#CHAPTER ONE IS OVERRRRR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hwajin · 5 months

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#!! - 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ; twin flames

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : soulmate au, non idol au, smut!! mdni, angst

— 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : hyunjin x fem!reader

— 𝐰𝐜 : 4.8k

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it had been a while since you and hyunjin had shared a first kiss, since chan had vanished from your life — since you'd have been supposed to run towards a new love, a better one; if not for fear holding you back, if not for your cowardice standing in your and hyunjin's way.

— 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : IT'S OVERRRRR i quite literally sobbed a bit writing this chapter!! i have NEVER finished a whole series before ever and even tho it's not my best work and i would have written a couple things differently if i've given myself more time this is still my proudest work! love love love to everyone who enjoyed this series or who could feel with it 🫶🫶🫶

previous chapter | series masterlist

Underwear scattered on Hyunjin’s bedroom floor, yours and his. Panties in lace, with bows adorning their core, sets of lingerie on his chair, by the side of his bed, or simple black silk amidst his sheets. Evidence of just what exactly you and him had been busying yourself with since the first time you had touched, truly touched. Proof that your relationship wasn’t one at all, not having proceeded into directions Hyunjin had planned to.

Then again, he had promised himself to not plan, not when it came to you. To go into you without expectations, without an aim – he was glad to have you, however that was, and he felt himself too selfish should he ever want more from you, emotionally. He was well aware you weren’t ready to fall in love – or to admit to it. So, he let himself call over to your place – Chan had long moved out, as Hyunjin’d found out, having left the place to you solely –, let you come over to his whenever you pleased; he let you toy with him. Though, maybe toy was a word far too harsh – it implied pain, and you didn’t want to hurt Hyunjin. He knew, he hoped, that you had good intentions when it came to him; your lingering touches every morning against his naked chest, when you were supposed to be off to work though still laid in bed with him, despite your promise not to sleep over at the others’ place, the nicknames you called him although you told yourself and him to not go that far, your stolen, passionate kisses right after you’d tell Hyunjin that a relationship, a great love the way he imagined wasn’t something you could give him, just yet. He had promised to not ask for it, to wait on you – but whenever your touch found his skin, delicate, tender, far too sweet to not be called love, in its’ very form, Hyunjin doubted that you didn’t feel affection towards him, that your hesitation was credited simply to fear. Fear of another heartbreak, fear, maybe, that you’d misjudged Hyunjin the way you did Chan. Hyunjin understood, let himself hurt, because it was for you – grew impatient, grew needy, grew utterly hopeless.

Though, he’d lie saying he didn’t yet enjoy the time he got to spent with you. You were contradicting yourself in relation to them – told Hyunjin sternly that there was no room for romance when you met up though acted a girlfriend at times, swayed and in love, pecking his lips to catch him off guard, calling him over when you cooked a meal you knew he enjoyed, proposed long walks where no subject was left uncovered. And Hyunjin never commented it, let himself engulf in the supposed relationship he’d found himself in, with an affectionate smile often – you weren’t ready though would be, he was sure of it.

Both your bodies were sprawled out on Hyunjin’s bed, not naked entirely though not fully dressed either – you in only a shirt of his and a pair of lacen panties, him in nothing but his boxers. The December temperatures called for more layers on your skins, even indoors, though the sheets against you and the warmth both bodies emitted – and not less the lovemaking not an hour earlier – was enough to keep you from freezing. You didn’t have the heart to go yet, nor the wish to – you had missed Hyunjin though it’s barely been two days since you’ve last seen him, and you went over your own boundaries if it meant spending more time with him. It was strange, and you were frightened of your lack of backbone, when it came to Hyunjin; you had promised yourself a break from love, from anything regarding it though you couldn’t seem to distance yourself enough from him. Ever since your first touch, the first time your lips had found home on the other your body had ached to be with his own, simply near his. To talk of nothing, to do nothing, but together. Actions far too intimate for your liking – it wasn’t only carnal, not simply sexual attraction as you had hoped; it was love, if you had to name it, and it scared you. It scared you to commit, it scared you, even, to admit to the feelings in the first place – around Hyunjin you pretended to be happy keeping it casual, to be fine calling him over past midnight usually, though every time he left, far into the early morning, with a longing kiss you couldn’t help but wish for more. For having his closure, for having his body next to your own when you awoke hours later, for calling over right then and there, again.

You felt Hyunjin’s touch on your skin, his soft fingertips on your flesh. His breath fell hot against the crook of your neck – his face has been buried in it for the past half hour, wordless and silent, comforting. His breathing was regular, almost in sync with your own, his chest palpably heaving against you, falling to leave you empty, heaving again against your body. His limbs were heavy, lazily sprawled around your own; you weren’t sure if he was sleeping, your hand tangled into his hair an indicator he might be – there wasn’t a day Hyunjin wasn’t slave to your fingers against his scalp. That was the worst part – knowing Hyunjin loved you as much as you loved, and letting him hurt nonetheless. Feeling his affection, his patience, his determination – you admired him, truly; if you were in his place you might have long given up, might have long lost hope. Though maybe you wouldn’t have. If you imagined the roles reversed, if you imagine yourself in a position hopeless and waiting and longing, for a love greater would never be found – you’d stay, too. If it was for him.

Though the roles weren’t reversed, and you found yourself scared, still. Overwhelmed suddenly by Hyunjin’s body so very close to you, the subtle implication of a love you knew he could grant you. Your heart quickened when you realized your utter comfort in his hold, just how much you enjoyed his arms around your waist, his solemn touch on parts no one but him had the privilege of touching – the space between your breasts, where his lips liked to find home, the plush of your thighs, so close to your sex though never quite, the lower of your tummy, thumb merely grazing pubes as his hand danced upon your skin. You enjoyed it all, and far too much.

“I have to go.”

Your body tense when you exclaimed the words which cut through the silence uncomfortably – Hyunjin jerked at your voice, though not having been loud enough to scare him it was stern enough to disturb, let alone the implications of your words. His body imitated yours, tensing up in its’ place, arms tightening around your torso, as though to hold you back, to prevent your parting. His head parted from your neck – it left you terribly cold, too empty. Hyunjin looked at you, perplexed, his dark eyes ones of a puppy, big and pleading, silently asking; for you, for more, for love. It were eyes you so often struggled to deny, a sight you hated to turn down. His hair a mess, his face puffy and reddened by his lips and cheeks, only a hint of colour but enough to turn you weak. You were too invested, too deep into him. Too in love.

You wriggled yourself out of his hold – Hyunjin couldn’t help but loosen his grip on you, finally, though it left you colder than expected, and more desperate for him than ever. You hated parting as much as he did, it hurt you just as deeply as it did Hyunjin. Though you feared that staying would scar you worse in the long run, so you braced yourself, selfishly. You shifted and heaved yourself off the bed, off Hyunjin’s mattress which smelled of vanilla and home, of him, and scrambled together your things. Not all of them, never all of them – you always left something to have an easy excuse to come over, despite not needing one. You took your cherry chapstick laying on his bedside table, the one Hyunjin found himself to love on you, kissing it off whenever applied; your headphones on his table where paintings of flowers and you were scattered all over, shooting a bullet right through the plush of your heart, the tenderness he cared for you with, the pedestal he held you on; your underwear on his floor, bringing bashful colour to your skin, remembering the words Hyunjin had said taking each of them off, over the past weeks – you left merely white underpants draped over his chair you pretended not to see, a necklace on his table you pretentiously thought was his, and a hair tie which could have as well been his own. You cringed over your own pathos.

Hyunjin watched you in the process of collecting and packing your things, entangled in his sheets smelling of your perfume and sex. You didn’t dare look at him; his topless body always portrayed a domesticity you felt like fleeing from, you urged to find comfort in. Hyunjin watched wordlessly, up until the point where you’ve realized you’ve still been wearing his shirt – you took it off, casually, without a second thought before putting on your own, seemingly ready to leave; that was the moment Hyunjin spoke, finally.

“Already? You can stay a bit, you’ve only been here for an hour.”

Desperation in his voice, undeniably. You felt cruel – more so when you looked at him. Half sitting in his bed, eyes calling for you, every fibre of his body longing to hold yours again. He looked inviting, he looked like he could grant happiness if you only allowed it – he looked, therefore, dangerous.

A big sigh from you – you didn’t like to get angry at him, and you weren’t particularly. It was anger credited only to yourself, and though Hyunjin was never at fault it was sometimes directed at him. You hated yourself for it every time anew.

“I can’t… you know I can’t stay.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, it was lighter than expected. You never took much over to his place.

Hyunjin sat up fully now, and your eyes directed their attention towards the door – you didn’t lack self-control, though the view of him wasn’t something you were able to resist, nor bear. Because it was frustratingly heart-breaking, because you wanted to drop every bit of your belongings to find yourself in these arms of his, secure and warm, homely. You almost took a step towards it when his voice kept you from your plan again.

“But babe, you-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me babe.”

It was your breaking point. Nicknames weren’t a rarity with Hyunjin, though this very moment, when fear of commitment and disappointment nagged at you it was far too much of what you could physically handle. The word sounding so natural, so lovely it was impossible to hold back the tears that prickled behind your lids, a bad omen of the emotions rolling upon you. Confusion, because it was him you wished to be with, fear, because you hurt, frustration, because you didn’t seem to handle the situation remotely well.

Hyunjin was silent, though only for a second. Shocked and he looked like it – it’s not that you had never made a boundary abundantly clear to him, yet this was the first time you sounded truly upset, angered while doing so. Though he wasn’t hurt by it, not by your anger, not by your words, even. He was hurt, for your sake. For the tremble in your voice hinted at your frustration over yourself, at your wish for the situation to be different altogether. He knew you wanted to love him, without fear and hesitation, without having to say goodbye before the sun rose. He hurt knowing you were making it so hard for yourself, despite him being right before you, not even in hand’s reach, but already within your hold.

You stood in his room, unmoving, though not leaving, either. Waiting maybe for an answer, or too cowardly to leave him, after all. Body urging to be with him too much to walk out his home and into your own. You heard him shifting in his bed – you still weren’t looking at him, turned to him sideways, facing the door. You heard his naked feet against his rug-less floor, felt his body closer and closer to your own until you could feel his warmth engulfing you. Suffocating.

“You’re… look at me.”

It wasn’t as much a command as it was a plea. Hyunjin’s voice sounded quiet, careful, as if the littlest wrongdoing would scare you off. Not for today only, but forever. That with an unwanted word you would vanish, as quickly as you had first emerged.

Hyunjin didn’t touch you. He stood inches from you and waited, until you – reluctantly, quite – turned to face him; it was your single downfall. Pain glazed on his irises, lips agape to speak though seemingly unknowing of what exactly. His brows were furrowed, a pained expression painting his face – you despised seeing him this way. He deserved a treatment far better than the one you were torturing him with, one that wouldn’t require him to worry, to hopelessly long, to hurt. You despised seeing him in pain, and you hated yourself most for it.

“You… you could stay, you know.”

Careful, his words merely crawling past his lips and into the room, but a deer caught in the forests and too timid to move. You barely registered his voice at all, as quiet as it was – though when you realized his words, realized, most importantly, the implications behind them your expression changed, your demeanour did. You looked up at him, his face as though waiting for a storm, appalled and frightened, almost. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Hyunjin you–… you know I can’t. I can’t stay, I’m not– I don’t think I’m ready yet, I–“

Your voice trembled. You didn’t want to cry, not yet. You knew this topic had been inevitable, and you didn’t want to weaken at the very beginning. Though speaking your thoughts aloud instead of thinking them, admitting to what you’ve been trying to deny with such verbosity prior didn’t help your state, nor did the view before you – the man you so badly wanted to call your lover looking as distraught as you were feeling, helpless and enraged now, it seemed. You couldn’t blame him.

Hyunjin was angry. Hurt, and helpless, and angry, not at you, not at himself, even. At Chan, maybe, for having left you so very scarred, at his own cowardness of not having brought up this topic earlier. At the fact he understood and yet couldn’t accept, not when both of you wanted more. And so clearly, at that. It enraged him that you were scared of allowing yourself happiness you well knew he could give you – it brought tears to his eyes.

“You… can’t you see I treat you well? Can’t you see that we’d be happy together– that we are happy together?”

Hyunjin’s voice was nothing but a whisper. Not angry because he bore enough patience to control himself, rather desperate, instead. It broke you more than if he’d screamed at you. But he stood before you, looking smaller than he was, almost begging; for something you didn’t trust yourself able to give.

“I can. I can see we’d be happy… that’s why I’m scared.”

A beat and you looked up at him, his figure hovering over yours, both unmoving, frozen in your place. Hyunjin’s expression changing into one of confusion, pity.

“I was happy with Chan, too, I– I’m scared it’s gonna be the same thing all over again, I–“

“I’m not Chan.”, Hyunjin’s voice stern now, absent of unsureness. “I’m not him, so you don’t have to be scared with me, I–“, hesitation for only a moment as he watched tears roll down your cheeks, silent tears as you held his gaze; he stepped closer, body almost touching your own and his hands reached out, unable to stand separate and he cupped your face, thumb grazing over the wet that kept streaming past your eyes. “I love you. I’ve loved you when I first saw you in that store, and I’ve loved you ever since… you don’t have a reason to be scared with me; I won’t ever not love you.”

Hyunjin’s lips connected to your own before you could say anything else, before you could burst out in helpless sobbing. You cursed Hyunjin for making you love him, for storming into your life and turning it upside down, for never having let go of you – and yet, simultaneously, you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for bringing him to you. Because maybe, if you let yourself, you would learn to love again. You would learn trust anew, would learn peace and domesticity and affection – maybe, if you let go of your fear with Hyunjin right beside you he would teach you to accept love again.

You kissed him back after a moment of hesitation, of hopelessly collecting your thoughts – you couldn’t quite, and kissing him was easier, so you let him. Let him touch your face with delicate fingers, let him move his previously kiss-bitten lips against your own wet ones, tears mixing into hot, damp breaths. Your bag slid off your shoulder and you held him, clung onto his arms as though the loss of contact would take him away from you forever – you couldn’t afford it, nor would you dare to accept it. You let him love you the way he’s always wanted, the way you’ve always deserved and you cried into the kiss, unable to stop tears because unable to truly stop fear. You’d accept him, accept the inevitable because you wanted it just as much, though it surely wouldn’t come without determination, without work. Love and trust wouldn’t emerge suddenly but over time, though you were, finally, ready to welcome both. If it was him by your side.

Hyunjin broke the kiss to look at you, holding you still, never daring to let go. His eyes scanned your face for any sign of reluctance or acceptance – though he’d prefer the latter. And he found one in the way you kept looking at him, wanting, needing, vulnerable. In the way you kept holding onto his body, clawing into his skin, pleading silently. He understood, he kissed you again – slowly this time, secure. Granting you the time you silently pleaded for, making you understand he would gift you all the time in the world, if need be, every bit of patience he contained.

Your bodies moved backwards – never breaking lips’ contact – until Hyunjin’s legs nudged the edge of the bed. He sat slowly, pulling you against him, onto his lap in calm manner; his demeanour was tender, delicate. He was careful. His touch on your body as you softly straddled him was featherlight, fingertips tapping and dancing across your skin while his palms left warmth where they met you, familiar and comfortable warmth you so often had scared away from letting in. Warmth Hyunjin had been granting you all along, patiently – warmth you finally, though not entirely mindlessly, felt ready to reciprocate.

You broke the kiss, sitting atop him still, holding onto his naked shoulders, feeling the weight of his hands on your hips – for the first time since you’ve met him you felt like you were really, truly looking at him. Your lover. Your soulmate. His eyes were dark, pearly, big, laced with so many emotions you wondered how he was able to hold them all within him. There was sadness and agony, passion and love, adoration and frustration and hope and fear, and so much more. Hyunjin’s lips were reddened, dry from panting, chipped from the lack of using balms. His brows were furrowed in question, looking up at you watching him – you never wanted to tear your eyes off him again. You felt like you had wasted time, and you urged to make it quit; you wanted to spend every remaining day, every last second with Hyunjin by your side.

You closed the distance between your bodies again to a kiss. Your lips met Hyunjin’s softly, slowly – you took your time now, trusted a little more now. And he allowed it. Hyunjin allowed for you to take control, let you move against him as slowly as you wished to – opening his mouth when your tongue prodded at his lips, letting your wet muscle dance with his own, let you bite against his plush mouth for only a second before you granted him open-mouthed kisses again, leaving him in utter awe. He’s been wishing for these sort of kisses from you, for ages now – passionate, without hesitation, exploring instead of scaring away from it. He was finally receiving them; and he felt the luckiest man alive.

It took moments to find yourself laying beneath his figure, dressed still. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming across your body – though not too hasty, never fast. His lips engulfed your own, kissed and nibbled at your neck, against your jaw – passionate and soft, utterly adoring. He took his time with you, time you never much allowed him to take, time you had deemed too romantic to accept; you were accepting it now, relishing in the new love you had denied yourself. And it felt nice. Hyunjin’s lips against your skin has never felt so calming, so secure. His touch, the pads of his fingertips atop your body’s’ every inch was salvation, final pleasure. You let him, entirely. Let him explore you, the way he’s never done before. Let him look at you, intently. Let him undress you, slowly. Shirt first, then your pants. You let Hyunjin kiss every inch of skin he exposed, if took him ages to. You let him pour love into every connection with him and your flesh, basked in the way you enjoyed it.

It took a couple further moments before you lay beneath him in the nude. It wasn’t the first time he saw you like that, though now you felt shy, bashful. You almost wanted to hide yourself – it was intimacy you hadn’t experienced in too long. Your body tensed, and Hyunjin noticed. His hand lay on your waist, his right cupping your cheek – he gave you a kiss, long and slow, before locking eyes with you, deep and loving.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you; trust me.”

It didn’t need much more to calm you. Your limbs went slack against the mattress, your hands held onto Hyunjin’s figure as he never stopped peppering you in kisses. His erection pressed heavily against your thigh, though neither of you paid it any mind, for the time being. Hyunjin had never taken this much time with you before – and you had never let him. Only now you noticed how much you had needed it, all along.

It must have been ten minutes when Hyunjin’s tip finally prodded at your entrance. Not demanding, not even needy – simply letting know, and waiting for your move. And you spread your thighs without much hesitation; Hyunjin’s kisses had always been prone to make you breathless and longing, his always lingering touch and the caressing of his fingers he was always so mindful about had never before, nor now, failed to drive you to a point of desperateness. He’d always been a master in coaxing you into him, though only now you welcomed it entirely. Two of Hyunjin’s fingers tested the waters at your wetness, playing with your clit for a mere second – only to feel you squirm beneath him, to hear a whimper of frustration leave your longing lips – before he slowly entered you, waiting several moments after each inch; not that he needed to, not that you weren’t used to his stretch at this point, but still he near tortured you with his pace, slow and leisure.

You felt his every vein within you, his every twitch and pulse that ran through him – and maybe that was his goal – before he finally bottomed out. It elicited a whimper from both of you; Hyunjin buried in your neck, the vibrations of his voice rushing all over your body, your own face by his ear and you gave it a loving nibble, which he sighed at. Your fingers entangled in his locks, your legs wrapped around his torso, not allowing him to move, keeping your lover in place. You had never been this close before, or maybe had never noticed it; you suddenly wanted to catch up on all the lost time you had wasted foolishly. You wanted to feel Hyunjin for a little while longer, wanted to hold him against you until both your bodies grew weak and tired, wanted to lay and simply kiss him for as long as he would allow it. You suddenly needed him entirely and inseparably, and you would go lengths for it.

Hyunjin started moving against your hips, rolling his own into you with delicacy. He had never not been soft with you, though it felt far different now – his hand found home on your face, always cupping your cheek, always locking eyes, as though a fraction more distance would whip you from right beneath him, as though you were a doll made of most fragile glass. You liked it. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin far more than you had expected to, now that you welcomed it. You spread your legs further for him, granting him more access, more space – he took it gratefully, increasing the speed of his waving thrusts by a bit, only enough to tease, not enough yet to gift full satisfaction. You were a whining mess of needing more, and Hyunjin wasn’t much better – he was moments from losing his composure, from fucking into you with the passion he had held back all the times prior, mindless, now, of the time he wanted to take with you. You were impossible to resist, to not lose sanity over.

It needed you to initiate, though. You enjoyed this side of Hyunjin, now that you didn’t shy away from his loving affection, but your body needed more than what he was not giving you. More passion, more vigour, more him. You rolled your hips up into his, meeting him halfway and the man stuttered in his motions, halting only a second, granting you a quick look before you continued moving in unison — hips crashing against hips, lips upon each other, hands and fingers nothing but glued onto bodies; it didn’t take either of you long until you came simultaneously, limbs trembling, moans choking, panting, faces hidden in necks.

Wetness of tears stood in your eyes; you had only needed to let him in. All the time you had wasted on Chan, the efforts you could have put into Hyunjin all this while frustrating, though fickle now — you knew to find love in him, and to trust whole heartedly.

— 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 :

“But it’s a big thing!! All our friends are gonna be there, I’d take like- let’s do five more bottles.”

You were standing between the aisles of the small store, Hyunjin by your side, gears in his head visibly turning at your suggestion. You had grown to love this expression on him over the past two years of dating — one year and eight months, but who was truly counting —; furrowed brows, pursed lips, looking so very serious over most mundane business. Though, you wouldn’t call Hyunjin’s achievements mundane — you were shopping for a party in order to celebrate your boyfriends’ first own gallery show, one he’d worked for most diligently, right after you’ve developed into an official item. ‘Twin Flame’ — the name of his show, paintings of which he’d said are inspired by you, his very muse, solely; you felt pride swell whenever thought of it.

“You’re right actually, let’s take some more snacks as well.”

The pair of you walked up the aisle of chips — Hyunjin remembered when he had seen you here the first time, when he had felt a gaping hole in his soul suddenly, one that had eased the closer he had moved to you. One that felt truly and entirely stuffed, now that you were his; and you weren’t any different. When you walked outside, déjà vu made you recall the feeling you had felt when Hyunjin had walked past you — lonely, suddenly, pulled towards his heart’s direction. It had been fate, other people would simply call it luck; yet two lovers found themselves within the other, found the missing piece of their ever-longing souls — found, after years of searching, long-lost twin flames.

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metronomeihear · 7 years

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Oh, How the Angels Sing (can’t you hear their screams?) (BNHA Code Geass crossover idea)

Midoriya Izuku was 9 when he vanished from society. There are no signs of struggle, no notice beforehand, nor any sort of sign of why he vanished in the aftermath. Just a boy--a tiny, quirkless, bullied boy--vanishing sometime between when school ended and when he should have arrived home.

Nothing more.

…

There was a little known group of scientists known as Estrano. Publicly, they perform research on quirks, researching how they come into being, why certain people have certain quirks, and why people are born without them. Publicly, all the research they perform was safe and humane. All tests are subject to rigorous standards before they are approved, and should the test prove detrimental they are canceled.

Privately, where no one can see them, they are a group willing to do anything to continue their research. Up to and including human experimentation.

And Midoriya Izuku was one of their victims.

…

Izuku shifted, cradling his arm to his chest. He took deep breaths, closing his eyes--not that it makes much of a difference in the dark--and counted backwards from one thousand by sevens. It helped him through the pain, keeps his mind afloat through drugs and injuries and experiment after experiment after experiment.

The door opened.

He doesn’t pause in his counting, the numbers rattling off under his breath one by one. He has been here for three months now. Three months of darkness and bright, harsh hospital lights. Three months of injections and x-rays and MRIs and test after test after test. One of the first things they had done, one of the first things they had taken, was a tiny bone in his pinky toe. The one that left him quirkless. The one that left him useless.

He wondered if that means he had a quirk now.

(He can’t breath fire, he can’t move objects, he’s still useless useless useless)

1,000. 993. 986. 979. 972.

The door shut and there was a groan. Izuku opened his eyes and looked, though he cannot see in this darkness that consumes them, he can, vaguely, make out the shape of a person on the floor. Another experiment perhaps? Another victim?

965. 958. 951. 944. 937.

The person shifted on the ground, sitting up, and moving towards the wall. They are tall, Izuku can tell, if only that they are taller than him. Not that that means much. Izuku is only 9, after all, and small for his age.

930. 923. 916. 909. 902.

The other stayed silent, and Izuku doesn’t try to talk to them. Doesn’t bother.

Why when he’ll just die like all the others?

(Like Kaito and Yu and Hana and Aki and Kiba--)

895. 888. 881. 874. 867.

…

The other doesn’t die. Izuku thought he would. All the others had. Kaito had lasted the longest--three weeks--before succumbing to the experiments. Aki’s stay was the shortest, lasting only three days. Izuku didn’t know how he had survived as long as he had, not when the other children, the children with quirks, hadn’t lasted long. But he counted his blessings the same way he counted backwards. Again and again and again. He had to hold out. Had to keep up hope. Someone had to know he was missing by now, a hero would be rescuing him soon--

He didn’t know how long he had been here. Months. At least four.

The other still hasn’t died yet.

…

It was three experiments later that he learned the other’s name. Three times taken from his holding cage and strapped down to a table for the next round of injections. He doesn’t know what they are trying to do to him, doesn't understand it when they speak in foreign languages and medical jargon. He tries--gods does he try, but the words get lost among the hazes and the hallucinations.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” The other asked, his voice low and soft. It has a sort of lit to it that makes it comforting to listen to, and the kind of tone that made Izuku think of royalty.

Izuku only whimpered in response. His body feels like it’s on fire, like there is liquid magma running through his veins, and he can’t take a breath without his body flaring up in protest, each draw sending his bones rattling and his body aching for it to just stop.

The other took Izuku into his lap, letting Izuku lean against his chest. It’s easier to breathe when he’s sitting up instead of laying on the ground. “Better?” the other asked.

“Yes,” Izuku told him, curling up against the other as best as he can. They are male--Izuku has learned that much. They are tall and lanky and don’t have much muscle, but leaning against him is the closest thing to a pillow Izuku has had in months.

They stay like that for a while. Izuku was mumbling again, mumbling numbers under his breath. One thousand minus seven, he went, and he counted and counted and counted. It is strange--how much he clung to those numbers. How much he depended on them to stay sane.

“What is your name?” the other asked, suddenly, and Izuku was surprised. In all the time they have shared a cell, they have rarely spoken, and the other has never once asked anything personal.

“Izuku,” he told him, whispered it. He can’t remember the last time he was called by name. He’s just H-22-39 now.

“Nice to meet you Izuku.” The chest Izuku rested his head on rumbled when the man spoke. “You can call me L.L.”

L.L.

What a strange name.

…

They continue like that for a while. Izuku would come back after an experiment and they would lie together, Izuku held by L.L.. Or, sometimes he would come back and no one would be there, and he would wait for L.L. to come back, wondering if L.L. has finally died, just like all the others. He always came back, though, and bit by bit Izuku began to believe.

Sometimes it is L.L. who is taken from the cell and Izuku is left to rot. It is during those times that Izuku starts to wonder if he isn’t going mad, if he hadn’t lost himself sometime between the hours ticking away, between then and now and the road to the future ahead of him.

Does he have a future?

(All Might will come, Endeavor will come, Best Jeanist will come, Edgeshot will come--)

(A hero will come a hero will come a hero will come--)

They talked, when they could. When neither of them was in so much pain they couldn’t move, when neither of them had fallen into unconsciousness where they couldn’t be roused. It is Izuku who spoke the most. He spoke of home, of his mother. Of Kacchan and school and homework. Of being quirkless. Of wanting to be a hero.

He learned little things about L.L. too. He learned he had a little sister, once. He learned that sister is dead. He learned L.L. liked classical music and classical books. He learned that he once had a friend who became a soldier.

…

“Why are you called L.L.?”

“I gave up my name a long time ago. And… you could call it something of a tradition.”

“Oh.”

…

Day after day after day goes by and L.L. still doesn’t die. Still doesn’t vanish. Still doesn't leave Izuku alone in the dark again and again and again like all the others did--

He hoped he hoped he hoped.

…

“I don’t want to be here any more,” he cried, tears leaking down his face. His head was in L.L.’s lap, and L.L.’s fingers are running through his hair. The motion is soothing, and he leaned into it.

“Then do you want to leave?” There was an odd tone to L.L.’s voice.

“Yes.” He wanted nothing more.

“Then do you want to help me escape?”

“I can’t do anything.” He never had been. Not for as long as he could remember. “I’m quirkless.” Because it always comes down to that. Quirkless. Quirkless little Deku. Useless, quirkless, pathetic little Izuku. “How can I help us escape when I don’t have any power of my own?”

L.L. was quiet for a moment. His hand stalled in Izuku’s hair. Then--

“What if I told you I could give you power of your own?”

This gave Izuku pause. “What? Give me power?”

“Yes, power. What would you say if I told you I could give you power? Power to break free from here, power to make something of yourself?”

Izuku thought of the way the medicine burned in his veins. He thought of the way he couldn’t do anything when they held him down and strapped him to the table. He thought of the way that the scientists looked at him, their eyes blank and uncaring. Like he didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t human. Like he was less than that.

He thought of Katsuki, of Kacchan, and the way he pushed Izuku around for not having a quirk. He thought of the way the class isolated him, of how the teachers gave him pitying looks and the other children laughed. He thought of his dream--of being a hero. Of saving people and helping them. He thought of All Might and the power he held in his limbs, of the way he used that power to help so, so many people.

He thought of his mother, holding him and crying and saying “I’m sorry, Izuku. I’m so sorry.”

“I would accept it,” he said after a heartbeat, the silence stretched thin between them. He knew it, knew it with a certainty he hadn’t had in a long, long time. If he was offered power--the power to escape from here, the power to prove people wrong, the power to be strong--he would take it.

“Oh?”

“Can you?” He had to know. L.L. never said anything without a purpose, though what that purpose was wasn’t always apparent at the time. “Can you give me a quirk?”

“Not a quirk,” L.L. told him, his voice low. As if this was a secret among secrets, something precious and not for anyone else to overhear.

“Then what?”

A beat. “It’s called Geass.”

And thus was the beginning of the end.

...

Or: In which Lelouch wakes up in a world very different from his own after dying at the hands of Suzaku, his power lost and a Code making him Immortal. Lost, unsure of his purpose, and weak without the Geass he has come to rely on, he gets captured by the Estrano. Enter Midoriya Izuku, a child who just wants to be a hero, and Lelouch’s only hope of escape.

#T MAKE ME START ANOTHER ONEEEEE #I'm really tempted to make this a Villain!Deku AU too #Because grey morality and Villain!Deku gives me life #Fanfiction #Prompt #Take it and run with it #Seriously #It's yours #JUST GO #WRITE IT FOR ME SO I DON #*Shamelessly borrows the Estrano from KHR and alters them for my own purposes*#*Shamelessly takes the what's one thousand minus seven? thing from TG*#What do you mean I'm not supposed to start another fic?#What do you mean I have too many ideas alreday?#Stars in your eyes? What do you mean I still haven't finished the next chapter of that?#Haha kill me now #BNHA HAS TAKEN OVERRRRR #AHHHHHHH #I blame I.W.P-chan and Onceabluemoon #THIS IS YOUR FAULT #Well #Not the Code Geass aspect of it #but still #AHHHHHHHHHH DONT HAVE TOOO #BNHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My hero Academia #Code Geass #Lelouch Lamperouge #Lelouch vi Britannia

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