#love a man grunting in pain in a fictional setting

[narcolini]

the other man, pt. 2

moisés (sky rojo) x gn!reader, 3406 words

warnings for blood, gunshot wounds, DIY medical treatment

for day 17 of whumpril: cry for help | self treatment | ‘i can’t do this.’

a/n: the way this poor guy has no (?) fics on here at all, and im already maiming him. my god

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc​

part one here

You left him there. You left him there, and it’s been hours, sun sinking beneath the horizon, warmth slipping into cold. He hasn’t rang you. Not even a text. He’s probably dead, right? You probably left him to die. Shirt splattered with red, arm stretched across the concrete. Gun just out of reach.

You groan, turning to push your face into the pillow. It doesn’t help to imagine it. Even if he’s alive, you might never see him again. What if’s won’t do anything but torment you, if there’s never any closure, no evidence of the alternative.

The last you saw of him, he was alive. In control. Not scared in the slightest, as far as you could tell, so that’s what you’ll remember. What you’ll cement as fact. Alive, uninjured. Unrecognisable to the man you thought you knew, but not dead, at least.

Go away with me, he said. He knew they were coming. He tried to get out, you with him, hand in hand, before they got there. That meant something, right? The Moisés you knew was holding out still, before the gunfire. Putting you and him in the sun.

‘Fuck,’ you sigh, and flop back over to stare at the ceiling. A lifetime of wondering, then. That’s what you’ve been cursed with. You won’t sleep all night, wondering if he’s alive, wondering if it was a mistake to try and know him, and then in the morning, you’ll dress. Open the shop. Sell string bags and sunglasses to tourists, then go home and wonder again.

You almost resent him suddenly, hot and striking across your chest—he could’ve told you. Could’ve given you some warning that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the type of guy to go on coffee dates with. To give your address to, to let brush his fingertips over you. You were half a breath away from falling for him. And the whole time, he was entwined in something dangerous enough to put you at risk. Real, true harm, only a car crash away.

It was cowardice, really, keeping it from you for his own sake. It made him a coward. Or stupid. Head so far in the clouds, he thought you’d never see the ground.

The buzzer to your flat goes, sharp and rattling through the box by the door.

You sit upright, out of the covers, to follow the sound before the first press is even complete. Then you’re in the hallway, heart thumping, when it goes again. Prolonged, this time, because whoever’s pressing it, down on street level, isn’t relenting. They’re just holding it and holding it, and it’s echoing off the walls either side of you, so loud it’s making you cringe. Wince.

You reach the door, click the camera icon on the intercom. It takes a second to warm up, grey and black fuzzing into shapes, into features. It’s him. God, it’s him. His forehead’s against the wall by the camera, but you recognise the nose, the jaw, the swinging earring.

He doesn’t lift his finger from the bell until you say his name, desperate and questioning.

‘Cariño,’ he replies, tinny through the box. It sounds like he’s panting, hissing the words out. It could be the connection. You can’t remember how it sounded before now, how people besides him, right now, spoke through it. ‘Let me in.’

Your hands are sweating, slipping from the button you press to speak back at him. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

His head drops momentarily, before lifting again, gaze flitting about to find the eye of the camera. ‘I need your help. Please.’ He cuts himself off, panting a noise out like he’s in pain. A sound you’ve never heard him make.

You’re swinging from the door before he can ask again. Leave it open, to save time when you come back. It’s late enough in the night that you don’t have to worry about neighbours, and you’re only on the first floor, only one communal stairwell away from him.

Your feet slap against the stone as you descend, cold chilling up your bare legs. The t-shirt and gym shorts you’re wearing were never meant to leave the home, were never meant to be seen, by him of all people, riddled with moth holes and paint. It doesn’t matter. He needs you.

The latch on door at the bottom sticks, for a moment. You rattle it free, desperate, then lug the huge timber open to get at him.

‘Moi.’ It comes out like a breath.

He’s standing at half the height he usually is, his chin down to his chest, one arm stretched to prop him against the brick. You pull him forward like you’re starving, hook a hand around his shoulder to get him in from the night.

It doesn’t matter, now, that he kept things from you. That he thought he could. He’s alive, standing in front of you, and alive. You can’t wait until the door’s shut again, you have to hug him, have to feel his heartbeat against your own. You tug at him—

He holds you off, firmly, heel of his palm pressing into your collarbone. ‘Don’t,’ he bites, harder than you’d expect from him.

For a split second, you’re offended, anger flitting between your ears, but then you look down. You see why he’s stopped you.

‘Shit, Moi. Fuck.’

He’s bleeding, and a lot. So much, that you must be stupid, or blind, to have even missed it. Too caught up in the relief of seeing him, that you hadn’t really seen him at all. It’s dark down his thigh, staining one leg of his jeans, and splattered up his forearm. He’s got one palm pushed to the source of it, more red than the usual tan of his skin, tight to his stomach. The ring on his pinky looks like it’s carrying a ruby, gold hidden beneath.

‘Get me upstairs,’ he says, through the grit of his teeth.

‘What? No, we’re going to the hospital.’

He pushes a shaky breath, taking a half-step into the entry way. ‘Please.’ His cleaner hand shifts from your collar, to sit on your shoulder for support. ‘Upstairs, cariño.’

It had done you well to trust him the last time he asked something of you. You can only hope he’s making the right decision again, choosing you over the medical staff he so obviously needs.

You pull his wrist until his arm is sitting over your shoulders properly, taking as much of his weight as you can manage. Kick your foot out to shut the door behind you. It’s clumsy, messy. He’s heavier than you expected, all limp, tired muscle, that fights you with every step. If you didn’t have to, life or death, you wouldn’t manage it. You couldn’t lift him.

He’s wincing by you ear each time you go up, hissing it through the set of his jaw, but you can’t help that. This is the only way there is.

‘Sorry.’ You stagger as you reach the mid-way landing, pulling him and his heavy steps around the corner. ‘Last bit.’

He nods. His hand is still planted to the wound by his navel, but it hasn’t stopped the blood from spreading. It’s on the stairs behind you, on the second leg of his jeans, on you. It’s on you, smeared up your side somehow, and on the collar of your shirt, left from the hand he’s hanging over it. You don’t look at it. Don’t think about it. Your door is in sight, wide open and ready for you.

‘There.’ You’re breathing heavy like you’d ran, as you put him against the wall in the hallway. ‘Hold on.’

You lock the door behind, thread the chain in the latch, like that extra piece of metal will stop anyone who might’ve followed him. There’s fingerprints of red, everywhere you touch. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Just more paint stains to scrub out, right?

When you turn back, he’s not slumped against the wall still, but is making his way to the kitchen. Rigid, stiff with pain. He looks like he’s limping, but his legs are good, you’re sure they are, it’s the flex of his stomach that he’s trying to avoid, trying to overcompensate for.

‘Moisés, wait.’ You follow after him.

‘Do you have a sewing kit?’

‘What?’

‘Needle, thread.’ He looks over his shoulder. There’s blood on his chin, streaking down his neck. Everything he touches is marked with it.

You don’t make him ask again, disappearing into the second room you use as an office. There’s one in the drawers there, a gift from your grandma that you’ve used once and never again. You know what comes next, you can work it out, he’s going to want to use it. On himself, he’s going to stitch himself shut. Drip blood on the tiles while he threads it through his skin.

‘Here.’ You try to pass it to him now you’re back, but he just nods, and continues to manoeuvre himself around the kitchen. You put it on the side, offering a hand for support when he lifts himself onto the breakfast stool. ‘What happened?’ you ask, though you already know.

He laughs, breathy and barely amused. ‘What d’you think?’ He peels the hand away. ‘I got shot.’

‘Fuck.’

You feel the heat drain from your face, feel the room spinning slightly. There’s a hole in his stomach, staring back at you, leaking blood that’s almost black.

‘I need you to get it out,’ he pants, looking up through his lashes, ‘the bullet.’

‘What?’

‘It’s,’ he winces, repositioning himself, ‘it’s gotta come out.’

‘No.’ Your head shakes. ‘No, I can’t, I don’t know how.’

He tries to smile, nodding. ‘It’s easy, okay? I’ll talk you through it.’

But you can’t even stand straight. You’re swaying, sweating though you’re cold, goosebumps running up your arms.

‘Wash your hands,’ he says, doing his best to sound like it’s easy. Like he isn’t wasting breath and energy on instructions. ‘You have a lighter? Get a lighter, a knife, put it through the flame—’

‘Fuck, wait.’

He’s still going and you’re only at the hand washing part, scrubbing desperately. No matter how thorough you are, it still won’t work, you still won’t be clean enough to root about in his stomach.

‘Tranquilo,’ he sighs. ‘Tenemos tiempo.’

‘Do we?’ you bark back at him, flicking water as you shut off the tap. ‘You look like you’re fucking dying, Moisés.’

‘I know, I know.’ He’s pushing his hand over the wound again, feet slipping from the bar of the stool as he tries to stay on the seat. ‘If it was going to kill me, it would have.’

You don’t have to be medically trained to know that that’s bullshit. It could have damaged him elsewhere, somewhere deeper than surface level. He could drop dead in a day, or a week, regardless of how well you manage things right now.

‘Okay,’ you mutter, ‘okay, lighter, knife.’

You find them both in the same drawer and bring them back to him, like he needs to supervise the next step. As if he isn’t taking longer, slower blinks, and deeper swallows of air. He doesn’t look at you directly once you’re there, wet thumb slipping from the wheel, again and again, before you finally catch the spark.

‘Like this?’ You put the flame under the blade, waiting.

He nods. ‘Lo est—esteriliza.’ He winces, looking up after you’ve torched the metal to the point of changing colour. ‘Ta bien.’

You toss the lighter onto the counter. Now you’re standing in front of him, hands shaking slightly, with the knife poised in mid-air like you’re about to fence him, not dig a bullet from his stomach. ‘I don’t know how to…’

He lifts his hand again, wet with fresh blood, though you can’t tell how much. The bleeding has slowed slightly, maybe. You hope. He nods, groaning as he pushes his hips forward. He’s trying to flatten himself as much as the stool will allow, pulling his torn shirt away from the site.

The room swings, tilting around you. ‘I can’t do this,’ you whisper. The knife feels hot to the touch, even from the handle, it feels like gripping a scalding poker meant for cattle. ‘I can’t.’

‘You can,’ he counters, you have to, he means. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No, no, I really can’t, Moi.’ You swallow, pushing back against the rising bile. ‘You—you.’

He takes the knife from you clumsily, though his hands are far from clean, and bends to see the wound himself. You didn’t mean for him to do it, did you? You were going to say something else, you were going to—

‘Shit,’ he hisses, slipping in his seat again. The knife is wobbling in his hold, because he’s shaking more than you are. Red fingers unable to grip the thing tight enough to start.

It’s not going to work. He won’t be able to do it himself.

‘Damelo.’ You pluck it from him without waiting for an answer. ‘What do I do?’

His chest heaves, breath staggering out of him. ‘Try and feel for it,’ he says, panting between each word, ‘use the knife to lever it out.’

You don’t have time to doubt your ability anymore. He’s lagging, shaking from the pain now the adrenaline’s wearing off, and you have to do it for him. There’s no-one else he can go to, clearly. He wouldn’t be here if there was, so it’s you, or nothing.

You step between his knees, one hand on his stomach to steady you. You can’t see the bullet, obviously, just black and red, and slick wetness that you really don’t want to touch. There’s no going back now.

You put the tip of the blade into the opening and he growls, clenching his teeth around the noise. His stomach tenses beneath you, his thighs pincer around your hips—it’s all impulse, subconscious reactions that he can’t stop. The body trying to protect itself from the intruder.

‘I think I feel it.’ Hard where everywhere else is soft, it catches against the end of the knife.

‘Fuck.’ He’s huffing air from his nose, steaming like a bull. ‘Get it out.’

‘I’m trying.’

You’re cutting the edges of him, splitting the skin where it wasn’t split before, but eventually, you think you have it. The end beneath the bullet. You press down without warning, because it wouldn’t have helped anyway, and force it out. Right back the way it had come.

It doesn’t clatter to the ground, but instead rolls down his stomach, slow and wonky, to sit in his lap. It’s smaller than you expected. That, caused all this?

He says your name once. You’d been staring at it, knife away from him and in the air again, eyes on the bloodied metal on his jeans. Right, yeah. Close the wound.

The intrusion has caused more bleeding, but there’s so much already that it doesn’t make you pause. You’re the one riding on adrenaline now, reaching for the sewing kit, finding thread, a needle, while he hums in pain beside you. He’s got his lips pressed together, a whimper following each exhale he forces through his nose.

You’re beyond words now, the both of you. He doesn’t need to guide you through it. Can’t, really. And you don’t need to lie to him that it’ll only be a little longer, only be a little pinch. It’s just time to get it over with. Sew the skin together as best you can, hope the damage isn’t enough to kill him. Toes over the edge, and jump.

*

He had slept for a bit, afterwards, and you sat at the end of the bed watching him. You’d stitched the wound as best you could, but it won’t hold. It won’t do him any good in the long run.

He hadn’t wanted to wash himself once you’d finished, like you thought he should. So you’d helped him into the bedroom and cleaned what you could from his skin with a facecloth. It didn’t get it all, and he wouldn’t let you wipe too close to the site, but his hands are clean at least. His face isn’t streaked with blood anymore.

You put him in the biggest t-shirt you own, bought to be oversized anyway, and he looks like a child in it. Besides where the sleeves stretch tight over his arms, it drowns him. He slept not long after. Propped against your pillows, with the sheet up to his waist. It’d been a relief; he looked peaceful. You didn’t mind missing out on your own sleep just to watch him.

Now, though, he’s coming to. You know, because his brows are pinching slightly, twitching together as the pain returns to him. He takes a bigger breath than he should, chest lifting, stitches straining, then hisses and opens his eye.

He looks afraid for a second, shoulders tensing. Then it drops, and he sees you, and he blows a breath too forced to be real, genuine relief.

You smile limply. It’s three o’clock, the birds aren’t up yet. The room is dim still, lit with the in-between blue of night and sunrise. ‘Morning, Moi.’

The apple in his throat bobs as he swallows. Then his hand goes up, pointing, and you’re on you feet before he even has to ask. You pass him the glass from the bedside, which he takes with both hands, drinking like he’s been denied it for weeks.

‘Thank-you,’ he says afterwards, handing it back to you.

You nod and leave it on the edge of the cabinet, so that he might be able to get it himself next time. ‘Thought you might not wake up,’ you admit, returning to your post on the end of the bed. Just a hand’s distance from his covered feet. ‘So, thank-you, for not doing that. Don’t think I could explain a dead man in my bed.’

He smiles, just with his lips, because it doesn’t reach his eyes yet. ‘I wouldn’t have come,’ he says, leaving you to fill in the rest as he takes another shallow breath.

He wouldn’t have come, he means, if he thought he would die. But what would he have done instead? Crawled off into the bush like animals do, found somewhere quiet to die on his own?

You might not know him as you thought you did, but you care for him still, of course you do. You don’t want to think of him going like that, alone and in pain. The time you've spent together hasn’t been a complete waste—it can’t be, you won’t let it be. There’s something about him, about you. Something you shared over pastries in the mornings by the beach.

‘I feel like I’m sitting with a stranger,’ you admit, putting it to him quietly, like any louder and it’ll hurt him, press into the swelling beside his navel. ‘I don’t understand.’

You thought you had more to the say, but that covers it all. You don’t understand. You don’t understand why he was attacked, why he had a gun, why he kept half of his life hidden from you.

‘You have a lot of questions,’ he says, voice low and thick with sleep. Or hoarse from grunting in pain.

You nod, shy to meet his gaze.

‘Ask them.’ He shrugs, a minuscule gesture, more led by his expression than anything else. ‘I don’t want anymore secrets.’

He’s tired, you can tell, not only from the day before, the injuries, but from the combination of it all. From the weight on his back, the cost of folding mystery over his life. He wants out. Wants the truth between you, no matter the consequence.

‘If you want me to leave, after you…’ He swallows, jaw clenching as he nods, like he’s trying to convince himself of it, before putting forth the idea. ‘I’ll go. You won’t see me again.’

The knee jerk reaction is to tell him that you don’t want that, that you would’t send him away in this state—or any, really—just because of who he is. What he does. But you know that’s a self-laid trap, waiting to be stepped in. He could say anything. He could be anyone.

‘Okay,’ you reply, accepting his deal. ‘Let’s start at the beginning.’

[taeyongdoyoung]

wicked game

summary: you try to seduce the unpopular virgin to win a bet with your stepbrother. your stepbrother wants to sleep with you and you want his car. but the virgin guy has more to offer... pairing: loser virgin!haechan x popular girl!reader genre: angst, romance, smut, high school setting warnings: the bet trope my beloved, manipulative stepbrother!jeno, ex-boyfriend!mark, innapropriate groping in school, one non-consensual cheek kiss, past man-eater y/n, lowkey corruption kink, lots of kissing, handjob, blowjob, eating out, attachment issues, protected sex (unbelievable), classmates to lovers, non-consensual photo-taking, breakfast in bed, break-up, no pain no gain author's note: this is loosely based on the movie Cruel Intentions minus the dying part; disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, i don't actually think Jeno is an A-hole, i just needed such a character for the sake of the plot word count: 3.7k

You're bored. Being the most popular, prettiest and richest girl in high school is not enough to satisfy your greed. Boys are literally throwing themselves at you in every corner. It's almost too easy. You want a challenge. Something to make the last year of school a memorable one. Something fun.

So, when your stepbrother Jeno presents you with an idea, you accept it eagerly.

"If you're so bored, why don't I propose a bet?"

"What kind of a bet?" you eye him curiously.

"See that guy Haechan? I heard he's a virgin and saving himself for his one ~true love~. How fucking pathetic is that?"

"So? What is it to me?" you scoff, though you already have a feeling where this is going.

"If you manage to seduce that fucking loser, I'll give you my Jaguar."

"Oh, that's very tempting," you smirk. "And if I don't?"

"Then, you'll sleep with me," Jeno whispers in your ear.

"Ew, as if. You're my brother," you make a gagging motion.

"Stepbrother," Jeno points out.

"Still, it's gross," you shake your head.

"Are you scared you'll lose?" Jeno sticks his tongue out.

"I haven't agreed to the bet yet," you answer.

But Jeno knows you too well. You are already thinking of ways to ruin that poor boy Haechan.

You approach him that same day, sitting on the empty seat on his desk. Asking him to do homework together...

"Why would I want to spend time with you?" Haechan spits out.

Ouch. Little one is too feisty for a regular loser. This might be more interesting than you initially thought.

"Why not? If you hang out with me, people will think you're cool," you try to attack where you believe it'll sting.

"So? Popularity isn't everything, you know?" Haechan rolls his eyes. "Besides, people who peak in high school spend the rest of their lives leading a mediocre, non-satisfying existence."

Damn. Pretty harsh. You didn't anticipate this would be so difficult. Oh well, all the more motivation to try harder.

"You admit it, then? That I'm at my peak right now," you smile flirtatiously, running a finger across his face.

"It doesn't matter to me where you think you are," Haechan glares at you, grabbing your finger and removing it from his skin. "As long as you get out of my face."

Gee, so aggressive.

"Did I ever do something to you?"

"No, but you messed with my best friend Mark's head. Leading him to believe you cared for him and then ditching him is so not cool. Now, piss off," Haechan grunts angrily.

You don't even remember half of the names of the guys you slept with. But you do remember Mark. He was really sweet. And if you could feel something at all, it would have been guilt. But back when you were with Mark, your mother had just announced she's getting re-married to Jeno's father. So, you were angry at everyone and everything. And you took it all out on Mark.

"Well, I can't change the past, so don't blame me without knowing the circumstances."

"It doesn't matter anyway. Mark found a girl much better than you who's treating him right."

"What about you? Got someone special taking care of you?" you touch him again, this time more forward and shameless, trying to elicit a reaction out of him. Sneaking your hand underneath the desk and caressing him fondly.

"It's n-none of your b-business," Haechan stammers but he doesn't remove your hand this time. Oh, he's so touch-starved this is going to be a lot of fun. For you.

"I could take care of you, you know? Turn all your wildest dreams into reality."

"I know what you are," Haechan shakes his head.

"A vampire!" you gasp in mock surprise.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Haechan fakes a smile. "You're a man-eater. You fuck around with guys and then you leave them to rot. I want nothing to do with you."

"Really? Then, why haven't you removed my hand yet?" you remind him, though perhaps you shouldn't have.

Haechan grabs your wrist, pushing you away firmly.

"You're wrong, you know," you try to convince him of your sincerity. "I'm just as eager to find someone who loves me. Someone worth staying for."

"And what, you expect me to believe that someone is me?" Haechan stares at you sceptically.

"Let's find out, shall we?" you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he can escape.

And then, you let him be. Enough torture for day one.

You start interacting with Haechan every day. During the first month, you are consumed with thoughts of Jeno's bet. The abominable idea of sleeping with your stepbrother is enough to keep you going. Of course, you know he's not gonna force you into it. But you need the motivation to not lose the bet anyway. The gorgeous car is also pretty seductive.

During the second month, you are consumed with thoughts of Haechan. You begin to realize how lovely, clever and funny he is. And the fact he's even letting you spend time with him is enough to make you happy. You're no longer bored. Because everyday you have something fun to look forward to. You spend time at the school library, doing homework together, occasionally sending memes to each other. You go on little walks and picnics at the park. You even go to the cinema a couple of times, bonding over your shared love for horror movies.

During the third month, the miracle happens. Haechan decides he trusts you enough to invite you over to his place one evening. He even makes the point of notifying you that his parents aren't home. What does he mean by that? Is this an opportunity for you to finally seduce him?

Naturally, you don't get much homework done, before Haechan starts kissing you out of nowhere. You kiss him back eagerly.

"W-what are you doing?" you ask as you notice Haechan has started unbuttoning his jeans.

"I t-thought you wanted this. S-sorry," Haechan looks down, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. He's in a hurry to zip himself again. God, you feel so cruel.

"I d-do," you admit, no longer giving a shit about that stupid bet. "But I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for."

"So, you've heard about what I said at that fucking party?"

"What did you say?" you ask, even though you have an idea of what it involves.

"That I'm saving it for someone special," It being his virginity, you suppose. "Someone who loves me. To be honest, I was really drunk that night. I don't care all that much anymore."

"It's okay to have your principles, Haechan," you try to reassure him and stroke his soft hair gently. "I think it's pretty admirable, actually."

Haechan shakes his head, visibly disagreeing.

"Well, it's fine. I'm ready for this, I promise. Just...don't leave right after, okay?" he pouts.

"Oh, Haechan, of course I won't leave," you reply and surprise yourself in that you really mean it.

Kissing him deeper, you finish what he started and take off his jeans. You touch his cock softly, as if it's the most precious thing in the world. You've done this hundreds of time with guys you didn't give a fuck about and felt nothing, the actions methodical and quick. But this, right now, is more special than your limited vocabulary could ever describe. You realize you genuinely don't want to hurt him. You bow down and envelop your lips around his length. He gets hard easily, considering it's his first time. You suck on him a couple of times and he cums even faster than you anticipated. But for some reason, it's never tasted sweeter.

"S-sorry," Haechan mumbles shyly.

"It's okay, my sweet boy," you coo in his ear, after you're done swallowing his cum. You run your hands through his hair once again. God, it's so silky. You could never get enough of him.

"W-what do I d-do now?" he asks cutely.

"Whatever you want, mon ange," you kiss him once more.

"C-can I eat you out?" Haechan inquires.

Oh, so virgin boy is not so clueless, after all.

"Sure, I guess," you shrug. Not really a huge fan of that, the few times guys have offered, they quickly grow tired of it and could never make you cum as hard as you could by yourself. But it's okay. If Haechan wants to...

"Just...guide me, okay?" he pleads adorably and soon, you find out he needs no guidance at all.

What he lacks in experience, he definitely makes up for with enthusiasm. He seems so eager to please you, licking and biting and kissing your pussy that you cum faster than you have in...well, ever, actually. You grip his hair for support, panting and chanting his name like a prayer.

"Was that alright?" Haechan feigns a self-conscious smile, though judging by your reaction, his smile is already turning into a proud smirk. That bastard.

"Are you kidding? It was...out of this world," you say honestly. Funny thing about honesty is how something that used to be so difficult for you comes so easily to you when you're with Haechan.

"Glad to hear," he grins widely. You want to kiss him every second till the rest of your life. The thought terrifies you.

"I s-should go," you try to get up. You can't do this. You can't be the one to take his virginity. Considering how this all started. It'd be too cruel. He should be with someone special, someone loves him more than anything, someone who'd never hurt him.

"W-what, w-why?" Haechan asks, grabbing your wrist in a panic, not wanting to let go. "I thought you liked me."

"I do like you. I like you so much. That's the problem."

"It doesn't have to be," Haechan disagrees, pushing you back on the bed. "Please, let me."

And here you thought you'd be the one begging him to have sex with you.

"O-okay," you can no longer find it in yourself to deny him. To deny your growing feelings...

Haechan digs through his jeans and pulls out a condom. His hands are shaking and he's having a hard time putting it on so you help him and pull him out of his misery. You give him a soft, reassuring smile, paired with a quick squeeze of his hand. He smiles back just as fondly.

And then he slides inside you so easily. As if he belongs there. As if he's meant to be yours. You kiss him desperately to distract yourself from the truth. To hide the tears that are threatening to come out.

"You f-feel so g-good," Haechan grunts in your ear.

"So do you, baby," you admit sincerely.

This time around, he lasts longer, fucking you until your release comes for the second time. He cums right after, with his hands touching your cheeks, his lips on your neck and his heart on his sleeve.

"Wanna stay inside you forever," he whispers once it's over.

"That wouldn't be very practical," you chuckle. Though you would like nothing more.

But he gets up to get rid of the condom and then comes back, hugging you tightly.

"Can you be my girlfriend?" Haechan blurts out. "I know you probably don't like clingy guys but...considering you've been pursuing me for the past three months, I thought..."

"I'll be your girlfriend," you agree rightaway, not giving a shit about the consequences. "Of course, I will."

He laughs, the sound so precious and filled with joy it breaks your heart.

Maybe he never has to know how it all began. Maybe you could hide it from him forever. Maybe...you could allow yourself to be happy. Just this once.

Soon, Haechan falls asleep, feeling comfortable around you. You know what you have to do, but you feel like shit anyway. You secretly take a picture of his half-naked figure sleeping soundly. You sigh quietly and send the photo to your stepbrother Jeno.

Then, you put your phone down, trying to forget about the whole ordeal. You cuddle up next to Haechan and enjoy his warmth until you fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake up before Haechan and quickly run out to make him some breakfast. You have no idea when his parents will be home but you don't want this to be their first impression of you. So, you leave the breakfast on Haechan's nightstand with a little note.

See you at school, boyfriend! XOXO, Y/N.

Rushing back home, you are satisfied when Jeno gives you the car keys to his Jaguar without protesting. Your stepbrother may be kinda freaky, but at least he's a man of his word. What gives you the creeps is the slight smirk on his face as he hands you the keys. As if he didn't lose the bet. As if he's the winner.

You try not to think about it too much, as you get dressed for school, excited to see Haechan again. You still can't believe he asked you to be his girlfriend. That pretty, sweet boy makes you so unbelievably happy. You look forward to spending more moments in his sunny company.

Haechan wakes up to the smell of warm pancakes, covered with chocolate and strawberries and accompanied by coffee. It immediately brings a smile on his face, which only becomes wider as he sees the little note you left him. He giddily enjoys the breakfast and then rushes to get dressed for school. You're his girlfriend! He's never had a girlfriend and he's so pleased you're being so nice to him. Maybe you really are better than people say and all that past drama was just everyone being jealous of your beauty and popularity...This is going to be the best day of his life.

But when he gets to school, everything changes. He knows that he's considered one of the "losers" in the hierarchy but usually people just ignore him and don't pay attention to him. He's fine with that, really! But today, whenever he walks by, people are snickering and whispering something. It feels so weird and makes him uncomfortable. He can't quite hear what they're saying and this kind of unexpected treatment is killing him.

He goes to his friend Mark to ask him what's up.

"Bro...I don't know how to tell you this," Mark looks away, as if the thing is so bad he can't even say it.

Haechan impatiently begs him to just enlighten him as to why everyone is giving him weird looks all day.

Mark sighs and shows him a secreenshot. There, he sees a photo of himself, half-naked and sleeping soundly. Fuck, that's from last night. And what the messages between you and your stepbrother Jeno reveal...shocks Haechan out of his senses. No...no way it was just a bet. No way you spent three months courting him for a fucking car?! This can't be true. It's gotta be Photoshopped or something.

"Listen, buddy, I warned you that she likes messing with guys and then leaving them."

"No, she...she really seemed to care about me," Haechan is still in denial as his vision becomes blurred with tears.

He runs away, unable to believe what is happening. He needs to speak to you. Hear it from your own lips. To be sure this is real and not just a sick joke.

When he finally finds you, he grabs your wrist as he did just yesterday. But this time, he's not doing to get you to stay. But because he's furious.

"Is it true? Did you really make a bet with Jeno on whether you can fuck me? Did you seriously do all of that over a car?!"

Your facial expressions are enough of an answer. Guilt. Something you never thought you were capable of.

"H-haechan, I swear I can explain," you beg him to hear you out.

"Explain? How can you explain that?" Haechan shakes his head, letting go of your hand. You try to touch him again but he shoves you off furiously.

"It was just a bet at the very beginning. But somewhere along the way, I really started having feelings for you, I promise," you cry passionately. "I don't care about the car, I'll fucking thrash it, I just wanted to get Jeno off my back."

Haechan takes a step back, feeling so betrayed. So...used.

"Whatever you say, I don't think I can believe you anymore. Was it fun, at least? Was this all just a wicked game to you?"

"N-no, it wasn't, I swear it," you are bawling at this point, feeling so pitiful. You don't care if the whole school sees. You only care that Haechan understands. You never meant things to go this far... "I truly care about you, Haechan."

"Yeah?" he scoffs, annoyed. "You only care about yourself."

And with that he leaves. And you lose the one person you truly, genuinely loved.

This is the worst day of your life.

Throughout the rest of the school year you don't dare approach him again. You know you fucked up so badly. You can't even look at that stupid car, let alone consider driving it, so you sell it. Partly because you're angry at Jeno for spreading the screenshot around the whole school. Partly because you no longer want to have anything that will remind you of the biggest mistake you ever made.

With the money you get for the car and some of your own savings, you secretly sponsor Haechan, Mark and their other friends' singing club. You don't even want Haechan to find out. It just...feels right. They could use the extra help.

As the final year of school nears its end, you begin to imagine a future where you never get to see Haechan again. At least, during the past couple of months you had the privilege of looking at him from a distance. But the idea of a world with no Haechan is like a world with no sun.

So, you decide you have to do something as soon as possible. He doesn't have to forgive you or accept you as a girlfriend again. You just want to be in his life in some form.

As you approach the school's radio booth, you feel all the bad things of your past coming back to bite you in the ass. Maybe you deserve to be forever alone. But you need to give it a try. It's your last chance.

"Hi, Mark," you greet your ex-boyfriend.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he sighs, not at all happy to see you.

"Before I get to that, let me just say how sorry I am for the way I treated you in the past. I'm really happy you're finally with someone who appreciates you for how totally awesome you are."

"That's...unexpectedly nice of you to say," Mark eyes you suspiciously. "We were never right for each other anyway. So, what do you want?"

"I want to apologize to Haechan. Through a message broadcasted to the whole school..."

"Gee, and you couldn't do it the old-fashioned way, face to face?" Mark jokes.

"Haechan doesn't wanna see me," you say, fully convinced.

"How would you know without trying?" Mark asks. Has...Haechan told him something? No, you couldn't allow yourself to hope.

"I just know, okay? Please, let me do this. We're graduating in one week, this might be my last chance to talk to Haechan."

Mark nods, agreeing.

"Five minutes," he takes off his headphones and vacates the seat in the radio booth for you.

"Thank you! I mean it," you have never been more grateful for anything.

Mark shrugs as if it's not a big deal and leaves you to it.

"I want to dedicate this so someone I hurt," you speak into the microphone. "Someone who didn't deserve it. Someone very dear to me. Someone I still care deeply about. Haechan, I'm so incredibly sorry, please, give me another chance."

And you start singing.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

Your voice is off-key a couple of times and halfway through the song you start crying inconsolably, all the guilt and pain consuming you. The whole school is probably laughing at you but you can no longer bring yourself to care. The only thing that matters is that Haechan hears this.

When you finish the song, you leave the radio booth and are surprised to find Haechan right outside the door, willing to talk to you.

"H-haechan," you stammer and barely resist the urge to give him a hug. You don't want him to feel pressured or anything.

"I'll give you a second chance on one condition. I want Jeno's Jaguar," Haechan jokes.

"Too bad, I already sold it and donated the money to your music club so you guys can get new instruments and stuff."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Haechan exclaims. He doesn't sound angry, though, just...shocked.

"Sorry, sorry, I know it wasn't my place. But it was so unfair the football team and the cheerleading team get so much money but no one cares about the arts."

"Okay, okay, I guess this is better than that ugly car," Haechan chuckles. The car is not ugly. Not even a little bit. But you appreciate Haechan all the more for saying that.

"Can you really forgive me?" you ask desperately, eyes still watery.

"I can forgive you but I'll probably never forget," Haechan admits with a sigh. "If you break my trust again..."

"I won't, I swear!" you vow seriously. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and treating you the way you deserve. You're the best person I've ever met, Haechan. If you'll have me, I want to be around you forever."

"Forever is a long time" Haechan muses out loud. "Considering we're going to college...I don't even know where you're applying."

"I'll go wherever you go," you say hurriedly.

"You can't give up on your dreams just for me, though."

"I'm not. You're my dream, Haechan. You're my sun and I want to be in your orbit. If you'll allow me, that is," you can't take it any longer and hold his hand softly, asking, begging for that second chance not to slip away.

"I'll allow it," Haechan smiles sweetly. "Let's run towards our dreams together, from now on."

"I won't let you down," you promise from the depths of your heart.

And you finally, truly mean it.

The End

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Heaven & Earth

Vanitas x Reader

Fluff/Comfort

Flash Fiction

A/N: I had an idea and ran with it. No editing here. Just pure brainrot.

---

Contrary to what the muses, musicians and playwrights of the new world would have you believe.

Love is a choice.

It's not chemicals. It is not magic or some godsent miracle.

Love is a choice. Every step of the way.

Loving Vanitas is not an easy task. Aside from avoiding human authorities so that you are not staked in the middle of town, it's a close second. Because there are times you will look upon his face and your heart may die slowly, just as he does.

But at the end of the day, you choose.

You chose to leave your family behind, along with your home. You chose to set roots in this pecular city of blue skies and blooming flowers. So that he would never go a day without knowing companionship.

Of course, nowadays, Noé is by his side and they work wonderfully together. You smile fondly at their bickering on the off day you return from work and they're hanging around the café. There's Dominique, Jeanne, and Luca as well. All welcome friendships that you'd have never expected along this path.

And you are grateful. Endlessly grateful that Vanitas will never be alone in grief again. He is supported. He is loved.

But there are still those off days. The low days. When you return from a long day of work, your feet aching and your body begging for the sweet embrace of your soft bed. You retire to bed alone, dosing away without a second thought. That is until sharp tapping takes you from your dreams and you find him at your window.

You stumble out of bed and unlatch the window, with a huge yawn, you open your arms to embrace him.

He's tired. Beaten up, but fortunately not drenched in blood. You can only imagine how badly Noé must look. But all you can manage your attention on is your beloved. This brilliant, broken man.

"Good evening, doctor." You give him a warm smile as always, "How was your appointment today?" He grunts as you help him slip off his jacket. There's tears in the fabric. A problem for tomorrow.

You can see how tense he is. He can barely hold it together for much longer. You simply hum and carefully slip his gloves off, can't have those pricking your already sore back.

You gently cup his face, getting a closer look at the plum colored bruise on his cheek. Your thumb brushes over, feeling grit his teeth, before avoiding it altogether. Then you pull him to you and your incredibly welcoming bed. It was already warmed by you and waiting for the two of you to return.

He can't help but follow your drowsy smile and gentle hands. The weight he kept on his shoulders fell away and the pain in his body, he embraced. Just as you welcomed him.

"Come."

You situate yourselves in your blankets. He slips his arms around you and pulls you into a warm embrace. Just as well, you forgot to close the window behind him.

With another yawn, you snuggle closer.

"Tell me everything."

[tikus-library]

"Twisted Fates"

Original Fiction - Chapter 2

Previous

Characters: The Void x The Red Knight

Posted: July 20th

WARNINGS: violence?

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

Continue Reading on Ao3

They called him The Void for various reasons. 

His powers for one. The ability to open black holes had never been easy to control, it was the one he concentrated on the most, never ending, never resting. He had lost plenty to the damned curse, he didn't need to lose his life to it.

Soft whisps of darkness inked from him, like so much smoke drifting, concentrated he could open various sizes. When he had first begun he had quickly learned to be able to use them to walk through walls, then he found he could throw literally anything into them and shut it away. He could not recall finding anything once he had done that.

They were useful when needing to get rid of problems, he also found if he set an item in it and shut it on said item he could literally cut it in half. This included any material, various metals, concrete– even flesh and bones.

The Void. He showed no emotion. Expression always one of boredom. With eyes that gave no color except of the inky darkness that came with death. No kindness behind them. None knew where he came from either. 

He tilted his head to the side, leaned forwards and reached out, long sure gloved fingers slipping over a dark bruise, green and yellow accentuated the spot and he frowned. The Red Knight lay stretched out before him utterly defenseless. 

The Red Knight. 

He huffed as he took in the damage. Black tactical pants were intact save for a long cut along the right thigh, tight black undershirt had seen better days. The black leather jacket with red accents he usually wore was of no use, beyond repair. 

Olivander had it tossed, along with the tattered gloves and mask. He watched as his medic and his team came in and set to work, cleaning the Knight up; stitching and bandaging cuts, binding the man's ribs. "He'll need to be careful, surprised he didn't puncture a lung…"

"Mm" he cocked his head, looking over the arsenal that had been set to the side. He toyed with the metal hilt of the sword, it had taken him seconds to figure the weapon out, and truly he loved it, delighted in it. If one had the ability to bring the blade to life it came out, he had been surprised to find the black blade pleasing to look upon and wondered why he had never seen it before during his fights with the man. Was it new? The one the Knight usually toted around was white, perhaps he had added to his weaponry? 

Black eyes slid back to the face of his enemy. Enemy. 

It seemed like forever since their paths had crossed. It had been the Red Knight that had given him his first wound since he had started, the cocky grin that had slid on his face when he had fallen back in surprise had infuriated the Void. He had attacked without thinking, no one cut him, no one touched him.

And yet it had been this idiot with the boastful laughter that had him– enjoying the rigorous activity of a well fought battle.

It had been one he would seek out again. One he sought to face another day.

He turned his gaze back to the sword in hand. No need to look at the bruised jawline of the knight, no need to watch the medic apply a bandage to the large cut across his forehead. 

The medic looked at his teammate who gave him a questioning look. "We are done sir."

He nodded, watching as they cleaned up and stepped out quietly. Gaze slipping back to the body on his bed. 

What to do now?

*

Groggy. His entire body ached.

He had done it now. 

Rook gave a little grunt as he lifted a heavy arm, his body refusing to work with him as he dropped a hand to his face and immediately regretted it. He couldn't remember getting back home, but the bed under him gave way as pain rippled through him chased closely by nausea, he sat up, reaching out blindly before catching the edge of the trash bin and dragging it close, getting sick.

His ribs hurt, one or two must be broken– the memory of steel tipped boots contacting and the sound of his rib cracking as his entire body was lifted with the violent action made his head swim. There had been so many hands and feet, elbows and a metal pipe he was sure. How the fuck had he come out of that alive? A gloved hand fell on his exposed neck, a cool cloth following, Rook let out a small sigh of relief at the coolness against his overheated skin.

He jerked, again, instant regret. Still, he launched himself to his feet, something his body vehemently argued against. 

There was a chuckle as he swayed dangerously. "What did I tell you little Knight? Hmm? You've underestimated your injuries-" he chided and reached out, pausing when the man shoved him. "You're weak," he growled. 

Rook grimaced when hands shoved him back, the motion sent him onto his back into soft bedding and he scrambled back as The Void leaned over him. "Whatever you're up to–" his voice cracked, rope- he remembered rope wrapped around his throat– being dragged as he tried to catch a gasp of breath, the harsh material cutting into his skin as he choked- helpless.

The sound of a solid click made him stop, bringing him out of quick flashes of memory, the ache in his ribs made him drag in deep breaths. Black eyes stared down at him, one dark thick eyebrow raising and he realized too late what the sound was. "VOID–!" he bit out as the man pulled back, leaving him suddenly cold. Still, he pulled at the cuffs, planting his foot against the wall beside the bed to give himself more leverage. 

"Can you behave?" 

"I don't know what game you're playing-" he bit out, flinching at the sudden burst of pain in his throat, again his voice was more rasp than grit. He flinched at the prick in his shoulder focusing on the pinch, somewhat surprised to see a needle there. His body refused to work for him in seconds, giving in to the drug almost immediately, "V–" he gasped, as if it was truly a surprise that his enemy would do such a thing. Void had killed people right in front of him without a blink.

Strong gloved hands gathered him up, "I would rather not sedate you, but perhaps for a few days… seeing as you are hell bent on damaging yourself," he sighed.

Rook growled, it was short lived as his head detached and the world slipped away, even as he was tucked in under soft covers.

*

He wasn't sure how long he had been sedated, but when he woke he was alone, and there was food on the table beside him. He was no longer cuffed to the bed, but the restraints were left there, perhaps as a reminder. His ribs were bound and his eye was healing, the swelling had gone down, the throbbing had stopped or rather it had become bearable.

He was careful when he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and ignored the food and drink in favor of trying the door. It was unlocked! He swung it open and paused as a large henchman turned to face him, easily double his size. Rook took inventory of his injuries as the man stepped towards him and slammed the door shut. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuckfuckkk," he leaned against the door, reaching back to lock it, his head was still foggy. 

V had apparently kidnapped him. But there was no one to pay the ransom, not for him. Shit. 

"Haven't even touched the soup? I worked very hard on that for you." Rook jumped as V stepped into the room via the wall, dark inky smoke trailing behind him before the black hole disappeared. "Don't bother looking for a weapon, we've taken those from you for the time being, you'll get them back later."

"Later?! What are you playing at Void?! What is this?" He demanded, holding an arm carefully around his ribs, taking a careful step back, knowing the door stopped him. 

Black eyes blinked at him innocently, "you were apprehended in the most crude of ways, I simply leveled the playing field," he answered, shrugging nonchalantly. 

What was he supposed to make of that? This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "You're joking" he said, he saw the shift immediately, but couldn't react in time. 

A hand wrapped around his throat and he was slammed against the hard unyielding door with enough force that it knocked the wind out of him, he scrambled to wrap his hands around his foes forearm, tried to shove him off, he couldn't breathe, he bared his teeth, it was all he could do.

"Do not make a mockery of my hospitality," Void bit out, ignoring the way Knight shoved at him. "You are beyond weak at this point, all it takes is a well placed punch–"

If he couldn't breathe before, Void's fist in his gut made sure there was nothing left in his lungs. He dropped like a sack of potatoes when his enemy finally stepped away, letting him go.  

The man infuriated him. And look at what he had done now. He turned on his heel and stepped out, leaving the hero curled in on himself on the cold floor.

[aajjks]

The Conqueror (IX)

Synopsis: He had conquered everything, anything but your heart.

Pairings: Yandere!King Jungkook x Commoner!servant Reader (FT SANA from Twice and Cha Eunwoo From ASTRO.)

Disclaimer: proceed with caution, this can be triggering. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl. Do not romanticise this.

Warnings: EXTREME THEMES, GORE DESCRIPTION, MU*DER WARNING, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, BLOOD, lots of it, crying, YANDERE BEHAVIOUR, obsession, craziness.

note. OH MY GOD… I don’t even know what to say… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🔪🔪🔪 just don’t kill me.. also I hope this stays in the tags because istg I will cry if it doesn’t 😭😭

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @starsggukk @sprinkleoftee @koremis @minshookie29 @cravingforhotchocolate @kookxin @99liners @sana-b @bangtannoonalvg @oonaaurora @jeonsweetpea @sugaslittlekookies @outro-kook @kthyg @lunaashes @debicaptain-saturn @laurynne5 @captainsjoongs @myblackconfessions @lanalanexpjm @namjooncrabs @shadowmoon21 @kookunot @natalie-rdr @angelicasdre @iwasfuckinginnocentonce @mermaidtea @foulnightharmony @ungodlyjoon @quechulitaaa @telepathytae @silversparkles11 @j3alous-ang3l @bunzom @1-in-abillion @breadgeniedope @jiminie-08 @artgukk @lovesthetword @bunijmin @pinkcherrybombs @afangirllikeme-blog @twilight-love-nochu-main @wedarkacademia @hollxe1 @bighitfics @darkuni63 @golden-thv @investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @koocreampie (I can’t tag anymore people, it’s full 😭😭)

The gatekeeper’s body was screaming at him to run away and never look back, beads of sweat ran across his face, his eyes were wide, unshed tears filling them, his breath was hitched in his throat as the cold silver of the pointy sharp sword made contact with his sweaty skin, his mind was panicking, and his heart was thumping like never before.

Death stood right in front of his eyes. It was cold in the dungeons, scarily so. The darkness only made his heart shudder with fear. It was suffocating.

The king had his sword on the neck of his servant, no one could save him, Jungkook was seeing red, his jaw clenched while glaring at the trembling man right before him. “M-My king pl-please h-h-have merc-cy!” The guard stuttered, his voice came out weak and absolutely horrified.

Jungkook ignored his desperate plea as he pushed the sword into the gatekeeper’s neck further.

A loud whimper left the man’s mouth. He looked around him to see his own future, there laid another body of his fellow, his dead eyes staring right at him, blood splattered across the marble floor as the head of his friend sat right across his dead corpse, in the poodle of its own blood. “Look at him carefully, wonwoo because this is going to be you soon. All of you will be ruined if I can’t find her!” Jungkook gritted his teeth in anger, “I will ruin everything!” He punched the man, repeatedly, his frustration was only building up.

The man cried as his attention diverted back to the king. Jungkook gritted his teeth, his crazy eyes glared at his guard, his mind was going insane, It was hard for jungkook to stop himself from killing the other one, all he was seeing was blood.

You had left him and they weren’t even present? “Do you realise what has happened?!?” Jungkook pulled his sword back from the man’s neck and kicked him hard, causing for him to fall on the ground., “she is gone!” Jungkook screamed at him as he continued to kick him in the guts, a few grunts and cries of pain left the injured man, but jungkook didn’t stop. “TELL ME! Why weren’t you present at my door! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU!!?” Jungkook had gone insane. His hits were brutal, the man cried until he passed out from the pain.

Jungkook finally seemed to stop, inhaling a deep breath as he spat at the limp body. “If I can’t find her, all of you will be dead.” Jungkook began to chuckle, the sound of it was scary, mad. His feet were dancing in the poodle of blood, until he heard another set of footsteps.

Jungkook crossed his arms across his back, not bothering to turn back to look.

“Y-Your majesty!” The man stuttered, Jungkook immediately sensed the urgency in his voice.

“What is it? Did you find her?” Jungkook growled. He didn’t sound normal. “…yes, your majesty.”

Jungkook turned his head around, his heart hammered inside his rib cage, he looked frantically at the messenger. “W-What?!?”

This time, jungkook stuttered, disbelief and relief took over him, he wanted to jump around! He couldn’t believe his ears.

“R-Really?!?” The messenger nodded, weakly, jungkook sensed his tense body language. “Where is she!?? Tell me NOW!” He grabbed the man by his collars, his teeth munching on his tongue.

He was already growing impatient. “SPEAK NOW UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO RIP YOUR HEART OUT OF YOUR CHEST!”

His fist clenched, jungkook almost felt desperate now, where were you?

“I-In the Red Wing! My imp-imperial majesty!”

How could you leave him? You were not safe out there all alone. “There is something e-else I need to let you know, my King.” The man stuttered again, Jungkook turned around in curiosity. “Go ahead!” He commanded.

“T-There has been a murder in the palace, Your majesty!”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock.

It was eerily quiet and awfully dark outside of the wing, you couldn’t see a soul wandering out, your eyes kept searching to find someone,

Someone that could help you.

You clicked your tongue in frustration, unable to spot anyone, then your eyes dropped to your clothing.

“Fuck! Anyone will be able to find me because of this red silk…” time was ticking and it was not safe for you to be out here. You were anxious and desperate. And you needed to get out of these clothes as soon as possible.

If only you saw a woman… you could switch with her.

You made your way towards the bushes, the almost black sky scared you, but you still couldn’t risk someone from the king’s wing to see you, they must be already looking for you?

Or maybe not. You hoped not…. You couldn't help but wonder where Jungkook went? Did he go to fuck someone? You scoffed at the thought.

To hell with him, why do I care! You shook your head, you didn’t care right?

You shouldn’t, you shook your head again. But a part inside you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You closed your eyes, your heart felt sick all of a sudden.

Y/N…. No.. you don’t care.

Please God… help me! Your legs were aching from running so much. Thankfully, you were near the red wing, the wing where the women of the palace resided…

You quickly hid behind the bush in the yard. The leaves made rattling noises as you settled behind it, your hair made it difficult for you to see.

“Who’s there?” You heard an unfamiliar female voice, the voice was clear and loud.

Someone was near you.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Someone had seen you… you looked to see a familiar face.

It was one the consort. You gasped, it was a really familiar face.

Jungkook ran as fast as he could, his heart dropped to his chest, panic clouded his mind, he did not have a good feeling about this…

No no no… his mind couldn’t help but think of the worst thing.

No… Jungkook doesn’t know what he’ll do if what he’s thinking turns out to be true. The guards behind him were unable to meet their kings pace. Jungkook ran like his life depended on it to the red wing.

He almost knocked the door out with the speed he opened it with. “WHERE IS SHE?!?” His voice boomed, He screamed at the people gathered around. His firm steps made people bow down to him, as he stepped inside the courtroom, the atmosphere turned tense, “My k-king…” the old lady stepped up, walking toward her king with limping steps. “Mrs lee! WHERE IS MY Y/N! Where is she? Why are these girls gathered around the corner?!?” Jungkook didn’t wait for the old woman to reply as his heart was already sinking.

The women quickly made room for the king as he joined the group.

And he was sure that heart exploded in his chest as his gaze fell upon the disfigured bloody body, in those freakishly familiar clothes.

“Y-Y/N!!!!” Jungkook screamed at the top of his lungs. Tears gathered in his eyes, his heart stopped as he fell to the ground, his body shook.

His mind shut down at the woman’s next words.

“She was found dead.. your majesty.”

[queenshelby]

Cheat Pass (Part Two of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,777

Warning: Pure Filth and Smut, Anal

Guys, this is my filthiest piece yet…just so that you are warned.

Notes: There will not be any romantic involvement here. This series is going to be pure smut on its face value. It is also not based on Cillian’s actual marriage. It’s pure fiction.

Over the past few weeks, you had become Cillian’s beck in call and you certainly didn’t mind.

You had always fantasised about him and were almost a little star struck when you began to work as his assistant on the set of Peaky Blinders.

You were engaged and he was married, yet you both were free to sleep with each other casually. There were no feelings involved. It was nothing but pleasure and sexual desire.

When it came to sex, Cillian was quite different to your fiancé and you certainly didn’t mind giving into his primal needs and desires. Whilst he was kind and quiet in real life, he was rather dominant and kinky in the bedroom and there were some things he craved that his wife was not willing to give him. But perhaps, you would.

***

You had been talking the previous evening about different sexual experiences, what you had and hadn't tried and what you had always been curious about. The subject of anal came up. Immediately you baulked and started dismissing it as something you would never do again.

‘Tried that once, never again. It fucking hurts’ you explained.

‘Did he know what he was doing? Because it shouldn’t hurt for very long’ Cillian asked in response.

‘I guess so, he just went in as he normally would’ you said with a shudder.

‘Then he had absolutely no idea what he was doing’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Do you do it…uhm…with your wife?’ you then asked.

‘No…she won’t even try’ Cillian laughed.

‘So, you want…uhm…you know’ you asked, shyly and nervously.

‘I want to fuck your ass Y/N, yes’ he said as he looked deep into your eyes. There was seriousness to his gaze along with a stark honesty.

‘Give me another glass of wine and I may let you’ you said reluctantly. You didn’t really want to try it but you found it difficult to deny him. There was something about him which always made you give in to everything he wanted.

‘Trust me, you will like it…maybe not initially, but you will after a few minutes or so. Apparently, some women even find the pain quite pleasurable’ he said to you very softly and very calmly.

You loved it when he took that tone with you. Dominant, yet reassuring and safe all at once. It was the same voice he used when he was taking charge of you in the bedroom. Dulcet in delivery, with a silky velvet husk, underpinned by a forcefulness that stirred a carnal need in you. He had the ability to seduce you instantly with just a single word. You felt a tingle between your legs and your chest flushed as you adjusted your position. The familiar sensation of secretion escaped you between your thighs.

Caressing your hip in reassurance, you never once broke eye contact. You felt wetness between your legs that had become almost an expectation whenever you were alone together.

***

As expected, it wasn’t long until you found yourself completely naked on the bed with Cillian, ready to give him what he wanted so desperately. He put his hands on your waist and kissed you almost forcefully. He loved the feeling of how unsure you were at times, how innocent and reserved.

You could not fight Cillian’s agile tongue and moaned softly as Cillian began to move his hands freely over your body. He once again explored your smooth curves and dips while you whimpered softly. He finally found your pussy with his fingers and rubbed in circles, collecting some of your wetness, before moving his fingers in between the crack of your ass cheeks.

‘Oh fuck, Cillian…’ you squealed and jumped up.

‘Don't fight it, just relax’ Cillian said before he kissed you again and used his tongue to elicit sweet moans from you as he gently pushed one of his fingers into your tight hole while rubbing his palm against your wetness.  

To your surprise, it felt good in a way and you couldn't fight the feelings brought on by his skilled fingers. He pushed maybe a third of his finger inside, causing you to draw in a deep breath which is when Cillian told you to relax once again. But, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t.

‘I will make you relax then’ Cillian winked before, slowly, but surely, Cillian kissed his way down your body.

Once he reached his destination, he leaned in and opened your legs. The lips of your pussy were swollen and glistened in the low light and Cillian could see your clit at the top of your pussy and licked at it.

‘Oh god, yes fuck’ you moaned. As usual, it did feel amazing, even if you were terrified about what he wanted to do to you.

Without you noticing, Cillian sneaked one of his fingers back in between your ass cheeks while he continued to lick you, running his tongue through your slit and sucking on your clit.

Little shocks ran through your body and, just as you relaxed, Cillian pushed his finger half way into your tight hole while his tongue never left your pussy.

‘Ah! My God don’t…oh god’ you moaned and wiggled and squirmed as Cillian licked and sucked your juicy pussy and played with your tight asshole.

‘You can take it Y/N…hold still and it won’t hurt so much’ Cillian instructed. The sensation was fire and ice all at once. What was this man doing to your body? You loved it and were frightened at the same time.

‘That’s it Love’ Cillian said reassuringly as you finally relaxed again and he continued his assault and your clit and, before you knew it, his entire finger was thrusting in and out of your ass.

The feeling nearly made you come and you arched your back as you neared orgasm.

‘Cum for me, Y/N. Cum while I finger your tight little asshole’ Cillian groaned and, whilst you were shocked by the filthy words coming out of his mouth, they immediately sent you over the edge.

At that, your tight hole clamped down on his fingers, and you howled, your body contracting as you came, your breaths juddering out of you as your pussy thudded like a second heartbeat.

‘That's it’ Cillian whispered, sounding proud, and awed. ‘You're such a good girl, so fucking sexy’ he dragged his lips across your pussy as it twitched and drooled, and his tongue flicked out to taste your cum.

You twitched but couldn't muster the strength for much more than that. No one had ever made you cum that hard and you were beginning to worry that you might be as depraved as Cillian thought you were and had told you many times.

‘Do you remember what's next?’ Cillian then asked with a dark anticipation in his voice. He pulled his fingers from you with a slight pop, smearing your sucking asshole with the remnants of lube before pulling you up and kissing you gently.

You nodded, then whimpered, and fisted your hands again, as he took his hands off you.

‘Get on all fours’ he instructed and you nodded again and leaned over the pillow he had placed in the middle of the bed. The anticipation grew and nervousness set back in.

You felt exposed, waiting for him to take what he needed. Then, mere minutes later, he positioned himself behind you and you felt something cold pressing against you, probing lightly into you, and you felt the strain as your asshole struggled to widen against his cockhead. He sawed the tip of his cock back and forth, pausing occasionally to add more lube to your already oozing asshole.

‘You need to relax and stay still’ Cillian instructed which came out in a low grunt and, as he said this, he thrust a little deeper into you, and you felt your ring stretch hotly around his invading cock.

‘Nnnnngh’ you whimpered, pulling away as much as you could. In a flash, his hands were around your waist, pulling your back down on to him. He held still for a moment, the tip of his cock twitching inside you.

‘Just relax, Y/N. I promise I'll make you love it’ Cillian said. His voice was low, and reassuring, and you couldn't help the shiver that travelled up your spine.

He thrusted experimentally, and another quarter inch of his cock slid into you, clenched tightly by your sphincter. He reached a hand down to your pussy, and, whisper light, began to stroke your clit. You humped into his fingers, whimpering as he slid further into you, stretching you wider, until, finally, your asshole closed around his head, and you breathed a shuddering sigh of relief.

‘That’s it Love…your ass feels so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as he stroked your back, and smoothed a hand over your ass cheeks, swatting one gently, and chuckling as you flinched. He pulsed against you, and you could feel him sinking deeper and deeper, the pain flaring and burning hotter as he fed his cock into you, inch by blistering inch.

‘Please, take it out, it hurts, it's too big, please, please’ you said and, just as you did, Cillian’s hand dropped down to your clit again, soothing, stroking, strumming, and he pulled his cock almost all the way out, leaving the tip inside.

‘You can take it Y/N, just relax’ he said again and you sighed with relief as he stilled only for it to gust out as he pushed back into you.

You bit the blanket, muffling your shriek, and still he flicked your clit, confusing your body and sending your synapses into a dizzying spiral.

‘Fuck…that’s it, take my cock in your ass Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he set up a rhythm, thrusting shallowly into your aching ass, timing the thrusts to a gentle slap of your clit, and you huffed in a breath, body twitching away from his invading cock. He gathered your closer, and you felt his body press against you.

‘Good girl’ he ground out, nipping your shoulder as he finally felt you relax around him, accepting his intrusion.

‘I'm about to shove the rest of my cock into your ass and I'm going to fuck you, nice and hard until you scream my name. And then, if you beg nicely, I may cum in your sore little ass’ Cillian groaned as he pushed into you, his cock heavy and dragging as you writhed in pain and pleasure at the same time, wincing at the intrusion. He moved smoothly, pushing his entire cock into you and you could feel each throb of his cock inside you, your asshole moulded around the shape of him.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned, biting into the sheets as pleasure was slowly overtaking the pain and you relaxed again.

‘Good girl’ he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. ‘So fucking hot. So tight’ he groaned.

He pulled out slightly, and thudded back into you, sending sensations tearing through your body as you shuddered. He thrust shallowly, over and over, your asshole scraping against the sides of his cock.

Without warning, he pulled his cock out, lubed it again, then crammed it back in, splitting you obscenely as you cursed and spat. He did this a few more times, speeding up as he went, then began to fuck your ass in earnest, long, hard strokes as you howled into the bedsheets. His fingers curled into your hips as he grunted in time to his thrusts.

‘Fuck, I've wanted…’ he panted, ‘to do this from the second I met you. So, fucking innocent. So naughty’ Cillian groaned, causing you to moan out loudly.

‘Oh god, Cillian, fuck, don’t fucking stop’ you moaned and found yourself twitching back to meet him, the coiling pain intertwining with a strange, heady pleasure. He growled his approval, and held still, letting you slide your ass back and forth on his cock.

‘That’s it Y/N…fuck…push back against my cock’ Cillian groaned as you were swirling your hips around, swallowing his cock with your ass as he groaned and shook at the sensations. The tension built and coiled inside you as he pulled in and out, the burning pain becoming deliciously intermingled with your pleasure as you twitched and jerked and gasped. He stilled completely, and, when you twitched your ass back towards him, he held your still.

‘Beg for it. Beg for me to fuck your ass’ Cillian groaned and you whimpered, hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets, toes curled, eyes squeezed shut as you attempted to catch your breath.

‘Come on, Y/N’ he whispered. ‘Give in to me. Beg for me. I want to hear your sweet voice begging me to fill your ass with cum’ Cillian groaned.

You whined, before complying with his request.

‘Please’ you muttered, pushing your face into the pillow.

‘What was that?’ Cillian asked and you could picture his lascivious smile and growled unintelligibly.

‘Please’ you gritted out, pussy clamping against nothing.

‘Please, what?’ Cillian asked again.

‘Please…will you fuck my ass...please’ you finally begged.

‘I think you can do better’ Cillian said, his deep voice vibrated through you, shattering your bones as you waited with clenched teeth.

Then, suddenly, Cillian pulled completely out of you, pressing kisses to your shoulder.

‘Please Cillian, fuck my tight, little ass, I want your cock in my ass, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, please cum in my little asshole, fill me up and make me yours, please’ you begged.

Your words caught in your throat as his freshly lubed cock ground into you, all seven inches slamming in, widening your asshole and your eyes as you thrashed frantically, desperate for his cock to soothe the deep aching throb that had taken over your whole body.

‘You beg so fucking nicely’ Cillian grunted, his hips slapping against you.

His voice was dark and possessive, and his hands grabbed your waist forcefully as he snapped forward into you. Your pussy spasmed, and you shrieked into the bed as he slammed his cock deeper, grinding inside of you, groaning.

‘Fuck Y/N, fuck’ Cillian eventually groaned loudly and you felt his cock swell, and throb, and then, there was liquid heat filling you, and you lost control.

You threw your head back and forth, growling and howling and whining, animalistic and hungry, and your body convulsed as you came around him, your asshole milking his cock as he filled you with jet after jet of his hot cum. You felt it splash against your insides, and your breath came in shuddering staccatos as you writhed under him, coming apart around his cock.

His jerking subsided, and he stilled, stroking you as you panted and twitched. He pulled his cock gently from you, ignoring your whine of protest, and kissed your shoulders again.

In this moment, you were ready to collapse forward but Cillian held onto your hips.

‘No, stay there…let me watch my cum flow out of you’ he instructed and you couldn’t believe how filthy minded this man was. Who would have ever thought?

Before you knew it, Cillian pushed your cheeks apart with his hands and stretched your tight hole again, watching his cum ooze out of you.

‘Fuck Y/N, that’s so sexy, just watching you like this makes me fucking hard again’ Cillian observed.

‘Get away from my ass Murphy’ you chuckled, not ready to take him into your rear end again any time soon.

He grinned as your limbs finally dropped to the bed, and he was standing over you, staring. His gaze was possessive, dark, and caring, his eyes roving over every inch of you.

‘I told you that you would like it’ Cillian then smirked as he sat by you and caressed your face as you came down from your high, blinking at the occasional streaks of pain that would shoot through you. You sat silently like that for a while, until you felt his cum start to dribble from your asshole, and your face twisted.

‘Next time will be easier’ Cillian winked before getting up and getting dressed.

‘So, we are doing this again, are we?’ you asked with wide eyes.

‘I hope so…despite, you need a little more training. No doubt, your fiancé will thank me for it’ Cillian then winked.

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[midday0nightmares]

28 - prove it.

Previous chapter pry on the weak (m).

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

Panicked footsteps echos over  the empty hallway walls, moving closer to you.

“sera..” 

It’s jaemin, his voice is unmistakable.

He crouches down in front of you, you don’t at him, “you ok? What happened?” His voices comes out shaky, maybe it’s guilt. 

Your vision blurs with angry tears, his question infuriating you.

you snap when his hands touch you.. “where the hell were you?” the loaded words cut through your throat, he flinch back when you look at him..

His jacket in his hand, the once neat white button down is now torn open missing a button or two, half of it hanging outside of his trousers. His slicked back hair is now a mess, lipstick stains on the side of his neck, he reeks with a feminine perfume mixed with alcohol.. he stutters unable to speak, adding to your rage.

You stand to your feet, refusing his help, your arms warping around yourself “just open the door..” you mutter insults under your breath while wiping your tears strained checks, he press in the code and let you walk in first keeping his head down..

Once your both inside and the door is closed he calls you, 

“Sera wait” he grab your arm, his hold on you is anything but firm.

“No! You left me.. you were with some other girl while I was ..” the word died in your chest leaving a bitter taste in the back of your throat, a new wave of anger washing over it.

you look down at yourself.. you cry harder, you felt sorry for yourself. he steps closer to you and dares to attempt to hug you, you push him as hard as you can, “you son of a bitch..” You throw one your shoes at him and miss due to your unclear vision..

“ooh my god you’er being crazy now!” He tries to duck down when you throw the other pair at him and you mange to hit him in the stomach, he grunts in pain.

 You launch at him, punching, slapping, scratching whatever you hands can reach of him “was she worth it? Was she better?”,

“stop!” His loud voice would have scared you before, but not anymore. he mange to restrain your hands and shake you but you still keep going if not with your hands then with your mouth, you shout every curse word you know.. 

His eyebrow knot at your meltdown ”stop!’ he shakes you “Who did this? Who was it?” his hands squeezing hard around your wrists almost snapping them, you wince in pain “you’er hurting me! Asshole” you try to kick his leg to free your arms bur he stays unaffected, “tell me who was it?” growls, his face is turning red, veins bulging around his neck.

“oh so now you care? Fuck you!” you retort back. still feeling betrayed, you lean closer into with all the hurt and the anger you seethe “Go back to her” .. 

Sudden silence falls upon you, you tow stand in each other’s face in the a the dark living room that was only lighted by the dimmed city lights, too stubborn to backdown the tension rises as angry pantings coming out of both of you while the muffled music of the soaring party plays in the background.

His hold on your arms loosens as they fall to your sides. a wise person would move away but you don’t, you still stare into his eyes with all the hatred and disgust you feel for him right now, he doesn’t look away as well, his hot breathes fan over your face.. 

He steps even closer, his lips almost grazing yours, his hands come to sit on his hips in a challenging stance, obviously ticked off, he shifts his weight to one foot before he speaks, “stop being a crazy jealous whore and tell me who did it?”.

a cynical smile tugs on your lips, “ a crazy jealous whore?” You repeat after him, arms crossing in front of you, not showing any signs of backing down. 

You would have missed the way his eyes squinted if you weren’t that close to him, his eyes scan your face before he speaks again “Unless you wanted it.. “ you were not expecting him to step this low, the accusationary tone catching you off guard.

You can’t tell if he was being serious or he’s saying it to despise you.. non the less, it still cuts deep, deeper than any physical harm you are suffering from, thus rendering you speechless.

He continue, “Walking around like a slut in that skimpy outfit, what were expecting huh?” his voice rising with each word, his confidence was being fulled by your hurt that was showing your face. 

He take one last jab at you, “you probably enjoyed it too” he scuffs and turns around, you stand frozen in your place.

As soon as you regained your ability to breath you fire back with a broken voice, “is that all you got? Quite the a man you are.. a crowd” your heart shatters and you can’t help the pathetic sob from erupting out of you, it seems to have an effect on him as he stops in his place couple of steps away from you. 

“ I loved you but you’er not worth it” you don’t mean it but you force it out of you, as loud and clear as you can,” go back to your sluts that’s where you belong”.

He turns to look at you, a shiver runs down your spine,

“you loved me?” The sarcasm is evident in his voice, although he’s calmer now he’s scaring you.

He comes closer to you, you wipe your tears to clear your vision and sniffle, embracing yourself for what’s about to come, his arm reach to your face, you tried to move away but he was faster, his hand clawing your jaw, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your checks, yanking you closer to him, “you loved me?” He repeats your words to himself. 

your hands desperately wrap around his arm trying ease his hold on your face. “lair” he whispers, the subtle hurt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, your heart beats so loud to the point where he could hear it too.

“you are all talk baby” he exhales out a deep breath he was holding.

you swallow the tight knot in your throat and mange a small “no..”, fresh hot tears filling your eyes as you drown in his sad brown orbs.. “I do.. I love you”.

“Prove it” he challenges you.. prove it? How would you prove love to someone? Someone who’s far beyond broken?

You hesitate to speak, baffled by his request, he sense it and in disappointment he withdraw his hand, ignoring your attempts to hold his hand, he looks away. you panic feeling like he was slipping out of your grip. 

“Jaemin .. please”, 

but he turns away shaking his head “get yourself clean up sera, i’ll be back” he walks out the door slamming it shut ending the intense shouting match, somehow you felt at loss, he walked out the door taking a piece of your hat with him.

Dreadful fear sets in, the world starts to crumble around you.

When he comes back less than a hour later, he calls for you but no response. He walks towards his room looking for you but a whimper catches his attention, he gasp when he sees you on the kitchen floor with a knife in your hand, he runs to you taking the sharp object out of your hand, you don’t fight him, since you were done with it.

He shudders when he sees the blood leaking out the self inflicted wounds, his names carved on your left thigh.

“What have you done?” He shout at you but this time it has no anger behind it, the knife drops to the floor as he jumps and brings the kitchen towels roll, he starts ripping them and pressing them your wound to stop the blood loss.

“why did you do it?” He asks again, his voice’s breaking, you keep your head down your body swaying back in forth in silent grief.

He asked you to prove it..

He checks your wounds, he sigh wit relief and thank the gods when he sees them superficial. 

You didn’t notice before but he’s crying, he wipes his nose with his sleeve and pulls you to his chest, he wraps his arms around you tightly holding you like he was trying to glue you back together.

 “don’t ever do that to yourself ever again” 

 “I’m sorry” you pat his back trying to reassure him.

He pulls you away just enough to look at you, he cradles your head in his hands, “no no baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it. I was being a jerk to you Im sorry, forgive me” his thumbs wiping your tears away, he kisses your face multiple times while whispering love confessions to you, “I love you, I love you”.

He brings you back into the safety of his chest, you lean your head onto his shoulder nuzzling his neck, finding solace in his arms.

“whoever did this to you will pay, I promise you” 

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

[taetaespeaches]

“If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to home alone you.”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.4K

a/n: Ya know, sometimes I start these drabbles and I have no idea where I’m going with them and then all of a sudden they end and nothing happened except a little bit of banter and a little bit of cuteness, and that’s exactly what this is. I hope you all enjoy, lovelies, and thanks for reading! :)) 

Your squeals were muffled against Jungkook’s chest, any sounds that did slip past being stifled by the blanket he held over your head. The room was overflowing with his gleeful cackles as he enclosed his arms around your body, keeping you from moving much despite your thrashing around.

Desperately trying to escape him, you mustered up the strength to dig your fingers into the sides of his abdomen, the man’s defenses instantly falling as he squirmed on the sofa, his mischievous laughter turning into boyish giggles in a split second. Finally, you dug yourself out of the blanket, inhaling deeply as if you were breaking through the surface of a swimming pool.

Holding back your laughter but failing miserably as you looked up at him, Jungkook’s hands settled on your lower back as he directed his giggles to you, your hair full of static, a playful glare on your face.

“Oh, hi, baby,” he greeted cheerfully, you scoffing at his tone. “Where have you been?”

“Fuck you,” you chuckled, lightly slapping his chest, the man releasing an exaggerated grunt in feigned pain. “We’re still going out, you brat,” you informed him, Jungkook’s bambi eyes instantly widening pleadingly.

“Ok, but do we really have to?” He asked, you rolling your eyes.

“Yes, we have to,” you told him, sitting up as Jungkook watched you straddle his hips. Glaring down at him, he sighed. “You said we’d go out,” you reminded him. “We haven’t been on a date in a couple weeks, lemme take you out, baby,” you mimicked his words from the day before.

Breathing out slowly, he groaned slightly. “I’m so tired,” he complained. Cocking your head at him, you took in his lethargic appearance, realizing he really did look exhausted. Work had been busy with end of the year promotions and award shows and you knew he was running on empty at this point. You were just about to tell him you could stay in tonight before he opened his damn mouth again. “However, I could by un-tired if you wanna stay in and-” he gave you a smirk with a quirk of his eyebrow, the flirty expression making you scoff.

“If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to home alone you,” you told him in a monotone, the man’s smirk spreading into a pretty grin as he giggled lightly.

“Home alone me?” He questioned in amusement. “Like the movie?”

“Yeah,” you said as if it was obvious.

“Wait, does that mean you’re gonna break into this place and try to rob me?” He asked teasingly, making you hold back a laugh as you stared down at him with a glare. “Because this is your apartment,” he continued.

Your smile broke through a highly amused giggle slipping from between your lips as you shook your head at him. “I meant I’ll leave you at home and go have fun without you,” you told him through the chuckles you failed to conceal. “And you knew that.”

A bunny grin stretched across his lips as he reveled in his own antics. “Wouldn’t that be a reward though? I wouldn’t have to go out,” he explained to you, you huffing in response. “I think you need to rethink this, Holl,” he added, the shortening of your nickname making you grin fondly. It was a recent change to the name that you were quite enjoying.

“You and I both know if I walked out that door without you, you’d be following me not even five seconds later,” you pointed out, the man scoffing playfully.

“Not true,” he negated, averting his gaze from yours to hide his knowing smile.

“You’re obsessed with me, Kookie,” you patted his cheek, “it’s ok,” you nodded in assurance. The man pushed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he failed to hold back a smile, his hand grabbing yours, his fingers curling over your own.

“You’ve gotten cocky,” he told you, you giggling as you watched him bring your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ve always been cocky,” you pointed out, Jungkook smirking at the comment.

“Sexy,” he teased. Returning his compliment with a wink, he giggled.

Leaning your side against the back of the sofa, you stared down at Jungkook as he yawned, the man’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening them again, his gaze instantly meeting yours. He really was so tired; you couldn’t possibly make him follow through on his well-intentioned plans.  

“Why are you pouting?” He asked suddenly, your eyes widening in surprise. Moving your hand that was held by his, you brought it to your mouth, checking your lips with the back of his hand. “I didn’t even realize,” you noted, Jungkook smiling as you continued to pat your pout with his hand.

“Cute,” he giggled. Exaggeratedly, you kissed the back of his hand, Jungkook beaming at you as you did so.

“You know, you’re a lot like Kevin now that I think about it,” you noted, Jungkook’s eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

“Kevin?”

“Home Alone, Guk, keep up,” you teased, an ah of realization leaving Jungkook’s lips. “You’re both kind of brats,” you continued your comparison.

“Brats? What?” He asked in offense.

“Are you disagreeing with him being a brat?” You questioned. “Because I know you’re not claiming you are not a brat,” you grinned, Jungkook chuckling at the comment.

“How is Kevin a brat?” He asked, ignoring your playful insult. “He’s defending himself from robbers.”

“He’s a brat to his family,” you argued. “Also, why does he know so many booby-traps? It’s weird.”

Giggling at your sudden complaints against the fictional character of a 90s movie, Jungkook shook his head fondly at you. A moment of silence passed over you both, you sitting atop him as he stared up at you. Moving his arm for him so it rested against your thigh, you began tracing your free hand over his tattoos, the man’s eyelids growing heavy as he enjoyed your soothing touch.

Jungkook was undeniably endearing, and sleepy Jungkook was just all the more adorable. “Pretty,” you whispered as you traced over the ink, Jungkook’s eyes fighting to stay open as he watched you concentrate on the lines.

Suddenly, he breathed out as if he was hyping himself up. “Ok, date time,” he spoke, his free hand gently slapping the side of your thigh. “Let’s go,” he added though neither of you made a move to get up.

Giggling at him, you moved your hand out of his grasp as you stood up, the man preparing to follow. “No,” you pushed against his shoulder, Jungkook easily falling back against the couch cushions. “Just hang on a second, don’t move.”

His curious gaze trailed you as you exited the room for a moment, the man sitting up on his elbows as he awaited your return. When you appeared with an open laptop in your hands, he cocked his head at you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, you grinning at him without answering. Setting the laptop on the coffee table in front of you, you tapped the space bar before crawling back onto your boyfriend. He made light groans as you nestled yourself on top of his body though his arms easily slid around your waist as you nuzzled your face against his neck, Jungkook’s full attention on you as the title sequence of a film played on the screen. His gaze only lifted to the laptop when he suddenly recognized the music, an adorable small gasp leaving his lips.

“Home Alone?” He asked in surprise, you humming as you pressed your lips to neck.

“I’m going to prove to you that Kevin is indeed a brat, and that you are indeed Kevin,” you teased. Jungkook’s chuckle rumbled against his chest, the vibrations on your own body filling you with warmth and comfort.

He didn’t respond, but rather pressed his lips against the top of your head, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your waist. Jungkook knew you well enough to know you were allowing him time to rest at home without making him feel guilty for bailing on yours plans, just like you knew him well enough to know he would have taken you out that night even if he was sleepwalking down the street.

You also knew he would be asleep ten minutes into the film, but that was ok. Curled up with Jungkook was always going to be the superior date night anyway. Nothing else was needed, because, well, he was simply the best.

[nevermore-the-kitsune]

Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

[goldenraeofsun]

PO Box 8921

“What is that?” Dean demands as Sam dumps a duffel bag full of mail out on the war table.

Cas looks up from his tome on Babylonian chaos magic or Shang dynasty dragon taming or whatever he’s moved onto now. All Dean knows is that the book smells like rotting flowers and mouse shit, so he banished Cas to the other end of the war table.

“Fan mail,” Sam says.

Cas sets down his book and walks closer.

Dean throws Sam a baffled look. “Why the hell are we getting fan mail?”

“It’s more like we’re getting Chuck’s fan mail,” Sam says sheepishly.

“Explain. Now.”

Cas picks up a letter curiously.

Sam sighs. “The last time Charlie was here, we hacked Flying Wiccan Press - Chuck’s old publisher - and we redirected his mail and royalty checks to a local PO box. I figured if anyone deserves money off those books, it’s us.”

“I thought his books tanked,” Dean says flatly.

Sam scowls. “It had a resurgence after the angels came into the picture,” he says with a sidelong look at Cas, who’s apparently absorbed in reading a note from Vancouver, British Columbia.

“Seriously?”

Sam shrugs. “They’re very compelling, apparently. I’ve been checking it every very few months, but two days ago I got a call saying they were running out of space.”

“Why?” Dean picks up a large flat envelope and rips it open. “What the…?” he murmurs. He slides out a matte illustration of the Impala driving down a nameless highway, golden swaying wheat fields bracketing both sides of the road, a fading sunset illuminating the horizon. His mouth falls open.

Sam takes a seat and pulls Dean’s laptop towards him.

“I was doing research,” Dean says quickly as Sam flips it open.

Sam takes one look at the screen, grimacing, before he clicks the mouse forcefully. “Really, Dean?” he gripes. “Cas was right there.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, smirking. “Exactly. I needed to know if he thought-”

“No,” Sam says, horrified. “I do not want to know.”

“You asked about the research.”

Sam’s does a full-body recoil. “That was not what I meant and you know it.”

Dean chuckles. He sets aside the beautiful painting of his baby (that one’s going in the Dean Cave for sure) and picks up the next package of similar size and weight. He eagerly tears off the top and pulls out the contents. It takes him a second, but the trenchcoat slipping off the figure’s shoulders is a dead giveaway.

“Hey!” Dean says, spinning it around to show to Cas. “I think it’s supposed to be you.”

Cas looks up from another letter - this one from Wellington, OH - and tilts his head. “My wings aren’t rainbow colored. They’re actually a color not perceptible by human eyes - maybe by some genetically mutant shrimp -”

Dean laughs. “You don’t have an eight pack either. It’s all artistic license, baby.”

“Aha!” Sam says, spinning the computer around, the porn tabs banished to the void of Dean’s browser history. “The fans reached a milestone last week.”

“What mile-” Dean cuts himself off as another illustration slips out behind the one of Cas. It flutters to the table.

“Is that of us?” Cas asks curiously, reaching for it. He holds it up.

“No way,” Dean says vehemently as he shuffles around to stare at it over Cas’s shoulder.

“Probably,” Sam pipes up.

Dean glares over at him. “How do you know that, Samantha?”

“That milestone?” Sam says, his face an odd mix of smug and constipated. “There are a hundred thousand fan fiction stories, as of last Monday.”

Dean blinks. “Fan fiction?”

“Yeah, a lot of it.” Sam sets aside the laptop and reaches for a nearby letter in a robin’s egg blue envelope.

Dean takes a large step away from the pile of half-opened mail like it just started emitting Sam’s toxic post-Chipotle farts.

“Are we - are they - is it more Sam slash Dean?” Dean asks in a faint voice.

Sam smirks. “Not this time. Like I said,” he says as he scans his letter, “the readers really liked the angels.”

Dean makes a choked noise in the back of his throat. Do all these letters wax poetic about Cas? That’s a lot of people that have thought about his angel naked. And that doesn’t sit right with Dean. “Why?” he demands.

Sam throws him a sharp look. “Why not? Cas is our best friend. He’s a good dude.”

Dean glances to Cas for reassurance, who shrugs as if to say he doesn’t understand it any more than he does.

“So they, like, have a thing for angels?” Dean asks haltingly. “An angel kink?”

Cas scowls.

“Not all angels, just Cas,” Sam confirms. “Plus love interest.”

Dean shifts his weight to his other foot. “Right… you and Cas?” Dean ventures as Cas sighs loudly next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes and pushes a letter towards Dean. “No, not me and Cas, jerk.”

Dean picks it up tentatively. He really can’t handle reading about a fictional version of himself banging Cas, but before he can flip the letter open, Cas nudges him with his elbow. “Sam’s right. This one is obviously of us,” he says, tilting the drawing so Dean can get a full view.

It takes a moment for Dean to get what he’s seeing. Everyone in the illustration is fully clothed, first of all. It shows a darkened, windowless room. An outsized television illuminates the three figures watching an episode of Scooby Doo. One of the men is sprawled out on a recliner, Sam’s long, hippie hair a dead giveaway. Another man is asleep in the second recliner, covered in a draped trenchcoat - Cas? No, there's a third guy standing above the second, his elbows braced on the back of the recliner, his fingers tangled in Dean’s hair as Dean sleeps on.

“This is very sweet,” Cas rumbles.

Dean picks up the letter Sam handed him, his face flaming. “Unrealistic,” he grunts.

“Really,” Sam says flatly as he reaches for the illustration. He whistles as he takes it in. “Nice light composition. And what are you talking about? We watched Scooby Doo like three days ago in the Dean Cave.”

“I’d never fall asleep in front of the TV,” Dean says scornfully. “That’s a disgrace to Scoob.”

Cas makes a noise that Dean hopes is a cough, but judging by Sam’s smirk was probably more of a snort.

Dean flips open the letter, and, to his surprise, it doesn’t start with contrived porn dialogue.

Dear Mr. Edlund,

I’ve been a follower of your work for many years, and I have admired and rooted for Team Free Will, especially for Dean and Castiel’s relationship. Despite all the pain, despite destiny itself working against them, they found each other and created something that resonated with thousands of people. They truly have a profound bond that transcends every barrier imaginable, and it gives me hope.

Dumbfounded, Dean reads on, shutting out Sam and Cas completely.

He swallows thickly as he sets the letter down.

“Dean?” Cas asks, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Sam drops his joking expression. “You good?”

Dean nods.

“No matter how your story started out,” Sam says slowly, “you won. And it seems like you did a lot of good along the way.” He gestures to the pile. “More than just saving people from monsters.”

Cas lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezes. “Apparently I am a gay icon now,” he says, his face completely serious.

Dean cracks up. Wiping at his eyes, he grabs another letter at random. “We’d better get going on the rest of these. The faster we read ’em, the faster Sam can reply.”

Sam’s face falls. “Wait, no-”

[bubblyani]

The Letter

(Melvin Purvis x Reader)

A Melvin Purvis One Shot

Fandom: Public Enemies (2009) Michael Mann

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.6k+

Summary: The day when the FBI plans to catch John Dillinger, you finally write a letter full of undisclosed affections to Melvin Purvis, the love of your life. 


Author’s Note: Please note, this is all based on the fictionalized version of the character played by Christian Bale. It was a challenging concept but very happy with the outcome. Maybe I’m just “Bumping Gums*” but, hope y’all enjoy!!

“What are you thinking about?”

That familiar, male voice inquired. Cool yet affectionate; lingering in the darkness long enough for a female voice to hum before responding:

“Me? just things…” she began, her voice comprised of a much greater familiarity above all others, “Things I wanna say to you. I…” a chuckle arose, “It’s silly but…” she inhaled deep, “I just want to, write them down…for you”  

“What?…like in a letter?”

“Uh huh!”

“Why? I’m right here” Her giggles seasoned his genuine curiousity,“It’s not the same. I…” she inevitably paused, “I’m just shy” as softness smeared over her tone. “Oh…” he decided to follow suite, “…somehow I don’t believe that” with his words exiting in the form of purrs, the two pairs of lips finally met. The kiss, it was chaste. Yet the sound remained crisp. And the shared chuckles that soon followed, were crispier. Audibly vivid at its finest.

Sheer pity, for it merely was a memory. Such a pity, for it vanished the very second your eyes dared to open.

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

(1934)

A heavy sigh left your lips in disappointment. Arms folded, your right index finger wandered over your silk robe, in detail. It had no other option, especially when your lips could not indulge his own, when your eyes could not indulge the only loving gaze that truly mattered. Thus, there you were, running your fingers over the silk of harsh reality. Nothing to imagine, nothing to relive.

All the while you stood, staring at the door ahead. The door from where he just left.

It was a lazy afternoon, and anxiousness had found its way deep into your bloodstream. Woken nerves, uneasy stomach, the pounding heart with great speed and clarity. Harsh reality had turned to the worse, grabbing you by the shoulders, only to force you to stare deep at it.

Face the facts, it uttered. But which part of you wanted to do so?

Though being the sole occupant in the room, your pounding heartbeat did not fail to drown your very own hearing. This feeling, you despised it, to the core. If only it would stop.

Until it finally did. But only when you spun back around in a split second. For you decided to take action on it instead.

Planting yourself firm on the wooden desk, hands were occupied in the hurried dance as drawers were pulled, and stashes of paper were grabbed and dropped out before you. But once the hands found their way to a beautiful pen inside, all actions reduced pace. Holding it with care, your eyes grew warm by the mere sight. For the pen, it was a symbol of things a many, and one in particular. The one which cost you a heavy sigh, before opening the cap and let the pen make take its course on the paper. And just like that, you finally wrote down two words. Two out of the many your heart ached to speak into existence:

Dear Mel…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The sigh that followed soon after, was relieving. It was liberating. In truth, even a smile seemed possible. Hence, your intentions were clear.

“Dear Mel…” leaning forward, you read it out with warmth. For you were prepared to permit the ink to reunite with the paper once again, and linger on a little longer:

Looks like I finally found a reason to sit down and write this letter to you. Honestly, I feel like laughing, cause I never thought I’d end up doing this. 


Chuckling to oneself, you proceeded to write:

But I know if I don’t do this now, I would regret it. Cause now I finally know you deserve to read every last bit of my thoughts and feelings. All that I have hidden for too long. Before it’s too late.

Seeing you walk out that door wasn’t anything new. But when you did it this afternoon, it felt different. My heart, it felt something. It was heavy! That’s the word. Was I worried? afraid? I don’t know. All I know was that, it was too much. Enough for me to remember your effect on me.

Those words may have been generalized, yet you were astounded by the comfort you sensed when writing them. Inhaling deep, you kept on:

You were not a man I expected to ever meet in my life, Melvin Purvis. Never for one second. Out of all the folks here in Chicago, why would we ever meet? Whatever reason it was, I am very thankful. I am very thankful I opened my door to the hallway that night.

And I am thankful for Mr. Lloyd, and for that man in the navy blue coat.

Your words, they brimmed with sincerity. Looking up from the paper, you couldn’t help but stare into the wall. It was simply inevitable. Especially when every bit of detail began to flow into your consciousness, only to unfold the memory of that fateful night in your mind.

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

Chick Webb’s “Blues in my Heart*” playing in the radio, certainly did not fail to mirror your heart to perfection. For the melancholia was mutual. And the dim lights illuminating the apartment in the late evening, seemed to have sealed the emotion shut.

Memorable was your deep sigh, along with warm cup of tea that rested on your hands:

“I figured he, of all people would vouch for me, but instead he just…hung up” You remembered uttering, tone enriched with sadness whilst imitating a telephone being disconnected.

“Well…” a gruff voice began, “…if I were your Old man, I would never pull that nonsense”

You looked up, to set your eyes over at your neighbor Wilmer Lloyd, sitting across from you in his pajamas. A spritely gentleman in his late seventies, Lloyd was the friend, who in time became the father figure you wished you had.

Amused by his temper filled response, You chuckled with disbelief:

“Mr. Lloyd, your daughter had to move to another city, cause you didn’t like the fella she wanted to marry” you replied, “No need for the unnecessary kindness” adding with a smile, you proceeded to take a sip of the hot beverage.

“What kindness? she is no good kid like you. She married a goon*! ” Lloyd responded in defense, leaning forward with conviction, “While your Pops is just mad cause you’re trying to be a Secretary”

“I bet you a Lincoln* that my folks rather have me marry a goon, than have me find my own way of living”  you said, gulping down the rest of the tea.

“Don’t jinx it, kid” the old man grunted, his index finger pointed right at you, “I don’t wanna hate you too”

You laughed out loud. Truthfully, you were relieved to have finally did. The room felt too depressing for too long.

“Alright, kid. I’m beat” the old man sighed, pushing himself up to stand with a grunt. “Goodnight, Mr.Lloyd” You stood alongside him. The two parted ways, with you making your way over to the kitchen, and your neighbor making his way out. As if it was so habitual. For a daily chat with old Wilmer Lloyd, was indeed habitual.

Your first proper encounter with Lloyd was a special one. It was only a few months ago that you moved into Chicago. Stressful work shifts and lack of friends led to an eventual emotional breakdown one fine evening. A seemingly noticeable one, which caused the usually moody Lloyd to peep through his door, only to find you bawling your eyes out in the hallway. The sight of you kneeling before your apartment door in tears, was more than enough for his cold heart to melt, and to voice his concern. All while he helped you gather the groceries that had fallen out of your brown paper bag.

“We all gotta start somewhere, kid”

That phrase of comfort, was the invisible handkerchief that wiped your tears that day. And as you rinsed the tea cup, that phrase managed to return to your consciousness, being an invisible hand to pat you on the shoulder. Closing the tap, you sighed with relief. For you were once again thankful for the good in humanity.

Until the sound of a gunshot attacked your ears.

Clinging on to the sink with a jump, you felt your heart beat out loud, and there was no stopping. Before any was comprehended, a loud groan soon followed, originating from the Hallway. Your eyes widened. Could it be?

“Mr.Lloyd…” you breathed, as your legs finally made you dash towards the door to open. You gasped out loud, the moment you found Wilmer Lloyd sprawled on the floor, shot.

“Oh my god!…” you whispered, kneeling beside him.

But Lloyd lost your attention for a slight second, for you caught the sight of a man disappearing into the right-side stairwell. The sight was quick and blurry, yet it was evident he was armed. And one particular color was prominent as he left.

The groan repeated, forcing you to focus on Lloyd once again. Which was most important.

“A-are you alright?” A meek inquiry was all that you could do.

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, KID?” The old man answered in pain, shifting. Slight relief washed over you, when you noticed he was only shot in the arm. Perhaps it was your heartbeat, or a new set of pounding footsteps nearby. Either way, the sounds grew louder from the left.

“Freeze! Chicago Police-” A voice, a male voice cried out, only to pause, causing you to look over, only to freeze.

Lowering his pistol, a well dressed man stood, surrounded by two others. All in suits and fedoras, and all seemingly alarmed by the sight of you and Lloyd.

“Is he alright, Ma’am?” The first man inquired. “I’m fine. Jesus!” Lloyd responded with annoyance. The man nodded with acknowledgement. Although there was slight embarrassment in the his face, you were simply too distracted by the cool nature of his voice.

“I know this is the wrong time but…” the man uttered, “…but did you see-”

“The shooter? ” you began all the sudden, “…in a navy blue coat? He went that way” pointing towards the right, you added. The muscles of the man’s tensed face relieved.

“Thank you, ma’am…” he breathed, before making a dash, “Boys! Take this man to the hospital” his commanding voice trailed behind him, indicating Lloyd. All before he himself disappeared into the stairwell.

And to your luck, the two able bodied youngsters knelt over the old man to do the needful. “The bullet is still inside. He’s gonna be alright, ma’am”

“Thank god! You heard him, Mr.Lloyd” you said, “Let’s go”

“Eh…” Lloyd muttered, holding the wound whilst being carried, “Not that I’m overjoyed about getting shot, but I gotta say I’m more than happy to know I’m not gonna die tonight” he grunted. To which you finally smiled behind him:

“Not in a million years…”

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

The sound of loud sirens shattered your trail of reminiscence. Sirens, you gasped. For they suddenly brought you worry. Was he in trouble already?

Parting from the pen and paper, your hands pushed you to rise and scurry towards the window. Except you merely saw a youngster getting his ear pulled by an angry policeman, for fiddling with the police car siren.

You clutched your chest, sighing with relief to see. The fact that daylight yet reigned supreme was also sufficient evidence for you to rationalize your new-found relief. He was safe, wherever he was.

Returning to the desk, you picked up the pen. Glancing at it with affection, you proceeded to write once more:

Because of the accident that night, I found myself meeting a man who fascinated me instantly. So , you could understand how frustrated I was when I couldn’t even thank him.

You smirked upon those words. Not soon before you continued writing:

But then again, who knew I would have the actual luck to see him again two days later? At a place where I least expected. All thanks to a Bad Customer.

Akin to a Moving Picture, or a Talkie*, that very moment began to project into your memory. All the while your index finger managed to twirl a piece of your hair with nostalgia.

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

“Apparently it was just some low level goon. Well, at least that’s what the Police told Mr.Lloyd…when they took his statement. But I don’t buy it, no. Why would those Federal Agents be there if it was?…”

You said, tying up the white, cotton waist apron over your baby blue waitress uniform.  

“Goodness! I really wouldn’t know what I would have done if I were you, Sweetpea” Cathy, your best friend replied while she followed suite.

Once the hair was fixed, the two of you headed to the kitchen, “Everyone! Look who’s changed her shift!” Cathy cried out, urging the other employees at the Diner to focus on you. There were cheers, bringing out the brightest smile in you. It was official.

Living with the Great Depression which has affected all, you were grateful even for the employment at a Diner in the city. A temp job, as you called it yourself. Until that very morning, you were assigned to the later shift and spent several weeks parted from Cathy. Fortunately, upon your boss’ satisfaction, you were finally offered the shift you always wished for: The morning shift.

You graciously used the first hour that morning for familiarization, which mainly included the customers. And that was indeed the part that fascinated you. For the customers were diverse with each shift. And the mornings were mostly welcomed by blue collar workers.

“Cathy! They’re waiting for the pancakes” 
“Oh! Shoot! I’m on it”

Listening to Cathy’s response in the background, you shook your head with amusement. You watched your friend waltz over to the eagerly waiting booth. But only before you made your way to the corner of the Diner counter.

“Can I help you, Sir?” A well rehearsed phrase exited your painted lips with politeness. A young man was the current owner to the corner seat. “A refill” the blonde haired drawled, indicating his empty, white mug on the counter. “Right away” “Thanks, Sweetheart” he replied, whilst the sound of the black coffee being poured, filled your ears. A group of eyes watched you from another corner. It was certain. And sure enough, your stealthy eyes caught the sight of some men sat across the diner. All sniggering. “Ya know…” the Blondie continued as he leaned forward, “my boys over there…” he indicated the suspicious group, “…they don’t believe me but, I think you’re one fine girl, sweeter than sugar” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Oh, really?” You inquired with a polite chuckle. “Cross my heart, I hope to die” He was handsome, yes. But he was the handsome you never wanted. The type of handsome that could also break your heart. Besides, his attempt of seduction was misdirected, “So…um…” leaning closer, he began to whisper, “Care to help me prove the boys wrong? Like with a date? Or even a kiss? ” He inquired, his suggestive eyebrows being quite evident.

Oh, that fool, you thought. If you were at liberty to throw your head back in laughter, you would without any hesitation. Yet, it would not be appropriate.

“Ah! I’m sorry Sir, but I’m working” you replied.

“Aww come on!” He groaned, to which you shook your head and took a step back.

“Sorry Sir-Ah!” Except he grabbed you tight by the wrist. And displeasure was the mask he wore.

“Hey now, is that the way you treat your regulars here?” He inquired, increasing volume. Confused and very violated, your heart rate began to speed up. You sensed a threat.

“Let go, Sir!” You muttered in desperate politeness. Yet he did not.

“Why?” He sniggered, amidst your struggle to break free, “Whatcha gonna do, sugar?”

“I believe the lady asked you to let go”

That voice. A voice you could identify. A voice that forced you and Blondie to turn heads. Your eyes widened. Dressed smart and completed with his Fedora, the FBI agent from two nights ago stood before you both. Authoritative yet graceful, he sighed:   “Pardon me for intruding, but I know a Regular won’t harass a waitress this way” he said in a casual tone, to which Blondie stood up: 
“Yeah?” He snarled, offended, “How would YOU know about being Regulars, smart ass?” “Cause I am one” The Agent answered, before missing Blondie’s surprise punch, only to twist his arm within seconds.

Cries of pain erupted from the young man’s lips, until he was pulled close by the agent. You watched him whisper some words to Blondie’s ear, all before he finally released him. Confidence was nowhere nearby when the blonde man stashed some cash onto the counter, and stumbled towards his group of boys with fear.

You suddenly heard Cathy’s sigh of relief nearby: 
“Oh, Thank god you’re here, Mr.Purvis” She said to the Agent, “You just saved my friend” she motioned towards you.

Finally you had the liberty to observe him. Tall and lean with sharp facial features, he possessed the handsome that comforted you. The handsome that formed potential in you. The handsome that attracted you. Sitting on the now empty seat, he flashed you a cool smile: “Melvin Purvis” he said, “I believe we haven’t had the pleasure…” It seemed he did remember you. You smiled back. “No, we haven’t…” you replied with softness, as you held up the pot, “Coffee?”

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

And who knew the man that fascinated me, would be you?

I am not ashamed to say, I was over the moon to see you again, Mel. Seeing you for only a few seconds in the hallway, clearly wasn’t enough for me. I was greedy. So greedy I was afraid to admit. But the moment I realized that corner seat in the counter was your usual spot, I knew my greed was not in vain. I was greedy, to get to know someone so badly. So, when you saved me from Blondie, you also saved yourself a spot in my heart. I just didn’t know it at that moment.

But I do remember when I finally did.

When one serves a regular customer long enough, certain facts become known. Be it their usual breakfast order, their favorite beverage, or the guilty pleasure one indulges once in a while. But apart from that, conversation comes into play as well.

I don’t think you knew how happy you made me every time we talked, even while you had your Eggs and Toast. Whatever it was, I enjoyed them all. All topics, from about the mouthy janitor, to the famous FBI cases, which were solved or ongoing. But I was also happy when you also had the time for me, to know about my crazy stories about customers in the late shift, or even just about myself. Which surprised me the most.

You finally became aware of the smile you wore throughout writing. Though you managed to relax your facial muscles, the smile remained at default. Thus, you kept on with your words:

Mel, you made me look forward to work everyday. And that was one huge favor. Waitressing was never this girl’s dream. Another job was. And you know what.

“I know…” you remember saying, as you wiped the Diner counter, “Secretary, A Nice Office…Even my own folks think it’s a silly dream for a girl like me-”

“That doesn’t mean its your truth” Mel, your calm, unfazed reply, those words shook me. You were right. You made me feel braver. You made me want to work harder. You made me feel like anything was possible. And that was when, I finally saw that special spot you had in my heart. Oh Mel, it felt like an earthquake in here. I was affected. I couldn’t even sleep that night. Cause that spot of yours made me realize, I had fallen for you. Fallen in love with you.

Placing your left palm over your chest, it did not take you long to relive that magical feeling whilst you wrote:

Suddenly, I couldn’t look you in the eye anymore. And I’m sorry for that. I may have looked busy with customers for some days, but that was me struggling. I was at a war with myself. A constant battle with my eyes to not care for you more, a battle with my lips to not tell you, how much I pined for you.

But as you remember, I finally did.

And the morning when you did, felt to be a landmark of your bravery.

Upon serving his breakfast, you retreated to the kitchen with haste. The fact you did not even acknowledge Melvin’s usual “Thank you” proved strangeness. Generally, when employees were seen standing at the back entrance of the Diner, one would expect them to be occupied with a personal matter, or even have a smoke break. Except, you simply longed for a break from him.

Seeing Purvis was torture. And that morning felt more torturous than ever. Your desire for him multiplied with every single visit.

Rubbing your forearms to fight off the spring chill, You took a deep breath. What was that you feared? Confessing your feelings? Or the mere possibility of being refused?

“What are you doing? Out here in the cold?” You gasped, looking up to find Melvin standing before you.

“I-” you paused, as Melvin took off his long coat, and slung it over your shoulder with no hesitation. A warmth protected you all the sudden. Was it the coat? Or was it him?

“Are you unwell?” He inquired. You shook your head, not taking too long to finally settle your eyes on his. And there it was: the speeding pulse, the torture, the multiplication of desire. Eyes growing wider with concern upon your speechless look, Melvin shot glances at both directions with stealth: “Is anyone bothering y-”

Only to be intruded by your lips pressed against his.

Oh, Mel! What did you do to me?

With a deep shudder, you kept writing: Why did your lips taste like the sweetest pie in all the world? I’m sorry if my ink turns messy here. It’s just that thinking about it, I just hope my heart won’t burst and bleed. Tasting that sweetness, I was ready to risk it all. Ready to accept the worst fear to come true.

You had a fair point. Especially when his lips remained unmoved throughout your kiss. Which forced you to move back quick, and blush with embarrassment: “I-I’m sorry…” you blurted, struggling with one’s movements as you handed over his coat back and turned to leave. 
“No! please…” Melvin breathed, stopping you with his hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry…” he stressed, “I suppose I was just caught by surprise” with a chuckle soon after. “Believe me, it wasn’t planned” you chuckled alongside him, relaxing a little. “Although I was hoping…” he began, “If I could take you to dinner one night…” Your eyes widened, but your heart bloomed.

But life was kind enough to gift me a date instead. A date with the best man I know.

“Yes! You can…” you answered immediately, “And please…no need to call me Ma’am anymore, Mr. Purvis” you smiled. To which he smiled back with a hint of mischief, which seemed surprising for the 30 year old Agent:

“Then, there’s no need to call me Mr. Purvis anymore either”

A date that I had always dreamt about. Not with a boy, but with a real gentleman. It had come true. Were you reading my thoughts this entire time?

Bashful giggles erupted from your lips upon writing. It was a date to remember :The fancy restaurant, the fine dining, the stimulating conversation basked in soft jazz and candlelight. Watching and taking in every fine line that adorned his beautiful, statuesque face brought you pride.

Sitting with you, getting lost in our own world, it was no doubt that I was the luckiest woman in the entire restaurant that night.

“I had a wonderful time, Mel. Thank you” Your words were enveloped with warmth and sincerity.

It was late, and Melvin had brought you back home like the gentleman he was. Opening the car door for you, he surprised you with just a smile, no other reply. Which forced you to raise your eyebrows, evidently confused. Could it be that he did not share the exact sentiments as you? Were you not the woman he hoped for by the end of the night? Insecurity began to bubble up within.

“What?” You inquired with a nervous chuckle, “All night you were yapping away, but now suddenly cat got your tongu-”

He gently pushed you against the car. Just so his gracious hands could cup your face, and just so he could plant his lips on yours.

And I was also the luckiest woman in the neighborhood, when you finally kissed me right back.

Sweetness infused with softness, you needed not permission to be fueled with greed at last. For greed finally permitted you to wrap one’s arms around his neck, only to pull him closer. Those lips of his, they had tempted you from the very first moment. And when they finally voluntarily expressed their affection, you were more than ecstatic.

Mel, your kisses were magic. They made me wish if I had all the power in the world to slow down time.

And I felt the very same, when we finally made love that night.

That night, that mere memory. You would be lying if it did not manage to send chills down your spine.

Invitation for a nightcap was your only shameless excuse. For not a single cell of your being, wanted him to leave your sight. Not when he had lit up a flame of desire in you, a few minutes prior. You silently cursed all the passerby’s who forced you both to pull away from the kisses. The kisses that he started by the car. But what could you do? You were surrendered to the laws of love.

Thus, the mere act of turning on the Crosley* Radio, became an involuntary act of seduction. Rudy Vallee’s “If I had a Girl like You*” filtering out from the speakers, gave life to the entire apartment. And it did ever the same to you, tempting you to sway your body from side to side. But your body felt so much vigor, when Melvin gave up on patience, only to hold you by the waist, spin you around just so his hungry lips could taste yours once again.

Melvin kissed you, and you kissed him. Slow, articulate, these lips were making up for every day they did not touch one another. All those days full of remorse.

Thus, began a dance between the two lovers. Heated, passionate. A dance consisting of choreography that had existed within all of mankind. Did not matter if it was carrying you bridal style to the bed, or placing you on to the bed without a sound much louder than a mattress squeak, either way, Melvin’s presence exuded safety.

Pleasure and excitement were in a fiery alliance when you savored shedding every piece of clothing off his torso. Never once did you think seeing many layers would bring you so much arousal. Especially when his eyes had nowhere else to look but at you during. His eyes, they burned with desire. And you would be unfaithful to your honesty if you denied the loins that burned within you as a result. For it was evident how much you longed for him. How the hunger led you to provide him the attention he truly deserved with your touch and kisses.

Dressed, he was smart, authoritative. Undressed, he was god-like. And to hear his soft moans amidst your attention was a gift. A gift that aroused you further. Yet before your eager hands could fondle his hardened shaft, he flipped you with impatience to focus on you instead. His kisses were other-worldly, making sweet contact on your soft, naked skin, creating waves of untold pleasure whenever he peeled off each piece of lingerie. Naked you may have been finally, yet you were more than ecstatic with the new outfit you wore: him. The infusion of soft music, sounds of lovers moans and kisses while the bedsheets rustled, were indeed sweeter than nectar. Tantalizing enough for him to finally enter you. Arousing enough for you to accept him. Resulting in unity, love making, deeming soft as the moonlight that shone into the bedroom. Soft, yet impactful that every second remained carved in your mind fresh, like it was yesterday.

Oh Mel, how did your touch made me weak, but gave me power at the same time? How did you make every second of it worthwhile?

You wrote with a sigh, blushes occupying your cheeks. Not before you cleaned up your ink stained fingers, caused by your thoughts of pure distraction.

Why did you get me addicted to your loving? But most importantly, why were you the perfection I dreamt of all along?

Breathless, you would be lying if it did not take you a while to regain your senses. Re-reading the previous sentence written, you proceeded to give the letter further life: 


After that night, I wanted shout out loud from the rooftops full of happiness, I wanted to tell the entire city, no! The entire world of my blessing: My blessing to have a wonderful man like you, Mel.

The simple truth: that was all that it was. And not long since you and Melvin had gotten together, life was suddenly drizzled with an extra dose of joy. An extra dose of encouragement and hope. Work went better for the both of you. Even Mr. Lloyd managed to re-meet him, but this time with more familiarity and respect. Given his interaction with the Agent, it was evident the the older man had offered his blessing and approval, which meant more to you than anything.

Since then my life was bliss, Mel. With you by my side, I knew I could take on anything.

Except, you drew in a sharp breath with a heavy heart.

All until J Edgar Hoover declared those fateful words to America: War on Crime. John Dillinger.

The heaviest sigh left your pursed lips. For a surge of concern was powerful enough to consume you.

Believe me, Mel. Seeing you get promoted to Special Agent in Charge of the Chicago Field Office, it brought me nothing but joy. Seeing you in the papers, I was the most proud anywhere I went. But with that pride, and with that joy, I was also afraid. How could I not be, when you were assigned to catch Dillinger, Public Enemy No. 1?

How could I not think of the risk you had on your life? So afraid for you that it didn’t strike with me that we didn’t see each other for so long after. 

Though you were out of sighs, your heart remained heavy with the thought. It was true, soon after his men’s lives were affected by Dillinger and his gang, Melvin did not set foot in your apartment nor in your neighborhood. And surprisingly, you did not feel betrayed. Not one bit.

When you phoned me that one time, I could tell in your voice. I could tell the weight you had on your shoulders. The burden, the responsibility, the guilt.

And to me, it didn’t matter I couldn’t see you everyday anymore. It didn’t matter that I had a hard time missing you or thinking about you. Be it at the diner, the streets, the park, the living room and the bedroom. It didn’t matter to me that I had to pretend my life had nothing to do with yours. All I wanted was for this nightmare to end: to stop the unnecessary deaths of innocent lives. All I wanted was for you to be safe. And I knew you could do it all. Without complicating things.

Thus, when someone knocked on your door a few hours ago today, your fear was justified. You remembered standing by the door, arms folded, only to feel your heart beat out of your chest. And when those loud, rapid knocks attacked the wooden door, you could not help but wonder: Could it possibly be one of Dillinger’s men? Another shooter perhaps? Were they aware of Melvin’s connection with you? Were you about to be leverage?

But to your surprise, you opened the door regardless. Clutching your chest, you could only gasp.

But I never thought you’d suddenly come crashing in this afternoon.

For there stood Melvin Purvis, Fedora at hand, heavy panting accompanied.

Never so soon.

“You were not at the Diner” he said in a hoarse tone, still panting. “I-I took a day off” you answered, with wide eyes,“Mel…” you gulped, taking a step forward “What’s wron-” To which he could only reply with rough kisses, slamming the door shut behind him.

And being in his arms again after possibly endless days and nights, you were certain you did not wish to be anywhere else.

It was as if fate urged me to stay home today, just so I wouldn’t miss your hungry kisses. Just so I wouldn’t miss your love. Something I craved for what felt like forever.

Longing translated into desperate kisses, where tongues wrestled in haste. And passionate lovemaking rushed in soon after. The type of passionate, that demanded every item of clothing make quick stops in different parts of the apartment, only to lead a trail to the bed. The type of passionate, that had his eager hands wander over your naked back, before palming your heaving breasts with impatience. All the while you straddled him, with your hips rolling against his. The type of passionate, that tempted you to gaze into his  shining eyes. For they spoke to you, even in silence. How he treasured you, how he savored you, his eyes said it all. And with your responding kiss brimming with moans and emotion, you acknowledged his silent confession, you satisfied his hunger, and accepted his peak of pleasure. All until a new climax was reached together, before collapsing on to the bed with exhaustion.

“Mel…” you panted, sweat further infusing with his, “You still didn’t tell me what’s going on…”

It was only a few minutes later, did Melvin began to speak. Only then were you able to find out about the mission that would happen tonight. The mission to finally catch Dillinger. And as if the floodgates just opened, he kept talking. And all you could do was nod, as he continued to cradle you in his arms.

Little did I know, you came to me in possibly the most fateful day ever.

“You think it will work? The plan?” You inquired, soft. His responsive hum vibrated in his chest. “The source is solid…” he replied, “So…we’re betting on it”

Lifting your head up, you looked at him. Truthfully you could not help but feel sorry. There was a hint of exhaustion in his tone. How far did this man go to make this mission a reality? How many men were sacrificed in the process? Death of many men including Carter Baum, his own partner. Feeling useless, you knew you could only offer him a reassuring soft smile:

“Then it will…” you murmured, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead. His skin seemed magnetic to your lips, causing you to proceed with more kisses. Over his eyebrows, bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, the best place of all. With another greedy peck, you pulled yourself away and sat up. With the afternoon breeze playfully caressing your exposed frame, you were tempted to reach out and grab your silk robe tossed on the edge of the bed, which you did.

“I hope you know I couldn’t risk seeing you, with Dillinger’s men on the loose”

Melvin began. Looking back, you nodded with nonchalance. “Of course…” Wrapping the robe around, your answer was as casual as taking a diner order, “I understand” you added meek, looking down at the knot.

“But…that doesn’t mean I was never here”

You froze. With wide eyes, you looked up at his sitting frame. “What do you mean?” You blurted. Only to gasp, “You-w-were you-?”

Melvin nodded,  “Every night around bedtime, from the street…looking at THAT window…”  he said, indicating the very window in your bedroom. If only you could just tell him how your heart just began to melt after possibly weeks. If only you were capable of an embrace that told every fiber of his being how moved you were by him. Melvin sighed, running his fingers through his hair:  

“I just had to make sure you were safe…” he said, “But today, I…” he paused, “I couldn’t stay away”

“And neither should you…” you replied in an instant, cupping his face, “….you’re only human”  you continued with a sigh, “It’s been too long, Mel” your voice grew softer, “ And I missed you” uttering weakly, you proceeded to press your forehead against his. And like that, you both stayed, indulging in the silence with the most innocent physical contact possible.

“This mission…” Melvin began, his warm breath falling on your face, “If I make it out alive-” “Mel, you WILL make it out aliv-” you breathed, before he placed his fingers over your lips.

“If I make it…I’m yours”

He whispered, forcing you to freeze once again. Overwhelming emotion seemed to have frozen you with disbelief, when his sharp features unveiled the softest smile, “As a man, I want to do what’s right for the people” he said, holding your chin, “ I want do what’s right for my heart. And I wanna do it all with you, by my side, always”

And in the blink of an eye, you left through that door, hours before our lives could possibly change forever.

No wonder you made love to me, as if it was your last.

Sniffing, you placed a loving kiss on the pen. For it was the pen Melvin once gifted you with. The pen he hoped you would use when you finally become a secretary. And it did not take long for you to wipe the tears that streamed down your cheeks in silence. What will happen tonight, at the Biograph Theater will end in either two ways. And all you could do was to pray for one in particular. Pray for the one you desperately needed. With another final sniff, you continued to write, until you found yourself finally finishing off the letter you never imagined yourself writing. You wrote your heart out, which left you no regrets:

Before I end this letter, I want to ask you a question.

Do you remember when I was helping you put your tie back on, minutes before you left?  

When I did, I felt something. Something warm, something nice. And I won’t lie, I enjoyed it. Cause in the end, it gave me the feeling you always gave me from the moment I met you: Hope. But today, that hope was also protected by a layer of love. A strong layer. To be able to put your tie on possibly every day, would be an honor I’d wear like a badge for life.

Mel, you WILL make it out alive. You and your men, you WILL get it done. Because this letter will be waiting for you. Because I will be waiting for you.

Ready to have more hope, ready to do more good, ready to live our truth, by your side, always.

With love,

Yours forever…

——————————————————

Glossary of 1930′s Terms/Slang Bumping Gums* - 1930’s Slang for “Talk about nothing useful” Blues in my Heart* - Jazz song by Chick Webb and his Orchestra recorded in 1931 Goon*- 1930’s Slang for thug or bodyguard Lincoln*- 1930’s Slang for $5 bill Talkies*- 1930’s Slang for Movies Crosley*- A Radio Brand famous in the 1930’s If I had a girl like you*- Jazz song by Rudy Vallee, recorded in 1930

——————————————————

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎-𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝐴 𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, promoting, nor romanticizing yandere or mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: This reaction contains scenes of violence, blood, death, and other material that might not be suitable for some people. Reader discretion advised.

❧𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

The fact Hongjoong seemed completely unfazed by you throwing the stack of papers on his desk was starting to frighten you.

"Aren't you going to look over them?" You asked him when he made no move nor any sound.

Hongjoong hummed softly before taking the packet and merely flipping the pages.

"I'm not going to ..... if you want me to sign over the papers, I'll gladly do it right now."

Now he was terrifying you. There was no way he was going to give in that easily.

You knew him too well.

Hongjoong smirked when he saw your suspicious look.

"Just get it over with so I can leave. It's almost time to pick up our son."

"Actually honey........ you won't find him there." He said as he picked up the ballpoint pen next to him.

Your head snapped up at him.

"What? What are you saying?! If you hurt my-"

"Our son, at least he still is at this moment, and you know I'd never let a single hair of his get harmed...."

Hongjoong hovered the pen above the dotted line at the bottom of the page.

"But I'm letting you know now Y/N, the second I sign these divorce papers, is the second you'll no longer be his mom or ever see him again."

There it was, just as you feared. He was blackmailing you into staying.

"Still want me to sign them?"

❧𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa sipped his tea calmly. Taking a quick glance at the clock, he let out a soft chuckle.

"She'll be here any minute."

Sure enough, just as the clock struck 10, the doors bursted open. He barely batted an eyelash at his wife who was now caged in between 2 very tall and muscular men who were carrying her in the room. Y/N swung her legs around, trying desperately to free herself but it was no use. They managed to sit her down at the opposite end of the table.

"Sit the fuck down."

Seonghwa's voice boomed throughout the dining room, and Y/N immediately abandoned her plan of running out the door once the security guards left. Seonghwa was even more menacing than them combined.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he inhaled and then released a heavy sigh.

"Seriously? You start acting up these last few days and I let it go because I'm trying to be patient...."

Reaching for something underneath his plate, he threw it across so it landed right in front of Y/N.

"But that is the last straw."

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa was right in front of her, harshly gripping her chin as he made her look into his cold and fiery eyes.

"Let me make this clear Y/N: you're my wife. I own you..... and I won't let you go around embarrassing me with some divorce shit."

Letting go of her, Seonghwa shoved her face away rather harshly.

"As if marrying you in the first place wasn't humiliating enough...."

❧𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

"Y/N....what are you-?"

When Yunho got the call from the lawyer telling him that you had filed for the divorce, he refused to believe it. He just couldn't believe it. He loved you, and you obviously loved him. It had to be a mistake.

But when he came home and found you packing the last of your things, reality hit him. You kept refusing to answer his questions, merely brushing past him as if he didn't exist. Getting frustrated, Yunho gripped your arms and held you in place.

"For God's sake Y/N! Why can't we just talk about this?! Talk to me! We have to work this out!" He didn't realize he began to shake her rather violently.

"There's nothing to work out here Yunho! I'm sick of all this! I'm sick of your possessiveness and I'm done!" You cried out.

"No baby please don't! I promise you I can change! Just please don't walk out on me!"

He embraced you tightly when you tried to push him off, his height and strength making your attempts at pulling away futile. His desperate sobs began to make you feel guilty, making you start to regret your decision......

But the still rational part of you refused to give in. You had to get out....

Even if you ended up destroying Yunho and yourself in the process.

❧𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang stared coldly at you. He had just finished reading the documents and he was definitely not amused. Without even blinking or moving his gaze from you, he ripped the papers in half, throwing them onto the floor.

"You've really gotten more brazen these past months." He noted.

"What can I say? I learned it from you." You spat back.

Yeosang lifted his hand but stopped himself midway. Clenching his fist, he took a deep breath before snapping his fingers. One of his guards immediately came up to you and landed a harsh slap to your cheek. Although it stung like a bitch, you refused to let any tears spill out and opted for keeping a straight face, knowing it'll piss him off even more.

"You can't keep me locked here with you forever Yeosang." You told him.

Raising an eyebrow at your challenging words, Yeosang hissed out:

"Oh no? Watch me."

He walked out of your room, motioning for two of the guards to stay positioned at your door. He glared at you as he closed the doors, the sound of them being locked resonating throughout the room.

Now you definitely were trapped.

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

When they brought the documents to San and he took a look at them, he was furious. He actually got his gun out and shot the messenger dead with a bullet to the head.

"Where is she?!" He demanded.

"We don't know sir." One of his men replied.

"Well I'm giving you 1 hour to find her unless you want me to skin you all alive and feed you to the dogs. This is an order: find my wife and bring her back here. Do not harm her and most of all, do not allow her to try anything..."

San knew you were crazy enough to end your own life before allowing yourself to be taken back to him. You had already tried running away years before, which resulted in him caning your back so severely that it took you months to fully recover and to walk properly again. You remember when he warned you that if you tried anything like that again, he would not hesitate to torture you to death.

"I want her here! And I want her here alive! Do you understand me?!" He roared at his men.

"Sir yes sir!"

The men quickly sparsed themselves out, dedicated to finding you and bringing you back to your devil of a husband.

San looked out the window, his eyes squinting in rage and disgust as he looked at the city lights beneath him.

"I'll find you Y/N, you can't hide from me forever. Even if I have to set the entire city on fire and burn it to the ground, I will find you...

And I will kill you. "

❧𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi grunted, his fist once again colliding with the poor man's face which was already badly bruised and dripping insane amounts of blood. But it wasn't enough for Mingi. He was livid, he was like a beast, and most of all, he was going insane after being told that not only you had filed for divorce but that you had actually left the country to god knows where.

"Fucking christ! Where is she?! Why can't any of you give me any answers?!" He shouted at the terrified people behind him.

"S-sir, we're trying our b-best.." they tried to explain.

"Well obviously, it's not good enough!"

Reaching his limit, he violently bashed the man's head against the concrete wall, cracking his skull open as blood spurted all over Mingi's shirt, neck and jaw, effectively putting an end to the man's suffering.

"Sir? We got a confirmation."

Mingi's eyes lit up instantly when he heard that. His subordinate showed him the coordinates of where you were located and even got a hold of the hotel room you were staying in.

Not able to wait any longer, Mingi gave orders for his plane to be prepared. Getting out his phone, he immediately called your room, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would burst out his chest.

"Hello?"

He stopped breathing for a moment when he finally heard your voice.

"Baby? Please wait for me.....

I'm coming for you."

❧𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you.

"Do you want to die?" He questioned you.

"Why? Are you offering?" You counteracted him.

"Don't fucking test me cause I can easily arrange it."

Whether it was you feeling a little more brave or you simply had forgotten the kind of man Wooyoung really was, you had the audacity to scoff at him.

"But you won't Wooyoung. You're not going to kill me. Cause you're so puffed up with pride and power and with this obsessive need to control me, that if you kill me, you'd lose that power....."

You smirked at his shocked expression.

"And you can't have that now, can you?"

Wooyoung lifted his hand to slap you, but you quickly evaded it, landing a punch to his stomach that had him doubling over. You began running away, almost reaching the door when you cried out in pain as a loud bang sounded through the room. You clutched your leg as blood poured out from your shin, meanwhile Wooyoung strolled over to you, gun in his hand.

"You're right..... I won't kill you...

But that doesn't mean I won't hurt you.."

❧𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho's eye and hand began to twitch as soon as he saw you walk in with Yunho, not liking your close proximity.

"Yunho....... distance." He reminded his friend.

Yunho looked over at you, who were now trembling slightly. Now Yunho understood why you begged him to accompany you for this. Sighing, Yunho merely walked up to Jongho and handed him the folder in his hands. Jongho furrowed his eyebrows as he peered through the contents. He immediately threw them on the floor in outrage.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" He demanded to know.

You winced at his tone of voice and immediately stood behind Yunho for protection, which only enraged Jongho more.

"I swear to God, if you're leaving me for him.."

Jongho walked up and tried to tear you away from Yunho, but luckily Yunho intervened and kept him from landing a finger on you.

"Let me go you fucking bastard! How dare you take my wife away from me!" Jongho accused him.

"First of all it's not like that and as long as I'm here, I won't let you hurt her! Jongho you've got to stop!"

But being stronger than the taller male, Jongho easily shoved him to the floor. He then proceeded to corner you in the wall, pining your arms as he slammed you against it. Yunho now panicked and accidentally blurted out:

"Jongho stop! You'll not only hurt her but the baby-"

Yunho immediately clasped a hand over his mouth as he realized he said what you wanted to keep secret. Jongho looked at Yunho then at you, who had fear written all over your face. Jongho softened up a little as his hands clasped around your stomach.

"And you still tried to leave me...?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Prologue

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1925

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, smut in future chapters

A/N: This (x) has finally taken birth. I am very excited about this fic, it is literally the only thing I can focus on right now. A big thanks to @thelastsock​ for beta-ing this. Sending her lot of love and good health, always. Please don’t come down on me if I have gotten any of the army-related things wrong, because this is a work of fiction.

Title: Prologue

Olivia Ross was everything but a heavy sleeper. She slept like a feral cat ready to jump at even the slightest bit of disturbance. And that is why she was wide awake at 3 a.m.

The sound of Alex’s snores, deep and rumbling, echoed from beside her. A strong arm was draped tightly over her torso-his bull’s head tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Olivia looked to her side and sighed.

She hated sneaking out of his room the next day. The walk of shame she could take-her squad mates were already bored by the gossip of yesteryears-but the imminent questioning that Alex would barrage her with later, was what broke her.

Carefully, Olivia moved his arm from over her body and slid out from the bunk bed they were sharing. She watched as Alex turned to the other side and a moment later, continued snoring; oblivious to the loss of bodily warmth from besides him.

Grabbing her discarded clothes piled on the floor and hurriedly pulling them on, Olivia grabbed her dog tags from the table. Her eyes also fell on the other chain lying on the metal desk; a Saint Christopher Medal in a silver chain which Alex had gotten for her the last time he had flown home. Reluctantly, she grabbed the chain and wore it with her dog tags and swiftly snuck out of the Captain’s room.

As soon as Olivia was out in the corridors of the Baghdad base camp, the sweet noise of military men going about their duties graced her ears. She looked around as she made her way towards the ladies quarters; some of the men were loading up their Humvees for a patrol around the city, a few of them out for their morning run and then there were others like her who were hurrying away to reach their beds.

Closing the door to her quarters, Olivia was met with two sets of narrowed eyes looking at her. “Busy night there, Sergeant Ross?” The smugness in their voices, nothing new but annoying nonetheless, made Olivia roll her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be sleeping?” She laid on her bed-her legs dangling from the ends-feeling relaxed more than she was when sleeping next to Alex.

A loud bang on the hard metal door interrupted them. A young private recruit peaked inside, her cheeks going red as she came face to face with her seniors.

Raising her head from her bed, Olivia looked at the blushing Private edging around the door. “What is it, Private?”

“Uhm…”

“You need to speak faster, sister. No one’s going to be waiting that long for you to finish your sentences.” Sergeant Sloan, a blond beauty with Victoria’s Secret model’s look, said from her bunk on the other side of the room.

“I was told to get Sergeant Ross to Lieutenant Crowley.”

Olivia nodded at the soldier and she hurried out, closing the door behind her. “What does Crowley want?”

“Hopefully, he sends us somewhere. I’m tired of looking at the same old shaved heads around here.” Corporal Sierra said from her corner of the room. Both the ladies laughed at their joke, Sloan snorting while laughing and Sierra basking in her comedic skills. Olivia smiled looking at her fellow bunk mates, loving their laughter ringing in the dilapidated and make-shift room.

After taming her wild bed hair into a braid and pulling on a fresh set of clothes to meet the lieutenant, Olivia made her way towards the central meeting hub. Lieutenant Crowley was a balding man in his late fifties, irritating beyond belief and the epitome of a male chauvinist. Olivia looked at him while he shuffled through his folders and pulled out one to hand over to her.

“You need to go to Baqubah.” His nasally voice ordered, his height an inch shorter than hers.

“Sir?” Olivia looked down at the brown manila folder in her hand. Camp Warhorse was written below the bold printed letters of Baqubah.

“They had a water problem which was not fixed and now the militants have been targeting the food supply trucks entering the city.” He pulled out another folder from underneath the table, handing it to her with a grunt. “They need air support, but Command wants us to only send one. You can take the Little Bird and two Humvees with any twelve members for your unit. I’m making you responsible for the mission.”

“What are we to do there? Can’t we just drop food rather than driving it in-?” Olivia opened the first folder to find a letter of co-ordinates and sitreps from the Captain stationed at the camp.

“They have asked for help. You’ll meet with the Captain there and gauge the situation personally. Is that clear, Sergeant?”

When anyone pulls rank on the other, it usually means the conversation is over. So, Olivia with her two manila folders, nodded at Lieutenant Crowley and turned to walk away. “Sergeant, you leave in two hours.”

Perfect. She turned to nod at the Lieutenant who had already sat down to get back to his work.

Olivia made her way back towards the quarters from the hub. The base camp looked more alive now that almost everyone was awake. Loud music blared from the speakers with shirtless men playing basketball or getting their daily workout in. Olivia opened the folder and took the first paper in her hand; it was a sitrep from eight months ago from Captain Syverson about the blast at the water pump they were supposedly fixing. She went through the report, noticing Sergeant Harper’s name whom she personally knew from a previous mission.

Lost in her task at hand, Olivia missed the man coming her way and bumped into him, her steps faltering behind with the impact. When she looked up, the unmistaken glare of two narrowed blue-green eyes met her own. She let out a sigh even before he could speak another word.

“Captain Cooper,” She greeted the man whom she had only left a couple of hours ago. “Good morning.”

“You snuck out, again.” The harshness in his voice made Olivia remember why she despised this particular exchange of words in the morning. Alex, unlike the state she had left him in, was now dressed in his army pants and the beige army t-shirt with his hair groomed to the nines. Never a day did Alex show up with disheveled hair and unshaven, he was always the well-groomed kind of man that romance novels idealized about.

“Crowley wanted me for a briefing,” she showed him the folders, “We leave for Baqubah in under two hours. Going to be delivery guys for them.”

Alex scrunched his eyebrows as his attention from last night’s shenanigans were drawn to the mission at hand. He took the folders from her and shifted through the papers. “Baqubah? Wasn’t there an unsuccessful mission already?”

The change in his tone, from the attention seeking friend to a decorated military man, made Olivia realize why she had fallen for him in the first place. It was that very dedication to his work, the life choice that he had made, that had made her pursue him like an eagle does it’s prey.

Too bad the eagle realized it wasn’t really hungry.

“Liv?” Alex asked, the long lashes lining his eyes fluttering as he looked at her.

“Yeah, but there’s an insurgence of militants and food supply shortage.” He handed the folders back to her, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeve of his t-shirt stretched over his muscles, revealing the tattoos on either side of his arms. A single vein stretched over each of his bulging biceps, taunting her with the memories of her tracing it with her fingertips.

Olivia shook her head, choosing to look behind Alex and spotting her unit coming her way. “I need to go. I haven’t even told my people.” She started to walk away when Alex held her wrist. She looked at him wide-eyed and frantically looked around to see if anyone was looking at them. This was the first time Alex was being so forthcoming about their twisted relationship out in the open.

“Were you going to at least say goodbye?”

Olivia froze hearing the pain in his voice. She did not wish to discuss whatever was going on between them. In a deep corner of her mind, she was secretly happy that she was being sent away from the base camp. It meant she could think about a way to gently let Alex know that they were done.

“Alex,” the use of his informal name, always made him smile. Olivia used it to her advantage on more than one occasion. “We need to head out. I need to brief them. Please can we do this later?”

She wanted to wait for his answer but when her eyes darted to the makeshift clock hanging on the wall, that the men had put together one night after getting drunk on local liquor, showed she had over an hour and half to roll out; Olivia mouthed a ‘sorry’ and walked away. She hated when she left Alex standing like that, alone and dejected. She was the cause of this shit-show, but she had no idea how to end it.

“Groundhog, this is echo 1-1, we are set to fly out the nest. Over.” Sergeant Gary Schmidt, Olivia's most trusted co-pilot, said into the communications line. They had gathered a group of twelve soldiers, including Olivia’s bunk mates Sloan and Sierra and were now ready to leave for Camp Warhorse. The blades of their chopper, the beautiful and reliable MH-6 Little Bird, whirred by cutting the dry air of Baghdad.

“This is Groundhog to Echo 1-1. You are cleared for flight. Over.”

Olivia looked to her right at Schmidt and gave a thumbs up. “Echo 1-1 is flying out. Welcome on board, people.” She said into her comms, controlling the stick and feeling the skids lift off from the ground.

In an unplanned glance towards the tarmac, Olivia caught sight of Alex standing a few feet away with his face impassive; lips pursed tight and eyes covered with shades, the last thing Olivia saw before they flew off from the Baghdad Base Camp.

“What a dump of desert and sand, Red.” Schmidt said into the comms to her, making her smile being referenced by her nickname and distracting her from the unsettling feeling she had by looking at Alex. Her command officer had jokingly compared her hair to fire after one heated argument she had with a fellow soldier and called her ‘Red’, making the name become a core part of her identity. “Baqubah better be forgiving.” Schmidt continued as they turned towards the road leading up to the destroyed city.

An hour into the flight and their comms came alive. “This is Warhorse to Echo 1-1.” Olivia looked at her co-pilot and nodded her head to take over the communications. In the distance, over the expanse of the dry desert, the heat was coming down hard on them, making little beads of sweat form on the underside of their helmets.

“Echo 1-1, receiving, over.”

“Echo 1-1, this is Captain Syverson,” the previous emotionless voice was replaced by a strongly accented one. Olivia was borderline impressed by Syverson's command in his voice. She looked at Schmidt at the same time he did-they always referred to each other as ‘twins’ because their minds were almost always in sync. “The tarmac is ready for your landing. Welcome to Warhorse.”

Chapter One>

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[damselofblueroses]

The Children of Paradise

Summary: Set three years after the Rumbling, a young captain of Paradise Island, Anna Doukaina suddenly learned that her husband alive during the Paradisian Revolution.

Chapter Summary: After one month that Anna spent in the Doukaina's (Levi's Tea Shop) she was more than ready to explode. One day she decided to visit the Library and she had to face a couple of realities which she had no idea. This chapter contains a temporary health issue, if you can be negatively triggered by fainting, becoming numb or the loss of conscious please do not continue :)

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS AND ESPECIALLY CHAPTER 139, Descriptions of Depression and Grief, Mentions of Death, Emotional Hurt. Progress of the fiction contains nsfw / Smut, minors please do not.

Note: The idea of Paradisian Revolution and the transformation of Historia Reiss are the offspring of my imagination, I would like to think about how would Levi’s aftermath of the Rumbling be in my head after I read chapter 139 :)

Word Count: 6.5k

Chapter Two: the Ouroboros

“Mrs. Ackerman?” I heard the voice of little kid, Sofia and turned to the source of voice. She was jumping to me by holding a bunch of daisies and dandelions. “Paul told me to give you these flowers.”

I kneeled down to blond girl who was always so lovely, her brown eyes were shining, and her checks were flushing with pink. I patted her head then gave her a piece of chocolate.

“Thank you very much, Sofia. When you and Paul visit me again?”

“We will come in the afternoon, Mrs. Ackerman.” she danced around me. “Gabi and Falco said that they will take us from school today and we can assist them in order to run the café.”

“You are a good girl, you know that.” I smiled. She could be my child. “But do you remember what I asked? Do not call me Mrs. Ackerman, I prefer to be called as Anna but if you want to call me with a surname, call me as Doukaina.”

“I cannot do that!” her eyes instantly became wider, stopped leaping around me like a cannibal. “We are told that we always have to call you by Mr. Ackerman’s name.”

“Who told you this?” I could feel my hands automatically turned into fists.

“Mr. Ackerman.” she was too naïve. “He is very serious, and also Paul strongly advises me to not cause Mr. Ackerman’s anger.”

“Yeah.” I murmured to little girl. “He is a short-tempered man. Anyway, Sofia, call me Anna whenever you will feel more relaxed, okey?”

Her face was telling me that she never would dare to go against Mr. Ackerman’s orders, but I did not say anything on the issue. Instead, I talked with her nonchalantly, made her more excited for the afternoon we were going to share then accompanied her till her house where was two apartments away from Doukaina’s.

Yes.

That bastard dared to name his fucking café after my name.

After leaving Sofia to her house, I came back to the café and tethering my teeth to the name. I was storming to the upstairs.

In the last one month, which I spent by refusing to talk with that motherfucker instead of expressing my thoughts on divorce and grunting a lot, I had a first-handed report on how much that bastard continued on his life without me.

I was in everywhere and nowhere.

The café had been under the Rules of Doukaina that Onyankopon had a civilized conversation with me after that bastard literally seized me in his home. He explained the rules while he was hoping that it would be a catalyser for me to calm down, nope, but I just listened to him without showing an expression. Basically, the rules included what I would like or not, and Captain Ackerman decided to run his own business by accepting my tastes as the standards.

His strategy works very well, Onyankopon shamelessly says.

What the heck I was, his strategy? His experimental rat?

I was fuming after that conversation, but I could manage to hold my anger and pain inside of me. Instead, I remained silent, ignored him when he came back to home, I refused to have dinner with him, I rejected every kind of proposes from him.

After Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco came to me.

Their visits were always hard because of two reasons.

Falco was a sweetheart; I could not refuse his kindness and Gabi had no idea on giving up even if when the occasion called for it. And trust me, my mental and emotional situations definitely called for silence, but Gabi did not get any signals. She told me a lot of stories on a vast range, starting from how horrible Mr. Ackerman was to how much he had been getting through.

Their visits always rip a brick off my invisible wall against him.

When I stayed by myself, and I generally chose to be alone, I realized the real reason of my presence here. It was the most painful part, I could not leave but it was not because of Levi had captured me against my will, I could not find the power of leaving him even though I have already refused even wishing a good day to him.

I cannot leave him, if I will set my foot on my way back to Paradise, I know that I cannot survive this time.

Everything I said, everything I had been doing did not mean a single thing. I was aware of my love to him, although I was broken into pieces because of him.

In this one month, every day I could see his face. Grumpy, unhappy, full of scars, deeply wounded, not like Captain Levi Ackerman who I knew in the past.

But, to my dismay I always loved Levi Ackerman, not the humanity’s strongest, not that legendary and reluctant hero.

I loved that fucking surly, petulant, grouchy, peeved, easily pissed off, clean freak, bossy, dominant and bad-mouthed Levi Ackerman who was always on my side. I loved that shorty who was reliable, extremely strong, capable of many things, careful, kind when the occasion calls for it and very clever.

He was my partner on the battlefield, my friend in the Headquarters, my lover in our tiny place.

Bearing witness of our separated 3 years did not help me to keep my anger against him, however, I had been trained by someone who was famous to hold grudges and has a small piece of forgiveness in the heart.

I was not only Levi’s but also Levi’s sculpture. He craved me with his heart and mind during the years of my training and beyond. Even our marriage bed was a training field.

Oh Jesus, when I remembered that night, a sudden flush attacked to my face, I could feel the heat on my cheeks.

I vividly remember Levi’s voice when he was praising me for being the best one for him although I was inexperienced till that night.

Can you stop remembering unnecessary memories?!

No.

I grunted to my useless brain and moved out of my tiny room. Levi gave me a room in his place when I refused to be in the same area with him. What a gentleman!

He knows you cannot afford a house, and he would kill someone instead of letting go to a hotel. He wants to keep you in front of his eyes, you were absent for a long time, Onyankopon said to me. He always believes he never see you again but all of a sudden you appeared.

If he wanted to keep me with him, why he did not come to fetch me after war, I asked to Onyankopon. He half smiled to me and told me this is a question to be asked to Levi himself. Only he could give me an answer, Onyankopon did not want to interfere our personal lives at this level.

Well, I guessed he interfered a lot but still I did not force him to tell me.

Levi’s flat was the second floor of his café, so I came down of the stairs in order to get fresh air. Levi was working behind Doukaina’s counter, he was dealing with bunch of customers whose I was getting familiar with some of them. When they saw me, they greeted me with their heads, I reciprocated by denying Levi’s strong presence. His eyes were piercing my back, I could feel it, but I refused to take a look back, I grab my coat and bag, then I stepped out of Doukaina’s.

He named his fucking café after me, how should I feel about this? Proud? No fucking way, every time I looked at this name, I lost my nuts.

He managed to be happy without me but living with my shadow. How could I forgive this?

I took a deep breath and started to walk on the street. My foot knew the way, the direction. I was heading to the library. To be honest, I was really so bored because of sitting on my back, it was not something I was familiar with. I had to keep myself busy, and I had to figure a way out in order to be back to Paradise.

With or without Levi.

After one month, observing him without talking, taught me that I could not be that cold-hearted bitch even if I desperately wanted to be. I could not tear him off his life, there was no possible option to try. He built a life for himself, Gabi and Falco, and Onyankopon.

How could I be so heartless taking them into our hell again?

They sacrificed a lot.

Sometimes I looked at Levi and I saw a middle-aged man who spent his life on battlefields, who lost everyone dear to him. His scars telling me how bad he hurt, sometimes he had been making a low-pitched grunt because of pain caused by his leg. He kept working on, but I could easily tell how much physical pain he was in. Falco secretly told me he was seeing a doctor, however there was no treatment to cure his wounded muscles.

And his eye.

I could not forget about his gleamy, metallic grey eyes and piercing look he could give with them. Now, he lost one of them, all the scars on his face, I bet my life on he felt like he was a beast.

Well, he was always a beast but a handsome beast.

Now, I could bet even my life on he felt like cannot be loved because he was no longer the humanity’s strongest, he was no longer Captain Levi Ackerman.

He was only Levi from Doukaina’s, the owner of a little tea shop, a semi-quasi father for a Marleyan kiddo gang.

How can you explain that to Armin? He believes you are trying to persuade Levi to comeback.

I have zero fucks to give the Revolution.

I was in a really darker mood when I reached to the library. The familiar scent of books got my senses immediately and eased my temper.

“Hello, Ms.” I heard the lady at the desk. “How can I help you?”

“Hello. I want to renew my membership to library.” I took my old card out of my purse. “Actually, I was a member, but it has been too long, so I do not know if I have to get a new card.”

“Let me see.” she reached to my membership card, and she gasped. “Miss Doukaina? Is that you?”

“Um, yeah?” I was confused because of her reaction. “Is that something wrong?”

“No!” she yelled and realized where we were and pressed her hand into her mouth. “I am sorry, but we have heard a lot about you. The headmaster will be extremely happy to see you again!”

“Is Angelo still here?” I proclaimed. “Really?”

“Yes, he did not retire yet.” she beamed. “Let me call him, or do you prefer to visit him by yourself?”

“I can go to his office.” I grinned like a Cheshire cat for this unexpected piece of news. “If you allow me, of course.”

“Be my guest.” she looked like I was a very good present and she definitely looked like she wanted to tell me something. I raised one of my eyebrows to push her, she could not hold it back anymore. “Forgive my boldness but I really admire your works!”

“Thank you.” I was surprised but I had to admit that I liked her boldness. I always liked to hear someone liked the works of my brain, it really meant a lot after killing titans and people like an endless string. I did not wish to be praised because of being a good fighter but hearing a praise because of being a good student or librarian was something else. “I am glad to hear that, I did not know they still have my work.”

“Your books are highly demanded both from colleges and individuals.” she smiled like a freak. I easily recognized the pattern of being a fan of someone, her face reminded me my face when I was trained by Levi. I know these shiny eyes, this excitement, this admiration. “I never think I could see you in person.”

“Maria,” another teenager appeared from the door behind of desk. “Headmaster calls for yo- Oh. I am sorry I did not see you Ms.”

“Fred,” she exhaled. “Do you know who is she? She is Miss Anna Doukaina!”

“What?” the young boy’s face went into blank he was literally frozen. “Who?”

“Anna Doukaina!” Maria repeated. “She came back!”

“A-An-,” Fred shuttered. “You must be kidding me; everyone knows she lives in Paradise!”

“Well, you are right.” I interrupted. “I am currently visiting Marley since there is no restriction on visiting people.”

“Yeah. You. Anna. Wow. Doukaina. You are right.” Fred’s eyes became widest, for a second, I thought he could manage to gauge them out only by looking at me. “Wow. Anna Doukaina is here.”

“What Fred means,” Maria stood up by giving her colleague criticizing look. “We do not expect to see you in Marley again after the speculations.”

“Speculations?” I cocked my eyebrow again. “What kind of speculations if I may ask?”

“Well, your husband lives in Marley without you, right? Both of you are famous names, he was a hero amongst people, you were named as a genius and people talks.” She at least managed to seem as embarrassed, but I could see the curiosity burned in her eyes. “You got your degree from Academia while your husband opened a café in the capital, but no one saw you guys together. Everyone believed that you guys divorced, after you went back to Paradise, most of us thought that you would not be back.”

“Holy shit.” I could not hold it. “I did not know we were a material for gossip.”

“You were topic number 1, actually.” Fred spilled the beans. “Especially when you refused to see Mr. Ackerman, a lot of husbands were condemning you.”

“What?”

“When you refused to see Mr. Ackerman,” Fred repeated himself like he was talking something quite natural. “A lo-

“Could you give me a moment, please?” I raised my hand.

“Are you okey?” Maria reached to me with a genuine worry.

“I am fine, thank you.” I replied but I could feel the panic attacks on the way, my breathing was becoming heavier, and my heart was pounding too fast. Bad combination.

“Fetch me a glass of water.” I heard another voice while the room is really starting to spin around me. “Quickly!”

A voice that was familiar to give orders.

A voice that was extremely grumpy but always managed to give me thrills.

The room was becoming darker, I knew that I was losing my sight and conscious for the first time in the last 5 years. Strong, muscled arms held me between their protection, before I fainted, I knew who was holding me.

Levi.

Levi Ackerman, an hour ago

“Oi, brat!” I looked at Falco, he was breathing too fast, and his face was totally red when he made an entrance to Doukaina’s. And his shoes are dirty, fucking hell. “What happened?”

“Mrs. Ackerman!” he yelled. “She is going to the library!”

“Shit.” I hissed between my teeth. Fucking woman. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Gabi saw her on the road. Does she know these people’s thoughts on her?”

“Of course not.” I untied my apron and throw it to Falco. “You are on charge, handle the rest.”

I did not waste a second, rushed to the road. I was definitely fuming, she did not know a single thing about the gossips on our not-so-well relationship, but for a while we were a quite popular topic for every living creature of Marley.

She does not know the curses of patriarchal system of Marleyan society about her, she does not know they label her as the cold-hearted bitch of Paradise.

She had been acting as a tough nut but there was a very fragile little girl inside of her heart, I knew it very well. If she were going to learn those gossips, she would be broken deeply. Even though, she has been ignoring me, I was aware of her true feelings, she did never want to be apart from me.

That’s why she could not forgive me, but she stayed with me.

I never want her to get caught up my mess, and I knew she would fight for me for her dear life, so I thought the only way was leave her to believe that I was dead. It would be better if she were not around me, but the only way to make it possible was building a barrier between us. There was no need for her to learn how many days I spent just missing her, just longing for her, hating myself so bad for letting her to go.

Yet, even with my rightful excuses and reasons, I deeply acknowledged the dire need of apologizing her over and over, begging for her forgiveness which I barely contained inside of myself.

Not seeing her around me was a hell of journey.

But seeing her around me was the worst scenario one could imagine, and I was being caught in really horrible situations since I was a boy in Underground.

She was my devoted girl, in terms of Hange’s very obvious language. She dedicated all of her to me with an incredible fidelity. When we were tying the bow, before the ceremony, before she vowed as my wedded wife, she was already the bone of my bone, the blood of my blood.

“Fucking hell.” I buzzed at my goddamn leg while I was walking to the library. It was making me slower, I hated being unable to do what I want as physically.

If I could have my body and strength as usual, the only thing I would do was taking her into my arms and having her over and over again like a fucking ouroboros.

I cursed behind my mouth and tried to walk faster. I had to catch that idiot before she was getting in touch with those poisonous vipers. However, I had to admit that what made me obnoxious more than I supposed to be not only those vipers, but also my unconscious contribution to that fucking cauldron of gossip. While I was keeping myself as invisible from her eyes when she was having an education here, I did not think of the things people could figure it out. They learned about Paradise, they learned about us, they talked about us, and everything was combined with each other.

In the end, she was labelled as an ungrateful bitch, and I was upgraded to faithful husband. I could not fix anything since I was bloody busy on hiding but hearing those comments about her fed me with pain.

She can be anything but being an ungrateful one? Do not make me laugh.

When I reached to destination, I quickly prayed for anything which could help me. I dearly hoped for she was not having any undesirable piece of information; I directly went into the entrance.

Godfuckingdamnit, she heard.

That was the first thing came to my mind when I saw her posture. Her shoulders were fallen down, her hands were shaking, and her face was nothing but full of agony. There were a couple around her, a boy and girl, they were trying to ask her if she was okey or not.

Do you think she is okey, you motherfuckers?

“Fetch me a glass of water!” I howled to them and attempted to catch Anna. “Quickly!”

Her body replied to my body immediately, fucking hell, her tensed muscled became a little bit softer when I grasped her between my arms. She was getting numb; her knees were twisting.

We had been here before.

Last time she fainted on me; we were butchering a bunch of titans.

I wonder if she carries the ODM scars still on her waist…

Is there anyone sees those little strings after me?

What the fuck I am thinking?

“Do not fucking dare to faint on me again.” I grunted but I held her as tight as I could dare of. She belongs to me, she is my bloody wife, damnit. “Keep calm and take deep breathes.”

“I am not going to faint.” she whispered, her voice was really weak, but I could hear her in every situation. Holy shit, I heard her voice when she fallen into a shitshow of titans and covered by her own blood during the clash of battlefield sounds!

We shared too many things.

“Yes, last time you said you were not going to faint, I had to carry you back to headquarters.”

“You were happy, weren’t you?” she mumbled. “I gave you the change of touching my body.”

“Hella, if I wanted to touch you, I would do before you found yourself between a titan sandwich.”

“Only in your dreams.” she said but her voice was getting weakest. I knew she was going to faint before the water, she closed her eyes, her hand dropped to the ground then the boy turned from the corner.

“Where did you get the water?” I yelled. “From Paradise?”

“I am sorry, Mr. Ackerman.” he shuttered. “There is a line in front of automatons.”

“Put that glass.” I turned to the girl. “I have only two questions to both of you. What did you say to her, and do you have something like cologne?”

“I have cologne!” the boy rushed to the back of counter desk. He left his colleague to my definitely dreadful gaze, what a companion, the girl started to slightly shake. I just looked at her by cocking my eyebrow.

“What did you say to her?”

“We did not sa-

“She fainted, let’s give up on acting and tell me what she learned from you enough to make her to lose her conscious. Before I am going to get angry.”

“She told her about the gossips.” I heard the boy’s little squeaks. “She left you, didn’t she?”

“As I thought.” I mumbled and stood up by carrying Anna’s body. “How much you told her? Tell me the whole story.”

“I swear I just talked about the speculations!” the girl angrily looked at the boy. “He told about Mrs. Ackerman’s refusal to see and its impacts on communi-

“How much you said?” I walked into the bench. “How much?”

“Just refusal!” he really screamed; his face was completely whitened. “I did not tell anything about her nickname, cold-hearted bitch!”

“If you will use that nickname again, you will not have a tongue to speak again.” I pressed on every letter of the sentence. “Tell this to everyone you know, if I hear a single word against my wife, you can be sure of I am capable of slicing living creatures like you can slice a bread.”

“O-okey!”

“Now, hold the door for us.” I turned to the main doors and walked out of the building by carrying Anna.

Carrying Anna?

What?

Anna Doukaina, after 4 hours

I woke up with a terrible headache.

Let me rephrase. I woke up because of a terrible headache.

“Here.” I heard a grumpy voice and a hand without two fingers came into my sight. “Swallow.”

I tried to move but his hand pressed me on the soft layer, a bed I guess, again.

“Feel free to lie down there. You have to rest according to the orders of doctor, so no sudden movements but you will spend a day here.”

Why a doctor came to see me?

My mind was foggy, slow to recall the last memories I had, however while I was having the pills that Levi gave me, I remembered the very last moments before I lost my conscious.

I was fainted.

Okey.

I was fainted on Levi.

Damnit.

I was fainted on Levi after I asked him if he was happy with me or not.

Godfuckingdamnit.

My mind corporate with me in the worst way I could imagine of. Those words of two receptionist, labelling me as an ungrateful wife, careless woman who did not consider her beloved one reminded me everything.

“I cannot open my eyes.” I lied to him. I know Levi is here and I am sure he did not leave me for a second, he waited me to open my eyes. I do not want to see him. “But I am pretty well, so you can go back to work.”

“I do not want to.” he plainly answered. “I will stay, and I know you can open your eyes if you want. But I respect your decision to keep them closed. I am not someone who is worth to look.”

“What?” I fell on his bloody trap and immediately looked at him.

“Oi.” he smirked. Smirk? “It is good to see you are awake.”

“How many minutes I was unconscious?” I asked but I could feel all the heat of embarrassment as I hopelessly tried to change the subject. This is why I hate being with Levi, I become a stupid, lovesick girl!

“Almost 4 hours passed after you fainted on me.” he seemed nonchalant as he informed me; my chin was dropped. 4 hours?! “I have to say, I am impressed. The last time you were fainted for almost half an hour.”

“It was not the last time.” I could not catch what I said, then I pressed my hand onto my mouth, but it was fucking too late. Levi’s eyebrows furrowed and he gazed at me while he was trying to figure what I meant.

“I will not force you to tell me,” he murmured, and he took my hand off my mouth. You are damn close, Ackerman! “But I really appreciate if you can share when you were fainted after that incident.”

“When I heard about the explosion.” I replied. I was too tired of being hiding from Levi. “I thought you were dead.”

Levi did not answer to me, instead of words, he was using his goddamn eyes. I always believed his eyes could see my heart and soul, even the deeps that I did not know anything about.

“Were you,” he cleared his throat after looking at me for a while. “Upset?”

“Ha?” I inhaled while my mind just left the building. “I thought you were dead; I was not upset. I wanted to die but I had to wait for you to be back to me. What would happen if you appeared in our home and could not find me? That was the only thought kept me alive.”

“How much you heard about explosion?” his voice was cracked. Full of fear. Anxiety.

“I knew that monkey exploded himself. No one told me in detail, no fucking one tell me that you are alive. I guess, they think I am nothing to you even though I carry your name.”

“I wanted them to shut their mouth about me.” Levi was a sweet talker as always. “I did not want my situation keeping you back from living your life as fully.”

“And what does it mean?” I managed to lift my upper body by gaining strength from my elbows. “Do you know how many days I spent mourning for you? Do you know how it was, believing that you were dead because of a monkey, because of Commander Smith, because of our goddamn world’s cruelty? An I had to continue on that way until the end!”

I could not control myself anymore, it was too much, overwhelming and suffocating. I just wanted to scream everything I have been holding inside out off my chest. I was definitely not in my best physical condition, and I really preferred to have this conversation in a situation which I would be at my best self-confidence time, but no. It was too late for that.

“Do you know how much I cried? Have you ever thought about me even for little while you are exactly aware of my devotion to you? How could you decide leaving me behind, in a total darkness by yourself? Not because once I was your wife, I was your comrade and you left me with the feelings like how you felt after Commander Erwin passed out.”

“Look at me!” he literally grunted towards me. “I am not the guy you have been knowing in the past anymore, I cannot give anything to you, unless you are fine with a small tea shop where is full of tea leaves, two Marleyan kids and a retired soldier’s company. And me, as wrecked, wounded to death, like a scumbag. How could I comeback to home like nothing happened to me, and face with you when you just having a change of living a normal life after war?”

This was the longest speech Levi gave to me till now, and we had almost half of our lives together.

“Do you think I could take you out of my mind even for a bloody second after I woke up in a fucking, dirty and cold barn? You were the last thought of me when that motherfucker exploded my cart, you were fucking crying and lamenting for me, you lost your smile, I knew that you could not overcome my death although the promises we gave to each other, I cold-heartly killed my subordinates before the explosion after they became fucking titans, but I cannot deal with the idea of you being dead. You are the only one I cannot sacrifice of. Do not act like you were alone in pain, I carried that burden, you have no idea how much I missed you, you were carved into my eyelids, I did not spend a fucking minute as not dreaming of you.”

“You should have let me know.” I gritted my teeth. To be honest, I was impressed by his honesty. Levi was always honest; however, he had never been vocal about his own feelings, I knew for once he loved me, but I had never ever heard those three words, eight letters. “There is nothing left to be said by you, you cannot find an excuse for your choice.”

“I do not try to find an excuse.” Levi said. “I explained how I felt to you until you appeared in front of my door, for a long time I strongly believed that you were a ghost.”

“What do you expect?” I hissed at him. “Do you think I can easily forget your misbehaviour? I know you like knowing the back of my hand, you always choose the way that makes you less regretful and you chose to leave me behind.”

“I did.” he inhaled. “And that was the best choice to make. I could not drag you into my shit.”

“How could you do that?” I asked but all my anger left me. I suddenly started to feel like I was empty, there was nothing but pain. “How could you, Levi? I was your wife.”

“You are my wife.” he grabbed my hand. Did he really believe that he could change our hiatus? My emotions were remained untouched, maybe he could be right on his mindset, maybe he really thought about me and tried his best in order to keep me out of his personal hell, however it did not help me to overcome all the sleepless nights I had. I pulled my hand back out of his fingers. I was searching for this hand during the long nights he caused, and there was no guarantee he would not leave me again. If he would decide on leaving me behind was the best thing to do, he would do it immediately. He would not ask my opinion, he would leave me alone with only my thoughts, my memories of him and he would let me to eat myself alive. I could almost taste the bitterness on my tongue, I could not let his poor reprimands to break my walls while my wavering feelings of abandonment conquered me.

Rain hitting the windowpane above, not a playful and soft type of rain. That was cruel rain that beating the life out of city. Suitable for us.

“You are my wife, Anna.” he repeated himself. “Should I remind it to you, goddamn, I can happily do it.”

His face transformed into something I have ever seen in his features. His Aegean eyes turned into a stormy sea in a second, burning with unnamed desires which I was also feeling in the deeps of my heart. Determination conquered his fucking handsome face, and there was fear. Self-hatred. Regret. But much to my dismay, there was a dire need of teaching me a lesson that set his soul on fire.

I have been knowing this face of Levi. I have been there before.

I knew when he got me and he knew he did.

In a blink of an eye, before I could take any position to defend myself, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to his arms. He was fucking strong for a man who lost his strength! I quickly realized the potential danger I was in. If he would touch me, I knew that my heart did not spend even a second to betray my mind. That would be the nail in my coffin.

Even though the haziness of my mind slowed my reactions, I covered my face with my hands.

“Do not fucking dare.” I dropped my voice tone as I was informed on, I looked more intimating when I threat someone with lower tone. I did not tone down my wording, there was no place to be gentler with words, I was going to use my curses and I had quite a vocabulary. “If you lay even a finger on me, that’s going to be only way makes you regretful.”

“Maybe.” he did not try to take my hands off my face, and he literally locked me in his embrace. “I assume so.”

“If you do,” I struggled to get rid of his arms around me. “Why don’t you use your brain and let me go? For a better life?”

“So smart.” he huffed once in laughter. What the fuck? The tension of the room changed into something I really did not want even to think of naming it. “I do not have intention to let you go. Never again, brat.”

“Levi, I swear on everything you can believe, if you do not le-

“What will you do?” he interrupted me. “According to you, I already fucked the things up and you told me you will never give me your forgiveness. What makes a difference between not being forgiven for a sin or for two sins?”

“This is the shittiest logic I have ever heard, and I was in Military Police for a while.” I forgot to press my hands onto my face due to his unexpected, unpleasant, and twisted thought about forgiveness. “I do not know where you learned about sins, asking for forgiveness or literally remission, but I think you lost couple of important points.”

What I missed was while I was lecturing him on forgiveness, I let my hands down and I had been sitting on Levi Ackerman’s thighs.

More importantly, he was definitely not the type of man who miss a chance to perform what he aimed for.

He caught my hands immediately and he pressed his lips into mine.

When I felt his velvety lips on my mouth after fucking years, that sensation made me numb in a nanosecond. My logic just left the room, left me with my dire need for Levi. His hands. His lips. His love. Everything about him, I just need Levi, Godfuckingdamnit he always affected me like anaesthesia.

He kissed me and it made me felt like I was breathing again.

I could feel he loosened his tight grip around my wrists by the fact that I was definitely not fighting with him, on the contrary, I was responding to him in the way he wanted. I knew that I was going to be extremely ashamed of what the heck I was doing right now, but even the sorrowness eating me every day refused taking the control of my body back, I felt like my flesh gained an independent character who was begging to my soul for keeping the things as they were happening right now.

Levi was kissing me. His goddamn lips made me feel like I was alive.

The Ouroboros that living inside of me started to comeback into life. With every move Levi made, I could feel Ouroboros biting itself inside of me by releasing the poison.

“No.” I broke the kiss and pressed my hands to his shoulders in order to keep him away from me. He was heavily breathing, his beautiful face became pinkish while his lips shading with darker red, and his eyes, goddamn, his eyes were burning with passion.

He looked like a god, and I hated him for his level of good-looking to my bits.

I was burning too but my fire was caused by different reasons except one, the reciprocated hunger for each other was remained same between Levi and me, to my dismay I strongly felt it. However, the anger was growing in me was for both of us. To him, for his fucking departure and leaving me by myself and his shitty excuses, building a life without me, living a life in the shadows, and running away from me. The list never ends. To myself, for loving him as much as the first day I realized how much I devoted my heart to him and never manage to overcome my love for him even though I had to.

“I love you.” he said. “You fucking know, I spent my life by loving you, brat.”

Maybe there was an earthquake.

Maybe there were bombs exploding all over Marley or Paradise.

Maybe there was a chain of natural disasters which happening right now.

But I could not understand even if I would be brutally killed in this very moment.

He finally said that he loved me.

“If you say no, I will not do anything.” he murmured. “Just tell me.”

I stared at him, how could he be a total moron and did not see how I was amazed by his long-awaited confession? Inside of me, I was screaming, swearing, crying, laughing, and cursing at full speed but I was frozen in reality.

Let me introduce Levi Ackerman to you.

A blockhead, humanity’s strongest and my Ouroboros literally and figuratively eating me alive.

My Levi.

“May I continue to kiss you?”

[goodlucksnez]

a sky full of stars

Hello everyone so I wrote a er//aserm//ic fiction and it’s 5513 words I know right what the fuck I just kept writing and I didn’t want the story to end but it came to a lovely end

TW WARNING it deals with sui//cide depression,anxiety,panic attacks as well as medical surgery

TO NOTE In the story endeavor is not a hero and is a local tea maker and his wife is the surgeon which I just think it’s cute it comes together in the story it will make sense don’t worry

This is using my original AU with the Quirk flu

And lastly I hope you enjoy it I had a lot of fun riding and it has definitely improved since my last fic enjoy

you can read it on A03 or down below

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33360760

How Shouta got here was anyone's guess. Sitting on the edge of the roof of UA looking at the shifting colors as night began to fall around him. As the shades of reds mixed with the blues and yellows, how they washed over the buildings and trees with a gentle golden glow, Shouta closed his eyes and smiled. The tear-stained face of the Pro was hidden from view under foundation and tired eyes. With the still night air, he heard the roof entrance unlock and movement behind him.

“Hello, old friend,” Shouta said not even turning to look at him.

“What the hell are you thinking, step away from the edge now.” Mic's voice boomed over the concrete and echoed in the tranquil night air. “Please, people need you…. I need you.”

Shouta took a deep breath and stood to face his old friend. Mic’s face was panicked and he could see the crumpled note in his hand. Shouta was glad to see his friend one last time. He shook with adrenaline as he spoke in a quiet voice barely louder than a whisper. Years down the road Shouta in the confession of therapy would say he said it this way because whispers make people listen while shouting just falls upon deaf ears.

“All my life, I have been in love with the sky. Even when everything was falling apart around me, the sky was always there for me. I’m glad to see it hasn’t changed. Goodbye old friend.” And he stepped off the roof Mic’s voice echoed in the night sky as Shouta plummeted down and down until darkness.

---

That was five years ago. Shouta had been getting better about talking about his depression and the struggles but the one thing he could not do was hurt Mic again. Hizashi also died that day, his cheery disposition of the world changed, and he hasn’t been the same since. He had improved but Shouta still had guilt deep down but would never admit it. Hizashi's confidence was always so fragile, like a child’s, it took him years to return to radio and music. He once in a foggy drunken state told Shouta that music died the day he fell and all the sounds of the world that created such unique and beautiful different melodies, fused into one agonizing wave of sound that made Hizashi hate music and his Quirk. He had gotten better they both had recovered from that day but if they were both being honest, they were still those scared little Pros inside.

When winter came the vows of in sickness and in health were tested. Hizashi got sick first and Shouta played the role of nursemaid and helped him get better therefore it was no wonder Shouta got sick. When he was a child Shouta would hide under his bed to avoid being seen as sick, he had enough of name-calling at school he did not need it at home too. This continued into his adult life even after the accident 5 years ago.

The next time he had woken up he almost suffered acute heart failure from the number of stress hormones that were immediately pumped through his system as long-term best friend and husband Hizashi better known as Present Mic had busted through the bedroom door with a shout of “Shouta” with his remarkably deafening voice. “Wow were you sleeping?”

As if it would be a shock that he was. He has been up most of the night coughing and generally feeling ill. Shouta was having trouble getting out of bed today as a dull pain racked through his body pulsing through every limb. He merely grunted in response and the strawberry blonde-haired man sat down and rubbed his back.

“Shouta,” he asked his voice worried with concern and suddenly Shouta was back on that roof. He shut his eyes and winced at that memory and shook his head. The movement of his head caused the room to spin and he reached out to grab onto something stable the only thing near him being his husband.

The pressure in his cranium had built itself up to the point where he knew he had to get away to get checked out. Somehow, he had to take a trip to get medicine, the question was how would he succeed with such a mission when Hizashi worried about his every movement.

Mic continued to rub his husband's back. After receiving no answer, his usual jovial expression continued morphing into one of pure concern. “Hey, Shouta are you okay?”

The tired pro sighed but when he went to open his mouth the tickle which had been prominent in his sinuses flared to life and he quickly turned his head to the side gripping the side of the bed as the sneezes ripped through his body.

“Heh-R'SSHH! Hh-Hih-AET’SCHHH! ESCCH!”

Hizashi jumped in surprise. “Woah, many blesses,” he said. “I’m going to pick you up some meds, okay?”

Shouta grabbed his arm and said, “no you barely over being sick, I can get some.”

As he went to put on his shoes, he sniffed back the congestion that was threatening to flow. Hizashi watched him gathering his wallet and keys before hugging him tightly and whispered in his ear.

“I know how you get with these things; I call you in a few hours and you better pick up or you’re in trouble. I love you Sky.”

Shouta hugged him back and said, “I love you to songbird.” And he left the house with the sound of thunder in the sky boomed over him.

---

His feet hurt.

It was a stupid thing to focus on. Stupid because Shouta was still heavily limping his way through darkened alleyways and shuffling through crumpled up newspapers and puddles of...something. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the medicine still clutched close to the chest. Shouta had no idea where he was going. He just kept moving- one hand drifting along chipped brick walls and graffiti-stained cement, something to keep him steady. Focused. Home was the mission but it wasn’t the goal. The goal was-

Freedom from the pain.

His knees buckled and Shouta couldn’t stop himself from tumbling forward. He smacked into a dumpster; the weak thump of a body against rusted metal ringing in his ears. The stench of rotten food clawed its way into his nose; the pain now liquid fire in his veins. Get up Shouta told himself even as his eyes started to flutter close. You have to get up. His fingers twitched; they landed in a puddle of something gross. “Please,” Shouta whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please~” Thunder rolled off in the distance- a heavy, almost shuffling sound. Maybe- maybe he could get clean in the rain? Maybe-----

“Ah, your awake!”

Fuck! Shouta started, brain a sluggish mess. He- the last thing he remembered with solid clarity was collapsing against a dumpster. Rain pattered against the rooftop- a strange melody that did nothing to put the Pro at ease as he stared at the old man before him. He was heavyset, a long red beard neatly trimmed and a topknot giving him off an old school look. Shouta glanced around the room, just a little more awake now. He still felt like shit, wet from the clothes he had when-

“My shoes,” Shouta rasped, gaze falling to his feet. They were bare, his socks neatly placed on the floor with his shoes beside this...futon. A sad, threadbare thing on the floor. It took all he had not to run his hands over himself-no. No injuries. The only thing Shouta wasn’t wearing was his shoes. Shouta inhaled congestion thick and he wiped his nose on the back of his hand. An oven mitt was sitting on the floor between them, a teapot gently clutched in the old man’s hands. “You put band-aids on my heels?”

“I did,” came the quiet hum. “You’ve traveled quite a way. Those blisters are impressive.”

Shouta’s gaze flicked to the two clay cups- one by his feet, the other next to the old man’s knees. Steam started to curl out of the teapot; a fire Quirk perhaps? “...You’ve got a fire Quirk.”

The old man smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re very observant. Yes, I do. Would you like some tea? I have some delicious Herbal Spring at the moment it might help with that cold you got.”

Shouta eyed the teapot in question- the steam was barely more than a little trickle of a cloud. Could he have poisoned it while I was out? He shrugged, looking away.

“Ah good!” The old man leaned forward to pour tea- Shouta first, then himself. “Herbal Spring is a very fragile tea, you know. Raise the temperature too much and you’ll ruin it. Keep the water too cold, and it loses its flavor.”

Shouta didn’t reach for his cup. He heard the soft clink of China being set down on the oven mitt. He- he saw the near-empty room he was in. “Where am I?”

“My tea shop! Aaah well,” the old man smiled again as he reached for his cup. “Soon to be my tea shop. This is a storeroom of sorts.”

Shouta watched the old man drink first. A happy hum, a deep sip that made the Pro finally reach for his cup. He brought it to his lips, taking a tentative sniff. Even with his blocked nose, it smelled sweet. Shouta took the tiniest of sips; the warm liquid sliding down his parched throat with ease. It had a soft note to it; sweet and almost fruity, enough to make Shouta …breathe. “Who are you?”

“Just a simple tea maker.” Another calm sip, the old man closing his eyes for a moment. “Who are you?”

It...it lacked the same venom that Shouta’s question had. The same cautiousness, an almost feral edge to it. The old man’s question was simple. Calm and steady; Shouta bit the inside of his cheek before he took another tentative sip. “No one.”

“It is an honor to meet you, No One.” The teapot was held out like a porcelain olive branch. “More tea?”

Was this...a joke? Shouta bit the inside of his cheek before he held out his cup. There was still plenty of tea left in the small cup and it took all the Pro had not to wince at how hands were still shaking. Hot liquid sloshing about, threatening to go right over the dull rim. Yet...if the old man was going to say anything, he didn’t. He merely poured Shouta more tea, careful to keep the liquid from the rim.

Shouta brought it up to his lips, taking a bigger sip. “You’re,” this time he winced. His throat was still a raspy mess. “You’re not going to ask me why I was outside?”

“Mmm, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Shouta watched the teapot be set gently on the oven mitt, the old teamaker once more quietly enjoying his cup. The two sipped their drinks in relative silence- only broken by the steady drumming of the rain overheard and Shouta sniffling. An odd sort of silence, almost peaceful; Shouta wasn’t bombarded with questions. The old tea maker was content to drink his tea; he’d already downed three cups by the time Shouta had managed to finish one. He sneezed 3 harsh sneezes and drank more tea hoping to soothe the throat. The teapot seemed to rise without being asked; a second cup poured, a second cup that Shouta found himself willingly drinking. “Aizawa,” he whispered, staring down at the amber liquid. The Pro’s voice was painfully loud in the quiet. “My name is Aizawa Shouta.”

The old man gently smiled; callused hands curled around his cup. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Aizawa Shouta.”

“What-” Shouta shifted on his futon; the tremors had finally left his hands. “Who are you?”

“Just an old man with wisdom and regrets,” came the happy reply. “You can call me Enji if you wish.”

Enji? It was a familiar way to address someone he’d just met. Right. “...I’m not calling you Enji.”

“Fair enough,” the old man chuckled and there was something warm in his voice that begged the Pro to relax. Maybe he has another Quirk? Can someone have two Quirks?

Shouta glanced down at his cup, his thumbs brushing the rim. “Why are you doing this?”

“Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights~”

That...was not what Shouta was expecting. He frowned; was it too late to make a run for it? He was pretty sure he had strength in his legs now, even if he still felt awful. “That’s some bullshit,” the dark hair huffed, settling on something solid. Something he could trust. He attempted to rise to his feet and he wobbled for a moment. Pain that rolled through Shouta, begging for him to plop his ass back down. “You’re crazy, old man.”

The old man didn’t move from his spot on the floor. He merely hummed, a red eyebrow rising at the uptick of rain against the roof. “You will need a proper raincoat then. You’ll be soaked if you leave now.”

“...You’re not going to stop me?”

“I cannot stop you from your long journey, Shouta. Just as we cannot stop the fire from burning the log or ice freezing a pond.” Shouta watched the old man set his cup down; empty. “But please,” he groaned as he lumbered to his feet and Shouta was pretty sure he heard joints pop. “Let me get you an umbrella at least.”

His chest hurt. Shouta’s throat was stupidly tight. Painfully tight as he stood there, watching Enji dig around in the storeroom for an umbrella. “...You,” Shouta tried to clear his throat. To stop himself from crying like the idiot he was. “You don’t have-”

He shouldn’t have wasted his breath.

The umbrella was pressed into his hands with care. It was an old thing that had seen better days- a raggedy blue thing with a few frayed strands and a scuffed handle. It was old and worn and the most precious thing Shouta had ever held in his life. “Thank you,” the Pro whispered, clutching it close to his chest.

“Of course,” Enji hummed, bowing in return. “Please stay dry.”

---

Shouta descended the step of the tea shop, his body aching with every step. The medicine still clutched to his chest. The words still echoed in his mind. “You tell me when you’re ready.” He found himself walking the feeling of cool water running down his wet body was quite unpleasant. The wind blustered and the rain pattered on the antique umbrella and the way home seemed twice as long as usual. His mind raced, how could a stranger see so clearly into his mind was it that transparent to everyone that he was broken. As his feet hit the sidewalk a single thought crossed his mind. Hizashi. His songbird. His love. He was probably worried sick. As he pulled out his phone, he saw the screen was broken and as the light lit up his face, he could see 54 unread messages. Fuck. He ran, he didn’t even notice the tightening of his chest and the pain in his limbs, as he rounded the corner almost slipping on the wet pavement. He saw the lightly tan building of his home; the outside light was still on. As he unbolted the door and took a step inside, his heartbeat deafening in his ears, a pair of arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him inside.

As Shouta panted, Hizashi's grip gets getting tighter and tighter. No words were said but the silence spoke volumes. Shouta felt tears spring to his eyes and choked back a sob as Hizashi guided him to the living room sofa and sat him down. Wordlessly Hizashi began to take Shouta's shoes off, gently searching his dark eyes for some kind of answer of where he was. Shouta could not meet his gaze, and just shook from the wet clothes and clutched the sofa tighter. Hizashi nodded and went off down the hall. He returned a moment later with fluffy towels and the first words were spoken.

“Out of those clothes.” Shouta blushed but did as he was told and as each soaked article of clothing was removed from his body it was replaced with a warm fluffy towel. However, it didn’t stop his shivering and Hizashi started rubbing the frozen skin of his lover. After a few minutes, Hizashi suddenly stopped and stood up, turning his back from Shouta.

Suddenly the blond jolted forward. “heh… ehh…. heh'ISSShooo!" and went into the kitchen to grab a box of tissues.

As he sheepishly returned and met the gaze of his husband, he muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

Shouta was at a loss for words. Why was he sorry? It was not his fault Shouta got sick, not his fault he was broken. He had done everything right, Shouta was wrong. He blinked in rapid succession before finding his voice. The voice of Enji filled his head ‘When you’re ready. He spoke with a voice broken and small.

“The day that the rain smelled like ice cream, my cat went to heaven in front of my eyes. The day that the copper pipes in the old building smelled like burnt food, my best friend... went to heaven in front of my eyes. I couldn't save them. It's sad. Neither one had the chance to become an adult. They should have become adults. They should have had children of their own and loved those children. And I want to make that possible for other people. So don’t be sorry. You saved me. I love you.”

He had never expressed that amount of raw emotion in his whole life, not even to his therapist but it felt right. The nerves he felt flowed out of him as his tears decorated his face. As he sat covered in the towel he sobbed, all the emotions he had been holding released like the steam from that teapot that brought him warmth not a few hours before.

Hizashi cradled him, as his body racked with sobs, gently like how a mother would cradle a baby, pausing to kiss him and repeat gentle nothings. As Shouta began to wind down, all the strength he had been pretending he had disappeared and he slumped against Mic and closed his eyes and soon unconsciousness took him.

--

Shouta slept for hours it seemed like. Each dream he had was confusing and odd as if he had two brains competing for the dream. His tired muscles ached and the dull pain between his eyes had increased to a dull migraine. Truth be told he felt awful. But soon his body had had enough and he felt the being of a sneeze. He tried to hold back for a while longer but found it futile. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as the tickle reached its climax.

“Eschht, Eschht eh ugh sniff heh hhh AET’SCHHH!”

The last sneeze ripped through him with such force all the blankets and towel that had kept him warm fell off of him and he was left sniffling chest exposed to the room and his husband who look just as surprised as himself.

“Goodness bless you Sho, you have caught my cold.”

The tired man just groaned and said with a voice still raspy and strained “Not a cold, it's probably the flu, I should have told you sooner, I just- ugh sniff again heh hhh Hit'choo!! Hih-tschh!! Hihh…hih-tsCHEW!”

With the last sneeze, he felt his Quirk go haywire and soon his hair was floating above him and his eyes had turned a red hue. Luckily for him, no one was in the radius but he still felt awful. A hero could only depend on two things in this world, their Quirk and the one they loved. If Shouta could take one of those away without realizing it, it could mean trouble.

Mic had knelt in front of the laying down Pro and gently cupped a tissue around his husband's nose. “Bless your hon, come on blow for me.”

Shouta did a wet gurgling blow and groaned as the Quirk deactivated his dry eyes yearning for water. Mic dabbed at Shouta slowly being red nose and stood. He made his way over to the linen closet and grabbed the warmest winter sweater and returned to his sick husband.

“Arms up you know the drill.” As Mic helped the Pro get dressed, he called out to Siri.

“Hey, Siri, text Doctor Green we are coming in an hour.” As Shouta's head came through the sweater hole he simply frowned. This Doctor had treated him after the accident but was a close friend of theirs. As Siri confirmed the appointment Mic sensed Shouta's discomfort and replied to him. “I know sweetie you don’t like the doctor but you know he can help better than over-the-counter drugs. He continued and I will be there the whole time.”

Shouta shook his head. “Together,” he said in a small voice

Mic helped the sickly Pro stand and guided him to the mirror next to the door and kissed him on his flushed skin. “Forever Together.”

--

The train ride for the first leg of the journey was uneventful. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the moving subway train was distracting enough to distract other passengers from Shouta's constant sniffling. Mic was stood holding on to the overhead bar while Shouta was sitting with his head in his hands. Mic was constantly asking if Shouta needed anything even though he would not be able to provide much relief besides encouraging words. As the overhead speakers announced their stop Mic helped Shouta stand as the train came to a hard stop be cursed in English as Shouta stumbled forward again him.

The misty afternoon after the rainstorm was heavy in the air but still, Shouta shivered a clear sign of a fever and the couple picked up the pace to the doctors. As they rounded a corner a few blocks away they were met with the flashing blue and red of a line of police cars. As heroes, they knew a situation was happening. Mic half dragging Shouta went to them who seemed to be in charge of the crowd of citizens and asked what was happening. The short man with light brown hair replied with the normal answer for any citizen. “Nothing to worry about Sir heroes will handle it.” Mic frowned and dug in his pocket and grabbed his Hero license and flashed it at the man. Taken aback the man quickly responded. “Oh, um sorry, a Jewelry store has been taken hostage, he paused before continuing “my chief might need an extra few hand…he paused and looked at the struggling man Mic was holding up “is he also able to help.” Mic didn’t have time for this and he ducked below the police tape and began walking to the line of cop cars. Shouta followed but sluggishly. As he neared the chief of the police, he quickly scanned the street. He could see the jewelry store in question had a broken window and was heavily surrounded by local heroes as well as other members of the police task force. As Shouta caught up his eyes were half-closed and looked like he was going to pass out any second. Before Mic could attend to Shouta a round of gunshots filled the air and out of instinct he grabbed both of them and they hit the pavement hard. After a few moments, he helped Shouta lean against a cop car tire and checked over his body. ‘No wounds’ Mic thought ‘I don’t have time for this we need to get through this street.’

Mic looked at the task force and saw the numbers had decreased whoever was in the store had an amble firearm. As a local hero approached the car Mic asked what the status was and what they know. The local hero stating that the man inside the store had a bullet-type quirk and could shoot many rounds of ammo and was demanding everyone to leave and no one would get hurt.

Mic thought ‘a bullet type quirk, like Pro hero Edgeshot’ Mic continued to question. Did they have any other people with them? The local hero shook his head no they are alone. Mic could work with this. He waved over the chief, a man he had worked with a few other times.

If they could stop the man quirk do, they have enough to help the hostages and defeat the villain. The chief simply nodded his head and Mic set to work.

He gently shook the arm of Shouta who barely raised his head. “Hey love I know you are exhausted but we need you Quirk right now can you aim your Quirk over to the storefront.

Shouta tried Mic had to give him credit for that, but as soon his hair started to rise it quickly fell. Shouta mumbled a response thick with congestion. “I. Can’t…tired”

Mic rubbed his arms in understanding and replied “What about if we use your illness as an advantage, you can’t control when it happens right, what if we use that.”

Shouta turned to look at Mic. “What are you suggesting?”

Before he could reply another round of gunshot shot at them and he quickly covered Shouta's body with his. He immediately felt the sharp pain as a bullet entered him under his ribs, and he could feel the blood start to spill. With an adrenaline-filled body, he quickly pulled Shouta into a somewhat kneeling position and aimed his head toward the storefront. “I’m sorry about this love this isn’t going to be big on dignity.”

He grabbed the end of his ponytail and brought the split ends to the underside of Shouta's nose. The already irritated organ began to twitch as the strands of hair slowly twisted around.  

Shouta tried to ignore the incessant prodding of the frizzy hair against his sensitive nose, but with each swipe, the tiny hairs that shook loose were soon sucked up into his twitching and quivering nostrils.  He shuddered and froze in place a tear slowly trailed down from his eye to his cheek as his nose began scrunching and wriggling from the irritation.

“Come on Shouta you can do it,” Mic said. Shouta’s chest heaved and he couldn't help but give in to the itchy and tickly urge to expel those irritants from his nostrils.

“H...hhih...” The beginnings of a sneeze showed as his eyes began to droop. His chest expanded further “Haaahhh! Aaahhhh!”  His eyes fully closed, head tilting back and signaling the oncoming release.  Mic aimed his face toward the storefront and sent a silent prayer that this would work.

“Hit'choo!! Hih-tschh!! Hihh…hih-tsCHEW!”

As Shouta sneezed his hair lifted with ease and soon the storefront was temperately Quick free. Mic activated his Quirk and told the task force to go. Shouta was still panting from sneezing but his eyes were open however Mic didn’t know how long he could keep them open. As the task force ran in the subject found his Quirk would not activate and soon found himself being put in handcuffs and a medical device being placed that would stop his Quirk without the help of Erasure.

As Mic received the thumbs up, he spoke to his shaking husband who was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Bless your hon you did it, you can relax now.” As Shouta did all the energy slipped from him and he lost consciousness and slumped over on the wet pavement. Mic grabbed the fragile man and began to walk to the nearest ambulance, as he stepped into the back of the ambulance the medic and himself helped Shouta into the gurney, and soon the siren wailed and they were finally off to their destination.

--

As they entered the hospital fast lane and the medic was ready to receive both of the ProS, Mic was insistent to be placed near Shouta as he wasn’t comfortable around hospitals. The medic nodded and escorted them to their joined room. Shouta was seen to first. They took blood and gave him fluids; they also provide pain medicine and sadly they had to wait until he woke up.

Mic surgery was quickly scheduled. He met with the surgeon while sitting next to Shouta and rubbing his arm. The female was fairly tall and had blue tint to her eyes and white hair. She explained the surgery before Mic consented.

“Upon examination, we identified 1 cm diameter entry wound at the left lower abdominal wall, Sir. The images we took showed the bullet in the peritoneal cavity but no injured intraperitoneal and retroperitoneal viscera. We decided to remove the bullet laparoscopically.” Mic nodded. She noticed the band around his finger and smiled. “How long have you two been together?”

Mic smiled and replied “4-year next month, but I have known since we were 14 that this is what we both needed.” He paused before swallowing hard “We've been through a lot but I can’t imagine life without him. He is my whole life, my Sky. He bent down and kissed the sleeping man's hand.  The surgeon smiled and spoke “I see, well that must be hard with both of you rushing into battle all the time,” she looked down at her clipboard before continue “I have treated a lot of patients in my day but never have I seen a love quite like your, it’s very special.”  A monitor beeped and the surgeon motioned him to follow. “Well, shall we take care of the bullet Mr. Hizashi. Mic kissed Shouta’s hand before leaving the room.

--

Shouta was hot. It was too bright wherever he was. His mind was foggy. He groaned as he sat up, he immediately recognized the smell of a hospital. What happened. The last thing he remembers is the sound of gunshots and Hizashi…Shit Hizashi he jerked into a sit-up position and looked around. The nurse that had been changing his fluid jumped back. “Calm down you’re okay! Just relax.”

“Where is he…what happened?” He asked rage filling his croaky voice. The nurse replied, “Sir he is in surgery he will be out soon don’t worry he is okay.” She laid him back against the pillows before continuing “We need to make sure you’re okay Sir make sure you don’t have a concussion. He pulled out a light and shown it in his eye without much warning. The tickle flared to life and he turned his head.

“Issh’iIEWW!....hhh..heh… “TSCHTIEW” Thankfully his Quirk did not activate he wiped his nose on the back of his arm as the nurse apologized.

“Sorry Sir, but the good news is you don’t have a concussion so you will be out of here as soon as we can get some medicine and your husband is awake.”

Shouta relaxed slightly and closed his eyes and tried to keep the panic from getting too much to handle. Within the next 2 hours, Shouta tried to not be a bother to any of the staff but his flu had proven a little too much for him to handle.

As a nurse with a gravity-type quirk was walking down the hall with floating plates of dinner, he groaned as another tickle forced him to sneeze and he felt his quirk activate and he heard the crash as the dinner plates fell and crashed on the floor. Many of the nurses were understanding but he still felt awful. When his husband was wheeled into his room Shouta's eyes began to water and he had to fight back tears. The surgeon explained the surgery was a success and he would be discharged later today. She told Aizawa in a voice soft and comforting. “He loves you so much, you are a very lucky man.” She sat on the edge of his bed and looked into his eyes. “I know you feel broken but he is trying so hard to make sure you are taken care of. The world is a cruel place and I know you have suffered more than most. But know this, he loves you and has sworn to protect you. You might be a Hero to the public but he is your Hero, let him save you. She wiped a tear from her eye and turned to leave. Before leaving the room, she said “Oh and you have a gift make sure to grab it before leaving.” And placed a small box on the counter next to the door before leaving him.

When Hizashi woke and passed all the discharge tests and Shouta had his medicine they left the hospital holding each other’s hand and holding a box of tea that they would use for the rest of their life.

The end.