#but first on to starting one of like 6 projects that have been mulling in my mind

[nightcityvngel]

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 10

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: mild angst

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

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

You wake the next morning, early but immediately alert. Gojo is the first thing on your mind, your eyes dart to your phone laying on the bedside table. You’re itching to pick it up and check if he messaged you, to look for any indication of how he might be feeling.

To distract yourself you pop out of bed and start your routine for the day, taking extra care choosing your outfit. After comparing options and deliberating longer than normal, you decide on something cute but not too flashy and a spritz of your favorite perfume, just to make yourself feel good. 

On the way to breakfast, you finally let yourself check your phone. Your eyes scan the notifications, but there’s nothing from Gojo. You deflate slightly. It would’ve been so easy to prepare for the rest of the day if you just knew what he wanted from you! Now you’ll have to wait and see if he shows up for class, then gauge what his reaction is like. 

You grab a small plate at the cafeteria, but anxiety has taken the place of hunger in your stomach. After finishing your meal slowly, you head to class early. 

The July air is already sweltering outside, and the unrelenting humidity doesn’t help the anticipation and nerves you have for the day. You’ve never seen Gojo walking around on campus, but that doesn’t stop you from keeping an eye out for a flash of white hair as you trudge towards the Graduate school. 

The classroom is empty when you reach it, which only gives you more time and space to think about Satoru. You unpack your bag and open your notes document, leg bouncing under the table.

Gojo had been much more communicative with you the last month, and in your time working together, he never backed down from the opportunity to speak his mind. As soon as you can speak to him, you’ll be able to tell whether he’s also interested in you. 

The professor and other students of your cohort slowly filter into the room as you mull over what his reaction might be, and Kuzume’s arrival finally gives you something to think about besides your partner. In her own research for the project, she’s found a new composer whose style and depth she aspires to reach one day. Her own partner, Fumio, had even liked the styling, though Kuzume claims his appreciation for music is shallow at best. 

The mention of Fumio brings your mind back to your own partner, and you glance at the clock on your computer. It’s nearly time for class to start and he hasn’t arrived yet. You can’t decide if the anticipation will be worse if he shows up or if you have to wait even longer. 

As the professor walks over to shut the classroom door, Gojo strides in. You can’t help yourself. You covertly examine him from across the room as he settles into his normal chair. He seems as relaxed as usual, and in your hasty catalog of his appearance, you don’t notice any abrupt changes. Nothing that can signal how he feels, one way or the other. 

Your professor has returned to the front of the room, she surveys the group for a beat before speaking. 

"Good morning, class. I have an important update regarding the paired project due at the beginning of next month.”

Your breath catches and tension in the room grows. Two weeks of notice is hardly enough time to make adjustments to the paper, and you had just finished making edits to the current version. You don’t have time to update the project, let alone take into consideration everything going on with Satoru. 

“I am pleased to announce that this particular group of students has been invited to participate in an annual teaching symposium." Your normally reserved professor speaks with an unusual enthusiasm.

"To showcase the work you have done, each pair will present the research and theoretical problems created for the final project."

She continues listing off the details and expectations of the presentation, and you process all of the extra work you’ll have to do. 

“The symposium will take place after summer break concludes. While this term will be over, it is expected that each group takes the time to prepare, and is ready to speak at the conference at the beginning of next term.”

You glance over to where Gojo is sitting across the room. He sits expressionless as he listens to the rest of the professor's speech. You feel a sudden pang and wish that you could see his whole face right now. He was so expressive and open when the two of you were working on the couch. Now you can’t guess what he’s thinking. As far as you can tell he hasn’t even looked in your direction yet. 

The rest of the class period focuses on ensuring that expectations are fully understood for the new presentation and reviewing the most recent reading assignment. The torrent of discussion that follows the announcement ensures that there’s not another moment to devote to your partner. It feels like you blink and then you’re being dismissed. 

As usual Gojo stands to leave right after the class period has ended. He heads out of the room without saying anything. There’s no time for a discussion before your second class, but your heart sinks that he didn’t at least say hello or acknowledge you in some way. 

You walk to your Learning Theories class across campus with Kuzume and Saito, internally debating whether you should have said something. Maybe he was waiting for you to reach out or text him.

You contemplate the idea as you’re taking notes in the second class. This close to the end of term, the course consists of review of the last readings and preparation for your final paper. You’ve already done your own review with the study group, so you allow your mind to drift back to Gojo. 

A text would be casual- just to check in and plan some time to discuss the presentation. He usually responds quickly too. When Learning Theories ends, you’ve settled on messaging him.

Actually doing the texting is easier said than done. 

You drum your fingers on the wood of your desk as you think of how to phrase the message. You type an option out, stare at it for a moment, then delete the text. God, it feels so silly and juvenile to be worried about texting a man!

After scrubbing your face with your hands, you stand up and look intently down at the screen. You ask when he’s free to plan the presentation, simple. Before you can second guess yourself again you hit send. Now it’s out of your hands. 

Having sent the text doesn’t seem to alleviate any of your anxiety though. You spend the afternoon thinking about how you’d like to build your next unit for the Eikaiwa school. Even during the summer when students have breaks from their normal classes, many of your class will continue taking courses as an extracurricular. If they have to be in classes, you’d at least like to make the material interesting for your pupils. 

You lose yourself in planning, but you can’t help but notice that Gojo doesn’t respond to your message.

You don’t know whether to take his lack of response as disinterest or an indication that he’s busy planning for his trip. He had seemed preoccupied when you left his apartment. Either way, you’re determined to talk with him. Even if he doesn’t want a physical or romantic relationship, you’ll have to work together for the presentation.  

The next morning, you put on another cute outfit, pick up some strong tea from the cafeteria, and walk seriously to your classroom. Kuzume sits next to you shortly after, her brow furrows when she sees your grave mood. She tilts her head is a silent question, and you shake your head in response. You’re not in the mood to talk right now.

Nothing can distract you now, you are laser focused. You listen to the lecture, chime into the conversation once. You don’t bother to take notes, putting away the computer at the end of class would lose you precious seconds when you need to get out the door. You feel the energy wane as class comes to a close and you steel yourself. 

As is typical, Gojo is one of the first to leave the room. You’re quick to follow, though, and you catch him in the foyer of the building. 

“Hey, Sa-” you hesitate, “hey Gojo.”

When he turns toward you, there’s something inscrutable on his face. It’s gone in a moment, returned to the neutral blank look he wears during class. He leans against one of the columns near the benches.

“What’s up?” 

It’s so casual, so utterly careless. As if he truly has no idea what you could want to talk about, when you have a million questions you could ask. His delivery is nearly flawless too, slightly friendly but not warm or teasing. It’s like your relationship has been taken back months in time.  

You silence the thought, forcing yourself to focus on the goal- you’ve got to talk to him and figure out what to do for the symposium. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about the project. Apparently we’ve still got some work left to do.” You offer him a small smile. 

“Oh, yeah.”

“So we’ll have to edit the conclusion and then divide up the content and write the actual presentation.”

He waits for you to say something else, but you just look at him. It’s the first time you’ve been this near since you kissed. His cologne or aftershave brings those memories to the top of your mind and you swallow, willing your cheeks not to flush. You remind yourself that he hadn’t responded to your text or reached out to you. 

“Well that’s easy enough. We’ll each do our own subject areas, it’s just an outline of the existing research and our examples.” He finally says. 

There’s no trace of the playful banter or intimacy from the last few times you had spoken. Each answer brief and direct to the point. 

“Yeah, but we won’t be able to cover all of the sources, we’ll need to prioritize. We can meet at the cafe and go over the details?”

Gojo hesitates for a moment. He runs his hand through the hair on the back of his neck and turns away from you slightly. 

“I don’t think I’ll have time this week. Just make a document and share it with me.”

Even when your relationship had been at its worst, he’d still agreed to meet with you. How could he be refusing now, when you’ll be delivering a live presentation in front of who knows how many people? You clench your jaw.  

“These things aren’t really that formal, no need to spend a ton of time rehearsing.”

“Sounds good.” You nod, but there’s no color in your voice. 

“Great.” Gojo’s voice is flat and his ever present smile hasn’t made a single appearance. 

He turns from you and continues on the path away from the building. You’re left staring after him, wilting in the heat. You suppose you have your answer on how he feels. There’s nothing to do but plow ahead and get this project finished. You feel oddly lonely. 

You take a moment to gather yourself, ready to head back to your dorm. Before you can leave or break, you feel presence behind you. You turn and find Saito and Kuzume watching you with concerned expressions. It’s too much.

With a watery breath in, you step towards them. 

“Are you alright?” 

Kuzume is the first to ask, and you don’t know how to answer. Everything had seemingly happened so fast, and you lost Gojo before you even knew how much you cared for him. After weekly meetings, growing to appreciate his humor and teasing, and now being treated like a stranger. 

“C’mon,” Saito’s voice is soft. You’re not breakable. You’re fine. Or you will be, as soon as you can process everything that you’re feeling. 

The two of them walk with you to the Learning Theory class. Normally traipsing across campus is accompanied by gossiping or complaining or laughter, but today the three of you are quiet. At least class will give you something to focus on. You’re not going to fumble your last couple courses of the term, and now that you know where you stand with Gojo you can put him in the back of your mind. Your education is what matters.  

Learning Theories passes in a blur of final notes and an explanation of the final exam. Before you know it, the professor is dismissing class and your friends are back in front of you. Without saying a word, they watch you pack up and walk with you to the campus cafeteria. 

You’re not really feeling hungry, but you know Kuzume and Saito are trying to help. You grab a rice bowl and refill your water bottle. Kuzume and Saito wait till you’re settled at the table before gently prodding. 

“Was he being rude again?”

“If he’s acting out of line, we can tell the university. Being smart isn’t an excuse to act like a dick.” Kuzume adds before you answer. 

That makes you crack a smile. A sudden wave of gratitude for your friends washes over you. Maybe your friendship with Gojo isn’t one that’s going to last, but you’ve studied for exams, reviewed for countless hours, and talked with the women in front of you the entire term. You’ve found friends, and now they’re supporting you, though they don’t even know you’ve kissed Gojo yet. 

You sigh. You’ve got a lot to catch them up on. You take a bite of your lunch and start filling them in on just how close you’d gotten with Gojo. 

When you finish describing your make out season with Gojo, Kuzume’s jaw is nearly on the floor. 

“I knew it! You were acting way too cheery for someone spending time with an absolute ass. So what happened?”

Her face softens and as you look from her to Saito the words get caught in your throat. 

“He just acted like nothing had happened. He wasn’t rude but just swept anything else under the rug.”

You huff, and your voice has a watery quality you hate. You shouldn't be feeling too upset about someone who clearly doesn't feel the same way. 

���And he was the one who kissed me! I thought that we were actually becoming friends. He really grew on me.”

Saito reaches her hands across the table and grabs yours. She doesn't say anything, just gives you a squeeze. 

Kuzume adds her hand to the pile and she does speak up. 

“Well, you still have some friends. You don’t have to worry about me kissing you.”

The mood lightens after that, and the three of you finalize plans to proofread the final papers for the Learning Theories class and get lunch once more before summer break. 

It’s not total relief, but your chest does feel lighter when you walk back to your dorm after lunch. Regardless of what happens with Gojo, you joined this Master's program to put down roots in Tokyo and prepare for your future as a teacher. 

You’ve got to focus on the big goals, and finishing the term strong is what will matter most for your long term success. You crack open your laptop and open the group project. The conclusion won’t edit itself.

[virtie333]

Your post about your Damerey origins got me curious... I've never gotten into x-files fics, but I did watch the show in reruns and there was just... no one cooler than Dana Scully (except Batman, but like... he was fictional and Dana seemed like a real person to me b/c my delusions started early in my life).

I've really been mulling over a re-watch. I'm a completist and would have no choice but to watch it top to bottom, movies and all.

Buuuuut.... do you have any favorite season arcs or episodes?????

Wow, this question really made me think. Honestly, this show was so much a part of me for so many years, it's hard to imagine that I haven't watched a single episode in years! Coming here to Tumblr and connecting with people who are current fans has helped my inner Phile reemerge, and I too crave a re-watch. And like you, I'd have to start from the beginning.

I can't say I have a favorite arc. Obviously the Cancer arc was the most important, but as a whole I've just always considered the series as one story (kind of like Star Wars; it's hard for me to watch just one movie, I have to watch them all). I can point out episodes I love from every season, although I will admit Season 6 is probably my overall favorite, hopeless romantic that I am.

I absolutely adore the first movie, Fight the Future, and can watch that over and over and over. I saw it in theaters 5 times, which tied a record for me that wasn't broken until The Force Awakens came out.

My three favorite episodes are:

Pusher

Triangle

Beyond the Sea

Other eps I know by heart include: Ice, Irresistible, War of the Coprophages, Grotesque, Paper Hearts, Small Potatoes, Bad Blood, Folie a Deux, Monday, The Unnatural, En Ami, Je Souhaite, This is Not Happening/Deadalive, Audrey Pauley, and Improbable. I enjoyed parts of the revival, but not enough to really get into it, and I was not happy with what they did to William, so I have trouble accepting Seasons 10 and 11 as canon. I loved seeing David and Gillian together again, but I wish they had stayed with Monster of the Week episodes instead of making the Conspiracy even more confusing and unbelievable than it already was. Also hate what they did to Monica and Skinner. So, yeah...

Anyway, this show truly changed my life. It gave me the best friends in the world, as we met on-line over 20 years ago and are still friends to this day. Here we are through the years; the first one we are on the Queen Mary, where they filmed Triangle, back in 2007. The last was my 50th birthday last year at Galaxy's Edge.

And of course, it's what first got me started in fanfiction.

I may be devoted to Damerey, but I will always be a Phile and proud to be an original shipper.

[machinavocis]

so

we will be moving to tucson arizona sometime this year around late april/early may

but i'm not buying a house yet. gonna start out in an apartment with a six-month lease, mostly just so that roommate can first Experience the Summer™

(we spent a week there in november & he REALLY loved it, was totally 100% raring to get out there asap, but i mulled it over for like another day before coming back with "alright. ok. see. in order for me to trust that this is truly an Informed Consent Choice, i feel like i need us to be there for Death Heat Season, & once we're in the middle of the 6 straight weeks of 110+ degree temperatures, if you can THEN, in THAT MOMENT, look me in the eye and say again YES I WOULD LIKE TO CONTINUE TO LIVE HERE--at THAT point we are GOOD & i am FULLY BACK ON BOARD.")

i do hate the idea of dealing with more rental nonsense, landlords, etc for another most-of-a-year, but like...this is objectively the smarter, more responsible path to take here. since my number one priority is to make super extra certain that roommate doesn't experience quality-of-life-worsening health complications from the climate & such. not to mention it WILL be WAY the fuck easier to house shop locally vs. from another state, plus i'll have time to scope out neighborhood vibes, read up on + get prepped for the whole ADU construction process, find a good realtor, etc.

i'm...actually lowkey hella optimistic about it. which has taken me a bit by surprise.

i had a lot of little experiences on that november trip that i just felt stack themselves up in my mind both logically &...almost spiritually..? & coalesce into this weird broad sweeping sense that This Choice Would Be a Correct One.

(not THE Correct One. i feel like--at least just for me--there are a couple different paths i could take that would feel Equally Correct. tbh if it was just me alone i'd probably be heading to either denver or seattle or chicago. (vetoed by roommate for being respectively Too High, Too Wet, & Too Cold--which, fair on all counts lol.)

more thinking-out-loud (via-blogging-in-silence) on this to come in the next couple months probably. all of january & the first half of february are Mini Death Work Blitz Time this year, so i have been & am still doing that. but one month from yesterday i will have launched TWO BIG OL WEBSITE PROJECTS & then i get paid ALL THE MONEY AT ONCE & then i'll probably sleep for like three days straight & THEN i'll have the headspace to start thinking about how many things need to get done in order for moving to successfully happen. :D fuck. :D :D

[dimonds456]

*sees your tags about being salty about suf spinel*

YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT AND NOT SHARE YOUR SALT /LH

Okay, but I'm warning you, you asked for it.

LONG POST WARNING.

LIKE A REALLY, REALLY LONG POST WARNING.

Dimonds456 Presents: How They Did My Baby Dirty: An SUTM and SUF Analysis on Steven and Spinel (Told by a Progressively More and More Angry Narrator)

THE CONTEXT: There was a post talking about how you think a character will fix everything, but then they wind up making it works. My tags were "#*looks at suf spinel* #I am still salty about that like the bitch I am fghdjskgfa"

Grab some water, guys.

Let's start by talking about Steven for a moment. In the original show, when we were following him as a 12-14-year-old, we watched as he built up trauma and then learned how to hide it expertly well, to the point that most of the audience didn't even realize he was struggling.

You can actually pinpoint the seconds he makes those decisions, too. The best example is in "The Test," when he's storming up to the gems. He's pissed. His fists are clenched, he's got that anime eye shadow overlay on his face, he's frowning, all that. the Crystal Gems are clapping for him and lying to his face, and he KNOWS they are because he overheard them talking about how it was "impossible for him to fail" that test (- Garnet).

And yet... he also overheard them saying that they're just trying their best. They don't know what he needs. They never really have. No one is sure. So, Steven realizes that by picking a fight, he would just be making it worse for them because they would know they messed up, and nothing gets solved, and everyone gets more depressed and Amethyst and Pearl go back to fighting each other and- well, you get the picture. He doesn't have a full understanding of what's going on, so his kid brain went "so I can either be angry at them and cause problems, or I can tell them I did a good job to make them happy."

"I can lie to make them happy."

He storms down there angry, still mulling this decision over. He drops to the floor, frowning and pissed, and says "I can't believe you guys." He is so close to yelling at them, and yet, when he looks up at them...

"That was so... INSANE!"

You never would have been able to tell. It was right there. That moment. And then he never stops. For the ENTIRE REST of the series, he NEVER STOPS. He puts the Crystal Gems above himself every time. Think Rose's Scabbard, The Message, The Return/Jailbreak. The Cluster. Peridot. Dealing with Jasper. The zoo arc (ESPECIALLY the zoo arc). Aquamarine. Then pretty much the entirety of Season 5.

(NOTE: I went back and rewatched that scene for the screenshot. There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lip tremble in there too! D,: )

He lives for the people around him, and not for himself. Almost never for himself.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's look at his maturity. People thought that was just him being mature, right? That he grew up. No. That was not it at all. He was learning from his own behaviors as well as the people around him, and building up this idea that he had to "fight to be everything that everyone wants [him] to be when [he's] grown" (- Steven, the extended intro).

Yes, he matured, but not because of that. He started making various decisions to benefit the group that oftentimes he wasn't fully comfortable with, but something he believed would be better for everyone.

Put a pin in that.

Then, later in Future, we see it all manifest. He is selfless to a fault, to the point that he can't think of himself in a positive light in the sense that he's good. We see it a couple of times, but especially in "Prickly Pair," when he vents to Cactus Steven about everything that happened. He feels useless, which is taking a toll on his mental health.

"Why do I need to be needed?" He needs to be needed because that's everything he was as a kid. His entire IDENTITY rests on his ability to help other people, no matter what happens to him. He literally sacrificed himself for them countless times (the big one of course being the Aquamarine incident), and now as a teenager, his whole sense of self is wrapped up in this need to get up and do something to make the world better.

And when he can't make the world better, his world falls apart.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's talk about Spinel, the moment we've all been waiting for.

Spinel, as a gem, was made specifically to be a friend. That is her niche, and her purpose. Her reason for existing. At first, she and Pink Diamond got along very well, as shown in the flashbacks right before Drift Away plays (I headcanon she has illusion powers and was literally projecting her trauma, but that's a completely different post).

She and Pink vibed together for who knows how long, until one day, Pink started to not like being around Spinel anymore, finding her annoying and childish. We don't know what really caused the switch, just that it did happen (but of course, I have headcanons for that, too). Spinel never realized until it was FAR too late.

Steven actually describes his younger self as annoying at one point during the Diamond Days arc, when he decides to throw the ball, so I'm legally allowed to make this comparison.

Steven and Spinel were the SAME. They were both young and dumb, and something that at least a few people found annoying. People put up with their BS though, since they cared about them. But, while Steven realized this and matured because of it (or bottled up his emotions, to each their own), Spinel never did. She never matured. She was never given a chance.

In the movie, we saw her as a child, and watched as she played with Pink and never tried to be or do anything else, to the point that Pink Diamond thought to realize she might be struggling (and maybe Spinel didn't, either!).

She lives for the people around him, and not for herself. Almost never for herself.

And when she can't be friends with this one person, her world falls apart.

Sound familiar? It should. I literally pulled from things I said earlier lol.

Spinel and Steven are mirror reflections of each other. Reset!Spinel is 14-year-old Steven, completely devoting her entire self to one idea. Steven's was helping others no matter what, Spinel's was serving Pink no matter what. Spinel is like a combination of 14 and 12-year-old Steven in this sense, honestly. Goofy, without a care in the world, except one thing: the people around her. She would do anything for Pink, just as Steven would do anything for his family.

Now, Pink Diamond left Spinel. We all know this story. She left Spins there in the garden for 6,000 years because she grew more mature and started a rebellion, effectively forgetting about this one gem she kinda stopped caring about standing there.

Personally, I don't think Pink had any malicious or even intentional intent in that, but this ain't about her. This is about how Spinel continued to sacrifice herself for Pink, even when Pink didn't need her to anymore. She wanted to please Pink 24/7, all day every day, to the point she self-sacrificed and stood perfectly still for her for millenia.

Now, back to Steven. The gems don't need him anymore in Future, right? They've all grown up and matured and headed off towards their own futures, effectively stranding him alone in terms of self-identity and self-worth. But he stays there, ready to assist at the drop of a hat, or- in Future's case- the call of a phone.

Episode 6 anyone? The one everyone says shouldn't be in Future? That it should have been cut to allow more focus on Steven himself? The fusion episode? YEAH. THAT. He is running himself RAGGED to try and help others, to give himself a purpose. He is self-sacrificing. (He's a professional, don't worry. /j)

Steven metaphorically planted his feet down and decided that he was going to devote himself to the people around him.

Spinel's feet were literally tied down soon after she made that very same decision.

Okay, enough with the backstory. Time for the salt.

In Future, Steven is at his lowest low. He is running to the Diamonds for help, to see if there is SOMETHING they can do to help him. And we first see Spinel.

Spinel has been through the ringer on a lot of the same mental problems Steven himself is facing. She self-isolated, watched as everyone grew up and left her, and then began to lash out because of it. She understands what he's going through. We even see her concerned as Steven starts to tell her why he's there.

Spinel takes him from Diamond to Diamond, until he's running out of White's room in a blind panic. Spinel is able to catch up with him, and Steven realizes the same. SHE GETS IT. He turns around and says "Hey, you used to have vengeful thoughts!"

Spinel replies "Ohhhhh yeah, but I don't have 'em anymore."

"How did you make them stop?"

She then goes on to sing Change to him, effectively cutting that conversation short.

On paper, that sounds very in-character for her. She's goofy! And that is what worked for her! But the problem is that they had to dumb her down in order to make that character decision work. In the movie, she was shown to be observant and able to put two and two together, even if she often jumps to conclusions (see her being the one to figure out that the gems needed to remember their "pieces," as she remembers the Garden, her re-realizing what Pink did, and her meltdown later when she reactivates the injector).

Spinel is smart. It should have been in character for her to realize that Steven was panicking just as she had been, and needed to be talked to gently. But no. Instead, she starts belting out Change, which given Steven's situation, would not work for him.

At the very least, she would have started doing little tricks or started trying to get him to join a game, which would have taken his mind off of it (to her anyways, that wouldn't have worked either), which then could have prompted further discussion.

Then, once they finally start talking, Spinel could have been able to share some legitimate advise. She was hurt and lashed out. What worked for her was opening up to others and letting them in, learning to trust again (which Steven also has problems with- he can't trust that the Gems won't break down the second he turns his back. Trust does NOT equal love, there is no doubt he loves them to no end), and allowing other people in.

That is what Steven needed, too. He needed to let his guard down and just talk to someone. Sure, Spinel was not going to be a fix-all, but she could have at least offered some insight on what to do.

She UNDERSTANDS him. They are a reflection of each other.

But instead of offering help, Spinel made it worse. She was dumbed down to allow the rest of Future to happen, to make Steven feel even worse. Because- and here's the kicker- because the one person who MIGHT understand him doesn't, that means there's no hope for him.

At least, that's how he sees it. And so, the denial- and "Everything's Fine"- begins.

Here's the thing, though; they DIDN'T NEED to make that decision. If the Crew wanted to have Spinel not understand Steven, then draw the line of her being a Gem from Era 1, used to the Diamonds shattering people.

Steven has killed Jasper and revived her at this point, so maybe Spinel offers that at least he's trying to get better, just like the other Diamonds! See, they're doing so great now! And then that makes him feel worse since he IS trying to do better, but is only failing, while the Diamonds- who were MADE to be nasty dictators- are doing better than him.

The Diamonds shattered a lot of people, and they're doing better than Steven, who has only shattered one person, and not even on purpose. How horrible is that?

Then boom. THERE'S your angst, with a much smarter, more helpful Spinel.

Look, I knew going in that Spinel wasn't going to be able to help. The finale had to happen somehow, and we hadn't seen Wormy Boi yet. I have always been a storng believer of the corrupted Steven theory, so I knew it was bound to happen. But I was hoping that Spinel would at least try. But she really didn't. She just brushed him off, offering really loose advise that didn't even fit his situation and thinking that would be enough.

No. It's not.

I can see where the Crew was coming from. I still love that episode, and I love seeing Spins in it (until that exact moment). This is probably the only thing in SU that genuinely gets me mad. Or, well, maybe not mad, but definitely annoyed and- you guessed it- salty.

I have an unfinished fic where I kinda delve into Spinel's head for that episode called "A New Start". If you really want my thoughts on where Spinel's head was at, there's a bit in there that really explains it. In the fic, Steven decides to rejuvenate himself and brings Spinel along with him, and that's all the context you need for this.

I cannot explain that moment in the climax of the episode, though. Maybe she thought it would make him feel better, or that maybe he really did just need to open his eyes and see the error of his ways (which doesn't make sense, he KNOWS what he did). Maybe she thought that being silly would help somehow.

But you'd think she'd learn from her time with Pink as she grew more annoyed with her, but apparently not. Or maybe she would realize for a second that being loud and annoying was bad. Or maybe she doesn't learn.

Either way, it- and she- was dumb. And they did my baby dirty.

*drops mic and walks away*

[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.

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

[withkun]

visage | j. jaehyun

genre: enemies to lovers... kinda? with some fluff and smut :) word count: 5.2k  pairing: reader x jaehyun warnings: graphic hetersexual sex (oral, penetration, etc), swearing, excessive world building summary: Your first day of work at your first real job began terribly. You hadn’t got enough sleep, you could barely eat your breakfast, and you managed to get lost on the way. Soon, you discover you’re working alongside serial charmer Jaehyun Jung and that he will stop at nothing to be the best. 

a/n: this is a mess im sorry lmao. i somehow managed to use jaehyun 86 times in here ... girl...

You felt completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost – all on the first day of your first real job. That morning, you awoke two hours earlier than you had to. If you had a choice, you would’ve face planted into your pillow and died right there. However, your anxiety decided against it. And with that extra time, you managed to pull off an extended morning routine. A warm, long shower. Ten-step skincare routine. Eggs, toast, and black tea. Despite your attempts to regain your confidence, all was lost as you circled the office building.

           The orientation guide you received hadn’t helped much. All you knew was that you should report to building B. Whichever building that may have been, you had no idea. Your feet grew weary and you cursed yourself for wearing heels. You rounded the corner of the office park for your fourth or fifth lap, only to be cut off by an overdressed jackass. Before you could sidestep him and continue your hopeless journey, the perpetrator turned to face you.

           “Oh, no. He’s hot,” you thought to yourself, praying your cheeks weren’t stained red. Despite wearing a well-tailored gray suit, you realized that he was likely your same age. He took in your slightly disheveled appearance, probably noting your ruffled hair and askew skirt.

           He tilted his head in the direction of the closest building. “Are you here for orientation, too?”

           Of course he had to be in your hiring class. Twenty-two and already looking like he owned the building. You nodded, then turned on your heel to rush inside. Trailing your steps, you heard him chuckle lowly.

           You finally joined the rest of the new hires in the security lobby, managing to fix your appearance before you reached the door. To your gratitude, they dressed similarly to you. Just plain business casual. The boy you met earlier definitely stood out, making the others wonder if they hadn’t dressed well enough.

           Within ten minutes, you all received security badges and shuffled into your orientation room. You preferred the back, whereas the business boy sat directly in the front. Rolling your eyes, you realized his game. You met plenty of people like him in college, ruthless climbers that destroyed everything in their paths. He knew he had to make more than an entrance, he had to make an impression.

           You grew to dislike him more and more as your training sessions progressed over the course of two weeks. An insufferable know it all, answering all the questions managers prompted. Volunteering for everything first, unafraid. You on the other hand, did not find his actions necessary. He left a glowing impression, yes, but you found it meaningless. Like hell the trainers cared about how well you completed your general training. Maybe he wanted everyone to relate this to his future performance, for you to watch out for his dominance. For you to fear him. Worst of all, he saw you struggle with the most simplistic task on your first day.

           He easily made friends within the group, as there were plenty others like him. All recent college graduates, fantastic resumes, and working for one of the best companies in the field. You, on the other hand, did not have such luck. Your social circle consisted of yourself and another quiet trainee, a quiet finance major named Doyoung. The two of you kept to yourselves and became the outliers of the group, so much to the extent that you sat alone for training sessions.

           Two weeks came and passed, and you finally received your team assignments. You found your name on the bulletin, right next to Jaehyun Jung’s. Of course. It had to be this way.

           Jaehyun approached the bulletin board aside you, and grinned as he found his name. “Looks like we’re working together,” he commented, still wearing the same expression. You realized why he appeared so happy. People like Jaehyun would not recognize someone like you as a threat. You barely appeared on his radar.

           You grit your teeth and forced a smile. “I look forward to it.”

           With your whorish luck, you found that your desks were right next to each other and you’d be essentially working back to back. You already hated being watched, and Jaehyun could easily look over his shoulder and see you struggling to keep up.

           Jaehyun settled into his seat with ease, already look at home in his new desk. You sat gingerly on your office chair, gathering your surroundings.

           Your desks sat right in the view of your department lead’s office, likely to Jaehyun’s excitement.

           Being on the same team, you and Jaehyun had the rest of your training sessions together.  Just you two and your manager. He always seemed to grasp the new concepts immediately while you merely pretended and made notes to ask Doyoung later.

           They assigned your first project sometime later, one that you and Jaehyun would have to complete jointly. You dreaded it, knowing he would try to take over the project.

           That first morning, Jaehyun was already at his desk. You glanced at your watch, nearly scoffing as you read off 6:59. Despite having the ability to make his own schedule, Jaehyun chose to arrive before seven. You collapsed into your desk chair, jealousy eyeing Jaehyun’s full coffee mug. He already had time to help himself to coffee. Typical.

           “Morning,” he greeted, fully awake and energized. “I set up a meeting for 8 today to start working on the project.”

           You powered on your desktop, mentally groaning at the hundreds of emails present in your mailbox. “That’s…fine,” you murmured, praying that you could address all your client emails in a measly hour without the aid of caffeine.

           He glanced behind him to see you hunched over and lifelessly typing. “I’ll make that 9.”

           And yet again, you were caught in a moment of weakness. Great. “Yeah, okay.”

           Those two hours passed slowly, but at least you managed to prepare a cup of tea. By 8:55, Jaehyun already settled into the conference room and wrote diagnostics on the whiteboard. All while you still went through your emails.

           You joined him, a fresh cup of tea in one hand and your laptop in another. “All right, I see that you’ve already set up the basics,” you said monotonously, nodding towards the whiteboard. “I conjured up some of my own ideas as well.” Without prompt, you rose and added a few bullet points under Jaehyun’s “approaches” section. You scanned his ideas, noting that they weren’t bad, but not what you had in mind.

           “I see,” Jaehyun commented, still standing. He put his hands on his hips, carefully mulling over the options. “They’re quite good.”

           You felt ashamed of your satisfaction for his response, but also surprise. He sounded genuine enough, but you knew that his type always had some angle to work. Prodding you board at your second option, you decided, “I think this is our best bet.”

           Jaehyun remained quiet for a moment, eyes flickering across the board. “What if we combined a couple?” he inquired. He pointed to your idea, then his. “It would streamline the process more holistically.”

           “Holistically??” you thought. You hadn’t heard that word since high school English class. It was so painfully pretentious to you.

           He went on to explain how it would work, but you were still caught up on the pure obnoxiousness of the word “holistically.”

           “Y/N,” Jaehyun tried. “Hello?”

           You blinked, finally hearing your name. “Sorry, I was thinking about how this will impact everything.” A lie, Jaehyun didn’t need to know how long you caught yourself on a single word.

           “So, what do you think?” Jaehyun leaned against the wall, eyes searching yours.

           Oh god, now you were thinking about his eyes. Pushing those thoughts aside, you answered, “So long as we put a heavy emphasis on my part, I think it’ll work.”

           He agreed and you went on, mostly working quietly. You avoided asking him questions, even when you became desperate. Jaehyun, meanwhile, tried to engage you in small talk.

           “Where did you go to college?” he asked, to which you gave him a one-word response.

           “Are you from here?”

           “Do you have a boyfriend?”

           “What was your major?”

           You barely answered, but he failed to get the point until he finally inquired to something relevant. “Did I do something that offended you?”

           You drew in a breath, fumbling for the right words. If you were honest with him, you wouldn’t have to put on a façade. If you lied, you wouldn’t get on his bad side. Even pretty boys like him could be ruthless if given the opportunity and reason. You saw it before, you knew you would see it all over again.

           “No,” you decided, pulling on a tight-lipped smile. “I just want to do really well on this.”

           That last part, at least, wasn’t a lie. You felt that you had to prove yourself, especially against the Jaehyuns of the world. If only briefly, you saw his relief. His face relaxed a little, and his shoulders lost some tension. “Me too,” he agreed.

           The following month went on similarly. You completed the project quietly, only interjecting to make corrections and provide your input. When you finally reached the day of your presentation, your nerves caught you once more. You woke up far too early and arrived at the office at the same time as Jaehyun. A new record.

           If he was on edge, you couldn’t tell. Outwardly, he appeared the same. Nothing could take away his quiet glow of confidence. Jaehyun worked, unbothered, sipping his coffee almost casually.

           “Are you ready?”

           Jaehyun turned to face you. “Never been readier.”

           You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if readier is a word.”

           With a shrug and smile, Jaehyun returned to his work again. Odd, considering he was always chatty.

           You attempted to mimic him, to work without doubts and review your notes. But your hands shook as you tried to type. You knew you couldn’t focus until you finished the presentation.

           Although you hadn’t noticed him leave, you saw him approach your desk. Jaehyun gingerly placed a styrofoam cup on your desk. Your eyes met his. “Jaehyun?”

           “Just some tea before the presentation,” he explained. “I noticed you like black tea with honey.”

           You brought the cup to your lips, delighted to find that it was the perfect temperature. For once, you didn’t care about his motive. “Thanks,” you said. And you meant it.

           He gave you wink. “We’ll be great today.”

           You hoped he was right.

           The presentation crept up on you suddenly, much faster than you had anticipated. Jaehyun found you outside the conference room, where you managers and team lead had already gathered, pacing and talking to yourself.

           “Are you okay?”

           He caught you again, there was no use in denying the truth. “Absolutely not.”

           Jaehyun laughed lowly and put a hand on your shoulder. A part of you wanted to shrug it off, but you felt a strange comfort. “I’m nervous, too.”

           You almost burst out laughing. Like hell he was nervous. But his concession, fake or real, made you feel some comfort.

           Having reeled yourself in, you entered the conference room together.

           And together, you made it through the presentation. You both had prepared excessively, ready to answer any question thoroughly. Management applauded your efforts, declaring that you had exceeded expectations. They rewarded you with a gift-card to a nearby steakhouse and urged you to celebrate together. Hastily, you attempted to invite the managers, only to be declined. They had work to complete in the office.

           Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment, but you agreed to make reservations for that night.

           Jaehyun offered a ride over, to which you vehemently wanted to reject. Before the eyes of your manager, you took him up. You assured yourself that he was still the same person you knew. Nothing different. Nothing could’ve changed that. Seeing his car certainly helped. You never knew any recent college graduates that drove a Tesla, and yet…

           Once you arrived at the restaurant, you quickly ordered yourself a martini. You didn’t care which one, so long as it had plenty of alcohol. Jaehyun simply ordered a beer, quoting driver safety commercials. “Just this,” he promised you, then proposed a toast. “We pulled it off.”

           You drank your martini with gusto, and then prompted the waiter for another one. Jaehyun watched as you became drunk, consistently grinning as began to ramble. “You know I hate you, right?”

           Your question caught him off guard. “You hate me?”

           With a smile, you brought the martini glass to your lips. “You’re too perfect and try too hard.” His expression fell, but you forged on. For months, he made you feel inadequate and beyond anxious. You befuddled mind justified this bluntness. “Every day feels like a goddamn competition.”

           Jaehyun reached across the table, taking your hand. “I had no idea,” he admitted quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

           “It’s whatever. You’re no different from most in our hiring class.”

           With a sigh, Jaehyun took an elongated sip from his beer. “They’re not all bad.”

           Despite the alcohol coursing its way through your system, you realized that a few strands of hair fell out of place. He hunched over, brows furrowed, lost in thought. It wasn’t the first time you saw that either. Just out of your periphery vision, you saw him buried in work while you finished the project. 

           Jaehyun swept his hands through his hair. The way he bit his lip made you wonder if he was holding himself back. And the waiter arrived with your meals before you could muster a response.

           You sat in silence, Jaehyun haphazardly cutting his steak. He refused to look at you.

           As you absentmindedly twirled your pasta onto your fork, Jaehyun finally spoke up. “I’m not perfect, and you’re not easy to work with either.”

           “Excuse me?” You couldn’t conceal your anger at this sentiment.

           Jaehyun met your gaze, eyes determined. “You had to control every part of the project. Had everything your way.”

           That, you had heard before. And you absolutely hated it. “We did well on the project because of me,” you said defensively. “Lest you forget.”

           The two of you went on bickering like this, angrily finishing your meals and drinks. The waiter hesitantly approached your table, and you demanded the check. The sooner you could leave, the better.

           Once paid, you managed to not storm out of the restaurant. But you wore a disgruntled expression and balled your fists.

           You reached your work parking lot, and instantly ejected yourself from the Tesla. It wasn’t until you reached your car, however, that you realized that you didn’t have your keys. Probably left it in the passenger seat.

           Angrily, you stomped back to Jaehyun’s space where he twirled the keys around his index finger. “I’m not letting you drive. You drank too much.”

           You gritted your teeth. “I sobered up plenty.”

           Jaehyun approached you and held a square device in front of him.  “Well, then you can prove it.”

           You yanked the breathalyzer from him, not bothering to ask why he had it. Made sense for someone like him. With a groan, you realized he was right. 0.1.

           Not wanting to admit it, you continued your enraged march to the nearby retention pond where a lone bench sat in front of the water. You crossed your arms, and bitterly stared at the water from there.

           Jaehyun followed you, leaning onto the back of the bench. “I didn’t know this place existed.”

           You laughed bitterly. “It’s because you never leave your desk. You’re always working. Always networking. Always trying something.”

           To your surprise, Jaehyun appeared to calm down from earlier. He regained his flawless demeanor. “It takes me a lot longer to do things.”

           Well that, that took you off guard. “Doing extra work,” you said, making a weak attempt to correct him.

           “No.” After a long pause, he asked, “Do you really hate me?”

           His tone made you feel some guilt. “Don’t you hate me?” you shot back, remembering his comments at the restaurant.

           “I don’t,” he affirmed. “I never have.”

           You considered that. In your college career, you made plenty of enemies with the same behavior. Those times, you ensured yourself, were valid. Those classmates never completed their work and simply didn’t care about the performance. You had been left with ten-page papers to complete on your own. You turned poorly written trash into works professors recommended for publishing. But you knew Jaehyun wasn’t the same as them at least.

           Behind Jaehyun, the sun had just begun to set. The sky lit up with orange and pink hues. “I shouldn’t have taken over the project,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t hear.

           “Oh,” Jaehyun said softly.

           You gave him a warning expression. “Do not let that get to your head. You came into this job with an agenda.”

           “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Jaehyun groaned. “Where the hell are you getting these ideas from?”

           You couldn’t bear to look at him, imagining the smug look on his face as he basically told you that you were crazy. “People like you are always ruthlessly ambitious.”

           “And what am I like, then?” Jaehyun mused.

           Without skipping a beat, you explained, “Attractive, charming, overcompensating.”

           You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, and just knew his smug smile made another appearance. He chuckled and said, “Sounds like you.”

           “Funny,” you mocked. “Last time I checked; I’m only overcompensating less outwardly.”

           He joined you and took a seat on the bench, stretching his arm over the top of the bench. Only inches away from being on your shoulders. Disgusting. “You’re wrong.”

           Without prompt, he suggested a game of twenty questions. Jaehyun clarified his intent, stating that perhaps you misunderstood each other. Sensing your doubt, he held his pinky finger out and searched your eyes. You hesitantly connected your pinkies and brought your thumb to your lips, both promising to be truthful.

           “Do you think I’m good at my job?” you inquired first, eyes cast out to the sparkling pond.

           Almost instantaneously, Jaehyun firmly answered, “Yes.” You concealed your satisfaction, biting your lip to prevent you to smile. “Do you think I’m good at my job?”

           You replied almost as quickly, “Of course I do.”

           The questions got progressively less serious, some among the likes of favorite movies and which books you were currently reading. Somehow, you felt relaxed. Jaehyun didn’t feel like competition, but rather just a normal stupid boy. He let you have another try at the breathalyzer, and you felt relief in the .05 reading before you. At the same time, you wanted to remain beside him.

           “I don’t think I hate you anymore,” you conceded, accepting your words as truth. “If you stop coming off as perfect all the time.

           He let out a laugh, a sweet sound of joy and relief. “Hey, you come off as perfect too. You were just quiet around me.” With a devilish grin, Jaehyun ventured, “Is it because you think I’m attractive?”

           You glared at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you trying so hard because you find me attractive?” you challenged him.

           Jaehyun turned his body to face you. “That depends on whether it’s working.”

           Now games like these you didn't mind as much. A harmless game of chicken, testing your limits. Work had its difficulties, but boys? Easy. You cupped his cheek, amazed at how soft his skin felt to the touch. Your eyes met, beckoning the other to try something. "So, this is why you asked me if I was dating anyone?" you dared. "Under the guise of getting to know me and making small talk. I thought someone as perfect as you would have more...subtlety." You let the last word slip out of your mouth slowly. Registering his surprise, you continued, “I don’t forget things easily, hence why I’ve been able to hate you so long.”

           Jaehyun grinned cockily, placing your hand on his chest. You felt defined muscles straining against his button-down. Already, you figured his body would match the rest of his veneer. “You really have nerve being out here like this,” Jaehyun overserved, gesturing the office park a short walk away.

           “Oh, uncomfortable here?” you drawled playfully, then took his hand. “I know somewhere you may like.”

           You felt a wave of confidence wash over you, and you realized this what you assumed Jaehyun had always felt. Then you decided that you’d make it up to him one way or another. He followed you, only letting your hands detach as you got closer to the infamous “B” building you worked in. You noted his nervousness and gave him a reassuring smile. “Trust me,” you urged.

           Entering through the side door, you managed to avoid security. Your entry would appear on a log, but you could easily bristle over it and say that you forgot your laptop at your desk. Most of your coworkers avoided the stairs, so you led Jaehyun away from the elevator. Though, you had forgotten that you were wearing heels. You struggled up the steps by the second flight, clinging onto the railing for dear life. Jaehyun noted this, but said nothing as he swept you into his arms.

           “I wish you did on the first floor,” you joked. “Or maybe I could’ve just taken them off.”

           Jaehyun refused to let you down until you reached the fourth floor. Whenever you found yourself in a vulnerable state, you hid out beside the decommissioned wing. The unused nursing room featured its own bathroom and a small futon. Having visited the location so often, you knew that the cleaning staff rarely came by. You asked once and discovered that they only visit at the beginning of the month. No one else ever came by in your experience. It appeared that only you knew about this place, and now Jaehyun. “This is where you run away to,” he deciphered. “I always thought it was the café.”

           “I prefer privacy.” You leaned against the door as Jaehyun took in his surroundings. “And I wanted to go somewhere you couldn’t find me.”  

           He fell back onto the futon, looking at you in awe. “Just when I think I know you.”

           You fumbled for the lock behind you until you heard a distinct click. “Do you remember when you first met me? When I was so stupid and got lost?”

           Jaehyun rose, appearing concerned. “I didn’t know. I just thought you were cute.”

           He cornered you against the door, body close enough to feel your shaky breath. All that time just hating him when you could’ve been seducing him for the purpose of hindering his goals and ultimately find the truth much sooner. You wasted so much time, held so much resentment. In front of you, you saw a seemingly perfect boy study your movements, waiting. A position you would have never imagined yourself mere hours before. Yet, you saw it all in hindsight and perhaps always knew the truth. It was then that you decided that you didn’t want to play games anymore or mull over an agenda.

           Jaehyun angled his chin downwards, gazing into your eyes with a mix of emotions. Excitement, fear, desire. You kissed him, gently and slowly. More carefully, you wanted to know him in this way. Feel the way his lips moved against yours, his increasing heart rate. He rested his hands on your hips, gripping them as if he couldn’t support himself without them. Soon after, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gradually deepened the kiss. These moments you shared felt like high school, so unassuming and simple.

           You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You caught your breath and entangled your fingers with his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

           He idled, drawing kisses down your cheek and neck. “For what?” Jaehyun ventured.

           “For not knowing you until now, and maybe still not knowing you.”

           With his thumb, he drew circles on the back of your hand. “Do you want to know more?” he asked, his voice quietly sultry.

           “Yes,” you whispered. With this admission, Jaehyun’s butterfly kisses became more daunting. He crashed his lips upon yours and held you closer. Your tongues soon met, messier and carelessly. Feeling daring, you ran your hand under his shirt, digging your fingernails against his abs. A bit lower, and you realized he was straining against his slacks. 

Jaehyun bucked under your touch, gasping against your lips. You gripped his clothed cock with more certainty than before and Jaehyun fumbled to reach your breast. Still against the door, you held each other. “We’re lucky this room is soundproof,” you commented, noting your precarious position. 

Not waiting for his response, you quickly undid Jaehyun’s belt followed by his zipper. You tugged his pants to his ankles and brought your attention to boxer-brief covered erection as you supported yourself on your knees. Laying a flat tongue against his balls, you drew a line from shaft to tip. He sucked in a sharp breath and watched you with hungry eyes as you finally removed the final layer of clothing. 

His erection sprung upwards, precum already forming. Zealously, you took the tip into your mouth and ran your tongue over the wet slit. You leaned back, seeing Jaehyun absolutely desperate as he stood over you. Continuing, you wet his dick with sloppy kisses. You wanted him to have everything, feel every part of your mouth. With one hand on the base, you craned your neck to take in more of him from the tip. You used your whole body to rock your mouth further down his dick. When he reached the back of your throat, you gagged slightly but didn’t care. Gently at first, he began to rock his hips. Becoming restless, Jaehyun held your head and pushed his erection further down your throat with messy thrusts. You looked at him with wide eyes, conveying for him to continue. 

Jaehyun instead picked you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you precariously on the couch. While naked from the waist down, you were still fully clothed. Wasting no time, Jaehyun ripped your blouse off - buttons and all flying wildly around the room. He pulled your bra cup down to reveal a nipple, to which he immediately pinched between his fingers. Already excited, he removed your black jeans and panties. Jaehyun lowered himself to your glistening pussy and brought a digit to his mouth before pushing it inside you. The penetration left you unwinding as he added another finger. He curled his fingers upwards, each push and pull hitting your g-spot. As you thrashed, he held you down with a firm hand, especially after he began sucking on your clit. In mere minutes, he brought you to your orgasm. You wished you had the words to describe the way you felt that immense pleasure, but nothing would ever be sufficient. 

Breathlessly you beckoned Jaehyun to the bathroom. “I have an IUD,” you confirmed. With your new found trust, you knew Jaehyun wouldn’t even attempt to sleep with you if he had an STD. There, you gazed at him from the mirror. Watched him approach you and run his hands up and down your body. He positioned one leg so that you were half propped over the sink and still standing on the other. Jaehyun’s dick teased your aching pussy as he dragged it from your folds to your clit to your entrance. Both facing the mirror, your eyes locked as Jaehyun pushed himself fully in you. You both drew in strained breaths. Once he ensured that you adjusted, he fucked you. Neither of you ever watched yourselves have sex, but you were even more turned on watching Jaehyun clutch onto your tit and whisper obscenities in your ear. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, burying himself deeper in you. 

Jaehyun slowed his pace, suddenly lifting you and pushing you against the wall. He supported your entire weight as he fucked you there. 

“I’m going to ride you,” you said breathily, to which Jaehyun obliged immediately. He sat up straight on the futon, leading you to his cock once more. In that position, you put yourself to work. You bounced atop his dick, only stopping to grind your clit against his pelvis. You came unexpectedly, the sensation getting fucked and stimulating your clit becoming too much for you. Jaehyun and you both were surprised when a stream of liquid sprung out of you. 

With his mouth agape, Jaehyun looked at you. “You can squirt?”

Before that moment, you would’ve answered that no, you couldn’t squirt since you never had. Until then. He registered your shock and turned you so that your back rested against the futon. Jaehyun hovered over you, hair askew and face reddened. You imagined that you appeared the same. He kissed you, breathing “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” on your lips. 

Jaehyun unraveled quickly in this position, and you urged him to come on your tits. Following his orgasm, you attempted to clean yourselves up in the bathroom. “Everything smells like sex,” you observed, frivilously spraying Febreeze everywhere you could. Between futon cushions. The door handle, Jaehyun’s general direction. You didn’t realize you were shirtless until you saw a mess of buttons on the floor. 

A weak solution, but Jaehyun offered you his suit jacket. You’d have to walk out of the building crossing your arms and praying a nipple wouldn’t escape, but something. Once the room was clean, Jaehyun and you fine-tuned your own appearances in the bathroom. Neither of you looked refined or polished, but human. 

“I want more,” you admitted. 

At the same time, Jaehyun asked, “Can I buy you dinner?”

You shook your head. This version of Jaehyun, the one messily fucking you in an office nursing room, you preferred. “I just want to spend time with you.” 

Jaehyun smiled and agreed.

You left the room separately as to not arouse any suspicion. Jaehyun met you outside your car, once more carelessly spinning your keys. The sun had set by that time, leaving you both shrouded in moonlight. Despite the sun’s absence the air remained warm and inviting. “We’re going stargazing,” you decided. “After we change.” 

Jaehyun arrived at the agreed upon park first, sporting a loose shirt and Adidas joggers. You never had seen him dressed so casually. He already set up a blanket at the top of the hill and rested on his back. 

You wore a nearly identical outfit, and went without makeup. Normally, you hated it when your partners saw you without anything on. But you wanted Jaehyun to see this part of you, too. Despite living in a well-populated city, the stars appeared very clearly that night alongside a waxing crescent moon. 

“Do you think the managers set us up?” Jaehyun pondered, wrapping an arm around your waist as you joined him. 

“Without a doubt. And we’ll probably have to tell them about this at some point.”

And he kissed you again. How many times that night, you lost count. Looking at him, the image of the boy you met months ago flashed before your eyes. The one with the suit, the dashing smile, and dough-like dimples. You, a nervous wreck getting in her own way. 

You fell asleep on his shoulder that night, head buried in his neck as he snored quietly.  

[nebula-jazz]

Fictober prompt 28

ROTTMNT Donatello x reader

Note: Sorry I have been gone for so long! I have been wrapped up in school and I also know that this isn't my normal fandom... This is completely self indulgent because he popped on my feed on youtube and he was my first comfort character. And now I found ROTTMNT and I got hit in the face by my best friend on exactly my type... Intelligent, gremlin, cocky, and emotionally unavailable... So this is a complete callout to everyone who has the same type no matter the gender and please enjoy this drabble. And fully expect on several different fandom releases on Halloween including a oneshot for His World. But enough of my rambling! To the story!

You had been in quarantine for nearly an entire year and now your favorite month had been ruined by the hussle and the bustle of your closest aunt asking you to come to New York. Her explanation was that she was taken ill and she needed someone to look after the house and your youngest cousin April O’Neil, much to your distaste.

It was not that you hated your youngest cousin, opposite in fact you adored her, but you two never exactly saw eye to eye on most things. You two were so close up until about five or six years ago and then she changed and you felt as if for the worst. This change caused you both to drift apart.

Since she was your only friend and family member that got you; this distance caused you swirling into an unhealthy mind set. And you got caught up with the wrong people at the worst time in your life as your younger brother disappeared and your mom got distant.

Which lead you here, packing all research that you had gathered over the past few months since the shredder accident, your Bo staff, and other essential items. Taking the time to slide the delicate frames of your glasses up every few minutes. Your boss Baxter had called you a few minutes ago saying that he set you up an apartment and a plane to New York and expected you be ready for training with Rocksteady as soon as you landed. Thinking about it made you flinch.

Grabbing the metal case with your research, your duffel with clothes and toiletries, and your backpack filled with snacks your Bo and training clothes you headed down stairs. You kissed your mom on the head who was on the phone at the couch; gently leaving a large stack of cash that should last her awhile. You slipped out the front door and slid into a sleek car that Baxter had sent for you.

During the car ride you stayed silent, typing away at your computer, jotting down the breakthrew that you had made. Your specific specialty in his company was the idea of spirits and how to harness them, extract them, and even switch with them. Baxter had found out about you and what people and even yourself, at the time, believed as a silly project about four years ago. You had proven that spirits were real and that there was a possibility to do something with them.

He accelerated you through highschool and college, easily making you apart of a team and gave you everything that you needed for your research. You honestly didn’t care what he would do with it as soon as you had perfected everything in your now extensive project. All you cared about was getting your mom and brother back and he promised to keep the investigation open if you handed all research over to him as soon as you were done.

You barely slept on the plane. Fear creeping up your spine and turned your veins icey as you mulled over what was waiting for you when you landed. The training with Rocksteady was not normal. As he was a huge hog and the training was to get you faster, but it would inevitably end with a concussion and a broken bone as it normally would. Then Baxter would inject you with some green liquid that, yes would accelerate the healing process and you would no longer have any broken bones, but it would feel like your entire body was on fire and your back feeling like it was being ripped to shreds.

You eventually drifted into a fitful sleep. You felt like you had barely closed your eyes before you were woken up by the gentle but cold hand of Baxter. You were in a car now just outside of headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh MAh Gawd! Y/N! What happened to you?!” You winced at the worried yell that came from April. You had just gotten released from the lab and your head was pounding from the lack of food and water.

“Just a little scuffle just outside the office. Don’t worry about it.” You croaked out and offered a, what you hoped to be, a reassuring smile. You tried to swallow against the sandpapery walls of your throat.

You felt her soft but calloused hands cup your face as she looked at you. You winced as she prodded at the dark bruises on your jaw and forehead. She lead you to the kitchen where she started to clean the bruises and cuts up.

After several cups of water and an entire pizza, which you had devoured, she was now questioning you.

“So you are working for Baxter?” she asked, you gave her a quizzical look as you swallowed another bite of the second pizza that she had ordered. You had heard the slight tremor of fear in her voice and now it set you on edge.

“Yeah..” You answered slowly and pulled out your laptop. “He is funding my research. Take a look.”

You pushed the computer over and let her skim through the many pages of work as you dumbed down what she was reading.

“So... what you are saying is that you could put someone in a comatose state and do whatever you wanted to them but at the same time you can still talk to them in a spiritual state?” she summarized. With a soft smile you nodded, your eyes heavy from the long two days you had.

“However there are some side effects. With the trials that I ran at home it is extremely difficult to put them back in and more often than not their mind can completely erase one or multiple people from their memory. They will always remember the time they were, what I call, Ghost. There are still kinks in it but i'm pretty sure in this state there is a possibility to redirect this targeted amnesia to get rid of trauma.” You said excitedly.

She gave you a terrified look and excused herself and ran out the front door into the dim light of the dawn. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. Tears formed in your eyes and you fought down the urge to sob and throw up your food. You slammed the computer closed and stormed into the guest bedroom. You had honestly thought that she was going to be proud of you. She seemed genuinely excited about your research. But it was April, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from her.

A few weeks drifted by lazily and October was slipping through your fingertips. April was avoiding you, especially after you caught her in the act of trying to steal your laptop. So today, as a way to get away from the dreariness of the apartment and the fearful glances of April you were in the lab. You were in a loose hoodie and had a stack of pizza boxes next to you along with a large jug of water on your other side. You had just gotten done with another training session and were now working on a new test. it had gotten dark out and Rocksteady had volunteered for the new test.

You scraped your hand roughly through your hair in frustration as the program refused to start for the third time. You huffed in frustration, and looked up in alarm as the security alarms started to go off. You heard an explosion from behind you. Reaching down and grabbing your Bo you didn’t notice the jug being knocked over causing the computer to go haywire. You panicked as you tried to shut down the computer and the large machine pointed at whatever caused the explosion.

However you were too late to stop it from going off once you were able to press the emergency shut off just in time to prevent it from happening again. You heard a shout and roars from Rocksteady. you tried to reach for your more enhanced staff but were swiftly knocked out. All you saw as the world started to darken was green and a ghostly purple figure.

~~~~~~~~

That was a couple of days ago. You were now with 6 foot tall turtle ninjas. They had explained, with the help of April, what Baxter was going to do with your research. The person that you had shot was their brother Donatello. The genus out of the group who was allowing you to use his lab as you tried desperately to keep his body stable and fix his state with what little tools you had.

Your own paranoia had shot through the roof as any fast movement caused you to flinch very heavily. You and Donnie had found out that Baxter was injecting you with mutagen after a nightmare filled night caused wings to sprout from your back.

You stayed away from the other three turtles and only finding solace with Donatello. You both could ramble on and on about different projects you both were working on and the other would listen intently.

You hadn’t noticed how comfortable or how hard you had fallen until you reached the end stages of completing the ray that would make him right.

Neither of you two had noticed that you had started to flirt with each other. But everyone else knew and were eagerly waiting for him to return to normal. They were excited to see him finally kiss you and actually take you out on that date that he had been teasing you for a month with. April was happy to see you smiling again.

You didn’t realize how much you loved him or he you until you both were going over some of your note s to make sure everything was in order.

It was the end of November, just before thanksgiving. Donnie was excitedly telling you that he had been working on a surprise for you with Shelldon. That he wanted to give it you in person. And that he was excited to finally eat something instead of just watching everyone else eat. He was also rambling on how he was totally going to spar with you.

“i'm excited to finally get an infamous hug from you Don!” You chuckled barely paying attention to the notes and more on him. He laughed and he floated closer to you.

“I’m excited to give you one Angel.” he said cheekily. You glared lightly at him and the nickname that he gave you after your wings came to be.

You however stopped in your tracks as you read the small but major detail that you had mentioned to April all those weeks ago. The air ran from your lungs as a soft. “Oh.” escaped your lips.

“What?” he asked worried. He turned to the computer that had your notes on it and read through it and his face dropped. Tears welled in your eyes and the amount of hurt that ran through you was like that day that April ran.

And something inside of you knew, even as Donnie tried to think of anyone, anyone at all that he could possible forget, you knew it was going to be you. You stared at him tears running down your face and it was then you realized how hard you had fallen. And how much you will lose.

Two days before Thanksgiving was the day that was planned to fix him. You were in a room alone with his Ghost. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Here,” he said softly, and gestured for Shelldon to bring a small box forward. “This is for you... don’t open it until my eyes do.. ok?” He said leaning down and trying to catch your eye. You looked up at him, willing the tears back and smiled brightly.

“Will do Don! I will see you for that hug ok?” he smiles back softly and nods. He hovers his hand over your cheek, you lean into it until you feel the cool radiating off of him and you closed your eyes.

That unspoken ‘i love you’ rang through you head as you heard the machine wurr to life. You only stare at him as he floats by his sleeping body and you pray, you hope, and you plead to whatever god is listening. To allow you to have him, to allow him to remember you. As you slowly nod your head and you hear April press the button.

~~~~~~~

You try to stifle the sobs in your throat as you hear him and his brothers enjoy their thanksgiving meal that April and you had prepared for them. He didn’t recognize you as you sobbed in happiness when you saw his eyes open. He thought of you as a threat.

You carefully pulled out the small box as Shelldon floated beside you. You looked at him and he bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Slowly opening it you tried to steady your shaking hands. Inside was a locket, a bit larger than one you would find in a jewelry store. You carefully opened the locket and you saw a picture that you had taken with ghost Donnie and the music box version of your both favorite techno song. Engraved on the other half was the french translation of I love you. A loud sob ripped its way from your throat as you clutched it to your chest. 

Donnie was leaning against the wall closest to where you had ran off too. He was watching his brothers laugh and eat with their father and April. He had heard sniffling from the tunnel and quietly escaped the celebration to see where it had came from. He was surprised to see you covering your mouth and Shelldon with you. He was going to call to his creation until you had looked at Shelldon and pulled out a velvet box.

He waited a moment, watching you open it and something inside. He had to nod his head to the song that played. He did not expect the loud sob or the wail that came out of you next. He heard his brothers stop laughing and heard a soft.

“They opened it...”

“Yeah...”

“Poor Y/N... I can’t imagine.”

“Why can’t we tell him my sons?’

“Because he wouldn’t believe us.”

“Yeah! And he already distrusts Y/N... and they asked us not too.”

“A broken heart is something that can kill my children. Especially with a love that deep.”

Donnie didn’t hear anymore from his family. And confusion seeped into him. What happened while he was out?

[ikleesfiction]

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 1,359 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4 🞂 Part 5 🞂 Part 6

Part 7

You are having the best time of your life. Even with PT kicking your butt down. Even when you have to wake up super early or stay up till morning for work. As soon as you hear Jay's voice, as long as he holds you in his arms, every hardship feels worthy.

You are sitting on your living room floor with a guitar on hand. A laptop and notepad are opened on the coffee table. You're having a conference call with Alex to work on a song.

"So any idea for the vocal? I figure we can send the demo to Conrad and see if he's interested," you refer to a singer who frequently works with both of you.

"Yeah, sure." Alex agrees easily. "Now tell me about this guy," he continues.

"Conrad? He's a singer-songwriter from Australia." you jokingly describe to him, absolutely knowing who's Alex talking about.

He rolls his eyes in response, "The guy you wrote the song about,"

"It wasn't about any guy." you look away from your laptop, nervously play your guitar instead.

"Nuh-uh, I've been your best friend for ten years. I know all your tell. Now, spill!" Alex prods you.

You exhale loudly before putting your guitar away and start telling Alex about Jay.

"So now you're dating him?" Alex concludes as you finish your story.

"Yeah," you nod in confirmation. "Though I'm not sure what to do when I come back to Amsterdam."

"Long distance relationship could work," Alex attests.

"I guess.." you hesitate.

"But you have to discuss it in the first place. So you gotta start talking to him." He advises further.

"I probably should," you have been mulling over this in the past few days, but nothing has been decided yet.

"You know what, now I understand why something felt off about this song," Alex suddenly says.

Confusedly, you frown. "I thought the song is fine,"

"We should release the song together." he confidently claims as if he didn't hear your comment.

Your face looks unimpressed. "We are releasing the song together." you flatly return.

"No, I mean, we should make a project as a duo." Alex still beams at you.

"Are you high?" you raise your tone, perplexed.

"No, hear me out. You pour your heart into this song. People can feel the emotion and passion in it. You deserve to be credited as well," he tries to explain.

"I will be credited. As the writer and producer. Are you implying that I have not worked this hard before?" you exclaim.

"Ergh, stop twisting my words!" he groans. "You know what I meant. This song doesn't just sound like me. It sounds like you too."

You shake your head, "I'm not a performer, Lex."

"You don't have to perform live if you don't want to. But think about how many songs you wrote or produced for other people, all the remixes you made. People love your music. This could be a new challenge for you!"

"Working with you is challenging enough. Not sure I have the energy to do other works", you grumble.

"Just think about it, please." Alex pleads.

Abrupt knocks on your door surprised you. You signal for one moment to Alex. When you open your door, you find Jay standing there, with takeout bags on hand.

"Hi, is it a bad time? I tried to call," Jay sounds unsure.

"No, not at all. Perfect timing, actually. C'mon in," you let Jay through. "Sorry, I was working and missed your call"

"It's alright. I don't want to interrupt your work though," Jay walks into your apartment after giving a peck on your lips.

"You're not. Come on, I want you to meet someone," you drag Jay to the couch. Jay initially finds it weird since he cannot see anyone else in the room.

"Jay, this is my best friend, Alex," you point out to your laptop. "Alex, this is my boyfriend, Jay." you introduce them.

"Hey, man. Good to see you. Heard a lot about you," Alex waves at Jay.

"Likewise," Jay nods back to him. "I can go if you're still working," he says to you.

"Nah, don't go. We're done, right, Lex?" you ask for Alex's confirmation.

"Yeah, I have to get ready for my flight anyway." Alex concurs.

"Where are you heading to?" Jay asks out of politeness.

"A gig in Marrakesh," Alex replies with a smile.

"Good luck," Jay kindly returns. "Yeah, break a leg, bro!" you holler. "Well, just not literally!" you correct yourself quickly. The guys just laugh at you.

◢◤

You and Jay just finished dinner and currently drinking cold beers on your couch. Jay's eyes roam around the apartment. He sees a strip of photos of you and him on the fridge door. Jay took you to a fair last week, and you claimed that visiting a photo booth is obligatory for a day at a fair. He cropped his favorite from the strip and put it in his wallet. The rest is pinned on your fridge door. Next to it, there's also a picture of you and some of 51 Fam at Molly's. A Star Wars poster is hanging on one wall. Jay remembered when you told him that Otis put it there as a protest because you said you like Star Trek better. He thought that the place now is starting to feel like yours.

Ella Fitzgerald's voice sweetly lulls from the speaker on your work desk. You pull Jay up softly by the wrist. He's confused for a moment before you face him and put one hand on his shoulder, the other one clasps on his hand. You gently sway to the beat. It cannot exactly be called dancing since you're just moving from side to side. Jay puts his free hand on your back and smiling down at you. He moves with you, even twirls you a couple times just to hear you giggle.

"When you're in my arms.." you sing along to the song. "and I feel you so close to me.." you circle your hands behind his neck. "All my wildest dreams came true.." you murmur while looking into his eyes. Jay holds you steady by your waist. He goes nowhere except to lean in and gently kiss you. The song changes, but you still hold each other close.

◢◤

Jay stayed the night after making sweet love to you. He fell asleep not long after, but you are still awake. Your mind is too busy, full of thoughts. How can you keep staying here? Is there a way to keep being with Jay even when you're thousands of miles away? Would that be fair for both of you?

You curl your hand around him, absentmindedly place a kiss on his bare chest. "Why are you still awake?" asks Jay, half asleep.

"Sorry, I woke you."

"Nah, I got you here. I don't mind being awake." He moves to embrace you. "But it seems you haven't slept a wink. What are you thinking about?" Jay sleepily lands a kiss on your forehead.

"You. Us," you admit.

"What about us?" he is awake now and giving you a serious look. You can see anxiety in his eyes.

You stay silent for a moment, considering what to say. "About how fortunate I am to be here, beside you. I never know that I could feel this much happiness before," you answer Jay honestly.

"You make me happy too." Jay pauses. "In fact," His gaze never leaves yours. "I'm pretty sure that I am in love with you," Jay tells you.

It shouldn't surprise you that much because you feel the same way. But his words still leave you breathless. "Yeah?"

"Positive," Jay firmly says.

"I am in love with you too, Jay Halstead."

You're not sure who started it, but soon you and Jay tangle around each other. You can feel his hands touching you everywhere. Your lips never stray away too long from his body. Just before Jay enters you, you frame his face with your hands. Against his lips, you whisper wholeheartedly, "Whatever happens, please never doubt that I love you."

Next on this fic : Part 8

+x Taglist +x

@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries @annaallicce

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, HINA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF VIKTORIA.

Admin Cas: Hina, I cannot express how delighted we are that you’ve brought us our visionary, our architect, our Viktoria — at long last! You captured them perfectly: from their innate dissatisfaction, to their restless desire, to the inevitability shared between God’s four apocalyptic creations. I think your para sample was a real stand-out for me; you slotted Famine so effortlessly amongst the other Horsemen and you grasped the nature of the relationship between them all so perfectly that it really feels like you’ve been here with us from the start. Your application was such a treat to read, and I’m beyond excited to see what restlessness the two of you’ll unleash upon us! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Hina

Age | 24

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level |  6/10 - full-time student so activity level will fluctuate.

Timezone | GMT

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group?  | through the lsrpg tags

Current/Past RP Accounts | REMOVED.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Viktoria/Famine

What drew you to this character?

So, I have this personal rule where I don’t apply to roleplays that have already started because I get this intense feeling of FOMO, but I kept coming back to Viktoria and was genuinely so surprised that they hadn’t been taken yet. I feel like she was waiting for me to take them up haha.

But on a more serious note, the Horsemen fascinate me like no other faction in this roleplay. There’s something about the bond that they have that surpasses ties of family, love or even just emotion in general. They are bound by their own inevitability as a singular entity and together as a four. Yet, while the Four Horsemen are similar in a lot of ways, with their once shared purpose and existence, Viktoria’s innate dissatisfaction with everything aside from their own creations struck me as something unique that sets them apart from their brethren. If anything their ability to feed on that appetite that she craves has given them the ability to construct and build on a level that is almost, quite literally, God-like. It’s this and the fact that she was created first - not distinct from the other Horsemen because of this reason, they all were formed from a part of God Himself - but Viktoria’s presence, their sheer essence was present and mulling in souls for eons before God created Viktoria and then the rest followed in an instance. While the Horsemen are linked together and will follow each other for the rest of time, I want to explore these two aspects especially in this New World and how Famine’s very nature creates either a fracture between them all or binds them ever closer together.

What also really interests me is the path she taken in this plain, not just as a Mercenary of sorts, but the almost unconscious path she has taken in moulding those that possess that same aching hunger as them. I think for Viktoria this has filled the hole in them ever so slightly after leaving everything she created in Purgatory. But for Viktoria, as I touched on a little before, it’s this dissatisfaction that consistently comes into play which she also projects onto other people. I think if she sees potential in someone, especially if she sees something that matches their level that same restless desperation rises in them of seeking, finding and almost taming them to their own very high standards.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

I imagine Viktoria’s future plot lines to be largely based around several other characters in the roleplay, especially that of the other Horsemen, but there are several directions I can see Viktoria going in:

i. Today you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth - the Horsemen’s Purpose

What is really interesting is that one of things that bound the Four Horsemen together is their shared purpose in bringing about the Apocalypse. While their paths may have drifted while in Purgatory, I feel that Viktoria, and potentially the others too, would have relished in there not being a fracture of planes, but an even greater expanse which fulfilled all of their aspirations, an Apocalypse which changed the very fabric of Life itself.

But with that purpose being robbed from them and having been thrust into the mortal plane, not only does this reduce the power that they hold, but I would argue this weakens the bond that they have together. The occupation that they all currently hold, being killers for hire, is a much more solitary occupation than what they were first created for. I think that despite the fact that their planning and preparation is done together, there is a chance that as their personal desires and aims grow through connections with other characters in the roleplay (Viktoria’s specific circumstance I will touch on next), I can see a rift forming between the four of them if that is at all possible. Viktoria’s particular desire for power to create the world in their own image doesn’t trump the bond that she shares with the other Horsemen though. I can imagine that there is a tipping point where Viktoria has a number of paths that she can take for their own benefit, but ever the tactician she is, she would recognise that the power they have together can achieve so much more than splitting off on her own.

Building on the prior point, I also think with the way that the New Order was created, Viktoria imagines there to be another Apocalypse, she can feel the hunger, the aching starvation and the loss of control and I think its only a matter of time before the Horsemen capitalise on it if they don’t get sidetracked.

ii. I am coming quickly; hold fast what you have, so that no one will take your crown - Viktoria + Michael

The connection between Viktoria and Michael is something that I can see going further and absolutely shaking the New World in its entirety.

Viktoria from all of their time manipulating people’s emotions is very much aware of the need and desire that is clawing away at Michael, the fascination that Michael has when he looks upon her. Famine is unable to feel emotion in the same way, but I do think she is able to replicate and even imitate them based on eons of feeling and experiencing those of others around them. I think depending on how their relationship forms in the future, I could see an alliance struck between the two.

However, I think the above depends on other factors:

If the relationship between Michael and the other Arkangels dissolves completely, it could serve as an in for the Horsemen as a collective through Viktoria to go about fulfilling their preordained purpose (or a new one)

Alternatively, if the relationship between Michael and the other Arkangels dissolves completely AND the relationship between Viktoria and the other Horsemen dissolves as well, I can imagine Viktoria’s allegiances and desires turn towards the throne that Michael sits upon for the power it holds in order for her to form what she wants

iii) You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgment - killer for hire

Something I want to explore as a plot point is Viktoria’s role as an assassin. As this is something that they and the other Horsemen do as a collective I can imagine them having devised a very clear dichotomy between the roles that each of them play when carrying out a job. Because of Viktoria’s role as a tactician, a creator, a diplomat, I can imagine them not wanting to sully their own hands with the act of taking someone else’s life, but I think also she sees it as beneath them so she somewhat relies on the expertise of the others to carry out the actually act of the job successfully.

As a result of this, I really want there to be an instance where Viktoria is forced or compelled to kill as I think this juxtaposes quite heavily with who she is and would be really interesting to see how it plays out.

iv) A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance - emotions

Throughout this app I’ve mentioned emotions, specifically how Viktoria does not have in. To expand and clarify this, I want to say that Famine doesn’t have any. Famine wasn’t created with the intention of feeling anything but an aching sense of hunger for the Apocalypse. I would even say the dissatisfied, restless emotion she experiences is something that has developed in them. I would like to think thought that since the New Order has been created causing Purgatory to fracture, the price in a way of taking up a mortal name, Viktoria, and almost reducing themselves to the level of a mortal woman has led to Viktoria experiencing their own emotions as well as manipulating other people’s. I think this would really complicate future events or perhaps Viktoria and the other Horsemen would recognise this and attempt to come up with a plan to speed up their agenda depending on the way these emotions were affecting them as a group.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

My short answer is yes I would be comfortable with killing off Viktoria.

Long answer that I think warrants some thought before she is killed off:

The death of one of the Horsemen is actually really interesting because in theory they should be dying/dead because they are an embodiment of God in some form. I think this is down to their inevitability and the inevitability of their purpose. So while I believe Viktoria or Ryuk or Nerissa or Dmitri can die I don’t think it’s possible to kill off Famine or Death or War or Conquest.

I think this is the reason why I would want there to be more consideration on the whys and hows if Viktoria is to die. Famine will remain, in the hunger, the starvation and the dissatisfaction that will take hold in others, or with Viktoria’s death something else to replace them will form and be Famine or even take its place.

The death of Viktoria will also change the dynamic of the Horsemen, of which their purpose of bringing about the Apocalypse will be lost, which would be interesting depending on the direction the roleplay goes in.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

Right now I think Viktoria’s ultimate desire which also serves as a motivator is to vanquish this restless hunger that’s consuming them once and for all. I think since God created Viktoria and the rest of the Horsemen without a real motivator in mind, she’s found in the eons that she’s been living, the power of creation abates it the most because its only through Viktoria’s own work that she can truly feel the satisfaction that she craves. I think this dissatisfaction spills over in her view of other people which is she wants to mould those, especially those with potential to fit around their standards so she can feed off of it.

Ultimately, its because of the Horsemen’s collective lack of purpose that makes Viktoria motivated to seek out power not only to help their own agenda with potentially bringing about an Apocalypse this time round, but to seek out opportunities in which she can go further than she ever did with their creations in Purgatory with their brethren by their side. I think this will also define Viktoria as less of a person with a mortal’s name but as where she rightfully thinks she should be; Famine, the ever present hunger, starvation and ache that claws through those lesser.

Character Traits

+ Calm: One of the reasons why Viktoria makes a good diplomat and is the one that represents the Horsemen on the political stage is their ability to remain calm and collected and convey the Horsemen’s position and aspirations in a favourable light. She is someone that is easily admirable just as she is formidable. I would say it is because of their calm nature that sets her apart as a leader over the aggressive and war-hungry Nerissa. Viktoria is someone who also never angers easily, preferring to state a few words that have meaning or else say nothing at all and let her plans and actions do the talking.

+ Cunning: Viktoria’s ability to create and map out what she wants and where she wants it makes them impressive in itself, but coupled with their ability to formulate to their and their brethren’s advantage is a skill that is valued highly when plotting to their own agenda and also when carrying out their kills. Viktoria is a long-term strategist preferring to wait and consider their options before striking out with the best one.

+ Instinctive: Viktoria has eons to not only study the emotions of others, but actually feel them through the abilities she possesses. It’s because of this that she has become extremely emotionally aware and is able to more or less tell what sort of emotions are being drawn up in the other person. This has been insightful when it comes to plotting their next marks.

Restless: Viktoria is someone who wants results and she wants them immediately to the highest of standards. Any task that she feels she can do better themselves she’ll do it, but the idea of delegating to someone that isn’t of the same calibre as them irritates them. She has little, if any patience for incompetence. One of the few people she trusts is their fellow Horsemen. I think this restless, easily irritable nature, however, doesn’t win them any points amongst the other factions and especially not the other Horsemen who have to be the literal embodiment of perfection before a good word is uttered by Viktoria.

Manipulative: Every move Viktoria makes and every action that she takes isn’t without an ulterior motive that is there to benefit them or the Horsemen. Its because of this that most people know that Viktoria isn’t one to be trusted no matter how convincing their silver tongue can be.

Unemotional: While Viktoria is able to replicate or even mimic emotion, Viktoria possesses no emotion of their own. Perhaps its because of the way the God created them, with raw starvation and savageness in His mind, or spending many a century deep in the depths of Purgatory, she is unable to express may of the core emotions that others seem to have. Even with the other Horsemen, there’s something innate, almost a primal bond that binds Viktoria with them, perhaps the closest semblance to love she’ll ever be able to feel. Although this is something that I see changing with the length of time she is spending in the Mortal Realm.

In-Character Para Sample

i.

Famine turned to the sharp, jagged opening, their eyes steely and focused on their destination ahead. Their brethren beside them, with the same look of determination frozen onto their faces. Famine newly formed, newly arrived knew almost intrinsically that these three were instrumental to their success. Their joint success of bringing about the destruction of the Worlds that He had created, for where there was creation, there would be a a slow degradation that the Four were feeding off of long before their conception.

Famine looked upon the jagged piece of cut air, the friction lined with a sliver of gold a beacon that did not serve as their waiting room before they were unleashed upon God’s Earth. They stepped in together, a cold rage burning in the pit of their hollow stomach, as they stared at the bleak expanse of space full of the lingering tortured souls that had not managed to reach Heaven or Hell. It wasn’t as if Famine would have rather been amongst their Creator’s other subjects in either of the other two realms. The mere glimpse of Heaven and its blinding light was just as dull to them as its inhabitants. Famine could sense their brethren’s pursuit for other tasks as she moved forward with their own. What would she make of the expanse in front of them? What purpose did it serve if they were meant to lay here in wait for the downfall of everything that was holy, everything that was impure and everything in between? And what was she supposed to do here? Famine was no mere mortal and the place they were in was not Eden. She could not and would not pluck the metaphorical apple from the tree and take a bite to give them free will. No. Famine had a purpose, they all did. And so she would stay in the deepest of recesses of hunger, laying in want with a need to be fed and a desire of more from their very existence.

And so she wandered the realm’s depths, Famine, who was created from a starved piece of flesh, who was ordered to carry out the end of all of His creations and cast away along with their brothers and sister until the time was right did what she was told. Until she didn’t. With God’s gaze above, managing His unruly subjects, Famine chose to set themselves on their own path. Manifesting their dissatisfaction into something tangible into something that she could taste, something that she could feel. Famine had to barely reach out from the depths of their mind to weave together an image of their own design. She wondered as she crafted and composed the dilapidated pillars of their glass fortress one day whether it was the divinity in them that allowed them to formulate and construct the way that she did. But Famine need only have taken a step back and gazed upon their crooked kingdom to see that the power that she possessed was entirely their own.

ii.

Viktoria descended from, Albtraum, their gaunt skeletal steed, just outside of the building in which they knew their brethren sat waiting for their arrival. She caressed the curve of his starved face in what can only be described as affectionate if it was at all possible for them to feel such an emotion. Viktoria had taken to travelling to The Holy Hall on their creature, it was purely political after all. It was essential that the factions remembered the Horsemen’s status amongst them all, the last thing she wanted for them was their own place in the house of cards to topple, like Creator, like Created.

She walked up the steps to the dimly lit hall they were sat in, their gaze took them in, each a handful of chaos and each far too complacent with the New Order than she had liked. It was one thing following them out of their vision of Purgatory to the opaque opulence of this plain to then be reduced as a collective, as mere remnants of God’s corporeality. No. Viktoria wouldn’t let their descent go any further. She would feed Ryuk with as many decimations as he desired, she would work in Nerissa’s bloodlust and settle Dmitri’s whims in their plans if it meant that they would follow in their ascent. They only needed time and patience and resilience so she could work to mould and manipulate the upper echelons of government. They all knew better, as Viktoria did with them, to go against their unrivalled ability to formulate.

Viktoria nodded at each, in respect, before taking a seat at the table, waiting for one to speak with the burning questions that she knew they possessed.

“Michael, again?” Nerissa spoke an ever-present impatience permeating their voice.

Viktoria looked at them their eyes resigned at the picture that had been created almost involuntary, without their permission. She hated not having a choice. “Yes, it would seem we have landed on a treasure trove.”

“But it is a matter that solely concerns you, sister, not us.” Ryuk interjected, for the first time addressing the unspoken tensions that threw a spotlight on the friction between them all since they stepped out of the middling realm.

Dmitri, with as much solidarity as they possessed reached over, clasping their hand in their own. Viktoria smiled coldly at Ryuk, not before squeezing Dmitri’s hand in reassurance. She was calm; she was controlled.

“Surely, Death,” she emphasised, wanting to remind them all of their position that had been clouded by mortal names and mortal feelings. “You value the hold of your status than of a few mortal souls?”

There was silence. Viktoria knew they hesitated, they had been stripped of their purpose, they knew of nothing else.

“We must continue to play their game,” Dmitri spoke.

Viktoria nodded, a wave of satisfaction washing over the itch that she knew was pent up in them as well as in the others. “Until the time is right.” Because when time was right, Viktoria knew she would be Famine once again, the three Horsemen by their side looking over an endless sea of destruction and doom.

Extras

Not that great at graphics etc so will be thinking of headcanons as I write and develop Viktoria more!

[mimithings97]

Heartache (M)

Summary: You didn’t know such a feeling was so real, so vivid, so hurtful. But it had happened and happened to you before you could stop it. Tae had become written into your life hard and fast, so when you leave you question that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t willing to unwrite him.

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Heartache for starters, Unprotected sex, Oral (male receiving), Swearing, Nude modelling, Taehyung’s a sappy mess, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Can’t lie in saying how morbid it is that I enjoy writing angst. It’s light angst though and a lot lighter than how fucking whipped Tae is at the end. Much love for the bub though, so, enjoy x

Ahhh jungkook features as well forgot to mention. Still love him. Nothings changed there.

Heartache.

Cringy, you once thought to yourself. 

How could you be so dependent, so set and so immersed in something that your heart actually aches? 

It didn’t make sense to you until the day words were spoken that couldn’t be taken back, bags were reluctantly packed and more tears were shed than there is water in the Thames. Heartache was real, vivid and the hardest thing you have ever had to live through in your 24 years of life. 3 weeks of a deep set dropping in your stomach that couldn’t be shaken despite the booze intake, the occasional listening to his voicemails and the relentless tears.

Your mother told you that if you built up too many walls it would hurt so much more when someone knocked them down. You had told Taehyung this on the first date, your first date, ever, with any man. You had always drawn a line between pleasure and dependency, settling for short flings and the occasional online relationship (purely for the sexting) instead of the commitment and responsibility that weighed on vulnerable shoulders when you bear your entire self to another in a relationship. Taehyung knew this. But he fell and you fell harder. You fell completely and utterly under his spell for three years. 

And then he told you he wanted to marry you. Bastard didn’t even propose, just mentioned that one toxic word of marriage and you instantly laid the bricks of that wall he had so unceremoniously knocked down all those years ago.

It felt so adult yet so childish leaving someone over the concept of marriage, but when talks of marriage turn to talks of children and one party wants something completely different to the other, what kind of relationship is there to continue. 

So three weeks later, just as the physical pain of emptiness and heartache has begun ebbing away, the emotional trauma of your decision begins to cave in on you.

To Jungkook:

11:31pm

You: I know I said I’d stop this

You: But I really dont know if this is worth the pain

You: His mum sent me a get well soon card today bc he told her i was ill and that’s why i hadn’t visited

You: I’m never going to not love him

You: How does anyone get over this shit its not fair

11:35pm

Guk: Oh noona

Guk: It’ll take lots and lots of time and lots and lots of tubs of ice cream and wine but youre both adults who want different things and not everything is meant to be

Guk: Sacrifice for the greater good right

11:35pm

You: There’s no fucking greater good here

You: I hate this

11:37pm

Guk: Noona you know that down the road hyung wants children. I don’t think marriage was that big, but he’s always wanted to be a dad

Guk: It’s not fair of him to ask you to have something you don’t want but its also not fair to leave him without the thing he’s always desired the most

11:40pm

You: Its just too hard to take

You: It feels like three years for jack shit

11:41pm

Guk: If you’re really struggling that much, noona, talk to him. I know he wants to talk to you still, he’s tried to contact you everyday. Maybe it will give you some closure or just help you see what’s right

11:41pm

You: Love you

Your phone is down as soon as Jungkook mentioned talking to him. How could you take one step forward and a million steps back by talking to him? It would be like hanging just what you want right in front of you but no touching, no talking to them after that 5 minutes of hell, no seeing them ever again. Closure is what you need but never what you’ll want.

The sheets that surround you, nuzzled closely into your neck and still unwashed even after three weeks just to keep that tiny scent of Tae over you naked skin, warm you to the point your eyes drift. You don’t mean to fall asleep so easily, but when every little action weighs so heavy on you during the day, sleep comes too easily. However, so does the nightmares of crawling alone in the black abyss.

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

Resuming work was never easy on a broken soul, but alas, here you were, with three weeks of sick pay under your belt you’d rather not have and 20 children at your feet.

Ironic isn’t it.

You break up with the only man you’ve ever loved because you can’t face a future of settling down with children, yet you wake up at the fucking godforsaken hour of 6 am to tend to a bunch of five and six years olds every day. No, you didn’t hate children, but they weren’t the joy of your life either. You were good at your job and you had this mad psychological complex that if you could help a child at five or six like you had so desperately needed at that age, then maybe you’d make their life just that little bit easier and that little bit brighter. Taehyung always found your reason for working so admirable - fuck that look of pure adoration in his eyes when you told him - so he found it equally hard to come to terms with when you told him the opposite. When you told him you couldn’t have your own children because the responsibility scared you. His ears were ringing at the point where you told him you also didn’t want to share him and his kindness, even so, the damage had been done, whatever the reasoning.

“Y/N! Jennie said you were back,” it’s a tight smile from you and a loose hug, but it’s amazing you’ve managed that with the way your head is far from in the room let alone the conversation at hand. “God, I hope you’re better, you were out for a while.”

You squeeze a weak laugh out, “Yeh, it wasn’t all that fun.”

“For a second me and Jennie were thinking you might be pregnant.” The heartache subsides, rivalled by the very distinct feeling of sickness. The ball of energy in front of you persists in conversation, but it’s to drowned ears and for a second you think you’ll faint. 

You miss your name being called. Shit, you don’t even know where it’s coming from, because the all-consuming feeling of this tide of emotions has swept you far from your spot in the classroom. Marie in front of you still calls, asking if you’re okay, but it’s the tug on your skirt, not harsh, but enough to garner a reaction that casts your eyes down.

“Miss Y/N?”

It’s Jojo, eyes wide and glaring up at you, still clung to the material of your skirt.

“Miss Y/N, why are you crying?”

You instantly draw the back of your hand to your face and it catches a cascading tear, much to your shock. You face must morph into a mortified expression at the thought of so carelessly crying at work, in the presence of the kids you look after with a smile and a skip in your step each day.

“Miss Y/N, it’s okay to cry. You can draw with me if you feel crying…” he shakes his head, “sad. Sad I mean.”

You feel Marie’s hand on your back, but Jojo’s eyes sweep you into a frenzy of more tears before you find yourself kneeling on the floor by the table. His table, where he sits alone each day, with paper and paints, or pencils, or chalk, sometimes he just folds it and hands it to you saying he made his paper into a flower. He already has one of his drawings on the go but scribbled over it thoughtlessly before starting out on a series of words. ‘To miss Y/n’.  Your eyes well further, but his words stop you.

“I think sometimes that drawings can make you better. Can make better the sadness.”

---

“Tae are you still going at it?”

You peer around the corner of the door, leaning half in half out of his man cave to study your boyfriend at work. 5 hours he’d been couped up in there.

“Hmm.” 

He didn’t let you see his art until the product was finished, completely finished, because sometimes he’d say he was done and then go back when he’d found the smallest error only to get pissed off that you had witnessed anything other than the completed masterpiece.

“Tae, you’ve been in here for hours, just come out to help me cook.” You plead with him over the canvas, not daring to peak any further.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He hasn’t looked at you since you came in, his brow well and truely glued into a furrow and the tea you’d brought him earlier cold and untouched beside him. You lower your tone into a more serious one.

“You okay?”

Silence.

“Done.” He doesn’t sound relieved or happy at the finalising of a five-hour art project like most would, like he normally does. He’s merely, ‘done’.

With an apprehensive tone, you ask, “Can I come see?” A gentle nod and you round the canvas, his arm dropping the brush in favour of tugging at the skin of your waist until you’re gently seated in his lap.

It’s beautiful and it’s simplistic and there’s so much life and emotion in it that you know the five hours weren’t all spent with brush to canvas but with him mulling over the memories and thoughts it conjured up.

“Your grandmother’s house?” Your voice is soft, not a pitying soft, but a soft that lets him know he can talk freely.

“Hmm,” he presses a kiss to the shoulder exposed by the shirt that hangs off you loosely. “Wanted to do something for her.”

You let the silence and the painting speak for itself for a while as his hands brush at your sides and you lean into his head that rest against you, chin to shoulder as his warm breath lulls you into calmness.

“You miss her?” 

“So much.”

“Painting makes it better?”

… another kiss and a sigh, warm.

“Mmm. Sometimes painting and drawing just makes the sadness a little easier, just makes it better.”

---

You see Tae in this tiny boy, this boy who draws to ease the sadness, who coups himself away on his table to be alone, too afraid to cry in front of the other boys and girls. Is he doing it too? Is he alone and painting? 

Then Jojo slides you his paper, wordlessly and your eyes with dried tears, prick once again, heartache replaced with something completely different, regret. And now hope. It’s those small boys words on paper, insignificant to him, and probably tiny in the grand scheme of things, but it’s his words that make you seek out for the one thing you know you can’t live without, the one thing that will heal your sadness.

‘To miss Y/N, i hope your crying gets better soon. Its okay to cry but its also good to make you happy. I hope you find your happy. From Jojo.”

You’d already found your happy, you just had to get him back.

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

“Y/N!?” 

And it merely takes your name for you to lose every word on your tongue. Any word you could’ve conjured at that moment couldn’t have described how you felt. He looks dishevelled, and beautiful, hair unwashed and falling into his eyes, white top littered with stains and his pyjamas bottoms you bought him for Christmas hanging off his hips. 

His eyes lull from their immediate shock before he turns to look at his apartment, running a frantic hand through his hair and stumbling on his words. 

“Shit. I- I mean. I wasn’t really thinking- I didn’t expect you.”

You probably shouldn’t have come. Some people would’ve turned and gone the other way. Maybe that was the right thing to do, was that the brave thing? Were you being a coward by rooting to the spot and not being able to speak a word?

He looks at you, then behind you somewhere, then back into your eyes and his gaze sinks so far into yours, you think you might just cry there and then.

“Dooo you want to come in?” He sounds apprehensive, he probably thinks you are too, but all you want to do is be back in his apartment just like three weeks ago, touching him, talking to him unhinged, perhaps feeling the skin beneath his shirt where his heart lies, feeling if his heart has ached as yours has.

With blinking eyes that try not to glaze over, you nod, short and curt, and you miss the puff of air his mouth rings out with relief. 

He dashes away once you’re past the threshold, scampering around as if to distract you from the surrounding environment - it’s dusty, too cold and dark with the way the curtains shut out summer light and you barely recognise his floor as wood with the way food scatters and clothes are strewn.  Small shards of light reflect from out of the study and your eyes naturally draw there only to find a mess, door open just enough for the hoard of half-finished painting and wasted canvas’ to come into view. The door is closed by Taehyung like he knew where your gaze would lead you.

“I-I’m fucking sorry about this, it’s gross and it’s messy and i-”

“It’s just like mine.” The corners of your mouth turn up sympathetically but also because you’re relieved he’s not okay. It’s awful to say but heartache has clearly done a job on him too and for that you’re relieved. “Don’t worry, it’s just fine.”

“Just fine,” he mutters under his breath with a half-laugh. 

You’re still stood stuck to the doormat, jacket hanging tightly to you like a defence mechanism and your hands remain tight to your sides. When his eyes find yours, you seize up further like it’s the first time he’d ever seen you.

---

You’d told Janice one too many times for this situation to be coincidence. You may or may not have told her you were a sucker for exhibitionism. She’d found it all shits and giggles until the art class she headed entered into ‘naked form’ week and it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. 

So the robe drops and you’re way too aware of the last time you shaved - you think you’d be prepared, but pair a hangover with a 7:30 start and bodily care wasn’t the first thought to come to mind.

Janice gives off a flow of instructions, pointing to your body like you were a cow on show, and telling the artists to ‘admire her form, the way her body dips and flows and let you brush or pencil do the responding as though her body was talking to you’ - you almost scoff aloud at her waffle because art is so full of shit.

Exhibitionism kink or not, you’re thirty minutes in and the way your hip cramps and you eyelids lower, there is nothing alluring or desirable about this. 

But then the door on the far wall swings open all too harshly for your eyes to feign jolting away. And they blow out further when they’re met with the masculine figure uttering apologies and skidding halfway from door to seat with his urgency.

‘Just women’ she said. ‘Nothing to be worried about,’ she said. It ruined the whole ‘i like being stared at by fit men’ at first but then put you a little at ease that some 70 year old man, trying to spice up his last years of life with a too expensive art course, wouldn’t be staring your tits down. 

Yet here you were, with a man with eyes too beautiful to be tarnished by the view in front of him, gazing in shock at your naked body.

“Mr. Kim, it’s nude form week. Guessing you didn’t get the email?”

You only have your imagination for what his voice must sound like because he only shakes his head, throat too dried and scorched from you laid out, baring it all in front of him for him to say anything.

But your imagination didn’t do justice in those two hours of torture. Because his voice telling you he’s ‘sorry for interrupting the session’ and even ‘sorrier for being so unworthy of staring at something so beautiful’. 

You’d always hated cringe. But cringe never sounded so good when it was spun off Taehyung’s silk tongue.

---

“Can I get you anything?” 

It’s him who breaks the silence, and it’s a godsend because you were two seconds away from spinning on your heel and cowering out of the entire thing.

“N-no. Thank you, Tae.” 

He groans at the timidity of how you say his name and nickname at that.

And silence soaks the atmosphere again, tenser this time because greetings have been uttered, drinks offered and there’s nothing more to say that unspoken words of the past.

That’s what you thought you were here to do at least. To tell him you’re sorry, first and foremost, because you’d never intend to break a soul as tender-hearted as his. Then you were supposed to tell him that you loved him, and you would always love him, and that sacrifice must be made for the greater good.

Jungkook had told you that once. But he’d said Taehyung must be the one sacrificed and you should be the one salvaged - until you realised there was no greater good in that situation, no salvation to be had.

“I’ll sacrifice myself,” words come out loud and unexpected as your train of thought is voiced. They’re too loud also, and they break the atmosphere to his shock, so his brow furrows like he doesn’t understand. “I- I will sacrifice myself for you.”

His face falls and you can’t bear the way his words stutter and his throat fills with a choked cry, as though he’d held it in as soon as your presence had hit him. It must have done the same to you because your body befalls you and tears and on the floor as you work your feet towards where he is rooted.

“I can’t ask that of you. You know I can’t do that,” he closes his eyes when your  body meets his, hands firm on his cheeks because they’re wet with tears and his shoulders are hunched in pain, “please.”

“Please.” You reciprocate. 

This is it for you. You’ll do anything for this quivering shell in front of you. You’ll plead. You’ll beg. You’ll give up your livelihood and every mantra you have ever told yourself about self-preservation because fuck it, some things are too good that you have to lose yourself in them. 

“You- I-”

“I’m- I might not be ready for kids now. I will though. If that’s what it takes. Fuck it I’ll marry you tomorrow.”

He chokes on a sob when his eyes meet your pleading ones and a quick hand wipes the stains from his cheeks so he can see every expression you give to him - untainted and full of love.

“We can take our time over this or we can have it all at once, but it has to be we. I’ll really do it for you, I have to Tae,” another sob and a whimper, “isn’t that what we’re here for. Kids.” You’re babbling now in a frenzied expression of all you have to give, and you’re so lost in his eyes that you laugh out, “‘be fruitiful and multiply or some shit.’ I’ll do it, I swear to you.”

“You’re not even Christian.”

“I would be if you told me to.”

“Fuck.”

He kisses you quick and without care, wanting to feel everything you have to give him like it’s what keeps his heart beating - and it’s beating fast because you finally find fingertips under his shirt and against the pounding that intensifies underneath.

He grapples at your hair, then waist, then hair again because his hands can’t decide on what he wants most. So you grab at them yourself and intertwine fingers as though he’d never left you. Each knuckle deserves a kiss and that’s what you give when your lips part.

“I’m so sorry-” you keep kissing across his hand, “I ever left,” and bring his hands to your neck, “never again.”

The tears subside in his eyes as they do yours. There is still relief, hot and painful inside your stomach because you have come back to him and he has taken you back, as if there were never to be anything but the two of you as one, yet now he finds your lips in something that claims more than just love. Possession. He has to know you’re his.

You were correct when you thought his room would be as sorrowful as yours - heartache as painful as what you had felt. 

Food containers stripe the floor dirty. Towels strewn and clothes dirty and forgotten. Again the blinds are closed as though you’re not here at 5 in the afternoon when the sun begins to fall into the red and purple hues of evening. 

But the blinds leave enough of a gap that his face is haloed, angelic and all too beautiful for your eyes to feign staring when your mouth departs his. Eyes glow amber and skin glows golden and you never want to look away, not from him, not now.

“You really want this don’t you.” There’s no question to the way Tae speaks. Instead, it’s disbelieving, like he can’t quite fathom that it’s really your shirt he has under his fingertips and your smell that lingers under his nose. Heartbreak had slowed his heart enough that it’s beating too fast for him to keep up with, so he slows it down.

“I really want this- You. I really want you.”

“And everything that comes with me? You’re sure?”

It’s a loaded question but at this point it is so light on your shoulders you laugh, grabbing and pulling up his shirt so you can sink lips to his chest, trying to find the beat of a heart somewhere there. 

“You act like you’re a chore, Tae.” You’re eyes soften when he still looks like you like he’s young and vulnerable. “Baby, I am so sorry I ever did this to you. Left. And made you feel like that.” 

Your hands map his skin delicately and you preserve how it feels because you hope, but never know, if you’ll feel it again.

“Never again, yeh?”

“Yeah.”

Clothes are shed until he looks at your naked body like the art that he first saw it as. He wants to paint it, remember it and cherish it as though he’s never seen it before. Every scar and blemish, precious to his vision, but the painting would only be worth it to him because he’s all who gets to see you.

“You’re not gonna turn off the lights?” 

Something that you’d told him was a habit of yours. Maybe something, a subconscious body image thing that was another way of saying, ‘I can’t give my whole self to you, I’m sorry’. He’d ran with it as though it didn’t hurt his pride. But now, as you push him down on his bed and clamber over his thighs, he’s so grateful he never got to see you in this light, because he loves it all the more now.

Fingertips tremble over your thighs when your hips find his, naked crotch so close to where he throbs. 

“Tae,” his eyes don’t meet yours, pieced, instead, onto where your bodies are so close to meeting like his gaze can fuse them together. “Tae, it’s me. Relax.”

Purposefully, your hands find his hair and coax him into a state of submissiveness, because his body still quaked underneath you no matter the words you uttered. 

You can’t lie when you say sex was a factor in your relationship you had missed. There was a heartfelt bond that went deeper than sex.

Admittedly the flatmate before Tae, the friends before the boyfriend and your parents who knew you better than you admitted to yourself had all said you were sex before substance. Some hated you for it and some laughed. Some said, ‘I wish I could be as emotionally detached as you’ and some thought you were the local gal whoring about like bodies were meant to be used. Then, somehow, Tae flipped the whole thing on its head. Made you feel butterflies before orgasm and it had you spellbound. 

So, no. Sex wasn’t it for you when you were with him. 

Yet, here you were, over your man gleaming with the physical sweat of want and need as well as the even more apparent glow of how his body lit up for only you.

“How do you want me Tae, what can I give you?”

“Fuck.” His hands fall over his eyes, not comprehending that you’re his and you’re this plaint. No, he wants you to take over him. “Anything, baby. Fuck. Anything.”

Instantly nails brush over the hardness that had been laid out under your folds obediently since you’d found yourself on top of his crotch.

A man could only control himself so much and immediately Tae found his dick twitching and his hips leaving the mattress in favour of chasing your hand.

“Y/N, I really don’t know if I’ve got it in me for teasing, I’m so horny I could cum!”

Well then.

The outburst has you struggling to fight off a laugh because he seriously is that desperate. Not the laughing kind either. The all-bearing, stripped clean and pleading kind of desperate.

So, you sympathise and let your lips find his, hand still trailing lightly so he doesn’t cum early, but enough for the need to remain.

“You wanna be inside me Tae?” His tongue is on yours yet the words are clear. 

“Urgh, fuck, please.”

Your eyes peer between your bodies, mapping where his muscles, tight with restrictions, create a V-shape down to the very distinct outline of a red hard cock. You think it’s photograph worthy in the moment, something worth slipping the camera out for, and if you hadn’t kept his dick pics from months ago maybe you would. But:

“Please baby, -need it.”

You deny yourself the simple pleasure of slipping him in because Tae whining and pleading is something worthy for the spank bank. You drop lower down the bed so his hips meet your eyes and the skin glistens so beautifully in this light you have to leave his dick untouched just so you can kiss around the area. 

His stomach, thighs, crotch, they see it all, lips and tongue mapping bold strokes because he tastes just as you remember and you want to savour it.

“Y/N ple- oh fuck,” and the taste of his dick beats anything that preceded it, let alone the noise that came with it. 

His tip is taken care of first, small licks and stripes with your tongue, so he’s unsuspecting when you choke him whole.

“FUCK.” 

Hands grab your hair violently. He’s deep and hits the back of your throat so you choke, unashamed of the noise. You’re past that and you know he likes it anyways. 

You set a rhythm, and it soon becomes clear he’s going to cum from it and that you very much want him to. Your hand finds his balls to fuel the process and the other one snakes to your core because there’s nothing that beats Tae’s moans when he’s getting a good sucking. 

“I- Fuck Y/N, I can’t- Shit!”

He’s close. Stomach seizing and balls throbbing in your palm so you sink back down again and take the choke like you want it and you want his cum more. It’s fast from there.

“Love you. I’m cum- Fuckkkkk,” salt and warmth line your throat, but only for a short while because he came quick. His hips stutter a few times and your eyes water when you continue to take it. 

Then it’s cold and silent. Yet somehow you feel buzzed. Like someone cumming down your throat was enjoyable. Like you’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d say he loved you again.

The hands that had once set deep into your scalp and verged on making you horny now pulled at your cheeks to lift you to eye level. 

He’s sweaty and a mess. 

“You’re sweaty and a mess baby.” 

His laugh is unfiltered, wholesome and worthy of the way your heart stutters.

“Because someone’s got a mouth on them sent from the gods.”

Blush overtakes your cheeks, whilst your stomach tumbles over at the fact that your blowjob skills are up to scratch - you thought a month off might have done something to your ability but clearly, you’re still on point. The bitter taste in your mouth tells you enough. 

“What’ve I done to deserve you coming back.”

Sincerity returns into his eyes as well as his words, and somehow you feel his dick twitch again from underneath you. He’s so soft under your hands so you keep feeling at his skin to reassure you he’s real.

“Nothing. You’re enough. You’re it.”

You kiss and kiss again, keep going until the fire ignites in him once more where it still flamed for you.

“Please.”

His voice is low no matter how much he whines so a guiding hand slips him into where you’re filthily wet. And he’s huge despite seed already spilt. He’s loaded like it was meant for you and not your mouth, throbbing enough so your pussy can feel it.

And suddenly you realise it’s bare. Complete bare. As in, bare enough that you are willing to take on a child kind of bare.

His eyes tell the story when yours find his, wide and curious. They roll back into whites when you pull up fully and then sink back down, milking him for all he has so he knows this is your full intention. Naked in every sense.

“Shit, Tae.”

“Fuckkkkk,” he doesn’t swear often, but sex is a must and the quirk of your lips tells him just how much you like him losing himself in pleasure.

He hits deep from here, cock lodged far in and even further when he begins to take control. 

His feet plant and his hands pull you down so skin flushes to skin and he can pump up into you with unadulterated need. 

Your teeth have to clamp onto his shoulder with the way he hits your cervix, it’s uncomfortable yet you love it. That kind of sex where everything is so fulfilling that you just can’t mutter ‘stop’. How could you say such a thing anyway when he’s groaning that he loves you with every upbeat.

It hits good once. Twice.

“Tae, fuck. There.”

Three times. 

“Here?”

Again.

“Oh my fuc- Fuckkk,” and there’s nothing you can do when you’re so stimulated you tumble deep and hard onto him and continue to do over and over in waves. 

He’s finding his end in the way your pussy grips him. 

“Baby. Y/N, Cunt so good, jesus.”

You’re burning when he’s going so fast the headboard bangs louder than your moans. So your hand quickly finds his balls underneath you and that does him, unravels him to the point he quakes.

“Holy- Love you. Love you. Fuck. Love you.”

Your ears might ring but that’s all you hear for the next minute. His mantra that keeps his lust alive until his love is so set in stone the words are not needed. 

Your hand, winding into his hair and the thrum of your heart against his tells him enough.

It’s this. Silence and tranquillity yet with the constant buzz of electricity all around you.

You’re still there entangled, limbs on limbs and lights touches on bare skin as the slither of light through the blinds turns ruby red in the heat of sunset.

You know his eyes must glow golden from where the sun angles on his face so you can’t help but spare a glance. And you’re right when you imagined it as beautiful because the sun bathes him like it was meant to. 

He’s still awake because his eyes flutter when you trail the outside of your fingers down his cheek and then onto his lips. It’s even more apparent when he brings his hand up to yours so he can kiss each knuckle individually.

“You came inside.”

It weighed heavy on you, the obvious factor that had happened earlier. And before allowing the beauty of the moment to settle in you had to see his expression when you mentioned it.

Yet there’s nothing but closed eyes and the slight smile that had been painted on his lips since you’d told him how much you wanted him.

“Mmm.”

“And you’re okay with that?” It’s not harsh, just a question from you. A security query because you have to know what this was for him. Caught up in the moment or something deeper?

His eyes bolt open at the question though.

“Are you?”

You almost have to think. Almost.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“And so am I.”

[please-return-to-villanelle]

This Is Not A Game, It’s My Life

S3E6 recap

The bitter pill of reality has been a hard one to swallow for Eve, Villanelle, Konstantin, and Carolyn over the course of this series. What this episode highlights well is that this spy-life and entanglement with the Twelve is no longer a game for anyone one, but rather a reality they are all living in whether they like it or not.

One of the ways this episode roots the characters in this newfound reality is through select color choices of the title cards and the character’s attire.

Light blue is associated with understanding and tranquility while darker blues represents knowledge, power, and seriousness. This title card is indicating that this episode will revolve around realization for the main characters while each of them uncover new information that allows them to come to terms with their realities.

Eve’s reality

The title cards in season 3 have transitioned from establishing where characters are located and are now giving insight into the psyche of the main characters.

Piss Off Forever

Forever flashes to signify that Eve is coming to terms with finally accepting the reality of her failed marriage with Niko.

It's interesting that this title card is yellow. The color yellow can symbolize optimism or cowardice. Maybe the yellow words are ironically representing the optimism with which they once viewed their relationship; but that is not the reality they find themselves in now.

This whole situation happened because neither Eve nor Niko were brave enough to express what they wanted and end their toxic relationship once and for all. The act of ending their marriage has played out like a game between the two of them. Both of them waiting for the other to make the final move to end it.

We learn that Niko is usually asleep every time Eve comes to visit. Is he avoiding her or actually unconscious? I’m thinking the former as Niko’s injuries wouldn’t equate to an unconscious state (see my other post for a medical break down if interested). Niko deliberately avoiding Eve would play homage to how the two of them are not being direct with each other. Neither of them has the courage to cut ties with each other. While it’s clear that Niko is over having Eve in his life, he doesn’t directly verbalize this to Eve until he is lying in this hospital bed after almost being murdered himself. It’s worth noting that Niko is still wearing his wedding ring in this scene, again showing that neither of them has fully let go of the other up until this point.

I told him, don’t marry her. She will make your life a great big ball ache.

This statement from Niko’s family member indicates that there was inequality in this relationship from the very start that was noticeable to people observing Niko and Eve’s relationship.

I’d also like to point out Eve’s outfit in this scene. She is wearing earth tones as she often does, which are muted and flat colors. This could signify Eve hiding her true nature, as she often does when she ties her hair back, and existing in the moment rather than living in it. I think it’s significant to this scene with Niko because she is taking this interaction and mulling it over internally while Niko makes his move to end the game.

This can’t be about the bus.

Still got it... this is the phrase used by someone playing a game, but Eve knows that this is a game Villanelle isn’t playing with her. They made that clear with the kiss.

Someone else is playing a game with Eve.

Sometimes you just need to let it win.

But Eve, ever the control freak and someone that needs to be right all the time, would not easily let someone else, let alone her own emotions as Bear alludes to, beat her at a game.

She teaches wee kinds to do roly-polies.

Eve puts two and two together that Dasha trains others to imitate and therefore was imitating Villanelle to mess with her. 

Game on, Dasha.

Before confronting Dasha directly, Eve visits Carolyn to collect intel on her opponent. She is wearing the same outfit as before but with a purple scarf

Purple combines the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red.

Through her wardrobe, we see Eve slowly transitioning from plain MI5 Eve that was married to Niko to the Eve that is more in tune with her own desires and feelings. She does what she wants and answers to no one.

But if it’s the Twelve Eve, does it really matter who?

I could say the same about Kenny.

This scene shows that the Twelve murdering and harming loves ones is personal to both Eve and Carolyn. Eve is homeless and jobless (does the Bitter Pill even pay her?) while Carolyn is working off the clock to find out what happened to Kenny.

Up for a game?

The title card depicts the location Barcelona in red letters. Red is the color of fire and blood, passion and strength, desire and love. With a such a passionate color choice, we would expect to see a more state of mind title card rather than a simple location. I think this is because Eve is calm and collected when she comes to see Dasha rather than overtly emotional. She is wearing a purple turtleneck to show us this.

Purple combines the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red.

She has found a balance and is wearing her hair is down. The real Eve Polastri has arrived and is here to end this game with Dasha.

You think you are winning. You will never win at this game. You can’t beat us, you understand?

I think this is the crux of what is happening in the overall plot with the Twelve. We have 4 people who became inveigled with this organization and are all trying to escape their ties to it. But they are all slowly realizing that dealing with the Twelve and working for the Twelve is not a game.

I know you’re working for the Twelve. I know you’re working with her.

I just love how Eve and Villanelle don’t use each other’s name when taking to other people and everyone just understands they are referring to one another. It’s as if everyone on the planet is aware of their sapphic relationship. I just love it.

She will never be loyal to you.

Eve does not view her relationship with Villanelle as a game and knows there is some thread of understanding between them. It’s the only thing she can rely on anymore and I think we will see more of that in the final 2 episodes.

In the final moment of Eve’s storyline in this episode, she plays her last move and in her purple turtleneck with her hair down she finally lets go of Niko.

End of game.

Villanelle’s Reality

Villanelle is a visual contradiction of projecting power with her wardrobe (dark blue suit and gold shoes) contrasted with her unhinged emotional state in which she is powerless to her raging emotions.

Helene’s phone conversation sets the stage for the game Villanelle is trapped in.

This exposition gives Villanelle insight into how Helene and Dasha are managing her.

At first Helene is speaking directly to her daughter. She tells her daughter what she wants to hear to placate and calm her down. Afterwards, she has a conversation with grandma who has full knowledge of her daughter’s complaints and Helene’s tone and verbiage shifts to reveal her true intentions.

She’s doing all this to get our attention.

Villanelle acts out because she seeks attention.

Put some cream on it. That’ll calm her a bit.

Give Villanelle things to make her feel better temporarily: money, houses, the illusion of freedom and control.

Its official. To Villanelle the Keeper.

Villanelle smiles and downs the entire glass of champagne in triumph. She is temporarily basking in her freedom until... she receives the post card and the illusion of power is shattered.

This is the same stuff I was doing before. This is bullshit

You bargained for what you wanted, and we are giving it to you. You’ll get all the material perks you were expecting. What more do you want?

It becomes apparent that the Keeper position Villanelle was granted was nothing more than another tool her handlers were using manipulate her with.

This made me think of Villanelle’s Roman centurion and emperor metaphor. A centurion, or foot soldier, is someone who takes orders and carries them out similarly to how assassins are told who to kill by their handlers. While the title of emperor holds power and gives the perception of being in charge, this is not always true in reality. Sometimes a political title can be nothing more than a symbol of power for the figure head of the state while the minor politicians give the orders behind the scenes. This is Villanelle the Keeper’s reality.

Villanelle is over the Twelve and seeks the only family she has left: Konstantin.

They kill you the second they realize it.

I want this.

He reveals his plan to exit the Twelve for good likely with the 6 million euros he has stolen and his daughter Irina in tow. But exiting the Twelve is no simple task.

Do you know what this means? It means you have to leave everything: the clothes, apartment, and her.

I know.

This dialogue parallels with the end of season 2 when Konstantin encouraged Villanelle to run away after killing Aaron Peele. She wasn’t ready to let go of Eve then because keeping Eve was still part of her ultimate end game. But now the game is over, and she just wants to be free and at this point in time is prepared to give up everything including Eve to get the one thing she wants: her freedom.

This is bullshit.

At the end of the episode we see Villanelle completely botch a kill and get injured in the process. Killing and watching the life drain from people���s eyes used to be something that made Villanelle feel powerful and gave her a sense of ultimate control. This is no longer the case as Villanelle comes to terms with her complete lack of autonomy and her inability to escape her emotions.

I’m done with this shit. I’m done with it, I’m leaving.

Carolyn’s Reality

Carolyn finally gets Kenny’s phone records that were being withheld by her boss Paul (confirmed plant for the Twelve). She is over this game the Twelve is playing with her as well and she decides to go straight to the source of the several in going and outgoing calls Kenny received before his demise: Konstantin.

Carolyn is also done with the game Geraldine is playing with her. She confronts her directly about the secrets held between them with regards to her involvement with Konstantin. I suspect we will get more answers to whatever is going on here in the next episode. Regardless, Carolyn is over it.

The drought can be endured but rot is an instant killer.

Konstantin’s Reality

Carolyn’s “I’m over these games” energy leads he straight to Konstantin who, judging by the title card, wishes he was free in Cuba. The color pink could symbolize love and romance. In this context, I think it is alluding the romantic history between Carolyn and Konstantin and his love for his daughter Irina.

Are you in a rush?

No, impatient.

During their car ride, he reveals that he might be Kenny’s father and while that is interesting information it is likely not a conversation that requires several phones calls to clear up. Indicating once again that Konstantin is being deceitful with everyone around him as a way to survive this game.

Interestingly, the aria Carolyn was listing to when taking to Mo about Kenny is playing in the background during the car ride. The song, Dido’s Lament, is about an apocalyptic romance between Aeneas and Dido in which one of the lovers leaves out of duty and the other is left to die (foreshadowing?). I’m wondering if this song is signifying that this is the last time Carolyn and Konstantin see each other. Much like Aeneas and Dido, these lovers leave a lot unresolved between them as they part ways.

Later on, Paul, Konstantin’s boss this season, orders Konstantin to track down the person that ordered the hit on Kruger’s wife, which we all know is Konstantin.

Game over for Konstantin.

He immediately packs his bags and goes to collect Irina. But his desire to be free does not outweigh his love for Irina as he stays behind to watch over her in the next episode after she kills her mom’s new boyfriend. Really interesting that he made sure Villanelle was ready to leave Eve behind, the woman that has her heart, but Konstantin was not willing to leave behind his daughter, the girl that has his. Perhaps Konstantin can’t imagine a reality without his daughter or maybe he has more loose ends to tie up before heading to Cuba.

[veridium]

Commission: “Easy (Mac) Does It”

Last but certainly not least in this month’s commission comes a piece near and dear to my heart. @ginnyq requested that I write a College AU fic starring Olivia and Cullen, and I was so happy to do it! Especially considering I know @bitchesofostwick would love to read it as well. 

Thank you for commissioning me, Ginny, and giving me a chance to write Cullen’s POV for a change!

--

It is a dark, desolate evening in winter. Even the crows dare not fly. Across campus there is hardly a soul crawling about. The winter storms brewed on the horizon. There are warnings on the evening news for ice and sleet. Even a rural midwestern guy like Cullen knows not to fuck around with that. For most of the night he’s been in the living room of the apartment reading for classes. Cassandra has long since gone to bed, leaving him to hold the proverbial fort. On the TV, there’s headlines about various worldly stressors. Ever-so-often he thinks to shut it off, but falls short of doing so every time. It’s like the way the stories keep him awake, if not increasingly unnerved. 

Which is why, when a small hand slams against the nearby window, he jerks out of half-lulled, half-jaded rest. Book, blanket, and legs go up, and he goes down hard onto the floor. First instinct is to go for the bat in the kitchen, one of few in the apartment placed in strategic locations. He can ask questions later. It’s not until he flips over onto his back and sees a familiar, but still horrifying pout in the glass, fogging it up with hot breath. 

“Cull’n, oh-pn th-dor!” 

It’s Liv, dressed in a dark windbreaker jacket with the hood over her head like she’s some nighttime security guard who also goes jogging after shifts. 

“Liv…! What the--”

She quickly sticks her finger over her lips and demands he quiet down. She removes her other hand from the glass and points in the direction of the door. She’s staring at him like he’ll either unlock it or she’ll initiate a curse in revenge. Groaning as he rises -- damn, he landed on his hip in just the most painful spot -- he stands on his tube-socked feet and drags them over to the door. Rustling bushes can be heard from outside but they blend in with the erratic wind gusts. 

Whatever could she want at this hour, and why does it involve almost sending him into cardiac arrest?

For the sake of not having to pay the school for apartment carpentry repairs should he refuse to let her in, he unchains the door and flipped the lock. Keen on the sounds of both, Liv’s pressing the door open with gusto that overpowers his wariness.  “Ugh, thank you,” she whispers, slipping inside and shutting it for him. She then backed against it and locked it again. “Is Cassandra awake?”

“Cassandra?” he asks with a normal volume, only to have her finger waved in the half-step of space there was between them. So this is all to see her? Why?

“Shh-yes! Fuck.” She then slides to check around the corner. 

“No,” he answers, grabbing her flailing hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Good. Dammit.” Without answering him she walks quietly into the kitchen and started pacing. “How could I have slipped up like this?”

“Uh…”

“No, no, there is no excuse.”

“I wasn’t going to say--”

“It is entirely reprehensible on my part, there is no way--”

“Olivia…!”

“Shhhh!” She spins around and shushes him again, her look twice as horrified as before. “For this to be fixed we have to be completely quiet, traceless, underc--”

Her phone goes off and she hops feet into the air, reaching into her jacket pocket and nearly flinging the iPhone across the kitchen, as if it’s a hot potato she grabbed out of the oven with her bare hands. 

“Shitshitshit.” She scrambles and turns off the ringer while Cullen covers his mouth which is sure to be cracked in a half-smile. It’s just too much. 

“Liv, what is going on?” he gets in as she makes for the small round dining table, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. “Are you in trouble or something?”

“I am. Or, I’m going to be. With Ellinor.”

He frowns. “Ellinor? Why…?”

“Um. Look, Rutherfudger,” she stares at him as he sits down across from her. She presses her hands onto the table flat. “I have a mission, and unfortunately for me, it requires the accompaniment of a capable man.”

“How...how disturbing, for you.”

“I know. But more specifically it requires you. At the present moment Ellinor is at a late night group project meeting, but when she gets back to the dorm she’s going to want a late night snack before knocking out.”

“...Yes?”

“A late night snack of the cheesy and carb variety.”

“...Yes, like those easy macs she…she...”

Olivia’s already pale face goes nearly paper white as she sinks back in her chair, slowly and with folding arms. Suddenly Cullen remembers a conversation -- a certain casual chat with Ellinor before class started, in which she mentioned a very specific qualm: Olivia had eaten all her easy mac bowls. Little blonde punk, she said as she pulled out her pens from her bag. 

The urge to start laughing rears its ugly head again as Cullen folds his own arms against his chest. “Not again, Liv.”

“Again? What has she told--” she is almost yelling again, but shuts herself up. After craning her neck out behind her to check down the hall, she gets back to business. “Look--”

“What’s stopping you from driving down to Walmart and picking up some? You have your car.”

Almost perfectly timed, a rolling current of thunder goes off outside. The rain clapping against the window makes it barely audible. Olivia sighs, mulling her teeth a little as her gaze falls.

“I haven’t been able to go in and get my new tires put on, yet, and the forecast called for freezing rain. I am a good driver, better than any of you cowboys, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to trust a mini built for speed out there.”

Still amused, Cullen leans his elbows onto the table. “So. You don’t really need a man, you need 4-wheel drive.”

“I thought the “man” thing would appeal to your...weakness to be chivalrous, or whatever. Masculinity.”

“You think me that easily manipulated?”

She presses her palms together with conviction. “Look, Cullen, I have not the time nor the supplemental resources to have this disk horse now. We have but one hour -- nay, 45 minutes -- to keep me alive and keep you from danger.”

“Danger? Pff, what danger am I in if I don’t help…”

Liv lifts a brow. “Two words: hangry Ellinor.”

The silence that fills the room is comparable to the kind that happens right before a giant shark busts in and devours one of them like a tootsie pop. He holds his breath, their eyes locked, before he’s up and reaching for the keys hanging on the door next to his equally necessary raincoat. 

“Let’s go,” he says, but she doesn’t need the command. She’s already right there with him prying the door open. 

Approximately 24 minutes later they are standing before a disastrous scene in the Kroger section with every kind of boxed and pre-made pasta dish. Every kind, that is, save for the Kraft easy mac. Maybe it is a sign of the apocalypse -- it is based on the look on Olivia’s face -- but to the onlooker it probably looks like two college students in the midst of a midterm breakdown that is being exacerbated by a 14 inch gap of nothing on the shelf.

“What...w-what, w-why are they out of it?” Olivia finally says. A silence that came only after she had spent way too much time pacing the aisle looking for where it could be, while Cullen stood in front of where they had always been. 

“Would she like--”

“No,” Olivia answers fast. “No, it has to be easy mac.”

“...because she will no--”

“Notice. Yes.”

Cullen goes from wanting to “mistakenly” not see her banging on the window to wanting to almost hug her. For a 6-pack of Kraft? 

“I could text Rylen and see if he has any in h--”

“Ellinor is going to kill me.”

He turns to the side and looks at her. Her posture and expression of defeat further warms him. “Hey, it’s just easy mac.”

“Yeah, but it’s also the third time I’ve eaten out of her pantry and forgot to replace it. I said I’d be better, and now I’m going to be. Or, I was. Now I’m just going to go back to the dorm and lay myself out on the guillotine.”

She starts to leave and he follows a few steps. “Liv, he--”

“No, Rutherfetta, you don’t get it--”

“Rutherf--”

“--Ellinor puts up with so much of my shit every day, and the least I can do is make sure she doesn’t go without her own damn mac.”

The comedy of the night has all-but-vanished and they are left at an impasse. Cullen is no Dr. Phil, or whoever is respected publicly for therapeutic insight these days, but he can tell there’s something else going on. Something that would give Olivia extra reason for wanting to follow through with this. It’s kind of odd being the person to witness it. Odd, but not awful. Not anymore.

He grabs his keys and shuffles in his socks and Nike sandals over to her. She folds her arms, and for some reason he sees fit to stick his arm around her and get her to walk with him. 

“Come on, Liv, let’s go.”

“But...b-b-”

“I have a back-up plan in mind. Let’s just get back before the storm gets any worse.”

He drives them back to her and Ellinor’s dorm. Astoundingly, they do not take all night to do so, and avoid being swept away by the storm. Instead of staying in the car and saying God speed, though, he follows her inside. She eyes him with suspicion as he does. The two of them look a bit washed up coming down the hallway. When they arrive, Ellinor’s door is pitched open. She then comes out almost perfectly on cue. 

Her eyes go big with immediate concern. “What on earth are you two doing?” she asks. She crosses her arms over herself, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is tousled up in a ponytail. She’s beautiful. 

“I, uh--” 

Olivia interrupts. “Ellinor, I have to confess something, I...I-I...”

Hearing the guilt in Liv’s tone snaps him out of it. He shakes his head and grabs onto his keys in his pocket. “Liv was at our place, and gave me the idea to come over and surprise you.”

Ellinor’s eyes switch with suspicion between them both. She’s not entirely convinced, but there’s a light in her eyes. Hope.

“What? In this weather?”

“I didn’t plan on it being so shitty outside. I was going to fetch you and cook you a late-night dinner since you’ve been working hard all night.”

“W-hat? But I haven’t heard from you in…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want my phone to drown in the rain.”

Ellinor relaxes and her arms fall. She looks tired and fed up with having  to deal with big assignments and bigger egos all day. He knows that face and that dread. It wears on her. Olivia was right, in her own way, to be so frantically concerned -- but neither of them deserve to spend the rest of the night squabbling. 

She looks at Olivia. “Is he telling the truth, or did you just conscript him to bury a body for you?”

“I...what?” 

They share a half-second glance. For a moment Cullen wonders if she’ll go along, or if the pang of shame will make her confess no matter what. There’s awkward suspense, and then:  “Pff, I wouldn’t call him to bury a body,” Olivia finally responds. She rolls her eyes, even. “He’s telling the truth. I just went along to make sure he didn’t mess up. Go on, now, go have your candlelit Rutherfeast.” 

It isn’t until Ellinor has rushed in and out with warmer clothes, and they walk all the way down the stairs and into the fire lane where he’s temporarily parked, that Cullen feels his phone vibrate. He waits until they are in the car to check.

Liv: Thank you, Rutherfriend. Take care of her, okay? She deserves it. 

Ellinor asks what’s got him grinning, and he just shakes his head and says one of the boys from the team sent a joke. Just enough time to respond:

Cullen: No problem, Sinclown. 

Now, to text Cassandra and wake her up to check what’s in the pantry while he pretends to drive really slow for “the storm’s sake.” Sorry, Cass. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, noticing Ellinor also texting. 

Ellinor smirks and slumps comfortably in the passengers seat. Her thumb hits send on a message. “Telling Liv she better not eat my easy macs while I’m gone.”

[jade4813]

Resolution

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: Resolution

Rating: G

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Sequel to Fallout and Repercussions (and episode 7 of the series). Zoey has finally figured out how she feels about Max, but when she tries to get up the never to tell him, Everything. Goes. Wrong. Will the two of them ever manage to get on the same page?

The clock on the wall read 6:22 a.m., and Zoey was already on her third cup of coffee for the day. She remembered with some regret the way she’d once expressed surprise at Joan’s suggestion that they share a drink in the middle of the afternoon. Her day hadn’t even officially started, and she was already wishing she had something to steel her nerves.

All the caffeine she’d consumed was making her jittery, the coffee roiling around in her otherwise empty stomach until she felt sick. She briefly considered grabbing some cereal or perhaps a piece of bread to settle her stomach, but the thought of consuming food just made her feel slightly ill.

She pressed her hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She could do this! She had a plan! When Max showed up to work, she’d take him aside and tell him that she’d realized that she loved him and wanted to give their relationship a shot! How hard could it be? After all, she already knew how he felt about her, right?

Except…he’d been even weirder than usual with her over the last couple of days, ever since their last conversation, when he’d suggested she should go talk to her mom.

“Zoey? Uh…what the hell was that?” he’d asked.

“What was what?”

His eyes narrowed, he looked at her in confusion and concern. “You…you didn’t just…you didn’t hear that? Are you messing with me right now?”

Completely at a loss as to what he meant, she shook her head slowly, “Max, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hear what? Did something happen?” she leaned to the side to look around him, scanning the office for something out of place.

He stepped back, running one hand across his face. “I’m losing it. Lack of sleep or…I-I thought you…I must have imagined it. It’s fine. Never mind.” She threw him a reassuring smile, but he hurried back to his desk and avoided her for the rest of the day. And for the two days since, although she occasionally caught him watching her closely, like he was trying to figure her out. Or as though she might bite.

“I don’t bite,” she reassured herself in an undertone. But what if his strange behavior was because he’d realized his feelings were all a mistake? What if he’d realized he wasn’t in love with her anymore – at least, not like that? She hadn’t heard any of his heartsongs since the night he coopted a scooter for her, after her dad fell. Was it possible he just wasn’t romantically interested in her anymore?

Zoey pushed away the thought with a grimace and a stern self-reproach. “Not. Helping.” Desperate for a distraction, she grabbed for her tablet and tried to focus on her work, instead. Her love life might be a disaster at present, but this was a language she understood. This came naturally to her, in a way that navigating her love life did not.

In her very first computer course in college, Zoey had been tasked with programming a robot to wind its way through a maze. She had managed to complete the assignment faster than any of her other classmates, going on to earn an A+ in the course at the end of the semester. When she took a step back and considered her current situation, it wasn’t that different. She just had to get herself and Max through the maze of confusion brought on by intense emotion and miscommunication. And then everything would work itself out.

Reassured by the thought, she shot a quick glance around to make sure she was still alone. Her day hadn’t technically started yet, so she took her tablet to an isolation pod and curled up inside to craft some code. By the time she started to hear her coworkers filter in, her simple program was up and running – a digital Zoey and Max, her programmable “robots,” were winding their way through a complex maze. She smiled when she programmed the code directing the two to lean in for a kiss (hearts showing above their heads and all) when they finally made their way to each other.

It was a silly little program, but it made her feel better. Maybe she was overthinking things. She’d tell Max she wanted to be with him, and the two would kiss. How hard could it be?

Lifting the sliding door to the pod, Zoey stepped out and stretched, working out some kinks that had settled in her shoulders. With one last reassuring glance at her ZoeyBot’s progress through the maze, she closed the program and pulled up her notepad.

Any project was possible, as long as one went in with a plan. Almost every task could be broken down into straightforward, manageable steps. Like programming code. Just take each step in turn, one after the other, until the task was finished. With that in mind, she jotted herself a quick note.

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him MaxBot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

Four steps. Possibly three, if she decided she was too embarrassed to show him her computer program. Three or four completely simple, totally manageable steps. Completely doable plan. Now all Max had to do was to show up, and she could put her plan into action.

Unable to sit still, she dropped her tablet onto her desk and headed towards the restroom. All that coffee was taking its toll, but she also hoped that pouring some cold water over her wrists could help her stay focused and calm. She lingered a few extra minutes to give herself a silent pep-talk and practice an eloquent speech about her feelings before steeling her shoulders and heading back outside.

She returned to the office just in time to see Max grab his tablet from his desk and head towards the wicker seats – the pattern of avoidance he’d established over the last couple of days. Hoping to catch him before he got too wrapped up in code and she lost her nerve, she darted to her desk and grabbed for her tablet.

“Max!” she barked abruptly, a shade louder than necessary. He jumped, startled, and spun around to look at her. Softening her tone, she offered him a sheepish smile as she asked, “Do you have a second? There’s something I wanted to show you.” Her program was perhaps a little silly, but maybe he’d find it endearing? She could only hope.

Before he could come up with an excuse to turn her down, she jogged up to him and pulled him aside. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh. I know this is a little silly, but I wanted to show you – uh –”

Her voice trailed off as she held up what she thought would be her tablet and realized that, in her anxiety and rush to catch him, she’d accidentally grabbed her stapler instead. She actually had a stapler? Why? She couldn’t even remember the last time she needed to staple something!

Max seemed equally as confused. “Your…stapler?” he offered. “It’s…nice.”

Completely mortified, her courage fled. “Ah…yes. My stapler. I was…um…wondering. If you had any staples. I think I’m out.” That was unlikely. It was probably holding the same staples that had come with it when it was shipped from the factory, for all she knew. These things came preloaded, right? She had no idea.

“Ah,” he replied, drawing out the word for several seconds. “I don’t think so. Have you tried the supply closet? There might be some in there.”

Zoey forced a laugh. “The supply closet! Right! Makes total sense! Duh,” she waved the stapler wildly, almost clocking herself in the head. “Thanks a lot, Max…i...million.” She heard the ill-advised nickname as though it was coming from outside of herself, from someone else’s mouth, and looked at him in horror.

His smile was uncertain. “No problem. That’s not really a nickname we’re planning to run with, is it?”

“Nope! No, we’re not!” she promised. Trying to cover for her gaff, she aimed a playful shrug at his shoulder to break the tension, somehow completely missing and punching the tablet out of his hands, instead. “That’s…oh, sorry! I’ll…I’ll replace that if it’s broken.” Maybe discretion really was the better part of valor, she decided, not even wanting to see the look on his face as she backed away as quickly as she possibly could before she accidentally broke something else.

It turned out programming code was much easier than telling her best friend she had realized he might be the love of her life.

Later that evening, once she was safely back at home and unlikely to humiliate herself any further, Zoey scowled to herself and she pulled up her ZoeyBot/MaxBot computer program. It didn’t take her long to add a giant, menacing stapler that chased ZoeyBot down the first section of the maze.

Then, heaving a heavy sigh, she pulled up her To Do list. It hadn’t served her very well so far, but she still had confidence in the basic premise. Make a plan. Stick to the plan. Don’t break anything. Check. With that in mind, she reviewed her list.

Okay, so maybe she was too nervous around him to make a smooth job of it. Was there any way she could take the actual confession part out of her hands? She mulled over the question as she stared off into the distance. Finally, it hit her. Balloons! Everyone liked balloons, right?

Grinning at the brilliance of her new plan, she pulled up a web browser and search for a balloon delivery service in the area. Once she found what she wanted, she placed the order for the next day. In the morning, a courier would bring her balloons, reading “I Love U Max.” The last was a specialty balloon – they’d write in his name, and the sample online looked decent enough. Before pressing the button to finalize the order, she gave it one last critical look. Love? No, she should go with the heart instead. Less awkward, she decided, hitting “submit.” The plan was in place! He’d see the balloons and…that would be it! Not risk of ambiguity or bodily injury!

Well, maybe not it, exactly. If they were going to be in a relationship, she was going to have to talk to Joan. She would hardly be able to hide it, since she was planning on confessing in the middle of the office. Once the cat was out of the bag, she wouldn’t be able to continue to be his supervisor. It wouldn’t be right. But she was confident they could find a solution. Feeling much better than she had an hour or so before, Zoey made a few revisions to her list:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break anything.

Balloons arrive

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

She didn’t know the exact time the balloons would arrive; more like a narrow window. So she might have to take things a little by ear. But with a plan this solid, surely nothing could go wrong, right?

Right.

The next day, Zoey realized she’d been humming happily to herself off and on all morning, but she couldn’t help it. She was in such a good mood! This plan of hers was going to come off perfectly. When she walked up to the elevator bay and saw Max waiting for the doors to open, she threw him her brightest smile. “Good morning!”

He looked a little taken aback. “Morning, Zoey. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

She nodded. “Yup! I think it’s going to be a fantastic day. It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, then, I hope you’re right,” he replied pleasantly.

She considered taking the moment of privacy to go ahead and confess her feelings, but then others joined them on the elevator and the window of opportunity was lost. No matter. She had balloons! The balloons would not fail her!

“I don’t understand,” she told the balloon courier with an askance look at the two balloons he held out for her to take. “Where are the rest of them?”

Not appearing to be terribly concerned, he shrugged and offered in insufficient explanation and complete lack of apology, “We were out. My boss said we can complete the order next week.”

“Next week! That doesn’t help! I had a whole plan and now all I have to show for it is ‘U Max’. What am I supposed to do with ‘U Max’?”

He shrugged again. Clearly, it wasn’t his problem. She took the balloons from him with numb fingers and briefly considered letting them loose in the stairway to hide evidence of her failed plan when she heard Max speak behind her. “’U Max’? What’s this about?”

Come up with an excuse! Fast! She ordered her poor, beleaguered brain as she spun around. “Maaaaax-i-mus!” Again? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with her? “I got you these!”

“I can see that,” he replied, staring up at the balloons in question. “I’m just trying to figure out what they mean. U Max? Max U? Is this a secret code?”

Her laugh was forced, high-pitched, and veering on hysterical. “No! Of course not! It’s just a new…management plan I’m trying. I’ll be randomly bringing balloons in to people on the team. To let you know that, uh, well, you know. We…see you. And we…appreciate…you know, you. That is, you. Max. I read it in a book somewhere, I think.”

“Really? That’s a little weird. What book?” She would have thought he was on to her, but he sounded more curious than suspicious.

“Oh…I don’t even remember now. Would you just take your balloons?”

He reached for them. “Sure thing. Well, thank you for reaffirmation of my name, anyway,” he teased.

Her answering chuckle was almost genuine. “We spend so much time in this building some days, I thought there was a chance you might have forgotten.”

“Is that the reason for the new nicknames? Because, for the record, I don’t think I like Maximus any better than Maximillion.”

“No, but duly noted,” she replied with a forced smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt as she returned to her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joan look over at her, Max, and the balloons and shake her head in bafflement before returning to her own work. Zoey was almost pathetically grateful her boss didn’t call her in to demand an explanation. She wasn’t entirely sure she could explain what was going on with her right now, even to herself.

When she saw him walk away and thought he might not see her, she rested her forehead on her desk with a groan, tempted to bang it repeatedly against the hard surface if she wasn’t sure that would bring her too much attention.

Why did her efforts to sweep Max off his feel keep going so haywire? What was she doing wrong?

“Mo, this is getting out of hand. You have to help me!” she cried, pacing back and forth in her neighbor’s living room. Saying it was “getting out of hand” was probably generous. Things were getting downright dire. Her plan was on Day 4, and it had just been one disaster after another.

“I’m not sure there’s any help for you,” Mo offered, shaking her head. “Have you tried just talking to him?”

“Yes! I tried today!”

Mo sat back on the couch. “And?”

“Aaaaand…I decided I would casually drop it in over coffee. But I didn’t realize my ZoeyBot program was up on my screen, and he saw it and asked what it was. One thing led to another, I freaked out and tried to cover it up, and I accidentally…kinda…tripped and…threw an entire cup of coffee at him.”

He blinked. “Wow. I knew you were a mess, but I think you may be even more of a mess than I realized.”

Zoey moaned and sank to the couch beside him. “Really? It’s not even remotely a surprise to me.” Closing her eyes, she leaned back and mulled over her predicament. Then she bolted upright. “I know! What if I do a some kind of flash mob for him?”

“No.”

“What? Hear me out! I get a bunch of people together…”

“No.”

“…and we do some kind of song…”

Mo put a hand on her arm. “Let me stop you right there. So far this week, you’ve brought him a stapler. You got him exactly half of your love confession in balloons, but not even the half that would actually convey what you wanted him to know. And you tried to give him third degree burns. You really think you can get through a whole choreographed dance number without breaking something? Like yourself? Or him?”

Zoey had to reluctantly concede the point, but she wasn’t quite ready to let this idea go. Remembering how she’d imagined him singing outside her window, she suggested, “So what if it’s just me? I could bring a boombox with me and sing outside his window. I saw it in a movie I watched with him once.”

Mo threw her a skeptical look. “Do you even have a boombox?”

She shrugged. “No. Do you?” His answering stare spoke volumes. “Okay, no background music. Just me.”

“Uh huh. And what would you sing?”

“I don’t know; I’m sure I could come up with something. Like, ‘Oh, my lo-‘”

“Nope.”

“Okay. What about, ‘It’s a little bit fu-‘”

“Absolutely not. You should not sing for him. Trust me.”

“But I –” she began.

“No.”

She broke off with a groan. “Okay, what do you suggest?”

Mo sighed. “The same thing I’ve been suggesting all along. No props. No gimmicks. Just walk up to him and find a way to casually drop into conversation that you want to have lots of sex and babies.”

“Are you actually dropping a Love Actually quote on me right now?” Zoey asked in disbelief.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he replied flippantly, breaking into a grin.

She rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet and headed for the door. “All right. Fine. I’ll just…tell him how I feel. There’s no chance that can end in disaster!”

The table was set. Dinner was in the oven. Zoey was wearing her best dress. She paused long enough to make sure she had matches to light the candles in the candelabra she’d borrowed from her parents’ house earlier in the day, then checked to make sure his jacket was hanging by the door.

She’d gotten Max’s jacket from her mom when she stopped by to visit earlier that day. He’d apparently left it at her parents’ house by accident a few evenings prior, when he’d stopped by to bring her dad some soup from his favorite restaurant across town. It was as good a pretext as any to get him to Zoey’s place, where she would serve him a romantic dinner and confess. Everything.

Wanting to make sure everything was ready, she grabbed her tablet to review her plan one last time. Her (many-times) revised list read:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break or burn anything. or anyone!!!!!!

Balloons arrive

Bring him coffee

Dinner at home??? “Ham is easy but shows effort”

Make it romantic (candles, yes! Flowers, no. Don’t take your chances)

Music! (Mo says no singing Sing if necessary)

Touch nothing hot until it’s over

No liquids either

Pretext of having his coat?

When he shows up, tell him you want to be with love him.

Kiss.

She took a quick glance around to make sure everything was set up according to her list. Perfect. Things seemed to be going according to plan, for once.

With a satisfied smile, she grabbed her phone. Of course, she probably should have made sure he was free before going through the trouble of cooking an entire ham. But it was too late for such regrets. She tapped her phone with her hand as she paced back and forth, practicing what she was going to say.

“Hey, Max! It’s me! Zoey. It’s Zoey. Do I even need to say that? He has caller ID. Okay, just go with hey, Max! Oh, but he knows who he is. Maybe just hey! Now I sound like a chipmunk. Heeey? No, that sounds creepy. Hi! Howdy! Ugh. Hey…”

As she paced back and forth, she lost track of what was going on around her and so didn’t notice the smoke billowing out of her oven until the fire detector went off, beeping shrilly in her ear. “No! No, no, no, no no…” she muttered desperately as she raced to the oven and pulled it open. On second thought, she should have kept it closed as a ball of fire followed another billow of smoke. “What the-”

She was catapulted out of the way when Mo came in from out of nowhere, shoving her aside to spray an entire fire extinguisher’s worth of suppressant into her oven. As he worked, she jabbed the fire detector with a broom until it fell silence. Then she returned to the stove to throw her meal a morose look. If her ham hadn’t been ruined already, it was now.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Mo demanded in aggrieved affrontery, pulling out her obliterated meal once he’d assured himself that the fire had been extinguished. Wiping off some of the chemicals coating the top, he poked around at the charred meal and exclaimed, “You left the plastic on?”

“What? No, of course not! I removed the plastic!” Zoey peered around Mo’s shoulder to look at the ham, poking it with one dubious finger. “There was a second layer of plastic on the back half of it?” There was, now both firmly baked into the outer skin of the ham and crispy from where it had gone aflame.

Mo sighed and looked around, taking in the scene. Zoey in her dress and heels, way beyond “stay-at-home casual.” The dining table, set for two. The romantic music playing softly over her radio.

“I-I-I-” Zoey stammered, trying to come up with some sort of self-defense, but Mo wasn’t hearing it.

“What did I tell you about props and gimmicks? Would you please go tell Max how you feel about him before you burn down this entire building?”

“I just thought…a romantic meal…”

Grabbing her gently but firmly by the shoulders, he steered her towards the door. “Go. Tell. Him. How. You. Feel.”

“But my meal!” she protested weakly.

He shook his head. “It’s already had a Viking funeral. There’s nothing more we can do for it now. Go take care of this while I dispose of the body. Go.”

Dejected that her plans had once again followed through, Zoey dug in her heels. “Wait! I need my jacket. That black one. And – and my purse.”

She gestured and Mo leaned over to grab both items, passing them over with a dubious look. “That’s yours?” he asked when she slipped the jacket on. It smelled like Max, and Zoey breathed in deeply, pretending it was his arms wrapped around her.

It was huge on her, but she nodded. “Yup! Okay, well…I should go, I guess.”

“Uh huh. Just try not to do anything weird between here and there. I don’t want to get any calls that you’ve been sent to the hospital. Or jail.”

“You won’t. Scout’s honor. You have nothing to worry about!”

Mo shot a pointed look over his shoulder at her demolished kitchen. “Uh huh.”

Zoey rocked back and forth on her toes as she stared at the door in front of her. Too scared to knock, she pulled her phone out of her purse and texted him instead. Hey, are you home? My mom said you left a coat at her place. I’m in the neighborhood, so I can drop it by if you’re there.

She could actually hear his phone chirp through the door. A few seconds later, she got the response. You don’t need to do that! I can swing by and pick it up later if you don’t want to go out of your way. Or you can bring it to work. Thanks for the offer!

He ended his text with a smiley emoji, and she spent much longer than necessary trying to decipher what that meant. Was he genuinely just worried about her taking a special trip? Or was this part of his efforts to avoid her?

She considered making a run for it, but she suspected Mo wouldn’t let her back into her apartment unless he was certain she’d told Max the truth and would theoretically no longer be a danger to herself or others. Before she could lose whatever shred of nerve she still retained, she shrugged out of his coat (admittedly reluctantly), lifted her hand, and rapped briskly on his door.

He opened it a few seconds later, his face a mask of surprise. “Zoey? Wow, that was…really fast.”

What she meant to say was, “Hey! Like I said, I was in the neighborhood.” What she actually said sounded like, “Hey, Ma-nipples.”

He was shirtless again. Didn’t he know what that did to her self-composure? To her ability to string a coherent thought together? Granted, it wasn’t exactly fair of her to blame him. He’d had no real reason to know she was lurking outside his door when she’d sent him that text. But still.

He looked adorably awkward as he lifted one hand to run his fingers through his wet hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order. She’d apparently caught him coming out of the shower. So he was standing in front of her both half-naked and damp? Good. Lord.

Oblivious to her sudden struggle for air, he explained, “Yeah, sorry. I just got back from the gym. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” He hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Do you want to come in?” As she stepped through the door, he looked over his shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he should go grab a shirt. Or like he wasn’t alone.

She stumbled to a halt, her heart seizing in her chest. “Oh, god. You’re not busy, are you? I mean, if you have someone here -”

He cocked his head to the side, throwing her a confused smile. “No, of course not!” Glancing down, he leaned in, his hand reaching towards her. “Oh, I should –”

His face was moving closer to hers, and Zoey’s brain backfired. This was it! The moment she’d been waiting for! Her little MaxBot and ZoeyBots had traversed the maze, avoiding homicidal staplers, menacing balloons, and boiling vats of coffee (and, after tonight, actual bursts of fire that she might as well program in when she got home), and it was finally time to do the thing she’d fantasized about all week! Success!

Completely forgetting that she was holding his coat – and that she hadn’t actually gotten around to confessing her feelings yet – she lurched forward, convinced he was about to initiate a kiss. A kiss she fully intended to reciprocate. The most perfect first kiss one could ever possibly imagine, she was sure.

Instead, in her haste and panic, she missed the mark. Instead of a romantic first kiss, she accidentally semi-headbutted him, her lips landing somewhere in vicinity of the air below his chin. He jerked back in surprise, causing her to lose her balance and stumble forward, stomping on his toe.

“Zoey! What was that?” he yelped, hand cupped over his nose, as he hopped on one foot. Is it broken? Am I bleeding?” She was too horrified at herself to respond, so he pulled his hand away to check for blood before throwing her a bewildered look. “Did you come over here to headbutt me for not being able to hang out lately? Because I really have been busy.”

“What?” she protested. “Of course not!”

He must have seen the misery on her face, because his grimace melted into a soft, reassuring smile. Clearly struggling to hold back a wince, he asked gently, “Okay, then, do you want to tell me what this is all about? Trust me. You have my undivided attention.”

She clutched her hands in front of her, trying to stop them from trembling, and tried to find the words to explain. She found she couldn’t look him in the eye and form a coherent thought. His lips also seemed a little too daunting. His chest was…nope. Still bare. She wasn’t even going to attempt it. Fixing her attention to a spot roughly around his Adam’s apple – that seemed more or less safe enough – she tried to remember part of the elegant speech she’d prepared earlier in the week to tell him how she felt. The only thing that came to mind was “You Max” and she’d already discovered first-hand how insufficient that was to get the job done.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward. “I’m…not very good with people. I think we both know that. The only thing I’m really good at is programming! And so I just thought…if I could get the Zoey-Bot and the Max-Bot through the maze…”

Even she could tell she wasn’t making any sense. His Adam’s apple moved as he asked, “The…Max-Bot? I-I don’t…You want me to build some-”

“No. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Staring at his neck wasn’t helping, so she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m trying to say that I took your advice and I talked to my mom.”

Silence fell between them for a few seconds before he replied gently, “Oh. Well, that’s good! Isn’t it? What did she say?”

She opened her eyes, meeting his unflinchingly. “She said…after she met my dad, she could spend the rest of her life running from the way she felt about him, trying to protect her heart. Or she could take a chance that she might lose him one day, and cherish every moment they were lucky to have each other along the way. The good days and the bad, as long as they were together. She said that you can never know the future, but the happiness she found when she chose to take a chance on my dad, when she chose love, outweighed all the pain. Even the pain of losing him.” She had said that, no matter how much it would hurt to lose Zoey’s father, she would never, ever regret loving him.

Max didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as she could tell, barely breathed. So she took a tiny step towards him and confessed, “And Max…I promised I would be honest with you, so I will. I’m still scared. And I don’t want to ever lose you. I don’t know how I could bear it. But I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you…a long time ago. Even though I was too scared to admit it to myself. And, who knows? Maybe I never would have if it weren’t for my superpower. Maybe? What I do know is that being with you…it makes me happy. So I’m – I’m choosing love over fear. I’m choosing you. I mean, to be with you.” Her courage depleted, she finished lamely, “I, I mean…if that’s…if that’s still what you want?”

He reached out, trailing fingertips down her arm until she released the death grip she hand on her hands and took his in hers. Her skin felt cold and, she was afraid, probably clammy. But she could swear he was trembling, too, and it wasn’t just her. “What I want? Of course it is! Zoey, I’m not trying to push you into anything. We don’t have to go fast with this! I know you’re scared about what might happen. I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either! It’s why I didn’t tell you how I felt for so long. But I also know that when I think about the future – my future – I want you to be in it. And that’s worth taking a chance on. I don’t mind taking this slow, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Her breath escaped her with a whoosh, as she felt the tension drain from her shoulders. “Really?”

“Really,” he responded reassuringly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “As long as you promise Manipples also isn’t going to be my new nickname.” That elicited a laugh, so he suggested, “I have an idea. Why don’t I…put on a shirt,” his mouth curved into that boyish grin that she loved so much as he gestured vaguely at his chest, “and then we can watch a movie together.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, rocking up onto her toes as she returned his smile.

“But first, if you don’t mind…could we try that kiss again?” At his surprised look, she smiled sheepishly and explained, “I’d like to be able to say that I managed it without nearly sending you to the hospital. I made a promise to Mo, after all.” Plus, it was pretty mortifying that he hadn’t even been aware that’s what she’d been attempting when she nearly knocked him out.

“Yeah, of course,” Max breathed, tugging gently on her hand to pull her forward. Stepping into his embrace was like coming home, she realized, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down towards her. With one hand resting between her shoulder blades and the other at the small of her back, he pulled her tight against him. Zoey closed her eyes as she savored the feeling of his lips as they brushed softly against hers once, then twice. She parted her lips and heard him groan deep in his throat as he deepened the kiss.

She thought she could stand there in Max’s entranceway, kissing him forever, but he finally gave her one last, tender kiss and pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you, Zoey,” he whispered.

“I love you, Max,” she breathed in return.

[high-tidethunder]

even oaks must bend

Joe has to leave the safehouse. He can’t deal with the look on Andy’s face, the desperation in her eyes that mirrors that of a wild animal about to be dealt a death blow.

The idea is stifling, forces his breath from his lungs in quick, shallow beats that come ragged from his throat, out of sync with the erratic rhythm of his heart in a way that makes him feel dizzy, unbalanced. It flits through his mind that he, too, feels like a wild animal, that Andy’s request is a rock hurled at him with the force of a great beast and all he can do is watch.

Because how could he say no? How could he tell a woman who’s friendship had lasted nearly a millennium, a woman who was the most vulnerable she had ever been, a woman who was hiding all her despair in her eyes and showing none of it on her face, that he would not help her keep a promise she had feared would be broken forever?

The problem is that the price of saying yes weighs heavy on his heart and he’s not sure how easily he can pay it. Not when it was the betrayal of the one he’d be paying it to that had caused him the worst wounds of his centuries on this earth.

He has seen his own flesh rended so many times, stood up and seen pieces of himself strewn on the ground and known himself still to be whole, taken so much injury and kept going, and maybe, in the beginning, it had been hard to forget these moments but as time carried ever onward it became...ordinary.

But these wounds—

He may no longer feel them, and there is no mark on his skin as proof they happened, but he remembers the pain.

More than that, he remembers the terror, that it was ice cold, how it spread through him with each new level of depravity their captors had reached until it was entrenched in his bones. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to rip it out.

He thinks that these wounds might just be the ones that do him in, despite the years that have passed since they’d been inflicted.

He can hear Nicky calling for him over the cacophony of his thoughts and stops in his tracks, the gravel garden path of this safehouse shifting under him, and he notices that the air is sharp and cold. It bites his lungs with each breath, desperate things that come in staccato waves and sting the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten more with each inhale, though whether it’s from the cold or the panic he can’t tell.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and leans into the touch, though his mind still races and heart still pounds, he feels his muscles uncoil, the tension fading as Nicky loops his arms around his waist, careful to slip them under Joe’s where they hang at his sides and rests his head on his shoulder.

«Breathe, love,» he whispers. The Arabic falls from his tongue like leaves in an autumn wind, gentle and susurrus, and Joe sinks into him. He lets his shoulders go loose, tries to match the rise and fall of Nicky’s chest with shuddering breaths until his head no longer swims and his pulse steadies. Something they’ve had to learn how to do for one another, over the years, since the first night of sleep that had been shattered by screaming after a dream contorted into a memory.

He’d love to say it’s gotten easier with time. Remembering.

They’re not sure how long they let the silence sit in the air, a placid kind of silence, muted by the surrounding forest and the mist that rolls off the nearby lake, but it’s comfortable. A necessary quiet, one that allows the men to think, to compose themselves and their thoughts before having to step back out into the world.

«I don’t know how to face him,» Joe admits, voice quiet, thick. «I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive him for—» he swallows through the tightness in his throat and blinks the glassiness from his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

He doesn’t need to.

«Yusuf,» Nicky says, and his voice sounds so full of pain, and worry, and love that Joe is afraid he’s about to shatter, «I know, love,» his voice goes rough and he buries his face in Joe’s neck where it slopes into his shoulder. «I know. Some things are not so easily forgotten.» He takes a breath, brings a hand up so that it sits over Joe’s heart, and Joe finds himself instinctually bringing his own hand to Nicky’s, lacing their fingers together. «So we do not bring forgiveness, we don’t call it that. But we do this anyways. We do this for Quynh because we couldn’t before.»

“Work with someone we don’t want to eat with?” Joe asks with a small smile, the favorite proverb of Andy’s tripping from his tongue in reluctant English, and Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Yes, work with someone we don’t want to eat with.”

They fall quiet again, only for a moment, before Joe takes a breath and settles back into the language of his far-gone youth. «Maybe one day we’ll want to eat with him again.»

Nicky stills behind him. «I hope so.»

~*~

When they tell Andy they’ll do it, she looks like the weight of the world has lifted from her shoulders.

~*~

They land at Charles de Gaulle and Joe’s skin prickles, too close to the old safehouse for any measure of comfort. He glances at Nicky and sees the same anxiety written on his face, the shadow cast by his hood seeming to darken the expression so it reads like a thundercloud about to crack. He reaches over, wraps an arm around Nicky’s shoulders, and pulls him close, the line of contact between their torsos the only part of him that buzzes with something other than apprehension. Nicky looks at him, a small, tight smile adorning his face for a split second before it falls flat, and Joe’s heart aches.

«We’re safe, my heart,» he whispers, and Nicky’s shoulders drop. The movement is small enough that it would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t memorized the lines of his body in a way intent upon worship, the way a priest memorizes scripture, but to Joe, it sings of relief.

When he looks to the women again, the sympathy and worry on Nile’s face is so raw and open that it hurts, and he has to cut his eyes away to not break where he stands.

~*~

The sidestreets are dead silent compared to the bustle of downtown, letting both ease and worry simmer in Joe’s bones as they pass only occasional pedestrians on their walk to the address Copley had given them. It’s a small apartment, part of a stonework building that’s likely just as old as Booker himself and a part of Joe wonders if he’d chosen it for the familiarity. A bigger part of him finds that it still hurts to care.

Nile steps forward and knocks on the door with a steady hand and Joe feels himself tense, as if he were heading into battle rather than seeing an old friend.

Maybe he is, though. Whatever lies ahead won’t be pretty, and it certainly won’t be painless, but it has to be done. The way it’s been for every battle he’s fought.

It’s not a thought he has much time to mull over before Booker opens the door, looking run-down but not worse for wear as Joe had suspected he might. His eyes land on Nile first and fear shoots through them.

“She’s not—” he begins to ask, the tremor in his voice another thing Joe wishes he could just not care about. He guesses he should be grateful it doesn’t take long for Booker to see Andy and sigh away the tension in his shoulders.

“You’re not rid of me yet, Book,” she says, voice soft but tight, and steps around Nile to pull him in for a hug. Joe has to look away to keep the pain that’s fisted around his heart from tightening. After a moment, Andy steps back, one hand still on Booker’s shoulder. He looks at the group, gaze lingering too long on the crumbling brick of the wall behind Joe and Nicky.

“Just Nile I might understand,” he starts, cutting his eyes to the youngest immortal, “but why are you all here? Ninety years premature, not even a heads up from Copely, what is it you’re trusting me with and not him?” he asks, the question infused with a wry laugh.

“Well, I don’t have ninety years.” Andy says, matter-of-fact, “And let’s be clear, I’m still pissed at you, but what I do have is a promise to keep and a lead on Quynh. And you have penance to pay so you’re going to help us follow it.”

Booker stares at Andy for a second, then steps back from the doorway and motions the group in.

He doesn’t make eye contact, as they enter. Joe can’t tell if he wishes he would.

~*~

They’re spread around what little space is available in Booker’s cramped apartment, every surface not occupied by a body is holding atlases from the past 5 centuries, seafloor maps as old as they could find, and any old mariner’s record Andy had figured might help them in their quest. Andy holds onto the copies of the diary pages she’d gotten from the museum under the guise that she was a history professor working on a research project with her students.

(It wasn’t technically a lie, she’d protested. She had been a history professor, nevermind that it was for 6 weeks, 150 years ago, and she’d been going by Andrew to do it.)

There’s a boat sitting at a marina an hour away, full of sonar equipment (mostly stolen) and diving gear (mostly not), waiting for them to make sense of it all.

It feels as though the tension in the room is muting any sound.

“Right,” Andy says, finally, slapping her hands on her thighs and standing. “Well, Nile and I are going to get food—”

“We are?”

“—Booker, where’s the nearest grocer?”

“Straight shot north, once you reach the main road,” he responds, as if on auto-pilot, and Andy takes Nile’s hand and pulls her up from her seat, tugging her towards the door.

What remains is the sounds of a pen scratching paper just a little too hard, pages being turned with unnecessary force, sounds that grate the ears and rake the mind.

It’s Nicky who breaks first, or maybe this is his version of offering a truce, setting his pen down to mark his place in the book he’s consulting before looking up. “We loved you as a brother, Sebastien,” he says, with a cold sort of softness, and the immediacy with which guilt floods Booker’s expression is like an arrow to the heart. It doesn’t stop Nicky, whose hands shake where he’s clasped them in his lap, though his voice remains steady. “No, actually, we still do. And that’s the knife in the wound, isn’t it? Because somewhere along the way, you stopped. You stopped seeing us as family and started seeing us as a means to an end, and all we ever saw you as was—” he cuts himself off with a scoff and looks away.

Joe stands silently from his chair across the room and walks to him, stopping behind him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Booker’s eyes tighten and he swallows hard, looks down at his hands, tracing an invisible line on a map. “I never—” he takes a deep breath, lets it out shakily. “I never thought anyone would get hurt. I never meant for that. I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than what it was.”

“But why?” Joe hears himself ask. “Why do it in the first place?”

Booker shrugs, raises his head like it pains him to do so, and looks between Joe and Nicky. “Because for the better part of two hundred years I felt alone?”

And, oh. There’s that old anger.

Joe feels a hand on his and realizes how tightly he’d been gripping Nicky’s shoulder. He eases, flexes his fingers under Nicky’s by way of apology and takes the answering stroke of a thumb over his knuckles as reply, and lets out a sharp breath. “Well, you were wrong. You weren’t alone. You chose to be. We were always there for you.”

“I know, and I know ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough, I know there’s nothing I could say, there’s probably nothing I could do that would ever earn your forgiveness, and I don’t blame you, but I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since I first set up that fucking meeting, I was just too caught up in my own grief to back down. I should’ve just given myself over at the start.”

Joe sighs. What he wants to say is that he should have talked to them from the start. From before Copley even entered the picture. The first time he’d had the hare-brained idea. But he knows that won’t help anyone now, so what comes out instead is, “Just, help Andy with this. It’s as good a first step as any.”

Joe holds Booker’s gaze just a beat longer before the other man clears his throat and looks back down at the map in front of him, but Joe can tell he’s not really studying it anymore. He feels Nicky’s shoulders sag more than he hears the heavy breath he’s let out, feels the hand on his slip away, watches it fall to Nicky’s lap the moment his head drops.

The silence is broken by a loud knock on the door and a man’s call, muffled by the heavy wood. « Jean-Paul! Es-tu en ici? »

« Ouais! J’arrive! », Booker calls, and stands, turning to look at Joe and Nicky again, frozen in their solemnity. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I did see you as family. I still do. I just didn’t know how to reconcile that with what family has meant for me.” He pauses a moment, then gives a small nod and walks to the door.

~*~

The sun beats relentlessly on the deck of the rented boat, at its nth stop in the middle of the ocean, little cobalt waves lapping at its hull almost mockingly. Or maybe it just feels that way, with heavy, drowsy sun-sickness set in countless hours ago and nothing to do but wait. It reminds Joe of when he was a young man (well, younger), becalmed on the ocean voyage that had led him to Andy and Quynh for the first time. He’s pretty sure he’d knitted enough socks to ensure all the armies of the world would have warm feet.

He idly wonders if he should have brought some needles and yarn, remembers that Nile had been curious to learn, when the surface of the water breaks again.

This time, Sebastien’s not alone.

The relief that blossoms in Joe’s chest threatens to choke him with tangled vines that reach up into his throat and encircle his heart. At its root, a bud of forgiveness, beginning to twist into bloom.

Maybe, he thinks, between pulling Quynh onto the deck and helping her into Andy’s arms, you can’t go right to wanting to eat with someone.

He leans over the gunwale again, extends a hand to Sebastien, still treading water. Maybe, first, you have to tolerate the walk to the grocery store.