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cno-inbminor · 3 years ago

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iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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softzhongli · 3 years ago

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summary: xiao knows he doesn’t deserve your love but every time his head takes the lead, his heart is quick to completely sway him in the opposite direction word count: 1212 warnings: little angsty, I guess links: masterlist // ao3 requests: open posted: 07/02/2022 a/n: this is my very first genshin fic so pls bear with me lmao also i’m still fairly new to the game and don’t know much about the characters (aside from what i read in fanfics lol) so sorry if this is ooc or sth +i need friends in the game so if anyone wants, pls add me! (currently ar 42 // europe // uid: 736495790)

The sun was slowly disappearing from the sky, painting the world around him in many shades of pinks and oranges, enveloping him in unusual kind of warmth instantly reminding him of the sound of your laughter, for some reason. It was... weird, he decided. Yeah, weird was a good way to describe how, now, every little thing reminded him of you. And it would always surprise him, too. The way you suddenly pop up in his head, your beautiful face right in front of his eyes. He'd never admit to it, but on numerous occasions his hand would reach out to touch your face only to suddenly stop when his mind caught up with the rest of his body and remembered you weren't actually there. Oh he could already hear the little giggling sound you’d make if you ever found out about it, his cheeks warming up just thinking about it.

He never knew he’d have this, that he could have this. Someone so warm and kind loving someone as cold and closed off as him. He’s still miles away from properly voicing all of those thoughts to you. Some part of him fearing he it would be too much. That if he says every single thing he feels you’d realise what big mistake you made stubbornly seeking his company and completely ignoring the glares, exaggerated sighs and more often than not, not so nice jabs he was throwing your way. In moments like this Xiao would smile, just a little, just for a second before proving his own point even more.

“Xiao.” Your voice, just a whisper away from his ear, almost made him jump out of his own body and if he wasn’t as lost in thought you’d definitely be pinned to the ground for sneaking up on him like that. Instead, your hands found their way to his chest, hugging him from behind, your head pressed to his back and when he felt your warm lips on his exposed skin, he almost forgot his own name. “You, okay?” You asked almost in a whisper, squeezing him a little tighter and Xiao had to fight his own body to not let the satisfied sigh escape his lips.

He definitely did not deserve you.

He knew he should’ve tried harder to push you away. To do everything in his power to stop you from getting close to him. To be stronger and keep you at a distance, a safe distance close enough to just be able to save you if you ever needed it.

And yet he took your hand in his, not even paying attention to how fast and loud his heart was beating under your warm palm, and brought it to his lips to press a featherlike kiss to the back of your hand, lingering for a few moments longer than necessary. He could feel your smile on his back and that was was enough.

“I’m fine.” He finally answered your question. Hoping you’d believe him if you weren’t looking at his face. He could hide this way. He wouldn’t be able if you were face to face, he never could. It was like you could see right through him and it was as comforting as it was absolutely terrifying. All the walls he was protecting himself with, indestructible for anyone else, for you it was like they were made from paper and your eyes were the knives, so sharp that just one look tore through all of them so you could see the real man behind it all.

“Xiao.” You called his name again and untangled yourself from him to gently turn him to face you. And the moment he saw your face, Xiao had to close his eyes for a moment because all the colors the sun provided while setting down made you look like an angel. No human should be able to look this breathtakingly beautiful. And if wings would suddenly swung out of your back, he wouldn’t even be surprised.

And when he opened his eyes again he was once more reminded that he didn’t really deserve this. He didn’t deserve the way you looked at him, with so much warmth and compassion. He didn’t deserve the closeness between the two of you and all the love and trust he could see in your eyes, clear as day.

And yet, his hands reached out to touch your face just like all those times he imagined and whished you were right in front of him, his thumbs gently tracing the skin of your cheekbones. And he pulled you even closer, just craving the way your body feels next to his. And you smiled, your own hand travelled to his hair to gently tuck it behind his ear and how, archons how could he not kiss you right in that moment?

He almost never was the one to make the first move and in the off chance he did it was always simple, quick, careful and almost calculated, but in that moment he just couldn’t help himself. All those overwhelming emotions his head and heart were throwing at him at the speed of light, one after another before he even had the chance to stop and process even the most simple ones, made him act before thinking.

He suspected you must’ve been shocked with the sudden move, but If you were surprised, you didn’t show it at all and Xiao was actually grateful for that. He knew that with your hand placed back on his chest when his lips met yours, you could definitely fell the way his heart desperately tried to break free. He could feel you smiling and he knew, was absolutely sure, that his entire face was as red as it was possible. But the way your lips felt against his, like they were made specifically to fit with his was enough for Xiao to forget about the rest of the world for the moment.

“You know I love you, right?” Yet again, you were the one to say something and when Xiao heard what you said, with eyes still closed, his forehead against yours, his breath caught in his throat. He knew, one hundred percent he knew you loved him. How could he not? You reminded him about it constantly. For every time he said it, you said it a thousand times more.

But it was like an instinct that the first thing that came to his mind was ‘you shouldn’t’. Because deep down he knew it was true. You were too good for him. You were too good to him and he was still convinced he didn’t deserve this or you.

And yet, some voice even deeper down inside him was convincing him to be selfish. This one time, just when it comes to you. You were both his greatest strength and biggest weakness. You managed to get a hold of his heart and it now belonged to you, all of him belonged to you.

So yet again, he went opposite of what his head was telling him, instead listening to the heart, which was wildly beating in his chest.

“I love you Y/n.” He whispered with a shaky breath.

And nothing in his life felt as right as those words.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #xiao x gn reader #xiao fanfic #kinga writes

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star-going-supernova · 2 years ago

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Everyone talking about Vanessa getting arrested and I'm here like "I think Henry batim should meet Gregory, they got the same 'yes my found family is a group of fictional characters brought to life through deeply questionable means that definitely involved murders in some way, mind your business' vibes"

You’re so right, friend. I never would have guessed I’d be writing Henry BatIM in 2022, but here we are! For anyone who has no idea who that is, lol, he’s a character who I turned into an absolute dad (I know, very unusual for me) who has a collection of living cartoon characters as his children now. Humans were almost definitely sacrificed to bring them to life.

And big thanks to t.d from ao3 for being like, “I could see Henry and Gregory being related,” and the lightbulb went ding! I just wanted to post this real quick before heading off to a lil birthday lunch!

Always a Bigger Fish

Gregory steadfastly refused to close his eyes in his last moments. He’d been glaring certain death down all night, and he wasn’t about to cower away only to miss a last-ditch opportunity to make it out of this alive.

This monster, though, was a great deal different from the animatronics. This one—Afton, Vanessa had called him—was of the human variety. Even if he didn’t much look like it anymore.

Across the lobby, Vanessa laid crumpled on the floor. Gregory had no idea if she was alive or not, just that she’d taken a hit to the temple that had cracked horrifically, and a small pool of blood was now slowly creating a halo of neon reflections beneath her head.

And Freddy, his night-long protector and new friend, was slumped lifelessly against the wall somewhere past the turnstiles, near the stairs. He hadn’t run out of power; that implied it drained as it was used, a natural process that Gregory had been preventing from the beginning. But he was shut down, empty, the monster having dug its claws into Freddy’s back to take the power from his battery.

That same hand was wrapped around Gregory’s throat. Afton hadn’t started squeezing yet, though Gregory had no doubt that when he did, the mechanical joints and cold fingers would crush his entire neck like it was tissue paper.

“Curious,” Afton rasped. He tilted his head, staring at Gregory.

He could feel blood dripping from his nose. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he snapped.

“You don’t even tremble in fear,” the monster continued, ignoring him. “You life is in my hands, yet you cling to your useless defiance.”

They’d been so close. Insulting close. The exit was right in front of him. The barricade over the lobby doors had lifted; it’d be the work of all of five seconds of sprinting to leave the building. It was just, Afton had been waiting for them.

“What, you want me to beg?” Gregory asked, hoping his tone implied how much of a fool that made Afton. “I know your type. Actually, you remind me of an old friend of my grandpa’s.”

“Oh?” The way Afton examined him made Gregory feel very much like a pinned butterfly or a caged animal. Like his anger was something to indulge in, almost an amusement.

“Yeah.” He shrugged and grinned, knowing his teeth were bloody. “My grandpa killed him.”

The quiet mechanical whirs and clicks coming from Afton’s twitching body fell silent for a moment. So many exposed parts. The fingers resting deceptively lightly on his throat curled, just enough to poke into his skin. But still no squeezing.

The barricades were up. It was after six. Gregory could see the doors. Afton couldn’t.

“He’s in town, actually,” Gregory said, causal. “My grandpa. I just turned thirteen, y’know. He flew in for the party.”

Afton’s body was loud; the music was louder. Every monster thought they were the biggest and baddest in the room. He’d taken out Freddy and Vanessa, and Gregory was caught in his claws. What use did he have in looking over his shoulder?

“You’re a kid killer,” Gregory said when Afton didn’t respond. “My grandpa’s old friend, he sacrificed people. Stole their souls or somethin’. And my grandpa…”

Afton’s hand tightened the slightest bit.

“Well,” Gregory rasped. He raised his hands to grip Afton’s wrist, tensing. “He took offense.”

He could see the moment Afton realized they were no longer alone. The moment the monster crouched before him realized he wasn’t the biggest monster in the room anymore.

“There’s always another Joey,” Grandpa Henry said from behind Afton. Outside the lobby doors, Gregory could see his car. “How about you let go of my grandson, hm?”

“I could kill you before he acts,” Afton whispered. His hand was a heavy weight, impossible to forget. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Yeah?” Gregory asked, on the verge of laughing. “Watch me.”

The thing about a human monster—they were human.

Using his grip on Afton’s arm as leverage to pull his lower half off the floor, Gregory swung his outstretched feet up and jammed his sneakers right through one of those holes in the suit, where he could clearly see pulsing organs.

His mechanical bits and pieces were old, rusted. There was the slightest jerky delay when he moved and spoke, as if the suit couldn’t quite keep up with his thoughts anymore.

And so the hand squeezed too slow, and it released compulsively as Afton wheezed out and jerked away.

Gregory shoved himself away blindly, refusing to turn his back and almost instantly lightheaded with relief. Strong, sure hands caught him up from the floor and lifted him easily to his feet. Grandpa Henry hugged him to his side, glaring at Afton as he tried to stand.

The familiar, comforting heaviness of something other seeped into Gregory’s chest, in time with the writhing shadows that began to creep into existence. They snaked across the tiles, stained the walls, and the lights above them went out with quiet pops. Like living things, they curled through the air and around Grandpa Henry’s shoulders.

See, his grandpa had been the last of the sacrifices his old friend had tried. Joey Drew probably hadn’t expected it to work as well as it had; he definitely hadn’t expected a demon to take a stronger liking to the sacrifice than the summoner.

“Hey, Bendy,” Gregory said, reaching out to catch one of the shadowy tendrils in his hand. His grandpa’s creation might not be in his usual form, the cutesy little pie-cut-eyed trickster, but Gregory had never feared Bendy’s more… eldritch side. It took a demon to make a demon, and there were few monsters bigger and badder than that.

Looked like Afton would only learn that too late.

“I don’t take kindly to people who hurt my family,” Grandpa Henry was saying to Afton, who had finally struggled to his feet. He sounded so pleasant, so kind.

It was always the quiet ones.

“You cannot kill me. Not for good,” Afton said. “I always—”

“That a challenge?”

Gregory bit his lip to hide his smile.

“I ask,” Grandpa Henry said, his eyes becoming just a little too bright, “because I love a good challenge. Never tell me the odds.” And he chuckled. Like they were discussing bingo, or how many biscuits one could eat at Thanksgiving.

“There’s always another Joey,” Grandpa Henry repeated, solemn, in the silence. Afton’s animatronic eyes went half-lidded. Gregory grinned at him from his place of safety. Tiny pinpricks of blood decorated his neck, itchy. “You’ll share his fate.”

Gregory could feel Bendy’s glee. He let go of the shadow in his hand as Grandpa Henry suddenly strode forward, eyes electric.

And Afton, well. A simple monster like him was no match for a demon.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf security breach #batim fic #kinda #star's stories #life and times of star

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gallavictorious · 3 years ago

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I saw your tags and I think you might need to write that fic of Ian and Mickey recreating their first time when Ian gets a tire iron. 🧐☺️

Okay, so this took me a hot minute, and I did it as a kind of speedwrite so it's rather short and not exactly thought out. I also went off (my own) script a little bit and it got unexpectedly sappy there for a moment... But! Have 1,4k very silly words of Ian and Mickey roleplaying their first proper get together because Mickey gave Ian a tire iron. I hope you enjoy it, dear one – thank you so much for the prompt! I had unexpected fun with it. ❤️

(Oh, and tags in questions are the ones on this post, so all credit to @jenatte for providing the original inspiration.)’

ETA: It’s on AO3 now too.

---

Ow. The fuck?

Reluctantly, Mickey blinked awake. The bright light suggested it was already near noon, but that wasn't what had woken it, that wasn't–

It came again: a hard poke to his back. Not the good kind, either, of Ian pressing his hard-on against Mickey's rear while they were snuggled close, but something cold and sharp. Insistent.

”What the fuck?” Mickey groaned, rolling over on his side and peering up at–

–his husband standing over him with... a fucking tire iron in his hands? Not just any tire iron either, but the one Mickey had gotten him as a gift for their anniversary as a mix of a joke, sentimentality and practicality; it was how they started, sure, and meaningful for it, but also a damn good thing to have, no home was complete without it. He thought that maybe Ian had overlooked the practial aspects, though, in favour of going a little misty-eyed before he started dropping half-assed quips about hard lenghts and Mickey had to roll his eyes and punch his husband in the arm a little bit.

Now Mickey's brow furrowed further as he tried to make sense of the scene. For a brief, terrifying moment, apprehension siezed his gut: was Ian having a manic episode, seeing enemies where there was none? But no; though he feigned a fearsome scowl, there was that glitter in Ian's eyes and a small quirk to his lips that spoke little of mania and everything of being a fucking dork and a tease.

”Give me the gun, Mickey,” he intoned, and Mickey was about to ask again what the hell and what fucking gun and maybe are you feeling okay man because perhaps Mickey didn't have quite as good a read on his husband as he thought he had–

–and then he got it, memory reasserting itself, and he could feel the fucking grin growing on his face quite of its own accord. He'd have felt stupid for not immediately catching on, but give him a fucking break, he'd been sleeping two seconds ago and his days of waking up with a start and ready to fight were slowly and thankfully becoming a thing of the past.

Ian's faux frown broke, as he was unable to contain an answering smile. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself, and with Mickey for getting it. Mickey would tell him he was a fucking idiot, but Ian looked so expectant that Mickey decided to play along instead. No harm in a little weird roleplay to make his husband happy, right?

Besides, it wasn't like Ian standing over him and looking vaguely threatening and very hot didn't do it for Mickey on several levels.

”Okay, fine,” he said, climbing to his feet while doing his very best to appear drowsy and uninterested. It had been instinctive back then, the plan of lulling the irate kid into a false sense of security before pouncing on him and kicking his teeth in for having the fucking gall to march into Mickey's room and demand things.

Mickey made a show of slowly turning towards the nightstand, just as he had all those years ago. He could feel Ian's eyes track his every movement, ready to react to the sneak attack he knew was coming. There'd be no taking him by surprise this time.

His face turned away and unseen, Mickey smiled. Or would it?

He grabbed hold of the bottle of lube on the table and spun around to throw it at Ian's head, took a quick step up and to the side, and as Ian gave a short yelp and involuntary raised his hands to protect his face, Mickey rushed him from the side to push him down on the bed. Ian went with a thud and an oof and Mickey didn't hesitate; he was on his husband in a second, straddling his chest and wrestling the tire iron from him grip.

”What the hell, Mick?” Ian demanded, not bothering to struggle but glaring up at Mickey with wide reproachful eyes. ”This isn't how it went!”

Mickey grinned. ”How it went is I kicked your scrawny ass,” he said smugly. ”Now, how am I gonna do that if you know which way I'm gonna move?”

”I was going to let you win!” Ian protested.

Mickey's eyebrows rose. ”Oh, you were gonna let me, huh?”

”Yeah,” Ian said slowly, eyes narrowing, ”I was going to let you.�� And with that he grabbed hold of Mickey's arms and pushed him to the side while using his greater body weight as leverage to flip them around.

”Fucker,” Mickey spat, kicking at Ian's shins. He dropped the tire iron – not like he was actually going to hit Ian with it – to have both his hands free for a renewed assault on his sneaky little shit of a husband, but Ian had already wrapped his his stupidly big hands around Mickey's wrists and was pushing him down into the mattress, grinning triumphantly while Mickey struggled and squirmed beneath him.

”Guess I had a change of heart,” Ian said.

Mickey stilled, biting at his bottom lip as he considered. He was pretty sure he could still take Ian if he really wanted to, mostly on account of him being a ruthless motherfucker with no interest whatsoever in fighting fair. However, that required a level of playing dirty and pulling nasty jabs that went far beyond what he felt comfortable doing to his husband these days.

”Uh-huh, and what's the plan now, genius?” he demanded, opting for snark instead of violence.

Ian didn't answer. The look in his eyes had shifted from triumphant to something thoughtful, and softer.

”Do you think it'd have gone the same way if it'd been me on top of you instead of the other way around back then?” he wondered aloud.

Mickey made a face. It fucking figured that his sap of a husband would turn a promising round of foreplay into a game of sentimental what-if.

”I dunno,” he said, wriggling his hips a little to remind Ian that there were otherstuff they could be doing right now, stuff way more exciting than having a goddamn conversation. ”Does it fucking matter? It didn'thappen like that, and it never would have happened like that either, 'cause back then I didn't give a shit about fucking you up too bad, so I'd bashed your fucking brains out before letting get on top of me.”

He wanted to bite his tongue as soon as he'd said it, but it was too late: Ian's eyes had lit up and his thoughtful look transformed into a smirk. ”Well, I mean,” he drawled, leaning down to put his mouth to Mickey's neck, just for a moment, just a little bit of teeth in the brief touch.

”Fuck off,” Mickey said, but he was laughing. Ian's weight pinning him down was as exciting as it was annoying, as it was grounding.

Ian just hummed. He'd straightened again and was gazing down on Mickey with a look that was so damned fond it made a small blush work its way up Mickey's neck.

”I think we'd have ended up here anyway,” Ian decided. ”Somehow.”

”Oh yeah?”

”Yeah.”

Soft smiles then, as something warm and happy bloomed in Mickey's chest. For a moment, they just looked at each other, eyes resting on the face each of them knew best, loved best.

Ian let go of Mickey's wrist to put his hand on the side of his head, fingers tangling in Mickey's hair as Ian ran a thumb over his husband's cheek. He bent down again, but this time to capture Mickey's lips in a long, lingering kiss.

”I think I was always going to have you,” Ian murmured as they broke apart, forehead pressed against forehead.

A second later he yelped in surprised outrage as Mickey took advantage of his lapse in vigilance to grab hold of his hair and yank his head sharply to the side while pushing up to get Ian off him and halfway down onto the floor. Mickey followed him with a snicker, and off they went again, tousling and laughing and absolutely heedless of any noise they might make.

#gallavich #ficlet #asks #my stuff

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years ago

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Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing… because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

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beewritings · 4 years ago

Text

our final night alive

Eren Jaeger x Reader one shot.

Afab reader, gender neutral pronouns used!

Content Warning: angst & nsfw. Slight violence, first time blowjobs, first time vaginal sex. Not spoiler free, manga is preferred to have been read.

Posted on my ao3.

Summary: You and Eren become lovers, but he disappears years later and it causes conflict on your relationship. I’m bad at summaries I’m so sorry

5.9k words. This is posted on my phone I’m so sorry if the layout is ugly lol. First story posted on here!! :) Feedback is welcomed!

you and eren got together not long after annie was caught being the female titan. you, eren, armin and mikasa became close friends during your cadet days.

you shared a bunk with mikasa, and seeing as she was always focused on eren and armin, you were scared to become her friend because you were unsure if she even wanted friends. you and her became sparring partners during training one day and she, obviously, kept beating you. at some point, eren walks over and tells her to give you a break and so she apologizes to you. from that point on, you always saw eren as a life saver. yes, she kept dropping you to the ground so much to the point where you were in pain so eren saved you. you accepted her apology, of course, and you even got to ask her if you could be friends. mikasa shrugged, but eren answered for her: he said he’d like that. he introduced himself and he called for armin and you introduced yourselves. the four of you never thought you’d actually join their friend group. these were the first friends you made and you never felt happier in your life.

“y/n, what made you want to join the cadet corps? you never told us,” you remember armin asking you one day.

“oh… um… it’s a stupid reason. it’s not worth mentioning… it’ll make it seem like i’m a joke..”

“no reason is stupid. except for that horse face’s reason, that bastard is a coward!” eren said, screeching.

“um.. well as a kid, i was neglected by both my parents. they were so focused on my older brother joining the military police and so happy for him that they basically forgot about me a lot. they always called me a disappointment and such and it always made me feel like shit..”

“so you joined to prove to them you’re worthy?”

“what? hell no, i joined so i could get away from them. i was tired of being treated like i was a mistake child so my choices were either join the military to slowly kill myself or join the military to get away from my terrible parents. i honestly haven’t felt happy probably my whole life. but then i met you guys and now i feel like i have a purpose to be here? i want to protect you guys. all three of you…”

eren gives a slight smile and then it turns into a bright one. he leans to his left and wraps an arm around your shoulder and his other arm around armin and pulls them in. you and armin wrap one arm around mikasa and you all hug each other. you knew you were there to protect them all. even though mikasa is always there to try and protect eren, you know she needed someone to protect her, and you know for a fact someone had to be there for armin.

when discussing what branch of the military you guys were going to join, you four chose to join the scout regiment. then so much happened between when you talked about what you were going to join and graduating as cadets. there were days where you and eren would work together practicing and even though you were her friend, mikasa would keep watching you to make sure you wouldn’t get too close to him. she never told you that she would watch, but she was. when you and eren would spar, there’d be times where he’d pin you on the ground and straddle you with the wooden knife pointing to your neck. you started gaining a crush on eren, not knowing he was too, and you’d blush instead of defending yourself. at some point, you did push him right off of you and pin him instead, which resulted in him with a red face instead.

when switching partners, you sparred with armin next while eren went to reiner. instead of sparring armin, you tried teaching him moves since you knew he was fragile and it wouldn’t have been a fair fight. armin brought up the topic of you and eren.

“so, you and eren? i saw you guys being flustered while sparring.”

“w-w-what??? nooooo, i wasn't flustered???? no one was flustered, armin. haha..” way to be obvious, y/n.

armin giggles and immediately drops the conversation.

eventually, time passes and the colossal titan decides to return, bringing titans with it. cadets are to help kill titans. you ended up on another squad, but you remind yourself to keep in contact with eren and armin. you couldn't keep sight of mikasa being she was with the higher ups, but you tried. you remember crashing into armin with ymir and connie. that's when you find out that… eren got eaten by a titan. it broke your heart, you felt the pieces inside of you tearing apart. you tried being strong but.. tears started to fall. mikasa made her way and she found out too, armin screaming in tears of all the members in his squad who'd died. mikasa was silently angry, calling everyone cowards. she soars off with little gas, and you immediately chase after her. she flew away so quickly, you couldn’t catch up with her. you had to protect her, you promised to protect your friends. one is already gone, you couldn’t have another one disappear. if she disappears, how can you trust yourself to protect armin? after you all made it to the building, killed the titans inside and got to refilling your gases, you find out that the titan who was killing other titans was none other than eren, the kid you started to gain feelings for.

time skip to capturing annie, the female titan, you and eren had finally gotten alone time. a time to talk your feelings out as eren heals from his fight with her. you went to visit him when you know everyone already has, but when you know he was still awake. it’s been a few years since you’ve met and started gaining feelings, being as you met when you were 12 and are now 15.

“hey, eren. how’re you feelin’, titan boy?”

“ugh, don’t call me that, y/n. that’s the least thing i wanna hear from you.”

“sorry…”

“.... y/n?”

“eren?” you both say at the same time.

“oh, you can-”

“no no, you go.”

you both give off small laughs.

“you go first, y/n.”

“um. well, i’m pretty sure this is the wrong time to bring this up considering you’re tired from fighting that female titan. plus this war isn’t near over and i shouldn’t be focused on feelings because we are soldiers but, uh. i have-”

“me too,” eren cuts in.

“feelings, i- what? i didn’t even finish-”

“it’s been obvious. well, not really. i didn’t think it was obvious, but i figured by the way we’ve been acting towards each other. we always get flustered when we’re close to each other. y/n, did you even realize that you’re holding my hand?”

you both look down and see that you’re holding his hand. you snatch it back with a flushed face and start stuttering.

“i-i-i always h-hold my friends' hands!!! i k-know you’ve seen me hold armin’s!! please, y-you’re not special, eren jaeger!”

eren giggles and blushes as well, leaning to grab your hand once more, this time interlocking the fingers.

“i agree. this isn’t the time for romance considering we are soldiers in the middle of a battle. but that doesn’t make me not want to further this relationship between us.. i-if you want that, that is…”

you bite your lip, looking away from him. you squeeze his hand and he caresses your skin with his thumb. you both kind of just ended the conversation there, but everything was mutual between the two of you. you knew what you wanted. a relationship, but never really having the title due to the war you all were going through. time flies and the battle with reiner and bertholdt to capture eren back from them happens. all you could feel about this battle was anger; you were going to get eren back. and you did. during the time where everyone was healing from it, that’s when you and eren both told both mikasa and armin about the little thing you guys had.

armin was supportive, he was easy. but mikasa took it a little hard, not showing it though. you pulled mikasa away and had a long talk with her about it, tell her you didn’t mean to catch feelings for the man she’d grown to protect with her life, it kind of just happened. but she couldn’t stay upset forever. she wishes for eren to be happy, and as she can see: you made him happy. the happiest he’s been. and she wants you, one of her best friends to be happy too, and clearly it was with eren. since then, you and eren have been open with your relationship. everyone knew, and no one tried to end it. when you guys told the crew, most of them basically said “we figured”. jean actually laughed and didn’t believe it at first, “really? in a relationship with that suicidal blockhead? yeah, alright .” so you did what any couple would do to prove their relationship, you kissed eren in front of them all, in plain sight. that was your first kiss. his, also. jean’s face turned red in embarrassment and he turned away. “alright, whatever. you’re both crazy.”

you miss him.

you miss eren. you all found out about what was truly outside the walls, and you helped eren cope the most. you know he really wanted to kill the enemy, they caused so much pain to his home inside the walls. he wanted revenge. you understood and supported his anger, you were there with him through every moment. his rants, his tears, his fears. you backed him up; you were on his side. so why did he still leave you alone? why did he disappear from you and your friends? why were you all in marley, watching his attack titan destroy it from above? you weren’t completely mad, you all were gonna infiltrate marley eventually, you just did it quicker and earlier than planned. when you saw him with your own eyes, his titan, your heart sunk. he looked so different.. has it really been that long? no way. and… he grew such long hair.. god. it was actually kind of hot, but you were too angry to admit it.

you sigh. you stood in the blimp, you didn’t do any fighting. you explicitly told commander hange and captain levi that when you arrive at marley, you refuse to fight. you were in gear, in case you had to, but you mainly stood in the ship with them. when everyone retreated after mikasa recaptured eren, captain levi kicked him to the wall. mikasa tries to run to them, but armin’ stops her. you were in a distance, out of eren’s eyesight but you could see him. you really hated his damn face right now.

two soldiers with guns run to him, pointing towards him. levi starts to speak to him once more.

“this brings back memories, eren. you have such a kickable face.” that earns a small chuckle from you. “after you’re tied up, let’s have a chat.”

“that’s fine, i explained everything in the letters though. did you not understand it?”

“tch. that face reminds me of the rotten shits who lived underground. never thought i would see it on you. but cheer up, everything happened like you wanted it to, right?”

eren just stares off into space, but then looks levi straight in the eyes and he mumbles out, “... where are they?”

“who?”

“you know who… where is y/n.”

“tch. oi, l/n. talk to your shithead boyfriend before anything else happens. i’m tired of looking at his disgusting face.”

levi walks away, tells the soldiers to chain him up and they walk away, leaving you finally in his eyesight. internally, his heart sinks. the look on your face was pure disgust, and anger. you walk towards him, and he looks up at you with his dead souled eyes. you clench your fists.

“y/n…”

you let out a huge breath. “eren.”

“... y/n, i’ve mis-”

you already know what he was going to say, and it just pisses you off. you growl and punch the wall behind his head. you lean your leg back and kick it right into his stomach. you grab a fistful of his hair, gripping it and bringing his face to yours. mikasa tries to push through armin, but armin manages to hold her back still.

“y/n, stop !” mikasa screams.

“do you have any FUCKING clue how worried i’ve been, eren?! HUH?! DO YOU??” you ignore mikasa, “besides mikasa, i probably was even more worried than her! YOU LEFT ME, EREN. are you stupid, eh? HUH? are you fucking stupid? you like knowing your partner is just worried sick about you? fuck the plan, if i wanted to i would throw you off this air ship myself. i don’t even like looking at how disgusting you look, you’re hideous. that dead look in your eyes. you’re not even eren! you’re some man who’s a fucking joke, you don’t care about us do you?! that time on the train? when you said we were all important to you? was that a lie? do you even think we are?” you bang his head into the wall and knee him in the face, bruising his nose and bleeding from it. tears start to well up in your eyes, “i missed you, eren… why’d you just leave us like that? i’m your partner… whatever, you’re not worth my time right now. i’m going to check on the others.”

you let go of eren’s hair, look at him a second more and make a disgusted face once more. “you’re not worth my tears.” you start to walk towards the back of the airship.

“you never left my mind the whole time i was there, y/n. i promise you. ”

you clench your fists and ignore him, continuing to walk to the others to see who made it on the airship.

“eren.”

“... y/n?”

you went to visit the prison before commander hange did. you needed to talk to him.

“we need to talk.”

“i’m all ears, my love.”

you hate that he’s seriously using pet names on you right now. it’s always been a weakness. my love, baby, lovebird. you loved them all.

“cute, we using pet names after i beat this shit out of you? okay, sweetie. i’ll call you titan man, yeah?”

“come on, don’t start that again. what are you here for, hm?”

“to talk.”

“okay.. so talk. come on, you know you want to start with how i look.”

“how you look? haha, okay. you want me to say that you look hot? that i want you to ravage me? bend me over and do nasty things to me?”

eren smirks, “actually, yeah. if that’s how you feel, i’d love to hear you say that.”

you chuckle, hating that he isn’t wrong. you do feel that way about him right now. him being really attractive right now, a man bun AND he’s shirtless? this is so unfair.

“well, too bad then. you won’t hear me say those words with confidence. but it would be nice…” you grin and lick your lips.

“oh? unlock these prison bars, and i’ll show you a good time then, baby.”

“no. let’s be serious now-”

“i am serious.”

“no, eren. we need to seriously have a talk,” you give out an exhale, “why’d you do it? do you have a plan in mind?” eren sighs, about to cut you off but you continue, “i’m being serious, eren. i’m not planning on telling the others. this is between us… why’d you leave me?” you start to tear up, “why, eren… you have a good reason for this, right?”

eren looks away from you, not wanting to make eye contact. “i have a plan, y/n. it’s going to work, i know it is.”

“what is it, baby? please, just between us two… i need to know why you left me for so long. i’ve been hurting so much. i love you eren, so fucking much. i literally can’t see myself without you, i see a future with you. please, eren. i want to be with you through it all, thick and thin. we are going to defeat marley together, right?”

“y/n. you are the light in my life, the reason i’m doing everything i am. i want you to live such a perfect life, whether it’s with me or not. i know what i’m doing. i’m doing it for you.”

“no.. no no no! you’re supposed to be doing it WITH me, not FOR me! we’re a pair, we do it together!” you bang on the prison bars, “please eren… i can help you.. yes, i’m upset with you, and i love armin and mikasa, even jean and connie! hell, i love sasha too, god rest her soul. i’m here to protect them all, just as i was in the cadets to protect you, armin and mika. but i love you the most, and if i had to choose… it’s always going to be you. i’d betray my comrades for you, eren-”

“no. no you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. i love you, y/n. with my life, my heart, my soul. i’m willing to die for you if i could, but i will not let you betray the others. they need you more than you need me.”

“eren…” you’re full blown crying now, tears running down your face and overall a crying mess. you reach your hands between the bars holding his face in them and he places his arms through the bars to your waist, “please, eren. let me be by your side. i know floch released information about you, us imprisoning you. it was a tough decision, but someone leaked information to me about how you’re going to escape and meet some of your, uh, followers? they didn’t know if they were supposed to tell me considering the fact i was so angry with you on the airship, but someone slipped up. i know that’s not your real plan, you have something else planned for this… there’s no way you want to be on zeke’s side.. right?”

eren laughs, “hell no. i fucking hate that guy.”

“then what are your true intentions, eren…” you run your thumb across his lips, glancing back and forth between his eyes and lips.

“... i can’t tell you. to protect you, armin, mikasa… the others. i can’t tell you. you’re not joining floch and my followers. you’re staying with the scouts.”

“eren, i’m not-”

“l/n? are you down there?”

you and eren pull away from your intimate hold, and put some distance between yourselves. you cough.

“yes, captain. sorry. i had to give eren another beating and more yelling.”

“well, get out. you’re not allowed to be alone with eren.”

“yessir!”

eren looks at you and looks away. you lean back in the prison bars, grab his shoulders and bring it between the bars. you give him a kiss, a light yet deep kiss. one that just screams, please eren. he kisses you back, putting one hand on your waist. you pull away from his lips.

“.... i love you, eren. please, reconsider,” you whisper.

“i love you, y/n. more than you ever will know, i promise to spend my last 4 years with you,” his words make you tilt your head in confusion, “you’ll understand later. i promise you .”

you start to walk back, but then you hear eren’s last words to you, “you gonna let me ravage you soon, right? don’t act like i know you don’t think i’m so hot now.”

you giggle and walk backwards to look back at him, “i’ll think about. maybe if you’re a good boy, you can bend me over and do nasty things to me. maybe more, yeah?”

“oh? is this a promise or are you a tease?’

“take your pick.”

you walk up the stairs, leaving the man of your dreams locked in the prison.

eren escaped the prison. he met with his followers, the jaegerists, just as you had known was going to happen. you and the squad went to a restaurant to talk with niccolo. you didn’t expect what happened to happen. sasha’s family were there to eat, niccolo found out that the girl who killed sasha, gabi, was upon them and he threatened to kill both her and falco, the young eldian boy with her. after a dramatic episode with sasha’s adopted little sister, the little girl she saved from a titan, you, armin and mikasa take gabi to a separate room. you have a small talk, only to see your beloved walk in, with a threat. but to see eren again made your stomach flutter with butterflies. god you can’t get over how hot he looks.

he tells you to leave, he needs to talk to armin and mikasa by themselves. as he sends you out, there's a soldier who leads you into another room. you assume eren told him to lead you into another room. you take off your green military jacket, leaving you in your normal day outfit. after a bit, eren walks in. you blush, because god damn he’s so hot.

“....”

“... why are you so quiet?” eren asks.

“i-i don’t.. i don’t know. everything that’s happening, it’s just. so confusing…”

“thought you wanted me to bend you over? is that not what you said?”

you look up immediately in shock, “eh?”

eren smirks, “ eh? ” he mocks you, “i said, i thought you wanted me to-”

“i heard you the first time.. seriously, eren? right now? i don’t think this is the right time to-”

“baby, i’m joking. well, not really. i kind of was hoping we would do something here, but you obviously don’t and i am not going to force you,” he sighs, “can we just… hold hands and sit in silence? everything is stressing me out and i don’t know what to do with you.”

“what to do with me..?”

“shh, just hold my hands and shut up.”

…

“eren jaeger, i know you did not just tell me to-”

“y/n l/n.”

you immediately shut up, knowing you hate when he uses your first and last name. you look away and he reaches forward and places his hands out in front of him, on the table.

“hands.”

you hold his hands, fingers interlocked, and look into his eyes. those teal eyes… you could stare into them forever. you sit in silence for about five minutes.

“y/n.”

you hum in response.

“do you love me?”

“more than life itself.”

“... okay.”

they sit in silence once again.

“eren…”

“yes, my love?”

“.... can we… um…”

“hm? use your words, baby.”

ugh, you hate it when his pet names make you melt. and the way he uses them? UGH he just makes you want to just sit there and obey him forever if it meant him calling you baby. you started to blush and squirm in the chair. eren smirks and chuckles.

“is something wrong, baby? do you… need some release? you look like a pathetic whore in heat.”

you look at him with widened eyes. you’ve never heard eren speak like this to you before, but you.. kinda like it. like, you and eren haven’t even done sexual things so for you both to say dirty things, let alone imply sexual activities towards each other, was new. and well, it seems like that's going to change. eren leans forward with his body, taking back his hands and putting one on the table and one to grip your chin towards him.

“ are you going to fucking answer me? ”

“i-i.. i, um-”

“god, you can’t even speak. you’re so awestruck by the way i’m treating you? it was bound to happen sometime, all you do is cry about how much you love me. it’s annoying. i’m surprised you aren’t a jaegerist, on your knees kissing my shoes. begging for me to fuck the shit out of you. huh? is that what you want? for me to fuck the shit out of you? HUH? answer me, you fucking whore! ” eren slaps your face with the hand that gripped your chin, and he grips it again. he force opens your mouth and he spits in it, “ swallow it. ”

“y-yes sir,” are the only words that could come out, and it boosted his ego and the tent in his pants you didn’t notice until now started to show more. you swallowed the liquid he spit into your mouth and stared into his beautiful teal eyes. you know this is just foreplay, he’s not genuinely angry with you. because his eyes never changed. this is the love of your life… he wouldn’t hurt you. you know he wouldn’t hurt you. you open your mouth to show him you swallowed it and he chuckles.

“ good. ” he lets go of your jaw and pats your head. he looks you in the eye and smiles. a genuine loving smile. he speaks again, “are you okay with this? with what i'm doing?”

you nod, giving a smile back. “i feel amazing, eren. are we… are we gonna, y’know…”

“hm? what did i say about using your words?”

you groan and look away from his eyes. “are we, no, are you actually going to bend me over and do nasty things to me?”

“do you want me to?”

“…yes.”

eren smirks and chuckles. “your wish will be my command.”

on an instant, eren grabs your arm and yanks you over the table. he walks to where you were just standing, and then he drags you by your hair to get off the table. he forces you on the floor, on your two knees to face towards him and his bulge that was being held in his dark pants, screaming to come out. he leans against the table.

“well? what are you waiting for? i’m not helping you. you’re on your own.”

you roll your eyes and you feel like you just know what you’re supposed to do. your hands make way to his pants, unbuttoning it immediately. you pull his pants down to his ankles, and start to rub his bulge. eren sucks in a breath, leaning his head back. he’s getting impatient, he actually can’t wait. he pulls his underwear down, his girthy member slapping against his stomach. he backs up to sit on a chair and spreads his legs apart for you. you stare at him with a flushed face and widened eyes. because it’s your guy’s first time doing anything like this, he smirks and starts pumping his member. pre-cum leaking out. he bites his lip, tilts his head back and lets out a low moan.

“y/n. start. i’m not doing everything for you from here on. suck it.”

you stare at his member, not in fear because your beloved’s cock is big, but in shock. will i… will i be able to fit this in my mouth? let alone.. inSIDE of me?? you lean forward, trying not to let him wait any longer. you lick a long stripe from his balls to his tip, earning a strangled moan from eren. he doesn’t want to pull your hair yet, so he just keeps caressing his thighs. you lick it some more, and then you finally stick him inside your mouth, and he instantly thrusts into your mouth. you let out a choke and pull off to cough. he opens his eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

“i’m sorry baby, i-it was an instant reaction. i’ll try not to do that until you’re ready. j-just.. keep going…”

you nod your head after coughing, letting your mouth right back onto his cock. you slowly start to bob your head, letting your tongue glide against the veins. trying not to bite, you start to bob your head quicker. you use your hand for whatever you can't reach and you just do this for a few minutes. eren’s legs start to shake. you lick his tip a few times, and eren’s hands go to your hair, pushing your head down a little further. he’s close. you can’t tell, but he knows he is. he thrusts up into your mouth, making you gag but you also moan, because fuck it feels so good. the vibrations from your noises trigger him, and he thrusts up more.

“f-fuck, y/n… i’m… i-i’m coming-!”

he pushes your head down all the way, your nose touching his skin. you’re gagging as thick liquid spurts up into your throat, making you gag just a bit more. your eyes tear up from the pain in your mouth, but your body feels tingly, on the verge of an orgasm. eren pulls out of your mouth while breathing heavy. you pull back with lust-filled eyes and you know you’re dying to have him inside you now. you open your mouth to show him his cum on your tongue, then you swallow that and show him your tongue once more. he blushes and giggles, looking away from your face. if he looks again, he might cum again, he doesn’t want to. not yet.

“e-eren… i need you… please, eren.”

eren looks at you and chuckles, “fuck… get on the table. i can’t hold back any longer.”

eren helps you up and sets you on the table in front of you both. he pulls off every piece of clothing you had on, your shirt your undershirt, your pants and your underwear, all at once. he refuses to wait. he needs to be in you now. he looks at your wet folds, he knows you were on the verge of cumming. he gives one long lick against you, and you bite your lip, twitching your legs and holding in your moans. he gets up and puts both arms on either side of your head. his member sliding against your folds.

“oh no no no, you are not going to hold back. i want everyone to know who is getting fucked and by who. i want everyone to know my partner of four years is a whore, a slut for my dick. that they’d do anything just to have eren jaeger’s cock in their mouth, in their beautiful pussy. yeah? are you my little cockwhore?”

“yes sir! i’m your little cockwhore, your little slut. please ‘ren, i want you.. no, i need you!!”

“god, baby. say it again, one more time baby..”

“EREN.”

“oh my god, babe. JUST DO IT!”

you both giggle as if there aren’t soldiers threatening your friends and comrades outside that door. eren looks at you with a genuine smile, and he mumbles “please, baby.”

“... i’m your little cockwhore, ‘ren. your little slutty cockwhore.”

“yeah? who’s pussy is this? huh? who’s pussy am i about to fuck?”

“... mine?”

eren lifts an arm and smacks your face, gripping your chin tightly. “try again.”

“y-yours…”

“what was that?”

“it’s yours…”

“what’s mine? didn’t your mother teach you how to speak? what. is. mine?” he uses that hand that gripped your chin to slap his cock against your throbbing area, sliding his cock between your folds.

“this pussy is yours, eren! this virgin pussy is all yours, eren, now can you PLEASE - o-oh!”

eren laughs as he just slides his member inside of you, slowly. it’s both of your first times, but it feels like it’s not. your cunt is so tight, but it feels as though it’s been used so many times. he gets in all the way, and you reach over to grip his man bun. you pull it out of its hair tie because you didn’t want to bother working with it later. he stays in, waiting for you to give him the go. you clench yourself around him, and considering the fact you were on the brink of orgasm when you were sucking him off, you actually orgasm right then and there. you clench around him tightly, moaning and gripping his long hair. he puts his hand back down next to your head.

“y-y/n?!”

“eren! o-oh fuck… -i-i’m sorry… i was on t-the brink of coming, i’m sorry-! EREN!”

he starts to thrust in, using your juices as lubricant and he just goes for it. fuck waiting, you already came. and he was going to make sure you get another orgasm. he wants his baby to be spoiled with his cum. he thrusts in and out, seeing his cock become visible and invisible. you moan, scream, every verb in the dictionary. you move your hands from his hair to his back and chest, leaving marks all over. eren grunts, feelings so good from your nails scratching him. oh god, his baby is making him feel so good. and he know he’s making his baby feel so good too, it’s very well shown on your face. he keep thrusting until he hits the spot to make you wild.

“EREN! oh my god, please eren, i’m so close, please please! please treat me like your little whore! you’re hitting the spot i never knew existed, please don’t stop!”

“you want it? you want me to fuck a baby into you? hm? want your sadistic boyfriend to breed you?”

god, you were losing it. eren grabs your body, he keeps his dick inside and he pulls you down to the chair with him. he wants you to ride him. and god, it’s a new sensation. you feel like you’re seeing god when you ride him. you hop on his lap, and he holds on to your waist while fucking up into you. you stare into his beautiful blueish green eyes. you wrap one arm around his neck and the other to his cheek and you kiss him. he, of course, kisses back. he helps you hop on him while holding your waist. everything feels so good.

“eren… i’m close again..” you mumble to the boy.

“i know , baby, i am too. i am too.”

he leaves marks all over your chest, just as you left nail marks on his back. you guys just sit like this, you keep riding him until you both are on the verge of another orgasm. he holds you against him, fucking into you so quick and fast and it just keeps hitting your walls. you’re both about to orgasm.

“eren! i’m gonna come, i-i’m-”

“let it out baby, i wanna hear you. i want everyone to hear you! please baby, i love you!”

“eren! i’m- f-fuck.. i love you, eren!”

after you both orgasm for a second time, you both sit there. enjoying each other's hot air, finishing off the post orgasm and intimate moment together. you both stare into each other's eyes, sharing the bonding moment. you both smile at each other, and you nuzzle into his neck. you love eren, you loved him so much. you can’t picture your future without him. he helps you up and he sets you back on the table. he looks around the entire room searching for wipes or paper towels. fortunately, he finds paper towels and cleans your private areas off. he’s beyond happy to have shared such a moment with you, finally. he gives you a deep kiss. he loves you so much. he would love to picture himself in your future.

but,

he wasn’t in it.

2 years have passed since the rumbling.

you miss him.

you miss eren so much.

228 notes · View notes

rovelae · 3 years ago

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Behind the Scenes of “Hologram”

Today marks exactly one year since I posted arguably my most popular fic. “Hologram” is a postgame Saiouma one-shot about escapism, loneliness, and running away from the past. I put a lot of myself into this fic and I’m blown away by all the love it’s received, not only on AO3 but in Discord servers and other social media. All that excitement made me keep thinking about it, so I thought I’d share a (very self-indulgent) behind-the-scenes of sorts about how I wrote it, as well as what I think of the story.

This essay will contain spoilers for the whole fic, so if you’d like to read it first, you can find it here. Of course, if the tags scare you off, that’s valid, but you might want to skip this post too since I’ll be quoting it throughout (so, just to be safe, expect the warnings I’ve posted on AO3 to apply here too).

If you’re a Lorde fan you’ll recognize the lyrics in the fic summary – “Nothing’s wrong when nothing’s true,” from “Buzzcut Season.” The inspiration for this fic came to me while I was on my way to an early shift at work, and I needed a good song in my head to give me the will to live for the next eight hours. Not sure why I chose that song in particular, but maybe part of it is because I like imagining stories to go along with the songs I listen to, like AMVs playing in my head, and I’d never been able to pin down exactly what this song reminded me of.

The mood of the music is really what compelled me – there’s something lonely about it, and the lyrics sound like the singer’s trying to convince herself that everything’s okay even when all evidence points otherwise. There are “explosions on TV”, and “The men up on the news / They try to tell us all that we will lose,” but “we live beside the pool / Where everything is good.” Despite everything going wrong, despite the notes of fear creeping into the pre-chorus, the character will “play along… in a hologram with you” and “never go home again.”

From there, it was an easy jump to “postgame Saiou” and that was that.

There’s a cloud of seagulls hovering in the air around him, and a dozen or so more standing just out of reach, staring him down with beady black eyes. Kokichi takes a slice of bread from the loaf he’s holding and tosses it to one of the birds, watches it catch it and stumble under the weight, watches its head bob as it tries to swallow the whole thing at once. It gets remarkably far before four other birds descend on it, shrieking wildly.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he mumbles into his folded arms, wondering if Shuichi would get the reference.

He really wishes Shuichi was here.

Kokichi upends the rest of the loaf of bread onto the sidewalk and laughs at the resulting chaos until his chest aches.

To start off, I wanted to create the same lonely mood from “Buzzcut Season” in Kokichi’s simulation. He’s not exactly trapped there, but he’s refusing to leave, because as long as he’s on the fake Jabberwock Island, he can pretend the killing game never happened. The trade-off to that escapism is that the only people he can talk to are the NPCs, who aren’t complex enough to be remotely interesting to him, and Usami, who… well, tries her best, but is more of an informational / moderation program and can’t offer him what a therapist could.

The only thing Kokichi has to look forward to is Shuichi, who he’s convinced is an extremely lifelike computer program rather than the real thing, because the real Shuichi would definitely hate him for everything that happened during the killing game. He’s so locked into this line of logic that he doesn’t let himself consider that Shuichi has forgiven him – he doesn’t even have a good answer for why the Future Foundation wouldn’t just keep the supposed Shuichi AI on indefinitely, believing it’s their way of baiting him into leaving the simulation.

It’s not a healthy or sustainable lifestyle in the slightest, but Kokichi stubbornly refuses to do anything but wander the islands aimlessly, passing the time with ice cream and feeding seagulls until the next time he can see Shuichi.

He dreams that DICE is here in the simulation with him, smiling and carefree as they explore the weird music venue. One of them has gotten the karaoke machine working, and another found a box of kazoos and maracas in the back room. Kokichi already pities anyone unfortunate enough to walk by the building tonight.

“Not going to sing, Joker?” one of his DICE asks (over the sound of their youngest member shrieking through seven kazoos at once), sitting on the bench next to him.

“Some games are more fun to watch than play,” he answers, leaning back on his hands and sighing.

“Like a killing game.”

The warm dream-atmosphere turns cold then, and Kokichi’s head snaps over to look at him—but his brother is gone and Kaito’s looking back at him instead, blood in his teeth and face ashen pale.

“You... we don’t have to do this, man,” Kaito says, but it’s a lie and they both know it, and he doesn’t want to look behind him because he knows the machine’s looming over him with its unyielding steel and slow slow slow descent—

“You’re not real,” he snaps at dream-Kaito, who doesn’t respond except to lift him up again. “Nothing’s real, none of—PUT ME DOWN! LET GO OF ME! DON’T PUT ME BACK IN THERE!”

“Death is more mercy than you deserve,” Kaito says, and Kokichi claws and bites and kicks his way out of Kaito’s grasp like a wild animal, only to end up in front of a prison cell full of—

DICE, his beloved DICE, trapped and hurt and afraid, bloodied and beaten and helpless.

“Why didn’t you save us, boss?” says his second-in-command, clutching the bars with bleeding hands. “Why didn’t you do more? Now we’re all dead and it’s because of you.”

Moments like this are my reference to Buzzcut Season’s pre-chorus, where the not-okay starts to creep into the illusion. Despite Kokichi’s valiant efforts to forget, he’s still dealing with the aftermath of seeing his family hurt and in danger, watching his friends die, orchestrating the deaths of two of them, being killed himself— and then being told every bit of it was made up to entertain an audience who sees nothing wrong with that picture. Running away is not the way to heal from trauma, and one day soon it’s all bound to come crashing down around him.

“Do you know what this … island paradise represents, Kokichi?” [Hinata] asks, and Kokichi’s really not in the mood for a lecture but he continues anyway. “Jabberwock Island … was the setting for the fiftieth season of Danganronpa. The golden anniversary, they called it. It was my season.”

Kokichi hunches over, hugging his arms over his torso and stifiling a scream. He does not want to think about this right now—

“They wanted it to be the best season of all, which, unfortunately for us, meant it was also the bloodiest,” Hinata says. “Twice as many participants, deadly traps hidden across each of the islands— they even changed the way the motives worked, like when they told Fuyuhiko to cut out his own eye so Peko could have a quick death instead of suffering for days.”

“Do I look like your therapist, porcupine-head?” Kokichi hisses. A sharp pain is pounding into his skull, and there’s a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. A taste like poison and blood.

“There was so much going on that the simulation malfunctioned,” Hinata says. “When people died, their Ultimate talents downloaded themselves into me. I’m told that the stress of so many personality grafts came close to liquefying my frontal lobe. I’m lucky I woke up at all… especially considering more than half of the others didn’t.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kokichi grates out through the static building in his head. If he opens his eyes, will he see the beach or the dull chrome of the machine closing in on him?

“Because I know how much you want to forget about what happened,” Hinata says. “Believe me, I get it.”

….

“These things that happened to us… we can’t erase them, no matter how much we want to. Some things have to be remembered.”

I’d mostly like to leave Hajime’s season up to interpretation, but there are a couple things I wanted to say about it. I imagine Danganronpa is like the Hunger Games in that it’d go all out for big anniversaries. So, there were twice as many participants for the Jabberwock Island beatdown that was probably subtitled “Bloodbath Bay” or something equally appealing. The game’s formula changed from a focus on the mystery and the trials to “look at all these kids massacring each other a la Lord of the Flies,” and since the VR system wasn’t equipped to handle that many people and their deaths, it malfunctioned, giving Hajime way too many Ultimate talents and putting half the cast into comas from which they never woke up.

Viewers either absolutely loved or absolutely hated this season, depending on whether they were DR fans because of the “blood n’ guts” factor or the “mystery and psychological thriller” aspect. Team Danganronpa faced quite a bit of backlash for actually causing the real-life deaths of half its participants, but were able to weasel their way out of serious legal repercussions because of the waivers the participants had signed beforehand (plus a lot of bribery and falling back on their longstanding popularity). So, the cast of Season 50 failed to end the killing game, but helped provide great evidence for the “Danganronpa is morally wrong” argument.

Hajime works as a victim liaison for the Future Foundation and has been trying to take down Danganronpa since he got out of it. He’s like that in a few of my fics, actually; I like the idea of Hajime acting as a big brother of sorts to the V3 cast. It’s especially entertaining to imagine his interactions with Kokichi— though maybe not so much in Hologram, since to Kokichi he’s a representation of the past he’s trying so desperately to forget and the future he refuses to acknowledge.

“SHUT UP!” He launches himself at Hinata, his hands wrapping around the other man’s throat as he uses his momentum to slam him to the ground. “SHUT! UP!”

“Ko— ghk—” Hinata coughs, eyes wide with surprise, but aside from moving his hands up to grip Kokichi’s wrists, he doesn’t seem all that worried about fighting back.

The thought only fuels Kokichi’s rage until he’s choking Hinata so hard his knuckles are white. “If you want me out of this simulation so badly, you can kill me,” he snarls. “I’m never waking up! I’m never leaving, do you UNDERSTAND ME?”

Hinata grimaces, the outline of his avatar flickering, but he still doesn’t struggle, and Kokichi hates him all the more for it, despises him with a seething malice that festers low in his stomach. He wonders distantly if he’d actually kill this man in real life. Or if he’d be able to stop himself, feeling like this.

Kokichi’s breakdown here is more out of fear than anger. Like I mentioned, Kokichi sees Hajime as another piece of what’s hurt him, and no matter how Hajime tries to help, Kokichi will always remember Danganronpa whenever he sees him.

Warm yellow-orange light casts a relaxed, cozy glow over the dining hall. It’s an ambience compounded by the flickering candles on the table, which seems overly idyllic, but Kokichi will let it slide because of the adorable way Shuichi flushed when he noticed them as they sat down. Well, if he’s being honest, everything about Shuichi right now is adorable, from the way his hair keeps falling into his eyes to the way he’s nervously fiddling wth his chopsticks. Kokichi wishes he could keep staring at him forever.

Ah, not… not in a weird way, though, just… because Shuichi’s beautiful, and when Kokichi looks at him he can forget everything bad that’s ever happened, can create some new and brighter world to exist in.

This is an idea I wish I’d had room to explore a bit more in the story— that is, just how far Kokichi will go to pretend everything’s fine. I thought about making him border on delusional, like having him talk to people who aren’t there or forget what’s actually happening around him because he’s so lost in his fiction-within-a-fiction. It would have creeped Shuichi out a whole lot.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much room for that past the plot I’d already nailed down, so I focused on his loneliness and escapism instead. I do touch on it later in this scene, though— the couple paragraphs where he slips into fantasizing about being a phantom thief having a surreptitious meeting with his detective under the not-so-subtle supervision of his DICE. There would have been a lot more of that if I’d gone with the ‘delusion’ stylistic choice, to the point where even the readers would be confused about what’s real. Maybe I’ll look into writing something similar in a future story.

Eventually, Shuichi sets down his bowl and looks away with a little sigh, and Kokichi clenches his teeth because that’s the sigh he does when it’s time for that conversation.

“Um… Kokichi?”

Kokichi’s only response is to exhale the breath he’d been holding in a quiet hiss.

“I-I know you don’t want to, but… but I really need to talk to you about something,” Shuichi says. “Please?”

“My Mr. Detective can talk about whatever he’d like!” Kokichi says with a lilt to his tone that makes it sound more sarcastic than he wants it to. He takes the last bite of curry and wishes that it burns hot enough to hurt.

“It’s about Kaito.”

This more serious part of the date scene is meant to reflect the little bridge in “Buzzcut Season”:

“Cola with the burnt-out taste

I’m the one you tell your fears to

There’ll never be enough of us.”

It’s a part of the song that sounds especially bittersweet to me, a bit of self-awareness between the insistence that everything’s okay.

Really all I think I managed was to reference it when Kokichi’s internal dialogue comments on his drink being “so sweet it tastes burnt” and then later not tasting like anything. But hopefully the mood’s still there.

“Tell him… that I have nothing against him,” he says.

“That’s … not a lie?” Shuichi presses.

Kokichi shakes his head idly, still not raising his gaze. “I wanted to wreck the killing game and he wanted to save his friend. We both got what we wanted. I’d say the end more than justifies the means.”

Was that a lie?

(I don’t want to die Shuichi I’m sorry I’m sorry save me Shuichi please I’m sorry ithurtsmakeitstop—)

His fingers tighten into clawlike shapes, nails digging sharply into his forearms.

I really don’t think Kokichi would have anything against Kaito, even if here he’s not being completely honest with how much he’s affected by what happened. It wouldn’t make sense to him to hate Kaito for something he himself proposed, but I think there’d still be a subconscious barrier between them. Too much history.

“Don’t go, Shuichi, I’m so sorry, I— that was so dumb, what I said, please don’t be sad anymore.” He’s not sure if he can’t breathe because of the exertion of running or because of the hysteria boiling over in his head. “Please don’t go, I didn’t mean to hurt you— please don’t leave, Shuichi, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Kokichi….” Shuichi’s tone is strange, soft and pitying, like he sees something Kokichi doesn’t, and he shakes his head slowly as more tears follow the paths of the others.

Kokichi goes to his knees, ready to grovel if that’s what it takes, but Shuichi follows him down, closing his other hand over Kokichi’s, and then they’re both crying and he doesn’t know why, and all he can do is repeat a mantra of I’m sorry and hold on as tight as he can.

It’s horrible. Shuichi’s horrible. Shuichi’s wonderful, and kind and lovely and perfect and Kokichi hates him, Kokichi adores him, and it doesn’t matter because Shuichi’s not actually here but Kokichi doesn’t want to be alone, just let me pretend some more, please, please let me have this—

“I’ll… I’ll stay,” Shuichi says at last. “I can stay a while longer.”

You shouldn’t, Kokichi wants to say, but his mouth won’t obey him. You shouldn’t stay if you don’t want to. I don’t deserve having you here. I’m not worth your mercy.

But there on the bridge, crying tears of relief, he soaks up as much mercy as he can get and hopes it’s enough to drown him.

I wanted to create a contrast between them that highlights just how the isolation and trauma Kokichi’s experiencing has affected him. He has an almost unhealthy reliance on Shuichi as “the only thing that makes this world bearable,” and panics when faced with the prospect of being alone again so soon. Part of why Shuichi’s crying is because he’s realized the extent of Kokichi’s desperation. It’s not that he thinks Kokichi’s apology is insincere, but that he’s hardly heard him apologize for anything before, so Kokichi going this far has him realizing how bad things really are.

The door rumbles and slides open when they approach, revealing the bright light of the log-out point that took Shuichi away every time, that would wake Kokichi up in his real body if he walked into it. Shuichi stops just a step away from it, biting his lip as if searching for something to say, but before he can find it, Kokichi reaches out to tug at his sleeve.

“Shuichi?” he says, distant as the waves on the beach that he can still hear if he listens closely enough. Shuichi turns back toward him. “Before you go, can I be selfish one more time?”

“Huh…?”

Shuichi doesn’t move when Kokichi steps closer, reaches up to ghost his fingertips over Shuichi’s jaw and around the back of his neck. He lets Kokichi tilt his head downward, lets him hover inches away, close enough to feel their breath mingle in the night air. Kokichi pauses there to give him the chance to pull away. He doesn’t.

So Kokichi closes his eyes and the distance between them.

That last line is a ZEUGMA! It’s a literary device where one word refers to two more in a different way. A popular example is the hyenas’ line “Our teeth and ambitions are bared” from The Lion King. It’s my favorite grammatical trick and I’d love to see more of it in fanfic.

Slowly, he slides his hand down to Shuichi’s shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself away. That hurts even more. He can’t seem to open his eyes, and he feels so weakened, breathless, fragile. Cracked open, hollowed out.

When he finally does open his eyes, Shuichi’s are wide with some mix of astonishment and a dozen other emotions. Kokichi bows his head, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just wanted to know.”

“Kokichi,” Shuichi breathes, like a bullet through his heart.

“Goodbye, Shuichi,” Kokichi says, and shoves him into the light.

Shuichi’s little yelp of surprise cuts off abruptly as he falls through the door, vanishing into the glow, and all too soon, Kokichi’s alone again in a dream that suddenly seems far too vast. Alone, with the faintest taste of Shuichi’s lips still lingering on his own.

And he thinks, It was enough just to know you.

It’s a lie.

Nothing to say here except that this is my favorite scene and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

Fake sun rises over fake ocean, fake seagulls glide through fake sky while fake wind tousles fake palm fronds. Kokichi lies on his stomach in the fake grass and talks to his fake family in the fake notebook. Gives them fake names and runs through everything he remembers about them. Apologizes, over and over, wishes he could hug each of them goodbye one last time. Wonders if it would be more painful to die or to never have existed at all.

He leaves the notebook of his memories on the seat of one of the Ferris wheel cars on the fourth island, because one time he promised them they’d steal the London Eye together.

He buys a can of fake soda from the fake convenience store on the first island and sits on the fake beach watching the fake waves. Wonders when he’d hit the end of the simulation if he started swimming, or if he’d drown first.

White sand, blue sea, bluer sky. Washed out, like an amateur watercolor painting.

He opens the soda can and raises it to his mouth, but … even the thought of drinking it makes him sick to his stomach. He sets it down in the sand and flicks it over, watching the bubbly liquid run down and sink into the sand. The color’s all wrong, like blood streaked against a metal floor.

He walks the fake streets of the fifth island, passing fake skyscrapers and fake commuters and their fake conversations, until he finally stops outside the factory he’s never been able to bring himself to go into. Smells like oil, and metal and machines and he can hear the sounds and he’s immediately back in the hangar, dizzy on adrenaline and desperation and leaning heavily on Kaito so he doesn’t keel over and die then and there. Kaito says something about how maybe he should sit down for a minute, and Kokichi didn’t agree back then but he does now, goes down on all fours and dry heaves.

When his vision solidifies and he can stop gasping for breath, he sits up and presses his back against the factory wall, covering his ears and hiding his face in his knees. Tries to convince himself not to imagine Shuichi’s there with him, holding his hand again, promising everything’s going to be okay.

“I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” or maybe, “Breathe with me, it’ll be over soon. You’re safe now.”

I love you.

He laughs until there’s nothing left in his lungs. He called these little daydreams obsession, before, but now they just seem sick and insane.

I wanted to indicate throughout this scene that Kokichi’s gotten substantially worse. Instead of halfheartedly interacting with the NPCs or finding something to spend time doing, he’s aimlessly wandering the islands, focused on how fake all of it is. Not even talking to his sketches of DICE can make him feel better. The suicidal ideation starts to slip in even if he doesn’t realize it— a fixation on wondering what death is like, purposefully triggering himself by walking by the factory….

The thing I want to talk about most though is the italicized I love you. I left it outside of quotation marks and dialogue tags on purpose because I wanted it to be ambiguous as to who’s saying it. If it’s Kokichi’s line, it’s sudden and almost out of place, like he couldn’t hold back from thinking it anymore. But it could be Shuichi saying it, too. Since it’s outside quotation marks, unlike the previous dream-Shuichi lines, it’s more vague, almost a whisper in Kokichi’s thoughts— like he can barely bring himself to imagine it and even feels guilty doing so, because there’s no way it could possibly be real.

Which do you think?

Eh, I don’t have an answer. When I hear it in my head, they say it at the same time.

“How did you know?” he finally croaks.

Shuichi’s breathing still sounds shaky, too. “Because you said ‘goodbye,’” he says.

Kokichi finally looks up at him in a silent question.

“You never say goodbye,” Shuichi says, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes. “It’s always….”

“‘See you later,’” Kokichi finishes for him. Despite himself, a tiny huff of astonished laughter escapes him. “I didn’t even know, not until a couple of hours ago. And you figured it all out from one word?”

Shuichi bites his lip at that. “You kissed me,” he says.

Kokichi’s stomach twists and he looks away. “I said I was sorry—”

“No.” Shuichi squeezes his hand into a fist and lets it fall to thump against Kokichi’s chest, like he’s trying to knock some sense into him. “It was so honest, and vulnerable, and… and I know how much you hate showing how you really feel.” Another tiny sob catches in his throat. “And so it felt like … like something you’d do if you weren’t going to s-see me again.”

“Shuichi….” Kokichi trails off as Shuichi muffles his cries in his hand again. He’s so breathtakingly smart. There’s no one else in the world who thinks that way, no one else who could possibly be that attentive and that clever. Not a programmer, not a team of shrinks… how can an AI manage it? How is it that Shuichi always manages to take him by surprise? How can he see straight through him when he least expects it?

Kokichi’s hand reaches up to Shuichi’s cheek. Reverently traces the path of the tears falling down it.

“I wish you were real,” he confesses in a whisper.

Kokichi’s stubborn. So, so stubborn. And he’s not used to being cared about, if the way he does everything by himself is any indication. So it makes sense to me that he’ll refuse to believe anything good can happen to him even in the face of convincing evidence. He’s pretty self-hating for someone so arrogant.

Kokichi’s weak, deep down to his core, weak for this man. Already knows he’d do anything for him, and the thought is terrifying—that one person could have that much power over him, even if he doesn’t realize it.

But what if he has realized it? Couldn’t this all be an elaborate ruse, a lie he knew Kokichi would be so desperate to believe that he wouldn’t bother questioning it?

…Shuichi’s never hurt him, though. Only that one time, when he really deserved it. Shuichi wouldn’t … betray him, even for what he thinks is Kokichi’s own good. They’re… different from each other, that way.

But still….

“I’m so scared, Shuichi.” It’s barely a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You won’t be.” It’s so hard to be skeptical, lost in his eyes. “I’ll be right there with you, for as long as you want. I won’t let you feel like this anymore.”

Promise me, he wants to blurt out. Promise you’ll stay. Promise me you’ll never leave me, Shuichi, he wants to demand, but that’s wrong, that’s manipulative and selfish and everything he doesn’t want to be for Shuichi anymore.

Shuichi, of course, says it anyway.

“I promise, Kokichi.”

…

“Kiss me again,” he says. “Please?”

Shuichi leans in close, then pauses, his brow furrowing the way it does when he catches him in a lie.

“I’ll kiss you again in the real world,” Shuichi says. “Okay?”

Kokichi shakes his head. “Shuichi, please.” Please, I don’t think I can do this. Please, I don’t want to wake up to a lie. Please, one last kiss for me to remember in case it was all fake.

Shuichi reaches out to tilt his chin up and Kokichi closes his eyes, savoring every second, burning it into his memory.

Shuichi’s soft breath ghosts over his lips.

“Trust me,” he murmurs.

Kokichi’s eyes flutter back open, searching his face. Shifting him around on the white board in his head, seeing what categories he fits into this time. Weird, of course. Suspicious, maybe not. Trustworthy?

Trustworthy….

“I do trust you,” he realizes.

Kokichi’s still hesitant to accept all of this— Shuichi kissing him didn’t magically fix everything. He’ll still doubt all the way to the log-out point, but at least now he realizes that this simulation is only hurting him— that if things are to get better they’re going to have to change, too. He’s got a long way to go before he’s all right, but he’s not going to have to face it alone anymore.

And that’s a wrap!

Once again, I’m really proud of this story, and I feel like I grew as a writer because of it. There are a few things I would change if I wrote it again, but for all its flaws it’s still my baby and I like how it turned out.

Thanks again for all your support for “Hologram,” and thanks even more if you actually waded through all this nonsense of a director’s cut. It’s a huge confidence-boost to think that people liked what I wrote, and even wanted to hear what I had to say about it. If there’s any interest, I’d love to review some of my other fics here, or theorize or brainstorm or whatever else you’re into. (Ask me what Byakuya’s Thing is in my superhero AU, I dare you 😉)

I do have a WIP in my folder of bits and pieces currently titled “boy finally gets that kiss”, and it’s a post-Hologram scene from Shuichi’s point of view to just sorta… tie it all together, have them talk things over again… and kiss, of course. We’ll see if anything comes out of that.

Until next time!

#Rov talks #Hologram #Saiouma #Oumasai #Behind the scenes #Director's cut #Fanfic review

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pastelwitchling · 3 years ago

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brittz-2123 asked:

I have a half assed attempt at a prompt? Because I love everything you wrote so I just have a vague idea. Anything where Kyle and Michael are at odds about Alex. Alex is in the hospital and best friend vs "boyfriend/not quite boyfriend" over who should take care of him during recovery. Michael not liking how touchy Kyle and Alex are. But again I don't have good ideas and literally EVERYTHING you write is amazing... you ALMOST make me like Forrest, almost.

***

Michael’s knuckles as he gripped the hospital bed railing were white. He’s fine, he reminded himself. He’s okay. He’s alive. He’s fine.

Alex brought his arm down from where he’d had it draped across his eyes and raised a brow at him. “Guerin.”

“Yeah,” Michael straightened. “What do you need? Water? A snack? I could go get you some food from the cafeteria.”

Alex stared. “I need you –”

“I need you, too –”

“—to unclench,” he finished.

Michael swallowed, and he nodded, trying very hard not to let his eyes wander to Alex’s leg. Two whole weeks on his prosthetic had done a number on Michael’s airman, leaving his skin red and purple with an infection and swelling like a balloon. Nobody had noticed until Kyle, for the first time in those weeks, made it to the bunker. His eyes had lingered on Alex, and he’d caught his arm just as he’d stumbled.

“Damn it, Manes,” he’d sighed, encouraging Alex to lean against him. “What’d you do to yourself?”

Alex had insisted he didn’t need a hospital, and proceeded to limp back to his seat before Michael caught him by the waist and demanded he get in his truck.

Now he was standing at Alex’s bedside where Alex lied, still in his jeans and jacket, which must’ve been making him even more uncomfortable, though he’d refused to change. Alex tried to look calm, but Michael saw the way he winced every so often, as if just breathing was worsening the pain in his leg.

He hadn’t realized his eyes had wandered down again until Alex cupped his jaw and made him meet his eyes.

“Unclench, Guerin,” he said, amused. Michael covered Alex’s hand with his own and turned his face into Alex’s palm, kissing him. Alex looked startled, but Michael hung on. He opened his mouth to say something, though he didn’t know where to start, but then –

“Two weeks!” Kyle walked into the room and tossed the clipboard down on the end of Alex’s bed. “You’ve been without your prosthetic for how many hours in that time?”

Alex’s head fell back as he seemed to try to remember, and Kyle clenched his jaw. “This is not a thinking question, Alex. I’ll give you the answer right now; none. Never. I’m willing to bet my diploma you never took it off once.”

“I do have to shower without it, you know,” Alex said, and Kyle glared.

“Glad you think this is so funny because you’ll have a lot of time to come up with jokes when you’re bedridden for the next month.”

Alex nodded, unsurprised, but Michael’s eyes widened. “Month?! It’s that bad?”

“Yes,” Kyle said at the same time that Alex assured him, “No.”

“Look,” Alex defended, “you have any idea how many times my superiors have told me that I’d be out of action for half a year? Sometimes longer? Two weeks later, I’m fine. They’re always saying crap like that so you’re careful, but I don’t need to be careful.”

“Well,” Kyle said coolly, “luckily for you, what you think you need doesn’t matter because I’m going to be looking after you for the next couple of weeks.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

“And don’t think I haven’t already devised a whole check-up schedule,” he went on, heedless of Michael’s anger.

“I’m going to take care of Alex,” he blurted, and both Kyle and Alex looked to him with raised brows, stunned. His cheeks burned, but he forged on, “I know him better than anybody, and I have the powers to keep him still for a month. What’re you going to do, pump him with anesthetics?”

“God help me,” Kyle said, “if that’s what it takes.”

“You two do realize you’re talking about keeping me physically contained, right?” Alex said mildly. “That won’t go well for either of you.”

Kyle met Michael’s eyes, and they knew they could agree on one thing; forcing Alex down would be impossible. But that didn’t change the fact that Michael knew him best, that he knew how to keep Alex happy and comfortable, that he would do anything Alex needed him to do.

“How’re you going to take care of him?” Kyle demanded. “Do you know how to manage an infection? What medication he needs, when he needs them? What to do if the swelling suddenly gets worse which could definitely happen because he’s Alex and we all know he won’t rest like he should?”

Alex held up his hands. “I’m right here.”

“What about you?” Michael snapped back, keeping pressed to the bed’s railing. He felt like if he had to be any further away from Alex, he might get sick. “When will you have the time to look after him? You’re a surgeon, remember? You guys aren’t exactly known for your extensive vacation days!”

“Guys –”

“No offense, Guerin,” Kyle huffed, “but you guys have been dating a month, he’s been sick for two of them, and you didn’t notice. He needs someone who really knows him.”

Michael smirked bitterly, trying not to show how hurt he was by that little truth. “I’m not leaving his side, so if you wanna get rid of me you’re gonna have to stab me with pollen.”

“Guys –”

Kyle scoffed. “I’ve carried an extra one with me for just this moment, please – I am actually begging you – give me a reason –”

“GUYS!” Alex snapped, and he winced and doubled over, clutching his leg. His outburst had apparently shaken him a bit too roughly and he’d pulled something because his fingers were digging into his knee and his breathing was ragged.

Michael’s anger faded at once, as did Kyle’s, and he put his hand on Alex’s shoulders. “I’m – I’m sorry, baby –”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Kyle helped him lie back again. “We shouldn’t have gone off like that, just relax, okay?”

“I don’t need . . . anyone to look after me . . .” His words were labored, his breathing heavy. “I am . . . perfectly capable . . . of taking care . . . of myself . . .”

Kyle shook his head. “Alex, you –”

“I know,” he huffed. “I got myself into this in the first place, but . . . I don’t want to do any more damage. I shouldn’t have let it get this bad. I can work from home, but I’ll rest when you tell me to, and take all the medication the nurse gives me like a good little patient, okay?”

Kyle pursed his lips. “You better mean that, Alex, or I swear I will pin you down and force those pills down your stomach.”

Alex gave him a small, indulgent smile. “Sure.” He looked to Michael. “And I’ll call you every night, no matter how tired I get, and let you know how I’m doing.”

Michael shook his head. “No, you won’t call.”

“No, I will, I promise –”

“I’ll see you,” he said, and both Kyle and Alex blinked. Michael’s cheeks burned but he finished, “Every night. I’ll let myself in, I’ll see you, make sure you’re okay.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to sleep until I do, Private.”

Alex nodded slowly, starting to smile. “So you’ll check in on me, then just leave?”

Michael held his gaze. They both knew Michael wouldn’t be going anywhere, but neither felt the need to say it when their eyes made all the promises of dark nights and gentle hands and rustled sheets.

Kyle, however, seemed to hear it all anyway, and he rolled his eyes. He grabbed his clipboard and made his way to the door. “I still say you can do better.”

***

I’ll get there with Forrest... you just wait...

But yay! I did it, five whole prompts in one day! And, luckily, I’m very, very happy with all of them ❤ I will be posting them to ao3 over the next few days. Thank you so much to everyone who submitted prompts, I’m so sorry if I didn’t get to yours, but there are plenty more malex works coming up! I still have the third chapter of Remembrance, another project, and another few secret stuff I’ve been working on that I can’t talk about (yet). Thank you for your continued support, it means so much, and I hope you enjoyed reading these little fics today ❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

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tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

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Title: Lovebug (11/14)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

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

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

Link to cross-postings: AO3

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

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi could only be grateful that Petra had taken charge.

He was in no mood to do much but sit down, maybe get the gears of his brain moving when questions on coding or troubleshooting were directed to him. When the questions were on expected behavior of application, on known bugs, the motions in his mind were automatic, the responses that followed were second nature.

In that particular role, he was certain he’d be functional at the least.

There were questions about the overall testing process though that required more consideration, more planning and maybe some drawing. They weren’t formulaic. They required an overall different approach, a different part of the brain and Levi was only further convinced of that as he watched Petra draw over the floor plan with pencil.

He didn’t make sense of it at first and maybe all he needed was just a little push in the right logical direction.

Petra’s explanations were a godsend. “With the size of the gym, we can manage thirty tests at once…” She drew circles over the gym, evenly spaced. “We do it all at once, then we have them exit through here. ” She continued to trace the path from the front of the gymnasium to the back. “Then they answer the questionnaire over here, then one of the facilitators will submit it to the moderator’s table.”

The line that weaved efficiently through markers was a sign enough that she had put much thought into the overall planning process.

The moderator's tables was strategically positioned on one corner of the gym, angled in such a way to be inconspicuous.

Levi looked back for a second, noting, it's almost invisible presence next to the stage and the stored sports equipment.

And all I have to do is sit here, listen and answer questions right? Levi wished he could have asked it out loud. What kind of head engineer would he seem like if he did though? He went for the less desirable option of just keeping quiet, instead letting whatever questions in his brain out as one raised eyebrow.

“We want to make the most of our resources here so Eld, Oluo, Gunther, can facilitate. Make sure that none of the Love Alarms are on silent, that all the questionnaires are answered then mark on the box if it did ring. And Levi…” Petra turned to Levi. “I recommend you stay in the moderator’s table, encode the data, and stand by for any issues that may come up.”

Levi nodded. “That sounds like a plan.” He forced those last words out of his mouth while brushing off the almost guilt inducing relief at the confirmation of his own job and soon after that, the painful awareness of his own strange disconnect from the overall testing process

Petra though, had proven more qualified to take over. She had taken it upon herself since even the planning stages, coordinating with the logistics team, coordinating with the marketing team. Thus, she was in a better position anyway to brief people.

More importantly, she was admirably calm and professional about the whole process of presenting a plan in front of one of the biggest investors of the company. A very glaring reminder why she had been assigned to front office work since the start.

It wasn’t at all difficult to admit that Petra deserved to manage it.

So he let her take free rein. Levi leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched the hand drawn lines darken under Petra’s delicate motions. He was tempted to doze off and a few times he did, especially when Petra took some time out to mention the specific responsibilities of facilitators.

When she mentioned the data encoding process, Levi forced himself to listen. Moments after that, when Petra shifted to other topics, he found himself darting his eyes across the small crowd, letting his eyes land on Zeke. The view of Zeke standing on one side of the table, looking deep in thought sent a rush of urgency through him, a very natural reaction to money, corporate obligation.

And something else.

Something unfamiliar and unwelcome. Sadness? Before Levi could even pin down the emotion, he was already following Zeke’s gaze.

Those blue eyes were tracing the plans on the table. Levi observed for a while, making quick guesses of what Zeke had been watching on the table, maybe to get a glimmer of what the man could have been thinking. Just behind the table though, on their side, there was something that had caught his attention more quickly than some overly detailed plans and some notes he had seen too many times already.

There were two hands clasped together and before he even noticed it himself , Levi was staring, tracing the thumbs with his eyes. Soon, he concluded, the grip of one of those hands was all too familiar.

Levi looked up, only to confirm what he already knew.

Hange could have known he was watching but Levi liked to guess that she didn’t. After all, she didn’t meet his gaze, instead, her head shot up, her eyes shifted towards Zeke.

It felt like an unspoken rejection.

A very out-of-place feeling of rejection.

Why would she look at me? Levi looked back down at the plan, letting the mood whiplash that followed rush through him. In those few moments, nothing much had changed. The markers were just a little clearer, the black ink a stark contrast to the white paper but he only found as he continued to follow it, that he couldn't make much sense of it anymore.

“Are you okay with this plan?” Petra asked.

Levi wasn’t looking so he couldn’t be too sure who she was talking to. Her voice was careful, gentle, and her tone was very respectful. He took the risk of making eye contact.

“Boss, are you okay with it?” She repeated. “If you have any feedback…”

Out of instinct, Levi nodded. “Yes, it looks like a great plan.” He could only thank whatever god, or whatever natural forces had made his voice naturally toneless and uninterested. That was the most he could have feigned anyway in such an unexpectedly tense situation.

Petra nodded and moved on from there. And whether or not the others had been looking at him, Levi couldn't tell too much. Their eyes fell back on the table in front of them, Petra continued to prattle on about logistics and upkeep.

Soon, Levi decided, he could probably just learn along the way. All he had to do was keep watch on the moderator’s table and encode data anyway.

Right? “I’ll go to the toilet first,” Levi whispered from behind Petra.

Petra saw him off with a subtle eyebrow raise.

With that bout of freedom, Levi broke away from the small crowd and made his way out of the gym. There probably was a toilet inside the gym but he didn’t bother to search for it. The point of the toilet break was the break more than the actual toilet.

Over the long drawn orientation, Levi realized he was tired, unmotivated and maybe a little desolate. Everything had the potential to tick him off and he just needed some time to breathe.

Maybe a long walk could help. Maybe pretending Hange didn’t exist for just a few minutes would help.

His emotions were a mush and he found himself in some strange in-between state as he strolled aimlessly through the campus. He was looking for a way to get lost while at the same time, he was looking for the most efficient way to make it to some empty toilet.

After a good number of unproductive minutes and a not-too-comforting toilet break had passed, Levi conceded. He might really have to do a quick search to even find his way back in such a big campus. After opening the maps app and confirming location, Levi made one last check on one certain application to satisfy his curiosity.

Purple. His emotional alarm confirmed. He was going to have to be productive despite being very purple.

Levi pocketed his phone and made the familiar trek back to the gym.

The gym exploded into a cacophony of rings from that familiar alarm and very annoying echoes that never seemed to end, both sounds Levi was all too tired of hearing already.

It didn't help at all that booting up his laptop and opening the sheet had been also an excruciatingly slow.

When he organized the stack of questionnaires into a pile next to his desk, he was just a little disconcerted. Disconcerted enough that it took him some time to notice that someone had settled onto the seat next to him.

Recognition came quickly, the first question came out instinctively. “Why are you here?” They were still close enough at least that Hange seemed to have gotten his question even with the little effort he put into speaking over background noises.

The flash of surprise in her eyes, beautifully framed as Hange furrowed her brows was very telling of Levi’s tone. Was he too abrasive? Well, they had a pretty good send off yesterday. Right? He eventually concluded, he probably could have been a little nicer.

Hange was a distraction. When Hange was next to him on the moderator’s table, it felt like a carrot was being dangled in front of him. When it was him and her, in front of hundreds or other people, some of them people who could potentially ask about Hange, he couldn't even act naturally around Hange.

Levi could only entertain the possibility that it would have been easier if she wasn't present.

It didn’t help at all that Zeke was just a few feet behind Hange. Sometimes, the blonde was rattling on about possible investment plans with some very irritating enthusiasm. Sometimes, he was talking to some other school official and sometimes he was on the phone with god-knows who. And every now and then--- No, not every now and then--- In very regular intervals, Levi would notice the way Zeke would stare at the both of them for just a few seconds.

Not infrequently enough for Levi to blame his own paranoia, yet too often for Levi to have noticed some pattern.

Hange though, hadn’t been very helpful. She started to type on her laptop much louder. “I volunteered to help encode data. Petra said during the briefing that you wouldn't be able to do it alone. Weren't you listening?"

Maybe he hadn't been listening. That didn't mean he had to admit it. “Only one person needs to do it,” Levi responded.

“We’re looking at hundreds or even thousands of data points.”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

Hange turned to him, her eyes observing. “And you seem tired.”

“Do I?” That last syllable came out as a croak. Hange’s own conjecture had left Levi thinking, then he was suddenly more aware of his own vulnerability.

When she stared at him for a while longer, her lips curling up into a soft smile, Levi had to acknowledge her ability to just see through him. He cleared his throat, swallowing that crack in his voice from a second ago.

“How are you feeling?” Hange asked. She continued to type, sometimes she shifted to clicking with the mouse, maybe preparing a spreadsheet.

The question had come out of nowhere and in the air between them, it seemed almost out of place. What could he expect though after their last encounter?

He silently stumbled upon the answer. Nothing. There was no well-backed formula to navigate such complex circumstances.

Levi didn’t answer immediately, allowing himself a few minutes to at least come up with something fair. He leaned back on the metal chair and stared up at the ceiling. He dug into his pants, searching for anything to hold onto, dryer lint, a few odds and ends to distract himself with. He was a naturally fastidious person and consequently, digging into pockets had left him empty handed. With no choice but to answer, He opened his mouth slowly, before he could even come up with something. “Purple,” he eventually whispered.

It was still loud enough for Hange to hear. She responded soon afterwards. “I’m feeling green, very green.”

Happy sad? Or sad happy? Those questions never left his mouth. Maybe he was a little terrified to know the answer. Maybe he just didn’t trust himself to function if by some chance she said something he didn’t want to hear.

Besides, this was a professional relationship. They were colleagues, business partners.

And once again, Levi reminded himself. Why should she think of him as anything more than that?

“You’re not joining testing?” Levi asked.

They had been silent for a while, long enough for Levi to get tired of staring at Zeke and Erwin who had been engaged in some other conversation on a table towards the corner of the gym, some area concealed by some makeshift stage. From the moderators table situated right beside the stage. Levi couldn’t make out conversations but he could make out some of the gestures and mannerisms

There was another man, someone Levi didn’t recognize. A School Official?

It didn’t seem necessary for him to think too much of it. After all, it had seemed like a more casual conversation. Zeke though, always seemed to be having a relaxed conversation while Erwin never looked like he was having one.

“I left my phone...” It had felt like ages before Hange replied.

He didn’t even notice he had been waiting for her reply until he turned back, and returned her gaze. Until he found himself unable to respond, possibly out of shock.

She continued. “Back in the house…” Her words came slowly. Maybe she had been too engrossed in something else in her laptop to tell.

We have test devices. The suggestion seemed almost automatic

Levi’s mouth was already halfway open when she interrupted. “I’d personally rather I didn’t test the Love Alarm today. He might insist we test it but I thought it worth a shot to at least not have my phone with me, to make it less convenient.” She shrugged then gave him a knowing look.

You know why… Those had been the silent words between them. And there could have been a silent conversation after that, or a silent moment of comprehension. Something only two people whose love alarms rang under the mercy of the most complex of circumstances could have ever understood.

In the silence that followed, Levi kept himself busy encoding some of the data that had already come in. He was grateful there were still parts of the spreadsheet that needed fixing. He managed to prolong his busy-ness and as they continued, he was committed to keeping both of them occupied.

The answered questionnaires came more quickly, in thicker stacks and Levi only got enough to seem productive, leaving Hange with a slightly bigger stack. The unsynchronized clacks of the keyboards were enough to fill the air of the room, for a good long hour.

He tried to take control in his own way, maybe find rhythm with Hange's typing.

A part of him was desperate to fill the air between them with some casual conversation but when he opened his mouth, nothing much else came out. They were doing what they were supposed to do but Levi felt like a fish out of water.

With time and the right prodding, his thoughts flew back to Hange’s words just yesterday. Maybe she had been right. They were at the mercy of circumstances.

An hour or so could have passed before Zeke sauntered back into their table with Erwin trailing behind. Zeke slammed both hands on the table in some strange greeting. "Did you have our chauffeur pick your phone up?"

Hange looked up at Zeke, her expression unreadable. "No, I didn’t.”

Zeke had the face of a wounded monkey. “So you really don’t plan on joining the testing?”

Hange shrugged. “I’m fine just helping out here. I’ve done enough testing with the app already.”

“I want to test it with you,” Zeke said.

Hange returned Zeke’s look with her own consoling one. “We could always try it together another time?” She suggested.

Zeke didn’t seem satisfied. “I’ll call someone to bring it over.” He pulled out his phone.

Hange put her hands up in defense. “No need, besides, there might be something wrong with my phone. I plan on having it checked.”

“You could use one of the test devices here?” Erwin suggested.

A very unwelcome suggestion. Levi was tempted to look at Erwin, shooting daggers with his stare. Instead he bent over, just a little hiding his face behind the laptop screen.

“No no, don’t trouble yourself, other people might need it more,” Hange said.

"We could always buy a new phone?" Zeke seemed pretty certain about his suggestion. He had pulled out his phone as he spoke.

If Levi had been drinking then, he could have spit it out. Instead he had to settle for choking on his own saliva. What?

Erwin raised both eyebrows in shock. "Mr. Jaeger, do you mean buying a new phone for testing? We have a few test devices here. You shouldn't put yourself thought the trou--"

Zeke shook his head. "Believe me it's no trouble." He started to type. "Leave the test devices for people who actually need them. Buying a phone is no problem for me.”

Hange had opened her mouth to protest. Something could have caught at her throat and she looked back down at her laptop. She started to type faster, much faster than a while ago. The quick and off rhythm clack of the keyboard mixed with Zeke’s very firm orders at whoever poor sap was on the phone.

“Any particular model you’d like?” Zeke asked.

Hange shook her head. “You know my stand on this Zeke.”

“It’s a quick test,” Zeke justified. Seeming unbothered, he turned to Levi. “What type of model does the love alarm work best in?”

Erwin had been looking at him expectantly then and Levi found himself dropping a typical model, muttering it under his breath.

It hadn’t done much anyway. Zeke acted as if he hadn't been listening to Levi in the first place. Maybe he hadn't, his focus completely on whoever he was talking to on the phone. “Just buy the best model available and get it down here stat... Money won’t be a problem.”

Still, it was a total waste of money. Levi snuck a glare at Zeke from just above his laptop and a part of him was hoping he had gotten the message.

It was just like Erwin to find a diplomatic way to make his own thoughts known. “You really didn’t have to go through the trouble. We have some working phones which Hange could have borrowed.”

Zeke put one finger up as if to silence Erwin. “I think it’s a fair price for convenience. Besides, if your phone is broken, better to replace it right?" He turned to Hange with those last words.

To Levi, it seemed almost like a challenge.

A challenge to what? There were too many things running through his brain, useless things like estimations of phone prices and a price that would have meant installments to most people, so casually dropped by someone as insufferable as Zeke Jaeger.

He didn't trust himself to speak. So he encoded the last few papers in front of him onto their electronic sheet, slowly yet very carefully, willing his eyes to run through each number multiple times.

His brain was barely moving though.

When the new stack of papers came, care of Eld, Levi was an odd mix between grateful and exasperated.

When Zeke invited Hange out for lunch, he was an odd mix between relieved and just slightly offended.

By what? Of course Zeke wouldn't invite him.

Still, maybe it hurt just a little bit to have the seat next to him empty.

***

Levi settled for a lunch of a sandwich and whatever drink he got his hands on first. Nutrition facts and long term consequences to his overall health could wait another few decades.

Just like with toilet breaks, Levi went for the farther convenience store for no specific reason. Maybe to see a little more green or to allow himself some brain space to think and walk.

And maybe to run into Hange and Zeke again. He found himself thinking back to Hange at the hotel restaurant. It had happened only last Friday but somehow, it had felt like ages ago.

He shifted his gaze, looking subtly through cafe windows, searching for a mop of brown hair or maybe the well kept golden blonde. He came up with nothing.

With time, he gave up, and turned back to the school, passing through one of the nearby entrances, quietly looking through the map on his phone for assurance that he was still on the right path back.

The uniforms were the first sign he was on the right path. The students that had strolled purposefully through the characteristic red brick roads of the school were another sign.

All he had to do was follow the signs to make it back to the gym.

And as he walked on, he noticed other signs, like people with their phones held up, as if looking for an app, maybe? He couldn't be too sure. That was until he noticed two people hunched over, screaming obscenities about love, relationships and some ridiculous app, to surmise he must be nearby.

"Why the hell did it ring?"

"Relax Connie, it's just an app."

"Just in case you forgot, you're in a relationship. Niccolo could kill me for this."

Levi looked back fast enough to catch the nonchalant shrug of the brunette.

"He won't," the brunette continued. "Besides, who cares about what an app says. I already committed to a relationship with him ----”

“I care!”

“Okay then,” She looked dumbfounded or maybe that had been her natural face. She paused for a second, looking upward, seeming deep in thought before she spoke up again. “Why are you so worked up over this?”

There was a bench nearby and for a good few seconds, Levi was eyeing it, especially while the two young students continued to chatter on about his application. The conversation got a little more interesting and it had been all the easier to decide to take a moment to settle on the bench and scroll through his own phone.

“Sasha, tell me… What did you put in the questionnaire.” Connie asked, only confirming the girl’s name for Levi.

“Isn’t that confidential?” Sasha challenged.

Technically it was confidential. Levi had to note and the two were talking in such a recklessly loud manner and even Levi a good few feet away was within earshot. Just to seem less like a peeping Tom, he put both earbuds on.

“I said I trusted you, that I’m happy with you. I think about you a lot. Maybe that’s why it rang for me.”

Levi noticed it from his peripherals, the way the girl named Sasha tensed up and froze on the spot. He found himself cheering silently for the young boy.

Connie, that’s his name right?

“Connie, we’ve been best friends for years… Of course I’d feel the same way about you.”

“So… If the alarm rang for both of us…” Connie never finished his sentence. Or maybe he did, his voice had slowly deadened into murmurs and in response.

Sasha’s jaw dropped, reminiscent of only Hange’s face just yesterday when they separated by the boarding gate.

In shock? In confusion? There were only too many reasons for that expression but Levi was feeling conservative with his guesses. They were a bunch of teenagers, what did they know about love and relationships?

Sasha’s expression softened into a kind smile. “We’ve been best friends for years...even if it is true…”

Their voices had softened to a whisper as the conversation only got more and more serious and Levi was starting not to make out most of what they were saying. He did notice though how she mentioned something about a man named Niccolo, something about a choice to date someone.

And he concluded, maybe it was for the better that he left the two alone to discuss their problems.

He silently scolded himself for even getting invested in that conversation in the first place.

***

Whatever results Connie and Sasha gave were completely anonymous and as Levi scrolled through the datasets on the sheet, he felt almost guilty for prying so deeply into some stranger's personal business. Embarrassingly, it had reached a point where he had been invested enough to guess which of the results were theirs based on the conversation a while ago.

After half an hour of fruitless searching, he let the guilt take over and he stopped himself. Instead, he turned back to the stack of papers that needed encoding.

Maybe one of the papers is there. Levi guessed then he mentally slapped himself for that bout of desperation.

“You should put a minimum age on this Love Alarm app.”

Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled back the seat and settled down next to him. “Why?” he asked. The question seemed more for posterity. Levi was starting to guess the answer himself.

“On the way back from lunch, we ran into a few students fighting.” She chuckled, her voice was light, her tone almost mischievous. “It looks like the love alarm might have started some drama.”

Levi wondered how she could even manage such a conversation when there were more pressing matters on hand. Still, he decided to engage. “I ran into two kids outside too. They were talking about their results with the love alarm.”

Hange raised one eyebrow in interest. “Oh?”

“And one of them’s in a relationship already.” Soon after those words leaked out, Levi wondered if he should have even admitted it. They seemed too painfully familiar.

“So, it just proves, even in a committed relationship, it could ring. Right?” Hange asked.

“Of course it would. The love alarm wouldn’t be able to tell if you’re in a relationship right?” Levi responded. “All the app measures is…” Love. He was careful that second time around. “Compatibility. Unable to multitask at that moment, he dropped his hand right next to the laptop. He looked to Hange, only to notice she hadn’t even started on the second stack yet.

Her eyes were on him and she was still looking very much invested in the conversation. “And I told you, I think your app is working fine.”

Levi continued. “But they’re high school students.”

“Are you saying high school students aren’t capable of love?”

Levi almost choked on his own saliva. “What? No, I never said that.” He took a deep breath. “But there are nuances when considering compatibilities right, something people wouldn’t figure out for themselves early in life.”

“Your application is able to detect those nuances even if people aren’t aware of it themselves then. Going back to those two kids you ran into, let’s assume the love alarm was correct and those two really were compatible with each other. Explain the situation Levi.”

Levi had to pick at his brain. He had to do and undo knots from inside him so maybe it had taken him a bit longer to get those words out. He stared in front of him, trying to find organization in the way Petra had guided the new set of volunteers in.

Luckily, Hange had been patient.

He didn’t spend too much time wondering how long he had made her wait, he looked up at her, and leaned his cheek further into the palm of his hand. He spoke up. “One of them is in a relationship already. Her name is Sasha. The other one—I think his name is Connie— is a childhood friend.”

“Oh, childhood friends to lovers huh?” Hange gestured playfully for him to continue speaking.

Levi had momentum in the conversation, so he willed himself to continue. “And it rang for both of them, and they were talking about it. I couldn’t tell too much from the conversation but---”

“Do you think Sasha would leave her boyfriend just because the love alarm rang?” Hange could have been a mind reader and it was just like her to go straight to the point. Her voice was a little louder. At that point, she leaned back on her chair, and stared straight ahead. Her expression was painfully unreadable.

That had shortened Levi’s tirade by minutes, maybe seconds. That unexpected query left Levi frozen for a while.

“Should a love alarm ringing be worth two people reconsidering long term relationships?” Hange pressed.

Even if he didn’t have an answer for himself. Levi bit his lip and stared straight ahead. It was an easy enough question to answer, a very logical one. All he had to do was look back at whatever snippets he got of the conversation back in the schoolyard to grasp for some right answer.

Even if it is true, we made our choices. And a high school student admitting that of all things, should have been a glaring sign that maybe Levi had been a little immature, having been bothered by the prospect of ‘love being a choice’ for so long.

No, a love alarm shouldn’t be worth it. Levi had opened his mouth, ready to answer it with a simple and most objectively correct answer.

Even if the love alarm was correct, we made our choices. He had accepted it already weeks back, a sad kind of happiness.

Acceptance. But why was a part of him still resisting? He was looking for something. He looked back at Hange who sat, unmoving, he continued to search for it, studying whatever features his eyes would land on, from her cold eyes right until her pursed lips.

Acceptance. Levi repeated to himself. That had been enough to quell the drive to search within him

“Is a loving alarm ringing, really worth it?” Hange asked again. She had more to say, it was very much apparent in her cold professional demeanor. He could have sworn he saw something else, something that made him reflect on whether that question had been rhetorical or whether Hange really expected him to answer.

Worth throwing our lives away? Levi finished the sentence for her in his head and he almost regretted it. His heart ached, he found himself almost unable to breathe. It had been a miracle he managed to continue speaking.

Acceptance. He had accepted it a long time ago already. Maybe that had been the reason he had still managed to look her in the eye then. Levi took a deep breath. “It isn’t,” he admitted.

Hange dropped her shoulders and leaned back on the chair. She closed her eyes and let out an exhale.

A natural response to the thick tension between them. Still, something inside him was desperate for an inkling of her truth and he continued to search.

Hange looked back at him. In those few seconds, she had managed to compose herself and Levi was just having a much harder time reading her.

She spoke up again. “Are you okay?”

“No I’m not,” Levi admitted.

“Is there anything else you wanna talk about?” Hange was once again cold and professional.

Brushing away disappointment, Levi shook his head. “No. Let’s go back to work.” It looked like that 'casual' conversation had taken some turn for the worse and he was just a little tired from that.

***

After an hour or so, Levi had attempted again to loosen whatever tension blanketed both of them with another light conversation topic.

The few times he tried, he was interrupted. Events were only happening one after the other and he was starting to realize how difficult it was to keep a calm and disconnected conversation. Every other few minutes, they were coming at him with new reports, new stacks of paper, new developments.

“This is the last time we’re testing on high school students,” Levi muttered. He was almost relieved their last conversation had ended on an abrupt note. Maybe that wasn’t a conversation they should have been reaching in such a hectic situation.

“I’ll tell Zeke about this,” Hange responded calmly.

A huge chunk of Levi’s attention was on the scene in front of him just a few rows back There were, two girls, a small blonde and a dark lanky brunette a few inches taller, right next to them was a burly blond man. The blond man seemed almost devastated, the brunette seemed defensive and it looked like the small blond girl was trying to pacify both of them with a rattled Oluo in tow.

“How did you even convince a bunch of high school students to volunteer to test the app?” Levi asked half heartedly. That seemed like a casual conversation starter. He kept a good amount of his focus to his side, just in case Hange spoke up, he wouldn’t miss it.

Hange put one finger to her chin. "Zeke was pretty smart about it…” He pointed out something. "Teenagers are very simple minded yet very cynical at the same time. Just put the right bribe in front of them, concert tickets, front row tickets to a game in exchange for testing some product which seemingly tests their status with love? Most teenagers took the bait. " She grinned and spoke up again, her tone a little higher. “What can a simple phone app say about something as complex as love? Besides, the love alarm is a pretty harmless app right?”

She didn't really believe that right?

I mean, technically it is. Theoretically, all it did was measure compatibility. Most people should have chalked it up to something similar to horoscopes, superstitions or fortune telling. That information was on a nice-to-know basis but not necessarily life changing.

Levi only had to look ahead again to be reminded, maybe the Love Alarm just had that effect on people. Maybe users were underestimating their own ability to be unaffected by some reading on an application. The success of the Love Alarm was enough of an answer. The proliferation of app usage in the dating sphere was another hint. And the love alarm and the emotions alarm having some reign over Levi’s moods lately should have been another huge, visceral hint.

Levi set aside that last hint as soon as he articulated it in his mind. Instead, he turned his thoughts to an exhausted Oluo who was making his way to the table.

"This is a good lesson boss. We really should put a minimum age restriction on this," Oluo said as he sat back down on the chair next to Levi, seeming completely spent.

"You're not the first one to tell me that," Levi responded.

"You see that couple there? That small girl and that brown haired girl are in a relationship already. And that big guy, he has a thing for the small girl," Oluo explained. It looked like he had tried to keep a facade of disinterest, a shoddy one.

Levi saw easily through it. "I can see that." He kept his own tone seemingly unaffected. He wondered if it showed.

Either way, Oluo seemed too invested in whatever love stories he was speculating. "And the love alarm just made things slightly… complicated."

Levi narrowed his eyes, following the trio that only a while ago had been fighting.

He focused then on the brunette and the blonde, the subtle way they held hands, the wide eyed, seemingly permanent smile on the small blonde’s face. The brunette on the other hand seemed to wear a permanent scowl on her face. That was, unless she was staring at the smaller girl. He then looked down at the two hands, held close to each other.

He shook his head when he realized he had been staring at it for a little too long. He looked back at the burly blonde man, who stepped back, seeming disappointed, almost embarrassed.

"It helps articulate emotions. That’s the point of the Love Alarm because some people don’t even know they’re feeling something until someone—or something points it out right?" He turned almost instinctively back to Hange, only to feel a slight drop in his stomach.

Hange didn’t look back at him, seeming focused on whatever was in front of her. Her concentration made it difficult to see what had caught her eye.

Oluo continued. "There are two blondes over there. I think their names were Aaron… Arnie…? Anyway they have almost similar names." He subtly pointed towards another pair.

Still, it had been easy for Levi to trace the view to the two blondes next to each other, seeming nervous as they made their way through the crowd then to the table with the questionnaires. There was an awkward air about them, but he couldn’t help but notice the subtle smile plastered on both of their faces.

It only pushed Levi to look more closely at the papers as they were submitted to Petra. Petra had conveniently piled them on top of the stack and Levi followed it all the way until the mods table.

He looked over the answers.

All Yes boxes were ticked. Did they trust each other? Yes. Did they think about each other a lot? Yes. Levi double checked the question on the remarks filled up by a facilitator.

Did the love alarm ring? The ‘Yes’ box was ticked on both papers

"It looks like the Love Alarm can tie up romantic loose ends," Hange commented.

Levi only noticed when she had spoken up that she had craned her neck to read the questionnaire next to him. It looked like she had been listening the whole time. She gestured towards the exit of the gym where the two blondes seemed to be deep in conversation. From the distance, he noticed the red tint in both of their cheeks.

Then one raised their hand slightly, the other clutched it. Then Levi conceded, there was some truth to Hange’s comment. But he was tempted to challenge it. "Maybe because they mustered the courage to confess," Levi suggested as he encoded the numbers onto the spreadsheet. “They allowed themselves to feel whatever they were actually feeling.”

"Well, circumstances were in their favor right? I'm sure there are a lot more cases where just admitting would be slightly more complicated than that, like those two kids you mentioned a while ago."

Levi turned towards Hange, keeping his face as serious as possible. "I wanna know, why would admitting it be hard?"

Hange hummed "Rejection maybe?" Her face seemed innocent, mockingly innocent.

A little ticked, Levi was uncharacteristically in the mood for a little back and forth. "You've been talking about reading and acting on circumstances so many times this past weekend, I'm sure you know it's not always about rejection."

For the first time in a while, Levi was raring to talk. From the messy facade of disconnect, Hange’s expression shifted to that of hesitance, nervousness. For a good few moments, she was frozen on her seat. And he started to realize why he had been so strangely talkative since a while ago.

He was in a strange state of mind, he desperately wanted answers to questions he couldn’t yet articulate. Was he just not satisfied? Or was Hange just deliberately not giving them?

"Do you think it's embarrassing to feel something for someone?" Levi broke the silence with one question he managed to forage from the back of his mind.

Hange answered with a quick sentence. “No, it’s not.”

"Of course it's not, but when you think about your situation and you realize you’re not supposed to be feeling a certain way... Should you be ashamed about feeling that way?" He pressed.

"We can't assume how we feel right? Before we even delve into that, we have to consider whether or not we really feel that emotion right?"

"But when we’re sure we already feel it,” Levi clarified.

"But if you allow your emotions to play a part, all you do is muddle your own ability to analyze. I think everyone should analyze the situation first with a very cal—"

"I think that's pride," Levi said firmly. "I think pride is refusing to let yourself feel it in the first place."

Hänge hummed. "Well, then assuming that circumstances are so simple that you can just feel whatever you want… that's prejudice right? You only get past initial prejudice when you learn to analyze what's beyond the situation. The more you know, the more you understand, the freer you are."

"But you're only free if you let yourself feel, then after that, you let yourself understand," Levi said. So maybe just letting go, enough to let yourself feel, maybe that's freedom?"

Hange shook her head. "Thinking while letting your emotions run free? It's not that easy. You’re just gonna end up a slave to your emotions."

“Well, would I rather be a slave to my cold calculating brain or to my emotions? We can’t control emotions. We can’t control circumstances either. So what now?” Levi said, looking pointedly at Hange. He only realized then when the hoarseness of his throat caught up to him, that somewhere along the way he had raised his voice.

Hange’s eyes were wide and when she spoke up again, her voice was notably softer. It looked like she had raised her voice as well. “I assess the situation, and then I decide what to feel, what to do.”

Levi sighed. "Hange, I have another theory,” he started. “What if freedom is acting logically and objectively despite emotions?" He only noticed it soon after, he had adopted Hange’s mannerisms with those last few sentences.

Hange seemed unsurprised. She shook her head. “You can take control of your emotions more easily than your circumstances.”

"I don’t agree with that. No one can control how they feel. So I don’t think anyone should be ashamed of how they feel? Why do people have to stop themselves from feeling?" Levi asked. "Connie, that guy I ran into, the love alarm rang... They're best friends...there's acceptance there… isn't what's important is what we do with the feelings? I understand the circumstan—"

"Do you really understand it Levi?" Hange asked. She gestured with her face towards what was in front of them. The voices, the background noise became somewhat clearer as he watched the scuffle in front of him.

Levi huffed. “I understand that the Love Alarm isn’t enough reason for anyone to switch up their relationships…”

Sasha’s words echoed in his head. We’ve been best friends for years...even if it is true…

He continued. “But if the love alarm was correct, if the love were true, real… shouldn’t the users just accept these feelings for what they are?” Levi only noticed it a second later, when his eyes had locked on Hange that he had mimicked her position, leaning back on the chair. “Is it really so wrong to just accept sometimes, that love is an emotion and sometimes we just can’t control how we feel right? Maybe there is still a lot we can learn from an unrequited love.”

Hange furrowed her eyebrows. “We?”

“‘We’ as in every single person, who ever had to deal with an unrequited love.”

Hange didn't respond to that, she made some other excuse about how they had to work on the next set of results conveniently stacked in front of them.

Another attempt at some light conversation had left Levi winded. The words on the paper then on the screen were starting to blur amongst one another. His head was starting to throb. He found himself lowering the screen of his laptop just a bit and staring straight ahead, just for a break from the soft white glare.

He snuck a glance at Hange, who seemed just a little exhausted as well, her shoulders dropped, her wrists falling more recklessly onto the table as she typed.

The more people that filed in through the entrance, the more Levi realized it was a busy day. They shouldn't have been spending too much time discussing the relationships of people they would never see again. They shouldn’t have spent too much time discussing some useless philosophy on love when there were more pressing things to deal with.

Levi couldn't help but wonder. How the hell did all of their light conversation topics end up so heavy?

Or maybe he was the only one feeling that way. It looked like Hange had recovered first from that casual conversation turned deep. She looked up in one swift movement and spoke up, breaking the ringing silence between them. "That's Eren, Zeke's brother," she subtly pointed her thumb towards the side and Levi had to crane his neck to see behind her.

It wasn't too hard to pick him up. Eren was a tall teenager and he was followed by a young girl with chin length hair and an almost demanding presence despite being a little shorter.

"And that's Mikasa, his best friend,” Hange added.

Levi followed Eren with his eyes to see that he had gone to that corner just to talk to Zeke. Whatever they were talking about, he couldn't tell much from his end.

He looked to Hange for answers.

There was a flash of excitement in her eyes and she looked very much like she was holding in some interesting story, torn between speaking and watching the developments closely.

"You wanna tell me about them?" Levi asked when the anticipation finally became unbearable.

Hange seemed particularly focused as she watched Zeke and Eren talk. Levi even guessed that she may have heard that hushed conversation between them.

"He and Mikasa have been best friends for years… You know it's funny, her last name is Ackerman too. Are you related?" She commented

Levi never had enough bougie connections to have any cousins in swanky private schools so he brushed that question away. "Okay, what about them?"

Hange tapped one hand on the space between them on the table then pointed their way as Mikasa and Eren started to tap at their phones, with Petra looking like she was explaining something on her own phone.

They were downloading the app.

A young boy, a few inches taller than Eren joined the crowd. Levi followed the taller boy's gaze as they landed on Mikasa.

He tried to make sense of the conversation. Lip reading had never been his forte though.

"I don't recognize the taller guy," Hange admitted.

It was someone else who answered the question. "That's one of Eren's friends, Jean."

Levi turned behind him to see Zeke, the latter making his way to the seat on the other side of Hange. And just like that, Hange had turned away from him and started to engage with Zeke. When Hange willed it, it looked like she had a way of just making her voice unintelligible to him. Levi considered craning his neck, just to pick up some of the conversation, yet it seemed almost intruding.

That was Zeke and Hange’s conversation not his.

So he stared at the trio in front of him. When he had nothing else to do but encode the stack of papers next to him or make some mental detour about how they should automate such an archaic process, he found it easy to remember the names of the three kids, all an even distance away from each other, their eyes all on their phones.

Eren, Mikasa and Jean. Levi leaned back and watched the events in front of him unfold.

The gym was a constant slew of echoes and alarms and he couldn’t really tell the exact alarm that could have been from any of the three of them. He had to rely on expressions.

Jean turned a bright red. Mikasa had made a seemingly apologetic look at Jean. Then at Eren?

Eren didn’t blush, but he had seemed a little uncomfortable at the turn of events, apparent in the way he had tensed up, the way he turned his head sharply towards Jean.

Mikasa walked in between both boys, holding her hands up as if to separate the two. Maybe the dark glare she had given both boys had done the trick. The tension remained but there seemed little to no threat of a scuffle anymore.

Somewhere along the way, Eld had appeared next to the three with six sheets of paper and three pens. Eren came from behind Mikasa, walking notably nearer to her than a while ago.

They were whispering. Mikasa turned behind her to Jean who was following behind, a wide eyed look on her face and soon after Eld left, Zeke appeared next to Eren. He looked like he was pacifying the young teenager while the latter had gripped at his two sheets a little too hard.

Talking to him? Advising him? Levi didn’t ponder for long. He decided he didn’t want to think about Zeke.

“Zeke filled me in.” Of all things, that had been Hange’s conversation starter.

Levi didn’t know if he should be grateful or just irritated that of all things Hange had to mention him. “Go on,” he said as if just speaking would be enough to get rid of that twinge of irritation.

“It looks like Eren doesn’t know yet that he likes Mikasa. Or that’s Zeke’s speculation. So Zeke expected it to ring.”

“Wow, your husband takes the time out of his busy schedule to actually speculate on the love life of his younger brother.” Levi attempted not to lace his tone with sarcasm. As it turned out, even a sentence like that sounding emotionless or even friendly would seem sarcastic.

If Hange did notice it, she ignored it. “With the looks on their faces, I’m guessing it did ring.”

“For both of them?”

“For both of them maybe,” Hange said.

Another stack of papers were dropped in front of them, a few greetings were exchanged care of Gunther and once again, Levi was sifting through the pile for the more crumpled papers.

There were no names but he could make an intelligent guess. The crumpled papers were Eren’s definitely.

Did the alarm ring with your partner? Yes.

Just under it were two more papers.

Did the alarm ring? Yes.

“That looks like Eren’s hand writing, and that one’s Mikasa,” Hange pointed out. “I knew it.”

“So this means, Mikasa’s alarm rang with both Eren and Jean,” Levi said as he ran his hands over the papers.

Did the alarm ring? Yes.

“Then maybe, Jean’s alarm rang with Mikasa?” Hange guessed, giving him an expectant look. “Jean is one of Eren’s close friends from school apparently, and according to Zeke, he has the hots for Mikasa too.”

Levi looked at Hange. Her eyebrows were raised, her mouth played into a wide grin and for just a second, Levi could have felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Well who do you think Mikasa will pick?”

“That’s her choice right?”

“Zeke told me, one reason he wanted to test the love alarm here was to get his brother in one place with all the others who were crushing on Mikasa. He wanted Eren and Mikasa to realize something. Something that only the Love Alarm can prove maybe?"

"Love? Yearning?" Levi was spouting all too familiar emotions, or more specifically, he was spitting them out, like they were laced with poison.

Hange shrugged. "The love alarm causes chaos but sometimes it can tie loose ends."

Something inside him snapped. "Then why the fuck bring it up if you're just gonna answer with something vague."

Hange didn't seem surprised at all, and the more Levi stared, the more he realized he would have been annoyed either way.

A surprised Hange meant she probably didn't care. An expectant Hange meant she was hiding something.

"Levi…" Hange started. She took her time saying his name but she didn't say much else afterwards as if she was at a loss for words.

"We've been talking since a while ago. " Levi asked. "I wanna know, what are you trying to tell me? There must be a point to all these conversations."

"There's a point to this."

"Then, What. Is. It." Levi challenged.

"I told you, I don't want to rely on this love alarm to tell me how to feel. I want to decide how to feel."

"Want?"

"I will not allow it to tell me how I feel."

"Then I guess we won't agree. Look, I don't care about changing our circumstances right now. I don't give a fuck if after all this you leave." Levi mustered up some courage to look up at Hange.

She seemed lost in thought, yet at the same time, she seemed to be staring straight into him.

Levi only saw it as opportunity to continue but he was a little more careful that time, letting his voice soften into a whisper. "The most I want out of you is just some proof that this love alarm thing wasn't a sham. You said it yourself, it's not a bug right? Why did you say that? Why did you say that and now you're suddenly pretending that nothing happened?"

Hange opened her mouth to speak and she couldn't have gone any slower. He would have liked to blame the anticipation at first, the thick heavy tension that only made it harder to move.

When a box dropped in between both of them with a thump, Levi concluded, Hange had just been slow, fucking slow.

"We have a new phone. Download the app in, let's test," Zeke ordered. Who the hell was he ordering at that moment? Levi and Hange both couldn't tell.

Yet, their responses were surprisingly coordinated. Hange went for the box, quickly unwrapping it. Levi went for his laptop, pulling credentials from the system and a download link to be sent to the new phone.

It was only halfway through, when he was sending over the link did he notice it. Reciting the log-in details, he was only silently and peacefully walking to whatever chaos awaited them at the end. Yet, somehow he couldn't stop. Hange had seemed accepting too, overly professional about the whole process of testing and possibly inadvertently exposing her strange yet very personal love alarm results.

Around the time when Hange was going through the biometrics, Levi thought it polite to resist just a little. "You sure you wanna go through with this?"

"Who said I wanted to?" Hange asked.

"You know what I mean."

"Well, what do we tell Zeke then?"

Levi couldn't think up a response to that so he kept quiet. He let his mind wander. Then he agreed it wasn't a matter of Hange wanting to do something.

It was a matter of Zeke getting what he wanted.

Levi couldn't sit still. He couldn't bring himself to even get past the first paper on his new pile. His eyes were on the screen in front of him but he had snuck glances just above him towards the crowds of people so often that he might as well have just been looking ahead.

Eventually, he dropped the pile, gave up on getting any more done. He lost all self consciousness and just looked straight ahead.

It felt like he was watching an execution. It could have been his own execution, Hange’s execution or maybe even the whole company’s in slow motion.

He couldn't answer that particular question yet. With time, maybe he could. All he had to do was get past the few minutes that seemed like years, even decades.

Zeke was taking his sweet time, murmuring sweet nothings to Hange and Hange had taken her sweet time double checking those fucking biometrics. To the point where Levi actually spent a good amount of time brainstorming how to streamline the whole registration process.

The build up had been unbearably slow. Fucking slow. Petra stood next to them, preparing two sheets of paper and Levi found himself passing the time trying to answer it in his head.

The climax came very anticlimactically.

There were less people in the gym already, especially so late in the day. So when Levi craned his neck to hear it, he could almost pick it out, that one ring on their side of the gym. He only surmised that Hange's alarm rang when he noticed the way Zeke had wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brows.

Hange's back was to the moderator's table so Levi couldn't make out her face, as desperate as he was to know.

He wasn't that desperate yet. In fact, his own reaction to the chain of events didn't come as quickly as he had wanted to. Of all things, it had been Erwin’s expectant stare, the uncharacteristic panic in his eyes that had Levi standing.

“Levi could you check up on them?” It was Erwin’s order that had Levi making his way to them.

It had been the look of panic in Petra’s face that had him speeding up. And the closer he got, the more he realized how much he had wanted to see Hange’s face.

But business came first. “It looks like there’s still something wrong with the app.” Zeke’s words had surprisingly been polite. Levi’s first instinct was to search for the venom and the sarcasm and maybe he had sensed some.

For a mainly back office employee, diplomacy had seemed like the hardest part. There were only two things Levi would have been most comfortable doing then: turn to Petra and have her do the speaking or step forward, look back and take a peak at Hange who had stood unmoving since the alarm rang.

A sense of obligation was all he needed to meet Zeke’s eyes. He had to clench his jaw, he had to narrow his eyes just to keep some grip on the situation.

And it might only get worse.

He stepped forward, a few more steps then past Hange and it was only getting harder not to look back.

Zeke’s presence was domineering. His money, his power over whatever work Levi was doing was an unignorable reality. “It looks like the Love Alarm might not be working as expected," he said calmly.

Levi had his months worth of research and testing to look back to. And one thought, one long split second later, one deep breath later, he let it out, not confidently but just professional enough to at least get his point across.

“It’s working as expected,” Levi mustered. How many ways could he say something like that without insulting a billionaire? He wondered what Erwin would have said, what Hange would have said, what crazy lingo their marketing or public relations team would have come up with. Levi though had been the one who had slaved for years over that application. He would have been the only one to know the gravity of such a statement. “The love alarm is working as expected,” he repeated, just in case the message didn’t come across.

Maybe it didn’t. Zeke narrowed his eyes. “How can you be sure? Have you done the proper testing?”

“We’ve been testing this for months. Mr. Jaeger, it’s working as expected,” Levi repeated. He willed himself to keep the tone at the least, emotionless. At that moment, when he was also resisting the urge to look back at Hange it had been almost an impossible task.

Zeke let out one exhale. Then, his voice was soft, almost deathly cold. “Would you like to test again Mr. Ackerman?”

Test? Levi let his mouth drop just half way down. “Here?”

“You've taken a liking to Hange haven't you? I heard about it, if I've not noticed it myself.

Heard from who? Asking questions, Levi knew he would be only delaying the inevitable and a part of him wanted to delay it.

“Levi go turn on your Love Alarm,” Erwin ordered.

At the least, he had an excuse to look back. He caught Hange behind him for a split second. Her face was a strange mix between utter acceptance. The more Levi looked though, the easier it had been to pick out something else. A hint of pleading, too small that it could have been his imagination.

Levi looked away.

And Erwin wasn’t allowing him a second look. “Levi, is something wrong?” It wasn’t a question of concern. Levi had know Erwin enough to guess, it was merely a nice way of telling him to hurry.

Levi pulled his phone from his pocket, navigated to the application and activated in one quick motion. If he spared any more time, he might just hesitate.

There were three separate rings that filled the dead air between the four of them. At first, Levi had attributed the profundity, the implicit ringing in his ears to just the weight of the moment. Time was moving at a snail’s pace and by the time he had come to his senses, by the time Zeke had brought out his phone turning the empty screen towards him, Levi was suddenly aware that there were only three rings that graced the whole gym.

The gym had gone silent. All eyes were on them and the ringing of the three arms only continued, supplemented by whatever echoes followed.

And it would only continue unless someone moved to turn off their love alarm. Even in complete shock, Levi surmised that much.

Erwin had been the first to have composed himself. He took one to step back, then a few more. Then he was completely out of range of the love alarm.

The three alarms continued to ring.

Zeke was next to move. His face was completely unreadable and he had bent his head down, his eyes seeming glued to the screen.

From that angle, Levi could never be too sure of Zeke’s reaction.

Zeke eventually looked up, his face cold, almost expressionless. He held his phone up, only dangling it from the ground by three fingers.

The contents though were what had Levi still struggling to move. It had been expected, but to see it in the silence, when the air around them was heavy, when they were under close watch by tens if not hundreds of people, that had only served to make his stomach drop.

Zeke deactivated the alarm, and the alarm, barren of any hearts, shifted back to the title screen.

One sound disappeared. Two were left. And when everything else was silent, Levi couldn’t help but grovel silently at how annoyingly loud the ringing actually was.

He looked back at Hange. She had stood quiet and unmoving those few moments that seemed to last an eternity. When Levi looked back though, their gazes locked almost instantly.

Hange’s eyes were wide, her mouth pursed into some lopsided line and when Levi looked closer, he could have sworn he saw that flash of pleading again.

Pleading for what?

In such a fast paced world, on a Monday of all days, there was not much time to ponder. He had felt almost guilty staring, finding some way to placate her with his eyes alone. Eventually they were escorted out. Hange and Zeke went ahead and Hange as usual, had Zeke’s strong protective arm around her.

“Levi, we’re going to have to discuss this,” Erwin said. He walked ahead, gesturing for Levi to follow behind.

As always, Levi followed, slowly and sluggishly. It took him a minute more to realize he had almost forgotten to turn off the alarm.

***

“There’s no bug,” Levi repeated again. He attempted to compose himself but there was only so much he could do when he was the only one standing in the small conference room.

Zeke had settled on the sofa and as expected, no one protested. He put one hand to his chin, in mock surprise. “I could have sworn it had been working a few months ago.”

“We had a test build.” Hange spoke up from next to him, her voice was soft. It lacked the melody it usually had. “We needed the funds to continue digging into that bug so we created a build… for extra testing.”

“And I would have gladly given the funds either way,” Zeke said. “The burning question is, did you even find the bug?”

“There’s. No. Bug.” Levi kept his tone firm and professional. He wondered if the venom had made it out of his mouth.

“You gave up pretty fast,” Zeke commented.

And that was the moment Levi realized, there were things Zeke might never understand about the testing process. It was a complete waste of time explaining the difficulty of labor to someone who treated an ordinary person’s full time job as just another vessel for investment.

“Tell me, Mr. Ackerman. If there’s no bug, can you explain to me the reason behind the strange behavior of the application?” Zeke said.

The question had come as a challenge, something Levi was in no mood to take. When Erwin was giving him a long side eyed glance, he knew he’d have to make something work.

“It tests compatibility,” Levi said. “How well people would probably make as a pair, the potential to… get together.” He found himself dancing around definitions, avoiding the word ‘love’ like a plague.

But that wasn’t love. He would rather it wasn't love. Then and there, he almost considered applying for a name change.

“Zeke, love is a choice,” Hange said. “Whatever result the application gives is never going to affect this relationship. I wouldn’t let it.”

“Can you explain then why you have so much faith in this application then?”

Hange turned to Levi and nodded. “It has potential.”

“Potential for further research. You told me that before,” Zeke’s voice was only getting louder. “But can you really trust this application, this developer, after he inadvertently confesses, after your own application rings for him. And he refuses to admit to a bug.”

“Because it’s not a bug,” Hange said. “I was testing with him, I know.”

“So are you saying you’re in love with Mr. Ackerman?”

Hange dropped her shoulders, then looked straight ahead. “In another life, maybe we could have been compatible. If things didn’t end the way it did, maybe Levi and I could have gotten together and we would have been happy. I think that’s what the love alarm meant to say. Circumstances are different though. I’m married to you. I am committed to you.”

“But, are you in love with him?” Zeke pressed.

Hange shook her head. “I don’t think the Love Alarm measures love. It measures emotions, compatibility. Zeke, this thing between is, it's something we built overtime, something we grew together?”

Zeke narrowed his eyes at Hange and Levi followed his eyes back to her to see that pleading expression once again. Hange was still pleading, that time that expression was directed towards Zeke.

“Is it, Hange? Is love something which grows over time?” Zeke pressed.

Levi noticed Hange's face had fallen, her eyes widened but the pleading in her expression only grew. Then Levi made a silent yet outrageous guess.

Hange was pleading. Pleading for answers?

Zeke turned to Erwin then to Levi, his eyes once again cold and serious. "Can you give me and Hange some space first? We need to discuss something."

Maybe Zeke had guessed something similar and as Erwin led Levi out of the room, he was starting to accept that he might never know. Levi’s legs were heavy. The glass door had difficult to pull close and when he had shut the door behind him with a click, he felt like he had been lifting weights.

Or maybe he was just finding an excuse not to leave. There was that in between, something similar to the desolation of rejection and another pathetic emotion.

Denial. There was more to their circumstances for sure. Hange’s strange expression, the wide eyes, the almost seemingly curious glimmer and the pleading that never seemed to fall away.

Out of curiosity, or even desperation, Levi ended up waiting outside for a second longer, positioning himself somewhere where he wouldn’t so easily be seen.

The door was an orderly combination of frosted glass, wooden frames and transparent glass. When Levi sat on the sofa just in front of the doorway, burying himself into some social media timeline, he still had enough headspace to crane his neck up, and just make out positions just behind the frosted class.

Behind the portion of clearer glass, Levi could see Hange was still sitting on the sofa but her posture had shifted into something strangely uncharacteristic. She rested her forehead on her palm and she was bending over, staring at something at the palm of her hand.

The familiar silver of Zeke's phone. What was she staring at?

It felt almost intrusive asking, so Levi ended his own mental reflection there. Instead, he focused on how Hange had looked back up, a look of panic, concern. She was calling out to Zeke maybe?

In a few swift movements, Zeke had come right beside her, he pressed her towards the clear glass.

And he kissed her.

Head empty, thoughts elsewhere, Levi didn't feel it immediately. But eventually it did come. It was a strong wave and for a while, Levi was bombarded.

A second later, he was drowning.

Over a small view? Something between the slits of glass? When he got his grip back on reality, he let his eyes wander over the intricate design of the door and to to the only part of Hange that was reflecting some glimmer of protest.

The fingers of her right hand were pressed on the doorway and Levi continued to watch that less painful view from the one just above it. Hange’s hand continued to twitch, then it went back up and gripped Zeke by the waist. Then suddenly her arm had snaked over Zeke's back then pulled him into one tight embrace.

One tight embrace in front of him and Levi started to think it almost laughable that he had even searched for some rebellion in that intimate moment.

Why would she rebel? She told him herself, she loved him. Yet, why was he still searching for something? Why did he hyperfixate on such a subtle movement that could have meant nothing in that grand scheme of things.

And when Levi mustered the courage to look away from the hand, back up to the view of their heads pressed against each other, he noticed Zeke was looking in his direction. When their eyes met, Zeke narrowed them and raised his chin up in some strange indignance, some vague threat. Then his curled up into a small smile, not wide enough to have ever been genuine.

And the overall expression had Levi dropping his shadows in some cruel realization. Why did he feel like he had lost something? Not just someone but some game.

Had he even been playing?

With that strange expression directed towards him , Levi deemed his very small yet personal search useless and suspended it altogether.

Something pricked at his eyes, his lips trembled and by god, did he want to call it a day. His legs were jelly, deadweight at the same time. His hands didn't feel like his. Still, he moved mechanically to nothing, one step at a time towards the door.

Suddenly aware of social graces, he shook his head and scolded himself once again for getting in the way of such an intimate moment.

He met Erwin outside and by the time Erwin had asked why he had taken so long, Levi had already found ways to compose himself. “Just had to check something on my phone.” It didn’t make much sense but at that moment, sense was the last thing on Levi’s mind.

"I'm going to have a long talk with Zeke about that contract."

"Do you need help?" Levi asked.

Erwin shook his head. "No, this is between me and Zeke. Focus on the alarm."

"I will… No, Hange and I will." Adding her name had only made the prospect of bouncing back from such an ordeal almost stomachable.

But it had worked for only just a few minutes. When Hange and Zeke had left the office, it backfired magnificently.

And all he needed was that one-sided exchange to bring him back to that point of utter desolation.

"Hange, I'll see you tomorrow?" Levi asked.

Hange didn’t respond. Notably, she had been walking faster towards the exit of the gym, only trailing behind Zeke.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Hange…" Before he knew it, he had followed her through the campus grounds. Before he even felt it, he had clutched a shaking hand.

'Levi, let me go, will you?" Hange didn’t seem at all angry. Hell, she had been smiling since even before their eyes locked. Her manner of speaking, her words, then that last expression before she turned her back on him, they all seemed to have a calming effect.

It was easier to let go of her hand, easier to watch silently as she and Zeke turned the corner towards the open parking lot.

But her final parting words burned into even the recesses of his mind. And those words stayed there, the whole train ride home, the whole trek back up to his small studio apartment.

For the first time, Levi went straight to sleep. Of course he would, it had been a long day, too many things happened and he was fucking tired.

But extreme exhaustion was never just exhaustion. Sometimes, he even forgot how much control emotions had over the physical.

Out of curiosity, he opened his alarm to make sense of that strange exhaustion. He noted the blur that came with his own bleary view.

Then the colors and contours settled. Then he noted a pale sky blue.

***

Levi had always been a stickler for cleanliness.

Hange's writings on the whiteboard was a nagging antithesis. They were a conglomerate of careless scribbles, some parts faint other parts dark. Hange never bothered to write over them, never bothered to write on the white board with the same pressure every time.

And she never even wrote in a straight line.

Wingsoffreedom123

Wingsoffreedom213

Wingsoffreedom231

Wingsoffreedom321

Wingsoffreedom312

Wingsoffreedom132

The lines only bent, fell over or climbed as she wrote them and they only acted as some sort of distraction especially when Levi was in a constant process of organizing and reorganizing both his thoughts and his actual belongings.

Yet somehow, Levi couldn't stop staring at the lines of used emails and the check marks next to them. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to erase it and write over it, despite the codes, the plans running through his mind, demanding to be let out.

Maybe he could ask her for permission, maybe scold her for not cleaning up.

At around ten that Tuesday morning, he called, only to receive a dial tone. And he listened to that dial tone for a few minutes longer, while staring at the messy white board on front of him.

Hange was an utter mess. He thought loudly to himself. Then he found himself a little more ticked to have a whiteboard with shitty scribbles on it.

The eraser was right under the board. Yet as easy as it would be to erase it, somehow he couldn’t.

He turned back to his computer, opened his workflow tracker and started a new project just for both of them. He added the resources, the codes and the latest build of that birthday present he had created just for her.

He opened a virtual drawing board on his tablet, drawing plans for new colors, plans to quantify emotions and plans to connect a phone to some desktop view dashboard.

He didn’t know what Hange would need, what Hange was envisioning or however way he could make sense of numbers or assign them into each emotion just yet.

If he just created a few formulas, suggested a few codes, Hange would give her feedback anyway. He booted his phone up and opened his chat with Hange.

11:00 AM

Hey, you’re going to the office today?

Lunch break passed without any hitches so Levi decided to stare at the whiteboard again just to annoy himself enough to want to message Hange again.

2:26 PM

Are you done with the whiteboard? I’m gonna erase what you wrote.

She didn’t reply.

He sent over those same questions, those same threats multiple times a day over the week and every time, the result had been the same.

No response.

As week turned into two weeks, then three, he realized he had never planned on erasing it in the first place. Somehow, he wanted that antithesis, that glaring reminder that it hadn’t just been his office space anymore.

Work and responsibilities had become some sort of a solace, a godsend in their own little way. With enough post release questions to answer, with enough data from the testing to make some sense of, Levi was constantly busy. With bugs constantly rearing their ugly heads, demanding to be solved, Levi had at least managed to pretend he wasn’t always thinking about her.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Deja Vecu

Hello, its been a while!! Please accept this release of the unpublished scene from Chapter Two of Deja Vu. Its basically 4k of Remus being gay for a stranger he keeps seeing die, and ain’t that a mood? :)

Summary: The Missing Scene in chapter 2 of Deja Vu, in which Remus agrees to help a stranger rob a casino.

Words: 4397

Read on Ao3 || Hero Worship Series || My General Writing Masterlist

At twenty-one years old, Remus finds out that robbing a casino is a lot less fun than Ocean’s Eleven led him to believe. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of security that went into protecting the chips and the cash on hand: following the path of the cash box from earlier, there’s two hired security guards framing the employee’s entrance, neither of whom like being touched nor can be persuaded to leave their posts together. There’s a card reader locking the door which despite looking like walnut wood, is actually steel with a clever paint job. And that’s just the first level.

“Predictable,” Dee says from where he had made himself comfortable on Remus’s bed with the complimentary note pad the hotel had supplied him. He had left his suit jacket on the desk to avoid the wrinkles but lounged on the foot of the bed without taking off his shoes. Remus had tossed himself down next to him, stretching out to gather all the pillows and built a throne for himself like he was eight instead of twenty-one.

Dee had watched him, back to wearing the face of the man who had approached him in the casino. Remus thinks he looks nice like that: hansom enough to please anyone who looked his way and charming enough to disarm anyone who might have seen him as out of place and forgettable enough that Remus couldn’t remember if they had gambled together previously.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Remus had pointed out. “I know what the real you looks like.”

Dee’s pen digs into the paper a little harder than necessary and Remus pretends he hadn’t noticed. The smile he receives is light and joking but it doesn’t meet his eyes at all. “I happened to like this appearance.”

Remus hums, “Lame. The scales are cool.” But he had let it drop in favor of twisting the purple casino chip between his fingers.

Dee taps his pen on the comforter in thought, his borrowed blue eyes distant as he mulled over Remus’s reports from futures that won’t happen. “What else did you notice?”

“Tessa isn’t your wife anymore, Danny.”

Dee snorts, which, by all means, should not be as graceful and elegant as he makes it seem. There’s a fluidity to the way he dips his head and scribbled on the pad of paper that makes him looks dignified. Or maybe that’s just the angle that Remus is looking at him with. A lock of his dark hair slips into his eyes and he brushes it back with two gloved fingers.

Remus falls back against the stack of pillows he had built around himself, breathing deeply and settling himself. The air smells like the lemon cleaner that the hotel staff had used to clean his room earlier when Remus had been out and about, but there’s hints of something else—something sweet and spicy with an undertone of wood.

--Dee blinks at the question, shifting so that he’s lying on his stomach, his head resting on his palm. “I wonder,” He says, with eyes so bright and blue and innocent that Remus feels like he’s stuck in them, “if you mean the Cardamom scent from my aftershave.” And Remus’s heart beats just a little faster, a little harder, a little more.—

“When I ask what else you notice,” Dee says, drawing Remus back to the present, “I meant your other senses. You’ve told me about what you’ve seen. What about sounds? The smells? You said you experience this as a first-person thing, correct?”

Remus waves a hand. “Its both. I’m there in person but I’m also having an out of body experience, too.”

Dee squints. “Doesn’t that…get confusing? How can you interpret all the stimuli at once?”

“Stimuli! What, are you a scientist in your free time?” Remus mocks, but Dee’s shoulders tense at the insinuation.

“You don’t have to tell me.” He says, “I was just curious.” He’s not, though. Remus isn’t quite sure how he knows, but Dee’s curiosity is more than just a simple question. It feels like it’s more, like he’s gathering information and sorting it away for later, like he’s making decisions based on Remus’s answers that have nothing to do with the how they are going to get into a Vault protected by a six digit code that only three people have and then get back out with more money than they can physically carry.

“Shame,” Remus says, feeling the shift in the bed as Dee’s shoulders unwind. “If you were a scientist you could dissect me for all the goodies inside! Of course, you can do that without being a scientist, too, but it’s not as fun.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?”

Remus flips the coin in the air and catches it with the same hand. It comes up heads. “Why, does that scare you?”

Dee watches him, the pen absently twirling in the air between them. Remus can feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing, pressing on his chest and making him self conscious of exactly how many breathes he’s been taking. The cotton comforter has a square pattern on it that he hadn’t noticed before, but he can count only three squares between the two of them. For some reason that information feels important.

“No,” Dee says after another moment passes and the air simmers. “I supposed it concerns me.”

Remus swallows the urge to laugh at his face.

“You just seem to be a useful person,” Dee continues, defensively. “I would hate to see that usefulness be squandered.”

This time Remus does laugh and it’s a bumbling bubbling burst of noise in their quiet world. His lungs shake and his heart hurts, but he laughs and something about it makes Dee’s smile softly too. The air is light, but there’s an underlying tension there, lurking in the shadows and reminding Remus that for all the dashing good looks and the semi honest expressions, the man before him is a stranger wearing a borrowed face and absolutely no one would miss him if he disappeared.

He flips the coin again, watching it roll over itself too many times to count, bounce off his hand and then flop to a stop direction between the two of them. Dee pokes it with the butt of his pen, like he was expecting it to get up and walk away.

“To answer your question,” Remus says, breathing in deeply enough to smell his cardamom aftershave and wondering why no one else in his twenty-one years of living had thought to ask him. “Seeing the future does get confusing. But it’s whatever. It never causes anything worse than a nosebleed.”

Dee hums and scribbles something down on his notepad. If Remus sat up just slightly, he would be able to see it, but he finds he likes the mystery more. Was it notes to use against him? Or was it things to think about in the future? Or was it still the colossal list of numbers they weren’t even a fraction of the way through?

--They manage to draw the guard’s attention away with a faked emergency: Remus never put stock in his own acting skills so he stumbles and falls on another patron and lets his head crack against the corner of the a craps table just far enough away that the guards are drawn the few steps over to check on both of them. Remus doesn’t bother responding to any of their prompts until Dee with the face of Tim the dealer swipes his borrowed card and lets the door behind him close. They had radios from the same place where Dee had procured the keycard from, and Remus thinks he could fall asleep listening to Dee’s breaths.

“Left, right, or center?” Dee asks.

“Left,” Remus hums, watching the casino patrons around him. A woman in her thirties just won at a baccarat table and tried to kiss the dealer. “There’s a camera at around the corner, but it roves. Your future self said to wait five seconds then go.”

Remus waves down a waitress and orders a mojito while he waits. Dee gives soft laugh at the concept and Remus tries to calm his nerves.

“You’re so uptight,” He says softly, almost to the point where Remus can’t hear him over the chattering of other people. “Relax a little, Remus. It’s just my life.”

“The Elevator code is 7-1-3-2,” Remus tells him. “And you’re going to want change your pretty little face to someone of a higher ranking on the casino hierarchy unless you want Terry Benedict to know what we’re up to.”

Remus holds his breath as the elevator dings, and then as Dee repeats the code as he types it in, and then as the doors rumble closed. He twists the glass of his drink when it comes as he listens for the subtle clues on how far Dee is inside the belly of the beast. It takes him a moment to realize that Dee is humming softly, and his lips twist into a smile without his permission.

There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his mojito and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. She’s still going to lose so Remus finds himself more entertained by trying to extract the lime from his drink than from watching her pout yet again when the ball lands on the red 36.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t understand how he does it. He glances down at the piece of paper in his hand and reads off the six-digit combination that was next on their list.

“5-1-3-2-7-6,” Remus presses a hand to his earpiece, listening as closely as he can. His breath shortens with each second, crafting infinities out of each passing tick. He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like a guillotine that’s cut their mission off a hundred-some times before.

“Hey man you, okay?” The person with Dee asks, less out of curiosity and more out of suspicion.

“Yes sorry my finger slipped,” Dee says quickly and punches in the next number in ascending order out of blind hope that it might be the correct one but it isn’t and Remus knows it because that’s when the person next to Dee asks him to back away and demands to know who he is and Dee’s placating answers are never enough so he tries to shift but bullets are faster than he is and Remus rips out his ear piece right before the gun goes—

“Another bust,” Dee sighs, drawing a snake on the corner of his paper. “Somehow I feel like we could win more playing on the casino floor than doing this….” He trails, off eyes distant again, thinking more about money than about the number of deaths Remus has witnessed.

It seems strange, that Remus would care so much more about that then he does, but in a way that doesn’t surprise him. Its Death with a capital ‘D’ and in Remus’s twenty-one years of experience, the only people who feared death were those who were aware of how close it was. Remus was practically best friends with Death, with the taste of the asphalt on the highway, with the feeling of a free fall, with the awkward fit of a hotel bathtub. He’s familiar with the cold silver of fear, but it doesn’t make him any less afraid.

Dee knows he keeps dying, though. Dying alone, deep inside a labyrinth of a building and Remus wonders if he should stop this while he’s ahead. He knows once that half hour mark hits in the future there’s no more Dee to be waiting for, no pay out. Just the pain of seeing a swarm of S.W.A.T. officers covertly weave between the patrons and leave with a human sized black bag. But Remus still waits and watches, holding dutiful vigil over a fruitless endeavor and letting hope build just for it to shatter with reality.

“Why does this mean so much to you?” Remus asks, somewhere between the fifteenth and the hundred fiftieth casino themed wake procession. His eyes burn a little, and he tries to tell himself it’s just the brightness of lights.

“Money is everything,” Dee marks the next two number off his list on his notebook and talks without listening to his own words. Its not fair that he sounds so convinced it’s true, when his mouth moves like he’s practiced this in the mirror. “What about you? Why do you continue to watch?”

Remus sinks back on his pillows, holding on to that faint scent of wood and spice and the feeling in his gut that comes from every time Dee listens to his advice from the future, from every time Dee listens and adheres, from every times Dee just believes.

Remus wonders how so much trust could be from this stranger who’s known him for an hour or two, and yet Roman had never been able to just accept what he said without an argument. He sounds crazy when he talks about what will happen, but Dee just nods and lets his lips twitch into a smile when handing him a roll of toilet paper.

Remus rips off another length the cheap paper and folds its in half before shoving it on his face. There’s blood in his mustache, which is frustrating and tastes just as gross as all the other times he’s had blood dripping down his chin.

“Remus,” Dee says, without looking up from his notepad.

“Yes, dearest stranger taking up half my bed?” He inhales hard.

“This is a fourth, at most.”

“Tomayto-tomahto.”

Dee shoots him a look that he can just barely make out around the clomps of flimsy paper he’s holding to his face. He looks like he’s trying not to be amused. Which is funny! Because, well, Remus can’t remember the last time someone who wasn’t related to him was in his company long enough to find him amusing.

“Why are you doing this?” Dee asks. “Other than the money, which we agreed would be a fifty-fifty split, regardless of how much we manage to walk out of here with….but somehow I don’t see money being enough for you to watch me die over and over again. Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped me from lunging for that cash box.”

Remus is twenty-one when he shrugs and says, “It’s something to do.”

Dee huffs another dazzling laugh and for a moment Remus thinks he can see a flash of sharpened teeth in that smile, fangs like a vampire come to life, but it’s too fast for him to be sure. “Ah, I see we’re both liars tonight. Ready for the next attempt?”

Remus wonders if it’s still lying when its technically the truth. He’s doing this because its time spent with this shapeshifting sham, this enlightening enigma, this confusing con artist who lies as easily as breathing. Remus has a hard time believing anything personal he says is true, and yet he finds himself eyeing the three squared spaces on the comforter again wondering if it would be too much to make it two, one, none.

For someone who trusts Remus to see the future seven billions times as they try to figure out the vault code, who follows every direction Remus gives without hesitation, who continues to act as if Death is not something that can happen to him, he is extraordinarily hard to trust in return. Words are meaningless because he flaunts them, and Remus grew up watching Roman practice lines enough to know when someone was acting. Dee probably isn’t even his real name.

But Remus…Remus hasn’t been seen the way that Dee sees him before. Isn’t that enough for him to want to spend as long as he can with this stranger? Regardless of the danger Dee is running straight into? Regardless of the slight thrill that he gets from the prospect that they might get away with this?

-- There’s some garbled conversation on Dee’s end, pleasantries and greetings and nice things that Remus never bothered to memorize. Dee glides through the conversations with ease, deceiving and grifting like he had been born to do it. And who knows? Maybe he had been. Polite conversation gets them through another three doors, including a hall wracked the cameras and the final elevator that can only be opened with two keys and a pin code graciously provided by an aware high-level friend that followed them in and was still chatting about their Perfect Child’s first steps.

Remus sips his chocolate martini and watches the girl at the nearest roulette table eye the betting board. He knows from all the other times he’s watched that she loses, although as he peaks over at the numbers she’s never far off. It must be that excitement of the near win that keeps her there.

“Ah yes, the vault code,” Dee’s voice says, dragging Remus back to the mission at hand. He’s casual, loose, and ready, and Remus doesn’t still understand how he does it.

“5-1-3-3-4-1.”

He can hear Dee’s laugh and his he listens closer he can make out the guard that’s next to him still chattering away. Each button bings when Dee presses it in, soft and charming and not at all like the bells of victory when the code is right, holy shit. The Code was right. Dee’s breath catches in his throat, and Remus nearly drops his martini on the floor. His heart races in his chest with an emotion that he can’t quiet put a name too.

They did it.

They…won. Remus makes his way towards the doors where they were set to meet back up, and Dee continues a casual conversation with the armed guard about children as he fills both his briefcases with as much money as he can fit. By the breathless excitement in his voice, Remus can guess there’s more money in front of him than he expected to be able to get. He invites the guard over for family dinner next night because he’s an asshole and Remus finds that quality admirable.

He waves down a waitress to get a second drink, Dee’s celebratory drink, because as soon as he got past the doors they were home free-

“Hey! Hey! Stop him!” A voice yells in Dee’s ear and the shapeshifter curses.

“Remus!” He yells, “The executive is in the halls! He-!”

There’s a gunshot and a thud and Remus rips out his earpiece and screams loud enough to make all the nearest games freeze in their tracks—

“Let me guess,” Dee says, rolling over, “Another bust? The next numbers ar—”

“No,” Remus throws himself into a sitting position, and blindly grabbing for more toilet paper. The back of his throat is slick with a metallic taste and his head spins a bit when he tries to stand up. “No, Dee!”

“No?”

“Dee, we did it! That’s the code,” Remus says, pretending like his knees don’t buckle when the floor rolls under his feet. Dee is there in a moment, hands under his arms and holding him up completely. Its almost like a hug, Remus thinks distantly. He’s twenty-one and he can’t remember the last time someone hugged him even as a joke. His skin itches at the contact, blistering and burning at the warmth of someone else being so close to him. The cardamom scent is so strong, but Remus thinks he might be okay if that was the only thing he smelled for the rest of his life.

“Are you…okay?” Dee asks. “Why are you…?”

Remus uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stream of blood from his nose and inhales hard. “You died again. The executive you choose to impersonate is in the building and you run into him right before getting out with the cash.”

“Who was it? I can change into someone else.”

Remus shakes his head. “Oh no. I’ve got no clue, but if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s get someone’s attention.”

Dee grins, “You certainly got mine. What are you going to do?”

Remus slides his weight back and manages to stand on his own legs. Remus’s heart does a dance routine in his chest, moving like if it slows for even a second Dee will lunge forward and rip it from his body.

Remus tells him, “I’m going to go make a girl win at roulette so much they think she’s cheating. With a hundred thousand dollars on the line that should have their attentions, right?”

It’s not really a question. Remus knows from experience that the more games in a row that you win during a game involving so much luck, the more interest people start to take in it and you. He just needs to convince the girl to bet only where he tells her to, and then bet as much as she can.

He knows how to do it, too: simply walk up to her and offer her a free Barney if she bets on the square he tells her too. Once she wins, he tells her the next one, and maybe she puts a nickel down, or a quarter, just in case he’s wrong. When she wins again, he’ll tell her the next number, and she’ll put more on it. Then more. Then more. She doesn’t even need to believe that he can see the future. She just has to reap the rewards.

“Oh,” Dee says staring at him. “Oh.”

Remus isn’t sure what he’s looking at. He just knows that Dee’s eyes are as blue as the ocean and deeper than anything he’s ever drowned in. He’s looking at Remus again, like this is the first time he’s seeing him in this lighting, and when he smiles, his teeth are definitely sharper than before.

“I do believe,” Dee says, “we could make the best team of thieves there is out here.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Remus asks. “Come on. I didn’t listen to you die nine hundred times just for you to chicken out now.”

He grabs his jacket, and buttons it. With a swipe of his hands he’s hair sets back in the position before, like some type of magic act. If Dee’s the magician, Remus thinks he would be honored to be in the front row every time he performs.

“So, you’d be up to doing this again, correct?” Dee asks, with his hand on the doorknob.

“They won’t fall for the same trick twice,” Remus says, “And what makes you think that this is something I enjoy?”

“I didn’t ask if you enjoyed it. I asked if you’d do this again. Not here, but somewhere else.” Dee glances at him, side eyeing him in a way that makes the hair on the back of Remus’s neck stand on end. “You still owe me.”

“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? People don’t usually want him to stay around.

Another step in the hall. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”

Remus snorted and motioned between them, “What do you call this? What we’ve been doing for the past hour?”

“This?” The man gives him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own volition!”

“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.

Dee shakes his head too innocently. “Not in this timeline.” He pulls out his pale-yellow handkerchief and offers it to him, “You still have blood on your face by the way.”

There’s something nice about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion. It makes his knees weak and the back of his throat taste like blood again and he so desperately wants to look to the future but won’t let himself do it.

“What do you want?” Remus says, because the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies and he never goes back on a promise.

“Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”

Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on the stolen poker chip. Suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.

Dee’s form shimmers, shivers, and dissolves into Tim the dealer as they wait for the elevator to take them back to the casino floor. It’s an entirely different person but when he looks at Remus all he can see is Dee’s expression.

“Well, Remus,” He says, “After we finish up here, I want you to come with me. Work with me a bit. Let me help you amass a bit of a fortune. Strictly professional, of course. I won’t ask about your past and you don’t ask about mine. We don’t even need to be friends! Just…”

Dee offers out a gloved hand to him. “Business partners?”

Remus is twenty-one and he thinks there might be a timeline out there where he says no, but he doesn’t even entertain that thought.

“Business Partners,” He says and shakes on it.

#Demus #sanders sides #janus sanders #remus sanders #deja vu au #robbing a casino for your mental health #Oceans eleven references because I love that movie #superpowers #Remus from before things get bad #tw: temporary death #Remus can see the future #Janus can shapeshift #Everything is GREAT :)

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