#And perfect angst for Linked Universe if I feel like it

[huh-1260]

It would have been more fucked up in Hyrule Warriors if Cia actually used Link as a vessel for Dark Link.

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 1

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |   PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 

Word Count: 11,107  Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

          Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.

I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”

Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.

Hot tears slid down my face.

I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.

I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.

Had someone been here?

Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?

I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.

The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.

I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.

Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.

I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.

The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.

I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.

I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.

No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.

Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.

I flinched at the reminder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.

“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”

“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”

“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.

“She should have died. I’m saving her.”

“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.

Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.

My Miguel.

He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.

What the hell?

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.

Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.

“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.

Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.

When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?

Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.

“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.

What the hell was this thing?

I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.

The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.

‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.

Miguel.

No. No. No.

Did I die?

Or did I finally go insane?

I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.

It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.

I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.

If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.

Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.

Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.

I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.

A deafening silence filled the room.

I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.

I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.

It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.

“Hello?” I called.

But I was all alone.

“Hello?” I screamed.

Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’

Miguel.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.

When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.

That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.

Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.

“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”

“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.

“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.

“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.

“What?”

“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”

I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.

“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.

“It’s our home.”

“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.

“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.

“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Because I am him… in a way.”

“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”

“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”

“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”

“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”

“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”

“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”

Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”

“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.

“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”

His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”

“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?

Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.

I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.

“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.

“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.

He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.

“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.

“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.

“Miguel, please let me out.”

“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.

“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”

“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”

“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”

“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”

Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?

“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”

He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”

Bastard.

I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.

“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s urgent.” She said.

It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.

“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.

“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.

“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.

I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.

My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.

There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.

I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.

Damn it, that hurt!

I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.

Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.

They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.

I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.

Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.

I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.

What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.

Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.

I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.

I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.

Lucky bastard.

He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.

I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.

I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.

I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.

He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.

“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.

“Nice outfit.”

“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”

A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”

“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.

He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.

“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.

“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.

“I feel sick.”

“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?

“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”

“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.

Tread lightly, I guess.

“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”

“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.

“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.

“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”

“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.

“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”

Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?

He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.

Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.

I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.

Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.

“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.

“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.

Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.

He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.

“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.

“Just decided that it looked better that way.”

“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”

“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.

“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.

“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.

“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”

Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.

“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.

“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”

“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”

“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.

“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.

“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”

“You love me.” He said.

“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.

“I have the right to know how she died.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.

He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.

He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.

“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.

“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.

“Lyla-“ he started.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.

So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.

“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.

“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.

“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.  

“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.

“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.

“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.

Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.

“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.

He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.

He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.

Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.

His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.

A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.

“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.

God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.

I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.

Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.

He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.

He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.

He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”

“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.

“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.

Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.

“Miguel, please.”

“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.

Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.

I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.

“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.

Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.

He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.

“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Am not.”

“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.

“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.  

He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”

“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.

He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.

I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.

Fuck, he was good at this.

He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.

Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.

He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.

He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.

Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.

“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.

He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.

My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.

“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.

Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?

“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.

“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.

“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.

“Say it.”

“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.

“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.

We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.

He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.

Fucking hell, Miguel.

With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.

His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.

Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.

He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.

“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.

“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Okay.”

“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”

I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.

He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.

It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”

“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.

“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?

“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.

“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.

“What are you wanting me to say?”

“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.

“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”

“That’s not an answer.” I said.

“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.

He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.

Was he fucking with me?

Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?

Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?

He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.

“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.

I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.

“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”

“Then stop feeling me up.”

“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.

“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.

It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.

Maybe they weren’t all that different.

I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.

Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

I love you...

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 19 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Bob is away, Anna can feel his absence everywhere. But nothing beats a perfect reunion. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of smut, 18+

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Months later....

Sitting in the coffee shop alone after visiting so many times with Bob truly made Anna sad. She was so used to sipping her coffee while he drank his hot tea, and somehow the scent always clung to his hair for hours afterwards. She'd bury her nose against him when they got home, and he would laugh when she told him he always smelled good.

But now he was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. She accidentally burned her mouth on her coffee, and after that it tasted disgusting. She got herself a croissant, but they were better when shared. Tears stung her eyes, and she had to take a deep breath and convince herself that it would be over soon. Then she focused her attention on her computer as she worked through some more of the changes she wanted to make to her manuscript.

After three more paragraphs, it was no use. It wasn't even ten o'clock in the morning yet, but she gave up and switched to the notes app on her phone where she had been adding ideas for Jessica's bridal shower and bachelorette party. Physics jokes about the laws of attraction? Designer lingerie shop in LA? Can you make a math equation that looks like a penis?

She would defer to Advanced Calculus for that last item. With a sigh, she was about to close her computer, buy another croissant for Suzanne, and then head out when she saw a new email notification.

"No way," she gasped as she tapped on it and stared at her computer screen.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Anna's heart started pounding erratically, and her fingertips felt numb. Anticipation and confusion mingled together as she opened the link. It was difficult to read as she tried to take a deep breath, but she wanted to consume Bob's words as quickly as possible.

I can see the dusky outline on the horizon,

But the California coastline isn't enough.

I need to be at home.

I need my bookshelf.

I need my books.

I need your books.

I need my Anna.

I need to see you in the next two minutes,

Because twelve weeks is way too long.

"The next two minutes?" Anna mumbled to herself as she read the last lines over again. "Two minutes?" She was out of her seat immediately, neck craning around the crowded coffee shop, looking in every direction. And that's when she saw him stroll inside in his khaki uniform and silver glasses with the most handsome smile on his face.

"Bob!" she cried out, nearly tripping over her chair as she left her stuff behind to get to him as quickly as she could. He was home. He was home early from his deployment. Communication had been a little spotty, and there was so much she wanted to tell him, but he was finally home.

"Anna," he murmured as she threw herself at him, knocking the wind out of her own lungs. His arms were wrapped around her as soon as her lips met his, and she didn't care if there was a whole shop of people watching them. He was finally home. Somehow he still tasted like tea, and he smelled so good, she buried her nose against his neck as he chuckled.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, kissing him just above his shirt collar.

"Jess told me," he replied easily.

She kissed her way up to his ear as he started to slowly walk her backwards to the small table where she'd been sitting. "Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up. I missed you so much."

"I just wanted to surprise you," he whispered, claiming her lips again as they stood next to the table.

She looked up at his pretty eyes and said, "This is a wonderful surprise. And I have one of my own."

"What is it?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing the freckles along her cheek and chin as she grinned up at him.

"I'm divorced."

His eyes went wide, and a sound of pure excitement escaped him as he scooped her up into his arms. "You're divorced?"

Anna laughed as she told him, "Finalized ten days ago. Fuck Kevin."

"You drove my truck here? Let's go," Bob said, immediately carrying her toward the exit.

"Wait, I need my stuff!"

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly very flustered as he helped her shove her computer and phone into her bag.

"I was planning to get a croissant or something to take to Suzanne," she said as he practically dragged her outside and down the street to his truck.

"Well, I was planning on taking you back to the bookstore to pick out something we could read together tonight, but this is even more important."

Anna ended up with her back pressed against the side of the truck while he unlocked the door, and she pressed her lips to his Adam's apple while she tried to hold onto her bag. She wanted to taste him everywhere. "Going right home actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

"That's exactly where we're going," he promised, tossing her stuff onto the seat before helping her in as well. The six seconds when he was walking around the truck and she couldn't touch him were miserable, but soon enough, he was kissing her while he started the engine. Then she had her fingers wrapped up with his while he started to drive. "I love you, Anna." He kept his eyes on the road as he made his way through Coronado, and she felt warmer than she had in twelve weeks. "I love you, and I would never pressure you to do anything you didn't want to do."

She turned to look at his handsome profile. "I know you wouldn't. That's why I love you so much."

She watched as he swallowed hard before saying, "I know we talked about our future, but it was always kind of ambiguous while we waited for your divorce decree."

"It's not ambiguous anymore!" Anna cheered as they neared his house where she had been living for months. "I'm ready for the future. The future is here. The future is now."

She was all smiles as he parked the truck with an anxious look in his eyes. "You told me you wanted me forever," he whispered, and Anna couldn't figure out why he looked so nervous. 

"Of course I want you forever," she told him once again. She'd made it as clear as she could that she was done running. Kevin and New Jersey and everything that could have broken her but didn't were all left in the past. She was moving on a little bit more every day with Bob and her best friends and her tenure track teaching position at San Diego State. She was unashamedly taking excellent care of herself, and she never stopped Bob when he told her she needed to take a break and that he'd handle something for her. She wasn't going anywhere ever again.

"I want you forever, too. And we can go slow, or we can go fast. Or you can tell me you don't want what I have to give you, and that's okay too."

"What?" she asked, her heart sinking in her chest as he parked and climbed out. She wanted everything Bob had to give, and she wanted to give him everything, too. They even talked about getting married someday after he initially got over his nerves enough to bring up the topic. She had assured him that he was exactly the only person she would do that with after her disastrous first marriage. Why would he think she didn't want what he had to give?

"Bob?" she asked as she climbed out as well and met him on the sidewalk. "Why do you look so concerned?" He didn't respond. He only led her up to the porch and unlocked the door. "Bob!" she complained when he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs, going two at a time until his breath was coming in shorter gasps. Instead of turning toward their bedroom like she expected, he went into the guest room and dropped her onto the futon.

She rarely came in here. It was almost funny that Bob planned on sleeping in this room when he insisted Anna come home with him after Kevin figured out where she lived. And now he was on his hands and knees, crawling under the futon as she asked, "What in the world are you doing?"

He hit his head and grunted in response, but a second later, he emerged with his hair all messed up and something in his hand. "I got you a ring."

"A ring?" she asked, realizing he was holding a small box. A jewelry box. She looked at him where he was kneeling in front of her, cheeks turning pink. "What kind of ring?" she whispered, hopeful yet needing to be sure.

Bob snapped the box open, and all Anna could see was a beautiful diamond. "An engagement ring. But only if you want it. I know you probably need more time. I don't even need an answer right now, I promise," he told her earnestly as she scooted a little closer to him. "You were still married two weeks ago, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway. You can wear it or not wear it. We can wait a while if you want. I just... wanted you to know it's all yours. I'm all yours."

She hadn't worn the rings from Kevin in over a year and a half. She pawned them with no remorse before she left for California. "It has been a very long time since I was really married, Bob." She took the box from his hand and looked at the ring. She couldn't stop smiling, and the tears in her eyes made the diamond look all blurry as she asked, "Do you really want to marry me? I'm a mess."

He grinned at her. "You're really not, Baby. You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind. You're a fighter. Of course I want to marry you."

Without another word, Anna took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. She'd known Bob long enough to be sure that his words were honest. She was willing to throw it all in on Sky Writing. "We can take our time," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. "There's no need to rush. But I definitely want to wear this ring."

They made a long, luxurious stop in their bed where Anna almost lost her voice from the number of times she called out Bob's name, and then he made her lunch before the two of them made their way to the living room bookshelf. 

"We didn't make it to the bookstore to pick out anything new to read," she mused, brushing all of the colorful spines with her fingers.

"Maybe we could read the first book you ever recommended for me. Together this time," he replied, his hands settling on her hips as his chin rested on her shoulder. 

Anna smiled as she reached for A Room With a View, remembering so well the day she started to fall in love with Bob Floyd. The book still looked practically brand new even though he'd already read it, and she grinned as she said, "I can't wait to dog ear all your pages."

"I will gladly let you."

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

The End! Thank you for reading another adventure in the Sugarverse! I hope you learned that even when you're a mess and barely holding it together, you're still worthy of friendship and love. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@thedroneranger

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@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

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@t-nd-rfoot

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@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

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@lovingperfectionsblog

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[crookedt44th]

ೃ⁀➷ fanfic recommendations

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!! just wanted to make a list so i can come back and read them again! please do let me know if the links doesn't work or linked to a wrong fic! i also did not realize how much im really into strangers to lovers au lord.

if you want your works taken down, let me know

skz masterlists/series

stray kids coffee shop series | all fluff and bit of angst! @hanjisick

to all the crushes (half of skz x reader) | fluff, angst, suggestive content(?). by okayau

hot bitch summer; the skz series | fratboy au, smut. @hyunsvngs

@seospicybin 's masterlist | includes all smut, fluff, and angst.

bold (minsung x reader) | smut. @/hyunsvngs

hopeless in love (ao3) (minsung and reader) | mlm themes, friends to lovers, college au, humor, hurt/comfort. by lucspear [this is VERY fun and cute to read! id read this a thousand times over again!]

bang chan

600 degrees (ao3) | neighbors au, fluff. by the7thcrow

lee minho

blue side of the sky | exes to lovers, best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst, smut. @hyunfilms

when the cat dragged in | smut, angst, strangers to lovers. @moni-logues

lost in translation | smut, strangers to lovers. @moonjxsung huge fan of u dude

dead butterflies | toxic relationships, drug and alcohol abuse, cheating, unrequited love. @lavenderhhaze

invisible thread, part one and two | university au, academic rivals to lovers, slow burn, fluff, VERY angst. @astraystayyh

the only exception | strangers to lovers, slow burn. @astraystayyh

she's like the wind | fluff, angst, smut. @nczennie

you saved that for the end | angst, smut. @pearbunny

message in a bottle | smut with a plot. @chxnsaphrodite

Mr. Gorgeous | fluff, slight angst, college au. @cryinginmyroomsposts

photograph | college au, smut. @minniesmutt

when he sees me (ao3) | smut, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, neighbors au. by candle_wax_and_polaroids

do you feel my hand? it is there | strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut. @blossomwritesthings

what you deserve | college au, smut, angst, fluff. @2chopsticks2eyes

bunny | strangers to lovers, neighbors au, smut, angst, fluff. @tasteleeknow

million dollar man | smut. @ybklix

unrequited & unmatched | focused on lee know and hwang hyunjin (not as pairing), angst, smut, romance (do read warnings on these series though). @jl-micasea-fics

poisonous tears | angst, suggestive content. @hoes4lino

a love letter i wish it didn't exist | romantic, angst, suggestive. @hoes4lino

perfect | light angst, fluff, suggestive. @linospuddin

invisible string | soulmate au, smut, light angst, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits. @moonlinos

when things were simple | 90s romance, school romance, best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, online au, high school au. @sunboki

there's always time | family au, fluff, smut, angst. @dreamescapeswriting

hwang hyunjin

dear farmer | very fluffy! @puppym3

a train, her lips, the music (ao3) | fluff, beautifully romantic. by the7thcrow

star lost with you (ao3) series still ongoing | idol au, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, fluff, smut, SLOW BURN. by hyunjinspark

han jisung

reckless convictions | college au, beautifully romantic, smut. @/moonjxsung

lee felix

seasons | smut, angst. @moonjxsung requested by me :)))

off the deep end | post-apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, angst, romance, suggestive content. @stayxlix

the bodyguard | enemies to lovers, parental abuse, very angst with evntual happy ending, smut. @skzdarlings

indulgence | vampire au, forbidden love, college au. by the17thcrow

solace (ao3) | 1990s era, friends to lovers, fluff. by fizzydrink698

fading inure (ao3) | vampire au, smut. by hanjizung

vexatious vixen | strangers to enemies to lovers, smut, romantic comedy. @skzdarlings [this fic is actually funny and VERY intense to read. i've been waiting for smth like this. LOVE IT!]

the siren on the stage | smut. @bunnliix

lee felix's guide to hating you | college au, tutor au, fluff, angst, slice of life, slow burn. @yyxgin

churchboy felix | fluff, smut, teen angst. @skzcollision

something in the air | smut. @propertyoftoru

gone boy, gone bad | suggestive, slight enemies to lovers, gangster au, fluff. @starlostseungmin

my girl | smut. @hyunjinniesgirl

bad romance | smut, angst, fluff, slow burn, bad boy au, punk au. @straykeedz

will update more later! i rlly hope to read other ffs of other members soon LOL

[planet-marz1]

my little love

post-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel welcome your baby girl into the world warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. no use of y/n, references to childbirth (non graphic), pregnancy, established relationship, reader does not have a specified age, no descriptions of reader's physical appearance, mentions of child loss (brief, non-descriptive), minor angst wc: ~750 a/n: After taking a very long (unintentional) break from writing, I was able to get this sweet little oneshot completeted after what felt like an eternity. It's meant to take place in the Our Little Sheep universe, but it can be read as a standalone. Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading! baby name inspired by my lovely em @catchallfangirl (she bullied me into it shh)

| main masterlist | ao3 link | updates blog |

A girl.

Your little girl.

Any self-doubt of your capabilities is immediately washed away the moment you lay your eyes on your daughter. Ten little fingers, ten little toes.

She’s absolutely perfect.

A wave of joy and relief washes over the room as you and Joel share a glance of sheer happiness. You reach out, your arms trembling with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, as the midwife carefully places your daughter in your embrace.

With a delicate touch, you cradle your daughter against your chest, feeling the weight of her tiny, perfect body in your arms. The room falls away, and time seems to pause as you marvel at the miracle of new life. Tears of joy stream down your cheeks as you look into her eyes, meeting the gaze of the little one you've carried for months.

Joel, equally captivated, leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning his attention to your daughter. As you cradle your daughter against your chest, a flood of emotions surges through you. 

She has Joel’s eyes, but everything else about her appearance is all you. Every moment you spend looking at her is like staring back at your own reflection. You can’t help but fall in love with her. Brown eyes staring up at you, a pair you’ve fallen in love with once before.

“I can't believe she's here,” you whisper, your voice catching with a mixture of exhaustion and elation.

Joel sits beside the tub, sharing in your emotional moment and stroking your arm gently, but he’s quiet. More than usual. You glance up at him, and his eyes are starting to glisten with tears.

He’s brought back in time decades in the past. To the first time he laid eyes on her. Soft dark brown curls, and big brown eyes staring back at him. Little baby Sarah. The name he and Sarah’s mom had settled on last minute after months of going back and forth. Scared would be an understatement for his emotions. This tiny little human being, suddenly relying on him for everything. Love, affection, comfort, protection, guidance. The list goes on and seems insurmountable. He’s so young.

He can’t help but feel guilty for his life now. All the time that’s passed since that fateful night that he witnessed his daughter take her last breath. Now he sits next to you, watching yet another little soul who will rely on him for everything, be brought into this world.

He doesn’t want to fuck it up this time. He can’t. He won’t be able to forgive himself this time if he fails again.

“She's perfect, just like her mom," he manages to choke, his voice filled with admiration and love.

Your daughter, swaddled in soft blankets, nestles closer to your chest, finding comfort in the familiar sound of your heartbeat. Her presence is a miracle that unfolds in every breath, every tiny movement, and every flutter of her eyelids.

You can’t believe she’s yours. You and Joel combined into one tiny little human being.

As you hold her close, you become acutely aware of the weight of responsibility mingled with the sheer joy of parenthood. The fragility of her life, nestled in your arms, is a reminder of the trust and love that will shape your journey together.

You find solace in the gentle rhythm of your daughter's breaths. The tiny fingers that grasp onto yours create a connection that transcends the physical.

You, still teary-eyed, glance at Joel, and together you share a silent acknowledgment of the depth of the love that has brought you to this moment.

“What should we name her?” you ask quietly.

How exactly do you pick out a name? Something that will define someone, and follow them around for their entire life. You had given Joel several suggestions, all of which he quickly turned down, and any of the names he had suggested you couldn’t stand at all.

He shrugs, while stroking your arm gently. “You went through all the hard work of getting her here. Figure s'only fair if you pick her name.”

You glance down at the squirming newborn in your arms. “How about Emilie?”

“Emilie?”

You look back up at him and nod. “It’s simple, sweet.”

He smiles, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Emilie it is, then.”

You both know this journey won’t be easy, but you wouldn’t want to navigate it with anyone other than each other.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @honeyedmiller @bastardmandennis @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @alwaysmicado @cherubispunk @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @vee-bees-blog @josephquinnswhore @worhols @bluebeary-jay @pamasaur

[iiovserii]

Daddy’s Home — Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again. Even if it meant sharing her with you. (3.1k Words) Based on this prompt

warnings: angst, slight smut, violence (including the disposal of a body), emotional manipulation, toxic relationship

authors note: this was inspired by one of my prompts from around a week ago and i’ve been holding onto this bad boy for about a week considering it’s my first ever fanfic i’ve ever wrote..i just wanted it to be perfect 😭 in my prompt i said something about the reader being sweet but she’s a lot more firey in this because the real miguel was an asshole who was never home..but i hope you all enjoy anyways! i was hoping to create this into series so if you want to be added to the taglist let me know 💖 i’ve also added the translation at the end just because 🤷‍♀️

Link to the Ao3 ver instead!

Miguel didn’t get to be picky when it came to choosing his new, forever home, as long as he was in Gabriella’s arms again, even if it meant sharing her with you. You were littered through Gabriella’s file, a pretty hard person to miss considering the fact that you were there for every single moment of her life—the sweet cooing voice in each video of her as a baby, the delicate hands that held the small, chubby fingers as she took her first steps, and the laughter that arose from behind the camera as Gabriella pulled a funny face.

This Gabriella was the perfect fit, however perfect came with a mother that was alive and well. It was a package deal in this universe, a love intertwined with filial devotion that Miguel would just have to deal with.

But he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that was buried deep in his chest, even as he watched a memory of Gabriella’s first goal (a favorite of his), which was originally only celebrated by him, now being replaced by Gabriella shrieking excitedly as she ran up to her mother, throwing her arms around you in triumph.

Moments like these, so special for his little girl, fueled his deep hatred towards you. It was watching these memories where Miguel genuinely wondered if he was even present in this universe. Nevertheless, staring down at his own lifeless body made him realize just how right he was.

What was he doing outside alone, in a dark alleyway on a Friday night anyway? Why wasn’t he home with his daughter, with his wife?

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind as he began disposing of the body—a man too selfish and weak to even protect his precious daughter. In the end, he got what was coming to him, or so he told himself to keep from feeling guilty.

He didn’t care for details, knowing he was here now to pick up the pieces of a broken family and restore it to something he could finally have a second chance with. He snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the jingle of a ringtone coming from his new phone. Swiping the phone from his pocket, he didn’t even stop to waver whether or not he should answer as he saw your name flash on the screen, rolling his eyes as he pressed accept. He pulled the device up to his ear, resting it on his shoulder and cheek as he listened to the sound of your voice.

The first thing he noticed was how tired you sounded—were you waiting for him to return home? He could imagine you laid on the sofa, eyes nervously glancing up at the clock at any given moment, a silly housewife awaiting her husband. He almost felt bad for you; it was pathetic that you would really allow yourself and Gabriella to live like that, always waiting.

He ended the call swiftly, making up some stupid excuse about how he caught up with work and would be arriving shortly. Pretty much in character for the man he just suffocated with his own hands, not raising any suspicion for you as he heard the sleepy yawn telling him that you’d be asleep by the time he got back.

However, despite the dark act he had just committed, he was willing to go to great lengths to win Gabriella's heart again. If putting this ring on his finger and pretending that the woman on the other end of the phone was his wife would grant him another chance with her, then so be it.

He wouldn’t mind playing house with you, as long as he was able to hold his daughter in his arms once more.

He felt disgusted even calling you 'wife', but for Gabriella's sake, he knew he needed to play along. It wasn't like it mattered anyway since your daughter worshipped you so much more than him.

He didn’t need you, he knew that.

However the thought of Gabriella’s eyes as they lit up when you walk in the room seemed to tell him otherwise. She needed you.

He hated the way the house was never quiet, there was always something happening.

You were making dinner? There had to be music in the background as you traveled around the kitchen, humming and singing along to whatever tune was playing on the speaker. That soft velvety voice seemed to flow through the house, and it killed him inside that he wanted to hear more of you.

Gabriella was playing outside? Well you were playing outside as well, it wasn’t like you had a choice, having being pulled away from whatever you were doing to entertain the small girl.

You had everything running like clockwork—cooking dinner while managing homework and playing with Gabriella at the same time—all without seemingly breaking any sweat or becoming frustrated.

Miguel couldn't help but admire you for being able to handle everything so seamlessly. But deep down, he still felt resentment towards you for taking over what should have been his role as the sole parent of their child.

He’d notice small things, like the way your hands flew to your face when you were shocked, it was sweet at first, until he realised Gabriella also did the same, she never did that before. He had noticed it one morning when he stood in the doorway of Gabie’s room, not trying to make his presence known as he watched the two of you play, and the scowl on his face didn’t go unnoticed as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, wondering what he looking at so intensely.

It took him the first couple of weeks to get used to your laugh, you were always laughing. It seemed to rub off on Gabriella as well, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her laugh this much, even before.

Miguel tried his best to ignore the feelings that arose in him at the sight of you playing with Gabriella, and sometimes even joined the two of you whilst you played your games. He couldn't help but feel envious of how happy the two of you looked together, reminding him of moments he could have had if only things had gone differently.

Despite these feelings, it wasn't long before Miguel began to see a different side of you. A side that made him realise why Gabriella adored you so much.

One day while cooking dinner, he noticed your eyes lighting up as Gabriella told a story about her day at school. You were so invested in her words that for once he felt like an outsider looking into your world.

He also witnessed moments when Gabriella fell ill and how tirelessly you took care of her; staying up all night by her bedside until she fell asleep or gently rubbing Vicks on her chest when she was coughing painfully.

It was moments like these when Miguel started to question his assumptions about you and wondered whether maybe—just maybe—he'd been too quick to judge.

But as much as Miguel tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had buried something deep inside him. He couldn't let go of the resentment he felt towards you for replacing his role.

He started focusing on every little mistake you made, criticising your cooking and getting angry when things didn't go his way. Every time you laughed or smiled at Gabriella, it sent a pang of jealousy straight through him.

"She's too attached to you," he huffed, standing beside the bathroom counter as you both prepared for bed, "you can't even leave the room, and she's already wondering when you'll be back again."

"Well, maybe if you were around more often, she wouldn't be so reliant on me," you retorted, the soft glow of the bathroom lights casting shadows on your face, your voice laced with frustration.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, reaching for his toothbrush, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, of course, it's all my fault. Because you're just the perfect parent, aren't you? Always there, always available."

"You know what, maybe if you actually made an effort instead of criticizing me all the time, you'd see the bond we have is because I've been there for her when you weren't!" you retorted, your voice rising, the sound echoing against the tiled walls.

His tone grew more defensive. "I never said I was perfect, but at least I'm trying now. You could at least acknowledge that."

A mirthless smile crossed your face as you leaned against the bathroom counter, facing each other in the confined space.

"Acknowledging your half-hearted attempts doesn't erase the damage done, Miguel. It takes more than just physical presence to be a real parent."

The tension hung heavy in the air, the scent of toothpaste mingling with their argument, as the bickering between husband and wife intensified. The wounds of the past were reopened, and neither was willing to back down or see the other's perspective.

As the heated exchange reached its peak, you turned on your heels, ready to storm off, your frustration boiling over. But just as you took a step away, Miguel's hand shot out, firmly gripping your arm. The air tightened between you, the coolness of the bathroom tiles beneath your feet.

The grip on your arm only tightened, his expression a mixture of frustration and a confused longing. "You don't speak to me like that," Miguel growled, his voice firm. "You are my wife, act like it."

“You are my husband, I expect the same from you,” you snapped back, your voice dripping with defiance, refusing to back down as you swatted away his hand. “And—I will speak to you however I want.” The sound of running water from the faucet filled the silence.

A flicker of amusement crossed Miguel's face, his eyes tracing your determined form. He had underestimated your strength, your fiery spirit. Despite the frustration that lingered between them, a newfound admiration stirred within him.

"Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca," he mused, his tone tinged with a mix of fascination and curiosity, the steam from the shower filling the bathroom. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.”

The intensity of the moment had rendered you momentarily speechless, steam rising in the bathroom as the warm air surrounded you both. But you managed to find your voice, albeit in a whisper, the sound barely audible over the running water.

"Now that's not fair," you murmured, the dampness of the bathroom clinging to your skin, your voice filled with a mixture of frustration and longing. "You know I don't understand what you're saying..”

A slow, mischievous smile curled at the corners of Miguel's lips, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as he leaned in closer, the scent of shampoo and desire filling the air. And as your lips lingered so close, the unspoken desires between you both grew stronger.

“Good.”

The man currently asleep beside you, was not, to absolute certainty, your husband.

His features held a resemblance to the man you once knew, but there was a striking difference—an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, he looked at you like he didn’t know you.

His hair fell differently, it looked more clean compared to the tousled mess due to work. You would've sworn he had a small crease in the corner of his eyebrow, but then it disappeared along with the mole on the side of his neck.

He smelled of citrus and leather before, a smell that made you turn when he walked into the room—you knew that smell more than you knew yourself.

Instead now, all you could smell was warm spice and amber. It almost made you smile when you smelt it on him as he walked past you that morning, a couple of weeks ago, until you realised that was the fragrance you got him last Christmas, the fragrance he said he hated and never wore.

The bed, too, felt subtly different beneath your weight, as if it dipped just slightly more than it used to.

It made you feel like your heart was tearing apart. On one hand, he was paying more attention to Gabriella, and she was thriving because of it. He took her to all the soccer practices, played with her and held her so tight that you’d think she’d pop.

You’ve never seen her so happy.

On the other hand, he was hardly in your presence. He hadn’t touched you for weeks, not even a kiss. The most he had done was argue with you, mostly about how close you and Gabriella was.

However, one thing that you couldn’t help but notice was the dark look in his eyes every-time Gabriella’s attention shifted toward you.

He was hardly around before, always at work, the gym or drinking with his co-workers at the bar across from town.

Nowadays it was hard for him to leave you and Gabriella alone.

Not to mention, it was like he grew twice in size. His shoulder looked broader, the veins in his arms popped, more defined. He could basically pick up your seven year old like a feather. Had he been working out more?

You shift on your pillow, eyes glancing down at his heaving chest as he slept. The only time he didn’t look so tense recently was when he was asleep. So peaceful.

You couldn’t help but reach out and dance one of your fingers on the side of his torso, quietly humming some annoying tune that wouldn’t leave your mind that morning.

"What are you doing, Gatita?" he quipped, unable to suppress a soft chuckle that escaped his lips, snapping you out of your thoughts and making you squeak.

As you tried to pull your hand away, Miguel quickly caught it in mid-air, his touch exerting a gentle but firm hold. His finger lightly pressed into your palm, a subtle reminder of his presence and it was almost like he was showing his desire to keep you near.

“What, don't you like touching your husband?" he playfully remarked, mischief dancing in his eyes. His gaze deliberately traveled down your body, as if savoring the sight before him.

Rolling your eyes and pouting, you couldn't resist the urge to make a bratty remark. "Well, it's not exactly enjoyable when the husband is such a pain in the ass." you huffed, your tone laced with a hint of childish defiance.

Feeling his firm hold on your hand, you let out a whine at the tightness. It was as if he was purposely trying to keep you close, unwilling to let you slip away. The intensity of his grip only fueled your frustration.

That’s an air between the two of you. You just couldn’t put your finger on it. The way you desperately try to search in his eyes for something, anything, that would tell you that the man you’re looking at, is, really your husband. The man you’ve spent nearly eight years with.

It’s almost like he’s trying to breathe you in, the way he looks like he’s trying to piece together your features, it makes you wonder if he even knows a thing about you.

The weight of the impending moment made you fidget, your fingers nervously playing with the edge of the bedsheet. You were acutely aware of the lingering tension between you and Miguel, and you attempt to find a way to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

A timid sigh escaped your lips, as a sense of unease settled upon your shoulders. "Gabriella will be waking up soon," you whispered, your voice tinged with a flicker of concern.

A cruel smirk played at the corner of his lips as he leaned in closer, invading your personal space. "Is my little wife hiding from me?" he sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “You know she’s not getting up for at least another hour.”

Your eyes darted nervously between him and the door, your mind already jumping to potential escape routes. You couldn't help but wonder if he was purposefully trying to push your buttons with his words.

"I just don't want her to-," you began to stutter, but were cut short as Miguel's grip tightened further on your hand. "Don't worry about Gabriella," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. “She’ll be fine.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sensation; it stirred something within you that you couldn’t quite explain. Within the eight years of your marriage, he had never made the room feel so..heated.

You gasped at the sensation of his lips pressing into your neck, sending shivers down your spine in a wave of desire and guilt. All logic told you that this was wrong, yet there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to give in to the heat that bubbled within.

As Miguel's kisses grew bolder and more insistent against your skin, you couldn't help but writhe beneath him.

His groan reverberated through your body, stirring something deep within as he whispered against your ear "I know I've been a bad husband," punctuating each with another kiss along the length of your jaw.

"Miguel-" Your voice trailed off into a soft whimper as he shifted so that he was hovering over you, one hand moving to fondle at the curve of your hip while the other tangled itself in your hair.

"But I'm here now," he murmured between kisses before ducking back down to press his lips onto yours once again. The taste of him flooded through you even as he reached up under-shirt slowly caressing and teasing you, making sure not too much display signs of pleasure.

As the heat continued to build between you and Miguel, he began to part your legs, eliciting a soft gasp from deep within as his intent became clear. You felt his lips curl into a knowing smile at your reaction as he watched your mean facade fall away.

"Mmm," he hummed in appreciation as his eyes roamed over every inch of exposed skin. "Looks like my little wife isn't all mouth after all." He teasingly remarked before lowering himself once again so that his tongue could trace patterns along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

The sensation left you moaning softly in pleasure at the skilled touch, completely lost in the moment. It wasn't until Miguel's fingers found their way back up to her hips that you realized just how much control he had over this situation.

"You know what?" He said with a smirk pulling back to look at her face before diving down for another heated kiss "I think maybe have to put you in line more often."

You wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

eng translation:

1. “Si supiera que eras tan molesto, te habría dejado hace mucho tiempo, Muñeca,” — "If I knew you were so annoying, I would have left you a long time ago, doll."

2. “Las cosas que haría para callar esa boca tan bonita tuya.” — "The things I would do to silence that beautiful mouth of yours."

3. “Gatita” — Kitten

[her-devils-advocate]

Year 850, then; Year 854, now

pairings: Levi Ackerman x (GN!) reader

genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff and comfort, angst, angst and fluff

summary: Two tender moments between you and Levi after being injured in battle, leaving him to worry and look after you in his own ways.

Warning for the ending of aot spoilers

word count: 3,765

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54818275

Year 850, then:

It had been a gruelling expedition, one that had resulted in a multitude of casualties, including your own. It was a routine mission, you and your squad had been tasked with surveying the land, finding the safest route to one of the scout bases and supplying it ahead of time. You only needed to bring simple necessities like spare food and medical equipment that the upcoming squad would require during their stay there, as well as clearing out any titans that had happened to be found along the way. A small risk, all things considered.

On paper, it was one of the safest missions that the scouts had taken in a while. After the previous expedition had resulted in many deaths, the scouts had put a small pause on activity outside the walls while everyone recovered and re-evaluated future missions.

Levi had scoffed at the mention of Erwin sending you as the squad leader, mumbling under his breath that such a mission was beneath you and your team. You had reassured him that you were the best choice; that it would be a simple in-and-out mission. You and your team would be back before he knew it.

“I still don’t see why we are bothering to send you of all people on a supply run to that dusty old base. What a waste of time and resources when you should be focusing on training your team. How are you supposed to prepare your team for the upcoming missions while wasting energy supplying another?”

“Levi, it’s alright.” You remember the smile that lights up your face when you see him roll his eyes, his lips pursed in what was definitely not a pout. The captain would never do such a thing, of course. That's what he told you when you gleefully pointed it out, at least.

“Having me lead the squad is probably just a precaution, in case anything happens. I highly doubt that we will encounter many titans, if any. You know the route is usually empty each time we send out supplies. I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“Tch, sure. If anything, it will give me the peace I need to finish that paperwork.”

You mentally cursed yourself for tempting the universe to put you in your place, forcing you to eat your words.

On paper, it was a simple task. 

In actuality, the pouring rain obscured your vision, making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you as the dark clouds dimmed the world around you. The heavy rain mixed with the steady march of the horses along the ground. Their hooves drummed against the wet earth, vibrating through your cold and tense body, splashing through the slowly growing puddles. The howling wind echoed in your ears, taking the words of your squad and drifting them up to the dark clouds above. 

It was a perfect recipe for disaster, especially when neither you nor your team could spot the two abnormal titans rapidly approaching your position. 

The last thing you remember is the shooting pain as one of the titans reached its elongated limb to swipe at your horse, sending you flying through the air and crashing into the ground.

That's how you find yourself lying in a lumpy bed, the scratchy material rubbing against the sections of tender skin not currently covered in bandages. You sit up with a small wince, pain rolling over you in long waves at the motion. You carefully wiggle your arms and legs, happy to feel them move at your command despite the hot flush of pain. 

Hange and Commander Erwin arrive shortly after you wake, sitting beside you and keeping you company as you give your report of the mission. They don't miss the way your eyes flicker with shame, guilt reflecting in your eyes for not noticing the danger until it was too late, despite battling the elements. 

You are usually careful once you and your squad are in Titan territory, always on high alert and on the watch for the slightest hint of danger. While it’s not the first time you’ve found yourself on the bad side of luck, the guilt and feelings of failure never seem to lessen. 

“You will be happy to know that everyone survived. They are a bit battered here and there, but your squad will be alright in time. You are the most injured out of everyone, in fact, congrats!” Hange says, amusement and relief shining in their eyes as they watch you sigh, sinking deeper into the frustratingly stiff pillows.

“That is good news, thank you Hange. Not that I don't appreciate you both visiting me, seeing both of your faces certainly helps to brighten my day, when I’m not in trouble or receiving bad news, that is.” 

You hear the two chuckle, despite being friends with Erwin, you have forced his hand enough to be given a few small slaps on the wrist in the past. 

“But where's Levi? I figured he would be here to lecture me on getting injured at the very least.”

Erwin gives you a knowing smile, sitting up in his chair a little straighter, “Don't worry, I’m positive that you won't get away from that lecture. I've already gotten my version from him at least twice now.”

You raise your eyebrow quizzically, you knew of Levi’s frustrations with the mission yet you never figured he would chew Erwin out over it.

Before he has a chance to continue, Hange lets out a loud laugh, desperate to share a fact they know Levi would happily keep to himself.

“Shorty refused to leave your side when you were brought in, even with the medics stating that he was getting in their way. He only left just before you woke up to fetch you some food, claiming you're ‘a damn brat when hungry’.” 

They lower their voice to mimic him while crossing their arms and glaring as they speak. You let out a small, surprised giggle, the action causing you to wince as your ribs protest.

“You know, if anything, he’s probably going to be even more pissed that you decided to wake up after he left,” Hange says with a small wink.

As if on cue, Levi opens the door with one hand, carefully balancing a plate of unusual food on the other.

“I got held up by the damn brats. Braus and Springer found me in the kitchen and decided to take over, wanting to show me a secret they had when it came to making the most out of our shitty reserves or something. I figured there was no harm, those kiddos have been vibrating with nerves ever since they got the news.”

He pauses once he takes in the sight before him, his eyes widen when he finally spots you awake. You give him a warm smile as you see the relief that washes over him. His eyes linger on you briefly before he clears his throat, trying to push down the visible urge to rush over to you despite the small audience. 

“Apparently they have found a way to make eating potatoes for the hundredth time in a row more exciting for them. Didn't bother to share that with the rest of us. They also told me not to share this information with Erwin since they don't want to be lectured on using our reserves for their little experiment.” 

Levi turns to the man in question, ignoring the amusement glinting in Erwin's eyes as Levi’s glare hardens. “I told the kids that the day they get to tell me what to do will be the day all the titans are finally killed, once and for all.”

You can’t help the giggles that erupt from you despite trying to hold back, rapidly dissolving into loud laughter that only grows even more frantic when Hange joins in. Their laughter is even louder as they grasp at their sides, rapidly running out of breath themselves. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to catch your own breath, bringing a hand to clutch at your tender ribs as each gasp causes the pain to flare angrily. 

“Oi, what’s so funny, you two?” Levi’s displeased voice cuts through the growing chaos, only betrayed by the subtle redness of his ears and the softness of his eyes as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. Hange waves their hand in his direction, yet each time they try to speak, more giggles slip from their lips. 

He scoffs before shoving the plate onto your lap, mindful to avoid your injuries before pulling Hange out of the chair beside your bed and settling down into it, ignoring their cries of protest.

“Hey! I was sat there first, shorty. Erwin!” “Yeah, well I’m sat here now, four-eyes. Don’t you have a titan to go poke? And you,” Levi turns to glare at Erwin, who was simply content to watch his soldiers bicker despite their positions, “don’t you have some paperwork to fill out or something?”

The tall blonde slowly stands from his chair, ushering Hange out of the room alongside him before turning towards you with a kind expression.

“We know when we have overstayed our welcome, we wish you a speedy recovery.”

You give Erwin a small nod before looking down at the food placed on your lap. You notice the thin slices of potato that had been cooked until they were crisped. You glance up at Levi, raising a single eyebrow.

“Don’t ask me, the cadets wanted to make something nice for you. They were worried.”

Once Erwin and Hange can be heard moving further down the medical wing while Hange happily chats the other’s ear off, Levi moves from the chair he had rudely claimed. He nudges you, silently requesting you to shuffle over to give him room on the uncomfortable bed. Once he is settled, you rest your head on his shoulder as he carefully brings his arm around you, protectively pulling you close to his side.

“Just them?”

“Tch, shut up and eat your meal.”

Year 854, now:

Thick clouds of dust begin to settle over the ruined ground, it sticks to your hot skin as you breathe heavily. Silence uncomfortably blankets everyone as they let the moment sink in. You had done it, you had all succeeded. Not that it feels like a success.

Your whole body screams out with each movement you make, you had stopped keeping up with your injuries hours ago, simply having more important things to focus on. The stakes were too high to risk caring for every injury. The adrenalin and fear had kept the pain manageable as you pushed your body to its limits, but now, nothing can help as you try to stifle your whimpers.

You don’t know how to feel, already emotionally and physically past your breaking point. You can hear Armin wail somewhere behind you, the sound is haunting as each scream stabs deep into your heart. You don’t want to turn around; you can’t will yourself to do so. You know you should be there to help comfort everyone, but your body is frozen. You’ve always been good at lending a comforting shoulder to the 104th cadets in the past, but now you doubt that anything you do could bring any peace to them.

With Armin's sobs breaking the tense silence, sound reluctantly returns to the world. The bitter victory has no celebration, only relieved sighs and mourning.

You spot Levi from a distance, perched against a fallen rock. Dark blood slowly oozes out from his extended leg, having been broken multiple times and further injured during the final battle. 

You allow yourself to feel happy, knowing that he will be alright and that you are both alive. 

Your stubborn body unfreezes, despite the pain and exhaustion, allowing you to slowly stumble your way towards him. Your eyes are glued to the destroyed ground as you approach your captain. You take the time to rack your brain of things to say, what can you even say after everything you have both been through? Everything feels too casual, too insignificant compared to the lifelong trauma, both the physical and mental kind, that has been thrust upon you both in the past couple of weeks. You feel selfish for your happiness at his survival, having said too many goodbyes in such a short period. Too many good people have been lost in the twisted war.

“Well, look who showed up…”

Levi’s tired voice stops you in your tracks and your question dies in your throat with a quiet choke when you look up to the crowd now surrounding you. 

They are all there: Erwin, Hange and their squad, Levi’s squad, and the dozens of scouts that had risked everything to get you both where you are now. Your eyes blur with thick tears as you catch Hange’s eye, gazing at you in sadness. You want to scream, to run away, to run up and embrace them. You try to compose yourself, but the tears pour down your cheeks when you see the spirits of your squad smiling at you in pride. 

“Hey boss, you’re looking pretty banged up” The tall redhead of your group approaches, you remember the day he first joined your squad, all smiles and false confidence. Next to him stands his closest friend, you had chosen both of them at the same time, not wishing to split them apart. Next to them is your second in command, a quiet girl with a strong heart.

“Hi Leon, you can say that again. It’s good to see you again… It’s really good to see you all.” Your voice wavers as you take in the sight of them all, you gradually lost them one by one. Some before Eren’s little stunt, some after. Yet each loss hit hard.

“We’re proud of you, we knew you could do it.”

Your team salute you and the captain one last time before joining the others, fading away with a mixture of emotions on their faces. Some are sad to leave you both behind, some are happy to have gotten a final goodbye at last and some are relieved to see you still alive.

You take in a deep breath, willing your bruised heart to slow down before it bursts out of your chest. Your hands feel numb and you feel your body begin to shake as your mind tries to catch up.

“Oi, sit down before you hurt yourself even more. You look like you're about to pass out.” Levi’s voice is void of emotion as his damp eye looks up at you in concern. You sigh before waddling over to him, your body feels like stone as you collapse against the hard rock, being careful to keep a gap between your bodies, not wanting to possibly hurt him.

“I feel like I might, I also feel like I’m about to be sick.” In any other situation, you would laugh at the way his face scrunches up in disgust at the thought.

“If you do that, you better lean the other way. I don’t want to be covered in it.”

You allow yourself to let out an amused scoff, it feels unnatural to laugh as you scoot closer to him to lean your pounding head against his shoulder.

“Aye aye, captain.” You weakly raise your fist to your heart, giving him a lighthearted salute. You hear a small scoff of his own in return. 

“How…how are you doing?” Your whispered words crack as they fall past your lips and you feel him stiffen beside you.

“Good question, you?”

“...Good question, I’m going to go with tired for now.” You can feel your energy quickly fade as black splotches begin to take over your vision, and your body feels light and heavy at the same time.

Levi’s hand brushes your own. He gingerly takes your hand, softly rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “I’m going to need you to control your breathing, you’ve already lost a lot of blood with your current injuries. I need you to stay awake until we can get you sorted. Alright?” 

You give him a non-committal hum in response as you try to keep your eyes open. They feel like lead and you want nothing more than to fade into the warm embrace that sleep would bring. 

Even besides Levi, the panic continues to swirl around you, dancing maliciously with the pain and nausea. A part of you knows that there is no reason to be scared, you won, yet everything is still unknown. Where do you go from here? Can either of you last for much longer in your sorry states?

Before you can get too lost in your mind, a sharp wave of pain rushes through you when Levi gives you a gentle jab with his elbow, his eyebrows are furrowed with worry as you let out a deep grunt.

“I’m serious, don’t you dare fall asleep until we know you’re in the clear. Do you hear me?”

His words are harsh and yet you can hear the frantic worry that's hidden just below the surface. You want to reply, to tease him for his worry, just like old times, but when you go to open your mouth, you feel as if you are miles away. The world grows darker and the part of you that's not overwhelmed with panic feels guilty for the added stress now thrown onto Levi.

Light chatter surrounds you when you open your eyes, you squint as the harsh sunlight invades your vision. You can feel a thin blanket covering your body and a stiff pillow supporting your head; you feel groggy as you try to take in your surroundings and you mumble incoherently. The chatter dies instantly, a blurry head popping up in your light of sight, blocking the sunlight peaking through the medical tent flap.

“Captain Levi, they’re awake!” Connie’s voice booms through the small, cramped tent. You wince as his voice pierces through your skull, causing it to pound angrily. You had hoped you could sleep through the worst of your injuries, but you have never had the best luck.

“We can see that, quiet down.” Levi’s voice causes your heart to lighten. You groan as you bring yourself to sit up within the medical cot, Levi’s hands holding onto you tightly as he helps guide your stubborn self into a comfortable sitting position.

Connie is hovering nervously by the side of your bed, while Jean and Armin are sitting on the floor nearby. Levi has claimed the singular chair within the tent, placing it as close to the cot as possible. His leg has been wrapped up in bandages once more while his old ones have been replaced with clean ones. You scan his body for any more serious injuries, relaxing when nothing new stands out.

“Hey, I’m alright. We’re all okay.” Levi gives you a knowing look as the rest of the group nods in reassurance.

“Mikasa has already left…She wanted to leave with Eren before…They wouldn’t have given him a decent burial here.” Jean says awkwardly, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

“Way to make things depressing, Jean.”

“Alright, how would you have told them, Connie? I would love to know.”

“Enough, don’t start, you two.” The pair stiffen as Levi’s gruff voice cuts their bickering short.

“Sorry, captain.”

You watch the shenanigans in amusement, your eyes shining with more tears as you take the moment in. They are all okay, they will be okay. The gloom that surrounds you all begins to vanish as a new form of normalcy tries to settle in. 

Levi gives them a stern look before slowly standing from his chair. You watch as he grits his teeth, doing his best to keep his mask of nonchalance firmly in place despite the agony he feels. 

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m going to find you something to eat. You’ve been asleep for hours and I know you haven’t managed to eat much during all the bullshit.” “Levi…” “What? You’re a damn brat when hungry, it’s more for our sake than yours.” You can’t help the smile that finds its way onto your face despite your concern. You can hear the others snicker, trying to stifle their amusement before he turns on them as well. 

“Oh, captain. It’s alright, please sit down.” Armin rushes up to Levi, his hands hovering before him as if he’s scared to try and place them upon Levi. After a moment of uncertainty, Armin proceeds to gently help Levi sit back down. Your heart warms as you watch Levi reluctantly accept their help without any pushback.

“Connie has already sorted out the snacks,” Armin explains in response to Levi’s questioning glare.

“Yeah, I found a basket of fruit and sandwiches that everyone had put together when we made the camp. Before anyone says anything, I know it’s bad considering…yeah…but I managed to swipe a few for us.”

You thank Connie as he tosses a slightly squashed sandwich in your direction, not realising just how hungry you are as you bite into it. You feel Levi’s hand grasp yours as he slowly eats his own. A peaceful silence falls over the tent, only to be quickly broken.

“Hey, Armin. That was pretty brave of you, y’know.” Connie’s loud whispering catches the attention of everyone as you all slowly turn to watch the pair. Armin raises his eyebrows, confusion plastered clearly on his face.

“Telling the captain what to do like that. I’d have fainted if I were in your shoes.” “Well…” Armin takes a moment to consider his words, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Remember 4 years ago? He did say we could tell him what to do when all the titans were dead.”

Your eyes widen as your shoulders begin to shake with restrained laughter. Jean and Connie are frozen in shock as Levi lets out a loud groan.

“I was hoping you kids had forgotten that, don’t get cocky.”

You don’t miss the way his voice softens as the group's playful behaviour sinks in. You squeeze his hand, receiving a light squeeze in return when you shuffle to lean closer to him.

His voice is low, just loud enough for you to make out his whispered words. 

“I think we’re going to be alright.”

“Yeah, I think we will be.”

[tw1l1te]

𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮

Yandere! Linked Universe x Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, and I mean dark, suggestive, angst, more angst, kidnapping, mentions of death, dark religious themes

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You'd lost track of how many days, weeks, months years have passed since you'd been contained in this hell. You'd lost track of who you last talked to. You'd lost all sense of what happened, and where everything went wrong.

One of the clearest memories you have is how it happened.

How it started it already began long before.

Just hours after defeating the shadow, you were making plans to leave. To go back home after almost three years. You knew the subject was touchy and created a tense air to the group, but it was unavoidable now. It was time to go.

You look back at the portal, blue and gold wisps illuminating the surrounding area. Why wasn't anybody reacting to it, if at all?

If they pretended it didn't exist, you wouldn't leave them.

Enough was enough. You've waited too long for this, worked too hard. You didn't belong here.

Picking up your pack, you look at the rift once more. The pulsating sensation beckoning you closer.

Leave. Go home. Leave them. Go now, before it's too late. Now now nownownow gonowgonowGONOwLEAVEBEFOREITISTOOLATE-

A hand wraps around your wrist, hot fire against your ice cold bones.

"Stay. Please."

Twilight looks defeated. On the brink of utter collapse, eyes on the brink of tears.

"If only there was another way, Twilight. If only. I'm sorry, it's time."

"I love you, darlin'. I love you so much. Please don't leave m-us. Not again. I can't- won't. Not again."

You weren't her. No, you weren't Midna. You wouldn't leavEhiMheRE

He was on his knees, eyes never wavering off of yours. He was praying. Praying a mantra to your entity. His goddess. His divinity.

You feel another set of hands on your hips, melding perfectly against your form. Prophetical puzzle pieces locking together.

Legend was already crying, salty tears wettening your tunic. His hands were coated with blood. Not his.

"Y/n I- please, Mousey. Please please. Not again. I can't do this without you. Let us come with you. We'll do anything."

His hands. His hands were on your face, sticky blood tarnishing your perfect face. A face that held eras. His and his brothers', embedded in your very soul.

"I'm sorry- I can't. You know I'd bring you with me if I could, but it's time. I don't belong here. You know I don't, you said it yourself oh so long ago."

"That was- I was different. So so much has happened, so much."

The earth started to shake, ramping up in mere seconds.

The rock started to crack, larger and larger chasms forming, decreasing your chances of getting out of here.

It was now or never.

You look back at them, mouthing 'I'm sorry', and run.

Run and don't look back.

Run before you change your mind again.

Run before you miss your chance. Forever.

Your fingers graze the golden light, a sensation unlike you've ever felt before.

A force knocks you out cold, the last thing you see is that damned golden light.

~

You woke up almost a week later, eyes barely being able to open from how long they've been shut.

You remember the blood-curling scream you let out, vocal cords tearing at your anguish.

You remember Wild and Hyrule running in, holding you in place to not harm yourself even more.

You remember sobbing for hours that night, all of them staring at you.

You remember how nauseous and mortified you were when Time bathed you, combing through your locks and looming over you, cooing at you like you were some lost lamb.

You remember how disappointed Wars looked when he found you with your locks strewn around you on the floor, hoping that you wouldn't be pretty anymore in their eyes if you messed yourself up. It made you more stunning.

You remember sitting in the corner of the room, curling in on yourself while you hummed a lullaby, trying to ignore the looming eyes of the chosen hero in the other corner of the room.

They don't let you out past the fence, past it leads into the forest.

You stopped talking to any of them months ago, vocal cords mostly damaged from your screams.

You feel slightly safer with Wind around, knowing they would stay away if he was with you, trusting him to be their eyes for when they weren't home. This wasn't his fault, he was only a kid. Not knowing any better because his brothers told him this was right.

You promised him and yourself that'd you would both get out someday. You both knew he could come and go as he pleased, but he morally couldn't. You reminded him of Aryll, though that personality had long been lost.

You were in your bed, drawing in a notebook that Wind had brought you. It was blue, engraved with small violet flowers. You picked up drawing a few months ago, the distraction keeping you slightly sane. You didn't know what you were drawing, but it felt nostalgic. Safe. Home.

The door opens, Time walking into the room and pulling a chair from the far corner to sit in front of you.

You choose to ignore him, focusing very hard on the drawing at hand.

"You haven't talked much lately, Flower."

You wince at the petname, the syllables off his tongue making you disgusted. He has no right calling you that.

He keeps looking at you, elbows on his knees as he examines you, like some art on a wall. You can look, but you can't touch.

"I miss your voice, baby. I miss you saying my name."

You stop drawing on the paper, but still not looking at him. You refuse.

He crawls up to you, on his hands and knees, praying to his goddess for forgiveness of his sins

"My moonlight... please. Please say my name. That's all I will ever ask of you."

You look at him, noticing how tired and destroyed he looks.

Serves him right.

You close your notebook, lacing it back up with the leather cord. Setting it aside, you look back at him.

You vocal cords scream as you open your mouth, so in pain from the strain.

With gravely words and no emotion to give, you rasp

"Rot in hell."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[marvelous-llama]

Seventeen recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

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Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) strangers > friends > lovers, university AU - angst?, fluff, smut All all watching all those romantic Christmas movies that everyone founds shitty (and enjoying it), you finally meet someone who brings it to life.

the bore next door by @ncteez

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 8.8k) strangers > ons > lovers? nobody knows with those two - fluff, smut Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date. Or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.

Cat and Mouse by @wonusite

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 5.6k) bad boy AU, continuation of [9:47 PM] - fluff(ish), smut Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily.

X + Y = YOU AND I by @angelwonie

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 8.6k) academic rivals to lovers, university AU, pining - fluff, smut you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

closer by @hannieehaee

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 12.9k) university AU, friends to lovers - fluff, angst, smut after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

Grease (the tragedy) by @gyuswhore

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 5.8k) strangers to lovers, blind date AU - angst(ish), smut, fluff In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

series

Daylight by @moonscriptsx

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 15.4k + 11.6k) coworkers > friends > lovers, CEO!Wonwoo, slow burn, mutual pining - fluff, smut Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light. part 1, part 2

Amour-Haine & Co. by @wonwoosthetic

Wonwoo x fem!reader enemies to lovers, office AU - angst, smut, fluff Six years. Six long years have you been working side-by-side with your father. Balancing studying at university while playing his right hand throughout it all without ever complaining about how hard it was, but rather always putting 200% into everything you did. You helped him grow the company to where it now was. And now, after the many ups and downs you have shared, he retires only to let the company get bought by some young wannabe Jeff Bezos, who thinks money and looks is everything he needs to get him through life. If someone thought you’d just let this pass and work as Jeon Wonwoo’s side chick… they would be wrong. So, let the games begin.

head so good, she a honor roll, she’ll ride the dick like a carnival by @nachojaehyun

Wonwoo x fem!reader (wc - 1k + 2k) idol!Wonwoo, staff!reader - smut if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A simple dinner party leads to new relations. Eren Jaeger can't keep his eyes off of you.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder, alcohol consumption.

— Notes: I'm so excited to post the first chapter to my new series. I've been wanting to write again for two years now and I finally got hit with inspiration. This is a little different from my usual stuff, but I hope you'll like it. A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger​ for beta-reading <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

at first sight

Nobody ever said anything about the desperate cries that could be faintly heard from one of the units in Sina Park. Then again, the surrounding houses were occupied by people well into the age when sound just doesn’t reach them as well as it did even just a few years back.  

Sina Park was known for being a peaceful area. With its small and painterly identical houses, and its gardens full of color and floral aromas, it was a picture-perfect community. It wasn’t embedded into its terms to remain strictly as senior-only housing but the great majority of its residents certainly gave off that idea to any outsider. It was to the point where it came as a surprise for one to find out there was someone under the age of sixty living there. But everyone in Sina was well acquainted with each other, and friendliness was practically the norm between every carefree neighbor. 

That was probably why Mr. Shadis didn’t bat an eye when he was enjoying a cup of tea on his front porch and he saw the youngest of the Sina community step out with a duffel bag that was promptly thrown into the trunk of his car, the same night silence reclaimed its territory in Sina Gardens. 

“A bit chilly tonight, eh Fred?” Mr. Shadis asked from his side of the street, raising his hand in greeting when he saw his neighbor walk out.

The young man tossed a boyish smile toward his elder while reciprocating his wave. 

“Just a bit, Mr. Shadis. You probably shouldn’t be out much longer or you’ll catch a cold,” he replied, still smiling as he slammed his trunk shut and smoothly tossed his car key in the air with his left hand, catching it swiftly with his right. 

“Me? What about you?” Shadis teased.

“I’ve still got good bones,” he joked to which Shadis clicked his tongue, feigning hurt feelings as he shook his head.

“You be careful on the road now, eh Fred?” he said, watching the young man disappear into his car, his hand lagging behind to wave goodbye.

The car peeled slowly from its driveway, out of Sina Park, and onto the main road. As the speedometer needle trembled between steady numbers, music flowed softly through the car’s speakers, barely loud enough to disguise the disgusted voice that murmured “That’s not my name, you stupid fuck.”  

The early autumn breeze pins your skirt against your thighs and playfully tussles your hair as you hurry toward the bakery on the corner of the street. You’re welcomed by the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door, as well as Kuchel’s warm interior that puts a stop to the outside’s disturbances on your clothes. 

A slight impatience consumes you as you wait for your turn to order, but you try to keep your booted feet from tapping against the hardwood floor and settle for tapping your fingers on your wallet as you try to assess the available baked goods from your spot in line. There’s a variety of sweet and salty treats — from jumbo oatmeal cookies to pain au chocolat to rolls — but you’ve only got a single thing in mind. A breath of relief escapes your lightly chapped lips when you get close enough to see a neatly stacked pyramid of lemon bars in the display, and a second one after you have a box of them secured in your hands minutes later. 

A satisfied smirk tugs lightly at your lips as you allow yourself to admire the neatly packaged treats. As you make your way to the door, the bell dings, pulling your attention from the box and saving you from clumsily bumping into the man who just walked in. The exchange is brief; he quickly apologizes for the avoided accident and holds the door open for you with a shy smile. 

You don’t reciprocate his warm smile but opt for politely nodding in acknowledgment and thanking him for the gesture before hurrying out the door, not wanting to prolong his act of kindness more than necessary. You take a sharp turn toward the nearest bus stop, completely oblivious to the lingering pair of emerald eyes that steal one last glance at you from inside the bakery. 

Once again, the wind teases your hair until it finds itself locked out by the shutting door of the bus you settle into. Your hand dives into your purse to retrieve your earbuds as soon as you find a seat, yet no music plays throughout your journey. The box from the bakery remains safely in your lap, the contents being lightly jostled now and then when the bus stops to pick up more passengers.  

From the bakery to the bus and for the twenty-minute commute, you go over the names of the people you’ll be meeting in your head. 

It’s not often that you get invited to a coworker’s housewarming party. It’s not often that you form a friendly relationship with a coworker. In fact, it’s not often that you engage with someone at all unless it’s for work or other impersonal things. But Armin Arlert’s nice. Despite being the kind of person who can’t seem to let the purposely lonely be lonely, you’ve taken a liking to him. 

His friends, you think, might be a different story. It’s not that you expect them to be dreadful people, but socializing has never been your scene. You can be pleasant, laugh at jokes, and perhaps even throw one out yourself, but it’s not in you to pursue deeper connections. You’re more at ease keeping to yourself and observing if anything. However, the hopeful look on Armin’s face during your lunch break last week, when he insisted he wanted you at his party, has been popping up in your head at all hours so you feel as though you have no choice but to go beyond your standard pleasantries.  

Your plan for surviving the evening is simple. Get there a few hours early so you can help cook, clean, or anything else Armin might need help with before his friends arrive. Partly because that’s what your altruistic nature steers you to do, but also because you’re hoping you can get a refresher course on what Armin's friends are like so you know what to expect and how to act. If they’re all friends of Armin, maybe it’ll be worth it for you to put some genuine intention behind your courtesies. After all, being friends with Armin hasn’t been difficult so far. You dare to even call it nice. Maybe it’s time for you to make at least one more friend.

Armin’s kitchen is bustling with energy as he and his friends move from one spot to another, swiftly keeping out of each other’s way in perfect sync to finish dinner preparations. 

“I still can’t believe every single one of you bought me a candle… and the same one to top it all off,” Armin shakes his head in amusement, his mind recalling the small cluster of ocean-scented candles he left on the living room coffee table. 

Despite his constant assurance that he’d take full responsibility for the food and drinks — he was the one to bring up the idea of a housewarming party first, so it only made sense —, all of his friends arrived little by little before noon to help out with the cooking. First was Mikasa who, as soon as Armin opened the door, handed him the gift bag with a smile, congratulating him on the move and saying she hoped her present would help make the place a little cozier.   

Then came Connie and Sasha who, despite being roommates, failed to coordinate their gift choices and only realized they bought the same thing when Armin opened Sasha’s bag first and Connie’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. It only got funnier from there. Jean barely stuck the carefully wrapped gift box toward Armin when Mikasa muttered under her breath “It’s a good day for candle sales”. 

“Well, you like candles, and the ocean is pretty much your brand, dude. Don’t blame us.” Jean shrugs, not bothering to peel his focused gaze from the carrots he’s grating. 

“The last time I even talked about the ocean I was, like, fifteen. Almost ten years ago!”

Everyone knows Armin loves the long-term supply of ocean-scented candles, and what may seem like complaints to outsiders is just another bit they’ve all dragged on from their youth.

But Connie still seems a bit lost. His hands pause from sprinkling rosemary leaves on the potato wedges Mikasa neatly laid out on a baking tray.

“So you’re not fucking with the ocean anymore?” he asks with an uncharacteristically serious expression that causes Jean to sputter a laugh before disguising it as a cough. 

“Ignore them,” Sasha prompts, rolling her eyes. Her lips then stretch into a suggestive grin. “Tell us about the girl you invited over. Before she gets here, you have to tell us for real this time, are you into her? Do we need to talk you up? I’m the best wingwoman, Armin. I will make her love you even if it kills me.” Sasha’s hands fall heavily onto Armin’s shoulders as if to back up her conviction.

Armin furrows his brow in mild exasperation. This was the second time he’d been harrowed with that string of questions, which didn’t seem like much, but it took a while for him to get his friends to drop the topic the first time around. He shakes his head and peels Sasha’s hands from his form, fixing them firmly at her sides.

“I already told you it’s not like that. And I don't think human sacrifice is needed, Sash. We’re friends. I just want her to meet you guys… and Eren, of course.”

Nobody picks up on the short pause before Eren’s name or Armin’s sly expression that he’s quick to hide by turning to face the sink.

“She’s a bit quiet but she’s really nice. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our group. You’ll like her, I promise. Just go a little easy, okay?” Armin pauses as he tugs on a pair of dishwashing gloves to whip around one last time. “And don’t say anything weird! I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Jean replies in a sing-songy voice. Armin turns to shoot him a threatening look upon hearing his teasing tone, only to find Jean pointing a stern finger in his direction, “But if you change your mind, I got you, bro.” 

Armin only smiles in response, not willing to spare any more breath in correcting him, and starts washing the dishes. Before he can finish scrubbing the bowl in his hands, the doorbell rings and he rushes to pry himself free from his dishwashing gloves before heading to the intercom, glancing back to make sure everyone is still keeping busy.

“It’s me,” a slightly fuzzy version of your voice comes through the speaker. 

He buzzes you in immediately and steps into the hall to wait for you.

When he sees you round the corner, his face breaks out into a grin. 

“Hey, you made it!”

Your lips quirk into a small smile. Armin makes way for you to step inside.

“I thought I could get here a little early to help you with the food. I hope that’s okay.” Your voice trembles a bit at the end, and you start to worry when you realize Armin’s grin has faded. 

“Actually, everything is pretty much done already. Everyone got here around noon, and they kind of took over.”

As if on cue, a burst of laughter hits your ears from where you assume the kitchen is. 

You manage to let out a slow ‘oh’.

Your simple plan has officially backfired. Since Armin's friends are already here, and since he's had no shortage of hands to help him prepare for his get-together, there's nothing left for you to do. More importantly, there’s no more window for you to ask questions. You hoped you’d be the first to arrive, and each arrival after that would be spaced out so you had enough time to get a feel on every one of Armin’s friends on their own. Now that that’s out the window, you start to worry the dynamics will be a bit too awkward between you and however many there are of them. It’s a battlefield now. Too many factors, too many things to worry about. Headfirst, no safety net, no baby steps.

Almost as if he can sense your panic through your otherwise expressionless face, Armin smiles.

“Don't worry about it, they're nice.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the box of desserts. There's a permanent knot in your stomach that twists further, reminding you of its presence, in situations like this. Your mind flashes a jumble of different scenarios and all the possibilities for outcomes without letting you actually process or make sense of any of it. 

And in the next instant, you're back. 

“I brought some lemon bars from Kuchel.” You raise the box just enough for the movement to catch Armin’s eye.

His face lights up when he looks down at the box in your hands and he immediately takes hold of it.

“I freakin’ love these! Thank you!” 

Relief washes over your previously tensed features. Of course, you already knew these specific lemon bars are Armin’s favorite. He's always bummed out when you go together to Kuchel for your lunch break and there's no more left.

“I actually got the last batch,” you state proudly, the feeling only growing when his fingers excitedly tug at the ribbon tying the handles together and fishing out a pastry, biting into it with no hesitation.

“No kidding, they always sell out. Come on, I'll introduce you to everybody.” He heads toward the kitchen, waving at you to follow him.

You nervously tug at your turtleneck's sleeves, leaving them to cover your hands in an almost protective manner. 

The fact that all eyes fall on you the second you step into everyone's line of vision doesn't help you feel at ease. Your gaze wanders to a distant place in an attempt to lessen the mental weight everyone's stares bear on you. But Armin throws a comforting arm over your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze as he announces your name to everybody. 

When you look up — because you have to in order to properly link names and faces together — each new person in the room has a warmth to their features that gradually soothes your internal distress.

Sasha’s the first name to be called out. She's also the only one who goes up to steal you from Armin's arms and hugs you excitedly, squealing about how exciting it is to finally meet you. You're taken aback by the sudden embrace, but she’s holding you so tight that you can't look back at Armin for help. You're also oblivious to his warning gaze toward her behind your back. 

Mikasa smiles and nods politely at you from the other side of the counter. It's quite the contrast from the first girl, but her gaze radiates kindness.

Jean's good looks are the first thing you notice from him, and he's got a cool energy to match. He raises two fingers in a salute when it's his turn, paired with a side smile as he casually leans against the bar.

Lastly, there's Connie, who proves himself to be as goofy as Armin told you beforehand, by dramatically posing with one arm against the counter and his opposite hand resting on his hip, muscles flexed, head turned low just so he could look up again and say “the one and only”. 

You purse your lips in response to hide the smile that still manages to slip through.

“Nice to meet you all.”

You stand there awkwardly for what you think is a second too long, silently begging to come up with something else to say or for someone else to pick up the task so everyone can move on. 

Thankfully, Armin swoops in, showing off his box of lemon bars on his way to a seat at the bar. He taps the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“Impressive,” Jean says, nodding in approval as he neatly folds a tea towel. He knows how much Armin loves Kuchel's lemon bars. 

“It's not a big deal,” you reply, waving him off as you scan the room for something to give yourself to do. But there isn't much. 

The counters have been cleared of any signs of ingredient prep during introductions, there's a timer set for the oven, and there's but a small pile of dishes left unfinished at the sink, which Mikasa is already finishing up. So you settle for sitting at the bar and staying out of everyone's way.

However, sitting still doesn't clear you from everyone's attention. It only makes sense that they're curious about you. And with the oven timer still with a little less than an hour to go, you can sense the start of a conversation where you're the main focus. 

“So…” Jean begins. 

Everyone gathers around the bar.

You brace yourself.

The following minutes are a bit of a blur. You try your best to keep up with everyone's questions. Where you're from, your birthday, your zodiac sign, what kind of music you like, if you've been to this and that place, or tried the food at x, y, and z. They're pretty basic questions, but as long as you're a target you're kept on your toes. After each of your answers, there's an exchanged glance or a nod of approval. You know everyone is only trying to get to know you, yet you can't help but feel as though every question is part of a test and your likability is at stake. That is until the conversation branches out to a story about the best taco truck in the next town over, which, in turn, leads to a story about Connie and Sasha getting food poisoning from a different taco truck they decided to try after their favorite one happened to close early that day. Only then can you breathe a sigh of relief. You even laugh a little at Sasha’s colorful retelling of the taco story. 

“So, basically, don't go to Tito's,” Sasha finalizes, giving you a stern look. “You'll be shitting and barfing for a week.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you laugh.

After that, the conversation flows a lot easier for you. There's less pressure with the decrease in questions thrown your way, which gives you more confidence to chime in with anecdotes of your own. It's hard to pinpoint when the conversation stopped feeling like a test, but you're grateful for it. 

You realize there was never any battlefield to survive. Not here, not with this group of friends. And it’s nice to have several people willing to fill in any silence and steer the flow of the conversation instead of feeling the pressure of everyone's interest in your hands. 

Just as you take a second to wander your gaze across everyone's laughing faces, finally feeling at ease with your place in the group, the doorbell rings, followed by the shrill sound of the timer. 

“Fucking Jaeger,” Jean mutters.

“Just in time,” Armin grins, hops down from his chair, and makes his way to the door. Jean follows him at his heel, mumbling something about “Jaeger” being late. 

You're distracted by Mikasa's voice calling your name. 

“Could you get me the oven mitts, please?”

You nod and offer your assistance in taking out the chicken.

On the other side of the wall, Armin buzzes his last guest in and holds the door open to wait, shooting a confused look at Jean, who leans back against the wall to wait, too.

As soon as he comes in, Armin yells out, “Eren!” and pulls his best friend into a big hug, forcing him to crouch slightly to accommodate his embrace. They both laugh as Jean stands with his arms across his chest and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Sorry I'm late.” 

“Mhm,” Jean hums, expecting Eren to cower under his gaze. 

He doesn't. Jean is completely ignored as Eren sheepishly starts to explain himself, even though Armin didn't expect him until around this time anyway. 

“I wanted to get you those lemon bars you like from that bakery. But when I got there, they were all out, so I went to their other shop across town, but they didn't have any either, and so then I—”

Armin laughs. 

“Relax. You made it, that's what matters.”

“I feel bad, though. I really wanted to get some for you. I know they're your favorite.”

“If you really wanted to do something nice, you could've gotten here earlier to help with the cooking,” Jean scolds. Then he smirks. “Like I did.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging Jean. 

He then pulls out a small gift box and hands it to Armin with a smile. 

"I got you a candle, though."

Jean snorts and walks back to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Eren shooting daggers at his back. 

Armin graciously takes the gift, taking the lid off to confirm that the candle is, indeed, ocean-scented.

"Thanks, buddy. I was running short on these," he smiles sympathetically at his friend, patting his shoulder. 

As they walk into the open space of the dining area, you walk out with a stack of plates in your hands to set the table. Armin perks up upon seeing you and excitedly rushes Eren, saying he wants to introduce him to somebody. 

Armin’s voice catches your attention as you carefully set the plates down. “This is my best friend Eren.” 

Your gaze shifts toward the pair of surprised green eyes already set on you while Armin’s voice goes on in the background, repeating your name to his friend. 

“Hey, it’s you.” Eren smiles in recognition. 

Armin’s eyebrows raise in surprise; yours furrow in confusion. Everyone starts filing to the dining area with food and silverware to finish setting the table. You step aside, murmuring quiet apologies as you get out of their way and step closer to Armin and his friend. 

“You two know each other?” Armin asks, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Before Eren can answer, he’s interrupted by Mikasa walking over.

“Hey, Eren. You’re late.” She looks up at him with disappointment. You get the feeling he was supposed to arrive around the same time she and the others did.

“Yeah!” Connie whines from the dining table, where he’s setting up wine glasses. “We had to work twice as hard.” 

Eren ignores Connie’s flawed math.

“Sorry, everybody,” he replies, yet his tone is more that of a meek kid who’s forced to apologize. 

He returns his focus to his original conversation. Armin is still looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, right! Uh… yeah, we bumped into each other at Kuchel’s earlier,” he finally explains. He looks at you shyly. “I held the door for you.”

Your furrowed brow softens, and your lips shape into a silent ah! when you recall the brief interaction. You didn’t even remember his face, but you nod along now.

“Come on, guys. Let’s eat!” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the silence, putting an end to your conversation.

Throughout dinner, everyone is a lot more chatty than you expected, considering there's plenty of food to get through. Everyone spills out as many light-hearted anecdotes about one another as the bites they take of baked potato wedges, garlic butter chicken, and grated carrot salad. Their stories are clear to have been brought up between them several times over the years, but they're new to you and you appreciate them choosing to share with you.

It turns out, the universe has worked its magic to make sure all six friends remain close since childhood. The fact is a little intimidating when you find out, but you do your best to push it aside.

At first, you're perfectly fine quietly listening as you eat, your voice only adding to the mix in the shape of a laugh, a gasp, or a question for the storyteller — just enough so they don't forget you're there. 

The entire time, you feel a pair of eyes stealing glances at you from across the table even when you're not talking. Whenever you slowly look up to meet them, Eren quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere. When choosing places at the table, Armin insisted on having you across from one another. He didn't outright say it, but he did rearrange everyone else so that it worked out that way. 

Given that he was the last to arrive and you've barely spoken directly to each other since he got here, you're not sure how to feel about Eren yet. He seems nice enough, but you don't feel as easy even looking at him as you do with the others. It's strange, but his late arrival made all the difference. Somehow he seems like a total stranger compared to the people you met just an hour before him. After your awkward introduction, it’s hard to say if you can make the situation better.

Night has settled in by the time everyone is leaning back in their seats with full bellies, lazily sipping wine every few minutes as the conversation eases into a quieter, slower pace. The serving dishes have been scraped clean. The box of lemon bars you brought over has been split for dessert, leaving just one lonely square that you know a slightly tipsy Armin has been eyeing. 

Eren had turned to look at you with surprise when Armin thanked you for the second time.

“Ah, so you're the one who beat me to the last batch,” was what he said. 

A soft apology tumbled from your lips.

So far, you hadn't proved yourself to be big on smiling but, when you did, it was nice to look at. Consequently, he tried to be the cause of at least one. So when you gave him nothing for his weak attempt at teasing, he shrunk in his seat and decided to keep quiet. 

It's not long before Jean suggests moving to the living room to play a game and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table so there's no mess to come back to later. As you slip quietly into the kitchen, you can hear Jean and Connie arguing over whether to play cards or Monopoly. As Connie argues, he doesn't want to play Monopoly with a cheater, to which Jean says it's not his fault he's the better player.

You carefully place the dishes in the sink, adjusting the streaming water to a warm temperature. As you tug the pair of dishwashing gloves onto your hands, you catch a glimpse of a figure stepping beside you. When you look up, you're met with a boyish grin and shy jewel-toned eyes. He's setting down another pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Hi.” 

You're not sure how to respond other than with a polite nod and a soft hi back. There's not much else to say, anyway. Half of you hopes he'll leave; you need some space to recharge your social battery. The other half is curious about the kind of conversation you might have to engage in if he stays. 

You focus your gaze on the soaking dishes, waiting with bated breath to see what he does. 

He stays. 

He offers to dry what you wash. 

There's a nervous tremor in his voice. Like a kid scared to ask for permission instead of an adult offering help. It's so small you barely notice it, but it's there. 

You nod. 

You wash, he dries. 

It's quiet save for the sounds of dishes clinking together. 

Then, his voice comes through.

“I didn't mean to put you on the spot earlier when I got here. I just have a knack for remembering faces.” 

An uncomfortable warmth crawls up your neck and pools at your cheeks. 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm kind of the opposite. I just don't pay attention to faces,” you explain. 

“Oh.” He forces a laugh. “Yeah, no, I get it.” 

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. It's a bit discouraging for him to see how laser-focused you are on doing the dishes though, and he already feels foolish for making you apologize for not recognizing a total stranger. He tries not to stare at you too much but it's difficult when you're right there beside him. He only hopes you can't make him out looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You, on the other hand, can feel his eyes burning holes into your side profile. Ignoring it is harder than you hope but at least you have something to help. You're not sure if he expects you to reciprocate his efforts in breaking the ice, but you've yet to get a proper read on him. He was mostly quiet during dinner. Whenever a story with him at the center came up, he'd try to sway the conversation in a different direction. He seemed tense and you hate to think he might be uncomfortable with your presence. Maybe he's an anxious person who's easily embarrassed, you think. Or he might’ve thought you were stuck up and rude after you failed to recognize him and that's why the air now feels so thick. That happens a lot. The people around you are mostly a blur until — and if you ever — have a reason to break into friendly territory. 

The next time you hand a dish for Eren to dry, your gaze lingers, carefully taking in his features. His green eyes are striking, but it's not as if the rest of his face falls short of that. He's very handsome. In a more boyish way than you observed Jean to be, but sharper than, say, Armin. His brown hair is neatly cut on the sides, contrasted by the choppy bangs that line his forehead — something that brings more youth to his face. He's got long, thick lashes and plump lips. Faint freckles are scattered along what one might consider to be a perfect straight nose. He's very handsome, indeed. But that's not all. There's a delicacy to his features that blends them all harmoniously, making Eren Jaeger quite… pretty. 

Eren suddenly clears his throat; you take it as a sign to stop staring.

“So… um… how long have you been friends with Armin?” 

You already know the answer, and you didn’t mind the silence at all, but you might as well try to get Armin’s best friend in your good graces. Especially after your dreadful mistake of not recognizing him. It bothers you to think he might have decided he doesn’t like you because of that.

“Since we were six… Um… He had a lot of trouble with bullies back in elementary school and I beat them up for him.”

That part you didn’t know, so you pause your focus on the plate you’re scrubbing to glance at Eren with admiration. 

“I think he might’ve developed a weird hero complex by mistake though,” he laughs to himself. “He wanted me to get into fights every time he saw someone new being bullied.”

You laugh. The sound makes Eren’s chest swell with pride. 

“Did you do it?”

He bashfully nods without ungluing his gaze from the serving spoon he’s drying.

You laugh some more.

“And of course, then he would take them in as a friend. Something about strength in numbers or whatever. To this day he has this thing that he needs to take in anyone who seems vulnerable.”

You laugh through your nose fully aware of the familiarity you feel from Eren’s story.

“That definitely sounds like him.”

You grin as you finish rinsing the plate, excited to have found some common ground to latch onto for conversation. 

Eren admires your happy expression from the corner of his eye.

But when you turn to look at him, he averts his gaze, curling his lips inwards, and he takes the plate from your hands. 

Your lips downturn a bit, thinking you might still have a long way to go before you can make up for your mistake. 

Still, the thickness in the kitchen air dissipates as you each return to your tasks, the corners of your lips perking up in relieved smiles. 

Armin walks in a moment later with the remnants of a laugh on his face from whatever conversation he just left behind. His faded grin resurfaces when he finds you and Eren together, and he catches a glimpse of the pink tint dusting his best friend's cheeks. 

He watches for a few seconds, mildly amused that neither of you seems to notice his presence. Just as Eren finishes wiping the last fork dry, he decides to speak. 

“You didn't need to do that.” 

His statement is directed at both of you, yet his gaze is fixed on you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“You should join the others,” he tells you. “Oh, and uh…” He swipes a bottle from one of the cupboards. “Take this with you.” 

“Let me just help put away everything,” you offer.

“It's okay, Eren and I got it,” he assures you.

You back out hesitantly, only decidedly walking out when Armin gives you a reassuring nod.

Both men watch you leave. As soon as you're out of sight, Armin's lips stretch into a knowing smile. 

“She's pretty, huh?”

Eren's eyebrows upturn in clear worry when he rips his gaze from you to look at Armin. They soften a split second later in an attempt to appear nonchalant before his grinning friend. 

“Um… I guess so… I don't know.” 

He hurries to tend to the dishes waiting to be put away, hoping it's enough to mask the way he slowly deflates.

Plates and forks are stored in silence. An amused Armin keeps glancing at him.

After a while, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“Relax, I'm not into her.” 

Eren stiffens, unable to remove his hand by will from the cupboard door he just shut, and instead letting gravity take the wheel. 

Before he can reflect on how exposed he feels, Armin's voice comes through again from where he's now leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“But I meant it when I said she's pretty.” He nods along for emphasis even though Eren has yet to look at him.

“She's really smart too. And kind! I mean, she can seem a little cold at first, but I heard some guys are into that. There's just this charm to her, you know? A few guys at work have tried asking her out but they're totally wrong for her.” He shakes his head at the last thought, then side-eyes Eren expectantly.

“If she ever goes out with someone, I hope it's one of the good guys.” 

Throughout Armin's speech, Eren kept his lips pressed together in a tight line, wondering where Armin was headed with all he was saying. At first, he assumed his friend was interested in the new face of the group, which is why he feigned disinterest. But with every word that kept rolling off his tongue, his intentions were blatantly obvious. And yet he still decides to ask, “What are you trying to do, Armin?”

"Nothing... nothing at all," Armin answers with a shrug, playing it off as if any suggestion is all in Eren's head. He straightens up and starts walking out of the kitchen. There's a pause in his step just before he can slip out of sight. Looking at Eren over his shoulder, he leaves him with one last thought.

“All I'm saying is if you just keep staring at her, she’s gonna get weirded out.”

Eren is left alone, blushing profusely and running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Come on! That can’t be your most embarrassing thing!”

You shrug.

“That's all I've got.”

“What’s going on?” Eren asks as he takes in the scene. 

It took him a while to reason with himself alone in the kitchen. By the time Eren joins everyone in the living room — nerves finally dormant — everyone is sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a drinking game. He walks over in search of an open space and ends up nestled between Jean and Connie. Jean throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Jaeger, good. Buddy, tell her about the time you tried to do a one-arm pushup.” From his sleepy eyes and the affectionate term toward Eren, one can easily tell he's drunk.

Eren looks up quizzically at everybody.

“We're telling our most embarrassing stories,” you explain. “Whoever has the worst one wins the round and everyone else has to drink. I think it's just a ploy for everyone to get dirt on me though.” 

You pout at your cup. It's clear you're a little tipsy, too.

Eren softly laughs.

“Whaa– we would never,” Sasha pouts.

“You're getting a deal! You get six embarrassing stories for the price of one!” Connie points out. 

As you start to argue that it's not really fair because it's not like you have anyone to tell, Sasha’s phone buzzes in her pocket and a loud groan rumbles from her throat after skimming through whatever text she just got. Her chin falls onto the coffee table, arms stretched out before her so she can reply. 

Mikasa looks at her with concern and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, affectionately tapping her nose afterward.

“What's wrong?”

“Kaya's out with her friends and she's asking me to send her money for an Uber. I told her to be careful with her money but she just won't listen.” 

Everyone either sympathetically smiles at her or idly watches her send over fifty dollars. You look at Armin, who quietly explains Kaya is Sasha’s younger sister who's a college freshman. You nod in understanding. 

“That's a little sibling for you,” Connie mutters, softly patting Sasha’s head. 

“That's why I love being an only child,” Jean states matter-of-factly. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the bottle of liquor at the center of the table. “Never had to worry about some annoying little runt.”

“I would've liked to have a younger sister,” Mikasa says. “It would've been fun to hang out and teach her things, you know?” 

A touch of nostalgia dances along her lips as she traces the rim of her glass with her index finger. 

“Oh, do you have any siblings?” Her eyes flit in your direction. 

The question is innocent, but the topic of family causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No… I don't.” You try to smile, but it's stiff. 

Jean's loud clapping startles you. He tops off all but Connie's and Sasha’s glasses. 

“Oh yeah, single child gang!” He raises his glass in cheers and downs the contents. You follow his lead, hoping that'll mark the end of that topic. But it doesn't. “You must've been spoiled growing up, am I right?”

You lower your gaze, opting to fiddle with your fingers instead of answering. 

Mikasa seems to sense the fragility of the topic from your side because her eyebrows upturn in concern when she looks at you. 

“Hey, not everyone has a mother like yours. Don't be rude, Jean-boy.” She raises a teasing eyebrow as she whips her head in Jean's direction.

“Didn't you yell at her when she brought cupcakes to our class for your birthday?” Eren scrunched his eyebrows together in feigned thought.

“I was twelve! You can't keep holding that over my head. I'm twenty-five now,” Jean whines.

“And I've yet to see you mature,” Eren mutters.

A hushed giggle escapes your lips. You cover it up by sipping your drink. A satisfied smirk tugs at Eren's lips when he catches a glimpse of your smile.

Contrary to his sober self, drunk Jean craves Eren's approval and affection instead of their usual frenemy-like banter. He looks at him with sad eyes.

“Hey, I've made up for it. Mama Kirstein doesn't need to lift a finger thanks to her amazing engineer son.” 

Sasha’s face contorts in confusion.

“Last time I went to Trost with you, she was still working as a seamstress.” 

Jean waves her off.

“She just likes to keep busy.”

“What do your parents do?” Sasha turns to you.

You're trapped. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see Armin leaning forward with just as much interest as the others. In the past, Armin's asked about your family only once. After vaguely implying you weren't close to them, he dropped the topic. But now, in his intoxicated state, he doesn't do much to keep his level of curiosity under wraps. And knowing you're slightly buzzed, too, he hopes you’ve let go of any inhibitions that have kept you from revealing more of your background. 

Armin likes you. He's always admired your efficiency at work, but you seemed lonely and closed off — which is why he decided to approach you in the first place. To everyone in the office, you were a cold stuck-up woman — yet they still refused to stop obsessing over you. To him, you were just misunderstood and lowkey. Sure, you refused to do much to take up space in a room, but through small conversations here and there, he was allowed to slowly unveil your true self. 

But there was always another hidden wall. Armin wouldn't admit it out of fear of seeming like a creep, but that line you expertly draw — allowing someone in without fully giving yourself away — is part of what makes you alluring. That and your keen eye for reading people.

You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, looking for a way out inside the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of your glass.

Eren zeroes in on your face, trying to decipher the distant look in your eyes. The weight on his chest lightens when you finally speak.

“I'm not sure what they're doing now. Last time I checked, my mom was a drug addict, and my dad left when I was twelve.”

The weight in Eren's chest comes back heavier than ever.

Silence takes over the living room. Even the darkness outside the window seems eerily quiet as your abrupt statement courses through the gears in everyone's heads.

There's no certainty as to why you blurted out what you did. Maybe it was a sense of security which you now think was a trick of your mind. Perhaps the alcohol is to blame. After all, you didn't feel any need to be a burden on others on an otherwise fun night before. But the words just seemed to push their way out of your mouth. 

A severe scolding rings in your ears.

You always ruin everything!

You don't expect anyone to come up with an answer. In fact, you'll be grateful if someone simply discards your words and steers the conversation in a different direction. But if nobody does, then you'll quietly make your way home. There’s no use in annoying others by begging them to let you stay, promising you won't cause any more trouble. 

“How long has it been since you saw your mom?” Mikasa's voice cuts through the thickness of the air.

The look in her eyes is sympathetic. Not the fake kind that makes you feel pitied for having endured a rough life. It's the kind that simply matches such an ordinary question.

“About a year,” you murmur. 

Jean hums in thought.

“A year, huh? That's almost how long you've been in the city, right?” He scratches his chin as he retrieves the information you shared earlier from his tipsy brain. 

You nod. “Yup… one year.”

Everyone nods along to your answer. Everyone but one.

You nervously blink toward the left, searching Armin's face. He's slumped in his spot, his eyes lost at a blank point. They flash in your direction, and he quickly composes himself, but not quick enough for his expression to go unnoticed by you.

Despite some things here and there, he thought you were close. He never pressured you to share anything you didn't want to. Just getting along and respecting each other would have sufficed — he’s a giver more than he is a taker. But he feels like he failed to support you. He's extremely dumbfounded, but he doesn't make it a point that you never told him the specifics on something so big. He refuses to make you think he resents you for it. 

But the glimpse you caught of his fallen shoulders and clouded eyes still makes you lower your head in guilt. Just ten minutes ago, you felt accomplished for being on your way to gaining new friends and grateful that Armin paved the way for you. You're embarrassed for having thought that you could juggle more relationships when you've barely been open to the one you already have. It's almost laughable that you thought to leave your comfort zone and give this evening a try.

Before you can issue an apology, Jean's loud clapping startles you for the second time tonight.

"Well.” He tilts his head as he splits the last of the liquor into everyone's glass for one last drink. “In any case... if you hadn't moved here, you wouldn't be drinking with the best people you'll ever meet." 

“Hear, hear!” Armin yells beside you, following Jean's lead and raising his glass toward the center. 

Your eyes meet his. He's smiling, nodding almost imperceptibly for you to join your glass with everyone else's. The corners of your lips quirk into a relieved smile. You raise your glass.

The rest of the group cheers as joyful clinks spread through the room. 

Whatever darkness was squeezing at your chest dissipates. Your eyes crinkle in amusement as you allow your giddiness to take over. 

A pair of mesmerized green eyes linger on your face from the opposite side of the coffee table. His lips part slightly to draw in a long breath, followed by a sip of alcohol. 

A beeping phone sifts through the commotion.

Mikasa looks down at her phone. First, with curiosity, then with worry. 

Levi Don't go out at night for a while. Killer on the loose. SN3

She calls out Armin's name.

“Turn on the news on channel 3.”

The urgency tainting Mikasa's usual steady voice has Armin scrambling to find the remote, though with a bit of confusion. Everyone else exchanges quizzical glances while they wait for him to turn the television on.

A male newscaster is halfway through reciting a report on the police department's recent findings. 

“... The twenty-six-year-old woman's body was dismembered and disposed of in a garbage dumpster behind a local restaurant. Police have yet to report any evidence that can lead them to any suspects. An autopsy is ongoing to pinpoint the cause of death but with the initial report, signs point to a possible case of torture…”

The mood shifts yet again. Everyone stares at the screen, but the words no longer reach anyone's ears. Nobody recognized the girl identified on the screen but it's still unnerving when something so tragic and cruel happens in the city one lives in. Being close in age to the victim just makes it even rougher. 

Eren is the first to look back — specifically at the girls.

You all seem lost in thought. His gaze flits in your direction. You're just as distant, nursing your glass in your hands as you chew on your bottom lip. He turns to Mikasa.

“Was that Levi earlier?”

Eren's voice pulls Mikasa from her thoughts.

She nods.

“Who's Levi?” you ask.

“My uncle,” she explains. “He texted me not to go out at night for a while. They didn't say if this was a serial killer but I don't think he wants to take any chances as long as the culprit is out there.” In a lower voice she adds, “he's in the police.” 

You slowly nod, then suddenly remember where you are.

“I need to get home fast, then.” 

Your eyes land on the digital clock beside the TV. It's well past the time to catch the last bus. You swipe your phone from your purse to look up cab numbers, unaware of the nervous glances exchanged all around you.

“I don't think you should leave now.” Eren stops you from dialing the first cab company from your search results, his eyes wide with concern. He doesn't realize his hand is holding onto your wrist until you look down at it.

He pulls away, embarrassed, but remains firm in his statement.

“Eren's right,” Connie agrees. He has a protective hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Mind if we crash here tonight?” He directs his gaze at Armin. 

“No need to ask. I'll bring out some blankets.”

It's two in the morning. A cluster of tired bodies sleeps peacefully on the living room floor. Lazy limbs stretch out and across someone else's. Light snores and rare mumblings are the only thing that disturbs the quiet. 

The murder on the news had left everyone unsettled. Much so, that everyone felt inclined to sleep together in the same room. It didn’t do much for their comfort given the space, but it gave everyone a sense of safety. 

Eren’s eyelids barely flutter open. They're so heavy, he wishes he could just ignore the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder. But he can't. Begrudgingly, he clumsily rises to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, rubbing his temples with one hand and feeling around for any walls and furniture with his other while his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

When he gets back, he catches sight of a lone figure sitting out on the small balcony outside of the kitchen.

It takes him a minute to rid himself of the extra warmth in his face. He takes a deep breath and quietly slides the door open to step out.

“Hey.” 

You look up at him from your chair. Your knees are pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around them for support as your cheek rests on top.

“Hi.” 

“Is it okay if I sit?”

You nod and proceed to face forward, resting your chin where your cheek used to be.

The night is pleasantly warm. You're wearing the sweats and shirt Armin lent you for the night. 

Eren's gaze roams every shape of your side profile. It's the second time you've been alone together and he's racking his brain on what to talk about to balance out the way he's been staring at you all night. He doesn't want to give Armin another reason to tease him. His hands are sweaty and his cheeks start to warm at the reminder.

“Did I wake you?” 

Your voice is gentle and sweet, but it startles him nonetheless. 

“No,” he manages to say. He pauses. “How long have you been out here?”

You shake your head as you look up at the star-littered sky.

“Not long.”

He hums, mulling your answer over. 

If you’re awake at this hour, not bothering to try going back to sleep, something must be weighing heavily on your mind, he reasons. That’s further proven by the way you’re shrinking into yourself, trying to take up as little space as you can. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about you, but there’s a difference in how your quietness manifests itself now than during dinner. It’s comparable to the way you were after watching the news. 

“Are you okay?” 

He watches you hesitate to give him an answer. Your lips tremble, parting and pressing together a couple of times. It’s as if you’re willing to talk but the words are lodged in your throat.

“You can tell me.”

Still no answer. 

“Is it because of the girl on the news?”

Finally, you look at him. Your brows twist with grief. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about her. Her family must be devastated.”

All evening, Eren’s had a hard time holding your gaze. Mainly because he didn’t want to give himself away, but it’s also hard to admire someone when they’re looking directly at you. Once his racing heart finds a steadier rhythm, he finds it’s actually easy to lose himself in your eyes. 

There’s a subtle glassiness to them — one he’d be more concerned about if he hadn’t noticed it as a natural part of you. Your eyes heavily conveyed every emotion, every little thought. And Eren suddenly felt compelled to learn how to read them.

The way you’ve presented yourself so far — gentle and cautious — gives you an aura of delicate maturity in the eyes of others. But for a brief moment, you seem small. Troubled, even. 

“I know it’s selfish for me to be thinking about this, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll have anyone crying for me when I die. I don’t have many people,” you whisper.

It feels strange to Eren to suddenly feel a surge of courage when he’s been nothing but an awkward wreck around you since you met.

“You have us now.”

You don’t show yourself to be entirely convinced. In fact, there’s a hint of amusement shimmering in your eyes. But you appreciate his words no matter how empty they might turn out to be. 

Eren hesitates to ask you the question that’s been gnawing at his brain for hours now. You’ve been sharing such a pleasant moment, that he hates to think he might ruin it all and end up losing his cool in the process. 

“That stuff about your parents… is it true?”

It’s a leap of faith.

“You think I made it up?”

The raised eyebrow and the humorless smile that graces your lips take him by surprise, even more so than the firm tone of your voice.

“No, of course not!” He chokes on his words, frantic he might have offended you. 

But you laugh, and it soothes him instantly.

“Relax, I was just teasing you.” You look away, warmth pooling at your cheeks upon your failed attempt to be funny. “It’s true, by the way. I’m a child of neglect.” 

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips.

He doesn't pick up on your embarrassment — he’s much too focused on his own.

Despite the bitterness lacing your gentle voice, he can’t help himself from wanting to know more. It makes him anxious. Finding you attractive is besides the point. His mind is scrambling at any opportunity to get closer to you. He wants to keep talking. He wants to hear more about what worries you. He wants to stretch out the night and keep the conversation going — even if he’s caught off guard by your unpredictable teasing a few more times. He wants to know about your past. He wants to know you. But you kill off his chances when you suddenly change the course of the conversation. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” You look up at him with concern contorting your features. It takes everything in him not to let his gaze drift to your bottom lip that’s caught between your teeth to keep your nerves at bay.

“Huh?”

You clear your throat before explaining and fiddle with your hands as you do. You focus on the moon instead of him.

It’s quite cute for Eren to see you fidget for once.

“It's just that during dinner you barely talked and whenever I looked at you, you would look away,” you explain bashfully. “And then when we were doing the dishes together, you just felt a little awkward. I mean, I don’t expect you to be all chummy with me, but it was kind of like you were forcing yourself to talk to me.” 

Eren wants to smack himself. He had no idea of the message he was sending all this time. All those averted gazes and suppressed smiles must have looked totally different from your end.

“I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with me around.”

Your voice is even softer than before. It might have to do with the people sleeping inside or maybe you're just feeling quieter than usual. Eren has no idea. But it's a nice sound, and his quickening heartbeat isn't lost on him.

The abrupt changes in his system are giving him whiplash. And it’s all because of you.

“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A deep shade of red gradually tints his cheeks, openly defying the pale blue light from the moon. His gaze shies away from you and settles on his lap, where he nervously rubs his sweaty palms just to give himself something to do. When his eyes slowly drift back to your face, he swallows hard. 

It finally hits you.  

Oh, you think. 

Next chapter

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[strawberryya]

ghost in the machine

s.coups x reader

synopsis: Secrets can only be kept as secrets for so long, everyone knows this. Yet when 5.C0UP5 came in contact with someone he never should have even known existed this notion seemed as foreign as his own name. Perhaps there exists another way of life even for him, or maybe it was all a dream too big to dream of. 

word count: 20k

genre/contains: sci-fi au, AI-idol au, automaton!seungcheol, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, found family, afab and gn!reader, general smut warnings for oral and penetrative sex, nothing kinky except being eaten out while talking on the intercoms and some almost being caught moments, big fight

rating: 18+

a/n: this has taken a long time to finish, but it also turned out to be my longest fic to date and I'm a bit proud that i managed to actually complete what i had in mind :> thank you @idyllic-ghost for proof reading and for the banner !!

collab link to read the other amazing fics from @idyllic-ghosts genius collab!

Network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

[navigation post!]

“100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed. The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight. However, the aliens were welcoming to our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system. Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automaton, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t. Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be. At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities. The Automaton music group 53V3NT33N (SEVENTEEN) is made up of 13 members, all very talented, and all representing two human states of mind.”

Pride. It was one side of 5.C0UP5 state of mind, and he felt it often. He felt it whenever he looked at his members, he felt it whenever he performed on stage in front of blinding lights and roaring crowds, and he felt it when he looked at you.

Yet, the other side of the coin of his pre-programmed personality was what crushed him every single day. Everything he took pride in having accomplished, was completely tarnished by a single thought about your lips on his skin. The shame was unbearable. 

You had never been meant to get close to him, he was not supposed to be close to anyone. He knew this better than anyone. As the leader of 53V3NT33N he was the one to keep everyone in check. He was meant to set a good example and be the perfect level 1 automaton at all times. For years he kept his promise to everyone, he continued to avoid all things that could ruin his reputation and go against his lifelong contract which he had become bound to the moment he had been created. It hadn’t been easy, but he had taken pride in being the perfect and flawless leader for his members. 

That guilty feeling in his gut came back once again as he left the dorm with his manager. “Lookin’ good,” he heard the voice of one of his members play in his ear. J30NGHΛN stood, next to some of his staff members across the lobby, curiously looking at 5.C0UP5. “Going somewhere fun today?” he said and pushed the communication device on his chest, letting 5.C0UP5 hear his every word. 

“You’re too curious J30NGHΛN,” he said with a smile, “We’re just gonna get some pictures at a café for this week’s posts.” It was one of the few things he did a couple of times a year, even under the strict surveillance of his company and its staff. No matter what, he had to sell the fantasy of himself to millions of people all around the universe. 

“Oh, I see… have fun,” J30NGHΛN said with a tone that made 5.C0UP5 feel his fingers, the chirping sound of his voice making him conscious of his own existence in a way he despised. the damn wink didn’t help. It was as if he knew something. Maybe everyone knew? 5.C0UP5 shook his head and began walking towards the exit along with his manager. He felt his members’ curious gaze following him as he left. Maybe the secrets were beginning to take their toll on his mind. He knew he was supposed to keep his emotions in check, the overpowering of one of his programmed human states of mind would be his demise. They had told him that much. Yet again, he told himself the same words he had spent so many days and nights telling himself. Nobody knows. 

Luckily, the café that had been chosen for today was only a couple blocks away. The cold sweat that ran down his back went unnoticed by the staff accompanying him in the shuttle used by the members whenever they needed to go to filming locations and individual shoots.  

“Let’s order some smaller stuff and get the shoot over with, we don’t have all day,” one of the managers announced, making 5.C0UP5 nod with a forced smile before he went back to looking out the window. His hand fell to his side, feeling the hard outline of his phone in his pocket. 

Entrusted to him by the company, he had been allowed to have a small flip phone. It was ancient. They used to have them in the old world, but even by the start of “The Great Journey” the technology was seen as outdated. By the current standards, however, the phone he had been granted was not worth much more than the shoelace on his sneakers. To him though, it was priceless. 

He was nervous now, his hands felt clammy, and his shoulders were tense as he walked into the café along with the staff members. One of them hurried off to the counter and placed your orders while 5.C0UP5 and two others made their way towards the corner table. The young couple currently sitting at the table were quickly removed by the staff members. It was routine, nothing more than a sentence informing the couple of why they needed to get up was given before they were chased off by the staff members threatening presence. 

He would never get used to that, the way others were treated around him as he stood by, powerless to intervene. Every time he felt ashamed of being the reason the rest of the population had to accommodate whatever his company, his owners, deemed profitable. It didn’t matter if it was evacuating an entire city block to film a music video where the buildings crumbled around the members, or something as insignificant as taking over a table at a popular café. The guilt was always there. 

The young couple hastily gathered their belongings and one of the waiters came over and cleaned up the table, apologies for the mess constantly pouring from their lips. Level 3 automatons could get fired for something like this, but at the same time, 5.C0UP5 couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as he watched the worker get back to his place behind the counter. Maybe life would be better if he too was a lower-level automaton, he found himself thinking as he sat down and was served the beverage and piece of dessert that the staff had ordered for him. He would be freer in a way…

“5.C0UP5, let’s go.” 

He picked up the drink in his hand, the cold from the iced drink bringing his mind away from his thoughts and back into reality where a staff member had just fixed the collar of his shirt and fixed his hair which had been ruffled by the wind. “Look over there,” the staff said as another one snapped hundreds of pictures as he moved around on his chair. The rehearsed smiles, the sip of the drink, and the way he leaned toward the camera all satisfied the staff it seemed. He was good at his job, and acting like a down-to-earth boyfriend at a café was just another part of his job. 

What wasn’t part of his job, however, was when he felt a buzz in his pocket and without a second thought spilled half his drink across his thighs, the fabric covering his knees now the color of his drink. “Oh!” he shouted, “I’m sorry. I’ll go clean up real fast and we can continue like nothing happened, I’m so sorry, I’ll fix it!” he hurried to say before any of the staff members could even comprehend the situation he had just created. Hastily, 5.C0UP5 rose from the chair and left his staff confused and shocked at the table. “Fuck- someone go watch the door, no one else can be in there at the same time he is.” he heard them say behind his back as he hurried off towards the door to the bathroom. 

There were multiple doors inside the bathroom, each leading to a small bathroom. He didn’t know where to go, he didn’t know where he was supposed to be. He didn’t need to look very far because as he approached the second door to the right it opened for only a moment and a hand pulled him forcefully through the opening. “Finally,” a person said with a smile before they kissed him passionately in the low light of the lightbulb attached to the dark mosaic tiles above the sink. 5.C0UP5 entire body heated up from within as his lips pressed against those familiar soft lips he knew belonged to you. 

He had dreamed of those very lips every night since he first got to kiss them all those months ago. “Hi,” he whispered and let the corners of his mouth turn up in the most genuine smile he had had all day. 

“Hi…” you answered and giggled softly, feeling his warm hands on your cheeks as he held you and kissed you once again, softly and as if to make you feel how much he had missed you as he held your lips locked against his. 

“Are you meeting up with that secret fuck buddy of yours?” Lana joked as you scrambled to grab your phone and keys on your way out for lunch break. 

The office supply store was empty at this hour, and you had thirty minutes until you had to be back again; the perfect amount of time for a quick meetup with Cheol. You had to be back in time to release Lana, your co-worker, and close friend, from her shift and let her take her own lunch break since your boss had deemed it necessary to have the store manned at all hours of the day. 

Or, well, 5.C0UP5 if you were fussy about things like that. That was his real name, his legal name. To you, however, he was Seungcheol. It had been months since you had called the wrong number in your hurry to order a pizza after work, starving and sleep-deprived as you were at the time you hadn’t been looking too closely at the numbers you were putting into the keypad on your phone. Luckily for you, the craving for pizza that night had led you to discover something new that you soon began craving much more and much more often - him. 

His enchanting voice had caught you off guard that first night, and his confused and cautious “Who is this?” had, incredibly enough, been the starting point of you two talking every chance you got since then. Late nights chatting away on, what you have to admit were very sketchy websites, and the occasional call which was made with hushed voices and both of your hearts pounding away, had been most of your relationship. It sometimes felt like an imaginary relationship, since no one could know who he was, and even more importantly -  know who you were to him. 

“He’s not my fuck buddy, he’s…” you retorted. 

“See, do you even know what he thinks you two are? You won’t even show me any pictures of him, is he super ugly or something?” Lana shouted as you hurried towards the back door. 

“Shut up! I’ll see you later!” you yelled and the door slammed shut behind you. The back alley was filled with trash and scrap metal. The teenage boy from the large family who lived atop the store was smoking as he kicked bolts around on the ground. He looked up as you passed, and an uncomfortable feeling in your gut appeared as you felt him watch you while you exited the back alley and went onto the bustling street. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you fished it up. 

Unknown. 12.31.

“I’ll be there in 10, leaving now.” 

It was from Cheol. You wouldn't be getting any more updates from him until tonight, at least he had confirmed that he would be coming. Quickly you deleted the text from your phone and put the phone back into your pocket as a strange sense of being watched made the skin on your neck prickle. You looked around, moving your shoulders as if to shake the feeling away. 

You hurried away and towards the café, the uncomfortable feeling still haunting you as you entered the café and headed straight to the restroom. 

Would he come this time?

You could never be certain. He always did his best to keep his promises, but if the circumstances wouldn’t allow him to leave the group of managers that always circled him whenever he stepped outside the shiny company doors, keeping you a secret was more important. It didn’t hurt any less whenever he stood you up though. 

Knowing that his reasons for acting as he did were because of his status as a level 1 automaton had shaken you to the core at first, but it had also been a relief. He had told you who he was after a couple of weeks when you had become convinced you had accidentally begun an affair with a married man, he had been forced to confess his real identity. At least you weren’t a home wrecker, was the thought that helped you reconcile with the fact that he would never be free to live a normal life with you. 

Now you were seated on the toilet seat cover, your ear pressed to the door, your hand on the handle ready to pull it open. Time moved slower than usual, but your heartbeat was racing along with your mind. 

Then you heard him, it was undeniably his voice that made its way past the music, chatting, and the coffee machines. He was coming to you. You could barely hear when he opened the first door into the restrooms over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Without a second thought, you opened the door enough to register the man you had thought about all too often lately and pulled him by the arm inside the small bathroom you had occupied. His biceps tensed as you pulled him and your body lit on fire because of it. God, he was so wonderfully big. Everything from his biceps to his cock was just so perfectly huge, and you went mad any time you thought about it. You kissed him in a passionate kiss, pressing your entire body against his. You fit so well together, his hands on your face and yours wrapped around his body. 

You wanted more, you wanted all of him, all the time. You wanted to cry because you knew you couldn't have him. With tears pricking your eyes you let Seungcheol pull back to look into your eyes. 

“Hi,” he whispered and smiled. You said hi back softly before the excitement and the giggles overtook your lips. You kissed him again, this time he saw to it that it was a soft and gentle kiss. A small wince left your throat, making Seungcheol quickly turn on the faucet, hoping it would drown out any noises. “Sorry,” you mumbled against his plush lips. 

“Don’t worry, it’s partially my fault,” he said pridefully. 

You were about to laugh, but instead, you pushed up his shirt, exposing his perfectly sculpted upper body to your touch. “Fuck you,” you said under your breath. 

“‘Fuck me please’ is what you meant, yeah?” he cockily corrected you without missing a beat, flipping you both so you stood with your back against the wall he had been facing away from. You gasped as he lifted you off the ground with the wall helping to pin you between his stiff cock and the cold and hard wall. 

He was right, even though you hadn’t allowed yourself to get your hopes up, you had been feeling unusually needy lately. The thoughts of him filling you up in any way constantly on your mind, you were already turned on as you entered the café with the small promise of him setting foot in there to meet you later. 

“Please, fuck me,” you gasped out, feeling your arousal soak your underwear at the thought of his girthy cock inside of you. “I need you to be quiet,” he mumbled against your lips. 

At this, you nodded fervently. Finally, you would feel him stretching you open again, bruising your insides with the force of his strokes like you had dreamt of after every single time you had managed to get together like this before. The moments were rare, but you made the most of the short time you had, to say the least. 

His tongue quickly found yours as he ground you on his erection, eliciting a low moan and making you open your mouth for him to enter. Warm hands wandered your body, his gentle touch making you swoon as he held you with so much love, while the promise of him fucking you like the slut you were hung in the air. 

A knock on the door, and both of you froze up, his bulge pressing right on your clit making it unbearable not to move. You winced only slightly as Seungcheol’s lips left yours, deciding to put your now lonely lips to use, kissing down his jaw and neck with soft little pecks and nibbles. “What?” Seungcheol asked over the sound of the water running, his tone a bit more agitated than he had intended. Not that he was at fault, he had a soaking cunt begging to be fucked right above his cock, and lips that made him go insane on his neck; someone disturbing him right now was not what he needed. 

“How much longer do you need? We don’t have all day to wait around for a pair of pants to dry up.” the staff member on the other side of the door said, earning a sigh from Seungcheol. 

After a moment of silence, he groaned and shouted towards the locked door. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I’ll be right out.” 

No, you thought, your limbs holding onto the man who you had just only gotten a taste of even harder than before. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I need you to be patient for me until next time, can you be good for me and wait?” he mumbled against your hair, your lips still attached to the skin right below Seungcheol’s collar. “Yes,” you said against his neck, letting go of his skin in favor of burying your face in the warmth of his chest. He put you down on the floor, his arms releasing the back of your thighs and instead wrapping around your body. For just a moment he held you close until the buzzing of the dryer died out and he loosened his hold on you. 

You pressed your body against the wall as Seungcheol unlocked the door and disappeared through it just as quickly as he had been pulled in through it. 

“Sorry, it didn’t come off.” you heard him say through the doors. 

“We can’t get the shots if you’re all messed up like this, let’s tell the crew that we’re going back instead. Come on 5.C0UP5.” The staff member who had been just a few steps away from you two while they waited outside the restroom door responded as the voices got fainter and blended into the sounds of the café. 

You sat in silence with your hand on the door handle as his voice disappeared completely. In the beginning, you had enjoyed the thrill and noncommitment of him not being able to be there to be an actual boyfriend because of his work and position in life, you recalled as you felt all the emotions in your body dissolve into nothing. 

A small pain in your chest was the only thing left. The late-night thoughts you whispered in the dark, and the messages you had sent each other that contained your deepest yearnings and your worst fears. They had gotten to you, and it didn’t help that whenever you got a taste of having him physically there with you, you rarely- never- wanted to let go. But you always had to. 

“Enough wallowing, this isn’t changing anything,” you mumbled as you wiped your face from the wetness that had seeped from your eyes without you noticing. You needed to hurry back to relieve Lana from her shift you realized as you checked your watch, seeing that you were already supposed to be back at the store. 

You didn’t waste much more time after that, hastily making your way out of the bathroom, checking behind you as you left the café to make sure nobody had paid any attention to you. Like a punch in the gut, the feeling of being watched returned as your eyes landed on a dark-clad figure staring at you through the shop window. He had no reason to follow you with his gaze as you hurried across the street, away from the café, away from the gut-wrenching feeling that something was awry. 

He wasn’t looking at you, right? You were just getting too paranoid, that’s all, right? 

5.C0UP5 had been daydreaming the entire way back to the company, his mind taking him back to the moments he could hold you in his arms. His body couldn’t ache for you, but his mind almost had him believing that he did. Some days, he almost believed himself to have a heart. A heart that broke each time he had to leave you behind. 

It wasn’t until he got back to the dorms where he got a glimpse of his members, and friends since he had been put into this world, that he finally felt himself come down back to reality. They were everywhere, some he saw in the lobby along with their hoards of staff members just like his own. Some were in the dorms, sleeping, or at least in a state of being that looked like sleeping as they charged. 

Others were nowhere to be found, not that he went looking. They could mind themselves, he knew they would never do anything to make him less proud of them. To 5.C0UP5, he was the bigger worry. 

He was just about to let himself rest and recharge, to try and forget the pain in the back of his mind, haunting him even as he saw his members wandering the dormitories and the company hallways. You were always in the back of his mind, no matter what he did to try and forget. Somehow, he had accidentally let you in, and now you were half his world. The hidden side of the moon, the side which should always remain in darkness, no matter how closely you look. 

A staff member who had left him just minutes ago as they entered the guarded company building came back, not even bothering to knock before they entered the room in which 5.C0UP5 sat on his bed. “5.C0UP5, you need to follow me, the CEO has something to talk to you about.” 

It had happened before, he met with the CEO every once in a while. After all, he was the spokesperson for the group, even if they didn’t have many (any) rights, they still needed to have someone to be their voice. This time, however, the meeting wasn’t scheduled. The CEO wanted to have an impromptu meeting with him… his hand unconsciously fell against his left side pocket, worry filling his mind even though he tried to make sense of why he had been called in to talk to the management. 

Even as he entered the large office of the CEO he had been in more times than he could count, something felt off. People he had never met sat in chairs all around the walls. Guards stood at the door, looking more tense than he had ever seen them before, and the CEO himself had the strangest expression he had ever worn. 5.C0UP5 waited until he was spoken to, as he had been instructed so many times before. Honoring the one who made sure he had the comfortable life he currently had was something he had been taught from the very first day he had opened his eyes. 

“Hello 5.C0UP5.” the suit-clad man in the dark chair said. He spoke calmly, but not kindly. 5.C0UP5 picked up on his tone immediately. 

“Hello, Sir,” he answered and bowed his head ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him. The room was dark, but the photos splayed out on the desk in front of the CEO finally caught 5.C0UP5’s eye. He could recognize them even at this distance and brightness. His head worked ceaselessly to find the moment it had begun, the moment they had found out. Because in front of the CEO, he could spot hundreds of pictures of the one person he wished they would never even see: you. 

All that went through 5.C0UP5’s mind when he realized what had finally happened was fuck.

“I understand that you have been seeing this human for a while… did you think we wouldn’t find out?” the CEO said, almost laughing at him as he sat in his chair looking over the pictures, each one containing your face, at work, at the café from earlier that day, at home. They had you right under their nail, ready to remove you from the planet at any second. He wanted to scream. 

The CEO cleared his throat before he threw the photo he held in his hand on the glass desk in front of him. “Now, unless you want us to eliminate this problem of yours, you will be rebooted first thing tomorrow.” 

5.C0UP5 knew he wasn’t supposed to protest, he wasn’t even supposed to think anything other than “Yes, Sir,” but before he could stop himself he spoke his mind. 

“Please, no… Why would you do that? It doesn’t make any sense. If I’m found breaking the rules, I’m to be demoted, not- not this!”

“Seventeen is currently the galaxy’s top band 5.C0UP5, and you are their leader, you have an image to uphold. And since you failed at doing this, we want to reboot your system, that way you will be able to stay and your group members' reputations won’t be tarnished, and most importantly. This little issue will be resolved because you won’t even remember this little human.”

The CEO wasn’t smiling as he had thought before, the CEO had never once smiled. His eyes were dead, nothing more than a ghost of a human left inside of him. At least 5.C0UP5 felt something, at least he could smile, at least he could love…

He could love. He had felt it. So why was he about to get punished for something his management swore he couldn’t feel? Hoped he couldn’t, might be more accurate, 5.C0UP5 realized. 

“How did you know?” he asked, the glare he received was enough that the management had begun running out of patience for him already. 

“Does it matter? We know everything about you.” the CEO answered curtly. 

Just like that the pieces fell into place, they had known all along. He felt the piece of metal that clung to his chest like a stone, stuck in his body and destroying him from within. They had known all along… The upcoming release of their new comeback was what they were worried about, he soon realized. They had hoped he would stop of his own free will, after all, he had the personality trait of shame. He should’ve already ended whatever he had with you. 

However, he hadn’t. And now it would become an issue if they didn’t handle it quickly and quietly. 

Despite that, the thought that overpowered all others at that moment wasn’t about how small he felt as he realized the true power the company had over him, or how much he loathed the people who thought they had a right to control him. He could love. That was the loudest, and he wanted to scream it, make everyone hear him just this once. It made him proud, he could do something this human was incapable of, and now they wanted to take that away from him. No. There was no way he was going to let them do that to him as well. He clenched his fist at his side, should he fight? 

“You can return to your rooms, they will come to get you soon,” the CEO declared and pushed the photos on his desk off the table, straight into the trash can underneath. 5.C0UP5 fists relaxed a bit, a new plan forming as he turned to leave the room with the stern guards following along. “Oh,” he heard the CEO say, “and leave the phone, you are no longer trusted to keep it with you even in case of emergencies. I hope you understand… you won’t need to understand in a bit.” 

His jaw was frozen in place as he took the phone from his pocket and threw it towards the CEO. The guards jumped forward to grab his arms as the phone crashed into the table and tipped over a cup of metal pens that scattered all across the floor. “Leave us,” said the CEO without even flinching. 

5.C0UP5 didn’t feel any shame as he was dragged out from the dark office, suit-clad strangers watching him with cold eyes as the doors slammed shut behind him. He was dragged until they were in the hallway where the crossroad between freedom and forever forgetting you were. “I can walk by myself,” he said with a growl he had never heard in his voice before. The guards let him stand alone, watchful eyes on him as they began walking again, one in front of him and one behind him now. It’s now or never, he thought, taking the shot as he saw it arise in front of him. 

His mind barely registered the hands that tried to grab onto him, all his focus lay on the doors in the lobby and on getting there. He ran with all his might until he crashed into the doors that were too slow to open. The crack widened and he pushed himself out of the glass doors that opened just in time for him to keep staying ahead of the guards. Bright lights in all the colors of the rainbow lit up before him as he began running down the crowded streets. His eyes watered because of the wind, and the lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of light. 

His body was designed to be agile and strong, he was designed to keep moving. Right now that felt like the biggest blessing he had ever received in his cursed life. 

From the back of his mind, two things arose. The first was your apartment, he had only heard about it, you had described exactly how to get there in one of the late-night calls you had whispered to each other weeks ago. The second was those twelve faces which were all he had known for so long; his members would be left to deal with it all when he was gone. He knew them so well, and yet, none of them had even had a chance to become someone to get to know. He wanted to give them a chance. As he ran he shouted out the word “Run!”, pressed that button he had used so many times before in the middle of the device connected to his chest, and began tearing the peace of metal from his body. It took him a few tries before he managed to rip the entire thing off of his skin. It hurt more than he had imagined, the pain was brain-numbing and overwhelming. He almost had to stop, the pain making it hard to focus on making his legs move forward. 

Nevertheless, he was free, the tracker was gone from his body, and with it was his only connection to the only family he had ever known. 

He ran, and he didn’t stop running until he arrived at your apartment. They would know he was here, they knew everything. He needed to be quick. He ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking aggressively on your door, shouting as loudly as he dared for you to open the door. It wasn’t long until the door swung open and he was close to tears as he saw your very shocked face looking back at his panicked state. The thing you had imagined, but since you had found out his true identity, always known would never happen, had happened. 5.C0UP5 was tired, but he needed to get away, and he wanted you to come with him. 

“We need to leave, they’re coming for me. Please come with me,” he pleaded, his eyes begging you as his hands held your arms desperately. 

“What did you do?” you said breathlessly. 

“They were going to make me forget, make you… erase the issue… I couldn’t let them take this away from me too.”

You were speechless. “You ran.” He nodded. You didn’t even bother to say a word as you ran into your apartment, leaving 5.C0UP5 at the door. He had no idea if you were trying to find somewhere to hide or looking for something as he heard crashes and your voice shouting curses from further inside your small place. He needed to get out of there, but maybe… holding out hope was worthwhile it turned out. Minutes later, which felt like hours for 5.C0UP5, you reappeared at the door, backpack in hand and sweat gracing your hairline. You were running with him. 

It wasn’t a hard decision, you weren’t close to your parents, and Lana would understand eventually… at least you hoped your coworker, and only close friend at this moment of your life, would understand if you ever survived to tell her and apologize for leaving without a word. 

A small pain stabbed at your heart, leaving everything for an automaton on the run. Everything you had ever known for this man… It felt insane at the moment, and it felt even more insane as you felt Cheol squeeze your hand which you had been holding since you took it, and began running towards the docks. You sat in the cold of the night on a hard bench next to Cheol. In a bit, a ship would arrive. Crowded places felt like a good idea at first, but now, the paranoia set in. Was that old man over there looking a bit too long at Cheol? Didn’t those surveillance cameras follow them as they walked onto the docks? 

The hand in yours pressed gently against your skin, helping you stay at least a bit sane as the weight of what you were doing was already beginning to tug at your strength. You thought it best to focus on the plan instead. 

“Let’s get on this ship, hop off at the airport, and get on another ship there. That way we can get off this planet because the sooner the better right?”

“Yeah, but don’t you think they will be looking for me at all the docks and airports?” Cheol said quietly. 

He was right of course, they would be looking for the escaped automaton at all the exits of this world they could think of. 

“Maybe if we…” You tried, but you didn’t know how you would get away if his company's staff members were to hunt them down anywhere on the planet. “Damn. Do you know that it’s incredibly difficult to go on a trip with you?” you deadpanned. The moment was horrible, but also perfect. It made Cheol smile, something you hadn’t seen the entire way from the moment you opened the door until now. 

It helped keep your mind off of the horrible situation and the impending doom. 

“It is,” he chuckled, “I never thought it would become an issue though.”

“But here we are,” you said and sighed. Cheol leaned against you, his large arm pushing against your side, making a smile split across your face. 

“I don’t think we should get on one of the commercial airlines… we need something more private,” Cheol mumbled.

“How would we get a hold of a ship of our own? We don’t have the money for that…” 

“We’ll figure it out…” 

“We have a lot to figure out from now on, Cheol,” you said and let your head fall against his shoulder, resting your heavy mind on his strong frame. He hummed, the sound comforting you even while you thought about all the ways you could get killed while on the run. 

The submarine came soon enough, and you both got on without a hitch. If you were being followed, they weren’t coming out of the shadows just yet. The cold light from inside the ship lit up the dark water around the underwater tracks that held the boat in place as it brought commuters across the sea each day and night. Under the high waves had turned out to be much easier than above them, especially nowadays. The storms had become worse in the last couple of centuries. Every other day there was another tropical storm on the seas. A side-effect of the universes coming closer together was what the scientists had concluded when it first began happening hundreds of years ago after the end of The Great Journey. 

You looked out the blurry window into the empty waters. Cheol and you were sitting by the back of the ship, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You had managed to throw a cap into your backpack, which now helped hide Cheol’s face from any surveillance cameras while you used the hood of your sweatshirt to somewhat hide your face. Being a petty thief seemed like the least of your current issues. 

Neither of you spoke the entire ride, only communicating and comforting each other through a hand in the other or on their thigh. If you weren’t panicking you would probably be craving his touch in other places. That would have to wait though. A safe place was probably the priority, you decided in the back of your mind. You noticed his other hand, the one which wasn’t holding onto you like his life depended on it, continued reaching towards his neck. He seemed to be in pain. Did he get hurt? You hadn't had the time to even think about asking him how he was feeling or if he had gotten hurt by the guards or even the staff. You made a mental note to ask him later, placing your head against the rest behind you instead of his shoulder. You didn’t want to cause any more pain by resting against him. 

It was getting rather late as you left the submarine station you had gotten off at. Your heart wasn’t calming down anytime soon, you weren’t equipped to handle this kind of stress. Day-to-day, normal life stress was enough, this was something else entirely. 

“I want to live out the rest of my life in a very peaceful manner, far away from all of this crap,” you whispered as you walked the short walk from the submarine station to the spaceport welcoming hall. You wanted to be on a warm couch, not thinking about how to run away without being arrested. Right now, the idea of a living room seemed too far out of reach. All around you were tiny shops, suitcases, and the cold and unnatural light that lit up the entire spaceport’s welcoming hall. Ships that were boarding sounded out through the air, the comfy couch was as far from reality as you could get. 

Cheol scoffed, “I agree, wholeheartedly. I am never running away again after this, it’s too much work.” 

You tried to hold your laugh in, “Yeah, too much sneaking around for my taste. Let’s just run away this once, and then stay put and become that old couple on the hill that no one dares to visit.” Cheol nodded. “I would do anything for that…” Suddenly you noticed a small melancholy feeling in his words. You were just about to ask what was on his mind when he stopped your walk into the large welcoming hall, ushering you both into a small tourist shop. All you saw were miniature Earths, mugs with stupid prints, and keychains with different tourist attractions. You did not like it. For a second you were worried that he wanted to do some last-minute shopping, but your worries changed as you saw his terrified face. He had seen someone he knew. 

“I’ve seen that woman over there by the kiosk before, she usually helps backstage at our concerts. Fuck, that means they really managed to send people out to the exits,” he grumbled. This was bad. You felt your blood rushing in your veins, panic filling your mind. Had you been alone, you would’ve been frozen right about now. 

“Let’s just go,” he whispered hurriedly, panic visible on his face. “The faster we’re out of here the better, right? Are you with me?” 

“Always. Let’s go,” you whispered, the reassurance being all Cheol needed to grab your hand in his even firmer than before and head right out of the welcoming hall and out the nearest exit leading to the departing spaceships. You were unbelievably lucky as you ended up in the middle of a large swarm of travelers who were just about to board the large ship. Most were workers it turned out, the ship being part commuting area and half cargo space. The both of you managed to sneak onto the ship along with the workers, keeping your heads down as you hoped to anything that would listen that you would be able to sneak onboard undetected. 

It was unplanned, you barely even knew where the ship was headed. It wasn’t until you heard the voice that called out that the ship heading to Specus would depart that you both realized where you were heading. Specus was the mining planet, all the minerals needed for this universe to continue expanding its empire, and for life to continue as it has been until now, were found on this planet. All the people on this ship were workers there, probably coming back from their biannual leave which was granted to all humans and other living beings working there. Automatons was not included in the group of people who got any leave. The laws were clear about that, automatons were not human and didn’t need any form of vacation. 

The laws were bullshit. 

“Specus… I mean it could be worse, right?” you whispered. Cheol nodded, caught up in his thoughts. “Should we look for somewhere else to hide until we’re there?” you asked, trying to catch his attention again. Once again he only nodded, his senses all focused on his surroundings, making sure you two weren’t being followed or watched as he pulled you away from the area with rows of seating for the workers traveling with the ship. You went past the cots, knowing there was no way you could manage to stay hidden the entire way if you tried to stay in there. Instead, you made your way to the lower parts of the deck, the part of the ship where travelers didn’t wander. Here, you would only find crew members, cleaners, servers, and mechanics. The hallways were darker here, the LED lights being used more sparsely on the lower decks. You had a hard time seeing in the low light, but Cheol had your hand in his, a relaxed feeling managing to find its way into your body despite the circumstances.  

You had only managed to get a little way past the third deck when you met another person for the first time since you had left the seating area. “Are you two lost?” the man asked, making you jump and making Cheol whirl around to where the sound was coming from. You hadn’t noticed him in the dark until he spoke. 

“No, we’re just… looking for the bathroom,” you stuttered out. 

It was the dumbest excuse in the book. You knew you didn’t have the man fooled when he began laughing. It was a wonderful laugh, high-pitched and genuine. The figure stepped out of the dark, revealing a handsome man, dressed in a simple gray overall. Over his breast pocket, it said maintenance. You felt yourself growing a bit anxious as to what the laughing man would do next. Would he turn you in? 

“No, but seriously, why are you all the way down here? You two certainly don’t look like the new hires we were supposed to get this week,” the man, who you realized was holding a mop which he was now leaning on, said with a curious tone as he scanned the both of you from head to toe. “You look like a fucking idol, you know. If I didn’t know better I would think you were on the run,” he said with a smirk. 

“I’m Cheol, this is Y/N,” Cheol said finally as he nodded his head in your direction. Even in this light, you could tell he was staring at the stranger with that intense gaze that could make anyone either break down or swoon. 

The maintenance man sighed, “Alright, I’m Wooyoung. Come with me,” he said without explanation.  You didn’t follow him right away. He looked back at you, the “Coming?” visible on his face. 

“Do we trust him?” you whispered to Cheol, who was still watching the man waiting for you. 

“I don’t know about trust, but honestly what choice do we have? It’s not like we can go anywhere now, and it’s a long journey to Specus…” 

You nodded, nervousness made your hand clammy in Cheol’s firm grip. 

This was a risk you needed to take. If he was going to turn you in, it was probably better to just get it over with. At least you wouldn’t have to starve or something if you were locked up until you got to Specus. 

He led you to the lower decks, and surprisingly began introducing you both as the new temps that would help around on your way to Specus. The other crew members nodded, a few glancing rather suspiciously at you both but accepting the half-truth that Wooyoung told them. They hadn’t heard anything about any new temps, but it was none of their business it seemed. Who, and why you were there to help around didn’t matter to them.

Wooyoung led you around the lower decks, being strangely chatty with you two. You hadn’t expected someone so friendly to simply appear in your lives just as you needed it. Was he somehow your savior or was he something entirely else? You hoped he was good news because the alternative was so much worse. 

“Okay, this guy is great, you’re gonna love him. He’s not… too talkative, but he’s very good!” Wooyoung said as he took you down a flight of very narrow stairs. 

“Good at what?” You asked, minding your step so you wouldn’t fall as you descended. Wooyoung didn’t answer, instead flinging a thick metal door open and skipping inside. 

“Sannie!” Wooyoung suddenly shouted as you and Cheol entered a room after him. The room was filled from floor to ceiling with electronics. Screws, bolts, and different tools were everywhere. It looked like a mix of a car workshop and a dentist. The second part was mainly because of the chair in the middle of the room. The only time you had seen one of those was when you had gone to the dentist. By a table, a man sat on a high stool, engrossed in whatever he was doing. A bright lamp shone down on, what looked to you like, a bunch of chords in different colors. 

“What Woo? Did you get hurt again? Or are you just here because you’re bored…” San said as he was turned away from the door where you and Cheol stood, unsure of what to say and do just as you had been for the past couple of minutes. Would this man scrutinize you and Cheol as well, like the other staff members Wooyoung had introduced you to?  It seemed you had managed to bump into the most friendly maintenance member on the entire crew, and you thanked the universe for that because it seemed as if he was the solution to a lot of your current issues. He seemed to know everyone on this ship, and you hoped the friendship between him and the others would somehow be your and Cheol’s way of being allowed into the crew. 

“No… or well, yes, I am always a bit bored when you’re not around,” Wooyoung chirped, “But I’m here to see what you can do for these two.” 

Wooyoung gestured towards the door, finally bringing the new strangers’ attention to where you and Cheol stood. “Well, I’ll be damned. You brought a level 1 down here along with a human?” San said and looked between you both and Wooyoung who smiled brightly at his friend. “Yup!” 

San nodded, “Well, I can guess what happened with you two since you’re here after all… Can you work?” he asked after a moment. You nodded. “Yes,” you heard Cheol say. 

“Great. I’m San, I’m the mechanic around here. Since I’m human, and apparently that means something even in space, these fuckers also put me in charge when we leave the dock. I’ll get you what you need, food for you,” he said and looked at you, he then turned to Cheol, “A charger for you, and enough work to make sure you sleep soundly when you get off your shifts,” San declared. 

“Yay!” Wooyoung shouted gleefully, his cheerful claps making you crack a smile - despite the situation you found yourselves in. 

Cheol wasn’t smiling, but he seemed more relaxed. “How did you know I was a level 1?” was all he asked. You hadn’t reflected on it, but it was strange that he had been able to realize the difference between Cheol and you so quickly. 

San smirked, “It’s my job to know. If I couldn’t tell the difference between you and one of the workers here, I’d really be in trouble as a mechanic.” He was about to return to the mess of chords on his desk, but he looked back at Cheol, pointing towards his neck. “Also, come back here tomorrow and I’ll get that fixed for you.” Cheol’s hand reached for his neck again, the pain from touching the place his tracker had been made him flinch in agony. His shirt had fallen a bit lower while you had wandered after Wooyoung, he had opened his jacket, and now you finally spotted the area he had been protecting this entire time. The piece of metal you had avoided in your secret rendezvous was gone. He had ripped it out, you shuddered at the thought of the strength it must’ve taken to rip something like that from your own skin. You squeezed his hand to comfort and distract him, you didn’t know what else to do. 

Wooyoung came towards you, happily walking away from San who was already immersed in his work, and made it clear that you were to follow him. 

“Thank you,” you said before you left, San looking over his shoulder to give you a small smile and a ‘no worries’ expression in return. But worry was exactly what you had begun feeling, more than anything else. 

You and Cheol got a gray overall each, both saying maintenance over the breast pocket and the back, just like the one Wooyoung was wearing. “Stay in here for tonight, and when I wake you I’ll let you know what you will be doing for the next couple of weeks,” Wooyoung explained, giving you a small room in a long hallway to stay in. Everything was in the same cool metallic shade, and you realized that all you had to sleep on tonight would be a lonely pillow and a blanket that looked like it had seen better days. 

“It’s not ideal…” you stated, looking around in the small space you had been assigned as your room. “But we can make it work, right?” 

“It could be a lot better,” Cheol nodded and looked at you. You had had an affair with a famous level 1 automaton, been found out by some really powerful people, threatened to be disposed of, illegally left Earth, and had just been offered safe passage to another planet by some unexpectedly friendly people. But the room was a bit small and dark. Cheol looked at you, a smile creeping onto his face. You began laughing at the absurdity, “We should probably be more grateful,” he gasped out between laughs. “But it’s so ugly!” You shouted, your laughs getting more and more manic. 

“This is probably the stupidest thing we have ever done,” you gasped out. 

Your eyes welled, which tears that were a result of your laughing, and which were your exhaustion finally setting in was impossible to tell. All your emotions just came out all at once. You were gasping for air, tears running down your cheeks, and all the weight of your decisions crashing right into you. 

“It was, but I can’t make myself regret anything,” Cheol said, emotion welling underneath his words. But he didn’t cry. Instead, he just held you. He let you cry your eyes out, staining his dark hoodie with your tears as you sobbed. 

“Did we make the right decision?” you whispered against his chest, strong arms holding you safe as you questioned what you had done. 

“I hope so,” you heard Cheol say, the sound of his voice echoing in his body. You fell asleep in his arms for the first time that day. Having him to yourself in this way was a privilege, you realized. It was a privilege you had lived without for your entire life. You didn’t even know that you had been missing out on it until you woke up the next day, your head in his lap and his hands holding the blanket to your waist. You looked up at his handsome face, wondering if he had been able to rest where he sat against the hard wall.

It didn’t take long until you had both caught on to what you needed to do around the ship. It turned out that Wooyoung was a great instructor. During your shifts you both ran around, cleaning, and helping the regular crew members when needed. Wooyoung quickly made sure you felt at least a bit more comfortable on the ship by giving you tours around the decks and introducing you to even more of the crew members. 

The best part, however, was when you, after an exhausting day working around the large ship, got to lay down in Cheol’s lap while he charged and slept for a few hours, just feeling the heat that his body generated as you let yourself be swept away from reality. The weeks passed, and you learned the routines of the ship rather quickly. 

You barely had any time to think, let alone feel, how physically and emotionally exhausted you were. Leaving everything on Earth and trying to survive day by day on this ship in the middle of the vast universe was more work than you had hoped when you impulsively decided to leave. Some days you managed to take a moment to yourself, stopping in the middle of your step, and just staring out the small windows on the sides of the ship. The space outside was both so full of life and so empty of anything at all that you found yourself floating away in your thoughts into nothingness for just a moment. 

After a few weeks of almost nothing but work and sleep, the crew began preparing for the landing. Soon you would be on Specus, with absolutely nothing planned for what was to come. This soon changed, however, as you sat down with San to eat dinner. Cheol sat next to you, not wanting to spend unnecessary time apart from you just because he didn’t need to consume any food. 

“But, like, did you like the dancing and all that?” Wooyoung asked, the conversation had ended up being about your professions. 

“I think I did, yeah,” Cheol answered honestly. 

“I always thought I’d be a pretty good idol. If I wasn’t designated my level, I would've given it a shot for sure!” Wooyoung said, “Or well, maybe not under your company… they don’t seem that great from what I’ve heard, with the whole rebooting thing and all… that…” he trailed off. You were all staring at him. The silence was deafening, none of you truly knew what Cheol had been through. He had told you bits and pieces, but not nearly enough to know how he’d react to this. 

San and Wooyoung had become your friends since you had been sharing your meals every day. Most of the time the conversations flowed naturally, and the topics ranged from everything from San’s latest way to fix up bolts that had begun unscrewing themselves to childhood memories. Wooyoung and Cheol had a hard time joining in on those conversations, but they shared their fair share of memories from when they first gained consciousness. 

It was strange to think about it in that way, your boyfriend never had a childhood. Well, you still didn’t have a name for what you two were, and calling him your boyfriend in your mind might be jumping to conclusions, you were simply on the run with each other and had a romantic and sexual relationship with one another, but boyfriend might be going too far- Nevertheless, he had been created just as he was right now. Out of all the parts about AI that you had grown up to accept, the no-childhood part was the one you never quite could get past. He had missed something that was so fundamental to you and all other people who had been born instead of created in a factory. It made you really think about the fact that someone had created him intentionally - not just anyone, but him. 

The silence was still pressing around you as you all waited to see how Cheol would react to Wooyoung’s lighthearted comment about the idol life. Your thoughts were wandering away from you, maybe in a way of escaping reality until Cheol saved the conversation. 

“I think you would've been a great performer. You have the right energy about you,” Cheol said with a straight face making Wooyoung crack a smile. 

You were happy that he seemed okay talking about his experiences. And you were equally happy that the mood hadn’t been completely ruined because of Wooyoung’s thoughtless comment. 

After some time, the conversations died out and San picked up a new one, asking something neither you nor Cheol had any good answers to: “What will you do next?” 

You looked at Cheol. He looked just as clueless as you felt. Neither of you had a plan. “They don’t have any clue,” Wooyoung pitched in with his laugh, that you would remember for the rest of your life. You looked down, nodding slightly. It was true. 

“Where do you want to go? You don’t have any idea of where you would like to be in the future?” San asked, surprised that you didn’t have at least the semblance of a plan. 

“I don’t know much about the universe… but I want to go somewhere safe. I want to spend my life where I won’t be found and won’t be constantly watched,” Cheol answered before looking at you, “…somewhere we can be alone.”

Your heart fluttered. You had forgotten that your life wasn’t just the endless days of work on the ship. It was beyond you how you could’ve forgotten it all so fast,  but the intense look filled with love and pain that Cheol gave you made all the feelings stir up once again. You wanted that too, you wanted a place where you two could just be together. 

You nodded, concurring with what Cheol had just said, “Is there somewhere like that? Where we can stay forever?” 

Wooyoung stayed quiet but San looked at the both of you, something in his eyes telling you both that he did have an answer to what you were asking him. “Lumen. That’s where you want to go.” 

“Lumen?” you asked, never having heard of the planet before. 

San hummed, “It’s right beside galaxy 428B. They say it’s the ‘utopia of the universe’, but very few have ever managed to get there and even fewer have managed to get there and back to tell the story of it.”

“Why is that?” you continued asking, your curiosity piqued. 

Lumen had been a planet much like Earth before the entire shift in the universe had happened. It was a sunny place, filled with forests and unexplored nature. There lived some type of people, San wasn’t sure what they were called. It was far away, and the solar systems that were close together had not deemed it worth the cost of travel to create a way to commute there. If you could get there, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything but creating a way of life, San told you. He had heard about the place from travelers he met in his childhood, people who had been on a journey of their own in search of a safe haven - much like you and Cheol. 

“All I know is that you need to travel as far north from our solarsystem as possible,” he said and went quiet. “I’ve never seen those people after they left in search of Lumen, I don’t know if they ever made it.”

Cheol was deep in thought next to you. Neither of you responded to what San had told you except for a short: “Thanks, I think we should head to bed.” But even as you rested your head against his shoulder that night waiting for the exhaustion to overtake you, not a word came from the man you had spent weeks chatting within just this position. 

If you were going to find out what he thought about your destination, you would need to take the initiative you thought that night.

 “I wanna go, do you?” Your words lingered in the dark room. Silence. Soon you almost began falling asleep, your brain coming to accept that you were probably not going to get an answer out of him tonight. Your body jerked as you heard his deep voice say: “I want to come with you.” Grabbing his hand you nodded sleepily against his shoulder. 

“I love you…” you mumbled before you dozed off, leaving Cheol alone and awake in the dark with your words ringing in his ears. 

The next day Cheol still couldn’t get those three words out of his mind. Only for a moment did he think about trying to make up a plan for what you needed to do now that you had decided where you wanted to go. ‘I love you’… the thought of your sleepy voice whispering to him had him cleaning the same spot for at least twenty minutes.

You had said it first, but he didn’t even know if you meant it in the way he felt it. Did you just say it without thinking while half asleep? Were you thinking of someone else? What if you were mad that he hadn’t said it? 

He was freaking out, rubbing harder with the mop on the laminated floors. He was sure that he had messed it all up. Maybe you didn’t want to go anymore. What if you had just followed him thinking it would be a quick trip and ended up with more than you had bargained for? God, why hadn’t he said it back last night? He felt it, so why did he freeze when he heard those three damn words? 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Hey,” Wooyoung stood beside him, looking at the only wet spot on the ground around them. “How’s it going with the floor?” 

Cheol looked down, only now realizing how caught up in his head he had been. “Shit, I’m sorry man.”

“No worries. Something wrong?” Wooyoung said, his hand still on Cheol’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. 

He shook his head, “Just a lot on my mind…”

Wooyoung hummed, nodding understandingly. “Go talk to each other about whatever it is, don’t just stand here doing… I don’t even know what the hell you’re doing, to be honest.” 

Cheol looked at him. He was weirdly intuitive, Cheol thought as he looked at the crooked smile Wooyoung was flashing him. He nodded, “It’s ok for me to go?” 

“Dude, just go! I told you to do so, I decide who cleans the floors and you are definitely not helping me do it, so you’re off floor duty.”

Cheol let go of the mop, his legs quickly moving away from the upper decks and down to the lower ones, towards you. He quickly found you in the kitchen, removing plates from the large dishwasher as the servers stacked the hot plates in tall piles - it looked rather dangerous as he glanced at the piles that towered over him. “Cheol?” You blurted out, surprised to see him here when he wasn’t on duty in the kitchen that day. 

“Hi, I… I wanted to see you, and Wooyong he- he said I could go and I needed to…” he paused, he didn’t actually know what he wanted or what he needed. Or well, he did know, he just didn’t know how to make it happen. 

“Come on, let’s go talk then,” you simply responded, making Cheol look at you in awe. He wondered how it had been so easy for you to say what he had wanted to say all along. You on the other hand were wondering why Cheol stood entranced in the kitchen doorway looking at you as if the words ‘let’s talk’ had been revolutionary. 

“Coming?” 

Cheol nodded and followed you back to the small back room that had been yours for the past few weeks. It was dark, but there was enough light coming in from the hallway and the tiny lamp in the corner of the room to light up the piles of clothes in the other corner, the blanket he put over you every night, and the charger that was plugged into the wall next to where he slept with you in his lap. 

The door closed heavily behind him as you leaned against a wall, wondering what it was that he felt the need to talk about, was it Lumen? “Did you change your mind?” You asked hesitantly. 

“About what?” Cheol looked scared for some reason, you didn’t know why but it made your eyebrows knit together. 

“It’s not about Lumen?” 

“No, no I still wanna go to Lumen! It’s not about that… wait, do you… not want to anymore?” 

You shook your head, “That’s not it!” You hurried to assure him. “I just thought, since that was our last conversation… you know.”

Cheol swallowed, he just needed to say what he felt. 

That was easier said than done though. The words all got jumbled up in his brain, his thoughts making his throat go dry, he just wanted you to know without having to tell you. You couldn’t read his mind, but he wanted you to feel it. He wanted you to feel how much, how deeply he loved you. He took a step towards you, your arms wrapping around him without a second thought. You pulled him close, chuckling at the thought that he had just wanted some kisses. 

His lips pressed against yours and his tongue quickly made its way into your mouth, the movements from his touch making you dizzy and tingly all over. Want was already pooling in your lower stomach. Arousal seeped through your folds, you hadn’t felt Cheol’s touch or mouth on you in so long. It kickstarted your system and had you wet after just a couple of minutes of making out. 

“More please,” you mumbled against his lips. 

Cheol’s hand moved down from your waist, below the gray pants you were wearing today. His large fingers quickly found their way through your folds, your pussy now soaked and leaking as he slipped his hand against your clit. His breath was hot against your face as he let go of your lips so he could hear your whimpers as he circled your clit. 

It felt so good, his rough hands knew exactly what to do as they dipped into your cunt, only teasing you before he went back to press on your sensitive spot. 

You were spreading your legs further apart the longer he teased your clit, you wanted to be filled, you wanted him to push his digits further into your body, you wanted to feel him inside of you as you gushed around his fingers. When he did you moaned out his name, the tension from the past few weeks all dissolving as he fucked you on his fingers. 

A loud knock drew you both out of the moment, and an unsure voice came from behind the door. “Uhm, Cheol? I just wanted to tell you that you’re off for the rest of the day… I got both yours and y/ns shifts covered… so you could talk.”

Cheol cleared his throat, “Yeah, thanks Wooyoung!” he shouted back before pushing his fingers back deep inside your cunt. A moan escaped your lips as he hit the right spot within. 

Wooyoung went silent, “Okay fine! Later then!” 

Cheol didn’t bother to answer, and as Wooyoung left you could hear him talk to himself, “You do something nice for someone and all they do is wave you off so they can get their dick wet, assholes!” 

He would’ve done the same, but none of you would ever argue about it with him. You both laughed for just a second before Cheol kissed you gently yet again, making you forget everything about what had just happened. 

You soon came as he thrust his fingers deeper into you while the palm of his hand pressed on your entire pussy. It was heavenly, a white blur was all you could see, and relief swept through your body. Cheol kept you from falling onto the floor when he put down the leg he had helped hold up. You were holding onto his clothing with a firm grip as you came down from the first high you had felt in too long. Cheol was riding on a high of his own, not because he had been allowed to cum but because you had. He felt just as proud now as he did the first time he had managed to make you have an orgasm, and he let the words come as they wished, “I love you, more than anything in the universe.”

Your eyes fluttered open upon hearing those softly spoken words. The words that turned your world upside down, the words that terrified you, the words you had longed to hear. 

“I love you too,” you said, pressing your forehead against Cheols. 

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Wait what?” You said and pulled away your head to try and see his face, “How… oh!” 

Your hand flew to slap over your mouth as you remembered what you had been thinking last night, remembering how the words had sat right at the tip of your tongue before you let yourself fall asleep last night. “I said it out loud, didn’t I?”

Cheol nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “I hope you meant it because you’re gonna have to spend the rest of eternity with me once we get to our paradise.” 

“Our paradise? You already think Lumen is ours?” You teased. 

“Of course, with my handsome face and your gorgeous everything, how could we not find ourselves in charge?” 

“You’re insane, and I meant it.”

His smile shone even in the darkness and it lit up your heart like the sky on New Year’s Eve. He held you that night just like all other nights, but your mind was calmer than most other ones. You were dragging your fingertips along Cheol’s chest, resting your chin on his pillowy arm. 

“You know what’s funny?” he suddenly asked. 

You looked at him curiously. “What?” 

“My entire life, the people around me tried to convince me that I didn’t have a will of my own - that I didn’t have my own needs that they couldn’t fulfill.”

“...that’s funny?” you asked, shocked at his apparent sense of humor.

Cheol laughed, “No, no, I mean, it’s not really funny… but it’s funny how, as I had begun believing this myself after years of having been told this, it all just collapsed in front of me the moment I picked up the phone and heard this stranger with the most endearing voice ever try to order a pizza from me.”

You stayed quiet, “...again, that’s what you find funny?? I think we need to work on your humor mister.” He laughed more, your giggles joining his after a moment. Living wasn’t easy, but at least he had joined yours, and it was beginning to transform. Nothing was as it had been, and even an unsure future on the run seemed better than the life you had been living so far. At least you had one another now. 

Time moved too fast after that day, the goal of somehow going to Lumen with Cheol made the days on the ship with San and Wooyoung fly past you. Soon you were preparing to land on Specus. San had told you that you could stick with him for a few days before he got back on the ship to make the journey back to Earth. You both accepted, grateful that you didn’t have to figure out where to go by yourselves on this new planet. 

The day you stepped off the ship onto the giant spaceport on Specus you held onto Cheol’s hand, just as you had when you boarded it. Specus was an industrial planet, its main purpose was to mine minerals and metals from deep within the planet. It was visible the second you stepped off the ship that this planet wasn’t like Earth at all. Everything felt like it was a back alley, with pipes, and rust covering every building and vehicle you could see as you followed San through the rundown welcoming hall. There were no shops filled with books or souvenirs, only a ticket shop booth where a robotic arm was visible in the yellowish window. San led you through the hall, not looking at much and saying even less. It was colder here than on Earth. 

“Stop.” San said suddenly, “Look up.” 

Both you and Cheol let your eyes flash up, towards the ceiling, or at least towards what would’ve been the ceiling had there been one. Instead what you both saw was a dark violet sky, not the kind that you had both seen on Earth, but one that looked like it was exploding with tiny stars. “What is that?” You asked as you stood with your neck bent back completely so you could watch the stars moving around above you, faster than any stars you had ever seen before. 

“Specus spins faster.” San explained, “Somehow that ended up meaning it’s always this one color of blue in the sky and the light from the stars in our galaxies all blend to create this kaleidoscope of color and stars.”

“It’s pretty,” you said, tears almost forming in your eyes at your first sight of something other than metal and the darkness of space you had seen in months. You had missed looking up at the sky, you realized, even if it wasn’t the same sky that you had at home. 

Home, where was that? Earth wasn’t your home anymore. Did you not have one anymore? 

Cheol’s hand squeezed around yours and you abandoned the thoughts. They would only hurt you in the end, it was better to focus on the now.

San got you all two rooms at a hostel, the only one on the entire planet it turned out. They didn’t get many visitors except for the few who worked on commuting ships like San, and now you two. It had been so long since you had slept in a real bed that you slept as long as you physically could bear before your stomach was growling at you to get breakfast. San had already retrieved some while Cheol stayed with you, refusing to leave you alone just yet. He didn’t trust the others in the hostel, it seemed, as he continued to be on guard as you both got ready to leave your hostel room. 

That day San took you both on a tour around the town, it was small but busy. Automatons, aliens, and a few humans were wandering around; on their way to work, on their way to their temporary homes, or on their errands for the day. In that sense, it didn’t feel like you were very far away from Earth. But as you glanced up at the violet kaleidoscope sky you were reminded of just how different it all was.  

As the days passed on Specus, you didn’t have a clue of what to do next or how to get to Lumen. San had done everything he could for the both of you, even teaching you some of the most basic routines for checking on Cheol’s health. It hadn’t been an issue you had spent a single thought on, his health being something you took for granted even now. San helped you realize that what you had gotten yourselves into was dangerous not just because of who was after you, but because of who you two were. You needed to know things in case Cheol couldn’t help with telling you what he needed, in case something bad happened. Nobody would be able to help once you were alone. You weren’t handling the realization well. 

Cheol was the one to let you forget about it after you had gotten yourself stressed about what could end up hurting him. He felt guilty about having you worrying about him, and honestly, a little pissed at San for frightening you so much. He knew you needed to learn though, and opted for being your comfort instead. 

He kissed you, gently and lovingly, and he held you close when you couldn’t let the thought of having to use the new skill San had taught you on the man you loved. Seeing the inside of someone in that way had become your new nightmare. Cheol held you each night, shushing you back to sleep if you ever woke up from it. 

Two weeks ended up passing by just like that, nightmares and lessons on Automaton autonomy. You wanted to get off of Specus by the beginning of the third week. It didn’t matter that San and Wooyoung had become your friends, you wanted to leave. The sky was still beautiful but everything around you reminded you of what San had taught you, and you couldn’t think anymore, you didn’t want to think anymore. 

“Let’s find a ship then,” Cheol simply said when you voiced how badly you wished to go somewhere else, to find your paradise sooner rather than later. 

You laughed a bit at that, “Do you really think it’ll be that easy?” 

“Of course, it’ll be easy!” He said with a casual shrug. You flashed him a smile in return for his suddenly carefree attitude. 

“I don’t believe you, but I say we give it a shot!” 

Before you left you said your goodbyes to San, just in case you ended up actually lucking out and finding a ship that was willing to take you both to Lumen. You hugged the mechanic who had helped you both so much during these months. Cheol did the same, with one small difference, he whispered something to San before he pulled away. Something that made San’s face go serious but he nodded in confirmation. What had he agreed on? What had Cheol told him? You tried asking him as you left towards the spaceport but he wouldn’t budge, telling you “You’ll notice if it worked later, I promise.”

The hours passed, and any ship that looked decent had declined you. Every captain had a destination already and none of them had Lumen on the maps. 

You were tired and hungry. Cheol’s chipper attitude was long gone by now and you were both seemingly thinking about giving up for the day. 

“You know what, what if we just steal that ship? If we’re gonna be on one for months or even years we should have a proper one,” you joked and pointed at a large ship by the end of the docks. Cheol looked at the ship, it was larger than the ones you had been asking all day, but not even close to as large as a cargo ship. It was the perfect size for going on a long trip with a few people. 

“Alright,” Cheol said without a hint of sarcasm, which made you look at him surprised. 

“Wait what? You want to steal that ship for real?” You wheezed out. He nodded, a playful smile showing you that he meant to try. 

Fuck it, your mind decided - hunger and the need to leave Specus and all its minerals overtaking your rational mind. You boarded the ship, walking past any guards as if you owned the place. Nobody minded you two, the few people that far out the docks minding their own business. The ship was even more gorgeous inside, modern and so clean you were shocked at how long you had gone since you last saw a floor without mud or rust. 

You walked into the cockpit of the ship. If someone were to arrest you right now you were happy to at least have seen this ship before rotting away in Phylaca forever. The prison planet was the one place you never wanted to see even if you weren’t going there for imprisonment. But going to Lumen was all that mattered, so you would need to steal this ship. 

“I think this will do,” you said and smirked at Cheol. 

“What are you two doing here?” The voice made you both jump, and you both looked towards the exit. A man, rather large in his stature, stood confused and agitated in the doorway. He had just stepped inside the ship, the door behind him still wide open with the ramp that led to the dock right below him. You were in shock one minute and the next you began running. But you weren’t running away from the large man, you ran right towards him. A look of panic flashed across the man’s face and then your body slammed into his. You were sure you were going to fall with him, but you never did. A strong grip holding onto your waist. When you opened your eyes to see if you were dead you saw the man on the ground. He wasn’t moving. People around him looked up from their own business to look at what had happened. Cheol pulled you inside, closing the door as you stared out into the void in front of you. 

Had you killed that man? You ripped yourself from Cheol’s grip and looked out of the tiny window that faced the docks where more and more people were grouping around the man. Was he moving? You wanted to think he was moving. The people around him tried to lift his head, he was bleeding a little, but he was sitting, right? Your mind was a mess. You didn’t know if what you were seeing was real, or if it was your mind playing a terrible trick on you.

You gasped as you saw the docks moving. They were moving away from you just as the man seemed to turn and point at you. “He’s not dead! Cheol I’m not a murderer!!” You shouted.

But Cheol wasn’t there, he wasn’t where you had torn away from his grip anymore. He was by the cockpit, hands frantically trying everything he could to get the ship to do as he wished. The docks hadn’t moved, you realized, the ship had. 

Cheol picked up how to steer the ship rather quickly, even understanding how to use the auto control so he could charge at the same time you slept instead of constantly doing shifts. You were happy about that since it meant you got to spend time together on the ship, your days becoming rather pleasant as you settled into a routine. There was plenty of fuel on the ship, both for the ship itself and for you and Cheol. Electricity was easy to come by and there was a rather large supply of food there as well. You had managed to snatch a ship that had just been restocked - it was hard to accept the amount of luck the two of you had been struck by. 

But the best part of the ship was the fact that nobody else was on it. For the first time in forever, you two were alone. Alone with a bed and each other. There was nothing else to do but to let Cheol fuck you in every way he, or you, wanted. And my god you wanted to - all the time. The day had only just begun on your second week on board the ship and you hadn't had the chance to get dressed yet, breakfast in bed having become the norm as you let the ship steer away from everything, hoping it would lead you to Lumen if you just kept the course San had told you about. You simply steered away from — and hoped for the best. After all, you had better things to do that occupied your mind at the moment. 

Cheol could taste the fruit you had just eaten for breakfast, you tasted like what he imagined summer would if he could consume it. In a way he was. He was drinking in the way you looked underneath him with his eyes, he was licking and kissing every inch of you that he saw, nibbling on your skin, making you moan and beg more and more for each day that he learned his way around your body. 

Never before had you been undisturbed like this for days on end. It was pure bliss. He found out each spot you liked to feel his lips on your skin, each spot where he could make you arch your back off the bed, and each spot on the ship where he could drill into your cunt until your legs gave out and your juices leaked out of you. You made a mess of the large bed that had been meant for someone a lot more powerful than the two of you, but none other than you two would’ve been able to use it to its fullest like you had been while alone on the ship. 

Cheol’s fingers smoothed over your thighs as his hot breath caused shivers to spread from your core, goosebumps prickling your skin in the air of the spaceship. You were grabbing fistfuls of his long hair, his gaze sultry and dripping with lust as his tongue flicked over your clit. He was burying his face in your puffy and glistening folds, reveling in your moans and how your entire body was writhing from his tongue exploring your wet pussy. 

You had been at it for a while, but neither of you were finished, orgasms were still left to be had before you would be able to sleep. 

The way he was making out with your cunt would soon send you over the edge if only the muffled sound of a voice hadn’t found its way through the corridors of the ship to pull you out of your pleasure. 

“What the fuck is that?” You groaned, pushing on Cheol’s head a little as if you would be able to hear the voice clearer the further Cheol was from your cunt. This was true, but not enough of a reason to give up on chasing your orgasm, according to Cheol since he simply attached his lips to you again. 

He hummed, meaning to get you to ignore whatever it was. The voice of a person, clearly in a rush, continued to echo in the large rooms from the cockpit. “Cheol I need to check on that. They sound worried, maybe they’re in danger.” 

“Fucking hell!” He groaned out as you pushed on him again. “How is it possible for us to get interrupted right now?! We’re in the middle of the freaking space for goodness sake!” Cheol shouted, his lips leaving your body and his hands stilled. 

“I’ll fix it. Gimme two seconds,” you said with a giggle. He had taken the words right out of your mouth, it was incredible how you could never have sex without someone interrupting you. 

You rushed to the cockpit, only managing to throw on a simple T-shirt. “Hello?” The voice came screeching out of the sound system in the cockpit. You had never used it before, but with a simple push of a button that blinked in a bright shade of red, you were able to answer the person on the other end. “Hello! Can we help you?” You asked in your friendliest tone. 

“Yes, hello, this is the spacecraft Marquise, 4210-CH378,” the voice stated, “We are on course for —- and have discovered your ship on our monitor. We are on a direct collision course with your ship if nothing is adjusted, and based on our estimation of your ship size we are afraid that any living beings on your ship will be crushed as a result of the impending collision.” 

You were speechless, “I’m sorry? We’re about to crash into you?! And die?!” You shouted the friendly tone you had tried to access now long gone in favor of your pure panicked state. 

“I’ll move our ship! Please don’t crush us!” You shouted as you pressed down on the button, hoping to the stars that your actions were the right ones to do at that moment as you simply smashed buttons at random on the control desk. Anything to make the ship away from the larger ship that was already visible in the far-off distance, a star that seemed to move twice as fast as any regular star could. 

You hadn’t noticed Cheol when he entered the cockpit, only noticing him when you felt a kiss on your shoulder, which then became a row of small warm kisses down your back. A small chuckle came from behind you as your body reacted to him, forgetting what you were doing. 

“If you intend to change the course of your ship, we would prefer it happen before you end up in front of us…” the person on the other side of the intercom reminded you. 

You had forgotten, pushing the red button once again, bending forward as you did, giving Cheol the perfect opportunity to push his face back against your still dripping pussy. 

“I’m so sOrry-” you winced, “I’m having some technical difficulti- ah!” 

“Do you need some assistance?” a voice crackled over the intercom. You needed to get the ship on another course or you would soon be nothing but a bug on the windshield of the much larger ship coming right towards you. Cheol’s tongue on your soaking cunt had you trembling where you stood, bent over the control panel, the ship in sight and your mind working against the impulse to give in to Cheol’s magic touch and ignore all your issues. 

You tried to momentarily pull away from his face, but he had you in his grip and you were too entranced by his grip to properly make the effort to get your heat away from his warm tongue. Instead, you pushed on the lever that you had seen Cheol use only once or twice, unsure of what it did but it was the best option. You pushed it as far as it went, and the ship began turning away from your intended course, and by extension, away from the collision course. 

“Thank you. We wish you good luck on your further travels,” the voice from the larger ship sounded through the intercom once again. “No problem, you too!” you managed to say before turning away from the control panel, Cheol’s grip on you only losing for a second as he took his mouth off of you, only to sit you down in the pilot’s seat. This time you weren’t focused on staying on the course however, instead the chair was turned away from the panels and the vast universes outside the ship, instead, you had a very cocky Seungcheol on his knees in front of you. Your cunt was on display and dripping as you awaited his touch yet again. 

“You seemed to be a little distracted just now,” he chuckled. You scowled, but not for long, your neediness taking control of you once again as you pushed Cheol’s face back to your arousal, which he lapped up with fervor, the stress of the moment gone just as it had come, the incident being largely forgotten by the both of you afterward. 

This was one of the biggest mistakes you could have made on your journey. Forgetting where you were going, forgetting that your newly found safe haven on the ship would only last as long as nothing burst your fragile bubble. 

Days passed, and your waking hours flew past you almost as fast as the space around you did. 

A single blip showed up at the edge of one of the monitors in the cockpit. Blinking bright blue, your spacecraft flew closer with each day. Neither of you paid any attention to it. The both of you relied on the autopilot mode to guide you to Lumen, even if your initial direction was based on nothing more than what San had told you months ago. 

The change of course hadn’t made a difference to your daily routine until you saw the desolate planet in front of you. When you had spotted it one morning in the distance, you had presumed it to be an optical illusion. There wasn’t supposed to be much of anything out here, but you could very clearly see a small planet, darker than the surrounding space, with only the lights of ships to reveal that it was anything other than space junk or a meteor. 

Dark and wet, it lay lonely in the universe. Your fuel had begun emptying after weeks of nonstop flying, you would need to stop at one place or another sometime soon. Changing courses away from the prison planet now would only make suspicion arise from the watchtowers on the planet. There was no denying it: Phylaca would be your next stop.

“We need to put on our best act, we fucked up y/n, let’s make it quick…” Cheol tumbled as you both watched the planet becoming bigger and bigger from the cockpit’s large window. “As long as they don’t find out anything about who we are or why we’re here, everything will be fine,” you agreed, the doubt evident in your voice and the way you were biting your cheek to distract you from the sense of doom you were experiencing. 

Docking at Phylaca’s spaceport was unexpectedly easy, the man who had answered the intercom had welcomed you to land on one of the less crowded docks before they could come to meet you. You had worried they would take you as pirates or something worse since you weren’t authorized to be there, but the man on the speaker had jokingly called you out on “not exactly looking like a pirate ship.” You weren’t sure how you should take that, but you were thankful that it had let you both safely land on the planet. 

A guard was coming closer, he didn’t look like most guards you had seen before, he was rather short and his stature was on the smaller side. His presence, however, was enormous. The way he carried himself made you a bit nervous as he approached. You went out to meet him, hoping it wasn’t all a ploy to get you and Cheol arrested, he stayed behind inside the ship, having been convinced that it would be safer if nobody had seen him on Phylaca at all. San had recognized him as a level 1 automaton, even though most people can’t tell the difference at all, who was to say that nobody else would? 

“Hey,” the man said and reached out a hand, “Welcome to Phylaca, the intergalactic prison.” 

You had to swallow hard to not reveal how nervous that made you. “Hey, me and my crew were hoping that we could stay here for just a little while, just until we can restock on some supplies and fuel. We’ll be out of your hair before you can even count to 10!” You rambled, not much thought going into what you were saying even though your brain was running in circles trying not to say anything stupid. 

His features were sharp, delicate in some way, he stared at you expressionless as he listened. 

“That soon? On the run or something?” He said, the same expressionless eyes staring at you suspiciously. 

Fuck, you had already fucked it all up. You would die in prison and they would probably send Cheol back to earth and he would forget everything and you would be left here all alone for all of eternity! You wanted to cry. The guard must’ve noticed, because as he saw the tears trying their hardest not to fall from your bottom lashes his expression let up, eyebrows knitting worriedly together and he reached out a hand, “No, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” 

The tears fell, and you wiped them off, pulling back from the hand the guard had reached out for you. “I was only kidding, okay? I’m gonna tell you a secret, yeah?” 

Your tears were gone, you mind a huge question mark as the guard you had been speaking to for about two minutes had 1. Made you cry, 2. Guess your life’s story in two seconds, and 3. Wants to tell you a secret so you won’t cry?? 

Who was this man? 

“You’re not the first person who has ended up here while on the run, and I’ll help if you are! That’s my secret…” he whispered, looking at you with a curious eye. Was he waiting for you to respond to him disclosing what was most likely highly restricted information to you just because you were tired and scared?

“Uhm…” you were speechless, “I’m y/n, I’d love help…” 

“Oh wow, okay that was much easier than it usually is. Hi y/n, I’m Hongjoong,” he gave you a gentle smile now, somehow reassuring you that you would be okay, even if you had just been offered illegal help from what you figured was basically a corrupt guard. 

“What? He just agreed to help us? A Phylaca guard agreed to restock our storage and fuel tank. Just like that?” Cheol was in disbelief, you nodded with big eyes, barely believing it yourself. 

“I mean, it’s possible that he only said he would because I was crying and he wanted some time to get more guards to come and arrest us… but he seemed very nice!” 

He was in shock, and he was scared, you could see it in his face before he hid it in his hands, rubbing away the worries as much as possible. 

“He… did he not want anything in return?” He finally asked. You were silent for a moment. “Y/n. What did he ask you to do in return for this huge favor?” 

His voice was stern, and you would need to tell him eventually anyhow. 

“…he wants us to help one of his acquaintances get off of Phylaca…” you mumbled, a bit scared of how he would react to you agreeing to host strangers on your ship. 

“You invited refugees from a prison to our ship?” 

“…I did.”

He stared at you, his expression hard to read. 

“Can we run before they get here?” 

“I don’t think we should…”

“…Fine, let’s wait for them, whoever they are. But if it turns out they’re literal murderers or something, we should kick them off sooner rather than later,” he said before standing up. You were standing by the door, not having gotten much further into the room created for the kitchen staff on the ship, the room that you had deemed safe enough for Cheol to stay in while you went outside to meet Hongjoong. 

He walked to you, taking your face in his hands, “Thank you for coming back safely, even if this deal might get us killed in the end.” 

You chuckled but was interrupted when Cheol leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

The ship was ready to lift, but the docks were even emptier than you had seen them during the entire time you had been on Phylaca. Hongjoong hadn’t talked to you much since that first day. He had sent notes along with the supplies he had sent over. It was terrifying each time a delivery was made, you never knew if this was the day you would be found out and arrested. But Hongjoong had turned out to be trustworthy, and you had kept your own promise of staying to help out his acquaintances in need too, at least so far. 

“They haven’t shown yet?” Cheol asked when he came back to the cockpit where you sat, prepared to lift the moment your new passengers were on the ship. 

“Nope, Hongjoong said that they would show up about now… should we leave if they don’t come?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they will come after us if we leave…we don’t know how much we should trust that guard if we break our deal.” 

He was right, you needed to wait; you needed to keep your promise to make it off Phylaca safely. If you had done all this just to get arrested while leaving the planet, it would’ve all been in vain. 

You waited, the silence of the empty-looking planet feeling increasingly eerie. 

Then you spotted them, you gasped, they were running. Two people were running towards you. You couldn’t see them clearly, they were too far away at first. You recognized the jacket on one of them, it belonged to the guard on Phylaca. The other person was seemingly wearing matching clothes. Were they criminals? What had you gotten yourselves into? 

You didn’t call for Cheol to come look, but he noticed the way you tensed up as you saw them coming closer and the way your breath hitched in your throat when you finally saw them. You recognized one of them from the big plasma screens. His face had been everywhere. Even though you hadn’t been looking much at any of the members standing beside the man you had found out was the idol you were talking to in secret, you could recall his face lit up with the cold blue lights in the evening. He was one of the 53V3NT33N members. D1N0. One of the members Cheol had been forced to leave behind when he ran. He was here, on Phylaca. 

Cheol stood frozen beside you. They stopped just a couple hundred feet away, the other person blocking the view of D1N0’s face. Something was happening, you didn’t know what, but when you saw the guards you didn’t even care anymore. You weren’t going to get caught here, not like this. D1N0 had stayed behind. He pushed the other person forward, and simply watched as they ran toward the ship. They ran away from him, away from the guards, and towards you and Cheol. 

They were the acquaintances Hongjoong had spoken of, they were supposed to leave with you. Both of them. But only one of them got on board. Cheol was still frozen, you weren’t sure if he was even there anymore. You couldn’t wait. The stranger that had run on board was safe. 

You left the docks, hearing a faint, “No!” You knew it was Cheol, but the instinct to get you all to safety was greater than his shouts for you to turn back. He could’ve overpowered you and made you go back, but he didn’t even think that far. He ran to the doors that would’ve led him outside. A large bang echoed through the metal hallways of the spacecraft along with a pained sob. You didn’t know if it came from Cheol or your new passenger.

But there was nothing to step onto, only space. The view of D1N0 was soon lost, you didn’t want any of you to see what would happen to him as he stayed on Phylaca. 

You didn’t want to know what you had done as you left without him. 

Cheol was quiet. So quiet. 

He said nothing, he barely looked at you. It felt like a stab in the back each time he looked away from you when you even looked his way or opened your mouth. 

The bang had come from Cheol making a dent in the interior of the ship, wrecking his hand in the meantime. You had looked at his broken hand in horror, the sight of his skin cracked but without a single drop of blood or bone showing made you queasy. 

The stillness of the ship continued for days. Your new passenger having shut themselves away from the both of you, it was different than Cheol, but the silence was crushing anyhow. There was nowhere to go, you were stuck right there, in the middle of the universe. 

You used everything San had taught you back at Specus to help heal Cheol’s hand. With bandages and thread, you sewed and patched his cracked skin over the mechanical workings of his broken self. It didn’t help him deal with his real pain though, you knew that. 

You couldn’t understand either of their pain completely, but you tried. He didn’t want you to try. He was hurt and he wanted you to feel as alone as he did, you knew he just didn’t want to be completely alone in his pain. So you let him stay as he was: quiet and angry. 

He didn’t touch you anymore. He didn’t talk to you. He didn’t even care to respond to a single question you asked for over a week. You cried yourself to sleep each night, and did your best to create a new daily routine now that everything had changed into this still place of pain and dark glances thrown your way. 

You had begun blaming yourself, you had made the choice, maybe you did deserve to be shut out by everyone. 

You waited for days for him to take the first step, to tell you that he was ready to talk about it all, to tell you that he wasn’t mad about the choice you had made. He never did. He didn’t say a word. The solitude continues for all three of you on your lonely spacecraft on your way to a planet that didn’t exist…

It continued until you felt yourself going mad, the days had melted together in a bad way, the only emotion you had felt was gray and sticky and you hated it. You had begun hating yourself because of it. 

“Cheol.” Was all you said to him, startling him where he sat staring into space from the cockpit. You stood a couple steps away from him, closer to the door than to the man who seemed like a shell of who he had been before Phylaca. 

At first, he only responded with silence, but after a moment words formed. “Do you know why I had the phone you called in the first place?”

His voice sounded raspy and repressed as if he was choking on the syllables. You shook your head in response. He didn’t see you, but he continued. 

“I convinced the management that I needed a phone that wasn’t connected to the network so that in case anything bad happened to me or the members, I would be able to contact help even when our communication devices didn’t work.” 

His voice wasn’t more than a choked whisper. The words still felt like a slap to the face. 

“Everything I have ever said, done, and felt has always been meant to help my members, they’re my family. Instead, I used what I had gained in the name of helping them, to ruin everything. I did it all for my own selfish desires. Can you understand how much shame and guilt is crushing me every day? Every minute I spend away from them. Not even knowing if they’re okay.”

You had nothing to say. What could you say? Could any of your words comfort him at all? Could you make him the slightest bit happier right now? Could you ever manage to keep him happy? Distracting him from all the disasters of the universe wasn’t possible, so what could you do? 

Instead, you continued to say nothing. Your body fell back against the cold metal wall behind you. You couldn’t say a single word to help him, but you could let him say all the words he needed to say to help himself. 

He stayed quiet for a while. Your shuffling as you slid down to the floor against the wall told him you were still there. His figure slumped back against the chair he sat in. 

“I just, I can’t believe I actually left them all to fucking deal with all of this by themselves. I don’t even know if they made it out alive.” He began, voice still strained as he tried to hide everything that wished to rip him apart from within. “I was supposed to be there for them, to be their leader who stood by them no matter what. And you know what, I took pride in that, I was so proud to be the one to support those guys even in the situation we were in.”

You stayed quiet. Quiet tears streamed down your face as you listened. 

“How could I just leave? What? Because I was scared of forgetting this? I could’ve stayed, I could’ve figured something out.” He was beginning to sound angry now.

“Cheol, no. You know you couldn’t have. This was the only way… wasn’t it?” You whispered, the tears clouding your eyes as you watched the back of his head. 

“I- I don’t know anymore y/n. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly at all, maybe I was actually sick like they said…” he sighed. 

Your heart was in your throat, swallowing hard you decided to say your peace as well. “So… because you loved someone- no, because you loved me, you’re gonna blame yourself for everything that has happened? That feels like you’re actually blaming me, you know?”

This made him turn around. His features were tired and his skin was dull. He hadn’t been taking care of himself at all. 

“Y/n, stop it. You know this isn’t your fault.” He mumbled. Tired eyes looking at your tear-stained face. 

“No, maybe it is. You would’ve never broken the rules, they would’ve never found out and you would’ve never been almost rebooted. And most importantly - if you had never loved me you wouldn’t have had to abandon your family.”

“Please, just stop that y/n.” He groaned and let his head fall back, eyes closed, he was in pain. You didn’t know if it was physical or mental. Nevertheless, you wanted him to listen as well. You were in pain too. 

“What? Am I making you feel bad for thinking it’s me that’s the problem and not the goddamn company that put you through it all from the start? Am I making you feel like you’re making me feel with all of your talk of how ashamed you feel that you left that life behind? Because I know, I remember how out of everything horrible in your life back then, those boys were the only thing that made you happy while you were there… So please, stop beating yourself up, Cheol. The past has already happened, we managed to get out right? What makes you think the others weren’t as lucky as we were?”

He stayed quiet for a while. His silence made your heart drop. You needed to ask him straight up. 

“Do you blame me? Do you hate me?” Your voice wasn’t more than a whisper, but he heard you. It was impossible for him not to. 

“I-” he tried, but his voice broke. The tears welled in your eyes. You wanted to fight for what you two had, but if he blamed you… whatever you had might be too far from saving. 

“It’s okay. I understand.” 

You forced yourself to say it, you couldn’t walk away from him. Even if he hated you, you refused to be the one to leave. 

“It’s not that I hate you, I just hate how it hurts. Because it really fucking hurts. I’m in pain every single second and I don’t know how to make it stop.” His voice was breaking as tears streamed down his face. “But, I… I can’t lose you too.”

You placed the back of your hand over your mouth, trying to somehow hold back the pain that wanted to consume you from the inside. 

“We should’ve tried saving Dino…” 

You got up from your corner, your arms finally letting your legs go, replacing your own arms around your body with Cheol’s. He hugged you. Tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was relieving to say it. He had been in a shame spiral for the past few weeks. He just hadn’t noticed. Still, you stayed with him, waited for him, listened to him. He wanted to repay you for all of it. 

Weeks passed yet again. Things got better, slowly but surely. You talked to each other. You were beginning to forgive each other for those weeks after Phylaca. It wasn’t easy. 

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, sleep, and repeat. Small conversations, still trying not to start up another fight. It was exhausting. 

The stranger still wasn’t speaking much, too wrapped up in their own mind to be able to share the pain they kept inside. Not that either of you were sharing your struggles with them anyhow. It was a mutual understanding that all three of you needed some space, even as you were trapped together in space. Galaxies passed you by, and you found yourself passing time by watching the tiny lights fly past the large windows from the cockpit.  

Sometimes, Cheol sat with you. Holding your hand, comforting you without words just like he had been that day when this had all begun. That helped. It helped both of you; knowing that neither of you actually wanted to abandon what you had, even after everything. 

When something finally showed up in front of your ship, only a small planet, not much bigger than the moon of the earth, you didn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up. 

After so many months, this was probably only another uninhabited planet with a poisonous atmosphere. 

“I don’t wanna get your hopes up, Cheol, but this planet looks so much like earth…” you shouted to Cheol who was trying to get your guest to eat some of the lunch from earlier, with very little success. 

If this was Lumen, maybe everything would be okay.

Maybe the void of space you had been traveling through had an end after all, despite the overwhelming feeling of being trapped and that you would all end up wasting away inside the ship on your long journey. 

But if this was it…

You let the ship continue straight ahead. Cheol and your guest joined you in the cockpit after hearing your shouts across the deck. 

All three of you watched as the planet became bigger. You could see water, and green patches everywhere. Clouds! There were clouds and an atmosphere surrounding the small planet. 

You had gone off autopilot, Cheol helping you steer the ship toward the planet. You circled it, trying to draw attention to yourselves through the intercom system. No sign of life was heard until a small voice came through, a child. “Hello! Are you aliens??” The child asked over the crackling of the coms. 

You wanted to shout, there was life here! 

“Hello? We’re outside of your airspace, our registration is BO883628K, and we are requesting permission to land!” You shouted back. 

“What are you doing?!” Another voice could be heard, the small child squealed and the crackling disappeared. You were scared the last shot at landing somewhere had been lost forever, but the other voice came back after just a moment. 

“Hey? Who is this?” 

Your body was tense, nerves firing uncontrollably as you explained your errand yet again. 

“Of course, welcome to Lumen, wanderers.” 

You yelped, “Lumen?! We found it?” You were jumping up and down, laughing and shouting as you felt all your worries leaving your body. Your new home was right below you, welcoming you with a warm embrace and new hope.

“Yes, you found it,” the voice crackled, you could hear them chuckling a bit at your excited yelling. “There are bigger docks located northeast of your current location, go there to land safely.”

You found a house, outside one of the small towns near the docks. You had nothing to give in return for the hospitality the diverse population of Lumen offered you, Cheol, and your newest passenger. 

They didn’t care, they told you that most of the people there had already been through the same suffering that you all had. Anyone who made it to Lumen was treated like family, nobody was to be left empty-handed just because they were strangers to the people. 

“Is this really here? Am I dead or asleep or something?” You said in wonder, grasping at Seungcheol’s arm. You stood in your new kitchen, it was simple, but airy. The view from the kitchen showed the sunny forest lying just behind the garden and the porch. 

“If you’re dreaming I’m dreaming with you.” He laughed hysterically. “But I think it might be real…” 

You jumped into Cheol’s embrace, hugging and kissing him like the past few weeks had all been a bad dream, like this was your true reality and everything bad could be forgotten completely. 

He seemed happy as well, looking around the large house with you, coming up with ways you could improve the place, and how you could make the vegetable garden prosper once again. It was overgrown and run down, everything had been left to its own devices. But it was vacant, and the townspeople had agreed that you two would be wonderful as the new owners of the house. It was a short forest walk back to the town, where you had parted from your quiet passenger, telling them that they were welcome any day and that you would always have a spare room and a shoulder to cry on. It made Cheol happy, somehow trying to make up for the fact that you had lost D1N0 on Phylaca through this person that he must’ve cared about more than his own life. 

“Do you think they will be able to find their way here too? The members, I mean. Like we did?” You whispered, resting your head on Cheol’s shoulder, your hand in his. You watched the dark green leaves swaying in the summer breeze, the flowers following the sun that shone more than it was gone, and the grass on the ground scenting the air you breathed in. 

“I hope so, I think they will know eventually.”

“Know what?” You said and looked at him. 

“That we’re here.”

You tilted your head. “How would they know to find us here of all places?” 

“Remember the secret I had with San on the first ship?” He said and smiled, embarrassed about something. 

You nodded. Not quite understanding what he meant yet. 

“I told him to tell anyone he met that might be related to us. Actually, I told him to let anyone like us know that if we got here, we would offer a home for them to rest at.”

Tears welled in your eyes, he had been thinking of everyone else this entire time. Not once had he let himself be entirely selfish, you squeezed his hand, bringing it up to your lips and pressing a thankful kiss to his soft skin. 

“I think they will come, eventually.” 

The years passed on Lumen. You and Cheol had made a home for yourselves. A home that would be open for any runaways, robot, alien, and human alike. It was safe, happy, and hopeful because one day everything might be absolutely perfect in your new home. 

The spare rooms of your new house would exist for them if they could ever get to their leader. The thought helped him continue, to live life to the fullest until they could join him. It comforted you as well, knowing that he had some hope left and that maybe he could let go of some of the guilt you knew he carried with him each day, and instead let himself be proud of something once again. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [7] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: attempted assault, abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11.2k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 6 >> Part 7 >> Part 8

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Beomgyu doesn’t know how he got home. One moment he’s flying out of the ballroom, the next he’s bursting into his room, his entire body trembling. He doesn’t know what time it is. He doesn’t know when he left. He doesn’t even know why he left.

Why did he leave?

Short images burst through his memory. Lord Cho’s smirk. Your hand in his. The music of the waltz, your body pressed to his, warmth filling his chest with your body so close to his—so much so that he couldn’t help but look at your lips, perfect and kissable in the bright candlelight of the room. He remembers that initial jealousy at Lord Cho melting into something else as you spun in and out of his arms, something so light and heavy all at once, so warm and soft and expanding through his heart that as you curtsied and he bowed and he looked at you again, for a moment—

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in love. 

For one blissful, beautiful moment, he basked in that thought, that feeling. He saw you, your hand still connected to his as you came up from your curtsy, and it looked like you were shining. Sparkling. Glowing with some sort of ethereal light, your eyes brighter than the chandeliers, your smile incredibly warm, like someone’s arms wrapped around him.

And then he panicked. 

Because—Beomgyu doesn’t know love. He doesn’t know if he’s in love with you. And hell, if he is, he doesn’t know if you love him back. And in that moment, as all of these thoughts began racing through his skull one after another nonstop, he couldn’t think. He could barely breathe beyond the knowledge that he just danced a waltz with you without asking if you had permission in front of the entire ton, and he might be in love with you.

He ran, then. Fled, leaving you behind. And now he’s back at home, alone in his room as the hours slowly tick away, and he may not know if he loves you or if you love him but he does know that there is going to be a scandal and it will be all his fault. All of it. The next issue of Whistledown comes out in a day and Beomgyu just knows there will be a paragraph or more ascribed to this ball. She won’t mock you, not directly. That is not Lady Whistledown’s way. She will ask questions instead. Why you danced the waltz that night when you have never done so in three seasons and counting. Why he was the one you decided to dance with. Speculations over just how committed a suitor he is to have asked you to waltz, then abandoned you on the dance floor afterward—

Speculations on just how you wooed his attentions so, and on his apparent luckiness at having realized your possible seduction before it was too late for him. 

Beomgyu feels nauseous just thinking about it. Because for all the veracity of many of her stories, that narrative is completely wrong. You never seduced him—obviously. You are not the kind of person to do that and never have been—he would never have accused you of such a thing even when he hated you. You never seduced him. You never even encouraged his attentions, really, beyond the stipulations you made as part of the deal. Of course after you were friends, perhaps your relationship was more genuine, but even after the kiss…

You never mentioned it again, even when he could tell very well that you were thinking of it. 

No, it’s all his fault. He asked you to waltz without realizing the next dance was so scandalous. He continued to dance with you even when the music made it clear what he was doing. He kept you close, let you trust him as the dance began, but when he realized…when he realized he might really love you…

He disappeared. As good as left you at the altar, or worse.

It’s almost laughable, how stupid he was. The only bit of luck he can salvage from this is that it was incredibly lucky you had permission from the hostess to participate in the dance, just as you said, or your reputation would have fallen even further than it is now, but what does it matter when this scandal will surely be all society talks of for the next months, or maybe even years? He still left you to deal with the aftermath of this scandal alone. And what for? Because he loved you?

The thought draws him up short. He loved you. Loves you.

He loves you—

It’s the same thought that sent him running off into the crowd. The idea that he might really care for you so deeply, to crave your presence so much, enough to dance a waltz with you without being a real suitor—even now he can feel his heart rate spiking at the mere idea of it. But running away the first time got him nowhere. 

God, his heart is beating way too quickly right now. 

Beomgyu heaves a shaky breath and forces himself to think, to try and sort through the facts. He doesn’t know if he loves you. But there are some things he does know. Like that he enjoys your presence. That he likes talking to you, bickering and bantering and verbal sparring. He appreciates your wit and intelligence, and he loves to see you smile. Were it not for your lack of dowry and your penchant for arguing with him in public, between your beauty and brains, he might even say you’d have rivaled Yeonjun’s wife for the title of diamond in your first season. 

But beyond that, you are just…a good person. Kind, brave, devoted, and determined to make your own way. Beomgyu remembers the special soft smile you reserve specifically for Delia, the care with which you held the duchess’s child when you two met, and he remembers when he decided you couldn’t be the hateful spitfire he always thought you were—because no one who loves children so much as you do could be truly evil. 

Was that when he started to fall in love with you?

Beomgyu pinches himself hard and tries not to think that again. He still doesn’t even know if he loves you. He shouldn’t be thinking such things, not when he still doesn’t have the facts straight. Like the facts that you are wonderful, that you are sweet, that he really wants to kiss you again…

That he really regrets leaving you alone on the dance floor, and curses his cowardice for not being able to face the realization then that he might truly love you. 

No. It isn’t just might. Might is a word for uncertainty and while his brain cries that he doesn’t know, that he may never know, that word is sounding more and more like a cowardly out with every second that passes. Beomgyu swallows hard. He does love you. Loves every part of you, and wants to be with you every minute from now. 

And he’s ruined that. 

Beomgyu buries his face in his hands. He’s an idiot. A damned fucking idiot. A stupid, lovestruck, panicked, destructive idiot who ruined everything because he couldn’t face his damn feelings. He has to apologize but he can’t face himself again, let alone face you. And who knows if you would even want to see him after what he did to you?

He’s so trapped in his head that when a knock sounds at his door, he barely hears it. He almost dismisses it as a figment of his imagination—and honestly, in his state, it isn’t impossible—but then the knock comes again and his stomach drops. 

It’s Soobin. 

Sure enough, his brother doesn’t even wait for a response before opening the door. Faint candlelight glows from the lantern he’s holding, throwing far too much light into the room for Beomgyu’s liking. “You don’t look particularly well,” Soobin says, voice carefully neutral.

Beomgyu’s hackles rise almost immediately. “Leave,” he snaps.

“No,” Soobin says simply, closing the door. “My typically level-headed younger brother just ran away from the woman he was courting at a ball after dancing a waltz with her, and my wife might be after his blood.” Beomgyu stiffens as his brother sits down on the bed next to him. “Unfortunately, I know my brother quite well, and I know that he has always been a gentleman except when it comes to bothering me and the rest of our family, so I am willing to hear him out before I allow my wife to pull out his teeth one by one.”

To anyone else, Soobin’s threat might sound like a joke. Beomgyu knows otherwise, though. His sister in law is very protective of her friends, and Soobin is very willing to cave to his wife’s reasonable demands. He doesn’t blame either of them. He half wants to tear himself to pieces anyway. 

“So tell me.” Soobin’s voice takes on a softer note, a tone he only brings out around Beomgyu. He used to hate it when he was a child—he always thought Soobin was trying to patronize him, trying to be condescending older brother during those moments Beomgyu messed up nearly irreparably—but now it drains all of the residual anger out of him, leaving him with no defense left. “What happened? I know it was not nothing.”

Beomgyu chews over his words in his head, slowly, slowly. Soobin waits for him in silence, giving him all the time to think. 

“It was a mistake.”

Soobin raises an eyebrow and Beomgyu immediately wants to slap himself. All that time to think and he still said the worst thing possible. “Dancing with Miss L/N was a mistake?” Soobin asks, his mild tone dangerous. 

“No.” Beomgyu shakes his head wildly. “At least—not in that way. I should not have waltzed with her.” He swallows. “That was my folly. But I never regretted dancing with her.”

“You never regretted being with her.”

Beomgyu takes a deep breath. “…No.”

“So why did you run away so suddenly?”

He feels short of breath. Words aren’t coming to him and neither is air, and is it just him or is the room spinning? “I—” he manages to get out, but then stops. He can’t think. Surely he’ll be able to when the room rights itself. 

Soobin waits patiently as Beomgyu collects himself. When the room finally stops still, he swallows hard, looking at his lap. “I think I am in love with Miss L/N.”

For several long moments, Soobin says nothing, just looks at Beomgyu while he doesn’t look back. Then he snorts. “Congratulations,” he says, deadpan. “You are officially the last person to know.”

Beomgyu jerks his head up. “What?”

“Now I know why you found me so insufferable when I was mooning over my wife.” Soobin shakes his head in mock disgust, though a smile plays on his lips. “It was at least as insufferable or more, watching you try to come to terms with your feelings over the past weeks. I honestly thought you’d have figured it out by now.” He sighs as Beomgyu just gapes. “Idiot.”

“But I—what—” The room is threatening to start spinning again. “How did you know?”

Soobin looks at him, incredulous. “It was so obvious, Beomgyu. A better question might be how didn’t you know?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth. Then he remembers all of his thoughts from his breakdown just a few minutes ago, and he closes it. “…Fair.”

“Despite this, I understand.” Soobin grins a little sheepishly. “Did I not drive you to no end of madness when I was in denial over my wife?”

Beomgyu wants to laugh, but a more embarrassing fact stares him straight in the face. “Yes, but you didn’t cause nearly as much destruction as I have right now.”

“True, and not true.” Soobin sighs. “I hurt my wife by thinking I knew what was best for her during her season. You warned me then, didn’t you? That if I kept smothering her, then I would lose her. And I almost did.” He pauses. “But I didn’t.”

“But—”

“Why did you run out today?” Soobin interrupts. “It could not just be because you were in love with Miss L/N.”

“Not exactly.” Beomgyu stares at his lap. “I realized it then and I suppose I…choked. Metaphorically.” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite work. “I couldn’t believe it. That I had fallen for her so quickly and so deeply—we were at each other’s throats just months ago! I hated her, she vexed me and I know I vexed her at least as much, but then we made that deal—”

“What deal?”

Shit. 

Soobin doesn’t know that the courtship was fake. 

Beomgyu swallows hard. “I wasn’t really courting her,” he says quietly, carefully not looking at his brother. “But at the beginning of the season, at Lady Park’s ball…”

Soobin sits silently as Beomgyu tries to explain the deal you two had made in as few words as he can. He feels Soobin’s gaze grow more and more judgmental with every word that falls from his lips but he forces himself on. This is his punishment. The ton’s gossip, your ire, and his brother’s judgment. The holy trinity.

When he finishes, Soobin stays quiet a moment longer. “And in the process of all of this, you fell in love,” he finally says. His tone couldn’t be dryer. 

Beomgyu nods meekly.

Soobin sighs. “If it helps, I think she’s in love with you, too.”

It’s Beomgyu’s turn to gape as Soobin smirks. “I will admit, you two had me fooled from the beginning. I believed your courtship. But if you had told me then that you were in love, I never would have believed that. I know what people in love look like. And perhaps it is just easier for one to see it on others more than on oneself, but I see it in you, and I see it in her.” 

“Well, fat lot of good that does me, since I’ve ruined everything that might have been.” Beomgyu swallows. “I just—I was waltzing with her, and everything started fitting into place but I was so scared of how much I loved her that I just...”

“You ran away.” Soobin nods as Beomgyu sits there, miserable. “But, Beomgyu…such a mistake is not the end of the world. Not yet.”

“But—”

“I am not saying that what you did wasn’t wrong,” Soobin continues, cutting cleanly through whatever Beomgyu might have said. “It was, and it was a mistake that you will have to rectify. But you can try to rectify it. You must.” He gazes at Beomgyu, and for all Beomgyu loves pretending he is on equal ground with his older brother, right now he feels the weight of several years of experience entering the air between them. Unlike other times, though, he now welcomes it. “You must apologize, no matter what. It is up to her if she accepts it, and she may not…but she also might.” 

For the first time since he ran out of the ballroom, Beomgyu feels a stirring of warmth in his chest, a prickle of hope. Yes. He must speak to you. He must apologize. He will hear whatever you have to say in response, and even if you say you never wish to see him again…he will take it. He must. Because he will make his apology because it is the right thing to do—not just for the hope of forgiveness. 

But maybe you will hear him out. And maybe, just maybe, you will accept it. 

Maybe. 

He’s halfway to the door when Soobin says his name. 

“Beomgyu?”

He turns around to see Soobin looking back, amused. “Perhaps not at this hour.”

Beomgyu flushes. “…Right.”

. . . 

The next morning, Beomgyu shows up at your home at the proper calling hour. When the door opens, he takes a deep breath to announce himself, but the butler speaks before he can. 

You won’t see him. 

That, or your stepmother isn’t allowing you to accept calls, which unfortunately would probably be the right thing to do in this situation. Beomgyu prays that it is the second reason and not simply that you refuse to allow him in, which he would completely understand, but…he still needs to try. 

He calls five days in a row, all to the same bland response that you are not taking calls. After almost a week of no luck his sister in law tries for him, and is rebuffed the same way. The ton must be talking up a storm at the fact that two members of the Choi residence—not to mention one of them being the man who left you alone at the ball—have tried to visit you over the course of just a week, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. If you tell him never to return he will stop, but until he hears those words, he will keep coming day after day, no matter what he needs to do. 

A week later, Beomgyu stands in front of your residence, ready to hear refusal once more. But when the door swings open, though your butler stands there with much the same pinched expression that he’s worn every time Beomgyu has seen him, the rejection doesn’t immediately roll off his tongue. “You don’t let up, do you?” he asks instead. 

Beomgyu blinks. It was clearly a rhetorical question, but he still feels tongue-tied even though the butler clearly expects no response. “Wait here,” he says, gesturing to just inside the hall. When Beomgyu steps inside, the butler shuts the door with an ominous thud, and stalks off into the home. 

Well, this isn’t quite usual. In fact, this whole exchange has been rather rude. A butler should not speak to a man of Beomgyu’s title with such disdain, nor should he be kept waiting in the hallway—at the very least, in any other home, he would have been shown to the drawing room. Beomgyu won’t complain, though. He gets the feeling that the staff here are very loyal to you, and as he was the one who hurt you…he can’t quite blame them for viewing him with hostility. And at any rate, this is much better than having the door shut in his face again. 

Beomgyu waits in the hallway for what feels like hours, shifting from one foot to another in a manner most ungentlemanly, until footsteps sound in a nearby room. He stiffens and his heart, which had previously been deceptively calm, immediately begins to race. Holding his breath, Beomgyu watches the end of the hallway as a shadow finally comes rounding in. 

You take several steps and stop a healthy distance away from him. Even across all that space, though, the chill emanating from your expression hits him like a gust of icy wind to the face. You aren’t dressed to formally receive visitors, rather just wearing a plain day dress that has clearly seen some wear, and gloves cover your hands. The old ones you used to wear day in and day out. Not the ones he gifted you. 

“Mr. Choi,” you say, icy. “What are you doing here?”

He swallows hard. Your message is clear. He hadn’t been feeling particularly confident about this before, but now all of his remaining bravado drains out of him and into the cold floor. “Miss L/N,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “I…I’m sorry. I wanted to apologize.”

For a moment, you remain silent. And then you laugh. 

The sound chills Beomgyu’s blood. High and mocking, it completely eviscerates any and all hope he might have had of you deigning to hear him out. He can only watch, sick to the core, as you advance several steps toward him, your shoes clicking threateningly on the floor. 

“What exactly, Mr. Choi, did you think an apology would do for me?” you ask. Your expression remains deceptively calm but venom pulses in your eyes. “Would it rescue my trust in you? Would it save my reputation?” Your face twists into a snarl and Beomgyu nearly takes a step back. “No. It doesn’t do a damn thing.” 

Shame roots him in place, but you don’t notice or care as you stare at him, unflinching. “How dare you!” you hiss, jabbing a finger at him. “How dare you come into my home after you left me alone at that ball after having asked me to waltz? And don’t you dare try to pin it on me—you could have stopped dancing anytime. Even if you hadn’t remembered it would be a waltz, you could have led me off the dance floor when the music began and I wouldn’t have cared! But you kept dancing and so I trusted that you knew what this was, what it meant—and you broke that trust!” You’re yelling now. Beomgyu feels like he might throw up. “I trusted you from the start, even though I hated you! I trusted you with this deal. I trusted you with the courtship. I trusted you even when you said to be wary of Lord Cho—but as it turns out, I should have been wary of you instead.” You laugh again, that terrible mocking sound curdling in his ears. “For all I always hated you, I never once doubted your honor. I always thought you honorable.” You scoff, finally looking away, and that’s what shames Beomgyu the most. You can’t even look him in the face as you deliver this tirade, he’s hurt you so much. “But perhaps you are only honorable when it is convenient for you.”

Anger flares in Beomgyu’s chest when you say that, but it quickly dies down when he realizes your words are truth. He has always taken pride in his honor. He had never done a thing to compromise another person. But now, when it mattered most…he compromised you. All because he couldn’t handle his own feelings. 

He feels so stupid. How could he even begin to apologize to you? He ruined everything for you—your reputation, your prospects, your future. You’re right. Absolutely right. 

He has no place here, in front of you, attempting to fix something he shattered beyond salvaging. 

“I am sorry,” Beomgyu says quietly, stepping back. “I am—so incredibly sorry. I should not be here.” He swallows hard. “I am not welcome, and I understand. I have hurt you beyond repair and I can never atone for this.”

You still won’t look at him. “Get out,” you say roughly. “Get out of my home.” You take a deep breath. “I do not wish to see you again.”

Beomgyu swallows. “As you wish, my lady.” 

With that, he turns and walks out of the door. And as the carriage pulls away and the tears finally begin to roll down his face, Beomgyu resolves that you will never lay eyes on him again, even if it means he has to hide in public at every turn. He broke your deal. He broke your trust. 

It’s the least he can do, to not break this promise, too. 

. . . . .

You really shouldn’t be here. 

It is true that you received an invite, but it is also true that you have been declining all of your recent invites—or rather, your stepmother has been doing that for you. The hope is that in your absence, the gossip about you and Beomgyu will die down so that by the time you finally return to society, the whispers that come up won’t be much at all. 

You have about as much faith in this plan as you do in the notion that your stepmother secretly loves you.

It was fine, though. You didn’t have much desire to see anyone anyway. Your brief conversation—if it can even be called that—with Beomgyu left you drained and exhausted for far longer than you expected, and beyond that, you haven’t the courage yet to face the ton’s whispers head on. You really, really didn’t wish to risk the chance that you might see him in public either.

But then Lord Cho came to call on your mother, bearing this invite, and somehow he managed to convince her not only to let him in, but also to accompany you to the ball. 

You have an idea of what he said. It might have to do with something like a question he wishes to ask you and a possible ring he plans to put on your finger. Unbelievable, really—why would he want to marry you, especially now? You have even less to offer than you did before. You can’t fathom his reasoning at all. But it must be true, because in the carriage your stepmother looked at you and said, “Do not do anything this evening to spoil things for yourself.” 

There was enough loaded meaning in that statement for you to make your own inferences. 

So here you are, now, walking as quietly as you can, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you trail behind your stepmother towards the entrance of the Jung home. You wonder not for the first time why Lord Cho had to propose in such a public setting—could he not just have spoken to you at home?—but you cut the thought off as he materializes in front of you, that wide, charming smile broadening across his face. “Miss L/N,” he says, bowing as you curtsy. He kisses your hand gently. “I cannot express my delight to see you tonight.”

You let out a breathy laugh. Help. “It is lovely to see you as well, Lord Cho. My stepmother was over the moon that you wished to accompany me tonight. It shall give her some time to meet with her own friends, for once.”

“Of course I would wish to accompany you.” He flashes you that easy grin, holding out his elbow. “Anyone who wouldn’t is either lying, or has no eyes in their head.”

You smile as you take his arm, but it doesn’t come as naturally as you’d like. As he leads you into the ballroom, chatting away cheerfully, you remind yourself that you should be grateful for him. You should be grateful that he still has you in his thoughts, that he continues to pursue you even after everything that had happened. He certainly knows about the scandal—one would truly have to be living under a rock to not know—but he seems to be the only one who has not let it affect his view of you. He still wants court you. He still wants to marry you. 

You are grateful. You really are. It’s just…

Beomgyu.

The name pops into your mind, and you feel like you might throw up. Beomgyu. Your heart starts twisting itself into knots and you have to bite your lip hard to avoid showing anything on your face. You hate that you’re still thinking of him. He hurt you. He damaged your reputation possibly beyond repair. He certainly isn’t suffering the consequences of your first and last waltz—at least not the consequences that you are. 

You were the one who sent him away, so angry at the sight of his face that you barely allowed him to speak. You were the one who told him never to return. Yet even knowing that, walking into the ballroom on another man’s arm…

Your heart still aches for him, and only him. 

Why him? Why now? You grit your teeth, trying to force away your thoughts. You’d been doing so well with it, too—your chores had kept you busy enough not to think of him, and even tonight you wore your old cotton gloves instead of the silk pair he gifted you—but here you are now, thinking of him even though he is nowhere to be seen. 

Not that you’d even want to see him, you remind yourself. But deep down, you know that’s a lie. 

Despite everything, you’d still rather be on Beomgyu’s arm than Lord Cho’s. Would rather have his proposal of marriage. Would rather be with him for the rest of your life, even if Lord Cho would take you far away from here and you’d never have to hear the ton’s gossip every again.

Damn it all. You never should have fallen in love. 

“Miss L/N?” Lord Cho’s voice jerks you out of your thoughts. You look at him and flinch to see his face so close to yours. “Are you all right?”

Too late, you realize he’s probably been talking to you for a while, and you definitely haven’t been responding. “I am fine,” you say unconvincingly. 

“Do not lie to me.” His voice sounds gentle, but you have to force yourself not to take a step back when he looks at you more closely. “What is on your mind, my lady?”

Is he daft? Suddenly, you feel extremely irritated that you have to say this out loud. “A lot has happened in the past few weeks, my lord,” you say quietly. “Forgive me if I am not yet myself in public. I do not wish to sully your good name, either, by standing with you now.”

Lord Cho glances around and for the first time that night, he seems to take in the stares coming in your direction. You tense, waiting for him to pull away, but he only turns back to you with a soft smile. “I do not care much for my good name, whatever that means,” he says gently. “I care for you, Miss L/N. If you are not feeling well, then I would be glad to take you to a quieter room to recover. But I should like to stay by you, if you will let me.” He clasps your free hand. “I care little for the opinions of this ton. I do not claim to know you better than anybody, but I will say that I do not believe their gossip about you holds any merit at all. Not, at least, from what I have seen of you with my own two eyes.”

All of the irritation drains from you at once. You still feel exhausted and weary, but gratefulness fill up the little caverns in your chest that the stress of the last few weeks had carved out of your soul. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“There is nothing for which you must thank me,” he replies. “Now, should you like to retire somewhere else? I will not force you to remain in the ballroom any longer than you can stand.”

You smile at him, a little more easily than before. “We might stay out for a little longer, Lord Cho. I should not wish you to miss out on anything simply for me.”

“Then let me know as soon as you would like to rest, and we will.” He squeezes your hand softly. 

It makes you feel a little better than before. As you hold easy conversation with Lord Cho, taking slow turns around the ballroom, you find yourself relaxing somewhat. Beomgyu isn’t here, but even if he was, you tell yourself that you wouldn’t mind it so much. He always had some strange vendetta against Lord Cho, but look at him now, still standing by you even when the rest of the ton has turned its back. Beomgyu had no right to judge him so. 

(The selfish part of you almost wants Beomgyu to see you like this, your arm in Lord Cho’s, walking pleasantly about the room. What would he say then?)

You manage this for about an hour, but then Lord Cho invites you to dance. Despite all of your misgivings, you accept. But as you step onto the ballroom floor, you become increasingly aware of everyone staring right at you. You wish you were exaggerating. In fact, you try to put it down to your nerves at first. But every time Lord Cho spins you to face the audience, everyone’s stare is riveted on the two of you, and your heart rate spikes. 

By the end of the dance, your heart won’t calm down no matter how much you try to slow it, and you desperately need to be away from everyone. Away from everything. 

You barely manage to babble some excuse to Lord Cho, who insists on accompanying you out of the ballroom to find a quieter space. You’d really rather be alone but you don’t have the energy to ask him to leave, so you acquiesce silently and allow him to lead you down the hall. He’s staying here for the time being, you remember, since Mr. Jung is his friend, so he knows where to go. 

He opens a door for you and you stumble in, grateful for the silence that follows you into the room. So grateful are you that you don’t realize the room is empty until Lord Cho closes the door with a soft but decisive click. 

You look around, still trying to rein your heartbeat in. It’s a small room, decorated somewhat sparsely. You sit on a small, soft couch, and a table stands against the wall next to you with a few small ornaments displayed on top. A pair of unlit silver candlesticks stands tall among them, but light comes from the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

That light illuminates Lord Cho’s face as he steps toward you with purpose, something unreadable in his gaze. You blink, your head throbbing even as your heart finally begins to calm. “Lord Cho?” you try to ask. “What are you—”

“Miss L/N.” He stops in front of you, and despite the softness of his expression, dread begins to pool in your stomach. “I had intended to find another moment, but now that we are in private, I wondered if you might honor me with your attentions.” He smiles slightly. “I think you know what I would like to ask.”

Oh God.

He’s going to ask to marry you.

You stand up on instinct, at the same time taking a step back as surreptitiously as you can. “Lord Cho,” you say, pressing a hand to your forehead. You’re only half faking the headache. “I’m incredibly sorry, but I’m not feeling well. Perhaps now is not the time—”

“Miss L/N.” He reaches forward and takes your hands before you can react. “This will not take but a moment of your thought.”

Your heart rate is rising again and beyond the headache you’re starting to feel sick. Why do you feel like this? You should be happy. Overjoyed, even. For the first time you will really be receiving a marriage proposal worth consideration, one that won’t leave you miserable for the rest of your life. But even knowing this, Beomgyu’s face still comes to the forefront of your mind, the feeling of his arms holding you so close as you kissed, the sensation of his lips pressed against yours like they belonged there. Like they were made for yours. 

Your throat tightens. You have to give him an affirmative answer. You have to say yes. But despite the gravity of the situation every part of you screams to flee this room right here and now and you can’t sort through your thoughts properly, let alone drum up the energy to speak. 

“Lord Cho—”

“I understand you might be somewhat overwhelmed, Miss L/N.” He cuts you off for the second time and beyond the sick feeling you’re starting to get irritated. Does he not hear you? “But truly, I do not care for the scandal. I do not care for the gossip. I think you are a wonderfully witty woman, beautiful and sharp, and quite simply, I enjoy your presence.” He squeezes your hands and you can’t help but compare it to when Beomgyu does—did—the same thing. Beomgyu made it feel comforting, romantic. Right now, you still just feel sick. “I would take you far from this place, Miss L/N. You would never have to see anyone from the ton ever again if you did not want to. As my mistress—”

Mistress?

You didn’t hear that correctly. Surely you didn’t. But the words wife and mistress are about as far apart as flower and cockroach and your mind keeps replaying his words over and over and he said mistress, he definitely said mistress, what the fuck is going on? You jerk your hands out of his grip. “As your mistress?” you repeat, incredulous. 

He blinks. “Yes.” A little amused smile curves his lips, and you hate it. It is condescending and arrogant and makes you feel so incredibly small even as you stand in front of him. “Surely you did not expect me to marry you?”

You stumble backward, head spinning. “You—what did you say to my stepmother? She thought you were going to marry me!”

“Oh, I might have taken steps to lead her down that line of thought.” He shrugs, like it means nothing that he’s been deceiving her, deceiving you, this entire time. “I did not think a woman like her would understand the things that you would, but I am sure if we simply tell her that we plan to marry in my home country, she will rest assured.”

What? 

You must still look completely bewildered, because Lord Cho steps forward and attempts to take your hands again. You step away before he can. “Miss L/N,” he says quietly, soothingly, like he speaks to a small child. Never once before now did you hear the arrogance underlying his tone. “It will be fine. I will take you from here, shower you in jewels and silks and money. All you must do is stand by me.” He smiles wider. “The ton will never know. Your stepmother will never know. And it won’t matter, anyway, because you need never see them again.”

You force yourself to stare straight into his eyes. “What makes you think,” you say quietly, “that I will so readily agree?”

Lord Cho frowns, almost like he hadn’t expected you to push back, which astounds you. How could he ever expect you to simply go along with this? “You are a reasonable woman, Miss L/N,” he says. “Surely you must see that with the absence of a dowry and your lack of family fortune, you have very few options? I am offering you an out, a very comfortable one at that.”

“You said you wanted to marry me,” you say, still half in disbelief.

“I never once said that I would marry you.” He smiles, as though revealing a particularly clever trick. “I said I wanted to be with you. I said I wanted you. But I never said I would marry you.”

Your stomach drops to the floor. What Lord Cho is saying…it is true. All of it is true. You were the one who made assumptions. You were the one who really, truly thought he cared about you beyond your reputation, and still might want you as a partner for life. He tricked you. Completely.

“All of which is true,” he continues, “but I am a gentleman of means.” He peers at you like this means something. “Surely you see why I cannot truly marry you?”

You shake your head dumbly, once, twice. “No. No,” you repeat, stepping backward. “I—”

“You truly thought I’d marry a barely titled, dirt poor foreign woman with nothing to bring me but her beauty?” Lord Cho laughs again and your insides grow cold. “Come now, Miss L/N. Don’t flatter yourself too much.” He winks like you’re both in on some terrible joke that only he can understand. “You are certainly beautiful, but not that beautiful.”

Stupidly, his words bring a stinging feeling behind your eyes, warning of tears to come. Between your pounding headache and the sick feeling in your stomach, though, you muster the energy to force them back. If there is anything you are going to do in front of this man, it won’t be crying like some sort of damsel in distress. “Don’t flatter yourself either,” you say lowly. “You are not handsome enough, nor charming enough, that I would lose all of my dignity to become a mistress for you.” 

“So your answer is no?”

“Yes, it is.” You scoff. “In case you needed it spelled out for you explicitly, Lord Cho, no. I will not be your mistress.”

He laughs. Chills run up your spine. You have heard him laugh dozens of times since you met, but never has the sound been so terrifying before. “It’s incredibly funny to me that you think you have a choice,” he says, taking a step forward. 

You stiffen, glancing instinctively towards the other side of the room where the door is closed. Cold dread settles in your veins. You swallow hard and for a moment you’re back in the garden with Mr. Thompson advancing on you. 

Just like then, you can’t seem to move. 

“You don’t have a choice, Miss L/N.” His voice turns almost kind, which only makes the entire situation more threatening. “It isn’t just me. You are poor and unmarried. Would you allow yourself to become a spinster, and force your family into caring for you as you age? With this, I only offer you an out. A way to have a comfortable life, even despite the tragedies of your situation.” He takes another step forward.

You force yourself to move, to keep the distance between you two. No wonder he wanted to do this in public. He won’t expect you to fight back or scream, not at the cost of someone hearing and your reputation truly being dragged through the pits of hell. “Don’t pretend to care about me,” you spit, carefully trying to edge yourself around the room. “Don’t pretend to care about my family. You’re the one trying to trap me into something I haven’t given any indication that I want.” You curl your lip. “You don’t need me, Lord Cho. Go find another woman in similar straits who would be willing to do this. I won’t.”

Lord Cho shakes his head, a smirk slowly creeping up his face. “When will you realize, Miss L/N,” he says softly, “that I am not asking?” 

Your blood runs cold. You tense to run—

He suddenly lunges forward before you can move. You cry out as he snatches your wrist, his fingers as dry and unpleasant against your skin as they were warm before. “I was only being polite before. But you have made your stance clear, and now so will I.” He leans forward, crushing your wrist in his grip. “I’m already here, with you, alone in a closed off room. You Londoners are so prim and proper it’s almost stifling, but once news of this spreads…” He grins, baring all of his teeth. “You’ll have no choice but to come with me.”

You swallow hard, trying to breathe. Your breath comes in short gasps as your heart races faster and faster and you’re starting to feel lightheaded, which does absolutely nothing to help you think. “Get off of me,” you snarl, trying to wrench yourself out of his grip. “Get off of me—”

He laughs. “Not on your life,” he sneers, his face coming closer to yours. 

You know what’s going to happen next. He’s going to kiss you, trap you—he’s going to make it so that he’s tainted you so much with his touch that it won’t even matter if you manage to scream and escape. There is no way you can win. Either he assaults you in silence and you are forced to accept his offer by virtue of your body being tainted, or you scream before he can do anything and someone comes in and sees and you’re trapped anyway because no one will believe a woman. 

Lord Cho’s breath hits your face, warm and repugnant. As you struggle away from his hold, bizarrely, you’re reminded of when Beomgyu kissed you, and how different that was from now. 

Beomgyu. 

He was right about Lord Cho. He was right that there was something strange about him. He was right that you should have been careful, that you should have kept your wits about you when around the man, and for all you claimed you would listen to him you still didn’t believe him. You thought he was blind, suspicious, and jealous. Just an hour ago you were trying to gloat to yourself that you had won Lord Cho anyway, proven that he was not such a terrible man as Beomgyu thought. You trusted him to help you. To truly have your best interests at heart.

And now look at where that has landed you. 

Suddenly a wave of anger shoves through your thoughts. Beomgyu was right, and damn it all, you’re suffering the consequences of not listening to him. But even if you made mistakes—which you will readily admit—none of it changes the fact that you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask to be poor. You didn’t ask for your stepmother. You didn’t ask to be taken advantage of and you don’t damn deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve Mr. Thompson and the garden. You didn’t deserve Beomgyu leaving you after the waltz.

And you certainly don’t deserve Lord Cho right now. 

Red washes across your vision and you scream. 

He jerks back, startled, and just as his grip loosens you jerk your knee upward. You connect with his flesh and he cries out, but you’ve already torn yourself out of his grasp and are stumbling toward the door. Your legs feel like they’re made out of jelly but you hike up your skirts and force them to move, to take you out of here, anywhere but here—

A hand snatches your arm and Lord Cho slams you against a wall so hard you see stars. You cry out in pain but he slaps a hand over your mouth, eyes wild with rage. “You little witch,” he sneers, bits of spittle flying out of his mouth as he speaks. Vaguely you wonder how you ever found him handsome. “You’ll pay for that.”

You bite his palm. He lets go with a curse and you try to kick him. “Get off of me.” You swing at him with your free hand but he catches your fist midair, bearing down on you with all of his weight. “I said, get off of me—”

He’s too heavy. You can’t shove him off, not on your own. But as your frayed mind begins to shut down, a single, final idea bursts forth from its depths, and you go completely limp in Lord Cho’s grasp. 

He doesn’t expect it. You drop to the floor and he lets go of you on reflex. As you stumble out of his range you almost hit your head on a table leg, the same display table you saw on your way into the room, but you manage to haul yourself up just as Lord Cho rounds on you. 

Your fumbling fingers close around something metal. And as he leaps toward you, murder in his eyes, you swing one of the two silver candlesticks at his head. 

It seems to happen slowly, far too slowly. The candlestick, a blur of silver streaking through the air. Lord Cho’s eyes widening as he tries to dodge, but too late. Your own scream lodges in your throat as the candlestick fully smacks right into his temple with a terrible noise, the awful impact jolting up your arm. 

Then the door slams open.

Lord Cho drops to the ground. The candlestick clatters on the floor. You stagger backwards, head spinning, and look up to meet eyes with none other than Beomgyu. 

Bizarrely, you almost feel the urge to laugh. This is just like that time in the garden with Mr. Thompson, so much so that even with your pounding head, you feel a terrible sense of déjà vu. “Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Choi,” you croak out. 

And then you collapse.

. . . . .

Beomgyu isn’t supposed to be here. 

Well, technically speaking, he was invited. His whole family was. But even though Soobin and Yeonjun were both planning to go, Beomgyu didn’t originally intend to join them, and they didn’t really try to convince him otherwise. He hasn’t been up to doing much since you threw him out of your home and after one too many snarled conversations, his family has more or less given up on trying to get him back into society. 

He does leave his room, though, to bid Soobin and his wife goodbye before they depart to the ball. They seem pleasantly surprised to see him, which only makes shame well up in his chest. “Are you sure you will not attend with us?” Lady Choi asks, looking hopeful. “Wooyoung will be quite disappointed not to see you.”

Beomgyu shakes his head. “No, I think I should like to rest tonight.”

“As you wish, brother. Have a good night.” Soobin takes his wife’s hand then, giving her a soft smile as they begin to walk out of the hall. As Beomgyu turns around to walk back up the stairs, though, he catches his brother asking, “Did you hear?” 

“Hear what?” his wife replies. 

“I’ve heard Miss L/N will be in attendance.”

Beomgyu stops hard in his tracks. After two weeks of being conspicuously absent from all society events, you would decide to show yourself tonight? At Wooyoung’s ball?

Soobin continues, perhaps a bit more loudly, and Beomgyu could swear he hears something of a smirk in his brother’s voice. “I believe she might be receiving a proposal tonight.”

Beomgyu whirls around. “From who?” he demands. 

Soobin turns to him, lips curled in that smirk Beomgyu heard so clearly. “From Lord Cho, of course,” he says. “Who else?”

It takes a moment for that to sink in. His brother and sister in law have disappeared out of the front doors before Beomgyu even finishes processing that information. He remains at the base of the staircase, frozen in place, turning those words over and over in his head. 

You might be receiving a proposal tonight. 

You might be receiving a proposal tonight from Lord Cho.

Beomgyu is dressed and calling for someone to ready the carriage before he even realizes what he’s doing. 

As he steps into the vehicle, though, he stops suddenly. Why is he so eager to go now? Hadn’t you made it clear that he was to stay away from you at all costs, that he had hurt you far beyond what you were able to forgive? Knowing that, and knowing that he respects you with all that he has, he should be staying far away. 

But he didn’t even get to apologize to you. You pushed him out before he could say anything, and though he left, he still has things to say. If you truly care for and want to marry Lord Cho, Beomgyu knows he won’t be able to stop you. But he has to find some way for you to hear him out first, just for a chance—that slim, slim chance that he can apologize, that you will hear him out, that maybe he can begin to try and make amends. And for that to happen, he has to be there tonight. He has to get to you before Lord Cho can, has to get to you before you say yes to him. 

When he enters the ball, though, you aren’t there. 

You were there. He knows this because as he passes through the ballroom, ignoring everyone who tries to catch his attention, he hears snippets of people gossiping at the audacity of your showing your face here tonight. In any other moment he would have something barbed to say to them, but he needs to find you, first and foremost. But you aren’t there. You’re nowhere. 

“Beomgyu!” Yeonjun grabs his shoulder, looking very pleased. Wooyoung is right behind him and wears a similar smile on his face. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight!”

“I wasn’t,” he replies shortly, knowing how rude he sounds right now and not caring at all. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Amusement and concern war on Yeonjun’s face. “No, I haven’t, but I imagine she’d like to keep to herself this evening.” He starts trying to pull Beomgyu away. “But if you’re here—”

They all hear it at the same time. A muffled scream from a room further down the hall, then a dull thud like something hit the floor or a wall. Three men look at each other. 

Then Beomgyu starts running. 

Every second seems to take an hour as he sprints down the hall. Yeonjun and Wooyoung follow but more slowly and Beomgyu has no patience to wait for his cousin and friend as he pulls open doors, cursing every time they come up empty. But then he flinches hard as a loud crash sounds right against the wall and before he can realize what he’s doing, his hand is on the doorknob and he flings it open just in time to see you strike Lord Cho’s head with a silver candlestick. 

Time seems to slow. He freezes in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, watching Lord Cho crumple slowly to the ground. The rational part of him says he should see if Lord Cho is fine, at least check if the man is still breathing, but a loud thunk sounds, shattering his daze, and Beomgyu looks over to see the candlestick fall out of your numb hands onto the floor. 

You meet his gaze. Your eyes, blown wide with fear, tremble in their sockets as you stumble backwards, away from the candlestick. Beomgyu can only stare back, his head spinning as he tries to take in the moment, and then you speak. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Choi.” 

Then you collapse.

Beomgyu surges forward to catch you just before your head hits the floor. “Miss L/N,” he says lowly, gathering you into his arms. You’re breathing, but when you don’t open your eyes, he starts to panic. “Miss L/N! Y/N!” A groan sounds from further away and vaguely he registers that it must be Lord Cho, but he can’t tear himself away from you. “Y/N!”

The door bursts open again. Beomgyu turns around just in time to see Yeonjun fly into the room, followed closely by Wooyoung and the duchess. “…Beomgyu?” he asks, taking in the scene. “What…what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu manages to get out. “Y/N—she—”

The next few moments are a blur. There’s a lot of talking, yelling, and then someone brings in smelling salts and tries gently to push Beomgyu away so that they can revive you. He refuses to stop holding you, though. He needs to hear you breathing. He needs to know you’re fine. 

Slowly, you come to. Beomgyu holds his breath as your eyes flutter open, roving dazedly over the room. “Y/N?” he asks softly. When your eyes turn to him, he breathes out a terrible sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he whispers. 

Nearby, Lord Cho also seems to be coming to, though with a very nasty lump on his head that Beomgyu can see even from here. Unlike you, though, the second his eyes open, he whirls around, murder written all over his expression. “You,” he snarls, looking straight at you. 

You’re shaking. Trembling. You curl further into Beomgyu’s arms and he tightens them around you, well aware of and ignoring all the other eyes in the room. It doesn’t matter that this is improper. You need someone, and even though Beomgyu knows the only reason you’re curling into him is because you’re in shock, he doesn’t care. He won’t abandon you now—not the way he did before. 

“Lord Cho, calm yourself.” Wooyoung places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“That bitch hit me in the head with that candlestick!” Lord Cho roars, pointing at the silver still glinting on the floor. “She claimed she had a headache and I helped her here so that she could rest, but then she went tried to seduce me and I refused and then she went berserk—”

“I suggest you calm yourself before you say more,” Beomgyu snarls. He makes to stand up but you’re still gripping his arms, so he stays put. “Miss L/N would never do such a thing, and you know it.”

“And how do you know that?” Lord Cho sneers, and in that moment Beomgyu can’t believe he ever found his man to be handsome. Seeing him like this, he is the ugliest man Beomgyu has ever seen. “You weren’t even here!”

“I did not.”

Everyone jerks their head around to look at you. Beomgyu himself almost flinches, surprised at the sound of your voice. ���Miss L/N?” he asks softly. 

You swallow hard, gaze trained on Lord Cho. Your shoulders are still trembling and the color has drained from your lips, leaving them terribly pale, but when you speak, your voice, though weak, still carries through the room. “I did not try to seduce you,” you say, and there’s a hint of a snarl in your tone that chills Beomgyu to the core.

Lord Cho opens his mouth, but Wooyoung steps forward, cutting him off. Beomgyu’s carefree friend looks uncharacteristically serious now, his eyebrows drawn sharp into his face. “Miss L/N,” he greets respectfully. “Then will you tell us what happened?” 

Beomgyu watches as you take a deep shuddering breath. You put your hand in his before trying to stand, but you sway in place and Beomgyu just manages to catch you before you fall again. “You can sit, you know,” he says quietly. 

“No.” You stay on your feet, lips still pale, but eyes focused and hard. “It is true that I had a headache and wished to rest. Lord Cho offered to escort me out of the ballroom as we had been dancing just before. I did not notice he was leading me to an empty room, and by the time I did realize, he had closed already closed the door. And then—” You swallow convulsively. “He tried to force himself on me.”

Lord Cho sneers. Beomgyu itches to punch the man in the face, maybe break his nose, but your hand still grips his tightly and he won’t move while you still need him. “What proof do you have?” Lord Cho asks. His voice is full of an arrogance that Beomgyu recognizes in those entitled men who never think of anyone but themselves. 

Your eyes flare. Beomgyu barely has a moment to prepare himself before you yell, “You propositioned me as your mistress!” 

The room falls dead silent, but you aren’t done speaking. “You thought I would be too ashamed to say it out loud, didn’t you?” you snarl, looking straight at Lord Cho. “To admit that this dirt poor, barely endowed, useless slip of a woman would be nothing better than a mistress to an unmarried man?” You laugh, but there is no humor in the sound. “I may be nothing in your estimation,” you yell, “but I would never have agreed to such a thing!”

No one says a word, not even Lord Cho. Only your heavy breaths cut through the silence. “I thought he was going to ask to marry me.” You laugh again, that horrible sound devoid of all emotion. “I was a stupid fool for thinking he would, and I acknowledge that. But never did I think he would proposition me. And never did I think, when I refused, that he would try to assault me just so that I would be forced to return with him.” You turn to Wooyoung, who flinches slightly when you meet his eyes, but then you sag. “I am terribly sorry for causing a scene in your home,” you say, bowing your head low. “I will not beg forgiveness for defending myself, but I apologize for having used your belongings to do it. I will replace the candlestick if need be, only send me the bill. I will see myself out now.”

It would have been an incredibly dramatic exit, if you hadn’t taken one step out of Beomgyu’s grasp and immediately collapsed to the floor again. 

Instantly the room bursts into chaos. Beomgyu drops to his knees beside you, frantically feeling for your pulse, all the while Wooyoung and Lord Cho are yelling and the duchess has knelt next to him, carefully lifting your head into her lap. Yeonjun disappears but when Beomgyu blinks again he’s back with the smelling salts, and Beomgyu can only hold his breath as your eyes blink open for the second time that night.

“Thank God,” the duchess breathes. “Miss L/N, let us help you up. Yeonjun—”

Her husband understands immediately, bending down to lift you into his arms. You try to protest, sitting up weakly on your own, but when you nearly fall over again you stop trying. Beomgyu helps his cousin pull you up, but then a loud yell jerks all of their attention to the shouting match happening on the other side of the room. 

“Get out of my home,” Wooyoung spits at Lord Cho, face red with fury. 

Lord Cho scoffs. “You would take her word over mine? You know me, and you know that woman is insane! All of the society papers say so!”

“Watch your tongue,” Beomgyu hisses, standing up. In several long strides he’s crossed the room and has Lord Cho’s collar in his fist. “Watch your tongue,” he repeats quietly as Lord Cho gasps. “Strong-willed she may be, and certainly a force to be reckoned with, but you go too far to claim such falsehoods about her.”

“And he is right.” Wooyoung steps forward, putting a gentle but warning hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder. Beomgyu gets the message and lets go of Lord Cho’s collar, but he barely takes a step back. “Lord Cho, you are my friend. Were my friend. But we have spent many years apart, and I do not know you well like I know the people of this ton.” He takes a deep breath, as though trying to compose himself. “I do not claim Miss L/N as a close friend,” he says quietly. “But I do know that she does not lie. She does not do things without reason. I also find it very, very hard to believe that a woman who attempted to proposition you would look so ill in your presence.” He leans forward. “I heard the thumps, Lord Cho. I heard you knocking her about the room. She could not have done that to you, and both of us know it.” Wooyoung shakes his head, disgust written all over his features. “I cannot believe I ever counted you as a friend.”

Lord Cho opens his mouth. Closes it. His face, flushed dark, looks almost like it might explode. Beomgyu would laugh if he wasn’t still so rigid with anger.

“I will give you enough time only to gather your things from your quarters,” Wooyoung says coldly. “Then you may depart my residence to find your own lodgings. You will not be welcome back, so I suggest you pack your things carefully.” He points to the door. “A servant will follow you to ensure have your things and you don’t return. Now leave.”

For a moment, Lord Cho looks like he will refuse. Beomgyu tenses, instinctively shifting to block Lord Cho’s gaze when it flickers in your direction, but it’s Wooyoung’s home and so it is his prerogative to do as he likes. Lord Cho has no defense when the host himself has asked him to leave. “I suggest you leave now,” Beomgyu says quietly, “while Mr. Jung is still asking nicely.”

Slowly, too slowly, Lord Cho removes his gaze from you. No one seems to breathe during the time it takes for him and Wooyoung to leave the room, and even after the door shuts behind them, no one says a word even as Yeonjun and Beomgyu help you up to the couch so that you are no longer lying on the floor. It takes Wooyoung coming back in several minutes later for the tension to crack just enough that they can speak. 

“Miss L/N, I must apologize deeply for what happened tonight.” He bows deeply, looking truly abashed. “I had no idea he was the man that he was. Lord Cho will be removed from my home immediately, and I expect him to leave the country within a few days.”

You blink slowly from your perch on the couch. “It was no fault of yours, Mr. Jung,” you say. 

“Yet I am the host, and I am the one who invited him.” He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t expect you would like to stay any longer tonight.”

“…No,” you admit.

“I will send you home in my carriage. It will leave from the back door, so you need not worry about anyone seeing you,” Wooyoung says, putting out a hand to forestall your protests. “Please, Miss L/N. It is the least I can do.”

“Then I thank you, my lord.” You incline your head to him. “Please, if I have damaged anything of yours, send me the bill. I will see to it that anything broken is replaced or fixed.”

“Do not worry about such things.” Wooyoung shakes his head. “Please get home safely.”

You duck your head in acquiescence and then you allow Beomgyu to quietly lead you out of the room. 

Silence weighs heavily between the two of you as Beomgyu guides you through the halls of the Jung residence. Several times he tries to think of something to say, but for all his proclaimed wittiness, nothing comes to mind that he thinks will even remotely help you. Every time he glances at you, you look so tired, so weary, that any beginnings of a conversation that might have begun to take shape in his mind immediately fizzle out. 

Beomgyu has been to Wooyoung’s home enough times that it isn’t hard to find the back entrance. He swings open the door and sure enough, the carriage that Wooyoung promised is there. He holds out a hand to you and you take it wordlessly. For a moment in time, while the moon glows softly on your face, you stand like that—hand in hand, in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. It just comes out of him all of a sudden. He doesn’t truly know why, or even what he is truly apologizing for. 

You look at him. “For what?”

“Everything,” he whispers.

“That is a large amount of blame to take on, isn’t it?”

It’s phrased like a joke, but your tone doesn’t give way to much humor. Beomgyu doesn’t feel any worse or any better for it. “Will you be all right?” he finally asks, very quietly. 

You give him a wretched smile in response. “What other choice do I have?”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 12 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna noticed that a new poem by her favorite, amateur writer had been posted, she was afraid to read the finality in his tone. But Bob always managed to surprise her. And maybe she could find a way to surprise Kevin, too.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, adult language, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

After that, it was radio silence. Anna didn't reach out to Bob, and he didn't try to either. He went to the Hard Deck on Friday night and lasted about an hour before excusing himself. Nobody asked him why he was bailing after one ginger ale and a single cup of peanuts, and that was enough to tell him that everyone knew. Everyone knew he slept with Anna. Everyone knew she was married. Everyone knew that they shouldn't talk about it in front of him for fear that the ladies would snap their necks. Even Nat was being very kind and considerate which wasn't really like her at all. 

When Bob was halfway to the door, he felt a small hand curl around the back of his bicep. "I'll see you tomorrow night for D&D?"

He nodded down at Jessica's hopeful face. "Yeah. I can pick you up if you want."

Her face brightened a little bit. "I'll text you in the morning." He turned to walk out, and her hand slid down his arm. "Hey, Bob? Don't give up hope on her, okay?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he just kept walking. He had no idea what to say or what to think. It wasn't like he could stop loving someone overnight. He didn't really want to either. Anna's life was quite frankly messier than he had ever expected. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from everyone, and it seemed like she would have continued down that path if they didn't have sex. And that was the other issue; it wasn't just sex to Bob. Anna knew about the things he tried to hide himself, and she seemed to want him in that moment anyway. 

Her words from the previous night made him ache. 

'You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them.'

If that meant she was in love with him or that she thought she could be someday, then he was afraid to walk away from her. But now he was terrified of getting hurt or somehow hurting Anna like Kevin had. Part of him believed if he could just see Anna's husband with his own eyes, confirm that he was exactly the way she described him, then he might be able accept that she just needed time to settle her divorce and to heal. If that was the case, he wanted to make it work. 

In the meantime, when he got home, he ended up standing in his living room, staring at his bookshelf before going upstairs and staring at his bed. He could still picture her red hair all spread out for him. He could still feel it between his fingers as the silky strands slid along his palm. He could taste her on his tongue. He could hear her telling him what she wanted.

Bob picked up his computer and slipped under the covers, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep right now.

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

It had been there since early Saturday morning. A new one. Anna desperately wanted to read it and memorize it like she had the others, but she was afraid to face the finality. Her email alert mocked her every time she looked at it.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Bob wrote a new poem, and she didn't think she could handle reading exactly how he viewed her now. He'd never be like Kevin, openly belittling her or putting her down, but she knew the shiny packaging had been removed now, and he saw what was really inside. Just a mess of a human. She put off reading it and put off reading it, but when she was sitting at her desk at work on Monday, she made herself decide between reading the new poem or calling Kevin. After a fairly short debate, she decided to read the poem. It was probably so bad, calling Kevin later wouldn't even feel painful in comparison. 

She tapped on the link in her email and was taken to something so unexpected, she gasped as she read it.

There is empty space on my bookshelf,

The one I bought with you in mind.

I didn't know it was for you at the time,

But one night made it obvious,

Before an instance took it.

Reality surpassed intention today.

Your worn favorites and mine pristine,

Should mingle and mix,

Genre forgotten.

Dog eared pages became so endearing.

But I'll never see them on my shelf,

Unless you come back and stay this time.

The format was different from what he usually wrote, but it was so obviously Sky Writing. So obviously Bob. So obviously about her. And he didn't sound angry. Could he possibly miss her after everything she did and said?

She jumped when her phone vibrated on her desk, and for a split second, she believed it could be Bob. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, but it was from somebody else.

Jessica Reed: If you don't come down to this weird tree right now, we're going to come up and get you.

Anna had lost track of time. It was after noon now. She knew that her friends were trying to make sure she was holding herself together after she refused to go to the Hard Deck over the weekend. How could she continue to go somewhere that Bob had the rights to first? It wasn't until she read his Sky Writing poem that she thought perhaps there was a chance he might not only be okay with her presence but perhaps even miss her like she missed him.

With her sad little lunch in hand, she dragged herself down to the quad, trying to decide when was the best time to call Kevin. She was tired of going through lawyers who couldn't seem to get him to budge, and each ninety day window just ate away at more of her soul. She should have been so much more careful with her writing when she had the opportunity, and now he'd completely locked her out of being able to access it. 

No, she was going to have to beg him, plead with him, anything it took to get what she wanted without giving away where she'd moved. Maybe if he agreed to let her have her manuscript, one of her friends would let her borrow money for a flight back to New Jersey to retrieve it. She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed to at least get this one thing.

"There she is!"

Anna looked up to see her friends directly in front of her on the bench by the tree, and the fact that they both looked happy to see her made her heart ache. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down between them when they both scooted over.

"Hummus?" her friend asked, passing along a container while she bit into her perfect looking chicken salad sandwich on artisan bread. Anna accepted a few bites of Bradley's gourmet snack, because she was absolutely starving today.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she let herself sink into the background a little bit as the two other women continued the conversation they'd been having. Now that she was down here with his friends, she couldn't stop thinking about Bob again. His soft hair and his kind eyes. The way he always paid attention to her when she was talking. How good he made her feel.

She listened to her friends argue about alumni weekend for a few minutes before she finally cut them off to ask, "Has Bob said anything about me?" Both of them looked at her, and she quickly added, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Jessica smiled softly and said, "Not a word, but I've never seen him look so sad. And I mean that in a good way, because although I know he's confused and hurt, I'm pretty sure he just misses you."

"But," the other woman quickly cut in, "the most important thing right now is making sure you take care of yourself. Even if you are in love with Bob."

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed. "I have an idea! We could just kill Kevin!"

Anna snorted in spite of herself. "That would actually solve a lot of my problems. Maybe even all of them."

"Only one problem with that," Advanced Calculus said blandly. "You're not a killer, Jessica."

"I could kill someone," Jessica muttered under her breath, and truly Anna almost laughed, because Jessica Reed was one of the gentlest people she'd ever met. The most violent thing about her was her Dungeons & Dragons character. "I could at least probably slap him."

"He wouldn't know what hit him," Anna said, and all three women erupted into laughter. And it felt so strange to feel genuine happiness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds, that Anna almost started crying. As their amusement died down, she asked her friends, "Do you think.... Bob would respond if I texted him?"

Jessica squeaked, and then both women said, "Yes."

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

Bob was back to square one. Back at the bookstore. He was fifteen minutes early. He was already looking through the Classics. He was about to meet up with Anna. He was nervous.

Nat scoffed when he told her where he was going, and he truly did appreciate that his friend wanted him to proceed with caution, but she just didn't understand how Anna made him feel. Being friends with her after sleeping together a total of one time might kill him, but he knew that was probably all he could have now.

It was almost like he could sense that she was there. He looked up from the Shakespeare volume in his hand, and he saw her walk in the door. As he got closer to the loft railing, he saw her glance up and meet his eyes like it was some depraved version of Romeo and Juliet. She mouthed the word Hi before she headed for the stairs, and in less than a minute, she was standing right in front of him. 

Anna looked nervous, but everything else was just the same. Those perfect freckles decorated her face. Her brown eyes were bright. Her pretty hair was in a messy braid. He saw her burgundy nail polish as she fidgeted with her denim jacket. He wanted to know if she still thought he was the kind of person she could love. He wanted to ask her if her husband was any closer to signing papers. Instead he said, "I was surprised when you texted me."

Her eyes went wide, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth as she started looking around anywhere but at his face. "I need some books for my feminist literature course, and I just thought maybe you'd like more books for your bookshelf."

Had she read his newest poem? It was a sloppy one that he wrote late on Friday night and posted on a whim. She could have deleted her account by now or vowed never to read anything else by Sky Writing. But that didn't stop the poem from being about her.

"I do need some more books for my shelves," he replied, and her eyes finally settled on his again. "And you don't have to be nervous around me. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I promise I won't touch you or anything."

Now she just looked sad and distraught, but she nodded and turned down the very aisle where they first met. Bob had to fight to keep a few feet of space between them as she said, "I'm looking for Mary Wollstonecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

They worked their way slowly up and back down each aisle, falling into a natural conversation in spite of the awkwardness between them. In spite of the way Bob couldn't keep himself from looking at her as she ran her fingers along the spines. When she wanted something that was on a top shelf, he reached it down for her. When her hands got full, he offered his up for her use. And to his delight and also sadness, she kept recommending books for him along the way. That's how he ended up with Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day as well as The Importance of Being Earnest in his hand when she led the way downstairs to pay.

Bob cleared his throat as Anna reached into her pocket for some cash. "I can get them."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks turned pink. He already knew what Kevin did, and while he didn't think there was any harm in saying it, he could tell that she at least had her pride intact. "The college is going to reimburse me," she said firmly before handing forty dollars across the counter.

"Right," Bob said before paying for his own books. When they walked out into the fading sunlight, he looked down into her pretty face. "Will you let me drive you home? Not because I think I need to, but because I want to?"

She seemed at war with herself as she looked across the street and pressed her lips together. But her eyes fluttered closed and she said, "I would really appreciate that."

The interior of his truck was quiet the whole way as their books sat on the seat between them. Only the soft hum of the radio helped Bob hold his thoughts at bay. The ride wasn't too long, and when they were most of the way there, Anna finally spoke. 

"I'm going to deal with my shit. I promise."

Unsure exactly how he should respond, Bob simply said, "Okay."

When he pulled up in front of her building, he turned toward her, intending to ask if she wanted him to walk her up, but she was gathering her books together as she said, "I don't know how you feel about me now. I don't know if you could want me again. But I am going to deal with Kevin. I am going to fix my life. Because I want to move on. I need to." When he was so flustered that he didn't immediately respond, Anna said, "You know where to find me. Thanks for the ride."

He watched her run up the sidewalk before struggling to open the door with her arms full, and then she ducked inside when he finally figured out what he wanted to say. "I'll find you."

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

If Anna even had a hope or a prayer at a chance with Bob ever again, she needed to work up the nerve. A real chance with him now that he knew all about her disastrous marriage was what she wanted, but she needed to sort Kevin out first. 

As far as she could tell, everything came down to two options: keep her freedom by giving Kevin ownership of her manuscript, or keep her self worth by fighting until she didn't have anything left to give up. And both of them sounded terrifying. The whole weekend passed where she tried so many times to call him. She took her phone out again and again, let her thumb hover over her husband's phone number, and then chickened out. His voice was like a distant memory, and she didn't want to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't reached out one time since she up and left without telling him where she was going, and she was afraid to let him know where she was now.

The worst part was, he would know immediately why she was calling. He knew that he had the one thing she wanted. He cut off her access to the cloud files where she should have been able to piece her writing back together. It would have been time consuming, but she would have been all too happy to do it. She should have known better than to let him have so much of her life and so many of her resources in only his name, but there was a time when she trusted him. That was the part that made her so sick. She had trusted her husband, and now look where it got her.

A shiver went through her body as she woke up for work too early on Monday morning. She wanted Kevin's computer where everything was saved. She wanted access to the cloud. She didn't want a damn penny from him otherwise. She was aggressively brushing her teeth, wishing she had more to eat than a granola bar when she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

She hated him. She hated him so much, she was going to call him right now. Without a backward glance, she marched over to where her phone was charging and pulled the cable out. Before she could even think about exactly what she was going to say, she tapped on his stupid name.

Anna was breathing fast and deep, her heart pounding in her ears when she heard his voice for the first time in so many months.

"Anna?" he asked, her whole body cringing after just one word. His voice was scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was 9:16 in New Jersey. He should be on his way to work if not there already.

"Kevin," she snapped, gripping her phone tighter. She was getting angrier by the second as she listened to him yawn while she looked around her tiny apartment.

His tone was condescending as he said, "Of course you'd call me at six in the fucking morning after I haven't hear a word from you except through a lawyer since July. What the hell do you want?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't talk to him. While she felt strong a few minutes ago, her resolve was already crumbling. She wanted to tell him that he knew damn well what she wanted, but then she zeroed in on what he said. "What do you mean it's six in the morning? It's after nine."

His voice was suddenly loud and harsh. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm in California for a medical convention. Now get to the point of your call."

Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she carefully put her phone on speaker. She started searching for Neurological conventions in California while she told him, "I just want my manuscript. Please, Kevin. That's all I want, and then you can be rid of me."

The bite was gone from his voice, replaced by a lazy tone, and he spoke to her as if she were a very simple child. "It's not going to happen, Anna. I didn't cut off access to it for no reason. It's worth money. You can pay me for it, or you can kiss it goodbye. I might even publish it myself."

She was gasping for air as she scrolled through her search results, coming up with a conference in Carlsbad that was starting today. As the page loaded, she swallowed and told him, "I'll sue you if you do." But even she knew she was full of shit.

"What what money, Anna? I'm surprised you can still afford your lawyers. I don't even want to know what you're doing to make ends meet right now."

Then she saw it. She saw his name. He was a keynote speaker at the National Neurological Physicians Association conference. He was less than an hour away. She sank down to her knees in surprise and fear. Her mind was swirling with information and ideas, and she couldn't even comprehend what Kevin was saying now.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said come up with some money for me, or I'm not signing shit." Then he ended the call as her hands started shaking. She dropped her phone onto her bed. He was in Carlsbad. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe she could talk him into it easier in person.

Anna had to run to the bathroom to be sick, but her mind was made up. Once she cleaned herself up again, she tearfully made the decision to cancel her morning classes via email, and then she started grabbing her purse and her essentials. She folded up the newest copy of the divorce paperwork her lawyer had emailed to her and tucked it away. Then she ran for the bus stop, nearly tripping several times as she read through the schedule of speakers who were at the conference this week on her phone. If she caught a bus within the next fifteen minutes, she might make it in time to see Kevin right before he gave his welcome speech.

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

We will meet Kevin in the next chapter. Now is an acceptable time to start sharpening your knives. Bob, please don't give up on Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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[suashii]

— 𝒾 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓇 ౨ৎ

sero hanta x reader. 7.8k wc. ﾉ sfw ( w/ some suggestive bits ) ﾉ fluff accompanied by a teensy bit of angst ﾉ summer romance ﾉ college au ﾉ swearing ﾉ mentions of alcohol & food ﾉ denki appearance ﾉ multiple tenses used ﾉ repost!

a/n: i recommend listening to never not by lauv before or after reading :3 ++ i edited this and read it through once so i apologize for any mistakes u may find!

this party fucking sucks.

you can’t put your finger on why it’s such a drag—maybe you’d grown out of your partying phase, gotten enough of it the past two years of university. had the scene at the  kappa xi sigma house become bland? or maybe it has to do with the fact that the beer pong and blaring music that was meant to serve as a distraction is proving to be more annoying than a useful diversion. 

the answer that is staring you in the face, the one you know is the most obvious, is the last one you want to consider.

the excitement of returning to campus with your friends feels dull this year. the transition from summer break to the fall semester has left a foreign void in your life. the annual welcome party hosted by greek life seemed like the perfect way to fill that void—they’d been fun in the past, anyway. but now that you’re here, sitting on the fourth step of the staircase with a concoction of who knows what in your red solo cup, it’s obvious that your intentions are backfiring. because instead of providing you any consolation, the party is only reminding you of what you were trying to force yourself to forget—your time with him.

you met him in the summer at a party similar to the one you’re currently miserable at, but the frat house was traded in for a sandy beach and cozy bonfire. instead of staying in your big city apartment for the seasonal break, you decided to take a trip to the town you’d been born in. it had been far too long since you’d visited your hometown and of course, your aunt was more than happy to have you for a few months. your cousin, too—you’d barely finished unpacking in the guest room when she barged in, insisting that you accompany her to a gathering.

MAY

“people come here all the time but it’ll be especially packed tonight since everyone is done with their classes. and you’ll get to meet a bunch of my friends!” your arms are linked and she tugs you in closer, resting her head on your shoulder.

“sounds like fun.” you smile and squeeze her arm. you missed that while you were away—the transparency people offered here. it’s not like that back home. the same people who will smile and wave at you would wait until you were out of earshot before finding some reason to talk shit about you. it’s exhausting, not knowing what people truly think. but it’s different here. no one ever feels the need to hide behind a mask. even if someone hates your guts, at least you’ll be sure of it. and as odd as it might sound, it’s comforting in its own strange way.

“we’re here!”

you’d visited this beach more times than you could count in your childhood but the sight before you is one you’ve never witnessed before. as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the blue of the sky melts away into shades of pink and purple—both signs that the day is nearing its end—the beach comes to life. you’ve never seen the area after sunset, maybe because you hadn’t reached the double digits in age before you left, but after sundown, the atmosphere completely shifts. family fun during the day quickly turned to the escapades of students after dark. the set-up isn’t too formal—fairy lights are wrapped around any posts in the sand and bamboo torches fill the gaps that may have ended up too dark without them. there’s no stand for a bar—any drinks are kept cold in the coolers filled with ice. and to top it all off, a large fire sits in a dug-out hole of sand, the flames following the course of the soft breeze.

“wow,” you draw out the vowel, “you guys know how to throw a party.”

the town is small and the biggest school it harbors is a community college but you would be willing to bet money that most of the students who attend it are here tonight. even though summer still hasn’t technically started, there are plenty of people dressed in swimsuits and other summer apparel. you almost feel undressed in your tank top and shorts.

“be impressed later, we have rounds to make.” before you can gawk any longer, your cousin grabs your hand and leads you away. the two of you go from group to group so that you can introduce yourself to everyone. the task takes longer than you expect. it feels like the girl knows every face on the beach. you aren’t complaining though—her connections are sure to land you a few friends of your own. you aren’t sure how long it’s been since you started, but you’re relieved when, instead of hopping from one crowd to the next, you come to a standstill. you don’t think you can remember any more names even if you tried. though, your relief is short-lived.

“there’s one more person i want you to meet.” the girl’s eyes scan the beach in search of a particular someone as you sigh at the thought of having to give the same short “about me” spiel once more. “oh, there he is!”

just like she had all night, your cousin takes your hand and hers and guides you, seemingly to the figure sitting on the ground with their knees pulled up, one hand resting behind them in the sand, the other holding a brown bottle.

“sero! this is my cousin.” she gives him your name.

the man—sero—is quite a sight. a metal bar with a ball on each end sits on the arch of his right eyebrow, a small ring hugging his lip on the opposite side. the top half of his hair is pulled back into a loose bun that is having trouble keeping all the dark strands contained—a few pieces have escaped to frame his face. all three buttons on the chest of his white, long-sleeved shirt are undone, revealing a fair amount of tanned skin and just a sliver of something else. you can’t see exactly where it leads, but the ink on display due to his rolled up sleeves gives you an idea of what it is—a tattoo that stretches from his pec nearly down to his wrist. the dark lines warp and wind around his arm to paint a precise and beautiful image. vibrant pops of red on the petals of lotus flowers and scales of koi fish catch your eye as you inspect it. you will yourself to look away and back up to his face. if there wasn’t such a friendly smile gracing his lips, you would have found him intimidating.

“it’s nice to meet you.” you clear your throat and smile, sending him a polite wave.

“the pleasure is mine. wanna sit?” he holds your eye, jerking his head to the empty spot in the sand beside him.

“oh i should probably...” you were going to say stick with your cousin but when you turn your head to where she was standing, the girl was nowhere to be found. it doesn’t take long to find her, though, a familiar obnoxious laugh drifting through the air, the source of it several feet away. she’s a ways away now, but not so far that you can’t see her. you don’t see the harm in spending time with sero if she has found company elsewhere. “i guess i’ll take you up on that offer.”

crossing your ankles, you lower yourself into a sitting position beside sero, being sure to leave a reasonable space between you. you hug your knees to your chest. your head turns to face him, lips turning up into a slightly awkward smile. he was the first of many who didn’t follow up and ask the basic questions; what school you go to, where you’re visiting from, and whatnot. you have to admit, without the casual conversation starter, you’re at a loss for words.

“want something from the cooler?” maybe the silence was becoming too awkward for him and he decided to put you out of your misery, but you’re thankful for his words—even knowing you’ll have to find a new topic in a couple of seconds.

“if you have water, that’d be great.” sero seems nice enough but you don’t trust yourself to drink anything alcoholic in the presence of a stranger.

he nods, reaching over to open the cooler. he digs through the ice for a bit before pulling out a bottle of water. he holds the beverage out to you, fat drops of the melted ice dripping down onto the sand below. you stick your hand out to accept it.

“nice tattoo,” he comments upon seeing the mid-size piece on your extended forearm.

“oh this?” you turn your arm up so the ink on your skin is completely visible. the butterfly on your forearm was an impulsive decision that you made at the ripe age of eighteen. just looking at it brings back memories of the day you and your friends excitedly entered the tattoo shop. all of you had gotten some sort of symbol or pattern marked on you. they were something of a rite of passage into adulthood, or at least that’s what you told yourselves. you don’t hate it, but you don’t think much of it nowadays. “it’s nothing compared to yours.”

“it’s a little flashy, huh?” he chuckles as he twists his arm from side to side, examining the extravagant piece.

“no. well, maybe, but i like it.” your gaze finds its way back to his tattoo. it’s so much different than your own and you wonder what compelled him to get it. it must have been painful considering it takes up so much space, but even if his pain tolerance is high, you imagine the piece required multiple sessions in the chair. the dedication must mean the tattoo holds some sort of significance to him. “is there a story behind it?”

“nothing deep; i wanted it, so i got it.” the bottle in his hand meets his lips and he takes a swig of the beer.

“really?” his answer surprises you. while you can understand it—his reasoning is practically identical to yours—you weren’t expecting it. something made you think there would be a more grand explanation. “that’s all?”

he nods. “that’s all.”

sero is strange. not in a way that makes you uncomfortable or wary of him, but he’s certainly different. sure, you’ve only spent less than half an hour with him but from what you’ve gathered in that time, your conclusion is that he’s best compared to a puzzle. from his appearance to the way he speaks to the mysterious air that floats around him—you’re intrigued. you want to put the pieces together.

“my legs are getting cramped.” he stretches the limbs out with a dramatic groan before boosting himself up off the ground. his fingers brush the sand off from his khaki-colored palazzo pants. now that he’s standing at his full height, you can see how truly tall he is—over six feet for sure. despite his loose-fitting clothes, you can tell he is on the thinner side; his muscles more lean than bulky. he looks down at your sitting figure, holding a hand out, presumably for you to take it. “care to join me for a walk, butterfly?”

“butterfly?” you question with raised brows. there’s a glint of playfulness in his obsidian eyes.

he shrugs, a smile finding its way to his lips. “i thought it was fitting. so, are you going to leave me by my lonesome or hang out a little longer?”

you look at his outstretched hand. “well, can’t have you feeling lonely, now can we?”

you take his hand in yours and sero pulls you up to your feet. you struggle to find your footing in the sand, but sero doesn’t let go until you regain your balance. before the two of you set off, your companion helps you find your cousin so that you can inform her of where you are heading. the voices and music of the party become hushed the further you both makes your way down the shore.

the rush of waves laps at the sand of the beach as you walk beside them. the sound was soothing, a far cry from the atmosphere you’d just left behind. another wave rushes toward you and sero. you’re nervous that it will reach his sandal-clad feet but it stops just short of them. even if the water had hit him, you don’t think he would mind.

“so...” he breaks the comfortable silence, sticking his hands away in his pockets. you turn to face him upon hearing his voice, but he’s looking up to the sky. the sun was setting when you had arrived but it’s long gone now, the night sky illuminated by sparkling stars. “you’re only here until you go back to school?”

you nod even though he isn’t looking at you. “i wanted a change of scenery and my family used to live here, so this was the first place i thought of.”

he hums in understanding.

“how about you?” your mission of putting the puzzle that is sero together will remain unaccomplished if you don’t make an effort at getting to know him. “you probably go to UA if my cousin knows you from school.”

“yeah, i do. well, i guess i did. i’m transferring so this’ll be my last summer in town.” 

“i guess we’ll both be gone in a few months then.” you point out.

“all the more reason to make those months unforgettably exciting, right?”

he has a point; without assignments or essays or presentations to worry about, you’re free to have as much fun as you’d like. living carelessly and creating memories before going your separate ways is a lot like the coming-of-age movies you watched in high school. what sero is proposing sounds similar, but instead of making those memories with people you’d known your entire life, you’d be doing it with some guy you had just met. and, honestly, the thought is exhilarating. maybe the change of scenery you sought would come in the form of a person, not a place.

“what do you say?” he gently nudges your shoulder, looking down at you with eyes full of promise. “want to be my partner in crime for the summer?”

JUNE

it’s been a month since that night. of those thirty days, nearly all of them were spent with sero. you were able to get his phone number before you went home with your cousin and were pleasantly surprised to wake up to a text from him asking to hang out. that’s how it usually went—he either messaged you in the early hours of the morning or super late at night to take you to his favorite spots in town. you could recall a few of them from childhood but others were entirely new to you. one thing remained the same across all the places you visited together, that being with each stop you made, you grew closer and closer to sero.

today is no different—well, just a little. sero’s texts are usually accompanied by a location where you’d meet him. this time around, he asks for your address so that he can pick you up. you gave it to him without a second thought. when you get the text that he’s on his way, you grab your phone and keys and sit outside on one of the steps of the front porch to wait for him. despite expecting him, you’re caught off guard when he pulls into your aunt’s driveway.

“hey, butterfly.” he rarely ever calls you by your name, opting to use the nickname he had coined instead. you don’t mind it. “what’s with the face?”

“nothing, nothing. it’s just, when you said you were picking me up, i thought it would be in a car.” or a truck. maybe even a van. something with four doors; hell, even something with two doors would be on par with your expectations. the two-wheeled, one-seat scooter before you doesn’t even have doors. you aren’t even sure if you’ll be able to sit behind him on the cushioned leather.

“are you telling me you don’t like my vespa? you wound me.” sero dramatically holds a hand to his heart. you shake your head, your feet taking you to stand beside his unconventional mode of transport. upon further surveillance, the white scooter looks cute, charming. it even has a ledge where you could set a bag or basket in the back. still, in the month you’ve spent getting to know him, you never imagined that sero would own a ride that so drastically juxtaposed his image.

“no, no. it’s cool but... i guess i figured if you were driving something with two wheels, it’d be a motorcycle. or, you know, something edgier than a scooter.”

“it’s a vespa.” he corrects you, shoving his spare helmet in your direction. you snort as you take it, placing it on your head and clipping the strap under your chin. “and it’s plenty edgy.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night. so, where do i go on this situation?” you gesture. now that you’re closer, it looks even less likely that there’s enough space left on the seat for you to squeeze on.

“hop on the back.” sero reaches behind him to pat the brown leather.

you give him a doubtful look and he returns it with one of challenging amusement. you can tell when you were beat. with a sigh, you toss one leg over and shimmy forward until your chest is pressed firmly against sero’s back. if you lean back the slightest bit, you’re sure you’ll hit the ground. “i’m not going to fall off, am i?”

you can feel the laughter ripple through sero’s body as the vespa roars to life. he nudges the kickstand back, balancing the both of you on the scooter effortlessly. his head turns to look over his shoulder. the playfully mischievous look that seems to linger in his dark eyes is present—tenfold. “not if you hold on.”

your arms tightly wrap around his midsection as he reverses out of your driveway and speeds down the street. most of your hair is tucked away in the helmet settled on your head, but any of the strands that happened to escape are blown in the direction of the wind. the warm breeze tickles your face. each time sero curves into a turn, your heart feels as though it is floating up toward your throat. it’s nerve-wracking at first, but as you grow more confident that sero isn’t going to skid off the road, fear is traded in for enthusiasm whenever you see his lithe fingers reach for the turn signal. the ride ends up being much more pleasant than you imagined. so much so that you’re slightly disappointed when sero pulls into a parking lot and situates the vespa in an empty spot.

you follow his lead and remove your helmet, taking his hand when he offers it to help you off the scooter. you take the time sero spends making sure the vehicle won’t fall over to survey where he had taken you. he claimed that he was treating you to lunch and the sign spelling out “hamburgers” in bold letters cements his word.

the building is only large enough to house a kitchen—there’s no indoor seating, but a few picnic tables take up space on either side of the establishment. the lack of an indoor dining room doesn’t deter the townspeople from enjoying the food, though. a number of families and groups of friends lounge outside, conversing and laughing over their meals. the environment is friendly.

“mind if i order for us both?” sero bumps his shoulder against yours.

from the start, sero told you he’d never lead you astray. he made a habit of rubbing it in your face and saying “i told you so” during the times when your skepticism at his suggestions turned into you begrudgingly admitting defeat. as a result, you quickly learned to trust his judgement. you shake your head in response to his question, “go for it.”

“i’ll be back.”

you watch as sero makes his way toward the stand to place the order. he greets the employee with a smile and they return it. you’re too far away to hear their exchange but something tells you that it had shifted from food to something else, if the fact that sero was shoving his wallet back into his pocket is any evidence. his comfortability makes you wonder if he is familiar with the worker. if that’s the case, sero has ties with almost everyone in town. it’s possible that he is just charismatic enough to make it seem as though he knows everyone he chats with, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did. it made you think about how difficult it would be for him to move away.

“i’m back and bearing food.” sero approaches with a bright red tray carrying all the menu items he had ordered. “let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

you nod and fall into step beside him, walking past parked cars to find the seating area. he jerks his head toward an empty table, silently asking whether or not that one was okay. it is clean and unoccupied which checks the two boxes on the short list of what you consider a suitable table. you sit down on the bench and sero takes a seat beside you, setting the tray down on the table. you finally get a good look at its contents. two burgers, a large serving of french fries, and a paper cup filled to the brim with a strawberry milkshake, two red straws sticking out of the frozen beverage.

“a milkshake with two straws? and you continue to deny that you’re a romantic.” you waste no time popping a fry into your mouth. the whole “sero the romantic” thing started as a joke. he was gentlemanly whenever the two of you hung out, always offering to pay, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back, and never failing to open a door for you. you took every opportunity to point out his kind gestures, even going as far as calling him boyfriend material. he’d always laugh and brush it off, but his behavior never changed.

“because i’m not. this,” he gestures to the paper cup, “was a frugal choice.” 

you smile at his excuse.

“stop looking at me like that and taste your food.”

you laugh and raise your hands in mock surrender before unwrapping the burger from its parchment paper. sero had been raving about this restaurant that supposedly had the best burger in town. the one in your hold looks plainly average but you figure that this must be the place he was talking about—you can feel his stare burning into the side of your face, waiting for your reaction. you would’ve messed with him for a little longer if you weren’t so hungry. so, you turn to face him and take a bite. 

he raises his eyebrows in curiosity as you chew. you nod your head and give him a thumbs up so you wouldn’t speak with your mouth full.

“mm, i think it’s more than a head nod and thumbs up if it’s all over your face,” sero comments. while you’re sure that he was exaggerating, you can admit that the first bite usually is messy. your eyes scan the table for a napkin so that you can wipe off whatever is staining your face. luckily, a small pile of white rectangles sit on the tray. before you can grab one, sero softly presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, his tongue poking out to clean off the lingering sauce. your frown brings a smirk to his lips as he pulls away.

you can’t say exactly when that started—the kissing, not licking. maybe a couple weeks into the summer? it was nighttime, you remembered that much, and it was spontaneous. neither of you initiated the kiss, it just happened, almost as though there was a magnet between the both of you drawing you together. and it felt good. too good. sero knew as much, which was why the first words out of his mouth were ones explaining that it would be easier if the two of you didn’t label your relationship. it was strange to you—the concept of being intimate with someone and not calling them your partner, but you understood that it was better this way. you’d have to say goodbye eventually and dissolving ties would come as a less painful task if you didn’t think of sero as your boyfriend.

“i could have done that myself, you know.” you hold up your free hand to flick his forehead but he catches it before you are able. instead, he kisses the pulse located at your wrist, smiling against your skin.

“where’s the fun in that?” he asks through a laugh after you swatted him away.

“ugh,” you groan theatrically, “just eat.”

even though you’re here at sero’s suggestion, he has a more enjoyable time playing around than eating. he spends practically the rest of the outing trying to see if he can land small, torn up pieces of the food in your open mouth and dipping french fries into the strawberry-flavored shake despite you fighting him on it, claiming that the saltiness would throw off the taste. before the two of you clean up to leave, sero pulls out his phone to document the moment. it had become a sort of tradition—taking a photo every time you hung out. he said that this way, the both of you could look at the image and relive the day.

the picture taken to highlight the day is one of you and sero happily drinking your shared milkshake.

JULY

“why couldn’t we ride your stupid vespa here?”

ever since sero introduced you to his vespa last month, he started taking you everywhere on the moped you insulted as if to spite you. so when he came to pick you up tonight, you were surprised to see him on foot. you don’t mind it much, but it’s a little odd strolling down the sidewalk—arm in arm with sero—in your swimsuit after dark.

“first of all, fuck you—it’s not stupid.” he tries to shake you off of him but you only hold on tighter, grinning at his reaction. he never lets any of your sly comments about his vespa go unnoticed. god, he loves that dumb little scooter. “second of all, it might have drawn some unwanted attention.”

“now what is that supposed to mean? you’re not going to get me arrested, are you?” of course you don’t really think sero would take you to do anything illegal, but his wording warrants cause for concern.

he tries once more to escape your grasp, but this time around, you let him go. his now free arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. you stumble at the unexpected motion, but he makes sure to keep you on your feet. a pair of soft lips meet your forehead in an obnoxiously messy kiss. “have some faith in me, butterfly. i promise we won’t have any run-ins with the law.�� 

“so you’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask.

“nope,” he pops the p, “wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

sero promised you a summer full of excitement and he has yet to disappoint. no matter how vague he is in regard to what adventure you’re taking next, you trust him.

so when he asks you to close your eyes, you do so without hesitation.

one of his hands covers the upper half of your face to ensure you won’t peek while the other guides you. his touch grounds you but your fingers restlessly tap at your thighs in anticipation. maybe it’s because you gave up one of your senses, but it feels like you’ve been walking blindly forever.

“i feel like people usually do the whole ‘close your eyes’ thing when they’re closer to their destination.”

“so impatient.” his hand moves from your back to tickle your side in a weak gesture of scolding you. you giggle and flinch, but there isn’t much you can do to get him to stop without your eyesight. his fingers don’t continue for long, though, as teasing tickles turn into a comforting squeeze. “we’re here, but keep your eyes shut.”

the warmth that had spread across your face is replaced by a brisk breeze when sero pulls his hand away. even with your eyes closed, the street lights make the darkness within your eyelids a tad bit brighter. you aren’t sure how far away he is, maybe a couple of feet, but you can hear sero fiddling with something—something metal that clacks against more metal. finally, a creaking sound. his sandals scrape against the sidewalk as he moves to stand beside you.

“you can open them in three, two, one.” as soon as his countdown comes to an end, your eyelids flutter open. beyond the gate that sero just made work of unlocking is a sparkling blue pool. the light breeze creates soft ripples throughout the water that is illuminated by circular lights. “ta-da.”

“wow, i didn’t know you had a pool.” a while ago—you can’t say when—you had told sero that you thought swimming in the sea under the stars was something you always wanted to do when you were a kid. you knew that it was pretty much impossible considering how dangerous it might be, so the thought only lived in your head as an unattainable fantasy. this is a little different but the premise is still there—swimming in the blue under the night sky. and you can’t believe that sero had remembered the little piece of information you shared with him.

“i don’t.” sero nonchalantly replies, pulling his crew neck over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs. the lack of sleeves reveals the tattoo you’d easily grown to love. he lets his hair loose from the hair tie that binds it, smoothing a hand over the dark strands  to tame any flyaways. you stare at him incredulously. didn’t he just tell you that you didn’t have to worry about getting into any trouble?

“whose house are we at then?” you question. your feet are anchored to the ground. as much as you want to live out this modified version of what you often imagined, you aren’t entirely comfortable with the thought of trespassing on someone’s property to do so.

“a friend’s. and don’t worry, no one’s home. his family is away on vacation.” it seems plausible enough. the silver key that sits on top of his jacket shines under the moonlight. that’s proof that he hadn’t picked the lock. so unless he stole the key, maybe you two really are in the clear.

“hey, relax.” sero can sense your reluctance and moves to stand behind you. his hands reach around you to unzip the hoodie that served as a coverup. once he’s pulled it off your arms, he flings the article of fabric and it joins his in a pile on the pool chair. with your shoulders now exposed, he presses a light kiss to each of them before wrapping his arms around your waist. “i wouldn’t lie to you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he’s right, though. it isn’t like him to lie, not in a situation like this, anyway. you’ve spent enough time worrying and the walk here wasn’t a particularly short one. all things considered, you’re wasting valuable time. “let’s get—”

you aren’t able to finish your sentence before sero’s hold on you tightens and your feet are pulled up and out of your flip-flops. your eyes widen in shock at the sudden motion. there isn’t time to question his actions as sero begins walking you to the edge of the pool. he swings you back to gain momentum before hurling you forward. you’re already mid-air and above the water when a scream rips from your throat.

under the water, everything around you sounds muffled. the cold temperature is jarring enough to shake you from your state of surprise and urge you to swim up. when you emerge at the surface, the first thing you can hear is sero’s irksome laughter. your hands move to push the wet hair sticking to your forehead off of your face. the sight of sero recovering from his fit of chuckles has you narrowing your eyes. “hanta, you asshole!”

you don’t mean to scream—your plan was to keep your volume down in hopes of not disturbing any of the neighbors, but you can’t help it considering what the man had just done. and he has no remorse as he wipes a tear from his eye at your reaction to his antics. to make things worse, you can’t even get him back by splashing the chilly water at his dry figure because he’s jumping in to join you before you have the chance.

the water splatters with his weight, leaving the drops that had escaped to decorate the pool patio in dark little specks. you shield your face with an arm to keep yourself from becoming a victim of his cannonball. he surfaces not long after, shaking his hair out as if he’s a dog getting out of the bath. he meets your gaze with a bright smile.

“i can’t believe you.” you kick your feet to take you away, not wanting to be pulled in by his charm. the waves tickle your face as you float to the other end of the pool. now that you have been in it for a while, the water doesn’t feel as cold.

loud splashes and a new set of waves alert you of sero’s presence. he’s beside you in an instant, still wearing that very same smile. “you can’t?”

you aren’t mad—you don’t think it’s possible for you to truly be upset with him. and despite the little stunt he pulled catching you off guard, you have to admit that it was on-brand for him. all of your lingering annoyance with him disappears as he juts his lip out in a pout. you huff out a laugh at his childish expression.

upon seeing your relaxed countenance, he swathes you in his arms, pulling you close so that the tips of your noses are touching. the blue of the water accompanies your reflection in his dark irises. “i know a pool doesn’t really compare to the open expanse of the sea, but i hope you’re having fun.”

“this is more than enough for me. thank you.” your hands tangle in his wet strands of raven hair to draw him in impossibly closer. your lips brush against his softly in what can barely be considered a kiss. the unintentional teasing has more of an effect on sero than you expect, his lips chasing yours the moment you drag them away.

the cool metal of the jewelry that hangs from his lip presses against your skin as he deepens this kiss. your legs unconsciously wrap around his waist as you suck in a breath through your nose. his tongue swipes across your lower lip and you part the two without hesitation. though, you aren’t granted the opportunity to continue on much further without interruption.

“sero, what the fuck?” an unfamiliar voice rings out in the air causing you to hastily pull away. you search for the source of the noise, following sero’s gaze as he turns around to address the person calling for him. you tilt your head up to the second story of the house you’d barely paid any mind to and are met with a head of yellow hair that is strikingly bright in comparison to the darkness surrounding it. this must be the friend that sero was talking about.

“hey, kami.” he’s considerably calm for having just been caught in such a promiscuous position. does he not find this the slightest bit embarrassing? “i thought you were out of town until tomorrow.”

“yeah, well, obviously plans changed.” the guy’s—kami’s—eyes finally fall on you. the burning in your cheeks tempts you to hide behind sero, but there’s nothing malicious behind his stare. there is only fatigue and a little alarm swimming in his golden eyes. they dart back to sero. “i hate to cut whatever you’re doing short, but you need to get out of here. my parents are going to kill me if they find out you have a spare key.”

“we’ll be out of your hair, man.” sero sends him a two-finger salute. his friend shakes his head and closes his window, presumably to go back to bed.

sero rotates to face you.

“on vacation, huh?” you shoot him a questioning look.

“you heard him,” he shrugs with a smile, “plans changed.”

AUGUST

aside from the chirping of crickets and the gentle wind rustling the lush leaves, it’s silent. your head rests comfortably on sero’s shoulder, his arm folded around your waist. he’s brought you to a hill that overlooks what seems like the entire town. it would have been nice—his company and the view—if the silence wasn’t so suffocating.

even your first night together wasn’t this quiet.

you try to ignore the stillness by turning your focus to the scenery before you. somewhere down below is denki’s pool that you swam in last month, the burger place you’d eaten at the month before, and the beach where you met sero the month before that one. you can only pick out the beach now. just like that mid-may night, it’s lit up by string lights and contained flames, and the stretch of sand is occupied by the very same people you became acquainted with three months ago. there’s a party going on—some end of the summer get together that your cousin invited you to just out of courtesy. she knew you wanted to spend your last night here with sero.

“it’s really our last night together...” his voice cuts through the silence. you normally love hearing him talk; it usually brings a smile to your face. but just like the rest of this night, his voice has a different effect on you—one you can’t claim to be fond of.

“yeah.” your voice breaks. there it is—the reason, or part of the reason, you can’t will yourself to break the silence, will yourself to speak. you don’t know what to say and you figure any words you can string together into a coherent sentence will only end up cracking in your throat.

your cheeks are wet—you’re crying. the tears slip from their ducts, sliding down your cheeks and slipping past the corners of your mouth, leaving a taste as bitter as this moment on your tongue. an instinctive sniffle makes you wrinkle your nose. you don’t even realize that the sleeve of sero’s shirt is soaking up half of your tears.

“hey, no tears, butterfly.” you can feel the vibrations of his voice on the side of your face. he squeezes your side in hopes of comforting you. and it does, a little, but part of it hurts. not physically, but knowing that these few touches from him will be your last is painful. “didn’t we have fun?”

you think back to one of your first conversations with sero—the one when he asked you to join him in making the summer unforgettably exciting. you had no way of knowing just how much fun you’d have and how many memories you’d make along the way. at some point, sero had wedged his way into your heart and made a room for himself. all the memorable moments you had lived with him over the summer would reside in that room.

you nod weakly, as best you could in your current position. “yeah, we did.”

from the start, you knew that this was bound to end eventually, that this world you were living in would only last the summer. what you couldn’t have predicted was the bond you’d make with sero. you knew that the closer you got to him, the more difficult it would be for you to say goodbye in the end. still, even facing the hardship now, you wouldn’t change anything given the chance. 

"thank you.” his utterance is barely a whisper, as though the words were meant for you and you only—as if you’re in a bubble secluded from everyone and everything else.

“hm?” you snuggle into the crook of his neck, taking in the familiar fragrance of his cologne—just another thing you’ll miss. “for what?”

“being my partner in crime.” his head comes to rest on your own and your eyes drift shut at the contact. he breathes in a heavy sigh against your hairline. you can feel his lips curl up into a smile. “i can’t imagine giving the position to anyone else.”

a smile of your own makes its way to your lips. “same here.”

sero is much better at hiding the emotion in his voice, but if you were able to get a look at him, you’d be able to see his eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

—

it’s been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him. as happy as you are to be back in your element, you’d be lying if you said things had bounced back to the way they were before you met sero. something about life now feels off. it isn’t that you aren’t yourself, rather, that a newly discovered piece of you has gone missing. you’ve been driving yourself crazy trying to figure out how parting ways with someone after only four months of knowing them could leave you feeling so hollow.

all you are sure of is that you want to get out of here.

you throw back the pink liquid in your cup, the sting causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. no point in letting a perfectly good drink go to waste, right? you stand up and wipe the condensation that had transferred from the cup to your hand on the front of your pants. your feet carry you to the nearest trash can and you crumple the plastic, tossing it in the bin. you attempt to recall where your roommate said she had wandered off to—you can’t remember if she said beer pong or king’s cup. either way, you need to find her to see if she planns on staying much longer.

process of elimination; beer pong up first.

the scent of liquor and sweat invades your nostrils as you near the room where the long, black table is situated. it’s nauseating but you push on, determined to find the person you’re searching for. unfortunately, your roommate is nowhere to be found in the crowd of people packed within the four walls. you scan each room left on the first floor of the frat house and there is still no sign of them.

it isn’t like her to go somewhere without a word and she definitely wouldn’t leave without telling you. you have yet to pull out your phone but it’s becoming clear that you’ll require the aide. you just hope she has her phone somewhere on her person.

your eyes are glued to the screen in your hand, fingers tapping out a message while you make your way to the back door. you’re just about to hit send on the text when you collide with something hard. the impact draws an “oof” out of the barrier you had just run into. that much tells you that it isn’t a wall, but a person. you rush to apologize for your fault. 

“shit, sorry.” you rub your forehead at the site that had bumped into what must have been a chest. everything inside your skull feels jumbled.

“no worries—butterfly?”

your ears perk up at the nickname. only one person calls you that and as far as you know, he isn’t anywhere near here. but there is no mistaking that voice—it sounds exactly like him. your eyes drag up from the floor to face the figure. you must have put back that alcohol too fast or hit your head harder than you thought because you swear that sero is standing in front of you.

“don’t tell me you forgot about me already. or are you just drunk off your ass?”

you almost, almost, can’t believe it’s him, but everything about the guy from his daring piercings to his hypnotizing dark eyes to the stunning tattoo on his arm screams sero. it is him. it has to be.

“sero?”

“the one and only.”

you blink at his confirmation. all he can do is smile at your confusion.

“wh-what are you doing here?” you ask—not that you aren’t unhappy to see him—it was quite the opposite, but you’re still trying to wrap your head around him being here.

“this happens to be my new campus. thought i’d try to make some friends before classes started. but i can’t say i expected to see you here—what a pleasant surprise.”

he told you that he was planning on transferring schools but you figured there was no point in asking what or where that school might be. and what was the likelihood of him ending up on the very campus you called your own? apparently, the odds were greater than you thought. 

the awkwardness of your encounter is melting away into the comfortability you’d come to associate with sero due to the newfound information. you don’t know if it’ll be possible to jump back in where the two of you left off, but having him back in your life is more than you could ever ask for.

you nod, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the wide smile that threatens to stretch across your lips. “how’s that going for you?”

he shrugs. “eh, doesn’t matter. i just ran into an old one.”

“oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow in question.

“yeah.” he shoots you a knowing look. the sparkle in his eye serves as a signal that something playfully entertaining is brewing behind them. and, more than any time during the summer, you can’t wait to find out what he might be scheming. “hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

you don’t have to think about your answer. “i’d love that.”

thank u for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

[still-a-morosexual-help]

"How long have you worked here," he asks, keeping pace with them as they stroll down the street, listening to the song of birds waking up for the morning, the rare rumble of a car passing by, distant chatter of people getting ready for their day.

They hum, tilting their head up to stare at the clear blue sky. "I've been living here for almost a year now but I've only had this job for a month. Sometimes though, it feels like I've had it since the beginning of time."

“One of those jobs, eh?” He laughs lightly at what he knows isn’t an all that funny joke. He expects that warm bubbling laughter to join him in solidarity, as it has for the handful of minutes they’ve known each other. What he gets instead is the cold morning air biting at his skin and the deafening silence.

It’s only for a second, a moment in time that freezes and drags before the world comes rushing back to him in a cacophony of white noise, but for a moment when he turns to catch their eye wanting for that warm, welcoming acceptance that threads their every word, their every action, he is instead met with cold, cold, burning anger that fogs his breath and paints his fingertips blue. For but a moment in time, where the world around him ceases to exist, he is nothing to them, a bug under their shoe, dead decaying meat viewed with mild disgust as an inconvenience to their otherwise perfect day.

They blink.

The world rushes in; birdsong and chattering townsfolk.

The Vacancy (Part 2: Chapter 8 - The Sacrifice link)

The Vacancy (Part 1: Chapter 1 - The Town link)

Unnamed, Gender Neutral MC x Mammon

Summary:

What they have always wanted was a place to belong. A place for themselves, full of love and purpose and family. Where people were happy to greet them each morning. Where their existence mattered. Isn't that what everyone wanted?

Wouldn't you do anything, everything , to find that place?

Chapters 1-7 were initially posted on 10.09.2023 & have now been revised

Chapters 8 onward are COMPLETELY NEW

Tags: • Alternate Universe •Twisted and Fluffy Feelings •Unhealthy Relationships •Mild Gore • Body Horror • Angst with a Happy Ending • Psychological Horror •Unreliable Narrator •Fluff •Angst • Horror •Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting •Cults •Human Sacrifice •Self-Harm

Rating: M

Comments & kudos & reblogs are always treasured because I am a cave dwelling little creature that hoards that shit and snorts it like crack

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[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-04-09

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ His￨Prt. II￨Prt. III by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: Young and in love, with a thousand changes to face, a hundred plans to make, all sealed with a promise and a kiss.

✑ Blooming Chemistry by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 •

✑ Personal by annesthaeticc • 〔A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "He's sick and tired of being just friends. Sherlock finally lets you know what he truly feels for you on your special night."

✑ And They Were Roommates by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 •

✑ Campus Detective by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

✑ Kids In Love by thepokyone • 〔F〕 •

✑ Meeting Sherlock at University… by madlittlecriminal • 〔F〕 •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @annesthaeticc || @bakerstreethound || @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds || @goldencherriess || @madlittlecriminal || @thepokyone ||