#and yet; fated to repeat the same error with each other

[da-janela-lateral]

Red string of fate

[bakugosbratx]

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴ’ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ

— Yandere Alpha Katsuki Bakugo x Omega Fem! Reader

Trigger Warning: NSFW 18+. Omegaverse, abuse, corruption, cursing, deprivation, neglect, kidnapping, yandere, non-con, etc.

Words: 3,826

Tags: @peachyquing @milkthistletea @bakugous-trauma @gazelle-des-pres @miriobaby @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @vinny-likes-to-play21 @ssplague @ebiharachan @fransuki @angie-1306 @rainne-cloud @interstellar-inn @nymphoheretic

You were sick of hearing those wicked words from your captor. He could repeat that phrase as much as he wanted to, but no matter how much mental and physical abuse you endure from this man will never change your mindset. This cruel world is disgusting in many ways and one of those ways was something way beyond your control.

You have always wanted to be more than your mother has become. She was nurturing, soft, and a great woman overall, but you witnessed the way the world treated her kind.

“Move it, Omega!” Alpha’s, Gamma’s, Beta’s, and Sigma’s would growl whenever they deemed that she attempted to step out of line. Your mother’s words would soon be diminished anytime she spoke up. Even if it was for something as simple as correcting an error made on her coffee order.

“Shut it, Omega, and take what the barista gives ya!”

So, your mother did not say much at all anymore. Your father was usually busy making money for your family that he was not always around to help protect you two from these moments. Other Alpha’s knew better than to come to your father’s territory. His scent was all over it and his mark was always visible on your mother. Your father has fought off many Alpha’s and Sigma’s who dare challenge him. With stars in your eyes, you watched it all go down each time.

“I’ll be like him someday,” you would mutter to yourself in determination, “I will be the most feared Alpha there was!”

Your parents could not help but chuckle. You were a young pup; your determination was cute. Your small growls only received coos and headpats when you attempted to be tough like your father. Of course, many others feared your father. A powerful alpha like him out and about with his pup was not the time to challenge him.

This only fed your ego more.

When anyone approached you or your father, they would coo at your adorableness. “I am not cute!” You would exclaim in frustration. “I am going to be the most feared Alpha this world has ever seen, you hear me?!”

Bystanders would chuckle as you went along with your journeys. Though, you would be hit with the realization you are just a pup when it came time for your father to hunt for your guys next meal.

“C’mon, dad. Please let me go? Please?” You would plead as your father put on his gear. “No.” He would sternly reply, not providing any room for yes, no’s, or maybe’s. You did not even have a chance to protest as your father walked out the door, leaving you and your mother alone.

“It’s not fair.” You huffed with folded arms across your chest. “I’m going to be the most feared Alpha one day. I need to know how to hunt and dad isn’t even showing me how!”

“Now, now, dear. In due time. Maybe when you are a bit older you can join your father on his adventures.” Your mother soothed. She secretly hoped you would be an Alpha. She did not want you to face the same discrimination she does on a daily basis.

You never lost hope on becoming a strong Alpha. You trained yourself to become strong. You did all you could to build the muscle you truly desired to match an Alpha’s appearance and attempted to eat just like the Alpha’s did. You read all the magazines and even did your best to get an Alpha scent attached to your clothing.

“She’ll never become a true Alpha.” The kids in the school yard would whisper amongst each other. Some were already showing obvious signs of being an Alpha, Beta, or Omega, but you refused to accept your fate. You would ignore the negative glances and comments. You will be an Alpha.

Yet, that was not going to mask who you truly are.

The time was approaching. You were going to be eighteen soon and that meant you would finally know your status in the world. You could not wait to prove to everyone you will be an even greater Alpha than your father. Your body may struggle to build muscle and you could never eat like your father could, but you would get there. Your eighteenth birthday would prove that.

Awaking to the day you have waited so long for, you stretch in your nest you have built. Of course, you did not want to since that was such an Omega thing to do, but your mother insisted. So, not to disobey your mom, you did as she asked. It was comfortable and full of soft blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals you have received over the years. You would never admit it, but the stuffed animals made you feel safe.

Sniffing the air, your smile turned into a frown. A scream quickly followed which had your mother rushing into your room. “Darling, are you—“

“I’m just like you!” You sobbed, your scent being nothing like an Alpha. It was soft, sweet, and rosy. This was not how it was supposed to go. “This can’t be! I’m supposed to be a big strong Alpha!”

But this was obviously not the case. You would never be a big, strong Alpha. You were petite compared to them and you never cared for meat though you forced yourself to like it. Everything an Alpha was you were not. That was something you had to learn to accept.

Yet, here you are, Y/N. Chained up in a dark, cold basement all because you thought you could take on an Alpha. If only you could control your temper and alcohol consumption that night then maybe you would not be in this predicament.

“Are you insane?!” Your roommate gasped as she witnessed you put on a sexy outfit for the night on the town. “Y’know your heat is coming soon. Everyone will be able to smell it!”

“And?” You retorted as you spritz your favorite perfume. “You think an Alpha is going to come claim me or something?”

“Y’know how crazy Alpha’s can get, Y/N. They run this world. We are just victims of it.” She muttered, concerned clearly in her tone, but she knew there was no changing your stubborn mind. One of the many things people admired and hated about you. Once you have your mind set on something there is no stopping until your goal is completed.

“If an Alpha even tries to touch me, I’ll fight them.” You shrugged. Your friend could not hide the cackle. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You could never compete with an Alpha.”

Rolling your eyes, you make sure you have everything you need. “Look, I got it handled. I’ll be home later.” Hugging your roommate goodbye, you leave your shared apartment and head out to the local bar.

The Den.

A bar that had music, a dance area, pool tables, and a lounge area. This was a frequent mingle spot for everyone in their twenties. It had a mixture of everyone and everything. Plus, it was close to your living space, you could just walk and not worry about getting behind the wheel intoxicated.

Strolling up to the bar, you ordered your favorite alcoholic beverage. You usually had a friend or friend group join you out on nights like these, but your roommate was close to being in heat also so she refused to leave the apartment. Meanwhile, you took your chances.

Something about a full moon and your heat on the rise was calling to you. Midnight was looking for trouble and though you were not on the hunt for a mate, you wouldn’t mind enjoying what the night had to bring.

Sipping on your beverage of choice, the music spoke to your body as the rhythm took over. You could not even blame the intoxication from your beverage as your hips swayed to the beat, capturing the attention of a certain Alpha who decided to step in for the night. He was not one for the bar life unless his friends provoked him.

“C’mon, man! It’s been so long since you’ve come out with us.” The red hair, Eijiro Kirishima, pleaded. “Yeah, bro. There’s goin’ to be so many hot omegas just waiting to be bred.” The blonde, Denki Kaminari, practically drooled. Katsuki, the only Alpha of the crew, just growled.

“Yeah, right, like an omega would want to mate with a dumbass like you.” Katsuki shamed the Delta, relaxing more on the sofa. His friends couldn’t help but frown.

“C’mon, man. You said you would go out with us next time. Remember?” Eijiro, the Beta of the group, reminded him. Katsuki was not one to lie or be untrue to his word. That’s one of his best qualities underneath his tough exterior and because of that trait, his hands ended up on your waist and gentle nipping at your neck. You were too intoxicated from even more beverages you consume and being that close to your heat, how could you make the correct decisions?

You should have listened to your roommate. You should have stayed home and prepared your nest yet here you are, lips locked with a strong, masculine Alpha that can smell your heat on the rise.

Katsuki sniffed you, the faint scent of your heat coming intrigued him, sending his Alpha senses into overdrive. He was not planning on finding a mate tonight. In fact, he did not plan to interact with anyone. Katsuki was just keeping his word to his pack, but the way you moved was captivating. Your sweet aura lured the male to you without even trying. With the mixture of alcohol in your veins and your heat, you were inviting trouble.

“You’re coming with me.” Katsuki growled, his possessiveness already starting to show. If you were not in the state you were in currently, you would challenge the Alpha, but your submissive ways were on full display as the stranger led you to his car. You ignored the appalled glances of your peers who have seen you challenge anyone who even gazed in your direction. Now, this man you have never seen before is guiding you to his vehicle.

Katsuki Bakugo is used to girls throwing themselves at him. He is quite handsome with blonde fluffy hair, crimson gaze, kissable lips, and of course, a muscular exterior. He towers over you so easily making you feel petite. You should take this as a challenge like you do with anyone else, but the way dominance expels from his strong frame, you know your place quickly.

So when Katsuki easily threw you onto his king size bed, your face deep into the silk sheets that his scent was all over. Your submissive side was on full display, not an ounce of attitude, dismay, or defiance leaving your lewd lips. It was hard to hear anything with your bare ass up in the air and Katsuki’s cock already sinking deep into your weeping depths.

“Already so fuckin’ wet and I haven’t done shit to you.” Katsuki smirked, his cock sliding in with ease. He could smell your heat on the way and his Alpha senses were on fire. This is such a dangerous game you two are playing and that was so accelerating for the both of you.

Each stroke, your toes curled and your nails dug into his sheets. “Don’t be going and fuckin’ up my sheets now. Shit is expensive.” Katsuki chastised with a harsh slap to your ass that followed. Katsuki made sure to pull on your hair so he could hear you yelp from the impact, your claws digging into the sheets once more.

When you did not acknowledge his statement, another harsh slap followed to your ass. “Oi, did you not hear what I just fuckin’ said or did I fuck you dumb already?”

“I-I heard you.” You mumbled, trying to come back to reality. Katsuki was hitting your cervix with each stroke that you couldn't see straight. All you could feel is the impending doom that was building in the pit of your stomach.

Katsuki chuckled harshly as he felt your desperate walls flutter around his shaft, signaling he was sending you over the edge in the matter of seconds. Just when you thought you could see the light at the end of the glorious tunnel, Katsuki yanked on your hair some more to where your spine was practically cracking.

“If you think you can just not answer me when I’m speaking to you, you’re mistaken, ya damn brat.” Katsuki growled as he tugged on your hair even more. You could feel some strands coming out of your tender scalp from the impact. “I also suggest you better watch how you fuckin’ talk to me.”

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered in desperation, tears brimming your pleading eyes. You were too far gone to argue with him. All you wanted was your ecstasy only he could provide at this exact moment.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Katsuki huffed before using his free hand to grab your face, your jaw immediately opening from his brute force as he spat into your mouth. “Now be a good little whore and learn to fuckin’ listen.”

The spit slid down your throat, his dominance now entering your bloodstream and removing any ounce of defiance left in you. All you know was his presence, his scent clogging your nostrils and going straight up to your brain. All those years of trying to prove something you are not are going down the drain. You are under his spell. And with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to the beauty that will combine you two together, his canines brush over your veins that were prevalent in your neck.

You both are slipping. Falling into the internal darkness that is your nature and desires. There is nothing you can do as you become the truest form of yourself that is triggering Katsuki’s primal instincts.

With a low growl, Katsuki sinks his teeth into your neck. Marking you as his.

Forever.

If you knew what you know now, you would have never gone home with Katsuki that night. You would have ignored the intimidating yet interesting presence that entered the club. If anything, you would have stayed home like your friend suggested.

Now, here you are, chained up in the basement as you hear the heavy footsteps of your captors boots above. Dust falls with each large step and causes you to cough. You have been down here for a couple of days now for disobeying Katsuki. You thought the abuse was bad, but the endless darkness, unknown noises, and the draft that seems to seep from every nook and cranny seems far worse.

The metal shackles cling against the beam keeping you down in the hell that is now your home. Your body trembles from the unpleasant conditions. And just when you thought it could not get much worse, a blinding light comes through with a slam of a wooden door following it.

You covered your eyes from the illumination so the burning sensation will go away as you listened to the heavy footsteps jog down the stairs. You did not have to see who it was. As much as you dreamed and wished it would be anyone else, you knew better than to believe such fantasies. Even if they magically manifested into reality, the hard nudge of a thick leather boot is quick to snap you back to reality.

“You alive?” Katsuki’s gruff voice questioned. When you peak, your heart races. Your omega instincts are clawing within you to go be with your Alpha, but your stubbornness is still ingrained within you.

Something Katsuki just can’t seem to break.

“Still not talkin’, eh?” Katsuki observed you with an arched golden brow. You did not have the energy to reply. Two days without any food, water, light, warmth; it brings your energy down.

The shackles release from you as Katsuki lifts you up and throws you over his broad shoulder. You witness the darkness become further and further before the wooden door closes, engulfing you in brightness.

Katsuki sets you down on a pillow around the table. A decent portion of rice sits before you with a glass of water. Katsuki sits across from you, his own food awaiting him. You have learned in your short time here that Katsuki knows how to cook, but due to his job, he doesn’t have tons of time to do so. So, easy meals are his go-to at times.

Not that you complain. You are quick to eat up the food with Katsuki observing you, silently. His crimson gaze was burning into your sore flesh but you did not care at the moment. You are scarfing down your meal as if it would vanish at any given moment.

Because it can.

And Katsuki has shown that a handful of times.

Once you finish your warm cooked supper, you gulp down the cold beverage. Katsuki’s gaze never falters. Even when yours finally lands upon his. The intensity builds between you two. All the unspoken words, the degrading words and actions he does to you, the hatred that has built up inside of you. Everything was present in each other's gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence. “Thank you.” You muttered out, your voice still hoarse from the horrors of the last forty-eight hours of deprivation. Katsuki just kept quiet. No remorse swam in his eyes.

Only need for control.

Katsuki eventually stood up and grabbed each of your empty dishes. You flinched on instinct as he approached you and you could see the smug smirk that wanted to appear on his lips. If you were not so exhausted, you’d slap it off of his face.

As you observe him go into the kitchen and hear the sound of the water running to wash the dishes, your eyes gravitate towards the front door.

“Freedom.” You whisper to yourself knowing that your freedom is right there; right in reach. Your abuser made the mistake of leaving you unattended. Maybe it was a test? A test you were willing to fail if it meant you met your ultimate goal.

A burst of energy electrifies through you as you find your way to your numb feet. Upon shaken legs, you take one last glance over your shoulder before bolting towards the door. Each step forwards was a step towards your victorious glory. There it was; just behind this door.

The need for freedom was blinding all of your senses. You did not even hear the sound of the water turning off in the kitchen, the harsh curses escaping Katsuki’s lips as his long purposeful strides ate up yours. Just as you felt the breeze from outside dance in your hair as you opened the exit door, it was quickly slammed shut.

Victory obliterated.

All the strength you once had danced away in the wind along with your dreams of the life that was almost yours. Now, you are back into the harsh grasp you have become numb to.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Katsuki exclaims in frustration, shaking you in anger. If you were not already crying in defeat, you could witness the pools of sadness swimming in Katsuki’s desperate eyes. “Why can’t you just love me, dammit?!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the sting of Katsuki’s backhand met your cheek. “Shut up, Y/N! Just shut the fuck up!” He roared as tears finally fell down his face. You were taken back by his sudden display of emotion. He was no longer holding onto you, he was pacing as if he was attempting to regain sanity.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with you.” Katsuki admits aloud as he continues to pace. “I have my whole future ahead of me, but you came and wrecked that for me, Y/N. You ruined everything!”

“I’m sorry.” You mumer out on reflex. Katsuki has beaten you down enough so that you learn to apologize for any minor inconvenience in his life. You tend to pay the ultimate price for it regardless.

“What have I told you about sayin’ shit you don’t mean, Y/N?” Katsuki hisses through gritted teeth. His large shaky hands ball up into fist beside him, his whole demeanor cracking under the pressure of it all.

You stood there, frozen in fear. You are unsure of what to say or do. You are in the same room as a fierce predator who can demolish you in an instant, who has broken you down time and time again, and look at him; falling apart. What can you even say or do to fix this? He has acted out irrationally many times, but this was.. new.

A large thud startles you as you see Katsuki drop to his knees in defeat. His strong stature slumped over, his breathing rigid, and identity just shattered all over the hardwood floor. You are stunned into place, overwhelmed by the spectacle that is occurring in front of you.

“K-Katsuki..” You stammer as you place out a quivering hand. Katsuki has gone silent and you are afraid his heart might have gone out. Not that you should care, but he has beaten you into caring to some extent, unfortunately.

“Katsuki.. ?” You call out again and that’s when Katsuki looks up at you, his crimson gaze wicked and predatory.

On instinct, you rush out the door that is behind you and still unlocked from your earlier encounter. This time, you get out. The breeze that blew away your strength and dreams of victory was waiting for you and with each stride, you gained some of yourself back. The woman that has always been loud, strong, brave, and everything in between has returned.

As your bare feet touch the grass below, you could feel the warmth from the sun radiate against your skin. Something you have not felt since being in captivity. And even if this was all temporary, even a slither of the best dream of your entire life, it was worth it all.

Even when you go tumbling down to the ground from Katsuki catching up to you and pouncing on top of you. The Alpha always wins.

Especially one as great as Katsuki Bakugo.

You attempted to fight him off. “Get the hell off of me!” You demanded, but you are quickly silenced when Katsuki sinks his sharp fangs into the mark he left in you that night.

The night that changed everything.

Your body goes limp as you quit fighting. Your need for Katsuki increases with each passing second. His dominance drips into your bloodstream like a poison you cannot ever escape. And once Katsuki got you right where he wanted you, he met your gaze with a triumphant smirk.

“Don’t blame me, brat. Love made me fuckin’ crazy.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved — I don’t give anyone permission to repost, distribute, copy or re-use my works in any way. Especially not on other websites such as Tik Tok, Ao3, Wattpad, etc.

[river-in-the-woods]

greetings! i'm new to buddhism and i would be curious to know if you have any tips for westerners regarding the practice. i see a lot of people online aggravated by western attitudes at times and as new convert, i would like to avoid contributing to that. thank you!

Hi there :)

I suppose one of the greater issues is that there is a mindset of... shall we say, pioneering and innovation that can be unhelpful when approaching Asian traditions.

Western practitioners like to experiment, change the rules, "fuck around and find out" as they so often say. This works out well enough for them – in fact I think Western practitioners often thrive on their enthusiasm to explore, when it is balanced by discernment – but it is not an attitude that will get them far if they decide to train properly in an Asian tradition.

What we have in Asia that is lacking in Western traditions, are culture, history and esoteric lineages spanning thousands of years, and techniques that have been refined through trial and error with each passing generation. European traditions don't have this kind of unbroken lineage, which creates some distinct differences in mindset.

A Western practitioner might consider themself 'advanced' after 5-10 years of practice. But to become a Buddhist monk, guru/lama or Daoist method master, in that time you might only have just completed basic training (depending on tradition; I'm making broad generalisations here).

There is such a thing as spiritual authority, and Westerners sometimes don't like to hear this. After all, for many, becoming a witch/sorcerer/magician/spiritualist is all about taking fate into your own hands, claiming the universe's power, the church be damned, etc. Asian witchcraft and malefica does exist, however it is not treated as the path of self-liberation and sovereignty as it is in the West, so please do not mistake it as such.

(Diasporic Asians like to claim titles such as 'witch', and this is fine, but just bear in mind this has a decidedly negative connotation when you visit countries in East Asia).

The line between laypeople and ordained monks and priests is very clearly defined, and one is expected to show deference. This does not mean any sort of self-deprecation, rather, to understand one's own limits and keep an open and curious mind. Just as a layperson would not presume to know better than a trained doctor or surgeon.

Therefore, having ample patience will serve you well. You should expect to repeat the same basic practices 100s and 1000s of times, because cultivation is grueling and the path to Buddhahood, Immortality, or what have you, is something that takes lifetimes to achieve.

Now, that may not be your goal. You might simply want to live well in this life, and that is fine. The above message is more for those who aspire for mastery, importance or greatness, but do not yet understand what the journey requires. (I don't claim to understand it myself either).

This might be obvious, but in case it is not... be discerning about who you trust to guide you. There are genuine European/white practitioners who have entered their respective traditions the correct way, and there are Asian frauds and charlatans who have no qualms about using their cultural traditions to con people out of their money. You should respect what people have to say about their cultures and experiences, naturally, but don't use someone's ethnic background as a validation of their skill or character.

Most of all, maintain humility. Humility is the virtue that supports all other virtues. One that I think all of humanity struggles with the most, perhaps because we don’t understand it very well, and our survival has so often required its opposite.

Beyond that, I advise you not to place too much emphasis on seeking knowledge in books or written texts. The main reason for this: published texts on Buddhist practices come from oral traditions that may require empowerment and transmission. The people who publish these texts might not understand this, or they are relying on the good faith of spiritual seekers. One does themself a great disservice if they believe they can bypass the guidance of a teacher from a long-standing lineage.

The other reason is that the wisdom, capacity and personal growth one gains through cultivation is experiential. It can only be gained through consistent practice. A skillful teacher can guide you on the path, but ultimately, the real thing cannot be taught, and all words fail to capture its true majesty.

I hope this helps, and doesn't come across as too intimidating. Take it slow, let the path unfold before you, and enjoy each day as it comes. Keep a green bough in your heart, and the singing bird will come 💚

[builtintripping]

huehuehue time to ask EVEN MORE QUESTIONS because im crying rn. cant they just make a folder (in a pc) with like timmys memories (well atleast most or some) or will fairy magic wont let that? about the video games (nicktoons unite, breakin da rules, shadow showdown, etc.) did they happen in the past or didnt? (well i mean nu probably does but what about the fop games?) do they do crimes or are they just silly goobers? if timothy meets jimbo nutronio again would he like him or not interestted? (follow up to the cindy thing) idk if ive asked this before but does timmy like trixie after the memory wipe? would crocker remember timmy with fairies? what does timbo think of thy gurl tootie? would he remember THE SONGS!? (like icky vicky, my shiny teeth and me, etc.) how much coffee does each member take? was the last question unexpected? sorry theres way more asks than what i entended to ask about. i got carried away 🥲

Memory backup? They already tried doing that, but an error message would always show up during the process. Timmy theorizes that fairy magic is interfering, but Jimmy's having none of that, insisted there's another way around, and proceeded to wrack his brain for more possible solutions. Timmy, already resolved to follow through to his fate anyway, had to force Jimmy to stop who was spiralling down to madness for every second that passes as he repeat his fruitless attempts.

Did the FOP Games happen before memory wipe? I'm gonna confess: idk jackshit about them. 😅 But do they actually determine Timmy's future though? Let's assume for now that any games released before Poof's era (when the series's quality declined) happend. 👌

Are the blorbos criminals or goobers? They do crimes in the eyes of the Syndicate, but otherwise they're just silly goobers. :)

Will Timmy like Jimmy again? Honey I'm a sucker for characters who lost memory of one another yet learned to love each other again the same way they used to, of course JimmyTimmy's real 😤

Does Timmy still like Trixie? I'm pretty sure he would still admire her whether CosWan's around or not, so yeah he does :,D

Does Crocker remember Timmy's fairies? GOOD QUESTION!! Crocker would still theorize that Timmy had Fairy Godparents, but he isn't as passionate about it as he used to since his memories of the fairies in particular had gotten fuzzier after the memory wipe. Though he still hates him for it 😅

What does Timmy think of Tootie? Let's assume Tootie matured by then and doesn't chase Timmy as much as she used to, giving him more space to see her in a new light, that she's more than just "a girl with cooties" and an actual person who has other interests, hobbies, and friends. Despite this, he still can't help but feel iffy around her and try to avoid any interaction as much as he can.

Does Timmy remember the songs? HMMMM let's say he remembers singing them, but he doesn't remember the lines that CosWan would sing their hearts out. Hence he doesn't memorize the whole music. 🥲

How much coffee do the blorbos take? Do not get me started on Danny. Jimmy's main caffeine intake is Purple Flurp, but would ocassionally drink coffee if he needed less of a boost. Timmy refuses to drink coffee with no sweetness in it, it always has to be latte or he'll spit his drink out. If you don't want him to set something on fire, do not let SpongeBob go near the coffee machine.

Was the last question a surprise? Yes it is, thank you for asking! :)

[quarantineddreamer]

As a Shadow | Chapter 1 - Don’t go

Oh my god I cannot believe I am actually posting this. I’ve been working on it for months and I am nervous (but excited!) to finally have it out in the world. (Click title for AO3, read below the cut). 

There is the soothing music of waves lapping at the shore, in and out, a gentle sigh repeating…

Sand tickles her palms, and sunlight her face. Across her skin runs a cool breeze that she pulls into her lungs gratefully…

Jyn opens her eyes to scattered clouds chasing each other across a sapphire sky.

It’s not that she was expecting anything, but as she sits up to look around, her surroundings seem wrong. The clump of sand she takes into her hands and lets run through her fingers isn’t silky and white, it is coarse and black. Behind her are dramatic cliffs, jagged and covered in lichen. There is not a trace of warfare to be found, even the acrid smell of smoke is absent. The horizon she gazes upon is empty, peaceful, and sitting beside her is…

No one.

She is alone.

Somehow, this seems the most egregious error of all. Where are you? she wonders, but she doesn’t quite know who she is wondering about, only knows that a deep and aching loneliness has made itself at home in her chest.

She thinks she knows this place. There is a part of her that recognizes this beach and longs to rush into the waves like a child, savor the thrill of the frigid water as it swirls across her feet. Still, another part of her is overwhelmed by the feeling that she doesn’t belong here. That she is meant to be someplace else.

“Jyn,” a gentle voice calls, and this, too, is familiar. Painfully, impossibly so.

She doesn’t dare turn to the sound, doesn’t know what she will do if it proves to be only her mind playing tricks on her.

But the voice calls again, “Jyn.”

“Mama?”

And suddenly there she is, just like before, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her tight…

He’s holding her so close and still closer, clutching her with a fierceness that hurts, because they both know it is the first and last time they will embrace one another. They both knew it might end like this, but knowing is not the same as accepting, and now that they are here every part of her is raging against the injustice of their fate.

She wants more time, they should have had more time.

The world is growing bright, and…

“Jyn, what are you doing here?”

Her head is spinning. “Here?” She pulls away to stare at her mother’s face. Stars, how she missed her kind smile. The sight of it now brings tears to her eyes. “Mama, it’s so good to see you,” she breathes.

Lyra hugs her again. “I’ve missed you, Stardust,” she murmurs before releasing her, “but you shouldn’t be here.”

Jyn’s eyes scan the beach again. Lah’mu . Of course she should be here. “I’m home, Mama.”

But Lyra is shaking her head. “No, my love. Not yet.”

“Not today! Come on, move it, move it!” someone is screaming at them.

The temperature around them is climbing, her skin feels like it will burst into flames, but he is still with her, his hand in her own as the completely unexpected appears on the horizon. A ship. A chance. A miracle.

She helps him to his feet. Every muscle in her body complains as his weight falls against her, but she won’t leave him. She can’t leave him.

"Hurry!”

On Lah’mu nothing hurts except for this aching loneliness in her chest but she wonders if even that could fade in time, if the comfort of home might smother the memory of him enough for her to move on. Especially with her mother here, holding her hands and staring at her with… “Why do you look so sad, Mama? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“More than you could ever know,” she replies. Her cheeks glitter in the sunlight and it takes Jyn a moment to see that Lyra is crying. “I wish you could stay, but you are needed elsewhere, my love. The Force is calling for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jyn clutches at her mother’s hands. They are warm and alive and real. She doesn’t understand, she doesn’t understand any of it. How can something so wonderful feel so wrong? She wants to want this. She just needs a minute to catch her breath, to settle in.

“I know, my love, I know.” Lyra is wiping tears from her cheeks that Jyn did not realize were there. “We will all see each other again one day –me, you, and your Papa.”

“Papa?” He’s here too? “I want to see him. “Please, let me stay.”

There is a shattered expression on her mother’s face. Jyn remembers this look. It is the look Lyra gave her as she thrust her kyber-crystal into her too-small hands and kissed her forehead goodbye. Trust the force.

“I won’t leave.” Not again. Not this time. “I’m staying with you.”

“The decision was made before you arrived. Jyn, I’m so sorry, but you have to remember.”

“Jyn!”

No. No. She shakes her head against the current that threatens to pull her under. No one has ever needed her before, why now? This is the best she has ever felt, except for…

“Help me!” she shouts, voice hoarse and throat burning.

He’s growing heavier as his strength gives out.

“Stay with me, we’re almost there,” she urges him as they stagger forward. “Don’t you dare give up now.”

Maybe he laughs, maybe it’s just his lungs rattling as he fights for air.

She grasps the kyber-crystal that hangs from her neck and gives a hard tug. Once it is free, she shoves it into his hands. “Hold on,” she insists, and even though she’s never been much of a believer, she finds herself hoping that the Force might come to help him.

Someone is rushing out from the ship towards her, screaming over the roar of the rushing inferno. They wear goggles atop their head and panic all over their face as they take his weight from off her shoulders. “I’ve got him! Come on, come on!”

They begin to run as fast as they can with the injured man on their back

And Jyn starts to follow, but something red and violent bites the ground just beside her.

The enemy doesn’t want them to make it. The enemy wants to drag them down to hell to rot with them…

She can’t let that happen. They can’t have her friends. They can’t have him.

It’s already questionable if he will make it to the ship as slow as he is moving, even with the aid of a friend. Any further delay could mean death.

The blood in her veins is the same blood that had given life to the monstrosity looming in the sky above them; she won’t allow her friends to pay for that which is her burden.

She has run from this truth all her life, she won’t run anymore.

Jyn stops and turns to shoot at the Troopers. Her heart is hammering, it feels vulnerable without the kyber to absorb its vibrations and reply with warm reassurance. For most of her life the kyber had been a constant companion, at times, her only one. Now, there is a loneliness to her mind, nothing and no one to convey her thoughts to as she wills her friends to make it –make it to the ship, make it off the planet, make it out alive…  

A bolt strikes her side, sends her crashing to her knees.

The taste of blood is in her mouth and every breath she takes is a slow agony.

The last thing she hears is his voice. Cassian’s voice. “JYN! NO!” it fades, lost to the rush of the engine and the crash of the planet disintegrating all around her.

Jyn sees the ship disappear above her, winking out like a star as it jumps into the open arms of the galaxy. The sight chases away all her pain; they made it.

He made it…

Jyn smiles…

“I love you…” Lyra’s voice recedes, lost to the rushing tide that has come to steal her away from the dark, ethereal shores.

There is the jarring scream of a machine, holding one long screeching note.

Her body tingles all over, humming with energy. She tries to inhale; her chest rises, but she cannot seem to capture any air…

Jyn opens her eyes to a nightmare.

She is standing beside a bed in an unfamiliar room with harsh fluorescent lighting and an unpleasant chemical smell. There is a tension to the atmosphere of the space that winds her stomach into anxious knots.

People and droids surround the bed, but her gaze passes over all of them to find his face, too-pale and too-still.

Cassian.

“Jyn?” His lips don’t move, but it’s his voice she hears, clear as can be.

She moves closer, slipping past the medical team to crouch beside him. “Cassian, what are you doing?”

“You’re gone…” his voice breaks on the words.

No… “I’m right here.”

A droid shoves a needle into Cassian’s arm, a med-core tears open his shirt to expose his bare chest to stick shock pads to it. Jyn ignores them, and they, much to her relief, ignore her.

The bed rattles. Cassian’s entire body jolts. The machine continues to scream that awful, piercing sound.

“Going again,” the med-core says, and again Cassian is shaken.

“Come on, Cass. Wake up…” Her hands curl into tight fists.

“Cass?” he chuckles. “You’ve never called me that before…”

“Do you want me to call you an idiot instead? Come on!” she says more urgently.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jyn…”

“Go one more time!”

“It’s good to see you, too… ”

The machine resumes a rhythmic beep.

Jyn sighs in relief as Cassian begins to stir.

His eyes open and instantly lock onto her face. “Jyn,” he rasps.

The med-core do not seem to find his speaking as encouraging a sign as she does, because they exchange meaningful glances, their faces tight with worry and something else she cannot place –something that unsettles her.  

There is an awkward beat where the team appear to each be hoping the other will talk. When one of them shuts her eyes and turns away, shaking her head, Jyn is confused. What’s wrong?

The machine is still steadily beeping, the patient breathing. Cassian breathing, and staring at her so contentedly that she quickly forgets her worry.

One of the droids finally breaks the silence, prescribing logic to the moment, “You need to rest, Captain Andor.”

Jyn gives Cassian a lopsided smile. “They’re right, you know.”  

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he murmurs, eyes already fluttering shut again.

I won’t…

The medical team attending to Cassian depart without comment once he is asleep. To Jyn’s surprise, no one looks twice at her or tells her to leave, so she settles in a chair by his bedside and waits –for what, she’s not sure.

After everything that happened on Scarif, she expects to be exhausted, ready to rest like Cassian is doing. Instead, she’s more awake than she thinks she’s ever been before, aware of every molecule in the room, and pulsing with an energy that lacks her usual restlessness.

Though she can’t remember visiting them, somehow, she knows her friends are alright –that Bodhi, Melshi, Baze, and Chirrut are all recuperating nearby. She chalks the gap in her memory up to a concussion, but the pain she has come to associate with such an injury is remarkably absent.

She figures she owes the med-core team a thank you for that. At some point, they must have given her some medicine, and it must have been strong, because it’s the only explanation she can think of to explain the humming in her body. To explain why she can’t feel the chair beneath her body or the texture of her clothes where they rest against her skin. She pulls at the sleeve of her jacket, and she can see her fingers clutching the material, but it is like her hands have gone completely numb and weightless, making it impossible for her to tell where her surroundings end and she begins. It’s disorienting at first, but she can’t seem to bring herself to panic despite how strange the sensation is.

Her mind is elsewhere, occupied by a thought that repeats over and over again, everyone’s okay, we’re all okay. It is all that matters. It is enough –it is everything.

To be watching over Cassian’s sleeping form, measuring each breath he takes, is a gift. So, Jyn curls up in the chair and appreciates the simple rise and fall of his chest while the world around her passes by in a distant blur to which she pays no mind, just as it seems to pay no mind to her.

When Melshi appears she’s somewhat perturbed to realize she has no idea how much time has passed. Another strange side effect of the meds? she wonders, as she slowly stretches her arms above her head and turns to give a soft smile in greeting.  

But the man only seems to have eyes for Cassian, and she tries to take no offense when he walks past her without a word. Instead, she gives them space, playing the observer as he comes to a stop by the bed and reaches to give his friend’s arm a gentle squeeze.

The touch wakes Cassian, who blinks heavily before offering a small smile. He has to cough to clear his throat, before he says, “Melsh…you look like shit.”

“I should get you a mirror, Keef.”

Cassian grimaces heavily, his breath catching as he tries to sit up.

“Be careful, your back…”

“Hey, take it easy.” Melshi stops him with a hand to his shoulder, which Cassian grudgingly obeys.

He rolls his head in Jyn’s direction, but his stare is strangely unfocused, empty, as though he’s seeing past her. “Where’d Jyn go? Is she okay?”

“Very funny, asshole.” Now he decides to become a jokester?

“Cass…” Melshi’s face has gone white, his shoulders drop.

“She said she wouldn’t go anywhere. What happened? Did she say when she’d be back?”

He’s not joking. Why is he not joking? She feels sick, there’s something surging at the back of her mind, something ugly and horrible that tries desperately to keep it at bay. “I’m right here!”

“Cass, I-. I’m so sorry.”

Cassian doesn’t respond, just studies Melshi’s face with an intensity Jyn recognizes. It’s his truth-finding stare– the keen, knowing gaze that always made her feel like he was reading her mind. “No,” he breathes, shaking his head.

“You might not remember, but she…”

“Don’t.” He attempts to cut him off, utters the word with all the force of a command, as though stopping Melshi from uttering his next words will be enough to keep them from being true.

“Cass...she didn’t make it off Scarif.”

It hits her like lightning, cuts through her and strikes her core with a ferocity that makes a blaster shot feel like child’s play. Lah’mu. Her mother had been there. And then…

“Melshi, don’t fuck with me. She was here. I saw her.”

He had seen her. He had talked to her. She was sure of it. “Cassian!” she shouts, rising from her chair to seize the railing of his hospital bed and give it a hard shake. The bed remains perfectly still. Her eyes wander to where her hands lie, wrapped around the metal, her palms feeling none of its chill, feeling nothing at all. “Please look at me…”

“You’ve been out of it since we got back, Cass. They had to operate on your back, they’ve got you on a lot of pain meds…”

“She said she wouldn’t go, she said…” Cassian’s voice breaks, Jyn feels a part of herself shatter with it.

“I’m still here. I didn’t leave you, I promise.” But there’s a small part of her that wishes she had, because whatever twisted game the Force is playing she wants no part in it. This afterlife is pure torture, a fate worse than death, and she knows she hadn’t always been the best person, but she cannot imagine what she did to deserve this.

She has to watch as Cassian begins to accept the truth. She has to watch as the carefully controlled expression he always wears to mask his true feelings slips away, and she sees every bit of the pain and sadness that washes over him. She has to watch, and she can do nothing about it.

If she weren’t dead already, she thinks it might just kill her.

[dimidiom]

okay okay so i watched the new alien movie with my family last night (ive only seen the first movie all the way through and seen a majority of the second one and thats pretty much all ive seen of the franchise SO) and i thought it was pretty good.

BUT, i have opinions on the end of the movie and more specifically the final monster, and ive been rotating ideas in my head all day so i need to get it out so im not just continuously ranting about this to myself. so im putting all of that under a read more cause i have a lot to say and want to avoid spoilers for people who havent seen the movie yet (note i only watched the movie once, and i would be the first to admit i have a bad memory so i might be misremembering things) (and i also cant remember any of their names, and i cant be assed rn to look them up lmao)

(also note, i havent read any of this over,so theres probably spelling errors and me repeating myself. i just needed to get this out of my head)

i havent really seen anyone elses opinion on the final monster guy but tbh,,,, i hated it?? like i understand the whole scary idea of 'it looked human, but something was off' (and thats just a trope i personally dislike for no reason lmao) but i feel like if youre making that be what makes your monster scary, give it a new spin? like, i literally missed the first major scare with that monster because i turned to make a joke to my sibling ('oh its a person!') i hate that the design was just a tall gangly pale human that you cant see the eyes of, because ive feel like thats something thats been done SOOOO many times before and ive gotten desencitised to it

and just,,, that coming after the heavy hitters of the facehuggers and the xenomorph was just a huge let down! (i will admit that showing the tail getting longer in each shot, was pretty cool) having a tall gangly pale man being the main monster just isnt scary anymore,, you could have done something original and something super new and scary. youre showing THAT right after the fucking xenomorph?? as the final monster??? its scary cause its tall and its eyes are shadowed over??

my whole thought was if they just leaned into the horror of pregnancy, it could have been so cool??? or something along those lines??? like take notes from RE8!! the baby!! in the doll ladies house!! that shit was discusting and terrifying and awesome! instead of having the monster be an adult male, have it be a scary babyyyy

or like take notes from the boss lady(?) from the second chapter of fate!! have the movie play out the same way, but have the main character hear the other lady screaming from off screen and then have her rush over, and gasp shes not in the cryopod! and have th mc panic and look around, but then sees her friend, seemingly perfectly fine, holding a baby in her arms.

theres some really cool ideas that come from the idea of the umbilical cord not being cut. like with the idea of the lady seemingly perfectly normal holding her baby, and that (those two combined) being the new monster. your still very human looking friend, and the monster that shes now attached to. thats not your friend anymore.

the horror of the idea of a monster wearing the face of a friend you couldnt save thats now hunting you down. her baby, the idea of which got the both of you so happy and excited just a few hours earlier, (who shes still connected to, still holding in her arms) being the monster that also ended up corrupting her that now is hunting you

or even if you decided that you wanted to keep the tall pale man as your new monster, give it a new introduction!!! imagine the first time we see it. it just failed a stealth attack against the mc because its still attached to the dead weight of its mom that its dragging behind it via the cord. and then we can have a visual scene where we can see the monster evaluate the situation (failed a stealth attack) find the problem (not stealthy, dragging dead weight behind it that i has no control over, no way to make it useful) and then find a solution (cutting the cord itself, or for a more visceral scene, destroying the body). so we can see it thinking and rationalizing and making a plan and following through. (and its casual disregard of humanity. of its own mother)

just like,,, fear of pregnancy, of childbirth, of babies. i feel like babies, as something to be scared of, should be used more in horror. that'd be cool.

or like,,,, change the ending up,,, have the movie do the same kind of twist the first alien movie did. introduce the audience to a character, audience assumes that character is the main character, and then at some point, kill that character and have a new character become the mc!!!!! like keep the final three people alive at the end of the movie, but do a twist where the mc dies and the other lady has to find a way out! have her not inject the prometheus fire thing, but have it be known that she lost time in that ship, so something could have happened to her, and play around with the idea of her having new trauma about having that baby. like dont say anything outright in the movie, but like, have it end with her not knowing what she wants to do now thats shed not fearing for her life. does she now have fears about something alien growing inside of her, fears of something mutating the baby? give her complicated feelings on what she want to do with that baby. like,,, would she even want to go through with giving birth after literally seeing a baby alien burst out of the chest of her friend. complicated feelings of 'maybe she didnt get away from romulus scott free, and somehow her baby was affect by it'

theres a post ive seen floating around tumbr about horror movies reflecting common fears at the time,,, playing around with pregnancy being the main horror in a movie,,,, isnt a bad idea,,,,,

[mooniefics]

— personal punishment

pairing : nanami kento / fem reader

word count : 1.8k

tags : pnp, degradation, authority kink, office sex, semi-public sex, boss / secretary, nanami literally being the sexiest man to ever live and breathe

warnings : nsfw, power imbalance

summary : He couldn't expect you to be perfect—but he could definitely expect you to pay for each imperfection in more ways than one.

notes : thank u so much to @suna-reversed for hosting the incredibly creative jujutsuhub collab and allowing me to participate !! much love (୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞*♡

you couldn't exactly say you weren't proud of your performance today.

for one, you'd come into the office late, knowing that your penalties would be formally waived by your boss but well aware that you would have to face his own personal punishment. it was just your luck that this very day was the most busy the office had been all month, leaving you running papers back and forth from your boss' office for hours, nearly tripping over your own heels three times too many before you even reached your lunch break, praying that you weren't screwing anything else up in your frantic rush.

but before you could even think about escaping the confines of the office building to make up for your missed breakfast at a cafe nearby, your boss was already calling back into his office. you already knew exactly why he was requesting your presence, fear and anticipation immediately tangling into a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. but still you went, obediently as you always did, keeping your head low as you passed your coworkers in the hall.

your fate had been sealed the moment you made a mistake, the same outcome that had been repeating for months now each time you made an error, whether it was as small as not taking the trash out from the waste bin when it was too full for his liking to something as grievous as spilling his morning coffee all over one of his pristine white button-ups. for any and all errors, you were certain to face this punishment.

the position you were in wasn't unfamiliar, bent over nanami's desk, pencil skirt hiked all the way up to your waist with your underwear around your knees, completely at the mercy of the man caging you in with his body from behind.

"if you keep making all that noise, you're going to end up getting us both fired." he growled, voice low in your ear, one hand still pressed firmly over the center of your back, forcing your chest down onto his desk. the other was occupied between your legs, two thick fingers plunging mercilessly into your needy cunt as you struggled to hold in every whimper and moan each snap of his wrist drew from the back of your throat.

"'m s-sorry, s-sir..!" you barely managed to breathe out, nails beginning to scrape at the edge of the wooden tabletop, teeth digging almost painfully into your bottom lip.

"'sorry' doesn't even begin to fix everything you've fucked up today," his stern tone persisted, ribs aching between the pressure of the heel of his palm and the hard desk, "you know just how much stress i've been under and yet you went out of your way to make it worse."

"no, n-not that..! p-promise!" you whimpered, breath coming in pants, struggling to not rock back into his hand with the knowledge that he'd stop entirely if he noticed you doing it.

you had no choice but to keep your eyes trained on the door in front of you, thighs trembling with anticipation, muted gasps and mewls managing to find their way out into the open air despite your efforts. you knew he didn't mind the noise as long as you were making a conscious effort to keep quiet, only loud enough for him to have the pleasure of hearing, only expressing the pitiful broken attempts at showing remorse that seemed to arouse him to no end.

he curled his fingers to rub at spot inside you that made your knees weak, barely chuckling when you writhed under him. "enjoying your punishment like this... you're just a pathetic slut. That's all you'll ever be, isn't that right?"

Your head hung low as you came over his fingers, shuddering, biting firmly at the inside of your cheeks to hold back the whine threatening to escape your heaving chest. you knew you should be ashamed to be so excited in the face of his cruelty, but when it was his voice and hands—discipling you harshly but still paying such good attention to you and your body—you couldn't help yourself.

before you had enough time to begin catching your breath, you could already hear the clinking of his belt buckle as he pulled it free from the belt loops of his pants, the warmth of naked skin as the length of his cock met the back of your thighs, already hard. the hand resting at your back slid up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers working their way into your hair to firmly grasp, holding you still while he eased himself between your thighs.

"please, s-sir.." The words spilled out of you before you could even think to maintain your obedient silence, earning a tug at your hair harsh enough to jerk your head back, arching your body further.

"snd who are you to be making any demands?" He muttered scornfully, the head of his cock now rubbing directly over your dripping pussy, making no effort to do anything more than painstakingly tease.

"i'm not, i j-just—" You sucked in a quick breath as you felt a sharp sting over your ass, certain there was a reddening welt where his hand had just struck it, "i pr-promise i'll be better..."

"and how can I be certain that you actually will? you say the same thing every damn time, and you still have yet to show me any improvement."

your eyes watered as you searched for a proper response, stammering over your words for just a moment too long—long enough to reignite the anger you'd found a momentary mercy from. you just barely pressed your hand over your mouth in time to muffle your own cry as he slammed himself inside of you, the desk shifting across the ground with a harsh squeak, insides struggling to accommodate his size all at once. he found a quick, ruthless rhythm of thrusting almost immediately, paying your quick gasps and pitiful whimpers no mind, almost painfully deep.

"is this is really the only thing you're good for?" he huffed, groaning lowly despite his apparent ire, "just taking cock and nothing else?"

"n-no!" you protested, barely able to hold your voice steady enough to respond, swallowing down each hiccuped breath interrupting your words, "this is the l-last time, i swear..! p-please sir, please—"

he shushed you harshly before you could continue, large hand rubbing over the aching flesh he'd previously slapped in a silent threat to repeat the action. you wouldn't be entirely opposed to feeling his large hand strike you again and again, leaving prints of red across your skin that wouldn't fade until hours after you'd left the office for the night, but you knew that you still had the entire second half of your day ahead of you to pretend as if he hadn't completely ruined you just meters away from the rest of his hardworking employees.

"at this point, i might as well just be paying to fuck you." he muttered callously, the speed of his hips slowing the slightest bit, each thrust still hitting deep enough for you to feel in your stomach, "then what does that make you, hm? a prostitute? my personal little plaything.."

you strained to vigorously shake your head side to side, fingers aching from how tightly they were clenching around the edge of the desk, your own arousal trailing down between your trembling thighs, hot tears dribbling down your flushed cheeks. you should've felt more inclined to deny his assertion, to prove yourself to be more than just a toy for him to used whenever he desired, when he needed to take out the pent up frustration he saved for your errors and your errors only—but you knew in the back of your mind that you were perfectly content with your position, as immorally lucrative as it was. you would embarrass yourself everyday for the rest of your career if it meant you could experience this at least once more.

"sorry, s-sorry..! oh fuck, sir, 'm so sorry!" the apologies you knew he loved so much spilled from your lips in a pathetic, broken moan, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you held out for a few more mind-numbing moments before cumming around his thick cock.

you barely registered his hand grasping your hair painfully tight as he grunted a few low curses beside your ear, shakily exhaling a sigh when he emptied himself inside you, finally letting you rest back against the hard surface of his desk while you both caught your breath. it was all over far too soon, the intense intimacy that never lasted longer than the half-hour of your lunch break, even though you were sure he could steal you away for far longer without anyone daring to question him.

you wiped at your damp under-eyes with quivering hands, trying to not further disturb your already ruined mascara, swallowing down a whimper when pulled himself out of you and tugged your underwear back into place, readjusting your skirt for you before moving away from your body entirely.

he had already tidied up his own clothes by the time you pushed yourself to stand, that familiar expression of cool indifference having already resettled onto his handsome features. he barely ever let you see his face when he was disciplining you, always making sure you were facing away from him, or that you couldn't lift your head enough to get a good look at his face. it made it all feel so impersonal, inspired something that felt like sadness in the back of your mind, despite how you tried to remind yourself that what you had wasn't true intimacy, and that he could really replace you any day if he felt so inclined to do so.

"go clean up in the bathroom." he said without looking at you, straightening his tie back into place and checking the time on his watch, "you will need to take a call from a new client soon, and it is imperative that you give them the perfect first impression of our company. i expect you to be back here within the next ten minutes." his brow furrowed, the look of someone who'd just thought of something unpleasant flashing across his features when he finally met your gaze. "no more exceptions today."

"yes, sir." you replied obediently, voice hoarse, quickly turning away before the weight of a sudden sadness could show, advancing towards his door as briskly as your state allowed you to. you didn't look back on your way out, even though you so desperately wanted to, maybe deliver a genuine apology now that you knew he was genuinely irritated with you.

but you didn't, and the day continued as it always did, phone calls and document filing keeping you occupied for the rest of your shift, not receiving another word from your boss regarding anything. you tried not to take it personally when he didn't bid you farewell before leaving the building, reminding yourself that it was most likely just the pressure of a busy quarter, cursing yourself for screwing things up and enjoying your momentary bliss before the true consequence of genuine disappointment from nanami anchored you back to the somber reality of your situation.

it was foolish of you to think you'd be anything more than a secretary in his eyes.

[cherri-cherri]

× Little Flower ×

-----------×-----------

Pairings - Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis - No one was allowed to touch you as you were his. Those who dared would suffer a fate worse than death...

Warnings - Possible Grammar Errors, Slight Gore, Swear Words

A/N - This fic here is pretty short but I wanted to write this after having a weird dream with flowers and Sukuna. I honestly have mixed feelings about this one but I hope you all enjoy! - 🍒

----------------×----------------

"Speak, girl. Do you know why you stand here on trial here today?" A voice called out to you from above but you simply kept your head hanging down to stare at the stacks of dry wood pressed under your feet. Your body ached due to the countless bruises and cuts littering your skin and the tightness of the ropes cutting into your bound wrists weren't helping at all in the slightest.

"Y/N L/N, do you understand why you stand before us?" The voice repeated again, this time a rough hand grabbing ahold of your hair and gripping it tightly, forcing you to stare up at the man before you.

"Cat has your tongue? Well then, let me remind you that you were caught giving aid to the king of curses. No doubt spreading your legs for him like that harlot you are" his words only mirrored the disgusted look in his cold grey eyes, glaring down at you as his grip on your hair only tightened. Sad to think that you would be used to this knowing your uncle was not a kind or gentle man and yet his words only stung.

"...I did no such thing....He was hurt and I was trying to help, I was–" Letting out a yelp as your cheek burned from the slap your uncle gave you, you felt tears prickling your eyes as he leaned in closer.

"Liar!! Someone saw you with him, saw you hold him! It is obvious that your vile ways allowed him to take over your mind and possess you!" Yelling at the top of his lungs, you heard others around you cheering the man on as some even chimed in. So many hateful words, so many people who you believed to friends and family only for all of them to look at you with such disdain and anger. Tears began to form until your uncle released you and stepped away, "There is only one way to save your soul now before he swallows it whole. The flames will send you to the afterlife and maybe then, you will be saved."

Your heart dropped after hearing that. You were going to die, all because of giving a monster sanctuary, all because you tried to be kind. Men carrying large clay pots came to the stake you were bound to and then began splashing you with oil. Coughing as the liquid was poured ontop of your head, you heard the chanting of the people all around you, screaming and yelling for your death over and over again as your uncle came walking back towards you while holding up a lit torch.

This was the end. Your miserable life ending at such a horrible note, it made you let out a small saddened chuckle as you slowly closed your eyes and waited for the fire to engulf your completely until nothing but ash reminded.

You waited..

And waited..

The ropes wrapped around your wrists were soon sliced off and at the same time, you hear a few thuds collapsing onto gravel not too far away from you. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at your uncle. Your now headless uncle. The blood erupting from his neck like a geyser as the body slumped down to its knees, occasionally twitching as the blood sprayed across your face and ragged dress. The color drained from your face completely as you stared down at the blood on your clothes, horrified until a large tattooed around wrapped itself around your waist. Freezing completely, you looked back forward to see the villagers beginning to flee until those who even took a step back were diced into cubed pieces.

"Any human who moves another muscle will die." A rough voice called out behind you, sending your heart to panic. Turning your head slightly to the side, you saw him.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

His eyes darted down towards you, crimson hues staring into your watery E/C eyes and he simply gave you a toothy grin. "Come on now, Y/N, you shouldn't give such a frightened look to your knight in shining armor. I just saved your life."

"Y-you killed them.. " you muttered, causing Sukuna to roll his eyes as he lifted you in the air before placing you down onto his shoulder to carry you. "And? I don't see what's wrong here. You're alive, they're dead. Now that we've been over that, I think you owe me a reward—"

"I knew it..." a woman said from the crowd, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping her fists. She stared at the two of you with fear in her eyes, more so you than Sukuna. "Y-you were sleeping with him..you dirty whore...letting a monster in this village. Letting a curse spread in this village!" As she screamed out, blood soon enough trickled down her lips as she felt a pain in her chest before a growing numbness. Looking down, the woman saw nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of her chest, blood dribbling down the emptiness to the stomach until she slowly collapsed on her back. Others around her screamed out, some moving from the places they were standing before being sliced in half or trisected into parts. You gasped out, covering your mouth as you felt bile rising up.

"S-she did nothing wrong!" You yelled to Sukuna as he only stared at the remaining people in the crowd with a smirk. "Wrong...As far as I see, everyone here has committed a great sin."

Crimson stained the once grey pathway as people are killed by the curse one after another. A few brave (or foolish) souls attempted to even rush at Sukuna only to make it as far as five steps forward before their insides became their outsides. A woman tried to beg for her life by offering herself as Sukuna's personal slave, even going as far as to give away to lives of her children but once again it proved nothing as she too was killed.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to kill off the rest of the villagers, regardless of their age or even if they were innocent or not. They were all killed and slaughtered brutally without mercy, their blood mixing together as the smell of their corpses began to reek. You stared down at the headless corpse of your uncle, eyes dulled as you thought perhaps it would've been better if the fire had claimed you. Then no one wouldve been killed. No, no that wasn't true.

It would've been better if you never met him. If you simply continued on your way and left him bleeding out for the shamans to find. If you had never opened your heart to the curse..then no one would've died. Then no one would've been killed. Feeling a hand brush your hair gently with his nails and combing a strain behind your ear, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Sukuna pulled you closer towards him with one arm and wrapped each of his arms around your small frame before pressing his lips onto your forehead.

"They didn't have to die..." your voice was practically a whisper at this point, hoarse and dry from the screaming and begging for him to stop. Sukuna merely chuckled as he released you, "Do you feel guilty?"

"What sort of question is that supposed to be? Of course I do...." Saying that you didn't would only be half of the truth. Sure you were angry with how they were so quick to hurt you and kill you but then again, if you knew this was what Sukuna was capable, you would've accepted the punishment. You should've listened, should've stayed away from him that night yet apart of you knew that this perhaps wouldn't have changed much.

"I don't see why when because of you, your people get to live on..."

Those words got your attention as they left you confused. Before you could even question him however, you heard a small weak voice speaking out towards it. "You've doomed us all, girl..."

You could've swore that it was your uncle speaking to you and yet you knew that was impossible seeing as his vocal cords were severed alongside his head. But when your eyes slowly looked over to the severed head, you saw a large flower growing where the blood pooled over. It might have been beautiful if it wasnt for the fact that your uncle's face was on the flower, darkened eyes staring at you. Gasping out, you covered you mouth and took a step back, pressing your back into the warm chest of Sukuna as he pointed over towards the other bodies littered around the execution ground.

A variety of flowers had sprouted forth from the blood soaked ground, each with the faces of the dead villagers as they yelled and screamed out in agony at you. So many cried out your name, children who were unfortunately brought here wailed as their mothers simply screamed out multiple swears at you. Speechless, you froze at the sight as more flowers simply began to grow up around the two of you and were only spreading. Small vines began to creep towards you, only to be sliced away when it got too far, not to you but to Sukuna.

"Regret, anger, hatred, sadness. So much negative energy, so much rage here. I wanted to repay my little flower and what else to gift her with than a garden of her own." He hunching over and reaching for one the screaming flowers, he plucked it forth from the ground as the face on it contorted in pain before it began to beg for mercy. "Flowers for my flower. Though none of this compare to you." Sukuna chuckled, placing the plant onto the back of your ear before combing a strand of your hair.

You felt disgusted as the flower's voice grew more and more faint, it practically whispering in your ear for himself to be spared such a fate. You could do nothing but silently say how sorry you were yet your hushed apologies were drowned out by the voices of your new cursed garden.

[angryinternetduck]

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

[fledglingmaster]

The demon's arrival...

My brother's corpse is on the altar. Those same dead eyes like father, only it's a mirror reflection. Perhaps it's I who have died and I'm viewing my body. Ciel made it out some way...he had to...if at least one of us is alive everything will be fine. My ears are ringing, I can barely hear the murmurs of the cult. Blood pours down the stone slab. So much blood. My heart is pounding. Dead. He's dead. My brother, the one person I had left in this world gone. Why? This has to be hell. What did I do to deserve this? What did either of us do? How dare these horrible people do what they did to us. All that suffering just to kill us eventually. How many others have they done this to? Is there no justice? Why do they get to live when if anyone deserves to die it's scum like them. We've prayed and prayed and yet no one comes to save us. There is no god. They need to be slaughtered.

There's a rumble and the cultist shout excitedly. A few cower in fear, not knowing they would actually summon something. Black ooze bubbles up from my brother's blood and dense, black smoke fills the air. Swirling smoke with horns and claws floats over to some of the members, flinging them about. It tears them open, roaring in a language I've never heard. Their screams echo in the stone covered room. Blood is splattered, covering everything crimson. The smell of blood so strong, even before it hits my face, I can taste it. I'm shackled in the cage with no hope of escaping. A few brave, foolish, members ask for their wishes to be granted. Bodies, parts, and blood rain down until I am the only one left near the figure. The figure approaches me, hand stretched out, I fear I will be next to die.

"It's you," the demon says as if I should know what they're talking about. Things become fuzzy here...I remember my brother's body being moved about like a marionette. I also remember the demon possessing his body asking if that is what I wish. It wouldn't bring him back, but I could have the comfort of an illusion. I remember being freed from the cage, being the only one left alive, and my efforts to remove the ring from my brother's stomach. My hands were soaked in his blood, just as they were at the manor when I tried to wake my parents. I'm the only one left.

...

Apologies for any spelling and grammar errors. As they say, it has been a day. I'm attempting to write some of the things that came to me a while ago. While I have remembered and talked about some of this before, I feel I now have more details. I have repeats of the same memories but each time they go a little deeper. When I was hit with all of this, I could smell everything. I could feel the phantom feeling of blood caking my hands, being branded, the shackle on my ankle, the hands all over me. Seeing all those bodies in both locations, the manor going up in flames, the demon's hand reaching for me, my brother. It was all so vivid. I know my past is extremely canon compliant. It makes me wonder if anything set in the future that has not been in the source yet will happen or not. How many things happened "off the pages" but really are canon to the source. It's interesting to compare. Not that I'd be upset if some of my past is wildly different. I do hope our Ciel meets a better fate than I did. My death was incredibly stupid. I do have to say I suspected the cult had my brother and I do something weird with each other for a few years now. But the memories confirmed it for me. That's not to say it happened canonically, but it did happen in my past. I do record this for myself, but as I invite others to read, I hope this was entertaining enough. If not, sorry I'm kind of processing through this at the moment and it feels weird.

Memories of that day...

I remember how loud the clock was as my brother and I waited in our room. The fear when he left me by myself. When I ventured around the manor, I had never felt so alone, so much dread. I knew then that my life would never be the same. Everything was wrong. A place usually full of life, it was empty. I went to mother and father's room to find them and my dog dead. I can just see their corpses. Lifeless eyes staring back at me. Their blood covering my hands and knees. Their bodies were still warm but they were just husks...my parents were long gone. But maybe if I found someone, they could bring them back. I don't know how long they've been dead but...perhaps there's a chance. I can hardly catch my breath. My father's grey eyes are locked on me. Why does it feel like he's staring but also that there's nothing behind his gaze? I don't understand. I scramble to my feet and run. There are corpses littering the halls. I fight to not throw up. In my mind my brother is already dead. How soon until I find his body? Who would do this? Why would they do this? I hear Tanaka fighting one of the intruders. The clang of metal on metal. I run to him but am snatched up before I can reach him. I witness his death. The man holding me laughs as I struggle. Others start lighting the manor on fire. Setting the curtains and clothing on some of the bodies a blaze. I watch as their skin burns and smoke fills the room. I'm choking, tears in my eyes, and my wrists and ankles are bound. I don't have the strength to fight them. I hear glass breaking, the heat is rolling, rough voices yelling orders back and forth. "Did you get the other one?" "The bitch mustn't wear much jewelry." "Shoulda checked the art before you lit the curtains." "He'll make us a fortune anyways." "Target was taken care of." "Think the flames will cover everything?" "That dog almost got a chunk out of me!" Something about a botched job and thinking that 'she' will be angry. I pass out.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (12/14)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

It was one of those days where Levi could barely focus.

But it wasn’t anything new. A few days a year, his eyes would be heavy, his back would slump naturally and codes would blur together in some strange way even the most experienced engineers wouldn’t understand. Those days, he had attributed it to exhaustion, to sheer workload or the tension that accompanied impending releases.

It feels a little different. It was terribly unfamiliar and Levi could have almost sworn that it was worse than ever.

Still, he attempted to get back some inkling of control. He opened his workflow tracker, saw green then decided he could consider his priorities later. He opened his checklists and saw meaningless black ink on white spaces then he decided he could start elsewhere.

He opened up a few pull requests, only to end up approving a whole lot of them before even making sense of what fix the developers had been working on. Then, he then assured himself that maybe he could fix errors on the code once they were in production.

It isn’t good practice. A part of him warned. Really, how many times had he heard that from everyone else? How many times had he held those words like a badge and repeated them countless times to his fellow engineers?

But really, how did anyone particularly Erwin, the upper management, the executives, expect him to work after the meeting just that morning. They had dropped a bomb, a very painful truth that he had somehow managed to keep snug, almost invisible at the back of his mind for so many years.

The company ran on too much red tape and officialism. Hell, every fucking comapny ran on red tape, officialism and some tacky version of bureaucracy, all intricately engineered to please the richest stakeholders. Yet, Levi had been working corporate for decades, long enough to learn and just blindly accept them as inevitable parts of work.

Then and there, it was biting him in the ass. So painfully. Levi never expected something as grey and monotonous as office work and corporate politics to bite so painfully.

Ninety five percent chance. Erwin never told him the details of the contract termination but he had some consideration to at least inform Levi that Zeke was very much considering it. In that same meeting, he had casually mentioned the amount of time it would take to finalize it. If Erwin did tell him some specifics, Levi probably didn’t hear it, especially when he had been busy only barely keeping himself together.

Levi soon figured out, although he had been accepting them the whole time, a huge part of him would have gladly rebelled.

By god, he hated bureaucracy, he hated corporate synergy, he hated the concept of investor satisfaction. Most importantly, he hated the whole prospect of everything the past few months ending with some signed contract termination.

And the silent rage continued well inside him, as he mindlessly switched from one tab to the other, unable to make sense of much.

Maybe he had been too busy reflecting, entertaining those very unwelcome emotions.

Was he too soft hearted. Was he taking his job too personally demanding some personal closure? Was he too immature having been so emotionally affected by that memorandum? And maybe that inability to let out anything more than some professional query at his manager had him barely coping.

‘Coping’ came in many forms. It involved the slow realization he was merely an employee, albeit a head of an engineering team. Then another realization soon after that he was in no position to question the upper management’s decision.

It involved a very cruel realization that although he was the head of the emotions alarm project, the one who had developed it from the beginning and the only one who knew the application end to end, the emotions alarm was still corporate property.

By extension, by some fruit of corporate processes and the constant exchange of assets, it was Zeke’s property. All the assets, the codes Levi had created, the pull requests he had reviewed and merged, every long night he spent looking over bugs, had all been because he was paid to do it.

Zeke’s property. He acknowledged those two words and they echoed incessantly in his head as his eyes ran over the codes of the emotions alarm.

The emotions alarm wasn’t his. It was the companies. And when the contract is finalized, it would be all Zeke’s and Zeke would be the one to decide for himself how to work with that application.

Hire another head engineer to work with Hange… Hire other coders… That’s what business is.

He and Erwin had talked for a while after the meeting. Erwin had been careful with his words and maybe he had softened his tone just a bit, as if he had sensed Levi’s discomfort.

In his own state though, Levi could only stumble upon one conclusion. He was just as replaceable as every other employee. And the pain of having been too attached to a project, the impending loss of his own brain child had him catatonic.

Any comfort or attempt at alleviation seemed far off.

He wouldn’t be invited to the rest of the meetings. The fate of that project would be up in the air, mulled over by the top brass of the company, a few lawyers and accountants, then approved by Zeke. Levi on the other hand, would be ordered back to his office to focus on other tasks, expected to function like it hadn’t felt like some slow and painful end of the world, since the incident at the school a few weeks ago.

Any silver lining as he worked was shot down by his cynical side. The next few minutes, he continued to work, just for the bare minimum to get paid. He approved leaves here and there, He mindlessly looked through some code, ran a debugger he didn’t completely understand. He mindlessly scanned through the logs before he accepted, his brain was in no state to work.

Then he opted not to think beyond that. He closed all the windows on his desktop. He opened another folder towards the corner.

His own personal folder. Inside it were the same codes for the emotions alarm he had worked on for Hange’s birthday. But it felt like more of a personal project.

In its own little way, it pulled it out of that catatonic state. By some miracle, the gears of his head were turning again, slowly at first. Then they turned more quickly by the second, sending a rush of motivation through him. Maybe because the upper management still didn’t know about that side of the emotions alarm. Maybe it was because it still felt like a secret between him and Hange. And somehow, his mind was able to twist it. Levi had managed to convince himself, it was still his and Hange’s.

Hange is still here. She’ll come back.

"You know, I'm pretty sure conference rooms are for conferences.”

Levi bit back the surprise at Petra’s sudden visit. "Well we have five empty ones," he said. He had been working in empty conference rooms for weeks already and had silently rehearsed his own explanation already.

"You have your own office," Petra said.

"I know," Levi answered nonchalantly. Maybe most other days, he would have attempted something more engaging.

How engaging could he be though when his own brain child was close to being sold to an investor, its fate completely out of his control?

By some stupid corporate rule, he couldn't tell Petra that just yet. He looked up at her, willing himself to make some meager excuse of eye contact. "You need anything?"

Petra shook her head. "It’s not really work related… Or actually it kinda is... If that's okay… If you're busy I can bring this up another time." She was holding her work laptop closer to her, a subtle move that had been enough to catch Levi’s eye.

For just a second.

Levi looked back at the code. A wave of guilt washed through him when he remembered, it wasn’t necessarily productive work— a very temporary wave of guilt that he easily washed off just recalling the overly reverent attitude the executives had towards corporate processes.

He wasn't busy. The code he had been staring at the past few minutes wasn't company business anyway. "This can be finished later," Levi said as he lowered his laptop screen.

Petra cocked her head to the side. "Boss, are you okay? I noticed you haven’t been working in the office in a while and I know you---”

“The office is a mess,” Levi said. “And I just haven’t had time to clean up.”

“You need help?”

“No.”

“If you’re busy, I could--”

“Petra, it’s my mess to clean up.” He probably had said that last part too abrasively. After all, that mess referred to multiple messes at once and he was more than a little salty about that.

There was a flash of surprise, or maybe hurt in Petra’s face. Levi only had his peripherals to hint for himself how she might have felt. He sighed. “I don’t wanna clean it up but I don’t wanna stay there either. Besides, as long as no one is using the conference rooms, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Well, it is our right as employees…” Petra started.

“It is,” Levi said. He looked back up at Petra expectantly then lowered his laptop screen much lower, he could have easily just shut it down. “So what did you come here for?”

“I wanted to ask about Hange.” Surprisingly, Petra had brought out that conversation topic with a lot more certainty than every line before that.

Hange. And it had brought about an unwelcome twinge of pain inside him. He took a deep breath, letting it spread over his already enervated body. He noticed then, her name had started to seem strangely unfamiliar to his tongue. In truth, he hadn’t said her name in a while.

Levi took a deep breath and repeated her name, just a little experiment for himself. “What about Hange?”

“Your alarm and her alarm. They were ringing back in the gym.”

“That was weeks ago. Why bring it up now?” Levi asked.

Petra gave a slight shake of her head. “I was just wondering. Do you think it’s a bug?”

“It’s not,” Levi said, one eyebrow raised. He wondered if Erwin had ever discussed it with the others. Or wait, that might have been his job.

Petra grinned yet she seemed more hurt than actually happy. “I suspected it was a bug at first. But you know, when Hange stopped showing up in the office, you started acting different.”

“Have I?” Levi asked

“Yeah, you stopped working in your office. The few times I visited, it was a little cluttered but you never liked your office messy right? It only started getting messier when Hange started working closely with you…”

Levi was only becoming more self aware. Suddenly looking at how quickly, he had opened up his laptop, hunched over, just to hide his face behind the screen. He couldn’t even control his own reaction anymore. “And?”

“And when Hange was working… you seemed happier… You started going out for lunch more, talking to us more. You even invited me out…” Around that time, Petra started to stumble at her words, her ears turned a little pink. With time, she started to stumble with her words, to points beyond comprehension. “I know, I might look creepy pointing all this out but there were two points I wanted to make with this.”

“Two...points?” Then why didn’t you just start with it? Levi would have wanted to ask. But he was grateful that the speech was long enough for him to edit two lines of code, even in his own compromised state.

Petra took some time to compose herself. She put one finger up. “First, Hange changed you for the better, there were obvious signs that you were happier, so maybe those can be considered signs of love. Second, that means there might not be a bug and you’re just a really talented developer.”

“That’s reassuring,” Levi said. With his lack of energy, it could have come out toneless. “I mean it,” Levi added.

“If you wanna call it love or not, that will be up to you. But I think it aligns with our expectations for the application,” Petra straightened her back after that, adopting a more professional demeanor. “If possible, I’d love to have a chat with Hange about it. Maybe get her take on my theory…”

Petra wouldn’t have known. The talks had been between the upper management, it would only make its way to lower rung employees as a memo.

A fucking memo. Fuck red tape. Levi thought to himself. When it wasn’t official, could he even tell her?

Fuck that. “Hange might not come back,” Levi said.

Petra’s eyes widened almost immediately, her jaw dropped.

Before she could even speak, Levi continued. “They might terminate the contract. I know they’re discussing the legalities of it. Zeke is going to take the unfinished and have another team work on it. Or at least that’s what I’m understanding.”

“But there might---”

“There’s no chance,” Levi said firmly.

“Levi just---”

“None. There’s none.” Levi shook his head for emphasis. He allowed his voice to rise just a little bit louder than usual. He wanted to shoot down whatever glimmer of hope, before it got out of control.

Annoyingly, Petra had a way of just trying to find hope, the brighter side in most situations. But he didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. In his already vulnerable state, it seemed almost mocking.

And she was still trying. “But Hange----”

Levi banged one hand on the table in warning. “Petra,” he said. “Just stop.”

An abrupt slam on the table had always been enough to quiet people and Petra shouldn’t have been an exception.

In a surprising turn of events, she slammed harder on the table. “No, listen to me Levi.” Her voice was much firmer and at that moment, it didn’t seem like she had regard for differences in positions.

In shock, Levi fell silent and he was compelled to listen to that voice of authority.

“I came here for a reason.” She dropped her laptop on the table, almost louder than the slam she made just a second ago. “We got a support email which you might want to see. This is the reason I went here in the first place.” Petra quickly booted up her laptop. “It’s a support ticket, and the email...it looks like Hange’s.”

hange.zoe@wahu.com

A quick look at the date only confirmed it, it had been there for a week. There was a flyer attached which only sealed its fate as spam mail. Of course, it would have taken weeks to identify it.

But why would Hange use that email? At first glance, Levi couldn’t help but be suspicious.

“It looks like it’s related to Mr. Jaeger’s convention. He’s having one and I thought, you might wanna check it out… If you have unfinished business with Hange, use that opportunity to talk to her.”

It could be spam mail. It wasn’t that hard to create a fake email using Hange Zoe’s name but it was still worth some looking into. A quick google search only confirmed it. Zeke was having an event in one of the most expensive cities in the world, a coastal city a twelve hour flight away.

Still, Levi couldn’t brush off the doubt. Would Hange have used an email with her name? After taking so much of her precious time creating fake emails?

“If this is really her, then that means she wanted to contact us right?” Petra continued. “I think it’s worth a look.”

Maybe all he needed was someone to tell him, a good push in the right direction. Before Levi even realized it, his mind was working harder than ever since the incident three weeks ago, working overtime to justify something as ridiculous as a last minute week-long vacation.

If Hange did send the email, it might be worth it. And if by some chance, it really was spam, then he will have just wasted a good week-long vacation in ‘one of the most dazzling cities in the world.’

Levi could count with the number of fingers in one hand, the amount of times he had been in a long haul flight. The prices for a hotel, a last minute flight and of course, the leaves needed to make the trip were all daunting issues to consider.

He had expected himself to be at least a little more hesitant. A part of him was moving almost automatically. He stood up and slammed his laptop shut. “I think I’m gonna take a week long leave.”

“Since I joined, you haven’t even taken a sick leave. I think you deserve this,” Petra responded. And that peaceful response from her of all people had been reassuring.

“Thanks for that.”

Petra shook her head. “It’s only natural to wish the best for someone right?” She paused, and a weak blush climbed up her cheeks as she bit her lip. “Well, I meant the best for you and Hange. Just see what you can do for her.”

Levi let out a sigh. “But it helps you know.”

And somehow, those kind words had only left Petra more flustered. In thanks, he offered to take her back to her work station, but not much farther than that. He made a quick stop to his still cluttered office, did some quick cleaning up, leaving the white board and Hange’s own work station still untouched, like it has been everyday since three weeks ago.

He went home early that day and as expected, his brain continued to nag.

Was it a useless move? A stupid move? A rash move? Maybe it was. But he wasn't going to tell anyone else, just in case someone managed to convince him out of it.

Levi had taken some precautions. He emailed back, only to get no response. He did some research on the flyer. The event came with different names, trade shows, networking events.

With the objective of bringing together the largest names in neighboring countries… We aim to optimize production, bring about the best quality… Seminars, business dinners, product demonstrations etc.

The words blurred together slowly and before Levi knew it, he couldn’t make sense of it at all. It wasn’t important anyway. What seemed more urgent was the schedule of events right under the spiel.

It was a five day conference and it had already started the night before. Levi opened up his leave credits, still completely full. Most years, it had remained untouched until the end of the year.

He opened up his own bank account. He didn’t have much but he still had more than enough to take that particular risk. And when he contacted Erwin about it, the latter seemed almost excited he was taking a leave.

By some sorcery, he got the one week leave, tagged as emergency leaves. The next afternoon, less than 24 hours after that meeting with Petra, Levi was already in the airport, overnight bag over one shoulder.

He was going on an adventure, some stupid, impulsive and potentially pointless adventure.

***

The guilt never abated. There was something almost surreal, yet seemingly audacious about taking a last minute long leave, after spending years working non stop.

Would anyone understand it? The more Levi thought about it, the more he realized, he didn’t understand it himself. So by some twists and turns of logic, Levi guessed nobody would understand.

He had books he could have read on the plane. There was an inflight entertainment system.

Still shaken by that one week long life, Levi ended up booting up his laptop and spending a huge chunk of the time reviewing pull requests on the flight. Time started to pass like how it used to in the office.

As expected, he got tired four hours in. Losing energy reserves  midday in the office was a very unwelcome experience but something Levi never seemed to completely avoid. It was a very familiar experience that the next few steps had been much easier.

He pulled out the codes, his own personal project folder on his desktop, he stared at the files of codes yet to be merged to the original plan.

Then he started to organize his thoughts. Before he knew it, his fingers were flying over the keyboard.

It could have been some reminder, or just some attempt at shoehorning reason to his impulsive decision to cross the ocean on a last minute vacation. But the more Levi let his brain nag, the more he started to justify. The longer he justified, the sooner he just accepted.

Who cared if anyone else found it sappy. He needed closure.

Then and there, it seemed like closure meant articulating the plans of his own personal project, ideas that had been exchanged that fateful night in some empty playground, ideas that only built and built themselves until they were rows of codes yet to be tested or executed.

Maybe closure was getting the plans for the emotions alarm to Hange.

And as Levi continued to type, he realized, he had a clear idea on how he wanted it to work. Articulating it, planning it into something Hange would have understood was not too much of a tall order.

Connect the emotion alarm to a dashboard… plans on how to quantify emotions, moods… Colors, emotions, suggestions.

Newfound energy had Levi tirelessly working over that plan the whole long haul flight, creating diagrams, appending it with his own notes and suggestions. They were still empty spaces, questions and question marks, space which Hange would have been more qualified to fill herself.

After looking at it once then twice, reading out loud softly too himself the parts that hadn’t made too much sense, Levi scrolled back up and typed four words on the upper left.

Working Title: Mood Alarm.

Hange would probably argue semantics, how moods were a lot more temporary than emotions. And Levi was imagining some outrageous argument in his head and his own responses which would never see the light of day. He stayed staunch with his decision. Unless, Hange could come up with anything more catchy, it would stay.

And that fake argument, had been enough for him to relax. He lowered his laptop screen then reclined his seat and stared out the window. It was still a light blue but there were already hints of purple and pink just straight ahead.

The sun would set soon but only for a few hours. One quick calculation told him, it wouldn’t ever be late at night. Once he arrived at his destination, it would still be day and he would have to adjust quickly.

Tucking his laptop away, he allowed himself a few hours of sleep and he had been lucky to have slept long enough to wake up to a pilot’s message about flying over the city then a good view of unfamiliar landscapes just outside the window.

Levi spent those last few minutes before landing, tracing the skyline, counting the number of tiny boxes that dotted the greens, just inches away from clusters of green, white, silver, then flashes of other colors, too many colors to count.

It was an expensive city. He didn’t need Google to tell him that. Everyone knew it as a city only for the filthy rich. He could imagine Zeke having a house or an apartment there, maybe even two. And he made some guesses of which one Zeke could have owned among the larger ones by the beach. Then he made a much longer reflection of just one Yes or No question.

Would Hange been there? He was still too high up to distinguish humans on the outdoor balconies from tricks of light. Still he pretended that she was on one of the balconies over looking the ocean.

The plane got lower and lower, the houses were starting to look more like houses than little tiny boxes. Close enough, Levi was starting to see the glamour of the city, he was starting to see the glowing characteristics which made it a first choice for the ultra rich.

Sparkling blue ocean, only peppered by speed boats and yachts moored at the docks. From inland, mountain ranges formed crescents and worked with the coast to outline the borders of the cities from miles around.

By some type of magic, the landscapes surrounding it had managed to make the dazzling city its own world. Levi begrudgingly gave some credit to the rich for seeing potential in such a breathtaking view.

Just before the coast were tall buildings among shorter buildings and they were lined up on the flat lands, touching one end of the mountain range then the other. Some were hotels, others were casinos, a few of them were malls. Parks were clustered among the buildings, yet they seemed out of place. They were like some shoddily formed assurance that the city wasn’t out to get any tourist’s money.

Levi was seeing differently. The struggle he went into booking a hotel was already a prelude to whatever he would be dealing with. He silently patted his wallet at his back pocket as the pilot’s final instructions sounded over the whole plane.

"Cabin crew prepare for landing."

And all the passengers had been excited to leave. The plane soon slowed to a stop. Even before the seatbelt sign went off, Levi was already hearing the click of seatbelts. Then everyone filed out of their seats, pulling out luggages from the overhead compartment.

Levi was one of the last few out of the plane. Yet with his lack of check-in luggage, he was still one of the first out of the airport.

Nothing could have completely prepared him for the abrupt shift from dry autumn to a wet perpetual summer. He was greeted by some faint smell of the ocean, almost stifling warmth in the middle of October, and very very humid air that stuck to his skin. Unfamiliar sensations on skin, unfamiliar scents and an unfamiliar language that only blurred into nonsense when they made their way into his ears.

It was a new world, a new adventure, Levi would have never taken under any other circumstances. And maybe that had been the reason why the rush of guilt came back when he allowed himself to marvel over the views, the first hand experience of standing close proximity, breathing the same air of that city he had only ever read about books, or seen in the news.

Levi took a deep breath, pulled off his autumn jacket almost violently.

Then he reminded himself again. If he didn’t find her, he’d still be okay. If he didn’t find her, then that trip will just have been a break.

A well-deserved break.

***

According to reception, his hotel was conveniently located just a five minute distance from the convention center. According to his maps application, it was ten minutes away. Levi though, had taken one hour to make his way there

There were hidden paths that weaved through allies and the occasional mall entrances and exits and maybe that had been what reception had been referring to when they mentioned shortcuts.

Levi walked quickly through them at first before he opened up to a larger road. When his surroundings were more open, when his vision stretched far beyond the narrow walls of the alleys, he thought one of the most beautiful cities in the world to be worth a few detours.

Anyway, he had found the signs were all pointing towards the hybrid building that doubled as a hotel and convention center. It might have been the grandest building all around.

He scanned his surroundings, trying to connect his own view from the plane to his own surroundings. Unable to conjure a very clear and accurate picture of what had come above, he couldn’t confirm whether it had been the grandest building around.

It wasn’t too important anyway.

It seemed like the city was on some journey to prove itself to him. Every path, road, alleyway, shopping street and even the interiors of the mall were all different levels of grand. And they all didn’t disappoint, especially to someone who barely even left his home city.

Clean finishings, newly paved roads, cobble stoned streets and red brick roads all seemed to come straight out of the sappiest rags to riches movies.

One cruel truth though Levi soon found out—and had been expecting anyway—was that everything came with a price.

Of course, it would. But Levi hadn’t embedded that truth deep enough inside him to be able to completely stifle his surprise at the price of bottled water, then the price of a late breakfast. They were all prices Levi would have never considered paying for one meal’s worth of food. So he settled for fast food. And he was sure, he would be eating fast food for every single meal until he flew back home.

Eating burger meals worth twice or thrice what he would have gotten at home was still a harrowing experience. He was on that constant in between state, naturally bitter at the ridiculous cost of living yet still forcing himself to savor those few bites of a sandwich.

And he found some inkling of a distraction just staring out the window, watching the crowds go by as he consumed his brunch slowly.

Then, he noticed, he never stopped thinking about her. She had always been somewhere in his mind, still close enough to the front that a flash of brown hair, a messy pony tail or even a pair of glasses among the crowds were enough to have him eyes wide, chewing slower than usual.

In one quick impulsive move, Levi dropped the burger, pulled out his phone and activated the love alarm.

Just in case.

He put on his earphones, then his baseball cap over it. He finished his food much faster then exited the store.

The love alarm didn't ring as he weaved through the crowds. He put his cap lower on over his face, keeping himself unrecognizable.

So, it shouldn't ring for anyone if anyone can't see me right.

That was expected behavior at least. And Levi was just laying trust on some belief that if Hange was nearby, two things might happen. If Hange hadn’t cleared her alarm history and her alarm would recognize his. Or, even if she used a new account, she would recognize him with a baseball cap covering half his face, and it would still ring.

That was assuming she still used her love alarm.

It was a very small chance and Levi was completely aware of it. So he made his way to the convention center, taking note of the signs with the names plastered on them, with arrows guiding him through shopping streets.

Levi didn't mind the detours, more crowds to attempt to look through. When he finally arrived at the hotel entrance though, he found he was tired and a little grumpy.

With the words at the front mentioning Zeke Jaegers name as a keynote speaker though, he had gained some newfound hope, Hange might just be nearby.

He had done the research at least. There was a visitor's price. There was a guest book.

There would be people selling him medical equipment, the latest medical technology and the drugs, supply chains, just the latest lingo, Levi never bothered to learn.

And he got those business vernacular in slow, stilted opportunities, so separated from one another that he never made sense of them.

He was there for one reason. Hange. So it wasn't too difficult to feign purpose, maybe even pretend that he had a few million dollars resting in his bank account for an investment.

There was a map, the names of some of the companies were in languages he was only familiar with by appearance. It was name recall that saved him then, he saw a few of Zeke's hospitals show up in the convention map. Forming a path in his head, he dove into his crowds, clutching his phone harder, readjusting his earphones.

No ringing. And he couldn’t help but feel a strange emotion, a mix between disappointment and relief. It was quiet and somehow he liked it that way. Yet, that only meant that Hange wasn’t nearby.

But leads to Hange were a good second best option. “Levi--- Mr. Ackerman?”

“Ms. Finger,” Levi greeted.

If Pieck knew anything about the incident at the school, she didn’t make it obvious. She was all business at that convention, decked up in business attire, fliers and a product handbook on the desk right in front of her,

She made her way closer to him, letting out a hand to raise and before Levi could even mirror that same movement, someone cut in between them.

“May I help you?”

Levi could have sworn he had never met that man in front of him. Yet the man was looking at him suspiciously, out of character for someone in a suit and flyers.

Pieck pushed past him."Porco, I'll handle this. So, what brings you here?"

Levi had to play his cards well. "I wanted to talk…" to Zeke? Or to Hange? Which was the better name to bring up?

Pieck nodded at him, an inquisitive look on her face. "To talk…"

"Business…"

"What kind of business? You could relay it through your manager right?"

"it's about the app we're developing." He had his laptop with him then, and only the motion of his laptop to his front albeit had Pieck lighting up.

Of course it would, Pieck had been one of his fans when he had first demo-ed the emotions alarm in the hospital just a few months back.

"You've been planning improvements."

Levi gave a light nod. "I've created plans to further improve the efficacy of the application. I was hoping to talk to Zeke about it, or if he's too busy, Hange." He hoped he had used the right jargon.

Pieck had seemed uncertain there. Yet her eyes had darted to his laptop enough times for Levi to see that she was interested, that somehow she had held a stake in those final products.

"If you want me to show it…" Levi was about to drop his bag and pull it out.

That is, if Peke hadn't stopped him then. "Don't trouble yourself," she said. "But, you wouldn't find Zeke here for most of the day. He only shows up for the business dinners but they're on an invitation basis. I can try asking around, we have a few employees who could ask Zeke."

"If you could tell me where Hange is…"

And that was where things got slightly complicated and somehow Levi suspected from the way Pieck had avoided his gaze yet at the same time, Porco had flashed him with a glare, there was something they knew that he didn't.

Pieck spoke up. "Hange huh? Haven't seen her since the convention started. Even during the days leading up to the convention, she was in and out, more than we could even remember."

"She's unpredictable. Don't think you're going to find her here," Porco added.

"But if you could contact her yourself?" Pieck looked at him pointedly.

"Unpredictable huh?" Levi wasn't all too surprised that they would call her unpredictable. And they had said it with a hint of animosity on both their voices, a tone which very much said 'dont bother', or maybe, ‘contacting Zeke might be the better option."

Levi, though, saw a challenge in that unpredictability. If he played his cards right, he might even find predictability in it.

At the least, he managed to let out a light greeting of thanks before he pulled out of the crowds then past the entrance of the stifling convention.

Levi still kept a copy of a program, taking note of keynote speakers among them. Hange wasn't in any of them so his thoughts flew quickly out of the convention, only rooted there somehow by that offer from Pieck to get him in touch with Zeke's executive team.

No help at all with finding Hange. But Levi couldn't help but just think that their actions may have been calculated. Once again, Levi was groveling about the stiffness of the world of politics and artificial corporate pleasantries.

When that became too stressful, his thoughts went back to Hange.

Hange was unpredictable, in a predictable way. And Levi was sure as long as he strode through the town with some purpose, he could make sense of that 'chaos' she always seemed to exude.

That night, he approached it with some careful premeditation, while considering as well that he was still suffering from jet lag.

He scanned through maps, aerial photos, then pictures from taken from high points in the city. He let his eyes trace over the coasts, then the beaches, the affluent areas close proximity to the beach that strategically overlooked the bluest parts of the ocean. Then he noted a less affluent area that brushed the other side of the mountain.

Focusing on the smaller houses, almost hidden by the iconic skyline, he asked himself, would Hange be there? He didn't have a straight answer but he wouldn't put it past her. Besides, any sense of adventure had started to become a little more welcome.

There was truth to it, Hange was unpredictable. But the predictability to it was, Hange was so unpredictable, she was memorable. He was sure if he would ask about the brunette, someone would know.

If Hange acted like the Hange, he knew, someone might recognize her. Someone in a simple community in a country thousands of miles away from his own, wouldn't know Hange Zoe as anything more than some eccentric brunette.

And maybe that was where he was supposed to start.

The next morning, he bought a bus ticket and he had been lucky enough to even get an opportunity to sit. After all, no one actually visited that city for the locals.

It was almost a half an hour bus away form the city center, and houses by the coastline were getting further apart until Levi reached a point where cabanas were made of simple wood, paths were etched lightly on the ground.

Levi disembarked at one of the more simpler bus stops for miles around, and it didn't look like the bus passed there often.

But maybe it was better that way.

Untouched Nature, free nature is a beautiful thing. Nature once again at its rawest form, at its most candid, not flaunting its best parts for the rich to admire.

And Levi was seeing beauty in the candid.

There were a few local kids, wading by, speaking a language Levi didn't understand and for a second, Levi just stood, breathing in the sour air of some untouched beach. It differed a lot from the beach thirty minutes away. There was no music playing in the background, no strobe lights and Levi concluded one thing.

Hange would have enjoyed this.

Levi would bet money that if Hange did have the freedom to run around, she might have been there. The houses around the area were of a simple kind, so far apart, that Levi had to walk thousands of steps just to get from one to the other. He traced the coastline as he walked, far enough from the shores to keep his feet dry but still close enough that he felt the moist sand squish from underneath him. He was following some path back the way he came, towards the skyline, he noted there were bars among them, seemingly affordable bars, maybe catering to locals.

Levi entered to find chaos. Men in a group playing some possible version of mahjong with rocks, others playing chess and others playing cards with rocks as currencies.

And he was more convinced Hange would have joined them if she had the freedom to move around.

So he took the risk. "Do you get foreigners here often?"

And maybe the word ‘foreigner’ or the word ‘often’ had been unfamiliar to the bartender.

He looked questioningly at Levi but it didn't look like he was completely lost. He turned the younger bartender who looked back at Levi. "May I help you sir?" he asked with a thick yet still very intelligible accent.. Levi suspected he had worked in the city center before.

"Foreigners...do you get a lot here?" Levi was slow at first.

"A few. May I ask why?" And he was starting to suspect the man worked in service.

It looked like the man didn't need the quick adjustments though, so Levi continued. "I'm looking for someone…"

The local gestured for him to go on.

And just like that, Levi found out Hange's predictability. All he needed was some subtle gesture, some consideration, that maybe it would have been best to approach the men hustling chess players by the side, or the other men playing some version of mahjong.

It was just a quick flick of his head towards the gamblers as he tried to find the right words to say.

And the man in front of him figured it out. "Glasses? Brown wavy hair?"

"She likes playing games. She plays here?" Levi asked, just for some confirmation, some proof that he wasn't socially engineering anyone.

The younger man looked at the bartender. The latter broke out into a smile. "Hange?" he said with a thick accent. He let out a laugh then turned to Levi almost suspiciously.

Levi nodded quickly. "Yes, Hange." Hänge Zoe. Should he say her last name?

The bartenders said something to the English speaking local. There was a brief exchange between them and the bartender pointed at Levi.

"Her hair is always messy," Levi said, he put his hands at the back of his head, mimicking the messy way she tied her hair up. "She always wins games. She's very smart. And sometimes, she'd just go out to the beach and she'd get lost in the view."

The two locals look towards each other, their faces suddenly unreadable.

They knew something Levi didn't and Levi knew he was punching blindly just making quick guesses of what Hange would have done. The specificities could also mean they escorted him out with new information.

Yet, somehow, it seemed those descriptions worked. They both smiled, exchange a few words.

"She plays. She wins---"

Levi smiled. "And let me guess, she doesn't keep the money?" And when he saw the grins of the two men widen, he made another guess. "And she gives the money away?"

The man dropped his shoulders and put one hand out in greeting. "What do you need?"

"I wanna see her--- No, I wanna talk to her. Do you know where I can find her?"

"She doesn't tell us where she's going too."

The bartender said something just behind the younger man and the latter's expression changed. They were both pointing at something, seemingly hypothetical, then drawing something with their fingers.

The younger man then continued in English. "I'll take you out."

"Wha--" Levi never had time to finish.

The man guided him out.

At first Levi wondered what he did wrong. The man didn't seem to carry any animosity. He seemed almost excited. "She likes going there," he said with some level of certainty.

There. Initially, it had been difficult to figure out where 'there' was. Following the direction of his finger with his gaze was almost a tall order. But there was only one place from that angle which boasted any level of significance.

He was pointing high up to mountain ranges and from his place by the coast, on the other side of the city, maybe he could make out a small tower that peeked out over the green.

"She likes high places," the man said.

"She told you that?" Levi shifted his grin to something certain then he nodded. "Thank you, I'll check it out."

And that tower peeking out of the mountains was identifiable with just an easy google search, expected from one of the most tourist friendly places in the world.

A tower observatory huh? Was it be open to the public? Sources said yes. What did Hange enjoy there? Levi had an inkling of an answer but he might have to see to it to be sure.

While waiting for the bus back to the city center, he consolidated his clues. Pieck had told him to wait for a message from someone named Yelena. If he couldn't talk to Hange, he could talk to Zeke.

Still, he was covering his bases with Hange but he was a little messy with it. It was all a matter of fate, some inkling of what kind of person Hange would be.

But what would he know about Hänge?

Even on the empty bus on the way back, he left his love alarm on, earphones propped comfortably in his ears.

In the bus it didn't ring but when Levi was weaving through the busiest streets, changing from the city bus to the bus leading up the mountain, it may have rung a few times. And Levi only started to become aware, a few incidents in, that every single time he had stopped, then he would scan the crowds.

One flash of brown hair, sometimes it would show up red under direct streams of light. A bird's nest tied up in a half pony tail or just a very messy one. Or maybe that low voice, which seemed to shift to something shrill almost immediately when excited.

There was only one person he would have wanted his Love Alarm to ring for. So Levi, lowered his cap over his face, boarded a bus and made the journey to the mountain.

***

He didn't go back to the convention center anymore. A long list of programs and keynote speakers only confirmed it, it was a roadshow on business ventures more than research.

But Hange likes business right? Hange likes medicine? Or she might even be wedges among the crowds of tourists among the snazzier casinos, just playing. He then considered playing just to check it out and maybe ask around.

And when Levi was weighing options, he realized Hange was somewhat unpredictable. He was at the mercy of fate, luck and a few well thought out guesses.

So he treated it like some challenge, a challenge he could very much fail. But he would get a better chance of running into her, if he kept to one place.

He picked the summit of the mountain and he parked there for the next few days, laptop bag in hand, sweatshirt over his boardshorts. There was a cafe only a few blocks from the tower with a good view of the main street leading up to the observatory.

And Levi only had to be there a few days to realize, it was off-season and it was off-season for a reason. It was the time of the year, when the weather by the road was a fickle bitch.

That day, the rain was on and off. The northern winds blew strong and Levi almost wished he had brought his autumn jacket. Yet it never was cold or windy enough to be certain it was worth lugging around.

The sweatshirt had been a golden alternative and he found the hood had a dual purpose. Enough, to hide his face so he could keep his love alarm on without receiving too many alarms. And enough to keep him safe from the blinding wind that came with climbing high elevations.

Levi abandoned the baseball cap, instead keeping the hood low over his face. He made himself at home in that cafe that overlooked the main road towards the visitor's center and a platform with a good view of the city. He picked a spot right next to the window. He only had to turn left, to get a peek, yet he was in a good enough position that if anyone looked back, he only had to lean back to be concealed by the opaque wall.

Levi was taking stupid risks. Did she clear her cache? Did she even still use the app? Any of those miniscule decisions would have been enough for Levi to come home empty ended. Yet, they were highly probable decisions. After all, why would Hange want to keep the application after the fiasco months ago. He started to even entertain the possibility that maybe Hange wasn’t even using her phone as often anymore. She hadn’t replied to texts, responded to calls and her number was also out of service.

Everything was against him, every single probability. Everything had been against him since the start anyway so it was much easier to stomach such circumstances.

Levi made for himself an ultimatum. He only had until his flight back, three days after, to talk to Hange.

If he is not able to find her, he goes home empty handed. He cooperates with the transferring of assets, the finalization of the contract. He scraps his own personal project, the colors, the attempt to quantify emotions and the dashboard.

At the least, he tried. He responded to that ticket. He tried to contact her, he tried to look for her. Hell, he was even contacting Zeke, personal pride and corporate processes be damned.

Surprisingly, instead of leaving him more desolate, the high stakes, all against him, had only sent a surge of motivation through him.

Maybe helplessness could do that to people. Or maybe he just couldn’t believe for himself that losing could be such a probable outcome.

Levi turned up the volume of his phone, scanned the crowds just outside the shop. It was off season, the weather was dark and gloomy so it wasn’t too difficult to even count the number of tall lanky brunettes who could have remotely been Hange. And he probably wasted more than enough time looking closely at each one, before accepting that twinge of disappointment every time they looked back revealing an unfamiliar face.

He never failed to remind himself how stupid of a plan it was. In the end, his best option really was to wait for a message from Yelena. Even if he would have preferred to discuss the plans with Hange himself, without that monkey as an intermediary.

When the disappointment accumulated, becoming too much to bear, Levi opened his laptop again, checked his work trackers, then his own project but he always made sure to look out, in between lines of code, or in between tickets or pull requests.

Just in case. Just in case, one of the brunettes was Hange.

When his love alarm finally rang, Levi had been reviewing a pull request. The surprise lasted for a second, the horror at realizing if that person hadn’t opened their love alarm, he wouldn’t have noticed her, lasted a little longer.

But he couldn’t be too sure it was her. She had on a cap, her hair tied up on a high ponytail. It was wavy and untamed, yet bunched up in such a way that maybe even her hair felt stifled. The ponytail swung wildly with even the slightest movement of her head.

And she was moving a lot, head bent down at first, looking at her phone, then at two kids next to her.

She was part of a tour group and those kids didn’t seem like hers. The alarm stopped for a while, and Levi used that short rest to check the schedule of the convention he had downloaded just yesterday. There was a tour that day. So it could be her.

Still, he couldn’t be too sure. His alarm rang again. Then when he was watching closely, he saw her jaw drop, he saw her explain something to the kids. Then she started to scan her surroundings and when Levi used that flash when their eyes met for just a second, he suspected.

But maybe their eyes haven’t met. She was wearing sunglasses.

And there was still a good chance it wasn’t Hange. But from her reaction, from the reaction of the kids, then the way she poked at her phone and the way the heart just suddenly disappeared then appeared then disappeared from his phone within few second lags, Levi decided it was a risk worth taking.

He continued to stare. And the brunette continued to scan her surroundings. She bent over, said something to both kids, then patted one on the head. And she turned around, looking through the cafe window.

And Levi turned off his own alarm, leaning back on the chair, just far back enough to hide.

What was he scared of? It looked like she could have been scared too. She didn’t bother to come nearer, or to even crane her neck to see just behind the wall right next to the window. She shook her head, a half smile played at her lips. And she walked away from the cafe, back to the tour group.

A disappointing turn of events. And Levi was scolding himself. It almost seemed surreal to even find Hange there, after losing contact with her for months. But he couldn’t be too sure that it was her. And how many times had he repeated it to himself.

Heart beating wildly, Levi let out a wretched sigh and slammed his laptop close, loud and hard enough to jarr him and even his closest neighbors. Who cared anyway? He continued to stare at Hange, and just for some level of security, just in case his emotions took more control than he allowed, he put the hood of his sweat shirt over his head, zipped it up a little higher over his neck and stared out.

She was talking to the tour guide. The tour guide shook his head, then pointed just above him.

Grey skies. Levi understood gesticulations enough to get that part.

The tour guide then pointed at the cafe then at the shopping streets but maybe she wasn’t listening anymore. She turned to the sky and Levi followed her gaze to see that she was probably looking at the tower, the base was visible from his view but even when he bent his head to the side, he couldn't make out the top. He made it a game for himself, he craned his neck, just to see how far up he could make out from his comfortable seat in the cafe.

Then eventually, he gave up, yet the brunette was still looking up, her head hung back, almost freely. Her mouth a thin line. And it was only when Levi heard the loud murmurs, took note of the sudden shift of the cafe atmosphere from peaceful to bustling, did he realize she had been left all alone.

The whole tour group was inside the shop.

Except her. She walked ahead. And if Levi were right, and that was her, he might as well follow. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t coiling the charger of his laptop before stuffing it into his bag. He wasn’t placing it hinge first into his bag. He stuffed everything, leaving chaos in his wake.

But he didn’t have much time anyway. Besides, cafe was starting to get too crowded for comfort. He exited the shop, and she was still in view, for just long enough for Levi to make out, that she had turned a corner.

If a part of him wanted to hesitate, if a part of him was holding him back, he didn’t let it take over. He didn’t have much time to consider the situation either. After all, she was moving fast and the winds were enough of an adversary already. So he ran, holding his laptop bag close to his side. He was grateful, he had at least tightened the hood of his sweatshirt.

The corner she turned on, opened up to a smaller cobblestone road, and at the end of it was the entrance of the tower. She opened the door with the sign ’authorized personnel only’, and she didn’t come back out.

Many feet behind her, but still unperturbed, Levi followed behind. The first floor was wide, and it acted as shelter, an ante room to a visitor’s center maybe, and there was a small open room to the side. A rope acted as some weak barricade to the entrance with a sign hanging in front.

Closed due to weather conditions

Uncertainty was another adversary. He turned to the glass door of the visitor’s center. He could look for her there. After a small peak through the glass, he realized if he went through there, he might just get a little self conscious, he might just hesitate to even climb over the rope.

In the slow few seconds that followed, Levi considered several things.

If she wanted to go to the visitor’s center, she would have gone through the main door. If she were Hange, it wouldn’t be too outrageous to imagine her climbing over a rope or even opening an ‘authorized personnel only’ door. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized, the bartender was right, his own instinct could be right.

Hange loved adventure. Hange loved freedom.

And as he stepped over the rope, then entered the hollow area where the spiral staircase climbed endlessly, he realized, his instincts, his decision might have just been right.

The footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing one end to the other over the hollow walls. Even when he couldn’t make out movements, just staring above him, towards the dizzying top, he made out the echoes.

And that could be Hange.

Or it could be an illusion. Levi added a second later, as he started the journey up the spiral staircases, the laptop bag dangling precariously on his side. He was dealing with too many sounds at once, and they all echoed in the narrow room, that Levi couldn’t be too sure if her footsteps had been his own imagination.

Still, he climbed.

Hundreds or maybe even thousands of steps in, it became an issue of sunk costs. The rubber soles of his shoes on the metal, the slap of his laptop bag on his side. And the few times he looked back, the few times he allowed himself to slow down, he heard an echo, unfamiliar footsteps, the shoes not his own.

A few times, he tried to go faster, just to beat the sound. When he sprinted up steps, losing count along the way, he remembered he had to conserve energy. The sounds were blurring against each other anyway.

So he settled for a quick jog. The monotony that came with jogging had him thinking, the spiral case really was endless. He wondered how many feet he had climbed.

A few times, it was tempting to run. A few other times, it was tempting to walk. A few times, he wondered how nice it would be to be able to fly, just float all the way down like a bird. Soon enough, he was high enough that just looking down made him dizzy, left his stomach turning.

He started to focus on what was ahead anyway, even when it was all just some predictable pattern of stairs and stone walls. Along the way, maybe he had started to lose feeling in his legs, just like he lost track of the echoes, or maybe she had just stopped climbing altogether.

Close to the top, there was a platform that led to a doorway. And Levi only had to push open, to be greeted again by winds. Suddenly they were coming in all directions at once, enough for Levi to put both his hands over his eyes. Enough to have him bending his knees, trudgling forward, one step at a time.

He was at the top of the tower, the highest point for miles around. When he got his bearings, started to accept the wind as an inevitable companion, he had managed to sprint forward, lean his elbows on the arm railings and look forward, at the magnificent view that stretched past the hotels, the shopping malls and the casinos.

The mountains beyond that and just next to them, the empty beaches, the local communities.

A few times, he closed his eyes, allowing them some reprieve from the harsh winds. And around the time, when he started to notice the grey sky, the streams of light that seemed to let bright colors glimmer, the few parts of the land they touched, he easily remembered why he had been there in the first place.

Of course, Hange enjoys this.

He looked around him once. Then twice, just in case the first time had been a trick from his tired eyes. She wasn’t around. Then he started to question himself.

Is she really here? Or were the echoes of footsteps just an illusion?

Was he going crazy?

It could have been from the strong winds, or the crushing disappointment, but around that time, he found it difficult to breathe. He felt tears prickle in his eyes. He swallowed once, and that had been enough to keep his face unmoving.

He looked back at the view, then at the grey sky above, the streams of light that were only getting smaller as dark clouds hovered over the city, then at the neon lights that only started to glow brighter with each stream of light that disappeared.

The wind started to blow harder, the trees down below rustled, creating their own glimmer of green, all dancing at once. Then he looked up at the ocean, the waves only getting larger, as the direction of the winds started to become unpredictable.

Sometimes, his hood was pressing harder towards the back of his head. Sometimes, it pushed from the front, blowing his bangs out of his face. It was chilling his cheeks, forcing the salty yet very sour scent of the ocean through his nose, then his half open mouth.

The wind brought with it many things at once, utter chaos, in separated parts. Most Levi couldn’t even understand.

I love you. At first, he thought it to be the whistle of the wind. Then a second later, he decided that he was just going crazy.

Then the wind stopped for just a second, the whistle, the blowing deadened into nothing for just a few seconds.

A few seconds enough.

“I love you!”

A few seconds long enough for Levi to trace the voice to a strange location, above him, yet behind him. He traced it to the brunette, cap still propped snugly on her head, her ponytail swinging from left to right.

Her sunglasses were off, she stood balanced on one of the lower rungs of the rail. There were still a few streams of sunlight left, yet they shone on Hange, bright enough for Levi to see red, in her ponytail, to see those roundish hazel eyes, those cheekbones and hint of pink in them.

Red. For a while it looked like a fire, the smell of the sea tickled his nose, then a wave of horror. Then loss?

See you later, Hange.

She stood there, meters above him, far enough for Levi to still doubt yet still close enough that with a longer look, Levi accepted, he was obliged to believe it.

It was Hange. The longer he looked at her, the more certain he became, the more money he would have put into such a wild conjecture.

But what the hell are you doing here?

Comprehension was a slow process, muddled by surprise, disbelief and confusion at his own reaction. Impatient, Levi had exited the spiral staircase to a platform a few meters below the top, while she had climbed all the way up. That left them in two completely different floors, two completely different platforms, a good distance away from each other.

And it didn’t look like she noticed him.

Then who are you talking to?

She continued to look straight ahead. She took a deep breath then screamed again.

I love you.

The wind caressed his face again and the words came again as a whisper.

The few times Levi opened his mouth, he noticed. When the wind was strong enough, the clearing of his throat, the grumbles didn’t come out as expected. As if the wind stole his words, and carried them away with it.

And the wind wouldn’t tell its secrets right?

Exhausted, terrified, confused then frustrated. Unwelcome tears threatening to force themselves out, Levi decided he was desperate for someone who’d listen but he he didn’t want anyone capable of judgement.

He took a deep breath. “I love you!” With the wind blowing in all the directions at once, his ears snug under his hood, it came out as a whisper. It was as if his body saw an opportunity for a cathartic release in the potential listener in the wind. Even as his throat burned, he screamed it again. “I love you!”

I love you. Hange’s voice seemed to ride with the wind, once again, he heard it as a whisper. Looking back up, Hange had dropped back on the platform, her two hands cupped her mouth. She dropped them and took a deep breath. She dropped her shoulders, then stared up at the sky, her head hung back. And she looked like she was about to collapse.

And maybe he looked the same way. He wanted to collapse too, with the weight over his shoulders, another, more deeply embedded exhaustion reared its ugly head.

But he wanted to hear the rest of it. He couldn’t be too sure who she had been talking too. Either way, he was sure it didn't change anything. Whether she felt the same way or not, love was love.

He took another deep breath. “I love you!” The wind was only getting stronger and once again, it snatched the words out of his mouth, his throat raw, almost burning. He didn't even know wind could burn until that moment, until he noticed the ache in his tongue.

Hange didn’t seem to notice. She still continued to stare straight ahead, then up at the sky. She put one hand over her eyes, wiping sweat. Or tears?

And maybe his mind suspected tears. And maybe tears were contagious. They came out unwillingly, as something that just welled at the rims.

And maybe if he just screamed again, they’ll force themselves back. “Hange Zoe.” He took a deep breath. “I love you!” He had been more strategic, letting it out a split second later, when the wind was whistling, almost screaming.

The wind might never take those words to her. But he didn’t seem to mind, the words had been for him more than anything.

Levi…. I love you...

The wind was strong enough, rain started to patter over the stone platform. And it became difficult to distinguish screams from the whistling of the wind. So Levi couldn’t be too sure. Still, he listened closely.

...In another life… Okay?

The rain was cold. The dampness pressed the hood closer to the back of his head, then the edge of his hood hung low over him, obscuring his view.

Yet the wind still found a way in, it first caressed his cheeks again, then tickled his lips as if forcing something out of him.

It goaded. It teased. And Levi had always been a sore loser, even if he never told anyone.

Alone, with no one there to hear him, but the wind, and Hange beyond ears reach, Hange who had barely noticed him, the words were forcing themselves out.

He looked back to see her standing, leaning closely over the railing. The strong rains, the ferocious winds had reduced her to a shadow.

And he was sure, she probably hadn't seen him.

Another surge of confidence. Then one deep breath. By some unexpected rush, Levi was starting to feel some strange anger. And Hange’s own staunch acceptance, the way she just gripped the railings and stared ahead, was only aggravating it.

“I don't wanna wait for any more next lives!” He let out a painful cough after that but even that didn’t penetrate the rumble, the pattern of the rain and the gusts of wind that surrounded him.

I want you. It was a weak whisper at first. Recovering from that last bout, Levi attempted once again. “I want you now.” Even when he couldn’t hear it himself, he felt it, the rawness in his throat, the anger that laced every single word. “Love is a choice right? Then I made my fucking choice! I want you! I want you now!” He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, the figure hidden by a thin veil of rain.

The figure that eventually disappeared into the tower.

He eventually got tired of looking up. His neck ached, his vision started to blur and the hood hung damp over his face.

Levi only realized then, how much he had been holding in. In fact, it never felt all his to begin with. Cathartic releases weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Hell, Levi didn’t even notice how much had actually been released until he leaned back on the wall, until he realized, he didn’t mind at all being covered head to toe in water and dirt.

Humans were unpredictable. They were incomprehensible. And the moment that everything fell into place, Levi let it sink in.

He loved Hange. He wanted her. He wanted to be selfish about it.

“That’s what a choice is right? Doing what I want?” Levi whispered, making some sense of Hange’s own words, he mimicked her voice, her mannerisms as he said those first words. He then lowered his tone, into something more natural. “We’re not fucking robots Hange. We want things. We feel things.”

He didn’t need to tell her that. High up on the tower Hange had been screaming. He was certain of that. Hange had been leaning forward, she had been breathing hard.

She was feeling. She was human. She was free.

And Levi wondered why she had seemed so desperate, so eager to let something out, as if every other moment outside the tower had been stifling.

“That’s life married to a billionaire huh?”

He couldn’t blame her for screaming. HIs only little game of copycat had him exhausted too but somehow, by some sleight of hand, some magic, it had him calm, peaceful even under the strong patter of rain.

Articulating only made emotions all the more real. The signs that he hadn’t been the only one chasing blindly was reassuring.

And maybe that was all Levi wanted anyway, that was the final closure to that long game of cat and mouse. Levi turned to his soaked laptop bag, he maneuvered his way back inside the shelter. He zipped his bag open, let out a sigh of relief to see that the case had done its job to keep the laptop dry.

Then alone on the stairwell, he leaned on the wall, noted the sound of footsteps many feet below. He opened the laptop, then before even booting it, he closed it again and took a deep breath as one realization dawned on him in those slow steady movements.

In truth, he didn’t mind never showing the plans to Hange. Maybe he had just been looking for some excuse to see her, some attempt at closure.

“You got it,” he whispered to himself, hands cold and shaking even under the humid tropical air. “You can stop now…” But something inside him continued to lightly boil. “So what? Do we wait until the next life?”

Nobody answered.

He opened his phone, then his mood alarm. He already predicted the color on the screen.

Green. Happy sad? Or sad happy?

At that moment, Levi concluded, desire and acceptance could begrudgingly coexist.

***

Levi had no plans of going back to the convention. Yet, after that night, he had one more day left, one more day to check the city.

He did a quick google search, reading through long reviews on beaches, on the mountains, the hiking trails, the tower and the shopping street. None of them seemed interesting and Levi almost considered just curling up in bed on the last day and allowing himself to recover from the ordeal the night before.

And even if his mind had been willing him to find some other purpose. Levi found, as soon as the adrenaline rush ended, all he wanted to do was lie in bed. Only standing on two feet long enough to get him through a shower and curled into bed.

His mind was racing with other questions. Could Hange move? Was Hange moving? Was she walking? Was she talking? As if nothing happened? And the more he thought about it, the harder it became to move.

He slept through the night. By morning, he had enough strength, enough need for stimulation to pull his laptop closer. He ran his hand over the keyboard. It was fully dry. He realized he would rather wait a few more hours before opening it again.

He turned back to the ceiling. Rest. He whispered to himself. You don’t need to go out. You went on enough adventures to last a lifetime.

A fucking lifetime. It felt like sour graping. And Levi soon found himself admitting to sour graping. He would have wanted more adventures if it meant more time with Hange.

But real life didn’t work that way. Life expected people to decide on circumstances, never on emotions or actual thought.

So what’s the point of being fucking human then?  Rejecting the world as a whole, made it easier to just roll over and nap again despite the light streaming through the window.

And Levi was in and out of sleep, the only view was the plain white walls of his hotel room, and whatever light reflected on it. Some natural need for stimulation had him jumping at the sound of the phone ringing.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand behind him, dragging the phone roughly from the side table.

An unknown number. Hange. The unwelcome part of him tried to rear its ugly head again. He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He kept his voice cold, just in case it was her, or wasn’t her.

“Mr. Ackerman?” An unfamiliar voice on the other end and Levi couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman speaking.

“Speaking.”

“Ms. Finger told me about your request, about your plans for the Mood Alarm. I ran through it with Mr. Jaeger and he would be happy to host you for dinner, then for a private meeting in his suite."

“No need,” Levi said.

“No, he insists.”

“It’s not worth your time.”

“Mr. Ackerman, listen.” And the voice on the other end was firm. “Mr. Jaeger has invited you to dine with him. He took the time out of his busy schedule to do this. This is a formal invitation, if he is interested in your plans he will tell you himself.”

Levi didn't respond immediately. He couldn't think of much else to say yet.

“Will you dine with him?”

Levi put the phone in front of him, put it on speaker and just stared at the unknown number. Could this be a scam?

As if to answer his question, the person on the other line only continued. “We have added you to the guest list for the dinner tonight, just give your name to the reception at the hotel. Mr. Jaeger will see you there.”

And the person on the other end, did not give him time to protest. Levi thought it almost rude to call back, to even bother anyone over a decision that was just his to make.

Hours of contemplation later, Levi decided to just show up and lay low. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He had already reached the point of acceptance the day before.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 8: Adroit

Content Warning: Mentions of Torture School sucked. That was the conclusion Esredes came to for most of his childhood. He was never the biggest fan of many aspects of it, of sitting indoors and listening to lectures when he could be out in the world. Writing in particular was never fun. So many rules had to be drilled into him, on how sentences and grammar worked and what the proper words to use were. So many hours collectively he must have spent, pouring over dictionaries and definitions, scolded and given a bad grade if his writing did not match the expected standards. He never did quite get the hang of it. Even as an adult, he found himself back in the same loop of dictionaries always being out on his desk when he had the brilliant idea to accept a House of Lords members’ offer of being an assistant and look over and write letters and speeches and proposals for the man. Some nobles he knew could write flourishing and beautiful things with ease, but he always had to stop and get fixated on words, if this or that was spelled right or flowed correctly, only for the end result to be something he always felt resembled a noble’s writing, but if one were to observe it more carefully and pick it apart, it would come undone at the seams. At least all those failed drafts were simply put in the trash. His war journal stayed locked away in his home nowadays, not only for the particular out of the ordinary pages like the time he wrote a full page of I’m sorry, but the few times in his life he tried to write poetry lines in it on a whim. It was awful, and he regretted it the moment after he finished trying. The page was almost intelligible with crossed out words, but it read like a madman’s disjointed ramblings trying to sound pretty. How the hell did poetry work? He had no idea, and it was an embarrassment to take to his grave, or else truly no worse fate would await him. He was mediocre at mathematics. No excuse of simply being a child of less artistic disciplines- he found nothing significant for himself in pretty much any part of schooling except history. He liked reading about the past, and it took to his memory much better than equations or the different forms of the same word. Seraphiaux always did better, even when he neglected studies. There he was, the little child prodigy learning alchemy and healing at age seven with all his books, and Esredes was trying to understand semicolons at fifteen. He was going to be a healer, Esredes would be a Temple Knight- and only one of them had any progress towards it at all. His parents did not allow him to play or practice with swords or weapons of any kind. “Not until you enter training,” they said. “It’s too dangerous.”Most noble children would probably be far better off coming from two parents who did not fight in the war, who did not try to push and train them to be soldiers from an early age. Esredes was an exception to that, as he thought. Instead, he was stuck in the increasing realization that he had little talent for anything. It only made sense to him later why- a soldier could not have other talents, or else they would be distracted from their purpose and not want to fight. But he did not know yet he was one, for sure, and all he could do to escape was funnel into his little wish. It wasn’t the easiest journey to finish schooling, but he managed it. Right into training he went… and there came a breakdown soon enough. The shield. That stupid goddamn shield. He hated carrying it and no matter what he did, he could not get the hang of using it. I’m going to fail, he thought for sure. He would have to go back to his parents and accept he had no passion to pursue, and then work extremely hard every day to be good enough to be head of house, when he knew in his heart he was not enough for it. Yet it all passed as he funneled himself solely into the sword at the instruction of a superior, and once more he had something. Combat. He was right all along. Combat was his answer to everything, his shining star of purpose and ability. Day after day after day, he threw his entire body and soul into training. Nothing could match that ecstasy of true purpose and being. The day he was knighted was the best of his life. Superiors took notice of him, sometimes for the bad but more often for the good, especially as time went on. The ecstasy eventually faded as the harsher realities of battle came to be, but still in those moments of promotion and praise from the higher ups, when people spoke of his accomplishments and even, increasingly as time went on, his bouts of strategy in battle, it surged back up in a lesser form. When he was twenty two, an opportunity came to him like no other. A captured heretic who had the blood of dragons in him which his squadron had apprehended. “Let me interrogate him alone before the Inquisitors come,” Esredes asked his superior. He had done just enough questioning people in the past that he was confident an answer for his curse could be found. Alas, as he carved into the captive repeatedly and shouted at him about his affliction, he ended up empty handed. His one shot at answers had been blown in a bout of overconfidence, and questions raged on in his head. It got easier when he returned to the art of interrogation after the law no longer held him down. As he realized how important it was to get into their heads, slithering up through their ear canals with a tongue increasingly coated in silver, and pull it apart from inside. Then came civilization again, and Esredes was left constantly wondering why people kept spilling their lives’ stories and turmoils to him when they barely knew each other. Why did people constantly look at him like he had just trudged up and told them something they never realized about themselves, when he had just stated the obvious anyone could figure out from dealing with people for thirty three years? Why did he seem to calm some people down so easily just by opening his mouth- that half when he wasn’t inciting them to anger as he always did? Well, being the Keeper of Secrets was not easy, but as he left for Dravania to maintain a fragile peace as a diplomat some days, and looked over his list of clients and his near perfect record others, he smiled about it to himself in the comfort of the blue walls. Yet it was never enough. He had climbed to a Temple Commander before he fell, climbed in much less time to the top of the Disciples and then their leader, managed to pull himself out of being a wanted criminal to multiple people offering him jobs in areas he never expected to take, and yet the same internal monologue repeated. I can’t do this, he said as he tried each new job far outside of his perceived, singular combat ability. So many others could do this better than me. There would be a shining and perfectly talented Ishgardian, one who hadn’t fought in the heretic’s side of the war, who was merely open minded and far more likable, and he would finally be fired from his diplomacy job and replaced by them. Ferrant would never replace him, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still constantly stressing that he was not meant for the work and couldn’t be enough help. And while he was no longer at a risk of firing since going independent on his side job, and he did not expect all his clients to stop showing up, it never eased that anxiety every time that he could mess it up and do everything wrong in a heartbeat, and ruin everything. But if another counselor like him ever showed up in the same circles, and just proved to be so much better than him At least he still had combat, he told himself. As stupid incompetent children fought primals, ended the war, and got all the peoples’ admiration and praise, he still had combat. As he continued to make critical errors here and there in his ventures, and get in trouble with the Inquisition for vigilantism, forced only to stick to the law enforcement of the wilderness and the expeditions his friends would not take to the system, he still had combat. Not every day anymore as he stuck to his civilian tasks, but he had it. What would a talentless soldier be without the purpose of combat? Of dying, of sacrifice, or usefulness? The disgraced Temple Knight who would never officially and legally fight for anything ever again, only forced to emulate ability in areas he was never built for? The answer found itself in bars. Former Dragoons, it was almost always Dragoons. The ones who started fights just to feel anything, screamed at and insulted people because they truly felt they had no purpose in life anymore, and refused to move on to do anything productive. Esredes sighed to himself every time when he saw them. Perhaps he was not a man of talents, but he would continue to blend in and pretend. If not only for being above making an even bigger disgrace of himself. He always hated too much attention. ----- @heartofthefury​ Seraphiaux/Ferrant

[elmidol]

Error: Program Not Found - Seventeen (NSFW)

Summary: You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: handjob; blowjob (depends on the route)

Side Notes: Contains all three routes, divided by breaks

Error: Program Not Found

 “Choose your love, love your choice.” - Thomas S. Monson

 Seventeen: Choice

 [Kylo Route]

 It was partially a strategic move that encouraged you to have TeeArr accompany you to the presentation. The ability to demonstrate how some of his basic functions could assist the droid lines you were proposing when coupled with medical droid programming meant that visuals eliminated the need for verbal explanation that would have otherwise eaten into your time. His physical design likewise acted as a visual aid for what materials would be required and why the droids would hold enough merit in the long run to justify the expenses. To fully train another officer or even stormtrooper, it would require more resources. Plus the droids were reusable, cheaper to fix than what basic training for an officer required. Each droid could theoretically care for three officers and/or stormtroopers at a time depending on the severity of the injuries and the physical therapy required. As for the anti-procrastination droids, those could very well handle simple tasks simultaneous to encouraging multiple officers as well.

 While the room was reacting mostly favorably to your proposal, there were questions that revealed what portions they had tuned out--at times this was due to natural sentient behavior of hyperfocusing too much on one’s own inquiries that they missed the answer that was given when it came up. You inwardly grumbled, however outwardly you maintained your composure and repeated what you had said. For questions that had not previously been answered, you appreciated that not one of your superiors spoke with animosity, slight or fully displayed. There was a guardedness, however, that hinted at an agenda you would soon learn.

 “Should this be officially approved, I must inform you that it would be a secondary project,” the highest ranking officer in the room stated. You held your breath for a beat, nodded, and exhaled without bringing notice to the fact that you had struggled to maintain your composure. This was not catching you off-guard; you were simply concerned that its lower priority level would encourage a future change of hands--as in, you being removed from the project aside from your name being attached. You had prepared for this, had been rehearsing both in your head and with Aelin as a sounding board, what to say in such circumstances. It was that you helped design droids along with programming them that had brought the First Order’s attention on you to begin with. Designing droids as freely as you wished to was expensive. You did not want to bite the hand that fed, namely not if the situation did not call for it.

 You, for the time being, held your tongue and listened. While various models of assassination droids existed in the galaxy, the one that you had outlined while speaking with the senator had not been in production by any entities yet known. Presently the First Order had to work in the shadows, which meant that the usefulness of such an assassination droid was increased. The senator being aware of it, along with this advisors who were clearly seeking methods of using the information to their advantage, not acting on the design would be to the detriment of the First Order.

 For security reasons the First Order wanted to keep the team assigned to this project small. They were allowing your other project, therefore, to contain more members; it was not off the table to create two teams for the project that you were proposing since they could be viewed as two separate droid projects entirely despite the similarities. It was flattering, yet it was also prematurely showing their cards--that there was, in fact, a willingness to pull you off the projects at a moment’s notice. Or without one, you mused. Should you object to these stipulations, you risked having your project denied completely.

 Thank you, Aelin, you thought, holding back a grin. “I would maintain final say and have access to these projects, correct?” You noticed one of the members opening their mouths to speak, and quickly continued so that you would not technically be cutting them off as they talked. “I do not want only my name on the project. Beyond the programming, this is my design. Future generations, I am willing to budge on, and I will not be unreasonable and thus risk the success of the TR8-0R series.” You had to take charge while stepping on as few toes as possible.

 TeeArr turned his head to consider you. “The TR8-0R series could best learn to function undercover by blending in with the anti-procrastination and physical therapy droids.” You blinked. “You stated as much before.” You had, which is why it caught you off-guard that you had not thought to use that point to help argue your case. Stars, you adored TeeArr. This addition would assist in you having easier access to your proposed project even while prioritizing the TR8-0R series.

 You gestured to TeeArr. “As well as mimic TeeArr’s functions. Allowing me to properly view how versatile I can make them so that the First Order is best able to wield them while they are undercover. Potentially gaining more information from the target prior to elimination.”

 “Indeed,” a female officer said, her head bobbing twice as her eyes locked with another superior officer’s. “The risk of team members learning about the functions of the TR8-0R series is increased.”

 “True,” you concurred. “Yet the blending would not occur until later in the project, at which point we can reduce the team size entirely, merging together those with the proper clearance level--and those you approve of, of course.” You paused for breath and to check the expressions of those gathered. They were receptive to your words. “Since the physical bodies would be the same or near-identical aside from any modifications for weaponry--I still need to fine tune those details, and having a team specifically for this project will greatly assist in this--I would be able to oversee everything easily. The designs for the bodies are mostly finished, therefore my attention will be predominately on the TR8-0R project with minimal distractions.”

 One of the officers began composing a message on his datapad. A few seconds afterwards all the other datapads in the room with the exception of yours chimed. It was frustrating to be treated this way, to be aware that you were being discussed without knowing fully what was stated or the tone that was being used. You could not defend yourself. There was a high chance that there was nothing that required you to defend yourself. That could instead be a necessity in the future after they agreed to these terms by stating to one another they were merely temporary. It would not be a lie, and it would get the ball rolling. That was all you could ask for.

 After another few minutes of messages being exchanged, the officer that had sent the initial one looked directly at you. “This is agreeable, although to ensure that the First Order’s goals are met and remain a priority, there will be periodic meetings, and from you we require weekly reports.” That was not anything you were opposed to. You readily agreed. Aelin would not be opposed to running through hypothetical scenarios for future meetings with you just as he had with this one. With that, you would continue to have what could pass as an upper hand on matters.

 Once you were dismissed and had exited the room, you sent a quick message to Aelin and then one to Eddard to inform them that the project had been greenlit. You wanted to cheer, to display your excitement with a burst of energy, however you kept yourself in check with an awareness that your actions were under scrutiny now more than before. The assassination droids opened you up to dangers that you had thus far managed to avoid. Being a potential security risk had come with the job description; this project had too many windows for that.

 TeeArr followed behind you without uttering a single word. The droid acted like this often subsequent to meetings and presentations that did not involve Armitage Hux or other superior officers that you interacted with on a more regular basis.

 Your mind wandered next to Kylo, and you felt a tug at your chest. Taking a heavy breath, you allowed your feet to carry you in the direction you suspected him to be. It was strange to you how that seemed to happen, how natural it was. As though the pair of you were connected--and you were aware that the Force existed, however you were also aware that you were not Force sensitive. Curiosity sparked, not for the first time, and you longed to speak to him about it. To learn about that part of his life, the power he wielded. It had helped to shape him into the person you were growing to care for.

 This time you entered a different training area than the one in which you had previously found him. Anyone could enter a moment’s notice. To emphasize this point, fate had it that an officer was exiting the facility as you arrived. You followed the individual with your eyes, glanced at your droid companion, and then at last crossed the room until you could stand a few feet away from Kylo Ren. In all this time, your message pad dinged thrice. These messages you would check later. He was your priority.

 TeeArr was, thankfully, not keen on vocalizing whatever thoughts ran through his processor as he and you observed Kylo Ren meditate. You enjoyed the droid’s company while allowing yourself to indulge in drinking in Kylo’s features. His mask was off to the side though he still work his robes. His hair was not matted with sweat, however it was not as puffy as it sometimes was. There were lingering signs that he had physically exerted himself, and it had you swallowing down the saliva that had gathered in your mouth. You willed away the memory of his body moving against yours. Another time, you promised yourself. The promise of that future was one of the reasons that you were there. Before you could get into the thick of the conversation, you would need to send TeeArr away. Not just yet, though. You liked having an extra presence with you while Kylo finished his meditations.

 By the time that you had left the planet, you had known that you were choosing Kylo. Which meant that you had to formally reject Armitage; that was not anything you were looking forward to, however you were not cruel enough to hold off. There was a chance that he already sensed this. Regardless, it was up to you to make it official. Before doing so, you wanted to feel things out with Kylo. To try to best understand what his view on this potential relationship with you was. He shied from sentiment, and that was something you could respect. That did not mean you wanted to wind up feeling like a fool or some random tool.

 A grunt from Kylo Ren preceded the moment that he opened his eyes, half-glaring at you. Air rushed out of your lungs. The frustration painted on his features revealed how loud thoughts could be. You did not understand projections through the Force; this remained another element that you wanted to question him about. You switched your attention briefly from Kylo to TeeArr, issued the command for the droid to leave, and endured the droid equivalent of a sigh prior to TeeArr obeying. His metal footfalls echoed throughout the training area with each step that he took, slowed, deliberate, until he had exited and the door once more closed.

 “Can you always hear my thoughts?” you asked, voice low and level. You lowered down into a comfortable sitting position before Kylo, whose glare had lessened. His more relaxed features calmed you, quieted the pounding of your heart, which had begun the moment you had sat. A subtle shake of his head was all the answer that you received. “Huh.” There were so many questions, you realized, and you did not want to annoy him by spewing them all at once.

 At times silence could be frustrating, yet it never felt that way with him. You did not feel rushed to fill the quietude with more words nor as though Kylo had you on a timer that, once ended, would make it to where he refused to listen to your thoughts. Instead the silence subsequent to your previous question and response came as a comfort. It allowed you to gather your thoughts, to sort through them as you decided the best way to phrase what you had to say.

 I want to know so much more about you, you thought, tracing his face with your eyes, memorizing every mole, every bit of surface smooth or otherwise. “I do not want to damage my working relationship with him, and before I say anything to him, I want to…” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, chewed on it, and then pushed it back into place with your tongue. “Sentiment cannot interfere with our work--I do not know if I understand what limitations that places on any connection that might exist or develop between us.”

 He had believed that the pair of you were in a relationship before, true, however it was different once you allowed yourself to feel things. Kylo Ren opened his mouth a fraction, those lips parting without forming around any words or syllables. It occurred to you that he was stunned, the fact that you admitted that you were choosing him over Armitage Hux. Or maybe it was that you were choosing him at all. Even if there had not been another, perhaps he would have expected rejection. That was rather a melancholy train of thinking, as it led you to wonder what other rejections he had faced in the past.

 The question who hurt you might be a cliche, yet there it was playing out in your mind on repeat.

 You allowed for the silence to persist, selecting another portion of his body to trace with your gaze despite the clothing that he wore. By the time he spoke, you had mapped out his chest and his arms and had started on his torso. “You would be second to my goals.” That might have made another feel insecure or been a blow to their pride. For you, it was a strange relief. At least for the time being, it placed a reduced amount of pressure on you. Second wasn’t bad. It was not first, true, however it allowed you to place your own career and goals as a priority. This leveled the field. You could be an individual while pursuing a relationship.

 “I can explore that with you.” Its success was not a definite, and you were not going to treat it as such. Still, the wry grin that was threatening to form on Kylo Ren’s face had your heart stuttering in your chest, and it nurtured a similar urge inside of you. You suppressed the smile for another handful of seconds before allowing it to see the light of day. “I have so many projects, I do not know how much time I will have for personal matters.” He nodded in understanding. “Ah, kriff, I have to speak with General Hux.” That was what made your stomach churn.

 “You may come to my quarters when you are finished.” A rather personal invitation. Something that could be solicitous or tender. It may well be both, you reasoned. Whichever form did work, as both offered you a different kind of comfort. The very fact that you were welcome there, that this was not the first time he had extended such an invitation, made you feel wanted.

 “I just might,” you responded while rising up to your feet. Kylo tilted his head a little to follow you with his gaze as you stood and headed towards the exit. You cast a final glance over your shoulder at him, gave a small wave, and exited the room to speak with the redhead regarding the decision that you had made.

 There were many openings going through your mind; various ways to deliver the news. None of them felt right to you. You respected General Hux too much to offer some cliche line or to be impersonal in the delivery. More than that, you would have to work with him. He was your superior, and any ill will or awkward feelings could very well wreck your working relationship. This was another pro of pursuing the relationship with Kylo Ren--if things did go south, he was not officially a member of the First Order, not strictly speaking. The matter would be handled differently than what may happen with such an event if it had been Armitage.

 The upside to conducting this unfortunate meeting at the present was that you were aware of General Hux’s location. On top of that, you did not have to worry about TeeArr, who remained away on the errand you had sent him. The one thing that might put a hitch to your plans would be if Armitage had been called away on duty. This did not seem to be the case. Inhaling deeply, you offered a nod to the stormtrooper outside the office, and then waited while your presence was announced. Within moments, you were inside.

 You lowered yourself down into the nearest chair. General Hux did not immediately look up from the datapad that was in his hands. You were unsure if he was in the process of reading a report or some other message. Armitage scrolled through the same--or so you assumed--file that he had been working with since before you had entered the office.

 “I have a guess at what you wish to speak about.” His voice was smooth, relaxing, however his words were anything but. The stone that had been rolling around in your stomach ricocheted off its walls, moved in reverse. General Hux set down the datapad, crossed his arms behind his back, and trained his eyes on yours. “You are afraid to admit it aloud.”

 You nodded without meaning to do so. “I…” Taking a deep breath, you waved a hand in the air and started over. “I respect you. I always have.” This was not to butter him up. You wanted to speak only the truth, to stick with facts though your emotions were tangled up in this situation. “A part of me does care for you, however I do not believe it is as strong as it might have been.”

 “Yet it is different where Ren is concerned.” He phrased it as a statement, though there was an inflection in his voice that made it also sound like a question. Was this him showing you the hope he clung to? Were you going to crush him by answering? To lie or to allow silence to linger would be more painful. You nodded while uttering a yes. “I see.” Disappointment caused his eyebrows to knit towards one another. “I could sense it based on our interactions while on the planet, namely towards the end of our trip.” His shoulders rose then fell as he released a sigh.

 General Hux moved to where he stood beside the seat across from you. Your eyes darted from it to him then settled once more on his face as he sat down. That he was doing so comforted you. This was not a sign of defeat--resignation, perhaps, but not defeat--and yet he was showing that he found no need to hover over you. This growing silence was, unlike the others, uncomfortable. You resisted the urge to squirm. Armitage Hux had to be just as uncomfortable as you were, if not more so. You doubted that he was intentionally making this harder on you. If anything, his admission had seemed to you to be meant to alleviate some of the guilt that you had harbored.

 “I cannot claim that things will not be a bit...awkward as we proceed from here.” You appreciated his honesty. “It will not have an impact on your job. This is something that we can move past.” This was a truth, one that you had faced when you had first learned that he believed the two of you were in a relationship. In that sense, you had already rejected him. The two of you had moved forward from that. Sort of. Now that you paused, you realized the key difference was the finality of this rejection. “We will discuss boundaries to assist with future communications and projects. This cannot interfere with the assassination droids that you are to program.”

 It was difficult to not smile at that. How you could relate to his words, his attitude. You did feel for him. If you hadn’t had any feelings at all, this might have been easier to handle. As it was, taking one step then another was the only way to go.

  ----------------

 [Hux Route]

 It was partially a strategic move that encouraged you to have TeeArr accompany you to the presentation. The ability to demonstrate how some of his basic functions could assist the droid lines you were proposing when coupled with medical droid programming meant that visuals eliminated the need for verbal explanation that would have otherwise eaten into your time. His physical design likewise acted as a visual aid for what materials would be required and why the droids would hold enough merit in the long run to justify the expenses. To fully train another officer or even stormtrooper, it would require more resources. Plus the droids were reusable, cheaper to fix than what basic training for an officer required. Each droid could theoretically care for three officers and/or stormtroopers at a time depending on the severity of the injuries and the physical therapy required. As for the anti-procrastination droids, those could very well handle simple tasks simultaneous to encouraging multiple officers as well.

 While the room was reacting mostly favorably to your proposal, there were questions that revealed what portions they had tuned out--at times this was due to natural sentient behavior of hyperfocusing too much on one’s own inquiries that they missed the answer that was given when it came up. You inwardly grumbled, however outwardly you maintained your composure and repeated what you had said. For questions that had not previously been answered, you appreciated that not one of your superiors spoke with animosity, slight or fully displayed. There was a guardedness, however, that hinted at an agenda you would soon learn.

 “Should this be officially approved, I must inform you that it would be a secondary project,” the highest ranking officer in the room stated. You held your breath for a beat, nodded, and exhaled without bringing notice to the fact that you had struggled to maintain your composure. This was not catching you off-guard; you were simply concerned that its lower priority level would encourage a future change of hands--as in, you being removed from the project aside from your name being attached. You had prepared for this, had been rehearsing both in your head and with Aelin as a sounding board, what to say in such circumstances. It was that you helped design droids along with programming them that had brought the First Order’s attention on you to begin with. Designing droids as freely as you wished to was expensive. You did not want to bite the hand that fed, namely not if the situation did not call for it.

 You, for the time being, held your tongue and listened. While various models of assassination droids existed in the galaxy, the one that you had outlined while speaking with the senator had not been in production by any entities yet known. Presently the First Order had to work in the shadows, which meant that the usefulness of such an assassination droid was increased. The senator being aware of it, along with this advisors who were clearly seeking methods of using the information to their advantage, not acting on the design would be to the detriment of the First Order.

 For security reasons the First Order wanted to keep the team assigned to this project small. They were allowing your other project, therefore, to contain more members; it was not off the table to create two teams for the project that you were proposing since they could be viewed as two separate droid projects entirely despite the similarities. It was flattering, yet it was also prematurely showing their cards--that there was, in fact, a willingness to pull you off the projects at a moment’s notice. Or without one, you mused. Should you object to these stipulations, you risked having your project denied completely.

 Thank you, Aelin, you thought, holding back a grin. “I would maintain final say and have access to these projects, correct?” You noticed one of the members opening their mouths to speak, and quickly continued so that you would not technically be cutting them off as they talked. “I do not want only my name on the project. Beyond the programming, this is my design. Future generations, I am willing to budge on, and I will not be unreasonable and thus risk the success of the TR8-0R series.” You had to take charge while stepping on as few toes as possible.

 TeeArr turned his head to consider you. “The TR8-0R series could best learn to function undercover by blending in with the anti-procrastination and physical therapy droids.” You blinked. “You stated as much before.” You had, which is why it caught you off-guard that you had not thought to use that point to help argue your case. Stars, you adored TeeArr. This addition would assist in you having easier access to your proposed project even while prioritizing the TR8-0R series.

 You gestured to TeeArr. “As well as mimic TeeArr’s functions. Allowing me to properly view how versatile I can make them so that the First Order is best able to wield them while they are undercover. Potentially gaining more information from the target prior to elimination.”

 “Indeed,” a female officer said, her head bobbing twice as her eyes locked with another superior officer’s. “The risk of team members learning about the functions of the TR8-0R series is increased.”

 “True,” you concurred. “Yet the blending would not occur until later in the project, at which point we can reduce the team size entirely, merging together those with the proper clearance level--and those you approve of, of course.” You paused for breath and to check the expressions of those gathered. They were receptive to your words. “Since the physical bodies would be the same or near-identical aside from any modifications for weaponry--I still need to fine tune those details, and having a team specifically for this project will greatly assist in this--I would be able to oversee everything easily. The designs for the bodies are mostly finished, therefore my attention will be predominately on the TR8-0R project with minimal distractions.”

 One of the officers began composing a message on his datapad. A few seconds afterwards all the other datapads in the room with the exception of yours chimed. It was frustrating to be treated this way, to be aware that you were being discussed without knowing fully what was stated or the tone that was being used. You could not defend yourself. There was a high chance that there was nothing that required you to defend yourself. That could instead be a necessity in the future after they agreed to these terms by stating to one another they were merely temporary. It would not be a lie, and it would get the ball rolling. That was all you could ask for.

 After another few minutes of messages being exchanged, the officer that had sent the initial one looked directly at you. “This is agreeable, although to ensure that the First Order’s goals are met and remain a priority, there will be periodic meetings, and from you we require weekly reports.” That was not anything you were opposed to. You readily agreed. Aelin would not be opposed to running through hypothetical scenarios for future meetings with you just as he had with this one. With that, you would continue to have what could pass as an upper hand on matters.

 Once you were dismissed and had exited the room, you sent a quick message to Aelin and then one to Eddard to inform them that the project had been greenlit. You wanted to cheer, to display your excitement with a burst of energy, however you kept yourself in check with an awareness that your actions were under scrutiny now more than before. The assassination droids opened you up to dangers that you had thus far managed to avoid. Being a potential security risk had come with the job description; this project had too many windows for that.

 TeeArr followed behind you without uttering a single word. The droid acted like this often subsequent to meetings and presentations that did not involve Armitage Hux or other superior officers that you interacted with on a more regular basis.

 With that train of thought, you could not help but feel a sudden desire to see Armitage. You already knew what you felt, what decision you had made. It was time to speak it aloud. To see if Armitage felt the same as he had while on the planet, or if returning to the First Order had changed things for him. Until you were certain, you did not want to say anything to Kylo Ren. What you had to tell him would sting--and it was due to this that you hoped to have Armitage’s input on how to approach Kylo. You wanted to work together with him, as a team, which the two of you would be if you truly did enter into an honest relationship.

 TeeArr did not comment as you changed course towards the office in which the superior First Order officer would be busy with work. His silence was welcome, although you also noted that you being left alone to your thoughts in this case was a threat to your nerves. Despite the fact that General Hux had assumed you were already in a relationship with him, you suddenly worried that it was all a string of boredom that had since been cured. What if he did not like you anymore, or what if the upcoming assassination droid project dissuaded him from pursuing a relationship with you?

 These thoughts are precisely why I have avoided entering a relationship. They can be distracting, and it is not as though I need the stress. I already have projects to juggle. What am I thinking?

 Whatever you were thinking, you had arrived at the office. The stormtrooper guarding the door accepted your greeting then proceeded to announce your presence to General Hux, who granted permission for you to enter. TeeArr went in first then you followed behind, taking that extra moment to breathe deeply and recenter yourself. Once inside, after the door closed, you moved until you were level with your droid.

 You lowered yourself down into the nearest chair meanwhile TeeArr remained standing beside you. General Hux did not immediately look up from the datapad that was in his hands. You were unsure if he was in the process of reading a report or some other message. TeeArr was professional in that he did not speak. You were enjoying the opportunity to run your eyes along Armitage’s body, which you very much wanted to touch. You gripped the edges of the armrests and flicked your gaze to your droid. It might be wise, you mused, to send TeeArr away on an errand before the conversation fully got underway. There was no need to dismiss him immediately though. You looked back at Armitage, who scrolled through the same--at least that was your assumption--file that he had been working with since you had entered the office.

 By the time that you had left the planet, you had known that you were choosing Armitage. Which meant that you had to formally reject Kylo; that was not anything you were looking forward to, however you were not cruel enough to hold off. There was a chance that he already sensed this. Regardless, it was up to you to make it official. Before doing so, you wanted to feel things out with Armitage. To try to best understand what his view on this potential relationship with you was. He valued hard work and dedication, was clearly interested in keeping the success of the First Order as a top priority. Which you were comfortable with--though not if it meant the relationship would lapse into something one-sided.

 “TeeArr,” General Hux began, the words rolling easily off his tongue. The droid stood at attention. “You are dismissed.” There was hesitation on TeeArr’s part, and you were momentarily caught off-guard as well. You recovered more quickly, turning to the droid and giving a nod so that TeeArr listened to the dismissal. TeeArr headed for the door, leaving, and you were alone with Armitage. He set the datapad on the desk before taking a seat across from you. “I hope that you are comfortable being alone with me still.”

 This made your heart stutter; he was experiencing the same fears that you were, if his words were anything to go off of. “Yes.” You struggled to find the right words. “I want that more often.” Grimacing, you chastised yourself for the phrasing. Then relaxed, calming as you saw his expression soften in understanding. “I keep thinking about you, if I am being honest. Even when I came into this office. I thought about what it would be like to touch you.”

 “Oh?” His pupils dilated, his cheeks reddening a little as he flushed in what you knew to be arousal rather than embarrassment. You chewed on your bottom lip, squirmed in your seat. You wanted to rise and go to him. To do that. Armitage’s lips parted as he caught onto this, the man reading your body language and nodding in consent. You were only too happy to rise from the seat that you had taken. You walked around the desk as he swiveled, turning his chair and moving his legs apart.

You drew closer to Armitage so that you were between his spread knees, your breath almost catching in your throat as you rested your forehead on his shoulder. You cupped him through the front of his pants then opened them. Using your forearm to keep aside the material, you pulled off the glove that you had been wearing for the day as part of your uniform. You wanted more than anything to have full contact, no barriers. You could not stop thinking about that, wanting it. One glove then the next fell to the ground, and you ignored them in favor of palming him.

“Mm.” The noise was small yet it echoed in your ears and was all you could focus on as you skimmed your thumb along the spongy head of his erection, smearing precum. Armitage whispered your name under his breath, almost too soft for you to hear it. Almost, but not quite. You smiled, feeling emboldened by the sound. You leaned down, released a small collection of spit onto his cock, and used it as lubrication as you moved down to the base then back up again in the first stroke.

You ghosted your other hand along his sac, toying just behind it, teasing the sensitive flesh of his perineum. His cock bobbed, twitching against your other hand. You licked your lips, alternating between watching his face and what you were doing. You palmed his balls, rolling them as you gripped his shaft again and leaned forward, curving your spine and bending forward to take the very tip into your mouth. You hollowed out your cheeks, sealed your lips around the first inch before taking more. Armitage’s hand went to the back of your head, urging you on without being too forceful. Not that you would have minded if he had been—you wanted this, perhaps just as much as he did.

With a moan, you finally closed your eyes and relished in the feel of his cock resting on your tongue. You bobbed your head, drawing back a moment later and swiping your tongue along the sensitive flesh directly under the head of his erection.  Keeping your strokes slow, you blew out a steady stream of air on his wet flesh. The hand on your head gave a spasm, Armitage gulping audibly around a swear.

He began to shift, and you shuffled backwards far enough so that he could stand. This gave you a moment to breathe, to relish in the thought of what was about to happen. Though you had enjoyed being in control, you were just as excited to have him take lead. Armitage moved the hand that was already on your head to one side so that its twin could be placed on the other. You opened your mouth, let him push his cock inside, towards the back of your throat. You held onto his thighs, the muscles of which tensed then relaxed then tensed again with each and every thrust. His hands, meanwhile, worked your head, controlling your movements.

You felt your jaw stretch, wide, a little uncomfortably, and pushed aside the sensation to focus instead on the pleasurable aspects of the position you were in. You undulated your tongue under him, teasing, earning a groan of approval as Armitage thrust once more. He moved forward, fully sheathing himself in your mouth and holding you in place. Paused. Pulled back then rolled his hips. You moaned as he held you in place a second time. Whimpering, your throat constricted as you started swallowing when he came. Armitage fucked your mouth through his orgasm, swearing and saying your name in a purr. He withdrew only when he was done, his softening cock slipping out of your mouth.

Armitage tucked himself away, smoothing out his uniform as you readjusted yourself as well. You stood, sighing into the kiss that he placed on your lips. You kissed him again when he started to draw back. “I am happy being with you like this.” The lingering but had nothing to do with him; he understood, humming in acknowledgment of the fact that you did have to speak with Kylo Ren before the cycle ended. You leaned against him. Armitage trailed his hands up and down your arms, soothing you. This affection was nothing that you would have expected when first you had started to work under him. After the lotion and the time you had spent together on the planet, however, your opinion had changed.

 “You can stay for a little while longer before you leave to take care of that matter.” The fact that he did not press to know what you planned to say to Kylo Ren eased some of the worry that had been building. If he had felt there was a threat to your safety, you imagined that he would have offered to go with you or else given you advice on what to say. Instead, Armitage cupped your face and kissed you, trailed his hands down to your breasts, kneading them. You moaned into the kiss. Slid your tongue along his and wound your arms around his neck to thread your fingers through his hair.

The two of you enjoyed one another’s company for near fifteen minutes though during that time his commlink chimed to indicate new messages. This was a pleasant surprise for you. The way he did prioritize work while also ensuring that you were his main focus when the two of you were together. You were thrumming with joy over your decision when you left the office; the awareness that you had to deliver unpleasant news to Kylo Ren did damper your mood after you turned down the final corridor that would take you to him.

This time the training area in which you met Kylo Ren was different than the previous. It was one in which anyone could enter at a moment’s notice, a point that was emphasized as an officer exited the facility on your way in. You stood to the side for them to leave then entered and allowed the door to slide closed. Kylo Ren was seated off to one side of the area--thankfully the officer that had left seemed to have been the only other occupant--and in a state of meditation. He remained dressed in his usual robes, however his mask was off and set on the ground beside him. There were lingering signs that he had recently physically exerted himself, although he was not too sweaty or ragged.

 A grunt from Kylo Ren preceded the moment that he opened his eyes, half-glaring at you. You felt air rush out of your lungs. The frustration painted on his features caused you to wonder if he could read your thoughts, if he already knew. This reception was different than how he had been on the planet. Now Kylo Ren was more, you thought, aware of the pain of rejection. “You made your decision.” It was as you had suspected, except now that it was said aloud you found yourself wincing. You drew back yet recovered a moment later when you caught his lip tremble.

 There was a level of awkwardness in the silence that followed, one that you wished you could erase. You had never disliked Kylo, not even when he had made your job more difficult. You had been frustrated with him upon learning that he was testing your work ethics. That was not the same as not wanting to be around him due to who he was. The lack of romantic feelings towards him did not eliminate the fondness, which had grown as you had learned more about him. You respected him, hoped to hear his thoughts. It would never be the same as before or as what might have been. That need not signify a death of the relationship that you had. To feed him a line such as we can be friends or I view you as a friend would be an insult, and you would not deliver that blow.

 “Would you prefer that I leave?” you asked, sucking your lips into your mouth for a moment to wet them. Kylo’s eyelids descended in a slow blink. He said nothing, perhaps considering what it was that he did want. He mouthed the word no, and you sank down into a sitting position, shifting a second later so that you mirrored his stance. “I do want to continue developing more training droids for you.” He nodded, where before he might have offered a snarky retort. This change did sting. It was preferable to the silence, to being sent away. You would adjust to this just as he would.

  ----------

  [Poly Route]

 It was partially a strategic move that encouraged you to have TeeArr accompany you to the presentation. The ability to demonstrate how some of his basic functions could assist the droid lines you were proposing when coupled with medical droid programming meant that visuals eliminated the need for verbal explanation that would have otherwise eaten into your time. His physical design likewise acted as a visual aid for what materials would be required and why the droids would hold enough merit in the long run to justify the expenses. To fully train another officer or even stormtrooper, it would require more resources. Plus the droids were reusable, cheaper to fix than what basic training for an officer required. Each droid could theoretically care for three officers and/or stormtroopers at a time depending on the severity of the injuries and the physical therapy required. As for the anti-procrastination droids, those could very well handle simple tasks simultaneous to encouraging multiple officers as well.

 While the room was reacting mostly favorably to your proposal, there were questions that revealed what portions they had tuned out--at times this was due to natural sentient behavior of hyperfocusing too much on one’s own inquiries that they missed the answer that was given when it came up. You inwardly grumbled, however outwardly you maintained your composure and repeated what you had said. For questions that had not previously been answered, you appreciated that not one of your superiors spoke with animosity, slight or fully displayed. There was a guardedness, however, that hinted at an agenda you would soon learn.

 “Should this be officially approved, I must inform you that it would be a secondary project,” the highest ranking officer in the room stated. You held your breath for a beat, nodded, and exhaled without bringing notice to the fact that you had struggled to maintain your composure. This was not catching you off-guard; you were simply concerned that its lower priority level would encourage a future change of hands--as in, you being removed from the project aside from your name being attached. You had prepared for this, had been rehearsing both in your head and with Aelin as a sounding board, what to say in such circumstances. It was that you helped design droids along with programming them that had brought the First Order’s attention on you to begin with. Designing droids as freely as you wished to was expensive. You did not want to bite the hand that fed, namely not if the situation did not call for it.

 You, for the time being, held your tongue and listened. While various models of assassination droids existed in the galaxy, the one that you had outlined while speaking with the senator had not been in production by any entities yet known. Presently the First Order had to work in the shadows, which meant that the usefulness of such an assassination droid was increased. The senator being aware of it, along with this advisors who were clearly seeking methods of using the information to their advantage, not acting on the design would be to the detriment of the First Order.

 For security reasons the First Order wanted to keep the team assigned to this project small. They were allowing your other project, therefore, to contain more members; it was not off the table to create two teams for the project that you were proposing since they could be viewed as two separate droid projects entirely despite the similarities. It was flattering, yet it was also prematurely showing their cards--that there was, in fact, a willingness to pull you off the projects at a moment’s notice. Or without one, you mused. Should you object to these stipulations, you risked having your project denied completely.

 Thank you, Aelin, you thought, holding back a grin. “I would maintain final say and have access to these projects, correct?” You noticed one of the members opening their mouths to speak, and quickly continued so that you would not technically be cutting them off as they talked. “I do not want only my name on the project. Beyond the programming, this is my design. Future generations, I am willing to budge on, and I will not be unreasonable and thus risk the success of the TR8-0R series.” You had to take charge while stepping on as few toes as possible.

 TeeArr turned his head to consider you. “The TR8-0R series could best learn to function undercover by blending in with the anti-procrastination and physical therapy droids.” You blinked. “You stated as much before.” You had, which is why it caught you off-guard that you had not thought to use that point to help argue your case. Stars, you adored TeeArr. This addition would assist in you having easier access to your proposed project even while prioritizing the TR8-0R series.

 You gestured to TeeArr. “As well as mimic TeeArr’s functions. Allowing me to properly view how versatile I can make them so that the First Order is best able to wield them while they are undercover. Potentially gaining more information from the target prior to elimination.”

 “Indeed,” a female officer said, her head bobbing twice as her eyes locked with another superior officer’s. “The risk of team members learning about the functions of the TR8-0R series is increased.”

 “True,” you concurred. “Yet the blending would not occur until later in the project, at which point we can reduce the team size entirely, merging together those with the proper clearance level--and those you approve of, of course.” You paused for breath and to check the expressions of those gathered. They were receptive to your words. “Since the physical bodies would be the same or near-identical aside from any modifications for weaponry--I still need to fine tune those details, and having a team specifically for this project will greatly assist in this--I would be able to oversee everything easily. The designs for the bodies are mostly finished, therefore my attention will be predominately on the TR8-0R project with minimal distractions.”

 One of the officers began composing a message on his datapad. A few seconds afterwards all the other datapads in the room with the exception of yours chimed. It was frustrating to be treated this way, to be aware that you were being discussed without knowing fully what was stated or the tone that was being used. You could not defend yourself. There was a high chance that there was nothing that required you to defend yourself. That could instead be a necessity in the future after they agreed to these terms by stating to one another they were merely temporary. It would not be a lie, and it would get the ball rolling. That was all you could ask for.

 After another few minutes of messages being exchanged, the officer that had sent the initial one looked directly at you. “This is agreeable, although to ensure that the First Order’s goals are met and remain a priority, there will be periodic meetings, and from you we require weekly reports.” That was not anything you were opposed to. You readily agreed. Aelin would not be opposed to running through hypothetical scenarios for future meetings with you just as he had with this one. With that, you would continue to have what could pass as an upper hand on matters.

 Once you were dismissed and had exited the room, you sent a quick message to Aelin and then one to Eddard to inform them that the project had been greenlit. You wanted to cheer, to display your excitement with a burst of energy, however you kept yourself in check with an awareness that your actions were under scrutiny now more than before. The assassination droids opened you up to dangers that you had thus far managed to avoid. Being a potential security risk had come with the job description; this project had too many windows for that.

 TeeArr followed behind you without uttering a single word. The droid acted like this often subsequent to meetings and presentations that did not involve Armitage Hux or other superior officers that you interacted with on a more regular basis.

 One thing that you hoped to do before the cycle ended was speak with both Armitage and Kylo. There had been no further pressure from either of them as far as choosing went. What was more, the chimes indicating messages revealed that they both wanted to see you, and they were each aware that you would be visiting the other. You stared at the set times for those vistations, wondering what they meant. Armitage had proposed that you meet him in his quarters, meanwhile Kylo stated that he would seek you out when it was closer to time and so you could proceed with your normal routine after you were with the General, as he put it. You smiled at that, feeling your shoulders relaxing. He could be more difficult to read than Armitage due to the mask that he wore.

 Lingering nervousness over the situation, over the tumultuous feelings you had for both men, dissuaded you from eating a large meal. You did grab a ration bar to tide yourself over until dinner, at which point you hoped there would be improvement in your appetite. It was difficult to not rehearse what you might say to each man in various scenarios, many of which became far from realistic. You began to distract yourself through other means, the first of which was to check your messages to see if Eddard had responded. A smile lit up your face when you saw that he had. His excitement over the project matched your own in a way.

 Stretching your arms above your head after tucking away your datapad, you entwined your fingers and worked to release some of the tension that had built in your muscles. The meeting had gone better than you had feared, although there were areas that you wished could have been better. There was another hour before you were set to meet with Armitage, and you did not know yet how you wanted to spend it. The ration bar had done its job of filling you up. You exited the cafeteria after deciding that you would find somewhere quiet to clear your mind.

 Three quarters of an hour later, you observed TeeArr’s retreating form as the droid headed off to indulge in the oil bath that you had scheduled for him as a reward for his assistance earlier. It was also a move to allow you some privacy when speaking with Armitage, whose quarters you were about to head towards. You were looking forward to seeing the functioning TIE cat bed in person, what with how Eddard had spoken of it and the holofeed that you had been allowed to observe. More than that, you could not help but think of how it was to be with him. To potentially touch him--Maker, you wanted to truly mess up his hair. Rake your fingers through it. Kiss him. Let him kiss you without worrying that some senator was going to request a meeting...which, now that you paused for a moment, remained a possibility. The difference was that the senator would not be in close proximity.

 The stormtrooper guarding Armitage’s quarters moved to the side, already aware that you were meant to be there. You felt your entire body heat up at that knowledge, pleasure rippling through you. This was not some special treatment. It was a step towards a relationship, if you decided to go that route.

 Once inside Armitage’s quarters, you gave him a soft greeting and sought out the TIE cat bed. You spotted it quickly in the corner. Millicent was curled up in it. Her purrs echoed, bringing a smile to your face. Normally she would have either skittered away or become playful when you arrived. You took this to mean that she had tired herself out with the toys on the bed.

 “I will have to come during the day. She is usually more active around lunch.”

 “Yes. Also during the night cycle.” Your grin grew at the tone of his voice, a cross between affection and exasperation. Armitage extended a hand towards you, and you stepped nearer. Your breath almost caught in your throat as contact was made. His touch was gentle though firm. “I acquired a list of other works by a newer poet that I believe will catch your interest.” You hummed in response, wondering what he believed you would enjoy. Poetry was not why he had brought you there.

 You took another step closer to him, your hands meeting his waist. Your heart hammered in your chest, your pulse quickening when he pressed against you. Desire flooded through you; you wanted more than anything to have full contact, no barriers. “I have no idea what to do,” you admitted. Armitage’s expression softened. His hand shifted upwards from your waist to the side of your face. He leaned down and captured your mouth with his. “I want to touch you.” You could not stop thinking about that, wanting it. The leather clad hand on your face only fueled your desire.

 “You may.” You swallowed thickly, pinching the edge of a glove. You tugged off one then the second, allowing them both to fall to the ground. You palmed him through his pants. His cock twitched against your hand, making you clench in response. “Mm.”

 The noise was small yet it echoed in your ears, was all you could focus on. You worked the front of his pants open and slid your hand within. Skimmed your thumb along the spongy head of his erection, smearing precum. Armitage whispered your name under his breath. You smiled again, feeling emboldened by the sound. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, using your other hand to push his pants down his hips a fraction more, revealing his thighs and his cock. You rested your forehead on his chest, looking down, watching your hand around him as you stroked him a second time.

 You ghosted your hand downwards, along his sac, and toyed the sensitive flesh of his perineum. His cock bobbed, heavy between his legs. Licking your lips, you peeked up to see his flushed face, so red. Deliciously stained pink with his arousal. You palmed his sac, rolling your wrist, and then moved to grip his cock again. You arched your spine, your breasts pressed to his chest. Armitage claimed your mouth more hungrily, his tongue toying with yours. He placed his hand on the back of your head, locking you in place in that kiss. You trembled with delight, jerking his cock.

 Moaning into the kiss, you closed your eyes and melted into the feel of him in your hand. You imagined how he would be inside of you, stretching you. Not yet, you told yourself, and a small part of you wondered why you were denying yourself such pleasure. Even though you knew.

 You trailed your fingers back up to the head of his cock, toying with the flesh directly underneath. The noise that Armitage released practically had you purring. This man, normally so in control of himself, coming undone because of you. The hand on your head gave a spasm. Armitage gulped, drawing back from the kiss to suck in air.

 “Today has been very nice.” He grunted in response to your words, mindlessly nodding. Armitage thrust into your hand in time with your strokes. You could tell when he was growing close, and you worked him faster, using his precum and, spitting on your hand, your saliva to keep him lubricate so that it remained pleasurable for him. Armitage swore as he came, streaks of cum spilling onto the floor and your hand. Your eyebrows rose at the sight, your mouth going dry. You may not have messed up his hair as you had intended, but this sight was perhaps more in line of what you had needed.

 Only when he had fully softened did he pull away and tuck his cock back into his pants, which he readjusted and closed. He reached for you, however you placed a hand on his wrist and shook your head. Then moved in for another kiss, which he was more than happy to return. His arms encircled you, fingers toying with the small of your back. You moaned into the kiss while working to suppress the shudder of delight that spiderwebbed through your body. It was electrifying, a threat to your better sense--in good time, perhaps, you would let him touch you as you had touched him. You needed your wits about you for the time being, for this discussion.

 You pulled back when the need for air became too great. “Armitage?” He grunted in response as a means of allowing you to know that he was listening. “What are we doing?”

 “I am prepared to enter an open relationship with you, at least for the time being.” You sucked your lips into your mouth to hide whatever expression might have formed on your features. The truth was, you did not know how to react. Armitage was undeterred by this, as though he had expected nothing less. “It offers us time to see how and if a relationship would work given the circumstances of our work and current dynamics. I understand the complication that is Kylo Ren.”

 “So we are making this official.” He nodded. “And Kylo feels the same?”

 “In all honesty, I am unaware of his plans other than that he wishes to speak with you. If his intentions are identical to my own, my stance remains unchanged.”

 A fluttering in your stomach preceded the smile that at last spread across your face. Armitage slipped a finger under your chin, drawing lazy circles along the area as he stared into your eyes. The two of you kissed once more then he led you to one of your preferred locations in his quarters where you could both sit comfortably. Armitage grabbed a datapad once there, powering on the device and flicking through files until he located the one that he sought. You rested your head on his shoulder as you watched him. 

 He pulled up a new poem. It was structured differently than the other that he had shared with you, and you could tell by the word choice as well that it had been penned by a different poet. This individual also compared metal and nature, although their preference was more difficult to discern. They merged the two, entwining them and speaking of their coexistence in romantic analogies that caused your breath to hitch. It was ideal to you, the picture that the poet created in your mind with their words.

 “I thought you might like that.” You could only nod in reply to Armitage’s words, your hand placed on his arm.

 [Hours Later]

 The heavy footsteps were announcement enough that Kylo Ren was drawing nearer to your quarters. You considered the MSE droid, felt your lips quirk, and pressed the icon on your datapad that opened the door as he arrived. His visor met your eyes briefly before following a path that allowed him to see the droid. It would have been wonderful to see his expression. You imagined that he had drawn his eyebrows towards one another in mild confusion. “You kept it.”

 “I did,” you said, a grin spreading across your features. “It is quite a trip hazard, however I am enjoying the challenge.” It was, at least, no longer slamming into people. Instead the MSE droid had been stopping suddenly, which had caused you to trip over it even as you had reentered your quarters. “I can be stubborn.”

 “Mm.” The grunt vibrated through you with how the mask deepened it. You bit down on the insides of your cheeks if only to keep from seizing your lip. Anything to hold in the moan. Yet he seemed to know regardless what his noises did to you. Kylo Ren stepped into your quarters enough so that the door closed behind him. “You wish to know more of the Force.”

 A statement that prompted a nod, which he mirrored rather than immediately speaking again. You were, if you were honest, impressed with how much he had already said since entering your quarters. Kylo moved within the room, his visor pointed at the MSE droid. It had rolled forward then moved back in retreat. Stuttered forward. Your lips quirked towards one side and you wrinkled your nose. You truly did enjoy the challenge, but that did not mean you were not a little frustrated with the multiple issues you had encountered since first bringing it into your quarters.

 Kylo lowered himself when he was in front of you. How he was seated did not differ from when you had joined him in meditation on previous occasions. It was nice to know that he was comfortable with you like this.

 “I spoke with Armitage earlier,” you blurted out. It was not news to Kylo Ren, yet he still tilted his head as though curious. “I do not want to be dishonest with you. He and I will be in an open relationship.”

 “On a trial basis?” It was difficult to say, and so you took a moment to consider then shrugged while shaking your head. You would have to ask Armitage that at a later time. “That is acceptable.” You held your breath, waiting. A sort of strangled noise left him before he obliged your unvoiced need for clarity. He used two fingers to gesture to you then himself. “Yes.” He held out a hand, palm up, and your datapad lifted out of your hands to hover in the air between the two of you.

 He made it look so simple, so natural. As though everyone in the galaxy should be capable of this feat. The datapad curved, twisting around in a circle before descending to return to your grasp. You cupped it with both of your hands. His hand had not moved, his fingers had not twitched. You wondered if he had needed to use his hand at all, or if that had been for your benefit.

 “The Force is more than parlor tricks.” The laugh that erupted from you caused your face to heat up. You lifted the datapad to momentarily hide from him, your shoulders shaking. Warmth spread throughout your body. He had been intentionally funny, and it was so intimate to you, so special. His snark, such ironic statements, was more often deprecating. This had not been that. This was kind. In his way, it was sweet. “You may ask two questions regarding the Force, and I will answer.” This he stated after you had regained your composure and lowered the datapad. You paused and thought about what you might ask him.

[craykei]

I’ve written this because I no longer know where you are . And I know you won’t want to listen to me if I ever found you . So this will be here for you .. so fate can have something to lead you toward .

This is for the significant wonder :

It’s been years .  And my recollection of you fades with time . Not that it’s my intention to erase my own memory .. I won’t forget events in my timeline, or any important words you spoke to me . But I want to preserve a part of you in my mind . It’s long overdue that I strike what I’ve built .. and lock the image .  Of you .

Do you know who you are ?

You may have forgotten .  Because you’re different today . But you used to be somebody .. unbelievable .   You were a dream come true .  Everyday . And a hope never lost .  Anchored heavily and true . You were real . I knew of your depth .. yet I dared not tread beyond shallow water . Your welcome was a warmth .. That would easily subdue the air around me . And continue to envelop my spirit .

You had me absolutely yours . Did you ever know ?

Your words so pure, my heart would have stopped at your slightest verbal command Should you ever speak it done . And you would be the only divine being on the surface of this earth Who could accelerate my heart to race again .. With nothing more than a simple glance .

Your beauty was a challenge to appreciate .. in truth it was a universe in itself . As it filled infinite dimensions .. composing an endless symphony . And its potential was far too immense to be held in the very world you lived in .

But I appointed myself to that solitary journey ..   And embarked on a chain of blissful discovery Of everything .   Everything inside of you .

And granted, if my heart took the greatest capacity of courage ..

Then maybe I’d know for sure If this is where I was truly meant to be .

Underneath the most stars I’d ever seen in my life . On a porch stairway foreign to me .. Sitting one step below, and an arm’s length away .. From the most beautiful girl .. ever to grace my life story .

We were there together .. and I was a nervous wreck . I couldn’t speak .  And I wouldn’t dare look your way . I was afraid my words would slip .. And I would tell you .. you’re beautiful . Then instantly end up despising myself for using such incompetent words . You had no idea .. It was the first time I’d ever experienced for myself .. The supreme elegance which moonlight has the power to reveal . In you .

I was no match for the velocity bound inside of me . It was inevitable that I would lose to it soon .. And something .  Just .. something .. would escape me .. And reach you . And you would finally know . That I loved you . … And it .. escaped . … My voice was a disaster when I said it . I was instantly overcome with embarrassment and a concave silence .. Awkwardness left me ready and waiting to stutter my next word .. Possibly an apology for my crude mannerism .. Or a chuckled diversion to typically break the tension .. I was at a most desperate and pitiful loss for action or dialogue . Until I looked up . And saw your face . You changed everything . It was the first time in the history of my existence That I stared into the eyes of my destiny . It was in that instance where time itself ..  had stopped . To let us live in that moment .  Just a little while longer . Your stare was strong .. piercing me and tearing me apart . You spoke to me very clearly .. only with those eyes . They reflected everything the sky had to offer . Even if my sense of hearing was immediately taken from me Right then and there .. It still could never stop me from understanding The response within your gaze . You loved me . And my heart soared ..  clear into the highest of heavens . You began to cry as you said it . And I shared that feeling with you .. We repeated ourselves over and over again .. Releasing an abundance of jailed emotion and destined words . I held you so close .. As if to cover and shield you from the world .. Bravely protecting you from all harm that exists . And that is what I did . From that night on . Thus began the birth of our relationship together . I loved every minute of it .

At times it was a struggle to find myself with you . But I hadn’t the slightest need to wonder why . An easy journey would lead me worthlessly elsewhere .. It made perfect sense to me .. that a girl of your value Could only be reachable beyond life’s most difficult obstacles . I worked my hardest .  Just to have that time by your side . All of what I owned could easily have been traded .. To acquire what I needed for you . Because you were appreciative . Of everything I did .  And everything I was . Do you remember .. I drove alone for seven hours .. No phone and no more than a few dozen dollars in my pocket .. Just to see you .. For an hour and a half . And it was seven more hours driving back home .. Lost in total happiness .. and weary swoon That I was able to feel your arms around me .. And your face burrowing softly against my chest . There was never a time where I was simply able to set my eyes on you .. Without being overcome with a heavy rain of joy .. From the thought that this lovely woman Of unimaginative elegance standing here before me .. Is truly mine to cherish . … We created a world together .. didn’t we . It seemed like the longest period in my life .. You and I were inseperable . Truly .. I loved you so . We achieved sweet perfection . Until the scale had to be balanced . I don’t know why we came to that point .. In which everything good began to slowly burn .. I’d always put myself up to be blamed .. for blaming you . But we both knew it wasn’t that simple .. Eventually .. I let go .. freeing my hold each day . Releasing you of that shield which protected your entire being .. And allowing the horrors you feared to swiftly reach you . You lowered yourself so much . Putting every ounce of pride away . Just to ask me to reconsider my departure . But I couldn’t . I was callous and cold . Steadfast and loyal to my decision . And I hated myself for a long time because of it . You experienced the worst disasters of your life . One .  After the other . And I was not there to help .. Because of my own horrible choice . You spiraled into a maze of despair, deception, and death . And your health unfortunately coincided with these dreadful events . The world around you blamed you for everything . And you could have easily turned the blame to me . But you didn’t .. You accepted it all didn’t you . I know you did . I just couldn’t believe that you still loved me that much . Literally .. you were the only person who’d ever told me You’d give your life for me .. And proved it . But you disappeared . Before I could find you to apologize .. You were gone . I searched non-stop for what seemed like forever . Only to find that we were no longer even on the same continent . You had been sent away . My hope . Had fled my being .  Only to be replaced by new fears . I had never known the feeling .. Of not being able to know for sure If the only person you care about in life .. is still living . I plunged into the deepest despondency I’d ever experienced . Possibly the only true depression I’d ever been bound within . It lasted for what seemed like a seperate lifetime .. Trudging through nights where I lay in utter silence Only to wake up to days where I quietly float through the hours . I hated myself .  And I hated everything . It was the last and only time I’d ever felt this way . As the months crept by ever so slowly .. I met someone who understood . Somebody who only wanted to help .  And she did .  Somewhat successfully . And I moved on . Meanwhile .. you were there .  Away and across the globe . Never had a way of contacting me whatsoever .. but you never lost any hope . Still just as in love .. and working diligently to somehow find your way back to me . The possibility that I’m still looking for you .. Was the strongest motivation that kept you going . But word somehow found its way to you . And you heard I moved on . And it killed you .

After another year .. you were finally able to come back . And you contacted me . Do you remember how thrilled I was ? I was so relieved to know you were still alive and well . Physically . But your heart had been broken .  And your spirits darkened . And you were hurting so much . I felt the sadness I’d caused you .. And even felt the happiness you still wanted for me . You never did give up on putting me first . And I hated how you were so perfect . Unreasonable to the core .  Yet unselfish by nature . I wanted to be like you in that sense . And I wanted to find a way to somehow see you happy again . You eventually moved on . Found somebody in an unexpected atmosphere .. And he did hold you dear . …… We never spoke more often than once every 4 months or so .. And I was always eager to hear your good news . I loved to hear how much you cared about him . And about how your family was doing so much better . It brought me so much happiness to listen to you share these things with me . We carried on this way for quite some time, didn’t we . Rarely ever talking to each other .. and always by total chance . You seemed to be slightly different .. But I always felt like .. the old you was in there somewhere . Until your relationship had failed . I’m so sorry . Please believe that it brought me no happiness to learn of your misfortune . You were mistreated terribly .. and for awhile you allowed yourself to be blamed . Just like always . Taking the nobility route . But you eventually took note of his error .. And you were able to realize your innocence in the matter . … That’s when you changed . … You no longer wished to speak to me . When I tried my best to talk to you .. I was only responded to with hostility .. And annoyance .  And cruelty . It was all so sudden . I surely could not understand why you had become so cold-hearted towards me . Out of everything I’d been through with you .. This was brand new . I contacted you to ask how you were doing .. And it only upset you . You spoke to me rashly and casually .. cursing and being coarse Like never before .. as if I was a nobody to you .. Or a nobody to everybody . I felt as if you had totally shifted .  And I was afraid to know the truth . You were like a completely different or rather, opposite person . Or maybe you just forgot .. who I used to be to you . This was the last time I’d spoken to you . …..   ….. And also .. a leading motivator in composing this letter of sorts . Believe me .. I will not act as though I truly understand you now . But I will also keep myself from being anymore of a bother to you . And I know I made you aware of that upon our last conversation . I just wanted to let you know .. I am finally ready to close this chapter in the book of my life . After everything we had been through .. which was indeed valuable .. I guess this is where our story ends . I just wanted you to have a final understanding toward my definition of our time together . I will not immortalize you in my mind as a terrible person . You will be one of the very few people I will forever remember . Please accept these parting words . You will always be inside my definition of ‘beautiful’ . Even though you may dislike me or no longer care for me .. There will always be a special place for you in my heart and memory . A place that has been crafted by you .. during the period in which we existed as one . You are loved .  By an entire world of people . Don’t ever doubt your worth .  You are absolutely priceless . Any man who does not see that .. is not even worthy of your eye contact . Your way to success clearly exists .  Please do not give up on yourself . Extraordinary things require hard work to reach .  And I learned that through you . Be honest with yourself .  You deserve the best of all things . Don’t ever be ashamed of your wonderful smile . And please don’t second-guess your beauty . Never allow yourself to be abused .. you must be treated as the queen you are . Aim beyond what you expect for yourself .  You’re far greater than that . I won’t be finding myself in your life any longer so I sure hope I’ve said all that’s necessary .  I’m sure I’ve covered all that I wanted to assess . I know this isn’t the best way to convey such strong emotion .. but if you’re meant to know these things, then I know you’ll find your way here naturally . And since you probably won’t want to talk to me .. I’ve left all of this here for you to read at your own pace .. if you choose to read it at all . Have a great life .. wherever you are .  And good luck with whatever you’re doing . I hope you’re well .. If there’s one mental picture to keep .. Let it be the moment we shared On the porch steps of your house . Underneath the most stars I’d ever seen in my entire life . Thank you for showing them to me . And thank you for teaching me to be a better person .

Thus concludes .. the story of us .

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Something undefinable

(During the 73rd Hunger Games, the Training Center goes into lockdown. Haymitch and Effie, on the verge of a relationship, get stuck together in the penthouse. ❤️💥☀️ — Cinna’s presence in this fic is off-canon, but I adore him so much I just want more of him, you know.)

***

Effie limped from the elevator to the penthouse, regretting her decision to break in a new pair of shoes on day 1 of the Games. The boy from 12 had died quickly, but the girl survived 10 hours before being killed. Effie’s hopes for a victor were dashed. Then there was the press to contend with. She highlighted what she could of the accomplishments of her tributes and conveyed gratitude to the sponsors that she and Haymitch had garnered for the girl. Their support gave her more time in the arena but ultimately didn’t change her fate.

It was a long day to be stuck in uncomfortable footwear.

Even though the sun was setting and her tributes were dead, Effie’s day wasn’t over. As long as deals were being made, she wanted to witness the action and show a favorable presence. How else would she hope to secure an escort position in an inlying district? Not likely with a win from 12, since in 73 years that had only happened twice.

The doors to the penthouse opened, and she hobbled into the living room where Haymitch was sitting side-by-side with the bar cart. His coat, vest, and tie were lying in a pile on the rug. A few buttons of his shirt were unfastened, as were his cuffs. He rolled his sleeves up and opened a bottle of liquor, having already finished the dregs of a first.

“I had to talk to the press alone thanks to YOU, Haymitch!” She chastised him as she eased onto the sofa. The shoes cut into her heels, and she bit her lip to stifle a grimace.

“When the kids stop being alive, my mentor job is done. If you wanna talk to the press, then fine. Those kids will still be just as dead when you’re through.”

Effie winced at the truth and winced again as she unstrapped her shoes and worked them off her feet. The shoes fell to the rug, and she rubbed her strained muscles and tender skin through her stockings.

As amused as Haymitch was with facets of Effie’s vanity, he didn’t like seeing her in pain. “Are you okay?”

She let go of her feet and sat up as if posture alone could keep up a facade. Sometimes it worked, but not today. “It’s just... I’ll be...” Her expression shifted to tears as she shook her head ‘no.’

Haymitch was quite comfortable in his chair, with his feet up on a cluster of coffee tables and a bottle of gin in his hands. He’d planned to drink there until he fell asleep. If Effie had been having a breakdown NEAR him, then he might not have had to move. But, damn it; this girl, who he liked now much more than he didn’t, was at the FAR end of a long couch, and she was failing at trying not to cry.

He rose slowly from the chair, bringing the bottle with him. He sauntered along the curve of the sofa and sat on the coffee table in front of Effie. Setting the gin beside him, he drew her feet onto his lap.

She leaned back against the couch cushions as he worked his thumbs over her stockings. “What are you doing?” she questioned.

“Today sucked, honey. I’m trying to help you feel less like shit.”

She brushed her knuckles along her face to clear the tears, then closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his hands on her. Long turquoise eyelashes pressed to her cheeks. “I can’t stay,” she said unconvincingly. “I’m changing shoes, then going back down.”

“It’s over.”

“Not for everyone. If I make connections, I may eventually be able to escort tributes with better odds in their favor.”

Haymitch paused, then kept massaging. “In a different district.”

She looked at him. “I didn’t expect to get so attached to the children. Then they keep dying, and... I...”

“What? Grew a conscience?”

“Haymitch! That’s not fair. I’ve always known what’s expected; I just didn’t expect the way I’d feel about the same outcome over and over again.”

An alarm sounded, and the doors bolted shut. Effie sat upright, and he let go of her feet.

“Lockdown,” he said casually.

“Of course it’s a lockdown! And if I was downstairs, then I’d know what was happening!” Effie hurried on tender feet to the doors. As she approached, the sensor didn’t trigger them to open.

Haymitch watched her try unsuccessfully to force them. “Or if you were downstairs, then you might be on the periphery of peacekeeper bullets.”

The last lockdown of the Training Center during the Games happened after malfunctioning sensors in a tribute’s clothing rapidly overheated, and he spontaneously combusted on live feed. Snow requested a meeting with the stylist. She fled, then hid in the building when peacekeepers blocked the exits. They had to search for her room by room. Nobody saw her after that.

Effie returned to the living room. “There’s no space for error here. None! How can people who are not detail oriented work under these conditions? Sometimes even I can hardly breathe.”

“You want to breathe? Then take off your corset, sweetheart. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” He swallowed some gin.

“I was speaking metaphorically!”

“And I’m speaking about actual breathing, which in your case certainly couldn’t hurt.” He held the bottle out to her.

“Fine!” She took a drink. After handing him the bottle, she reached behind her back, unzipped her dress, and loosened laces. Then she reached within, unhooked clasps, pulled her corset out through the back of her dress, and tossed the purple thing on the sofa. She zipped her dress part way up again, just enough, finishing as quickly as she started. “There! I’m breathing. Are you satisfied?”

The whole thing was like a magic trick that Haymitch watched without blinking. In the absence of the corset, he could make out the natural shape of her breasts within her dress. He imagined they’d fit in his mouth like ripe plums. He tried to shake the thought. Satisfied?? That’s definitely not the feeling.

“And my feet are killing me!”

“Sit down and have another drink,” he offered.

She acquiesced, taking the bottle, sinking into the sofa, and propping her feet in his lap again. “You know, there ARE drinking glasses.” With a flourish, she pointed at the bar cart.

Haymitch smirked, “You wanna go get one?” He idly traced the seam of her stockings up her calves.

Something undefinable shifted.

She put the bottle to her lips, suddenly aware that his mouth had been there before hers. They passed it back and forth a few times in silence. The bottle was like a vector for a kiss, for as many kisses as she’d wanted from him, for years, but didn’t plan to take yet.

He traced the seam back down to her heels. She winced again as he touched her there.

“Blisters?”

Glancing at her heels, Effie gasped more at the sight of the runs in her stockings than the rips in her skin.

“Damn!”

“Do you want these off?” he touched an inch above her knee, and waited for her answer.

Yes. She wanted his hands on her thighs. “Yes... but I’m not going to have sex with you.” She whispered it to herself more than to him.

“Honey, I’m not offering.”

“I’m just being perfectly clear.”

He slid his hand up her thigh to the garters, which he unclassped without struggle. She looked surprised.

“It’s not my first time,” he said.

“Nor mine.”

After inching down the stocking, he repeated it all with her other leg. He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on taking off somebody’s clothes.

She handed him the gin in lieu of exchanging flavors with her tongue. He reached for the bottle, but she didn’t let go. She dropped her feet to the floor and urged him to the sofa beside her.

He went willingly. At his turn with the gin, he set the bottle on the table. “What do you want, Effie?”

“I want what’s happening here.”

He traced along her rib cage, hesitated, then circled each of her breasts. So soft. You’re so damn soft. “And what exactly is happening?”

She sighed, “Can I just...” She unhooked the fourth button of his shirt, and he froze.

“I ain’t so pretty without a shirt.”

“I’ve wondered about your body more than anything in my life.” It was a big confession. “And I want to see you.”

“How about a trade?... My shirt for your wig.”

Effie froze this time. “I already took off my corset, and you took off my stockings. How much do you want from me?”

Everything. “Remind me why we’re not going to have sex.”

“Because you told me, ‘Not now. Not like this.’”

“When did I say that?”

“Years ago.”

He remembered the night vaguely.

“WHY did you say that?” she asked.

He could tell her that they’d been drinking or that it was too soon, but what would be the point in half-truths. “I liked you too much. ...I still like you too much.”

“And that’s precisely why this is happening...” She pulled a dozen hairpins and set those on the table. Then she laid the wig beside her corset. She pulled out a dozen more pins, and her hair fell below her ears in messy blonde crimps.

“God... you’re beautiful.” He ran his fingers through her hair and along her scalp, holding back from kissing her. If he kissed her, then he’d be gone.

She unhooked the rest of his buttons and slipped the shirt off his shoulders without asking. He could stop her if he wanted. And maybe part of him wanted to, but he shrugged the shirt off anyway.

She held her breath, tracing each scar on his chest and stomach. She’d wanted this for so long. She’d wanted him just like this. Tears pooled in her eyes, and he misunderstood.

“It’s too much.” he said.

Effie knew she was in love with him, and she was equally annoyed with him for being so obtuse about it.

“It is NOT too much.” She curled against him, drawing her knees into his lap, kissing a scar just above his collarbone, and pressing her palm to the largest one across his stomach. “I’ll kiss every scar.”

“When?” He slipped his hand inside the back of her dress, still partly unzipped, while drawing the zipper down with the other.

“When your answer to the question about why we’re not having sex is NOT because you like me too much.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“Not exactly. But you meant it like that.”

He wanted to drown all his fears in that bottle of gin and just fuck her. They’d wave away the Avoxes lurking in the corners, and he’d fuck her on this black leather sofa where children who were dead now had sat just this morning. In the horror of his life, he needed something good. He needed her.

He was about to say it when the alarm sounded again. Claudius Templesmith popped up on every screen in the Training Center, including the one in front of them, announcing the end of the lockdown and a resuming of regular programming and procedures.

The door slid open, and the prep team streamed in on a river of stories about a runaway Gamemaker, being locked together in an elevator, and Flavius threatening to piss in a corner if the lockdown hadn’t ended when it did. As the tale was being told, the hairstylist ran to the nearest bathroom.

Effie disengaged herself from Haymitch with a mix of disappointment about being interrupted and overwhelming chagrin about their relative state of undress, especially hers. How could I have been so careless? She scrambled to collect her wig, corset, stockings, and shoes. “If you’ll all excuse me.” She left the hairpins on the table as she hurried to her room with her dress unzipped.

Haymitch was buzzed from the gin and from being with Effie. He slipped his shirt on, realized it was inside out, took it off and tried again. The second attempt was successful.

“I’m sorry we interrupted your party,” Cinna dropped onto the sofa, “Your lockdown appears to have been more enjoyable than ours.”

“She came up to change her shoes. Then she decided to change... other things. You know. Women. ...DO you know women?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then maybe you can explain them to me.”

“Cinna, he definitely needs help,” Venia whispered, “You might want to start with a lesson about the idiocy inherent in NOT following the woman he’s in love with when she leaves a room in a state of mortification.”

“Hey! Nobody’s an idiot, and nobody’s in love,” Haymitch protested.

Octavia chimed in, “Scratch what she said. First he needs a lesson in how to recognize when he’s in love.”

“It’s not happening. IN LOVE is a dangerous place to be, and it’s just not happening!” The seriousness of Haymitch’s tone ended the discussion.

“It’s been a long day. I’m going to grab a beer and see what food is in the kitchen before taking off.” The rest of the team followed Cinna’s lead.

Haymitch eventually gathered up the hairpins and dragged himself from the couch to search for Effie. He found her curled up in bed. Her makeup was off, along with everything else except a silk robe. She was the sun going to sleep.

He set the hairpins on her nightstand. She didn’t object to him lying down beside her and telling her a story.

“When I was growing up, there was a meadow in the Seam. In summer, the flowers turned to skeletons and the sun burned the grasses gold.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “...It was the first place I had sex. The day before the Reaping.”

Effie caressed the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“I loved that girl,” he said.

“I know.”

“That’s why she died. ...Because I loved her.”

Effie stroked his temples, holding back tears.

“When I say ‘I like you too much’...” His voice trailed off because he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t acknowledge anything like it. “...I can’t do this, Effie. I can’t fuck around with you and pretend it’s nothing. And that’s how it would have to be. That’s the only way it could be.”

She threaded their fingers together, taking comfort in the fresh memory of his hands on her body and her hands on him.

She’d waited 23 years for him. She could wait a little longer.

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°16 [ Yumerai ]

This is chapter sixteen! We're slowly approaching the end!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

The drawing belongs to me, please don't take it !

Have a good read!

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

Pathetic.

Useless.

Weak.

Through feelings too powerful to be controlled, Dream had been stripped of his role as guardian of positive emotions. Not by any third party, but by himself.

Unable to save his brother from corruption, he had been forced to watch him corrupt the multiverse, corrupt his best friend, destroy the world that had been theirs by hurting the people they loved.

In the end, Dream had lost everything. Nightmare at first, then Ink, then his friends like Blue... And how to explain his horror when he had discovered the birth of Nyx? That he had seen the way Nightmare treated him, that he was helpless in front of his nephew that he was unable to help?

Dream had simply been useless.

Too weak to maintain positive emotions, to watch over dreams. Too weak to protect whoever it was. At least it was too weak as a guardian, as a 'nice little peaceful skeleton'.

So he had made a decision.

[He had disavowed his role.]

No more being nice, because in his timeline, kindness didn't lead to anything. Nothing at all. He had convinced himself of that. Trying to sound like his brother, trying to sound like Ink... useless, just useless. Only the hard way was working now, and Dream had made that clear.

Draw his bow, materialize an arrow of light, shoot without the slightest hesitation at his brother, target him between the two orbits. And even if Nightmare had managed to dodge, his stunned face was enough to anchor Dream in his ideas.

[The sweet Dream no longer existed.]

Looking for a way to make a difference, to save their world, to save what's been lost. That was the mission that Dream had set for himself. To make up for their mistakes, their weakness, by changing the moment when everything had turned upside down, that little moment that had sealed their fate.

Oh, Dream had never thought of erasing Nyx, far from it! In his eyes, the birth of his nephew was in no way the cause of this decline! No, the problem went back further, to the insecurity problems of Ink and Nightmare, but also to the problems of the whole multiverse. Because to be so easily corrupted by the master of misfortune, it was that their world wasn't going so well in the first place ...

Everything was so complicated. There wasn't just one problem to deal with, but the problems of multiple monsters. Everything had to be considered, every detail counted, every action, every sentence... Killer who sought comfort from Color to forget Nightmare, Color who was dying of jealousy because of his one-way love, Dust and Horror who saw in Nightmare a support and a model to follow to overcome their doubts and weaknesses, Error who was terrified at the idea of committing himself with Ink...

Hundreds of gears that worked with each other. The gears of misfortune that had really failed when Nyx was born.

Nyx was not the cause, only the extra element, the drop in the bucket.

Dream would have wanted to tell him so many times, wanted to reassure him ... but he had never been able to do so. For Nyx didn't listen, Nyx was stubborn, Nyx was... was... was simply locked up, imprisoned by his parents' vision. That skewed vision that put all the blame on the poor little skeleton.

“I don't know what to do to help him...” he blew, sat on the floor, head down as he felt Error come over to him.

Error who was looking in the wave, hands in his pockets, smoking a cigarette with his teeth without really enjoying it.

“It's not by words but by actions that we'll have to change him.” he replied.

Dream had gently raised his head, to observe the Glitch in silence, before looking into the void in turn to address the Destructor again:

“... I still don't understand why you're doing all this... Why you took Nyx under your wing... Why you allowed me to come live with you, with Cross and Lux...”

The other breathed a puff of smoke without casting the slightest glance at the guardian of dreams, only to answer with a shrug that made poor Dream sigh. This did not help him any more in his questioning ...

“...would you try to redeem yourself because you think you are responsible for our situation?" insisted the young dream. Do you think that if you had been different with Ink, all this wouldn't have happened?”

He felt the Glitch tensing up, only half a second before he was suddenly grabbed by the pass to be pulled against Error, to meet his eyes crackling with a rage that he was struggling to control, to swallow as the voice of the Destroyer became low, terribly hoarse, broken by the many hardships of recent years:

“... You talk too much Dream. Don't make me angry.”

Dream felt electrified. Electrified by that aura, that look, that voice... By this being that he had cherished for so long, without ever daring to say anything about it. Because he didn't want to betray Ink... and Error would never love him anyway.

*** ***

Dream shook his head, clearing his memories to stand in front of the gate that was waving in front of him. This was no time to dither. He had to cross that blue whirlwind, go back in time, save his nephew - if he wasn't dead yet ... -

But he found himself frozen, unable to take a single step. He hadn't told Cross or Lux. He had left his family behind only to take responsibility for his own actions. For suggesting the idea of going back in time, for not realizing that the gate had to be closed, for... everything. Absolutely everything. The corruption of his brother and his friend ... the fact that he gave too much responsibility to Nyx ... and ... the death of Error ...

He shook his head, took a breath, tightening his grip on his bow. His cracked crown, with missing pieces in it, seemed heavy to carry today...

[He frowned]

[He went through the portal]

*** ***

Nightmare didn't know what to think as he roamed the AUs with increasing nervousness. Everything was in turmoil, seemed incomprehensible to him and at the same time terribly clear. A truth that he refused to admit but that kept biting his mind.

Nyx possessed changing pupils, tentacles, a pronounced taste for drawing, the ability to blend into the shadows ... Nyx knew them by heart, but he also knew an Ink who seemed to come from the future.

Nyx ... was his son from another timeline.

“... Damn it...!” he growled as he quickened his pace.

Nyx was his son... damn it... it was so hard to swallow, to accept! Of course, the master of misfortune had tenderness towards the youngest, but not to the point of considering him as his child! Insomnia was his child, not Nyx! Because Nyx... Nyx was...

Nyx was his friend. A precious friend.

A friend he'd pissed off in a fit of anger, when the cartoonist went out of his way to help them, to help them have a happy life. It was because of Nyx that Nightmare had the family life he had dreamed of... and Nightmare had acted like the worst kind of bastard.

Now Nyx was missing, as was PaperJam who had apparently fled the house. Ink and Error had found out too late and were now worried to death, actively searching for their son in all universes without any possibility of finding his magical trace, as if it was camouflaged.

Nightmare growled. The magic was hard to camouflage. Powerful spells had to be used, which didn't reassure anyone about little Jammy's fate. Was it this Ink from the future who had gotten his hands on the boy? Unfortunately, there was a good chance ... And shit, "Ink from the future" was so boring to pronounce! Especially since he shouldn't be alone, and Nightmare couldn't see himself saying "Ink from the future", "Dust from the future", "Killer from the future" ... or even "Nightmare from the future". It was repetitive, boring, useless.

“Ink is so borring over paint... Can't I find a nickname to go with it?”

Slowing down his run to think, he stopped suddenly at the agreement of a weak, very weak sigh. Or rather a whisper. A word carried by the wind, it seemed to him:

“Etsuko ...”

He frowned at the arches, looked around him suspiciously without seeing anything except the few echo flowers nearby. But it couldn't have been them, could it? The echo flowers were just repeating what they heard. But it seemed like a strange coincidence that they would repeat such a word right at the very mention of Nightmare, a word that sounded a lot like a name.

The master of misfortune shrugged his shoulders: he wasn't going to worry about that. It was worth taking the ...

“Etsuko ...”

He turned to the flowers. Why did they seem so insistent? Was he getting the wrong idea, just blaming poor, harmless flowers?

He sighed:

“Okay, let's go for Etsuko...”

He waited a while, to see what would happen. But nothing... Nothing at all. And this realization tensed him: why didn't the flowers repeat what he had just said?

Suddenly his mind twisted, encountering a sudden magical apparition. His eyes widened: PaperJam ... he was not camouflaged anymore ! And from what he could feel... he was in Underlust?

Despite the terrible apprehension that it was a trap, Nightmare had no choice but to rush there, knowing in advance that Error and Ink must already be there, having surely reacted faster than him.

He disappeared into a portal, not knowing that he should have lingered longer by the flowers ... because he could have heard the sweet laughter that escaped from there. A laughter that accompanied an amused voice:

“To think that I have to intervene for silly nicknames... !”

*** ***

Life had been good to him. The last few days had probably been the best of his life. Yes Ink was happy. Happy to finally be reunited with Error, to be able to live his love with him, to be united with him. To shake his hand, to embrace his body, to devour his mouth. Exchanging caresses, tender words...

And came PaperJam, his adorable child, so cute, so innocent, so sweet and gentle. The family he had always dreamed of ... accompanied by that truce with the Bad Sans, who had offered him new friendships. Horror, Dust, Killer... but especially Nightmare.

Nightmare... with whom he should have had a child? Who he should have had... Nyx...?

When did it escape him, the Creator? When only a short time ago he thought everything was 'normal'? That Nyx was just one skeleton among many, a skeleton with whom he had befriended?

Nyx held out a chip which Ink willingly accepted, stuffing it in his mouth as he sniffed it, wiping his tear-fogged eyes. The one with the black bones slid his hand over his skull and gently caressed him, in an almost paternal gesture that soon reassured him. Finally, he finally dozed off, far too comfortable in the bed that was not his, smelling the odor of Nyx that had permeated the sheets and which, it must be said, was not unpleasant.

Nyx lying unconscious on the ground, his head resting on the knees of a worried Plum.

“... He... collapsed? Just like that?” Ink questioned, having a hard time grasping the situation as his trembling voice testified.

Plum looked at him feverishly:

“Y-Yes... I don't understand... I don't understand ... he ... He seemed to have a panic attack, then he lost consciousness!”

It wasn't a simple blackout, Ink knew that all too well. For Nyx, besides breathing with difficulty, was sweating heavily, his body boiling, as if he was in the grip of a violent illness.

“... He would be sick ...? hesitated the Creator without daring to approach.

- He was fine only yesterday, said Error, who was standing next to him. He couldn't have gotten so sick in one night in ...”

But his voice died, interrupted by another which rose softly behind them:

“... Nyx is not sick ...”

Ink and Error turned around at breakneck speed to see their little Jammy in the doorway. Jammy's gaze was fleeting, due to his fear of being scolded by his parents but also the worry of seeing Nyx in such a state. Trembling with tears in his eyes as he felt his soul beating at full speed in his rib cage, he curled up on himself, ready to burst into tears:

“...A-a... a nasty Nightmare... he hurt Nyx... a-and Nyx kept falling asleep and waking up... like he was having a nightmare...”

Ink remained mute of stupor, to finally throw himself on PaperJam that he came to hug with all his forces, perceiving all the terror which lived in him, under the glance of Error who was divided between the desire to take his family against him and the desire to find this 'bad Nightmare' to explode his face.

“Calm down Jammy... the painter breathed, gently caressing his son's back. It's all right now...

- N-No, it's not true, it's not all right!" cracked the boy as he let out a sob. “I couldn't protect my big brother... and the bad guy's gone, he'll come back, he'll hurt us... !”

‘My big brother’. These words struck Ink's mind with force as his face became pale. So PaperJam had understood who Nyx was? No, the real question was... Had PJ accepted Nyx as a real member of their family? Without worrying about some timeline story?

Error grinned at the same words, but preferred to ignore them to concentrate on another detail. He came and crouched down beside Jammy and, timidly, caressed his shoulders in a clumsy attempt to comfort him:

“... PaperJam ... Do you know where this 'bad Nightmare' has gone?”

The child sniffed and shook his head as he came to curl up more against Ink.

Error remembered an insult when he saw how his son had been upset by the whole thing. He addressed Ink seriously:

“So there is not only an Ink from the future but also a Nightmare. And it won't surprise me that there are still others, which multiplies our enemies and therefore the danger. They must know the multiverse on the tip of their knuckles, probably better than we do.

- ... What do we do then? replied his lover. Do we prepare a counterattack? Do we hide? Do we wait? We skim the whole multiverse blindly?”

Faced with the painter's terribly rough tone, Error frowned on the arches:

“I don't know Ink. It's useless to take it that way!”

The Creator shot him with his pupils turned red:

“You give me a catastrophic summary of our situation without providing any solution! If it's just to depress me by putting me up against the wall, you can keep your remarks to yourself!

- I stated the facts and the possibilities! We've never been faced with such a danger, these guys probably know us better than we know ourselves! They can anticipate our actions and...

- And what? I'm well aware of it, who do you think I am?

- For a skeleton that seems to have already given up!

- How have I given up? I'm trying to take care of my sons here!”

Error bugged for a moment, before straightening himself up quickly by clenching his fists, pushing PaperJam to squeak with fear when he saw his parents arguing like that.

“Your sons?” repeated the Destructor coldly. “You have only one son, the one WE gave birth to!”

Ink gritted his teeth, closed his eyes to put his mind in order, imperceptibly squeezing PJ against him as if to give himself courage. He finally looked at his lover again:

“Nyx may come from another timeline... but I can't see him as anything other than my son.

- ... Are you kidding me?”

Error didn't know how to feel. Anger, frustration, jealousy, misunderstanding? He could accept that Nyx was Ink's son, but ... in another timeline, and only in another timeline! Not in theirs! Because in theirs, Ink was his, his and nobody else's, let alone Nightmare's!

“Yesterday you considered this guy a friend! And now you suddenly adopted him? Stop pissing yourself off!”

But if the voice that answered him was Ink's, it wasn't his Ink's voice. An evil, sadistic voice, whose sinister sneer shook the walls of the house and the monsters in the room.

“I agree, Error. This poor version of me is really infatuated with anyone!”

The yelp of PaperJam, thrown to the ground without the slightest softness, was nothing compared to the scream Ink uttered when he was hit hard by an ink tentacle that sent him waltzing against the wall.

Although Error was caught unawares, he didn't let himself be destabilized and received his son in panic, before catching Ink with his bluish threads while making bones to defend himself. His eyes filled with anger went to a corner of the room, and a shiver of hatred ran through him as he noticed the presence of this Ink of the future, quietly leaning against a wall with his arms folded.

“You bastard, you've got guts to bring your mouth here!”

His lover's double had a bad laugh before stepping towards him:

“Don't take it like that Ruru, I only come to free you from a weight.”

The magic of Error crackled, seething with resentment at his words, and the voice of Glitch sizzled with rage:

“I will smash you. I will destroy you for daring to touch my family.”

The future Ink raised his eyes to the sky before shaking his head with weariness, as if annoyed by such nonsense:

“Let's see Ruru... I'm your family.

- Call me 'Ruru' one more time... and I assure you I won't be in control.

- ... You're hopeless. Why can't you understand all the love I have for you? I probably love you much more than that old version of me. Do you understand that? Do you understand how much this version you're dating makes fun of you? He hasn't made the slightest effort to win you over, hasn't experienced the pain and sorrow that I have. He had outside help, and now that he's got you, he's turning to Nyx! Nyx that's not yours! Who's a stupid skeleton that came out of nowhere! What's next? Who's to say this Ink didn't turn away from you? That he won't leave you for Nightmare, only for the "good" of a son that isn't his?!”

The real Ink was recovering from the previous shock and was listening, with bitterness and anger, to the words of his double. This him of the future .... Did he even realize he was talking about his son? His son who was standing unconscious in the same room with him? Did this Ink from the future only realize that Nyx was at his worst?!

“... My Ink is an idiot, Error suddenly approved. But it's him and no one else that I fell in love with!!”

The two Ink hiccupped simultaneously, one deeply outraged and the other terribly moved. Before one of them recovered from his emotions, Error threw bones in the direction of the impostor, destroying part of the house in the process under the desperate gaze of poor Plum.

The Ink of the future just had the opportunity to leap backwards without dodging the entire attack. He grimaced when a bone was planted in his shoulder and had no choice but to retreat again, ending up outside the house, in the infinite cold of the Underlust Snowdine.

Error came to rest PaperJam, furtively caressing his skull before teleporting to his opponent and attacking him again. The child squealed, his face ravaged with fear and sobs, while looking terrified at the raging battle outside.

Ink hastened to his feet to draw Broomie:

“Plum, watch over my sons!” he ordered before throwing himself into battle.

An explosion sounded, followed by a burst of magic and the shrill sound of a blaster. The blast raised a wave of snow that fell with a crash, hiding the opponents under a smoke of ice. But despite the reduced visibility, Plum and Jammy realized that neither the Creator nor the Destroyer could defeat their opponent.

[Cause he knew them by heart, as Error had guessed.]

The snow finally fell, revealing more clearly the battle that was taking place. The threads of Error were sharply cut by vile tentacles, and the Ink of the future dodged an attack without difficulty by suddenly transforming himself into a puddle of ink, before taking a normal form just behind the Destroyer that he immobilized with his appendages .... So that these can be sliced in turn. By other tentacles.

“Wha...? wondered the one from the future.

- To think that I found Ink boring... But you're worse Etsuko!” cried the familiar voice of Nightmare, a voice of fun, defiance and anger. A voice coming from everywhere and nowhere, as if out of the shadows, out of the mind.

The three opponents stopped all movement to look around them while the Ink of the future frowned on the arcades with confusion and mistrust:

“Etsuko...? he repeated.

- A little nickname, so as not to confuse our mind. And specially to differentiate a stupid painter from a crazy painter.”

Nightmare finally appeared, standing between Etsuko and the two others, stinging an icy glance on the one of the future:

“But it doesn't matter, since you'll only be dust in a few minutes.”

The nightmare master's appendages agitated, whipped the air like a threat, while Etsuko stood staring at the guardian of bad emotions.

“... Ink... Etsuko... however I'm named... blew that of the Future. Anyway... That won't stop me from killing you.”

His face was torn by a terrifying smile... and he vanished.

Nightmare winked in disappointment and winked back to swallow a scream when he felt a pain twist in his arm. He winced, realizing that Etsuko had taken him as a traitor, and turned sharply to counterattack. However, he only hit the void, which made him growl.

“Bastard... !”

He jumped to the side and felt an ink puddle slip at his feet, and his gesture was not useless, for the next second his enemy came out of the puddle and threw sharp bones at him. Dodging, feeling one of the weapons brushing against him, he weighed himself down and teleported himself to the heavens, to make a Gaster Blaster appear, with which he shot Etsuko.

Etsuko who used his appendages as a shield, before materializing in his turn a Blaster. But instead of aiming at Nightmare, he took advantage of the other Ink's inattention.

Ink, still a bit stunned, who just had the opportunity to turn his skull before being dazzled by the powerful flash of the energy beam.

“INK!” Error and Nightmare shouted simultaneously as they watched in horror as the painter was about to disintegrate.

But it didn't happen. A golden light appeared for a second, accompanied by a loud sound of teleportation. The blaster wiped out where Ink had been, but not a trace of the Creator among the cloud of dust and debris.

Everyone was mute in amazement ... before Error was startled by the realization that there was a new presence behind him.

“Is everything okay?”

He turned around, opened his eyes, just like Nightmare who was unable to explain what they saw: Ink, safe and sound, gently carried in the arms of ... No... it couldn't have been... Yet there were very few skeletons wearing such a crown. But despite the appearance that didn't deceive... Nightmare didn't know if the skeleton that saved Ink was indeed Dream.

Ink himself seemed confused about who was supposed to be his best friend:

“... Dream?” he hesitated.

No, it couldn't have been Dream. Dream was a young skeleton, smiling and sparkling, with a soft warm aura. While this skeleton... this skeleton didn't have a smile on his face, not even a shred of joy. He only looked tired, exhausted... and deeply angry.

It was Etsuko who broke the silence again, his magic crackling even more angrily than before:

“Goddamn Dream! Always in my way !” he spat.

The three skeletons of this timeline freeze, having now the confirmation that the new one was indeed Dream. But so... the future Dream? This one rested Ink with a great softness, before patting his head amicably, but always without emitting the least smile:

“I will take care of him. Rest.”

It was not only addressed to the painter but also to Nightmare and Error. Finally he came to look into Etsuko's eyes and his face became harder, more implacable.

“Destroying our world wasn't enough for you, you also had to come and wreck another timeline?

- That you who gave me this opportunity.” Etsuko replied.

Dream sighed... and the arrow he shot was faster than the speed of light.

Etsuko hiccupped, screamed, fell to his knees and grabbed his belly, to turn his bewildered gaze towards his ribs, towards THE rib that the guard had aimed at and hit hard! Marrow was already starting to flow out of the wound to stain his clothing, but before anyone could really become aware of the situation, Dream teleported himself just in front of his enemy, to prepare his bow again and put an arrow in his face.

This time, the corrupt Creator did not let it happen and teleported himself in panic, several meters away from the guardian, to counterattack with his tentacles. Dream dodged a first appendage, contrasted a second one with his bow, but was whipped by a third one. This did not destabilize him, he kept an imperturbable face, and again used his bow to shoot a new arrow.

Nightmare twitched, his eyes clutching said arrow. His twin, guardian of dreams and good emotions, had always had this ability to generate arrows of light. But this Dream of the future... Its light was not pure. On the contrary, it seemed dimmed. Like... Like it was ready to sink into darkness.

If that made him pale, seeing his brother attack Etsuko without mercy made him even more unstable.

“Are you trying to play the hero? accused the corrupt painter. You, the guardian who gave up his title after abandoning his family? You're nothing but a Dream sub-shit! Don't come and stand up to me and play the Good guy !”

The Dream Keeper tensed up, to shoot a new arrow, this time missing his target.

“... I don't play the hero ... he blew trembling. I'm not, I never was... Unlike you. You were the hero of the whole multiverse, the Creator, the Keeper. But you chose to turn your back on everyone for a stupid one-sided love.”

Etsuko trembled, shaken by his words, and his anger was mixed with guilt and sadness that brought tears to his eyes. Yet he did not cry, on the contrary: his negativity gave him even more power, and in a hateful howl he knocked down his tentacles again.

Dream lowered his bow, his eyes exhausted, as if ready to submit to death ... to finally teleport at the last moment, dodging the attack before he sighed:

“... "Deep down... maybe I would have ended up like you, if you hadn't given me the counterexample. Seeing you sink into despair made me want to move on, to tell myself that I didn't want to end up like you.”

He sighed again while closing his eyes, as if to give himself courage, then raised his head, resting his golden gaze on the Corrupt Creator, this Creator who was once his best friend.

The golden glow of his pupils changed, sank, and became darkness.

Nightmare hiccupped with terror, as did Ink and Error ...

And the Dream of the future aimed again at his enemy, materializing at the same time an arrow darker than the darkness itself:

“I am no longer a guardian. I'm no longer a Dream.”

His voice had darkened as much as his gaze, and the icy air finished to petrify the group:

“... I am Yumerai, the vengeful dream.”

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Credits =

Dreamtale ->  Joku

Ink -> Comyet / Myebi

Error -> Lover The Piggies

Sugar Plum -> undertale Community (formerly NSFWShamecave ?)

Paperjam -> 7GoodAngel