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ask-sou-hiyori · 4 years ago

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Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

#ask blog #shin tsukimi #masterpost #important #long post #yttd #sou hiyori #your turn to die #synopsis #...long synopsis #soup SPEAKS #to be continued #will update #soup art #edit #sprite edit

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ms-demeanor · 5 years ago

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After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

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jabberbeans · 5 years ago

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Wangxian Coffeeshop AU: First encounter

I put Wangxian, coffee, urban magic, fluff and slowburn into the melting pot and crossed my fingers - read at your own risk. I’ll be updating this story in shorts before revising and posting a full length version to A03 (somewhere in the distant improbable future).

Featuring confused pining over magic tea and magic sweets, cafe shenanigans and baker/patissiere(?) WWX and LWJ.

Tranquility turned tea from pear-green to a deep sea foam. Lan Wangji felt this was appropriate - water was the most tranquil thing he knew. His uncle disagreed - as he often did - and had attempted to shift the colour back to its original green many times. That one was a failed experiment - it reduced the efficacy of tranquility and made the tea taste like grass.

“That’s not green tea,” Lan Qiren had scowled, pointing an accusatory finger at the perfect sea foam brew. “It isn’t traditional.”

Was magic traditional? Lan Wangji had been tempted to ask, but held his tongue. Using their energy to shape the natural order of things into something else - perhaps that betrayed tradition, or at least some law of nature. But magic ran as deep as blood, and the healing teas were so much more healing when they used magic, so sea foam it was.

They still called it green tea on their menu. It was very popular.

Gusu had been a traditional Chinese tea house, once. Lan Qiren would have been quite content to keep it that way too, but even he couldn’t shout gentrification into going away. Gusu was dying. So he turned the shop over to his nephews with the vague hope that they could reassess its business model and bring in some customers. Then he went on a long vacation.

When he returned, Gusu was transformed. Literally. Its dark wood finishings were gone, replaced with snow-bright walls. The tea was unrecognisable. There was a dessert menu. And a bar counter.

But there were also customers. So many, in fact, that Lan Qiren was forced to don his apron and help out not five minutes after walking through the door. Lan Wangji had never seen his uncle so disturbed as he’d been that day, trapped behind the counter while teenagers pointed their phones at his hands and cooed over the quaintness, the rarity, the sheer aesthetic - of hand brewed tea.

It wasn’t that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji had betrayed their uncle and tradition. It was more accurate to say that they took his best ideals, put them in the proverbial blender and stood by silently to receive the scrambled results.

Floor seating and low tables remained - but there was also a large communal table and benches, and of course, the dreaded bar counter with its stools. The tea menu was largely the same, just tweaked to look and taste better. Ice blended options were now available, to their uncle’s everlasting horror. And there were traditional desserts - almond soup, sesame balls, milk pastry, cakes - all arranged artfully and minimally on little porcelain plates.

And so Gusu was preserved, albeit not quite in the shape their uncle would have preferred. But four years on, the cafe continued thrive - building a solid reputation among locals and visitors. Lan Qiren had mostly adapted to the teenagers with their phones and the cakes by now, but he still eyed the green tea with deep suspicion.

Lan Wangji was doing the very same that morning, as he regarded Lan Jingyi’s practice brews. The teen had arranged the tiny glass cups from dark amber to pale yellow. Perhaps he thought he might get points for neatness.

“Again,” Lan Wangji said with finality, eyes sweeping down the line. “When you make clarity, the oolong should lighten to parchment.”

Jingyi wilted first at again and segued quickly into bafflement at parchment.

“Parchment?” The boy repeated, unsure if he heard right. Lan Wangji paused to think it over, then nodded.

“Like paper white, tinted with yellow or tan. Parchment.”

Jingyi looked exasperated then, eyes wide and swivelling in their sockets to catch Lan Sizhui’s, who pretended not to see. Finding himself without allies in the kitchen, Jingyi’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Yes, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji didn’t blame him. Clarity was difficult to make. Oolong got particularly stubborn when energy was channeled into it. If one had poor magic control, the colour could turn almost violently, from amber to walnut to black.

He left Jingyi to continue his oolong studies and approached Sizhui instead, who had finished divining the difference between parchment and white the day before, and so was allowed to move on to desserts. Lan Wangji approached from behind silently, but Sizhui’s hands remained steady as they attempted to transplant a sesame ball onto a spun sugar base. It wobbled unsteadily when he drew back.

“I’ll do it again,” Sizhui said before Lan Wangji could. “The base is too brittle. It must have been the temperature.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji approved. “Continue.”

The boys were young, only fifteen, but they were fast and eager to learn. Their progress came at no little effort however, if Jingyi’s growing army of oolong cups was any indication. But Lan Wangji was not worried. His uncle had handpicked them himself from some branch or other of their very, very extended family, and they were proving to be dedicated workers. It had been less than a month since they began training, but they would soon be ready to work the counter.

There was a loud rattling sound from Jingyi’s corner of the kitchen, a hastily bitten off curse, and then Sizhui was abandoning his station to fly over with a towel. Lan Wangji pointedly did not turn around to look. Perhaps not /too/ soon.

Jingyi’s cups were no closer to parchment by the time Lan Xichen poked his head in. “Wangji,” he called. “Would you check outside? The customers say there’s an obstruction near the entrance.”

“The deliveries?” The deliveryman occasionally left their parcels at the front, if he was busy.

“He would have called if he wasn’t coming in.”

“I’ll check.”

It wasn’t a parcel. Lan Wangji spotted the problem the moment he stepped out - it was taking pains to make itself known, actually.

A little stickman was drawn onto the walkway in what looked like chalk. Someone had magicked it to life so that it danced about - harmless, but an annoyance regardless. It surged towards Lan Wangji’s foot, circling playfully and attempting to slide onto his shoe. If it succeeded, the chalk drawing would transfer to the leather.

Lan Wangji stepped briskly out of its path and tried to trace its spiritual source. It was strong, and he followed it easily out the gate. The little stickman raced to stay close, its arms waving about.

He was so preoccupied ensuring it didn’t touch him that he nearly tripped over the problem’s source.

“Careful!” The man squatting on the pavement said, flinging an arm up in reflex. His hand was covered in chalk dust. Lan Wangji stepped back to look at him. Then he looked again.

“You…” He had no words for what he was witnessing. The man was surrounded by chalk drawings that stretched all the way up the pavement, past the neighbouring lot. They were wriggling with life - little stick figures dancing, animals prowling, scribbled phrases vibrating - and food - so much of it, all moving.

It was a simple matter to implant spiritual energy in the drawings - small children could do it with enough practice. But that was precisely the problem, it was a trick for children, not adults.

“You’re blocking my sun, do you mind…?” The man said, not unkindly. He still hadn’t turned around, eyes focused on his next drawing. Lan Wangji did not move.

“This is vandalism,” he told him.

“It’s only chalk. It’ll wash away with the rain. Or a good sweep.”

The man looked up then, and…Lan Wangji did not know what he was expecting - he had no preconceived notions. But he felt a flicker of surprise. The man’s mouth was curved like he was laughing, though no sound passed his lips. His smile was sun-bright. For a brief moment Lan Wangji allowed himself to notice the rest of him - his impish features, his haphazard ponytail, and the red ribbon that tamed it, just barely.

He looked away.

“You’re obstructing our business,” he told the air in the middle distance. He sensed the man was staring at him but he kept his gaze averted. There was a small gasp, like the man realised something.

“Oh! You run the cafe?” Lan Wangji let the weighted silence speak for him, and the man continued to speak as if he’d received a proper reply. “I didn’t notice I was in front of your shop. I started drawing and I had so much inspiration that I forgot -“

“Please remove yourself and the drawings. You are inconveniencing the customers.”

The man pouted. “I want to save the drawings first…but I don’t have paper. That’s why I’m drawing out here. You see, I had this amazing idea for a triple tier reverse lava cupcake and I needed to sketch it out before the idea got away from me but all I had was this chalk in my pocket so -“

Lan Wangji was quite finished listening to him somewhere around paper. He said sternly, “If I give you paper will you stop?”

“And a pencil too, please!” The man said shamelessly, as if it was perfectly normal to make demands of strangers that he was inconveniencing.

Lan Wangji unfolded his wallet, and ran his fingers through it briefly. He kept some useful things inside - stationery, a first-aid kit, a spare apron - and his notebook. It was twice the size of his wallet and the man hummed with interest when he extricated it.

“Handy trick,” he commented, eyes twinkling.

Ignoring him, Lan Wangji carefully tore three pieces of paper from the spine. Then he glanced at the chalk drawings and tore another piece. The man was gleeful as he accepted them.

“I drew a lot, didn’t I,” He sounded pleased with himself. “Thank you.”

“Hm.”

He stood aside while the man lay the paper sheets on the ground, spreading them neatly. Then he wriggled his fingers and whistled once, sharp. The doodles froze where they were, some in the midst of sneaking onto the street. When the man tapped the paper with his finger they began to slide along the pavement very quickly, shrinking as they went, until they were paper drawings. Lan Wangji was surprised by the sheer number of doodles of cake, sweets and desserts - each one elaborately drawn and unusual.

Unbelievably, there was a reverse three-tiered cupcake - just like the man had described. A long string of untidy handwriting accompanied it, jostling the cupcake as they both slid onto the last empty spot. Then it was over, and the pavement was clean once more.

Almost.

“You forgot one.” The little chalk man was still trying to climb his foot despite the slight energy field Lan Wangji had put up to rebuff it. It hopped around the toe of his shoe, waving indignantly.

“Hm...” the man crooked a finger at it, and when that didn’t work, he whistled sharply. The little chalk man appeared to toss its head rebelliously at his efforts, marching away until it was behind Lan Wangji’s shoe.

The man only laughed, “You should keep him, I think he likes you.” Then he winked and turned away, his ribbons flying as he did. Like they were taunting him.

“You...!”

“Take good care of him,” the man called back, already walking away.

#mdzs fanfiction #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #fanfiction #the untamed #wangxian #coffeeshop au

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chanagun · 5 years ago

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Coffee in One Hand (Earphones in One Ear)

Fandom: SOTUS The Series Pairing: Prem/Wad

Summary: Every day he worked, like clockwork, the same young man came in at 2:30. He'd order a medium black coffee with room; he'd pour some 2% milk into it at the counter and take it to a booth nestled in the back of the shop. But he'd always still be in perfect view of Prem, who would not-so-subtly gaze longingly in his direction. Prem thought it was kind of cute how the man would push his glasses to the top of his head to keep his long hair out of his face and how he'd pull out his laptop and always only use one earphone while working for an hour.

Notes: The Coffeeshop AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway. Title is from Falling For U by Seventeen 2,949 Words

AO3 Wattpad

——

"I wonder what he's always working on," Prem said to no one in particular.

"Who cares? Don't you have some fancy lattes to be making?" Bright asked from his spot sitting atop the counter.

"Don't you have literally any work to be doing?" Knot asked just as Arthit swiped at Bright's legs walking towards the register, effectively knocking him to the ground.

"MAN DOWN!" he yelled as his coworkers just laughed. Just a normal day at the shop, Prem thought, before turning back to the man.

Every day he worked, like clockwork, the same young man came in at 2:30. He'd order a medium black coffee with room; he'd pour some 2% milk into it at the counter and take it to a booth nestled in the back of the shop. But he'd always still be in perfect view of Prem, who would not-so-subtly gaze longingly in his direction. Prem thought it was kind of cute how the man would push his glasses to the top of his head to keep his long hair out of his face and how he'd pull out his laptop and always only use one earphone while working on something for an hour. He'd take little sips here and there from his cup, taking his time finishing his coffee. Sometimes he'd glance over to the counter, and Prem would look away, hiding his blush with his hat, and pretend he was cleaning. He didn't really do subtle well.

"Seriously Prem?" he jumped when a surprising hand connected with his shoulder. He pretended Knot's solid hand didn't hurt when he turned to him to see what he needed to say. "We really do have some fancy lattes to make. You can continue ogling that stranger in a bit."

"I am not ogling," Prem mumbled in return as he tightened his apron. He heard Bright snort behind him. And yes, the swift kick to his shin Prem landed was well deserved. Bright's yelp was satisfying enough to focus on his steamed milk designs.

The stranger was always packed up and gone before their after-work rush came in. Prem felt brave enough to send him a smile as he walked to the counter to return his mug. He smiled back softly and was out the door. Prem felt his face warm and he bit his lip. He grabbed the glass and studied it a moment. Knot always seemed to give him that particular mug; a taller, off-white mug with a tiny chip in the handle.

Bright, always one to ruin a moment, yanked it from his hands and walked it to the sink. Prem snarled at the oblivious dishwasher.

"You were drooling all over the counter anyway, Prem," Arthit teased, noticing his bewildered expression. Prem glared for a moment before turning back around to wipe down the steamer.

"I was not," once again mumbling in response.

"Hello friends!" a new voice announced as the front doors swung open.

"Ah, good afternoon, Kongpob," Knot greeted warmly, ignoring how Arthit ducked behind him when he heard Kongpob's voice. Kongpob smiled brightly at him despite the pink tinting his cheeks. "Your usual?"

"Yes, thank you, Knot," he replied as Knot rang him up. Kongpob was another regular of theirs, definitely more social than the stranger Prem was infatuated with. Kongpob also very obviously had the hots for their Arthit, while Arthit spent his time pretending he didn't notice him, yet always insisted on making his drink. Prem watched Arthit craft his latte, while Kongpob took his seat at the bar and continued his own gaze with his chin resting on his hand. Arthit filled his dark green mug, taking extra care with the heart drawn into the foam. Their same old song and dance.

Kongpob usually stayed for a bit under the guise of studying with an open textbook in front of him, but really just tried to get Arthit's attention. Prem knew he succeeded too, the tips of Arthit's ears always turning red when Kongpob smiled at him.

"Okay, I've got to go to practice, but I'll see you all tomorrow!" Kongpob announced a little while later. They each bid him farewell as he packed up his backpack. "Goodbye, Arthit," he said with a smile, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Arthit just grunted in response, pretending to be busy with the french press, but a blush was evident in his cheeks. Prem rolled his eyes at the encounter fondly and waved bye to Kongpob.

Their coffee shop only had two shifts and Knot was their shift manager. He was responsible for making sure they all stayed on task to get the shop closed and cleaned on time; he only smacked Bright occasionally to keep him focused on finishing up the dishes. Knot would mumble about how Prae, the first shift manager, would be mad if everything wasn't in tip top shape for opening the next morning. Prem, and everyone else, knew that wasn't true. Prae was a sweet girl and she did her job very well. She appreciated how everything would always be neat and ready for open and would tell them every shift change.

Prem was on floors, so after they locked the door at 8, he grabbed the broom and started making his way around the shop. His mind drifted almost immediately to the mystery customer, as he found it doing very often.

Perhaps he was a novelist, typing away every day to make his editor's deadlines.

Or maybe he was a programmer, scripting long sequences of code for work.

Maybe he was just screwing around on reddit.

"Oi, Prem, you've been sweeping that one spot for five minutes. I think it's plenty clean!" Bright yelled out to him. Prem pretended he was going to throw the broom and made Bright flinch, but he couldn't help the flush on his face. He couldn't get that guy out of his head.

Prem traded out his broom for a mop and a bucket and tried to keep his mind occupied by listening to his coworkers banter while they cleaned the back. They mentioned that Knot got tickets to a concert later that month as a surprise for his boyfriend and automatically Prem thought about the one earbud in the mystery man's ear.

"I wonder what he listens to..."

"It was all kind of slow besides the 7 o'clock rush," Prae told them as they put on their aprons, "we tried to keep it as tidy as you guys always do," she finished with a smile.

"It's always appreciated. Thanks Prae," Knot responded.

"And thanks Tuta," Tuta added snarkily as he closed his register. Knot chuckled and playfully punched his shoulder. "Ow."

"Thanks Tuta, and thank you May and Tee, we'll see you tomorrow." The first shifters made their way out the door and Prem quickly fell into the normal rhythm. He really enjoyed his work at the shop, and he liked the company. His coworkers were the only really close friends he had since he came out to the city for uni. Sure, they had their quirks, but he got a long with them nicely. They worked around each other smoothly, making life a little easier.

It was 2:30 before Prem realized and he had to catch his breath when the young man walked in. He went up to Knot at the register and ordered his usual. Prem bit his lip and tried to distract himself from watching the exchange. He didn't want to be too creepy. He failed, of course, a faint blush gracing his cheeks as he saw him make his way to his table and push his glasses up. And then he caught Prem's gaze, causing Prem to jump and busy himself behind the steamer. He felt his heartbeat in his throat and he tried to shake it off.

Prem was glad it got kind of busy in the shop, so he could successfully avoid looking at the customer again for a chunk of time.

"Oy, Prem, watch the register for me really quick?" Knot asked him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other a couple of times. Prem laughed before shooing him to the bathroom.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his stranger stand, getting ready to leave. Prem swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on the door. He was surprised to see Kongpob walking in way earlier than he usually arrived. Prem watched as he looked up from his phone to smile at the mystery man walking towards the door.

"Oh, Wad, hey!" he heard Kongpob greet. Prem gaped at them as the customer — Wad — smiled back.

"Hey Kong," they bumped fists, "how're you doing?"

"I'm alright, a bit tired. I'm gonna grab some much needed caffeine," Kongpob said lightly, but the circles under his eyes suggested he was more tired than he was letting on.

"Maybe take a nap too, man. Are you still coming to practice?" Wad asked.

Kongpob nodded, "Yeah, of course."

"I'll see you later then. Take it easy," Wad told him before finally making his way out the door.

Prem stood, dumbfounded, at the register. He kind of just stared at Kongpob as he walked up to order.

"The usual, Prem... are you okay?" Prem blinked. He then cleared his throat and shook it off.

"Oh, um, yeah," he said as he put Kongpob's order in. "You're here earlier than usual today," he said, attempting to be casual despite not feeling the slightest bit casual.

"Yeah, I had kind of a long night and I needed some coffee ASAP," he chuckled before handing him the correct amount of cash. Prem nodded, and took it.

"So, um, you know that guy?" Prem winced at his own words and Kongpob furrowed his brow.

"Who? Wad?" Prem felt the growing warmth on his face, but nodded anyway. Kongpob just smiled at him. "We've shared a few classes and we play basketball together. He's a good guy, albeit reserved... when he wants to be."

"Thanks for covering, Prem— oh, Kongpob, you're here early—" Knot said upon his return being cut off by Arthit clearing his throat loudly.

"Your drink is up," he said tersely, placing it in Kongpob's normal spot before he even sat down. Kongpob smiled fondly and excused himself from the register. Prem saw the concern in Arthit's face upon seeing Kongpob. He leaned forward and spoke to Kongpob in hushed tones while he sipped in his coffee. Prem went back to his station and watched as Kongpob's eyes slowly brightened. Prem wasn't sure if it was entirely the coffee's doing, noticing Arthit's hand atop of Kongpob's.

He bit his lip, willing the thoughts of holding Wad's hand one day away.

"Arthit," Prem whispered to get his attention. They had locked the doors some time ago and it was just him and Arthit cleaning the back as the others roamed around to close.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking over to Prem.

"Don't take this the wrong way, I'm just really curious..." Arthit quirked an eyebrow, signaling Prem to continue, "you like Kongpob, right?" Arthit's face showed a flash of confusion before snorting a laugh.

"Um, yeah, Prem. I do. We've been dating for weeks."

"WHAT?" Prem yelped, causing Bright and Knot to glance over. Prem flashed them a toothy grin before asking, lower, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"You didn't ask!" Arthit replies defensively. "I thought you guys knew!"

"Arthit come on! We had money on this."

"What?"

"Nothing! Anyway, that's actually really awesome and I'm happy for you, I'm sorry this is so awkward now."

Arthit rolled his eyes fondly before replying, "thanks. What were you going to follow that up with, anyway?"

Prem bit his lip. "I mean... I was going to just see if you liked him... to see if you would tell me how you got a good boy like Kongpob to like a curmudgeon like you." A wet rag hit him in the face. "I'm just kidding! Ow! Also gross!"

"You deserve it! And if this about your earbud boy, Wad," Arthit said, giving Prem a pointed look, "Kong told me he asked him about you."

"What?" Prem felt himself freeze while Arthit just smirked at him.

"Yeah, at practice he asked Kong, and I quote, 'who the cute barista with the ballcap' was. It wasn't Knot, because he doesn't wear a hat and it wasn't Bright, because he's not cute."

"But... wait, what?!" Prem spluttered, making Arthit laugh at him again.

"Prem please. He stares at you just as much as you stare at him," Arthit informed him. Prem kept gaping at him, unable to process. "You both just miss each other's gross love lorn glances. It's actually really sad." Prem whimpered at the comment. "Buck up and just talk to him! Tomorrow. Please. It's getting really hard to work with your pining all day." Prem whimpered again.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell us!" Bright yelled as soon as Arthit walked behind the counter the next day. Their group chat had been lighting up all the night before once Prem let it slip that Arthit was dating Kongpob. Which, of course, spurred Arthit to tell them that Prem was going to talk to Wad finally. "I can't believe I'm the only single one now! Do you think Tuta from morning shift has a boyfriend?"

"You know I'm still here, right?" Tuta asked, taking off his apron.

"Don't even start with that Bright," Knot warned.

"Wad isn't my boyfriend! I haven't even talked to him!" Prem exclaimed back to Bright.

"Yet. You haven't talked to him yet," Arthit said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well. As much as I would love to know what's going on, I have class," Prae announces to the afternoon crew. She grabbed onto Tuta's wrist to pull him away from glaring a hole into Bright's head. "We have class. See you all tomorrow!" She said sweetly on her way out the door.

The afternoon staff quickly dispersed, their laughter trailing behind them as they took their usual spots. They fell into their rhythm; taking orders, steaming milk and making lattes, then cleaning up and doing it over again. Prem hummed a song that had been stuck in his head for days as he took the blender over to the sink.

That's when he realized Bright was no where to be found. Prem scoffed and turned toward the registers to shoot Knot an incredulous look.

But he wasn't there either. And Arthit wasn't by the steamer.

Prem furrowed his brow, completely at a loss. The door chimed and his eyes flashed to the entrance. 2:30. Prem cursed his coworkers as Wad made his way to the register. "Um, hi," he greeted Prem quietly, looking confused at the lack of workers.

Prem swallowed the lump in his throat and threw the blender down into the sink unceremoniously. He winced but powered forward. He grabbed the chipped, off-white mug and brought it with him to the register. "Black coffee with room?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Wad blinked at him twice before nodding eagerly.

"Could I get a piece of coffee cake too?"

"Of course," Prem said, trying not to let his voice crack. Wad never usually ordered food, so he was slightly surprised. Wad handed him too large of a bill and shoved all his change that Prem returned into the tip jar. Prem turned to fill the mug quickly to hide his reddening face. "I'll warm up that coffee cake and bring it around to your table?" He tried not to make it sound like a question but he was nervous.

"Oh, thank you!" Wad replied, taking the mug from Prem's hands. Prem tried not to faint right on the spot as their fingers brushed during the exchange. Prem couldn't help but smile as he saw the tips of Wad's ear go pink as he turned and walked to his usual table.

"Thanks for covering, my man, I had to go to the bathroom," Prem heard Knot say from behind him.

"And I had to check something in the stock room," Arthit added as Prem turned around.

"And I just wanted to not be out here for five to ten minutes!" Bright said, punctuating with a wink.

"I hate all of you," he told his coworkers. He grabbed a slice of coffee cake and put it in the warmer, ignoring the whispers and chuckles from his so called friends.

Wad already had his computer out, glasses on the top of head, and he took a sip gingerly from his mug. He met Prem's gaze and smiled as he approached with the plate.

"So you don't usually order anything but coffee," Prem blurted. He was never good at thinking before speaking.

But Wad just smiled again and said, "you know my order well." Prem almost choked on his own spit, making Wad laugh at his spluttering. Prem thought his laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard.

Prem realized he was still holding the plate so he put down, a little too hard, by Wad's laptop. "So, um, I'm Prem." Wad chuckled.

"I know. I sort of asked Kong about you. I'm Wad."

Prem grinned then, "I know. I kinda asked Kongpob about you, too."

By the end of the shift, Prem had a new number in his phone and a date scheduled for the weekend. He didn't stop smiling, even after he was back in his apartment for the night.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and brought up a new message:

'So what are you always working on when you're at the shop?'

Additional A/N: Too much background and build up for little payoff? Maybe. I'm sorry. I've been in a funk. Wad is a graphic designer in this AU and he's WORKING okay but it doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the view of the cute barista that has the cutest smile and hums songs Wad doesn't know.

#annie writes #sotus #sotus the series #premwad #artkong #tutabright #coffeeshop au #i missed my sons (the hazers are my sons)

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virgosaturn · 6 years ago

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how the moon signs deal with breakups

submitters were asked to answer the following q’s: how do you process a break up (do you first feel relieved and then grieve, for example)? how do you comfort yourself after a break up (could be outside influences or what you do alone)? feel free to continue to submit.

aries moon:

“after a break up - intense feelings, regret, obsessed with the person, very hard to let go, obsessed over what went wrong. Grief, sadness, anger and a bit of revenge. When alone - tries to figure out what went wrong, MUSIC, transformation does occur when it truly meant something for them. When outside - spends a lot of time playing sports, very competitive, angry, passionate. Expresses all the intense feelings through sports. Also stalking tendency.”

“I deff feel first might even react in a aggressive way. I comfort myself by emotionally eating and completely avoiding people until I get over it.. sometimes I go out and just try to forget it until.. I'm alone.”

taurus moon:

“I eat. A lot. I shop. A lot. I comfort myself with things money can buy. I go out and pretend to be happy. Once I’m done w/ the over-indulgence of my post-breakup then I hibernate for a couple weeks-months. While I’m hibernating, I think of everything we did, all the good and the bad. I remember smells, feelings, sensations, etc.That I associate with them. Or I rethink things about what I did wrong and how I could’ve done things different. I replay every little thing. Smh.”

gemini moon:

“When I break up with someone I normally feel tortured by the decision and I second guess myself at every turn. The only way I am able to process is by completely cutting ties with the other person so that I can heal into whom ever I am to become next. It takes a long time for me to get over a relationship and I still do experience longing from time to time.”

cancer moon:

“if I break up with someone, before doing it I feel so awful and guilty. I’m overwhelmed with to much stress that my stomach always hurts so badly. Then when I finally decide to do it, I don’t feel guilty anymore but instead I feel so nostalgic. I would think about us, what we were, our great memories. And idk it’s weird but I always end up loving the memory of that person more than the person themselves. Like... just the thought of them.”

leo moon:

“After breaking up with my ex, I immediately got dressed and ready to go out, I took selfies and posted them on social media where he would see them; I went out and had a good time and made sure he knew I was having the time of my life. After I got the attention I needed, I blocked him on everything. When the love of my life broke up with me lmao I stayed in my room day and night, slept all day long, cried all night. And literally haven’t gotten over him to this date smh”

virgo moon:

“after a breakup i usually focus on myself only, i feel bad maybe for a couple of days but then i get up and make myself busy, i usually do something that my ex could see (succeeding at a project, etc.) and treat myself all the time 💃🏻face masks, my fav food, shopping💆🏻‍♀️”

libra moon:

“when i break up w/ someone, i feel terrible about it. i try to think of ways we can fix the relationship to avoid breaking their heart. when someone breaks up w/ me, i’ll pretend i’m fine in front of them & shrug it off like it’s not a big deal. but i’m an emotional mess once i get home, questioning if it was my own fault that they broke up w/ me.”

“I experience shock at first, like I turn stone cold while the break up is happening and then I go through denial, and being like "nah, they'll come back eventually", and then I think of all the things I did wrong and all the things they did wrong so I go on hating them for a bit until I start crying my ass out to some sad songs until I just don't give a shit anymore & move on”

scorpio moon:

“It was denial, like it didnt matter at first. Then, things sunk in and i just absorb until i exploded. I cried as i spoke to my mother about it. One week later, i started packing up everything that reminded me of her and kept in a box. Not one thing was left out as i wanted to banish any existence. A few months later, the pain has dull but there will always be an ache whenever i came across astrology posts that reminded me of her. She was the one whom got me into astrology.”

sagitarrius moon:

“I get mad, think of a revenge then cry, a lot, and never actually follow the revenge. Then try to seem all put together in front of them”

capricorn moon:

“I wouldn't be likely to be the one to break up. When broken up w, I try to work on myself to be a better person w hope of redemption. // I process a break up by crying, a lot of crying. I comfort myself w face masks and self care!”

“I can usually tell when someone’s lost interest in me or vice-versa already and I’d try to leave the relationship as quickly as possible. I’d then proceed to sever all existing contact with the person. Of all my exes, I feel almost immediate disgust towards them that I can’t even stand seeing their pictures or hearing their names lol. In terms of moving on, I don’t really get attached and usually get over the person whilst I’m still in the relationship”

aquarius moon:

“processing a break up, i’ll pretend to be fine in public but be an emotional mess when i’m alone. getting over a break up, i’ll probably try to distract myself by talking to someone new in order to get over the person that broke up w/ me.”

pisces moon:

“I’ve usually been fairly okay because in my head we’ve already broken up. But I usually cry a lil bit because I’ve lost my best friend, I eat, and then meet up with friends that I sort of ignored while in the relationship and move on”

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secretshinigami · 5 years ago

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Not Alone

Author: @jam-knife (I’m submitting through my main) For: @misas-biggest-fan Pairings/Characters: LxLight Rating/Warnings: Mature. Major characters’ deaths. Mentions of sex (though nothing too explicit, and I kept curse words to a minimum too). Angst, lots of it. Prompt: Light being tailed by L’s ghost Author’s Notes: heyyyyy first of all I LOVED your prompts! I really enjoyed writing this for you, it was a very interesting scenario to explore. I hope you like it!!! Please let me know what you think of it once you finish reading it. Second of all, this fic begins with a scene that was unfortunately cut from the anime (though it wasn’t canon in the manga as far as I know, so it’s not that bad). I don’t know whether or not you’ve watched it, but I’ll leave the link here just in case! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tX1_K-mUH94 Word Count: 12k (approximation)

“You said nothing much to look forward to, Ryuk?”

Light’s words were met only by the rustling sound of leaves being ruffled by a sudden cold breeze, which carried with it the smell of removed earth, moss and death. The dirt stuck to his palms and the fabric of his pants as he stood up. He didn’t even show the empathy it required to rub it off.

“Not really. From now on, I’m going to show you how the new world is built.”

His eyes travelled to the sky, dyed orange and red as dusk fell upon him and his –unusually silent– Shinigami. He didn’t give L’s grave one last glimpse as he turned and left. What was there to see anymore? The rocky cross was nothing more than some artfully carved stone, the body six feet below it just an empty carcass, and the dirt that covered it and clung to his person wasn’t different from any other dirt.

None of it truly represented what L had been. L couldn’t possibly be reduced to or preserved in a graveyard lot. Those symbols were hollow.

L was gone. Forever. Which meant that Light now had green light to do with the world –His world– what he wanted.

That’s when he felt it, for the first time.

A step.

Light froze. That… he must have imagined it. Just in case he glanced over his shoulder, and confirmed there was nobody else there; just Ryuk, hovering half a foot over the paved path. That means he imagined it.

That extra step, as if someone tailing him had synchronized their walking with his own, but their last step was slightly off-key.

No. It was nothing. It had been a long day… a long year actually. But now the war was finally over, and all there was left to do was conquer-

He didn’t manage to conclude that thought before the chilling breeze enveloped him in a personal whirlwind of sorts, seeping into his clothes and attacking his every nerve. It only lasted a moment, but it was more than enough for him to perceive an intention in it. One simple idea. Confrontation.

Light was free. Omnipotent. And L was no more.

That is the plain truth… right?

The second time he noticed it was a few days later. Most of the time he wouldn’t even remember it, but every now and then the extra step would announce itself. Subtle, barely present enough to tickle the back of his head. And it grew worse every time he looked the Task Force members in the eye and manipulated or lied to them.

No, he didn’t feel guilty about L’s death –or about any death that preceded it. To think that the reason why his subconscious invoked a constant sensation of being followed and sneered upon was because of some pathetic remorse was ridiculous. Light Yagami was above all that moral crap humans loved to entertain themselves with. He was the God of a newborn world; he simply did what needed to be done for true justice to prevail.

No matter how many times he told himself this, though, the sensation wouldn’t fade away. But, again, it was just that. A sensation.

Or so it had been, until that night.

He had been working on replicating L’s voice synthesizing program for hours on end. There were no windows on the building’s main room, but he knew it was probably very late by now. Even Ryuk, who didn’t biologically need sleep as the otherworldly being he was, had sprawled himself messily on one of the couches and was snoring to his heart’s content.

Light sighed and went back to work. He remembered how that artificial voice had sounded when L used it against him, and when he lent it to Light so he could contact Namikawa during the Yotsuba period. That’s how he knew he was close to getting it right; going to sleep now would only be a waste of time and concentration.

He tweaked the depth and the vibration here and there, checked it, then went back to correcting it. And finally, he succeeded.

“Hello, one two three, testing…” He spoke into the mic, and beamed when he realized he made it. Yes, this would work.

To make sure it was convincing enough to fool anyone, but mostly just because he was feeling giddy with victory, he tried out some L-ish phrases and worked on his intonation and mood.

“You’re in Japan. And your first victim was… little more than an experiment.”

That was exactly what that man had said… so many months ago. Light could still perfectly recall the smugness dripping off every syllable.

“It won’t be too long now before I am able to sentence you… to death.” He replicated impeccably, the words leaving a sour aftertaste behind as he remembered the rage they had unleashed within him back then.

Light gulped and took a breath before leaning into the mic one more time.

“I am L.”

Are you done playing detective?

Light jumped. The chair rolled beneath him and he landed roughly on the floor, together with the toppled mic and a stack of papers, causing a momentary ruckus. He quickly scrambled to his feet, finding support on the desk behind him as he eyed the room. But there was nothing there.

There was no way. He could have sworn he heard L’s voice –not the digital fake, the real deal– whispering inside his head just now. But it lacked the inconsistency of a memory; it had sounded way too organic. It was nothing like the footstep or the silent vigilance. That… was real.

But it couldn’t be. L was dead –he was absolutely certain of that. He had held his body when it happened. He felt it go numb. Still. He confirmed there was no pulse. Then why… why could he hear him?

Was he going crazy?

Every ounce of rationality in him told him so. But. If that… thing just now was real, then…

“Well… Shinigami exist, don’t they? Literal Gods of Death.” He thought out loud. “So… what would be so weird about ghosts?”

Slowly, as if not to disturb the atmosphere, he picked up the chair and sat back down. Not facing the computer, but the room enveloped in darkness. Nothing happened, but he still raised his knees to his chest and adopted his rival’s trademark position out of instinct.

He was definitely losing it.

“Did I make you mad, L?” Light teased, his lips twisted into a wry smile that lost some of its effect given how shaken he actually felt. Even so, there was no answer. “Nothing to say? Why so shy all of a sudden…”

The room was completely quiet except for Ryuk’s thunderous snores. Light waited for a whole minute, and then two more. There were no words… but that feeling of something lingering remained.

“You said yourself I’d do a great job succeeding you.” He tried out, although he was probably just trailing off. “But we both know you wanted to test me, to see if I gave you a response worthy of Kira. You weren’t expecting to actually see it unfold, were you. Does it irritate you? Do you want to hurt me?”

He was about to give up and go back to work when the quiet, familiar chuckle resonated inside him, sending shivers down his spine.

That’s rich coming from the man responsible for my death.

Light’s heart skipped a beat… and his smile grew darker. So it was really him. He wasn’t crazy, or hallucinating. L was haunting him.

“So what? Have you come to take revenge? Talk about a sore loser.”

That, right there, is where you are wrong, dear. You think you’ve already won, but the war is far from over.

He frowned. Even dead, L continued to be as smug as ever. Had it always been this annoying? Moreover, how come L could say it wasn’t over? What else was there left to do? Who else left to defeat?

“What do you mean? I killed you. Everyone left believes in my innocence and supports me as the new L. I’ve acquired the ultimate power. I can direct the police force as L while enchanting the general public as Kira. There’s nothing and nobody else standing on my way to absolute victory.”

Only silence followed his statements. Even more exasperated, he declared:

“You are already dead, L. You’re dead.”

He waited, but nothing else came from L that night.

That, of course, didn’t mean he was gone for good.

Light continued to hear the extra step following him from room to room. That he learned to ignore over time, since it’s easier for the brain to disregard what it gets used to perceiving –just like not seeing your own nose in front of you all the time unless you actively think about it.

What always caught Light off-guard, even though it had become an everyday thing, was when L spoke to him. Light would normally be able to feel when L was laughing at him, or when something he did made the ghost mad. But every time L spoke actual words, they echoed inside Light’s head and his skin tickled.

It was icky. Plus, talking to L always got Light on his nerves. Even after death, the detective had found a purpose for his existence in unnerving Light. And even that was remarkably ordinary and unsurprising compared to the fact that Light somehow managed to put up with it for over four years.

Four years of snarky remarks over his shoulder. Four years of effort dedicated to ignoring that voice and pretending he didn’t hear it, only for L to slip into his dreams where he couldn’t escape him.

Not all was bad, though. He had already experienced having L study his every move, follow him from room to room… back when they were handcuffed they even had to sleep in the same bed and take showers together. Compared to that, the current situation was not so bad. The lack of chains was an improvement, he no longer had to hide his identity as a mass murderer, and since he already had several years worth of experience with talking to entities nobody else could see, concealing L’s presence to the Task Force wasn’t too hard a task.

Ryuk would sometimes eye him like he had gone insane, but Light had no interest in explaining himself to a Shinigami. He knew what Ryuk thought of death: after passing away, the soul goes to the 無(Mu). The Nothingness. According to that, L’s existence as a ghost should be impossible. But here he was regardless.

L didn’t just talk. Light came to realize he was a great listener too. Maybe ‘realize’ was not the right word; more like… rediscover. Except that back when the man was alive, Light was convinced the only reason why he listened to anything he had to say was because he was desperately trying to blame him for something, even though Light didn’t have memories of being Kira back then.

The fact that L listened to him, now that everything was out in the open and what couldn’t be undone had been done, was… nice? That was not quite it.

Sometimes they’d just debate for hours about justice, life and other philosophical matters; sometimes Light would get engrossed in explaining detail by detail each and every plan he executed against L while the ghost laughed and mockingly praised his ingenuity. Sometimes Light felt so alone he crawled out of the bed he shared with Misa and went to the living room, just to sit down in the dark and talk nonsense to that invisible presence.

Meanwhile, time flew by and the world mutated. Kira had become the universal symbol of justice with little to no opposition from any government or social movement, and the mighty detective that once confronted him had slowly faded away, until people grew to remember him as one of many who rebelled against God and obviously failed.

Ghost L found this hilarious at best, and revolting at worst.

And even though the supernatural factor of their whole relationship also extended to how annoying the ghost could get, Light still got used to him not ever really leaving. Slowly, too gradually to pinpoint when, the rage of an imperfect victory was subdued by the solace of keeping the one person that understood.

Until Sayu was kidnapped by Mello. And that changed everything.

There were more opponents. L would call them ‘successors’. The words that were spoken by the ghost over four years ago began to make sense: the war was far from over. With the rise of Mello and Near, Light felt like he was facing his old rival all over again, except this time everything was messier, and the stakes higher.

They had to give away the Death Note to save Sayu’s life. Light did everything that was at hand to stop them from taking it… but they lost the missile. A defeat of that magnitude… It was something he hadn’t experienced in years. It was even worse than when L publicly humiliated him with his live broadcast.

It reminded him of that time. The rain fell relentlessly. He sat, soaked, and let L massage his feet while those huge, merciless yet peaceful eyes pierced him with the truth that the detective had never, not even for a second, swallowed his bluffs. And it made Light feel stupid and desperate and small. That was how he felt now.

The wrath, the impotence, the absolute disgust it all produced were so intense he did nothing but sit on his chair, staring at the ceiling. Misa approached with a cool drink, probably trying to soothe him, but he lacked the energy and the interest to pretend he gave a fuck, so he simply slapped it off her hands and to the floor.

Why was everyone so useless? Why was he so useless?!

Those two kids… he hated them for getting in his way. And he hated L, for being related to them.

Light stormed out of the room and into the bathroom, the door finding its frame with a bang. He wanted to yell. He wanted to break something. With no means to release his rage, he began briskly ripping his clothes off and turned on the shower. Steam immediately filled the room from floor to ceiling; the heat was suffocating even without exposing himself to the water and that, somehow, was relaxing.

You know, that was a very rude thing to do.

Light growled. Not now. He couldn’t handle L as he was now.

“Nobody asked for your bloody opinion.”

I knew you had some anger management issues, but I never would’ve thought you’d take it out on the only person in your life who’s ever offered you comfort and her unconditional support-

“What do you care, L!” He swirled around, yelling at the empty bathroom. He knew he wouldn’t find the man there when he turned, but screaming at the shapes in the steam was easier. “For someone who isn’t even alive you do have a lot to say. It’s pretty hard to give a shit about what you think when you’re never useful and you’re not even here.”

What do you expect me to do, then?

“I don’t know! How about you face me for once instead of hiding like a coward? Or maybe you could just disappear! Why are you even here?!”

He was being irrational, he knew it. And he could only imagine what Misa or Ryuk would think of all this if they walked in on him, screaming at the air. But he didn’t care if he didn’t make sense; he was too angry, and the only one he wanted to take it out on was L. Because it was his fault that people continued to sabotage his perfect plans. If L hadn’t shown up… everything would have been easier.

Do you really want me to leave?

“Yes.” He answered, without a shade of a doubt. “That’s the only thing I’ve wanted ever since you first threatened to sentence me to death. I thought you picked that up when I held you in my arms and watched you die with a smile on my face. Or didn’t you see me laughing at your grave?”

I did.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for?”

A moment of silence followed. Then, hesitantly…

I can’t.

What?

“Why?” Light asked, reaching the limits of his patience.

You think that if I knew I’d still be here? Don’t flatter yourself. The voice answered dryly. It was irritating, but… somewhere deep inside those words he could identify an edge of frustration and… pain. There is something that draws me towards you. Like there’s something I need to do, and it won’t let me go until I do it. But whatever that is I have no idea.

Light huffed, holding his head in his hands.

“Why couldn’t you just die normally…”

I ask myself the same thing every day.

He breathed out. So there was no way to get rid of L as it was. No chance of freedom in the near future. Well, at least he could vent out a bit. Resigned, he finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

He reached out to take the soap, and froze. The presence… L’s ghost was usually respectful of his personal space but now, it had followed him into the shower.

“What are you doing?” Light asked cautiously, his face beat red and not because of the heat. He didn’t want L in his shower, not even for old times’ sake.

You must hate my guts. Not that I have any anymore.

“Isn’t that obvious?” He retorted, not knowing when the atmosphere got so dense or why he felt uneasy about it.

I guess. Still, I never thought of our altercation as something personal.

“We literally tried to get the other killed for months, L. I’d say it was pretty personal.” Light frowned, earning himself a giggle from L.

Fine, I guess you’re right. However, I don’t think I hate you now. I hate what you did. What you still insist on doing. But I don’t hate you, even though it doesn’t really make any sense.

He didn’t answer. He had no words worth speaking, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do with them.

I’m sorry. I wish I could disappear just as much as you do.

“It’s okay. I… don’t mind having someone to talk to either.” He admitted through gritted teeth.

But, about facing you… I think I might be able to do that much.

What… what was he talking about? Light stayed put as water dripped down his body, feeling the steam behind him shift and change, then settle. His skin tickled with even more intensity than it did before, and for a whole five seconds, he seriously considered running off without turning around to see. But, of course, he didn’t. The temptation was too great to ignore.

When he turned around, every nerve end alert in case he had to fight –even though he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight a ghost–, he saw it. A translucent figure, its edges blurring into the steam…

“L…”

The commotion of seeing his face again, his eyes, his knowing expression after so many years was so strong Light stumbled back, and found stability against the dripping tiled wall. L’s pale lips curved into a small smile.

“Better?”

Light gulped. Even his voice sounded more corporeal, now that it was coming out of a mouth and not echoing inside his head. Hesitantly, he raised a hand and reached out to touch him. L, understanding his cautious curiosity, didn’t move.

Light went for the chest, over the point where he felt that last dying throb before L’s heart failed permanently. But when he got close enough to touch, his fingers simply trespassed the specter. Energy tickled like electricity all over his hand and up his forearm. He pulled out in shock, and the steam regrouped around the hole he left behind.

“Could you feel that?” He blurted out before thinking.

“Not at all.” The man answered, calmly even though he was also eyeing his own shape with devouring interest. This was new for him too. It was the first time in over four years that he tried out a physical shape.

Wide translucent eyes beamed when a new idea crossed his mind. L tossed his hand against the shampoo rack, but it didn’t even react. It didn’t show the slightest disturbance. That new discovery had L bedazzled. Meanwhile, Light couldn’t stop staring at him, still not quite grasping that this was real. That he could see L again, just the way he was when he lived. His expressions were even livelier than they were back then, now that he was dead and didn’t need to be cautious with his thoughts.

“Can others see you?”

“I don’t know yet. But given how nobody could hear or perceive me before except for you, I wouldn’t think so.”

“Then, from now on, can you stay like this? Visible I mean.”

L’s eyes narrowed, his features shifting with amusement, and Light looked away, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Did you miss me that much? I’ve always been here though.” He teased. Light thought he’d die of mortification.

“Shut up. I just hate hearing you speak inside my head. It feels icky.”

“Alright then.” The smirk grew meaner.

“Also, step out of my shower. This is already weird enough as it is.”

L’s laugh in response to that couldn’t have been more annoying.

L had been right… for the most part. No other person or living being could see him hovering around Light; they wouldn’t react at all to the late detective’s presence as long as he avoided being trespassed by them.

But coming to realize Ryuk could see and hear him was amusing. For L at least, who could also now perceive the God of Death and seized the opportunity to suffocate the otherworldly being with questions until Ryuk lay on the floor, exhausted. Ryuk, too, seemed flabbergasted to find out ghosts actually existed, and he even taught L how to perfect his manifestation technique, until the specter managed to muster an almost solid-looking consistency he could acquire or shed at will.

Meanwhile, Light felt like his temper was gradually being gnawed at. Having both entities annoying him separately had been irritating enough, but he simply couldn’t have imagined how much worse it would get when they did so together.

“And then he told me he wouldn’t give me any more apples unless I found all the cameras!” Ryuk whined. “Even though he knew of my terribly painful withdrawal symptoms. And then I am the monster…”

“How awful.” L shook his phantasmagoric head in exaggerated disapproval. “Oh Light dear, what a cruel, terrible Master you are.”

“You said it! Heh-heh.” The Shinigami barked in agreement.

That was it. He wasn’t taking it anymore.

Light groaned, tossed the earphones away, snatched a pencil holder from the desk’s top and unchained a vicious rain of pens and pencils against the source of his irritation. L and Ryuk simply sat, amused, and watched the items as they trespassed their intangible forms.

“For the love of everything good in this world and the next, can you both just shut up for a goddamn minute?!”

“Anger management, remember?”

Exasperated, Light simply growled and went back to work.

“Ryuk, go back to my father before the rest begin wondering where you went. We’ll be ambushing Mello’s headquarters in a few hours. I need you to be there so he’ll do the deal of the eyes with you.”

“Heh-heh. Sending others to accept deals you’d spit on yourself.” Ryuk chuckled grimly, his eyes flashing bright red for a moment. “Alright! Let’s catch up later, L.”

L nodded at the Shinigami before it disappeared through the wall. He then came hovering to where Light was and sat –or rather landed– on the desk, facing him.

“So the reason why you forfeited the ownership of the Death Note is not only passing the trouble of handing over half of your remaining lifespan to someone else, but also avoid your father realizing you are a Note owner yourself when he comes back. Am I right, Light?”

“It was the only way.” Light shrugged it off, not quite grasping why L found that little trick so interesting. “How can I hope to rule the New World if I die young? I’m not going to risk my life on the frontline, let alone give my years away.”

“But your own father’s years are alright to sell.”

Light didn’t answer.

“You don’t care at all, do you. You’re straight up throwing him to the wolves. He could be shot to death in there and even if he does survive, he won’t have much of a life ahead of him, will he?”

“Enough.” He mumbled, but L didn’t stop.

“You know it. You know they wholeheartedly believe in that 13-days rule you made up. You know that lie is the only alibi in your hands that’s keeping Aizawa and the rest at bay. Which means… that even if tonight works out how you want it to and Mello is killed by your dad, then you’ll have to murder him in two weeks for your plan not to crumble-”

“That’s enough.” This time his voice came out firmly, and the ghost fell silent. “I’m just doing what needs to be done, L. I thought you of all people would understand that, after you confined and tortured Misa and me for days and even forced my dad to pretend to shoot me.”

“But I didn’t kill anyone. We are not the same-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Light cut him, every muscle in his body tense. His stare was hard, unyielding, when it locked with L’s. “You were perfectly willing to let a criminal use the Death Note to prove the 13-days rule was false. You admitted yourself that you were expecting me, Kira, to instantly kill my dad if he tried to shoot me, because you knew damn well I’d put my own life before his. His death was no more than a calculated risk to you. In fact, in your head, it was the most probable outcome.”

The detective fretted, and Light grinned maliciously. He hit home.

“See? We both do whatever it takes to get what we want. You’re not different from me. You’re not better than me. So, instead of pretending to be surprised by my methods, how about you leave me alone so I can work on getting my Death Note back?”

The silence that followed was smothering. Painfully so. L was no longer looking back at him, but staring through the window. He looked offended mostly, but also guilty. His expression was so open and so sincerely aching Light blinked. So this was how L truly felt about the decisions he took, back when he was alive.

“Fine.” The ghost muttered finally, as his form dissolved in the air and disappeared.

For a moment that sight filled him with pure dread, but then he realized, as his heartbeat settled down, that he could still feel L’s presence coating him. He wasn’t really gone, he had just temporarily left his visible expression.

Good. Light didn’t feel strong or stable enough to face him right now.

A few hours later, Soichiro Yagami died in a hospital bed, relieved to know his son wasn’t a mass murderer.

After returning the Death Note to its rightful owner –a Shinigami that called itself Sidoh– all the Task Force had left to do was wipe their tears away and wrap it up. The trip back to headquarters was silent. Light appreciated that everyone was too shook and devastated about his dad’s death to talk about it.

Once alone in his room, he was free to be himself again.

He began calmly taking his clothes off and getting ready for bed, but before he could invoke some self control, he was already screaming and punching a pillow while tears rolled down his face.

This had been his father’s fault. If he hadn’t been weak… if he had killed Mello instead of hesitating…!

“Why did you let yourself get killed, idiot?!” Light yelled, his throat aching. His hands, which were clutching the pillow with violence, trembled vehemently as his crying echoed through the room and his tears fell, abundantly and showing no signs of stopping. “You didn’t even get rid of him! Why?! You weren’t supposed to die! Y-You… you weren’t supposed to…”

A sob shook his whole body on its way out, and he collapsed on bed, his face buried in the wet pillow. Only soft whimpering could be heard.

Later, he felt the air shift, and electricity tickled him in the leg.

“I thought you were counting on his death.”

Light’s face was swollen from crying when he lifted it from the pillow to look at L’s figure, sitting next to him in the dark with his hand on Light’s thigh. The touch held no weight or warmth, nothing quite organic; just a tingle.

“He was destined to die.” He mumbled weakly as his gaze wandered to the opposite wall. “It’s as you said. Either tonight or within two weeks, he had to. What’s more pathetic is that he only lived for a few hours after doing the deal… which means… that even if he hadn’t done it, he didn’t have much time left in his clock to begin with. He would’ve passed away naturally by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Why are you crying, then?” L inquired softly, as his hand caressed up and down Light’s leg. “Because you couldn’t see Mello dead?”

Were other the context Light would’ve found the sparkly sensation bothersome –even embarrassing. He didn’t want to reach the level of feebleness that made him deserve L’s consolations. But that was not the case. The detective’s almost inexistent touch was comforting. Light closed his eyes, trying to remember what the real thing felt like, while fighting the devastating pang L’s question induced in him.

“My father’s death was inevitable. I know I did what I had to do. Still… that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead. In an ideal setting, Aizawa, Ide or even Matsuda would’ve taken it upon themselves to do the deal and kill Mello.”

He sat up, feeling the warmth building behind his eyes as new tears accumulated.

“Then… I could’ve killed any of them easily. But he just had to be… so freaking moral. He had to sacrifice himself… why? Nobody would’ve judged him if he had let someone else do it, then why?! It was that same attitude that got him shot in the end!”

Furious, he wiped the tears away before they overflowed. It was the truth. Even when his father died a somewhat happy death, he would’ve preferred it had been anyone else in his place. Still…

Light’s breathing settled, and he looked L in the eyes with determination.

“However, when he stood with Mello in that room, and when the building exploded and all the cameras went blank… and even as he lay there dying… all I could think of was ‘kill Mello. Kill him for me. Don’t leave without taking him down with you’.”

The pain of actually losing his dad came a while after, and even then it had been tainted with frustration and resentment. He wanted Mello dead. That, together with retrieving the Death Note, had been the whole point of the mission, and he had failed because his father chose the worst possible scenario to be humanitarian.

Light hated the feeling. He lost, even though he did nothing wrong. He hated not having control over his own battles. He hated how his father had chosen to die without revenge. He hated Mello for being alive out there somewhere.

“Even if it had been someone else in his place, I know your methods well enough by now to know you won’t be able to hide your true self forever.” L placed a finger on his chin. Even though the gesture wasn’t useful in practice since he simply trespassed it, Light still raised his head to look at him “Eventually, you’ll be wiping all that is left of the Task Force. And then it won’t matter anymore that your dad died today.”

Yes. L was right. Light… would have killed Soichiro eventually. It was only natural to take that course of action. And Light would bite his tongue and choke on it before letting himself hesitate on that matter. L’s eyes as they regarded him were incredibly sad, but not surprised.

“Do you find me disgusting, L?” He asked, a wry smile taking over his lips even though he was terrified of the answer he’d get. The ghost shook his head.

“No, Light.” An incorporeal hand brushed over his cheekbone. He closed his eyes and leaned into the tingle. “I’m just trying to decipher whether you’re a remorseless psychopath faking the pain you show, or if you’re actually acting remorseless to hide how much you’ve wounded yourself. Either way… I find you pitiful.”

And Light wanted to be angry. He tried his best to feel rage, indignation… even shame. But he couldn’t find it in himself. He was empty.

“Maybe… you’re both.”

“Tell me, Light. Did Misa approve of this plan?”

“Shut up.” He scowled, fixing his tie in front of the mirror.

Of course the answer was no. If Misa ever found out about this then she would gouge out both his and Takada’s guts. Giving up her Death Note and passing it to Mikami didn’t really make her any less lethal.

“I thought so. Especially by the way you whispered sweet nothings into the phone earlier.”

“Look, L.” Light turned around to face the late detective. L had become so good at expressing a physical shape that, if it weren’t for the blur at the edges when he moved, Light could’ve believed he was actually standing there in flesh and bone. “Whatever I choose to do with my love life is not your business, especially if it has something to do with my plans as Kira.”

L narrowed his eyes. Whether or not he was judging Light was hard to say.

“You have no moral structure whatsoever, do you?”

“As previously established, you don’t have much of that either-”

“I know.” The ghost cut him, raising a hand. “And I admit I wouldn’t hesitate to do the exact same thing you’re about to do to gain a benefit, as you already know.” At that, Light looked away. The room was too dark for his blush to be discernible. “Still, your shamelessness continues to amaze me.”

He chuckled ironically, staring the specter down as if it had just dared him to do it.

“Aizawa will come to install the cameras and mics now. Once he begins, I’ll have a perfect excuse to ignore you for the next few hours.” Light opened the box on top of the coffee table and began pulling out wires. He then halted, a meditative twinkle in his eyes, and addressed L. “Actually, could you disappear? I don’t want to see you through the corner of my eye when I-”

“You know that I’ll still be here even if you can’t see me, right?”

“Ah, yes. I forgot you’re a prime voyeur.”

“Trust me; this is about the last place in the world I’d like to be in.” The detective retorted, and for some reason his voice had an irritated edge to it.

“I guess we both have to compromise, then. As long as you stay invisible and keep yourself from talking inside my head until I’m done here, I’ll make sure not to kick your ass in Hell.” Light satirically extended a hand to him. “Deal?”

L simply stared him back, scorn invading his whole expression, before disappearing. Light could feel he was mad –uncharacteristically so. Yes, Light had seen him in a foul mood many times, while they lived chained to each other and they both had to listen to Matsuda speak.

But whatever got him so on edge about tonight, Light had no idea.

In fact, L’s mood grew worse and worse as the night progressed. He didn’t notice it at first; It became a constant buzz in the back of his head after Light looked Takada in the eyes and said ‘I missed you’, so he managed to ignore it quite well. However, by the time all mics and cameras were disconnected, he realized L was on the verge of bursting.

Lately, L’s thoughts had grown more tangible, together with his physical shape. So much so they sometimes became suffocating. When L would forfeit his form and settle back inside his head, Light often had a hard time differentiating their mixed feelings.

In life, L had always been incredibly skilled in the art of preserving a cool semblance. Even when he had been visibly annoyed or angry, the way he carried himself always sold the idea that the matter in hand was no more than just a mild inconvenience for him.

“Listen, Kiyomi. I am the real Kira.”

Light would’ve never expected to come face to face with that bubbling rage.

Takada gasped in surprise.

“That’s right. I’m Kira.” He repeated, mostly to confirm she had heard him right, but also to assure himself against L’s violent, thundering emotions. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Takada didn’t respond immediately, so Light took the chance to raise the phone to his ear and wrap up the conversation with Mikami. “Listen. I won’t allow you to ask Kiyomi who I am; you don’t need to know my identity.”

“Yes. I’ll leave the rest to you, God.”

Bastard.

Light shook. It had been a while since he had last heard L’s voice inside his head. Didn’t he explicitly tell him not to do that?! He’d make sure to devote the rest of his life to researching a way to kill a ghost again. He hung up the phone and turned around to address Kiyomi, as he stifled down his irritation.

“Do you understand? I am Kira. The man who was on the phone, is one of my followers who I’ve shared my power with.”

Takada’s eyes lit up.

“I… I can’t believe it’s you!” She whispered in awe. “You are the only man I’ve ever really admired. To be honest… the only man I’ve ever felt a connection with.” L growled. “And now, to find out you’re Kira… it’s incredible.”

As planned, Light had Takada curled around his finger in no time. He would’ve been able to fully enjoy the sweet taste of victory if it weren’t for L’s sour invasion. Oh, but he wasn’t about to let that bloody ghost spoil his mood. Was he pissed off now? Then he was about to become completely infuriated.

Light stepped closer and willfully lowered his voice to a deep whisper as he cupped Takada’s cheek in his hand.

“Please… join me, Kiyomi. And you will be the goddess of the New World.”

“Light…” She immediately pulled him into an embrace he didn’t fail to return.

He smirked over her shoulder –he had her right where he wanted her… and she was about to have him right where she wanted him too.

When Light leaned down to kiss her, L’s wrath pulsed through him.

Two and a half hours later, Light finished doing his tie, put his coat on and exited the room. Takada had already left –it was best for both that they weren’t seen leaving the hotel together.

Everything was working out smoothly. He now had a connection to Mikami through her, which would make everything easier from now on. The annihilation of the whole Task Force, together with the SPK and Near were visible in the horizon. In a matter of days, there would be no one left in his way. He’d be the only, unquestioned God of his own New World.

Confident with his secured victory, Light pulled the phone out.

“Light! Are you okay?” Matsuda exclaimed. Of course they were worried, after losing all connection with him for over two hours.

“Yeah… Kiyomi was able to work things out with Kira. I decided that from now on, I’m gonna pretend to be dating her.” L, who had fallen unusually quiet for a while now, suddenly shifted uncomfortably inside of him. He smirked. “We might be able to find Kira that way.”

“Alright, if you say so…” Matsuda answered, and for the musicality in his voice it was clear to everyone that a) he had serious doubts Light was just pretending and b) he knew Light simply hadn’t spent the last two hours with Takada playing Monopoly.

Right after that, a smack could be heard. Matsuda whined out loud as Aizawa scolded him. Light rolled his eyes and hung up.

So you actually went and did it.

He stopped on his tracks, overwhelmed by how the voice reverberated inside him. He growled in annoyance.

“I told you not to do that!”

As an answer to his protest, L materialized in front of him. All the ire he had felt bubbling inside him left. It shook him to realize that L had turned back to his old –living– habits. The expression in his face was barely a washed-down version of the consuming wrath Light now knew inhabited him.

“Still manipulating women and using sex to get what you want, uh?”

“You say it like that’s the worst thing I’ve done.”

“Oh, no. Of course it isn’t.” L shook his head. When he narrowed his eyes, the gaze he bore was venomous. “When are you gonna kill her, then?”

Light gulped, glaring at him. He wanted to be surprised that L brought that up, but he couldn’t; he knew how vicious he could get. The ghost smiled back at him, even though the gesture held no warmth, sympathy or bliss whatsoever. It was a dry smile, filled to the brim with a wish to hurt.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Attachment and intimacy are alright as long as you can get something from it. As soon as the other person becomes a hindrance you dispose of them.” L spat. “So? How long until you murder Takada too?”

“I hate you, you know.” Light hissed. “I hate how you always talk like you know everything about everyone. I hate how hypocritical you are, going around making moral statements about other people when you were just as bad or even worse. And I hate how you are convinced that everything has to be about you!”

The ghost took a step back, and Light seized the opportunity to push further. They had already pulled each other down on the mud; they might as well fight.

“Maybe I just like sleeping with Takada. But… oh? Does that irritate you?” One look at the detective’s face told him he had hit the nail’s head. “Does it drive you crazy, that it’s her and not you?”

“This is nonsense. Stop talking before you humiliate yourself.” L growled, earning himself a barking laugh from the other.

“Come on. I felt it. I felt how your blood boiled when she embraced me. Admit it.” The ghost stood there, and said nothing. Suddenly intoxicated with rage and something close to desperation, Light walked up to him and reached out to grab his arm. He grabbed nothing. “Admit you’re jealous.”

“How…” for the first time ever, the specter’s voice came out so terrifyingly low it sent chills down his spine. “… am I supposed to be jealous, when we both know you’re just using her? We both know she’ll soon be dead meat. She isn’t getting anything I haven’t gotten already.”

Light shivered, unable to talk through the knot in his throat.

“You can’t fool me, Light. I see everything, remember? Goddess of the New World… How many times have you used that trick on Misa this month?”

“Shut up.” The words were no more than a tremulous whisper. It was mortifying.

“Then how about this very week?” L pressed, and even though Light couldn’t feel a breath meet his face, he still stepped back, looking hurt. When he replied, his words were calm with bitterness.

“So now we’re pretending you’re not the same?”

It happened often during the lapse of time Light had to cope with L cuffed to his wrist and without his memories of the Death Note. He’d constantly be shaken awake by nightmares that didn’t seem his own. Sometimes the startling would be soft enough to simply wake him up, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep without disturbing L. And sometimes, like that time, he’d physically jump on bed and find himself drenched in cold sweat.

He sat up and looked to his left –by his side, L slept soundly, curled into a ball with his knees to his chest, the half of his face that wasn’t buried in the pillow giving off an expression of peace.

Light sighed deeply as he wiped sweat off his face and neck. He wouldn’t mind being able to lock himself up in the toilet, but handcuffs. He directed his energy into staying still and steadying his breath instead.

“Another nightmare?”

Light blinked. So L wasn’t even half as asleep as he pretended to. He looked at him from below, his face still half-buried in his pillow. It was way too adorable –Light looked away.

“Yes.” The detective sat up too, the sheets sliding down his torso.

“What was it about?”

“I… stood on top of a very tall building.” He narrated, his gaze lost somewhere in the shadows that inhabited the room. “Below, at ground level, people were screaming. I wanted to look down to see what was happening to them, but I was too afraid. Then, from behind… a tall massive shadow hovered over me. It’s silhouette wasn’t that of a human. The thing laughed; that wasn’t human either. I tried to look over my shoulder, and was pushed off the building. I fell. The screaming grew closer…. and I woke up.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.

“Is that all?” L inquired quietly. A crease took shape between Light’s brows, and he fixed his stare on his lap.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stupid enough to not be able to deduce what you think my dream represents. But, Ryuzaki…” He formed fists with his fingers to keep them from fidgeting, and raised his eyes to L’s. “I can’t be… I don’t remember ever doing any of that. And I know. I know people can do the unspeakable when pushed to the limit, but I’d never kill on my own free will.”

“Light…” L hesitated, and then crawled across the bed to reach out and grab one of the towels from a nearby hanger. When he crawled back, he pressed it to Light’s face. “There is a chance Kira somehow possessed you during that period. In that case, you wouldn’t have been in control of your own actions.”

His tone was soft, but it wasn’t enough to conceal his real thoughts. Light smiled sadly as L wiped the sweat off his neck.

“But you don’t think I was possessed.” He spoke the truth nobody wanted to acknowledge. L stopped drying him. “You’re certain I was the original Kira. Even now, you must be wondering whether I’ve been bluffing ever since I was inside that cell. You’re probably thinking all this is just part of an act; some greater scheme on my behalf.”

The detective didn’t respond immediately. They looked at each other for several seconds; when he did, his words were grave with the amount of seriousness the statement deserved.

“I am.”

Light nodded. He didn’t really blame L for thinking that. He, too, was slowly getting more and more obsessed with the idea that he might have been, indeed, Kira. Yes, the justice system was flawed. But if he had had Kira’s power, would he had actually used it like Kira did?

“I understand.” He replied. “You’re just doing your job. And I want to help however I want. I want to reach the bottom of this, and cleanse my name. It’s just…” Light sighed and scratched his head. Saying it was much more awkward than he had anticipated. “I really wish it could have been different.”

“What?”

“My relationship with you.”

His heart was beating like crazy, but he had already begun talking. The rest gurgled out and he couldn’t restrain it.

“I wish I could’ve stood on equal ground with you when I met you; with me being a detective, not the prime suspect for the greatest mass murder of the decade. I wish I could’ve gotten to know you, without all the games and the lies. We could’ve held conversations that didn’t feel like interrogations. You’re very smart, and determined.” His face was burning up now, but he kept on talking. “Even though that shouldn’t be good, considering you suspect me… I admire that a lot.”

Their eyes locked, and Light’s stomach turned.

“I admire you.”

For a long while, L didn’t move or react at all; instead of widening eyes or abrupt exclamations, that was how the mighty detective processed shock. It was pretty embarrassing for Light, though. The blush crept to his ears and neck, and he was about to roll over and pretend none of that ever happened, when L cleared his throat. A soft, pink shade took over his pointy cheekbones.

“You admire me.” He reiterated, as if not completely believing it. Light would’ve found it funny had he not been focused in his racing pulse. He nodded… and L gulped. The detective raised a hand and brushed a strand of brunet hair away from his eyes. “Do you only admire me?”

“I…”

“How else do you feel about me?” His finger curled around Light’s ear. His voice was soft, but deep. “Tell me.”

“Not all is good.” He admitted, too distracted by the touch to watch his words. “Sometimes I hate you. So much I want to punch you-”

“Yes, you have done that.” That made him laugh.

“Yeah… it’s because I hate it when you prod me for a confession I can’t give you. And when you say things like ‘it’s pointless to keep on trying’, when my name is in as much of a stake as your title, and when you’ve already done too much to me to just dismiss it like that. I hate being reminded that you only see me as a potential murderer; that you were lying when you said we were friends… And I hate being unable to accept your kindness without thinking you’re playing with me, because I-”

Crap. That was close. He barely managed to bite his tongue before he spurted something dangerous. But L, being L, simply wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. The detective scooted closer –their legs were touching, and they were breathing the same air. Light’s heart fluttered. L’s fingers on his cheek were cold compared to the flushed skin beneath.

“Because?” L whispered, and Light’s gaze fell on his lips, fascinated by their shape, the cadence with which they moved, their invisible, indescribable allure.

Don’t make me say it if you already know. That was what he would have liked to say, but he couldn’t speak. He barely had a moment to process what was happening and take a breath before L closed the distance between them and delicately sealed their lips together.

Light held his breath and sat, static, as his mind was filled with the subtle, tingling sensation of L’s mouth caressing his. That alone was enough to make his heart pound hard against his ribcage. It was a soft kiss; plush, barely more substantial than the brush of a finger. When the man pulled away –only one inch, just enough to end the contact–, their lips separated with a quiet pop.

Light’s whole body was tingling, and he had to forcefully stifle down the urge to tremble that was building steadily in the pit of his stomach. He breathed out, and in, and out; shallowly. He didn’t want to risk inhaling any more of L’s scent.

He should have backed off. Gone back to sleep and pretended that never happened. It would have been wiser. Instead, he remained still and did not oppose L’s movements when the detective cupped his nape and angled his face into another kiss.

It was a deeper one this time, given how their mouths were briefly open. Moisture quickly built up over his upper lip as he felt L’s lower lip seductively pressing against his teeth. Light closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Swiftly, without letting the chance slip by, the man expertly locked their jaws together and entered Light’s warm mouth with his tongue.

A soft gasp that escaped him and coated L’s lips, and then transformed into a barely audible whine. It was inevitable. He couldn’t fight the trembling anymore. He felt feverish all over. Touch-starved and about to burst. His tongue tingled when L’s caressed it, and it filled him with desire and a deep-rooted desperation. He changed his angle to reciprocate the man’s movements, their lips now moving in unison as they sank deeper into each other.

Nobody had ever… not like this. Misa’s kisses weren’t necessarily bad, but they were always messy and indelicate-

L’s free hand began travelling up his thigh, and the spasm that triggered on the muscles of his leg was so powerful Light jolted backwards, and the trance was broken. Out of breath, he searched the detective’s face, and looked away when he realized he could only focus on the blush in his cheeks, the intensity of his gaze and the moist spot on his lower lip.

“Ryuzaki-”

“What’s wrong, Light?”

He bit his lip. L’s voice was still deep, but it was gradually acquiring a sharp edge. Now more than ever, he knew he shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What about Misa? Even if she never finds out…”

He shyly searched the man’s face again. L held still for a moment, as he considered his words. Slowly, he seemed to assimilate them. He nodded, and cupped Light’s face again.

“Then… you can hold me accountable for it.” L whispered, and dived back in. That time their mouths locked together even more naturally, and although Light’s whole body was brimming with the urge to give in to the kiss, he still couldn’t brush off the feeling that it was wrong.

Disrespecting Misa, playing with her feelings for him… he wasn’t like that. And the fact that he had to instruct himself to feel guilty about it only brought him self-disgust. He turned his face to the side, and L’s lips slid away from his. The detective didn’t waste over a mere second to understand that this –whatever it was– would not drag any longer.

“Could it be that you were pretending to be interested in me?” He inquired.

Light flinched. His words stung more than he could’ve predicted.

“Do you think I’d do that? You know what, don’t answer. Either way, this… it’s not fair on Misa. I told you I would never use a woman’s feelings to my advantage, so don’t make me betray myself-”

“You don’t love her.” Light gulped. “You don’t even know why you are with her, do you.” L’s gaze grew harder as he went from appreciating Light to analyzing him; a shift Light himself was all too familiar with. “You forgot… together with everything else-”

“That’s enough.” He cut him, his voice coming out firmer than he had expected, and brushed L’s hands off his face. “I’m not about to believe I am a murderer. And Misa isn’t either. I’m not what you think I am, Ryuzaki.”

That being said, Light rolled over and pulled the covers over himself, signaling the end of the conversation. What they just did… it was better off forgotten. As things were now, stubbornly trying to follow that path would only bring pain, regardless of Light turning out to be Kira or not, and regardless of his feelings for Misa and the man. Which didn’t necessarily mean that Light wasn’t already aching over it, but he’d never admit to it.

After a good five minutes of complete stillness, L finally tucked himself in bed, he too giving his back to Light, and before drifting to sleep he murmured:

“If it’s worth something, I really hope you weren’t.”

Yes. The memory of that night’s events, no matter how long gone, was very fresh in their minds. Though, just like the nightmares had been back then, the Light from the present didn’t quite feel that it belonged to him.

When he lost the Death Note… it was crazy. He became a completely different person. It wasn’t just about not remembering being Kira; it reached the point where thinking of what Kira had done revolted him to the core. Then he began questioning himself, doubting his own innocence, and came to realize he could understand his actions to some extent. He used to think the world was rotten before Kira entered the picture, and he still did during the Yotsuba period.

However, the retrieval of the Death Note carved a crack in his moral system he didn’t remember ever sealing. He went back to his old ways, used Misa just like the dangerously volatile tool he had always seen her as. He used everyone, including Rem, a God. Thinking back, it made sense L was suspicious of his most tender side; the Light he was now would have definitely tried to seduce L if he had seen some utility in it.

Kira would have never fallen for the detective.

Even so… what he had felt back then had been real. He did fall for him. And he was given a chance to shatter that burden when he got his memories back –his priority went back to being himself, and L was simply an obstacle–, but this was the first time he let himself think about what could have been, and he found out his feelings weren’t shattered at all.

It still ached.

“Didn’t you do that just to test me?” Light said, accusingly. “You thought I was acting it out, didn’t you. You had to see for yourself how far I’d take it.”

L didn’t kiss him because he felt something for him; he did it to see if he would recoil. In fact, the way he rejected the man in the end was probably interpreted as a positive result.

The ghost didn’t need to answer –Light could see the admission in his face.

“I pretty much confessed to you.” He looked away. That was in the past now. It should have been. L was dead. Then why did he still feel so bitter about it? “And you didn’t even care. You were too busy studying me like a bloody scientist.”

“Can you blame me?” He couldn’t. “Besides, that is not entirely true.”

Confused and untrusting, Light locked eyes with the ghost. L sighed.

“I do admit I didn’t believe it at first –it was too convenient. But I never gave you any hints I was romantically interested in you, and I couldn’t have imagined you were. Therefore, I didn’t understand why you resorted to that method if you just wanted to manipulate me. I began to wonder if it had been for real; but before I could question you further on the subject it was too late. We captured Higuchi, and it didn’t take me long to notice that you… changed.”

Light’s stare landed on his feet. He believed L; he was dead and didn’t need to lie. What if the detective had said something before they cornered Higuchi? It was pointless to dwell on it, since Light was certain he would have killed him in the end. The world needed L to die so Kira could reign. In retrospect, it was a good thing he didn’t, since he allowed Light to move forward with his heart unscathed.

Or so he thought, before all the pain he wasn’t even aware existed inside him through the years came back to bite at him. He hated it. Despising L was easier than this.

“Why are you telling me this?” He bit back, arms crossed as he returned L’s gaze, his ache now obvious in his features. “If I had broken into tears back then and told you I still felt the same way for you, would you have let me go? Would you have risked trusting me? No, you wouldn’t have given me a chance-”

“I did give you a chance. That’s how I know Takada is as good as dead now.”

Light’s eyes widened. He couldn’t mean…

“That time…”

It had been the night after Higuchi’s capture. He had his memories back, and L had, according to the Task Force’s wishes, begrudgingly agreed to dispose of the handcuffs that had bound them together for months. Light was allowed to spend the night in his own room, alone, for the first time in what seemed ages. However, he couldn’t sleep.

It must have been because the excitement at seeing his plan work out perfectly had been too great. Or maybe he had grown used to having someone else lie next to him. His bed seemed huge to the eye and cold to the touch, even though it was the same size as the previous one and both rooms’ thermostats shared the same settings.

He was pacing around aimlessly when he heard a knock on the door. It was L. But Light didn’t get to talk to him, for the man immediately raised his dark eyes to Light’s and determinedly jumped him, pulling him into a ravenous kiss. And before nobody could get in the way, the door was slammed shut and they were in bed.

This could work for my advantage, Light had thought as he gave in without a care for the world. He had wanted it for so long, anyway. In the end, it had been a good way to release pent-up frustrations and unnecessary feelings, and no sweet words or pathetic confessions were exchanged.

“I woke up, alone.” He recalled. “You had gone out to the roof, even though it was pouring. That’s where I found you.”

Right now, Ghost L looked just as sad and decidedly hopeless as he had looked back then. Light could even imagine the rain dripping down his face and dampening him whole in between one blink and the next. Later, at the staircase, L had smiled sadly and said ‘It will be lonely, won’t it? You and I will be parting ways soon’.

He couldn’t have predicted that wouldn’t really ever happen. Still…

“Back then… you already knew you’d die, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” L nodded solemnly.

“But why? I… I gave you my consent. We-”

“Exactly. I knew you disposed of people as soon as you stopped finding them a use. By letting me have you the night before, you were clearly trying to manipulate me. If you had been the same Light I’d been handcuffed to for months –if you had felt strongly enough not to kill me– you would have rejected me. But you didn’t resist or hesitate. Not even when I-”

“Enough.” He breathed. He felt like he was choking. So that was why L had called him a liar back at the roof. The detective had seen right through him… the whole time. But… he was missing a vital piece. A thunder resonated in the distance.

“I invited you to use me. And you did.” L concluded, a small smile forming in his lips without reaching his eyes. The first few droplets began falling.

He had to say it. If he didn’t say it now, he never would.

“Yes, I admit it.” Light lowered his head. The rain grew stronger above him. “I wanted to manipulate you, just as much as you wanted to call me out for it.” Then he raised his chin to look straight into the ghost’s eyes, water rolling down his face as he spoke up. His voice came out broken. “But that’s not all it was, and you know it.”

L’s specter froze, his eyes slowly gaining focus. Light, on the other side, let out a long exhalation. The aching deep in the pit of his stomach didn’t really yield, but shifted. A weight had been lifted; one he couldn’t claim back even if he wanted to.

“Are you saying you truly wanted me?” L breathed out, as if worried that raising his voice would disturb the atmosphere. However, he looked more aghast than hopeful.

“No.” He shook his head, his expression softer. “I’m saying we wanted each other.”

There was silence, and rain. L stood there, petrified as the falling drops trespassed him without disturbing his clothing or his black messy hair. And with every second that he spent with his wide, desperate eyes glued on him, Light’s heart beat faster. Harder.

He had to wait until the man was already dead, but he finally did it.

He finally confessed.

“Won’t you… say something?” He whispered.

L opened his mouth… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“I…” The ghost looked away, and Light realized then how utterly devastated he was. His voice quavered. “I can’t.”

And then he disappeared.

…

Wait.

Why… why couldn’t Light feel him… he was always able to feel him when he vanished, then why?

No.

No… No.

“L…” Nobody answered. “L!!!!!” It was useless.

L wasn’t there. All there was, was silence and rain.

Events continued to develop without further disturbance. He met up with Takada several times –with the Task Force listening, so he didn’t try anything–, and passed his instructions to Mikami. The SPK found out about Mikami and tried to tamper with his Note, so a fake Note was crafted. Everything was going according to plan.

Even Mello’s decision to kidnap Takada, though unexpected, worked out perfectly for him, as he managed to dispatch both of them easily. He had been waiting to see Mello dead since the explosion. As for Takada, he was relieved to take that weight off his back. And he would have actually been able to be a hundred percent remorseless about it had he not remembered his conversation with a certain deceased someone.

As for L… he didn’t return. No matter what Light did or how awful he became, L didn’t manifest, talk inside his head, or give any other signal whatsoever of still existing. And Light had expected it to hurt… maybe he wanted to feel hurt. But he was too empty to feel nothing other than rage, and greed. All that occupied his mind was Near, and their encounter at the warehouse. He was too busy with conquering the world to feel lonely.

Still, some nights he’d surprise himself yelling at the top of his lungs at a soul that no longer tailed him. He’d yell stuff like ‘Aren’t you going to show yourself?!’. There never was an answer.

Then the day came. Mikami did his job perfectly, so much so Light physically struggled to avoid bursting into laughter ahead of time. And right when he was feeling giddy with victory, desperate to rub his success in Near’s juvenile face as the boy’s heart failed… everything was gone. It slipped from between his fingers as easily as the seconds ticked away in his watch.

He didn’t go down without a fight. First, he desperately attempted to accuse the SPK of framing him, and when that didn’t work, he used the truth. The mask he had carefully crafted crumpled. In a feverish, delusional moment of revelation that lacked little to reach hysteria, he gave the greatest speech of his whole life; he shared with them the legacy he had tried to leave behind, hoping they would understand. Even so, Near still called him a crazy serial killer, nothing more, and nothing less.

He had his watch with a piece of the Note inside, but he could have never calculated that Matsuda would shoot him; repeatedly. When he fell to a puddle on the floor and Matsuda stood over him, tears streaking down his betrayed face as he glared and aimed his gun at his head… Light realized how badly he had screwed up.

He could have died. That man could have killed him in a mere instant. Even through the multiple layers of tortuous pain his fresh bullet wounds were inflicting on him, he only had the mental capacity to process that gut-deep, swiping fear.

He called for Mikami… but the man was of no use. So he simply lay there in his puddle as it changed its color from transparent to red. He gasped for air, and cried out.

“Where are you, Misa?!” He had used her, and left her at home, deprived of her memories. “Where’s Takada?!” He had killed her. His actions finally settled fully on him, and tears swelled at the corners of his eyes.

Someone… w-what do I do n-now…

…

L…

Mikami stabbed himself, and Light wasn’t about to grow out of old habits. He used his follower one last time, to crawl to his feet and escape while everybody else focused on the bloodshed.

He ran. As fast as he could, with his body bent over in pain and his injured arm hanging like dead weight by his side. Every step was excruciating to take, and every gasping breath was more difficult to inhale than the one that preceded it, but he didn’t stop. He knew his legs would give in soon. The blood loss was taking an exponential toll on his body. He kept on running, even though it was futile.

Every decision he had made up to that point, only now he could see how they had stuck to him like parasites. He had been rotting away ever since he picked the Note. Ryuk… had been right. In Kira’s crimeless world… the only rotten apple left was him.

However, if he had been given the chance to go back to being that seventeen-year-old, naïve boy he once was, he wouldn’t have taken it.

His running slowed down to walking; he had lost Aizawa and the rest long ago. By the time he reached the abandoned building, he could hardly stay on his feet. He sprawled himself on the stairs… and then he felt it.

It coated over him. It felt like coming back home after what seemed forever.

Hello, Light.

Tears overflowed his eyes. He could have never imagined that his voice would bring him such intense joy.

“L…” he whimpered. “Y-You’re back-”

The specter materialized before him… weird. He looked more corporeal than he ever had before. Or was it just that Light had forgotten how he had looked after so long? There was some sort of ethereal blue aura around him, though, which hadn’t been there before. And he was smiling… fondly.

“You don’t look too well.”

Light laughed, which made him cough and wince in pain.

“Missed you too?” He retorted sarcastically, and it lacked most of its usual bite. Everything, even just raising his head to look L in the eyes, felt awful, but he did it all the same. “I thought… you were gone for good.”

“And give you the pleasure?” The detective grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Never.”

“Good.” He replied, relaxing and smiling at last.

It was at that moment that his heart hammered through his chest… once. Burning pain irradiated in all directions from there. He felt the tingle taking over every inch of his body as his vision blurred and his focus faded.

“W-What…” The pain, suddenly, stopped. All at once. He jerked to his feet, utterly confused, only to realize he didn’t feel the pressure of a floor beneath his feet anymore. L was staring at him wide-eyed. Whatever he saw had him flabbergasted. Light looked over his shoulder… at his own limp body, lying on the stairs and with no soul in its eyes. And he understood. “Ryuk…”

He shook at the incorporeal sound of his own voice.

“That makes two of us, I guess.” L mused, walking over to face him. “Welcome to the realm of the dead, Light.”

“I’m…” He stood still, having a hard time processing it. Then, slowly… a sparkling sensation in his stomach bubbled up, and he giggled. The smile he gave to L was radiant, as he reached out to him.

And as if things couldn’t get any more amazing, when his inexistent fingers landed on the man’s chest… there was resistance to oppose them. Solid, and warm.

“L!” He beamed, patting the other repeatedly. “I can touch you… I’m touching you!”

“Yes. Yes you are.” L confirmed, laughing too. He was bedazzled. “I feel you…”

The moment after, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing. It shouldn’t have felt this real, but it did. Light could even perceive a hint of L’s scent when he dug his face into raven hair.

“You’re here…” He squeezed harder. “What happened? Why did you disappear? Where did you go?”

“I was always here. I was just in such conflict with myself I couldn’t reach out to you.” The man murmured against his shoulder. “I get it now… this was my mission all along. I was supposed to be here, to welcome you when you passed away. Everything makes sense now…”

Light pulled away. He needed to look L in the eyes.

“So, a moment ago…” He hesitated for a moment that didn’t last too long. “When you spoke to me. Was I able to hear you because I was agonizing, or-”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” L shook his head, and smiled. “I finally found an answer to my conflict. To my feelings for you.”

Light blinked, finally understanding. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel butterflies in his stomach given how he no longer had internal organs, but he did.

“What I said that time…”

“You wrecked me.” L joked, and cupped Light’s face in his hands. When their eyes locked, his were full of devotion. “But you were right. I shouldn’t have, you were a mass murderer not to mention my nemesis, but I did want you. More than you can imagine.”

Light reached up, to fondly caress L’s knuckles.

“L, I loved you.” He swallowed, and leaned into the warm touch. “I… still do. Even after everything.”

“Me too.” The man whispered back, and for the first time, Light heard him go weak.“Even after everything.”

He grabbed him by the collar and locked their lips together. He melted into the kiss, trembling feverishly. He had missed this sensation so much he could barely stand it. The plush, wet and enticing brush of their lips soon grew hungrier, starving, even though they were both smiling into it. And it felt, both literally and metaphorically, more real than any other touch they had ever shared, dead or alive.

Then, they slowly began crumbling away. The kiss was broken as they both stared down. It began at their feet –they were dissolving into iridescent specs of dust that caught the light, and then into nothing. Gradually, it crawled up their shins, reaching their knees, and thighs.

But it wasn’t painful, or scary. Neither of them was scared. It was very peaceful. But just in case he didn’t get another chance, Light pressed every part of him that remained to L’s shape.

“L…” He breathed against the man’s mouth. “Are… are you even real? Or have you just been a product of my imagination all this time?”

L looked puzzled for a moment, but then he simply smiled.

“Does it even matter at this point?”

Light looked him in the eyes, as their torsos began to fade, and felt it deep within himself. He took L’s face in his hands, even though the tips of his fingers were disappearing too.

“No.” He concluded, and leaned in for one last loving kiss which L reciprocated.

And after that, nothing.

#Death Note #L Lawliet #fanfiction #submission #jamknife #misasbiggestfan #ratings: mature #L #Light Yagami #lawlight #B's Bitchin Borthday 2k19

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anincrediblelife-blog · 5 years ago

Text

A “new normal?” I don’t think so...(?)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I remember the day like the back of my hand. I had just been admitted to the Johns Hopkins hospital, hooked up to oxygen and IV fluids. I was meeting with my new team of oncology doctors.

They went over my plan of treatment and what to expect. Naturally, as many would also probably respond as, I blacked out. I’m sure it was the lack of oxygen and the mix of pain killers, but I honestly don’t remember any of it. The room went dark, I could hear them— feel their pressence, but my mind had basically burst into a million pieces. So much information given to me in...in what, maybe 30 minutes, tops?

Chemo was a drag, as most would expect. I handled it well, quite honestly. I got sick maybe once or twice my first round, but it was smooth sailing the rest of the way. Fatigue and the emotional sobbing was my biggest problem. It would come out of nowhere. I became sensitive to everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars would pop out and I’d be sobbing. I’d watch my 600lb life... and sob. I’d sit down for morning coffee, and sob. I didn’t fight the tears anymore.

Chemo does weird things to your body and your mind— you’re literally morphing into this lifeless, non-recognizable body. My hair fell out everywhere. My beard fell out. Christmas Day I was in the shower and globs of hairs were just falling out. A few days later I said fuck it, took my clippers, and pulled a 2007 Brittney Spears.

I began to look like my pubescent 11 year old self. It was weird. Just totally taboo.

I was facing a huge challenge now. This really hadn’t hit me yet.

But in all honesty, it wasn’t until my eyelashes, my eyebrows, and the hairs on my legs and arms began to fall out. It wasn’t really until I began to puff up like a fish from all the steroids; and gain the “Freshman 15” that I never did in college. That’s when it really hit me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Holy shit, I have cancer.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This “new normal” mentality was brought up so many times to me by so many people in the last year that I have learned to just ignore it...or at least try to.

Uh...Yeah, of course my life is going to change. I was just diagnosed with late stage metastatic ball cancer. I’m 24 fuckin years old, are you kidding me?

I was pissed, so mad at the world. What did I do to deserve this? Everything was finally falling into place for me. My career was taking off, I began to work on my masters degree. I was eating healthy and taking numbers. I had what I wanted. I had security.

I might have struggled financially, but I had begun to get my life together one step at a time.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I tried and tried to get back to my old self after finishing chemo, going through all these surgeries and getting back to my daily work life and weekend fun.

I was fighting this “new normal” mentality.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As of recently, I think I’m starting to get what they meant.

I was doing so well, health related. Tumor markers were returning to a normal range, lung mets were still shrinking. I wasn’t worried.

But as I look back from the last few months, I see it now. Something was wrong. My mood fluctuated, my emotions were all over the place. I emailed my urologist to ask for bloodwork for T levels. My hormones went through quite a bit over the last few months— a lot of hormonal changes. T levels came back normal. I started working out again, getting my ass into shape at kickboxing. (What a great stress relief, by the way. I highly recommend.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I mean, yeah, I knew I was sorta depressed, but I was back to at least a little bit of what we say ~thriving~ nowadays.

“Living my best life.”

Or so I thought I was...

But then I began to run myself into the ground. I started drinking a lot, being reckless, putting my roommate and my friends through hell. There would be times she would come home and I’d be passed out on the floor from having too much bubbly by myself on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t healthy— for me or for her. I had to get my shit together or I was out. Never did either of us even imagine I’d be struck with cancer. The tension was high. We both knew it, but, at least for myself, I’m not afraid to say I like to avoid conflict.

I was self medicating because thats what seemed what was best for me. In reality, I was self-destructing. And a steady decline I was taking.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the last couple days I’ve had a lot of time to think. (Maybe too much time, to be honest.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is.. I can sorta admit that I’m learning to accept these changes— this “new normal” mentality. I didn’t want to at first, but I think it’s ok. Instead of fighting to try to find the old me, maybe this “new normal” is a change that I needed.

A life style change? A new outlook? A restart button? Shut down, and reload.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Two and a half weeks ago, I had a brain tumor removed. Yeah, the cancer came back. Six months post chemo, six months post surgeries, six months getting back to work, getting healthy— a brain tumor. Surgery went well. They got it all out and I’ll meet with oncology next week for further details and a plan of more treatment if need be. (I’ll be sure to update.)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

What...What I’m trying to say is that this brain tumor and this brain surgery and all that has opened my eyes even more to the “new normal.” The depression seems to have subsided, although I’m not afraid to admit I’m on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds and sometimes I feel like maybe we all should just be on them. I truly feel happier. Everyone wants to be happy— and I can honestly say that I’m getting there. I’m working on it. I have my days. We all do. So I don’t let it bother me.

It’s made me wonder— this latest occurance— to think of it as a learning experience. Some higher power put me in this situation to really challenge me...again. And I’m succeeding.

I refuse to lose. I never was a loser. My competitve side really comes out sometimes, catching people off guard. I’m usually the sarcastic wise-ass in the corner cracking jokes.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I need to start setting life goals. I want to travel more, I want to experience life like there’s no tomorrow. It’s easier said than done, I know, but it’s turning in a necessity now for me. Tomorrow is not promised. As cliches as it sounds, I want to carpe dium.

And that’s my plan. Carpe the shit out of that dium.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Enjoy your day, my lovely friends ❤️

#testicularcancer #carpedium #testicularcancerawareness #cancer #choriocarcinoma #inspiration

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luvknow · 6 years ago

Text

royal au | the prince, lee felix

PRINCE - next in line for the crown.

LEE FELIX was the most adored prince in all the land. the townspeople dubbed him prince charming when the king held a party in celebration of his birth and all he did was giggle and smile at all the people. felix grew up to be the most handsome and sought after prince in the entire world. but to you, every person who bore a crown was the same - it meant they had money, and lots of it. as a highly-trained thief, you’ve stolen from people of all social statuses and always succeeded, moving from kingdom to kingdom so you would never be found. the lees were your next target, but you realized this heist wouldn’t be as easy as your previous ones when the prince takes an interest in you.

enemies to lovers ; fluff ; female reader ; 6k

the backstory of how you became a thief was just like any other thief’s - typical and painfully sad.

the homeless life in your home kingdom was dangerous because stealing was a straight-to-execution crime.

the second you were caught in the market stealing from the pockets of nobles or even a few apples, authorities would drag you to the guillotine or to be hung - it depended on how they were feeling that day.

but that mostly applied to adults. kids were a bit different, but it was much easier to steal as a kid because people felt sorry for you.

you didn’t want to take any chances, though, so you stole things carefully.

soon, it became second nature to you and that’s how you survived through the days.

whether it was money or food, you honed the skill quite well with both distraction and stealth and you thought no one had caught you.

then one day, as you were eating your loaf of bread, a woman wearing a mask cornered you in an alley.

you thought she was the wife of the baker and was ready to kill you right then and there, but that was not the case at all.

“you’re pretty good at that, little one,” she said seductively. “can you show me that again? i’ll make it worth your while.”

she dangled a little baggie of coins in front of your face and who were you to refuse that? you nodded eagerly, awaiting her demand.

“good. go get that jar of honey for me, will you, sweetheart?”

the jars of honey were stacked neatly on a crate placed closest to the shop owner. this was probably your most dangerous product yet, but you literally had nothing to lose.

other than your life, of course, but even that didn’t matter so much.

the shop owner was busy flirting with some brothel worker when you approached the shop. since distracting was already covered, you had one less job to do.

the jars were quite big and oddly-shaped, so sticking this in your shirt would not be ideal.

instead, since the sleeves of your dirty shirt were long and oversized, your plan was to slip one inside and carry it that way.

when you stopped in front of the honey, you did your usual look-around, making sure no one was watching you.

then, you snagged a jar and zig zagged your way through the market to lose sight of anyone you missed who could have been watching you.

you appeared in front of the lady minutes later, who was startled by how quiet and quick you were.

you were perfect.

“oh, thank you! here’s your payment, as promised,” she said, handing you the small bag.

as you held the coins curiously, not used to the weight and amount, she continued on. “do you have a home, little one?”

you shook your head.

a mischievous grin grew on your painted lips. “would you like one?”

turns out your new older sister is one of the most wanted people in the entire world with a very heavy bounty on her head.

she refuses to get caught but also refuses to give up this luxuriously dangerous life she worked so hard for.

that’s where you come in. her purpose is to train you to become as skilled and stealthy as her and have you do all the dirty work in exchange for some of the earnings and companionship.

you didn’t hesitate at the opportunity. it’s not like you had anything better to do.

besides, all the training was a lot of fun! you learned to shoot arrows, fight with a sword, and some hand-to-hand combat skills.

you trained from dawn to dusk as you and your master travelled between kingdoms. when the sun set was when you went about your nightly missions.

some nights were easy, some nights you nearly got yourself killed, but in the end, you always came back with your pockets and bags filled with whatever your master wanted.

“here’s that damn love potion you wanted so much,” you pouted at her one night. “i normally don’t believe in that magic mumbo jumbo, but after almost getting set on fire, i think you might be onto something with this magic stuff.”

“but of course i’m right, my dear - when am i ever wrong?” she took the black vial from your hands with care and looked at it with sparkles in her eyes. “isn’t she so powerful? oh, the wonders i could do with this...”

“who do you plan on using it on?”

she shrugged carelessly. “i don’t know. maybe a king, or something.”

the next kingdom you settled into was your master’s most highly-anticipated target.

The Lee Kingdom, known for their rich crops and strong wine, was one of the most flourishing kingdoms you’ve ever seen.

everything was golden and warm and you think to yourself how you wouldn’t mind staying here for a while.

and that’s exactly what your master had set up for you.

“this will be our last heist together,” she told you that evening.

“what? why?”

“because after this, i will have taught you everything i know and we will be rich enough to live the rest of our lives freely. and who knows, i might not even live to see you succeed.”

“don’t say that...”

“_____, my dear, this heist is going to be very dangerous for the both of us, so you have to be careful, ok?”

“who are we stealing from that makes this so dangerous?”

“a king, of course.”

you’ve stolen from honest merchants, sleazy priests, and drunk nobles, but you’ve never stolen from someone as highly-regard as the king himself.

this was going to be the toughest mission you’ve ever executed, but if this would make her happy, then you’d do anything.

“you’ll start off small,” she explained, swirling her first glass of wine tonight. “start with the merchants for food and supplies and you’ll work your way up from there. oh, and get to know the townspeople - we’re going to be here for a while.”

“a while? why’s that?”

“the king’s birthday is about a couple of months away and we need to get on the invite list or else the plan won’t work. only the most highly-regarded people get to attend the king’s birthday.”

“and how do you plan on getting us on the list?”

she pulled out the love potion vial with her signature mischievous smirk on her red lips. “using this, of course.”

well, between the two of you, if there was anyone that was going to seduce the king, she would be the perfect person to do it.

she always said fatal attraction and law of seduction were important aspects of being a good thief, but that wasn’t really your alley, at least not yet, so you’ll leave all that nonsense to her.

your first pick-ups in the new kingdom were getting the basics, like bread, meat, silverware, some medicine, and more wine, of course.

it was easy when the streets were quiet and dark at such an early time - it was barely past dinner when everything closed down for the evening.

the townspeople must have really trusted each other, too, because they didn’t do much to hide or lock up all of their goods for safekeeping.

you dropped off your first round of goods to your master, who happily poured herself yet another glass of wine, before you decided to head out again for round two.

the night was still young, so you might as well keep going until you got bored.

somewhere off in one of the many alleys of the kingdom, you heard a bunch of cats meowing.

normally, you would think of that as a bad sign, like maybe they felt a bad spirit there, or something stupid.

but they sounded so hungry and you were feeling guilty hoarding all this fish in your bag.

it was starting to smell, anyways.

when you arrived to the scene of nearly a dozen cats, someone had already beat you to the punch.

a boy not much older or younger than you bent down to place several bowls of cat food in front of the meowing fur balls.

they kept on snuggling against him and you could tell he was struggling.

“do you need some help with that?” you teased.

startled to death, the boy dropped the bowls with a loud, echoey clang.

you felt guilty, so you went to help him regardless.

“sorry if i scared you,” you apologized.

the boy said nothing as he stared at you in awe.

even in the dark, he thought you were so beautiful.

“hello?” you called out, waving your hand in front of the open-mouthed boy. "you got a little drool there.”

“huh? o-oh!”

quickly, he wiped away the drool you were obviously joking about, but he wouldn’t take any chances - he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he was drooling.

you decided to ignore the awkward encounter and focus on the now-angry cats awaiting their meals.

“damn, these cats must be starving...” you noted.

“i’d be starving, too, if my caretaker hadn’t fed me all day.”

“wait, you own all of these cats!?”

“and then some. the rest are probably sleeping or looking for their own food. but i don’t own them, i just feed them. my dad’s allergic to cats, so i can’t have any at the castle.”

“ah, that’s unfortunate - wait, did you say castle...?”

“yeah?” he said as if it was so obvious. “don’t you know? i’m the prince.”

“the prince!?” you shrieked.

this was almost too perfect - like it was a trap set just for you. but the mission literally could not get any more perfect.

your plan was set in stone. you’d befriend the prince, get invited to the party, and steal from all the snobby, rich royals who were getting drunk off their ass on some wine.

“are you not from around here?” the boy asked.

“n-no! not really. i travel a lot with my older sister,” you lied. “we just came in this morning.”

“oh! well, welcome to our humble kingdom. my name is felix.”

“i’d hardly call your kingdom humble, dear prince. it’s one of the largest and most flourishing kingdom’s i’ve ever travelled to.”

“ah well, i try to be humble, but as you pointed it out, the kingdom kind of speaks for itself.” the cute boy scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “s-so, will you be staying long...?”

“i think so. can’t imagine why we’d be leaving soon.”

“oh, good! good... well, if you need someone to show you around, i’m always free.”

“wow, a personal tour from the prince himself?” you teased. “how gentlemanly of you.”

“so did you want to...?”

“i’ll think about it.”

you left the boy awestruck and confused, but he liked you because of that. you were definitely interesting.

“wait, what’s your name!?” he asked.

“_____!” you called out to him.

felix felt like he could fly after he met you.

you came home with your fishy bag and a cute smile on your face, hoping big sis would miss it, but of course she didn’t - she never missed any detail about anything.

“what’s with the smirk?” she asked, taking a roll of bread.

“you’ll never guess who i just met - the prince.”

you saw her sit up straight with the widest eyes. “you’re lying.”

“i could not make this up if i tried.”

you saw a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

“perfect.”

you spent the days getting to know the townspeople and the little secrets of the town while at night you would do your nightly pickings and meet up with felix afterwards.

he was an interesting boy - he wasn’t like any other boy or prince you’ve ever met.

he was awkward... but very cute and kind. there were moments when you were with him that you almost felt bad about your purpose here.

but you had to look at the bigger picture - this wasn’t for you, this was for big sis.

while you were feeding the cats with felix on your seventh night in the kingdom, a loud crash that sounded like a broken vase echoed through the empty village, sending the once-peaceful cats running and you on high alert.

it wasn’t like you were stealing or doing anything bad, but being so used to being careful at night, any noise would startle you.

“you’re like a cat, too, aren’t you?” felix teased. “always active at night, fiesty, nervous ~”

“i am not nervous, that noise was really loud...”

“uhuh. maybe the spirits are coming out early this year.”

“... what spirits...?”

“y’know, like dead people’s spirits. the 31st is coming up, after all. that’s the day when they like to roam the streets the most.”

“... you’re lying...”

“i mean, i’m sure that’s all just a myth, but the kingdom loves to celebrate on the 31st.”

“oh? doing what?”

“well, instead of all the shops being open in the daytime, everything opens at night so the spirits can mingle with us, or something like that. the people decorate the kingdom with tons of flowers, pumpkins, and skulls. it’s actually one of my favorite festivals.”

“ah, interesting.”

that meant bad news for you - you couldn’t steal things when there were so many people around and you wouldn’t dare to try in daylight.

you’ll just have to double your stash the night before.

“so,” felix began. “did you... maybe want to go...?”

“hm? to the festival? sure i guess, why not.”

“cool! great...!”

“oh wait, did you mean with you?”

“i... y-yes...?” he stuttered.

“then in that case, i’d love to go with you.”

he groaned loudly before hitting you playfully. “why are you like this?”

“because you’re cute when you blush.”

in between the day he told you about the festival and the festival itself, you both went about your business and meeting up at night as normal.

except he liked spending time with you so much that he even walked you ‘home’.

‘home’ as in some random house down the block of where you were actually staying.

felix would always insist on waiting for you to get inside the house before he left, but you told him you’d go in through the back so you wouldn’t have to pick the lock every time, and he fell for it.

this whole lying to felix thing and the huge heist big sis had planned was really conflicting.

the handsome prince and his kind family didn’t deserve what was coming for them, but then again big sis gave you a life. a whole purpose.

the heist was about a month away, so you still had some time. for now, you’ll just enjoy your time with felix.

big sis decided to join in on the festivities and spent the night by the winery of course.

you ended up wandering around, eyeing all the goods you wanted, but wouldn’t touch. today was your day off, so you were going to enjoy it with felix by your side.

everything about the festival was as beautiful as felix described - the flowers were a mix of bright warm colors to match the pumpkins, the skulls were bejeweled, and the rest of the decorations were pitch black.

just your type of aesthetic.

after an hour of casually looking for him, you finally found felix in the middle of town square, but he wasn’t alone.

he was surrounded by nearly every girl in town, smiling and laughing with them.

no, you weren’t jealous - why would you be?

he was the prince, after all. that meant he was the most eligible bachelor in the entire kingdom - of course he’d be popular with the ladies.

you wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t ask you to go to the festival with him in the first place if he was just going to socialize.

now you felt a bit foolish.

until he called out your name.

“_____!!” he screamed across the courtyard.

felix politely dismissed himself from the group before slipping past them to run to you.

“hey!” he gasped, slightly out of breath. “just in time!”

“you didn’t have to leave them to run to me,” you muttered embarrassingly. you shrunk a bit in front of felix to hide yourself from the glaring group of girls.

“but i want to be with you.”

you blushed deeply. what a charming prince. “you’re cute."

felix was the shy one now and walked ahead of you in some random direction. “let’s go!”

“but who are they?” you couldn’t help but ask after catching up. “are they your suitors?”

“yes and no... technically, they all are, but i’m free to choose whom i want to marry someday.”

“what makes them a suitor? are they royalty, too?”

“no. minimum requirement is they have to live here.”

“is that so? does that make me a suitor then, too?” you teased.

“w-well, you have to be a permanent resident to be a suitor, not a traveller.”

“ah, that’s a shame. i was going to say i’m winning.”

“you wouldn’t be wrong.”

being friends with the prince definitely had its upside.

you got to know the townspeople even better than you already had and you got free stuff mostly because both felix and the shop owners refused to let you pay.

you learned a lot about felix from the town tonight.

you learned that he was a prince everyone loved dearly, that he was kind to all his people, and it was like he denounced his princely title when he was amongst his people - he wanted to be just like everyone else.

“thank you, mr. choi,” felix bowed respectfully to the baker. “you always know my favorite snacks.”

“it’s really good!” you beamed happily after biting into the pastry.

“you never have to be so formal with me, your highness,” the baker chuckled. “you’re the prince, for god’s sake!”

“but i want to,” he pouted.

“well, i’m just glad i even had any of these left. i’ve been running really low on ingredients and stuff lately, and you know what’s crazy? so has everyone else! the han’s don’t have much metal left for weapons, the park fish market has been low on inventory, and the kwon winery got hit the worst! i’m surprised they’re open right now...”

“what are you saying?” felix asked, concern written all over his freckly face.

“the whole town thinks we have a thief.”

whoops.

now that a thief was being suspected, you’d have to lay off for a little while, but you don’t think it’ll be a problem.

“a thief? in our kingdom?”

“that’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?”

“i’ll alert my father immediately.”

“thank you, your highness. you’re so kind.”

for a moment, felix was frustrated and angry at himself that he didn’t even suspect anything bad was going on in his kingdom in the first place.

but when he looked at you, his anger seemed to melt away.

that night, you learned that felix adored you.

whenever you were talking to the shop owners, browsing through all the products, or bending down to talk to some children, whatever you were doing, his eyes were glued to you.

under the glow of all the string lights, you were even more beautiful the day he met you - now that he could see you clearly, of course.

everyone saw it. the town, his suitors, even you caught him looking at you a couple of times, but he wouldn’t look away from embarrassment.

his smile would widen to a cheesy grin then he’d look away.

who knew in such a short amount of time you’d get the loving prince to fall for you day-by-day, all because you fed cats together.

after the shops closed and people were turning in for the night you tugged on the prince’s sleeve.

“do you know what time it is ~?” you sang.

“our favorite past time together ~”

“our only past time together...”

“we can always change that.”

the cats meowed their song and felix treated them all to real fish and chicken instead of that kibble stuff he’d usually give them.

you couldn’t help but notices how furrowed his brows were which clearly meant he was thinking about the whole thief thing.

guilt was rising in your chest and now you were nervous.

“are you ok?” you asked him.

“yeah... no. no, i’m not. the thief thing is going to be on my mind all the time until they’re caught. god, i’m so angry! who would steal from these good, honest people!?”

“a terrible person...”

“you’re right.”

“do you have any idea who it might be?”

“no idea. what i do know is that they’re smart and highly skilled. there’s no way i’m going to find them...”

you take felix’s balled-up fists in your hands and he immediately relaxes upon your touch.

you can tell he’s unsure and nervous of what you’re doing, but you simply hold onto his hands and you receive a gentle squeeze in return.

“don’t worry too much, ok? it’s not your fault this is happening.”

“i know, it just... sucks...”

“you’ll catch them.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

felix released one of his hands to tuck some stray hairs behind your ear and kept his hand to your cheek afterwards, his thumb drawing gentle lines on the apples of your cheeks.

he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you, but he held himself back.

“hey, so there’s party that’s coming up that my father’s going...” he trailed off.

this was it. this was yours and big sis’s ticket into the last heist.

why weren’t you excited?

“it’s for his birthday and it’s an invite only,” he continued. “would you like to go with me?”

“hm, i don’t know ~” you teased. “will your suitors be there, too?”

felix rolled his eyes playfully. “yes, some of them will be, but i want to be by your side the whole night.”

“really...?”

“really.” he pulled out a formal invitation in fancy parchment and handed it to you. “will you go? please?”

“on one condition.”

“anything for you.”

“can i bring my sister? i rarely see her these days, since i spend all my free time with you.”

“of course she can come.”

“then i’ll be there, your highness.”

when you came home to your big sis, you threw the invitation on the table and nearly burst into tears.

“i can’t do it,” you muttered.

“what?” she seethed. “we’re so close! you put in so much work already!”

“the town already suspects a thief is here and taking their stuff, we’ll be caught and execute right away!”

“you knew the dangers coming into this, why are you surprised?”

and then it clicked in her head.

“you love him, don’t you?” she scoffed.

you don’t say anything.

“foolish girl. even if he does love you back, what will happen? you’ll leave me in the dust to marry him and live here happily ever after? what makes you think he’d love some lowlife traveller, hm? when he’s got suitors lined up for miles?”

god, you really wish she didn’t say that.

“listen. this is our last heist together. help me steal from the king, and i’ll leave you be here to live off your fantasy. but if you don’t i’ll tell him everything. your whole life, your purpose here, that you’re the thief - everything. so will you help me, or not?”

you only nod as a response.

“good girl.”

it was the night of the big party and you and big sis were dressed to the nines, thanks to the jewelry shops in town.

felix’s castle was beautiful. you could only ever dream of living in a place like this.

the great hall was decorated with all of the king’s favorite flowers and candles and all of the tables had piles and piles of meat on it, ready to be devoured.

big sis mindlessly made her way towards the king, where she’d wish him a happy birthday and the plan would move on from there.

just when the anxiety of being alone was creeping up on you, a hand swooped in to lace itself with yours.

a handsome felix looked down at you adoringly with sparkles in his eyes, drinking in every centimeter of beauty that was you.

“hi,” he said breathlessly. he bowed down and kissed the back of your hand like a true prince.

“your highness, you’re so charming ~” you gasped.

“only with you. shall we?”

you and felix sat at the far ends of the table where his parents also sat.

big sis sat right next to the king, playing with the vial of love potion under the table, smirking in the process.

she must have slipped it in already.

you still held onto felix’s hand before the dinner commenced and you must have been unconsciously squeezing it tighter and tighter as time passed because he’d steal side glances of concern at you from time to time.

you’d then immediately loosen your grip and give him a reassuring smile in return.

the air inside the castle was suffocating.

“a toast!” the king began, standing up and holding up his poisoned goblet. everyone soon followed his suit. “thank you all for coming to celebrate my special day. let’s eat and drink well tonight! cheers!”

“cheers!”

and so the king drank the potion.

the food was amazing - you expected nothing less from a king himself. but it was hard to enjoy it when you were eyeing the king and big sis talking the whole night.

when dinner was over, the real party started, and you thought maybe in the pool of all these people, you’d be able to slip away from big sis and never come back -

“will you dance with me?” felix asked.

he held out his hand for you to take and who were you to refuse an offer you once dreamed about when you were a little girl?

gladly, you took his hand and he guided you to the middle of the dance floor where he laid one hand on your waist and another held your own and you immersed yourself in this waltz.

“i didn’t take you as someone who knew how to dance,” you noted.

“it’s part of the princely package.”

the music had slowed and so did you and felix. now his hands were on your waist and he held you close, hoping you’d never slip away.

“when do you leave?” he asked the dreaded question.

“soon.”

“don’t.”

“what do you mean...?”

“i mean don’t leave. stay here, with me.”

“i can’t.”

“why not?” he begged. “do you not want to?”

“no! of course i want to, i just... i don’t think this was meant to be.”

“what...?”

from behind felix, you saw big sis whisking away the king to god knows where - probably to his chamber, where she’d tie him up while you and her did the dirty work.

you needed to stop her fast.

“stay here, i’ll be right back,” you said, breaking away from felix’s iron grip.

“where are you going!?”

“somewhere! i’ll be back, i promise.”

like a tragic ending to a fairy tale, felix watched you slip away into the empty mass of the castle. for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to follow you.

what was the point, anyways? when you didn’t want to stay here with him.

but your answer was so vague, what was he supposed to think of it?

before it was too late, felix ran off to find you.

it was easy to navigate around the giant castle when there were clear signs of how to get to the royal chambers. you figured the well-lit and finely-decorated pathways led the way to them.

from outside of what you assumed was the king’s master chamber, you heard the king muffle something you couldn’t understand.

she must have already tied him up.

you kicked the door open, only to reveal the king alone in the room.

“fuck,” you cursed. before anyone could see, you began untying the frightened king.

“_____...?”

your heart dropped when you saw felix standing in the doorway, looking confused.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

you ignored his question. “help me untie your father.”

he did as you told in silence, trying to piece together what or who you were. you weren’t telling him something, but he’ll figure it out soon.

conveniently, the king kept a crossbow near his bed for protection. so you took it and a bunch of arrows, ready to do something you thought you’d never have to do.

“what are you doing with that!?” the prince demanded after he released his coughing father.

“i’ll explain later -”

“no, explain it to me now.” felix was angry now, and you were frightened, but you had to remind yourself you were doing this for him.

“follow me. we don’t have much time.”

you left the chamber with felix following closely behind you, confused and frustrated.

“you have to tell me where you keep your everything - your coins, jewelry, gold - all of it, where do you keep it?” you asked frantically.

“why?”

“because the thief is here and we’re going to catch her.”

“what!?” he shrieked. “everything’s kept in a safe in the dungeon -”

“show me.”

felix led you a long journey to the dungeon to which you assumed you’d be calling home by the end of the night when felix found you out.

but that was the consequence of the heist, and you knew that.

the safe door was huge and opened just a crack where light shone through the opening. from just outside, you could hear big sis fumbling around, stuffing whatever she could in whatever carrier she brought with her.

you opened the safe just a bit more and aimed the crossbow right at her head.

her manic laughter echoed through the safe and beyond the dungeon, sounding like an evil witch or sorceress. even felix was frightened of her.

“has it really come to this?” she asked, looking at you straight in the eyes. “you wouldn’t really do this to me, would you? to me, your big sis?”

“what is she talking about?” felix asked.

“oh, your highness! don’t you know? _____’s the thief! we’re in this together!”

“what? _____, tell me she’s lying...”

you didn’t say anything.

“she did all ~ the stealing herself,” she sang. “of course, i was the mastermind behind all of this, but she did the dirty work! she really fooled you, huh? but like every fairytale, the thief fell in love with the prince, and now she’d do anything for him. even kill the one person who gave here life purpose.”

if big sis loved you as much as you loved her, you would have been more conflicted about your choices. but she didn’t and she only used you to survive off of the things you stole from good people.

you’ve never pulled the trigger on someone so quickly.

the arrow lodged right through her skull and she fell to the ground with a loud thud.

you dropped the crossbow and turned back to look at felix, hoping you could finally explain yourself.

but he wasn’t there.

so now you were alone again, at least for a couple of minutes before the guards got there to take you away and lock you in the dungeon, just as you predicted.

the cell was cold, dark, and lonely, but even this was more than you deserved.

you’re not sure how many days have passed by now, but you’d hope at least one of those days felix would have visited you, wanting an answer.

but he never did, and you didn’t blame him.

on what you assumed was the fifth day, your cell opened, and a few guards picked you up and dragged you out without any explanation.

when you left the dungeon, you’ve never been so happy to see the sun shining.

the guards took you to the great hall where the king, the queen, and felix sat on their thrones patiently waiting for you.

you were too embarrassed to even look at him, but his gaze bore holes into you, as if he was demanding you look at him.

so you did, just for a second, and in that moment you saw how hurt and disappointed he was at you.

you were thrown to your knees in front of the royal family.

“miss _____, is it?” the kind king asked.

“yes, sir.”

“it has come to my attention that you are the one that has been stealing from all the shops in town, is that correct?”

“yes, sir.”

“i see... normally, the sentence for something like this would be execution, but you did save my life and eliminated the woman behind all of is. for that, i owe you, so you are free to stay in this kingdom. if you are caught stealing again, you will be sentenced to death, is that clear?”

“yes, sir.”

“excellent. now get out of my sight.”

you struggled to get up, not used to using your legs just yet as you spent five days sitting on concrete.

the guards unshackled you, revealing bloody wrists and ankles.

you were free - from big sis, from the life you once live, from everything.

it should feel amazing. and it does at first, but now you’re alone again.

you have to leave.

after washing out the scum for nearly an hour, you were good as new, with only the scars left on your skin. you packed up anything that you could in a backpack, along with some of the stuff you stole, since it wasn’t like you were going to give it back.

you locked up the place and made your way towards the kingdom gates, ready to leave and never come back.

“you lied about where you lived, too?” you heard felix say from behind. “is your name even _____?”

you paused, turning around to see felix jogging up to you from down the street, where you told him you lived.

as he approached, your gaze was set on the floor, where it belonged.

“so you’re just going to leave without explaining anything to me? without saying goodbye? nothing?”

tears welled up in your eyes. how could you explain it to him? in what way could you explain this whole thing and have him understand? you didn’t think you even deserved a goodbye from him, so what was the point?

“say something,” he demanded.

“i can’t stay,” you muttered. “it’s not fair to you.”

“if i said i want you to stay, will you stay?”

“what?” you cried out. “i stole from you and i lied to you, why would you want that?”

“because you love me, don’t you?” felix’s voice was desperate, hoping that was the one thing you couldn’t have lied to him about. “i know that’s not a lie, am i right? tell me you love me, too.”

“of course i love you.”

“then if you love me, you’ll stay, right?”

“felix -”

“please,” he begged. he held your face in his hands and gently lifted your face up forcing you to look at him. “just stay for a while longer. we’ll talk about everything, just... please don’t go.”

“ok,” you nodded. “i’ll stay.”

felix let out a huge sigh of relief, pressing a long, loving kiss to your forehead.

“good. will you show me where you actually live now?”

the night was spent inside your humble home telling the story of your entire life before and during your time with big sis.

whether he understood why you are the way you are or not, you’re still unsure, but falling asleep wrapped up in felix’s arms had to have been a good sign, right?

#felix #lee felix #skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #royal au #these.... keep getting longer LMAo #i know i already did a thief and a prince trop #but idk i was inspired #blease tell me what you think cuz i tought this was meh i focused a lot on the reader and not so much felix :(

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fulokis · 6 years ago

Text

Burns| A Good Omens Fanfic

Crowley hadn’t been around, not even a single call had been placed in a month. Aziraphale wasn’t worried per say, but what happened at the Ritz or more precisely after the Ritz. Well Aziraphale wouldn’t be surprised if he pushed Crowley away perhaps for a final time.

Oh why did he do that? Why did he push him away again and again? Only this time it was different. Crowley hadn’t been so forward this time, he had been unsure. Aziraphale would even go as far to say he was anxious. Crowley was good at hiding it, but knowing a being for 6000 years tends to make one wary to all of their emotions.

What finally sent Crowley over the edge on that day weeks ago was when they were walking out of the Ritz. Aziraphale had slipped his hand into Crowley’s. Crowley had frozen in place while Aziraphale kept walking causing a few people to bump into them. Aziraphale turned back to talk to Crowley to see the demon slipping into his natural serpent form and slithering off.

Aziraphale sighed putting the phone down and heading up to the small flat above the bookshop. Locking the door behind him Aziraphale sighed and smiled at the crisp breeze coming through the open window. Being late September they still had a few warm days, the crisp autumn breeze made them all the more pleasant.

Aziraphale sighed to himself again, his thoughts not on the long day and the many bothersome costumers, but on Crowley. He knew that likely the demon already had his heat on and was freezing either that or he sauntered back down to hell for the winter. Crowley didn’t do that often but Aziraphale was starting to wonder if that was where he had gone.

Aziraphale took off his jacket and shirt. He stretched out his wings shaking a few feathers loose. The shafts of those feathers were still that bright sterile white of an angel . The very edge of the tips however looked newly singed, a charcoal color that shone in contrast. In fact both tips of his wings contained feathers that looked similar.

The angel sat on the small bed, picked up the alarm clock and set it for bright and early the next morning. Aziraphale turned off the light and slid to his stomach allowing both wings to sag over the bed onto the floor. He lay his head on the pillow and fell asleep rather quickly.

Crowley pulled up to the book shop slowly, much to the Bentley’s protest. Parking his car he let out a sigh. His shoulders were tense, his breath shaky. What would his angel think? He abandoned him with out warning. What if he thinks it’s a sign that he was being used for Demonic purposes? Crowley gritted his teeth and opened the car door carefully.

He looked both ways down the street, letting some of the tension slide away. They were truly alone, for a moment at least but Crowley knew that was more than enough time for them.

Walking up to the door he stopped hand out to prepare to open the door without powers. Something was different with his angel, he smelled ... dark, like dark chocolate. Overwhelmed with the smell Crowley stumbled back slipping on a stair and proceeding to whack his head on the concrete.

“Fuck.” He whispered “Who fucked with my angel?” Standing up and wiping the dust off of his clothes he headed inside the establishment. The chocolate smell overpowered Crowley again drowning out all the familiar smells of Aziraphale. He couldn’t smell the ink and old parchment. Or even the sterile doctors office smell that sometimes overwhelmed him.

Heading towards the stairs that led to the flat Crowley caught something else. Burning? No no no not again. Crowley rushed up the stairs and forced his way through the door. In his panic over them finding Aziraphale he hadn’t considered he might get stuck half way through the door.

Crowley nearly thanked the lord as he looked in the room. Instead of Hell fire he found nothing out of the ordinary. Instead of demons or other angles he only found his Aziraphale. He gazed lovingly at his angel sleeping peacefully, undisturbed seemingly fine from the weeks they had been apart.

Crowley tried to get out of the doorway to find he was stuck. As much as he didn’t want to wake up the angel from his slumber they had to move.

“Angel.” He said in a harsh whisper “Angel.” Aziraphale stirred taking one wing and wrapping it around himself but not coming to. “Aziraphale!” Crowley nearly yelled at the sleeping angel.

Aziraphale startled nearly whacked his wing into Crowley’s face. After looking around in a confused manner Aziraphale saw Crowley in the door and tried to keep his laughter in, succeeding only partly and letting a chuckle out.

“Angel, a little help?” Crowley asked clearly frustrated with Aziraphale. Aziraphale nodded still amused by the situation in front of him, and with a wave of his hand the door released Crowley, opened and patched itself up. Crowley took a step towards the Angel, “Pack what you can we’re leaving.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked baffled “You think I want to go with you especially after what happened and being ignored. I am not going with you for all I know is you’re working with Satan again.”

So he did think that. Crowley stood up straiter taking off his glasses and for the first time ever Aziraphale saw a glint of murderous rage in the demons eyes. “I am trying to help both of ussss.” He hissed.

“I don’t need you I’m perfectly fine right where I am.” Aziraphale tested the water, sure yes he was great full that Crowley was standing in front of him talking to him. But something was off about the demon, sure Aziraphale’s sense of smell was not nearly as strong as Crowley’s but there was something on him that smelled a bit like hand sanitizer.

Crowley hissed taking another step towards Aziraphale. Crowley was acting odd and it was intimidating. Aziraphale wanted to run he wanted to leave the moment but something wasn’t letting him.

“Get on with it then, kill me, torture me, slam me against the wall. Do what you want you don’t scare me.” Aziraphale said trying to sound convincing.

Crowley took another step and reached his hand out. Aziraphale was ready to put up a fight when Crowley clenched his fist put his arm down closed his eyes and turned away.

“They’re coming for you, they won’t stop until they kill you. They figured it out... what we did.” Crowley’s breath became shaky and Aziraphale realized he might be crying (or at least as close as he could be to crying). “... Good bye Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley left down the stairs. Damn it what had he done? Again and Again and Again he always pushed Crowley away. Aziraphale stood listening to the footsteps downstairs. He expected a loud slam, but the only thing he heard was the starting of the Bentley’s engine and a slow puttering away.

Where to now? Alpha Centuri? No he would be looking there. That is if the idiot actually payed attention. Hell? No. To heaven? No. Find a Church, with holy water, go past the point of no return.

The Bentley’s motions were soothing to Crowley, his car was really more of a home than anything. Crowley stopped at the stoplight keeping a low profile was key right now. He chortled at himself, he was obeying laws just so that they or that stupid angel wouldn’t show up and ruin his plan. The light turned green and yet he did not hit the gas he sat looking at his options.

Crowley waited thinking until the light turned yellow. It was only a couple minutes but it felt so long to him. Taking his phone and opening it he pressed the map app. Funny how he didn’t know where the nearest church was despite knowing a literal angel. Finding one he clicked on it hoping that it had some holy water.

The voice of the map rang through his ears. It had been about three weeks since the last time he had any noise playing in the Bentley. It distracted him for the moment as he drove away from his problems.

Long after the putters of the Bentley Aziraphale was still standing in shock. He didn’t know how to respond. Crowley seemed like he may have been trying to make up with him. Trying to be open. But something was blocking him.

Aziraphale sighed returning to the bed he lay awake counting all the times he had pushed Crowley away. Some of those times he realized happened before earth and before Eden. Maybe he still can’t quite remember who Crowley was before he fell but there was always a familiarity to him.

Beams of light shone through the window before long and Aziraphale sighed. Standing up and putting on new clothes he tucked his wings back in. He put on shoes and walked down the stairs into the book shop. He took in the smell of the books as he walked by to the front door.

Stepping outside he realized it had started to drizzle as a storm rolled in. Normally Aziraphale would have been happy and chipper as always, but the night before hurt to much for him to even put on a facade. He passed on breakfast, also an unusual occurrence.

Aziraphale just walked and walked. Letting his thoughts wander with no control and no idea where he was going. After a while he came back to his senses. Aziraphale found himself at a church, he supposed it made sense after all it was a Sunday morning. As Aziraphale approached the front door he nearly stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the Bentley sitting there driver stepping out.

Aziraphale could barely comprehend what was happening. No no no he can’t be he wouldn’t. Aziraphale thought in horror without really thinking he miracled both him and Crowley into the Bentley and locked the doors.

“What in the flying hell was that?!” Crowley shouted trying to unlock and open the drivers side door.

“You’re a fucking Demon!” Aziraphale shouted back “Churches could discorporate you, and I can’t bare to think what would happen if they threw holy water at you.”

“Oh so now you’re just suddenly going to care what happens to me? Issss that really the road you want to go down?” Crowley said growing more agitated.

“I’ve never stopped caring about you, you stupid demon!” Aziraphale said.

“Y-y....” Crowley huffed and decided to hiss a very long hiss.

Aziraphale waited a couple moments after Crowley had let his frustration out “Better?”

“No.” Crowley replied “No I’m not.” Before Aziraphale could reply Crowley opened the door and bolted out into the parking lot. Aziraphale expected him to head into the church, but instead he opened his wings and took flight.

Aziraphale knew he had really done it this time he had broken Crowley’s heart and he wasn’t sure that he would ever get him back.

“Shame you did seem to enjoy him.” A voice from the back seat of the Bentley spoke up.

Aziraphale looked in the rearview mirror to see Gabriel sitting there. “Gabriel,” he said dryly “I didn’t see you there.”

Gabriel chuckled “No of course you didn’t I just popped in after the demon left.”

“What could you possibly need or want from me?”

“Oh nothing from you directly. Don’t get me wrong you were decent at your job, sure some distractions came your way but you listened to instructions for the most part...”

“Could you please get on with it, I would prefer not to miss the service.”

“And not chase after your demon?” Gabriel taunted “You know if you agree to let’s say desk work we would like to have you back, after all your feathers will be returned to their pristine state.”

“You know my answer Gabriel.”

“Either way you will be useful.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Call back your demon before I discorporate you.” Gabriel held a knife in his hand and was showing it off.

“How is that supposed to make me scared?” Aziraphale replied “Disincorporation is something I can come back from.”

Gabriel smiled “So glad you agree, now I’m going to count to three call your demon back or I will stab you.”

“Stabbing me does nothing.”

“You really are thick aren’t you?” Gabriel replied “One ... two ... three.” Aziraphale stuck his wings out ripping his jacket and shirt in an attempt to deter Gabriel. The other angel saw it coming and ducked underneath the wings sticking the knife into Aziraphales side.

Aziraphale gasped in pain as the etherial weapon penetrated his side. Gold blood started oozing out of the entry point.

“I’ll be back to collect your boyfriend.” Gabriel said cheerfully disappearing in a thin screen of smoke.

Crowley had flown up to the top of the nearest building. He wouldn’t leave his car especially not at a church. He sighed watching the clouds move shivering. He hated winter and he hated cold rain. But at least it was peaceful. The clouds always fascinated him, and the wind caused the trees to shimmy. Perhaps the best part was it felt like he was the only person that mattered to him when he was up here.

A shrill noise disturbed him from his thoughts, “Blasted cars. SOMEBODY TURN THEIR BLOODY CAR ALARM OFF, IT WOKE ME UP!” He shouted hoping that the empathy humans carried would turn it off.

Suddenly in a gust of wind he caught a metallic smell. Similar to human blood but much heavier of a smell. Crowley’s stomach sank quickly. He could feel his gut clenching at the smell. Crowley knew exactly who that smell belonged to.

He didn’t waste time flying down to the church parking lot, instead choosing to miracle himself into the Bentley’s driver seat. Turning off the car alarm he turned toward Aziraphale. The angel wasn’t paying attention to him, but Crowley didn’t mind that meant it was easier to look at the situation.

The angel was using his right hand to keep pressure on the wound. His other hand rested on top of the right. Crowley started the car trying to stay level headed.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted giddily “I don’t think Gabriel likes me.” He giggled.

“Angel are you alright?” Crowley asked tenderly, paying attention to the traffic he was trying to turn into.

“It’s only a flesh wound,” Aziraphale took a finger and touched the tip of Crowley’s nose “You are so clueless sometimes my dear.”

“How much blood have you lost?”

“Doesn’t matter he stabbed me with a butter knife, I do hope he washes it before he uses it for tea time.”

“God damn it Aziraphale!” Crowley yelled as he changed a lane, surprisingly still under the speed limit. “How much blood have you lost?”

Aziraphale thought “Are you a vampire?”

Crowley hissed “Sleep” he said, causing Aziraphale to sleep. He didn’t want to do that he knew it was a risk, but his stupid Angel wouldn’t shut up.

They were about 20 minutes from Tadfeild when Aziraphale opened his mouth again. “Crowley?” He sat up a little straighter grunting at the pain “you can’t be here.”

“I know love just relax.” Crowley said offering his left hand for Aziraphale to hold as he drifted back to sleep. Crowley hoped that Aziraphale wouldn’t remember that when he woke up, after all he was mad at his angel.

“Anathema the Bentley is back!” Newt shouted from upstairs.

“I know I see it!” She shouted back leaving the house “Anthony Janthony Crowley I told you before and I’ll tell you again the answer is no I’m not going to figure out how to unburn the other prophesy book...” Anathema stopped dead in her track at the sight of Aziraphale. “Oh my god.”

“Can you help?” Crowley asked after miracleing them into the living room with Aziraphale on the couch.

“I think.” Anathema said standing up and grabbing supplies from the bathroom “It might not work considering he’s an angel.” She projected.

“How? I never said anything about him being an angel or me being a demon.”

Anathema smiled at Crowley as she spread the supplies out on the coffee table and began to address the wound on Aziraphale’s side. “White wings gold blood. Pretty obvious, plus you’re always talking about your angel under your breath.”

Crowley nodded “Makes sense.”

Aziraphale woke up with Crowley in his serpent form curled up and lying on his chest under his shirt. Aziraphale figured he was asleep so he lye there taking in the small room he was in, very soon a young woman walked into the room with tea and biscuits. “I remember you from Armageddon.” Aziraphale said.

“I remember you too.” She said “I’m Anathema, I’m glad to finally meet you Aziraphale.”

“How did you know my name? Are you prophetic?”

Anathema smiled “No not prophetic, that unfortunately did not make it down the genetic line. Crowley told me your name.”

“Crowley has been talking to you?” Aziraphale asked carefully sliding the demon out of his shirt and placing him on the back of the couch before sitting up.

“Well only asking for the book I burned and to patch him up when things got rough.”

“Burned book?” Aziraphale sat almost mourning the book he never met “Wait did you say patching him up?”

“Yes, sugar?” Anathema asked making a cup of tea.

“Two and a splash of cream please.” Aziraphale said grabbing a biscuit for himself.

“Crowley’s gotten in a couple fights with angels and demons the past month, I’m surprised that you managed to avoid the skirmishes.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, so that’s what he had been doing. “I haven’t seen him in a month. Then last night he decides he’s going to pop in and angelnap me.”

Anathema chuckled at the comment “He was trying to keep you out of it.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Wow you two really don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” A shrill voice behind Aziraphale asked.

Anathema smiled again “Tea?” She asked avoiding the question.

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Don’t know what?” He repeated sliding down behind Aziraphale.

“That’s a conversation the two of you are going to have to have.” Anathema took a sip of her own tea “Isn’t that uncomfortable Crowley?”

“He’s cold.” Aziraphale butted in.

“Yeah cause a stupid angel decided to put me in a cold spot.” Crowley grumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale chuckled “We best be on our way, I thank you for helping me with my wound and for the lovely tea.” Aziraphale stood up letting his wings show.

Crowley followed Aziraphale to the Bentley and stepped into the car. He sighed and turned on the heat to the car. Hearing the passengers side door opening he looked up in surprise to see Aziraphale come in.

Aziraphale took a deep breath “Thank you for coming back. I should have listened to you in the beginning.”

“Aw don’t go all sentimental on me angel. We’re both to blame.” Crowley was staring out the window. Aziraphale looked at the demons jaw line to find a hastily patched up scar. He reached out and rubbed it with his thumb. “Gabriel.” Crowley said “He caught me by surprise outside the Ritz.”

“Wait you mean...”

“Yeah. That’s why I stopped up I thought I saw him. Well I did, another step and the knife he threw probably would’ve been lodged in my chest. Started to shift as I saw it coming, still grazed me.”

“I thought...”

“Yeah I know what you thought Angel. And I don’t blame you.”

“Oh Crowley, why didn’t you contact me?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Why?”

“Well because... because...” Crowley was struggling on getting the words out instead trying to focus on anything that wasn’t in the car.

Aziraphale put his hand on the demons jaw and turned it to look in his serpent eyes. “Because you love me.” Crowley just nodded almost embarrassed by the thought “My dear, I feel the same way.” Aziraphale said as he pulled the demon in for a kiss. Aziraphale could feel the tips of his wings burning slightly and pulled away.

Crowley blinked and reached over to touch Aziraphale’s right wing, “Your wings.” His voice cracked.

“Yours too.” Aziraphale pointed out. The demon looked over his shoulder at the jet black wing, sure enough as Aziraphale pointed out the tips of his feathers looked almost pure white again.

“Angel I’ve got a question, what do I smell like?”

Aziraphale thought for a second “Dark chocolate, campfires, and dead mice. Why?” Crowley just smiled and stole another kiss from Aziraphale.

#crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #fanfic #first atempt #fulokis writing

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hayjeon · 6 years ago

Text

Snow and Ice 01 [m] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!

→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)

A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts)

also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k...i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy

“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene.

She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.”

You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?”

Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.”

You nod and throw the towel on the handle as you step up onto a machine. It’s 6am, but already, dozens of other athletes are busy at work, pressing the weight machines and cardio machines to life. You can see that the gymnastics girls are taking up most of the easy weights, and the hockey players fiddling with the heavier weights. Seokjin, one of the guys from your university’s snowboarding team, walks up to you with a smile, starting up the running machine next to yours, and matching your brisk walk.

“Good morning,” he grins, “How are you feeling?”

You roll your eyes, cracking your neck. “God, Jin, I wanted to kill the guys on the fourth floor. Literally, they’re the loudest herd of chimpanzees when they’re drunk.”

Seokjin laughs, upping his speed. “They made a bet to see who could drink the longest from the keg. It was interesting to watch but my coach would’ve killed me if she were here and saw me sleeping anytime past 1am. And even though our coaches can’t be here in the lodgings,” he shudders, taking a swig from his bottle, “I’d rather not find out what she’ll do to me if she ever knew the truth.”

You laugh, increasing your speed and matching his long strides with quick ones of your own. “Good thinking, you’re smart.”

He grins at you and the both of you ease into your daily routines.

Everyday is like this, even when you’re not in the Olympic village. This is your second Olympics, and your second time representing your country for women’s figure skating. Being said, getting here meant that every day was a routine, just like today’s, monkey boys living a floor above you or not.

Wake up at 5am, and cardio for an hour, stretch for 30, practice jumps on mats for 30, and then actually skating for another 2 hours, before returning to stretch out the sore muscles, and then finally getting to eat your first meal, which was probably a salad, chicken breast, and maybe a fruit smoothie if your morning cardio was more productive than usual. Then it was a bit of rest and loosening the muscles with a warm bath, and then back with weight training and more skating until it was night, and the lactic acid buildup was making your muscles all shaky and unsteady. Rinse, repeat.

It’s easy to throw popcorn at your tv screen and sneer, “Idiots,” when a representative of the country makes a mistake during the games. Somehow, everyone sitting at home in front of their televisions, munching on their bottomless fried chicken and coke became masters at whatever sport they were watching this time of year. But becoming an olympian meant that this was your life: training, practicing, and winning.

You amp up the speed on the machine into a full sprint as you think of the way you only got a silver medal the last time you competed. The bratty Jennie Kim had won the gold, and managed to shove it in your face every single time you two saw each other. She was here too, you could practically smell the hatred and the evil emanating off her skin whenever you were in a 50 mile radius of her.

You sigh as your music lets you drift off into a place, a place where you don’t have to think about how sweaty and tired you are already. The music that you chose this year for your routine was classy, and so was the show that you prepared.

It took months of training, and was also the reason you had to go so hard on cardio this year: there were four triple-axels, triple toe-loops you had to master during the routine, and that didn’t even include the two triple salchows towards the end of the routine. None other than Kim Yuna had attempted and succeeded at doing a routine like that completely without failing.

All while looking like a complete goddess.

Beethoven’s 9th symphony was a fairy-like, dainty work of art, with swells of the orchestra booming in the background to create an ominous feeling to it. To master this routine, you’d had to also go through hours of acting classes, to get “in touch with your deepest emotions,” like your coach Minho had convinced you.

Your mother had gotten her hands on the most gorgeous outfit, a turquoise, shimmering deep blue-green that make your skin glitter and shine and complimented your eyes and matched incredibly well with the silver accents and accessories embroidered onto the dress.

You don’t really remember how you got here. It just started as an innocent day at the rink, where you’d convinced your mother to let you do something more interesting than learning the piano or the violin, and she’d let you choose between gymnastics and figure skating. You were mesmerized by the pretty outfits as a little girl, so she’d taken you for lessons.

And then the lessons slowly became rehearsals for the junior figure skating team, and then your coach labeled you as team captain, and then you were being sent off to do shows all around the country. You were then competing and winning gold medals as fast as ever, and at the ripe young age of 17, you were crowned as the next Female Figure Skating Olympian to join your country’s team, to train and compete in the next winter olympics.

That was how you were thrust into this world of competing and working yourself to the bone at age 18. It just...sort of happened, and at one point in your little 18 year old life you did have a moment to turn around and survey how the hell you got here in the first place. But, it was too late, and you were way too invested, switching out hours of studying or playing video games or with dolls for training on the ice in your childhood to back out now.

Your workout comes to an end and you’re already sweating bullets and chugging down buckets of water by the end. Irene finishes a couple of seconds before you do and waits for you as you cool down and step off. You both take a couple more minutes to towel off and cool before you step into the mirror room, and begin to stretch. You place your ankle on top of the poles for steadiness and begin stretching your upper body, cooling down in the air conditioned room.

“Well if it isn’t y/n?” A voice sounds in the entrance of the stretching room and all the heads in the room turn to see who it is.

You don’t even have to look to know who it is.

He cockily wipes his face with a towel and throws it over his shoulder, spraying a steady stream of water from his bottle into his mouth as he saunters over to where you’re stretching. You roll your eyes and ignore him, switching sides and propping your other leg up 90 degrees as you curve your torso towards it with your hand stretched towards your toes.

He walks up to you and in the mirror, you can see the other girls in the room whispering and giggling at the presence of the handsome Olympian.

Jeon Jungkook. Age 22. Also his second time competing in the Olympics. Gold medalist if we’re talking about olympics, but all time World Champion in the Men’s Snowboarding medium and Guiness World Record holder for highest score last year, beating out previous record holders and his own best scores with the recent win. Endorses like a thousand snowboarding and athletic brands like Northface and Tim Burton. Also the owner of his own resort on the side. He was a celebrity within the Olympians, and also voted one of the hottest Olympians ever.

“Looking good,” he rakes his eyes up and down your body, grinning sleazily. “How long has it been, 3 years? 4 years?”

You huff as you take down your leg from the pole. “If you could ever for once figure out how to do math, you’d know that it’s been 4 years since the last olympics, Jeon Jungkook.”

He smirks when you finally respond to him, walking over to lean against the pole as you sit down and begin stretching your hamstrings. “Congrats on your win during the World Championships, I watched and cheered for you during it.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you here to make fun of my silver medal too? I have enough knowing grins from Jennie Kim to last me a lifetime.” You switch legs, leaning forward and pressing your knees against your chest.

He laughs, “Hell no, I would never dare to make fun of the ice queen.”

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s been calling you that since you can remember. “Get lost, Jungkook. Go do your weights or whatever.” You resume stretching, extending one leg far behind you as you sit comfortable in a split.

He stands, watching you from above. “Suit yourself. Know I’ll be back though.”

He walks cockily back, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which is completely stupid because he has a towel. It’s so obvious he does it to get a ruse out of the other gymnasts and skaters stretching in the room, which it does.

Irene inches up to you and joins you in your stretches.

“Don’t ask,” you groan and switch sides.

She shrugs, laughing at you in the mirror. “Wasn’t gonna. That exchange spoke for itself. He definitely has the hots for you.”

You roll your eyes and groan as you get up, and Irene joins you to help you stand and lift your leg up as high as she can reach, way up over your head. “Uh,” you cringe at the stiffness of your thigh muscles, “He does that to everyone. Seriously. I’ve seen him even give some of the referees sleazy looks. It’s just in his blood.”

She whistles as you switch legs. “Well whatever his blood’s doing, I bet it’s working real hard.”

“Ew!” You exclaim and laugh, letting her switch sides with you as you help her with her standing splits. “Never!”

She laughs, finishing her other side. “Alright grumpy, let’s go get you some breakfast before you rip my head off and get even more hangry.”

_____________________________________________________________________

You both get washed up and changed before heading over to the Dining Hall. It’s basically another stadium, with the lower levels transformed into a buffet style area and tables and chairs all looped together like high school all over again.

Hoseok, one of the male figure skaters, joins your table and Seokjin appears a couple minutes after, his plate piled high with all the food he could find at the buffet.

Hoseok cringes at the sight, “Jeez, dude, how many calories even is that thing?”

You and Irene peer over to see a buttload of eggs, rice, noodles, meats, and salad piled onto his tray. The both of you sigh at the sight, watching dreamily as Seokjin shoves the food endlessly into his mouth. It was your own personal mukbang broadcast.

“Uhhh two-touszhndf-mpmph” Seokjin mutters, and Hoseok glares again, cringing at the food that flies out of Seokjin’s mouth.

“Two thousand?” You balk, resting your chin in your hand as you push a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “Did you increase it since last time?”

Seokjin nods, washing his huge mouthful down with a swig of orange juice. “I don’t know what it is about this weather, but I’m starving.”

Irene sighs, setting down her cup. “God, I just wanna eat a big heaping bowl of french fries and a oozy, greasy cheeseburger right about now.” Hoseok nods in forlorn agreement and you nod too, pouting at the sad dressing-less salad in front of you.

Seokjin talks again, food flying, “They have some! Over there! Can’t you sneak one? Our coaches aren’t even here.”

Irene doesn’t even bother looking. She shakes her head. “No, it’ll affect our jumps. Really. Even the slightest bit of change in our weight will throw our center of gravity off. Plus, have you seen our outfits? They’re tight as fuck.”

You nod, sighing as you swallow the last piece of cabbage. “Mine’s so tight I have to wear a stick-on bra instead of having it padded, like normal.”

Hoseok cringes, “Hell ya, mine’s so tight I have to clench my ass cheeks everytime I do a sitting spin, or else the spandex gets too tight and gives me the absolute worst wedgie.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Guys, shut up. You know who has the worst, tightest outfits? The swim team.”

The three of you stop talking, and burst in laughter as Seokjin rolls his eyes. You imagine the swim team in their tiny little speedos, junk squeezed tight and asses practically fighting to get out. You snort, “HAHA, don’t those guys ever like accidentally moon someone or like slip out of those things? I feel like they’re so small on their hips, it’ll fit around me.” You giggle, and Irene joins you, laughing at Seokjin’s disgusted expression.

He’s about to respond when a voice interrupts. “Talking about the swim team’s speedos?”

You all turn to see Park Jimin, captain of the Men’s Ice Hockey team turn up with a few of his teammates to your table. He sets his tray down next to yours, and laughs when Irene nods.

Seokjin resumes, “Okay they’re not that tight, like I won’t lose any sperm because of it. They’re just...snug.”

Irene cackles. “How do you even know?! You’re a snowboarder!”

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Sometimes when you’re boarding you need a little extra waterproof protection.”

The entire table explodes into laughter and disgust, and you join in, finally feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“Man, this makes me remember how it was in camp all those years ago, doesn’t it?” Jimin adds, and you guys all reminisce to the high school days, where athletes would attend a “athlete-morale” camp over the summer every year, which was just a sorry excuse for job-less coaches to shove down inspiring speeches and “team-building” activities down your helpless throats.

A lot of you separate into your own conversations, launching into giggles and yells of memories you all shared together. That’s how you knew so many of the Olympians here. Even though you all had different schedules and different sports and areas of interest, somehow most of you had gathered at this camp every summer without fail. And every summer, the lot of you would suffer and bitch and complain together about how stupid and useless the lessons and activities were, and plot ways to escape your cabins at night to sneak away and do some drinking or exploring. Given, you drove your camp leaders crazy. They’d never seen a group of athletes like you guys, they said as they warily sent you home after a week of sleepless nights.

Jimin nudges you. “How have you been?”

You grin, turning to him, “Good, you?”

“Same as ever,” he grins, smiling the sweet smile where his eyes would crinkle.

“Actually you look a little different, you lost a lot of your baby fat.” You reach over and pinch his cheeks, and he frowns at you humorously as you laugh. “I remember we used to call you acorn because your face was so round.”

He groans, “Seriously, I never forgave Yoongi hyung for coming up with that name.”

You laugh, sipping your coffee. “I hear you and your team won silver in nationals, congratulations.”

He sighs, “Thanks, y/n, but you know in our world, only the gold is worth congratulating for.”

You nod, “I know how that feels.” Shrugging, he agrees with you, sending you a sad forlorn apologetic smile. He probably heard down the grapevine that you’d gotten silver.

“But at least this year, you’re gonna win gold right?”

You shrug, picking at your cup. “I don’t know...the routine is really hard and I’m still jet lagged and not feeling my best. I’m getting nervous, and that anxiety was exactly why I stumbled a bit during my routine last year and lost the gold to Jennie.”

“Ah Jennie,” he recalls, “Pretty, but sort of a bitch.” He shrugs, and Irene cuts in. “Sort of? Nope, she’s such a bitch.”

The two conversations between yours and Jimin’s and Irene’s with Hoseok and Seokjin merge as Irene rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, it was ridiculous. Jennie’s routine wasn’t half as great as y/n’s but there was a slight stumble, which wasn’t even a stumble, and Jennie won. Which is ridiculous because Jennie actually tripped and had to leave out a spin on one of her turns to make sure she didn’t actually fall.”

Hoseok tips his head. “Y/n, you stumbled?”

Before you can even answer, Irene does it for you. “It was literally just a slight stumble, at most she switched her blade and landed with a bit more spark than usual.”

You shrug, nodding at Irene to thank her for explaining it. You’d had to explain it way too many times now. “Whatever, it’s past now, and there’s not much I can do about it. We’re both here now, so it’s just important that I stay focused.”

Seokjin nods. “Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll win. I’m sure of it.”

Hoseok snorts, “How?”

Seokjin makes a funny face, “Didn’t ya’ll know that I’m a genius and got voted the #1 most handsome face of the Olympians? If anyone knows things like that, it’s me.” He says, and everyone chuckles at it. Same ol’ Seokjin.

“Speaking of which, here comes #1 most “daddy” Olympian.” Hoseok comments, glancing at the entrance of the dining hall. By instinct, you turn with Irene in your chair to see Jeon Jungkook sauntering in with the rest of his snowboarding team.

The guys are gorgeous, with languid body movements, but strong bulky builds underneath all their protective waterproof jackets. Their jaws were chiseled and their looked rugged in that hot way. Jaebum, the one on Jungkook’s left was Irene’s favorite for a while, and was handsome and charming enough to even appear on a couple of variety shows and drama cameos. The snowboarders were actual celebrities back home.

You roll your eyes and turn back as quickly as possible, but not before Jungkook’s gaze settles on yours with a smirk. “I don’t even understand how that vote was even cast.” You grumble, sipping your coffee. “Seriously, out of all the other athletes, Jungkook? Gross.”

Jimin laughs. “Well, who do you think would have been #1 then?”

You groan, cringing. “To be honest, you or Seokjin.”

All of you laugh as Seokjin pumps his fist, “Yes!” He cries out, food flying out of his mouth again, to Hoseok’s horror. “I knew it. Y/n think’s I’m hotter than Jeon Jungkook!”

“Shut up!” you hiss, laughing as you try to get him to sit down, but it’s too late. At the sound of his name, Jeon Jungkook is drawn to your table like a fly to a light and grins as he walks over. “Incoming,” Irene hisses as she smiles up fakely at Jungkook.

“I heard my name, are you guys talking about me?” He drawls, grinning as he perches a hand on the back of your chair. You ignore him and eat your yogurt.

Jimin laughs, lifting a hand to shake hands with Jungkook. “’Sup dude, it’s been a while. Lookin’ good.” He smiles and you watch in disgust as Jungkook laughs, tainting Jimin’s innocent and beautiful presence with an entire bucketful of gross cocky frat-boy confidence.

“I’ve been cutting a little bit, trying to not bulk too much these days,” Jungkook shrugs, flexing his arm a little to the delight of the gymnasts a few tables over. “I started getting a little less air once I started bulking up. But you’re lookin’ better bro, you guys training a lot?”

Jimin nods, clapping the teammate next to him on a shoulder lightheartedly. He grins his charming smile again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Yeah, our couch has been pushing us real hard these days, but it’s been working. We’re all at our best weights of the season, and feeling real good for the upcoming games.” He smiles at you, glancing sadly at your poor little salad. “Y/n, you must be having a hard time recently too, right? Coach has us on a strict diet, but yours is probably stricter, isn’t it?”

You sigh, pushing around your cold chicken breast around on the plate for both guys to see. “I eat less than a thousand calories per day, all divided into six tiny meals. Helps keep off the weight so that I can jump higher. I can’t remember the last time I had an all-you-can-eat korean barbeque dinner. Maybe it was when I was in elementary school? Legit over a decade ago.” You shake your head as you picture the cold piece of meat as a sizzling hunk of delicious pork.

It doesn’t help.

Jungkook laughs, inviting himself to take the empty seat next to yours, his arm draped over the back. “Well, I for one, think you have an amazing body.” He winks at you and you pretend to gag as everyone chuckles at the table.

“Gross!” you exclaim, pointing your fork menacingly at him. “Don’t you have some other girls to flirt with besides me? I’ve had enough fratboy for a day.”

He grins, hand splaying across your back, warm against your skin. “Trust me, y/n, you’ll never have enough of me.” He winks and bids everyone a dumb cocky drawled “Later guys,” and walks off with his boy band team.

Hoseok grins at you, “Was I high off my painkillers for a second or did Jeon Jungkook actually flirt with you and basically imply that he wanted to bang?”

You choke on a piece of lettuce as everyone around the table nods, Irene and Seokjin chiming in with a simultaneous, “Totally.” Before turning to eachother with wide eyes and high-fiving.

“Gross!” You exclaim again for the second time that morning, washing it down with a swig of water. “Me with Jeon Jungkook? I feel my ovaries shriveling up at the thought of sleeping with that frat-boy pig.” Jimin just watches you carefully.

Hoseok shrugs, “I bet if you sleep with him, it won’t just be your ovaries shriveling up. I hear he’s great in bed.”

“Ugh! God Hoseok! Can you like not?” You cringe, and he laughs.

“I can’t help it! He’s cute!! If he swung this way, I’d jump on that even before he could even know he was gay.”

Everyone laughs and shakes their head at Hoseok’s blunt gayness, and you just grin uncomfortably as you turn back to your salad. You look up to see Jimin just watching you with a shy smile as he continues eating without a word.

After breakfast, it was time to stretch a little more and actually start skating. You say bye to the rest of the crew and make your way to the gym again with Irene. You cringe, massaging your shoulder as you walk over.

“Fuck,” you mutter, kneading the sore muscles. “My shoulder is all messed up...”

Irene turns with a worried expression. “Oh shoot, I knew that not sleeping with a neck pillow would mess with your trap muscles. Did you bring your muscle cream with you?”

Rummaging through your pack, you frown, “No...shit it really hurts though.”

She pushes you towards the dorms. “Go and get it before we get on the rink, Coach’ll kill you if she finds out you didn’t treat it before getting on the ice. You know how she is. One little painful thing and she’ll go crazy on you and make sure you get it treated and ban you from the ice until it’s better.”

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t wait up for me!” You jog in the direction of the dorms.

It’s a bit chilly, but the cardio helps a little as you make your way up the lavish road towards the towering buildings. The olympic villages...were always nice on the outside, but pretty dumb on the inside.

Athletes were organized into country teams and shoved into tiny little apartments by gender, provided with college dormitory-style like rooms with two or three beds shoved into them with skinny little closets for your coats and stuff. You sigh as the dorm doors open to a rush of cold air, and scan your nametag before jogging over to the elevator, staring at your phone and logging your breakfast calories.

The elevator opens and you nonchalantly walk inside, but right before the doors close, a hand comes in and slams the door crevice, forcing the doors to open automatically. You frown at the noise and look up to see who it is, and your jaw drops as you see Jungkook smirking at you as he steps in the elevator. You roll your eyes and drop your neck back to your phone as your typing fingers become a little harsher at the screen of your phone.

He grins at you, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Trying to have some alone time,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at nothing in particular. He grins and somehow in his brain interprets it as an invitation to move closer and peer at your phone screen. “Sexting?”

“No, god Jungkook,” you yelp, twisting the screen away from him, “You’re still super gross.”

He laughs as the doors open and he trails after you. “This isn’t even your floor.” You grumble, walking down the hall towards your room anyway.

“This isn’t even my building, but you knew that already.” He shrugs, grinning at you. He knew you too well, and he knew that too. God, you just wanted to strangle him in that pretty little neck of his. You unlock your door and he hovers, watching you rummage around your room for the bright blue container of your muscle cream.

“So, you have a thing with the hockey player?” He leans against your door, eyeing you with a cocky smirk.

You huff and drop your duffel, giving up on finding the muscle cream you were positive you packed. Hands on your hips, you face him with a glare.

“Just because I exchanged a couple of words with Jimin doesn’t mean I’m dating him, Jungkook. I’m not like you, fucking the first thing he sees.”

He hisses between his teeth, throwing his head back as he chuckles. “Oooo that burned. Straight from the ice princess. You really chose your sport didn’t ya? Double meaning and all.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes and turn back to digging through the drawers. “Why the hell are you here? I need to apply my muscle cream.”

Grinning, he produces a condom packet from his pocket. “Guess what? These are Olympic grade. I would hate to waste them when they’re giving ‘em away so freely.” Shrugging, he gestures between the both of you. “We can see if they work as well as they’re supposed to?”

When you don’t reply, he grins again, letting the door shut behind him and lock as he saunters over to you.

“So whaddyou say, for old times sake?”

You groan, whirling around and facing him head on with a glare.

“Jungkook,” you grit, “we slept together twice. Four years ago. There is no old time’s sake.” You wave your arms dramatically.

He laughs, leaning back comfortably on your bed, and you groan. “Yeah it was four years ago, but equally as good. I mean,” he wonders, flipping the condom around in his fingers, “who knew that the goody little ice princess was actually such a freak in bed?”

You finally find the annoying little blue container and spin at him with hands on your hips. “Stop talking about that night. It never happened, okay? No one can know.” You twist open the container and unzip your jacket to reveal your sports bra and turn away from Jungkook to apply it.

He watches you struggle to reach the spot near your shoulder blade. “Need help?”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “No.”

He shrugs, “Your legs are flexible, but you know your arms not flexible enough to reach it and everyone’s out for training now. I’ll do it, no funny business.” He stands, and you glare at him but let him draw nearer as he takes the container from you.

“Turn around,” he says gently, and begins to slather on the cream into your shoulder and neck, rubbing it in so that the stickiness is absorbed completely into your skin. You wince as he rubs too hard and he apologizes, setting the container down and concentrating on not rubbing too hard.

“It wasn’t only four, you know,” he mutters, and you pause, frowning. “What?”

“We slept together twice four years ago during the games, but we also slept together a couple more times after that. Just not at the games.” He stops rubbing, and you jerk your jacket onto your shoulder again, standing up from the bed with a glare as you pack your backpack.

“Dont,” you warn, teeth gritted, “talk about that in front of anyone, ever. It could jeopardize our careers. Do you understand?! A few drunken nights together doesn’t mean anything! No matter how hot you think you are!” You storm off, jamming your shoes on and stomping outside.

The only thing you hear before the door slams shut is his cocky voice calling out, “So you think I’m hot?!”

Turn, Triple toe loop, land, Bielmann spin, stop, smile, turn again blade change.

You chant the routines in your head as you glide over the ice with the music. Although there were still 2 weeks left ahead of your actual performance, it was still crucial that you skated your program more than 10 times a day so that it was completely muscle memory by the time you stepped onto Olympic ice.

Your teammates watch carefully from the sidelines with your coach, who’s carefully scrutinizing your every move. You finish with a flourish, chest heaving as the swell of music ends.

Irene claps happily and Hoseok also joins her, cheering your name as you crumble over, hands on your knees as you heave with the effort of skating heavily for so long. Your coach steps onto the ice, patting your back as you put on your skate guards and take a seat.

“Good job Y/N,” she nods, stepping aside to let other skaters take to the ice. “Why don’t you go home today and stretch a little? You’re looking a little stiff.”

You nod, and on the corner of your eye, you see Jennie Kim step onto the ice. “Sure thing, coach, but let me stay behind and watch this one.” Coach Kim follows your gaze and softens. “Y/N,” she urges, “I don’t know if it’ll help you to watch her program.”

“It’s fine!” You reassure her with a smile and join Hoseok and Irene on the benches as the music begins.

Jennie was a phenomenal skater, everyone agreed. She was beautiful and thin and charming and knew exactly how to flirt on the ice. What you lacked in with performance skills, she excelled in with expressions and smiles, and what she lacked in technical jumps and clean cut programs, she excelled in making it look even more effortless and flirting with the audience enough to grant standing ovations and performing with a lot of emotion.

As the three of you watch her run through her program, she completes jumps and spins that you never expected her to be able to complete. “How the hell did she learn to do the triple lutz triple toe loop combo?! I thought last show she had to cut it out of her program because she couldn’t land it properly!” You hiss, and Irene shrugs, her jaw hanging open too. “I don’t know...” she says lowly, watching Jennie glide over the ice as if she were weightless. “That...that’s impossible to do within what...six weeks? Even Rose couldn’t do it like that.”

Hoseok gasps, “Oh my god, she faked that she couldn’t do it so she’d lower your expectations.”

You frown and watch her finish her routine, one she stops and gets claps from other people also watching from the stands. Your coach pats you on the shoulder. “Although her routine is a lot more complex than we thought it would be, if you execute ours perfectly, you’re bound to get a hell of a lot more points than she can. Your training is gonna pay off, don’t worry about it.”

Chewing on your lip, you nod, crossing your arms and worriedly walking out of the rink.

Your steps are heavy as you head towards the gym. Jennie and you had once been peers, two young girls who began skating together for fun and ended up enjoying it and being actually good at it. But then, somehow, somewhere within all the competition, you both had stopped doing eachother’s makeup and hair between performances, and instead had resorted to smirks and jeers as you challenged eachother.

Your gold medal or championship trophies matched the number of ones she had, and the both of you were neck to neck during every single match you could ever think of since you both became teenagers.

This was probably going to be your final or second to last Olympics, and then you would end up doing promotions for companies or becoming a trainer for the rest of your life. If you wanted to live comfortably, you would have to skate like your life depended on it, and Jennie did too. Whatever medals the both of you won today would go down in history and determine the next years to come. If you didn’t win that gold medal this year, you were determined to just retire before it became even more embarrassing.

The gym is full, with the sun high up in the air at 2pm. You can see a group of hockey players fiddling with the weights alongside the swimmers who were working the machines. The gymnasts and the female swimmers were already stretching in the padded room, and the running machines full of all types of athletes. Immediately, when you enter, the white shirt stretched over Jungkook’s back muscles is the first thing you see.

Ignoring the clenching feeling of anxiety in your gut, you head over to the stretching area to begin cooling off.

Feet out, leg as high up as you can, you coax yourself, mimicking what your coach would be telling you as of now. You can feel the stiffness, all the way back to your calves and the muscle cream from yesterday wasn’t helping all that much. Facing the mirror, you balance a hand on the beam and lean forward, lifting your leg up high far above your head as you balance on one foot, preparing for one of your spins.

Through the mirror, you see him come in, his head swiveling as he surveys the myriad of other girls stretching and then smiling wide as he jogs over to you, throwing his sweaty towel around his neck. Gross.

“So,” he says, leaning against the bar with a greasy smile. “Did you think about what I said?”

You roll your eyes and continue stretching. “How many times did I tell you that there’s absolutely nothing to talk about?”

“How many times after that night did you even have sex at all?” He scoffs, moving around to face you when you turn to switch sides.

“Did you like, even go out after that?” He prods, watching you stretch through the mirror. He wipes his sweat with the small hand towel, spraying some water from his bottle into his mouth and shaking out his sweaty bangs.

You switch legs, making another face when it strains a little. He notices, “oh, uh, do you need some help with that?”

You finally acknowledge him after twenty minutes of ignoring him. He was persistent, you had to give him that. Rolling your eyes you nod, “Do you remember how?”

“No,” he scoffs, but steps forward anyway, cradling your ankle in his larger hands. He’s hot, the cool temperature of the stretching area doing nothing to cool off his skin. He steps forward so the both of you are almost a hand width apart and places your ankle daintily on his broad shoulder. He then steps even closer, supporting your lower back with his hands and slowly pressing in to help stretch the calves and hamstrings.

You wimper a little because he’s almost an entire head and a half taller than your petite size and the leg on his shoulder is pressed almost to your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut you breathe in and out, the both of your bodies rocking slightly to accommodate the inflation of your lungs into your chest.

You can feel the heat emanating off his chest as he stands there looking down at you with the hardness of his body pressed up against the back of your thigh. It’s hard to not let your mind wander at that, flashbacks of drunken irresponsible high school days when you’d go to bed with him fucking you from behind and wake up to him kissing between your legs. And then you’d finish off with a nice hot bath and some good food. Back when you had no responsibilities, no worries, and no burdens on your shoulders.

The moment causes your mind to go a little hazy and in the fleeting few seconds of feeling vulnerable and the flood of hormones at the familIr feeling of his body against yours you whisper, “I haven’t” in response to his questions before. It’s too quiet to be heard over the high quality air conditioner whirring almost silently in the corner, but nonetheless his proximity lets him hear the two words.

He doesn’t say anything though, and lets your leg down from his shoulder and helps you get the other one onto his right shoulder. Rinse and repeat. But just as you open your mouth to say something more, a hand on the small of your back smooths over the curve of your hip and up your thigh and over to your ankle. Holding it delicately there, his hand grips it wth a firm and warm grasp, as he angles his head down to meet your questioning gaze.

“Me neither.” He whispers, and steps forward to press himself tightly against you. Your back presses against the bar and your hands flutter up from it to grip his forearms. You distinctly feel his hardness pressed against your belly.

“Seriously? Don’t lie to me Jeon Jungkook. The last time we slept together was months ago.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a glare.

“Do you…?” He trails off, and begins blinking like he does when he gets nervous.

The question lingers heavily over the hum of the running machines and air purifiers lining the training area.

His hands release your ankle and sets it gingerly on the ground, and he steps back, the warmth of his body and his chest and his hands and his breath leaving you all at once. You stumble a little back, your back resting on the bar.

Space, he was giving you space to decide.

You sigh, flexing your hands that are beginning to sweat. Your performance wasn’t for another two weeks. What did you have to lose?

Thinking about the way Jennie glided over that triple-toe-triple-lutz combination with no effort at all made you rage all the way inside, insides glowing hot from the annoyance of being fooled by her again. What was just one night of sex going to do? Your coach told you to relax and make sure you weren’t too stressed out and anxious...this...this was just an interesting way of doing it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping forward, gathering your things and heading out, as he jogs after you with a surprised look. “But on one condition, Jeon Jungkook. You cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?”

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Clear as ice.”

“Fuck,” you wimper as the the door slams shut behind you and Jungkook crowds your personal space. He’s breathing heavily, yanking harshly at your jacket zipper until it falls to the ground and your sports bra is all you’re wearing on top. He unzips that too and lets it fall to the ground, kissing you senselessly, lips moving against yours and drawing out your breaths and moans.

“God I missed this,” he breathes, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you tongue at his neck as he sets you on his bed and strips off his jacket. “Did you miss me too?” He smirks as he sucks on your nipple crewdly and you moan in response, hips bucking up into his.

“No--oh my god” you keen when he yanks down your legging and rubs at you through your underwear. Your hand flies down to grip his wrist, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. “Oh-- fuck, please don’t stop.”

He just chuckles and yanks your underwear band aside to reveal your dripping core, sliding his fingers in you with no obstruction at all. “Oh shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he grumbles, nipping at your breast as you mewl and twist under the onslaught of sensations.

“Take your pants off,” you breathe, panting harshly as he kneels up to peel his shirt off, revealing white milky skin, textured with taught lines and lean muscle. You help him untie the strings on his sweatpants, nimble fingers working desperately at the waistband until Jungkook gets impatient and just yanks it down his hips along with his boxers.

While he grabs a condom, you yank off your panties, pushing him to sit up against the headboard of the bed. You straddle him, throwing a thigh over his hips and resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

Were his shoulders always this broad?

You shake away the thought as he grips himself and guides himself to your center, rubbing his sensitive tip against your wetness and smearing it around to make it more comfortable. You busy yourself with sucking a hickey against his collarbone, licking and biting until the clean flesh becomes red and inflamed and shiny with your spit.

“Ready?” He breathes out, pupils blown out as he pants up at you. You nod and lower yourself on him slowly, and Jungkook moves his hand from gripping himself to settle and help you guide your hips down onto him. The both of you moan when you bottom out, panting and gripping each other desperately. When the stretch isn’t so bad, you rock your hips slowly back and forth, not yet bouncing up and down on him yet.

The movement stimulates your clit against his pelvis and you moan, throwing your head back and looping your arms around his neck as you continue to swivel your hips on him. Jungkook sits there, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you with a slight smile on his lips. His hand raises to curl your hair over your shoulder, his hand following and resting on your neck as he leans down to kiss against your neck, tongue laving heavily, hot and wet against your skin as you cling to him.

He’s marking you too, focusing on the area right where your jawline meets your ear and nibbling against it, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, making you moan. “Jungkook,” you whine, and he seems to understand what you’re asking for when his hand settles on your hips again and he begins to guide you up and down his length.

The extra stimulation gets him going and he cringes. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grits his teeth and his hairline begins to dot with sweat at the effort. “I...I’m gonna cum s-soon.”

“Already?” You gasp, opening your eyes to ask him. He nods, biting his lip as he groans, his jaw falling open. “I-it’s been a r-really long t-time. And you feel s-so fucking good. Hngh.” He groans as you squeeze around him in response to his praise.

“Okay,” you breathe, “Just wait for me, hold on.” You reach down and rub your clit in wide circles, gathering the wetness from where you and Jungkook meet, and pressing into your clit with the pads of your fingers. Jungkook just buries his face into your neck, panting harshly against your collarbone as you continue to swivel your hips, moaning and rubbing like your life depended on it.

With the feeling of Jungkooks lips on your nipples and his hands roaming your body, and his dick reaching parts of you that your fingers can’t even think of stimulating, and along with the 7-month-long hiatus from sex with him, you find yourself reaching the edge fairly quickly.

“O-oh shit, Jungkook,” you whisper, letting him take over in rubbing circles on your clit, “I-I’m gonna---” You bite down on his shoulder, dampening the moans that tumble out of your mouth as you topple over the edge. At the sensation, Jungkook cums almost simultaenously as he finally lets himself go, and his moans spur you on as you quake over him and both your hips stutter at the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

You pant and tremble as the sensations run through your entire body, your eyes rolling back as you moan and mewl and say whatever the fuck is coming out of your mouth right now at the feelings. But apparently it’s not completely and utterly horseshit that you’re muttering right now because Jungkook rocks up into you, riding out his own high and groaning your name loudly as his orgasm subsides.

He laughs a little when he finishes, and the action makes him move a bit inside of you and you cringe, muttering a “ew you’re so sticky,” as you climb off of him. He stands after you, following you into the shower and flushing down the condom. Grinning and leaning against the doorway, he watches you climb into the shower and hose down your body.

“How the hell were you hooked up with your own room? And bathroom?” You mutter, using the body wash there to clean off all the sweat.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn, but a hand snakes around your waist. “Let me,” he murmurs, grabbing the soap from you and running along your back, his warm hands scratching over your skin. You let your head fall back at the sensation as he focuses a little too much on your breasts, swirling over the nipple with circular motions and gentle hands. “Again?”

“Let’s save water,” he grins and you let him.

You don’t save any water that day. It was 44 minutes too long.

“Let’s go get some food,” Jungkook whines, as you both finish, collapsing on the bed with panting breathes as you come down from your high. His hands cradle your waist as you take a moment to gather yourself before you prop yourself up.

“Huh?” You wrinkle your nose down at him, propping your arms on his chest.

He laughs, sitting up and grabbing his shirt. “You said you were hungrier earlier. And we barely ate today, after gymming in the morning. I’m starving,” he whines, pouting at you and you laugh, rolling off of his bed to grab your clothes.

“I can’t,” you whine, pouting at your belly and poking the skin there. “If coach finds out I’m eating anything other than the diet we’re limited to, she’ll kill me.”

He rolls his eyes, shrugging on a hoodie. “Oh god,” he groans, pulling on his baggy pants with easy. “You’re literally skinnier than some models that I’ve slept with.”

You glare at him when he mentions the models and he laughs guiltily. “Sorry,” he grins, “But it’s true. You can afford to eat whatever you like. C’mon, just one meal won’t hurt.”

You sigh, pulling on your leggings and a clean pair of underwear. Somehow...you ended up having a stash of underwear hidden deep within Jungkook’s drawers.

“Fine,” you grumble, but the grin on your face says otherwise. It’d been ages since you ate anything other than the planned dietary foods prepared for you by your coach and parents. This...this time wouldn’t be too bad. No one would notice.

“Where’s my phone?” You grumble, digging through the bedsheets and your bag as you search for it.

Jungkook shrugs, shaking out his hair. “I’ll meet you outside, gonna pee before we go.”

You shrug him off and he leaves, and you finally find the device and slip it into your pocket. You also grab Jungkook’s really baggy hoodie and pull it over your thin workout spandex long sleeve and leggings, relishing in the way his smell floods your senses as the warm and soft fabric tumbles down your body all the way to your mid-thigh. Grinning, you turn to open the door, calling out, “Jungkook I--”

Standing down the hall, with a packet of yogurt hanging from his lips and eyes as wide as yours, is Seokjin. His hand lingers on his doorknob, and he balks at you as you stand in Jungkook’s single room, in his clothes, and takes one glance at the messy room full of your stuff and mussed up bedsheets, and connects the dots immediately.

“Seokjin...” you breathe, eyes darting to the main entrance.

“What the fuck?” He sputters, pulling out the plastic packet from his mouth and stomping up to you. “You’re the girl that Jungkook’s been fucking?”

You bite your lip, trying to rack up any excuse, but you come up blank. “Oh my god, Seokjin, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Irene, if coach finds out she’ll kill me---”

He whisper-yells at you. “Have you even met our coach? He’ll rip our balls off one by one if he knew Jungkook was slacking off in any way.”

“Also,” he adds, frowning, “How dare you?! I thought you said he was gross.”

You grin sheepishly. “It just happened...the stress and all, and there’s a lot of time in 3 weeks for 24 hours...”

He shakes his head trying to get the image of you out of his head. “God,” he hisses, “I’ve been trying to set the two of you up for years! And all you two did was give me shit for it. Little did I know you two were already getting it on,” he glances behind him, to the vicinity of his room, whipping back around to you furiously. “And right next to my room?!”

You sigh, gripping his arm. “C’mon Seokjin I know you won’t tell, but I need you to say it out loud. Please, promise me you won’t tell.”

He sighs, groaning at you before relenting. “Alright, fine. But only because you gave me really yummy vitamins next week and medicine for my constipation.”

You grin, reaching up to hug him. When he leaves for his room, Jungkook finally emerges from the restroom, grinning. “Whatcha two talkin’ about?” He grins, cocking his chin at Seokjin’s door.

You march up to him, punching him hard. He doubles over, winded. “What the fuck Jungkook?!” you hiss, “I thought you said no one’s home before 3!”

He winces, groaning and clutching his stomach. “Jeez woman,” he croaks, “Who the fuck taught you how to punch?”

You smirk, “Get up. I’m hungry now.” He grins as he leads you to the front door. He reaches down and pulls the hood of his sweater up and around your head, bunching it low over your eyes. “Good,” he comments, doing the same to his own. “We can’t get caught sneaking out. I know of a way.” He winks and leads you down the elevator and towards the edge of the campus.

“Where?” You hiss, jogging after him.

He grins at you, pulling you alongside him with a warm hand that curls around yours. “Just trust me.” He walks straight for where the trash deposits are, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of rotting food and boxes of cardboard strewn messily in the garage. But in the corner, you can clearly see a door marked with a red EXIT sign.

“That’s the only one that doesn’t lock, all around campus,” he explains, slowly and gently opening it and glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before jogging out with you. “The others have cameras or guards, but this one I guess was forgotten with all the other construction that was going on.”

You hmm in agreement and relish in the way Jungkook’s hand feels against yours. It’s a lot bigger, and his long fingers curl all the way to the middle of your palm, where his thumb strokes gently and warmly against your smooth skin. Feeling the way your hand is freezing cold, he pockets both your hands in his jacket pockets, nesting both your hands in the warm comforts of his down jacket.

After a bit of walking, you make it to a decently crowded pedestrian area where he leads you to a corner of the street, where a tiny snack shop sits. Your mouth waters at the sight of a couple people inside, drinking hot soups and chowing down on instant ddukbokki’s and kimbap’s and ramen bowls that made your stomach churn with anticipation.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as Jungkook grins at you and leads you up to the stands, taking a seat in the corner. He still doesn’t let go, letting your intertwined hands rest on the plastic foldable table. “How did you find this place?” you whisper, after he orders a heaping pile of food for the both of you.

“It’s a secret passed down through the snowboarding team for generations,” he winks, grinning when the cook brings over a steaming pile of rice cakes and korean pancakes and kimbap for you both to start on. You use the skewer to grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, humming and grinning at the wonderful taste of spicy and sweet that bursts within your mouth. Moaning at the sensation, you skewer a few more pieces into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he explains.

“The hyungs would sneak out every chance we get. Our coach is a little...stiff and strict, but he lets us do this sort of in an apology for how strict he usually is.”

You nod, chewing and washing it down with a sip of hot soup. “And does he come with you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, using his free hand to grab a kimbap and chew on it. “Nope, he lets us have our thing. It’s like a tradition. I think this year, the team plans to come back here at least a few more times before we have to go back.”

You grin, happily finishing up the plate of rice cakes. Staring at the empty bottom in horror you gulp. “Oh shit, when did I finish this whole thing?” You frown, trying to count the calories in your head. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” Dropping your skewer, you feel tears of shame brimming in your eyes.

Jungkook just frowns and shakes his head. He calls out for another order and you protest, but he just retorts, “Even the people with the best bodies let themselves have cheat days for goodness sake. You need this, Y/N. Don’t just de-stress with sex, rejuvenate with some food too.”

You melt under his worried words and grin, sheepishly nodding when he hands you a new skewer.

“Thanks Jungkook,” you whisper, taking another sip of the delicious ramen. “I love this place.”

He grins, his hand curling around yours tighter.

Once the both of you finish eating, he takes you around a bit more to explore, and then the both of you stumble back into his dorm.

“Oh my god,” He mumbles into your neck as you unbuckle his jeans and slip a hand down his boxers. “Your hands are freezing,” he grits, licking and kissing at your neck as you pump him tightly in your fist.

You giggle, letting him undo the zipper of your jacket and slide your jumper off of your torso. His hands fall heavily on your breasts, cradling them and letting their weight fall into his palms as he presses you into his warm bed. “Yours too,” you pant, the end of your declaration hitching up into a moan as he moves his mouth down to suck harshly at your nipple before tenderly running his warm tongue over it.

“Let me warm you up,” he moans, and you remove your hand from his pants as he gets busy getting rid of yours. Once completely off and your leggings and panties thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, he hikes your thighs up over his shoulders and licks a warm stripe up your slit.

Your head falls back onto the pillows, abs tensing as Jungkook gets to work, his warm mouth and tongue laving all over your lips and slit, maneuvering in patterns that make you twist and turn like putty under his hands. Your own hands are gripping at his forearms crossed over your belly, anchoring you to the bed, nails digging into his cold skin and scratching at the nape of his neck where you hold the strands of his hair tightly.

“F-fuck,” you moan, hips jostling against his arms, “I-I can’t...Jungkook, just put it in...” you beg, core clenching as he boldly pushes you right up against the point of tipping over. But no matter how good you taste and how beautiful you sound and look right now, Jungkook also agrees that the best way to watch you cum is when you’re writhing underneath him.

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you.

So he licks one last cheeky stripe up against your clit, the rough pad of his tongue stimulating you enough to make you jump before he gets up, carding off his shirt and pants as he climbs up your body and meets you in the middle with a sloppy kiss.

He hastily puts on the condom and slides into you with no intrusion, settling his warm weight on yours, chest against yours and hips gently rocking into your core. You moan and clutch at him desperately, throwing your arms around his neck and curling your legs around him like a vice.

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan of your name, stuttering, “Sh-shit, don’t clench, y-you’re so fucking tight,” he grits, and when you see the way his jaw tenses in the effort to not cum too fast, you can’t help but lean up and nip teasingly at his ear and scrape your teeth against the sharp jawline.

“C’mon,” you whisper, whining as he begins rutting into you faster, “Hurry,” you moan, and Jungkook leans up, detaching from your neck to sit up a bit better and piston his hips into you, angling himself just enough so the tip of his cock slides and taps right against the spot that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You moan and pant and whine like an animal in heat as Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow, and gets this steely look on his face as he drives home.

The both of you finish, eachother’s names on the tip of your tongues and moans as you huskily whine and pant, bodies trembling with the overexertion of so much sex and the overwhelming pleasure of both your climaxes.

Jungkook collapses on you, breathing heavily, and you let him stay there, kissing small innocent, apologetic kisses into the soft flesh of your chest as he comes down from his high.

You begin giggling, as he does so, cringing a bit from the oversensitivity of the orgasm and laughing at the tickling feeling of his lips smoothing so softly over your skin.

“One more time?” He asks, and he instantly feels the way your breath hitches and shudders at the suggestion.

You smirk down at him, bringing him in for a kiss.

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips, smiling as he grins and meets you halfway again.

You didn’t go home at all that night.

tbd!

#bangtan bookclub #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #jungkook #writing #fics #snow and ice

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ihaveatheoryonthat · 6 years ago

Text

Some Time to Think it Over

Warnings: Hellbent spoilers, but that’s about it.

Arthur woke up in the back of a semi-truck.

Normally, that would be bad news, but he had the distinct impression he’d narrowly escaped something worse. For several foggy seconds, he watched as the shadows playing over the sides of the trailer shifted and tried to make sense of anything that was going on.

The truck seemed as good a place to start as any. He didn’t remember working on any semis recently, let alone have any business in the back of one. His head throbbed and he moved to investigate, but only one hand responded; he gave the prosthetic a flat look. So they were playing that game. What was it this time? Mechanical failure? Electronic?

The light source abruptly stopped and moved the other way and, startled, Arthur whirled around to keep it in front of himself.

Oh shit. The ghost. It had caught up to them, hadn’t it?

It didn’t seem to notice his return to the waking world, re-tracing its path along the length of the truck like nothing had changed. As it drew nearer Arthur could make out a steady stream of vocalizations, and even though he could pick out the occasional bit of English mixed in, it was too inconsistent to make any words out—too fast, too indistinct, switching rapidly between languages that Arthur could almost recognize and something that sent a thrill of fear down his spine.

He took several instinctive steps backwards as its path brought it just a little too close, until his back hit the other side of the trailer. It… didn’t look like it had calmed down since the last time he’d seen it; while it wasn’t exactly obliterating its own haunt this time, flames spat fitfully from its shoulders, warding away even the smaller ghosts that seemed to follow it. Its free hand balled into a fist and, haltingly, creaked open—it didn’t even uncurl its fingers all the way before clenching it again.

Arthur’s eyes flicked toward the trailer’s door—the shutter wasn’t fully drawn. It would make for a loud escape, but an easy one. If he waited until it was at the very front, he might have enough of a head-start to—

The ghost turned on its heel; its followers hastily moved out of its way, and then made to keep trailing after it.

Inexplicably, Arthur’s nerveless fingers itched to reach for it. Where the urge came from, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was almost glad his prosthetic was malfunctioning, just because it meant he was only half as likely act on the impulse.

A wordless growl escaped the ghost’s nonexistent throat, underlying its frantic muttering for half a second. If the situation had been more appropriate, Arthur might have wondered how that worked, even for a paranormal being, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flame-wreathed hand that flew to its skull.

Just for a moment, the sight of its open palm made the world fall out from under him.

He—he really had to get out of here. The sheer amount of fire in this truck was a hazard, never mind the fact that it was responding to an emotionally unstable ghost. His first—only—plan had been a good one. He should just run with it. Literally.

His feet didn’t obey. He made it two steps away from the wall, but the instant he made to turn, it was like he’d been weighed down—like he didn’t just have one useless limb, but three.

(And for the second time in his life, his arm betrayed him.)

When the ghost’s path brought it nearest, Arthur’s prosthetic shot out towards it. He only grazed its sleeve before one of the followers snapped at him, but it was enough. He could actually feel the spark that trailed up from his metal fingers, shocking the sense back into him.

He remembered.

The ghost—Lewis—didn’t respond at all, dark eyes unfocused, hair spitting embers whilst he spat furious Spanish to nobody in particular.

If the ghost was really Lewis (he remembered. He remembered kicking at thin air, desperate to find purchase wherever he could. His arm moving so agonizingly slowly, a burst of flame that left something more than ash in its wake.) then—then he had died. And he had tried to—tried to—

‘Tried to scare him’, said some little liar in Arthur’s head, and for now, he chose to believe it.

The cave was gone. The stalagmites were gone. Right now, there was a truck, empty save for Arthur, his best friend, and a handful of anxious ghosts. He’d been searching for months. Now, when he had the answers right in front of him… there were more important things to do than remember— (oh god, he was going to fall. He was going to die here).

He forcibly pushed the thought away. Not now. Soon, maybe, but not now.

“L-Lewis?”

It was impossible to miss the way the hand still clutching at Lewis’s skull shook; he snarled something incomprehensible and oh-so-wrong to Arthur’s human ears, but it wasn’t a response. He only noticed because he’d been looking for any indication that Lewis had heard him, but almost as soon as the outburst died down, it was succeeded by something that might have been a whimper.

“Lewis! C’mon, can you hear me? Look at me!”

He froze in midair, though his hands still visibly trembled, and whipped his skull around to look at Arthur. Pinpricks of light bored into him, so small that he’d almost assumed the eyes trained on his were empty.

Arthur took a deep breath and acknowledged the fact that, yes, this was the same ghost that had made three separate attempts on his life, but he couldn’t let that scare him away. Something was obviously wrong—even ignoring the fact that the Lewis he knew would never entertain the idea of hurting someone, there was still the undeniably distressed behavior. He had to be missing something here.

They stared at one another for half a second before Lewis barked something at him. The meaning was clear, and, between the otherworldly language Lewis had said it in and the tone he’d used, part of Arthur really did want to make a break for it. He could feel his legs wobble, but stood his ground.

Eye sockets narrowed at him and, in the exact same tones, Lewis bellowed, “Leave!”

It was almost enough to make Arthur obey, in spite of his conviction. Though his voice was still distorted, it was recognizable—and in English, colored with such alien hostility, recognizable and uncanny. That wasn’t how Lewis spoke or acted. Arthur had never—

...no. He had heard that timbre before, just once. They'd been running from a pack of something that weren't dogs, and Arthur had been cornered. Up until just a second ago, he hadn't been sure whether Lewis's intention had been to scare the not-dogs off or draw their attention, but now he knew. If the creatures had been there with them, he was certain they'd have fled towards the gap in the door.

He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but the thought was encouraging. There was still someone vaguely recognizable in there. He took a tentative step forward.

Lewis backed off.

“Lewis, wait. C’mon…”

“What are you doing? Nothing happened! Just go!”

He spared a thought for the odd claim and then took another step, to the same response. Lewis let go of his skull to wrap the arm around himself instead. Any other time, Arthur would have taken the hint and let the topic die, but today he couldn’t do that.

“There’s nothing for you here! Leave me alone!”

“There’s nothing…? You don’t actually expect me to buy that, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Lewis snapped, “I don’t know what I’m—what you’re—“ He broke the sentence off with a frustrated grunt and shifted his stance again, moving to feel blindly for the semi’s front wall.

As soon as he processed it, Arthur lunged, catching him around the wrist before he could escape.

He expected resistance. He did not expect Lewis to stumble the rest of the way backwards, or to start trembling so badly that it alone nearly shook Arthur’s mechanical grip. Out of desperation, Lewis yanked his arm upwards, over Arthur’s head, and managed to lift him up off the ground instead.

The instant his feet left the truck bed, Arthur felt himself go limp. His gaze immediately dropped, searching for the spikes below. Metal met him instead, less than a foot down from where he was hanging in the air.

Right. Right. He was the one keeping himself aloft this time. Even if he let go and fell, worst case scenario, all he’d do was land on his ass. Didn’t mean he was looking forward to it, but it wasn’t exactly fatal.

He took a deep breath and looked up, where his best friend flinched away from his attention. Lewis gave his arm a pitiful—though, admittedly, deliberate this time—shake and made a futile attempt to slink further away.

Earlier, as he stalked up and down the truck, it had been impossible to tell whether he was angry or scared. His behavior since had indicated the latter more than the former, but until Arthur had seen his face—not just the skull—he hadn’t realized just how far the balance tilted.

Lewis looked utterly terror-stricken.

Without a thought for what he was doing, Arthur reached out in a gesture of support.

With a half-strangled sob of “No!” Lewis dropped his arm, landing Arthur—as predicted—right on his ass. In spite of Lewis’s ability to defy gravity, Arthur somehow managed to drag the both of them down, and the strange new vantage point gave him a very brief look at something stony grey and deeply cracked. Whatever it was, when Lewis righted himself, he deliberately angled it away, never once tearing his gaze from Arthur’s prosthetic.

He tried to pull away again, but it was different this time—not the desperate bid for freedom from before, or even to test Arthur’s grip. It was almost like he’d made to move it and just forgotten he couldn’t, which made absolutely no sense, because…

Actually, now that he thought about it, the whole time, every shift in body language he’d watched had been the work on one arm. He hadn’t even noticed that the other stayed stubbornly tucked against Lewis’s chest. If he’d been so violently opposed to being touched, why hadn’t he just used his free hand to pry Arthur off?

It was almost silly to ask—the answer had almost literally been dropped in his lap. Lewis was holding onto something, trying to protect it.

He didn’t think he’d be able to get an answer from Lewis; apart from somehow keeping him from leaving, Arthur was in no position to force a reality warping ghost’s hand. That was okay. It only took a few seconds to narrow it down.

The grey lump he’d gotten an eyeful of had once been a little golden heart.

There was no world in which that could be a change for the better.

But realistically, there was no way Arthur could do anything about it. Not right now, when Lewis was defending it so vehemently. It… would be okay, right? It had broken before, and been mended, hadn’t it? He felt certain that it had thrummed gold in the phantom cave, but doubt lurked just below the surface. He’d had only a second to process what was happening between being grabbed and dangled over the side of a cliff—and, while it was infinitely more pleasant to try to focus on the heart, that wasn’t where his attention had been at the time.

He shuddered and tried to move on for the time being. It was all too recent for him to process, and too much for Lewis to handle at the moment. The problem would either correct itself, or keep until it could be addressed.

Somehow, he wasn’t quite able to believe the liar that had taken up residence in his head on that one.

A sharp and wholly unnecessary breath next to him alerted Arthur to the fact that, during his brief venture back to the stone outcropping, he’d subconsciously grasped for whatever he could reach. Which would still be Lewis. He turned his attention back to his friend’s face, worried for what he’d just caused. It was bizarre, but he looked… less freaked out now? His eyes were still trained on Arthur’s hand, but the one laying on top of the prosthetic rather than the metal fingers that were visible beneath it.

Arthur made to move it away but, at the last second, curled it around Lewis’s instead, the same way he used to lead him around town, even after Lewis had learned the way for himself. It was trickier now— it had been ever since Lewis had finally hit his growth spurt— and awkward against the grip on his wrist, but, in some small way, it made Arthur feel better about what was going on.

Lewis’s fingers twitched, the same as he’d absently tried to pull his arm away before. Like he was reminding himself not to do something instinctive.

“No,” He hissed to himself, and Arthur didn’t know whether to look him the eye or keep his attention where it was as the larger hand grasped back, “No, it’s wrong. I can’t.”

When he risked a glance upwards, Lewis’s eyes were distant and unfocused, betraying the fact that, mentally, he was somewhere else. Awkwardly, Arthur dropped his gaze again, staring at the pitch black hand that enveloped his. He had a feeling he knew what that had been about.

And… and if he was right, that meant there was hope. The Lewis he knew would never have taken things to these extremes under normal circumstances. If the memory of the monster-dogs and the uncharacteristic behavior they had brought out proved one thing, it was that Lewis was prone to lashing out under certain circumstances. He’d been angry, he’d been—

He’d been scared.

Arthur stared hard at their hands. He would fix this, but he had to understand what was happening, what had happened in their time apart.

He felt a lump rise in his throat. Of course it came down to that.

If he wanted to end this, he had to know what had happened the night Lewis disappeared. The night that—

“Nothing happened!”

“There’s nothing for you here!”

“I don’t know.”

His mouth went dry as something occurred to him. Arthur could only remember bits and pieces of the night he’d lost his arm, Vivi didn’t remember anything about that night, or anything about Lewis.

And Lewis…

“Do—do you know who I am?”

Lewis paused and, slowly, moved to look Arthur in the eye for the first time since his name had been called. He seemed to have a bit of his metaphorical fire back, and Arthur wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

The silence lasted long enough that Arthur felt he had his answer, whether Lewis said anything or not.

“A murderer.”

He almost didn’t notice the response he actually got, and when he did, his attention was stolen away. Buried deep beneath the accusation, more of a question than anything, Arthur heard just a whisper of his name.

He swallowed. “And—do you know who…”

Arthur trailed off, derailed by a wave of heat rushing over his hand and the plume of fire that accompanied it, nearly blinding in the darkness that the trailer had lapsed into. The hand folded over his clamped down and dragged him upright as Lewis straightened up to his full height.

Even though he was standing under his own power, Arthur’s pulse raced.

Lewis looked down his nose at Arthur and grimaced.

“A murderer.”

The fire didn’t hurt, some small part of his brain told him. It was a distant realization, and Arthur could only hope it didn’t come from the beguiling little voice he’d already bought into. The rest of him screamed to act on basic instinct and get away.

Almost clumsily, Lewis let go of the heart at his lapel and raised his hand beneath Arthur’s chin.

Arthur had expected more fire. From the look on his face, so had Lewis.

The grey lump gave a fitful shudder, purple sparks jumping between the cracks, and Lewis’s entire form sagged. He withdrew his arm and lethargically moved to cover the fluttering heart, doing little to properly conceal it.

It crackled again, and he closed his eyes, turning away.

“Why did you kill me?”

Somewhere, far away even as it seared Arthur’s eardrums, a gunshot echoed into the night.

#mystery skulls #ihaveatheoryonthat MSA #fanfic

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averagemarvelbitch · 6 years ago

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PROMPT LIST CHALLENGE

Challenging myself to write 50 short stories based on a prompts list.

1. “We’re not just friends and you know it”.

Alternate Universe / Stony

Warning: There is a scene where someone exposes someone else’s sexuality and I tried to make it clear that’s NEVER okay. I hope I succeeded.

Tony just couldn’t understand. He tried, God knows he tried, but he couldn’t seem to grasp why Steve would want to keep this, them, a secret.

They had been together for two years now. Tony remembered the day they met like it was yesterday. Rhodey got tired of his roommates shenanigans ― Tony had been in a “inventing spree” for three days, which meant little food, smelly clothes and very deep dark circles under his eyes ― and decided enough was enough. He took Tony by the ear ― literally, he might add ― and locked him in the bathroom until he took a shower, shaved and put on clean clothes. When he resembled a normal person again, Rhodey took him out to a party to get some air, see some people, you’re gonna go crazy in there all alone with your bots, man.

The party was a typical frat party. Lots of booze, lots of people, lots of chances to hook up. And it was there Tony met Steve. He had been in a corner, looking around like he wanted to be anywhere else but there, drinking beer from a plastic cup. Years after, Tony would swear to anyone that it was love at first sight. The minute he saw Steve standing there, with his way too small white shirt, and his blue pants, and his hair looking like freaking Johnny Bravo, he knew he had found the one… The one to spend many nights under the sheets doing things that would make a very experienced hooker blush.

So Tony approached him carefully. He’d learned the hard way to never assume a guy was, well, interested in guys. Straight men could be real dick heads about getting hit on by another man. So he introduced himself with a smile, asked for Steve’s name, which he promptly gave, and they started talking. As the party went on, they talked about everything… college, parents, favorite movies, favorite food, how cool is the new Star Wars movie, and on and on. At one point, Tony asked if Steve was interested in going somewhere private. They ended up in Steve’s apartment, with a very satisfied Tony being thoroughly fucked against a wall.

It could have been just a fling. They could have parted ways the next morning with a very sore ass ― in Tony’s case ― and a wonderful memory to cherish. But Tony woke up to the smell of coffee and freshly baked bagels and went to the kitchen, only to find a very naked Steve wearing a Captain America apron. Needless to say, breakfast was forgotten as Tony sucked Steve’s cock right there on the floor and the blond moaned his name until he came in Tony’s throat.

After that, they would meet regularly. Sometimes, when Steve had a bad day at work or had had a particularly difficult assignment, he would call Tony and they would watch a movie, eat Chinese food and fuck on every available surface in the small apartment. Other times, when Tony was frustrated with some new invention that just wouldn’t work the way he wanted or angry at the fact that every single person in MIT was too goddamn stupid, Steve, I swear to God, he would show up unannounced, already taking his clothes off as soon as the blond opened the door, and he would forget all of this troubles as Steve tore him apart, kissing every inch of his body and pressing him roughly against the mattress as he slammed his cock inside Tony again and again and again until the brunette was covered in cum, murmuring nonsense as he came back from his high, completely and utterly satisfied.

But it wasn’t just sex. They would do other things too. Every week, they’d rent a movie and watch it while cuddling on the sofa. Sometimes, they’d go out for a walk and have hot dogs at the park, or go to Howie’s and have cheeseburgers with fries. They did many couples thing and so, really, no one could blame Tony for thinking they were, in fact, a couple, even though they’d never said it out loud. Maybe Steve didn’t like labels or whatever, but they were definitely dating. Or so Tony thought.

Six months after that party ― and a LOT of mind blowing sex ― Tony begun to notice some things. It all started on a fateful Tuesday. He’d had a very bad day, full of uninteresting classes and way too many assignments due next week, not to mention the lovely phone call he’d gotten from his father earlier, in which, as usual, Howard specified every single thing that was wrong with Tony in a very disappointed voice. All the engineer wanted was to see Steve, to cuddle with him on his very uncomfortable couch and watch bad TV while complaining about everyone and everything as Steve hugged him and stroked his hair. A perfect night for a otherwise shitty day, he thought as he knocked on the door.

Only, when Steve opened the door, he didn’t immediately invite Tony in, which was odd on itself. He kept the door somewhat closed and, when he smiled, it looked more like a grimace than a actually “happy to see you” smile.

“Hey Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony looked very confused for a moment.

“Uh… I… had a shitty day, thought we could watch crappy TV and eat some Mexican food. Are you… Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine”, he answered, taking a quick look inside before turning to Tony, the door still almost closed, as if he was afraid Tony might just walk in if he opened it a little bit more.

“Ok… Can I come in, then?”

“Uh, you know what, I have a friend over, so maybe we could meet another ti…”

“Hey, Stevie, who’s at the door?” a voice asked from inside the apartment.

In a second, the floor flew open, revealing another man. He was tall, with a prosthetic arm, a beard and long hair, pulled together in a bun on the top of his head. But Tony didn’t pay much attention to any of that. He was too busy staring at the pained look in Steve’s face.

“Oh, hey, I’m Bucky”, the guy said, offering his hand.

“Uh, I’m…”, Tony started to say, but a desperate Steve interrupted him immediately.

“This is Tony. He’s a friend from MIT”.

“Oh, cool, you wanna come in? We’re just gonna play some Call of Duty and chill”.

“He can’t stay. Maybe some other time, right Tony?” Steve interrupted again, looking at Tony with a desperate look on his face.

And Tony had to admit. That hurt him worse than a kick in the balls. He had heard about Bucky, of course, he was in every single one of Steve’s stories. But it was obvious that Bucky had never heard of him. Who doesn’t tell their best friend about their boyfriend?, Tony thought. But that was the thing, wasn’t it. Steve hadn’t introduced him as his boyfriend or his partner, he had introduced him as a friend. Not only that, but he was desperate to see Tony gone as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I was just passing by and I gotta… I gotta go now, so… Yeah, sorry to bother you, Steve, I guess I’ll see you around”, as he said the words, Tony was very aware that he sounded like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t help it. Without waiting for a reply, he just turned his back to Steve and his friend and got the hell out of there.

That night, he got fifteen calls from Steve, three voicemails and a dozen texts. He ignored all of them. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all Steve. He was deeply hurt and had never felt so stupid in his entire life. Of course they weren’t dating. Tony should have seen it coming. He laid there on his bed and remembered every single moment he spent with Steve out in the open. They never held hands when they were in public. They never hugged, never kissed, shit, even when they went to those restaurants, Steve never even sat close to him. He always kept his distance, and at first Tony thought he was just one of those guys who didn’t like PDAs, but now he knew better. Steve just didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking Tony. He didn’t want people to figure out he was involved with someone like Tony. And honestly, who could blame him? Tony was aware of who he was. Howard had never let him forget it. Lazy, good for nothing, never got anything right. And his last two boyfriends, Justin and Ty, had both agreed wholeheartedly with Howard’s opinion on his son. So why would Steve be any different? He should have known. It was stupid of him to think anyone would want him for anything more than just sex. And so Tony spent the whole night hating himself.

The next morning, Steve came over. Tony met him outside of his building while he was getting out with Rhodey. He told his best friend to go along without him, that he and Steve needed to talk. Rhodey wasn’t happy about it, but left anyway, although not without giving Steve the nastiest look first.

Steve looked devastated. “Tony, look, I’m so sorry”.

“For what?”

“For being a dick to you last night. For introducing you as just my friend. I know that really hurt you and I’m so sorry”.

“Nah”, Tony denied, gesturing with his hand as if the whole thing was no big deal, “It’s fine, I mean, what are you going to do, introduce me to everyone as your fuck buddy? That would be awkward, right?”

Steve looked like he’d been slapped when Tony said “fuck buddies”.

“You’re not… Tony, you know you’re not… that… to me”.

“Really? So what am I, Steve?”

“You’re… Shit, listen… I’m… I’m in love with you, Tony, I really am. I never met anyone like you in my entire life and you make me so happy and all I want is to make you as happy as you make me. But… I can’t tell my friends. They don’t know I’m…”, he stopped talking all of a sudden, looking around like he’s afraid someone might hear him, before whispering the last word, “…gay”.

Tony didn’t know how to react. He remembered when he first came out to his parents as bisexual. His mother thought it was just a phase, something that would pass with time. Howard, on the other hand, almost ripped him a new one. He screamed for hours, called Tony every name in the book, told him he was a disgrace to the Stark name and so on and so on. It was horrible. Then he thought about Rhodey and how terrified he’d been when the older boy caught him in a compromising position with Tiberion Stone. He looked livid. He threw Tiberion out of the apartment and he was so angry Tony actually thought Rhodey might hit him or something. And then he started screaming. And Tony almost burst into tears out of sheer relief. What the hell are you doing with that asshole, Tony? Seriously, he punched his last boyfriend in the face, man, in the middle of a party. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you date that abusive asshole, you hear me? He was worried. About Tony. Not angry that Tony was dating a man and hadn’t told him, just worried about his safety. So, you’re not mad?, Tony had asked with a small voice. I’m mad about a lot of things you do, Tony, like leaving the freaking screwdrivers in the middle of my living room or drinking the fucking milk straight for the carton. But I’ll never be mad about who you are, man. I can promise you that.

So Tony got it. He did, really. The fear of coming out and not being accepted, of losing the people close to you because they can’t accept this very important part of you. And he really did like Steve. Like he never liked anyone before in his life. So he made a decision.

And so, for the past two years, much to Rhodey’s displeasure, Steve and Tony had been secretly seeing each other. Bucky, and his girlfriend, Natasha, knew Tony only as “Steve’s friend from MIT” and seemed to think nothing of it. Sometimes, Natasha would try to set Steve up with one of her friends, and Steve would politely decline while saying he just didn’t have the time for that. And it killed a little bit of Tony when it happened, but he would stand there, every time, a fake smile on his face as he pretended to be Steve’s very straight friend.

And it had worked. It wasn’t ideal, and Tony hated it, but he loved Steve and he was willing to suffer if it meant they could be together. Everything worked fine. Until today.

They were at Steve’s apartment. It was his birthday. All of his friends were there. Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Thor. He’d invited some of Tony’s friends as well, like Bruce, Rhodey and Pepper. They had beer, vodka, pizza and a huge cake with “Happy Birthday, Dumbass” written in icing, courtesy of Bucky. It was all good, until Natasha came over and started talking.

There were in the kitchen when it happened. Pepper, Rhodey and Bucky were opening pizza boxes and getting paper plates, and Steve was sitting on the counter, drinking a beer while talking to Tony, when Natasha showed up.

“So, Steve, I just talked to Sharon. She said she had a great time. Are you taking her out again or what?”

Immediately, the room got quiet. Pepper and Rhodey, who were both very aware of Steve and Tony’s secret relationship, turned to look at Tony, who looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“What date?”, he asked quietly, looking at Steve.

“It’s nothing, just…”

“You went out with someone?”, Tony asked again, the pain now clear in his voice.

“Yeah, but just to make Nat… No, wait, Tony, stop”, he said, jumping down from the counter, but Tony was already leaving the kitchen.

He ran after him and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from leaving the house. The others ran after them, stopping at the door, while Clint, Bruce and Thor, who were at the couch playing videogames, stopped and looked at them, confused.

“LET ME GO, I’M DONE WITH THIS. I’M DONE, STEVE. YOU WANNA HIDE YOUR WHOLE LIFE, THAT’S FINE, BUT I’M FUCKING DONE BEING YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET”, Tony screamed, pushing Steve away from him.

“Wait, what. Are you guys…?” Clint started asking, looking even more confused.

“NO, we’re just friends”, Steve tried to explain, but Tony’d had enough.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it”, he shouted, tears coming down his face now, “I tried to be understanding, I tried to give you time, but FUCK YOU, STEVE. WE’RE DONE”.

And with that, Tony left, Pepper and Rhodey right after him.

It took Tony almost two weeks to even resemble a functioning human being again. In that time, he had cried on his bed every single day, unable to hold it in, as either Rhodey or Pepper sat there by his side, stroking his hair while whispering that everything was going to be okay. Tony didn’t believe them. How could anything ever be okay again? Steve had kept him as a dirty little secret no one could ever find out about, cuddling with him at night, whispering “I love you” again and again in his ear, all the while going out with whoever Natasha set him up. It hurt. It hurt so bad Tony honestly didn’t think he could recover from it.

Natasha had called as well. She apologized for setting Steve up with someone else, berating herself for not noticing anything was amiss before. Tony forgave her, of course. It wasn’t her fault. It was his. His fault for believing in Steve, for thinking he could have this. That he could actually be happy.

But after two weeks of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, Tony decided he needed to get back to his life. Steve already ruined my love life, he thought, a bit dramatically, not gonna let him ruin my academic life as well. So, on a Monday, he got up, got dressed, and left the apartment, somewhat ready to face the day. And found Steve sitting on the ground, just outside his building, with a bouquet of flowers on his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, Tony exclaimed, surprised.

Steve, who was staring at the ground looking miserable, suddenly looked up when he heard Tony’s voice and immediately got up.

“Hi”, he whispered, “I’ve been coming here every day, waiting for you to come out”.

“Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“I did”, he said, grimacing, “Rhodey broke my nose and told me to get lost both times”.

“Good”, Tony replied, satisfied, even though deep down he felt a little sorry for Steve.

“Look, Tony, please, just let me say this. And when I’m finished, if you want me to go away and never come back, I will, I promise. Please”.

He was begging. He looked so sad and so lost, Tony’s heart melted a little. So, he crossed his arms and waited for Steve to talk.

“I… I know I hurt you. Bad. And I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you so much pain, Tony, really. You were right. The problem was me. Deep down, I knew my ma wouldn’t care if I was gay. And I know Bucky and the others wouldn’t care either. I just… I don’t know, I had this idea in my head that it was different with me, you know. That it was okay for Clint to be gay, but if they found out I was? They would hate me. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did”.

Tony looked away for a moment and exhaled, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry for exposing you like that. That wasn’t cool. You should be able to come out on your own terms and I took that from you. I exposed you to your friends when you clearly weren’t ready to come clean. I’m really sorry about that. It was a dick move”.

“Yeah, it was”, Steve replied, with a huffed laugh, “But I get it. You spent two years hiding for me, Tony. Two years pretending and trusting that I would get the courage to come out one day, and then you find out I went out with some girl. I get how much that hurt you, because if it was me in your place, and I heard you went out with someone else, I’d be devastated. But I need you to know this. Nothing happened. I swear. We ate, we talked, she went home. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t even hug. I just did it so Natasha would leave me alone, you know”.

“Yeah, I get it. I guess we both screwed up”.

Steve nodded, looking down at the flowers in his hand.

“I’m seeing a therapist. She’s helping me with this idea I had in my head, you know. That it’s okay for other people to be who they are, but not for me. I’m getting better”.

“That’s good, Steve”, Tony replied, “I’m happy for you”, he said and he meant it.

“I just… I know it’s a lot to ask, but… Can we try again? I’ll be better this time, I promise. I just… I love you. And I miss you so much. Please”, he whispered, looking at Tony with a pained look.

And Tony thought about it. He remembered every happy moment he had with Steve, and how much he loved him. They had hurt each other, he knew, but they could get past it. He knew they could. So he smiled and took the flowers from Steve’s hand, holding them to his chest.

“How about this time we start with a date?”

And, in that moment, Steve’s smile could light up the entire city.

#50 Prompts Challenge #Let's train and get better at this writing thing #stony #bit angst #tony stark #steve rogers #alternate universe #fanfic

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chockfullofsecrets · 6 years ago

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Sit and Stay

Rating: Gen

Summary: Yagi has a habit of tapping his fingers nervously. This normally isn’t a problem, but today there’s a certain voice hero lying in his lap.

Word Count: 1763

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, you guys! Going to post this just in case anyone needs to read about soft indulgent tickles as much as I do right now :)

Hizashi frowned as he looked over the common room of 1-A’s dorms.

There was nothing wrong with the room itself; despite Aizawa’s grumbling about the horrors of having twenty quirk-possessing teenagers live together, the place was barely a month old and had yet to develop any serious carpet stains or burns on the wall. That he could see, anyway.

It was pretty nice, actually – curtains open, sunlight streaming brightly through the windows and melting into smudges of warmth against the glossy surface of the coffee table. No, the only problem here was the scarecrow man sitting in the middle of it all.

“All Might, there you are! You’re a hard guy to find!”

From the look on his face, the other man was surprised to see him. That was only to be expected, given that it had taken nearly twenty minutes to track him here.

Yagi straightened from where he had been listing slightly against the couch’s armrest, tapping nervously at the pages of the book on his lap even as he smiled brightly. “Yamada-kun! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were looking for me! I’m here because I promised the students that I would help them make dinner tonight.”

Hizashi squinted. “So you’re going to sit here for the next four hours, waiting for them to get back?”

Yagi’s grin took on a distinctly sheepish tilt. “I thought I might get a little reading done in the meantime,” he said. “Regardless, what are you doing here?” His eyes widened. “Is something going on with the children? The trip-”

“Nope,” Hizashi interjected firmly. “They’re fine, Eraser’s fine. I am here,” he said grandly, pausing to shoot his fellow teacher a pair of finger guns,” to do this!”

Crossing the room to Yagi’s side, he lifted the book and Yagi’s hands with it so that he could flop down comfortably in his newly-available lap.

Yagi coughed sharply, his thin legs twitching under Hizashi’s weight. “Yamada-kun!”

“Hey, keep reading, pretend I’m not even here if you want!” he soothed, pulling out his phone. “Aizawa told me to, and I quote, sit on you or something to make sure you didn’t follow him and 1-A on their class trip and actually got your rest in. I don’t make the rules!”

Yagi was still bent uncomfortably against the weight, his whole body tense, but at that he laughed shortly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it this literally.”

Hizashi shrugged. “Too bad! With Eraser gone, you’re my designated cuddle buddy until further notice.” Wanting the other man to relax, he reached up and tugged lightly at one of his bangs. “We can braid each other’s hair if you want – and believe me, I would be one hundred percent down for that – but I meant it when you said you can keep reading. What is it? Anything good?”

The book’s cover was hurriedly flattened over Hizashi’s stomach, but not before he could make out the title - ‘Teaching For Dummies’? He huffed in disbelief, but that was a battle for another day. Squirming onto his side to get a better angle for viewing his screen, he opened up his browser and pointedly started scrolling.

Thankfully, Yagi took the hint that Hizashi wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon and, shyly propping his book up on the available hip, got back to doing whatever it was he was doing. Hizashi found himself drifting as well – the sunlight really was nice in here, the couch a cooling leather, and after a couple minutes of getting used to Yagi’s bony form he stopped minding it except for the comforting warmth soaking into his side and back through his T-shirt.

And then one of Yagi’s hands slipped from the pages of his book to Hizashi’s side and returned to its nervous drumming, finger after finger padding lightly down.

Hizashi bit back a giggle, not wanting to disturb the tranquil scene, but it just kept going, the slight tapping, and the longer it went the more it started to feel… sensitive.

Thanking himself for wearing glasses today instead of contacts, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. He could roll over, but being on his belly would smush his face into the couch cushions and being on his back with those fingers still drumming was definitely not an option. If it kept on like this, he was going to laugh, and that would startle Yagi out of it, but then -

It felt too nice to make him stop, Hizashi decided. A couple minutes. He could hold out for a couple more minutes, and then he would say something.

He tried to focus on his phone, raising one hand dramatically to his mouth as if he were deep in thought – at least it would hide the smile he could feel tugging at the edges of his lips. But the feeling just kept going, each tap sparking a new ticklish nerve on his side, and despite his best efforts he couldn’t keep himself from snickering helplessly at the assault.

Yagi’s fingers paused abruptly, and with the relief came a sense of disappointment that he tried very hard to supress. “Yamada-kun? Are you all right?”

Hizashi’s hand spasmed over his mouth; he wasn’t sure what would happen if he actually turned to look at the other man. “Yeah, yeah! You were just, uh… tickling me, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” The hand returned to his side, rubbing briskly and dispelling the remaining tingles. “I didn’t even realize, I must have been doing that for a while – nervous habit, you know! Why didn’t you say anything?”

It was a casual question, in exactly the same tone Aizawa asked it in when he was in the mood for teasing, and Hizashi blamed that entirely for his knee-jerk response of, “I – haha, I… didn’t want you to stop?”

Yagi’s hand froze. “Ah.”

Hizashi moved so fast to cover his face in embarrassment that he almost cracked his glasses and maybe his nose on the phone still in his hand. “Augh! Sorry, for a second there I thought you were – I mean, I wasn’t trying to-”

The hand on his waist tightened a little, pushing gently until Hizashi was tipped over into a decidedly more supine position than his ban on eye contact could stand. Yagi didn’t look angry, though, just a little amused. It was the first time Hizashi had seen him anything other than blatantly nervous all day. “You must be quite ticklish here, if a little tapping has you this worked up.”

“Huh?” Mic said, half mumbling into his hands, and then his eyes widened as the words registered. “I – ah – not really, and – it wasn’t just the tapping! I’m not that ticklish!”

He absolutely was, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Yagi took it in stride, setting his book down and sending his other hand to join the first on Hizashi’s sides. As Hizashi took a second to stupidly wonder how hands so large and comfortingly warm could exist, he stroked his thumbs gently against the base of Hizashi’s ribcage. “Oh, really? In that case, you’ll have to tell me what I was doing that you liked so much.”

“I – pfft –“

“Or maybe you didn’t like any of it, and you were hoping I would do this instead?” A single finger scribbled across his belly, bared below the hem of his shirt from all the shifting, and the genuinely curious look on Yagi’s face did absolutely nothing to keep him from squeaking in pleasured mortification.

“Ah – gyahahaha – that tickles!”

“I figured it would,” Yagi chuckled. “I don’t mind doing this, if you’re enjoying it.”

Mic sputtered, still choking on giggles as another finger snuck out to circle his navel. “W-whyhyhy?”

Yagi ducked his head a little, not entirely succeeding on hiding a shy smile behind his bangs. “I’ve been looking for something to do with my hands, and you said you didn’t want me to stop, so – please tell me if any of that isn’t the case!”

Even Aizawa wasn’t usually mean enough to make him admit things like this, he thought, and ignored the question in favor of curling a little further into Yagi’s lap.

“Okay, then,” Yagi said, smiling a little wider, “how about here?” He dipped a finger delicately into the shallow well of Hizashi’s navel, pressing down just hard enough to massage the nerves at the very bottom, and Hizashi very nearly screamed a hole into the ceiling.

Luckily his hands were tight enough over his mouth to avoid him being the first person to cause property damage in 1-A’s dorm, and he deployed one of them to smack Yagi furiously on the arm until the offending digit was removed and he could successfully gasp for breath. “Ha, ha, ah – I have a voice quirk, remember?”

Yagi raised a surprised eyebrow, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly, and Hizashi almost melted under his fond look. “That bad, huh? I guess we’ll save that spot for Aizawa-kun to tackle, then.”

So much for fond. “Don’t tease me, it’s mean,” Hizashi groaned, breaking back into bubbly giggles almost immediately as Yagi returned to tracing light lines over the lower half of his belly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yagi said – how many times was this guy going to apologize to him anyway? – but he was smiling happily at Hizashi’s torment, providing gently torturous tickles until Hizashi decided that he was finally in the mood to breathe like a normal person.

He wriggled into a more upright position, tugging his shirt down, and grimaced as he caught sight of the time on his phone. “Ah, it’s only been an hour, and we’ve already done all there is to do in here! Why don’t you come for a walk with me or something?”

Yagi’s smile diminished considerably. “But, the students-”

“Are doing community service in the middle of a city with multiple pro heroes watching their every move. I know we don’t have the best track record, but sitting here waiting for them to come back safely isn’t going to do much, is it?”

“Right,” Yagi sighed. “As long as I’m here when they get back, I can go for a run or something-”

“I will sit on you again.”

“A walk,” he conceded. “Exercise is good for staying positive, isn’t it?”

“Anything’s better than staying in here,” Hizashi agreed, bouncing a little in excitement. “Okay, let’s go!”

“You have to get off me first,” Yagi reminded gently.

“Oh, yeah, crushing the Symbol of Peace under my legs… oookay, here we go!”

And so they went.

#bnha #yagi toshinori #yamada hizashi #tickling #allmic #chocfic

106 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 6 years ago

Text

Nine Lives (8) The Home

FF.net | Ao3

Chat Noir snuck into Master’s Fu’s home after his patrol. It was only 10pm, but the lights were off and Fu was fast asleep, snoring away.

Adrien dropped his transformation in the backroom by his little homework table, and opened his laptop.

“Cheese?” Plagg asked, hopeful.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Adrien winced and dug around in his backpack. “There’s only one wheel left. So don’t eat it all until we can get more tomorrow.”

Plagg groaned, but begrudgingly agreed, if only for his own benefit.

Adrien got to work on his homework. He had an essay due tomorrow that he was sorely behind on. He would have finished it earlier, but other matters took precedence.

“Pretty good speech you gave,” Plagg smirked, sitting on the top of his laptop. “Really got the media off your back there.”

“It was just a thank you speech for the mayor. I had to, there was no way I wasn’t going thank him. It’s a 1000 euros a month.”

“As long as you keep up with patrols and akumas.”

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“I can see why people would be protesting you.”

“They aren’t protesting me specifically. They just don’t want me to get paid.”

“Yeah, they want you to save their lives for free.”

“And you see how silly that is? You were the one who said I should turn Chat Noir into a living.”

“I did, didn’t I? Interesting...”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think they’re protesting?”

“Well, in their eyes, Ladybug and Chat Noir allowed a citizen to be killed. And now they want money?”

Adrien frowned and leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it’s a done deal. Paris will get over it eventually.”

“What does Ladybug think about it?”

“She doesn’t mind. She said if I need money, it made sense to ask for help. Fighting the Akuma is hard work.”

“Was she jealous?”

“I offered to split the check, but she turned it down.”

Speaking of checks, he pulled out the one Mayor Bourgeois had given him. Thankfully, it wasn’t a giant check like the ones they gave at sweepstakes. But it was clearly from the mayor, and the memo line read ‘To Chat Noir.’ So what was he supposed to do? Open a new bank account as his alter ego and then transfer money to his normal account? He rubbed his head. Secret Identities sucked!

“Ladybug is just too noble to accept money for her hard work.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Or, it could be that she lives at home with her parents, and she gets an allowance?”

“Please, what teenager passes up the opportunity for money?”

“The kind that recognizes that their friend needs help, now will you drop it? I have an essay to write.”

“Fine, if you won’t admit your guilt, then you can just suffer.”

Adrien groaned. Plagg, being his Kwami, had a tendency to pick at his nerves just so, and pick up on the emotions he wanted to ignore. “I keep lying to her. And if there’s anything I remember about Volpina, it’s that Marinette hates liars.” He was quiet a moment and thought back to that day. “I think I understand why she was angry though. Lila flirting with me, and lying about an affiliation with Ladybug to do it. Hmm, that makes sense.”

Plagg cleared his throat. “And?”

“And...I’m scared. I keep lying to her, but I know when this bubble bursts, it’s going to be ugly.”

“You don’t think she’ll understand?”

Adrien sighed. “I...if it were me, and Marinette faked her death to continue being Ladybug, and she didn’t confide in Chat Noir...I might feel betrayed.”

“If the situation was like that, then why would she confide in you? She’s the one who has been insistent on secret identities. Even after you found her out.”

“But this is an exception Plagg! I faked my death! That’s not something to hide from your partner! Not if you trust them…”

“But you did, and now you have to deal with it.”

Adrien frowned, falling silent. Then, “I thought you were thousands of years old. I thought you were supposed to unleash divine wisdom upon me.”

“You want wisdom? Fine. Wait. Like Master Fu said about the molten glass. You saw her bedroom walls. Eventually, she’ll move on from Adrien. Not totally, ever. But enough that it doesn’t sting anymore. That’s when you should tell her.”

“How long will that take?”

“Who knows. A few months? Weeks? Years? I know it took me three years to grieve the loss of my love.”

Adrien softened. “Your love? I didn’t know you were in love once.”

“Yeah, a real beauty. An aged cheddar packed in charred whiskey barrels. It sounds so simple, but the place that made it burned to the ground in the 1500’s. It was awful.”

Adrien scoffed. “Why did expect anything else…?”

“But now Camembert is my true love. I think I might love it more than I loved that whiskey cheddar.”

Adrien leaned his head on his knuckles, just listening to his kwami.

“The thing is, until I lost that Whiskey cheddar, I never would have loved Camembert. You following me?”

“Wait, are you saying that now Adrien’s out of the way, she’ll start loving Chat Noir?”

“No, I’m saying she’ll start to love you.”

“But—“

“New wisdom!” Plagg interrupted and zipped out of the room, startling Adrien for a moment. He returned a moment later, with a necklace in his grasp.

“This is my mom’s necklace?” He raised his eyebrow. It was simple, despite the wealth the Agreste’s had. His mother had once told him this was the first necklace Gabriel gave her when they got married. Just a thin chain and a pear cut diamond.

“These little flat parts are called facets.” Plagg explained.

“I know, I’m not five.”

Plagg hissed, perturbed to be interrupted during his ‘wisdom’.

“Uh, sorry, please continue.”

“Thank you. Each facet is cut very particularly to reflect light, and the gem looks different from each facet.” He dangled the jewel in front of the desk lamp, sending a bunch of sparkles across the table surface. “Adrien was one of your facets, but it wasn’t you. Your father made sure that Adrien was just what everyone wanted to see. Chat Noir is just a facet as well, a part of you that is constantly filled with adrenaline and confidence. Emile…now the name is different, but he’s the most you you’ve been. The boy sitting in front of me is the gem. Ladybug has to see past the facets to see you.”

Adrien stared at his kwami, and then at the necklace. After a beat, he put it on, hiding it under his shirt. “I didn’t know you knew so much about diamonds. I thought your expertise was only in cheese.”

“Cats like shiny things, silly boy.” Plagg stated, matter of factly. “Now I’m all wisdom-ed out. Hit me up in another ten years, and I’ll have another cheese analogy for you.”

Adrien scratched the kwami between the ears, his soft spot, and quiet purring filled the space. “You’re my best friend Plagg, you know that right?”

“Yeah yeah, you know how I feel about mushy stuff.”

“Oh, I know.” Adrien smirked. “But I just thought I’d remind you.”

“So I might as well remind you about your essay.”

“My essay!”

—

The next day, a bleary-eyed Emile walked to school. It wasn’t the first time walking, but everyday was as strange as the first. As Adrien, he’d never been allowed to walk anywhere alone. Though, he was honest enough to admit getting a ride to school in the mornings was nice. But he was beginning to enjoy his walks, as sleepy as he was.

He stopped at a cafe, and bought two coffees. One for him, and one for Marinette. It was a small gesture, one that he hoped was not too bizarre for Emile.

Emile would be stepping up his game. Chat would try to refrain from visiting her every night, despite knowing who she was. Because more than anything, Adrien wanted her to love him for who he was. It had been wonderful knowing that she loved Adrien for the gem shining through, so to speak, and not just the pretty face in the posters. But there was even more to him than that. A goofy, fun-loving, dramatic side to him that she was missing out on.

He entered the classroom a few minutes before class started, delighted to see his angel was there already, with eyes half closed.

“Good morning Marinette,” he chirped happily. “Do you like coffee?”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “I…do on occasion.”

“Would a free cup from a friend be an occasion?” He set the cardboard cup in front of her, watching with glee as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a very kissable ‘o’.

She smiled at him. “I will gladly accept your coffee! Thank you! I’m actually having a hard time staying awake this morning.”

He slid his backpack onto his seat and then sat on his desk, facing towards her, a very improper action, if he did say so himself. “I’m the same way! I’m such a night owl it’s a disaster. I used to wake up really early.” For photo shoots. “But now I can barely manage to make it to school on time.”

Alya leaned over the desk and mock whispered. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think you and Marinette are soulmates.”

“Alya!” Marinette flushed madly.

Emile just laughed, loudly, and without restraint. A very Chat Noir-esque trait.

Marinette’s face flushed a little more as she observed him.

“Oh please, it’s only been like two weeks since you showed up, and you already have a crush on the baker girl? Please, get behind all the other loser boys in this school.” Chloe spoke clearly, apparently ready to take Emile down. She hadn’t succeeded yet, since he seemed impervious to her ‘perfection’.

Emile turned his, literally, award winning smile to her and sang, “Jealous?”

Chloe sneered. “Ugh! As if I’d ever want you to like me, Quasimodo!”

“Reverse psychology, classic. Maybe someday you will win my heart, Chloe Bourgeois.”

Chloe scoffed again and turned her head with a little ‘hmph!’

“Uh...Emile?” Marinette asked shyly.

“Hmm?”

She was speaking quietly, so he had to lean in the hear her. “I...do you remember when we talked about Adrien? The boy who...”

He quickly stopped her from having to say it. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I...I kind of...really liked him. And since the whole...” she trailed off, her face pink, but her eyes downcast.

“I totally understand.” He smiled at her, softly, encouragingly. “It’s not really a crush, despite what Chloe thinks. I do think you’re cute, but I just want to be your friend. If that’s okay? You seem like a really nice person. Especially if what Master Fu said about you is true.” Another lie, but he felt justified in this case.

Her blush returned, with a horrified look to match. But she quickly covered it with a stutter. “No! I—sure! Yes! That’s great! Friends! You can’t have enough friends! Heh?” She bared her teeth in an attempted smile, as Alya whispered, “smooth...”

“Um,” she tried again, “I actually have a favor...”

“Shoot!”

“My dad threw his back out yesterday, and we’re supposed to get a shipment of flour later tonight. Nino and Alya are coming, but would you be willing to help with some heavy lifting?”

Emile grinned, “of course! What time?”

“Just after school. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“That’s fine! My schedule is wide open!” And he loved every minute of it.

—

At lunch, the group met at the bakery, which was becoming a tradition. Even if they brought their own food, they still went to Marinette’s to eat. It was convenient, and the Dupain-Cheng household was just too cozy to pass up.

Emile sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hands, in complete bliss. It was an amazing feeling to be invited out by friends, and not having to deny them.

He almost began to purr.

As Alya was just at the apex of her ‘why Hawkmoth is on Hiatus’ theory, the door opened and Tom came in.

“Hi kids,” he smiled, hiding a wince. The back brace did not go unnoticed by the group.

“You holding in there okay, papa?”

“Your old man is as tough as nails. But once I get some ibuprofen and sit for a bit, I’ll be right as rain.” He fished the pills out of the medicine cabinet. “You kids wouldn’t be willing to help me out later today would you?”

“Marinette already reached out, and we’ll all be there to help!” Alya said, flexing her arm.

Tom laughed in relief. “Thank goodness! I couldn’t imagine my wife and Marinette doing it all by themselves.”

“How long will you be in the brace?” Emile asked.

“Oh the doctor said I have to wear this thing for three weeks, but I have to avoid heavy lifting for six to eight weeks. It’s gonna make things more difficult around here for sure.”

“What if I were to help?” Emile asked, sitting up and smiling.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, Emile, you don’t have to…”

“Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. You’ve been so nice to invite me along and give me food, it’s the least I could do!” And, he’d get to get in with the in-laws.

“Well,” Tom began. “I really could use the extra help right now. A strong young man! I’ll talk to my wife and see what she thinks. We wouldn’t be able to pay you much.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to pay me...unless it’s with cookies.”

Tom laughed, “alright, then I’ll talk with Sabine and see what she thinks.” And he left.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.” Alya noted with a smirk.

“Uh, what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to get in with Marinette’s parents!” Oh, she was good.

Emile scoffed, but blushed at the look Marinette was giving him. “You were there this morning. It’s not a crush. It’s just…what friends do, right? I just want to do the right thing.”

Marinette reached over and touched his hand. “Well, you’d really be helping us out. I do appreciate the offer.”

Adrien blushed. Nearly all of his interactions with her as Adrien had been…awkward. To say the least. It wasn’t long before he ‘died’ that she was finally able to talk to him with full sentences. As Ladybug, she flirted with him, and teased him, and acted like a brave older sister. But this look on her face, it was totally new. Full of adoration and gratitude, with just a touch of helplessness. He returned the touch by holding her hand. “It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, I owe you.”

The group finished their meal, and Alya finished her theory on Hawkmoth, before it was time to return to school.

The rest of the day, Marinette kept staring at the back of Emile’s head. Maybe it was Alya’s conspiracy theorist tendencies rubbing off on her. But Marinette could have sworn there was something familiar about him. The blonde hair was strikingly similar to Adrien’s as she had the sunshine gold burned into her retinas after staring at him for two years. But his mannerisms were almost more like Chat Noir. A little dramatic and grandiose. Not quite as much, and not so annoying. And the puns, Emile liked puns and portmanteaus. But thankfully he kept them at a normal amount.

Perhaps she was only seeing what she wanted to see. Emile was sitting in Adrien’s seat, and was taking up the role of second boy in their little quartet. Heavens forbid he actually take Adrien’s place! No, no one could ever do that!

But he just seemed...familiar. Even his voice rang a bell.

He turned around in his seat and gave her a little smirk and a wink, and for half a second, she swore she was looking at Chat Noir.

But the scar convinced her otherwise. Chat had some scarring there too, but not as dramatic.

“Uh, Marinette? You okay? Or are you just stunned by my beauty?”

“Oh, no no. Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to work with me on the worksheet? Nino ditched me for Alya.”

“Oh! Sure we can work together!”

Emile beamed. “Just don’t get lost in my eyes, My Lady.”

Marinette was going to retort, but found her voice dry. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be...

After school, the group returned to the bakery, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Tom and Sabine.

“There’s our hard workers! Ready to haul ass?”

“Thomas! Language!” Sabine chortled as she elbowed her husband. “There will be snacks waiting for you after the work is done!”

Since the Dupain-Cheng’s had the extra help, they took advantage of them by not only unloading the delivery of sugar, chocolate, flour and other ingredients, but also doing some heavy cleaning in the bakery. This included moving entire displays out of the way to mop under them. All the windows and glass casings were washed and all the metal was polished.

Three hours later, everything was in its place and the bakery sparkled.

“Wow! It looks great!” Marinette chirped with pride. “Thanks for all your help guys!”

“No problem,” Nino grinned. “Now about those snacks…”

They all hustled upstairs and gathered in the kitchen. Laughter took place, as it resided with the Dupain-Cheng’s. It was a close friend with Alya and Nino, and an old friend of Adrien’s. What he wouldn’t give to have this everyday of his life.

“Emile?” Sabine asked, after a lull in conversation.

“Oh, yes?”

“Tom said you offered to help us during his recovery period.”

“That’s right,” he rambled. “I don’t have very much baking experience, but I’m available whenever I’m not in school. I can even get up early in the morning.”

The parents grinned at each other, before Sabine continued. “Well, I wouldn’t feel right about taking you on if we couldn’t pay you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine! I don’t need any money…but I’m like a cat, if you feed me, I’ll keep coming back!”

“Well, I was going to say…” Sabine continued her knowing grin. “We have a spare room, if you’d like to stay with us. We’ll pay you in room and board.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He couldn’t possibly be that lucky, could he? Maybe it was because he was with Ladybug at the moment, maybe her luck was rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was her lucky charm in his back pocket.

“So, how about it, roomie?” Marinette nudged his arm.

“Yes! 100% yes! I was even—living with Master Fu is nice and all, but I have to share a room at his place. I was trying to save up some money for an apartment—“ He ran a hand through his hair, partly in shock, but mostly in joy. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“There are two conditions.” Sabine interrupted, her voice deadly serious.

“Yes, of course.” Adrien sobered.

“Number one, you have to keep up with your homework. School comes first. And number two…you have to join us for dinner and movie nights.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he looked at the smiling family. “I…” he choked.

“What, is that going to be a problem?” Tom nudged him.

“No, not a problem at all.” And everyone, including Adrien, was wholly unprepared for the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Emile?” Marinette asked, a careful hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry…I just…this is all I ever wanted. To…be a part of a family.” He wiped his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Later that night, Emile returned to the bakery with all his earthly possessions in tow. A big duffel bag, which held all his clothes, a backpack, and a smaller duffel for the fragments of his old life.

“Welp, here I am! Emile Fu, bakery gremlin.” He grinned.

Marinette had been the one to greet him at the door. “Bakery gremlin, huh?”

He hunched over slightly and spoke in a voice akin to Igor. “At your service, my lady.”

She laughed heartily, a wonderful song to his ears. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

It was across the stairway from the bakery. A small room, about the size of a college dorm. There was a little closet, a bed, and a table with a little lamp and two chairs. The walls were painted a soft blue, and there was a window with an alley view, just big enough for Chat Noir to fit through.

“It’s not much, but you can have it all to yourself.” She grinned. “The door locks, and the bathroom is directly above you.”

“Thanks Marinette, this is awesome.”

“No, thank you. My parents were actually really stressed about trying to figure out what to do. My dad can still bake, but there’s a lot of heavy lifting prep work, and deliveries. You’re their hero.”

Adrien smiled at that. A hero in more ways than one. “I wondered. If it’s just your family running the place, then I assumed there would be trouble without your dad being able to lift. I’m really glad I could help.”

“Then, I’ll let you get settled in. Mom and dad are working on dinner. Do you like quiche?”

“Love it,” he beamed.

Though she said she would leave him be, she found a question on the tip of her tongue, and so she leaned against the doorframe and watched him unpack. He took his, frankly atrocious, clothes out of his duffel bag and laid them on the bed.

“Are you going to keep watching me? Or are you going to help?” He teased.

“O-oh, yeah, I can—“

“I’m just kidding Marinette, you don’t have to help. There’s not much to put away.”

She blushed and knotted her fingers together.

“But you do look like you have something to say.”

Might as well get it over with. She thought. She glanced behind her, checking to see that the coast was clear. “Um…you—do you know who I am?”

He continued folding his clothes, not even looking at her. “Do I know that you’re Ladybug? Yes. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

Marinette turned slightly and rested her forehead on the doorframe with a groan.

“But don’t worry, I know it’s a secret.”

“Why do you know?”

It was time for another lie. “Well, Master Fu is 180-something, but he’s not immortal.”

Now that he thought about it, that was a problem. He might need to ask the old man about doing some extra training.

“Do you know who Chat Noir is?”

“Of course,” he answered easily. “Probably the coolest person on earth.”

She barked a laugh, “now you’re just messing with me.”

“I am not! That guy is too hot to trot! He’s purr-fection.”

“Ugh, and you sound just like him.” She rolled her eyes. “So,” she continued, nervously. “I have to ask. Who are you trying to be friends with?”

He smiled softly at her, and then fished out the necklace from around his neck. “These flat parts are called facets.”

“Right.”

“And each facet is cut very specifically to reflect light. And looking at each facet differently changes the appearance of the gem. Ladybug is one of your facets, and so is Marinette. I want to be friends with the whole gem.”

He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten until he looked up from the diamond. Her big blue eyes were glistening, just like the jewel. A light dusting of pink sat upon her nose, as she stared up at him.

God, she was beautiful. And she had been there all along. Just a little bit further and…

She stepped back, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Thanks…that means a lot.”

He managed a smile in return, though his stomach was twisting. “Of course.”

“I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” And she all but shut the door in his face.

He sighed. One day, and hopefully soon, he’d tell her the truth, and they’d finally be together.

Plagg floated up to his face, a sneer on his face. “You rotten thief.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette cheng #adrien agreste #marichat #adrienette #fanfiction #Nine Lives

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