flickered over to the door where the voice was coming from. They locked onto his assistant that had entered the room only a few seconds ago. One trembling hand reached out towards him. “P-Please put him down. You’re not this type of person and we don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Yunho’s burning eyes trailed over her and the other two guards, feeling his own slowly soften with anxiety at the fear that was laced in all of their eyes.

“You’re really going to listen to those that are lower than you?” Youngtaek baited, his chuckles soft and labored. Yunho’s head lowered, the fabric wrinkling around the collar as his hand tightened.

“Do not ever let anyone walk all over you. Put them in their place.” Those were always his father’s words. He knew Yunho’s demeanor since the brunette was only a small child. So many times Yunho had allowed people to say the rudest things to him, as if they were cursing him for simply just being alive. “They should remember where they stand with you, so they will never dare to hurt you again.” His father was never above doing this to others. That’s how he got to the top. That’s how those around him respected him. Never dared to cross him and never dared to leave him. He held all the power.

Yunho’s the CEO, so he should be the one that’s on top. Nobody should be able to hurt him like this, no matter who they are. They deserve to be reminded of their wrongdoings and pay the price for them.

“But is that really who you are, sweetie?” He could hear his mother’s tender tone lingering in his mind. Yunho could imagine her crouched down in front of him, as she did until the boy had grown tall enough for her to just stand in front of him. Her hand was always on his cheek with her delicate features curled up into a gentle smile. His mother was in no way like his father, the two were polar opposites. Her voice never raised above normal, even when people would try to discredit her, hurt her, or put her down below them. Her eyes were round and kind, like Yunho’s, and her smile was always there. Her words were melodic, charming those negative souls until they felt pain from their own words. She never gave back to them what they had given to her. She always went her own way. “You should always be the version of yourself that feels right to you. In that alone, people will follow you.”

She was right, as was his assistant. This whole meeting was not him. As much as he respected his father and all the businesses he had conquered through his power, that was simply not the way that Yunho wanted to be.

Letting Youngtaek’s feet touch the ground, he released his hand from around the collar of his shirt. The boy coughed a bit, still with that disgusting smile on his face. With his head held higher now, Yunho held the eyes of his mother, yet stern. “She’s right. This is not the person that I am, nor will it ever be. I don’t see myself as high above others, even if their position is below mine. Their voices and opinions matter to me because I know that they follow me because of who I am. Those that don’t, they aren’t here.” Yunho reached over and adjusted the collar of Youngtaek’s shirt, much to the boy’s surprise. After seeing that the fabric was back to its original state, for the most part anyway, Yunho stepped back out of the boy’s space.

“I think it would be best for you to leave now. We will tend to the photos that you have scattered on the floor and my two guards will see you out of the building. If you have any more things that you wish to discuss in a civil manner, we can discuss them over the phone. However, I think it would be the best- for the sake of your business and mine- that we do not converse like this anymore.” Yunho kept his hands in front of him. “My offer still stands that if your boss would wish to speak with me, I’m open to meeting and we can discuss when and where.”

Youngtaek analyzed his face, drumming his fingers lightly against his bag. “Very well, then.” He crushed the photos of San under his feet again, moving towards the double doors with one already being open for him. He stopped when he reached the assistant, choosing to ignore the way she trembled harder in his presence. “You let Mr. Jung know that he has one week to make a decision about what we discussed.” Taking out a business card, he tucked it into one of the guard’s blazer pockets. “If he chooses not to, I will make the decision for him and go from there. I suggest, however, that he not let it come to that.” And with that, the man left the room with the sound of his heels echoing down the hall.

Chaeyoung turned back to Yunho, noticing him reaching down to pick up the photos. His posture was a bit off, as if all of the energy had been drained from his body. Her heels rushed over with quick haste and put a hand down over Yunho’s after bending down. “Sir, I can take care of this.” Her face saddened seeing the glassiness of his eyes. “Please.”

The inner part of Yunho’s palm was white from his nails digging into them. He fought back the urge to cry from the guards and now his own assistant seeing San exposed like this. “N-No I should clean it up.” He flipped them over so that the images could not be seen. Chaeyoung decided not to press anymore, instead getting down to help him flip over the photos, collecting them neatly before Yunho’s hand stopped her. She looked up and inhaled sharply through her nose. Small streams of tears were running down her boss’s cheeks.

“Can you contact Park Seonghwa for me please?”

~x~

Seonghwa was more silent than Yunho was expecting as he recalled everything that had happened. He didn’t realize how much time had passed from being in the meeting, only noticing when his room was beginning to be bathed in a warm glow. His composure at this point had faltered almost completely. Fat tears ran down his face from helplessness and fear over the photos that were retrieved of San. He was sure this vile company had more of them that they were waiting patiently to dangle over his and San’s head.

“I don’t know what to do, hyung. This is more than just a Yeosang and Mingi situation. This is far more dangerous than I could have ever anticipated.” Yunho sniffed hard, grabbing a tissue to wipe his eyes. Seonghwa kept his eyes trained out the window. “With how malicious they are, I can’t imagine what they would be capable of doing to Yeosang, San or even me. I don’t want to find out but I can’t risk-”

“Yunho.”

The brunette lifted his eyes up to meet Seonghwa’s, noticing the small burn inside of them. The designer reached over and put his hand over top and rubbed his knuckle against the slightly rough skin. “I need you to relax a bit for me. I understand this was a very stressful situation that occurred right in your office building. However, you will never be able to come up with a rational solution under these conditions.” Yunho nodded slowly before following Seonghwa’s deep breathing exercise. Once he was sure that the boy had calmed down enough, he moved his hand away.

“Before we even try to remotely tackle this, I need you to listen to me. It’s going to be really hard but this is the only way that we can begin to decide our next course of action.” Yunho’s nails dug into his palms again out of a view under his desk. Seonghwa hesitated on what he was going to say next and braced himself for the response that he was bound to get.

“You cannot let San know of anything that happened today. He cannot know about Yeosang being wrapped up in this mafia related activity. You cannot tell him that Mingi is involved in this and is targeting Yeosang. You cannot tell him about Youngtaek or the photos or anything, Yunho. You can’t.” The brunette immediately stood up from the words, moving away from Seonghwa towards the window walls bordering the side of his office.

“How can you even say that? You don’t have anything to lose from not revealing this information!” Yunho’s voice was elevated, stunning the elder as he stood up from his seat.

“What do you mean by that? Have I not been taking care of Yeosang for the past month and a half? Is that not seen as a big deal to you?”

“You barely know Yeosang. San has been a part of my life for the past four years!” Yunho’s bloodshot eyes began burning with tears again. Seonghwa felt a tinge of hurt in his heart. He stepped a bit closer to Yunho.

“I may not know Yeosang as well as you know San. That does not mean it wouldn’t hurt me any less to tell him that something of this extreme caliber is happening to him. It’s not a competition, Yunho. This is about trying to protect them. Nothing good will come out of telling them right now if we don’t have a solution to the problem at hand.” The words that fell from Seonghwa’s lips were ones that Yunho truly didn’t want to acknowledge but he knew them to be true.

San and Yeosang were both equally fragile and sensitive in their own ways, that’s how the two were always so close. Despite the fact that San had always been taking care of Yeosang since they met, Yunho thought about the way that San would feel hearing about the mess that his best friend is tied up in, alongside the things that the company had about himself. He would feel the same way that Yunho felt in the moment and during the meeting- completely hopeless. No matter what solution was to be discovered, telling them anything before they were able to have something more solidified was a sure way to bring both of them to a point that would be difficult to bring them down from.

Yunho felt like his feet had been filled with weights as he sat back down in his desk chair. The tears in his eyes fell again with no effort made to stop them. Seonghwa knelt down in front of him, resting a hand on his knee but received no sort of response to the action, not that he was looking for one. He simply waited patiently for Yunho to respond to him or give him some sort of motion.

Sniffing heavily, Yunho wiped his eyes, letting them fall to somewhere unimportant on the ground. “San’s mom is in the hospital right now. Kidney failure. He’s been going to see her almost every day while they continue to search for a donor.” He didn’t acknowledge the way that Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “He’s been going through so much. I’ve been trying so hard to be some sort of support to him, since he’s not great at taking care of himself. If I’m being honest, I don’t know how.” His eyes fell onto his lap, gazing over the way his hands were trembling. “I don’t know how to handle this situation either..I don’t know anything.” He felt a hand come up to his chin, tilting it up. Seonghwa put one knee to the ground and grabbed a tissue from the mahogany desk in front of him, gently wiping the tears from his face, flashing him a gentle smile once all the droplets were gone.

“You don’t have to know how to do everything. You don’t even have to be best at the things you know how to do. What matters most- and I’m sure I can speak for San when I say this- is that you are trying. San isn’t with you because you’re the answer man. He’s with you because he knows you care about him and the same for him towards you.” Yunho nodded his head slowly, exhaling shallowly and shakily.

“I...I love him, hyung.”

A small breath fell from Seonghwa’s nose as he smiled wider, patting the top of Yunho’s head. “I know you do. I can see it in the way you talk about him.” Moving a hand back down to his knee, his face became determined and serious. “So, let’s find a way to resolve this situation as best as we can so that you can have the life that you both want without any more difficulties. Can you do that with me?” Yunho was a bit taken aback by Seonghwa’s words, staring at him for a moment before his face reflected the same as the designer’s, nodding.

Despite any sort of situation that came in his way, Yunho always noticed how determined and unwavered Seonghwa was. Even in the moments that were extremely stressful where the odds were unlikely, he didn’t give a hint of doubt or reflect nearly any of the emotions that Yunho would have expelled had it been him in the situation. It made him feel an immense amount of respect for the elder, always finding a way to cheer others up and fill them with hope that they will be able to resolve any issues, no matter how big or how small they are.

“Good.” Seonghwa’s knee was going to give out at this point so he made the decision to finally stand up, adjusting his pants leg. Yunho grabbed the last bit of tissue that he needed to rid his face of any lasting bits of tears that were still present, looking up when he heard a small hum come from the designer’s lips.

“What is it?”

“What was the name of the company that Youngtaek came from again?”

“Ah..” The rosy cheeked boy tapped lightly on the keyboard of his computer, waiting for it to light up, scrolling for the file that he asked Chaeyoung to send to him. “The company name is Heurit Inceptx Destiny. In simpler terms, HID.” No response came from Seonghwa, causing Yunho to look at him curiously. “Why?”

“Hm?” The designer snapped out of his trance, waving his hand dismissively. “Ah nothing. Thought it sounded familiar to me. With a name like that though, there’s no way myself or my company would have any sort of association with them.” Seonghwa picked up his coat and tossed it over his shoulder, looking at his watch. “I should head out, have to pick up Yeosang from campus.”

“Sorry to keep you away for so long.”

“Nonsense.” Seonghwa chuckled. “This was a serious matter. No need to apologize. Let’s talk some more tomorrow. For now, finish up and try to get some sleep.” Yunho nodded, although he knew for sure he wasn’t going to be able to manage any sort of ounce of sleep from the day he had.

After Seonghwa left the room, closing the door softly, Yunho looked back over at the photos of San that he had collected on his desk. He flipped over one of them, seeing that it was one of San sitting on a bench under a tree reading a book. He ran his thumb over the edge of where San’s jaw would be.

~x~

“You seem far away.”

“Hm?” Yunho didn’t realize his gaze was fixated on the ceiling for so long, to the point where he didn’t hear a word that San was saying to him. Only a day or so had passed since the meeting he had with Youngtaek and it had been the only thing that was on his mind. It wouldn’t have been stressing him out so much, had it not been for San being involved now. Yunho’s mind kept replaying the image of that smirk on Youngtaek’s face while dangling San’s nude photos in front of his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Something on your mind?” San played with his hair, a lace of worry in his voice.

Yes, a lot is on my mind. All of which I wish could tell you..Yunho thought to himself. He opted to close his eyes, feeling guilty from the way that San was looking at him. He couldn’t see him like that, it would make him spill everything.

“There’s just been a lot of things going on at work. We have a big budgeting project going on and it’s been causing me a lot of stess. Crunching the numbers, all that stuff..” He felt a lump form in his throat and cringed at the bit of sweat that had collected in the palm of his hand. He didn’t like lying to anyone, especially not to San.

“Hm, maybe you can ask your dad for some advice. He does a lot of financial and marketing work right?” His fingers ghosted down Yunho’s arm, tracing little shapes before intertwining their fingers. Yunho squeezed his hand once.

“Mm, he’s busy with his own work. Besides, he would probably tell me to figure it out on my own or to pass it along to our financial team and just let them make the decisions on it. That’s not me though.” The brunette exhaled roughly through his nose. Neither is lying and yet here I am.

He opened his eyes when he felt San shift and move from underneath him. “What are you-” His question was answered when San straddled him, moving his hands onto his waist. Yunho didn’t know how to respond to the action, his eyes only widening when San smiled down at him, moving his arms on either side of the tall boy’s head.

“Well, I surely don't want to see you stressed out. I know it can’t be helped with your work and all so...maybe I can relieve some of it for you?” A sharp groan left Yunho’s mouth when San subtly rolled his hips straight down. Normally, the action would have made him give in immediately. But the guilt was still eating at the back of his mind. Was it okay for him to indulge in San like this? What about all the information that the company had gotten on him. Could they hack his or San’s phones to capture more evidence, in the form of audio, to be able to use against them later on?

“If you don’t want to,” Fuck, he got lost in his own thoughts again. “We can always watch a movie and I can order some snacks or something yummy for us to eat. Or I can cook for you if you’d like?” San’s voice was tender to his ears, making Yunho’s heart race hard in his chest.

He felt his heart melting all over again when looking at his face. They were older now but San still held all the care and personality towards him as he did when they first met. Yunho found it strange in the beginning, always questioning why he would look at him with such fond eyes and talk to him in such a sweet way. His hair always fell just enough over his eyes to make him look innocent and sweet. His smile would instantly raise his mood, even if he had been completely emotionally worn out a minute ago. If Yunho had introduced San to his mother, she would have probably kept him and taken him in as her own son and not allowed him to leave. She would probably ask when they’re going to get married and try to rush them so that she can finally have a son-in-law. It didn’t matter what their status was, Yunho just wanted to be with him.

His hand moved up San’s side, brushing against the skin underneath his shirt, moving farther upward until he reached the expanse of his shoulders. Finally landing upon his cheek whilst the other kneaded the skin on his waistline lightly, Yunho gave him an endearing smile. “How did I get so lucky to meet someone like you?” He smiled wider at the way that San flushed at the question before moving himself up a bit to kiss his loving boy deeply. He poured everything into it, wanting San to feel all of his love.

Regardless of any of the shit that was coming their way, Yunho decided then that he wasn’t going to let that stop him from loving San. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it. However, he sure as hell was going to fight for it.

He wanted to keep San by his side forever. His heart told him that much.

Pulling back when he was convinced San would be the most breathless, Yunho moved his lips down the side of his neck, showering it with nips, licks and kisses to his heated skin. A small whimper trembled from San’s lips from the slow trail of Yunho’s tongue from the base of his neck up the middle, running small circles over his Adam’s apple, ending under his chin.

“I-I’m supposed to be taking care of y-you. How did this end with you t-taking care of m-me?”

“Do you not like it?” Yunho’s tone was low near his ear, making San shiver along with the big hands that were now resting on his ass.

“I-I didn’t say that,” Yunho hummed lightly, continuing his menstrations as San struggled to get the rest of his words out. “Y-You just said that you were stressed so I-I thought that I w-would help you-ah!” A loud moan erupted from San’s throat from Yunho’s tongue running over his ear, the wet sound and loud kiss over it made him begin to tremble. The sensation sent a tingle up his spine, making his arms buckle a bit. Feeling the twitching coming from San’s pants, Yunho smirked to himself, sitting up and holding onto San tightly.

“But you are helping me.” The brunette kissed San’s chin, kneading his ass roughly between his hands and reveling in the way the boy’s ragged breaths fell from his mouth. “Is it wrong of me to want to pleasure you just as much?”

“N-No! That’s n-not what I-” Yunho cut him off with another deep kiss, barely giving the boy room to process as he quickly rid him of his shirt and ran his hands down the expanse of his body. The brunette couldn’t help the way his hands made their way back to San’s ass, moving them under his sweatpants to feel the skin against his hands. A sound close to a growl bubbled in Yunho’s throat as he squeezed his cheeks hard, causing San to whimper against his lips.

“W-Would you please let me finish my s-sentence!” The younger had a clear hint of pink to his cheeks, pouting but not actually angry or frustrated at all. Yunho looked at him with adoring eyes and dark half lidded eyes, nodding. He didn’t let up on massaging San’s cheeks between his hands though. San huffed, gripping the tall boy’s shoulders to have some sort of stability. “You always take care of me and I want to take care of you o-once, okay? So just let m-me.” San tried to move off of Yunho’s lap but the hands on his ass kept him in place, causing him to bite the inside of his lips. Yunho leaned in, breath ghosting over his lips as he smiled.

“And what if I say no? Will you fight for dominance?” Yunho challenged, tilting his head while running a long finger in between his cheeks. He tapped his finger lightly over it, eyes darkening at the way San subtly pushed back. “Or..” He moved the hand back, holding it in sight of San, running it over his tongue until it was slicked before moving back and sliding it into him, humming in sync with the boy’s shaky moan. “Will you let me love every inch of you until I kiss your tears away?” Yunho reveled in the way that San’s lip got caught between his teeth and the flush that came to his cheeks. Although still having all of his clothes on, he could see the way his body was heating up and the way sweat began to collect on his forehead and along his collar bone.

“What do you want to do, baby? I can wait until you give me an answer.” His breath ghosting over San’s ear made the boy take in a sharp breath. Idly stroking the inside of his walls whilst humming, he watched San’s fingers flex by his sides. Moving his head back, he examined San’s face to find any signs of seriousness or conflict, making a decision in his own head as he slowly moved to slide his finger out. He was swiftly interrupted and stopped abruptly when San clenched around his finger. They met eyes again, Yunho’s falling half lidded as the college student moved his arms around his neck, letting out a shaky whimper.

“Please..” He spoke after releasing his lip from between his teeth, “have me..”

Yunho’s lips curled into a small, sweet smile, kissing San’s chin, his tone coming out like honey to San’s ears. “How do you want me to have you?”

~x~

Wanting to allow him an inch of what he wanted at the start, Yunho laid back on the bed and let San strip him down completely after, of course, ripping his clothes off and tossing them throughout the room. A small hum rumbled from his throat at the heated kisses that the boy left behind after taking one item off. He didn’t rush him and noted the way that some areas had San’s lips lingering more, his tongue running along the edge of his pelvic bone. Splotches of dark red and purple began to decorate his lower body, settling with a deep groan after heat engulfed his dick.

“F-Fuck..” Yunho breathed, eyes watching the way his cock disappeared between San’s lips, the slick and shine that was left behind making him twitch again his tongue. Gaze moving upwards, he noticed the boy’s eyes were trained on him and the way he was reacting to his actions. San tested relaxing his throat, taking in more until he felt Yunho’s cock bulge at the back of his throat. His eyes went from doe to half lidded at the hand that gently caressed the side of his face before leaning and cupping his throat.

“You like seeing how good you’re making me feel, even taking more of me? What a good boy you are, Sannie.” Another hand came and cupped the back of his head, San adjusting himself a bit to allow Yunho to thrust into his mouth, meeting him halfway as the thrusts became faster. San tried to keep his eyes open as they pricked with tears, shivering in delight at the way Yunho was using him. He whined in protest when a hand firmly stopped his movements, not realizing his eyes had eventually fallen closed, letting out a muffled moan at the way Yunho’s dark eyes looked back at him.

“Let’s take care of each other.” Were the only words he said, chuckling low at the dazed and slightly confused look that San sent back to him. A little bit of maneuvering had San’s cheeks flushed bright pink as his lower body hung over Yunho’s upper frame. The man licked his lips and spread his cheeks lewdly, groaning simultaneously with San’s whine at the action. “Don’t worry, baby. You know I wouldn’t hurt you.” San always knew this to be true but couldn’t hold back the excited noise that left his throat as he leaned down, stroking the taller man against his tongue.

The two became awfully noisy, with San being thankful that nobody was home with the way his moans escalated in volume from the squelched sound that came from behind him. Yunho alternated between roughly pushing his tongue into, swirling and caressing his walls before slowly pulling back and completely pulling his tongue out, only lapping over his pucker before moving down to lap at his balls. San trembled in his arms, drool running down and leaving a growing wet spot on the sheet.

He felt like he was going to melt from the inside out, just as Yunho would hope that he would feel.

“You’re making such a mess, Sannie. Does it feel that good? Hm?” Yunho didn’t really have to question it, but he surely did enjoy the way that San’s moans vibrated down him, making him twitch hard against the boy’s skilled tongue. He took his time prepping him with three fingers, kissing and lapping at his balls eagerly until San began to tremble, barely being able to keep up with his bobbing.

“Y-Yunho p-please” San exasperated, pushing himself back on the boy’s fingers with the hopes of sending the message that he wanted more. Yunho decided to test him a bit more with a small smirk, kissing his inner thigh before pulling his fingers back, chuckling to himself when San chased after his fingers.

“Tell me what you want, Sannie. I have to make sure I’m giving the absolute best to my favorite boy.” The tip of San’s dick drooled onto his chest from the sharp bite that he planted on the inside of his thigh. Had it not been for the fact that the two of them already had their bodies pressed against each other, San might have fallen over from the action.

“I-I want you! Y-Yunho I c-cant hold on l-longer if you keep torturing m-me..” There was a small whine on the end of his words, still desperately trying to rut back against Yunho’s long fingers that were trying to run away from him. The taller male pulled back from his thigh, satisfied with the dark mark that was left behind before he tapped the boy’s thigh to move off of him.

Before San could move too far, Yunho had him on his back, smiling down at him with a mixture of deviance and love. Although some have deemed this position to be particularly vanilla in nature, Yunho couldn’t help himself but to see San’s whole body wrecked with pleasure in front of him. He wanted to see it all in full view and know that every tremble, twitch and tightening of his body was because of everything he was doing. He was making San feel like he was on cloud nine, and even if San didn’t know it, just seeing it all unfold was enough for Yunho.

He took his time, running his dick between San’s cheeks, watching San’s bottom lip quiver before taking one of his white knuckled fists and bringing it up to his lips. Yunho kissed San’s hand open from finger tips to his palm while slowly pushing into him, allowing his lips to linger on the inside of his palm as a loud shaky moan rippled from San’s lips. Kissing from his wrists down his arm, Yunho slowly rocked into him, picking up pace when San’s body began to relax.

“I wish I had taken more time during our relationship to admire how beautiful you are. I guess I was just a little too eager to watch you unravel underneath me.” Yunho spoke with a relatively stable tone while San’s moans escalated, biting the corner of his lip to stifle the ones that had begun to become a little too loud. Yunho noticed how his breath was getting caught in his throat from the sweltering gaze that he had on him. Halfway down his arm, Yunho pressed soft kisses to the inner part of his elbow as San’s fingers laced into his hair. His eyes never left San’s, his hips slapping against his harder with each thrust.

“I-I-”

“I’ll cherish you better from now on.” The tone of his voice made San shiver and whine loudly from the raising of his hips by Yunho’s hands, pistoning into him from a different angle that made the boy choke on his own moans. “I’ll make sure you feel every inch of how much I love you.” The words fell from Yunho’s lips before he could stop them, too drunk off of lust to acknowledge his mistake.

But San heard it clearly, eyes widening from the confession.

His heart had already felt like it was going to explode out of his chest, but even more so now than ever did he hear the sound in his eyes mixed in with Yunho’s voice. “That’s right, San. Did you know? Did you know how much I adore you?” He continued, eyes sparkling from the broken cry that left San’s lips when he abused that bundle inside of him that he had been searching for. “E-Ever since I met you, I’ve adored you every second of every day.” Yunho moved himself down closer as San grabbed at him desperately.

“Y-Yunho!!”

“I’ve got you. Just let go, baby.”

San’s voice cracked, shaky lips following open as tears spilled over on his cheeks. He could barely hear his own damn near screaming moans as he spilled all over his abs and Yunho’s upper torso over the heartbeat pounding in his ears. His whole body jolted as another spurt of cum came rolling out and painting more of both of their upper bodies. Yunho’s eyes fell half lidded, chasing his own orgasm from the grip that San had over his cock.

“Look..Look at how beautiful you are.” San’s breath hitched, cupping Yunho’s cheeks and rolling his hips down to meet his, despite being sensitive from cumming so much. The tears continued to lightly spill down his cheeks, ones that Yunho caught between one of his fingers. “S-So beautiful.” His voice came out more ragged and strained, a low groan bubbling in his throat as San clenched harder. San cupped his face, bringing them closer until his breath ghosted over Yunho’s lips. The swirl in Yunho’s eyes sharpened pitch black from the blissed out smile that fell over San’s face.

“You made me so beautiful, Yunho-yah. Will you paint me? Make me yours and yours only.” The words fell from San’s lips with a slight purr, pushing Yunho over the edge almost instantly, his pace staggering before he came with a low growl. He fucked his cum deeper into San, kissing him hard as the boy held onto him tightly, letting him use him to ride out his orgasm.

Once sedated, Yunho slowed himself down to a complete stop, the two of them panting against each other's lips while idly sharing lazy kisses in between. Yunho soothingly rubbed San’s legs, feeling how much they were shaking. He honestly felt a bit bad for how rough he was with him and how long they had been at it without caring to ask the boy if he was hurt or in any pain. But before he could pull back to muster a word of apology, San put a finger to his lips.

“If it was really that big of a problem..I would have stopped you.” San’s voice came out soft and tired, pulling the man closer so their bodies were fully pressing, hugging him close with his eyes closed. Letting out the small breath he had been keeping in, Yunho’s lips curled up into a small smile, patting down the slightly damp back side of San’s head.

It took a while for the two to agree to separate and take showers. It certainly took even longer for them to find the energy to change the sheets, put the dirty ones in a basket at least, before putting new ones onto the mattress and finally getting comfortable in it. San’s mind has begun racing since they had gotten comfortable and, lucky for him, Yunho couldn’t see the expression on his face from being behind him. The man had taken himself into rubbing small soothing circles over top of the oversized shirt that he had brought with him to lend to the boy, eyes closed and nearly dozing off.

“Yu?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you..” Thankfully the darkness was able to hide the way San’s cheeks were flushing. Yunho let out a soft, airy chuckle from behind him, leaning over and kissing his cheek, keeping him closer in his embrace. The fingers brushed lightly against each other, drawing shapes over each others’ knuckles.

“I should be the one thanking you.” Yunho spoke near his ear, kissing the back of San’s neck with his eyes closed. He fell silent not long after that, tiredness pulling him into a deep sleep evident by the evening out of his breathing. San looked over towards the small sliver of his window that he could see from between his dark blue curtains. When he focused in enough, he could see Yunho’s charming face, small puffs of air coming from between his lips that couldn’t help but bring a small smile to San’s face. Although his heart was still pounding a bit in his chest, he brought Yunho’s hand up to his lips, kissing them softly enough to not wake him.

“I..I love you too.”

©dreamyinception-world/deepnesta 2022 || please do not repost or use any of my work without my permission. Thank you ♡

~Taglist~

@atiny-piratequeen

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norarigby · 3 years

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フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

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Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

Recommendation engines and "lean-back" media

In William Gibson’s 1992 novel “Idoru,” a media executive describes her company’s core audience:

“Best visualized as a vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organism craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed. Personally I like to imagine something the size of a baby hippo, the color of a week-old boiled potato, that lives by itself, in the dark, in a double-wide on the outskirts of Topeka. It’s covered with eyes and it sweats constantly. The sweat runs into those eyes and makes them sting. It has no mouth…no genitals, and can only express its mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire by changing the channels on a universal remote. Or by voting in presidential elections.”

It’s an astonishingly great passage, not just for the image it evokes, but for how it captures the character of the speaker and her contempt for the people who made her fortune.

It’s also a beautiful distillation of the 1990s anxiety about TV’s role in a societal “dumbing down,” that had brewed for a long time, at least since the Nixon-JFK televised debates, whose outcome was widely attributed not to JFK’s ideas, but to Nixon’s terrible TV manner.

Neil Postman’s 1985 “Amusing Ourselves To Death” was a watershed here, comparing the soundbitey Reagan-Dukakis debates with the long, rhetorically complex Lincoln-Douglas debates of the previous century.

(Incidentally, when I finally experienced those debates for myself, courtesy of the 2009 BBC America audiobook, I was more surprised by Lincoln’s unequivocal, forceful repudiations of slavery abolition than by the rhetoric’s nuance)

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/01/20/lincoln-douglas-debate-audiobook-civics-history-and-rhetoric-lesson-in-16-hours/

“Media literacy” scholarship entered the spotlight, and its left flank — epitomized by Chomsky’s 1988 “Manufacturing Consent” — claimed that an increasingly oligarchic media industry was steering society, rather than reflecting it.

Thus, when the internet was demilitarized and the general public started trickling — and then rushing — to use it, there was a widespread hope that we might break free of the tyranny of concentrated, linear programming (in the sense of “what’s on,” and “what it does to you”).

Much of the excitement over Napster wasn’t about getting music for free — it was about the mix-tapification of all music, where your custom playlists would replace the linear album.

Likewise Tivo, whose ad-skipping was ultimately less important than the ability to watch the shows you liked, rather than the shows that were on.

Blogging, too: the promise was that a community of reader-writers could assemble a daily “newsfeed” that reflected their idiosyncratic interests across a variety of sources, surfacing ideas from other places and even other times.

The heady feeling of the time is hard to recall, honestly, but there was a thrill to getting up and reading the news that you chose, listening to a playlist you created, then watching a show you picked.

And while there were those who fretted about the “Daily Me” (what we later came to call the “filter bubble”) the truth was that this kind of active media creation/consumption ranged far more widely than the monopolistic media did.

The real “bubble” wasn’t choosing your own programming — it was everyone turning on their TV on Thursday nights to Friends, Seinfeld and The Simpsons.

The optimism of the era is best summarized in a taxonomy that grouped media into two categories: “lean back” (turn it on and passively consume it) and “lean forward” (steer your media consumption with a series of conscious decisions that explores a vast landscape).

Lean-forward media was intensely sociable: not just because of the distributed conversation that consisted of blog-reblog-reply, but also thanks to user reviews and fannish message-board analysis and recommendations.

I remember the thrill of being in a hotel room years after I’d left my hometown, using Napster to grab rare live recordings of a band I’d grown up seeing in clubs, and striking up a chat with the node’s proprietor that ranged fondly and widely over the shows we’d both seen.

But that sociability was markedly different from the “social” in social media. From the earliest days of Myspace and Facebook, it was clear that this was a sea-change, though it was hard to say exactly what was changing and how.

Around the time Rupert Murdoch bought Myspace, a close friend a blazing argument with a TV executive who insisted that the internet was just a passing fad: that the day would come when all these online kids grew up, got beaten down by work and just wanted to lean back.

To collapse on the sofa and consume media that someone else had programmed for them, anaesthetizing themselves with passive media that didn’t make them think too hard.

This guy was obviously wrong — the internet didn’t disappear — but he was also right about the resurgence of passive, linear media.

But this passive media wasn’t the “must-see TV” of the 80s and 90s.

Rather, it was the passivity of the recommendation algorithm, which created a per-user linear media feed, coupled with mechanisms like “endless scroll” and “autoplay,” that incinerated any trace of an active role for the “consumer” (a very apt term here).

It took me a long time to figure out exactly what I disliked about algorithmic recommendation/autoplay, but I knew I hated it. The reason my 2008 novel LITTLE BROTHER doesn’t have any social media? Wishful thinking. I was hoping it would all die in a fire.

Today, active media is viewed with suspicion, considered synonymous with Qanon-addled boomers who flee Facebook for Parler so they can stan their favorite insurrectionists in peace, freed from the tyranny of the dread shadowban.

But I’m still on team active media. I would rather people actively choose their media diets, in a truly sociable mode of consumption and production, than leaning back and getting fed whatever is served up by the feed.

Today on Wired, Duke public policy scholar Philip M Napoli writes about lean forward and lean back in the context of Trump’s catastrophic failure to launch an independent blog, “From the Desk of Donald J Trump.”

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-trumps-failed-blog-proves-he-was-just-howling-into-the-void/

In a nutshell, Trump started a blog which he grandiosely characterized as a replacement for the social media monopolists who’d kicked him off their platforms. Within a month, he shut it down.

While Trump claimed the shut-down was all part of the plan, it’s painfully obvious that the real reason was that no one was visiting his website.

Now, there are many possible, non-exclusive explanations for this.

For starters, it was a very bad social media website. It lacked even rudimentary social tools. The Washington Post called it “a primitive one-way loudspeaker,” noting its lack of per-post comments, a decades old commonplace.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2021/05/21/trump-online-traffic-plunge/

Trump paid (or more likely, stiffed) a grifter crony to build the site for him, and it shows: the “Like” buttons didn’t do anything, the video-sharing buttons created links to nowhere, etc. From the Desk… was cursed at birth.

But Napoli’s argument is that even if Trump had built a good blog, it would have failed. Trump has a highly motivated cult of tens of millions of people — people who deliberately risked death to follow him, some even ingesting fish-tank cleaner and bleach at his urging.

The fact that these cult-members were willing to risk their lives, but not endure poor web design, says a lot about the nature of the Trump cult, and its relationship to passive media.

The Trump cult is a “push media” cult, simultaneously completely committed to Trump but unwilling to do much to follow him.

That’s the common thread between Fox News (and its successors like OANN) and MAGA Facebook.

And it echoes the despairing testimony of the children of Fox cultists, that their boomer parents consume endless linear TV, turning on Fox from the moment they arise and leaving it on until they fall asleep in front of it (also, reportedly, how Trump spent his presidency).

Napoli says that Trump’s success on monopoly social media platforms and his failure as a blogger reveals the role that algorithmically derived, per-user, endless scroll linear media played in the ascendancy of his views.

It makes me think of that TV exec and his prediction of the internet’s imminent disappearance (which, come to think of it, is not so far off from my own wishful thinking about social media’s disappearance in Little Brother).

He was absolutely right that this century has left so many of us exhausted, wanting nothing more than the numbness of lean-back, linear feeds.

But up against that is another phenomenon: the resurgence of active political movements.

After a 12-month period that saw widescale civil unrest, from last summer’s BLM uprising to the bizarre storming of the capital, you can’t really call this the golden age of passivity.

While Fox and OANN consumption might be the passive daily round of one of Idoru’s “vicious, lazy, profoundly ignorant, perpetually hungry organisms craving the warm god-flesh of the anointed,” that is in no way true of Qanon.

Qanon is an active pastime, a form of collaborative storytelling with all the mechanics of the Alternate Reality Games that the lean-forward media advocates who came out of the blogging era love so fiercely:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/06/no-vitiated-air/#other-hon

Meanwhile, the “clicktivism” that progressive cynics decried as useless performance a decade ago has become an active contact sport, welding together global movements from Occupy to BLM that use the digital to organize the highly physical.

That’s the paradox of lean-forward and lean-back: sometimes, the things you learn while leaning back make you lean forward — in fact, they might just get you off the couch altogether.

I think that Napoli is onto something. The fact that Trump’s cultists didn’t follow him to his crummy blog tells us that Trump was an effect, not a cause (something many of us suspected all along, as he’s clearly neither bright nor competent enough to inspire a movement).

But the fact that “cyberspace keeps everting” (to paraphrase “Spook Country,” another William Gibson novel) tells us that passive media consumption isn’t a guarantee of passivity in the rest of your life (and sometimes, it’s a guarantee of the opposite).

And it clarifies the role that social media plays in our discourse — not so much a “radicalizer” as a means to corral likeminded people together without them having to do much. Within those groups are those who are poised for action, or who can be moved to it.

The ease with which these people find one another doesn’t produce a deterministic outcome. Sometimes, the feed satisfies your urge for change (“clicktivism”). Sometimes, it fuels it (“radicalizing”).

Notwithstanding smug media execs, the digital realm equips us to “express our mute extremes of murderous rage and infantile desire” by doing much more than “changing the channels on a universal remote” — for better and for worse.

Image: Ian Burt (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oddsock/267206444

CC BY: https://creativecommo

ns.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

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It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement Chapter 11

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: You and Yoongi each share a little of your fucked up pasts

Previous chapter here

----------

The two of you entered the studio. Yoongi headed for the desk chair. "You can take the couch."

You gave him a bottle of water and pulled the gimbap out of your purse, handing one to him.

"Thanks. Now do you see why I don't go to those meetings?" He began to tear the wrapping off the gimbap.

"Yep. That was brutal. They literally just read off of the PowerPoint slides." You took a bite of your food.

Yoongi scrolled through his phone. "We should go shopping tonight. The stores will be packed tomorrow and Sunday."

"I don't mind. I can just go tomorrow or something."

He looked over at you. "I don't do crowds. Let's go tonight."

You sighed, it was clear you weren't winning this argument. "Sounds good. What time will you get done with work today?" You asked, glad some of the negativity was fading from him.

"I need to do some producing. But I'll try to take a break at 7 and then we can go shopping."

You almost died a little at how normal and domestic this all sounded. A small part of you wanted your life to be so different from the fucked up life you had experienced as a child. This could be your life. This could be it. It's fake. I don't care.

"OK sounds good." you finished up your sandwich. "I'm off to continue answering questions that people could easily look up online."

"Better you than me," he said.

You stuck your hand out for the sandwich wrapper and sighed. "Yep. It’s definitely not work befitting Min Suga genius." You teased as you exited the studio.

Yoongi smiled and turned around to face his computer. What the fuck was happening? Two days in and he had already bought you towels and was getting ready to go grocery shopping with you. Might as well skip to the wedding at this point, he thought jokingly. At least then someone else would have bought the towels for you.

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

Yoongi picked at his cuticles, his alarm was set to go off in a few minutes. He had done some mixing, but for the most part he ended up writing. He had been very inspired lately for lyrics. Usually it was the beats that came more easily to him and he had to seek out experiences for his lyrics. But lately he had so many feelings and experiences just itching to come out.

He was worried after that night at the bar that you would distract him from his job but so far he had found the opposite to be true. He was thinking about you less because he knew you were in the office or the apartment. He wasn’t wondering what you were doing all the time. Not that he cared. Not that he had thought about you all the time. And it was nice to have someone answer emails and calls, and deliver coffee.

He turned his alarm off preemptively and stood up. He exited the studio. There was no one left on the 14th floor. That wasn’t unusual. He stopped by your desk. It was totally empty. He frowned. How could a person the same age as him have only 2 bags of belongings he wondered. He took out his phone.

YG: What’s going on with Ms. [YLN] work laptop? I see it hasn’t arrived yet. She needs it immediately to help coordinate my collaborations. Additionally, she needs appropriate stationary.

JW: Of course Mr. Min. I will follow up with the IT department immediately and let you know. As for the office supplies I can provide her with some basic stationary immediately. If you require personalized stationary the lead time on orders is 2 weeks. I can send a link to have you/her look over it.

YG: Thank you Jiwoo. Please do that.

Satisfied with himself, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed over to the elevator. He got in. A girl he recognized as Alice, Jin’s main stylist was already on. She had a make-up train case with her and seemed irritated. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and noticed the button for the 18th floor was already pushed.

They both awkwardly stood in silence for the short ride.

The elevator arrived at the 18th floor. Yoongi gestured to her to exit first. She did and headed down the other way towards Jin’s apartment. He must have some event tonight Yoongi thought as he went the other direction to his apartment. He walked in, just realizing he hadn’t been home since yesterday morning. He sighed. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend days at a time in the studio. The first thing he noticed was that his apartment smelled like coffee and girl. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just different.

He continued into the living room and looked around. There was a light on in the kitchen and a half-empty pot of coffee. He could see a light peeking out from under your bedroom door. He took out his phone.

YG: I’m home. I’m going to grab a shower first and then we can go. You don’t have to stay holed up in the bedroom.

He walked upstairs, put his phone on the charger, and showered.

You woke up from your nap right at 6:58. Yoongi hadn’t struck you as the type to ever get home from work early so you hadn’t worried about being ready right at 7. You checked your messages and saw where he had texted you as well as Jimin. You pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and headed out to the living room.

JM: 2 pm. Meet me in the lobby of the 6th floor. Bring a tank top and leggings so you can try on clothes over them. Also I HATE YOU WE WERE THERE UNTIL 5 OMFG

YN: Sorry sorry XD I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again!

Yoongi emerged a few minutes later wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and looking like a damn snack. “Hey.” He walked over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets to check the ingredients. He looked back over his shoulder, “Seriously, I meant what I texted, Make yourself at home. I'm never here anyways."

You moved over to the barstool. "Thanks. I'm just so used to sharing small spaces with lots of people I don't really take up a lot of space. The coffee is fresh by the way. I had a cup before napping just now."

Yoongi didn't really respond, opening up the refrigerator. The two of you were surprised to suddenly hear yelling and screaming in the hallway.

"What the hell? "Yoongi asked, shutting the fridge and walking over to the front door. “Not again," he muttered under his breath. It sounded like a woman yelling. The blood in your veins ran ice cold, your tongue slowly turned to lead. You heard the front door open and felt dizzy. Suddenly you were in an apartment with Suho and there was screaming. You took a deep breath. No. No. That was years ago. You were in Seoul. You were safe. There were guards here and Yoongi was here. Yoongi? You shook your head, looking around. You started to panic again.

The woman had stopped screaming. You heard the voices of two men and slowly staggered out towards the hallway.

"What the fuck Jin?" you heard Yoongi yell.

"I know. I know. She's just difficult."

"Your girlfriend is a fucking asshole." You heard a girl yell. You recognized her as Alice. She was pulling her make up case down the hallway and crying hard.

"Alice I'm sorry. You know Lin is a little crazy. She didn't mean any of the stuff she said." Jin pleaded with her.

Alice was sobbing as she pushed the elevator button. "Tell yourself that, jin."

You didn't want to stare. You felt wrong watching all of this happen but you were also numb at this point, almost experiencing it as though you were outside your body.

Yoongi breathed in sharply. "Just go home Jin. But this is the second time this week. She needs some anger management classes or something." Yoongi looked over and saw you standing there, peeking around the corner.

"Enjoying the show?" He said irritated.

You snapped back to reality and shook your head. You weren't nosy. You had been scared and didn't want to be in the apartment alone. Yoongi got on the elevator with Alice, leaving you and Jin in the hallway.

" Goddammit," you heard Jin say as he walked back to his apartment.

You stood there for a minute replaying everything that had just happened. You took a few deep breaths. Suho wasn't here. You were fine. Yoongi was fine. Apparently Jin had a crazy girlfriend. Alice was Jin's stylist. And Yoongi thought you were a nosey asshole. Great.

You didn't feel like you could go back to the apartment right now so you decided to head out for a walk.

-----------

"You don't have to come with me. You don't even know me." Alice sniffed. "I know how to ride an elevator."

Yoongi shrugged. "Your name is Alice. You've been around for 3 years but became Jin's main stylist a year ago. You are hopelessly in love with him and his new girlfriend suspects. Tell me I'm wrong."

Alice sniffled, her silence acting as confirmation. Yoongi observed so much, quietly watching his coworkers over the years. “This is embarrassing.” She sniffled.

" You should file a complaint with the HR department. She can't just scream at staff members."

"I'm just a stylist."

"Well I'll be filing a complaint. Her loud yelling is fucking annoying." Yoongi put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Alice laughed a little at that. "Yeah. She's fucking mean. They've actually been dating on and off for years. She yells at Jin too and he always just takes it. That's why she screamed at me tonight. She called him a worthless idiot for like the 500th time and I finally just snapped and told her to shut up."

Yoongi pressed his lips together. He never would have imagined that Jin was being verbally abused. He suddenly felt bad he had been so short with him a few minutes ago.

The elevator arrived at the 7th floor where several of the girl's dormitories were. "Rest up. She's a bitch." Yoongi said to Alice as she got ready to exit.

"Yeah, thanks. Sorry I've never really talked to you before."

Yoongi shrugged . "It's fine." He pushed the door close button and back to the 18th floor. He had been so surprised to see you standing there. He didn't think you'd be interested in gossip, you had seemed so mature.

He walked back into the apartment. "Y/N I'm back. Are you ready to go to the store?"

Silence.

He sent a message to your phone and heard it ping from the countertop.

Shit.

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

Yoongi walked outside. It was a little cold out. He tried to tell himself he wasn't chasing after you or looking for you. He was just out stretching his legs. If he happened to run into you, fine. But if not, fine. He reasoned that without your phone or wallet, you had to be nearby. He had left a note for you in the apartment just in case you got back before he did.

Y/N,

Hey. Sorry for all the loud drama. Jin's gf sucks. Text me. You still owe me jjigae.

He walked through one of the little parks that stood between the skyscrapers and the river. He figured he would do a short lap and then head back. He hated the cold, he thought again as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yoongi?" he heard a voice. He looked over at the swingset and saw you sitting there.

"Hey," he walked over. "You left."

"Sorry, I needed some fresh air." You responded as you watched your breath form in the air.

Yoongi took a seat on the swing next to you. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Jin's girlfriend is apparently awful."

"Yeah. Poor Alice. I met her the other day, she seemed so sweet."

“How do you already know so many people?” Yoongi wondered aloud. He had been there for years and barely knew anybody.

You shrugged, “I guess bartending made me good at talking to people.”

“How did you get into it?”

“Bartending? Well I wanted a job where I could work nights so I could also have a day job. And the money was really good.”

“That's always your main job criteria?” Yoongi said flippantly.

Rude. “That's a little mean but yea. I'm the main adult who has to support my two siblings and I've had to since I was 20 years old. I had to drop out of college so there's not many options. I haven’t had the luxury of choosing jobs that I might actually be interested in.”

Yoongi felt like such a shithead. “Sorry. That was a dick thing of me to say. You’re right, it would be nice if you could have the ability to do a job because you like it. Not because of the money.”

“It's OK. I'm just sensitive about it.” You looked off in the distance at the river.

“You should be proud. When I was 20 I wasn’t able to even support myself, let alone take care of anybody else.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure you could have if you had to.”

“No. I’m telling you. When I was 20 I was on my own. And I was homeless because I couldn’t support myself. So the fact that you actually made it work while taking care of people is pretty amazing.”

“Thanks. And wow. I had no idea. That sucks. I’m glad you’re not homeless anymore.” You looked over at him. You never would have guessed. You just assumed he had always been well off.

“Right? That would suck.” Yoongi agreed, glad you weren’t turning his trauma into a big deal. “Yeah, I got discovered by a talent scout and BigHit brought me to Seoul and set me up in one of the dorms here.”

“Wow. I got discovered by some rich asshole with dimples in a bar, who I thought was running a sex-trafficking ring.” You joked. Yoongi laughed, while gently swinging.

"While we’re sharing our tragic backstories, that's actually one of the reasons I came out there." You began. You figured if Yoongi was willing to share some of his fucked-up ness you could do the same. "In the hallway. I didn't want to be alone. People yelling and screaming puts me on edge. I wasn’t trying to be nosy" you thought about how to best phrase what you wanted to say next. "I was raised in an environment where that happened a lot. Yelling. Screaming. And things got very violent, very quickly, in our house."

Yoongi sat next to you on the swings listening intently to your confession. He never would have guessed that about you. You seemed so well-adjusted." I'm sorry that you grew up in a place like that." He said, carefully studying your face." And I'm sorry that Jin's girlfriend caused you to be uncomfortable. I had no idea or I wouldn't have said anything to you about being in the hallway"

"it's OK. Well, I mean, it's not ok what happened to me, but it's over now. Thanks." you looked over at him. He was blowing on his hands. "Are you cold?"

"Yes, it’s freezing out here"

You scoffed, “It's a little cold. Here," you stood up and put your hands around his before he could object.

"How are you so hot?” He asked, enjoying the furnace of your hands.

“You know I look in the mirror every day and ask myself the same question.” You replied with a straight face. Yoongi wrinkled his nose causing you to laugh. “Come on. I don’t want to get fired for letting you freeze to death.” You pulled on his hands to get him off the swing. “Do you still want to go shopping?”

“Yep. I have the list in my phone. Since we’re already out let’s walk to the real grocery store. The BigHit store has an ok amount of things, but not as much as an outside store.”

“Ok, I need to go back and grab my wallet.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I--”

“You’ve seen my apartment. Don’t argue with me.” He started to walk back towards the city center.

You sighed. Yes. He was super rich and you weren’t. “Fine. But I am doing this under protest.”

“Your protest is noted, come along, assistant. I’ll let you carry the bags.” NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny

#bts fic #bts scenarios #suga x you #yoongi x you #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x you #suga x y/n #yoongi imagine #bts writing #suga bts #bts yoongi #bts au fanfic #bts fanfic

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hazelhalfpint · 3 years

Text

Closing the Distance

Surprise another Inu/Kag one shot because I have zero will-power lmao. I just can't stop myself they are so fun!

Based on a prompt you can find here

You can also read this one-shot on AO3 here

For @fawn-eyed-girl, the main inspo behind my return to writing.

Closing the Distance -

The city is quiet, the click of her small law firm office door almost seems out of place as she closed for the day. The normally busy streets of Akasaka had lulled to a quiet hum around her. Kagome sighed, glancing down at her phone. The time glared up at her, nearly 12:00AM. She made a noise in discontent, “Poor Buyo probably thinks I abandoned him this time.”

Her heeled suede boots clicked on the pavement hurriedly toward Akasaka station hoping to catch the last train to Meguro. She sighed in relief, stepping onto the train right before departure. Kagome let her body sway with the motions of the train, opting to close her eyes as she stood, fingers gripping one of the over-head handles. She felt grateful her ride was a short one, only taking her 15 minutes total trip time.

When the train pinged its arrival to Meguro, Kagome smiled stepping onto the concrete platform. She waved to the train staff, a younger man who usually worked the evening train route in Meguro.

“See you tomorrow, Hojo-kun.”

He smiled in return, waving cheerfully, “Have a good night, Higurashi-san!”

Kagome tightened her scarf, once again glancing at her phone as she walked the distance from Meguro station to her apartment building. She scrolled through her notifications, pursing her lips as she read them aloud. “Email, email, another email,” she rolled her eyes but kept scrolling,” text from Sango, (2) missed calls from Kaa-chan, two new Instagram likes.” She let out a loud whine; not a single message from the one person she had been hoping to hear from.

Kagome opened a message thread, the name ‘Inu’ glowing at the top with a red heart emoji. She typed a message as she continued her path, just like she had done the last three nights. She knew he was outside the reach of cell service, somewhere in the mountains of Washington, USA, attending a business conference with his father.

<New Message to: Inu ♥

I miss your voice. ☹ I hope your trip is going well; call me when you can! ♥>

She clicked send, tucking her phone into her jacket pocket. She wasn’t trying to be clingy, truly, but her and Inuyasha had spoken nearly every day for almost a year and a half. Kagome smiled fondly at how their relationship had started, “Hah!” She snorted out a laugh, ‘if you could even call it a ‘relationship’ at first.’

They’d met in an online anime forum, both looking for recommendations to fill their generally boring day to day routines. She’d recommended Bleach, one of her all-time favorites, and Inuyasha had roasted her alive in the comments about the length of the series. She’d retaliated hard though, noting that in his bio he had One-Piece listed as top favorite, and that if he were going to be a hypocrite to at least try to hide it. They bickered incessantly in the forum comments, and eventually moved to private chat, the conversation taking on a more playful tone as time went on.

After that they had pinballed anime suggestions back and forth, building a repertoire of anime they both could enjoy, either together via Zoom or separately. It wasn’t long until their conversations turned more heated, and affectionate. She’d learned what he liked and didn’t like (curry being at the top of that list alongside Bleach) and that unfortunately for their budding relationship they lived on opposite sides of the world. He worked for his fathers growing tech corporation as head of marketing, and Kagome worked full time at a law-firm as a child advocate lawyer.

She had also learned that like her, Inuyasha had grown up in Japan, in a prefecture close to where she had grown up. He’d only moved to New York with his father after high school to get a head start working for the family company, and now he was in Washington laying groundwork for the company’s’ north-western sect. She blushed remembering a previous conversation they’d had six months into talking, and four months into dating.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back to Japan?”

It wasn’t meant to be a loaded question, they hadn’t known each other for long, but Kagome couldn’t stop herself from chewing on her lip nervously. She drew in her knees, letting them tuck underneath her on the couch.

She could hear him chuckle into the phone, “Do you want me to come back to Japan?” Kagome felt her cheeks tinging pink.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She defended, “I mean of course I wouldn’t mind seeing you but…” She continued to babble on when he interrupted her.

“I would come back for you.” The words were quick and effective, going straight to the butterflies in her stomach, her heart rate increasing.

“You would?”

“In a heartbeat.” He offered the words to her like they were second nature.

“Inuyasha?” She smiled into the phone, waiting for his response.

“Hm?” he hummed a response, followed by a yawn.

“I really, really like you.” She could picture him smiling now, “I really like you too.”

They both had busy lives, but the part she loved most was that even in the mundanity of their daily lives they still managed to find time for each other. Except for the last three days.

“Keep it together, Kagome. It’s only been three days. He has no cell service,” she reminded herself fishing in her pocket for keys as she approached her unit.

Kagome pulled out the apartment keys, flipping through them easily to the correct one. The door opened with a click, and she shuffled into the genkan. She dropped her small purse onto the entryway table calling out into the dark as she always did, an inside joke to herself.

“Honey, I’m home!” She flipped on the entrance light and slid out of her jacket, chuckling, “Oh yeah that’s right...I live alone.” Well, not exactly, she did have Buyo after all. The fat cat normally came running as soon as she called out her inside joke, making it even more hilarious to Kagome. Buyo her fat sort-of roommate cat.

Her body stilled when this time instead of the mewling of her cat, a male voice called back out to her from the kitchen, “Oh good, you made it home,” the voice purred.

” I picked up some pizza,” the entry way to the kitchen was dimly lit, but Kagome didn’t need the lights on to know who was standing in her doorway holding a pizza box. A tall figure with silver hair swept into a bun, golden eyes gleaming with amusement and an undeniably familiar voice. One that she’d been hearing the last year and a half.

Kagome kicked off her boots in the genkan, launching herself across the apartment. Her arms locked around the figure’s waist, “Inuyasha!” She cried out his name, tears mercilessly streaming down her face as she hugged him tighter.

Inuyasha dropped the box of pizza onto the closest counter, tucking the crying woman into his arms more securely. He dropped his lips to her hair, placing a tender kiss to the top of her head. He was committing her scent to memory, lavender and soft vanilla. He inhaled deeply, letting out a content sigh.

“What are you doing here? How did you find my apartment? What about Washington?” Kagome managed to croak out the questions through tears. His fingers moved to tilt her face up to him, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He smiled a lopsided fanged grin, “I told you I’d come back to Japan for you.”

He said it with ease, like it was the most logical thing in the world. Kagome couldn’t stop herself as she pressed onto the tips of her toes to reach him. Her lips found his, and she pulled him closer, afraid he may vanish if she let go. He didn’t resist but instead melted into her touch, cradling the small of her back with his hands. After a few moments, Kagome released him with a pant, her chest heaving as he braced them against the closest kitchen wall.

Inuyasha dropped kisses onto her exposed shoulder, and Kagome stopped him with small hands fisted into his shirt. She had to tell him.

“I love you.” She blurted out the three words, cheeks flushed from their heated encounter and her confession. They had danced around the subject, but she’d known for a while. Kagome loved Inuyasha. She chewed on her lip, pulling it between her teeth but was stopped when he lowered to pull at her lip himself, sucking it against his mouth, and kissing her again sweetly.

“I love you too,” he said softly, cupping her face with his hand, “even if you like bleach.” Kagome let out a loud laugh at that, shoving his shoulder but then pulling him back for another kiss, just one of many more that would come now that she was truly home.

#inuyasha #oneshot #fluff #chat #90s anime #romance #inu/kag #inukag #writing #writing prompt

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

Obscured Chapter Four: Enter Mask

Chapter Word Count: 5, 629

Link: AO3

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Previous Chapter: Three

Next Chapter: Five

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, drugs

...

The house was quiet. No one wanted to speak, especially you. The entire ride home you sat in the back and fumed, refusing to talk to anyone. Childish, yes, but you felt like you were being treated like one. It was bad enough that Izuku was treating you like some frail little doll that would break the instant anyone touched it, now your friends saw you as some pathetically useless civilian. He didn't even bother to explain his reasoning, he was more paranoid than you've ever seen him.

Ochaco and Momo were sitting across from you, on the couch in Inko's living room, each trying their hardest not to acknowledge the awkward tension in the room. Ochaco was buried in her phone, typing away. Momo was staring into her teacup with such an intense focus, you'd think it was revealing some deep secret to her. You could smell whatever delicious food Inko was whipping up in the kitchen. She'd kicked everyone out of there, said dinner was her treat.

Inko was the only one you weren't mad at. If anything, she should be just as upset as you. She hadn't been allowed to leave the house for those two weeks either. Izuku claiming it was for her own safety. It was like he couldn't see how much of an overbearing blockhead he was being. You loved the man, but sometimes his fears outweighed his senses.

You'd been effectively ignoring everyone for the past few hours, scrolling through articles on your phone. You'd been sent a link to an article about a possible gang war creating tensions in the Agamar Quarter. You didn't recognize the sender, some obscure online blog that you'd never heard of before. It didn't really interest you and you were about to click out of it, but saw something that caught your eye. It was a picture of Izuku, well Deku.

With a renewed interest, you read the entire thing. Apparently, the Hashira gang had been found murdered in one of their stash houses. It was a massacre and it could possibly lead to more gang violence over territory. Deku had been called in to help with the investigation which you found odd. He didn't normally investigate gang crimes, especially something so far from his sector. The information in the article was scarce so you focused on Izuku's face in the photo. It was a side shot of him leaving the scene, and he looked nervous.

"Would you like some more tea?" Momo broke the silence.

You glanced up. You'd been so engrossed in the story that you almost forgot they were sitting across from you.

The cup on the table was untouched and probably cold by now. "No, I'm fine."

You went back to the article, but Ochaco spoke up next.

"Uh, so," She put her phone down. "Did any dresses catch your eye today? We can always try another shop if you didn't like any of those."

With a sigh, you dropped your phone. They weren't going to leave you alone now that you finally started talking again.

"I don't even know if I want to go anymore." You murmured.

Ochaco frowned. "To the gala?"

To be honest, you didn't feel like going anywhere with anyone at the moment. You hadn't had a moment to yourself for over two weeks and it was really starting to get on your nerves. You especially didn't want to go anywhere with Izuku either. You were angry at him, at yourself, at the entire criminal industry. He was taking this whole protective thing way too far. There was a limit to how much coddling you could take and he'd already surpassed that a long time ago.

It might have bothered you less if you didn't keep comparing yourself to how he treats Momo and Ochaco. You knew for a fact that he treated them as equals when facing disastrous circumstances, that he could count on them to handle themselves. It wasn't a fair comparison, you knew that. They were heroes. They trained for years to fight villains and had quirks to protect themselves. You had nothing like that. All you had was your experience running a busy E.R. They weren't the same, but he could at least give you some credit on handling stressful situations.

There was a small voice in the back of your mind telling you that it was because you were born quirkless. He didn't see you in the same light as the others because you had a disadvantage, a weakness.

You shook that thought away. Izuku respected you, he always had. He would never look down on you because you were born without power. He used to be the same as you. He would know how it felt better than anyone, it was what made him so determined to be a hero in the first place. You two might not have had the same career goals, but you did share one motivation; helping people.

You brushed the hair out of your face and finally looked up at them. "Are you bringing anyone?" You asked Ochaco.

She blinked. "Um...maybe."

"You found a date?" Momo smirked. "When were you going to tell us this?"

Ochaco blushed. "No, it's not a date! We're just going as friends."

"Come on," Momo elbowed her. "Spill the beans."

Your phone buzzed as you got another email, but you ignored it. This was actually getting interesting. Ochaco didn't date all that much, and she usually just went to the gala with Tsu and some of the other girls. But if she was bringing someone to the gala, a highly publicized event, then it had to be serious.

Ochaco rubbed the back of her head and shrugged, covering her burning face. "It's um..."

The attention in the room shifted as the front door opened. You jumped out of your seat and zoomed to the door, the girls trailing behind you.

Izuku stepped through and closed the door quietly. He wasn't expecting you to torpedo straight into him, almost knocking him off his feet, in a fierce hug. As quickly as you slammed into him, you jumped back and slapped his shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for?" He rubbed his shoulder.

"For worrying me!" You crossed your arms. "And for making me angry. And all the other dumb stuff you did."

Guilt flooded his eyes as he stared at you, but you'd been waiting for hours to chew him out and you weren't stopping there.

"You gave me some ominous demand to come home and then leave me to worry all day while you've been out doing who-knows-what!" You shouted. "You've been running around crime scenes with your little secrets while you force me to stay here like some sort of pet! I've had it!"

Izuku shrunk as you finally sucked in a breath. "Y/N... I didn't realize th-"

"No, you've had your head stuck too far up your ass to realize anything!" You stepped closer. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."

He glanced behind you. The others had gathered at the end of the room, looking very stiff and out of place. You'd forgotten they were here again. It was already embarrassing enough that they had to play bodyguard, now they had to witness your tantrum.

You rubbed your face and stepped away from him. "Please just explain what's going on."

Izuku was silent, almost like he was afraid to speak. You'd gone too far and you were too embarrassed to even admit it to everyone. What the hell was going on with your moods lately? You were like a compass that had gone haywire.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered. "I'll explain everything."

He lead everyone into the dining room. Izuku sat at the head of the table and Inko sat at the other end. He scanned over everyone, looking so uncomfortable, squirming in the hot seat.

"I'm sorry," He said again. "I didn't want you to worry."

You held up your hand. "I don't want excuses, I want answers. So talk."

His green hair was frizzy, he kept running his fingers through it, a nervous habit. "I think....I think Tatsuya, everything about him, was orchestrated by someone else."

There was silence. He locked eyes with you, waiting for some type of reaction. When you showed none, he continued.

"The Hashira gang was murdered early this morning. I think the same person was behind it as well."

"What makes you say that?" Momo asked.

"It was a message." He frowned, staring a hole into the wood table.

Ochaco leaned forward. "They left you a message?"

"The entire scene was a message." He whispered. "I think this was personal. Someone I must have wronged in the past, someone that wants revenge."

He threaded his fingers together, nervously fiddling with his thumbs. Staring at him, you lost that fire of anger that had been squatting in your stomach for so long. He was scared. This case was getting to him. You'd been so caught up in your own little ball of emotions, you overlooked just how much he was carrying with him, and it was a lot. Guess he wasn't the only one acting like a blockhead.

"Do you have any idea who?" Momo asked.

He shook his head. "Not at the moment...It's a long list."

Silence enveloped the room in cool tension as the information was processed. If this was personal and they had been behind Tatsuya and these other mass murders, then you could see why he'd been so freaked out lately.

Dammit. This was supposed to be over.

"What happens now?" You locked eyes.

"Whoever this person is, they won't hesitate to attack anyone close to me. They've proven that already." He paused. "But I refuse to let that happen again."

"How can I help?" Momo asked.

Ochaco nodded. "Yeah, we’re with you. Tell us what you want."

Izuku gave them a small smile. "Kacchan and Kirishima are working together on this. So is Shoto. They have some leads we're following." He glanced at the door. "Tsukauchi stationed some uniforms outside the house." He looked back at you. "I can station a hero with you here too, someone we trust."

You turned to Inko. She'd been sitting quietly this whole time. No one had asked her what she thought of all this. She would be in just as much danger as you, so she should have a say. Plus this was her house.

"Inko, what do you want to do?"

She sniffed and looked at her son. "I trust your judgement Izuku."

He nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Okay, I'll start making calls, see what the others have come up with."

A timer went off and everyone flinched. Inko waved everyone back down. "Dinner's almost ready." She scurried off into the kitchen.

"Y/N," Izuku leaned towards you. "Can I talk to you?"

Ochaco stood up, pulling Momo up with her. "We should get going. I'll check in with you later."

Momo nodded. "Yes, let us know what we can do to help."

"Shoto has the case files. You can talk to him."

Izuku walked them to the door where they gave quick goodbyes to everyone. Once they were gone, Izuku pulled you into the living room and sat you down.

"You have every right to be angry with me." He said quietly. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

He looked so hurt, like a puppy that had just been kicked. Damn, you could never stay mad when that stupid baby face of his looked so sad. Why did he always have to look so adorable, it was maddening sometimes.

"I'm not angry with you." You cocked your head. "Well, I was. It's just that you're treating me like a kid. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself you know."

His eyes grew wide. "Of course I know that! You keep proving that."

"Then why are you treating me like some kind of glass doll." You narrowed your eyes.

He shook his head and leaned forward. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about what could have happened. What can happen, if a villain gets to you. It, it terrifies me."

You stared at him for a moment. His hands had curled around your own, squeezing gently, as if you might disappear if he let go. His head was bowed, the edges of his curls were brushing against your neck as he rested against your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

Well, I'm not worried." You whispered. "You should have more faith in your abilities honey. In case you forgot, you're pretty outstanding."

You brought a hand up to run through his hair. It amazed you that it always still retained its softness even through the frizz. He loved when you would rub his head, so he curled up next to you, laying his head in your lap and staring up at you. His giant green eyes scanned over your face, as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"How the heck did I ever find someone as amazing as you?" He smiled, tracing his fingers along your arm.

You booped him on the nose. "You landed yourself right into my E.R."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you down for a quick kiss. "And I'm so glad I did."

You hummed in agreement and leaned back on the couch, shutting your eyes and relaxing for once. Of course the real world never stops, and so once again, your phone buzzed. You were hoping that one of your colleagues would get back with you about what's happening at the hospital. They've been reluctant to keep you updated while on your temporary leave. You were itching to get back to work.

"Izu," You nudged him. "Can you grab my phone?"

His eyes were shut, but he fumbled his hand around on the coffee table before he found it and handed it to you. Then he went back to snuggling in your lap, burying his face in your stomach. You absentmindedly played with his hair while you looked at your notifications. There were a few of them, all from that same blogger. The first one's subject line read; For your viewing pleasure. You clicked it and an image popped up.

"Oh my god!" You dropped the phone in your shock, straight onto Izuku's face.

He bolted up, rubbing the spot where the phone landed. "What?"

You blinked, staring at your phone, now lying facedown on the couch.

He grabbed it and turned it over. "Who sent this?" He asked in quiet disbelief.

"I don't know," you sat up straighter, "some blogger."

The email contained only pictures. A lot of them. They were all from the Hashira crime scene, except these weren't from some forensic photographer. These were taken while some of the members were still alive, taken by the killer. Now, you'd seen your fair share of bloody scenes at work, but nothing so brutal and....personal before. You could hardly stand to look at them, but one thing that you did focus on was one common element in all of the pictures, all the victims were being done up in Deku attire.

The phone buzzed again, with another email. Izuku opened it up this time. There were no pictures, just a short, simple message.

Change is happening. Get ready.

Ground Zero bit his tongue as he listened to another dumb story Red Riot was telling. He was half tempted to mute the comms, but that could jeopardize the stakeout. He hated stakeouts to begin with, but he absolutely loathed stakeouts with other people. Red Riot was a people person and Ground Zero was, to put it simply, not. So two hours in, he was ready to blow up the entire block.

"Anyway," Red Riot went on. "So now my foot's suck in there right? Kaminari's short-circuited and I still got half a pie left," He cracked up. "So then-"

"Shut up!" He finally exploded. "We're supposed to be quiet and I can't take any more of your shitty stories!"

"Ah, your just mad cause you weren't there." He said through the communicator.

Ground Zero grit his teeth and put his hand up to the comms, but forced himself to let it be. Instead, he focused his attention on navigating the rooftop he was on. It was narrow and the gravel crunched softly under his feet as he made his way across. Once he got to the edge, the building offered a nice view of the district. Red Riot was a few blocks over slowly making his rounds.

He was sure this guy would show tonight. He'd been pretty consistent with his appearances. Not so smart when your running drugs, but helpful to the hero who has to catch him.

"You know, maybe if you actually came to our get-togethers, you wouldn't miss out so much," Red commented. "I know the gang would like to see you again."

Ground Zero rolled his eyes and glanced down at the street below him. The building he was on was almost twenty stories up. "I don't have time to mess around."

"Dude," He sighed. "You've been working this case non-stop. Why is this so important to you?"

Ground Zero leaped off the building over the almost 5-meter gap and landed neatly on the other side. "They're criminals. Isn't that reason enough?"

Red was hesitant. "Yeah, but it seems like lately...I don't know."

"Exactly." He retorted. "You don't know."

Ground Zero scanned the surrounding buildings. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly overhead. Even though it was nearly two in the morning, the city lights made it easy to navigate the maze of buildings. He still had to watch himself, the rooftops were still pretty dark.

He ended up at the edge of the building, ready to move onto the next when he saw a shift in the shadows on the next roof over. He watched the spot like a hawk until he saw the faintest of movements. A figure darted between air conditioning units and paused on the ledge of a building, turning to face Ground Zero. A slight glint of metallic shined off a mask in the moonlight.

"He's here." Ground Zero smirked. "86th and 7th, heading east."

"Copy that. I'm close."

Ground Zero took off with a running start to jump over the huge gap separating their buildings. The figure didn't run, which he thought was strange. He only stood there, watching him as he landed in a roll. It was only after Ground Zero stood up and they locked eyes, well eyes to creepy Kabuki mask, that he finally took off.

Kabuki leaped off the ledge, down onto a smaller building below. Ground Zero was hot on his tail, practically flying off the building in his excitement.

"Oh no you don't!" He said still sailing down towards him using his explosions to control his flight. "Ha! Got you now!"

He slammed down towards him and almost managed to hit him. Kabuki was slicker than he thought and barely dodged. He jumped over Ground Zero as he stood back up and landed behind him. This guy was moving around with such agility that every time Ground Zero tried to swing around and clip him, he was already behind him again.

He growled and shot out a huge blast, using the momentum to spread it completely around him in a circle. No way someone could avoid an attack like that. When the smoke cleared, Kabuki was already on the next building.

Ground Zero narrowed his eyes and jumped after him. He landed on the slanted roof, almost slipping as some of the loose tiles gave way. He launched himself into the air again, scanning the rooftops in search for him. It was hard to find him when he was wearing all black in the dead of night. After a few tense seconds, he spotted movements a few buildings over. Damn, he was fast.

"He's headed your way, get ready!" He yelled into the earpiece.

"I'm ready." Red Riot answered. "I think I see him!"

Ground Zero boosted himself towards the villain, coming up fast. As Kabuki prepared to jump off the edge, a flash of red tackled him from below and pushed him back onto the building. Red Riot landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

Ground Zero quickly caught up and stood over the two. Kabuki struggled for a moment before deflating, choosing to turn his head and look up at Ground Zero.

"Katsuki Bakugo." Kabuki's voice was distorted with electronics. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Ground Zero reached for his cuffs and restrained his wrists.

"Why so silent?" Kabuki asked as he was hauled up. "Could it be that you’re afraid?"

He ground his teeth as he tightened the cuffs. "Shut the fuck up psycho."

Kabuki cocked his head. "Or is it that you're afraid to hear the truth?"

"I wouldn't keep talking if I were you." Red Riot said, grabbing one of Kabuki's arms.

"Oh, I'm not here for you." A spike shot out from the folds of his clothes, straight into Red Riot's stomach. Red Riot tumbled backwards, his hardening quirk the only thing saving him from being impaled. "I'm not here for either of you. "A second spike shot at Ground Zero who was quick enough to dodge it, but he had to let go.

Kabuki used the opportunity to escape, running towards the edge, hands still cuffed behind him. His fingers found the metal of the cuffs and in an instant, they seemed to melt right off him, drooping into a shiny puddle on the roof.

Red Riot was slow to stand while Ground Zero raced for Kabuki. He fired off a dozen mini blasts, all scattering around him until one found home, slamming into Kabuki's mask just as he turned to look back. He lost his balance and tumbled off the building.

"Shit." He hissed and ran to the edge.

Luckily, there was a building below that caught Kabuki. He landed hard, a small impact in the loose gravel around him showed that much. He turned over and pushed himself up to his knees.

"I don't think so!" Ground Zero hopped over the edge and fell on top of him, pushing him back into the ground.

Kabuki groaned, which sounded weird coming through the electronic mask. He stilled again as the knee guard drove into his back. Kabuki grasped at the gravel, trying to find a hold to squeeze out of his position.

"Let's see who's under that mask." He reached for the mask, but as soon as his fingers touched it, the mask sparked, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm, numbing it.

Kabuki pushed him off in his moment of weakness and rolled to his feet, pulling out a sharp metal spear from somewhere in his robes.

"Come on then," Ground Zero stood, flexing his hand. "Let's see what you got!"

Kabuki stepped towards him, the spear moved so fast, that he couldn't even see it in the dim light. The only thing that stopped the spear from smacking him in the side of the head was his arm brace. The brace took the brunt of the impact, almost cracking in half from the sheer force of the swing. The spear disappeared, only to reappear on his other side. He blocked again, but rolled with the blow this time, lessening the damage.

Red Riot jumped down to join the fight, running straight for the man. Kabuki reached into his robe and threw out a dozen little daggers. Red Riot easily batted them to the side and continued to charge. Or they should have been swatted aside, but when he looked down, he saw the daggers had melted down and wrapped around his arms and chest. He suddenly lurched backwards, almost loosing his footing, as the metal crawled up his skin, towards his face.

"What the-" Red Riot shook his arms, trying to scrap the warped metal off. The metal had a mind of its own and with sudden force, manipulated his arms, trying to pull them behind him in a makeshift cuff. It took all of his strength to counter the metal. It looked as though he was struggling with an invisible enemy.

Ground Zero focused back on Kabuki, firing an explosion at him. Kabuki used the spear to jump above the blast and drop behind him. The spear jabbed at his back, but he was quicker this time. He leaned to the side just as the spear was about to pierce him and wrapped his arms around it. He used the momentum to twist it around, throwing Kabuki off his feet.

Ground Zero gripped the spear, ready to use it against his opponent when the metal started melting. He wasn't an idiot, he'd seen exactly what would happen. He let go before it could crawl up his hand and blasted it away for good measure. So metal manipulation was his quirk.

He was too focused on the spear, he didn't catch the dagger Kabuki had thrown. It struck him in the shoulder and he stumbled back. It was small, but twisted around as if it had a life of its own. He grabbed his shoulder, gasping as the dagger dug deeper. His shoulder screamed in pain and blood gushed from the wound as the thing tried to burrow straight through.

To manipulate something so small and precise, that took a great deal of skill and training. He wasn't dealing with an ordinary drug runner, although that didn't surprise him all that much. A person who could eliminate an entire gang alone wasn't someone to piss off. But if Ground Zero had a specialty, it was pissing people off.

"What?" Kabuki dusted off his coat. "Is that all you got?"

Ground Zero dug his fingers into the wound, searching until he found the tiny hilt and pulled it out. The thing was stubborn and seemed to grow thorns locking it in place, but he managed to rip it out of his shoulder with a sharp groan.

Red Riot was in a dilemma of his own. The metal was trying to crawl its way up his arms and around his neck. The only thing he could do was keep scraping it off, but it was like glue.

Ground Zero charged again, but Kabuki only pointed to Red Riot. "Ah, ah." He wagged his finger. "I wouldn't move if I were you. It doesn't take much to break a neck you know."

He faltered, warily eyeing Red Riot, who had sunk to his knees. This metal wasn't like ordinary metal. The one that found a home in his shoulder was heavy, much heavier than metal should have been. He was betting it was stronger too, probably strong enough to break through Red Riot's quirk.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" Kabuki put his hands on his waist. "Now, as I recall, you're only the number two hero. What happened to your dream of being number one?"

"What does it matter to you?" He spat out.

"It matters very much to me." Kabuki put a hand on his chest. "Your dreams were crushed as soon as he entered the playing field. What right did he have to take away something you worked so hard for, something that would help society as a whole!"

"The only thing that's gonna be crushed is your head."

"You know as well as I do that he shouldn't have been given that power." Kabuki growled. "He should have never become a hero!"

The metal on Red Riot had wrapped around his throat and he clawed at it, but even his quirk couldn't hold out for long against it.

"What do you have against him?" He asked. "what did he do to you?"

Kabuki waved his hands. "You're nothing like Midoriya, are you?" He took a step closer. "Always one step behind him. Always second place."

He had to mentally tell himself not to react. He wanted a reaction out of him and that would just put Red Riot in danger. He might also be able to get some answers out of this guy, if he kept calm enough.

"You know it's the truth." He went on. "But I can change that. I can help you change that."

"What are you on about?"

"I know all about you too, Mr. Bakugo." Kabuki casually crossed his arms. "I know what your life should have been like. We're very similar, you and I."

"Like hell we are." He barked.

Kabuki shrugged. "Think on it." He slipped out a gun and aimed it at Ground Zero, who tensed up. "In the meantime, I think this will be a suitable test run."

He released the metal that flew back and sunk beneath his robes. Red Riot gasped and fell forward, taking in heavy breaths. In a slight move, Kabuki redirected the gun and fired at Red Riot. The bullet struck the ground just beneath his hunched form and exploded into a cloud of blue dust.

Ground Zero charged him again, but Kabuki used the metal to springboard him off the roof. He was about to jump after him, but Red Riot gagged on the dust as he tried to move away from it. The blue powder seemed to cling to his skin, coating him. He waved it away from his face, choking on whatever substance it was supposed to be. It was a loosing battle and he crumbled back to his knees.

Ground Zero glanced back to where Kabuki had jumped off too. He put him in a bind. "Fuck!" He turned back to his friend who was struggling to breathe on the ground.

Red Riot's eyes were darting everywhere as panic overtook his senses. If blue powder wasn't already covering his face, Ground Zero was sure, he was turning blue from lack of oxygen.

He searched through his belt for something, anything, that might help. All he had was water. He gave it to Red Riot who tried to swallow the water, but only ended up gagging on that too. He fell forward, Ground Zero catching him before his head hit the ground.

"Hey Red Idiot," Ground Zero gently laid him down. "Keep fucking breathing!"

Shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. He'd let Kabuki escape and his teammate get hurt.

Red Riot suddenly lurched forward, throwing up all that blue dust that clogged his throat and rolled to the side with a groan. His fingers were twitching and his face was pale underneath the dust. He looked so out of it, eyes staring right through Ground Zero, as if he wasn't even there. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey Eijiro," Ground Zero grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me."

With a low groan, he pushed himself off the ground, shaking his head. He was breathing heavy and his arms were trembling, but at least he was getting back up. That was good, right?

"Hey-" Ground Zero was cut off by the sudden punch to the jaw and fell backwards.

Stunned, he blinked in surprise as Red Riot tackled him with a ferocious growl. The two rolled in the gravel until Ground Zero caught up with what was going on. He shoved his friend off him and jumped to his feet.

"What the fuck man!" He yelled, but Red Riot wasn't listening and charged again.

Ground Zero grabbed his head and arm, twisting downward and out, flipping him onto his back. Red Riot's face was bent into a permanent growl as he lashed out, swiping at Ground Zero's legs. He blasted him before picking him up by his shoulder straps and bringing him face level. When he looked into Red Riot's eyes, he saw almost completely black. His pupils were blown, which meant it was definitely some sort of drug at play. He was just hoping it wasn't the long lasting, damaging type.

"What the hell is wrong with you," He shook him. "Snap out of it!"

Red Riot held up his arm, trying to harden it, but only half of it worked. Two of his fingers hardened and half his forearm. He swiped down, slamming it into Ground Zero. He let go, letting Red Riot stumble backwards. His balance was off, he could hardly stand straight, and it didn't look like the light was really on in the attic. That didn't stop him from coming back for more.

"That's it!" He waited for Red Riot to come to him. He was a few feet away before he hit him with a huge blast. "Time for a nap!" He grabbed his head and slammed it into his knee guard so hard that the guard bent.

Red Riot's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped down. Ground Zero laid him out and cuffed his hands in front of him, just in case. He didn't want either of them to get hurt while he was acting like this.

Ground Zero stood up and glanced around, trying to see if Kabuki had stayed to watch the show. No doubt he did, but it wasn't like he could run off now to try and find the villain. That would be irresponsible and he was slightly worried about his teammate. He requested an ambulance through his earpiece as he inspected the area. Whatever was in that bullet had done this. He searched the ground for the capsule while he made a another call. He was met with a groggy hello on the other end.

"We need to talk," he said as he picked up the fragment of the bullet.

Tag List @miriobaby @awilddreamerwrites @hmm-cats @thecindy @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe @kenmaskitten10 @slytherintothedms

...

Chapter 5

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

The Loft (Chapter 3)

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 3

[Hermione]

Hermione lands at The Burrow after work on a Friday afternoon, and she's in desperate need of a drink. She's never been much of a drinker, but ever since moving into the loft and befriending Ron and Ginny, the Weasleys' family-owned bar has become a weekly staple.

It doesn't hurt that when Ron's running the bar, as he does most weekends, the drinks are on the house. At least they are for his roommates.

"What can I get for you, Hermione?"

"Surprise me," she says as she slides onto a barstool.

"That's risky. You sure about that?" asks Ron, even though he's already busying himself with a cocktail glass and mystery spirits.

"I'm trying to take more risks!" she says, eyeing the swirling, colorful liquid forming in her glass as Ron prepares her a surprise drink.

"Ahh, you're a risk-taker now?"

"Yep. At Ginny's encouragement, if you must know."

"Honestly, I'm not sure Ginny is the one to go to for that kind of advice." Ron slides her glass across the bar, topping the fuschia-colored cocktail with a cherry.

"Why not? I'm single and off the grid!"

Ron laughs. "You are the least 'off the grid' person I know. Ginny's getting to you."

Hermione takes a sip to discover the drink is the perfect mix of fruity and bitter. It doesn't taste strong, which is odd considering she saw Ron pour a healthy amount of alcohol.

"What is this?"

"I thought you wanted it to be a surprise."

"I'm just curious."

"Alright, if you must know, it's a love potion. Meant to bring you good fortune. It's quite sad seeing you so helplessly single—"

"Oh shut up," she interrupts, reaching over the bar to jokingly shove Ron in the shoulder.

"Hellooooo," comes a voice from the bar's entrance.

"Speak of the devil." Ron nods toward the front door, from where his sister's just entered.

Ginny takes a seat next to Hermione. "Hey, friend. Hey, brother."

"Long time, no see," says Hermione, facetiously, of course. Ginny and Hermione have worked together at the same editorial — the Daily Prophet — for over a year, but only recently started spending their lunch hours together. Now, they barely go a few hours without seeing each other, and Hermione doesn't mind it one bit.

"Hermione, how's that online dating profile coming along?" Ginny asks, jumping right into where they left off during their lunch conversation.

"It's not."

"Get on it! You've got to get back out there." Ginny reaches for her phone on the bar and starts scrolling through her recent photos. "Here, this is a great photo of you! Make it your tinder profile picture!"

Hermione leans over Ginny's shoulder to see a photo of herself on a patio, sipping away on a glass of wine. The main reason she doesn't like it is that, well, Cormac took it. "No, I look terrible in that one!"

"Ron, would you date Hermione?"

For a moment, Hermione panics, dreading his response, until she realizes Ginny's showing him the photo of her, and the question is hypothetical.

Still, she watches for his reaction.

Ron doesn't answer, instead, he splutters a few times, clearly unsure what to say. His ears turn the same color as her drink.

"I don't know why I'm asking you. Even I'm attracted to this photo," says Ginny, flipping back through Hermione's dating apps before sliding the phone back across the bar to her. "I set it as your profile picture."

"Why can't I just meet someone the old-fashioned way, like in a bar?" groans Hermione, pocketing her phone. She instinctively looks up at Ron, who, for some reason, is still avoiding her eye contact.

"Because these are modern times, and you're not going to meet your dream man sitting across from my brother at The Burrow."

Hermione rolls her eyes just as the doors open again, and two blonde men walk in. One is quite tall and fit, the other a bit shorter and scrawnier. They might even be brothers.

"Hey, Ron, where do you want us to put these?" says the taller, more handsome one. Both men carry a cart full of kegs with the name Macmillan Brewing emblazoned on the side, which Hermione recognizes from The Burrow's various beer selections.

"Oh hey, Ernie," says Ron in a neutral voice before nearly screeching, "What's up, Dragon Claw!"

"Hi, Ron!" Ron and the shorter blonde man-child start an elaborate handshake, complete with butt-wiggles and chest bumps.

Ernie catches Hermione's eye and smirks. "Never seen you here before! I'm Ernie Macmillan! My father owns Macmillan Brewing, and we supply The Burrow!"

"Oh, that's great!" says Hermione. She shakes his extended hand and wonders if Ernie might be a good interview candidate for the food and drink section of the Daily Prophet. "Nice to meet you, Ernie."

"And this is Draco—"

"Call me Dragon Claw!" exclaims Draco, now approaching Hermione. She watches on with wide eyes as he pulls himself up onto the bar and slithers toward the other side. Wouldn't it have been easier to walk around the bar?

"Draco's a bit dramatic," says Ernie, as if reading her mind.

"I see. Well, nice to meet you both," says Hermione, shaking Draco's hand.

"Hermione just moved into the loft," interjects Ron as he drags a few of the kegs to the back of the bar, then disappears behind the curtain.

"Great!" says Ernie. "If you ever need someone to show you around the city, let me know! The Macmillans are pretty well connected," he adds with a wink.

Hermione glances to the back, where Ron is still busying himself unloading kegs, unaware of their conversation.

"I'm not actually new to the area," she starts, but stops when Ginny elbows her. "Yeah. I'd love to spend some time with you."

"Awesome. Well, Ron can give you my number, then! Talk soon!" he says, beaming. "Let's go, Dragon Claw!"

Ernie and Draco hurry off back through The Burrow's front doors, just as Ron reappears behind the bar.

"Oooh, Hermione!" says Ginny, smirking at her. "He's attractive."

"He seems a bit, I don't know, pompous."

"So, he's perfect for casual sex. You won't get attached."

Hermione takes another long swig of her drink to finish it off, and the creeping pink on Ron's cheeks doesn't go unnoticed.

"I guess you're right," she says.

"Hey Ron, can you give that guy Hermione's number?"

Ron clears his throat and raises his eyebrows. "That guy?"

Hermione nods. "He seems cool."

Ron smiles, and if Hermione's not mistaken, there's a bit of mischief to his grin. "Great. He'll be so excited."

Her heart sinks at Ron's apparent excitement for her to go out on a date. She smiles, and in the most neutral voice she can muster, "Thank you, Ron."

"You're welcome, Hermione." His tone is stiff, almost forced as he pours three shots, one for himself, Hermione, and Ginny. "To being off the grid."

Hermione holds up her shot glass, as does Ginny, and makes eye contact with Ron for the first time since they were alone that night. "To being off the grid!"

Hermione's putting the last finishing touches on her makeup when her phone buzzes and nearly falls from the bathroom vanity. It's Ernie again, responding to her previous text.

"Who's the message from?" asks Ginny from Hermione's bedroom. "Is it Ernie?"

Usually, Hermione would tell her to hush up, but since the loft is currently empty, there are no nosy roommates to butt in and question her about her new 'love interest.'

"We've been texting all day," answers Hermione, exiting the bathroom to poke her head into her bedroom. "He seems really excited!"

"Well, he should be!" says Ginny, eyeing Hermione up and down. "He's a lucky dude."

Hermione's wearing a black mini skirt, a low-cut white blouse, and heels. They're only an inch high, but she still has trouble walking in them. She doesn't mind, though — it's been a while since she's put much effort into dressing up for a date night. Most of her 'dates' with Cormac were of the 'Netflix and chill' variety, and the only dressing up he expected was something easy to remove.

"Do I look okay?"

"You look amazing," says Ginny.

Hermione's gaze travels toward the loft's front door. For the most part, she's grateful that the loft is empty. Ron still isn't back from his shift at the bar, and part of Hermione wants to see him before she leaves for her date.

Well, more accurately, she wants him to see her. Before she can fully unpack that thought, her phone buzzes again, and this time, Ernie's message strikes her as particularly bold.

'Can't wait to demonstrate my skill in the kitchen! Then maybe later, you'll see my skill in a different room.'

Her heart pounds against her chest at the thought of sleeping with Ernie. She's excited, of course, it's been too long, but part of her is bothered by the fact that she doesn't particularly like him. Maybe it's because he's too talkative, and she feels like she can hardly muster a text back before he moves onto another subject. That might translate poorly to verbal conversation. It could also be the way he looks. He's attractive enough, but something is off. It's probably the hair — too blonde. Or, maybe she just needs to get to know someone before being attracted to them.

There could be many reasons. But she's off the grid, and what else are her twenties for if not trying new things? Sometimes 'new things' are as simple as casual sex with a stranger.

Ginny must notice her befuddled expression. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"His texts are getting raunchier, Ginny. Honestly, I'm kind of nervous." Hermione squints at the screen as another message pops up, burying the boldness of the prior one. "He's asking if I have any dietary restrictions."

"Saucy," laughs Ginny.

"No, I'm serious! What's a hot way to say that I don't feel sexy if I've had a lot of cheese?"

Her phone buzzes again. 'Also, what are you wearing?'

"How do I respond to this?" she tilts the screen toward Ginny, who beams.

"Respond with a simple, 'or not wearing,'" Ginny states confidently.

"Good one," says Hermione, dictating her response. "Or not wearing. Because sex happens naked. Send!" She glances back at Ginny to gauge her reaction. She's new to sexting, after all.

Ginny looks horrified. "Give me your phone," she says, reaching for Hermione's device.

"Why?"

"You need to be more subtle. Don't be so direct."

Hermione hands over her phone, and Ginny starts typing away. "LOL, just kidding. Get ready for the best night of your life."

Ginny hands her phone back, and Hermione immediately starts typing again. More subtle, she can do that. "What about, 'It might even be the last night of your life because my body kills.' Send."

Ginny groans. "You didn't send that—"

Hermione looks down at her sent message. "Oh no. Autocorrect changed 'body' to 'meat bar.'"

"Let's just stop texting him for now," says Ginny. "Dazzle him in person."

Hermione closes out the screen and places her phone on her bedside table next to her purse. "I haven't been on a date for a long time."

"It's not a date, just a hook-up, right? The stakes are low, and he's obviously thrilled about it," Ginny says, motioning toward Hermione's phone.

"Right," says Hermione.

Ginny stands up from the bed and approaches her, gently placing her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "Listen. You've got this. You're beautiful, and you better believe it. Just because Cormac didn't see it doesn't mean Ernie won't. Seriously, look how excited those messages are. He practically texts you back within a second, and he's still texting you even though autocorrect changed 'body' to 'meat bar.'"

Hermione glances back at her phone, blinking bright with another message. "You're right. It's just casual, right?"

"Right."

"I can do this. It'll be fun."

"Yes, you can. You'll have a great time, I'm sure. I can't wait to hear all about it," she adds with a wink.

"What are you going to do all night?"

"Oh, I'll probably hang out with Harry." Hermione can see the uncanny resemblance to her brother when Ginny's ears tinge pink. She's been at the loft a lot, and Hermione knows that it's not because of her.

"Is there something going on there?" she asks, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"It's just casual," Ginny shrugs. There's something wistful in her voice, like maybe she doesn't want it to be just casual. Hermione thinks that Ginny and Harry would make a great couple. She wonders what Ron would say about it.

"Also, don't mention it to Ron," adds Ginny, as if she can read her mind. "I have a feeling he'd be weird about it."

Oddly, something about being told not to tell Ron makes Hermione want to. She imagines them giggling over a beer, gossiping about their budding romance. Not that anything like that would ever happen. Ron and Hermione are reluctant friends, at best. Right?

"I won't say anything."

Ginny beams. "Now, go get laid!"

Punctual as always, Hermione arrives at Ernie's apartment five minutes earlier than she expected and takes the extra time to check her hair in the mirror by the elevator. She assures herself she looks fine, even though it's always a bit jarring to see herself all dressed up. She can't help but wonder what Ron would think of her heels, mini-skirt, and straightened hair.

To put an end to overthinking, she taps on Ernie's door, holding her breath until she hears footsteps shuffling toward her from inside the apartment. Why isn't she more excited?

The door swings open, and Hermione takes a step back, blinking in surprise at the person before her.

"Oh. Draco. Hi."

"YES!" he exclaims, punching his tiny fist into the air. "You're so pretty!"

"Oh, thank you." He opens the door wider so Hermione can enter the apartment. "Is Ernie home?"

"Just you and me tonight!" he exclaims. "I'm making dragon food!"

Hold up. No Ernie? Ron gave her number to Draco?

"Just you and me?" she asks tentatively. Ron could NOT have thought she wanted to date Draco.

"When Ron told me you wanted my number, I was SO EXCITED! Look at you! You're like a nine point eight!"

"I'm a what?"

"Nine point eight out of ten!"

Is he rating her?

"What do you mean by that, Draco?" Her voice stiffens, and she hopes for his sake he doesn't ask her for his score on the scale.

"You're so pretty, but there's always room for improvement."

"Wow, that's uh. That's really rude—"

"Just kidding! You're perfect," he bellows, making her jump. Then, leaning in for a whisper, he says, "I can't wait to see your meat bar."

Then, even by his own standards, Draco does something odd. He drops to his stomach and starts slithering toward the kitchen like a snake. "What are you doing, Draco?"

"Do you know why they call me Dragon Claw?" he responds, ignoring her question.

"No, I don't."

With swift, child-like agility, Draco hops back to his feet, turns around, and lifts up the back of his shirt, exposing a sloppy, faded claw tattoo on his lower back. "I got this tattoo for free!"

"It's… very nice."

"When I do this," he says, arching his back to compress the tattoo "it's retracting the claw," and when I do this, he continues, tucking his hips to stretch the claw, "it's protracting. Like a dragon's claw. Do you see it?"

"Yes, yes I do, Draco."

Draco gyrates his hips a few more times for good measure. "Protracting. Retracting. Protracting. Retracting."

"Yep," says Hermione, fumbling into her pocket for her phone. She has a few words for a certain red-headed someone.

"Do you want to do something fun?"

"Um, sure," she mumbles, already distracted by her phone as sche scrolls for Ron's number.

"Okay!" Draco flops back on his stomach and army-crawls into his bedroom. "In here!"

"Be right there," she says as she types out her text to Ron.

'RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY. WHAT DID YOU DO?'

"Hermione!" says Draco from his bedroom.

She gives herself a second to calm down. She knows she should set Draco straight, but he doesn't seem to be the type to take rejection well. He's also so excited to be on a date — he probably doesn't go on many — and he might be devastated. She doesn't really want to hurt him, but she'd prefer it over joining him in the bedroom. This is all Ron's fault.

At the thought, her phone buzzes again. She glances at the text message to find it's from Ron — three simple emojis: a dragon, an eggplant, and a winky face.

Hermione takes a deep breath, preparing to straighten this out. She needs to let Draco down gently and get back home to the loft to give Ron a piece of her mind.

When she enters the bedroom, Draco has ditched his shirt and is sprawled out on the bed. "Do you know what gets me in the mood, Hermione?"

Hermione sighs — and shudders. "I can't say that I do, Draco. Look, I need to tell you s—"

"Visualization!" he squeals. "Close your eyes!"

"Draco—"

'Imagine you're on Mars," he starts. Hermione arches an eyebrow at him but his eyes are shut, and he's oblivious to her reaction. "You go to a magical school called Pigfarts."

"Pigfarts?"

"Yes, Pigfarts!"

"I don't want to go to a school called Pigfarts. Draco, we really need to—"

"I think you do, Hermione. It's the only way to meet Rumble Roar!"

"Draco, I need to tell you something," interrupts Hermione, but her curiosity wins her over. "Wait, who is Rumble Roar?"

Draco pats the bed covers next to him and whispers, "if you play your cards right, you'll find out soon enough."

No. This has to end. Now.

Hermione lets out a cough, giving it her best attempt to sound genuine. "Draco, I'm sick."

At her admission, he rises to a seat. "Oh no! My Mama Dragon's feeling under the weather?"

Mama Dragon?

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm so sick. I don't want to spread anything to you so—"

"That's disappointing," says Draco, sliding off the bed. "I can get out my thermometer. I have a really accurate one."

"No, that's okay," she says, backing away from him. She doesn't want to think of what an accurate thermometer means. "I know my body, and I'm definitely running a fever. I should go."

"We can reschedule! Text me!" he says, moving toward her for an embrace, but Hermione's already halfway toward the front door.

"Yes, I'll text you!" she lies, grabbing her purse and jacket by the entry. She hurries out of the apartment and breathes a sigh of relief when the door swings shut.

Hermione runs into Ron, lounging on the living room sofa when she returns from her date. He appears to be the only one home, and at first, she's relieved that he's at the loft and not 'out,' whatever that entails.

But, her relief morphs into anger when he smirks at her and laughs through a mouthful of ice cream. "How was your date?"

"Shut up."

"Why? It didn't go well?" he presses, reaching for the remote control to pause the television and swinging his legs off of the coffee table.

"What do you think?" Hermione drops her purse on the entryway table and kicks off her shoes before storming toward her bedroom.

Ron follows, eyeing his watch. "Well, you're back a bit earlier than expected, so I'm assuming that you two didn't… you know… make dragon babies."

"I don't want to talk to you right now," she says, although she struggles to suppress a laugh, especially when Ron looks positively delighted.

"I'm honestly sorry it didn't work out," says Ron, taking a seat on her bed. "You two would have made a great couple." He props his High School Musical themed socks up onto the bed, and Hermione can't help but smile at how comfortable he seems there.

Attempting to mask her smile, Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Why did you give Dragon Claw my number?"

"You asked me to," responds Ron matter-of-factly.

"I wanted you to give it to Ernie!" she exclaims, even though it's clear by Ron's smirk that he already knows this.

"Gross! Ernie's so lame! Why would you want to date him?" he whines. "You can do so much better, Hermione."

"I can do so much better? Like Dragon Claw?"

"Well, you could have, but I think you burned that bridge."

"He said I was a nine point eight out of ten because there's always room for improvement."

Ron laughs heartily. "Not quite good enough to meet Rumble Roar?"

"Get out!" says Hermione, pointing toward her bedroom door. How does he know about Rumble Roar? She shudders to imagine what kind of conversations Ron has in the back of the bar with his keg delivery men.

Sighing, Ron rises to his feet, and for a moment, Hermione laments the now empty space on her bed. "For the record," he says over his shoulder, "he wouldn't know a ten if it slapped him in the face."

Ron shuffles out the door, and in frustration, Hermione buries her face into her pillow and groans, the memory of Ron's teasing fresh on her mind.

Did he just call her a ten? She replays their last conversation in her head. He wouldn't know a ten if it slapped him in the face.

Just the thought of it makes her palms sweat and her heart rate spike, something that definitely didn't happen before when she was standing outside what she thought was Ernie's door.

No. He didn't mean to call her a ten.

That probably wasn't even about her, and it's better not to overthink it.

#Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hp fanfiction #muggle AU #be11a_loft

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (10/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: This took a while. I had this written out for a while, I just spent a good amount of brain cells trying to figure out where to cut this. It’s almost done actually. I’m expecting like (at the most) 5 more chapters so maybe I can get it done by the end of March if I muster up the courage and the effort to do all the final revisions to the last few chapters.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Other Chapters:1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Link to cross-postings: AO3

As Levi soon found out, Hange kept a folder online tagged ‘Levi Ackerman.’

The oldest pictures were dated more than three years ago and the first had been one of his cool down after his performance at his first tournament. There was variety in the pictures and they covered everything, all the way from warming up on the bench, positioning himself to run and those few moments right after launching himself in the air to the peak of his jump. She had even snuck pictures of his interviews.

The first time he opened it, he had first checked the dates to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming or assuming she of all people had been a fan. The weirdly strong emotions he had felt at the realization of the existence of such a folder had only made him all the more vulnerable and the last thing he had wanted to do was an act on an illusion or trick of the mind.

The experiences he had on the field clearing jump after jump had become routine over the five year period. Despite the changes among the faces in the crowd, the cheers that had only been getting louder and louder and of course, the oval that changed with the venue, sometimes the only thing Levi did remember was the blue sky staring him down and gravity pulling from behind.

Maybe that was why he had ended up in a state of disbelief the first time she had shown it to him.

How did you not notice her? Levi was sure he wouldn’t have anyway. She was a stranger, one stranger in a crowd of people. Although she may have been one unchanging face in a crowd of thousands of changing faces, she was still a stranger to him. And strangers just tended to blend in more easily.

A valid point. Yet the regret and frustration were still fresh inside him despite it having been weeks since she first gave him access to that folder

She had first showed it to him the morning after that eventful night, after having dealt with a hungover Nanaba. It was only in the evening that day after Hange had escorted her three friends to the station did she sit next to him on the bed and scroll through the pictures herself with Levi right beside her. Naturally, she was still hesitant to show that side of her, she scrolled a bit too slow at times, while a bit too fast at other times.

For a while their roles were reversed and Levi found himself prodding Hange for more details. Eventually, she did share the link to the folder in exchange for links to his story and Levi was quick to comply. They were both exposed anyway, there was no need for any more secrets between them. Only one condition that had seemed a little too frivolous at first glance, yet somehow Levi understood it.

Hange requested that he go through the pictures when she wasn’t around. And soon after she requested it, Levi realized he preferred that too. Despite the fact that he did trust her not to judge whatever she may find on the folders, there still existed an uneasiness at baring one’s heart out to someone in words one couldn’t control anymore having written the stories out too long ago.

Consequently, he requested the same thing from her. Do not read it while I’m around. When he told her the stories, he at least had control of his tones, his diction and the packaging of the overall story. Watching her read them, he knew he would find himself doubting the words he had written while at the same time vacillating between decisions to correct his previous writings or let her read. The constant self consciousness that came with the second option had just been too stressful of a prospect. He decided himself, he would rather have full control of the exposition or none at all.

The decision to have no control and no input, to be absent when he bares his heart out was not easy to make. And he continued to feel the traces of that struggle in the way he so easily lost focus and ended up mindlessly scrolling through the folder. His mind had shifted to other things more specifically the prospect of whether or not Hange was doing the same thing then and there.

She was only a phone call away. He could ask. But it had just seemed idiotic. Of course she wouldn’t be checking on it, she had been cramming for an exam that morning in between preparing for her mid semester thesis presentation. She hadn’t even bothered to say any greeting but an ‘I’ll follow’ before he left for the therapist that morning.

He looked through the messages in the waiting room, and up at the time displayed on the upper right part of the screen.

9:43. She was still in the middle of her exam. She won’t be checking on it.

Levi looked at the ceiling above him, allowing the plain white view above him to ease him back to his reality. How long had he been staring at the phone? He closely felt for the aches and discomforts around his body. The dull soreness that made itself known as he stared up at the white ceiling above him only served as a reminder that he had been a little too exposed to quick scrolls and the unnatural glare of his phone for a potentially unhealthy amount of time.

It was his first physical therapy session and Hange had pointed out that he should be early just in case. Consequently, he had shown up at 8:30 for a session at ten.

Just in case you get lost. Just in case there is paperwork which still needs to be filled. Hange would have done the paperwork already. He had ended up clocking that little doubt and that need for a little prophylactic thinking to caution on their end. First times tended to make people a little more cautious. And more importantly, what else was there to do on a Saturday morning other than sleep in?

Either way, that long wait had left him with eyes a little too tired yet at the same time, he was bored out of his wits. He looked around the waiting room finding something else to entertain himself with.

I only have seventeen more minutes to kill. It shouldn’t be too hard.

The atmosphere of the waiting room was nothing like getting lost in nature or on the road. It was stark white, bleak and a little too rehearsed. In other words, it lacked dynamic and consequently. it was too boring to find any amusement in. Of course, they wouldn’t want to stress out any patients with anything too fancy or overwhelming. Yet, the only thing which Levi could have found worth giving more than a passing thought to were the people around him.

And only when Levi started focusing instead on the people and not on the off-white plastered walls of the waiting room, he somehow was able to distract himself from the dragging motions of time.

There was an old man with a knee brace. A middle aged man with an arm in a sling and a girl with a casted right leg. There were others who could have passed up for nothing more than a visitor, until they stood up and Levi noticed in their gait the slight hesitancy to put one foot in front of the other. A small detail which Levi probably wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t looking for it then.

As he preoccupied himself and reflected over the small details that could have told stories of the people around him, that natural reflection to one own’s self had him a little too focused, a little too fixated.

The door to the waiting room slammed behind him and the trance disappeared as quickly as it came and as silently as a bubble that had just been popped.

Levi found himself irritably following the sound of the footsteps that came right after the slam of the door. It reverberated across the quiet and tense room, so loudly that if Levi did look around him, he would have realized he wasn’t the only one who had been so abruptly disturbed by it.

“Aaaand... My rounds are over for today,” The man said looking not at all guilty for that rude awakening. He wouldn’t have known anyway, and as Levi looked towards the front where the man had settled by the nurse’s desk, he might just have been the only one in the room rudely awakened by that sound.

“Ah, Doctor Jaeger, That was quick,” the nurse commented a little too pleasantly for Levi’s taste.

“Not too busy of a morning.” The man said, or as Levi soon deduced, was Mr. Jaeger. He recognized that irritating voice and as he looked up at the man, taking in the gruff features, the blond hair and beard and the rounded glasses, he quickly grasped for the name.

Zeke Jaeger. He hadn’t even said the name out loud just yet, but somehow he tasted venom. Levi though had enough awareness of his surroundings and his own ability to quickly yet correctly guess names to have kept silent. Regardless, he continued to watch as Zeke lowered his voice, possibly whispering something about going out for a drink and some dinner with the nurse in front of him. He found himself silently judging that audacious invasion of privacy as Zeke looked over at whatever paper was on the teacher’s desk.

Ackerman?

If Levi had actually been a little more aware of his surroundings, he would have realized Zeke did not at all say the name loud enough for him to hear. It was the result of Levi having watched too closely as Zeke enunciated those syllables, having noticed as the nurse made eye contact with him and having heard peppers of conversations about a jumper and an injury.

“Oh… An Ackerman? Who does high jumps?.” Zeke confirmed it himself, as he once again spoke a few decibels louder, obviously with the intention of making himself heard.

It wasn’t anything new. The past few months, Levi started to realize that at the least, many people in the local scene were familiar with him.

“My brother’s best friend is an Ackerman too and she started jumping recently.”

“I don’t have any relatives who jump,” Levi answered, in an attempt to shoot that attempt of a friendly interaction down.

Zeke stared at him, looking surprised. “You sure? With how quickly she picked it up, I thought she should have been related to you.”

Levi kept silent, making no effort to look open at all to conversation. Somehow, Zeke didn’t seem to get the hint.

“She’s been sweeping their interhigh competitions since the start of autumn… With the pace at which she’s going, she might even replace you.”

Levi had gotten used to those types of comments, hearing them as whispers the few times he went out, seeing them on a few forums as people discussed his injuries. He shouldn’t have been at all bothered by the statement, having shifted his attention in life to things which weren’t jumping

The blond man in front of him had been crass and blunt and Levi was starting to feel the beginnings of a bad mood. The irritability only worsened even as Levi tuned out the blond doctor. His mind went elsewhere, as he instead decided to seethe silently at the insensitivity of that statement.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Eventually Levi did get a break from that one-sided conversation. But the countdown to that break was slow and painful. He only noticed as he struggled under the trappings of that long and excruciating wait how long it really took for minutes to count down on a digital clock.

An eternity could have passed before Levi was called from the waiting room. As soon as the clock struck ten, Levi could not help but be more than slightly annoyed that she had been late.

If you’re early then you’re on time. If you’re on time, then you’re late. Any other day, Levi would have acknowledged the hypocrisy of that statement since although he was always early to training, he was never that religious when it came to academics. Having just bounced back from such an excruciating exchange with Zeke though, everything had just been pissing him off more than necessary.

It was almost remarkable how he managed to nod in return at the woman who met him at the exit of the waiting room. But Levi soon realized, as the anger quickly dissipated from inside him, she seemed like an old friend more than a stranger and like for all people, as long as there was history between them, he could save a little more patience points.

The woman who helped him up and led him to the room ahead was shorter than him yet had a way of handling herself that made Levi guess that she was at the least, a university student.

Levi didn’t need to guess anything else. Somehow, her name, her personality and the familiarity had all been somewhere in his head.

She cocked her head to one side in greeting and spoke up. “You can call me---”

“Petra,” Levi said. Somehow, he just knew her name. He had been inclined to complete that statement, only to make more real the nagging feeling in his head as soon as he had noticed her enter the room.

Petra’s eyes widened in shock. “Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s on your nametag,” Levi answered almost automatically, thanking the heavens she was wearing a nametag.

“Yeah, my bad. I get a little absent minded at times,” Petra patted her own head and gave Levi a wry smile.

Petra was hospitable. And when Levi thought that exact statement, he couldn't help but think how the word 'hospitable' had fit her so well. It was in her presence. She had this special talent, of finding ways at least to add color to the stark white hospital walls and the overly sanitized tiled floors underneath.

It could have been the tone or it could have been her word choice as she rattled off what could have been an outline of his physical therapy regime. As Levi did figure out, it could possibly have been the unique enthusiasm she had towards the whole patient recovery process

"So you're my physical therapist?" Levi asked. He never really did pick up what she was saying. He had heard enough about leg raises, timings on when to remove casts and knee bends that he at least guessed she knew enough about them to be one.

Petra though was quick to shake her head. "No actually. After college, I have plans of taking the exam. Then after that, I’ll be a physical therapist. I’m just taking advantage of this internship to learn more about the occupation.”

“It suits you,” Levi said. He kept his own comments brief. At that point, he did start to lose a little bit of awareness of his surroundings. His thoughts flew slowly back to his dreams.

Those first two encounters in the hospital had been two missing puzzle pieces. The stories had been an incomplete puzzle set of words and pictures and as he put it all together in his head, he couldn’t help but note how vivid the memories actually were. It took all his strength not to react, not to bolt out then and there, and go back home, to fill in the gaps on his laptop.

He put two names on his phone.

Zeke Jaeger. Petra Ral. Levi could have sworn there was more to remember and to write about.

And who did Zeke mention then? The other Ackerman? The other jumper?

The dreams were faint, as faint as the image an incomplete puzzle would make. Some parts were clear and vivid like a scenery behind a newly cleaned window. Others were hazy, his mind having filled up those gaps with blurry images. But the other Ackerman was there, and she moved fast enough to justify those blurs in the scene. Back when they fought the war, she flew in those cables much faster than he and Hange had.

I am strong. I am stronger than all of you.

A Tale of Two Slaves

The pain that came with his first physical therapy session was excruciating and it only served to further aggravate the anguish and his eagerness to get home before the sceneries in his head faded into faint memories of something else.

He managed at least to keep himself in a good in-between, by repeating the mantra of that other Ackerman to himself as he went through each and every exercise.

They had started off slow, as slow as a walk in the park maybe, a few stretches here and there. While doing some of the stretches and the warm ups, he did wonder if he had attended the right therapy session. Some of the warm up exercises had nothing to do with his knee after all.

The actual challenge came when Petra and the physical therapist he had failed to get the name of, had him sit down. As soon as Petra unwrapped the brace and pulled it from underneath him, Levi felt the weight of his injury almost instantly. It didn’t help at all that he was looking right at it.

“We’re going to try bending it a bit. Maybe put some weight on it if we have some extra time” The physical therapist’s words felt ominous.

The surgical scars and the healed wounds on his knees from more than two months ago only served to rattle Levi a little more. He had avoided looking at the scars many times before during meetings with Erwin and Hange. The few times Hange did pull and prod at it, he had it stretched out on some pillow.

It was fragile. And it felt unnatural. There in front of him then, it was dangling from the exam table, gravity pulling it down from underneath. Levi swore that if he tried hard enough he probably could imagine it completely disconnecting from his body at that moment. And maybe if he did move it, attempt to stand up without the confines of a knee brace as support, it might just fall off.

“Hey, it happens to the best of us,” Petra said.

No, it doesn’t happen to the best of us. In the room at least, there were at least five other people struggling to do something so simple as to bend a knee. But Levi could have sworn, in the outside world he was surrounded by people who wouldn’t think twice about bending their knee.

“Just bend it as far as you feel comfortable.” Bullshit directions. Levi had to admit, he wasn’t comfortable having it bend at all. Just the sensation of having it dangle so easily in the air, at the mercy of gravity underneath was already unsettling.

Was it a challenge then? To get it to bend as far as he could?

The directions of the therapist were flawed and Levi naturally opted for a flawed response as well. The process of bending his knee had been slow and excruciating. Levi found himself closing his eyes a few times, finding some sort of a rhythm in the faint sounds of the heater in the room, the murmurs from all the way across the room.

Or maybe a mantra? From someone a little too familiar. I am strong. Stronger than all of you. Another Ackerman.

And the way Zeke had mentioned it was grating. Was it a challenge? A threat? Was it supposed to be pushing him to go further?

It could have been Zeke or it could have been that phantom Ackerman that had been a motivation at that moment. But something then had Levi’s heart racing, his mind going in circles.

I’m strong too. I’ll get out of this rut. He thought to himself, a weak yet still effective act of protest. It worked both as a catalyst for a burst of motivation and an odd source of rhythm. The flexibility of bending came in slow, steady but continued attempts. The rush of adrenaline came halfway through.

A few minutes later, he was sweating and maybe he had been shaking a bit before that. When Petra had mentioned the optimistic progress and the plan to at least attempt to put weight on his bum knee, Levi was quick to comply.

And maybe a little too reckless. They had least helped him next to a wall, a good place at least to lean his body in the off chance he did lose control.

“One foot forward then one back.” The therapist guided.

As he watched the therapist simulate that same position, Levi quickly followed suit. He remembered, he had put some weight on his leg. Back then the brace had kept his knee stable.

At that moment, the brace was off, and it would be his bum knee, exhausted from the prior exercises taking the full weight.

I’m strong. Levi repeated to himself. Bending wasn’t an issue before. He had been bending his knees, possibly before he even knew how to walk. It should have been nothing, The excitement of a while ago, the adrenaline rush, pushed him further. It had him so seamlessly balancing the weight from the back of his foot, to the foot in front.

And maybe his knee had been bending farther in, the weight of his body on it. Somewhere along the way he did start to feel the beginnings of a dull pain.

I’m strong. To keep going, Levi had to find an escape. Stronger than all of you. It was easy at least, to leave the movements to his procedural memory as he distracted himself with his own musings, willing himself not to forget what he had wished to write down.

Where did they all fit? The Beast Titan… The Survey Corps… The War… The Alliance?

“Levi, I’m sorry I’m late. The test ended later than I expected…” She came as a faint voice, but Levi was too far gone to hear it.

He had only felt her presence then, when the physical therapist called a break, when he had collapsed on the floor in exhaustion, his knee throbbing, his breaths coming in heaves. He only realized she had been watching for a good long while when he looked up to see the concern etched in her face as he caught her gaze.

“I’m fine…” He at least managed to say that much before he closed his eyes, allowing that few minutes of rest to gather his thoughts and steady his breaths.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself too hard. This is just your first session,” Hange said from right next to him.

He still had enough energy to process those words at least.

A Tale of Two Slaves

That night, Levi gripped his dream catcher a little tighter and pressed it close to the back of his phone as he scrolled through google links on the other Ackerman.

It hadn’t been hard to find her at all. Zeke’s tirade that morning had been more than a guide enough.

High school. Ackerman. High Jump. Those were the only three keywords he needed to figure out the whole name of that missing Ackerman. For a moment, he had expected to find his own articles, and had braced himself for the pain of sifting through old articles about himself in between looking at hers.

It turned out Mikasa Ackerman had been the talk of the high school high jumping scene for a while, and she had been the topic of at least 90% of the articles he was scrolling through on Google.

A few times they did allude to the other Ackerman. The older articles heralded her as a successor to the rookie Levi Ackerman, the newer ones that were dated past his injury called her the brand new Ackerman, a replacement.

A replacement to damaged goods. Levi had to add that part himself, an attempt to make a joke out of his shitty situation as he closed that last article. “Mikasa Ackerman,” Levi repeated those words so quietly to himself as he dropped the dreamcatcher haphazardly onto the table in front of him. It had been useless at that moment. Or maybe at the least it had been the reason he felt a little too frustrated at having looked through too many articles that evening.

He looked to Hange who was sitting on the dining table, looking deep in thought on something on her laptop. Mid semester presentations for her thesis proposal were coming up, along with a few new exams next week. She had been conscious enough to point that out at least and Levi happily gave her the space she needed.

The turmoil inside him at first seemed difficult to pacify. Just watching Hange so focused and deep in thought had helped somehow quell whatever unresolved tensions and feelings were settling in his stomach then.

Maybe if he talked to her, the tensions might just disappear altogether. Levi deemed it worth the effort at least. “Hange? You okay?” He asked

Hange’s head shot up and she looked straight at him almost instantly. “Sorry, how long were you calling me? I’ve just been a little too focused on my exam on Monday and the thesis presentations on Wednesday… I don’t think I’ve been in the right mind for a while…”

Levi saw it in the way she looked at him, she hadn’t been focusing on his eyes. It was as if she were still probably seeing whatever words or numbers she was studying. She had been like that the past week since the line up of the thesis presentations were released along with the midterms schedules for all the exams.

Their kiss, their one night in the bedroom almost forgotten. Levi was sure though there was something that had been bothering her, maybe something that extended beyond academics.

I can ask about that after finals. Levi thought to himself, pushing aside that bout of concern. He could start with a light question at least, which didn’t involve Hange too much. “Have you heard of Mikasa Ackerman?”

“Mikasa Ackerman? The high school high jumper?” Hange asked. “Maybe I have been following her too… Lately...”

“She’s really good apparently.”

“Her jumping positions reminded me a lot of yours, so she had been fun to watch. I always did want to ask… Is she related to you? I did some research but I don’t see much which connect you both other than a few articles comparing you as jumpers and maybe speculating a relationship.”

Levi shook his head. “I never heard of her… Until today… A doctor mentioned her back in the hospital before my therapy session.”

“She only started making waves last month when her school made it to the regional competitions. No one really follows the district and the interschools… And apparently she only started jumping recently, during summer and she only started breaking records during the regionals,” Hange said. “That is… According to what I’ve read up on her.”

“So, you have been following her?”

“I still watch videos during study breaks,” Hange admitted. “And she just broke a few records a few weeks ago, of course they’d show up in my feed.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to ask me about it before? About an Ackerman doing the same jumping positions I did? You didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I thought of asking you about it maybe after exams. Besides, do you want to talk about jumping? After everything that happened?”

Levi put his phone down beside him and looked up at the ceiling above him. Of course he wouldn’t have heard of her until then, he had purged himself of all track and field news since the injury. The tournament with Nanaba and Mike and the round of research on Mikasa have been two exceptions and the feelings after that had only reminded him why he had spent his days actively making the effort not to think of the life he used to have. "I told you I'm fine," he said. He half meant that part at least, the writing had helped.

"No you aren't.”

Levi found himself shocked by how certain Hange’s tone had been. And for a second, maybe he had been a little irritated at the audacity of it all. Who was she to assume how he felt? But the surprise and the irritability had him silent and listening. Hange always had a reason for her conclusions. She never made assumptions so easily, he had known her enough lifetimes to be sure of that.

“There's a certain sadness to knowing you can't do what you used to before.” Hange continued. “I think everyone feels it, even a bit."

"A certain... sadness?" Levi asked.

"Wait, that does sound vague... Lemme think of an example." Hange paused for a second, looking up in thought. "Like maybe if you imagine people who’ve been skating or people who've been playing instruments their whole childhood. When they stop training or practicing these things altogether, these people can feel themselves lose their motor skills or their thinking skills that got them jumping double axels or playing arpeggios or pulling off vibratos like they’re second nature. And when they come back to it years later, I’m sure everyone feels the sadness or some sort of a frustration, looking back at their old self and processing the realization that they can’t bring their body or their mind to do something as effortlessly as they had done it many years before. Processing how they ended up so weak, so stupid after abandoning their old passions for so long."

“What if I’m an exception?” Levi challenged, still a little annoyed at such an assumption and at such a long unsettling tirade.

Hange shook her head. “You’re not. For a while, I wanted to entertain the possibility that maybe you and I are exceptions, maybe we can easily jump from one passion to another. When I was watching you during therapy though. I saw the terror in your eyes, the frustration, the sadness. ‘Why isn’t my body moving the same way it used to?’ Maybe you don’t want to think back to jumping because you don’t want to see how quickly your body has forgotten the motions, how quickly it had lost the flexibility and the strength to carry you over the two meter bars…” Hange trailed off. She avoided his gaze and for a while she had been staring at the blank wall in front of her. For a second after that, she did look to him, and there was a glint of realization in that. Realization at what she had just implied possibly. "But you know what, you might just be an exception. Maybe I’m just projecting." Hange added a second later.

Levi was sure though from the quick change of tone that accompanied those last words that Hange probably didn't mean it. On top of that, having heard Hange's small lecture, Levi almost immediately realized he wasn't at all an exception.

Her voice had been light as she mentioned that last sentence. It could have been a thoughtless comment. Hange didn’t make too many thoughtless comments though. “Projecting?” Levi asked.

Hange let out a short light laugh “I’m talking too much, I should go back to work…” Her words seemed like a band-aid, a lazy coverup for whatever emotions had supported such a tirade in the first place.

Projecting? There was a reason behind that word use and Levi was more than eager to press on it.

Hange wasn’t listening anymore though. She was buried once again in whatever subject she had chosen to study for that night. She was in work mode again and she had gotten back to that mode as quickly as she had fallen out of it.

All questions can wait until after her exam week. Levi told himself. The word ‘projecting’ had stayed though. Hange’s words had left its mark and maybe it did have Levi reflecting on his own feelings, his own fear and his own frustrations at his regressing skills, the painful awareness of his body that was slowly forgetting the motions he had built over years. At the end of that tunnel of reflection, he did end up thinking back to that word.

Projecting. She had to be feeling something for herself to say something like that right?

Hange what are you projecting?

And that at least distracted Levi enough, enough for him to ignore the dull pain in his left knee, channel his focus elsewhere. The next few days, having been left alone in the apartment while Hange went about classes, lab work and library visits, Levi did manage to channel his energies to academics or to filling his gaps in his own stories: Levi Special Squad, the Beast Titan and something about some new rookies in the survey corps.

The pain in his knee never left though. It was nagging and annoying like a cavity. It was a pain Levi had assumed would disappear in time. His left knee had always been painful since the injury.

Yet, maybe his left knee had started to get a little frustrated at Levi’s negligence. Maybe it had started to get angry. It was a creature and Levi soon realized, it was a monster that demanded attention.

The night it demanded his attention so stubbornly, so angrily., it did it through sharp pains that coursed through him like bolts of electricity, it did it through a crushing sensation that left Levi almost unable to breathe.

And maybe it did have Levi hallucinating----Or could it have been dreaming--- of having saved one of his soldiers from being eaten by a titan.

A Tale of Two Slaves

“Connie!

“Captain!”

In his dreams, he had been too out of breath, or maybe a little too distracted to have reacted at the crushing pain that had spread through him like bolts of lightning. The dream was hazy that Levi doubted whether he had been completely rooted in anything or not.

He had been flying. He had been in pain. And he had been pushing past the pain, slicing at a titan in every direction. And when he had seen one of his soldiers unconscious, about to be eaten by a titan, he had jumped in between the titan and the soldier so instinctively, so desperately that the in-between had been a blur. He found himself in the midst of an excruciatingly painful ordeal. He gritted his teeth, biting back any attempt to scream. For god knows if he screamed, he might just run out of energy, he might just pass out.

When he woke up to the dark room though, he processed almost naturally the fact that the circumstances his reality had offered him were different. The view in the middle of the night, the faint sound of cars had been different. He wasn’t in a battle field and as if his body had been completely aware of that, it did push past his attempts to subdue any reaction.

Even before he realized it though, he had been screaming. Only when his throat burned and the sounds faded into a whimper, only when the tears started to run down his face, only when he closed his eyes and keeled over, a pathetic reaction to the bombardment of stimuli, did Levi realize the pain of having his leg almost bitten off by a titan was still there.

“Levi! I’m here. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Hange was right next to him. Beyond the pain, that was all he could process.

Hange hadn’t been there in the dream. God knows where Hange had been when he was flying from titan to titan. God knows where Hange had been when he found himself, jumping in between his fellow soldier and the titan that had lunged to eat him.

And god, it was painful. Even past the dream, even when he started to realize that Hange was right next to him at least in the dark room at 3am. The pain stayed and it was crushing his knee, it was leaving him unable to even take any sort of a decent breath, his own coping mechanism reduced to ragged breaths in between tears.

“Levi, breathe…”

How pathetic where his own breaths sounding for Hange to have to coach him like that?

“Oh god, Levi, we might have to get you to a hospital?”

How pathetic did he look for Hange to have to suggest a hospital visit? When she helped him up at least, when she slung her free arm over his shoulder and helped him to a sitting position, he did at least feel the unnatural weight on his left knee. What was going on?

Everything after that, came as a hazy dream. As hazy as the fight against the many unnatural looking titans. In that dream, Hange had been absent for some reason he could not yet comprehend. And Levi found himself trying to push it away, instead focusing on the Hange in front of him who had put a blanket over him, who had dialed a number on her phone and who was rattling off medical jargon to someone on the phone.

“Erwin… I…” Why would you need to call Erwin at three in the morning?

After that, Hange had helped put a hoodie over him, she had called one more number. And within a few minutes, Levi found himself lying down on a taxi, half conscious, only hanging on by a thread at the view of Hange under the dim light of the taxi and the city lights.

Somehow, he was terrified of falling asleep again. Hange hadn’t been there in the dream. And she might just disappear if he closed his eyes. As he unwillingly held on to the crushing pain in his knee and the view of Hange who sat next to him on the taxi, he was awake. Only barely, but barely was enough to not fall into another world of dreams, a world of wars and a state of complete chaos and confusion.

Eventually, he lost consciousness but it had been a gradual process.

He had lost some sense of time along the way, his body having been too focused on Hange. The darkness in the taxi had quickly shifted to the stark white of the hospital as he was helped onto a stretcher. Then along the way, he may have heard Erwin’s voice rattling off something about a swelling knee that was crushing his joints and a knee aspiration.

Then there was something about painkillers, an IV, a slight pain in his hand before everything enveloped him again. Maybe at his peripherals, Hange had been by his bedside.

It was a huge improvement at least from the messages of his own dreams. And maybe it was relief that finally had him letting go of his tight yet weak grip on reality. The crushing pain on his knee hadn’t been from a titan biting it off. Hange’s absence in the war had only been a dream.

The last few things he had processed then before completely letting the darkness enveloped him, may have been the sound of a laptop opening next to him, a few wires pattering on the floor below, the sound of the mouse and finally, the relaxing rhythmic clacking of the keyboard..

Hange was right next to him and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

A Tale of Two Slaves

“Sorry.” It came out as a croak but Levi was still hoping she heard it. Despite the haziness of the first few moments as he opened his eyes to the light streaming into the hospital room, despite the discomfort which came with a dry throat, it had been Levi’s first instinct to apologize.

Hange looked worse off than last night. He at least picked up enough images of her to know that there was a stark difference between the Hange of a few hours ago and the Hange then. The laptop hadn’t moved, it was still on the table next to his bedside, just like he had guessed it to be having fallen unconscious to the sound of the clacking of the keyboard.

Right then and there, Hange’s hair fell in chaotic waves, her glasses askew. And compared to last night where he saw panic, in front of him, he saw calm etched on her face, an ominous calm that somehow seemed even more alarming.

“Hange,” Levi said a little louder. The concern he felt only gave him the motivation to push past the discomfort of having just woken up. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you saying sorry? Hadn’t everything to this point been my fault?” Hange’s voice was soft, reflecting the ominous calm. It was cold, maybe even frozen. “"The reason the fluid built up in your knee was overexertion apparently. They’re guessing it was the physical therapy session last Saturday." Hange looked away. "I can't help but think... If I didn’t bring you to the tournament or talked to you about jumping , maybe you wouldn’t have pushed yourself too hard."

Levi had listened closely and he could have sworn he heard a crack in her voice. “But the fluid is gone right?” He asked. He noted that his knee was numb and to his relief, the pain had devolved into a dull ache, similar to the one he had been dealing with the past month. Not at all as alarming as it had been the night before.

Hange shrugged. “Maybe it’s the painkillers or maybe it’s the fact that they drained the wound. But don’t count your eggs before they even hatch. Your back to square one. All progress, out the window. Fuck this. Fuck all this. And you wouldn’t have been in this damn situation if he hadn’t fucked up way too many times. Was I pressuring you to jump? Was I pressuring you to recover quicker? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Elijah, or maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned MIkasa? Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go to that fucking meet in the first place.”

Levi kept quiet. Watching what had been Hange, leaving her laptop open on the table, watching her pace around the room, avoiding his gaze as she fell into her soft tirade had been unsettling. Even he couldn’t tell how it was making him feel. “It’s over. It happened. So many things had happened at once, it couldn’t have been anyone’s fault.”

“Fucking hell Levi, when I’m supposed to be writing about your injury, when I’m supposed to be writing every single bout of mini progress, writing out the mechanics of the injury… I can’t help but see… you were in no condition to jump. You were exhausted, your wounds from the first time we met were far from healed. But for fuck’s sake, if I had told you to wait it out a week, instead of letting you do jump after jump, maybe you’d be in class right now or maybe you’d be preparing for your next tournament… I don’t wanna write this anymore. I don’t wanna reduce whatever is going on inside you to a fucking case study.” Hange slammed her hand on her keyboard, and sat so violently on the chair, she had pushed it a few inches back.

“You need to graduate,” Levi said. What will Erwin think? What will your parents think?

“At this point, who cares? I’m miserable. I can’t fucking get anything written. I write a paragraph, I get self conscious and I delete it. I write out my interpretation of the numbers, of my findings, my gut wrenches then I delete it again."

“Take a break?” Levi weakly suggested.

Hange had laughed at that. The reaction came out of nowhere and Levi found himself speechless and maybe a little confused. Take a break? That had seemed like a natural suggestion. He had at least spent a good few seconds thinking in between listening to Hange’s rant to have come up with such a suggestion.

Either way, from the way Hange had laughed it off and slammed her laptop close, from the way she had sat back on the chair and looked at nothing in particular, the way she had avoided his gaze through the whole tirade and the fit that had followed, Levi was sure that had been the wrong thing to say.

A little ashamed at his own ability to have come up with something a little more comforting, Levi kept quiet. And for a second, he looked up at the own ceiling above him, and maybe distracted himself by appreciating the view from the wide hospital window, following the birds that were doing some sort of dance in the sky

For a moment, he did forget about Hange. She hadn’t helped at all to make herself any memorable, having kept silent.

The silence in that moment had been too peaceful, had been too otherworldly that it was only natural that it would be broken by even the softest and steadiest things.

Like an off-rhythm knock on the door.

“Hange?”

Levi recognized the voice even before his head popped up from behind the slightly opened door. “Moblit?”

Levi looked towards Hange. The latter sat unmoving on her seat, her head bowed down, her face unreadable. Even as Moblit opened the door a little wider and approached her, she hadn’t moved at all or even looked back to greet him. Levi bent over to get a better look at her and saw panic. A type of panic he had never seen before. Panic, confusion, maybe a little urgency. “Hange? Moblit’s here.” Levi managed to say. He kept his voice gentle, a natural gesture having to process Hange’s face at that moment.

“Hey Hange. Erwin told me you’d be here. The others were worried about you--- I was worried about you. You’re supposed to be presenting now."

Hange stayed silent. From what Levi could see, her face was frozen. Was that panic? Shock?

Moblit continued. "I explained your situation… They said they could push it back until this afternoon...You think you can make it?" Moblit paused as he got closer to her, as if waiting for her to say something. He had his phone out,as if ready to call the panelists at any moment.

"Hange. Go to the presentation," Levi said. It was difficult to bend over and make eye contact with her with her head bent down, her eyes downcast. He kept his words firm, hoping at least that was enough to reach her.

“I can’t…” She managed to say. She left her mouth half open, as if she had expected to say something after. She looked back up at Levi, then bit her lip. Levi could have sworn that was the first time he had seen her in such a loss of words yet at the same time, struggling to get something out.

“Hange, go. I’ll be fine…”

“You don’t understand, I can’t… present.”

“Hey, I’ll help you set up. We have until tonight.” Moblit scooched beside her on the table and typed out her password.

“No, you don’t get it, I have nothing…”

“Hey, I’ll help you get a powerpoint. We can revise your manuscript together. That’s what friends are for,” Moblit pressed as he pushed the laptop towards Hange. “Come on, type out your password.”

“No Moblit, there’s nothing in here. It’s over. I’ll try again next year.”

“It’s too early to give up Hange, remember how fast you got Elijah’s data processed? It helped me a lot.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Hange pulled the laptop towards her and angrily typed what could have been the password. The laptop booted to life and from where he sat, Levi made out the characteristic log in tone of the computer. “There’s nothing in the document. Just the introduction. No preliminary results. No observations. Nothing.”

Levi couldn’t see the screen from where he sat. But he did see the flashes of a changing screen through Moblit’s eyes. He could guess the results from the way Moblit’s jaw dropped and the way Hange just avoided both their gazes, keeping her eyes downcast.

Levi maneuvered himself to the side of the bed, getting Hange’s laptop at arm’s reach. His leg protested the action but that was the last thing on his mind. God forbid, what Moblit was seeing at that moment could have been Levi’s first assumption.

Hange… Didn’t you spend hours in the library getting everything written out?

Didn’t you spend whole days outside working in the lab?

Didn’t I fall asleep every night to the angry clacking of the keyboard?

Didn’t I wake up in the middle of the night to you in the dining room writing out your thesis?

She had been writing at least. The introduction, the review of related literature were all filled out. The methodology had been filled out. It was a far cry though from what she had made in high school. Each part had been furnished with links to sources, half completed sentences and maybe a few question marks here and there.

The observations and the results and discussions though, were all blank.

“Hange… You….” What were you doing? This can’t be it. Levi didn’t even know if he had said that last part out loud. His brain was on overdrive trying to prove his own quick conclusion wrong. He navigated through old versions of the document. His hands were quick, maybe they had been moving on their own and the PC couldn’t catch up.

A few times, Levi found himself tapping impatiently on the keyboard as the laptop loaded each version.

More links, more half completed sentences, and a very empty observations and results section. “We can get something written right? Help make a powerpoint? If we work together, we could get something presentable."

Moblit shook his head. He bent down next to Hange and spoke softly. “Does Erwin know about this?”

“I told him to just leave it to me… But I can’t. I can’t write this anymore.” Hange shook her head as she looked up at Moblit then up at him. There was some sort of a smile of resignation plastered on her face, reminiscent of the laugh of only a few moments ago.

That was what the laugh had meant when he had suggested the break.

Of course, she would laugh. There was no time for breaks. There was no time for work either. Hange was royally fucked.

Moblit left the room, neither Levi nor Hange asked for what. For a few more minutes, maybe for even an hour longer while Hange had been in her catatonic state, Levi did continue to look through her drafts, see what kind of sense he could make of the half complete sentences and the links to journals in her document with his limited knowledge on human anatomy.

His background had him very much unready to complete a thesis proposal on a technical subject he studied nothing about, let alone in the span of a few hours. Having been pumped with painkillers and sleeping drought only an hour before, his brain was in no state either to bullshit what he could. Despite all his desperate attempts to make sense of it, to write out something coherent, he found himself converting it back to the state he and Moblit had found it in.

Levi closed the laptop slowly and pushed it towards Hange. He was surprised and a little relieved to find that she did pull her weight, setting the laptop back on the table next to his bed.

Hange smiled at Levi and spoke up. “I appreciate you trying to do all this Levi but… I’ve given up already. I’m not getting this thesis done.”

It was a pained smile. A smile of resignation. A smile that was so clearly telling him that he had definitely wasted those last few minutes pouring through the versions of her document for nothing.

Levi took a deep breath and spoke up. “Then what’s your plan now?”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

ichigo-daifuku · 4 years

Note

"close your eyes and hold out your hands" with Levi? Please?

LEVIATHAAAAAN!!! Thank you for giving me an excuse to write about him again, Anon. I hope you’ll enjoy this! (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Level 100 Celebration ☆

Azuki-tan [Leviathan/GN!Reader]

Anidaemon had been an adventure, as always. Something about the excited chatter of fellow anime and game enthusiasts, the neon signages and bright lights inside the stores, and the endless rows of merchandise of all shapes and sizes never failed to leave such a lasting impression on your mind. This time had been the same, your excursion almost perfect except for one very significant aspect it lacked: the company of your favorite otaku.

A few weeks ago, you and Leviathan had planned your trip to Anidaemon in order to acquire limited edition Azuki-tan charms in a gacha event that would only be available for a single day. He found out about it in an online advertisement which he immediately took a screenshot of and sent you, inviting you to join him in his quest of adding more items in his The Magical Ruri-hana: Demon Girl shrine. Despite the two of you adjusting your schedules to accommodate your outing, three days prior to the day of the gacha event, Leviathan was unexpectedly invited to do an interview with the RAD Newspaper Club for a feature on the Hell’s Navy.

“I’d rather go to Anidaemon with you,” Leviathan whined after he read the message from the RAD Newspaper Club with a frown, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had been looking forward to your trip, and so were you, but things didn’t always go according to plan.

“Yeah, I was really excited about it,” you admitted. “It’s alright, though. Duty calls for the Grand Admiral, right? I’ll definitely be reading that article!”

Flustered, he covered his face with the back of his hand. “D’aaah! Don’t say that… It’s making me more nervous. Who knows? I might say the wrong thing and embarrass myself… and the entire Hell’s Navy!”

“You won’t. Most likely, it’ll be Mephistopheles who’s going to interview you, at least you know him already.” You patted his back with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure everything will turn out okay. You’ve got this!”

He withdrew his hand from his face and looked at you, only to avert his gaze the next second. “Oh… Um, thanks… I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” you said. “By the way, I’m still free during that day, so if you’d like, I can go to Anidaemon and get that limited-edition merchandise for us.”

“Y-You’d do that?” he clarified and met your gaze again, all of his earlier shyness seemingly gone for the moment.

“Of course!”

“Then, yes, please! You’re a lifesaver—no, an angel! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!”

“No problem! It’ll be something for you to look forward to after the interview.”

“I’m already looking forward to it! I’m giving you all my gacha luck and counting on you!”

“Leave it to me!”

Although Leviathan hadn't been by your side when you lined up in the queue, all of his wishes for your good luck had been in your hands as you spun the knob of the gacha machine. With a skip on your steps, you made your way back to the House of Lamentation, a pair of precious charms inside your coat pocket. Surprisingly, you arrived home before Leviathan, so you decided to spend your idle time in your bedroom while you waited for him.

As you scrolled through Devilgram and commented on a few of your friends’ posts, the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway followed by a knock on your door caught your attention at once. You stood and opened it, pleased by the sight of Leviathan, excitement rolling off him in waves despite his attempt to keep his cool.

“Welcome back! How did the interview go?” you asked.

“Good, I think,” he replied, scratching the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Mephisto asked me about an update on Lotan. LOL!”

You chuckled, remembering his account of the incident involving him and Lotan during the Spirit Week celebration of the previous academic year. “Sounds interesting.”

“So…”

“Hm?”

“How was your trip to Anidaemon? Did you manage to get the goods?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you teased. “It was great, and the line was longer than how we expected it’d be, but… I did! I got them!”

“OMG! Which ones were you able to get?! Any chance for the cute winky face SSR ones? Actually, SR ones are okay, too. Hell, I’ll even take an N one. Anything from that collection is fine!”

“I can give it to you now,” you began, placing your hand in your coat pocket to get the item, “but you have to close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Okay, okay! Ah, I’m so excited! The suspense is killing meeeee!!!”

Giddily, Leviathan shut his eyes and reached out to you with his palms open, waiting. You pulled one of the charms from your pocket and placed it over his hands. The way his fingers quivered once the item touched his skin was so Leviathan, and this—his presence, quirks and all—was one of the things you missed during your earlier trip to Anidaemon.

“Can I see it now?”

“Alright, open your eyes,” you replied, hoping he’d like it.

His eyes fluttered open and widened once he saw which Azuki-tan variation he was holding. “U-U-Ultra Rare! It’s the UR Azuki-tan charm!”

“Indeed, it is.” You smiled slyly, twiddling with the other charm hidden inside your coat pocket. “But wait, there’s more!”

“Huh? More?!”

“Well, I wasn’t able to pull the Taichi-senpai charm, but I did get something interesting.”

“What is it?”

You revealed your other hand and showed him the extra item you were able to snag from the gacha miraculously. “Ta-da! Isn’t it cool?”

“Is that…?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours to demonstrate how the two charms work together. “Look, when you put them together like this…”

As you shifted the bases together, the markings on the back of the two imagawayaki charms connected.

“No way... It’s Azuki-tan’s other half!” Leviathan cried out, sounding emotional. “Wait… Both of these are UR, though? HOW?!”

“I’m not sure how I did it as well,” you admitted, “but surprise! Great job on the interview!”

Leviathan’s face reddened, and he opened his mouth to give you a reply, but his gaze zeroed in on your hands. You and he were still holding the charms together, your fingertips touching. “W-What are you—I mean—what are we doing? Are you… This is nice, but—UGH!”

“Levi—”

Before you could ask him what was the matter, he had pulled you in his embrace and buried his head on your shoulder. “T-Thank you for doing this! I just… I’m so happy!”

“Anything for you.” You laughed. “Do you want to keep both of them for your Ruri-chan shrine? I don’t mind.”

“No, I… I want you to keep the other half.”

“Oh… Okay, thank you, Levi.” You nodded against his chest, smiling as you wrapped your arms around him in return. “I missed you while I was there. Anidaemon wasn’t the same without you, you know?”

He sighed contentedly and held you tighter. “Let’s go there again next time.”

“Together.”

“Yeah.”

Even though it remained unspoken, the two of you mused over the same thing: like Azuki-tan, both of you had found your other half, and to be in each other’s arms was just what you needed after a long, long day apart.

Obey Me! Masterlist

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august-anon · 4 years

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LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

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Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends.

He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

“Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

“Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded.

“Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

“So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

“About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

“I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

“I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile.

“Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked.

Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again.

“Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

“Tickle fanfiction.”

Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

“Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

“Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

“Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil.

“Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.”

“Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

“Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

“Yep. Whatcha need?”

Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?”

Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

“What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better.

“Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute.

“What part?”

Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

“Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over.

“Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later.

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such.

“Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone.

“Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?”

Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

“You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his

voice to work.

“Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

“Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!”

Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

“Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained.

Virgil said nothing.

“He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

Yep. Virgil was going to die.

After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.

“So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

“I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more.

“No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet.

Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

Immediately, he received a reply.

TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding.

He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him.

Interesting.

But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

“Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

“I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

“Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

“Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

“Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

Wait?! Before walking away?!

Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil.

“Yes?”

Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean.

But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

“I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

“Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

“W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands.

“Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman.

“You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

“I’m waiting~”

Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

“Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink.

After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

“I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?”

“Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

“Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

“Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

“But I thought you said-“

“Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

“No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

“No! No, don’t read the comment!”

“It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.”

He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to.

“No, no, no, no.”

“Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.”

Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

“Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

“Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

Yeah, he... What was he saying?

“Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more.

“Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself. Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account.

After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin.

Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those? ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil’s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

“I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.”

Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time.

He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

“Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him.

“Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish.

“Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!”

Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact.

Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

“What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

“Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

“But I still have one more game before we start.”

Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence.

Until Roman did a fake out.

Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

“You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

“Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

“Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

“You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

“I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him. “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

“Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?”

Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely), he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited.

“Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

“Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

“No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles.

“Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly.

“Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.”

Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

“Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned.

“You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that.

“Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

“Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

“If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

“The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation.

“Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling.

Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking.

“Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

“Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

“Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?”

Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

“Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

But then.

As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened.

Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

“Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.”

Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him?

Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again.

Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it.

And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

“So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

“Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

“Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

“YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately.

“Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get.

“Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled.

Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him.

Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?”

Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.”

Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch.

“Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

“Why, I would love to.”

Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks.

“W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy.

“You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.”

Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could.

Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

“Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm.

“Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

“Of course.”

And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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loveisblindfanfictionbka · 3 years

Text

Love Is Blind: Chapter One

“Come on Robs, what could it hurt?”

Robyn looked over at her friend and frowned.

“Online Dating? Really? Do you know the kind of psychos on these sites?”

Leandra sighed, “Girl, ain’t nobody saying marry them but at least try it out. It’s been years since your divorce. Why are you still so gunshy?”

“Well maybe because my ex-husband ripped my heart out my chest.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? You and your ex-husband were both childish and lost. I still don’t think you should’ve gotten divorced either.”

“You and everyone else seems to have my failed marriage all figured out.”

“Look, forget about all of that, you need to get back out there, even if it’s just for a night of fun. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“You know what, just to shut you up, I’ll do it.”

“Good, I got your profile all set up, you just need to approve it and submit it.”

“How in the hell? This is the first time we’ve spoken about this.”

“Yea but this was just a minor technicality because I was gonna set you up anyway.”

“Ugh….get away from me.”

Leandra laughed as she slid her laptop over for Robyn to review the profile. After a few minutes, Robyn nodded her head in approval and pressed publish.

“So now what?”

“Now you wait to see if you get any hits or you just peruse others’ profiles too.”

Robyn was shaking her head before Leandra even finished her statement, “I am not perusing anything. I don’t even want to do this right now.”

“So let the men come to you, it is the natural order of things.”

“I’ma divorce you next.”

“You love me so whatever.”

Robyn laughed as she leaned her head on Leandra’s shoulder, “Le, do you really think this will help?”

“I think it’ll give you something to do while you try to get your life right again. I love you and I know you and I know that your divorce is something that you’re still trying to understand but your life doesn’t have to stop while you’re doing that. Things don’t have to be serious. You don’t have to fall in love with anybody but it wouldn’t hurt to get from behind these walls you’ve erected and live. You owe it to yourself, if nobody else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy, come on, the movie is starting”

Chris smiled as he rushed into the living room with a big bowl of popcorn. He sat next to his 3 year old daughter, Anesa, just as the classic Disney symbol flashed across the big screen.

“You know Princess, you could’ve just paused the tv. This is just a stream.”

“No because you were supposed to be faster anyway.”

Chris chuckled as he kissed her temple. He made the right decision becoming a foster dad two years ago. The little imp had done so much to replace the empty void in his life. He had suffered so much loss, being able to give that extra love to someone felt good. An image flashed in his head and he shook it. Years ago, he thought he had someone but that relationship crashed and burned. It surprised him that he even thought about her sometimes, all these years later.

Just as he started to become enamored with the Princess and The Frog, his phone rang. Anesa glanced over at him as he stepped out into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?”

“CB, what’s going on, Bro?”

“Marcus, how you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m moving back to the city so I just wanted to check in and see if we could meet up one of these days.”

“Of course, I’ll see if my sister can watch my daughter so just let me know when.”

“Daughter? A lot has happened, huh?”

“Too much.”

“How’s the wife?”

“Divorced years ago. I thought you knew.”

“I thought you were joking. You really went through with it?”

“We weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye.”

“But you were together for so long since middle school, right?”

“Officially since high school but you’d think that would’ve made our life together much easier, but nope.”

“Wow. We definitely got some catching up to do. Well, I’m back officially on Friday. We can meet at Roddy’s Bar.”

“Cool. 8 good for you?”

“Perfect, Bro. See you then.”

“Bet.”

They hung up and Chris went back to watching TV with Anesa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn fought as much as she could to not be curious about the stupid dating app but….that only worked for so long. As she scrolled, the frown in her face just got deeper and deeper. What the hell had the world become? These men were just- no. It was hard being single. She hadn’t been single in years. Scratch that, ever. She’d never been single. She wasn’t used to being alone and being married was supposed to prevent that. Her ex-husband had literally tore her heart in two and she still hadn’t recovered. How two people so in love could be so incompatible baffled her mind to this day? Of course, her people just thought they were too young and just gave up too quickly but what would they know? They didn’t live with them 24/7. Yes, they had awesome memories but all she could remember was how alone she felt when he was in the bed right next to her. How withdrawn he had gotten in the last two years of their marriage. How unsettled she felt. Like she never knew when he would finally explode from holding everything in. She felt like she walked on eggshells her whole marriage but him asking for a divorce shook her to her very core and she had never bounced back from it. She endured his brutal silence, his emotional hardness but yet he was the one who walked away. It just never made sense to her. Just as she was about to close the app, a direct message popped up.

Subject: Hello

Body: Hi, I was browsing your profile and you seemed really interesting. I was wondering if you would like to chat.

Robyn frowned a bit but she clicked on his photo to be directed to his profile. 42 years old. Divorced. One child. College Music Professor.

He seemed harmless. His photo was full length so his face wasn’t the clearest but he looked decent. Besides he’d probably say something weird and she’d never have to meet him in person so what’s the risk and Leandra had listed her under just her initials so it’s not like he’d know her real name anyway.

Re: Hello

Body: Hi, I would love to chat with you. My name’s Anna. Yours?

A few minutes passed before she got a reply

Re: Hello

Body: Christian but my friends and family call me Chris. It’s nice to meet you Anna.

A: Chris? That must be a common name, I know a few of those.

C: I can imagine. Don’t know too many Annas though. Not the typical name of this time

A: It’s a little old school but I like it. I see you’re a music professor

C: Yup. Decided to change career paths once I got divorced a few years ago. You’re a veterinarian?”

A: Yea, I own a clinic and a shelter in the city.

C: No children?”

A: No. Seems like my animals take up all my time.

C: Understandable. Animals can be like children.

A: Definitely. How old is your child?

C: She’s three.

A: That’s an awesome age

C: Very fun and energetic

A: My friends have children so I definitely imagine. Have you lived in the city long?

C: Just a few years. I was working at another college when the possibility of tenureship opened up at Columbia. Normally that can take years so I got lucky for the invite.

A: you work at Columbia University? That is awesome

C: I think the shock still hasn’t worn off. Kind of waiting for them to take it back at some point

A: Lol when I got the keys to my clinic, I felt the same way

C: Where’d you go to school?

A: Stanford for undergrad. University of California, Davis for veterinary school.

C: Pretty far from home, huh?

A:New York has always been the place for me. I always knew I’d end up here. You?

C: I’m from down south so that’s where my soft spot is. I did my undergrad and grad at Stanford though.

A: Wow talk about a small world. It is a large school so I’m not surprised we haven’t met unless we have.

C: Probably not, don’t remember many Annas there

A: True. How do you like being a professor?

C: It’s cooler than I thought it would be. My previous job had a little bit more excitement but after some personal issues then my divorce, I had had enough excitement to last a lifetime.

A: My divorce kind of knocked me off balance so I can understand wanting to start over

C: How long were you married?

A: Three years. You?

C: Same. Together?

A: Over ten years. You?

C: Same. Bad ending?

A: I really don’t know. It wasn’t the best situation but it wasn’t the worst. I think abrupt would be a better word. You?

C: I walked away. I wasn’t the best husband but I think we really outgrew each other.

A: That can happen. How old were you?

C: 35. You?

A: 34. A lot can change in over ten years

C: True. I don’t know if she knew that though

A: did you try to tell her?

C: Honestly no but that’s partly why I walked away. I wasn’t any good for her let alone for myself. I struggled a lot emotionally back then, I still do now sometimes. She didn’t need that weight in her life

A: Did she say that or did you make that decision for her?

C: Both.

A: Ah. I’m sorry

C: No need. She was better off without me anyway

A: you still think about her?

C: I try not to. It hurts. Failure sucks.

A: tell me about it. Have you seen her over the years?

C:No. We both moved away once we got divorced. Don’t really know where she went to be honest

A: Same. Some things are just better left alone, I guess

C: True.

A: You know Chris, this was fun. I was a little nervous about this online thing

C: Really? I’ve done it once or twice before. It’s not too bad if you take it for what it is

A: And that is?

C: Just a way to meet people. Doesn’t have to go further than a conversation unless you let it

A: That is very true.

C: If it’s agreeable to you. I’d love to talk to you again

A: I’d like that

C: Great. I guess, until next time

A: Have a good night

C: You as well

Robyn closed out of the app after reading Chris’s last message. They had a lot in common, a lot more than her ex-husband. She got a little nervous when he said his name was Chris but once he clarified that his full name was Christian, she could let out a breath. Her ex-husband’s name when shortened was Chris but his full name was Christopher. Christopher was a common name but she really didn't need that reminder of him too.

Chris dropped his phone onto his nightstand just as Anesa ran into his room. He laughed as she tried to climb onto his bed before leaning over to pick her up, “what’s the matter Love Bug?”

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Of course you can. Did something happen?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Aww...I’m sorry, Love Bug. Come on, get under the covers.

Anesa climbed under the blankets as Chris turned off the lights. She cuddled onto his chest and Chris hugged her close, “Comfortable?”

“Yes. Goodnight Daddy.

“Goodnight Love Bug.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So….how was it?” Leandra asked as her and Robyn sat down for breakfast.

“It was a nice conversation. He seemed like a decent guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Christian but people call him Chris.”

“You really have a thing for Chris’s, huh?”

“Don’t say that. Chris is just a common name.”

“It is but what a coincidence.”

“Yea.”

“So what does he do?”

“He teaches music at Columbia.”

“Nice. Educated. Kids?”

“A daughter.”

“Marital status?”

“Divorced like me.”

“Guess you can share horror stories.”

Robyn chuckled, “my marriage was a failure but not a horror story. Stop it.”

“Have you spoken to Chris?’

“Not since the divorce was final. Why?”

:Leandra shrugged.

“Le, what happened?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw somebody who looked like him the other day, that’s all.”

“Where? Here? In New York?”

“Yea.”

“Please don’t tell me we moved to the same state.”

“Robs, I don’t know if it was him. I just caught his profile. It could’ve been any cute light skin guy. They are running around here galore.”

“That’s true.”

“So about your new Chris?”

“What about him?”

“What’s the next move?”

“We agreed to talk again but nothing more than that. I’m still stuck in limbo, I’m not trying to make something out of nothing.

“I guess. Are you gonna meet him?”

“Nah. Some things are just better left alone, you know.”

“Not even if you really start to like him.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m swearing off serious relationships until I fix my broken heart and I have no idea how long that’s gonna take.”

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want to.”

“You were together a long time.”

“Yea and he still left me so what does that mean?”

Leandra sighed, “I don’t know. “

“Chris, who are you messaging so much?” Jessica, his sister, asked as she started stirring a pot of beans.

“I met this woman online. We’ve been talking for a few weeks.”

“Online dating? You sure that’s safe?”

“I don’t plan on meeting her so it’s not a huge deal. Just a conversation.”

“Few weeks is a long time for it to just be a conversation. You like her?”

“She seems really nice.”

“Glad you’re opening your heart up somehow.”

“I’m not opening anything up. I went down that road and have no qualms about avoiding it.”

“You know you walked away from your marriage, Chris. I don’t understand your apprehension with moving on.”

“I didn't walk away to move on. I walked away to keep from hurting her. Two different things. I’m not fit to be in a relationship, let alone a marriage. My daughter is the only woman I’m concerned about right now.”

“Anesa can’t be your whole life.”

“Who says?”

“I wish Momma was here to talk some sense into you.”

“Don’t do that, Jess.”

“What? She was the only person you listened to. Did you ever tell your ex what happened with Momma?”

“No.”

“You never took her to meet her?”

“It’s not like she was around. Auntie C raised me.”

“So when you left every weekend to see Momma in the hospital your ex never asked why?”

“She asked. I never answered.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t for her to know. She didn’t need that kind of weight on her, ok?”

“You never gave her a chance to really love you, Chris.”

“Well that doesn’t really matter. She moved away and about her life. I did the same. No harm, no foul.”

“I wouldn’t quite say no harm, no foul but whatever.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don't want you to hurt this new woman because you’re still in love with your past, Chris.”

“I’m not in love with anyone so there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“And that worries me even more.”

#loveisblindfanfiction #chrianna

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valkblue · 3 years

Photo

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department.

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 2 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 3,340 Rating: General Warning: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ same as usual: swearing and technobabble!

Author’s notes: Bad behavior tech, bad!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are always open! 💙

— Chapter 2

There were some days, like this one, during which Vivian and her team were called back in the night; a group of guests went all trigger happy and their mess had to be cleaned up somewhere between the Abernathy Ranch and Las Mudas. And since the narratives and hosts had to be back in rotation asap, the techs’ nighttime was reduced without thinking twice.

Maybe it didn’t look like it, but this job was really taxing sometimes.

That being said, shortly after 6AM, Vivian went back to her room for a few extra and well deserved minutes of sleep before resuming her diagnostics routine. An hour and a big mug of coffee with cereals later, Vivian was back in the elevator which took her down to the Behavior department level.

In the soft lighted glass room, a host was sitting on a wheeled stool. The light brightened when Vivian entered.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," she said on a hushed voice as if she wanted no-one but the offline host to hear her while letting the glass panel shut down slowly behind her. "I had a rough night. Looks like you did too…"

Ironically, he hadn’t been part of this night’s massacre. No, all those involved were already back in rotation for quite some time. Her first subject of the day, however, had only been victim of his own storyline, needing only a quick check-up and Vivian’s all clear before being back on his loop.

She sat on the stool in front of the host, doing her best to ignore his nudity, and unfolded her tablet on her knees; she had to navigate through several indexes before connecting to his signal for a couple update history checkups.

"Bring yourself back online, please," she ordered, without raising her voice.

The command only seemed to take him out of his thoughts.

"Can you hear me?"

"I hear you alright."

"Off character, for now, please."

Vivian loved to talk to them in character… but, for her diagnostics, she had to ask them to reduce their emotional affect — which was more a guarantee of efficiency than an actual need, though.

"There’s been modifications in your attributes last month," she stated as she was discovering the changes. "Several characteristics got… Who the fuck did that?!"

Vivian had an answer to that already, as she was going through the log; someone from Narrative — that she would brand as asshole — had been pretty heavy handed on self-preservation and aggression, and on top of that they also nerfed curiosity, patience and courage!

There was pitiful justifications from the tech about an adjustment request from their sector after some of the host's alleged wanderings, blamed on his curiosity. But all this was more about making him keener to answer provocation while still being enough of a challenge for his opponents — hosts and guests alike. Vivian didn’t like what kind of freedom Narrative techs were taking with the hosts’ attributes, carefully calibrated by her co-workers and others before them; it wasn’t as simple as changing percentages on the fly in any way they saw fit!

It was a delicate and very important step for any host's cognition, for them to even function at all, as much as for the continuity of their fucking narratives!

Vivian took a deep breath and the time to check the quality of the host’s interactions since the modifications but the results only ended up fuelling her rage. So, she commanded:

"Archive this configuration and open the previous one. Confirmed?"

"Yes."

Vivian smiled, satisfied. On her tablet, the attribute matrix seemed now way more familiar than the last.

"We’ll leave 1.5% more in self-preservation… since they thought it best to give you a few more to endure their bullshit," she grumbled. "And then… 0.5 in aggression for them not to come back to lay it on thick! 6.5 will be more than enough. No need to go all the way up to 10!"

Vivian confirmed her modifications before looking back at the host.

"What d'you think?" she asked, without really expecting any answer from him. “No imbalance or discomfort?”

Modifications could sometimes cause hiccups in the hosts’ cognitions, close to an uneasy feeling. There were other ways to know but Vivian preferred to talk rather than relying only on the screen readings.

"No, I’m fine."

And from what Vivian could read now, he wasn’t lying. Although, browsing his history, she noticed a worrying peak of stress at the time of his "death". It would seem like a normal thing from anyone's standpoint but from which of a host and their technician's, however…

"Your last interaction recorded a peculiar rise in your stress level. What caused this?"

"A… thought."

His mumblings were recognised as improvisations by the tablet. Despite her surprise, Vivian said nothing of it.

"What thought?" she encouraged him instead.

"My family. I’m supposed to be responsible for… my wife, and my daughter."

Vivian noticed the normal occurrences of his cognition in the scrolling of his code.

"But… I can’t help it, I’m out of place, there."

He was getting out of beaten path a little with this comment.

"How are your relations with them?"

"Acceptable."

He kept a few seconds of silence before adding:

"My daughter, I think something’s wrong with her."

"Between you and her?" she asked, for clarity’s sake.

"No…"

"Analysis: what prompted this observation?"

He looked hesitant. On the tablet, still no conflict.

"Her interactions are limited," he then said.

Vivian hesitated too; should she report this observation? Perhaps it was relevant for a potential issue somewhere else…

"It must be my fault."

The tablet, however, reported a new improvisation in that answer.

"Your fault?! Why?"

"I… I should enjoy being home."

According to the datas scrolling up, that was a scripted answer from his guilt library but despite that, what took Vivian aback was the tears running down his cheeks. On the screen — distress, confusion. That wasn't the affect class linked to it. But she didn’t suppress his emotional response…

Instead, she glanced carefully through the glass panels around them; her closest colleagues were two cubicles away, doing the same thing as her. Well, maybe not exactly; once positive that no-one would catch her, Vivian leaned forward a little to put her hand on her subject’s cheek, wiping the tears off with a gentle brush of her thumb.

She could have calmed him down with a simple word, or even with a tap on the right button on her tablet but… what would be the point? Vivian didn’t want to, not with him. And to be honest, as much as she was sincerely touched by the faithfulness of his emotion, it was also convenient for her that he would bring such a topic up.

"Children have a short memory but a quick mind…"

Victor Hugo said that first. And Vivian was quoting him today with something else than Philosophy in mind; she had just use a voice command — her voice command. A simple little script she sneaked into the host’ complex code architecture. More or less mixed with the rest of it, encrypted and virtually unnoticeable without knowing what to look for, it gave the recipient host the ability to keep in their memory, in a hidden and compressed partition, all the events happening between the activation and deactivation of said command. Conversations, feelings, impressions… Everything was there. And everything would remain, even after each reset.

The host couldn’t access it at will without hearing the command, and for what Vivian had noticed so far, it didn’t interfere with his narrative, alter his attitude, cause any glitch nor any pain.

According to her analysis, it was only perceived as a distant memory, one of those leaving an undescribable feeling or a sense of déjà-vu…

Despite the severity of her infraction, Vivian was quite proud of her small "innovation". And she had chosen this one, host ID# MG73368928764, to receive her creation among all the percentage of the park’s population her team had in charge. She had chosen him because of his responsiveness in analysis, because he hadn’t been in any big narrative for at least ten years, because she had already noticed a few oddities in his code, because there was something soft in his eyes, a little extra something…

And quite frankly? Because he was the one who inspired her to create this command, based on an idea that has been on her mind. Because she wrote it for him.

Ever since she arrived in the Behavior department, Vivian had done quite a lot of analysis, calibrations, and had many occasions to talk with plenty of hosts, in character mode or not. And the guys from the Narrative department had done such a good job in writing all these characters, their lexical bases, just like her colleagues from Behavior, in encoding and calibrating all that work into each host put in their care!

Or at least, that’s how Vivian was seeing things back then.

But this particular host caught her eye more than any other; she had quickly noticed how much he was calling upon his improvisation engine compared to others and the feeling of having an actual conversation with a well aware person was sometimes so baffling that, against all common sense, Vivian furthered it. Not to mention the frustration she felt that he could never really recall anything else than what his logs allowed him to, after each diagnostic. But since the installation of her script, the inference frequency in his dialog chains increased. And he was calling upon it with even more fluency.

To the point that their sessions became a real pleasure for Vivian!

It was selfish, she realised that… but she wanted him to keep something from it so badly, something from her, just like she could think back on their conversations with emotion. Those past ones were lost for him but, now, he could remember all those that followed the installation of her script.

Vivian smiled when he focused on her.

"Hello, Lawrence."

He looked hesitant for a second, like a man still not fully awake yet. No alert or conflict from his inference engine on her tablet.

"Hey…"

At his answer, Vivian smiled to him again, and so did Lawrence, even if he kept something a bit shy, uncertain, numbed. In that intermediate state, it wasn’t like coming back to the warmth, the liveliness and the responsiveness of the character mode but it wouldn’t be as cold as the analysis mode could be. Even though he was reverting to his usual demeanor.

Vivian didn’t program that; this semblance of a balance had set itself around the integration of the script in the depths of the core-code. But she liked the result.

"How are you, today?"

His drawl was back when he answered:

"Well enough, I’d say. Like after a real good sleep…"

Vivian grinned, amused.

"Perfect."

"And you, how are you?"

The spontaneity of Lawrence’s question took her by surprise.

"Well… um, I’m glad I can talk with you a bit," she finally answered. "Do you remember our last encounter?"

"21 days and 11 hours ago."

This time, the answer was delivered almost without accent; the question had triggered an analysis type of answer.

"And do you remember what our talks were about?"

He would have to query in his archived and encrypted memories to be able to answer this question. If he had it "right", then it would mean that everything was in order.

"Yeah, I told you about my folks, my… my drives. And that project you worked on for some time. It was a secret."

"It still is, Lawrence," she reminded him softly.

"I can keep a secret."

That wasn’t something he needed to convince her of! And she was less wary about him than about any other technician snooping in his code like the guys from Narrative did between two of her maintenance sessions. She gritted her teeth, frustrated and annoyed, by the limits of her authority on the modifications decided in high places, and on whom…

It was her fault, really; she shouldn’t have grew attached to a host like she did to Lawrence, but now things were the way they were, and it wasn’t possible for her to purge her memories and rewrite her affections as easily as a few lines of code. She was only human, after all!

Vivian brushed her boiling emotions off with a brief sigh before fully focusing back on Lawrence, asking him:

"Did this script cause you any issue since our last encounter?"

He still looked slightly numbed as he answered:

"I… I don’t understand…"

"No interference with your core-code?" she rephrased.

"No. None."

Not to brag, but she suspected that much. The only persisting worries she had were the saturation of his memory, provided that could actually be possible. Normally, the hosts’ memory was wiped between each rotation; then, there was no telling what could really happen if a unit gathered too much data. Vivian might as well be ending up editing her script to overwrite the oldest logs… She hesitated, biting her lower lip then tried a new question:

"No saturation?"

"No."

She gazed at him for a long minute before looking down on her tablet and stating, more to herself than to him:

"Maybe… maybe you’d rather be rid of all those… memories."

She held back the word "useless".

"No, not at all!"

Vivian frowned but a shy smile appeared on her lips.

"Why?"

"'Cause memories are priceless," he answered. "The good ones just like the bad… That’s what makes one remember where they’re from, and who their folks are. It’s what shape one’s life…"

And she followed the improvisation notifications on his dialog chain, but the irony in all this also made her feel somewhat bitter.

"Do… do you know where you are, now?" she asked.

"Ain’t so sure," he answered, holding her gaze, frowning. "Feels… like a dream I already had…"

That wasn’t far from the truth, indeed.

"And it’s gonna be time to wake up, now."

"Alright…"

Unfortunately, Vivian didn’t have all the time she’d love to give him. She tapped on her tablet, biting her lower lip; all of his levels were green, nothing to report — he had her all clear.

"Are we gonna see each other again soon?"

The question made her raise her head, almost stunned; Vivian wasn’t on the interface where she could follow his dialog chain anymore but didn’t need it to recognise improvisation.

"You… you’d want that? I mean…"

She cleared her throat, mouthing a silent word, before rephrasing:

"Would you like that?"

"Sure!"

That answer pleased Vivian, anyway; she felt herself blush and stumbled upon her words until something coherent came to her mind.

"Well then, I… I’ll do my best. I promise."

Lawrence nodded, apparently satisfied, and Vivian held his gaze while taking a short breath.

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

This time, it was Edgar Allan Poe’s prose Vivian had chosen to end her script, and stop the recording of his memories. None of what would happen after hearing those words would remain in Lawrence’s memory, unless she or another technician botched the wipe before sending him back in his narrative loop.

Vivian stayed with him until the cleanup was complete then disconnected the signal after putting him offline; she was already late for her next session but didn’t hurry all that much to tuck her tablet and get up. It was pissing her off to let him there, like that…

She let out a brief sigh then, after a look at her watch, she finally but reluctantly left the room.

The day didn’t only seem too long to Vivian; around 10PM, it had really started to drag on and it was about time to leave her be. Especially if some other guests were planning to unload their barrels during what little time she had left to sleep!

At least, Damon Dyers kept things cool on his side. Margaret had managed to get footages of his arrival in Sweetwater and his first steps in one of the easiest narratives, according to her, but she didn’t seem disappointed when offering them to take a look at those videos she had already viewed a good dozen times since on her tablet. She had been very chatty about his clothing, narratives, adventure companions, and even taking friendly bets on what he would do next…

"Everybody’s gonna be hyped like crazy outside when his review’s gonna hit the park website!" laughed Thawal, finishing what would be his last coffee cup for today.

Charles snorted.

"As if Delos needed more of that…"

Margaret nodded in approval, all the more when Luke added:

"No joke, that’s better than any of those stupid casting headshots! It’s the best career boost he could hope for, right now!"

"Not to burst it for you but, nobody is gonna see this outside," commented Vivian. "It was hard enough for Marge to get them in-house, so I can’t even imagine getting them out!"

To what Luke shrugged.

"Do you really believe that?! There’s nothing a few bucks under the table can’t buy, and footages instead of a crappy picture in Sweetwater is no big deal, I’m sure! It’s not like it’s IP or some shit…"

Margaret scoffed.

"I didn’t pay, not even fucked anybody to get them,” she muttered, openly cynical, as if her thoughts were escaping between her gritted teeth. “I’m trash but I didn’t stooped that low yet."

With Charles laughing like a braying donkey in the background, Luke corrected:

"That’s not what I meant, Marge! But yeah, thanks to prove my point all the same…Even Marge managed to put her hands on it, without shaking down her pockets or her ass, so imagine what you can get if you’re ready to drop some cash!"

Luke’s rhetoric seemed to get the point across as it was followed by a moment of silence around the table, and the tablet in its center, on which the patched-up hour of video feeds was still going.

"Anyhow, it makes nice memories to bring back home…"

Vivian pulled her attention away from the screen to stare at the focused — mesmerised — face of Thawal. He was right, it would make nice memories…

She bit her lower lip and turned back towards the tablet; suddenly, Dyers wasn’t the center of attention anymore, not even a guest who came to show off in the park — there was nothing else than people, hosts or guests it didn’t matter, listening to a more charismatic man than the others carrying a tune next to a player piano for the pleasure of his audience. And far from being corny or just lame, the scene even had something charming.

"And you said he’s going to Pariah, after that?"

Charles’ voice cut Vivian’s thoughts short.

"Yeah," answered Margaret. "He got there yesterday, I think…"

Margaret searched her video directory and selected one that spreaded across the entire screen; they could see Dyers and his two friends, lead by Teddy, on the trail of the narrative they had picked — a bounty hunt, if Vivian understood everything.

"It’s so fucking epic, Marge!" bursted Thawal, leaning over the tablet as if he wanted to dive in it. "Looks like another remake of the Magnificent Seven…"

"Except they’re only four," Charles snarked.

Thawal and Margaret glared at him, which made him laugh even more.

"I know, right?" Marge then admitted.

She turned towards Vivian, beaming with happiness. She smiled back but her mind was already elsewhere; somewhere around Las Mudas, she wasn’t quite sure yet…

On the screen, Dyers was continuing his adventure, like larping or a life size fanfiction. Now that Vivian was thinking about it, it had been a while since her last vacation…

She could maybe use her special employee discount, and do so to hold her promise?

#ocs #oc:vivian #my writing #fic:improvisation only #full diagnostic series #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #ch:lawrence

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