#because this will not be another 30k chapter

[wutheringmights]

Happy crunch day! I have a shit ton to write. Here’s to getting it all done 🙏

[tothelasthoursofmylife]

“Trains have surpassed ships as the worst type of transportation after all.”

On the way to Paris, France – June 1848

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:40

With a hiss and a screech, the train rolled out of the station.

Blood pounded in my head; thoughts and plans swarmed through my mind.

The train would not stop until it reached Paris.

Yvette and Jacques were five wagons ahead.

But where were Townsend, Florentin, and Maxime? And how many of their accomplices were here too?

“Countess,” she heard Cedric’s voice next to her. Only when she turned to face him and saw the wide, worried look in his eyes, did Cloudia realise that he must have called her a few times before she had reacted. His hand was still on her arm, their shoulders brushing against each other in this cramped space.

“They are on this train.” Her heart was racing, she was out of breath, and the words tumbled out of her before she could dwell on them. “I saw Jacques and Yvette boarding the train.”

Cedric’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. Cloudia registered a movement behind him: Aurèle, who stood behind Cedric and Kamden and was folded into this small space by the door with the others, lifted his head at the mention of his brother.

A passenger shoved his suitcase into his cabin and raised an eyebrow at the odd lot by the door before he entered the compartment and closed the door behind him. With the corridor now empty, Cedric gently pulled Cloudia into it. As soon as they stepped into it, the bubble broke, and the others spaced out too. Lisa and Newman remained in the back, whereas Milton stepped a little bit forward, close to Kamden. It was still very cramped – two next to each other was an imposition, three was an impossibility. Now, at least, they weren’t packed like sardines in a can.

“Jacques and Yvette are on this train too. I spotted them entering the wagon five coaches ahead of ours,” Cloudia said. This time she was slightly louder. The thundering of her heart had ebbed into a flicker, waiting in anticipation to re-ignite.

“But didn’t they kidnap Jacques nearly a day ago?” asked Cedric in bewilderment. “And you said Yvette and Maxime left Nanteuil-la-Forêt at about one or two in the morning – how did they arrive in Creil only now?”

“The heavy rain must have slowed them down,” Cloudia mused. “And maybe they did not immediately leave the village after I saw them at the hospital. They could have gone somewhere else within Nanteuil-la-Forêt first and might have been affected by the fire too.”

“That would explain why Maxime and Yvette might have been late but Jacques?”

“My brother isn’t an idiot,” said Aurèle. Cloudia saw Cedric open his mouth before quickly closing it again. “He wouldn’t have led them right to the Clockmaker, even if he was afraid.”

“You mean he could have led them astray first?” Cloudia replied, and Aurèle nodded.

“Cloudie, did you see anyone besides Yvette and…” Kamden wanted to know but his question was cut off by a gunshot and the sound of glass shattering. Cedric yanked Cloudia to the side. She crashed against a compartment door right when the bullet flew past her by a hair’s breadth.

And hit flesh.

A scream tore through the carriage. Cloudia did not turn to check who was hurt. Instead, she swiftly stepped away from the door, her own gun ready in hand – but another shot rang through the air before she could move.

Followed by the sound of metal hitting metal.

And a scream and a curse. Before she turned and confirmed it, Cloudia knew that their assailant hadn’t fired that shot.

Milton lowered his pistol. Though he remained alert, his gaze softened, changed, when he sighed, from concentration to worry. She could see he was about to say something but did not wait for him to speak. Cold realisation having hit her, Cloudia rushed along the corridor to the door at the other end of the wagon.

The clang, the sound of metal clattering against metal.

Of course, Milton had only disarmed the attacker. His gun must have hit the connector bars and was likely now bedded somewhere in the shrubbery behind us.

Which meant that the gunman was still alive.

Glass shards cracked under her shoes as she reached the door. She stared through its broken window to the neighbouring coach, saw the other coach’s door flung wide open and the attacker hastening to the end of the wagon. Cloudia raised her gun, fired once, twice, thrice until she saw him topple over, dead or close.

Cloudia turned to the others, the morning wind from the shattered window cool on her skin. Kamden scrambled to his feet – he must have either thrown himself on the ground or been pushed down – to tend to Aurèle who held his right shoulder, his face a mask of agony. Lisa and Newman walked towards her from the end of the coach. Cedric was still by the compartment door. He jumped to the side and against the windowed wall when the door slightly opened, and a head peeked out. Newman told the woman to stay in the cabin, and she readily obliged.

“I’m sorry, Lady Cloudia, I-” began Milton, who was the only one who had not moved.

“No need to apologise, Milton,” Cloudia cut him off. “You reacted perfectly; I did not expect you to shoot at the man,” she continued. As the words left her mouth, it dawned on her that she had just killed someone right in front of him, and the realisation sent an odd feeling through her. Cloudia mustered his face, but all it reflected was sorrow, a silent apology, not fear, and she recalled his words from earlier. Strange how only hours had passed since; the memory seemed further away. And although she knew that Milton didn’t lie, it was still soothing to be certain that he was not afraid of her.

But…

A thought bloomed in her head, something dark and pointy. Cloudia pushed it away. Later, she told herself; there was no time for that right now.

A shriek vibrated through the air, mixing with the hammering of the open door against the carriage wall and the rattling of the train as it breezed over the tracks. Cloudia glanced back to the other coach and spotted some passengers leaving their cabins and hovering over the body, pointing to the open door.

“That man, that reckless idiot,” said Cloudia to the others, “may not have been able to contact Yvette and Townsend somehow, but the passengers certainly will if enough noticed the corpse and heard the shots. And we don’t know how many of their people are aboard too, and where Townsend, Maxime, or the Clockmaker are.” She reloaded her pistol and pocketed it. “I doubt we can just stay put and wait until we reach Paris to get to Jacques; I suppose we need to go now.”

Cloudia looked at Newman. “I am not sure if the corridors are too narrow for you to move fleetly in,” she said. “I would not mind if you stayed behind, Newman.”

“I understand your concern, Lady Cloudia. However, as a butler, I cannot stand by idly while my mistress brings herself in peril,” replied Newman. “And as the Phantomhive butler, nothing shall be impossible. I will follow you, even if I am slow.”

“Very well,” sighed Cloudia.

“I’ll come too,” Aurèle pressed out from between clenched teeth. “I need to get to my brother.”

“Definitely not,” said Kamden firmly. “The bullet got stuck in your arm. I need to get it out first.”

“You heard that, Aurèle? You’ll stay. Jacques also wouldn’t want you to strain yourself when you’re injured.” Aurèle’s expression darkened, though he did not retort anything to her surprise. Cloudia then levelled her gaze at Milton. “You stay back too, do you hear me? When I agreed to let you come with us, it did not entail this.”

Before she could hear any protests, Cloudia pushed the wagon door open. Keeping her eyes firmly on the wagon ahead of her, not on the tracks below or the world blurring around, she took a run-up and jumped.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 10:50

The question of how she meant to go to Yvette and Jacques when the train was moving turned into a horrified “oh” when Cloudia jumped to the other coach. Immediately, Cedric ran to the open door, glass crunching beneath him. He sighed in relief when he saw that Cloudia had landed well and safely on the other side. Without looking back, she walked down the corridor to the terrified passengers.

Cedric turned to the others. When he noticed the expression on Kamden’s face – the wide-eyed horror – he wondered if it was a mirror of his own countenance too. Then, Kamden took a deep breath and returned his attention to Aurèle who looked rather pale and miserable. Blood seeped out from behind his fingers.

“Could you please hold him still, Mr Newman?” asked Kamden, and Newman obliged with a nod. Kamden carefully pried Aurèle’s fingers away and stuffed a cloth into Aurèle’s mouth before he stuck his finger inside the wound without any warning. Cedric winced when he saw that. Aurèle squirmed and shoved Kamden and, miraculously, even Newman away, spitting out the cloth in the process and cursing at Kamden in French.

“I’m sorry but I need to look how deep the bullet lodged,” said Kamden, undeterred.

“But like that?!”

“Yes, it’s either the finger or the probe.”

Kamden opened his bag and before he could pull out the probe, Cedric cleared his throat. He was far too familiar with that infernal metal rod, and he feared Kamden might procure the forceps alongside it for good measure. “K… Emyr, maybe it would be best if you got into a cabin where there are still empty seats. It’s better if Aurèle could sit down, isn’t it?” Cedric said and opened the closest compartment door. A pale-faced woman and a man holding an umbrella in defence stared at him.

“Do you mind…” Cedric started before he remembered that, of course, the couple could not understand him.

“If you may allow me, Your Grace,” said Newman gently before he began talking to the couple who grew paler with every word. Cedric wondered if they would turn translucent, eventually.

“Your Uselessness,” Lisa chuckled as she squeezed past him.

“You don’t know French either, Miss Greene,” Cedric shot back.

Lisa did not react; without another word, she simply followed Cloudia to the neighbouring carriage. Next to him, Cedric heard a half-swallowed, horrified “Lisa,” and when Cedric turned, he saw Newman shaking his head. Nevertheless, when he noticed Cedric’s eyes on him, Newman said tersely, “It is only right for her to follow Lady Cloudia. She can do it more swiftly in this environment than me.”

Cedric nodded. Newman had finished his explanation, and the umbrella-wielding man and his wife now hurried to gather their belongings. They, apparently, did not want front-row seats for an amateur bullet removal. Cedric watched them briefly before he shifted away from the cabin and noticed that pieces of rope were now dangling from the ceiling in a line by the windows. He stared up at the ceiling and saw that part of it had opened, letting the ropes fall out. Bewildered, Cedric looked around to the others, an enquiry on his lips. He halted upon noticing Milton knock on a compartment door. The door tentatively opened, and he spoke a few words with the woman. Cedric could not understand anything besides the final “Merci” (he recognised the word from the chocolate brand) before the door was drawn shut again.

With whatever he had wanted to do done, Milton walked to the open door. Unlike Aurèle who had slowly made his way away from Kamden and his probe and was now uneasily mustering the space between the carriages, Milton seemed unfazed when he looked outside. Alarmed by the look in his eyes, Cedric called his name and hurried to him.

It was such a small space, only a few metres, a few steps, from one end of the wagon to the other but Cedric was still too late to stop Milton.

Thankfully, Aurèle wasn’t.

Just when Milton was about to take a run-up, Aurèle grabbed his arm and yanked him back and against a cabin with impressive force considering his injury.

“You,” Aurèle hissed at Milton when Cedric reached them, “are meant to stay behind. Didn’t you hear my cousin tell you that?”

“I heard Lady Cloudia,” replied Milton calmly. He held Aurèle’s gaze, meeting his eyes with an expression so oddly hard and intense it felt foreign on Milton’s face. “Only I have no intention to stay put. She had one condition for me accompanying you all and that was that I would stay safe. And I agreed. Lady Cloudia only told me to remain behind because she thinks it would be unsafe, but I assure you I will be perfectly fine. You should also not have done that; you are only worsening your injury.”

“Aurèle, let him go,” said Cedric before Aurèle could retort anything.

“Yes, Aurèle,” Kamden added, joining them by the door. “Let him go. They vacated the cabin; now come. The bullet shouldn’t be inside you for too long.”

Scowling and grumbling, Aurèle took a step back and followed Kamden into the compartment. When the door was closed behind them, Cedric said, “Milton, I hope you’re well-aware that the Countess’ current plan of action is to jump between coaches on a running train until she reaches a bunch of criminals. One slip-up between wagons and you’re dead.” As soon as those words had slipped out, they dragged Cedric to the truth he had been ignoring for the last few minutes, ever since Cloudia had left their wagon.

One slip-up, one fall, one push, and Cloudia was dead.

“Kristopher,” Milton said with such gentleness that Cedric knew that his face had betrayed his thoughts. “There is no time to argue, is there? And I promised her, as I will promise you and whoever else I must, that I will keep myself safe.”

Cedric glanced to the other carriage. Cold fingers traced his spine when he saw that Lisa and Cloudia had already headed to the next one. “Very well,” said Cedric with gritted teeth. “Let’s go, Milton.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:50

Reckless, brash, idiotic, it swirled through my mind while I was airborne.

A moment ago, there had been rattling but firm ground under my feet. Now, there was nothing at all. I had jumped out of windows and carriages before, had felt the wind catch me, tear at my hair and clothes, force me down or sideways before.

But none of those memories fit with the sensation that overcame me now, in this moment, this second, this blink in which I was flying.

From one coach to another; metal beasts shrieking through the landscape with dozens of kilometres per hour.

Over a space only two, three steps wide and still as large as a canyon’s divide.

And then my feet touched the platform, and the moment was gone.

Cloudia grabbed the metal bars; the train hissed in anger at this violation of locomotive etiquette. Adrenaline pumped through her when she let go of the metal railing to stand properly on the small platform. The platforms on each end of a wagon were connected to a small set of stairs and possessed a simple bannister with an open gap on the side that faced the next coach. As if, despite locomotive etiquette, one was meant to jump between coaches.

Without looking back – she did not need to turn to know that Kamden and the others must have horror written all over their faces – Cloudia entered the carriage. Inside, three passengers were standing by the corpse, blocking the entire narrow walkway, and talking to one another with increasingly disturbed, panicked voices. Four more passengers were hovering on the doorsills to their cabins, their faces ashen and shocked as they stared at the body.

Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, Cloudia approached the three men by the body and asked them to step aside for a moment. Puzzlement bloomed across their faces, mixed with their panic; still, one of the men stepped halfway into a compartment, allowing Cloudia to kneel by the corpse.

“I would recommend returning to your cabins,” she implored the men in French. “Or you might end up like that man here.” Though Cloudia had directly looked at the onlookers while she had spoken and pointed at the corpse and the slowly growing bloodstain, they were rooted to the spot, watching her with wide, terrified eyes. Cloudia clenched her teeth.

This undertaking could only be a hassle with all these civilians around and no proper way to evacuate them. Couldn’t the gunman have stayed put?

Cloudia pushed down her irritation and glanced at the dead man. From his clothes, she could tell that he must have been a Nanteuillat. What can you tell me? she thought and was about to look quickly through his pockets when she heard a clang and a curse behind her. Cloudia lifted her head and saw Lisa holding onto the railing and trying to regain her balance, cursing under her breath.

“Not waiting for Newman?” asked Cloudia and rolled the dead man on his side to gain better access to his pockets. “And miss out on some fun? Definitely not,” Lisa said. She glared at the onlookers until they stepped back a bit and then carefully squeezed past Cloudia and stepped over the body. “I also didn’t want to stay any longer with him,” she continued. Cloudia knew without Lisa needing to elaborate that she meant Milton. “His Gracelessness and Al got Mr Kamden and Mr Beauchene to sit in one of the cabins.”

“That’s good.” Cloudia pulled two knives and a train ticket from the corpse’s pockets; his cabin was the one right in the middle. Cloudia got to her feet and went inside the man’s cabin. It was empty. He had brought no luggage with him – understandable considering the situation. What truly brought Cloudia’s mind into motion was the fact that this villager had been given a ticket for a compartment for four people, even if he was left all alone. Had Yvette and Townsend travelled with an odd number? Or did the dead man have a partner? But if yes, where could they be?

There was no one hiding here, but they could be hiding in one of the other cabins, having threatened its actual passengers to remain silent. Or…

Cloudia left the compartment and looked down the corridor. The door at the end was closed. The platform was too small for anyone to get a proper run-up to be able to jump the distance between the coaches.

If the dead man’s partner had jumped to the next wagon, why would the dead man bother to close the door after them?

Cloudia retrieved her father’s dagger, holding it firmly in her hand as she slowly approached the exit door.

Why not leave it open?

Abruptly, Cloudia kicked the door open, catching the man behind off-guard and slamming it into his face. Surprised screams echoed through the air behind her. The man’s gun slid out of his fingers, tumbling one, two steps down. Before he could recover, Cloudia sliced his throat and pushed him down the stairs. She saw him hit the ground and watched him roll down the hill for only a moment – a moment in which the cabin door closest to her opened.

A man burst out of it, his gun raised. He fired, but Cloudia dodged, and the bullet collided with the railing. The metal vibrated behind her. She lifted the dagger, saw his finger about to pull the trigger again.

Before they could do anything, the man fell forward.

Cloudia fled to the narrow stairs, holding onto the bannister with one hand, as the man’s head hit the metal of the railing, then the platform’s.

“I should have waited for Newman, right?” said Lisa, bloody needle in hand.

Despite everything, a chuckle burst out of Cloudia. “Of course not.” She returned to the platform and kicked the corpse to the side before she glanced back to the corridor (squinting past the passengers who were now moving around like headless chickens, she could make out Cedric and Milton at the last carriage’s door). Then, she turned to the coach ahead.

And right into the face of a wide-eyed woman looking through the little window, having spectated everything unfold.

A passenger, maybe. Hopefully.

But then she didn’t scream, didn’t remain.

Instead, she tore herself free from her stasis and turned and ran to the end of the wagon, hammering on the cabin doors she passed.

“Damn,” Cloudia said and got ready to jump, “we need to get going.”

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:00

With a sigh, Cedric held onto the bannister. The wagon rocked softly under his feet, and he needed a moment to compose himself after having jumped between coaches on a running train.

This was one of the most idiotic things I had ever done.

Nausea brushed its fingers against him when Cedric glanced into the chasm between the coaches, saw the tracks running and blurring beneath. He quickly tore his gaze away from the sight and shook his head. Letting go of the railing, he turned to walk into the corridor.

Milton had jumped first.

There had been no talk. He had simply gone first, and Cedric had felt odd when Milton landed on the next wagon’s platform, looking unfazed as he glanced back at him. The image clung to Cedric still as he watched Milton talk to the passengers. Although they were in uproar and hysteria, the soothing tone of Milton’s voice managed to reach Cedric; it was like a band of calmness weaving itself through the panic and trying to bring everything under control.

Cedric hovered by the door for a moment, mesmerised by Milton gently guiding passengers back to their cabins and easing their worries with a few, to him, unintelligible words. Then, Cedric shook himself free and elbowed his way through the screeching crowd and the narrow walkway, bumping against walls and shoulders and nearly tripping over a corpse before he finally got to Milton.

Cedric grabbed Milton’s arm, careful to avoid his wrist this time. “Milton! We need to go!” he said and tried to drag him along, but Milton would not budge.

“What are you doing?” yelled Cedric. “We need to continue to the next coach!”

“What about the passengers?” replied Milton, surprisingly steadfast although Cedric pulled on him again.

“We have no time to look after panicked passengers! They will manage.”

“No, you have no time for that,” Milton retorted. “You can go ahead without me, Kristopher. I will be fine on my own.”

“I cannot just leave you behind, Milton,” said Cedric, getting even more irritated that he had to move a bit sideways to let a man push through. This space was far too cramped for his liking.

“Of course, you can. I’m sorry; that might be your way, but it is not mine.” The serious expression Milton had worn in the burning cabin crawled back onto his face. He tried to pull away from Cedric’s grip; however, just like Milton had not budged, neither did Cedric, and he held on tight to him.

“Stop being so stubborn for once, Milton. You know I cannot leave you alone.”

“I am not a child that needs to be looked after,” replied Milton with an uncharacteristic cold edge to his words that startled Cedric, “and you are not my butler. I know you don’t even want to be with me right now, so just go ahead. Mr Newman will follow soon; I won’t even be alone for too long!”

“But…”

“Kristopher. We have little time for arguments. Can…” Milton faltered for a moment. Anguish briefly washed over his face as he continued, “Kristopher, can’t you trust me for once?”

Cedric flinched slightly. For a moment, a wing beat, they only stared wordlessly at each other. “Very well,” he said ultimately; his voice sounded distant even to his own ears. “Take care, Milton.”

Cedric let go of him and immediately turned to make his way through the crowd. Just as he reached the end of the carriage and was about to jump, he heard Milton’s voice, soft and quiet but still clear over the chaos, “You too.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 10:57

Cloudia landed on the platform with a loud clack that reverberated through the metal. Without stopping, she opened the door – and immediately someone ran into her. Instinctively, she grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back. “What are you doing,” she said. “There is nowhere for you to go.”

The man’s eyes widened at her sight, making Cloudia wonder if she had blood on her. Then, he yelled something that sounded like “murderer!” and turned and ran, right into someone else.

“What on earth,” Cloudia heard Lisa behind her.

“We were announced, apparently,” replied Cloudia dryly and ran into the wagon. The corridor was cramped. People were looking out of open compartments, wide-eyed; others were blocking the walkway. The damn woman from earlier had been quick to alert them all.

But she had not been quick enough to escape.

Cloudia thrust people aside. Some tried to grab her, but she kicked them away. The woman flung the door at the carriage end open. Behind Cloudia, Lisa cursed and then she heard a scream and a shout. No time to turn and look. Cloudia shoved someone away, quickened her pace.

The woman set out to jump. Cloudia lunged and grabbed her jacket. They both tumbled down to the ground. The woman yelled out when she hit the metal platform. Cloudia pulled out the dagger and was about to stab the woman in the leg when someone pulled on hers.

Caught off-guard, Cloudia let out a gasp but quickly composed herself and pushed herself off the ground and around, kicking at her assailant. He let her go, and Cloudia jumped to her feet. Unlike the men from the last wagon, she could not tell if he was a Nanteuillat or not. He could be with Townsend or a passenger who could not mind his business, believing that Cloudia was the villain here. All she knew was that the man was a nuisance and that behind her the woman must have regained her composure as well.

No time, no time.

Cloudia rammed the hilt of the dagger into the man’s jaw before she whirled around. The woman had just jumped off the platform. Fleetly, Cloudia switched from dagger to gun, raised it, took aim. The woman landed on the next coach’s platform. Cloudia’s finger curled around the trigger, pushed down.

Then, Cloudia was thrown against the windowed wall. The bullet was sent flying elsewhere. Passengers screamed.

A man pinned her to the wall, a hand clasped around her neck.

Goddammit, Cloudia thought and immediately raised her gun; thankfully, she had held tight to it. Before she could pull the trigger and shoot the man’s leg, he slammed it out of her hand. He tightened his grip around her neck, and she gasped for air that wouldn’t pass to her lungs. Cloudia tried to kick him, but she was beginning to see stars, and the man, so much taller and stronger than her, pressed a knee against her stomach.

Damn, damn, damn, echoed it through her mind as her lungs burned and her vision blurred. And then she remembered something Oscar had told her years ago.

With another wheeze, Cloudia stopped struggling, closed her eyes, and went limp in the man’s arms.

A moment later, he let go of her throat. She did her best not to gasp for air immediately. She let her body sack sideways. Before the man noticed that Cloudia was still breathing, she heard a familiar “Countess!” ring through the air followed by a grunt.

Not pinned against the wall anymore, Cloudia sank to the ground and now she allowed herself to take deeper breaths. She re-opened her eyes and peered right into Cedric’s concerned ones.

“Chartreuse eyes,” Cloudia managed to press out, her voice hoarse. “Am I dead?”

“Don’t joke about that,” said Cedric and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay, Countess?”

She rubbed her neck. “Yes,” Cloudia replied. She glanced at the man sprawled on the floor, unconscious. “I hope you didn’t kill him, Undertaker.”

“I just hit him with a knife handle. Maybe I should have killed him,” Cedric said darkly.

Cloudia immediately snapped her head around to him; a poor choice because she briefly saw stars again, though she did not care at this moment. “Don’t you joke about that. You know you cannot kill anyone.”

He looked at her. “But…”

“No ‘buts’. No killing for you.” Cloudia bent down to pick up her gun and quickly checked it. At the edge of her vision, she noticed the passengers staring at them. “Lisa should still be here somewhere.”

“I haven’t seen her. I…” Cedric quietened. Cloudia raised an eyebrow in question, though he did not continue.

With a shrug, Cloudia stepped through the crowd that, now shocked and terrified by what they had witnessed, parted like jittery ghosts for her. The carriage wasn’t big, so it was not difficult to find Lisa. Breathing heavily, she stood in a compartment. She clutched a bloody needle in her hands; her hair was half-pulled from her braid, and blood bloomed across her side. Still, Lisa looked better than the man lying in front of her on the bench, glassy-eyed and stabbed to death. Behind Lisa, a woman was hugging her two children to her chest and whimpered.

“Lisa!” Cloudia called, and her maid turned to look at her. “I hate this goddamn train,” Lisa said before her face crumpled in pain.

“Miss Greene! You’re hurt; what happened?” Cedric asked when he joined them.

“I hate you too,” hissed Lisa and sank into the seat next to the petrified little family, pressing her hand against her wound. “What do you think happened, you genius? This asshole pulled me into this cabin and yanked at my hair and stabbed my side. And I stabbed him many more times in return,” she finished with a wince.

Cloudia stepped to her. “Let me look at that.”

Lisa shook her head. “I assume that woman managed to get away? You need to follow her immediately.”

“I will after I quickly fix you up.”

Lisa glared at her. “I can bandage myself up just fine, Lady Cloudia. You know that I have practice. I’m only annoyed that I’m now out of action. Please avenge me by going after that woman and Yvette and whoever else is on this damn train.”

“Very well,” said Cloudia with a sigh. “Do you have what you need?”

Lisa rolled her eyes and dug out a roll of bandages from her pocket. “Yes. Now leave with His Gracelessness before I actually bleed to death in this miserable place.”

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:05

The next wagon was mayhem too; only I barely registered any of it. As soon as I spotted Cloudia, my vision tunnelled and everything else went black, fell away. The passengers, the noise, even the coach itself.

The light only turned on again when I heard Cloudia’s laboured breaths.

After we found Miss Greene bloody and bleeding but alive and full of rage in a compartment, I slipped away, letting Cloudia argue with her alone. I glimpsed back at the carriage behind us and was stunned to see that it had cleared. Somehow, Milton had managed to coerce the passengers back into their cabins. He even seemed to have dragged the corpse elsewhere. Seeing the emptied, dirtied corridor, I could not help but feel bad that Milton had to move a dead body.

Even though he had not minded it at all to carry his dead employee.

I stumbled over that thought. Milton was standing on the side, and when he stepped away from the windows (what had he been doing?), our eyes met looking through the opened doors.

“Can’t you trust me for once?”

“Undertaker?”

Cloudia’s voice behind him made Cedric flinch. He quickly turned to face her, carefully obscuring her view to the door. She did not have to see that Milton was in the neighbouring wagon – at least not now as she would only get upset. Cloudia frowned at him. “Is everything fine?”

“Yes,” Cedric replied. “I was only looking around and didn’t notice you were done with Miss Greene.”

“I think saying that she is done with me is more fitting,” Cloudia said, sighing. “She insisted that I should go after that woman as she can very well fix herself up.”

“She can? That wound didn’t look good.”

“No worries; Lisa did that all the time before we met,” she told him and turned to jostle through the crowd. “Now, come. We do have to hurry and throttle some pests.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:15

Cloudia jumped first. Even before her feet touched the platform, she could hear the chaos in the wagon. She gritted her teeth together. That woman had turned out to be an absolute annoyance; she had even closed the door behind her. Cloudia went to the door and glanced through its small window but couldn’t spot her anywhere. With her hand on the handle, Cloudia craned her head to Cedric. He had still not jumped. Frowning, she watched him look back – did he look nervous or was she imagining it? – before he finally took a run-up and hopped from one carriage to the next.

“Is everything all right?” Cloudia asked. Cedric who was looking back to the previous wagon again snapped around to her.

“Yes, of course,” he said unconvincingly. “And you?” he added, his eyes drifting to her neck.

“Yes, perfectly,” Cloudia replied. She wanted to enquire further; only they had no time. Without another word, she pulled open the door and let them be engulfed with hysteria and hysterics.

A man thought it was the best moment to roll out his suitcase, blocking a good portion of the walkway. A couple started an argument with him about that. They pushed and pulled the suitcase, their faces red and their voices agitated. A mother tried to soothe her crying, screaming baby, and yelled at others around to calm down. A young man asked the other passengers what was going on, his voice becoming shriller and squeakier every time he asked. A moustached man tried squeezing through the crowd while holding a large, open bottle of water.

Pandemonium was a tin of confused and distraught passengers; Cloudia did not look forward to making her way through it.

“Please excuse us and let us through; this is an emergency,” Cloudia tried. However, when the majority neither budged nor listened, Cloudia decided to drop the courtesy and thrust people away left and right; Cedric was right behind her. She kicked the damn suitcase back into the cabin, kicked its owner for good measure, shooed away the jittery young man, and accidentally elbowed the moustached man’s face. He grabbed her jacket as he stumbled back, pulling her with him; water slopped out of his bottle. Cloudia tumbled back too but managed to find her footing back quickly.

Cloudia sighed in relief when she and Cedric finally reached the exit and could feel the fresh, cold air on their skin again. At least, there had been no incident in that wagon.

They lost no time getting to the next one. When Cloudia landed on the platform, her heart began to beat a bit faster. They entered the wagon, hurried through the passageway as best as they could. More and more electricity and excitement pulsed through Cloudia with every step she took, with every step that brought her farther and closer to the end of the coach.

One wagon.

Jacques and Yvette were only one wagon ahead of us now.

The tension, the anticipation, tried to pry her attention away, exchange it for tunnel vision and only make her focus ahead – in vain. Despite her excitement, Cloudia did not allow herself to let her attention drift away. She was hyperaware of everything – the passengers, the open and closed doors of the compartments, Cedric right behind her, assuring like a safety net – as she nudged people aside. Again, there were no incidents as Cloudia made her way forward to this wagon’s door.

And then to the next.

With a clack, Cloudia jumped on the platform five carriages ahead of the one where she had boarded the train. The platform of the wagon where Yvette and Jacques were. Cedric arrived right behind her.

I couldn’t wait to cut Yvette’s throat and get Jacques back. I was so close now but…

Cloudia put her hand on the door handle, dragged it open.

But…

A wave of foreboding hit Cloudia. She was just quick enough to turn to Cedric and grab him.

“Coun–” he began, the address torn in two when she yanked him to the stairs. Reacting swiftly, instinctively, he pulled her to him right as a bullet soared through the air.

Blood rushed through her ears. Cloudia’s hand reached for the dagger before she realised it. With cold terror did she notice its absence. It was not attached to her side anymore; she had no idea when she had lost it or where. Part of her wanted to cry but she pulled herself together and procured a knife instead. When another bullet followed the previous one, and a body followed the bullet through the door, Cloudia was there. Her knife was already raised, his gun still held low.

Cloudia slit the man’s throat.

And then the platform vibrated, and time slowed.

Again, Cedric called out to her. Again, the word was split apart.

One of Townsend’s people had been in the previous coach after all.

Another loud, panicked “Coun–” was shouted into the air when Cedric rushed between Cloudia and the new arrival…

… and trailed into nothingness when Cedric was thrown off the train.

***

June 23

About 11:30

“Cedric!”

She didn’t register the shout escaping her throat.

She was aware of nothing but the sight, the memory, the shock of seeing Cedric be shoved and – vanish.

All the rest was a blur. Cloudia was only pulled back into the now when she heard a loud clang.

She was panting, her grip iron-clad on the bloody knife. Something wet was running down the side of her head. She could not care less about that or the body on the small metal staircase. Her body forced her to put one hand on the bannister and go down the stairs to see and check.

The train was rattling through the landscape, endless fields of green and specks of houses and colour passing by.

But there was no grey, no black, no chartreuse.

Breathe in, breathe out. Deeply, steadily.

Collecting her strength, Cloudia went upstairs, ripped her hand from the railing. The rush had ebbed away, leaving her body full of ice. Fascination overcame her that she was not crumbling or breaking apart when she raised her hand to her throat, yanked the necklace free from beneath her clothes, cradled the pendant in her fist.

Undertaker, she sent to him, waited.

One second, two seconds.

A sharp inhale.

Undertaker, she tried again. Thoughts had no volume; still, she pressed as much force and insistence into that one word as she could.

One second, two seconds.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

There was no voice at the end of the line.

But as she concentrated, she could feel, faintly but surely, that there was an end of the line still.

That invisible thread, pulled taunt, vibrating like the heart beating in her chest.

As long as the pendants were intact, as long as the thread and its strangeness were running strong, she could find him.

And don’t be ridiculous, Cloudia thought to herself as she let the pendant vanish behind her clothes. She stepped away from the bannister while wiping the blood from her face.

I might not know what could kill Death and if it could be done at all.

Cloudia kicked the corpse from the stairs, though refrained from watching it go.

But it couldn’t be done like that.

I was certain of it.

The skull pendant was warm against her chest when she strode into the carriage.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:35

The skull pendant was warm against his chest, its heat coaxing him awake.

For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, wondered whether he was dreaming. His head hurt, his body felt sore and cold, the world around him spun…

… no, it ran past him, the train and its speed smearing all colours to a blur.

The train.

Cloudia.

Cedric heaved himself to his feet, reached out to the railing to steady himself.

The memories flowed back to me. I had followed Cloudia through the coaches until someone had shot at us and someone else had jumped from the previous wagon to ours. When he had charged at Cloudia, I had jumped between – only to get pushed off the platform.

If I hadn’t teleported at the last moment, I would lie in shambles a few kilometres back in the grass.

The thought made me shudder.

But where exactly was I now instead?

Cedric looked around, the wind tearing at his hair. At some point, his ponytail had come loose, and the band had flown away. He brushed some wayward strands from his face and adjusted his glasses.

He was still on the correct train; his impromptu teleport had not taken him elsewhere entirely, that he knew. Only, on which wagon was he right now? He had not landed at the very back at least (Cedric didn’t know how he could have explained himself that he was back there, in case Aurèle and Kamden decided to look out of their compartment at this very moment). If this was the fifth wagon from the back, it would be ideal. He could easily catch up with Cloudia then. He would not mind if it was the fourth wagon either.

Cloudia. Her name rang through my mind with such heaviness.

I knew she was fine; of course, she was. Nonetheless, the image from earlier clung to me, seeing her limp in that man’s arms.

Cedric reached to retrieve the pendant – and halted when he saw something odd from the corner of his eye: Something was attached to the carriage wall behind him.

He turned to figure out what it was and realised with horror that no, it was not something that clung to the train.

It was someone.

His heart dropped when he registered that he knew who it was.

“Milton!” Cedric cried out, just as Milton rammed through the window.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:35

The annoying woman had been in this wagon too. This time, of course, not only she had alerted the passengers and beckoned them out of their cabins; the gunshots and the fight had as well. They had, however, also frozen the civilians with fear. Now, instead of wandering around, wondering, crying, arguing, they stood still in the corridor and doorsills, staring at her anxiously.

In the last few coaches, Cloudia might have welcomed the change, even if it had come at the price of such a horrific scare. Here, the sight only made cold tendrils curl up her spine.

After all, Yvette and Jacques were meant to be in this wagon.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:38

It took Cedric a moment until he could move again. His mind had momentarily blanked upon the sight of Milton vanishing in a shower of glass inside the wagon.

Now, his mind replayed the memory while Cedric hastily jumped to the carriage behind him. No matter how often it ran through his head, he could not understand why on earth this idiot would do something so absurdly reckless – hadn’t they left all doors open when they passed through the train?

And if the door had somehow closed in the meantime, couldn’t he have simply opened it again?

“I will keep myself safe,” my ass, Cedric thought as he landed on the platform, took the one, two steps to the door. Anger mixed with horror and worry. He could not wait to chew out Milton for his behaviour. But when he laid his hand on the door handle and pushed it down, it did not budge.

And when he looked up and through the door’s small, broken window, he froze again.

How could that be?

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:38

Cloudia hurried to search the compartments, one by one.

They were not here; they were not there.

And when she reached the last cabin, she tightened the grip on her blade, drew the door open…

… and gazed at people she had never seen before.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:39

The scene in front of him was nothing if not surreal.

In bafflement, in puzzlement, Cedric watched everything unfold; his brain tried its best to comprehend the strange sequence that played before him.

Yvette was backing away, inching closer to the door behind which Cedric stood. He could not see her face; still, he knew that she must be looking terrified. After all, he could see the tension in her body.

And the horrifying look on Milton’s face as he charged at her, knife in hand.

His oddly calm expression. The bloodcurdling blank fury in his eyes.

Blink; Milton turned the knife in his hand. Cedric hadn’t even registered that he had been holding it oddly, had been grasping its blade before.

Blink; the space between them was conquered.

Blink; the knife was raised.

Blink – and Milton was pulled back.

The moment was broken, the tense seconds shattered as Newman grabbed Milton’s arm and yanked him back.

Yvette, unhurt, stumbled back, and lost something in her haste to get away.

It tumbled out of her pocket, that rectangular little object, and rolled right to Milton’s feet.

Cedric inhaled sharply when he saw Milton snatch it and the look in his eyes shift.

Milton might be standing on the other end of the walkway. Still, Cedric could make out his expression as clear as day.

It was a familiar one, after all. One he had got to know only days before.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:39

I cursed under my breath.

I had not excluded the possibility, of course, that Yvette or Townsend or Maxime might move between the wagons too. I had only anticipated that the probability would be rather small as they would have to jump with hostages in tow, one of which was little Jacques.

But with all that commotion, they must have seen no other way.

They could only hope for their own sakes’ that they had not decided to simply discard Jacques on the way.

Cloudia stepped away from the cabin and briefly glanced back before she opened the door and jumped to the carriage ahead.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 11:40

“I wondered if it were you. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and straightened up. Cedric could hear the smile in her voice. He would have broken open the lock, bolted through the door, and torn it right off her face if Maxime hadn’t come out of a cabin at that moment, a blade pressed against Jacques’ throat. He was followed by a man Cedric didn’t know who levelled a pistol at Milton and Newman.

Damn, damn, damn.

Yvette, Jacques, and Maxime were here, in a completely different coach than we had anticipated. Cloudia was ahead, trying to find them. Newman and Milton were with them – and my hands were bound.

If I made myself noticed, at best, Maxime and Yvette would threaten to cut Jacques’ throat if I did not stay back. At worst, they might kill him immediately, the suddenness of me breaking the door or whatnot possibly spooking them enough to draw the knife across his neck.

I could not even teleport myself behind Yvette, Maxime, and the gunman and knock them out in secret because of Milton and Newman.

I had to find another way, another opportunity, to get inside. For now, all I could do was turn myself invisible, in case Yvette, the gunman, or Maxime spotted me through the window, and listen to their conversation with my teeth clenched.

Goddammit, Milton; couldn’t you have a better poker face?

“Townsend told me about your company,” Yvette continued, delight dripping into her voice. “How Salisbury Trading, already successful, thrived with you as its head, Mylord, and established itself as one of the quickest transportation companies that exists, if not as the quickest one. And how secretive you are. However, Townsend still managed to take a glimpse at some machine blueprints while he ‘worked’ for you. His father used to work on machines in a factory and told him a lot about his job, did you know that? Townsend himself was never adept with technology; nevertheless, he knew from the moment he saw those blueprints that they were unlike anything he had seen before.

“When he told me all that, all I could think was what a waste it is to hide machinery like that. You could become richer than you already are; you could become more known than you already are. Instead, you keep everything away and yourself too. Not a singular picture of you in any newspaper! There was only some hearsay about golden hair.” The delight in Yvette’s voice darkened to something bitter. “You could have everything, but you hide yourself because of ‘humbleness.’ I could laugh! Selfishness is all that is. I even viewed you as tyrannical for withholding those blueprints and the people behind them. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if Salisbury Trading’s prodigious accomplishments are truly coming from its employees or actually from its elusive director.”

Yvette made a step towards Milton. Cedric tensed when she reached into her pocket, but she only procured a pair of handcuffs, not a weapon. He still did not like it at all what Yvette must want with it.

“Mylord,” Yvette said, boasting with confidence. “I have a proposal for you. I will hand over Jacques to your companion. In exchange, you will remove your weaponry, return the Queen’s box to me, put on these handcuffs” – she lifted them – “and come with me, Maxime, and Stevens with no protest. We would also lock Jacques and your companion in one of the cabins. It’s not long until Paris anymore. When we arrive, I’m sure Miss Watchdog or someone else in her entourage will free Jacques and your companion. By that time, we will be long gone and traversing the city until we find a nice, quiet place for you to open the box. Of course, if you refuse, Maxime will slit Jacques’ throat.” On cue, Maxime tightened his grip on the boy, and Jacques whimpered. Cedric clenched his jaw. “And if your friend there tries anything, Stevens will, of course, shoot you both.”

Yvette held the handcuffs out to Milton. “What do you say, Mylord?”

“Do you not have the Clockmaker in your grip? Why would you require another to solve the box?”

To everyone’s surprise, it was not Milton who responded but Newman. Cedric sucked in the air when he heard his friend’s voice and wished he had a better view of him and Milton. Yvette, Maxime, Jacques, and Stevens the gunman were in the way, and Cedric could only vaguely make out that Milton turned to Newman. Cedric pictured him looking aghast and was sure that Milton must be saying something in protest to Newman, though he could not hear it.

“Of course, we have that disagreeable Clockmaker in our grip,” replied Yvette. For once, Cedric was happy that Florentin was like he was; he must have made the journey to Creil rather unenjoyable for Yvette and Townsend.

He should not have let himself be taken though. Even if they had held Jacques hostage.

“I simply like having options,” Yvette continued. “And as you can see, the box is a unique oddity – just like the Baron’s machinery. The Clockmaker seems to work with the old, the Baron with the new. Between the two, they should be able to open the puzzle box. Now, what do you say, Baron Salisbury?”

“Yes, of course,” Milton said with shocking immediacy.

“Baron Milton,” gasped Newman in a mirror of Cedric’s thoughts.

“What other decision is there for me to make, Mr Newman?” Milton said before he addressed Yvette. “I will put on the handcuffs, and then you will hand over Jacques at the same time as Mr Newman will surrender me and the box to you.”

“And then, you will remain with Maxime until Jacques and Mr Newman have let themselves be locked up,” added Yvette.

“Exactly.”

“Lord Milton, don’t!” cried Jacques. Maxime tightened his grip on him anew, and he whimpered again. Cedric could hear the tears in his voice as Jacques still strained to continue, “You can’t let them have the box! It doesn’t matter what happens to me!”

“Don’t say something like that, Jacques,” Milton replied softly. “This is just a box, and what kind of queen would place a keepsake above the life of a child?” Yvette shifted a bit to the side, allowing Cedric to see Milton pass the knife he had still been holding in his left hand to Newman. Only then did Cedric notice its familiar glint.

How did Cloudia’s father’s dagger end up with Milton?

Milton proceeded to remove his odd utility belt and gave it to Newman too. Just when he took the handcuffs, Jacques cried out again. “They won’t let you go, Lord Milton! No matter if you cannot open it or if you can!”

“That is fine,” Milton said with an odd voice. The handcuffs clicked loudly into their locks when he bound himself. “There is nothing they can do to me that is new.”

With that, Milton stepped forward. “The box for the boy, me for their survival.”

“Yes, of course, Mylord.” Yvette beckoned Maxime to her. He dragged Jacques forward, keeping the knife pressed to his neck, until they were standing next to Milton in this narrow space. Newman was behind Milton, Yvette stood behind Maxime, and Stevens remained where he was and pointed his weapon at Milton.

“Lord Milton,” sobbed Jacques.

“Do not be afraid and go to Mr Newman as fast as you can when you’re released,” Milton replied and held the box out to Yvette. Now that Milton was closer, Cedric could see the serene expression on his face better and the engravings on the box. “Miss Guilloux?”

“Flattered that you know my name, Baron Salisbury,” said Yvette and grabbed the black box in his hand, though she only lifted it from his palm the moment Maxime let the knife sink.

Then, everything happened in short succession.

Maxime nudged Jacques to Newman. Newman pulled the boy behind himself. Yvette took Milton’s arm, dragged him to her.

With a glance over her head, Milton turned and rammed his shoulder into Yvette, thrusting her back into Stevens.

A bullet was released. A scream was heard.

Stevens was pressed against the door. Cedric broke the lock and threw the door open.

Stevens stumbled backwards. Although he didn’t fall through the open door, Cedric was still there to catch him and yank him to the side. He fought against the itch to shove him down the stairs and dodged when Stevens fired at him, the bullet flying half-heartedly past his leg.

Cedric hastened to take the pistol away from him but was suddenly overpowered and pushed too. For a moment, his stomach fluttered as he feared to be kicked off the train again. Instead, his back hit the cold metal railing, the bars digging into his clothes. He clenched his teeth, and when Stevens raised the gun to his head, Cedric slapped it away, sent it flying into the landscape.

Cedric had just taken hold of Stevens’ wrist and twisted it until it broke – a body injured was no life taken after all – when he noticed someone rushing past them, escaping to the next wagon.

Yvette.

Cedric’s curses mixed with Stevens’ wails of pain. He punched him in the face, knocking him out, before he turned, ready to follow her. But she had already vanished in the carriage, making her way through it – and getting closer to Cloudia.

Go, Cloudia! Get her!

With a smile, Cedric dropped the unconscious man on the platform and quickly checked if this had not accidentally killed him and cost him his job and existence before he hurried inside. Adrenaline and worry pumped through him. There had been a gunshot, and he had no idea if the bullet had hit anything, anyone, and Maxime had been right behind Milton with a knife too.

The instant Cedric stepped into the wagon, he realised that his worry had been unfounded. Newman stood protectively before a shaky Jacques, and Milton stood above an unconscious Maxime. He was still handcuffed and although he was a bit dishevelled, Milton seemed perfectly fine when he turned to Cedric and said, “Kristopher! Are you all right?”

Cedric pressed his lips into a grim line and grabbed Milton by the shoulders. “What are you doing, you idiot!” he yelled and shook Milton. “I saw you climb around outside a moving train! Break through a window! Pawn yourself off and take a gamble tackling someone with a gun! What happened to keeping yourself safe?!”

He stopped shaking Milton and took a deep breath. Every conversation he had had with Anaïs and Aurèle about faeries, death, and Milton returned to him now. The possibility that Milton might be on the verge of death, his candle about to be blown out, the “complete” stamp pressed to his Dispatch file. A possibility that was both strengthened by all the nonsense Milton had done and weakened because he was still alive.

And in it all, all I could think of was Cloudia’s reaction to everything – his carelessness, his potential death.

When Cedric looked up at Milton, remorse was written all over Milton’s face. “I’m sorry, Kristopher. I didn’t mean to worry or upset you. I wouldn’t have done any of that if I hadn’t known I would be fine.”

“Have you gone mad? How on earth would you have known…” began Cedric but was cut off by Jacques wailing and hugging Milton from behind.

“Lord Milton! I’m so sorry!” he pressed out between sobs. “You got hurt because of me!” Abruptly, Jacques shrieked and jumped back. “Oh no! I got carried away! I’m so sorry, did I hurt you? Maxime stabbed you in the back after all… And the bullet must have hit you too…”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “What?” it slipped out of his mouth. “Why didn’t anyone say anything before I shook him like a rattle?” He swiftly turned Milton around to inspect the wound.

Only to find nothing. Solely his jacket was a bit chafed.

“I said I’m okay,” said Milton. Cedric could have sworn he sounded embarrassed. “I was stabbed, yes, but I am fine.”

Milton turned around, and Cedric stared at him. “The jacket,” Cedric said, dumbfounded. “I wondered why you chose to wear a suit jacket of all things for the journey. I thought you were maybe being a bit silly or forgot to pack enough practical stuff but that’s protective clothing?”

Milton smiled sheepishly. “A prototype. The test run has gone well, I suppose.”

“The test run? You chose to do a test run on a prototype now?”

“Well, it’s not the first test run…”

“And that should pacify me?!”

“… just the first one with the new amendments. It’s good to know it works well for stabs and cuts and if you’re grazed by a bullet. If I had been hit with it, the jacket wouldn’t have done anything; it’s not that far yet…”

Cedric ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You have gone mad, most certainly. A test run! Don’t use an actual criminal hunt as a test run! And why would you even need to trial protective clothing in the first place?!”

“Your Grace,” said Newman and stepped forward. “Please calm down. Excessive shouting is detrimental to your health, and you are spooking young Mr Beauchene.” Cedric opened his mouth to protest only to close it again. Newman nodded at him before he turned to Milton. He gently lifted Milton’s hands, rattling the handcuffs. “This was a particularly reckless endeavour, Mylord,” Newman stated and rummaged in his pocket. “In my life, I have only observed my dear mistress acting in such a manner, equal parts brave and imprudent.” He procured a skeleton key and began to try opening the handcuffs.

“I am sorry, Mr Newman,” Milton said quietly, sounding oddly young. “Are you fine? Have you got hurt?”

“Not at all, Mylord. I apologise; I was unable to thank you before for endangering yourself for my sake.”

“You do not have to thank me for that, Mr Newman.” Milton’s voice was almost a whisper.

Confused, Cedric looked between the two. “What happened?”

“Baron Milton broke through the window because I failed to secure my back, and the door was jammed,” explained Newman. “You even suffered an injury for my sake; I deeply apologise for that.” He took the now-open handcuffs from Milton’s wrists. However, when he tried to turn Milton’s bloody left hand for inspection, Milton hastily pulled it back.

“It is only a shallow cut,” Milton insisted. “The blood crusted already. I am fine. And you really don’t need to apologise to me or thank me, or please, least of all, don’t feel guilty, Mr Newman. It was my own choice and doing. Now, could you give me the handcuffs?”

Wordlessly, Newman handed them over alongside the utility belt; the dagger he kept. Milton took the items, put on his belt, and knelt to Maxime. Cedric had completely forgotten that they were standing around his fainted body. He glanced around a bit then and discovered another body unconscious on the ground on the other end of the walkway; Newman’s large frame had hidden it from view before. Some passengers peeked out of their compartments, and Cedric recognised the agitated couple and the moustached man from before. That explained why a portion of the ground was wet.

Milton quickly let the handcuffs snap around Maxime’s wrists and stood up again. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it over Jacques’ shoulders. The boy’s eyes, red and poufy from crying, widened; his glasses made them appear even larger. “But, Lord Milton! I can’t take this!”

“Of course, you can,” said Milton gently. “It will help to keep you safe until we have all returned to the château. I will be fine without it too.” He smiled at Jacques. “Mr Newman? Would you be so kind and deliver Jacques to his brother or simply remain here until we have arrived in Paris?”

Newman bowed his head. Milton went to the windowed side of the corridor, stretched, and did something Cedric could not see that culminated in a flap clicking open and a row of short ropes falling out. “And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” said Milton to Newman. “Please pass this information on to the passengers here, thanks.”

With that, Milton strode to the door. Cedric, seeing red and realising that he was gradually losing his patience with him, shot out his arm and grabbed Milton’s. “I don’t think you should continue after the stunts you have just pulled and after Yvette found out that you could open the box. It’s best if you stay very far away from Yvette and Townsend, Milton.”

“I told you that I have to go on, Kristopher,” replied Milton adamantly. “There is no reason to repeat that argument; I will not budge. Regarding the box…” He was quiet for a moment. “They aren’t even sure if I can open it. And they only nearly had me because I freely handed myself over. I’ve never been kidnapped before.”

“This might be the worst situation for firsts, Milton.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Unless you’re clairvoyant, I doubt you can know for sure.” Cedric sighed. “You’re giving me a headache, Milton.”

“I’m sorry. We do have no time to argue though. It’s not long until we arrive in Paris now.”

Cedric sighed anew and glanced at Newman. “Please take care of Jacques, Al. It seems I need to take this one here through the train.”

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:41

Commotion, commotion, commotion.

The next wagon was a chaotic wreck too. Cloudia was tired of jostling her way through the masses and narrow corridors. Thus, when she finally spotted the woman who had caused all that, Cloudia wished she still had the dagger and didn’t have to cut her throat with an ordinary knife.

At least, when the woman spotted her, she turned in panic and tried to run – only to be held back by passengers.

She just reached the door when Cloudia slammed her against it, holding the cold blade against her neck. “Interesting, isn’t it? How things can turn out to be,” whispered Cloudia into her ear, first in French, then in English for good measure, before she slid the knife across her throat like a violinist drew a bow along the strings of their instrument. Instead of a melody, her action only coaxed gasps and screams out of the passengers who tried to pry her off the woman.

“Murderer, murderer, murderer,” they called her. Cloudia simply yanked herself free from their grips and wiped the knife on her clothes. Again, there was no sight of Yvette and Jacques. She wondered about them as she moved on to the next wagon, the last one before the locomotive.

***

~Cedric~

June 23

About 12:00

“Are you done here, Milton?” Cedric asked. Since they had left Jacques and Newman behind, they had managed to cross a wagon and were about to jump to their third. After that, there was only one carriage left between them and the locomotive which meant they had nearly caught up with Cloudia.

“Yes,” said Milton and stepped away from the windowed wall. Yet again, it was lined with the short ropes; this time, Cedric had managed to glimpse Milton plunging an odd, bi-coloured key into a small hole and turning it though.

Milton glanced at the passengers, and Cedric sighed. They had had to forgo easing the civilians back into their compartments in the last coach which had visibly pained Milton even if he understood.

“Milton, we don’t have much time. If we don’t catch them before the train enters the station, they will run off wherever,” Cedric reminded him.

Milton nodded, looking a bit absentminded. “Yes. Give me a moment, Kristopher,” he said and turned to some of the passengers to say something to them in French. He had done that in the previous wagon too, had done that throughout the entire train. Cedric had initially thought he was simply reassuring them that everything would be fine; now, he knew better.

“And if the right time comes, could you pull on these ropes?” Milton had told Newman. Cedric knew next to nothing about trains; before he met Cloudia, he had barely ridden on them before. There had not been any trains yet before he became a Grim Reaper, only wagonways. Afterwards, there had been little need for Cedric to take a train as he could transport himself wherever he liked on his own. Still, whatever Milton was doing unnerved Cedric, and he searched his memory, in vain, if he had ever seen such ropes in trains before.

Cedric wanted to ask. His body itched with the question; nevertheless, he kept his mouth closed. Something told him that Milton would either avoid answering if needed, or fall into rambling and mumbling, and Cedric really had no time to pry a proper answer from him.

“I’m done,” announced Milton and gave him a little smile.

This little gesture, so innocent and normal, paired with his earlier thoughts sent an unexpected shudder down Cedric’s spine. He had never wanted to admit it before, not to Cecelia, not even to himself. Only, with all the events of the last ten hours, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the indescribable unease that made its home within him whenever he was with Milton and write it off as mere jealousy.

***

~Cloudia~

June 23

About 11:46

Her heart beat faster when she arrived in the last coach before the locomotive.

Townsend and the others had to be here, or in the cab after all.

This wagon, unlike the previous ones, was quiet. No one stood in the passageways, wide-eyed and panicked and wondering what was going on. While Cloudia had only seen one very shoddy daguerreotype of Townsend, she could easily pick Yvette and Jacques out in a crowd. She was also confident that she could identify Florentin. The striking colour of his eyes might be dampened by his glasses, but Cedric had described them with as great care as he could.

It would be so easy to open each compartment until she found Townsend or Yvette so that she could drag them out and beat them up. It would be greatly satisfactory, though would certainly lead to yet another commotion, and Cloudia had no way of telling whether some of Townsend’s companions were here too. They might have decided for Townsend and Florentin to board alone so as not to deviate any attention to them, or for many others to board with him as to keep them safer.

However, if she stood here and waited for them to arrive in Paris, the civilians would file out of the cabins too, making it difficult to locate and reach Townsend and Florentin, Yvette and Jacques.

Cloudia clenched her teeth and turned the knife in her hand.

Beating them up would not do. She was not a barbarian but a lady after all. A clean cut would suffice, or a well-placed stab through ribs or guts.

And because Yvette must be here already, Townsend must be awaiting Cloudia. A commotion was inevitable anyway.

Cloudia was about to open the first cabin door when she saw a movement from the corner of her eye and whirled around to see.

A man had stepped onto the platform of the locomotive. He wore practical but pristine clothes, from what she could tell from afar. An easy smile decorated his face, and the midday sun kissed his gold-blond hair as he waved at her. Cloudia frowned; she had thought he had darker hair.

“Yvette Guilloux told me all about you,” said Nicodemus Townsend so loudly that his words were still clear across the howling wind and through the closed carriage door. “Miss Watchdog.”

Cloudia tightened her grip on her weapon but did not move. Every fibre of her screamed trap, the scream vibrating through her body with each heartbeat.

Thus, when a compartment door ahead opened and a gunman stepped out, she was ready. Charging forward, knife raised before he could even aim. Cloudia had intended to pierce his chest, but he had moved away at the last moment, and she cut his side instead.

He yelled out and fired, unwavering. Cloudia dodged, her heart racing and adrenaline singing through her veins. Blood dripped from Cloudia’s blade to the floor, splattered a bit through the air as she lunged again. The man blocked her knife with the pistol, thrust her back a bit. She stumbled back a step but quickly found her footing again and sent the knife flying. The gunman stepped aside, the blade grazing his cheek and lodging in the cabin door behind. Cloudia used this small window in which he was surprised, distracted, to procure one of the knives she had taken from the first assailant, the one who had shot at them and set the ball rolling.

She charged ahead. And when the man raised his gun, she stabbed him through the hand before he could pull the trigger. Cloudia ripped out the knife, coaxing a cry out of him. His body staggered back just as another rammed into her from behind.

The air was knocked out of Cloudia’s lungs. Before she could recover, strong arms took hold of her and crushed her against the ground. The wagon shook from the impact. Pain blossomed across her chest, even with the corset partially absorbing the shock. The knife clattered out of her hands, and she could hear it being kicked away.

Cloudia strained against the grip. Her attacker held on tight, holding her hands and keeping a leg pressed against her back.

“I would refrain from doing anything rash,” Townsend said, entering the wagon. He must have jumped when Cloudia was attacked from behind. He smiled again; up close, she could see it was a politician’s smile, wide and pretty but it did not quite reach his eyes. “You would not want anything to happen to the poor, innocent passengers on this train, do you?”

The gunman scowled at Cloudia, holding his injured side with his injured hand. He now held his pistol with his left hand, not with his right one, and waved it towards the row of compartment doors before levelling it at her head. Cloudia gritted her teeth together.

“I knew the Queen would send her rumoured Watchdog after me, of course,” Townsend continued. “Never in a million years, I anticipated that it would be a woman, and was stunned to hear Miss Guilloux’s report from Nanteuil-la-Forêt. Who would have thought! The underworld’s watchdog, a woman! Such a beautiful one too. An unheard thing, but then, we are undergoing times of change, times of revolution.” His smile widened; it made Cloudia’s blood boil. “Revolution brought us two together too, and I will bring revolution to the kingdom.” Swiftly, Townsend retrieved a box from his jacket. Cloudia stiffened momentarily at the sight.

The Queen’s box. Glossy black, engraved with eerie furrows that stretched across it. The object for which Cloudia had taken this long, long journey. And now, it was right before her, in the enemy’s hand.

“Oh, an object of legends! I still cannot fathom that I could behold it with my eyes, let alone with my hands.” Townsend turned the black box in his hand and his eyes lit up. “Two myths, two rumours in one train wagon. The Queen’s puzzle box containing something of national importance, and Her Majesty’s Watchdog. What a marvellous day it is, don’t you agree, Miss Watchdog?” He tilted his head. “Calling you exclusively ‘Miss Watchdog’ like unrefined French village girls do is rather rude, is it not? You know my name; am I not entitled to know yours too?”

“It’s hilarious that you care not to be perceived as rude as if one of your men wasn’t pressing me against the ground and another wasn’t pointing a gun at me,” returned Cloudia.

Townsend laughed. “The woman talks, how lovely! And it’s all very well for you to talk too. Have you not come to me with the objective of vicious murder?

“You will not believe it, but I do not blame you for that. You are merely a victim of the system, after all. Though not for long when the Clockmaker opens the box for me.” Townsend sighed. “All that could have been avoided if they had not kept rejecting our petitions. It is not our fault that we were driven to take such drastic measures.

“What did we demand? Secret ballots, that all men above twenty-one should be able to vote, that everyone should be able to become a member of the parliament, frequent changes of parliament, equal electoral districts, and payments for members of parliament! They even rejected the last point. We have done our best to make ourselves be heard peacefully. See? Our demands were not even outlandish; we did not want to see Queen Victoria dethroned and beheaded. We only wanted to be heard.” A grin spread across his face, and he gently ran his hand over the box. “And heard we will be.” He pocketed the box and put his arms behind him. “Do not worry, Miss Watchdog. We do not wish any harm; we only want things to be better.”

“Yes, and for that, you kill innocent workers and villagers,” said Cloudia bitterly.

“They died for a higher cause. If you killed me now and took the box from me, wouldn’t their sacrifices have been in vain? This, my dear, is true villainy.”

Cloudia heard the clack of someone landing on the metal platform and cursed under her breath when it was not immediately followed by a shout or a gunshot or anything. Where was Cedric?

“Oh, my, there we meet again, Miss Watchdog,” Yvette said as she squeezed around Cloudia to stand before her.

“Where is Jacques?” Cloudia demanded to know.

“Ah, did you assume I fled to the front? I took little Jacques with me and went towards the back of the train after Maxime noticed you in the train station. It was a pain to make Jacques jump; thankfully, Maxime was with us too.

“Your friends are just as obnoxious as you are, do you know that? They got Jacques back, and if it had not been for Maxime, they would have caught me.” Yvette bent down to Cloudia and grinned. “All the more satisfying to see you caught.”

Yvette stood up again. “A few minutes until Paris now. They will crawl out from everywhere to chase us then; we need to be vigilant and escape on time.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Townsend. “Let’s head to the locomotive, Miss Guilloux,” he continued and something about the way he said that and Yvette’s smile in response bothered Cloudia. Yvette jumped first, and Townsend waved at Cloudia again before he followed her.

His henchmen, of course, stayed behind.

Cloudia was beginning to feel sore in this position. She knew she would be covered in bruises despite Wilbur’s special corset.

“Do you think Townsend would mind it if we blew holes into her pretty head?” enquired the gunman and bent down to press the barrel against Cloudia’s head. “It’s not as if he has any use for her, right?”

“A waste of such a pretty thing,” replied the man holding her down. “But she is only trouble. It’s better if she’s dead.”

The gunman grinned and moved the pistol down to her side. “Dirty girl stabbed me in the side; maybe, I should return the favour in the same area,” he mused.

Now that the gun was away from her head, Cloudia was about to try freeing herself, driven by the need to knock out his teeth, when she heard a godly, lovely clack.

The gunman yelled out in agony, his pistol flying out of his hand, just as the other man was pulled off her. Cloudia jumped to her feet, glimpsed Milton ahead of her by the end of the wagon, and fleetly rammed her knee into the gunman’s face. He was knocked out instantaneously, and she was maybe a bit too giddy to see that he had indeed lost a tooth or two.

Cloudia then looked around and saw Cedric uppercutting the other man into unconsciousness. She smiled watching him hastily check his pulse and place him on the ground with a sigh. She wanted to speak to him, to him and Milton both, but there was no time for that yet.

Unholstering her gun, Cloudia ran along the walkway to the front.

She was about to jump – and staggered back right before.

Townsend and Yvette had decoupled the locomotive from the rest of the train.

Yvette stood in the cab, happily waving at Cloudia as the gap between them widened.

Taking a deep breath, Cloudia took a run-up, bracing herself to make a longer jump than she had to do before when, suddenly, an arm was slung around her waist, pulling her back into the carriage. She yelled out, protested. The door was kicked shut. A terrible sound rang through the train. Milton shouted, “Kristopher! Pull on the ropes!”

Everything rattled and tilted – the wagon, the ground, Cloudia herself. If she had not been held, she might have fallen. The wheels shrieked like banshees, piercing her ears, echoing terribly through her skull.

And then the train came to a halt.

Right before an explosion sounded in the distance.

***

June 23

About 12:07

What on earth? Cloudia thought breathlessly as her mind and body slowly adjusted to the world calming down.

The hand on her waist was pulled away. In her periphery, Cloudia noticed Milton gazing through the door’s window. Her ears were still ringing from that hellish sound and the shrill wheels. Cedric appeared next to her. He said something that she could not make out. A brief wave of dizziness washed over her. Nonetheless, Cloudia forced herself to stumble to the window too and see for herself.

Their wagon and the rest of the train were standing still. The locomotive was several metres ahead of them and giving off unusual amounts of smoke.

What on earth? Cloudia thought anew and rubbed her ears awake.

“Are you all right, Countess?” she finally heard Cedric say. This time, she knew to nod. Passengers came out of the cabins, their voices hammers that punched against her bruised ears.

Someone emerged from the cloud of smoke outside too, running away.

“Countess?” said Cedric behind her just as she kicked open the wagon door, jumped out, and ran.

***

London, England, United Kingdom – May 1843

~Cloudia~

After the tense conversation in her father’s office, Barrington had insisted that he would remain in the Phantomhive townhouse. Cloudia did not exactly mind having him around even if he could be a handful; only the circumstances and the length of his stay made her stomach churn.

Barrington was rooting himself in her townhouse to keep an eye on Oscar, and he would only dislodge when Oscar was gone again. This did not refer to Oscar eventually passing away (Barrington would have preferred if it did, particularly if Oscar died in the foreseeable future; Cloudia would rather kill them both than live with them for decades) but to Oscar’s moving date. The Queen had provided him with a secret house because Oscar could not stay with Cloudia forever after all.

Cloudia might need to watch over him, but his constant presence in her homes would prevent her from receiving visitors and fulfilling any of her societal duties. In the brief time Cloudia had known Oscar, she was rather sure she could tell him to stay in a room with an adjourning bathroom and not come out, and he would obey with no protest or difficulty. He would likely survive being locked up like that. It felt horrendous though, to retrieve Oscar from a cell and throw him in another. His movements were limited now already, restricting them even more to a single room seemed too much.

But then, as Barrington had drilled into her, Oscar was a serial murderer who did not deserve anything at all.

The day had stretched itself long and thin due to all the hostility Barrington had brought with him. They had taken lunch all together; throughout it, Barrington had been on the verge of cutting Oscar’s throat with a steak knife. For dinner, Cloudia had simply sent Oscar to eat alone in his room.

Now, although Cloudia had done nothing all day as she was still recovering from her last attack, she was exhausted. When they had all retreated to bed for the night, Cloudia had been surprised that Barrington had not insisted on chaining himself to Oscar (with a chain long enough that they did not have to sleep in the same room, of course).

The Queen had said the house would be ready after a probation period of a month for Oscar. If this was what the first day of living with him and Barrington was like, I wished I could hibernate for the next few weeks. Perhaps, I could temporarily move in with Kamden.

Right after Cloudia finished a chapter of her book, Oscar knocked softly on her door before letting himself in. “You looked like you wanted to talk to me all day,” he explained. “I hope it is not too late.”

“No, I don’t think I could have fallen asleep with all these questions on my mind,” Cloudia said and put her book on the bedside cabinet. “You can sit down by the desk or vanity if you like.”

Oscar shook his head. “I prefer to keep standing. What do you want to know after you spoke to Weaselton?”

“Did you ever do anything personal to Barrington? He hates you so much; it makes me wonder whether you spit into his tea once.”

“No, not at all,” Oscar replied and went to stand by the window. The drapes had been pulled across it, blocking out the world beyond. “Weaselton has always disliked me for the same reasons as everyone else does. It’s unsurprising that this dislike intensified into hate. I did murder plenty of people after all, though I never spit into anyone’s tea, no matter how annoying they were. Trudy’s best friend tended to be rather bothersome, and my old partner knew very little about personal space. I have become quite accustomed to this type of person because of them. I suppose I did not mind Simon’s company because he was the opposite.”

“I see.” Cloudia dug her fingers into her blanket. “Barrington does not trust you.”

“This is very obvious to everyone, yes.”

“His distrust is not baseless though.”

“Of course. Now you are asking yourself if you can trust me?”

“Yes,” said Cloudia firmly.

Oscar leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms. “This is something you have to decide for yourself,” he said. “I cannot make you trust me. Any plea of mine will fall on deaf ears if even a part of you simply does not want to place any confidence in me. I have no desire to make any plea though; I do not care if you believe in me or not.

“However, I remind you that this current situation is of your own doing. You do not need to trust me for us to work together, but you must figure out if the distrust you harbour for me impedes our cooperation and makes you lose confidence in your own choice. I can only say that I have neither any desire nor incentive to betray you.”

“And do you have no desire to kill anyone too?” Cloudia enquired Her heart raced at the question.

“I have no desire to kill anyone unless I must.”

“Really? Was it like that with your victims too?”

Oscar looked blankly at her. “Yes,” he said, making her shiver. “I hope you are well aware that I cannot impart any details of my crime to you.”

“Yes, of course.” Cloudia hesitated before she asked, “Do you think you must kill the person that opened your basement door?”

Oscar did not flinch, did not stiffen; he only became very, very still, and it was more than enough of a sign that Cloudia had caught him off-guard. She could not believe she had managed to do that. The implication of it, however, prevented her from rejoicing internally. She only tightened her grip on the blanket, her blood running cold.

“No,” Oscar said ultimately. “I have never had the desire or even the thought to kill or harm that person.”

Cloudia blinked at him. “Truly? Barrington was certain that you plotted to take revenge since you were imprisoned and would now wait for the perfect opportunity to strike.”

“Weaselton has nothing but a lively imagination. As I said, killing that person has never crossed my thoughts and it never will.” Oscar looked at her. “You do not need to worry about the wellbeing of a person you do not know and likely never will. If you do not take my word for this, I’m afraid I can only offer Rowan’s as well.” Like the last time, he had mentioned the police commissioner, a shadow crossed Oscar’s face. “There are not many who know about that person’s identity and know that I would not do what Weaselton is theorising.”

“Only Rowan? Not Mayne too?” Cloudia wanted to know.

“Yes. They may be joint police commissioners, but Rowan has always handled everything connected to me. Although Mayne surely knows some things about my crimes and imprisonment, the details are only privy to Rowan within the Metropolitan Police.”

“I’ve been wondering,” said Cloudia, “why you don’t seem to like Rowan. Not because I believe he is someone so pleasant it would be shocking if someone did not like him but because I know you have known him since your military days. He recruited you to Scotland Yard too. I assumed you, at least, tolerated each other until your imprisonment and was surprised to notice that you cannot even say his name without looking like you’re about to vomit.”

“Well observed,” Oscar said dryly. “You are right. I’ve known Rowan since I was fifteen years old because we were both part of the 52nd Oxfordshire Regiment of Foot. At first, he was the regiment’s second-in-command, and he became my commanding officer when we were sent to Ireland years later. As such, Rowan became one of the few people I ever told about Trudy as I had to ask him for permission to get married. I wish we had delayed our wedding a little because he retired from the military not long afterwards. Things might have turned out very differently if Rowan had never known about Trudy, and Trudy had never known about him.”

“What… what do you mean?”

Oscar’s eyes darkened. “We have spoken about trust. Harm lies in both baseless distrust and misplaced faith. I told you what Trudy was like. She was the most wonderful, intelligent person with a heart full of trust, though she never gave away her trust freely. However, because Rowan was the person who had, in her words, ‘looked after me’ since I was a teen and I had no family left, she reached out to him to give him a chance. He attended our wedding; he knew about my children.”

Even though Oscar grew quiet, Cloudia could see that he could barely restrain his feelings. She might not have known him for too long but, to her, Oscar was someone who was mostly calm and collected; someone who did their utmost to conceal their emotions, or who had difficulties expressing them plainly and openly. Most of the time, he seemed oddly subdued, and it was very difficult, albeit not completely impossible, to read him. His mask had cracked before though. Unbound feelings had broken through his surface when Oscar had spoken about his family in that inn after Cloudia had retrieved him from the asylum and in the parlour a few days earlier.

The gentleness and plain love that had found their ways in the tone of his voice and the lines of his face had startled her then; now, the pure loath that seeped through with every word Oscar spoke as he went on did too.

“I do not care for my own life, Lady Phantomhive. I am not thankful that you saved it; you will, however, have my deepest gratitude for preventing my execution and making Rowan seethe. He must have counted down the days until I was finally dead, and he could wash himself free of me. Only he could not have foreseen what you had planned. Now I am still alive, and Rowan cannot do anything about that unless he can prove that I violated the terms of our contract, Mylady.

“I’ve known Rowan for most of my life and, still, I have not realised until recently how despicable a man he is, and it brings me great joy to know that my existence continues to haunt him and that I can now work for you, his despised Queen’s Watchdog, and against him.”

[artandsomethingcreated]

Me: cuts chunks out

Checks word count

Me: WHY ARE YOU LONGER!?

[newtkelly]

do you have any fave long bucktommy oneshots?

thank you for asking, i absolutely do! here are my long bucktommy oneshot fic recs. these fics are 10k-30k words (admittedly there are a few exceptions, but those feel longer than they actually are), and they are posted in one chapter. listed in order of published date. enjoy!

i sing of bitter earth by @middyblue [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-07-2024 | Words: 12,037 | Rated T

In his head, on the job, he can walk away from it. The underworld that lies in wait inside him stays behind and it’s just him and the rope, the hose, the halligan; give him a puzzle to solve and a caller to rescue and it’s like everything is air, rosy and clear and fragrant as an open field.

The Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve floods. Taylor falls; Tommy falls; Buck falls.

this was one of the first 9-1-1 fics to make a serious impression on me. i was, and still am, so taken by the imagery, the action, and the thematic storytelling. it bravely leans into being an emergency-based fic, and it genuinely made me want to tell a story like that, too. the prose and the characterization and the taylor/tommy dynamic are all so brilliant. definitely one of my most formative, influential, and cherished 9-1-1 fics.

an outlier that should not be counted by @dadvans [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-11-2024 | Words: 7,429 | Rated E

Buck knows a lot of random trivia. Tommy falls in love with him one fact at a time.

okay, i know this the shortest thing on this list, but listen. where would we all be without this fic? there is a reason it's sitting pretty at 22k hits. could honestly be the origin of many of the fandom's core bt dynamic headcanons. a delightful, witty read that captures the early excitement of bt like lightning in a bottle.

awful quiet here since love fell asleep by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 05-14-2024 | Words: 15,632 | Rated M

The Buck/Tommy break up/make up fic that literally no one was asking for but me. Things don’t always work out, the first time around.

"We'll be friends?" Because this is the right move, the smart move.

There's an expression he can't read that crosses Tommy's face, but then he nods, and sticks out his hand for Buck to shake. "Of course."

Buck hates it. But he made the bed, it's his to lie in. They shake on it.

the original break up fic. this is an amazing buck character study that honestly feels a bit prophetic in retrospect. i remember how i felt reading this, so heartbroken but so obsessed with the way buck navigated through understanding his own loneliness. it's absolutely joyful.

something ‘bout a boat by @swiftietartt [ao3 profile]

Published: 05-30-2024 | Words: 9,825 | Rated E

Tommy introduces Evan to his friends.

this is my one of my most cherished fics, i honestly cannot articulate how intensely i feel about it or do its brilliance much justice. begging you to read it if you haven't. to this beautiful author, should you ever write buck and tommy again, please know i will be first in line to read it. this story is charming beyond belief. this version of tommy is not one that you read about often, and i fucking love that. in this story, tommy is aloof but well-loved, has a delightful circle of true friends, and he has a fucking boat. there is not that much buck in this story, though he is omnipresent in a way. it builds and builds up to them finally getting to be alone below deck, and it's all the more delicious because of the wait. fabulously unique, there is really nothing else like it.

a full-body workout by @persiflager [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-02-2024 | Words: 7,901 | Rated E

When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

another one that is so carefully written that it feels longer than it is. one of the things i love so much about this story is the trio dynamic. the evolved friendship that eddie has with buck and tommy is, at least for me, best depicted here than anywhere else i've ever seen it. and, on top of that, there is just something so appealing to me about spending an entire day wanting to fuck so bad, but your friend is over so you've gotta practice patience. the anticipation that builds is really nuanced, it's truly a perfectly told slice of life.

the suffering of evan buckley('s sex drive) by @sugarpenchant [ao3 profile]

Published: 07-16-2024 | Words: 10,513 | Rated E

Tommy has been gone fighting fires for a month as vital air support, which would be fine—except for the fact that Buck has finally gotten a taste of sex with Tommy only for it to be cruelly whisked away. Buck finally gets his chance to join the firefighting efforts on the front lines and hopefully, someday before the world ends, ideally, he’ll get to see Tommy again.

There is a chance that Buck is being a little overdramatic about the whole thing, but a month is a really long time to go without the wonder of your brand new boyfriend.

posted for day 2 prompt of five alarm fest: after a dry spell

i need you to understand exactly one thing. this is the hottest fic ever. no like, this is the hottest fic i've read in years. buck, having just gotten dicked down for the first few times loses a summer of lovin' to a wildfire. tommy's on the frontlines, and what does buck do? he joins the ranks just for the possibility to be physically closer to him (and his dick). the world-building is fantastic for its length, particularly with the inclusion of lone star characters. when they finally see each other that first time, goddamn. the way they want each other but can't do a thing is a tease like nothing else. but where there's a will, there's a way. the fuck they manage to fit in between fighting the wildfire is a high that buck is able to ride (pun intended) for a while. i'm literally so addicted to this fic. erotic perfection.

knee deep in the passenger seat by @firstaudrina [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-08-2024 | Words: 9,039 | Rated E

What Buck liked best was that first thrill — a smile returned, a flirtatious joke — and then the heated next-next-next, all the things he still had to learn there.

aka Buck begins (in bed).

this ends with bucktommy, but it's a lot more than that and that isn't the draw of this fic. this is for the evan buckley lovers. this is like going to your favorite porn star's profile and watching a snippet of every single thing they've ever starred in. it's so good, it's so hot, it's so complicated. a great and very unique read.

bop it, twist it, pull it by @al-the-remix [ao3 profile]

Published: 08-14-2024 | Words: 21,642 | Rated E

“Hey!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, but Tommy still jumps a little beneath him. “Jesus, Evan, what–”

“You have a fucking dick piercing,” Buck half proclaims, half accuses. This is what Tommy has been holding out on all this time?

or

Buck discovers more about Tommy (and himself) through Tommy's piercings.

there's something about this fic that fits so perfectly into my fantasy of tommy. there's this punkishness about him in my head, and maybe that is a feeling that carried over from seeing pictures of lfj as a young, bulky, pierced scoundrel, but this story fits that image. super hot, a wealth of edginess.

fever's high with the lights down low by @kirkaut [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-07-2024 | Words: 11,731 | Rated E

No one has ever done this for him before. He didn’t even know how badly he wanted someone to do this - to think of him this way, to not only shoulder some of his weight but to want to - until this moment. Most people he’s dated have tended to give him a wide berth after a long, grueling shift, and he’d always thought that was what he wanted. It had been a little lonely, sure, but there wasn’t much he typically did afterwards that wasn’t refuel and rest.

Maybe he should have known better when it comes to Evan, who had jumped feet first into this relationship and never once looked back. Evan, who has worked these kinds of shifts himself and understands Tommy in a way that none of his exes ever have before.

Evan, who pours the love out of himself like it's as easy as breathing.

i remember reading this story for the first time. i was on vacation in a hotel bed, and i just felt so luxurious and indulgent getting to read this unbelievably hot, heartfelt story in utter comfort. it's the perfect analogy for how this fic makes you feel. it's pwp at its honest best.

engine purr by @epiphainie [ao3 profile]

Published: 09-16-2024 | Words: 15,010 | Rated E

“Oh! Yes. My car, my Jeep, I mean,” Buck said, gaze falling on the hands reaching for a rag. “It just sputtered and died on me right outside of town and there was no reception… I-I didn’t know what to do so I just… walked.” He swallowed and looked up again. “I thought I could call Triple A? Or maybe 9-1-1?”

The guy looked at Buck. There was a slight furrow to his brows, a tinge of bemusement in his eyes. The lines of his face were sharp and straight everywhere, but well-worn too, making Buck realize he was older than him by at least a decade and some change, if not more.

“That’s not for 9-1-1. And Triple A costs an arm and a leg if you don’t have a membership,” he said in a languid voice. “Lucky for you, though, you walked into this town’s one-and-only repair shop.”

buck takes a road trip before his new job, the jeep breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a small-town mechanic helps him out

my friend is a genius. okay full disclosure, au is not always my thing, and never my preference. i know that is a very unpopular opinion, but i think i am just very picky about it - but when it's done well, it can't be beat. this fic is fucking amazing and the age difference is a thing to behold. i always find myself so immersed in mimi's stories, particularly the dialogue. as i was reading this fic, i would find myself deep in one of buck and tommy's conversations and be so struck by how tangible and accurately articulated the characters are. in my own writing, i drag my feet over dialogue, never really knowing if something is too long-winded, or far too short. that happens to be mimi's strength, especially here - their conversations are perfectly paced, chatty, and true. beyond that, i could probably gush just as much over how hot the tension, build-up, and well-earned sex is in this fic. my fiancé called it the hottest bt she's ever read. by the way, even as i write this little blurb, my mind is saturated with images of tommy's apartment over his shop, and that is a true testament to the visceral and descriptive writing that is achieved here. i will wrap this up by saying i truly cannot wait until the next part in this story is posted! god, i love good writing.

in a yellow wood by @cecilyv & @liminalmemories21 [ao3 profiles x & x]

Published: 11-10-2024 | Words: 9,847 | Rated E

It’s been three years since the break-up when Tommy saves a family and it upends his life.

He’s paying more attention to explaining what the various levers and controls do than he is to what’s going on in the hangar and his head whips around when he hears a familiar voice saying. “Kam, the whole point of leaving my kid with you was to not take him to work.”

this is one of two break up/make up fics that i hold very dear. there are things that ring very true about it, and things that are legitimately haunting. they're apart for years - right from the jump, that is a sobering revelation. buck has a baby. buck doesn't look like he used to - his hair is shorter, he has a slighter frame. his life, his body, his world has changed. but he wears the maturity well, and he wears fatherhood well, and tommy wants in and he fucking earns a seat at the table. he earns love, he earns a family. it's a fucking beautiful rosy picture of what a future could be. it's so special, and so healing.

closet conversations by @eyesonstars-feetonground [ao3 profile]

Published: 11-12-2024 | Words: 10,599 | Rated M

Six months is a long time to stick around if he thought you’d dump him.

OR

After his boyfriend dumps him, Evan Buckley goes on a date, makes a new friend, has some conversations, and realizes he's queer. Tommy haunts him every step of the way.

this break up/make up is a triumph. very, very special to me. my favorite thing about this story is that it is a love letter to queer media and culture. this fic grabs one of the loosest threads of buck and tommy's canon relationship and pulls and pulls at it, taking a closer look at what it means for buck to date and fuck a guy for six months but not be able to correct some girl that he was on a date (for his six month anniversary, no less), or correct maddie that he isn't gay. it's one of so many things that deserves closer analyzation, and it's done so brilliantly here. buck and queerness go so, so well together - i am desperate for more carefully constructed analyses and stories like this one.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 20 pt. 1- I Do

Summary: It's finally here, the day you've been waiting for since the day Javi came into your life and changed it for the better- It's your wedding day, and things couldn't be more perfect. Except for the fact that you and Javi can barley contain your excitement as you wait to see each other.

Word Count: 11.4K (If this wasn't 2 parts, this would be 30k long and wouldn't be finished until May)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, marriage kink (?), kind of semi-public sex (they're gettin' busy in the bathroom), Kind of getting caught (Steve needs to mind his own business), wedding things!!, family dynamics, mentions of death/grief, lots of emotions, Javi being an anxious, blubbering, hot mess, Javi being so in love and is so excited to spend the rest of his life with you that it physically hurts me (this chapter is lots of fluff and feelings and not as much smut, sorry!! Don't worry, there's PLENTY more to come next chapter 🤪)

A/N: Hi friends!!! Well, she's finally here, the moment we've all been waiting for- our two favorite idiots are finally getting married 😭💕 While I would have loved to make this one chapter, it literally would have been SO long, and Lord knows when I actually would have finished with it. So this chapter is the morning leading up to the ceremony, and part 2 will be the ceremony and reception!! I'm not even gonna lie, I bawled several times writing this chapter. These two mean so much to me, and I'm so honored that you care enough about them to be invested in my silly little story, too 🥺 HAPPY WEDDING DAY!!!

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For the better part of his life, Javier Peña was convinced there was nothing more soul-crushingly painful and miserable than a wedding. On a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and joy, Javi had spent more years than he’d like to admit doing anything to avoid the occasion all together. Because for him, weddings had meant none of those things. Weddings had only served as yet another reminder of the failure he had chalked himself up to be. 

Leaving Lorraine at the altar and running away to Colombia. 

Watching the successes of everyone else’s blissful domestic lives play out in front of him, while he’d never felt so alone. 

Convincing himself that he would never be worthy of love because of the terrible person that he’d become. 

Weddings had been something that Javier Peña hated more than most things in life. 

But that was until he met you. 

Because today, on the morning of his own wedding, Javi was quite literally bursting at the seams with excitement, goofy grin stretched from ear to ear knowing that in a few short hours, he got to marry the most amazing, beautiful, perfect woman he had ever met. And even though the reality had set in that today was finally the day the two of you started your forever together, he was positive that he’d never get over the reality that you would always be his. 

As he pulled his truck up the driveway to your new home where he should have been sleeping for the better half of last night, there was a part of him that couldn’t have been more thankful he had been able to sneak in just a few more hours with you before sunrise, knowing the anxious anticipation of waiting to see you all day, let alone see you in your wedding dress at the other end of the aisle, was enough to already have his heart beating a million miles a minute at the ripe hours of the morning. 

While he should have known better his Dad would already be well awake by the time he snuck back home, Chucho’s welcoming grin from the front porch was already laced with enough forgiveness for Javi to hope he’d be spared at least some shit from his father. 

“”Morning, mijo.” Chucho chuckled, watching Javi’s sheepish stride up the driveway towards the house, slowly sipping on his cup of coffee with a boyish grin on his face, knowing damn well where his son had been without having to say a word. 

“I already know what you’re gonna say, Pops.” Javi sighed, shaking his head in embarrassment as he approached his dad, letting out a soft grunt as he took a seat next to his father on the top step of the front porch. 

“I haven’t said anything, Javier. Do you have something you want to say?” Chucho couldn’t help but snicker, raising his eyebrows at his son, as he watched his cheeks turn a petrified pink. 

“Nope, I am- oh, fuck me- nope I am, uh, all good.” Javi stammered, burying his hands in his face before running them through the sleepy curls of his hair and over the nape of his neck, his eyes still peeled to the ground, avoiding Chucho’s smug grin. 

“Then all I have to say is,” Cucho paused, taking another swig of coffee, “I hope you never stop loving her the way that you do now.” Javi looked up at his dad in confusion, wondering how his sneaking out wasn’t shaping up to be some sort of teenage scolding from his father. “I already know that you know you are a very, very lucky man Javier, but I also hope that you know you are going to make a wonderful husband. Eres un buen hombre. Estoy muy feliz por ti, mijo. Tu madre también lo estaría. Muy feliz.” (You are a good man. I am so happy for you, son. Your mom would be, too. So happy.) 

Letting his eyes shift off his feet where they had been stuck, Javi looked back up at his father, tears welling in his eyes at Chucho’s reassuring smile, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son, pulling him close enough to let Javi’s head fall on his shoulder, the two sitting for a quiet moment in silence. 

Javi couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his heart, thinking about the fact his mom wouldn’t be with him for the biggest day of his life. His mother had left this world when Javi was at his lowest- alone and halfway across the globe, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in. It had always haunted him that his mom had died worried that her son had become a broken man, and would never be proud of the person he’d turned out to be. When he returned home, he felt even worse thinking that his one living parent probably felt that way, too. 

But what brought him solace in a time that he needed it most, was you. You had given him a reason to make his parents proud, to make himself proud. While his mom would never be able to tell him the words he so desperately longed to hear, he knew in his heart that the life he’d built because of you was all the comfort he needed to prove to himself Lucia was smiling down on him when he needed it most. And as he looked up at the sky, the pink and orange rays of the beautiful sunrise beginning to spill over the horizon, he had never been more sure that even though his mom couldn’t physically be by his side, that Lucia Peña would still be with him every step of the way.  

“Fuck, I miss her, Pops. I wish she was here.” 

“She is, Javier. She always will be.” 

After soaking in a few more quiet moments together staring out into the shimmering sunrise, Chucho let out a content sigh, giving Javi a gentle pat on the back and rustling the dark curls of his son’s thick hair. 

“But, if there is one thing I know about your Mother, it’s that  I can practically hear her screeching at us wasting our time being sad about her on the happiest day of your life. Chucho, por qu�� piedres el tiempo estar triste? Basta de quejarte! Nuestro hijo se está casando, pendejo!” (Why are you wasting your time being sad! Stop moping! Our son is getting married, stupid.) Chucho mocked, shaking his head at the sky at the scolding he knew he’d be getting from his wife, making him and Javi burst into laughter. “And, if there’s another thing I know about your mother,” Chucho paused again, letting out a loud grunt as he pushed himself up to stand, resting his arm on Javi’s shoulder, “it’s that her and I would both agree there better be a nieto (grandchild) in our lives 9 months from now. Dios mío (oh my God), Javier, even on the night before your wedding you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves! I am truly surprised I don’t have 14 grandchildren already.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops….” Javi whispered to himself over his dad’s schoolgirl snickers, watching his son’s face fall flush once again, standing up to follow behind his dad back inside as Chuhco began to waddle his way across the porch. 

Although Javi could have tried to plead his case to his dad to prove his innocence, truth be told, today, he really didn’t care. Today, the only thing he cared about was that in just a few short hours, he got to meet you, his wife, at the end of the aisle and spend his forever with the woman he loved more than life itself. For the first time in his life, Javier Peña couldn’t have been more excited for a wedding. 

You weren’t sure how many more times you had read the scratchy print scribbled across the bright yellow post-it Javi had left behind on his pillow before he had snuck out for the morning, but you did know that your heart beat faster and faster in anxious anticipation with every glance over his words, counting down the second until you got to see him again. 

You had kept yourself in your room, convinced that your excited impatience would have you awake well before everyone else still sleeping at the ranch, but as you heard clanging and bickering starting to echo from the kitchen, you should have known better that your mom and Connie would be up to something to kick start your wedding day. 

With a yawn and stretch of your arms above your head, you flopped yourself out of bed, exchanging Javi’s worn t-shirt and sleep shorts for the white pajama set your mom had insisted she buy for you to get ready in as a compromise for your adamant despise at the white silky robe that had “bride” stitched across it in big pink letters that she had begged to buy you. 

Shuffling down the hallway, the commotion in the kitchen only became increasingly louder, now realizing almost everyone must be awake for whatever antics were taking place for the early hours of the morning. As you turned the corner, you were greeted by an adorable “Happy Wedding Day!” banner that had been made by the girls hanging on the wall, decorated with adorable crayon drawings of flowers, you and Javi, and all of the horses of the Peña ranch dressed in wedding apparel. As your eyes scanned across the rest of the room, the kitchen table was already full of breakfast, balloons dangled from the ceiling, and your mom and Connie were actively working on filling up what was most likely one too many glasses of mimosas.  

“Happy wedding day, Auntie Bear!” A little voice cooed behind you, looking down to see a still very sleepy Olivia, hair still crazed and bed ridden as she wrapped herself around your hip, squeezing you in a tight hug. 

“Ahhhhh, there’s the bride!!” Your mom shrieked, her pitch enough to make everyone in the room wince as she barreled towards you, joining Olivia to engulf you in her grasp. After everyone had recovered from your mom’s shrill greeting, everyone else had soon joined in on squeezing you in a giant group hug, the gesture in itself making you smile, but the physical restraint in the middle of a human sandwich being a little too much for you this early in the morning. 

“Thanks guys. I uh, I would like to make it out alive for my wedding so maybe if we don’t squish me to death, that would be great.” You grunted, trying to wriggle out of the arms squishing your body, hoping that someone would get the hint. 

“Alright, I think she’s probably had enough.” Connie laughed, finally noticing the look on your face, prompting everyone to give you at least a little breathing room. 

“I’m just so excited for you! I can’t believe you’re getting married, sweetie!” Your mom, clearly not picking up on the hint, was now back to squeezing you in a bear hug again tight enough to make your eyes pop out of your head. “Okay, sorry, sorry, I’m done now, just had to get one last one out of my system… for now. Here, have a seat, honey,” Your mom gestured towards the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “we have about an hour before we have to start doing hair and makeup but we have plenty of breakfast for you to choose from before we get the day started. How’d you sleep?” 

“Oh, um- fine, I um, I slept fine.” You lied, now sheepishly staring down at the overflowing plate of breakfast food your mom had set in front of you, taking a hefty bite of pancake before looking back up, your eyes meeting Connie’s, a suspicious smirk gleaming on her face as she stared at you, crossing your arms over your chest as you swallowed your food with a more audible than intended gulp. 

“Oh good!” Your mom replied, obvious to yours and Connie’s silent interaction as she meandered around the kitchen. “Well, eat up, I’m off to go check on some things outside, but by the time I get back in here, that plate better be cleared! Girls, come help Grandma, let your Aunt finish her breakfast!” 

“Okay!” Your nieces giggled, following behind your mom into the backyard, leaving you and Connie alone in the kitchen, hearing her silently laugh to herself as she sat down next to you at the table. 

“Good sleep, huh? Good sleep that definitely had nothing to do with Javi’s truck that left here at 6:00 AM this morning?” Connie snickered, giving you a little wink as your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, letting out a defeated sigh. 

“I promise it’s not what you think. I actually couldn’t sleep and I called Javi and he ended up coming over so I wouldn’t be up the whole night. I told him he didn’t have to, but I was up and stressed and having him here was the only thing that was going to help. It was just sleep, I promise.” 

“It’s okay, I believe you. I couldn’t sleep the night before my wedding either. I’m pretty sure if I did what you had done, Steve would have slept right through the phone call, or still would have been too drunk to drive over.” The two of you quietly giggled to yourselves as Connie reached out for your hand, holding it in hers, “I hope you know that he loves you so much. It always broke my heart to see Javi go through what he did, and how hard on himself he was because of it. You really are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. I’m so happy for the two of you, I couldn’t be more excited for today, honey.” 

Reaching across the table, Connie wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you in another hug, trying to hold back your sniffles as you felt happy tears beginning to well in your eyes. 

“Thank you, Connie.” 

“Of course. Now, you better pick what you want from that breakfast and throw away the rest before your mom gets back, I don’t think either one of us wants to be responsible for telling her that her food wasn’t sufficient enough for you.” 

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of the dismay your mom would be in thinking that you didn’t get enough to eat before your big day as you put a reasonable amount of breakfast on a new plate to eat, discarding the other heaping pile that your mom had left you. 

“You are a smart woman, Connie Murphy.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

The rest of the morning seemed to move by at an exponential pace- At the Pena ranch, hair and makeup was well underway for everyone, and running on time with incredible efficiency from the detailed schedule that your mom and Connie had put together. Even though your body was riddled with endless amounts of anxious anticipation and excitement as the clock ticked closer and closer to when Javi and the rest of the boys would finally get here, you were pleasantly surprised at how fun the morning had ended up being with all the girls, especially since your nieces and the Murphy girls had insisted on putting on a hilarious sing along spectacular for the majority of the time for entertainment while you got ready. 

Over at your new house, however, with the only getting ready that Javi needed to do being taking a shower and putting on his suit, the boys were convinced that he was going to put a hole in the floor from his anxious pacing as he counted down the minutes to leave. 

“Jav, have a beer, man, you just put this floor in, I think your wife’s gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to replace it before y’all even move in because you can’t sit still.” Steve chuckled, taking a sip out of his can before nudging your brothers sitting next to him on the couch as they watched their friend and future brother in law tread back and forth across the living room for what felt like the 117th time since they’d sat down. 

“I think I have to agree with Steve on this one, Javier, you are making me anxious and I’m not even the one getting married.” Chucho chimed in from the armchair seated next to the couch. 

“I’ll second what Steve said, man. Have a beer, Javi. You haven’t shut up all day about how fuckin’ excited you are, so what’s got you so worked up? You’ve seen her in a dress before dude, this one’s just white.” Your brother David snorted, his joke now soliciting some eye rolls from the rest of the boys, considering David was about single as they came, and was the only one of the group who wasn’t even remotely close to being married. 

“It’s a fucking wedding dress, you dingus, there’s obviously a difference.” Your dad groaned, walking up to your brother to give him a prompt smack in the back of the head, making your other brother Charlie snicker to himself, until he also decided to greet him with an equally harsh slap for good measure. 

“What the fuck was that for? I didn’t say anything!” Charlie winced, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Tell your brother to stop being an ass! She’s your sister too, for Christ’s Sake, you’re not gonna stand up for her either?! Jesus you two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Even Patrick would have had enough common sense to keep that one in his head. Well, maybe not, but that’s besides the point.” That one at least cracked a little smile from your brothers, wishing that Patrick would have been here to see their sister’s big day, and to distribute the slapping pain more equally between the pair. 

“I just… Fuck, I just wanna see her. I can’t wait to see her. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my whole life. The suspense is fucking killing me.” Javi signed, resting one hand on his hip before running his hand through his hair, anxiously drumming his fingers on his side, foot tapping on the well worn path he had been treading on the hardwood floor of the living room. 

Chucho chuckled, resting his hands on his knees and pushing himself up to stand with a low grunt, making his way over to his son, resting his hand on his shoulder as he looked up at him. “Eres como tu madre.. Impaciente. (You are just like your mother… Impatient). Mijo, I remember when I married your mother, she was so excited that she actually asked if we could start the wedding an hour early, just so we could see each other sooner. I can almost hear her laughing at the fact that her son is no better than her. How I wish she were here to see this. Soon, Javier. I promise.” 

“Do you think she’s gonna like the gift? You made sure she has it for today, right? And everything from her brothers too?” Javi asked, nervously biting at the tip of his thumb as he glanced down at his father before looking over at David and Charlie sitting on the couch, smiling back at him. 

“Yes, Javier. I triple checked last night. I’m sure that she will love it. I know she will love it. All of it. Now, why don’t you go put on your suit and we can leave a little ahead of schedule, I will just make sure to drive extra slow. Even slower than normal. I think if we wait any longer you may actually combust.” He teased, pulling Javi into a tight hug before releasing him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. 

“Alright boys, you heard the man, get your sorry asses moving and let’s get these monkey suits on, it’s time to get this boy married!” David cheered, holding up his beer to toast Javi before promptly chugging the rest of it down his throat and slamming it down on the table, soliciting another round of eye rolls and muffled laughter from the crowd. 

Silently nodding and smiling to himself, letting out one last reassuring breath before looking at the boys standing in front of him. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna get married.” 

Back at the ranch, the last of getting ready was beginning to wrap up, all the girls' hair and makeup finally finished, and the youngest of the crew giddily dancing in their flower girl dresses, twirling and swirling in excitement at their pristine outfits as they gathered around you, patiently awaiting for you to get into your own wedding dress.  

For as long as you’d wanted to get married, you’d always known that you wanted your wedding dress to be simple- No excessive frills, poof, glitter, or anything that made you feel like you were playing dress up for the world’s goofiest fashion show, simply because it was your wedding, and your dress needed to reflect the extravagance of the event. Your style choice came as a surprise to no one, given the fact you had practically lived in your brother’s hand-me-down’s until the 8th grade, and even when your mom had flown down a few months ago to go dress shopping with you and Connie, she had even laid down the hammer with one of the wedding dress consultants that you wouldn’t even step anywhere near a dress that was an ounce too over the top. 

That’s why you were absolutely shocked that despite your firm parameters around what you wanted to wear for your big day, that you fell in love with the very first dress you tried on, and never looked back. 

It was everything you wanted and never you needed in a dress- a simple a-line skirt with thin straps that ran across your shoulders and scooped down your back, along with a delicate, lacy floral pattern stitched across your top that flowed down the wispy length of your gown. There were few times that you had ever admitted it to yourself, but you had truly never felt more beautiful than when you were wearing that dress, and when you had tried it on for the first time, only to turn around to see the tears welling in your mom and Connie’s eyes as you revealed it to them, it was every confirmation that you needed that this dress was made for you. 

And while you had been counting down the days in excitement, waiting to put your dress on for your big day, Javi had been counting down along with you, to the point where Connie had made the executive decision to keep the dress at her house to prevent any preemptive peeking, considering that Javi had spent every day since you had bought your dress telling you how he couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you were going to look in it, without even knowing a single clue about what you had boughten, besides your lovingly sarcastic and vague “It’s a dress, and it’s white, Jav.” 

But after all the time you had spent imagining what it would be like to finally put your dress on for your actual wedding day, you almost couldn’t believe that you were finally here, carefully taking the straps off the hanger where it had been resting, holding the beautiful, white fabric out in front of you with a goofy grin spread across your face, eyeing down the outfit that meant you got to spend forever with your best friend. 

“You ready to put it on?” Connie asked softly, her hand resting on your shoulder as she stepped behind you, excitedly gazing at your dress right alongside you. 

“Yeah.” You smiled, gently nodding your head as you looked back at Connie, taking one last deep breath before passing off the dress to her before shimmying out of your clothes, letting them fall to a pile on the floor before turning to Connie, stepping into the opening of the dress and carefully pulling each strap over your shoulders while she pulled the zipper along your back, letting out a little sigh of relief as it clasped at the top. With one more long inhale, you slowly turned around to face everyone, eagerly awaiting your reveal, picking up your gown with a little floof as it gently draped around you, meeting the tears and smiles painted across everyone’s faces while they gazed at you. 

“Auntie Bear, you look like a princess! Uncle Javi is gonna think that you look like the most beautifulest person he’s ever seen.” Olivia squealed, jumping up and down in excitement before running over to you, wrapping her little arms around your waist in a tight hug. 

“Oh sweetheart…. You look absolutely stunning.” Your mom sniffled through her tears, holding her hands crossed over her chest, soaking in your full wedding ensemble. 

“You look gorgeous. Like, seriously. I hope you know that Javi’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you in this.” Connie giggled, giving you a wink and a playful nudge, looking you up and down in astonishment. 

Stepping over to see yourself in the mirror, your heart skipped a beat to see yourself, your stomach churning with anxious, excited butterflies knowing that you were only getting closer and closer to finally seeing Javi and his reaction, trying your best to not your smirk grow too wide between your warm cheeks, thinking about his reaction. 

“You really think he’s gonna like it?” You asked, your eyes still fixed at your reflection in the mirror, gently swaying your lacy, floral skirt back and forth, running your hand against the delicate fabric. 

“Honey, I’ve watched that man ogle over you in a hockey jersey. I told the boys they’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t faint when you walk down the aisle.” Your mom teased, Connie nodding her head in agreement. 

“I’m gonna second your mom on this one, girl. Steve has a running bet with the guys on how long it takes Javi to cry after he sees you. I think the over/under is 2 seconds, but after seeing you right now, I’m convinced he’s all waterworks from the moment he lays eyes on you.” 

Connie’s comment made you laugh to yourself, shaking your head at the idea of Javi instantly bursting into tears from just the sight of you, but when you thought about seeing Javi in his tux (that you had already seen before, multiple times) and what a mess you were going to be, maybe the boy’s betting line didn’t seem so unfair after all. 

“Speaking of tears…” Connie smirked at your mom, nodding at her to signify some little secret they seemed to be in on, “There’s one last thing you need to see before… Well, we’ll let you open it up and find out.” 

With that, your mom reached over to one of the tables where a white box with a neatly wrapped bow had been hidden, your mom passing it to Connie before then passing it over to you, making you tilt your head in confusion as you took the box in your hands, looking back and forth between your mom, Connie and the box waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“What is this?” you questioned, still puzzled as you noticed the gift tag hidden under the bow, gently peeling it open, their suspicious smirks beginning to spread as you read the all too familiar scratchy handwriting inside. 

To: Osita

Love: Javi

Now even more confused, you carefully began unwrapping the bow from around the packaging, letting the ribbon fall to the floor, followed by the lid of the box, revealing another longer note from Javi, resting on top of a bed of neatly folded tissue paper. You sat down in one of the chairs close by, letting the box rest on your lap as you held the note in your hands, already beginning to tremble as you felt the tears start to well in your eyes as you began to read. 

Osita, 

I knew from the moment I met you, that I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t believe that day is finally here. I hope that this day is everything that you could ever dream it to be. 

I hope you know that if I could I would give you everything. The moon, the sun, the stars- if you wanted it, I would give it to you. 

But I know that no matter how hard I try, there is one thing I know can’t give to you, and that’s the presence of the people who aren’t with us anymore. 

And while I can’t bring back your brother or my mom to be here today, I hope that what’s in this box will remind you that they’ll always be here for you, no matter what. 

I know my mom would have wanted you to have this. There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she could have met you. She would have loved you so much. I hope she knows that you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to me. 

Your family was able to find something of your brother’s for you to have on here too- I wish I could have met him. I hope he knows how much I love you, and the beautiful and resilient woman you’ve become. I hope he knows how proud I am of you. 

I can’t wait to see you, amor. I can’t even imagine how beautiful you look right now. I’m the luckiest man in the world. 

I love you more than words, and I promise I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you know it. 

Happy Wedding Day, Osita. Soy tuyo para siempre (I’m yours forever). 

-J 

You could feel your heart practically exploding after reading what Javi had wrote for you, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks, you took a deep breath as you carefully set down his note next to you before ever so slowly peeling back the layers of tissue paper folded on top of one another, hiding the gift hidden beneath them. As the last layer of the delicate paper was shed, you let out a gasp, you hand covering your mouth in shock as you put together the pieces of Javi’s note and the present now sitting in your lap, looking up at everyone else in the room, nodding back at you with sympathetic smiles and tears in their eyes at your realization. 

Not only had Javi had given you his mother’s wedding veil to wear, but stitched in the bottom corner was a patch of Patrick’s old hockey jerseys, a small number 2 from his arm sleeve, the number he had worn for every jersey he had ever played in. 

“Oh my… Oh my god? I can’t, I- how did you- oh my god.” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling in disbelief, tears now streaming down your face as you held the veil in your hands, your thumb gently tracing over the worn patch of Patrick’s jersey, truly too stunned to speak at what Javi had done for you, to make sure a piece of two people who were no longer with you could still be a part of the biggest day of your life.

“Can I put it on?” Your mom asked, smiling at you with tears in her eyes, walking towards you as you nodded, handing her over the veil as she gently nestled it into your hair, straightening it out behind you, even more tears streaming down her face while she watched your reaction in the mirror. 

Not only was Lucia’s veil absolutely beautiful, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought Javi had asked someone to see what your dress looked like to pick out a veil that matched it perfectly. Like it truly was meant to be.

Still too shocked to form any sort of coherent thought, you stared at yourself in the mirror, silently smiling and crying at your reflection until a soft knock came from outside the bedroom door, making everyone in the room whip their heads around to see all of the boys who had just arrived peeking through the door frame, waiting in anticipation. 

“Can we come in? We’re dyin’ to see you, Cubby. Well, the one who’s dyin to see you the most we banished to the outside so he wasn’t even tempted to come in, but the rest of us fools still wanna see you too.” Your dad’s voice chuckled from behind the door, making you break from your crying just enough to let a soft laugh escape from your chest, nodding your head as you turned around to greet the gang gathered at the door. 

Growing up the youngest of 3 brothers, sentimental wasn’t a term thrown around in your household very often. Of course you loved your family, and they loved you, but you and your brothers had often joked that it’d probably be easier to projectile vomit than to actually say the words “I love you” eachother. So that’s why when your dad and brothers walked through the door with awestruck looks on their faces, you couldn’t help but start crying even more. 

Well, until they actually got a chance to speak. 

“Don’t cry you dingus, you’re gonna mess up all your makeup. And god knows how long it took to try and make you look like you didn’t just crawl out of a garbage can.” David quietly snickered, pulling you in for a much gentler than usual headlock before wrapping his arms around you for a legitimate hug. 

“Fuck off, David. How many people had to help you put that suit on, huh? You use every last brain cell trying to do up those buttons?” You teased back, trying to wipe the tears that had been rolling down your cheeks before giving him a loving slap to the stomach, making the two of you laugh even more. 

“You know his dumbass needed all the help he could get.” Charlie joked, pulling you in for another hug before stepping back to look you up and down, “Not too shabby. You clean up good, Cubby.” 

“Thanks Charlie.” 

The last one to step towards you was your dad, who you could tell was trying with everything in him not to absolutely burst into tears, putting one hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you. “I’ll say it once and I won’t say it again because you know as well as I do I’m not good with the sappy shit. You look beautiful, Cubby. I’m so proud of you. I know Patrick would have been too. Although that motherfucker is probably pissed at us that we cut the number off of his favorite jersey, but I think he’ll forgive us.” Wrapping you in a tight squeeze, your dad engulfed you in a bear hug, quickly followed by your brothers and your mom, trapping you in the center of their bodies, knowing you all were wishing there was one more person there in your group to fill in your hug. 

“I love you guys. Thank you.” You whispered, just loud enough to make sure they could hear, but quiet enough that even though your brothers had heard it, just this once, they wouldn’t give you shit for it. And just this once, everyone seemed to silently agree that they really, truly, did love you too. 

After a few more seconds of your group hug, there was another soft knock on the door, followed by another familiar voice, Chucho and Steve now peeking through the doorway to say hello. 

“Is it okay if we come in, Mija?” Chuco asked, already halfway through the door in excitement. 

“Yes, of course.” You sniffed, breaking free from the middle of your group hug to greet Chucho, less than shocked that his hug was almost tighter than the 4 other members of your family combined. 

“Mija… Mija, you look so beautiful. Oh, goodness. I had always saved this veil one day, just in case. And even though it sat in the attic for years, I pulled it out the week that Javier first met you. I don’t think that there was ever a doubt in anyone’s mind that you weren’t the one for him. My sweet Lucia would have been so happy to know that you have given Javier everything he never thought that he deserved. Oh, how I wish with everything she could have been here today to see how happy you make him. But I hope that you know, she would have been so excited that you get to be a part of our family.” He grinned through his tears, stepping back to look at you with a soft smile on his face, gently reaching up to wipe away the wetness on your cheek before pulling you back in for another hug. “I hope you know that Javier is going to be a wreck when he sees you. Poor boy has been in shambles all day waiting to see you.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man this anxious. And that’s sayin’ somethin’.” Steve chimed in, laughing to himself. “You look great, sweetheart. Chucho’s right, Javi’s ‘bout to be a goddamn mess.” 

As if your heart couldn’t feel any fuller from all of the love and warmth overflowing into the room, you had almost forgotten about the one person that had brought you all together in the first place- Javi. 

You could feel the pace of your heart begin to race, your stomach swirling in anticipation as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in. 

Your future husband was here, and there was nothing more in the world that you wanted than to see him. Not soon, not at the end of the aisle, not waiting for you at the altar, right this very second. 

“He’s here, right? Javi?” You asked, biting down on your lip to contain the stupid grin growing between your cheeks, swaying back and forth on your heels in childlike impatience. Before you could barely ask your question, all eyes in the room were on your, giving you a collective look that seemed to scream “Seriously? You can’t wait either?” without having to say a word. 

As you could hear the beginning rumblings of protest, David stepped in as the most unexpected voice of reason, holding his hands up to the crowd in your defense, trying to silence everyone’s potential disagreement for what you were about to suggest. 

“Listen… Y’all know as well as I do that we could hold back these two with iron restraints, and they’d still probably find a way to see each other before the ceremony. And to be quite honest, I am pretty convinced if we don’t let them, one of them is gonna fucking combust, and I am not willing to be held personally responsible for any damages done before you two idiots can even get married.” 

Giving you a silent nod of approval, David stepped back to pat your back with the loving force that only a brother could, as everyone else in the room seemed to very quickly agree with his sentiment, joining with head bobs of quiet agreement. 

“I’ll go let the big man know you’re comin’. Gotta find some way to redeem myself before I bust his balls in my speech later.” Steve snickered, giving you a quick wink before quickly disappearing out the door to find the man behind it, waiting half as patiently as you. 

To say that Javi was disappointed when the boys booted him to the outdoors while everyone else got to go in and see you was the understatement of the year. Even though he couldn’t have been sitting on the front porch of his childhood home for more than 10 minutes, it felt like he had been waiting for hours, counting down each second until the moment he finally got to lay his eyes on you. After about 2 minutes of sitting in his dad’s rocking chair, nervously swaying as his hands shifted between his fingers drumming on his legs and balling up in anxious fists, he pushed himself up to stand, walking off the steps of the porch to pace in the front yard under the warmth of the late June sun. 

He had been so preoccupied as he meandered the front of the home, picturing just how breathtaking you would look as you walked down the aisle to greet him- how gorgeous you would be in your dress, your hair, your stunning smile, everything about you that made him look at you and know that he was the luckiest man in the world. That you were his. That you were everything that made him feel like home. It wasn’t until after a few careless steps too far around the corner of the house, that Javi was catching himself from tumbling to the ground as he tripped over a larger than suspected rock underneath him, quietly cursing under his breath while he tried to steady himself, peering down at the ground to see what had almost caused his fall. And when he finally read the words etched into the round stone beneath him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact the thing resting below him was none other than the heading that read “Lucia’s Garden”. 

“Jesus Christ, Ma, you’re not even here and you’re gonna take me out before the wedding even happens.” Javi chuckled to himself, gently tapping his foot against the rock, staring at the worn and weathered letters of her name. “You know, the very first time Pops met her, he let her work on the garden. I couldn’t believe it, because he barely lets me within 10 feet of here without worrying I’m gonna ruin something. But uh, I think that he knew. I think before he even met her, he already knew that she was the one.” 

Letting out a soft sigh, Javi crouched down, squatting next to the stone, gently brushing his thumb across the grittiness, carefully tracing each letter back and forth, praying with every ounce of him that one way or another, she could hear what he had to say. 

“I really wish you could be here, Mom. I really miss you. I really wish she could have gotten to meet you. I know that you’d love her.” Javi paused, his eyes beginning to well with tears, letting out a long, shaky exhale to try and compose himself. “She’s so good to me. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve her. She’s made me a better man. A man that I’m proud of. A man I hope you’d be proud of, too.” He paused again, pinching the bridge of his nose before wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “I know that uh- I know before, um you were gone, that you really worried about me. I know you’d never say it, but um, I could tell. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom.” His voice was now barely above a whisper, years of guilt and anger bubbling in his chest for the person he’d been, the life his mother had lived to see him play out while halfway across the world, fighting for a cause he wasn’t even sure he believed in anymore. 

“But, I um- I just- fuck, I just want you to know that I’m okay. I’m more than okay, now. This is the happiest I’ve ever been, all because of her. We’re gonna build a house, we’re gonna have kids, we’re gonna be so happy, Mom. So fucking happy. Te amo mucho, Mama. Siempre lo hare (I love you so much, Mama. I always will).” 

So focused on the quiet conversation with the simple stone sitting beneath him, Javi hadn’t even heard Steve’s hurried footsteps creeping up behind him, making Javi practically jump out of his skin as Steve’s hand met his shoulder. 

“Hey, buddy. You ready to-” 

“Jesus, fuck Murph. You scared the fucking shit out of me.” Javi gasped, thoroughly startled as he shot to his feet, quickly trying to wipe the tears from his face as he faced his friend. 

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to, promise!” Steve laughed, holding his hands up in defense before letting his expression shift to concern at Javi’s face. “Hey, you okay, Jav?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m- No, I’m good, sorry. Just um- Just wish my mom could have been here for this, ya know? She would have really fucking loved her.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, man. My dad was gone before my wedding, too. Fuckin’ sucks.” Steve smiled sympathetically, “Truth be told Jav, that girl you’re gonna marry, I think it’s hard for anyone not to love her. Your mom would be really happy for ya.” 

“Thanks, Murph.” Javi huffed, a small smile spreading across his face at Steve’s genuine sympathy, a trait he didn’t see very often. 

“C’mere, buddy.” Without giving him a choice, Steve wrapped his arms around Javi, pulling him in for a hug with a few stiff pats on the back before pulling away with a nod, hands on his hips as he stared down his friend with a shit eating grin, knowing the news he was about to tell Javi would instantly turn his mood around. “Speakin’ of your future wife… You wanna see her?” 

“Wait, like, now? Like, actually?” Javi’s mood instantly shifted, his entire body lighting up at the prospect, looking at Steve with relief glistening in his dark brown eyes. 

“Yeah, actually. Thank God your wife is just as obsessed with you as you are with her. Jesus Christ, I think the both of ya would have fuckin’ exploded if we made you wait ‘till the ceremony.” Steve chuckled, grabbing Javi’s shoulder and giving it a playful shake. “Alright, you turn around so it’s a surprise when she gets out here, lemme go get her. And Jav?” Steve asked, turning his head back over his shoulder to look at his friend as he began to walk away back towards the house. 

“Yeah, Murph?” 

“You’re losin’ that bet. No way in fuckin’ hell you ain’t sobbin’ like a baby the second you lay eyes on her.” 

As Steve disappeared back into the house, Javi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself, because as much as he wanted to dish shit back to Steve, he knew his friend was right- He was about to be a fucking mess. 

“So? Are we good? Does he wanna see me?” You asked, anxiously waiting at the door, feet tapping on the floor hidden underneath your dress as you waited for Steve’s return. 

“No offense, Sweetheart, but that's just about the dumbest question I've ever heard. What do you think? Of course the bastard wants to see you. I’m just gonna warn ya though, that man is a hot mess, and I really think ya just may kill him the second he sees you.” The two of you laughed to yourselves, feeling your heart beat faster and faster in your chest with every passing second, using all of your self restraint to keep from bolting out the door past Steve to see Javi. “Alright, I won’t keep ya any longer, go get ‘em, killer.” 

Before you could get yourself out the door, you embraced Steve in a hug, catching him off guard for a moment before he hugged you back, smiles spread across both your faces. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t got nothin’ to thank me for. If anything, hell, I should be thankin’ you. You two lovebirds are a match made in fuckin’ heaven. I was real worried about that old bastard for a long time. Glad to know I don’t have to worry about him anymore. Well, at least too much more. Now, enough about my sorry ass, go see your husband.” 

With a silent nod, you gave Steve one more quick hug before you were turning the knob to the front door, quietly stepping out to the front porch to see Javi’s back to you at the bottom of the stairs, already trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes without even seeing his face. As you closed the door behind you, Javi instantly perked up, turning his head back over his shoulder just enough to speak, but not enough to see that it was you who was walking to greet him. 

“She good to come out, Murph? I’m fucking dying out here.” Javi laughed, making you giggle at the fact that he had no idea it was you who was standing behind him. 

“Hate to break it to you, but unfortunately, I am not Steve. So sorry.” You snickered, practically feeling Javi’s eyes roll at your sarcastic comment, even though the both of you were thankful for a little humor to break the anxious anticipation that had been festering in your stomachs since this morning. 

“God, you’re such a dork.” He laughed, his back still turned to you as you took your final steps down the stairs with your dress in hand, trying to fluff it back out as you settled yourself behind him. 

“Hey, you’ve got me for the rest of your life, babe. Lucky you. I’m not gonna lie, don’t think I cleaned up half bad, ya know, if you wanna see.” You teased, giving Javi a playful poke on the back as you bit down on your bottom lip, so excited to see Javi’s reaction you truly thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“Baby, you have no fucking idea. C-can I, can I see you?” Javi stammered, his voice already beginning to tremble. 

“Well, I think I’m gonna implode if you don’t, so yeah.” You took one last long inhale in, holding your breath as Javi slowly began to turn to face you, feeling like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion when Javi’s eyes finally locked with yours. 

Javi couldn’t even get a word out before his hands were covering his mouth, his jaw dropping open in absolute awe to see you standing behind him. The tears he swore to himself he’d try to fight back were already streaming down his face, his eyes looking you up and down over and over again, trying to soak in every ounce of you, only crying harder as he noticed each and every new detail of you standing before him. 

“Osita… Oh my god. Oh my god.” Javi’s hand stayed glued over his mouth to try and keep his jaw from dropping any further than it already was, absolutely mesmerized by your beauty, barely able to get out any sort of coherent thought out of his brain. “Baby, you, oh my god, you look so beautiful. You look so fucking beautiful.”  

While you figured that Javi would cry and be excited to see you, nothing could have prepared you for the reaction that you were witnessing in real time, watching your future husband become a complete, blubbering mess at the sight of you, making it damn near impossible for you to hold it together yourself, considering the fact that you were also busy trying to take in the ridiculously handsome sight of Javi in his tuxedo- his broad body filling out every inch of the black fabric perfectly, hair and mustache impeccably groomed, and sweet, teary brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight, making you melt, tears rolling down your face as your heart bursted at the seams over and over again, wondering how in the world this wasn’t all some sort of a perfect dream. 

“You like it?” You managed to choke out through your happy sobs, your cheeks straining from the stupid grin that had spread across your face, the both of you radiating in the blissful glow of your excitement. 

“Like it? Osita, are you fucking kidding me? Do I like it? Holy shit, baby, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You look... Osita, you look incredible.” Javi laughed through his tears, taking another step back to grab your hand, looking you up and down again before holding your arms up to twirl you in a circle, your dress flowing around you, making you giggle as you finally finished rotating to lock eyes with Javi again. “Hermosa, I knew you were gonna look amazing, but I- I never, I never could have imagined that you were gonna look like this.” 

“Coming from you? Jesus, Jav, I’m convinced you’re trying to kill me in that tux before we can even get married. You look so good. Javi?” You paused, grabbing his other hand so your fingers were intertwined, his thumb automatically tracing soft circles on your skin. 

“Yeah, baby?” Javi replied, biting down on his bottom lip as he gulped, trying to hold back the lump resting in his throat from his happy tears as he stared down at you. 

“Javi… We’re getting married. We’re getting fucking married.” 

“Fuck. We’re getting married. Holy shit.” As if the smile on Javi’s face couldn’t get any wider, his boyish grin gleamed between his cheeks, wrapping his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug against his chest, the two of you laughing to yourself in disbelief that you had finally made it here- that only a few short moments, the two of you got to begin the rest of your forevers together. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked in a soft whisper, pulling back to tilt his head towards yours, sliding one of his hands up to gently cup your cheek, shifting your gaze up towards him. 

“What kind of question is that, you dork?” You teased, bringing your mouth close enough to his to let your lips barely ghost over one anothers, butterflies swarming in a sea of excitement. 

“Because I’m afraid if I start kissing you, I’m not gonna be able to stop.” 

“Do your worst, Peña.” 

As if time began to move in slow motion, your mouths met with an electric and tender intensity, slowly becoming a mix of tangled tongues and teeth, your hand sneaking under the opening of Javi’s suit jacket to wrap around his waist as the grip around your face began to tighten, your bodies melting together as one in a nearly magical moment- Well, as magical as it could get before being interrupted by all your friends and family that had gathered on the front porch to share in the moment with you. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! Jesus Christ, save it for the ceremony!” Steve shouted, a chorus of laughter erupting behind him, startling you and Javi. 

“Good Lord, Steve, give it a rest. They missed each other!” Connie sighed, shaking her head at her husband’s loud interruption. 

“Yeah, that’s our sister, you pervert!” David chimed in, the familiarity of his taunting voice making you roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you stared back at the crowd. 

“Will you can it, you dingus? It’s their wedding day for Christ’s sake!” Your dad groaned, slapping David in the back of the head. 

“Daddy, what’s a pervert?” Olivia asked, looking over at Charlie as Chucho held her against his hip, grimacing as he tried not to laugh at the exchange. 

“Seriously David, really? Grow up! They’re so adorable, let your sister have this.” Your mom scolded, promptly giving him another whack to the stomach, you and Javi now laughing to each other at the scene that was unfolding in front of you on the porch. 

“Well,” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge, “It seems like everyone else has been able to solve the ‘you not being able to stop kissing me’ problem.” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed to himself, running his hand over his face as he stared back into the crowd watching you and him, “Can we get a few more minutes to ourselves before the ceremony? Please? I haven’t seen her all day.” 

“C’mon, let’s give the two some privacy. Lindas (cuties), why don’t we go look to make sure all the flowers are ready. Maybe we can practice walking down the aisle again?” Cucho smiled at the two of you, giving Javi a subtle wink as the girls began to giggle with delight, racing off to the backyard in a fit of squeals of excitement. 

“We’ll do another check of everything, too, I wanna make sure everything’s in place before the ceremony. Do you mind helping, Connie? Boys, will you go check to make sure all the food and drinks are ready for cocktail hour” Your mom asked, picking up on Chucho’s hint to give the two of you some space, now trying to rope your dad, brothers and Steve into that equation as well. 

“Can I have a beer if I help?” 

“Jesus Christ, David.” 

Everyone's conversations began to trail as they headed their separate ways, leaving you and Javi standing in the front yard alone, once again,  looking at each other with mischievous grins- Yours from knowing damn well that Javi had something up his sleeve, and Javi’s from the something stored up there. 

“What’s that look for, Jav?” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi as you waited for him to let you in on whatever plan he had brewing in his brain. 

“I think… I think that I really have to go to the bathroom.” Javi replied, boyish grin glowing between his cheeks as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. 

“And you’re really making it seem like going to the bathroom is a two person job.” You snickered, rolling your eyes at Javi, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Baby, the ceremony is gonna start in an hour, everyone’s here and I don’t think there’s gonna be enough-” 

Before you could finish your thought, Javi was swallowing the rest of your sentence in a long, deep kiss, only pulling away to quietly rasp in your ear. 

“Is that a challenge, Osita? I promise I’ll be fast, baby, you just look so fucking beautiful, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it if I can’t have my wife all to myself, even if it’s just for a few minutes. ” 

“God, you’re such a drama queen.” You sighed with a snicker, heat creeping in your core knowing that you had just as little self control as Javi did, peeking your head to make sure that everyone had dispersed before they watched you and Javi sneak inside together. “We have to be quick, okay? I just don’t want-AH! Javi!” You squealed as Javi was scooping you off your feet mid sentence, very fittingly carrying you bridal style across the front yard and up the steps of the porch, nudging the door open with his hip, the two of you all giggles and smiles as he whisked you through the house, stopping at his childhood bedroom, promptly setting you on the ground to shut the door behind him. 

With a click of the lock and a rattle of the door handle to make sure they were safe from intruders, Javi’s hands were all over you in an instant, his mouth crashing into yours as he walked you back towards the ensuite attached to his bedroom, hoisting you up onto the kitchen sink as he shut the bathroom door behind him for an extra layer of protection. 

You could tell how hard Javi was trying to keep himself in check, considering the amount of time and effort that had gone into your hair and makeup, and the delicacy of your dress, but it was taking every ounce of self control he had to not rip it right off you. Softly letting his kisses trail down your body, Javi began to sink to his knees, smirking up at you with his awestruck gaze as he carefully began to lift up the layers of your dress, running his hands up and down your bare thighs. 

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, Osita? Fuck, I can’t believe you’re gonna be my wife. My beautiful, amazing, perfect wife.” The hot breath of his words danced against your skin as Javi peppered soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, his head almost disappearing underneath your dress as he creeped closer and closer to your core, already soaked with your arousal waiting for Javi’s touch. “You’re mine forever, Hermosa. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.” 

“I-I love you too, Javi.” You whined, your breath already shaky as Javi’s fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and letting them drop to the floor below you before letting his fingers glide through your folds, already glistening with your arousal. 

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, baby. Can’t believe this perfect pussy is all mine forever too. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Everything about you. Mmmm, I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I have to taste you, Hermosa. Can I, baby?” Javi mewled, making you gasp as he gently slid two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, Fu-ahhhhh.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked a long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 

While Javi would have loved to take every second of his sweet time to savor in watching you fall apart on his tongue, he knew just as well as you that he was working on a limited schedule, and wanted, no, needed to make sure he could get you off at least once before his luck ran out. 

Javi began to work his tongue against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your heat, his free hand hooking around your thigh and draping it over his shoulder, digging his fingertips into the meat of your flesh, like he was trying to ground himself more than you. 

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as, his lips now latching around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around Javi’s fingers with every movement of his mouth against you. 

“That’s it, mi amor.” Javi cooed, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Forever. I’ve always got you. Promento (I promise).” 

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so cl-ooohhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder, shuttering at the loss of Javi’s fingers inside you. He carefully pulled them out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“Tastes so fucking sweet. My wife tastes so fucking sweet. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” Javi chuckled with a boyish grin, gently cupping his hand under your chin as the other wrapped around your waist. 

“Get over what? Calling me your wife or eating me out?” You giggled, still trying to catch your breath as you came down from your high, biting down on your lip as your arms draped over Javi’s shoulders, your fingers tracing soft circles at the nape of his neck. 

“Both. Fuck, I love you so much.” 

“I love you so much too, you menace.” You smiled, tilting your head back to kiss Javi again, so blissfully lost in the moment, that the two of you both about jumped out of your skin when you heard a loud knock coming from the bedroom door. 

“Jav? You in here, buddy?” 

“Goddamnit, Murph…” 

The familiar twang of Steve’s voice made you freeze in fear, Javi quickly helping you down off the counter as he cursed to himself before the two of you were trying your best to fix yourselves up in the mirror to try and hide any signs of the horny whirlwind that had blown through the bathroom. 

“Javi?” Steve called out again, continuing to knock on the door. 

“Yeah, I’m here, just uh- Just give me a second, Murph.” Javi sighed, the two of you trying to keep from laughing at your current predicament, wondering how the hell Javi was going to talk you both out of this one. 

“What’s the plan, Peña?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge as he carefully turned the knob to the bathroom door. 

“To tell Murph to fuck off if he tries to give me shit.” The two of you quietly snorted, feeling a little less guilty than you would have if it wasn’t your wedding day. “You stay here, okay? I’ll take care of him.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he opened the door. 

“God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” 

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Javi took a few deep breaths as he ran his hands through his hair, turning the knob to open up his bedroom door to be greeted by an unamused Steve leaning in the door frame. 

“What’s up, Murph? We were just, uh-” Javi asked, trying his best to stay casual. 

“I fuckin’ knew it. Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you horny bastard.” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Y’all haven’t even made it to the ceremony yet! Jesus Fuckin’ Christ. Everyone’s been lookin’ for y’all. I had a fuckin’ feeling this is what you two were up two, and as your Best Man, I’ll cover for your ass now, but I sure as shit ain’t doin’ this all night for you two rabbits. Now c’mon, Casanova, go get your wife from in there and come outside. Remember that thing y’all gotta do where you actually go get married?” Steve teased, slapping Javi in the chest before shaking his head at his friend, his cheeks pink in embarrassment as his eyes darted to the floor. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a second.” Javi grumbled sheepishly, quietly accepting defeat. 

“An actual second, ya hear? Not a horny Javier Peña second, or I swear to God.” Steve groaned, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 

“Promise.” 

“Alright then. Chop, chop, Mr. Peña. Let’s go get your ass married.” Steve laughed, grabbing Javi by the shoulder before giving him a little shake and disappearing back down the hallway. 

Hearing Steve’s voice and footsteps fade, you slowly peeked your head out of the bathroom door to see Javi standing by himself, head buried in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back to see your face, equally embarrassed as his. 

“... He knew, didn’t he?” You grimaced, now fully opening the door and walking through to meet Javi on the other side. 

“Yup.” Javi sighed, adding an extra emphasis to the “p” with a pop. 

“Well… Either Steve has the world’s most unlucky timing, or he just needs to do a better job of minding his business.” The two of you snickered, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared up at Javi. “Or maybe someone needs to stop being such a bad influence.” You teased, poking Javi in the chest. 

“Me? I’m the bad influence? Okay.” Javi chuckled, teasing you right back. “Sorry I’m getting married to the hottest woman alive and I can’t help myself. My gorgeous wife is one not making it any easier on me.” 

“Still not technically your wife yet, you dork.” 

“Close enough.” 

Grabbing you by your waist, Javi pulled you flush against chest, tilting his head in for a long, tender kiss- the kind that made heat creep through your cheeks and butterflies churn in your stomach, the kind that made your heart beat a million miles a minute, the kind that seemed to make everything else in the world stand still, even if just for a moment. The kind of kiss that made you know without a single doubt that you had never been more in love than you were at this very moment. 

“I love you, Javi.” 

“I love you too, Osita.” 

“You wanna go get married?” 

“Mrs. Peña,” Javi grinned, grabbing your hand to interlock it with his, “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more in my fucking life.”

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3 @chaotic-iguana

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 4

Normally I would go back and forth between the two stories, but this one had more chapters backlogged, so it gets to go again.

Just a reminder, starting next week, I'll be taking a break from posting. I'm recovering from all the crazy writing I did this month. 12 ficlets, 1 multi-chaptered Christmas story, and a shorter one-shot of one of the ficlets. All total roughly 30k words in a month. So... yeah. I'm taking a well deserved break.

In this we have Dustin and Mike being teenagers, Robin spots a rogue Chrissy, and Steve has to deal with a very angry brownie (fae, not food).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

~

A curly haired boy came bursting through the front door and Steve glared at him. “Dustin, how many times do I have to tell you to not just barge in?””

Dustin skidded to a stop and looked up at Steve like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

“Bav lets me,” he said smugly crossing his arms and grinning with that stupid gap-tooth grin of his.

Steve put his hands on his hip and sighed. He looked up at the roof, pursing his lips as he fought back the angry response. “Bav is not the only being with thoughts and feelings and while she ‘lets’ you it doesn’t mean you should. Because I sometimes work on dangerous things and if you come barging in, you might get hurt.”

Dustin scoffed. “Like she would let me in if you were doing something dangerous or whatever.”

The walls seemed annoyingly smug and tinted a shimmering grey-green.

“If these walls could talk,” Dustin continued with a smirk, “she would be agreeing with me.”

Steve pinched the the bridge of his nose and sighed. The truth was, he didn’t want Dustin bursting in because he was trying to find a ‘don’t hate me’ spell or charm to get Eddie to ease up off him a bit. But while there were friendship charms and love potions, neither really fit what he was looking for.

“What did you need?” he asked instead. “Or are you here to harass me?”

Dustin put his hands over his heart. “Ah! I’m offended that you think the only two reasons I would come visit are harassing you or wanting something from you.”

“There is another reason you come over?” Steve asked with a huff. He walked over to the bookshelf and began skimming the titles. He pulled out a large blue tome and flipped to a specific page as Dustin watched with suspicion. “How quickly do you think I could brew a truth potion and slip it in your tea?”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. Sheesh. I wanted to beat Mike to the deliveries today because Mr. Jenner is making his apple cider and he always pours a glass for the one who delivers your asthma medicine.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Mike beat you by twenty minutes, man. In fact he should be back here in about five minutes.”

“Nooooo...” Dustin wailed, “that’s so not fair!”

The walls drooped and turned a pale blue. Steve shook his head. “It’s good thing I love you both,” he huffed stomping over to the icebox.

He pulled out an earthenware jug and took down two glasses. He filled both of them with a cool amber liquid and handed one glass to Dustin and then poured the other glass out the window and on to the foundation.

Dustin looked down at the cup and took a cautious sip and then a more enthusiastic gulp. “When did you get this?” He shook his head. “Wait before you answer that, did you just pour out a perfectly good cup of Mr. Jenner’s cider out onto the ground?”

Steve stroked the door frame to the back garden. “Sure, Bav deserves some too.”

The house seemed to get a little bit bigger as the walls turned a pretty, happy dusky pink.

Dustin blinked a moment before he finished the rest of his cider. “Seriously, though. I thought Mr. Jenner doesn’t make the cider until the afternoon.”

“The perks of being the town witch,” Steve said sagely. “People are very superstitious and I’ll often get the first wool or the first bag of flour. In this case, the first jug of cider.”

Dustin looked down at his empty cup and then up at Steve. “That’s actually kinda badass, you know?”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I was about to make lunch if you would like to stay. Mike will be joining us...just...about...now.”

There was a knock on the door and Dustin went to go answer it. Sure enough on the other side of the door was Mike Wheeler.

Dustin looked back at Steve in shock. “How did you know it was Mike? Did Bav tell you? Can you see through walls?”

Mike just shoulder past him to get into the house, greeting Bav briefly before sitting down at the tea table.

“None of the above,” Steve said placing the cold meat sandwiches on the table. He pointed to the window. “I know how long each of you take on your runs and when I looked out the window, he had just passed in front. No sit down and eat your sandwich.”

Dustin grumbled but did as he was told. He took a big bite and hummed happily around his bite of food. “You make the best sandwiches, Steve.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the food. I just get so hungry these days and my mom keeps threatening to rehome me because I eat so much.”

Steve chuckled and sat down with his own plate of food. It was actually a normal amount because he hadn’t used magic today. “I remember what that was like, I’m not much older than you two, so I don’t mind sharing a meal or two to take the burden off your parents a little.”

“I think that’s why Ma doesn’t mind me hanging out over here,” Dustin said around a bite. “She knows you’ll take care of me.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, taking a bite of his food. Claudia Henderson was notoriously protective of her son. She wouldn’t trust the Pope with Dustin and she was Catholic. But somehow, someway she trusted Steve to take care of her Dusty.

He sent them off with full stomachs and cakes for their moms. They didn’t need to know that the cakes, which he was with absolute certainty never actually made it home, were just little charms of be nice to your mom magic. Karen Wheeler and Claudia Henderson deserved a day of their sons being so sweet to them.

Which was the real reason their moms were okay with Steve. Because they were always so nice when they came home from spending time with him. Or on the off chance the cakes did make it home, they had a nice cake to eat and were nicer to their families afterwards. All in all, win/win for everyone.

Robin chose that moment to come home. “I’m in love with your house, Steve. She made the journey home take a little bit longer so I could avoid the buttheads.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, she’s great like that.”

“So guess who I saw coming out of the Munsons’ house on the way home?” she said, putting away the groceries she had into town for.

Steve paused his clearing of the lunch mess and straightened up. “No...really?”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. “Apparently Chrissy Cunningham is branching out since her dramatic break up with Jason Carver.”

Steve finished the dishes with a sigh. “It’s no surprise that his confrontation with Eddie and Bav was public knowledge by breakfast the next day, but even I think visiting another man so soon after your ex went insane and tried to break into someone’s house is little reckless, honestly.”

Robin winced. “Ooh, yeah. I didn’t even think about the crazy ex. Yeah. Ooh. Maybe she was trying to come here and, I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t put the ‘no return’ spell on the love charms,” Steve said, drying his hands. “I like it when they find their truelove and they come back all happy and smiles. If she was looking for me, she missed the mark a second time.”

Robin spun around. “Wait is that why?” Steve nodded. “Are there other charms you don’t put your ‘no return’ spell on? Or is it just that one?”

Steve just shrugged. “My medicines, I guess. That’s where I make the most money or get the best trades. But as for the other things, I saw what happens when you don’t set a boundary with people asking for charms. They’ll start asking for charms for everything. They’ll want to be cured of every ill, want everything handed to them, so I created the spell myself. It’s unique in all the world.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said softly. “About...well any of that I guess. You really don’t talk about your past. Of your life before Hawkins.”

Steve sat down at the table and placed his hands palm down on it. “Look, I don’t talk about it because for the large part, other than a couple of years apprenticing in her shop in the city, I grew up in a town of witches.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and she sat down next to him. “So you can’t talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I would say can’t talk about. But it’s hard sometimes when I say something and everyone stares at me blankly, like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“And with each look and with each comment about how weird you are,” she said softly, taking his hand, “the less you want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“And with there being trouble in town with the whole Chrissy situation...” He sighed. “I’m think starting to wonder if Bav sensed something about her and tried to keep her away.”

The house seemed to shrink on itself a little and the walls turned a light grey.

Steve looked up at the ceiling and cooed, “I’m not blaming you, Bav, I’m blaming myself for not taking in everyone’s advice and giving it to her. Merlin and Circe didn’t like her either. Especially Merlin.”

Robin nodded. “As my familiar I should I have listened to him, too. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she showed up, as well. It’s a whole mess.”

Just then Circe came bursting through the window cawing angrily.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell! As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” He sighed heavily. “Tell Dustin to keep his shirt on and I’ll be right there.”

Robin sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Who would have thought that a Roman Catholic would even have a house elf to anger? Scratch that, who would have thought that house elves even existed?!”

Steve stopped half way to rising. “Like everyone knows that house elves exist. We don’t have any because Bav thinks they’re pests, but like even my dad knew better than to insult Mom’s house elf. Her name was Nora and best seamstress I’ve ever met.”

Robin stared at him blankly. “You want to run that past me again?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and got out a cup of milk and a little bowl of sugar, setting them carefully in a basket. Then he added honey, walnuts, and mint. He wanted to cover all his bases he didn’t know what this elf favored and wanted to make sure they weren’t offended further.

Then he went over to the bookshelf and after skimming the titles for a moment, he pulled out a small green book. He handed it to her. “Read that while I’m gone. The whole thing is useful, but I’d start with page eighty-six. The chapter on house elves.”

Then before Robin could even squawk a protest, Steve was out the door following Circe at speed, running to keep up.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Hendersons’ door to find that Dustin and Walter had been locked out of the house while screams could be heard from inside.

It didn’t sounded pained, it sounded indignant.

“Stand aside please,” Steve said sternly. Dustin and Walter looked back at Steve, thinking he meant them, but suddenly the screaming inside stopped and the door opened. “Thank you.” He turned back to the Henderson men. “Please wait here.”

But before either one of them could protest, Steve had already walked into the house and closed it tightly behind him.

He surveyed the damage. Claudia Henderson stood on the kitchen table battling a broom with her rolling pin. It was worse than he feared. He set his load down on the counter and began unpacking his treats.

The broom stopped moving, and then was slowly, cautiously put down. Once Steve had finished unpacking the honey, suddenly there was a little round faced woman about the size of Steve’s palm standing next to his basket with a red flower as a hat and bright clothes.

“What is that?” Claudia hissed, jumping down from the table.

“You’ll excuse her manners, little one,” Steve murmured, “it appears that she’s never heard of house elves before.”

The elf glared Claudia over her shoulder and then turned back to paw over Steve’s prizes.

“I didn’t have any cream,” he continued. “So I hope the milk is fine.”

The elf put her little hand in the milk and then stuck her hand in her mouth. “It’s good milk. You do your mother proud.”

Steve grinned at that. “So I take it you know Nora then?”

“Who’s Nora?” Claudia asked drawing closer to the two of them at the counter.

“Of course I know my own sister!” the little squeaked. “I’m Nona by the way. Please to meet you, Stevie.”

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what was going on. She turned on her heel and began rummaging around in her ice box. “Eureka!” she cried.

She brought over a bowl and set down on the counter next to Nona. “I’m sorry little one. I wasn’t raised with knowledge of your people. I’m new to this town and was not aware of its different ways.”

Nona turned around and sniffed at the bowl cautiously. She looked up at Claudia in awe. “Clotted cream!” She put her hand in and pulled out a handful of the cream. She shoved it in her face with a contented hum.

“I didn’t know your family wasn’t from Hawkins,” Steve murmured. But he turned to Nona. “Would you please let the boys in, they must be so worried about Claudia.”

Nona looked up from her feast in wide eyed shock. “Oops!” She snapped her fingers and suddenly both Dustin and Walter spilled out on the ground as the door opened under their weight.

Steve went over and helped them to their feet. “Sorry about Nona, she didn’t know you weren’t familiar with house elves and thought you were actively insulting her.”

Dustin and Walter shared a shocked glance then looked over at the little woman eating their clotted cream.

“This is a house elf,” Steve said as Nona curtsied. “Her name is Nona and she helps out around the house. This has been her home for longer than this particular building has stood here. She will do the laundry or any chores left over the night. All she asks in return is a treat of her choice.”

“Does it have to be clotted cream every time?” Dustin asked as she wiped the mess of cream from her face with her apron.

“No,” Nona said. “But it was nice apology, though. I like honey and milk. So as long as you keep a bowl of of one of the two out, your food will never spoil and I will help out around the house.”

The Hendersons all exchanged glances and then Claudia nodded.

Walter stuck out his finger for her to shake. “Welcome to the family, Nona.”

~

Part 5

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Despite an initial reluctance, Tabito heads off to a mysterious soccer program by the name of Blue Lock. Luckily, it’s not long before you get to see him again. Continuation of Five Ways to Kill a Crow and How to Drown a Crow!

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 16.1k

Content Warnings: spoilers for the u-20 arc of the manga, otoya slander to an unhealthy degree, reader’s best friend is crazily down bad, the bllk boys have karasu STRESSING, half of them think reader is fine af 💯, did i mention otoya slander because there is a LOT of that, 99% crackfic so don’t expect stunning characterization in this one it’s mostly silly compared to the first two parts, chigiri’s sister is also referred to as chigiri, reader & co. accidentally become famous

A/N: here is the final continuation of fwtkac that you requested karasu anon 💖 incidentally also the longest…w this installment the mini-series is over 30k words LMAOAO i hope you have enjoyed the ride because ik i have!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult to reveal your relationship with Tabito to the rest of your friends and classmates. There wasn’t an official announcement or anything along those lines — neither of you were that big on social media, so you didn’t bother with launching each other there, and since half of the school already thought you were dating, things settled into an even rhythm quite quickly.

Tabito’s friends and teammates weren’t all-too-shocked, either. Apparently, you were just about the last person to find out about the crush he had had on you since middle school, so to everyone else, him asking you out had been all but foregone conclusion. What your respective circles were surprised about, at least at first, was that you had said yes.

You’re way too hot for him. This was what Tabito’s group said upon finding out about the news, which was met with crabbiness from Tabito and nothing more than a snort from you. They were just messing with him in any way they could, considering how difficult it typically was to find cracks in his flawless demeanor, so it was easy to dismiss. On the other hand, your own friends gave you confused looks — weren’t you just talking about how much you hate him? You could only shrug, because they weren’t wrong, exactly. You had been complaining about him only days previously, but it was funny how quickly things could change. They accepted it without much more questioning, however, congratulating you on finally getting a boyfriend, and after that life continued as it previously had, except now whenever your friend groups decided to hang out together, you would find yourself at Tabito’s side instead of as far as possible from him.

Being his official girlfriend was everything you had expected and more. He got along well with your parents — your father remembered his name and asked you how he was doing constantly, and your mother was always pleased by the steady supply of flowers he provided for your kitchen counter — as well as your friends, managing to strike that elusive balance of showing them kindness without being overly involved in their lives. His family adored you, especially his older sister, who frequently took you out shopping or for coffee, much to Tabito’s chagrin. All in all, things were going well, and though you two still competed over your grades, it was without the fervor of the past, so that you were gladder for one another’s success than you were incensed by them.

“I hate couples,” your best friend announced one day at lunch. You had finished eating early, so you were leaning against Tabito’s arm and playing Subway Surfers on his phone while he talked to one of his teammates about their upcoming match. Ever since you had discovered his penchant for the childish game, it had become a personal goal of yours to beat his high score, though you had not yet even come close.

“Hm,” you said. She scowled.

“I’m serious!” she said.

“You’re just mad because you’re single,” you said. “I told you I’m working on it, didn’t I? It’s not my fault all of Tabito’s friends are losers!”

She sighed. “I know. Actually, you two aren’t the ones that prompted me to say that this time, oddly enough.”

“Oh, then who did?” you said.

“You know how I went to visit my cousins last weekend?” she said. You nodded. “Well, we went to watch a movie while we were there, that new one I was really excited about, but somehow it ended up that we got stuck behind this guy on a date!”

“How’d you know that he was on a date?” you said.

“Because there was a girl sitting next to him, and he sucked her face off for the entire movie, thereby completely blocking the screen. Can you believe it? The worst part is, he was totally stupid looking!” she said.

“That’s annoying,” you said, secure in the knowledge that you and Tabito would never do something like that. Public displays of affection beyond hugging or holding hands weren’t really your vibe, and just the thought of making out in a movie theater caused you to feel nauseous. “How’d you know he was dumb looking, though? Wasn’t the theater dark?”

“I confronted him afterwards,” she said.

“While he was on a date? That’s a bold move,” you said. “What did the girl say?”

“Huh? Oh, she had already left. Guess she wasn’t that into him,” your best friend said.

“Yikes,” you said before pouting as your little Subway Surfers character was hit by a train. “Aw, man, I died. At this rate, I’ll never beat the high score.”

“Hey, can I have my phone for a second?” Tabito said, turning to you and plucking the device out of your hand before you could answer. You frowned, so he patted you on the head. “I’ll give it back. I just need to text our coach and remind him to bring my cooler back during the game tonight.”

“Whatever,” you said before directing your attention towards your best friend again. “Okay, describe this guy. I’m really interested in what could have driven you to judge his appearance so harshly.”

“Listen!” she said. “His hair was green!”

“Green?” you said. 

“Yes! Well, mostly it was a grayish white, but there was a green streak, and the undercut part was also green,” she said. You tried to picture it and found you were entirely incapable of imagining anything but the most ridiculous of styles.

“That’s wild,” you said. “Who told him that was a good idea?”

“I just wonder how much bleach he has to use to get it to be that color,” she said. You shuddered.

“I know for a fact that he had the most damaged, dead, crunchy-looking hair ever,” you said. Your best friend shook her head.

“It was actually pretty shiny and luscious,” she said. “If it weren’t for the weird choice of color and his terrible theater etiquette, I could see why someone might consider him attractive.”

“Maybe you can fix him,” you suggested. She immediately scowled in a clear-cut refusal.

“The main thing I’ve learned from your relationship with Karasu is that you can never fix a man’s hair, no matter how much he likes you,” she said.

“Huh? Did you say my name?” Tabito said, handing you his phone back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you and your best friend said in unison.

“That was suspicious,” he informed you.

“Just know that I’ll break up with you if you ever dye even a strand of your hair green,” you said.

He gave you an odd look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyways, that’s my rant for the day,” your best friend said as Tabito evidently decided it would be for the best to leave you to your own conversation, which he was missing far too much context from to possibly understand.

“That really is awful,” you said. “Don’t worry. Someday soon, we’ll find you someone to date, and then you can be the annoying couple everyone slanders. Trust me on that one.”

“I do,” she said. “I have faith that you’re just being picky because you love me so much that you refuse to let me be with a substandard man.”

“Exactly,” you said.

She made a heart with her hands. “You’re the best.”

“I try!”

Now that autumn was bleeding into winter, it was getting chillier and chillier out during Bambi Osaka’s games. Thankfully, Tabito had draped his large jacket over your shoulders before running off to yell at his coach for once again forgetting to bring his cooler back, so you were mostly protected from the frost in the air. You could not say the same for the Bambi Osaka boys, who all looked miserably cold as they jogged in place, trying to warm up in their shorts and jerseys while Tabito and the coach argued.

“Y/N! I didn’t realize you were coming today!” a familiar voice said, its owner leaning over the fence separating the bleachers from the field. You extended your hand to ruffle his hair.

“I come to all of your games, Hiori, why would this one be any different?” you said. He gave you a sheepish grin.

“I know, but now that’s it not as nice out, I thought you might not,” he said. You pulled on the sleeve of your jacket to draw attention to it; Hiori grunted in approval when he noticed.

“Don’t worry, Tabito’s on top of it. Just between us two, I think he would cry if I had to miss one of his games, so he always makes sure I’m as comfortable as possible when I come,” you said.

“He’s a really considerate guy,” Hiori said. As if on cue, both of you turned to look at where he and their coach were still going at it.

“Holy fucking shit!” Tabito screamed. “Give me my cooler back, dude, you’ve had it for weeks!”

“I need it for the party I’m throwing this Saturday!” their coach shouted back. 

“I don’t give a damn about your party! Give me back my cooler!”

“Right,” you said, stifling a laugh. “Super considerate.”

Hiori cringed. “I guess nobody’s perfect.”

Ever since you had started dating Tabito, Hiori had become something of a permanent fixture in your life. He never tried to flirt with you or anything — you didn’t even think he was capable of having those feelings — but he was just so used to trailing after Tabito that, by extension, he began to follow you around as well. It wasn’t really that bad; you both lived close to one another, and frequently he’d ask you to come to the convenience store with him so he could ask you for advice under the guise of buying snacks together. You always went along with it, as you sensed he didn’t have many other sources of reliable help and wisdom.

For his part, Tabito didn’t really mind that Hiori’s attachment to him now included you. The thought of being jealous of the younger boy never even crossed his mind, mostly because he, too, didn’t really believe that the gentle and benign Hiori was capable of anything as underhanded as stealing his girlfriend. Overall, he was more bemused than anything, treating him with the careful fondness of someone who had been given a puppy they had no idea how to care for but found cute anyways.

Soon enough, Tabito joined you and Hiori, dragging his feet and hanging his head as he flopped against the fence. Exhaling, you reached out and stroked the side of his face with the back of your hand.

“Any success?” you said.

“Nope,” he said. “Another week without my cooler.”

“At least it’s getting to be winter,” Hiori said. “You won’t really need it to keep your drinks chilled for a while, right?”

“Tell that to my sister,” Tabito said. “She keeps bugging me about where I put it. I guess she needs it for college or something. Don’t ask me why.”

“I’m sure he’ll bring it to the next game,” Hiori said optimistically. Tabito let out a defeated sigh.

“We can only hope,” he said.

“In the meantime, you two should go over with the rest of your team before you both get yelled at for slacking off and get me banned from coming to anymore games,” you said.

“If he keeps holding my cooler hostage and bans you from games, I’ll fight that dumbass coach!” Tabito said. You pushed him away affectionately.

“Alright, alright, I feel very comforted by that. Thank you for defending my — and your cooler’s — honor,” you said. “Go play soccer.”

With a joking salute, Tabito, and also Hiori, ran off to join the rest of their team, and you settled back to sit with the rest of the attendees of the game, who were mostly parents of the players. All of them knew who you were at this point, though, so you were welcomed with open arms, easily joining in on their discussions about such subjects as how their children were doing in school and what their plans for dinner were.

It was a comfortable existence, and as you pulled Tabito’s jacket tighter around you, you thought that you could get used to it. If only things could stay exactly like this, you would be quite happy. If you could spend every day with Tabito and Hiori and the rest of your friends, you would never complain again.

Unfortunately, life was always changing, as you knew all too well. One day, both Tabito and Hiori received letters summoning them to some soccer training camp far away from your corner of the country, and though Hiori leapt at the chance, Tabito was initially uncertain at the prospect of leaving everything behind for a program that wasn’t even a sure thing.

“What if it doesn’t help me and I give up my schooling for it?” he said, pacing around his bedroom. You raised your eyebrows at him from your seat at his desk, where you were working on a lab report for Chemistry. “Do they really expect me to run there during my last year of high school? What about board exams and college? How am I supposed to get into a good university if I’m playing soccer when I should be studying?”

“Why do you think you won’t succeed in the program?” you said. “You’re amazing at soccer. If you join, you’ll definitely do well, and then you’ll become a professional athlete, so you won’t have to worry about college or anything like that.”

“Of course I’ll do well,” he said. This actually wasn’t anything like his normal self-confidence; when he was in this kind of mood, he didn’t brag, he only evaluated himself and the situation honestly, weighing the costs and benefits until he could come to a conclusion that he was satisfied with. “I just don’t like the thought of not having a fallback option. Even if I become a professional athlete, things like injuries can happen to anyone. It’s not smart to not have a backup plan. That’s why I wasn’t planning on trying out for the U-20 squad until after I got accepted to a university.”

“You can’t give up on your dreams for the sake of a backup plan, though,” you said, finishing up the report and clicking the submit button, shutting your laptop and spinning the chair around so you were looking at him. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

Blue Lock and its outcomes were like the water — entirely out of Tabito’s control, and hence something he was automatically opposed to. But unlike swimming and wading, this was also an opportunity for him to pursue his greatest dreams, so you stood and grabbed him by the shoulders. He halted in his tracks, cocking his head at you as you clasped his hands in between your own and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

“Listen to me,” you said. “You are not going to drown. You’re not because I say you’re not, and have I ever led you astray? You’re going to go to this Blue Lock place with Hiori, and then the two of you are going to come back and be so good at soccer that you immediately join the national team and end up so rich and famous that I can’t help but marry you and become your trophy wife.”

“When you say you, you’re referring to me, not Hiori, right?” he checked with a snicker. You poked him in the chest.

“Obviously,” you said.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay?” he said. 

“I think you won’t know if you don’t try. You’re so smart, Tabito; even if you somehow fail as a soccer player, I don’t think you’ll be unable to go to college. In fact, you could probably do this camp, come back and take your exams while on a break, and still get second in our class,” you said.

“Second?” he said.

“Of course, I’ll be the one getting first,” you said. “Second is still respectable, though. Any university of note would kill to have you, but a chance to improve your soccer career like this might not come around again for a while, if ever. Take it. Take it with both hands and don’t regret it a bit, okay?”

“You’re convincing,” he said, embracing you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you.”

“So you’ll do it?” you said.

“I’ll do it.”

A week later, he was gone. Even his phone was taken away, leaving you without any manner of contacting him in the meantime. To be sure, it was lonely, but you were too busy being proud of him to be depressed about it. Besides, you weren’t the type to abandon your friends just because you were in a relationship, so your invitations to events had never stopped coming. Now, you just said yes to them more often, much to everyone’s excitement.

That was what you did while Tabito was busy at Blue Lock: you hung out with your friends, having sleepovers and going for platonic dates with the ones you were particularly close with, and you visited his sister at her college when she was free, so you could hear embarrassing stories about his past, which you carefully filed away for later use. Occasionally, you even met up with Yukimiya’s girlfriend — in a shocking twist, he had also been invited to Blue Lock, much like Tabito — and the two of you would speculate about what your boyfriends might be up to in that strange facility and whether they might’ve met each other yet or not. 

It wasn’t horrible. Undeniably, you missed him, but it was bearable, and you knew he would be back as soon as he could be, so for the most part, you didn’t let yourself grow too sad. Your father was probably the worst off out of anyone, actually, always nagging you about when Tabito would return. He had grown used to having a friend to watch sports alongside, and was now entirely forlorn without any company to discuss his beloved games with. 

Some weeks after Blue Lock began, you received two emails with nearly identical subject headers. With a confused frown, you opened both of them in turn, but slowly, your expression turned to a smile as you read over their contents.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 player number 6, Tabito Karasu, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 substitute number 16, Yo Hiori, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Both Tabito and Hiori had chosen to give you their seats, which meant you technically had an extra one, so you could bring someone along with you. Your first thought was your father, considering how much he loved soccer, but then you pondered it further and decided that you probably did not want to spend the whole match listening to him explaining the rules. Plus, the game was in Tokyo, so if the two of you went together, you both would have to share a hotel room, and he’d make you spend the entire trip with him instead of exploring and possibly seeing Tabito, if you got the chance.

No, there was really only one choice. With an aunt who lived in the city and a deep-rooted desire to get a boyfriend, your best friend was the clear pick to take along with you to the game, and you knew before you even asked that she would agree to it. After all, what better way was there for you both to spend the two weeks of your last winter break before university?

As you had expected, she agreed enthusiastically and readily, texting you that her aunt was alright with you two staying at her place, as long as you didn’t mind that she’d probably be busy with work most of the time. Of course, this was more of a benefit than a drawback, so you forwarded the email containing Hiori’s invitation to her and immediately began the process of packing for your two week vacation.

Since you would be staying with a responsible adult — meaning your best friend’s aunt, not her herself — your parents didn’t mind that you were going on a mini-trip without them. Your father already knew about the game thanks to his subscription to the JFU’s magazine, and he was so exhilarated at the thought of you getting to attend it in person that you almost felt bad not telling him that he could’ve come, too. Then you imagined having to sleep in a twin bed while he snored in the one across from you and stopped feeling guilty entirely.

“Do you think it would be corny if I wore blue to the game?” you said when the day of the match dawned. You had made a mess of your suitcase trying to decide what you wanted to wear, and when you looked over at your best friend’s side of the room, you noticed that it was in a similar state.

“Maybe a little bit,” she said. “At least, if you went for an all-blue Smurf aesthetic. It would kind of make you look like a mascot or something.”

“I was thinking about that,” you said. “Ugh! This is so hard. Normally, I just wear one of Tabito’s jackets or extra jerseys at his games, so that I look all supportive and whatnot, but it’s kind of hard to do that when I haven’t even spoken to him in weeks and have zero clue what his Blue Lock jersey looks like.”

“That one coat you brought is his, right? You could wear that with a blue shirt underneath it so that it’s subtle but still clear which side you’re on,” she suggested. You closed your eyes, mentally putting the clothes on and deciding that it was a great outfit idea, giving off the exact effect you were aiming for.

“I knew ‘Hiori’ invited you for a reason,” you said. She chucked a pillow at you, fully aware that she was only even going to the game because you had been invited by both Bambi Osaka boys.

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him,” she said.

“Do you know what he looks like?” you said.

“No, but won’t his jersey say his name?” she reasoned.

“Touché,” you said. “Anyways, what are you going to wear?”

“It needs to be something casual but also cute, so if any of the players — the single ones, anyways — happen to look up at me, they are instantly smitten and ask me for my number once they win the game, after which we date until I’ve graduated college and they’ve made it in the big leagues, whereupon they will propose to me and we will get married in the most extravagant wedding the world has ever seen,” she said.

“Um,” you said, your mind working overtime to comprehend the run-on. “Sure. In that case, maybe you should go with the sweater dress you brought. It’s not blue, but you look really pretty in it, and if you put on a longer cardigan along with some tights, you should stay warm. Maybe your aunt has a blue scarf you can borrow? If you want to look spirited.”

“You’re a genius!” she said. 

“Thanks, I do my best,” you said before a silence lapsed between the two of you, both too busy getting ready to gossip, as you had been non-stop since you had arrived in Tokyo.

The ticket scanner definitely looked suspicious at the fact that both of you claimed to be named Y/N L/N, but there was nothing that she could do about it. After all, you both had unique invitations from two separate members of Blue Lock, so what did it matter what your names were? With a curt nod, she approved your tickets and described which way you had to go to get to your seats, though you were certain she was glaring at you as you walked in the direction she had indicated.

“Are you excited?” your best friend said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. 

“I’m more excited to see Tabito again than anything. No matter how the game goes, I’m happy if he’s there,” you said.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said. “Pining has made you a changed woman. The Y/N I once knew would never say anything along those lines.”

“Oh, but you can plan your wedding and it’s perfectly normal?” you said, raising your eyebrows. She gave you a double-thumbs-up.

“That’s all hypothetical, so it’s not an issue,” she said. “On the other hand, you being all sappy about Karasu is reality.”

“You have a point,” you said. “My apologies. Moving on, are you excited?”

“Just to see if the players are good looking,” she said. “I don’t know that much about soccer.”

“It’s okay, I don’t, either,” you said.

“Your boyfriend is literally on the team?” she said. 

“Look, as long as someone on our side kicks the ball into the net, I’m happy,” you said. “If someone on the other side kicks the ball into the net, then I’m sad. That’s kind of the gist of it. Tabito and Hiori have tried explaining the finer details of the sport, but to be honest, it’s a bit beyond me.”

“Excuse me, but is anyone sitting with you two?” a bright voice said. You looked up to see a tall girl with cascading red hair and a brilliant grin pointing at the seat on your left with a questioning tilt to her head.

“Nope,” you said. Unfortunately, Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s school break didn’t align with the game, and she had regretfully told you over the phone that she would be unable to make it, so you and your best friend were on your own. “All yours!”

“Thanks!” she said. “My mother went to go sit with the other parents, and I was planning on going with her, but you two look closer to my age, so I was hoping it would be alright if I stayed here instead.”

“Believe me, I get it,” you said. “I’ve had to hang out with way too many parents at Tabito’s games. They’re nice and all, but most of the stuff they talk about is hardly relatable.”

“Exactly!” she said. “I can’t explain how happy I am to have found you two. I’m Hyoma Chigiri’s sister, by the way! According to the email we got, he’s number 4. Which players do you both know?”

“I’m number 6’s girlfriend,” you said, motioning down towards where the players were beginning to enter the field, getting some last-minute practice in before the game. “Tabito Karasu.”

You wished he would look over so you could wave at him, but he was utterly focused on his teammates and their warm up, so you contented yourself with admiring him from afar. It was clear to anyone that he was in his element, and a lump formed in your throat when you remembered that he had almost given this up. He had almost stayed back, and you could not even begin to fathom how much he would have regretted it if he had.

“I see him!” Chigiri said, shading her eyes with her hand so she didn’t have to narrow them against the sun. “My brother’s right over by where he is.”

Her brother was almost identical to her, a lean boy with flowing hair and a pointed face, and even if she hadn’t pointed him out, you would’ve made the connection.

“He looks just like you,” your best friend said, vocalizing what you had been thinking.

“We get that a lot,” Chigiri said. “What about you? Who are you with?”

“Technically, I’m not with anyone,” your best friend said. “The thing is, both Karasu and number 16, Yo Hiori, invited Y/N, so I just took her extra — what the fuck.”

“Is everything okay?” you said. Both you and Chigiri shot her concerned looks, but she was too busy staring at the field with her jaw dropped to pick up on it. “Hello? What’s gotten into you?”

“Y/N L/N,” she said. “Why is your boyfriend talking to that — that — that creature? Why is that thing even on the field in the first place?”

“Number 9?” Chigiri said. “Do you know him?”

True to her word, Tabito was speaking animatedly to player number 9, who according to his jersey was named Otoya. He was a slender and clearly handsome boy, his pale hair streaked through with green and his features distinctly sharp despite the distance. For some reason, there was something familiar about his description, and it was only when you noticed that your best friend was all but seething that the conversation came back to you.

“Are you serious?” you said. “That Otoya dude is the theater guy?”

“Deadly serious,” she snapped. “What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be off ruining innocent moviegoers’ experiences?”

“Playing soccer, I’d expect,” you said. “It looks like he’s starting for the Blue Lock 11, too. He must be good — I mean, even Hiori is just a substitute, and he’s crazy talented, so their starting lineup must be nothing short of spectacular.”

The two teams got into position as the clock was set up, and a hush fell over the stadium as the ball was brought onto the field for the kickoff. Unexpectedly, Chigiri grabbed your hand, clutching it so tightly that your circulation was impaired, and when you glanced over at her, you saw that her shoulders were tense.

“Hyoma tore his ACL recently,” she murmured. “He never said it aloud, but I think he’s wanted to quit soccer ever since. This is the first time he’s starting in a game since before he was injured. I’m worried it’ll happen again.”

You rubbed soothing circles against her wrist. “He’ll be alright. I don’t think they would put him in if it was a health risk. Plus, they have substitutes, and I’m sure he’s much more in-tune with his body now, so the second he feels something off, he’ll probably ask to be put out.”

Chigiri dabbed at her face. “Thanks. You’re right. This is an exciting game! I shouldn’t bring down the mood. Let’s get ready to cheer our lungs out!”

The referee blew the whistle, and then the match was on. You could hardly keep up with the players’ movements, so fast was it all; this was a level of skill that even you could recognize was far above anything you had ever seen. Every single player on the pitch was at least on Tabito and Hiori’s level, if not above it. Unlike Bambi Osaka, where Tabito was the captain of the team and often had to play doubly as aggressively because of that, he blended right into the mix of talents that was this motley collection of high school forwards. You could tell even from so far away that this thrilled him instead of grating on his nerves; he wasn’t the kind of person who craved the spotlight, after all. If anything, it was something he shied away from, preferring to strike at his opponent’s weak points from the dark, and it was only here, with the rest of the Blue Lock 11, that he could finally play how he preferred.

When the first goal on Blue Lock’s side was scored, by the tall, pale-haired number 7, you, your best friend, and Chigiri shot to your feet, screaming and clapping as loud as you could. Your enthusiasm, which was a stark contrast to everyone else’s quiet confusion, sparked a tidal wave. The entire stadium resounded with a roar of approval as the number 7 — Nagi — crashed to the ground before raising his fist, getting tackled by his teammates directly afterwards in celebration. 

“That was amazing!” your best friend said as everyone settled for the restart. “I never realized that soccer could be so exciting to watch.”

“That guy is skilled,” you agreed. “So is everyone else. Including that Otoya—”

“Don’t even mention him!” she said. “Nagi’s the one who scored, so stick to praising him!”

“Hyoma’s doing so well!” Chigiri said, her cheeks pink from the cold and round from her grin. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was never hurt at all!”

“Honestly, this is way more intense than I expected,” your best friend said, hugging herself tightly. “I really hope they manage to win.”

“They will,” you said. “I’m confident of that.”

Maybe the Blue Lock 11 were the underdogs, but something told you that they were going to win. There was just this fire to them, a heat and a hatred that emanated off of only their side of the field. The docile U-20 boys, who were so dependent on the efforts of defender Aiku and midfielder Sae, could never hope to compete with that overwhelming energy, which was so potent that the bleachers themselves were washed in it.

That was why you weren’t even surprised when number 10, Rin, scored another goal right before half-time, ending the first half with a lead for Blue Lock. You knew for a fact that your voice would be hoarse the next day from how much you were shouting, but based on your best friend’s and Chigiri’s faces, you figured you were in good company and didn’t even take any measures to lessen the severity of the consequence.

As the players began to move towards their respective locker rooms, Chigiri stood up and began to wave her hands frantically.

“Hyoma! Over here!” she called out. Her brother paused in the middle of drinking from his water bottle, whipping around, his face turning the same shade as his hair when he noticed his sister, who pulled out her phone and took a picture of him. “He noticed me! Ah, hello, Hyoma! You’re doing awesome!”

Tabito and Otoya walked past where the younger Chigiri was frozen in place, and before they could vanish into the locker room and out of your sight, you cupped your hands around your mouth.

“Tabito!” you said. He stopped in his tracks before twisting back to face you, his face breaking into such a wide grin when he saw you that it was a wonder his face did not ache from it. He raised his hand in greeting, and you did the same, so relieved to see him again that you thought you might vomit from the giddiness.

Beside you, your best friend stood, drawing herself to her full height. Then, before you could stop her, she jabbed her finger towards Otoya, who had remained at Karasu’s side when he had stopped to greet you. Otoya turned his head this way and that before pointing at himself hesitantly. Your best friend nodded and then stuck up her middle finger at him, causing Tabito to burst into a fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking as he dragged the helpless Otoya away from where he was suddenly rooted to the ground in perplexity.

“That’s what he gets,” she said with satisfaction, sitting back down now that she had accomplished her mission.

“He probably has no idea who you are,” you said, giggling to yourself, finding great entertainment in the one-sided feud she had with Otoya, who appeared to be a great friend of Tabito’s. “Also, you described him horribly back then. He’s really pretty good-looking, and the hair is nowhere near as bad as you made it sound.”

“I’m telling Karasu you said that,” she said. “If I was him, I’d be offended! My beloved girlfriend finds a guy who appears to be fresh out of the swamp attractive? That would really make me insecure.”

“I don’t find him attractive, I just said that he’s good looking. It’s objective,” you said. “And fresh out of the swamp? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

She glared at you. “No way. He owes me the price of the ticket he made me waste, but since he obviously isn’t going to pay me back, I’m going to make as much fun of him as possible.”

“You do that,” you said, judging that there was no arguing with her. “Chigiri, do you want any snacks? I’m going to head to the concession stands while there’s a break.”

“Could you get me some fries? I’ll send you the money,” she said.

“As long as you save my seat,” you said. 

“Of course! Go quickly, I’m sure the lines are going to be long. There’s a lot of people here,” she said.

“Good idea,” you said, racing off and cutting through the crowds swarming the many concession stands so that you could get some fries for her, candy for your best friend, and chips for yourself.

The second half was even more exciting than the first, though you hadn’t previously thought that that was possible. A boy named Shidou, who had something like a current crackling through him, joined the U-20s as their striker, and in quick succession, he managed to not only tie up the score but actually get a lead, thereby undoing all of the work that Nagi and Rin had put in. To make things worse, right after Shidou’s first goal, Hyoma Chigiri collapsed, earning a gasp from his sister as she shoved a fistful of fries in her mouth. Simultaneously, one of their defenders, the number 3, stumbled before slumping over entirely

“It looks like a cramp,” you reassured Chigiri as one of the other players helped her brother stretch out his leg and then stand. “And I think Niko must’ve sprained his ankle during that earlier play. They’re going to have to put in alternates, but it’s not serious. Both of them just need some rest and they’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” she said, biting her lip.

“No way, is that Reo Mikage?” your best friend said, her eyes wide as a tall, well-built boy took Niko’s place on the field. He had purple hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and a desperate sort of anger simmered beneath his serene exterior. You squinted and found she was right — the name Reo was indeed written above the large number 14 on his back.

“Like the corporate heir?” you said. Everyone who was anyone knew about the Mikages, but what business did the son have playing soccer? Then again, you supposed even the wealthiest people in the world had to have hobbies. Maybe soccer was just what filled the void for him. You supposed you couldn’t really comment either way.

“I’m sure of it!” your best friend said. “Oh, man, Y/N, he’s even more gorgeous in person…do you think Karasu knows him? Can I get an introduction? He’s so dreamy and perfect and amazing and unreal!”

“I can ask. I’m sure they’re at least acquainted, considering they’re playing on the same team — wait! Look, it’s Hiori! Oh my goodness, it’s Hiori! Yay, yay, Hiori! You’ve got this!” you squealed, pointing at him insistently. He was the one going in for Chigiri, and though he seemed solemn, you knew he must be nothing less than agitated at the moment. You willed him to glance up at you, and whether it was divine intervention or just a coincidence, he happened to shift towards your direction and thus made direct eye contact with you.

Immediately, any gloominess dropped from his shoulders, and you showed him your fingers, which were crossed for luck. He mimicked the gesture before running out to the field, where Otoya patted him on the back in greeting.

“Somebody save that poor, innocent boy,” your best friend said as the game began again.

“Hiori? From what?” you said.

“From being corrupted and turned into a bad-mannered asshole by Otoya,” she said.

“Fair enough,” you said before your jaw dropped as Reo Mikage perfectly mimicked Aiku’s signature defensive move, stopping Shidou from scoring yet again. “Woah. Reo’s rich and a soccer genius? I thought you were full of bullshit earlier, but you actually might be onto something.”

“Exactly,” your best friend said with a smitten sigh. “What a man.”

Despite Reo’s prowess and the goalie’s unorthodox methods, they were ultimately unable to stop Shidou from making that second goal. As the U-20 boys celebrated and the referee called for the ball to be retrieved, Blue Lock’s number 11, Isagi, stomped over to the sideline where their coach was sitting.

“They look like they’re arguing,” Chigiri said. “Do you think everything is alright?”

You weren’t sure when or how you had become the designated soccer expert, but for some reason, both Chigiri and your best friend looked at you expectantly, like you knew what the hell Isagi was pressed about. 

“Maybe he’s mad about his cooler?” you said.

“Huh?” your best friend said.

“Never mind,” you said. “Uh, if I had to guess, he’s probably either asking the coach to give them a new strategy or calling for their substitute to be put in. Shidou and Sae have backed them into a corner, and if they don’t switch things up soon, they’re going to lose.”

“Looks like Karasu and Hiori taught you more than you realized,” your best friend said as Isagi jogged back to the field and the referee whistled to call for a pause to the game. One of the benched Blue Lock members, their number 13, stood up, and you actually shivered when he did. He made every single other player look like a gentle kitten in comparison to his hulking presence, even those towering monsters like Shidou and Aiku. There was no doubt about it; this was a beast amongst men, his fangs bared as he stormed onto the field, and the only thing you could not understand was why he had not been playing from the start.

“That guy is scary,” you said.

“Scary hot,” my best friend said.

“Moving on from Reo already?” you said. “This is why you’ll never have a boyfriend. Too fickle.”

“Listen, I have to keep my options open! Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who’s good-looking, talented, and has been obsessed with them for years,” she said, elbowing you in the side with a smirk. You rolled your eyes, though you could not help but look down at Tabito when she said that. “What if I get rejected by Reo? I need to have another option, or else I’m fresh out of luck.”

“Looks like he’s replacing Otoya,” you said. “What’s his name? Barou? I’m interested to see how he does.”

“He’s getting rid of that wannabe bog monster? Even better! He’s quickly shooting up in my rankings,” my best friend said.

“Wannabe — okay, I’ll just be happy for you,” you said. “Though his hair isn’t so green as to deserve this much slander…”

“Thanks,” she said, ignoring the rest of what you had said.

“I hope they can make a comeback,” Chigiri stressed. “It’ll crush Hyoma if they lose.”

“No matter what happens now, he should be proud of how he did in the match,” you said. “Pass that message along when you see him, please. There’s no way he’s not going to get scouted by some seriously great clubs in the future.”

“You’re really kind,” Chigiri said, leaning her head on your shoulder with a sniffle. “I hope that Hyoma and your boyfriend stay on the same team for a while. Watching games is so much more fun with you.”

“Thanks! You as well. But speaking of being on the same team…” You whipped out your phone during the lull of the match, pulling up Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s contact and typing out a quick text.

‘are you watching the game??’

She responded almost immediately. ‘i convinced my parents to let me skip school so i could lol. i’m so stressed out right now!! karasu is playing super well btw.’

‘so is yukimiya!!’

‘thx!! omg also i saw you and your best friend on the screen HAHA.’

The last text was startling, to say the least. Nudging your best friend, you showed her the message, after which she took out her own phone, flipped on the camera, and checked her appearance in it.

‘no way. when??’

‘YES it was right after nagi scored in the first half. you two + the redhead were the ones who started the cheering, so they focused on you guys at first!! dw you all looked rlly pretty. as usual <3’

‘ohhh that makes sense. and tyyyy but you’re the pretty one here!!’

‘STOP you are the sweetest. also look at this LMAO they’re already making edits of you guys!!’

‘WHAT?!?!?!’

She sent you a link, which you opened with trepidation, beckoning Chigiri and your best friend over. Turning up the volume, you held up your phone as an edit of the three of you at various points in the match began to play. You were equally impressed and horrified at the speed with which the editors had gotten to work, but you couldn’t even be upset — whether it was the song or the clips they had chosen, the video made you all look magnificent. You saved it to your folder and then put your phone away, vowing to go through the comments later.

Mere minutes after you all tuned back into the flow of the game, Barou somehow pulled off a near-miraculous sliding shot, slamming the ball into the goal and once again tying back the score. This time, nobody was uncertain about what to do; every single person was on their feet, whooping as Barou tore off his jersey and tossed it in the air, flexing his arms and raising his chin as Tabito wrapped an arm around his neck, Nagi jumped on his back, and Isagi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Wow,” your best friend said.

“Wow is right! That was an incredible play. Barou is in another realm entirely!” you said, your palms stinging from how hard you were slapping them together. Your rudimentary soccer knowledge was apparently sufficient enough for you to keep up with the game, though just barely.

“Oh, I don’t know enough about soccer to be in awe of his goal,” she said. “I’m talking about those wow muscles of his. I bet he could carry me with one arm…”

“Ew, nasty,” you said, smacking her, fully aware of where her thoughts had just gone.

“Come on, you know it’s true!” she protested.

“I have a boyfriend. I’m not allowed to answer that,” you said.

“But you’re allowed to say that Otoya is good-looking?” she said.

“That was just me being nice!” you said. 

“I sense favoritism,” she said. “And not even the good kind, because for some reason, you’re favoring the worst guy in the bunch! Since Karasu isn’t around to be disappointed in you, I’ll do it on his behalf.”

“Shut up,” you said half-heartedly. “I liked you better when you were in love with Reo.”

“Believe me, I still am,” she said. “He’s not the kind of person you get over easily.”

“Ah, and remind me of how many times you’ve spoken to him?”

“That’s not the point!”

The match was decided when Sae and Rin — who were supposedly brothers, according to the guys Chigiri had overheard while she was heading to the trash can — got into a fight for dominance over the ball. Somehow, it managed to end up in exactly the spot where Isagi was waiting, and without taking a moment to think, he drew his leg back. At the very last second of the game’s overtime, he sent it streaking into the net.

“They did it!” Chigiri shrieked, tackling you and your best friend in a hug. 

“They did!” you shrieked back, equally as overwhelmed. 

“I can’t believe it!” your best friend said. “They really pulled it off!”

With that one-goal lead, Blue Lock had managed it. They had won the game against the U-20s, thereby cementing their place in the world of soccer for good. Those whispered hopes that Tabito had shared with you, his dreams of being an athlete and playing the sport he loved…they were as you had always assured him: inevitabilities instead of impossibilities. 

After all, you would say to him, over and over until you were sure he believed you. Do you think I would spend so long hating someone if they were mediocre? You can do whatever you turn your mind to. Whether it’s winning a soccer game or managing a company or getting the girl you like, your success is a guarantee.

The Blue Lock boys were ushered back to their facility after the game, so you didn’t get a chance to congratulate Tabito, but even being able to wave at him had lifted your spirits immensely, so you didn’t feel like you had wasted the trip.

In fact, you had a new pastime to occupy yourself with: namely, watching edits of yourself and liking all of the comments hyping you up. There were many of both, and when you weren’t listening to your best friend rambling about her favorite Blue Lock boy of the hour — Barou and Reo were definitely the ones she brought up the most, but Nagi and Isagi were mentioned a fair bit, too — you spent your hours on social media, sending the best edits to the group chat that you and your best friend had created with Yukimiya’s girlfriend and the elder Chigiri.

A couple of days after the game, you and your best friend were lounging in her aunt’s living room when you got a call from a number you had not seen on your phone in ages. Springing to your feet, you answered it immediately.

“Tabito? I thought they took your phone in Blue Lock?” you said.

“Hi, Y/N. Yes, they did, but we just got our stuff back and are on the buses back to the city. We’re on break for the next two weeks! Are you still in Tokyo?” he said.

“Yes! I’m here for about that amount of time — for all of winter break,” you said.

“Perfect. Some of the guys have plans to meet up in Shibuya tomorrow, but I don’t mind canceling—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, an idea formulating in your mind. “Are Barou, Nagi, Isagi, and Reo Mikage included when you say ‘some of the guys?’”

“Uh, I think Reo’s going to be there, but not any of the others. Why?” he said quizzically. Your best friend gave you a puzzled look, obviously wondering why you had just listed off her top Blue Lock crushes while on the phone with your boyfriend.

“Is it okay if we come, too?” you said. Tabito hummed uncertainly.

“Er, I don’t know…it’s not that I don’t want you to or that they’d mind or anything! In fact, they’d probably be delighted if you showed up. Rather, it’s that a few of them are a little bit odd, and you’d probably not enjoy yourself very much if you came,” he said.

“On the contrary, I think we would enjoy ourselves a great deal. Some of us more than others, naturally, but as long as you’re there, I’ll have fun, and as for my plus one…let’s just say that she could probably listen to a speech about the drying of cement, as long as it was Reo giving it,” you said.

“I see what’s happening here,” he said with a snort. “Okay, I got it. I’ll ask them and let you know what they say, alright?”

“If they say no, then tell them you can’t go and come hang out with me,” you instructed him. “I want to be with you tomorrow. I’ve missed you for far too long.”

“Will do. I miss you more.”

The line went abruptly dead, ostensibly from a lack of signal on his part, but now that you knew you were going to see him the next day either way, you just tossed the useless device aside and grinned devilishly at your best friend.

“What was that all about?” she said.

“Just go ahead and tell me you love me,” you said.

“I love you?” she said.

“And I love you,” you said. “So much that I’m making my boyfriend take us along on his group date with his soccer group — where none other than the man himself, Reo Mikage, will be present.”

About an hour or so later, Tabito texted you in the affirmative, sending you the address of the cafe where they were planning on meeting up at and giving you a rough estimate of the time they’d all be there. You and your best friend stayed up late that night, picking out your outfits — well, mostly hers, you were at the point in your relationship where you were positive that Tabito would find you pretty even in a trash bag, so you weren’t anywhere near worried about your own clothing — and planning what she’d say to sweep Reo off of his feet. Once you were done with that, you got in your pajamas and watched romantic comedies to get yourselves in ‘the zone’ and be completely prepared for the day to come, which might have qualified as one of the most important in her life. 

You were the first ones at the cafe the next morning, so you took the liberty of choosing the largest table you could find and setting your things down before looking up their menu online. Your best friend, who was the one that had convinced you to be so obsessively punctual for fear of making a bad first impression on Reo, did the same, though she left two seats in between you and herself.

“Tell Karasu to sit next to you, and then have him get Reo to sit in between himself and me,” she said to you.

“Yup, I know the plan,” you said.

“Good,” she said. “Have you picked what you’re ordering? Since no one else is here yet, I can go in and grab stuff for both of us.”

“Yeah, I want this, and this,” you said, pointing at the exact menu items so that there was no room for misinterpretation.

“Mm, looks good,” she said. “Eek, I think there’s a line.”

“It’s peak brunch time,” you said. “We’re lucky to have gotten a table at all, let alone one so big. Just leave your sweater on your chair so no one else takes it. Unless you want me to go in instead?”

“Nope, I don’t want to look like a friendless loser if Reo gets here before you come back or the others show up,” she said.

“You should hurry up and join the queue before it gets any worse, then,” you said. “It would suck if you were stuck waiting and Reo left before you could even meet him.”

“I’m going!” she said, speeding into the cafe, the glass door clanging shut behind her. You laughed softly at how easy she was to rile up, resting your chin in your hands and regarding the bustling scenery of the street with adoration. Tokyo was different from home, but you didn’t mind the change. It was fun, anyways, coming up with backstories for the people who walked past, inquiring into their lives from the snippets you were shown with the curiosity of a squirrel.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” a light, playful voice said, distracting you from your thoughts. The speaker was a boy in a dark jacket, with headphones slung around his neck and a beanie pulled low over his hair, though a few stubborn strands poked out anyways — grayish-white strands, in specific, which were cut through by brilliant green. You swore under your breath. How had you not realized that he would be here as well? You could only hope that Reo would distract your best friend well enough that she would not flip out over Otoya’s presence

“You’re Otoya, right?” you said. At the mention of his name, he grinned and slid into the seat designated for Tabito, leaning his elbow on the table and batting his eyelashes at you.

“That’s me. How did you know? I’m certain we’ve not met before, because I’d remember a lady as pretty as yourself,” he said. 

“You played in the match against the U-20s,” you said.

“You watched that?” he said. “I was pretty great, wasn’t I?”

“I don’t seem to remember you ever scoring,” you said thoughtfully. “And weren’t you subbed out? Ah, but yes, I was actually in the audience that day.”

Otoya wilted. “Oh. Were you rooting for the U-20s?”

“No, I was on Blue Lock’s side,” you said.

“Hold on, are you one of the guy’s sisters?” he said, stroking his chin and inspecting you. “Probably not Chigiri’s, but maybe Barou’s? I think he mentioned having younger sisters at one point. But I hope not, he’d definitely kill me for talking to you. Speaking of which, what are you even doing around here? Wanna go somewhere a bit nicer together?”

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” you said.

“Boyfriend?” Otoya said, face growing unnaturally pale. He inched his chair away from you. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

Before you could respond, a hand covered your eyes, blacking out your vision. “Guess who?”

“Tabito!” you said, standing up, yanking his hand away from you and kicking your chair out of the way so you could hug him. He was already waiting for you, pulling you to his chest immediately, burying his nose in your hair as he did when he was particularly tense or had been missing you.

“That’s correct. Gold star for Y/N,” he said. 

Though it had been a while, now that you were back in his embrace, it felt like no time at all had passed. That was how it was between you and him, a product of the many years you both had known one another before ever dating. Tabito was as much your friend as he was your boyfriend, a confidante and a rival and a companion and a lover all wrapped into one package. There could not be secrets nor distance between the two of you, not when you both had been studying one another’s complexities since before you had even understood what it meant to pay such special attention to another person.

“Sit next to me,” you said, tugging on his coat.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Dude, move over.”

Otoya scrambled to his feet, taking the seat on Tabito’s other side and eyeing you warily, his cheeks flushed a light pink — no doubt due to that brand of humiliation which was borne from trying to get with one’s friend’s girlfriend.

“You’re Y/N?” he said.

“That’s me. Has Tabito mentioned my name or something?” you said. When he realized you weren’t going to rat him out, Otoya relaxed and pretended to gag.

“All of the time. I thought you were his celebrity crush or idol, the way he talked about you! I couldn’t believe you were real when he waved at you during the game. You were sitting a bit too far away for me to get a good look at you, but you waved back, so I had no choice but to believe him,” he said. You recognized that this was his attempt at an apology, and, finding no merit in anything but acceptance, you shrugged.

“I wasn’t that crazy,” Tabito said.

“I don’t know. Otoya doesn’t seem like the lying type,” you said. Otoya let out a sigh of relief, catching your eye and mouthing thank you when Tabito gave you an irritated look.

“He totally is! Don’t believe a word out of this asshole’s mouth, he’s full of shit!” he said.

“So that must be why you’re friends, then?” you said. Otoya let out a choked laugh, and Tabito gave you such a kicked-puppy look that you could not help but lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Just joking. Who else is coming?”

“Well, you already know about Reo, but besides him, Tokimitsu said he’d come, Aryu, and Yuki,” Tabito said, counting off each name on his fingers.

“Yuki? Like Yukimiya? You two are friends now?” you said, already planning double dates with Yukimiya and his girlfriend in your head.

“We were in Blue Lock together. That kind of experience can bond anyone,” Tabito said.

“This guy really hated Yuki at first, though,” Otoya said, jabbing his thumb towards Tabito, who scowled. “So fucking funny. Yuki would just be standing there, and he’d go crazy, talking about how ‘one centimeter isn’t a big deal’ and how Yuki was ‘just an average, mediocre guy.’”

“You can stop talking now,” Tabito said.

“But all’s well that ends well, right? Now Yuki and Karasu are great pals. He never did explain what his problem was at the start, however. I’ve always wondered,” Otoya said, in a tone that clearly suggested he was fishing for an elaboration from you. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling on me! And to my girlfriend of all people!” Tabito said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why does Tabito not like Yuki? It’s a funny story, really,” you began.

“One we do not need to go over,” Tabito said. Now that the misunderstanding was well beyond cleared up, that fight right before you two had gotten together was a point of great embarrassment for Tabito, who still could not quite believe that he had behaved so irrationally.

“What don’t we need to go over?” It was another newcomer, but one who you knew — Yukimiya himself, who beamed when he saw you. “Oh, Y/N! Karasu mentioned you were going to be here, but to be quite frank with you, I sort of forgot. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain. What about you?” you said. “Great job in the game against the U-20s, by the way.”

“Thanks!” he said, sitting down across from you. “I’m in the same boat. It’s nice to be on a break. I actually slept in for the first time in forever, and I got to use my own skin products instead of the crap Blue Lock gave us.”

“I’m happy for you,” you said. “You all deserve a break. It’s obvious you’ve been working really hard.”

“Pardon, madam!” You hardly had the time to react before a spindly man with flowing black hair and dark, painted fingernails was crouching beside you. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I just — I have to acknowledge glam when it’s so obviously in front of me.”

“What?” you said.

“Here he goes,” Otoya said, steepling his fingers in anticipation.

“It’s just…I was aware that Karasu was bringing his girlfriend and her best friend to this little meeting of ours, but I didn’t know that one of you would turn out to be the most glam individual I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in ages! Please, tell me you’re the best friend,” he said.

“She’s the girlfriend, Aryu, so leave her alone,” Tabito said. Aryu pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

“In another life, my dear,” he said, fluttering his fingers at you.

“No?” Tabito said. “In no other life! She’s mine in every one, so piss off!”

“Uh, thanks for the compliment. It’s nice to meet you, Aryu,” you said awkwardly. Otoya and Yukimiya did nothing to dissipate the tension, both of them exchanging looks and giggling.

“Sorry about him,” a stocky boy with huge, panicked eyes said, taking the chair beside where Aryu was still muttering to himself about a ‘grand love affair’ that would ‘shock the world with its glam potential.’ “You’re the girl from the edits, aren’t you? Y/N L/N? I’m Tokimitsu.”

“How do you know her full, official, government name?” Tabito said, arching his eyebrows. Tokimitsu shook his head so rapidly you thought his neck might snap or something from the speed of it.

“No, no, it’s not like that, Karasu! She’s just famous at the moment!” he said.

Tabito’s eyes flicked towards you for confirmation. You rubbed the back of your neck, beginning to explain for the benefit of the entire table.

“Right when Nagi scored, the three of us — my best friend, Chigiri, and I — were the only ones cheering, so the cameras focused on us,” you said. “After that, they would periodically show us throughout the match, and people have been making edits of those clips. At first, we were just the unnamed Blue Lock fans, but I think I liked one too many comments calling me hot, because now everyone knows who we all are…”

“Some of the edits are really good,” Tokimitsu agreed. “They’re all over my dashboard. People have even started shipping you guys with the players! Right now, the most popular pairings are you with Karasu—”

“Good,” Tabito said, sticking his nose in the air. You pinched him on the bicep, finding his uncharacteristic possessiveness as endearing as it was unnecessary.

“—and your best friend with Otoya,” Tokimitsu continued.

“Huh?” Otoya said.

“The clip of her giving you the middle finger right before halftime is super popular,” Tokimitsu said. “People have actually taken screenshots and made matching profile pictures. It’s a whole movement.”

“Huh?” Otoya said. “How am I supposed to flirt with girls if everyone thinks I’m taken by some psycho who hates me for no reason? Where can I file a complaint? This needs to be stopped at once!”

“It’s not for no reason, exactly,” you said.

“There’s a legitimate explanation?” Tabito said.

“Legitimate is a stretch, but there is an explanation,” you said. “You know her. She wouldn’t hate someone without having at least some kind of logic to it.”

A shiny black limousine pulled up in front of the cafe, and the back doors opened to reveal Reo Mikage, who stepped out and thanked the driver before walking over to join the rest of you. You were about to tell him to take the seat in between Tabito and your best friend, but then you realized that there was a massive problem: somebody was already sitting there. Namely, Otoya, who was busily swiping through his phone and reporting every account that he came across which had either him or your best friend as a profile picture.

“My apologies for the tardiness,” Reo said. His mere voice had a particular cadence to it that spoke to his wealth and upbringing, and down to the slightest, his mannerisms were genteel and refined. “I had to sneak out from a meeting to come here.”

“Sneaking out from a meeting to come to another meeting? You’re a busy guy, Reo!” Aryu said, evidently completely over his earlier heartbreak. “What a glam schedule.”

“That’s not the word I’d use for it,” Reo said, running a hand through his hair, which fell loosely around his face now that he wasn’t playing soccer. “Anyways, I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting for too long.”

“No, we haven’t gotten started yet,” Tabito said.

“We’ve been discussing the edits people made of Y/N and her friends!” Tokimitsu said. Reo looked over at you and smiled politely.

“I’ve seen a few of them. It’s an impressive marketing strategy on the JFU’s part — by sprinkling in clips of you three, they managed to appeal to a broader audience. Now, people who ordinarily never would have watched the game are watching reruns, therefore increasing their revenue tenfold,” he said, offering you his hand to shake. “I’m Reo Mikage.”

“Y/N L/N,” you said, taking it as professionally as you could, all the while wondering what was holding your best friend up. She ought to be here as soon as possible, or else she really might lose her chance. 

Like she had read your mind, the glass door of the cafe swung open, and your best friend strolled out, two plastic cups balanced in one hand and two scones in a napkin held in the other. 

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, thankfully oblivious to the members of the meeting you were crashing. “The barista got confused and made my drink iced. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she insisted on dumping it and remaking it properly, free of charge. Apparently, she’s new or something, so she’s still in that phase where she isn’t entirely jaded by the public yet.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Tabito. Grab my drink before she—!”

“You!” your best friend said, pointing at Otoya, who groaned in defeat and buried his face in his hands. Your drink slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground, spilling out onto the concrete, though she took no notice of it, putting the rest of the goods on the table and glaring at Otoya.

“My drink,” you said mournfully.

“I’ll go get you a new one,” Tabito said, making like he was going to stand. You grabbed onto his arm and shook your head.

“No, don’t leave me here,” you said.

“What? Why not?” he said. You pointed at the infamous duo, both of whom looked about ready to blow up, and then you looped your arms around his neck, peeking over his shoulder at the pair.

“If they get in a fight, I’ll be stuck in the crossfire,” you said. “You have to stay here and defend me if it comes to that. Quick, take the scones while she’s distracted. I’m going to eat them as payback for her dropping my drink.”

He did as you commanded. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“You owe me ten dollars!” your best friend said.

“What? No, I don’t. We’ve never even met, so why would I owe you any money at all?” Otoya said. “Wait. We haven’t met, right? Or did we go on a date at some point? If so, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but you have to understand that things just end up like that sometimes. I’m not going to compensate you for that.”

“Jeez, Otoya,” Yukimiya said with a chuckle. “You’re kind of horrible, man. How many dates have you been on, if you don’t even remember whether you were with her at some point?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Otoya said. Yukimiya made a face.

“You were definitely on a date,” your best friend said. “I wasn’t, though. In fact, I was just innocently trying to watch a movie with my cousins, when somebody decided that they would just go ahead and make out with their date, right in front of my face, for the entire one hour and forty-seven minutes of the film!”

“Who’s somebody?” Tokimitsu whispered.

“Probably Otoya,” Aryu whispered back.

“Oh, I do remember you!” Otoya said, snapping his fingers. “You came and yelled at me after the movie, too, right? That was funny.”

“Okay, guys, how about we all relax and get to the point of this meeting instead of squabbling over past grievances?” Reo interrupted before the argument could grow anymore heated. Satisfied that things were now under control, you ceased your cowering behind Tabito, though you did make sure to shove the last of the scones in your mouth before your best friend could ask where they had disappeared to.

“Fine by me,” Otoya said when your best friend did not respond. “Yo, you gonna sit down or what?”

“You guys can have your meeting without us, since I’m quite sure it’s not anything that we’ll be able to meaningfully contribute to. In the meantime, she and I will go and get a replacement drink for me,” you said.

As soon as the two of you were inside and out of earshot of the boys, she let out a wail. “I completely made an awful first impression on Reo Mikage!”

“I can’t lie, you definitely did,” you said. “But at least it was entertaining for the rest of us. Cheer up! There’s still Barou, Nagi, and Isagi, right? You have an entire list for a reason. Reo might be a wash, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up entirely.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. If only that lettuce-headed Otoya weren’t here! Things would’ve gone perfectly, but ruining my life must be a particular hobby of his,” she said.

“You might be better off if you pretend he’s not around,” you said. “How about this? We’ll get Tabito to set you up on a date with one of the others on your roster, and I’ll personally ensure that Otoya stays far, far away.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Here, I’ll pay for your drink, since I spilled it the first time.”

“Yeah, I was going to make you do that even if you didn’t offer.”

Upon your return outside, drinks and additional scones in hand, you were met with a larger group than you had left. Even more of the Blue Lock boys had appeared, and all of them were talking animatedly with one another.

“You’re Hyoma!” you said, taking a sip from your still-hot beverage, waving at your new friend’s little brother. “I sat with your sister at the game.”

“She’s mentioned you a couple of times. Said you thought I did well in the game,” Chigiri said, scratching the bridge of his nose shyly. “I really appreciate it. You’re Karasu’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes! Thank you for knowing that!” Tabito said, snatching your drink from you and taking a swig, bursting into a coughing fit as it scalded his throat.

“That’s what you get,” you said, taking your drink back, blowing on it to cool it before taking the tiniest sip. “Alright, I know Isagi and Chigiri, but who’s the third one?”

“That’s Bachira,” Tabito said. “He’s a fascinating guy.”

“You know what we should do? Since all of us are together for the first time outside of Blue Lock, we should hang out!” Bachira said, rocking on his heels. 

“That’s good with me. Our meeting ended up not being that productive,” Yukimiya said.

“Mostly due to certain individuals,” Reo agreed, looking pointedly at Otoya.

“Me? Blame her!” Otoya said, pointing at your best friend, who was busy exchanging hair care tips with Aryu instead of putting the moves on Isagi, as you thought she might’ve. 

“Reo’s too much of a glam gentleman to blame a lady for anything,” Aryu said.

“What he said,” Reo agreed. “Though, again, I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Where should we go?” Tokimitsu said. “I’m okay with anything.”

“Wait, what about Nagi? Isn’t he with you guys?” Reo said to Isagi, who hummed.

“He was supposed to meet up with us, but he overslept, and then he saw an arcade on the way, so he stopped in there,” Isagi said.

“Reo, I bet you have Nagi’s location on your phone at all times, right?” Bachira said. Reo nodded. “Then I say we use that to go and find him!”

“An arcade day does sound like a blast,” Yukimiya said.

“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to stay back and spend the day with Y/N,” Tabito said.

“She can come, too!” Bachira said. “On one condition: she has to be my partner for rhyming ping-pong.”

“That’s a fair deal in my books,” you said. Ordinarily, you would have agreed with Tabito — a calm date with him was far more appealing than the prospect of going to an arcade with a bunch of soccer players — but above all else, you were a loyal friend, and you could hardly abandon your best friend when Reo, Nagi, and Isagi would all be present at this gathering.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel bad for me. I don’t mind missing out on hanging with these idiots. I see enough of them in Blue Lock as it is,” Tabito said.

“I’m offended,” Otoya said dryly. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Considering she’s his girlfriend and he’s liked her for going on six years now, I’d say she’s probably a bit more than a ‘hoe,’” Yukimiya said.

“I don’t feel bad for you, Tabito, so you can put that out of your mind. I haven’t gone to an arcade or played rhyming ping-pong in ages. It’ll be fun, I think,” you said, kicking him under the table and angling your chin towards Reo and Isagi ever-so-slightly. His mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization.

“Then I guess we’re off to the arcade,” he said. “Lead the way, Reo.”

“Follow me,” Reo said, holding up his phone, which displayed the elusive Nagi’s location on the screen.

You all must’ve appeared an odd group to any onlookers, but that didn’t stop any of you from enjoying yourselves as you weaved through the streets of Shibuya. You walked with Tabito, your hand intertwined with his like usual, both of you pointing out window displays you found appealing or ridiculous. Chigiri and Bachira hotly debated which arcade games were the best, Isagi doing his best to mediate while Otoya egged both of them on in turn. Reo and Yukimiya continued their discussion on the economics of Blue Lock from the earlier meeting, and Aryu described every single step he took in the shower to your best friend and Tokimitsu, both of whom were enthralled by the topic. All in all, it was a blend which should not have worked but somehow did, and more than simply working, it really excelled.

“There you are, pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” Tabito cackled as everyone entered the arcade and saw Nagi sitting at one of the booths, controls in his hands and a small frown on his face as he gunned down his virtual enemies. Letting go of you, Tabito wrestled Nagi into a headlock, messing with his hair as Nagi whined in protest. “You’re going to lose all of your friends, you jerk!”

“Caught red-handed,” Reo said with a sigh. “Classic Nagi.”

“Now that we’ve found him, it’s time to party!” Bachira said, pumping his fist in the air. “Tokimitsu, let’s go play darts!”

“Okay!” Tokimitsu said.

“I’m heading over to the claw machine,” your best friend said. “Wanna come, Y/N?”

“Sure, I’ll cheer you on,” you said. “I’m pretty bad at it myself, so I won’t waste my money on my own attempts.”

Everyone dispersed throughout the arcade. Tabito, Otoya, and Aryu followed you and your best friend towards the claw machine, much to your best friend’s disgust — you were certain that she had been hoping Isagi, Nagi, or Reo would come with you, but all three of them were preoccupied with the darts competition Bachira had set up, leaving her to side-eye Otoya and stick to conversing only with Aryu. For his part, Aryu was happy to oblige her, as sticking close to your best friend had the double effect of cooling Tabito’s ire from earlier as well as alleviating the hostility between her and Otoya.

“This has got to be rigged!” your best friend said when her third attempt at trying to nab a panda plushie proved unsuccessful. On each attempt, right before she was able to drop the plushie into the chute, the claw would give out and it would fall back into the pile, leaving her out of money and patience.

“Move out of the way,” Otoya said. “Let me show you how the masters get it done.”

“You call yourself a claw-machine master?” you said. “What, do you practice or something?”

Otoya entered a token into the machine and shouldered past your fuming best friend, grabbing the controls with casual ease. “Girls love it when you win stuffed animals for them. Check out my flow!”

“I never put you down as someone with this type of functional glam,” Aryu said, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “I sincerely repent for the underestimation!”

“You really are a master,” you breathed, doing the same, watching in astonishment as Otoya expertly maneuvered the plushie towards the chute.

“Stop shaking the machine, idiots, you’ll make him mess up,” Tabito said, pulling you and Aryu away from the glass by the back of your collars and holding you there until Otoya had retrieved his prize.

“Bam,” Otoya said, tossing the panda at your best friend. “Ninja skills.”

It hit her in the face and fell to the ground; with a withering glare, she stooped over and tucked it under her arm before stomping away.

“You better not find yourself anywhere near the dartboards! I’m warning you, I have a bad aim, so look out!” she threatened before disappearing, presumably to join in on Bachira’s tournament.

“Isn’t that just a self-insult?” Otoya said. “Sucking at darts is even worse than sucking at the claw machine, don’t you think?”

“She means she’ll hit you with the dart and you can’t blame her for it because she warned you, you dunce,” Tabito said, face-palming. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go see how the tournament’s going.”

The tournament seemed to have split into two sections. On the right side, Reo, Tokimitsu, Yukimiya, and your best friend were tossing darts at the board with precision and care, tallying up their scores and congratulating one another after each round. On the left, Nagi was standing in front of the board with his arms spread and his back to Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri, who were gleefully taking turns throwing darts in his direction, talking about how this was his ‘punishment’ for standing them up.

“Who’s winning?” you said, right as Bachira sent a dart shooting towards the back of Nagi’s head. Nagi exhaled heavily.

“Sorry,” he repeated for the thousandth time.

“Do you think it’s even possible for someone to win in a game like that?” Tabito said. “Better to ask those guys.”

“I think Yuki is up right now,” Reo said in response to your unasked question. “Although Tokimitsu’s catching up. It’s super close. Could be anyone’s game.”

“Now that you’re here, Y/N, let’s go play rhyming ping-pong!” Bachira said.

“Who will we play against, though?” you said.

“Nagi, for one,” Bachira said.

“I don’t want to,” Nagi said. Bachira raised another dart, causing Nagi’s sleepy frown to deepen. “Okay, I will.”

“Then Tabito can be your teammate,” you said. 

“You’re challenging me?” Tabito said. “You’re going to regret that. Prepare to lose.”

“Bachira and I won’t let you get even a point, right, Bachira?” you said. 

“That’s right!” Bachira said, high-fiving you and charging forwards as the entire group headed over to the ping-pong table. Picking out four paddles from the rack, he handed one each to you, Tabito, and Nagi, keeping the last for himself and joining you on your side of the table.

“If we beat you, then you have to take me to the aquarium for our next date!” you said, brandishing your paddle at Tabito.

“Fine, but if we beat you, then you have to join me during my workouts for the rest of the break!” he said, tossing the ball up and down in the air.

“We have to crush them,” you said to Bachira. “If I have to workout with him, I’ll probably die.”

“Got it,” Bachira said, rolling his shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

“Nagi, get your head in the game,” Tabito said to his reluctant partner. “We need to win this. The aquarium is so creepy and unromantic! What kind of first date back from Blue Lock would that be? I need your talents, prodigy.”

“Okay,” Nagi said. “Are we starting?”

“Yeah, you can serve. Do you know how to play?” Tabito said.

“Not really,” he said.

“Whenever you hit the ball, you have to say a word that the other team can rhyme to, and when they return the serve, they have to come up with that rhyme and say it,” Bachira said. “Pretty easy, right?”

“It’ll be a simple win,” you said. “I’m first in the class for Modern Literature, so I know a lot of words.”

“Don’t underestimate Nagi,” Reo said. “He may look like little more than a typical idiot slacker, but he actually came second in our year without studying at all.”

“I’m so torn,” your best friend said. “Who do I root for?”

“Why’s it a question? Wouldn’t you want to root for your best friend?” Chigiri said. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” she said.

“Hmph,” Chigiri said. “Whatever.”

“Okay, are both sides ready?” Yukimiya said. He had been chosen to referee, mostly because he was the most impartial. All of you nodded, and he whistled. “Rhyming ping-pong, begin! Your serve, Nagi!”

“Um,” Nagi said, tossing the ball in the air and tapping it with his paddle. “Orange?”

Yukimiya whistled again. “Out! Y/N and Bachira are the winners!”

“What was that?” Tabito screeched.

“He must’ve gotten nervous in the face of Bachira and I’s combined prowess,” you said, tossing your hair.

“Not really. I just didn’t wanna play,” Nagi said. “There’s some good aquariums in Tokyo, Karasu. You can probably have a fun date there.”

“You’re the worst,” Tabito said. “I’m taking Chigiri next time. I bet he wouldn’t have picked orange as his first word!”

“I would’ve gone with bat,” Chigiri said.

“Ooh, and then I would’ve said cat!” you said. Bachira had vanished alongside Isagi and Reo, giving some excuse about karaoke before running out the door after them, leaving you standing alone across from the furious Tabito and lethargic Nagi.

“Maybe we should’ve teamed up,” Chigiri said to you. You winked and gave him a thumbs-up in assent.

“Can we go see what Reo and the others are doing?” Nagi said, limp in another one of Tabito’s headlocks, completely unbothered by the vulnerable position that he was being held in. 

“Bachira said they were going for karaoke,” you said. “Maybe we should find Otoya and Aryu before joining them, though.”

“How about just Aryu?” your best friend suggested, though her ideas went unheard.

“I’ll text them,” Yukimiya said.

“No need,” Otoya said, peeking his head into the door. “We’ve been looking for you guys for a while.”

“Such unglam conduct, disappearing like that,” Aryu said in disappointment.

“Sorry!” Tokimitsu yelped. 

“Since we’re all here now, we should be good to head to karaoke,” Yukimiya said.

“Karasu and I are going to do a duet,” Otoya informed everyone as you all followed the signs for the karaoke section of the building.

“Hell yeah,” Tabito snickered. “We’ll knock everyone’s socks off. They’re not ready.”

“What song?” Tokimitsu said.

“Something with a lot of belting,” Otoya said. 

“Please don’t,” your best friend said. “I didn’t bring ear plugs, and I do value my hearing.”

“Wait a second,” you said. “Hey, Tabito, Yukimiya — isn’t that Aiku from the U-20 squad?”

“Huh?” Tabito said.

“It is!” Yukimiya said. “He’s talking to Reo, Isagi, and Bachira, too. That’s unexpected.”

“Looks like the whole gang’s here, in fact,” Tabito said, cracking his knuckles and motioning towards the rest of the U-20 squad, who were glowering at the boys beside you as they approached.

“A fight?” Nagi said.

“Could be,” Otoya said, striking a ninja-pose that caused your best friend to dissolve into a fit of laughter, which he ignored completely. “I’m stoked.”

“Need backup, Isagi?” Yukimiya said, his hands in his pockets and a genial smile on his face. “We’ve got you.”

“Ah, but don’t expect anything from me!” you said, flashing them all a peace sign. “I’ll cheer for you from the corner, though.”

“A girl? Hello—” Aiku began, though he was immediately interrupted by Tabito.

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” he said. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Aiku said. 

“What are you all doing here?” one of the U-20 boys, whose name you couldn’t recall, said.

“Likely the same thing as you,” Chigiri said.

“But in a more glam way, naturally,” Aryu added.

“The fuck? Don’t think I won’t mess you up, freak!” the U-20 player said.

“Freak?” Aryu said. “Say that again, I dare you!”

“How about we settle this over a game of bowling?” Aiku suggested. “That way, none of us get in trouble with our coaches for accidentally injuring ourselves.”

“Fine by us,” Yukimiya said. “We’ll beat you either way.”

“I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to watch you all pummel each other,” you agreed.

“Same,” your best friend said. “Though I wouldn’t mind too much if you roughed Otoya up a bit…”

“Hey!” the boy in question said.

“The ladies have spoken,” Aiku said. “Bowling it is!”

“Are you going to play?” Tabito asked you as you all trekked towards the bowling alley. 

“Nah, this is a feud between Blue Lock and the U-20 players. I’m just an onlooker,” you said.

“Aw, but you’re the bowling champion! We’d win for sure if we had you on our side,” he said. Going bowling had been a common event for both of your friend groups all throughout high school, so he had been privy to many a round in which you absolutely annihilated everyone else, demolishing him and his friends and yours alike with a careful, needle-like precision.

“You’re not half-bad yourself. Plus, who knows how good the others are? It’ll be alright. Go beat those U-20 boys again, and then let’s get out of here,” you said.

“Just us? Or do you mean everyone?” he said.

“Just us,” you said. “I’ve been downright helpful all day, so no one can begrudge me for being a little bit selfish and sneaking off with you. I’ll only do it if you win, though.”

That was a lie, but Tabito was the type who performed better under pressure. The thought that he might miss out on a date with you — especially one not at the aquarium — would be more than enough to drive him to bowling success.

“Y/N!” your best friend hissed to you as Tabito and the others went to check in at the counter. “Check it out! It’s Shoei Barou!”

“He’s bowling all by himself? Huh, that’s a little startling. The more you know, I guess,” you said. Privately, you had believed the intimidating Barou would have had similarly intimidating habits, like powerlifting, or beating up thugs in alleyways, or activities more along those lines, but of course, everyone had layers, so maybe you shouldn’t have assumed.

“It’s kind of cute, if I’m being honest,” she said. “Like, oh my gosh, you’re a friendless loner! I need you so badly.”

“There’s a lid for every pot,” you said, not at all seeing the appeal in that kind of person but having decided long ago that you were more glad than anything that you and she didn’t have the same taste in men — you had likely avoided many awkward situations in that way. “Well, what’s your plan? You’ve got Reo, Barou, Nagi, and Isagi all in one room. Who’re you going to go for?” 

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons. That should help us come to a proper conclusion,” she said.

“Got it. Cons: Reo finds you super immature for fighting with Otoya, Nagi doesn’t seem to care about you one way or another, Isagi is much more interested in hanging out with Bachira and Chigiri than trying to talk to you, and you haven’t even met Barou yet,” you said. She gulped.

“And, uh, the pros?” she said. You frowned.

“Uh…at least Nagi’s opinion of you isn’t bad?” you said. “And you haven’t had the chance to make a terrible impression on Barou yet.”

“That’s it?” she said.

“Sorry,” you said. “But kind of. It’s not looking good.”

“What do I do, then?” she said. “Is it time for me to give up on my dreams? Am I destined to be single forever? Will the closest I get to a wedding be in the form of attending yours as a bridesmaid?”

“Don’t be pessimistic,” you said. “There’s always Aiku. He seems like he’d take anything on legs for a date or two.”

In unison, you glanced over at Aiku. He, and Otoya for that matter, were talking to a pair of girls, who were hooked on their every word, irises sparkling as they listened to both boys flirt. You and your best friend exchanged looks.

“I’d rather die alone,” she said. 

“That kind of relationship wouldn’t last,” you affirmed. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Tabito if he can introduce you to Barou. He’s likely your best bet at this point.”

“You might be right about that,” she said, following after you as you made your way towards where the ones not actively bowling were hanging out.

This, unfortunately, was a fatal mistake. The route took you past Otoya and Aiku, and, more importantly, the girls they were chatting with. One of them happened to catch a glimpse of you both, and she immediately gasped, shoving past Otoya to tap the two of you on our shoulders.

“You’re the girls from the edits!” she said. You winced at the murderous expressions on Aiku’s and Otoya’s faces.

“Yeah, we are,” you said.

“No way!” the other girl said to your best friend. “You and your boyfriend are my sister and her boyfriend’s profile pictures!”

“Boyfriend?” your best friend said. “I’m single, though?”

“The guy you gave the middle finger to at the Blue Lock vs U-20 match! Aren’t you two dating?” she said.

“No!” your best friend and Otoya said at the same time.

“Wait, I didn’t recognize you because of the hat, but you’re the confused player that she flipped off!” the girl said to Otoya. “Can we get a picture of the two of you together? We’re guaranteed to go viral if we can post something like that!”

“Oh, boy,” you said. “Aiku, you seem like a nice guy, so I’m going to advise you to run right about now.”

“What?” he said. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” you said, darting off before you were caught up in the fallout that would accompany the request, not slowing your pace until you were safely over by Tabito and the rest, far away from the brewing situation.

“I think we’re going to do it!” Tabito said when he saw that you were once again at his side. “As long as Nagi is more motivated to bowl than he was to play rhyming ping-pong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s great,” you said. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” he said.

“Right now,” you said.

“Did something happen?” he said.

“This bowling alley is about to turn into a war zone,” you said, gesturing over to where Otoya and your best friend were standing stiffly beside one another, the girl angling her phone to take as many photos of them as possible.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “See you guys later!”

“What? You’re already leaving?” Chigiri said.

“Yup, it was great to meet you all! Good luck in Blue Lock. Hope to see you again!” you said, sprinting towards the doors with Tabito, ducking out right as your best friend went off on a tirade about how Otoya needed to stay a ‘minimum of two bodies’ away from her at all times lest he ‘infect her with the green hair disease.’ “Phew.”

“We made it,” Tabito said. “Now what?”

“Now we do whatever we want,” you said, reaching up and kissing him softly. “No more worrying about everyone else. Let’s do something for just the two of us.”

“Finally,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you left the arcade behind. “I’ve been missing you for so long, and when I finally got you back, I had to share you with all of my dumbass teammates. Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “It’s like Otoya said — bros before hoes.”

“Otoya’s a jackass,” he said. 

“True,” you said. “But enough about him. I want to hear about everything you did in Blue Lock, so that when you have to go back, I can imagine what you might be up to at any given moment and feel a little better.”

“Gross,” he said.

“You act as though you hate it, but I knew deep down you like it,” you said. He wrinkled his nose, though it did little to hide his prominent blush.

“Nah,” he said, drawing you impossibly closer to his side, as much to be affectionate as to prevent you from further exposure to the redness of his face. “I just like you.”

“Oh?” you said. “That’s good, because I like you, too.”

“I already knew that,” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “If that’s the case, then I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. You smiled, playing with his fingers as the two of you walked around the city with no destination in mind, no end goal but to enjoy each other’s company.

“No, I don’t.”

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#13. Falling Deep and Down

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/ Angst / INFIDELITY /NO SMUT (This is a warning)

Word count- 17k ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

a/n- Firstly, HAPPY NEW YEAR BABIES!!!! (I know I'm late but it still counts). Secondly, yay!!! the first chapter of the new year and I finally managed to make it shorter than the previous one. And hell this one took so long. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I hope you'd enjoy the chapter, though. I'd say this chapter is the calm before the storm. That's why there's no SMUT (Sorry @jimincrystal this is one of those unavoidable situations. Otherwise I'd have ended up writing 30K+ words). So, happy readings guys. (Thank you for reading like always ❤️)

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Chapter Index

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You sit in Kim’s kitchen. Eyes glued to your phone. You’ve watched this same video repeatedly at least dozens of times now. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You’re not surprised at all to say the least. You completely expected to find a video floating all around the internet as soon as you woke up this morning. That’s such a normal thing in this era. People usually post the most mundane things. Hence, there’s no surprise they posted a woman getting slapped in a crowded club. But still, you know that they didn’t post it because of you. Whoever recorded the video did it because of Liya. And Jimin. And all the other high profiles there.

The good thing is, however, that the video isn’t clear. You can’t really make out who’s slapping who. Both yours and Liya’s faces are completely hidden from the frame. And the quality is shittier than a VHS tape left on a rain. The videographer was either clearly drunk or didn’t know how to use the video feature. And you haven’t found any other video than this one. It’s surprising. You’d call it mere luck. But then it doesn’t make it any less of a problem. Even though you and Liya are hidden from the frame- surrounded by so many people- you can still make out Jimin’s and Jin’s face quite clearly. That makes you want to pull your hair. Can’t even imagine the ruckus this must be causing for them. Not that you can be of any help. You’re the one who caused all these problems in the first place.

“Anything interesting there?” You snap your eyes away from your phone screen to look at Mrs. Kim. Sitting next to you and peeling onions. “You’ve been watching that for a quiet some time now.” She explains further. It’s still early morning and there’s no business for you here. You should be getting ready for work, if anything.

Hell, no.

There’s no way you would go to work after all that. You’re beyond humiliated. You will not do the walk of shame. Mrs. Kim has been nagging you for a better thirteen minutes now. Asking why you are not going to work, but you’ve managed to brush off her questions. It seems like her questions aren’t over. You open your mouth wearily to tell her that it’s nothing when your phone is snatched away from you.

“Yah…” You mumble tiredly. Not even fully turning around to face Jungkook, who pocketed your phone instantly.

“I told you to stop watching the stupid video. What would you gain from watching it hundred times? it’s not like you gonna find anything new. It’s the same old shit every time.” He scolds you before turning around to mind his work. Apart from you, Jungkook is another person who has no business being here. He has classes. He needs to leave. Yet he doesn’t. Refuses to leave you alone as if you’d do something stupid. Well, what can you say? He’s Jeon Jungkook.

He won’t leave you alone. Hasn’t been since the very moment he walked you out of the club. He was there when you practically bite off your thumbs while you were on a cab. He was the one who yanked your hands away when you accidentally hurt yourself and started bleeding. He had panicked to see you bleeding as if it was your head instead of your finger. He was the one who instantly pulled you into his embrace when you finally broke apart. It was funny how you tried to keep it all inside, but it all burst out when you saw yourself bleeding. It was just a teeny wound, but you used that as an excuse. You cried and cried and cried. Wailed. Like you’ve lost someone who’s so dear to you. The case is that you really felt like that. You cried because you felt like you lost Jimin. Because of the humiliation. Because of the self-pity. In the end, there was Jungkook- holding you tight, mumbling soothing words in your ear. There was Jungkook, who refused to let you go. Who pulled you into his lap disregarding the cab driver. He had held you and rocked you. Until you managed to pull yourself together again. He was there the entire time and he’s still here.

“Give it back Kookie.” You turn around in your seat wearily. You’re absolutely exhausted from all the crying. Mentally wearied off that you’re barely even functioning.

“No. You’re gonna watch the same shit again.” He ignores you completely. You sigh heavily. You need your phone back. Not just to watch the video and feel the same hot embarrassment over again. No. You need it to see if Jimin has texted you. See now, you know that is so fucked up. After everything that happened. After Jimin walked after Liya and had watched you walk away with his hands around her. After the slap you received, you still want to hear from Jimin. At this rate, it just isn’t for satisfying your greedy self, however. You need to know whether he is okay. You need to know how it went. Not with Liya but with the video.

“You need to attend your classes. C’mon, you can leave me. I’ll be fine with Mrs. Kim.” You glance over at the said woman. She furrows her brows at Jungkook. Clicks her tongue.

“Are you skipping classes young man? Should I call your mom?” There’s a very serious warning look on her face. You would’ve laughed at that if it wasn’t for your zombie like state. Jungkook gives you a sneaky but disapproving look.

“I have no classes. Don’t worry darling, I’m gonna make you proud in the end. I’m better than Joonie. You know it.” Says dismissively. Winks at the poor woman and of course she eats the bait. You try to open your mouth but the sudden sound of kitchen door opening interrupts you. The new recruit- a young boy who stole your table wiping duties- appears on the doorway.

“There’s someone to meet you.” He awkwardly mumbles while gesturing at you. Your heart skips a beat instantly before it picks up the rhythm of beating. Weariness you were feeling, suddenly evaporating into thin air as you looks up at the boy with wide eyes. There’s someone to meet you. And that someone can very well be Park Jimin. Hope bubbles inside you. Only for it to pop out at his next words. “I- uh- I think that’s your sister. You two look alike.” He scratches his head stupidly. A heavy sigh leaves past your lips. That’s in disappointment. You feel so disappointed that even your eyes prick with new tears.

“You got to be kidding me.” You whip your head toward Jungkook at his sudden voice. Just in time to catch him, throw his apron away. Is already walking toward the door.

Oh, no!

You practically jump onto your feet. Startling poor Mrs. Kim as she watches you with wide eyes. You don’t pay her any mind as you sprint after Jungkook. Storming past the new boy who looks equally startled as Mrs. Kim. You have no idea how Jungkook moves that fast but when you enter the dining area, he is already face to face with a calm Liya. Staring her down. Or glaring her down.

“You’re not welcomed here.” Jungkook grits his teeth. You notice how tight his jaw is as you make it to his side.

“Jungkook!” You grab his arm. Try to make him turn away from Liya to no avail. He’s like a boulder. Doesn’t even budge. Yet Liya’s eyes fall on you instantly. For a brief moment before she looks back at Jungkook.

“Yeah? I don’t think I’ve done anything to be on the blacklist. Besides, you’re no one to put the CEO of The SE in a blacklist boy. So, if you just care to step aside─” Liya’s eyes shift from Jungkook to you again. She forces a smile which looks more like a sneer. “─ I’m here to have a word with my sweet sister.” Completes her sentence. Only that it makes Jungkook steps to his side, however. Completely guarding you from her view. You groan annoyingly. No one hears it.

“I don’t care if you’re damn CEO or the fucking president. Get your fucking ass out while I’m nice Ms. Kim." Jungkook is oozing venom. It’s weird to see him mad.

“Jungkook please.” You try again. Step away so you can see Liya again.

“Yes, Jungkook, listen to your little owner. Stop trying to be her guard dog since she looks like capable of doing lots of things without your help.” Liya gives Jungkook a mocking smile.

Okay, that’s it.

She can mock you all the much she wants. Can slap you, yell at you, publicly humiliate you, or anything else that makes her feel good. But she isn’t bringing Jungkook into this. No. This is where you won’t be just listening.

“He has nothing to do with this, Liya. Please, just leave him out of it.” You step forward. Bringing yourself to your full height. Your voice sharp. “You wanted to see me, what is it?” This time you manage to drag Jungkook an inch back.

“Noona!” He whisper yells. You just give him a stern look. He reads you well. Liya scoffs. Eyes shifting between you and Jungkook.

“Well, look at you. How sweet. Sticking for each other. You’re damn lucky sis.” Sighs. “And yes, I wanted to meet you. Hope, you’re not busy fucking someone else’s boyfriend.”

“Fucking leave!” Jungkook nearly plunges forward before you catch him. Turning around blocking his path. Place your palm on his chest. Looks at his face. He looks furious. Doesn’t look at you right away. But when he does, his features softens immediately.

“It’s fine Jungkook. Please. Let me handle this.” You mutter softly. Looks at him expectantly. For a moment, it looks like he would dare to kick Liya out of the restaurant. Then after a long second, just sighs. Takes a step back.

“Fine, but if she tries to hit you again, I want you to give her a blue eye.” Pouts at you. Apparently, doesn’t give a fuck about the fact that Liya can hear him. Waits until you agree. He can be insufferable sometimes. Yet you nod anyway.

……………………………………….

You patiently sit at a corner table at Kim’s. Where nobody in the kitchen can hear you. Since it’s still morning and there’s no breakfast serving, the entire restaurant is free of any patrons. Liya just blinks at your face. Her expression is calm and somewhat smug. It makes you want to scream. Curiosity and anxiety are eating you inside out. Whatever is the reason for her visit, you know that can’t be any good. You really wish you could snap at her. Ask her ‘what the fuck she wants’. Unfortunately for you, you can’t do something like that. Not when you feel like shrinking into a shrimp. Guilty. Ashamed. You can’t even look her in the eyes. You owe her the biggest apology. Yet you can’t bring yourself to do even that. It feels stupid. You need to try, though. She deserves at least that.

“Liya I-I’m so─”

“Don’t. I’m not here so you can apologize and find peace.”

You close your mouth which you opened to do just that. A wave of embarrassment ripples through you at her tone. Dismissive. Condescending. Your cheeks grow hot. It’d feel nice to be able to talk back. Defend yourself. How unfortunate that you’ve lost any right to do so.

“Then why are you here Liya? You gonna pay me to stay away from your boyfriend?” You mutter wearily. The exhaustion finding its way back to you. You have no energy to do this. Not now anyway. You know you’re wrong. You know you’re the biggest lying bitch. Yet you’re also human who feels drained off. You have to bite back the urge to cry hard.

Liya takes a minute. As if she’s processing your words as you keep eyeing her. Then all of a sudden, she crackles up with laughter. So loud that you recoil in your chair. Her giggles, which are like sweet venom, fill the entire space. For the people in the kitchen this might seem like an adorable moment for two sisters. Except for Jungkook, of course. You gape at her with an open mouth as she keeps laughing like you’ve made the biggest joke of the year. Okay, this is getting out of hand now. It is one thing not to be able to fight back when you’re the one who’s guilty. Still, it’s completely another to getting demeaned this way. You clench your teeth hard to keep your exhaustion and pain from turning into anger. It won’t get you anywhere. You need to be patient. And luckily it doesn’t take long. Liya puffs out a breath shortly after. Trying to sober from her blown out laughter.

“That was funny.” She croaks. You remain silent. You deserve this shit after all. You brought this on yourself. “Why would you ever think that I would pay. For you. To stay. Away from my boyfriend?” She leans forward to look you dead in the eye. “That’s so funny to even think. You’re the bitch here and you think I should pay you?”

“I didn’t say that Liya.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Not wanting to bide your time with this woman. Yes, you’re wrong and you know that. Still, it doesn’t mean you have to do this. “All I’m asking is to get done with your business. Why are you here?” Liya’s smile vanishes at that.

“Okay, I like that you still have some nerves to act like you have any rights to do so.” Shrugs. You will yourself to stay calm. “So, how long are you gonna stay here? It’s like all my advice have been fallen into deaf ears. I asked you to leave as soon as you can sissy, you didn’t listen. Now look where we are. Look at the mess you have created. Do you have any idea how much trouble it caused us? Caused Jimin?” She raises one of her brows. You gulp harshly. That’s the part you’ve been afraid of. It caused Jimin problems. You feel your heart shatter.

“I- uh…” You try in vain to say something. You can’t. So, you just downcast your eyes to your lap. Heart heavy with guilt.

“Look, like I told you earlier, I really don’t want to fight with myself. Despite everything we’re still two versions of the same person. I mean it’s crazy how different we are, like I will never do something that cheap you know—” That condescending, smug smile finds its way back on her face. “—It’s cheap, what you did.” Adds. You shut your eyes for a moment.

Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.

If Jungkook ever heard that, he’d really hit Liya without caring for the fact that she’s a woman. But you need to remain calm. It’s your fault. It’s your wrongdoing. “But still, I hope we have at least some things in common.” Liya continues. “Like I expect that you want to preserve whatever still left in your dignity. I hope you’re smart. So, lil sis, I hope you’ll find this a chance to do the right thing.” You hate that she calls you sister. Why would she do that? To make you feel worse. You force yourself to look at her.

“If it isn’t for you, at least do it for the others. Like you have no idea how much of a damage you’re causing in Jimin’s life just because you’re wet.” You flinch at the word. Liya keeps going. “I think you’ve become friends with everyone. So, in that case, it’s safe to think that you won’t want to cause them harm now, will you? You don’t know how hard boys worked for the company. How much time and money they poured into it. And this?” She gestures at you. “A single mistake is enough to ruin everything. Jimin will lose everything and so will his friends. And I really wish you’re not someone who’d be that selfish.” Tilts her head. It takes you a second to realize that she’s expecting an answer from you.

“Wh-what do you want me to do? Just because you ask, I can’t stop coming here. It’s going to happen whether I like it or not.” You refrain from telling her the part where you only have a year. That’s none of her business. Liya smiles softly.

“That’s a shame but no. That’s not what I’m asking. All I’m asking is for you to stay away. It’s not that hard now, is it? If you really want to get- uh- lemme be straightforward- dicked down that badly—” She points toward the kitchen with her thumb. “Let me tell you that boy there would be more than glad to give you what you want.”

“Keep. Him. Out of it Liya.” You grit your teeth for the first time since she arrived. She chuckles at your glare.

“Okay. Whatever you want. It’s up to you anyway. What I want is for you to stay away. From Jimin and the company.” Her voice turns serious back again. “It’s not just my relationship with Jimin that you’re ruining. You’re ruining his career and future. All for what? A bliss that you could live for couple months until you inevitably return. Jimin would have to face all the consequences alone. Don’t be that selfish. You might be a little college girl who still doesn’t understand how harsh the world is. So, let me teach you sweety, it’s not one of those romance novels you read and Jimin isn’t a prince who’s going to sacrifice his career for you either. In the end, you’re going to ruin everyone’s life. Stay away. Resign.” With that she gets to her feet. The chair scrapes against the floor at the force she does that. “And listen to my words while I’m still being nice. Don’t think it’s just a mere coincidence that there is only one video and our faces aren’t clear. We had to go through hell to get everything cleared up.” Turns around.

Well, that makes perfect sense. And it makes sense why you’re not in any pain either. If your faces were clear in that video, people could’ve been confused who’s Liya. That certainly could’ve put you in pain. But you’re not in pain. Unless you don’t consider the way your heart aches right now. At what she said. At the implication. At how true every word she uttered. You’re a saboteur. A selfish bitch who ruined everything. You look up at her with glassy eyes. Of course, she is telling the truth, and you need to do as she asks. Liya is a smart woman, she had hit the nail right on the head. You would’ve thrown all the care out of the window when it comes to you, but you care about Jimin too much. Care about Hoseok. Taehyung. Seokjin. Care about each and every one. So, you will heed her words. Still, however, there has been a question that had made your head hurt to think.

“You suspected, didn’t you? There’s no way you could’ve been so oblivious.” Your voice comes out hoarse. Liya stops and partially turn around. She knows what you’re implying at.

“Of course, I did. I’m no fool. You two were too close. Emi always let me know how much time you spent in his office.”

“Then why?” You press your fingers into your thighs. “Why caused so much commotion if you knew?”

“No. I didn’t know. That’s completely two different things. I suspected. That’s it and I’m not happy to be found out that my suspicions were right. It hurt me. You know, I may not look like it, but I care about Jimin. I was with him for five years. And I will not allow anything or anyone to change it. To answer your question, that’s none of your business. Just know that everything I do have valid reasons. I don’t play for fun. I play for win.”

Her boyfriend.

You don’t stop her this time. Just watch her disappear with a blurry gaze. She steps out from the door at the same time when Jungkook enters. You don’t look at his face. Just because you want to hide your tears. He says nothing either. Places your phone in front of you on the table before sitting next to you. Pulls you into his embrace and you let him.

You wait that way until you finally feel like you can breathe again. Until Mrs. Kim calls out for Jungkook. So, you reassure him you’re fine. Wait till he’s gone to unlock your phone. Not knowing what you’re going to do when a new notification catches your attention. A new message.

I’m so sorry Spring Roll. Please don’t be mad at me. Let’s talk today? Meet me at my office, I’ll wait for you. – Park.

……………………………….

You truly didn’t want to do this. Not at all. Yet after sitting alone at the empty table for hours. Almost until the place started to fill with patrons, you came to a decision. Liya was absolutely right. You played with fire and nearly got everyone burnt in that. Not that you ever wished for it. Not even in your dreams that you wanted to cause any harm to Park Jimin or his friends. Now, though, since you have nearly come to it, this is your cue to finally do something about it. Grow up. Prove that you’re not a naïve college girl even though that’s who you are. You need to take responsibility for your actions. You need to apologize to people who deserve that. And lastly you need to step away from their lives and accept that yours is not a fairy tale even if it’s so full of wonders.

That’s your reason for being back here again in the RUN building. You are going to do it properly and end this. You are going to meet Hoseok and resign. Are going to apologize to him. To Taehyung and Seokjin. And of course, you are going to do the same with Park Jimin. You clench your fists into tight balls at the thought of him. Digging crescents into your palms. It hurts to think what you’re about to do. You haven’t replied to his text. Didn’t feel the need to do so. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You don’t know what he’s planning to tell you. That doesn’t matter, however. Like Liya said, there’s no point in your sneaky games. It’s better if you build the guts to end it now before Jimin will do it sooner or later.

Jimin isn’t a prince who’s going to sacrifice his career for you either.

Yes. That’s it. This will be the last time you walk across this lobby. So, you steel yourself not to look around you. It’s not like all of these busy people might have seen the video or know what happened. Still, you feel like walking through a forest of eyes. As if everyone is looking at you and laughing. Whispering. In reality, you know that no one gives a damn. Even with that, however, your palms are extra sweaty as you run toward the elevator. The doors nearly close as you rush toward them. You become almost convinced that you missed it when someone inside hurriedly stretch their arm to open the doors back. You swiftly push yourself inside with a soft ‘thank you’ before you raise your head to meet your helper.

“Oh!” It leaves your mouth involuntarily as you’re met with the wide eyes of Taehyung.

“Hey!” He mumbles in return as you bow to him slightly. He does the same to you. Fortunately, or unfortunately it’s just you two in the elevator. You decide it’s the latter when an uncomfortable silence falls between you as Taehyung presses the button to your floor. It’s awkward. It was never awkward with Kim Taehyung. He’s a social butterfly who’d make small talk with a blank wall. This is a testament to how uncomfortable you have made him. Or not. “Um... are you okay?” He surprises you with those next words.

“Huh?” You gape at him stupidly.

“You know. The video and all those shits. Didn’t expect to see you at work today.”

“Oh, I- uh- I’m fine Taehyung. I mean as fine as I could be. And I’m not here to work. I’m resigning.” You blurt out. Taehyung’s eyes go wide again.

“Wait, what? Why? You don’t have to do that. I mean—”

“Really. Tae?” You almost laugh at that. “You think I don’t have to do that after everything?”

“Well, it’s personal, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with the work and we took care of everything else. And if this is about Liya, she holds no power over what we should do in our company. You can continue to work as long as you wish.”

You sigh heavily. “You need to stop doing that Tae. I don’t know what’s all of your guys’ problem with Liya. But you need to admit that this is wrong. I don’t know how good or bad Liya is- I mean to you, but this isn’t okay.”

“Well, I didn’t say you should keep it up with Jimin. I’m saying that you shouldn’t give up on your job because of that.” Taehyung knits his eyebrows. This is the most serious you’ve ever seen him. It doesn’t suit him.

“And you think we’ll not end up doing it again if we’re in the same vicinity.”

“Why? You can’t resist each other?” A smile creeps on his face. Makes you roll your eyes.

“Don’t go there Kim Taehyung. Not the time.”

“Sorry.” That smile disappears. Yet you still prefer it when he is unserious. “But still, Li, don’t do this because of it. Jimin won’t like it. I don’t want him to blame himself. He cares, you know.” Taehyung looks at you expectantly. As if he’s waiting for you to confirm it. Say that you know. Well, do you know that? Maybe. You’re not sure. So, you do nothing but just stare back at him. That makes Taehyung chuckles. Almost in a pitiful way. “Gosh, I really want him to be able to do something. To have a choice. To be able to say fuck it and do whatever he wants.” Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets. Throws his head back. You won’t ask him why Jimin can’t do that. Because you know he can’t. That leaves you with the question why Taehyung can’t do it.

It’s funny how you and him never had a one-on-one serious conversation. You despised him when you first met him. Then when you started doing same morally gray shits as him, you slowly start to like him. Still, you never asked him why he does what he does. “Then why can’t you Taehyung? I’m sure you’re not bound to have responsibilities as much as Jimin. Why don’t you just say fuck it and do whatever you want?”

“I am doing it aren’t I? I live my life the way I want.”

“Do you? Your life is as fucked as mine or Jimin’s. C’mon, no offense, but your relationship with Seoyeon isn’t the best now, is it? You act like you can’t even stand being in the same room as her.” You’re not even joking here. Taehyung sure does appear like trying to run away from his girlfriend half the time. “Why? Like, why are you still in a relationship that you can’t stand? Why cheating around and still keep her with you?”

Taehyung shrugs. His face turns grim. “I don’t know. I just feel bad.”

“Bad about what?”

“Just breaking up with her. Seoyeon isn’t bad as she appears.” Well, you don’t think she’s bad at all. “I just don’t love her. Never did. I don’t know why I asked her to be my girlfriend in the first place and when I realized I fucked up, it was already too late. I just don’t know how to commit. I can’t do that. It drains me off. And now I feel bad to leave her alone.”

“And you don’t feel bad to cheat on her? I know I’m not the person who should say this but that’s not fair. Not to her and not to you either. If you want to live a liberating life, then you should do it the right way. She deserves to have everything in her life too. Someone who’d love her and you’re keeping her away from that. It’s worse than breaking up with her.”

Taehyung blinks at your face. Opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the ding sound of elevator door opening. Well, you didn’t plan on having that conversation with Kim Taehyung. And you know you’re the last person who should give him moral advice. Yet you think yours and his situations are not entirely similar. You’re not the one who’s in a relationship. It’s Jimin. And you don’t know why Jimin fell into bed with you. You don’t know why he wanted to do it with you, especially when Liya and you are the same person. You don’t know what’s happening between Liya and Jimin. What makes them, them. All you know is that what you and Jimin did was a little escape from reality. Something that you both probably wanted. Maybe he was stressed, and you know your life was miserable. Now it’s time to end that. So, you just give Taehyung a final nod. Hoping he will not take offense to what you said. Puff out a breath as you look out through the elevator doors.

You planned different ways to do this the entire time you spent on getting ready and coming here. You knew it’s going to hurt. Saying goodbyes always sucks. You don’t even want to think how hard it’ll hurt to say it to Jimin. You need to do that, however. Can’t cower after you already made it this far. You almost step out while pep talking yourself mentally when Taehyung suddenly groans. You halt your movements to look at him. He is clutching his forehead.

“Oh, fuck he is here again.” Annoyance bounces off from his voice. Lets his hand fall down. Clenches his teeth. “I hate to see that fucking—” Gasps. Eyes wide and turning to look at you with a horrified expression. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to uh…” Shakes his head violently. You furrow your brows in confusion. What on the earth is this man talking about? Why is he apologizing? “It’s just your father can be a teeny bit annoying sometimes.” Taehyung chuckles nervously. Your furrow deepens.

“What?”

“Your father.” Taehyung, yet aging holds his hand out to hold the elevator door. You turn away from him to check who he’s helping this time. You catch the sight of an old man in a pristine black suite walking toward the elevator. Talking with a woman next to him. Surrounded by too many people. “Mr. Kim, I mean- what I’m saying is that he is a good man but….” Taehyung keeps rumbling. Yet the words slowly start to fade away for you.

What now? Father? Mr. Kim?

A loud gasp leaves past your lips. Realization hitting you hard. Mr. Kim. As in Liya’s father. That man who’s currently walking toward you is that man. You watch in horror as he laughs aloud for something the woman said. His focus solely on the woman. You without even your knowledge have expected Liya’s parents to look like yours. But this man looks nothing like your father. No wonder that you didn’t know who he was when you first noticed him. That, however, doesn’t change the fact that you look exactly like his daughter. Liya. Not her twin since Mr. Kim has no two daughters. And he is about to face you. There’s no more than five feet between you. Taehyung is keeping the elevator on hold. When he finally notices you that’s going to blow your damn cover. He will address you as Liya and you’ll have to pretend to be her. That will put you in pain and everyone will panic. Taehyung will wonder why your own father can’t recognize you and there’ll be no way out of that. No explanations.

Fuck no!

Your body works in autopilot mode when you suddenly grab Taehyung’s arm. Whatever he’s been saying instantly dying on his tongue at your sudden movements. You yank him to your side at the same time you step behind him. Covering yourself by his broad figure right at the moment the old man finally turns his head forward.  

“What? What the hell are you doing?” Taehyung tries to step away and look at you. You hold on to his shirt.

“Oh, please. I can’t face him.”

“What? What are you—” His words get cut off when the party finally reaches the elevator.

“Taehyung.” You cover yourself more behind Taehyung as that deep voice addresses him. It’s a good thing that Taehyung is tall and broad. Yet you know it’s not enough to hide you completely from everyone’s eyes. You would have to do with this, however.

“M-Mr. Kim.” Taehyung nods at the man. Very uncomfortable as it’s clearly noticeable in his voice.

“You’re coming to work now?” Liya’s father questions again. You want him to leave soon. “No. I just had to left for some work.” Taehyung answers. Mr. Kim mumbles a quick okay in reply before he steps inside the elevator. Everybody else starts to fill in as well. Making Taehyung steps away to make space. Making you step with him to keep yourself covered. And luckily for you, he doesn’t try to walk away from you. Not even look at you. Just tries to exit the damn elevator while not turning his back to Kim. Walks backward facing people inside the elevator. Awkward. Weird. Still, it looks like he can pick up a sign. He may be the funny guy who does stupid things most of the time but can certainly be smart sometimes. You walk backward with him. Step out. Nearly sigh in relief.

“And who might be the lady hiding behind you?” Mr. Kim’s voice is laced with amusement. Of course, anyone can see you. You knew it. Just that you wished they wouldn’t question.

“Oh, uh- Seoyeon—” Okay, you take your earlier thoughts back. He’s definitely stupid. You pinch his back hard enough that he yelps. But recovers quickly. Laughs. “Not Seoyeon. That’s what I tried to say. Not Seoyeon at all. Why would she hide right? This is someone else—” You pinch his waist this time. “Actually, this is no one important. I’ll let you leave Mr. Kim. See you soon then. Yeah, bye!” Takes another step back. You take it with him. Then another and another until the elevator door closes. He waits few more seconds. As if to make sure everyone has left for real. Then like a thunder boom, turns around so fast that you flinch.

“What the fuck was that?” Both of you bellow at the same time.

“Why would you tell him I’m Seoyeon?” You’re the one who question first. Taehyung looks at you with an incredulous expression.

“Why the hell would you hide from your own farther?” Gestures at the now closed door. Well, you think that’s a more valid question than yours. Your shoulders slump as you smack your lips together.

“Uh- I guess Hoseok told you that I’m the family disgrace. It’s like... mm...” You shrug. “He really doesn’t like to see me.” Offer him a soft smile. Taehyung’s incredulous expression instantly morphs into a sympathetic one. Hoseok definitely has told them about that part.

“Yeah, shit, I’m sorry.” He mutters softly while roaming his eyes over your figure. Like he’s expecting you to break apart at any moment. Looks at you like you’re a stray kitten getting drenched in a storm.

“Yeah, life is hard.” You nod. Trying to mirror his sympathetic look. Not hard since you’re already in a somber mood.

“Yeah.” He nods too. “I’m really sorry Li. That must really suck, like him not being your biological father and then he’s only favoring one of you. That shit must be really hard. I can’t even imagine that.” Taehyung gives you a tight-lipped smile. Looks very genuine. Shakes his head. Yet, you almost don’t hear the last part. Eyes snapping to his face while your mouth falling opening.

“Wha—” The question nearly escapes your mouth before you catch your tongue.

“Huh?”

“N-nothing, I mean, yes. That sucks. Very.” You chuckles nervously. Taehyung pats your head. Turns around while you just blink at him.

What the hell?

Mr. Kim isn’t Liya’s biological father? Well, that explains a lot why he doesn’t look like your father. But how come you never knew that. How come nobody ever told you that. It’s not like people would tell you about your own family, but you’re surprised. More than surprised actually. Jimin should’ve told you. True, that you never really talked about Liya but still, you could’ve blown your cover stupidly. Guess, it’s a close call after all. You scrunch your eyes shut. Blow out a breath. Opening them back again to find Taehyung’s retrieving back.

It seems like it’s finally your time to get your business done. No matter how much you don’t want to do that. As in cue Taehyung turns around. Maybe he can read mind too.

“And Li? Just think about the resigning, we all love having you here.”

…………………….

Jimin feels like trapped inside his own skin. With no way out or enough air to breathe. He wants a way to escape this feeling. Yet he can’t find one. He is pacing around his office like a maniac. As how he always does. His phone is clutched tightly between his fingers as his eyes snap toward the screen every few seconds. There’s nothing. Every minute passes without his phone dinging without a notification from you intensifies his trapped feeling.

You haven’t replied to him. It’s been hours. He has sent you three more texts, and you’ve left him on read. And you never do that. Something discomforting settles inside Jimin. He knows he took far too long to contact you. He should’ve texted you way earlier. But he was so preoccupied with getting things sorted and under control. He didn’t even have time to eat a proper meal. Was doing his very best and everything to get rid of all the videos. To prevent it from landing in the hands of press. Keeping everything hidden and getting rid of the evidence. He had no time for anything else. Nobody did. Not Liya. Not his friends. Hell, Jimin and Liya didn’t even have time to fight like a normal couple would. Not that he’s complaining. But that’s the truth. He has sent you a text the very moment he was able to. And he doesn’t like how you’re ignoring him. It doesn’t make him mad. It makes him scared.

Scared because he knows he fucked up. Again. He failed you. Again. He abandoned you and made you seek refuge in someone else when he told you not to do so, just a minute ago before it happened. He’s a failure through and through. A coward. And now he’s afraid the consequences are about to get to him.

It’s simply Jimin didn’t even know what he was doing at that time. It all happened too fast for his liking. He doesn’t know if he had done the right thing. What’s the right thing anyway? What’s the winning side? In Jimin’s case there’s no winning side. He was bound to lose one way or the other. He doesn’t know what made him follow Liya. He doesn’t remember. Only thing he know is that this would’ve been so much more messed up, if he hadn’t.

Figure out your shit Jimin. There’s thousands of people on your hands.

Right? It’s not like he can make decisions for himself. His life is too cruel to be able to do so. If he has done the other way around, then this might’ve been the last day of him being in this office. His friends wouldn’t have looked at his face. His name would’ve been on paper. He would’ve lost everything he worked hard for. Everybody would’ve known how much of a loser he is. You would’ve known he was a fucking failure. That’s terrifying to even think. Now he has avoided all of those things, he should be feeling relieved and happy. The thing is, though, he feels nothing remotely close to relief. He has saved everyone. But at what cost? He thinks he has failed to save himself.

Funny. Because this wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You were supposed to fuck and get done. You were supposed to be his stress reliver. And you were. You still are. Just not sexually wise though. This feeling he’s getting. The feeling of being trapped and not being able to breathe, it would go away when you’re here. You’ve become his escape. His air. And he’s terrified of losing it. Losing you. He genuinely doesn’t know what he should tell you. Doesn’t know how to explain. He feels ashamed to tell you the truth. The last thing he wants is for you to see him as the real loser he is. It’s always easy with you, yes. You always understand, yes. But what if you run away when you see the real him. He has seen the way you look at him. That admiration and adoration. You act like Jimin is God. Has heard that in your voice. What if he lost it. He’s too greedy to do that. Yet he can still apologize. Profoundly. He would kneel in front of you if that’s what it takes. For every fucking pain he caused.

Because you were in pain. He saw that in your eyes when your eyes met before you disappeared behind a door that day. You were broken. Because of him. Up until that moment, Jimin was feeling numb with all the emotions. Then as his eyes connected with you, it all had come crashing down to him. Everything. He can’t even remember when or who had dragged Liya away from him. All he could think about was the way he had let you go. How he had fucked up. How he shouldn’t have done that. How he shouldn’t have left you alone. Shouldn’t have let you go. All he could think about was making it right again. He had wanted to follow you. Run after you. Yank you away from Jungkook into his chest. Kiss every inch of your face and apologize over and over again. Until he’d lost his voice doing so. He was really at a breadth of a hair apart from risking everything when he had taken a step forward. Just to be pushed back by pair of hands. Jimin had felt furious to see Jin stopping him. He would’ve never listened to his older friend but then Taehyung had stepped forward too. Had stopped Jimin. And Jimin had witnessed that rare occasions where his best friend was mad. They had muttered a single line repeatedly.

“Not now Jimin-ah. You fucking can’t. Not now.”

That’s how Jimin had lost. Lost himself and you. Now all he want is to apologize. But you’re not replying. Maybe he should call you. If you don’t answer, he would definitely drive to Kim’s to meet you whether you like it or not. He unlocks his phone. Determined just to do that when his office doors are barged open. Jimin snaps his head toward it immediately. Face lightening up with hope. Only for it to fall when his eyes land on Taehyung.

“Oh, wow, you look really happy to see me.” Taehyung chuckles.

“Not in a mood Tae.” Jimin rolls his eyes before going back to unlocking his phone.

“Yeah? Then should I leave?” Taehyung asks in a mischievous enough voice that Jimin can’t help but eye him suspiciously. Taehyung smirks. “I’m just here to let you know that Li is here. I just met her.” And just like that Jimin is back to beaming with expectation. “Yeah?” Mumbles more to himself as he already walks toward the door without even knowing where he’s going. Taehyung stops him, however. “Yeah. And she’s about to resign.” Jimin halts mid-step. Just as he’s passing Taehyung. Making them stand shoulder to shoulder with his best friend. Facing two opposite directions.

“What?” Jimin whispers. The excitement he felt vanishes into thin air. He turns his head slightly to peer at Taehyung’s amber eyes. Taehyung just shrugs. “I asked her not do so but we both know that she has no other options in the end.” Jimin frowns at that.

“What do you mean, she has no the other options? Nothing happened─”

“Nothing happened?” Taehyung exclaims aloud. “Dude, she got slapped in front of hundreds of people. And you’re saying nothing happened?”

“That’s not what I meant. We got rid of everything before it can affect anyone. Affect her. Nobody in this building knows what happened. Even if they do, they don’t know it was Lil. She doesn’t have to resign because of that.” Jimin argues. Feeling lost. Looking his worst fears coming true. You’re about to go away again.

“Oh, c’mon Jimin. Even I- who sees no logic in anything- can see where she’s coming from. How can she work under us after that happened. After she got exposed like that. How could she face Liya again. Act like nothing happened. I would do the same if I was her.”  Taehyung shrugs yet again.

“Well, then maybe I can explain to her and make her see it. She doesn’t have to lose a good job because of me.” Jimin blinks at his best friend’s face. “I- uh- I’ll just talk to her. Where is she now?” He knows what Taehyung said was true. It’s annoying when his unserious best friend makes sense.

“At Hoseok’s, of course.” Taehyung’s eyes aren’t wavering. There’s an amusing sparkle in them. Makes Jimin uncomfortable. It’s like there’s something that Taehyung doesn’t tell him. Jimin wants to question it, but he needs to find you first. Jimin almost steps forward at Taehyung’s answer. Only to get interrupted when Taehyung speaks again. “What’s happening Jimin?” He turns around to face Jimin fully. Jimin just furrows his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you so worried about her leaving?”

“Because it’s not fair.”

Taehyung scoffs at that. “Not fair? Jimin, what’s not fair is her being here, being judged by people and getting slapped for the mistakes you both made. What’s not fair is she has no options. What are you even planning to do? Ask her to stay? Saying what? That you really can’t live without her pussy. That’s not what’s fair, Jimin. You gonna keep her here because you don’t want to lose the sex and she’d be the one to go through hell. That’s not what’s fucking fair.”

“Tha-that’s not.” Jimin is too stunned to speak at his best friend’s sudden outburst. Taehyung never does this.

“I mean, I’m not someone to judge people because I’m in no place to do so but Li, she looked like shit and I’m feeling really sorry towards her. Her father doesn’t like her. Her sister already hates her and now she might want to kill her. She lives with a stranger and she’s sick. Hoseok told me. And you gonna go after her and demand her to stay because she’s a good lay?”

“She’s not just a good lay.” Jimin steps forward. Clenching his teeth. He doesn’t like hearing someone talk about you that way. He doesn’t even know why. And he completely ignores Taehyung’s reasonings. Only if Taehyung knew.

“Then what? You love her?”

Like that Jimin freezes completely. Gaping at Taehyung. Opens his mouth just to close it back. No answer coming to his mouth. Resembles a fish. Chuckles. Breathless. Why is he so shocked? All he has to do is deny. Because that’s not the case after all. “No- Tae, of course not─” This is ridiculous. He sure doesn’t love you. Just cares about you beyond sex, that’s it. “I- I just care about her. Like- ugh- I don’t know man. It’s just that she’s a good person and I like her company. She’s not just a good lay. I feel free when I’m with her and- and she makes me do stupid reckless things I shouldn’t do, and I like that too. A little too much. I- I don’t know what I want exactly but I don’t want to cause any harm to her. I don’t want to lose her either.” Jimin doesn’t even realize that he’s rambling until Taehyung laughs. Shakes his head.

“Well, I don’t know what’s that makes of this situation. I obviously don’t know if that feeling is love Jimin because I haven’t been in love once in my life. But you have. So, I would take your word for it.” Steps toward Jimin. Pats his shoulder. Jimin feels weird. He’s been in love. Of course, he has. Right? He loved Liya once. This isn’t love because this isn’t how he felt. He’s safe. “And that’s good that you don’t like her in that kind of way. Because that’d just make everything complicated.” Sighs. Oh, Jimin hates when Taehyung is in a mood. Doesn’t suit him. “Still, though, it’s not fair that you’d just go after her and ask her to stay. If you really care, you should keep her far away from her sister. She doesn’t deserve that shit.”

Jimin no longer feels weird. He feels heavy. As if his heart is supporting fifty pounds. He knows it’s not fair. He knows the best thing is to let you go. But he can’t. No. God, he can’t. It hurts to even imagine that. “I- I don’t want to. I- Taehyung, you’ve not been listening to me. She makes me feel alive. I just don’t want to lose that.”

“Well, that’s so fucking selfish.”

“I know. I know I’m fucking selfish. Just can’t help it.”

“Then at least you need to give her a better explanation. You need to tell her why you’d have to keep her a fucking secret. I’m not talking about love or dating. You could’ve fucked her, or do any other shit with her freely, if it wasn’t for Liya. Then it’d not be an unfair situation to either of you. At least tell her why you can’t even give her that. This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t even know what you’re planning to do Jimin? What’s your fucking plan.” Taehyungs hand on Jimin’s shoulder tightens.

“I just need time. That’s all I want. I can make it right.” Jimin resigns. And Taehyungs features softens immediately as well. He steps back. Jimin may not know what he wants from you precisely. But he knows he need to put things on track. With his business and relationship. He can’t forever be an asset. He’s done being in debt. But this is not a game where he can press a button to change things. He needs time. That was exactly what he planned to do when he met you the other day. Baring gifts. It’s unfortunate how it has come to this. Still, though, he thinks he can try. And he needs you. Selfish? Hell, yes. Yet, he wants you.

Taehyung groans. “Oh, you selfish asshole.” Grumbles. “What can I do though. You’re my best fucking friend and you’ve done far worst shit for me. So, maybe let’s just see how we are going to fuck things up. We built things together so, it’s only fair if we fucked up things together too.” Throws his head up. Shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let’s be the partners in crime then. Like old times.” Looks back at Jimin expectantly. Jimin says nothing. Just a smile graces his lips. Taehyung always has been his partner in crime and Jimin is always grateful for him. “Then maybe you should go and do whatever you wish to do. I mean she’d obviously come visit you, but this would at least save Hobi the trouble.” Taehyung gestures at the door. Jimin gives him a nod. Yes, he’s going to do whatever he has to do. Taehyung nods in reply as well. “I really suck at this advising thing.” Mumbles as Jimin turns around.

……………………………………….

Jimin nearly makes it halfway toward Hoseok’s office when a sudden voice echoes behind him. A voice that is too familiar to him. A voice that he doesn’t want to hear right now. No. Not now. Yet it seems he has no other options as he hears the clanking sound of Liya’s heels against the marble floor. A sudden flash of irritation shoots across Jimin’s entire body. Liya has no business here. It’s so wrong for him to even get irritated. Yet it appears that he doesn’t care in the end. Jimin slowly turns around to face the approaching woman. A very fake smile is pasted on her face. Jimin doesn’t bother to reciprocate it. Liya doesn’t wish to see Jimin as much as he does. He knows it.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asks straight away without any pleasantries. There’s no need to do that. Liya, however, just throws her hands around his neck. Catching him in surprise before pulling away. It’s a brief contact. But is enough to weird Jimin out.

“What? I can’t come visit my boyfriend?” Liya pouts. She never pouts. Not in this way, at least. Doesn’t suit her just like how it doesn’t suit Taehyung to be mad.

“Oh c’mon, Liya, cut the bullshit please. We definitely aren’t on terms as to where you’d visit me just to see me and hug me. Don’t act like nothing happened. It’s not okay.” Jimin frowns. For a moment, it looks like Liya is about to keep her pretense on. After a brief second, her face falls.

“Yeah, okay. Nothing’s fine. Of course, it isn’t. I mean you fucking cheated on me. How’s that fine?” Liya scoffs. Jimin winces at her voice. He might be as much of a jerk as Taehyung now, but that doesn’t mean he has no conscience. He feels guilty. He does. Simply wishes he could be a better man. To her. To you. And to himself. Too late now, however. “But that’s exactly why I’m here Jimin. We need to talk. Sit down and talk this out like adults.” Liya exhales loudly. Jimin bores into her eyes. He wants to laugh. There was a time when Jimin really wanted to talk. But they were busy. Liya was busy. She believed it was a waste of time to just argue when they’d end up with no solution anyway. Talking meant fighting to her. Then Jimin made sure he was busy too. It worked well until it didn’t.

“You want to talk?” Jimin thinks it’s too late for that talk now. Just asks for the sake of it. He owes Liya an apology after all.

“Yes. You don’t?”

“What are we gonna talk about? About why you’re forgiving me? Why you’re acting like nothing happened Liya?”

“I’m not acting like nothing happened Jimin. I’m just acting matured. We’re adults. People make mistakes and I’m willing to forgive you. But in order to do that, we need to talk and figure out why it happened.”

Oh, how badly Jimin wants to laugh. True, that they both didn’t have enough time to even fight let alone talk. But except for the part where she attacked you, Liya is acting unnecessarily calm. Jimin doesn’t think that’s being matured. No. Liya needs to lose her shit. She needs to cry. She needs to slap him too. She needs to threaten him with a breakup. She has the upper hand here. She needs to threaten him with her father. His business. It’s awfully suspicious in Jimin’s mind that she’s acting this way.

“What?” Liya questions again in his silence. “Look baby─” Jimin visibly winces at the term of endearment. There was a time where it made his stomach flutter. Then there was a time that it made him feel indifferent. And then in this moment, it makes him feel uneasy. Liya just continues, however. Completely ignoring the visible change in his features. See, odd. Very. “─I know there must be a reason for why it happens. I’m at fault too. I mean, we forgot to make it work. So, let’s consider this as a test. A test that check how well we can work this out. Let’s consider this as a reminder that our relationship needs some work. We can work it back Jimin.” Steps forward. Places a gentle hand on his upper arm. Jimin’s eyes fall to where she’s touching him for a second before he looks back at her face again. “It’s not late. We still have time. I really do love you that I can forgive you.” Smiles softly.

Liya doesn’t forgive. Just like his friends said, she’s a snake and she bites. In revenge. That’s who she is. This is really strange. And Jimin doesn’t think she loves him. No. Not anymore. This is a relationship in convenience. Still, he peers at her eyes. He loved those eyes once. He really did.

Is it really not too late?

Does he still love those eyes?

Does he─

The sudden sound of footsteps make Jimin’s eyes snap away from Liya. It’s completely unintentional how his eyes trail past her. Stopping on a new figure who rounded the corner just now. The intruder stops. Dead on the track. Big wide eyes are fixed on him.

You stand still, while your eyes are locked with him. The wind gets knocked out of Jimin’s lungs.

Oh, it’s late. Too fucking late.

Jimin feels a warmth engulf him fully. Then an ache surges through him. A longing. His heart clenches.

He doesn’t love those eyes, anymore.

Or he does. But those eyes, doesn’t belong to the same person anymore. He doesn't know what’s happening to him. Only thing he knows is the bittersweet feeling he is getting. All he knows is that he can’t wait another second. He doesn’t realize how much he wanted to see you until now. Until you’re in front of him. Finally. All he knows is that he’s not going to waste it this time.

It feels like a dream to Jimin when he steps to his side. When he starts walking past Liya. Maybe she calls to him but that falls into deaf ears.

You’re here and he needs to pull you into his arms immediately.

You stay still there. Eyes still wide. But this time you wander those eyes away from him. You look past him. Then back to him. He knows you’re looking at Liya. He has no idea what’s going on in your head but nothing’s going to happen again. No one’s going to lay a finger on you. Except him. He stops before you. Takes a good look at your pretty face. You look tired. Eyes puffy. Breaks his heart into tiny pieces. Makes him want to take all the pain away from you.

It’s going to be okay.

Stretches his arms to grab you. To pull you into his embrace.

You recoil like spring. And all his senses comes back to him. Like you’ve slapped him. Makes Jimin’s eyes go wide for a moment before he frowns in confusion. A deep ache tugs at his heart. A moment passes in silence before you suddenly speak.

“I am resigning Mr. Park. Thank you for allowing me to work here. It’s been a pleasure.” You bow deep to him.

Mr. Park?

You can’t be already resigned. Even if you have, that’s okay. He can make sure you’ve got any job inside this building. He doesn't give a single fuck about what people say. He must be losing his mind. “Lil? What are you─”

“I have already resigned. I came to say thank you. So, thank you Mr. Park.” You mumble once again with a bow. And before he can say or do anything you turn around. Start walking away.

No. No. No.

Jimin watches in horror as you walk away for a minute. Just like the day in club. His poor brain is taking its sweet time processing things. And he does exactly feel the way he did that day. Watching you walk away.

No. Not this time.

He’s not an idiot to make the same mistake twice. Jimin practically breaks into a run at the same time you disappear through the corner. It doesn’t take him more than a second to reach you. To grab your arm. Yanks you back and turns around to face him. You scowl at him. Your eyes look furious.

“You’re not walking away. We need to talk.” Jimin’s voice sounds foreign even to him. It’s barely audible through the roar in his ear. Over his own heartbeat.

“Talk what Jimin.” You hiss. A panicked expression crosses through your face as you quickly glance behind him. “Let me go please.”

“No. Not until we talk.”

“You can’t do this for fucks sake. There are people here and─”

“And what? I don’t care. I want to apologize for─”

“Keep your damn apologies to yourself Park. I don’t fucking care.” You try your best to step away from him. Jimin feels like he’s travelled through time. There was a time where you and he used to fight like angry cats. Just the same way. He’d try to stop you while you’re trying to get away. But you passed those days, right? He really hates to go through that again. “I don’t want to be your little secret anymore. You need to let me go.” Your words cut through him painfully. So damn painful that it almost annoys him.

“Well, you agreed to be that Lil. I already told you that you’re going to be stuck with me if you ever agreed to be mine. You can’t just walk away.” Jimin tightens his grip so that you wouldn’t be able run away.

“I did. But that’s way before we got─” You clench your teeth. Lower your voice to low hiss. “─caught. Before I saw how your girlfriend loves you. Before I realized I’m the only one who’s going to get the blame in the end. Get humiliated. I don’t want that again Jimin. I deserve fucking better than that. I deserve better than standing alone in a corridor and getting slapped. I know you did the right thing. And there’s no hard feelings. I don’t hate you or anything like that. I just want to end this shit. I’m tired.” You blabber in one breath. Heave for air once you’re done. Everything you say makes sense to Jimin. But at the same time, it doesn’t. All he needs is one chance to apologize.

“Lil...” Your name leaves Jimin’s lips in a desperate sigh. “I- I know. I- I just, let’s please─”

“I’m leaving.” You state sternly. Oh, it hurts. You don’t even want to listen to him. It hurts like a bitch as Jimin allows his hand to fall limp. He wishes to say something more. Beg more. He’s ready to kneel right now and right here. But before he could, you turn around. Before he could, he feels Liya’s presence next to him. Before he could, you storm away. Not a single glance. Not a single word. Just like that, you run away. You don’t want to be his dirty little secret anymore. And he needs to respect that. You don’t want to do anything with him anymore. He needs to respect that decision. You deserve way better. Of course, you do. Then why can’t he make up his mind to do that.

No.

It hurts.

No, he won’t just let you go.

Not this time. He’s going to go through whatever it takes. He’s going to make you stay.

…………………………..

Jungkook tries to stuff his face while ignoring the heated glare his best friend is throwing at him. Fails. No one can ignore J. Especially Jungkook. J raps his knuckles on the table. Starts speaking even though Jungkook doesn’t look at her. “Why weren’t you in the class today?” She interrogates, irritated. Jungkook refuses to look at her still.

“Because I didn’t feel like it. It’s boring.” Answers through a mouthful.

“Bullshit!” J yells. Makes Jungkook glance at her. But it’s Namjoon who calls her out. “Oh, c’mon. How old are you? You can’t handle being alone in a one class.” He peeks through his laptop. Rolls his eyes before looking pointedly at Jungkook. “I mean it’s not okay you’re skipping classes but still…” Gives J an odd look.

“Yes, I can’t handle it. I want my best friend for emotional support.” J crosses her arms across her chest. Pouts. Namjoon tries to argue again when J starts again. “Besides, he is fucking lying. You didn’t attend today because you didn’t want to leave Li alone.” Points out. Oh, how Jungkook hates his best friend’s observation skills. It’s almost annoying how much she knows about him. He tries to deny the accusation when J points a finger at him. “Don’t. Even. Try. To deny you little shit. I know you. You’re so fucking fixated on her. I mean like first you lied to all of us and then—”

“I didn’t lie to anyone.” Jungkook gives up on trying to eat.

“Well, yeah but you didn’t tell us anything either and you helped her?” J’s face turns into a furious expression. “You knew she was cheating, and you fucking helped her Jeon?”

“I did not fucking help her J. I just didn’t uh-do anything about it because it’s not my place.”

“Silence makes you an accomplice.” Namjoon chimes in again. It’s Jungkook’s time to glare at him. “What? Just saying.” He mumbles before going back to typing furiously on his keypad.

“Exactly!” J chimes. Jungkook groans. Rubs a hand over his face. “So, what do you suggest I should’ve done? Tie her up to fucking chair and keep her inside the apartment? Bribe her with candy? Take her to a church and teach her about the hell?” Throws his hands in the air. Luckily, it seems that it works. J sighs.

“Okay, let’s put that aside. But you still kept it a secret from us.” Nudges Namjoon for assistance, which she doesn’t receive.

“I couldn’t just do that. She is my friend.”

“Oh? Now you’re replacing me? You found a new friend?” J opens her mouth in disbelief. “Us” Namjoon butts in again. Without taking his eyes away from the screen.

“C’mon, Joonie, you’re not fucking helping here. And are you fucking crazy? What are you even talking about J? I said, ‘a friend’. Not damn best friend. It’s you who’s replacing me. You’re the one who don’t even reply to my texts anymore. You’re the one who’s following Jin around like a lost puppy.” It’s not that Jungkook is really mad. He just wants to take the winning hand. “It’s always, Jin that, Jin this.” He mimics her voice. J gasps.

“This is so damn childish. I don’t even know why I’m friend with kids.” Namjoon glanced between his two younger, very immature friends. J slams her palm on the table.

“That’s not the same thing. It’s entirely different. Jin is not a friend. I like him.”

“That’s exactly─ wait, what?” Jungkook’s eyes go instantly wide. “Come again.” Even Namjoon closes his laptop down. Fast. Paying full attention to the conversation for the first time.

“What?” J looks between them confusedly. “I like Jin. Why are you so surprised? Like isn’t it obvious?”

“Hold on, rewind please.” Namjoon turns to face J fully. “I mean yeah, it was obvious, but did you just admit it like that?” Questions.

“Are you dating?” Jungkook adds. Turning the restaurant into a temporary interrogation room in second.

“Does Jin know you like him?”

“Does he like you too?”

“Has he asked you out?”

“You know that we’d break his bones if he tried anything funny─”

“Okay, that’s it.” J bangs the table with both of her palms this time. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Glares at Jungkook and Namjoon as they both shrug.

“Nothing, just two concerned friends.” Namjoon answers on their behalf. Jungkook just nods, feeling grateful for the distraction of the topic. “I mean, J, our sassy ass friend, is admitting she likes a guy for the first time. Isn’t that concerning.” Namjoon further points out while Jungkook just keep nodding in agreement. J rolls her eyes.

“That’s not true. I’ve liked someone once before.” Argues. “Exactly! Look where it got you.” Namjoon exclaims. And Jungkook agrees. “He broke your heart even before you properly even started liking him. So, of course, we’re very concerned right here J,J. You don’t even know Jin properly and you admit you like him.” Namjoon levels J with a pointed look.

“Oh, I know him enough to like him. I mean what’s there not to like about Kim Seokjin.” J huffs. Starts putting her fingers down in count. “He’s so damn fucking handsome. He’s good. Kind. Funny. And of course, is rich. Is a good kisser. You might not want to know this, but he has an impressive dick─” Both Namjoon and Jungkook gags at the same time, but J pays them little to no attention. “─ and knows how to use it. Knows how to use his tongue and lips too─”

“That’s enough. I might have to bleach my ears now.” Namjoon grimaces. “And he’s too old for you.” Adds. J opens her mouth to retort when Jungkook fails to keep his mouth shut. “Yes, and he isn’t funny. He makes weird ass jokes and laughs like a squeaky windshield wiper.” He blurts out before he can process it. Is a very wrong move apparently. J’s eyes snap to him immediately. Burning with fire.

“He. Is. Not. Jeon. He’s funny and good. You two has nothing to worry about. If anything, who we should be worried about is you.” Shoots Jungkook a tight-lipped smile. “Because, just like me, Joen Jungkook, you’re always talking about Li. Noona this, Noona that. Just like me, you’re always following her around like a lost puppy. You even ditched your best friend today to be there for her. Then that’s very concerning unless you… like… her.” Ends her rambling with wide eyes. Dragging the last three words unnecessarily. As if it just makes sense to herself as well. “Holy shit, do you like Li, man?” Questions.

“What?” Jungkook chuckles nervously. Is ready to deny but something twists inside him. Why would he even deny it anymore? So, just closes his mouth back. Namjoon’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You too? What the fuck is happening?” Mutters.

“This is not good.” J mutters as well, glancing at Namjoon and sharing a knowing look. Makes Jungkook irritated. “What’s not good? What’s the problem here?” He scowls at his two friends.

“Dude, she has been having a secret relationship with a practically married man.” J’s expression turns into a genuinely concerned one. Jungkook doesn’t like it a little bit.

“No. That wasn’t technically a relationship. She was just having sex with a man, and she knew it was wrong and was feeling fucking guilty. And now she is about to make things right.” That’s what you told him and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Not just because it’s the best for you. But because it leaves you all to him. Selfish, yes. But still, he’s buzzing with excitement.

“But what if it wasn’t just sex and she likes Jimin?” Namjoon shares J’s concerned look now. Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer that. What would he do if that’s the case. Hell, even the thought makes his heart clench in a painful way.

“And what if she breaks your heart?” J asks again. For that, he has an answer now. “I’m okay with that. She’s worth it.” So, Jungkook mumbles slowly when both of his friends sigh heavily. Jungkook doesn’t look at them. Feels weird. Painful. But he means his every word. And maybe he won’t care if you like Jimin either. He’d still fight and still like you until he’s tired and can’t do it anymore. He has no idea since when he started to feel this strongly toward you. Maybe it was from the first day he saw you. There’s a reason why he didn’t realize J- his best damn friend is falling for someone. A reason for that to slip from his sharp, observant eyes. That’s because he was so immersed in you. Even when he thought you were Liya. He was enamored by you. All he saw was you. Funny. But that’s how it is.

“This is absolutely not good.” Namjoon leans back in his chair. J mirrors his actions. “Not good at all.” Agrees with Namjoon.

“Oh, c’mon…. There’s nothing to be so dramatic about.” Jungkook shrugs them off. Gets to his feet. “This shit is cold now, thanks to you two idiots.” Gathers his food in his hands. Feels a bit heavy but guess it would pass away. Almost turns around to leave when J stops him.

“You know, I really don’t like her. What she did was such a bitchy thing. Especially as a woman, I want to slap her too. But, if she’s trying to do the right thing, and she’s feeling guilty… I hope I can find a way to forgive her.” Turns her head to look at Jungkook. “Besides, I’m team Kook always. I mean Jimin is a douchebag, and he deserves four slaps, but nobody delivered that. Such a shame. So, I’m gonna help my best friend to win the woman. If you need help killing Park Jimin, let me know buddy. You know I love you.” Nods very seriously that Jungkook snorts.

“Me too. I mean, not the killing part. Murder is illegal.” Namjoon sits back straight. Jungkook and J give him an annoyed look. “What? Just saying.”

“Oh, we didn’t know.” J bellows sarcastically as Jungkook finally steps away.

………………………………..

“Let’s go out please.” Jungkook whines as you ignore him completely. You don’t want to do anything except rot here. Sitting in Kim’s kitchen and sipping free beer and eating unhealthy amounts of chips. “C’mon, Noona.” Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder.

“I’m not in a mood Kookie. You guys should go.” You expectantly glance over at Jungkook’s friends. J and Namjoon. Yoona would be here any minute as well. You were surprised to see J and Namjoon treating you indifferently. You expected them to hate you. Maybe everyone’s favorite color in this world is morally gray. No one knows how to filter good from bad. Not that you’re complaining, though. You don’t want to lose any more friends in addition to Park Jimin. The very reason why you’re not in a mood to go out. Or to do anything else either.

It had hurt deeply. The moment you spat those words at him. The look in his eyes. It all had hurt. You had really wanted a heartfelt goodbye. Yes, you did. You wanted to clear the air and part ways on good terms. Because despite everything, you don’t hate Park Jimin. No. Absolutely not. In short, it’s quite the opposite. You still adore him. But when your eyes landed on Jimin and Liya together in the hallway something had spewed inside you. Something uncomfortable and painful. You hadn’t planned to walk away from Jimin that way. Now, though, it feels like the best option you had. Even though it pains you.

“What’s fun in that?” J chews on her bubblegum with extra force. Her look is pointed and sharp. Maybe they are not being indifferent. Maybe they are watching you closely until they find a moment to kill you.

“Right?” Jungkook raises his head immediately. “That’s no fun. We need you.”

“You need her. I’m completely fine.” Namjoon chimes in. J nudges him with her elbow. “Don’t be rude, Joonie.”

“I’m not being rude. I’m just─”

“Saying. Yes, we know.” Jungkook completes Namjoon’s sentence. Turns his attention back to you. “Please, Noona. I’ll buy you the biggest ice cream tub I can find. Or- or- loads of chocolates─”

“Jungkook…” You sigh, turning your head to peer at his doe eyes. “I’m really not in the mood to go out. Let’s just stay this way for tonight. I promise you I’ll go out with you every day if you let me stay in tonight.” Jungkook audibly and adorably whines. Says something else about how cruel this world is when all of your attention drifted away from him to the sound of restaurant door opening in distance.

“That must be Yoona.” Namjoon forms a dimpled smile. Visibly excited. You find it disgustingly sweet. Cute. Only if you could have that one day. An involuntary smile graces your lips at the sight. You all look expectantly at the swing door. Hoping Yoona will appear now. But then you hear voices before the door opens. Multiple voices.

“I swear to god Hobi…”

That’s definitely a male voice, and you heard the name Hobi for sure. You look at Jungkook confusedly when the door finally slams open.

“What’s up, motherfuckers!” Taehyung yells through the top of his lungs the moment he appears on the doorway. Very businessman- unlike. “We party hard tonight.” Adds a loud yoo-hoo at the end. Walks inside when Hoseok appears next.

“I swear, Joon, I have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, yeah? You were the one who called me and said Namjoon is giving away free beer─” Yoongi straightly walks toward the fridge when Hoseok runs after him. Pressing his hand over Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi’s muffled voice comes behind Hoseok’s palms. “Nothing. He means, I called him and said nothing about Namjoon. Yeah.” Hoseok chuckled nervously. Namjoon gapes at the duo. Confused. Your attention alters from the chaos to J when she squeals in happiness when Jin walks in.  

“Oh, God, you should’ve told me. I would’ve dressed nicely then.” She whines as Yoona shoves both Jin and J away so she can enter the kitchen. You’re positive that Jin said something horribly cheesy but cute to J, just as Namjoon engulfs his woman in a warm hug too. See, adorable. Nice. Even, you forget your miserable life problems. Or you almost did. Only for a fractured second when another figure enters. Stands in the doorway. It takes your barely functioning brain a second to register who he is.

Park Jimin!

Wait, what?

Your eyes widen.

What the hell is he doing here?

Your stomach drops. A strange sensation washing over you. Your breath hitches as Jimin looks directly at you. Eyes burning into yours. Not even wavering. As if he came here just to do that. Find you. Stare into your eyes. And you find it’s impossible to tear your gaze away. Too stunned and surprised to do that.

Jimin can’t be here.

Your trance breaks when you feel a sudden movement next to you. You catch from the corner of your eyes as Jungkook jumps into his feet before you snap your head toward him. Startled this time.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jungkook’s voice comes out as a growl. You watch with wide eyes at the sharp line of his jaw and how tightly he’s clenching his teeth. His question is clearly directed at Jimin. Jimin doesn’t even try to answer, however. Or he just doesn’t get a chance to do that when Jungkook is already walking past you. Rounding the table to reach Jimin. Looks like he would straightly land a punch on the other guy’s face. You stumble to your feet in panic when Taehyung beats you to it. His arm wraps around Jungkook’s chest.

“Woah, woah, easy big boy. Don’t do that now. We are friends and I wanted to get a drink because the last time we left things ugly. Don’t start it again.” He pacify Jungkook in an uneasily calmed voice. Jungkook, on the other hand, looks feral. His eyes snap to Taehyung.

“Friends?” Questions while trying to shrug Taehyung’s arm off.

“Don’t do that please Jungkook. No need to fight here. We’re all cool. And yes, we are friends dude. You declared- not even confessed but declared- your love to me back at the cottage. Is this your way of breaking up with me?” Taehyung widens his eyes first then scrunches up his face in feigned pain. In a different context, you know, Jungkook would’ve played along with Taehyung. They’d even start to cry. This moment, though, Jungkook’s mood isn’t lifting an inch despite hundreds of jokes everyone would say to him. You almost become convinced that Jungkook won’t give up at all when Namjoon walks over to him.

“Hey, it’s fine Kook. You can’t avoid them forever. Hobi is my friend and now everyone is everyone’s friends, and you know…” Namjoon looks Jungkook in the eye. You guess you saw him gesturing at J with his eyes. Just for a moment. Then after a long minute, Jungkook sighs. Takes a step back and walks to you again. An arm sneaking around your shoulders protectively.

And you quite certainly witness the way Jimin’s jaw tightens. And that familiar fire breaks inside his eyes.

…………………………………

Night settles into a fairly normal one if not fun. All seated around the kitchen table. Conversation and beer flowing around. Paired with occasional laughter or shouting. Other than that, night feels dull. Despite the best effort Taehyung put out with the help of Hoseok. For the most part, part of the table is keeping quiet. That part includes you, Jungkook, and undoubtedly Jimin. He’s been staring at you for the past hour or so. You’ve been avoiding his eyes. You feel tense. Hard to breathe. Want nothing but to be alone. Your idiotic friends don’t allow you, however. You wish this night would end soon.

“Right Li? That’d be fun, right?” Taehyung asks you again. He’s been asking you so many questions. Is sitting next to Jimin. Almost makes you suspicious that he’s trying to make you talk with Jimin.

“Huh?” You quip distractedly. Having no idea what he’s talking about.

“A summer camp? Right Jimin? You want Li to come, right?” Asks from Jimin. Jimin’s eyes glint as he searches for something in your eyes. Oh, God it hurts be in his presence. Hurt to look at his eyes. Hurt to see that glint. You need to leave.

“Hell, yeah. You can come up with good ideas once in a while Tae, Tae. I’m impressed.” J perks up before you can say anything else. And you’re glad. Jungkook scoffs from next to you. Earning himself a glare from J as Taehyung’s face falls. As if he doesn’t want anyone else answering him other than you.

“Of course, I’m smart J,J. It’s not my fault it took you so long to realize that. Ask Jin Hyung, I’m the master mind behind everything.” Answers, nonetheless. Face proud and smug. Jin snorts so loud that it startles J slightly.

“Oh, yes. He is. Someone pass me another beer please.” Jin taps Namjoon’s arm. Everyone burst into laughter. Even the silent party makes soft sounds of chuckles. Taehyung gasps. Offended. No one pays him any attention.

“No, but seriously. That’s such a good idea. It’s going to be fun. I know a place we can go near this river. What do you guys say?” J practically vibrates in her chair. You wish you could share the enthusiasm.

“It’s a stupid idea. We can use our time for something better.” Jungkook states. He looks fine now. Not clenching his jaw so tight nor scowling deep like an owl. J shoots another glare at him. “Yeah, like what?” Raises her brow.

“I don’t know. Something that─”

“Oh, c’mon, you little shit, you love camping.” J throws a napkin at Jungkook. “What’s up with you? Killing the mood like a grumpy grandad.” Complaints. Jungkook tries to retort but a second voice booms across before he could.

“Or you can simply choose not to come. No one’s forcing you, you know Jungkook. You can stay and use your precious time to do anything you want.” Jimin’s eyes are boring holes in Jungkook’s skull. So, are Jungkook’s. You feel mixture of emotions engulf you. Irritation. Annoyance. Anger. Pain. Longing. And much more.

“What did you say?” Jungkook questions in a stony voice. Calmed but anyone can notice the underlying storm.

“Okay.” Taehyung palms his face. Takes a moment then pulls a bright but very forced smile. “What he’s saying is anyone can do anything. You know, this is a free country.” Shrugs. Yet, Jimin and Jungkook keeps glaring at each other. Oh, fuck. In addition to being painful, this shit is exhausting as well. You sigh deeply. Uncomfortable silence falls over the table. Until Yoongi breaks it. With something completely unrelated but the way everyone relaxes tell you how glad they are.

“We don’t have any more beer?” Yoongi shakes an empty beer can. “Are you sure?” Looks at Namjoon. Namjoon gives him a strange look. Almost like he’s ready to slap Yoongi.

“Yes. I am sure. You don’t get beer that you won’t pay for.”  Namjoon looks at everyone.

“So, you do have more. Where? Where are you hiding my precious alcohol?” Yoongi gets to his feet. Just to be yanked back into his chair by an extremely aggravated Namjoon. “Nope. No. You’re not making my parents’ business go bankrupt. No. More. Free. Beer.” He holds Yoongi onto his chair by his shoulders. Hoseok is the one who whines in complaint.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a cheap─”

“Shut the fuck up, Hobi or I’ll shove a beer can down your throat.” Namjoon shouts as Hoseok instantly shuts his mouth.

“Your boyfriend is so violent Yoona. You need to do something about it.” Yoongi shrugs Namjoon’s hands off his shoulders. Yoona just rolls her eyes.

“Uh-huh.” Just nods while keeping her eye on her phone. She had said something about having to keep a close eye on some art piece earlier. You think it’s cool she works as an art broker. Namjoon says something else to Yoongi when the sudden sound of restaurant door chime erupts for a second time. Entire place falls into a curious silence.

“Is Seoyeon or Liya joining us?” Someone questions. And you catch a faint glimpse of Taehyung and Jimin shaking their heads at the same time. Then the silence abruptly gets broken by a loud gasp Namjoon lets out.

“Holy fuck, if that’s my mom and if she finds out you little pricks have been emptying her fridge, oh, she’s gonna have a heart attack and─”

“I’ll go talk to her. I mean I’ll distract her and tell her everything’s fine. I’ll ask her to go back.” You ramble before you can stop yourself. Get to your feet even faster. All you want is an opportunity to leave. Even for a moment. It’s too tiring for you. So, you are going to use this as a perfect chance to distract yourself. Leave this torturing place. Namjoon blinks at your face. Surprised. You offer him a tight-lipped smile as you walk around the table. Jungkook protests when you glare at him. You’re not a kid and all you want is a moment to be alone. Away from everyone. Away from Jimin. From his beautiful eyes.

“Don’t worry, she likes me.” You pat Namjoon’s shoulder as you exit the kitchen. Feeling relieved the moment the swing door closes behind you.

……………………………

It turns out it’s not Mrs. Kim. It’s just the newly hired boy who has left his headphones at the restaurant by accident. He has come back to take them. And you just allow him. You’re supposed to go back inside the kitchen the moment the boy vanishes again. You don’t, however. You had hoped it would really be Namjoon’s mom, and you’d get a chance to leave with her. It’s okay to be with her since she knows nothing about your miserable life or situation. Now, though, when you don’t have such a chance, you at least need a moment to catch your breath.

So, you sink into a chair at the empty restaurant. Sighing heavily. Not so faint chitter chatter and laughter of your friends drifting into the area. It’s not quiet. Yet is still better than the stuffed kitchen. It’s good to be alone. Liberating. You feel like you can breathe, finally. You place your arms on the table. Prop your head on your palms. Letting the cool air inside the building soothe your aching heart. It doesn't work. But you’ll keep trying. And you’ll stay here one more minute. Just one more.

“Lil?”

You nearly fall down from the chair at the unexpected voice. You haven’t even sensed a new presence, let alone the sound of footsteps or the door opening. You whip your head in the direction where the voice came. Just to find Jimin standing there. You suck in a sharp breath, stumbling into your feet.

No.

Hell, no!

You ran away earlier because you wanted to avoid him. This isn’t that. And maybe you should take this chance. To say the goodbye that you oh so badly wanted. To leave- whatever fucked up ship- you had on a good note. Just like you wanted. But after all, you don’t think it’d be easy. True it had hurt more since you had nearly yelled at Jimin before you left. But how can you be sure it’d hurt less if you do it in a civil manner. Besides what are you going to say. Everything you said before but in a calmer tone. No. That won’t hurt any less. It’d still hurt like a bitch and Jimin would still look at you with those eyes. Pain slashing across them. Like you’re tearing his world apart and you in the end undoubtedly will fold. Give up. You’ll fall under his spell once again. You don’t want that. When you said to him that you deserve better, you’ve meant it. You want to be free of this situation before it inevitably get more complicated. You’ll deal with the regret and pain later. What you should do is run away. Again. Immediately.

You round the table without uttering a single word. Almost walk past him when his voice reaches you. “Lil, please.” You think he has stopped you by touching you. But no, it’s just you have stopped by yourself. Against your better judgment. Maybe it’s the desperation in his voice. He sounds pleading. Helpless. That shatters your heart irreparably. “Please. Just listen to me. That’s all I-I w- want.” His voice cracks and the pain you feel intensifies. What’s the fucking wrong with you? Why does it fucking hurt so much?

“I don’t think you have anything else to say Jimin.” You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to prevent from breaking into a cry.

“You don’t know that.” Jimin stalks toward you. You don’t bother looking at him. Not because you don’t want to. But because it’d break you.

“Oh, for fucks sake Jimin. You need to end this game. We need to end this game.” You have no idea what Jimin is doing. Why is he seeking an opportunity so desperately to talk with you. What’s he even going to tell you. Apologize? For what? This is such a fucked-up situation. You really can’t blame him when you knew what you were getting yourself into. You can’t blame him for following Liya because that’s what he should do. Then why is he going to apologize? There’s no reason.

“I am not playing games.” Jimin sounds stern now. Voice rough. An invitation for you to just turn your head a bit to look at him. You refuse to give in.

“Well, then that’s good. If you’re going to apologize, there’s no need to Jimin. You’ve done nothing wrong. We both did our fair share of misdeeds and now it needs to end. So, let’s just end this here.” You manage to croak. Throat dry suddenly. A familiar lump forming there. You don’t want to cry. You need to leave.

Now.

You turn around just after you finish your sentence. Take two more steps. That’s all you manage before you feel pair of hands circling around you. Your back suddenly collides with a hard chest. You freeze. Too stunned to move. Eyes wide. For a minute before it hits you. Jimin is hugging you tightly. His arms are like protective armors around your body. And oh, how good he feels.

No. No. No

This is what you’ve been so afraid of. Alarm rings in your head as you panic. This is how you fucked up every time. How weak can you be? You try to step away from his embrace when he tightens his grip. Even places his chin on your shoulder. You could’ve been annoyed at the action if it wasn’t for his shaking voice caressing your ear. “Oh god, baby please. Please don’t do this. I know I’m fucking wrong. I know I fucked up again. You deserve the best. You don’t deserve to go through these shits with me. But just give me one chance. Please Lil.” His lips graze over your neck as he tilts his head slightly. A shiver runs through your spine. Your guard is starting to crumble.

God, you need to end this.

“A chance for what Jimin.” You sound exasperated. Tired. Resigned. “What are we even doing? What are you going to do? Why would you want me anyway?” You fail to hold your tears. They roll down your cheeks gracefully. Soothing the sting in your eyes. It’s Jimin who freezes this time. Well, you asked valid questions.

“I-uh-I─”

“See, you don’t even have answers. What are you going to tell me? Are you going to ask me to pretend everything’s fine again? I’m done doing that shit Jimin. It isn’t worth all the risk and the shit we’re going through. Surely, you don’t want me. You can have any woman you want. You can have Liya if you want. You clearly don’t have a reason for wanting me. You don’t want me.” Tangled sobs erupt through your throat as you completely give up trying to free yourself.

“But I do want you.” Jimin mumbles. Almost like a whisper that you nearly don’t catch it. But you do. Your breath catches and heart skips a beat. What does he mean? “I want you so badly. And no, not just to fuck. I just want you.”

“But why?”

“Because you make me feel alive.” This time his voice is perfectly audible. Raised and confident. “I don’t know what I’m feeling Lil. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you. Just don’t do that. Don’t say we need to end things. Sue me for being the biggest asshole in every universe─” Jimin exhales a shaky breath. You can feel him trembling. Oh, why? Why? Why? Why’s he so affected? Why are you so affected? “─but baby please.” He places a gentle kiss on your neck. Soft and sensual. You inhale air shakily. “It’s hard without you. I-I don’t know w-why but I feel so trapped. Gosh I didn’t even know how much I was suffering until you came. You’re just like a quiet magic, and I don’t want to lose that magic.”’

Holy fuck!

What’s happening?

He feels that way too?

He feels trapped and hurt. He feels like you’re his air. Isn’t that exactly how you feel as well. What’s going on? What’s wrong with you two? Well, there were always something wrong with you both and just because you accepted that hasn’t brought you somewhere nice. Look at you. All miserable and crying. You shouldn’t give in. Is hard not to do so when Jimin’s breath is hitting your neck. Hard to do so when he lands another kiss. Then another and another. Keeps his lips on your pulse point. Making your knees weak. You still refuse to give in, however.

“Then what the fuck are we going to do? You keep want to cheat with me?” You force yourself to open your mouth. “You keep want to be the assholes? And for what? What’s going to happen when my time expires? What’s going to happen when I’m no longer here, hm? Then what Jimin?” You bite on your lower lip so hard to control your sobs. If you cry hard your friends would definitely hear you and you don’t want them to find you in this position.

“I told you. I promised you I’m going to turn the world upside down if you still decide to stay after this year. I’m going to do that Lil. I mean it.”

A strained laugh leaves past your dry lips. “As if you would let me go.” A similar sound leaves Jimin’s mouth as well.

“Yeah. I’d never let you go. I plan on making you want to stay.”

“I already want- at least I wanted to stay.”

“Don’t change your mind then. I promise we- I will find a way.”

“And keep going? Keep being your dirty little secret?”

Jimin sighs heavily. “No. I have a plan.” Mumbles. You say nothing. Are bit intrigued. “I just need time. Look, I know we’re complicated and all, but I’ll make sure you get what you deserve. I just need time.” Jimin squeezes you in his hold.

“Time to do what Jimin?” You curiously ask, trying to take a look at his face. He doesn’t allow you to turn your head. Presses his lips further into your sensitive skin.

“To sort everything out.”

To sort everything out?

That doesn’t make sense to you. “What do you mean sort everything out? A-are you planning on br-breaking up with….” You can’t bring yourself to complete the question. Words taste bitter on your tongue. Feels so wrong. A beat of silence passes.

“Yes.” Jimin finally breaks that silence. His answer is clear, but you can hear the guilt in his voice. “And that’s not because of you. No. It’s because that relationship was already over long before you. It isn’t working. I was just reluctant to see it because I was fucking worried of this perfect image. Can’t do it anymore, I need to end that stress. Like you’ve told Taehyung, if we’re not in love we shouldn’t just waste each other’s time. That’s not fair. On me or on her.”  

Oh, you didn’t think Taehyung and Jimin might be sharing that kind of information as well. It seems like they do. And what Jimin says makes sense. Perfectly. You’re really glad that you are not the reason either. It would suck so bad. Selfish, yes. But is good, nonetheless. He, however, hasn’t answered everything yet. You have questions. “Then why do you need time? Why dragging it up?” You weakly voice out your concerns. Feel how he tenses. Weird.

“Uh- it’s you know, not that easy. It’s comp─”

“Complicated. Yes, you’ve said so once and I accepted it without questioning.” A deep sigh leaves Jimin. “I know. I just need time Lil. Can you trust me? Just give me some time.” He takes a second. “Please.” Adds.

Can you just do that. Of course, you can. You believe he has good reasons. Still, though, something is gnawing at your insides. You might not know what’s his so-called complicated reasons are but the fact that he can’t trust you to tell them makes you annoyed. Like he said himself, you deserve better. If you are to put yourself in this mess back again. Until Jimin would sort things out and God knows how long that’d be, you’ll be always left in the dark. You know you’re the secret, but you deserve a little better if not the best. You bring your palms to wipe down your tears.

“Well, then we should wait until you do so Jimin.”

“What?” Jimin pulls away from you fast. Turns you around even faster. “What do you mean?” Search for answers in your eyes.

“We should just go like this until you figure things out.”

“No. Lil. You- I don’t even know how long it’d take, and I don’t think I can go that lon─”

“Then at least you should explain to me the reasons. Why does it take so much time. I need to know why I’m putting myself in such a low position. I want to know if it’s a good reason. If you don’t want to, then I’ll wait till it’s over.” You manage to say it out without wavering your voice. Stern and precise. Jimin keeps staring at your face. It’s only now you notice the redness in his eyes. Glistening. Dark circles under them. Was he crying too? Probably not. Not like you did anyway. But the signs are there.

Why?

You expect Jimin to argue. Try to persuade you. But he surprises you. “Fine. You need an explanation. I’ll give it to you. It’s nothing really, I just- I don’t know, guess I’m embarrassed.” Your heart softens immediately. You open your mouth to say that he doesn’t have to be like that when he doesn’t let you. “Not now though, I guess Jungkook would come searching for you any minute now. Taehyung had to physically restrain him from following me.” A soft laugh escapes you at the mental image that creates in your head. “So, let’s talk baby, hm?” Jimin suggests. A small smile creeping on his godly face. You take a minute. Long one. You shouldn’t do this. Not again. But this time it’s different, right? It is. You hope it is. All you do is nod your head once. That small smile on Jimin’s face cracks into a huge grin. You can’t help but reciprocate it.

“Thank you.” He mumbles. Cups your face. You wait for his lips to press against yours. It doesn’t come. Instead, he presses his lips against your forehead. A tingle runs through your entire body. Tummy fluttering. “Thank you.” Mumbles again.

And you feel all those pains vanish away.

Oh, no this is not good. No matter how hard you try, you always end up back in Jimin’s web. It hasn’t even been two days. But here you are. Back in his arms. You’re failing to keep your control. You’re losing it. This is not good at all.

And your greed, little thing, is about to consume you whole.

You know this path is directed toward your destruction. You’re putting away all the morals. You’re willing to take this risk. Why?

You thought you finally made a decision. To stay away. You thought you’d never turn around. No matter how hard it hurts. How fascinating Jimin is to be able to turn it around. Just few words and you’re swooning. How?

What’s happening to you?

You tilt your head upward to look him in the eyes. Those brown orbs. Still glistening. Speaking thousands of words he isn’t saying with his mouth. Mesmerizing. And you find answers to your questions. It’s like lightning struck right on your head. You think you understand what’s happening. Now and then. Back at the club when everything went down. Yoongi was right. Of course, he was. You were acting stupidly that day. Were mad like a hornet. All because you were jealous. Because it hurt you to see him with Liya. You were seeing red from jealousy. And you were feeling the same this morning as well. When you found Liya and Jimin together. Again. Ridiculous. But that’s what happened. And there’s only one reason that would justify your actions.

Oh, no.

You’re falling for Park Jimin.

That’s what is happening to you. You’ve been falling for Park Jimin ever since the day you woke up next to him. And ever since then, you’ve let yourself keep falling. Now you’re near the very bottom. There’d be no way up. But what can you do, though. It’s already started. You’re falling for him. For Park Jimin.

Falling deep and down.  

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin @angellekookie @futuristicenemychaos @minijagiya @anumita-2007 @joulekanitz @llallaaa

[gffa]

Usually, I like to finish reading a fic before recommending it properly, but I've been sucked into about five different STAR WARS fics recently that I've gotten far enough into that I'm willing to trust my heart to them because they're scratching a very specific itch for me--namely, that I want deeper explorations of both the Jedi Order and of Anakin's character. I want fic to punch me in the feelings over both of these aspects of the story. I want fic to sometimes set Obi-Wan and Anakin aside and focus on Ahsoka for awhile, really tell her story. I want Jedi themes woven into a story. I want an exploration of Anakin's mindset that reminds me of just how much I love him and have sympathy for him. And fandom has delivered for me.

DO YOU WANT FIC TO BLACK OUT TO AND LOSE AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OVER? HAVE I GOT SOME RECS FOR YOU:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k     In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know.     This fic accomplishes several things that have sent me over the moon: 1) At its heart, it's an Ahsoka fic that shows her growing up as a Padawan, going on missions, learning lessons, and having character growth. 2) It weaves in so many other characters around her, that Mace is there in almost every chapter, serious but warm in the Force, just as beautifully characterized as she is. 3) The other Jedi get their moments of excellents, Shaak taking Ahsoka on her Akul hunt was wonder to read, seeing Obi-Wan show up for a chapter had me over the moon, Adi taking care with Ahsoka was lovely, Depa was a shining star when she took Ahsoka under her wing, Fox growing used to these strange Jedi and growing into himself through Ahsoka's eyes was wonderful. 4) The writing is that kind of solid that I don't mean as mid-tier, but the kind that I feel like can bear weight on it, I can pick it up and read for 30k and barely realize any time has passed, despite that I've gotten through an entire arc of the fic. 5) It does an incredible job of balancing that feel of The Clone Wars show, without directly copying anything, that it's like these are arcs that I could have seen on the show itself, the lessons woven in, but still with enough plot moving forward and action to make it exciting. If you want more Jedi-centric fic in your life (where they don't have to be perfect! sometimes they can be less than perfect and it's okay because they're still good! ohhhh, my heart warmed at that) or you want to read a lovely Ahsoka-centric fic in a different life, but still so recognizably herself, then this is one I want to shove right in your face immediately.

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 116.k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?     I got sucked into the first fic in this series (which is complete, if you want to read it--it's not the end of the story, but it's a good stopping point and feels like it should have some solid resolution if you don't want to get into a wip) and read the first fic over the course of about three days because I was sucked in so thoroughly. I can never get enough of Obi-Wan time traveling back to the past, where he loves the Jedi and they love him, and I love this one because he has to make genuine plans for changing things--things change and I have no idea how that's going to affect Palpatine's machinations! Exciting! But it's also a lovely look at Obi-Wan's dynamics with multiple characters--I found the Obi-Wan & Padme scenes a hightlight personally, their friendship really blossomed as they both flung themselves into trying to better the galaxy, even if she doesn't know he's from the future, that he's working so hard matched a lot of her energy and I really enjoyed that--from Qui-Gon to Mace to Padme to Anakin and, as the sequel progresses, Dooku as well. It's another Jedi-positive fic, it has me invested in the plot, it's a joy to see competent!Obi-Wan, and I would love to shove it at more people.

✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin, 46k (wip-esque)     After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along.     This is probably the shortest fic on this list but I'm including it because it genuinely felt longer than that, for how dense the emotional intensity of it is. It's an AU where the Jedi barely eked out a victory, still on the edge of extinction in many ways, and Anakin deep in the pits of the dark side, so Obi-Wan takes him to a backwater planet in exile for the both of them, traveling through the countryside and just trying to make it from day to day. What punched me right in the feelings place is that this fic doesn't shy away from the hurt and the anger on both sides, that both of them are allowed to be unreliable narrators that have their own points of view on what's transpired and what lays between them. It doesn't back away from the hurt they both feel, the despair they both feel, yet there's hope here. It's ultimately a story about clawing yourself back from the dark side, and it's beautifully characterized for both of them, that unkind things are said on both of their parts, but you understand why the characters are in the place they are. It's wrapped up in a lushly written backdrop, with some lovely Japanese feudal era details woven in, but also with a Star Wars patina spread across all of it. It's not necessarily a kind fic, but if you like fic that bites down on a wound, I enjoyed this series a lot and would love to see it continued--but, honestly, what's here is already enough resolution that, looking back on it after the initial "Noooooo, I need more!" feeling has faded, I'm actually very satisfied with. ✦ Men of Power by AlabasterInk, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & jedi & palpatine & cast, 86.1k wip     When an old powerful man suddenly comes in and sweeps your underage Padawan away without so much as a by your leave, that’s the time to start asking questions.     I'm only about 20k into this fic, so I can't say what shape it will take later on or how much pairings might come into it, but I still had to come running over to shove this fic at people, because it's scratching the itch I have for Jedi-positive fic that explores the idea of Anakin's trauma from his childhood as a slave, that this is a child who is wound so tight and comes from such a horrible thing having been done to him, having been owned as a person, that I understand why he stays silent on some of the things I desperately wish he could talk about or he doesn't really believe some of the things the Jedi tell him. It's a fic that takes a lot more care with Anakin's character than I think canon ever intended, weaving in a lot of the heartbreaking stuff from Legends' supplementing the canon, and is creating something that punches me right in the feelings place for him, that he's such a bright, brilliant boy, but I see why he struggled and it's not about assigning blame in any direction. It's about deeply caring people who fate has take a few steps to the left and something shifts just a little--and I appreciate that there's something very delicate feeling here, that the Jedi just don't have any real reason to be suspicious of Palpatine, his actions make sense, they genuinely can't feel any ill intention from him in the Force, they discuss why it would make sense that he'd want to support Anakin, all while we the readers can see, in hindsight, where the shadows have been creeping in. If you want Jedi-positive fic that also leaves some teeth marks over Anakin's trauma being explored in a way that is entirely sympathetic to him, then I want to shove this fic at you, too.

[bambino1294]

Chapter 6 — Nerium

“Nerium (Oleander) • Flower of caution”

Floriography

Part 1 of the Blooming Series - Playlist

11 Chapters | ? Words | Rated M

“Floriography (noun) • The language of flowers” She grew up with oleander around her words and dead leaves lining her walls. Now there’s wolfsbane in the streets outside and monsters worse than her dad lingering in the roots of everything.

OR

The world ends and Sophia gets separated from her mom. In the new world, she learns what she can with a book of flowers under her arm and a heaping helping of habits created by her father.

[dawnstruck]

Lovely Day

Vander adopts children left and right. Silco just happens to be his husband.

[This is part of my Lean on Me 'verse, but it can be read as a standalone.]

Author: dawnstruck Chapter count: 4 Word count: ~30k Pairings: Vander/Silco, some background Ekko/Jinx, Cait/Vi, Jayce/Viktor, Claggor/OC Additional Tags: AU - Modern setting, established relationship, family dynamics, foster families, adoption, slice of life, domesticity, kidfic, selective mutism, Silco POV, old men in love, Is there anything as undoing as a daughter?

Silco wakes to the sun in his eyes, which is atrocious because it is October, and the sun shouldn’t be shining at all, not this bright, not this early, and certainly not in their bedroom. 

They must have forgotten to close the blinds again last night, and so he rolls over with an annoyed grunt, trying to enjoy some more minutes of peaceful rest. He is not granted that privilege, though.

“Good mornin’, love,” Vander greets him. His breath is bad, and one of his giant hands extricates itself from the duvet to smooth from Silco’s shoulder down to his flank. 

“It’s not,” Silco grunts, this time turning onto his stomach and pulling his pillow over his head. He is not a morning person.

Vander just chuckles and rolls out of bed. The mattress shakes under his weight. A moment later, the blinds are lowered, and then Vander’s heavy footsteps can be heard leaving the room and descending the stairs. 

Silco dozes for another ten minutes or so, until he feels Vander’s hand again, this time squeezing his ass. Silco emerges from underneath his rudimentary pillow fort, ready to tell him off, when the scent of coffee hits his nose.

“I made you an espresso,” Vander says, holding the cup slightly out of reach, so Silco won’t accidentally knock it out of his hand when he sits up.

“Thank God,” Silco says, brushing his hair out of his face, before he accepts the coffee. It smells heavenly, and it’s exactly what he needs right now. Vander had gotten him a new state-of-the-art espresso machine for his birthday this year; it had been horribly expensive, but worth every penny. 

“It’s almost nine,” Vander tells him, leaning in for a kiss. He must have brushed his teeth already, because he smells much better now. “We should get started.”

[Continue reading on Ao3]

[pekoposting]

peko pekoyama fic recs (part 1 maybe?)

want to read more about our favourite shitty self-image swordswoman? i have scoured the peko tag a lot, but if i gave all of my recs we'd be here all day, so i mournfully cut it down to ten fics (mostly character studies)

(note: fuyuhiko is also here for a lot of them because their characters are so entwined)

mason jars by thewildwilds (6k words, canon compliant character study, hurt/comfort. comprehensive)

You are seven and a half when the strange men come and shove you and Peko into the back of a van.

She’s always been there for you when they tried to take you away.

notes: if you are going to read only one fic on this list, let it be this. one of my favourite dr fics ever, it is so comprehensive yet so beautifully written that it's a single, poignant one shot

absolute zero by thewildwilds (9k words, canon compliant character study, angsty coming of age. pre-canon)

She swears she is nothing but a sword, a shield, a cog in a machine.

Peko Pekoyama. The name of the girl who became a tool.

notes: second part of the series containing mason jars, honing in on a specific yet pivotal off-screen event in it. notable for being one of the few fics which depicts pekoyama as choosing to become a tool because of her care for fuyuhiko rather than purely being abused into it (a depiction which kodaka's own tweets agree with)

blossom in the dark by venusiancarbondioxide (3.6k words, character study, hurt/comfort. pre-canon)

Thirteen-year-old girls were not meant to be assassins.

Chen Shi knew this.

The problem was that nobody else seemed to get the memo, least of all the assassin herself.

note: has probably one of my favourite HCs for what yakuza tattoo pekoyama would get

brace for recoil by mithrigil (20k with 5 chapters, dark. canon hope's peak)

Peko didn’t fall into despair: she descended, one blind step at a time.

notes: the best pekoyama despair descent fic i've seen. it was written years before dr3. a minor consequence of that is that natsumi's actual name wasn't known, and so she's referred to as nabiki

absolute lithops effect by venusiancarbondioxide (5k, character study, existentialism with a happy ending. non-despair hope's peak)

In which Peko goes on a shopping trip and tries to grow into who she always was.

notes: finally, something more happy. another great character study

woven by sunbrights (3.7k, character study. pre-canon)

On the thirtieth of June, she is thirteen, and her hair is past her collarbone.

notes: examines peko's relationship to her hair. so good that i had to cite it when trying to do analysis of the symbolism of peko's ribbons

brick by brick by sunbrights (30k, 5/10 chapters, UNFINISHED AND DORMANT. character study, bleak recovery with pinpricks of light. post-canon)

They meet again, after the Neo World Program has torn them to their foundations: hope, despair, and the yawning debt of their history, waiting to be answered. It's up to them to rebuild, from the ground up, no matter how difficult the work or unfamiliar the tools.

No one can lay the mortar of your recovery but yourself.

notes: best post-canon peko (and fuyuhiko) recovery fic i've seen. still absolutely worth it for the fascinating questions it raises about fuyuhiko and peko's relationship. how does the inflection shift when peko realises that something she wants is something fuyuhiko wants? especially if what they both want is a romantic relationship? heads up, this is tagged 'unhealthy relationships'.

Takeo Pekoyama by PekoIsBaby (3.8k, some angst but overall fluffy. non-despair but backstories the same and they're roommates)

It's Peko Pekoyama's birthday, and Fuyuhiko's set up some plans.

notes: one of the greatest looks into the gap in fuyuhiko and peko's relationship where they know they're romantically interested in each other, but they have to improve themselves before they can have a healthy romantic relationship. also they get a cat :D

growing pains. by alighting (3.9k, 2 chapters. angst with a happy ending. post-canon)

Peko has never had a mother of her own, and so when the time comes for her to raise her own daughter, she's not sure what to do.

Companion fic of sorts to such great heights.

notes: summary applies to the first chapter. the second chapter focuses on the pov of a grown kuzupeko fanchild, who has to figure out why older kuzuryuu clan members keep using such a weird and specific insult for her mother.

Cupboard Children by shsldespair (1.8k, angst-tipped retrospective character study. right after natsumi's murder.)

Natsumi Kuzuryuu is not technically Pekoyama's charge, but the grief hits just as hard. It's unbefitting of a tool.

[pixiecactus]

George has commented that he has written enough of Arya in Braavos to fit into a novel. A novel can be around 30k words, and the chapters of Asoiaf are around 6k. I think Arya will spend a lot more time in Braavos/Essos than expected, between 5 and 8 chapters. And her chapters in the river lands will just be to finish business. So I think at most she will have 2-3 in Westeros. She spent two books suffering there, so I don't see any point in expecting her to be centralized here again.

i completely agree with you on this; arya has a lot to do across the narrow sea still.

with grrm commenting about how arya's life in braavos could perfectly be a ya novel, it has always made me think that maybe (a big maybe, because this really is just wishful thinking on my part) a side plot accompanying everything going on there is arya finding a new appreciation for life, since from what i remember most ya books are centered around coming-of-age stories.

(and i don't think that is going to happen at all, because there are a lot of more important things to focus on, but i'd be all for arya getting a little romantic interest/side plot in braavos!)

and yes, arya is currently in a very vulnerable position, being a child soldier that is being groomed by a cult obsessed with death (sorry, but this sounds really familiar, because another of my favourite characters is going through the same thing) but that isn't the be-all and the end-all of her story.

i've to admit that i'd be completely satisfied if, first, we get the opportunity to read twow, because with every day that passes, that seems to be more and more unlikely (sorry for being so negative about this) and second, even if we only get one chapter of arya being back in westeros, in the riverlands to be exact... i just want closure; i need my children to meet again, you know.

and i know that this is going to sound so stupid and unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but i need arya and gendry to see each other again, and for me to be completely free from this fixation, i need to read about their change in dynamic, not because i believe that is going to change from platonic to romantic necessarily; it's more plain interest in how i wholeheartedly believe that arya considers that bridge is already burned, so there's no friendship in sight for her, so getting back to be the friends that they once were it's going to take a grand gesture and some time, at least.

meanwhile, i completely agree about the fact that arya's future time in the riverlands is about tying up loose ends and, hopefully, getting some more allies. i've come to accept the possibility of winterfell getting completely destroyed in the fight against the others, and people having to escape towards the south and maybe establish some emergency camp there (but this sounds like something that could happen more in ados than twow, i'll admit)

thank you so much for your ask, and i'm deeply sorry that it took me more than a month to respond! i'm getting worse at this.

(little edit here, i forget about writing this in the first place, but this is mostly why i've a problem with the theory of "arya needs to go on a a journey to learn to love life again at the end of the series" because why couldn't it be that arya learns exactly about that during her time back in braavos, but then again that theory is coming from people that want arya away and completely gone from the story because they can't stand arya's importance in the plot, and how that importance belongs to only her, just like any of the other key five's importance)

[art-afloat]

Levi lovers, I wrote a ~30K 3-chapter Levi/Reader fic on AO3 for those who'd be interested 👀👇

✨Title: The Long Haul ✨Category: F/M ✨Pairing: Levi/Female Reader ✨Rating: M (Amputation & further wound recovery descriptions, cursing, mildly spicy)

The Long Haul - Chapter 1 - Vulpeculara - Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan [Archive of Our Own]

A little bit of the beginning below the cut!

Well, isn't this just your damned luck.

You'd say you're surprised, but it tracks for the sheer amount of misfortune that seems to seep into all aspects of your life.

Damn that Erwin. Neither Captain Asshat nor you wanted to be sent on this stupid retrieval mission, but here the two of you are: trapped beneath the earth in a small, crumbling basement—all the while, a great horde of titans looms on the surface, lumberingly stomping around—looking for you.

You'd call this something else other than a retrieval mission, but seeing as neither Erwin nor Brick Wall wanted to clue you in on what was actually being retrieved, you can now assume that the only retrieval going on may be his body at a later date, since His Highness Humanity's Strongest is so damn special.

Yours will be left behind to rot or be eaten, undoubtedly. You won't even get a grave.

You shove that nagging thought away for the time being. It's only pulling on the unraveling threads of your sanity more.

You'd also say it was Levi's fault you wound up in this basement, but it would be a lie.

You saw this building on the way. You wanted to investigate it. You politely asked in the tone of a strong suggestion. (To your credit, there were no titans in sight at the time.)

Always the torturer, he'd, of course, said no. Well, more like absolutely not.

But just as you passed it, naturally, you just so happened to have to pee. So, just as naturally, you took some time to explore—as every good soldier should, of course. For safety purposes. And retrieval purposes. They were good, reasonable reasons far more than reasonable.

Well, that was probably the biggest mistake you will ever get to make in your now incredibly short life.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was something quite theatrical. The hallway that led to the basement collapsed just moments after you entered it with a nagging Captain in tow. The rubble was impossible to move.

And to top it off, apparently, the titans—which managed to come from nowhere, you still don't know how—wanted to do some exploring of their own, too.

Quite oafishly, might you add. By the way it's looking, this whole place is going to come down by the end of the night, crushing you and the Captain in it to forever be intertwined as Idiot and Asshat. You'd hoped your demise would at least be as glorious as the average soldier's, but grim doesn't even begin to cover how things have unfolded. It even has a heaping teaspoon of stupid in the mix.

Luck—no, fate can be so damned cruel. And you'd like to know which ancestor scarred your familial line enough to deserve the worst outcomes, because you definitely have not done nearly enough in your life to warrant this tortuous end.

You wish you could say your dignity was not harmed in this process. But it's another lie. You're being a bit of a mess right now.

Okay, a bit is a bit of an understatement. You're pacing the small square of the room. You're panting thick, dusty air in and out of your lungs. Your heart thunders in your ears. You can hardly think. You might even be fighting back several tears.

Standing against the wall in his own declared corner of a kingdom, Supreme King Asshat seems to be fairing the encroaching inevitability of demise much better than you are.

Figures. Your damned luck and all. Or fate. Whatever hates you, honestly. Because something greater does, other than the Captain.

Being stuck with him in all this, too, is a bonus. Icing on top of a shitty cake. As if being the newest recruit of his Squad wasn't enough torment for you, it double figures you'd die with the man whose glaring indifference to everything in the world makes your blood boil. Glaring indifference to everything but himself, that is.

"Shaking won't do you any good," he pipes up as you pass the newly established edges of his kingdom.

Great. Now he decides to talk. 

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 3 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 3rd of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Things were quiet the following week.

You successfully attended two other balls with no mishaps like your first, and an afternoon tea with some lady or another. You were careful to duck out of sight any time you caught a flash of red or white hair, and you stuck close to Caroline except for when she was whisked onto the dancefloor by some interested gentleman.

You seemed to draw little notice, except for a few younger sons of minor families. You eagerly waved your dance card full of made-up names at them when they approached, feigning regret. If any of them noticed you did not stand up with anyone after that, however, they were too polite to say so.

You spent the rest of your time outside of events agonizingly refitting all of Camie’s new dresses, astounded by the sheer number, going to bed every evening with your fingers numb and your eyes burning. Caroline kept up your dance lessons and tried valiantly to appoint you with some conversational tips that would keep you from exposing yourself as the servant you were, which you dutifully memorized.

You also wrote to Camie, addressing the letter to her eventual home at Lord Yoarashi’s estate. His staff would hopefully know where to forward it to. You told her of the harebrained scheme you had gotten yourself into, the horrifying run-in with Lord Shouto Todoroki, and your absolute certainty that this had all been a mistake.

A week and a half into said harebrained scheme, Lady Cathleen Bate hosted a ball at the assembly rooms. You wiggled into a cream-colored gown you’d prioritized fixing because the wispy material was so easy to work with—but you were quite regretting it now. It was awfully sheer, enough that you kept returning to Camie’s looking glass, nervous that your underpinnings might be fully visible through the fabric.

You tried to call as little attention to your bare decolletage as possible with a borrowed set of Caroline’s tiniest paste jewel set, but felt like every judgmental eye in the assembly rooms would flicker your way regardless. You hoped the relatively low profile you’d cultivated thus far would spare you.

When you arrived, you quickly filled your dance card with a suite of made up names once more, snickering to yourself as you penned in former king Yaoyorozu’s name and a slew of stupid things like Lord Scotchwaffles and Mr. Placeholder.

There was a small commotion as you made your way to the Utsushimis’ usual camp out along the fringes of the dance floor, watching across the room as a young lady in an elaborate headdress suddenly swooned onto the gentleman next to her.

You started when you realized the gentleman in question was none other than Lord Shouto Todoroki–and he looked bemused to suddenly have an armful of unresponsive woman. His face went carefully blank and he held her out from him, the way one did a baby that had soiled itself. You had to bite a laugh off into your glove. He really looked like nothing would make him happier than just dropping her.

Two mismatched eyes suddenly darted up, catching yours. Your laughter seized in your throat, turning into sputtering coughs, and you ducked behind Mrs. Utsushimi for cover.

You kept yourself hidden behind her silhouette as best you could for the next few hours, with the occasional break to fetch lemonade. Caroline was on and off the dance floor, and you thought you recognized one of her partners as a gentleman from last time–a Mr. Yosetsu Awase, untitled but kind and reliable, according to town gossip.

Fumbling around behind Mrs. Utsushimi, you accidentally bumped elbows with a pair of gentlewomen halfway through the ball. You murmured an apology, but they waved you off cheerfully, and leaned in to introduce themselves instead.

One of them was short and voluptuously curvy, with fawn brown hair and rosy cheeks–Miss Ochako Uraraka, whose family, like Camie’s, was untitled but landed, occupying the lower rungs of the peerage. The other woman had long green tresses that complimented her spring green gown, and wore them bound up at the back of her head, with big dark eyes fringed with long lashes–the Viscountess Tsuyu Asui.

“You’re Camie Utsushimi,” Miss Uraraka said, her voice high and sweet. “I saw you at the Monomas’, running for some lemonade.”

You choked, and fluttered your fan uselessly for a moment. “I—well, yes. It’s all rather a lot, isn’t it? The season?”

Lady Asui nodded vigorously. “Horrible, really. Like we’re at market.”

You laughed. You had to agree. Even knowing you’d be able to retire this scheme at the end of the season, this brief period had felt much like you were a fruit put out on a seller’s stand, to be inspected and purchased at a shopper’s whim. In this thing, the nobility were so much less fortunate than you were.

“Are there really no gentlemen you fancy?” you asked curiously, and Miss Uraraka blushed a furious shade of pink.

“No,” she squeaked out, a transparent yes even to someone who’d only just met her.

“She does but she’ll never admit it,” Lady Asui told you, smiling. “He’s not in attendance this season, at any rate, but she still comes hoping to hear news of him from his friends.”

“Who?” you asked.

Lady Asui cast a fond look at Miss Uraraka. “I’ll not say, but if you want to figure it out yourself, a chat with Lord Tenya or Lord Shouto would be most enlightening.”

You froze up at the mention of Lord Shouto again, eyes quickly darting about to make sure he hadn’t spotted you again. The last thing you needed was for him to accidentally spill the details of your conversation—and how improperly you’d spoken to a man who was possibly the future prince-consort of the empire, if rumors about his interest in Princess Yaoyorozu were to be believed.

Lord Tenya Iida, you remembered from the strategic dissections Mrs. Utsushimi and Caroline had done last season, was a baron, extensively landed, and a very respectable match for any young lady of good breeding. Like Lord Shouto, he was someone you would not want to be seen with, if you cared to minimize the fallout once your scheme had been exposed.

“It shall remain a mystery,” you said decisively.

Miss Uraraka looked surprised. “You don’t intend to meet either?”

You shook your head. “I’d prefer to wait, um, several more seasons before setting sights on a gentleman.”

Lady Asui tapped her chin with her fan. “Lord Shouto is sure to make a match this season or next—he’s got his pick, if he wants it. I take it you’ve heard about his courting Princess Yaoyorozu?”

Your skin prickled with the mention of him again, the memory of his eyes picking over you in the dark replaying itself in the back of your mind. “I have, yes. Perhaps that’s the wisdom in my choice–I’d hate to covet something of the princess’s.”

Miss Uraraka laughed, high and pretty. “This whole empire is hers–I wish you luck.”

You smiled. “I’ll set my sights on something smaller she’ll miss less, then.” Like a pile of money and a comfortable position at Camie’s new estate.

Lady Asui made a small noise in her throat, and you turned to look at her curiously. “That rather large something is headed this way,” she said, looking interested.

Your heartbeat spiked. Surely Lord Shouto wasn’t coming over to talk to you–to reprimand you for pelting him with apricot cakes, was he? He’d so far kept his distance, and you’d thought he meant to forget the whole thing. Regardless, you searched out a gap in the throng of people lining the dance floor, identifying your quickest escape route.

“I find I am suddenly parched,” you announced, snapping your fan shut. “A delight to make your acquaintances.” You made to dart for safety, but a deep voice stopped you.

“You must allow me,” someone intoned from behind you, and all your blood stopped in your veins. Slowly, you turned, finding Lord Shouto himself standing in front of you, immaculately outfitted in a dark coat and waistcoat, a silk neckcloth tied at his throat. He was even more handsome in direct candlelight, his features so careful and symmetrical, those mismatched eyes pinned directly to yours.

“I—you—um, Your Grace,” you said, frantically digging up the modes of address Caroline had gone over with you. You dropped a curtsey, heart pounding. “You’ll have to excuse me—I, the lemonade—”

A tiny smile prodded at the corner of his mouth, and you followed his gaze as it dropped to a glass of lemonade clutched in his fingers, which he pressed towards you.

“I recall you are fond of it,” he said, and your panic fully seized you. Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui’s attentions fixed on you with sharpened interest.

“I–-thank you,” you said miserably, accepting the proffered drink. You pressed it to your mouth to save you from having to supply any other conversation. You thought his eyes followed it to your mouth, and you wondered if there was some aspect of social etiquette you’d just violated for him to watch you so.

“I had hoped you might accompany me for a dance,” Lord Shouto said in that mind-numbingly low tone.

The lemonade hit the back of your throat wrong. You hurriedly flapped your dance card at him, feigning apology. “I’m afraid I’m terribly overcommitted,” you choked out quickly.

Those eyes darted up to yours curiously again, and he rather unexpectedly reached forward to grasp your dance card, reading it over with some interest.

“‘Lord Scotchwaffles’, ‘Mr. Placeholder’,” he echoed, the hint of a smirk pulling at his full mouth. “I cannot say I am acquainted with either.” He paused. “It looks like your next dance is reserved for King Yaoyorozu himself.”

Your insides shriveled up. “I—”

“Unfortunate that he will be unable to make it, bedridden as he’s been for the past decade,” Lord Shouto said. “I will be happy to stand up with you instead.”

Ice crept up your veins, stiffening your limbs. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

What was he plotting? Why go to the trouble of asking you for a dance if he was put out with the way you’d acted at the Monomas’? Was this some ploy designed to embarrass Camie and her family?

“I’ll hold your lemonade for you,” Miss Uraraka said, incredibly unhelpfully. Dainty fingers pulled the glass out of your hand, and Lord Shouto seized the moment, taking your hand and tugging you out onto the dancefloor just as the players readied themselves for a new song.

Your heart hammered in your mouth as you arranged yourself against him. His shoulder was horribly strong under your hand, his grip on you gentle but firm. You looked up into his face to find him watching you impassively.

You dimly recognized the music as it began, frantically dredging your brain for the steps Caroline had drilled into you. Thankfully you were able to slip into step along Lord Shouto, following his lead effectively, if not smoothly.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” you told him, for something to say. “This is my first dance–I’m relatively unpracticed.”

His fingers flexed where they held you, and he looked rather—smug?–-to note it.

“So long as it is better than your Ancient Greek,” he said, “I believe you will do well.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your ears heating. “Well if that’s the case, I’m a comparative expert.”

A hint of a smile touched his mouth, and he spun you, catching your waist back in his hand in a way that sent a shiver skittering up your spine. “You are well-outfitted for prospect stealing, then.”

You scowled up at him, catching a little indent at the corner of his mouth, like he was teasing you.

“My objective is not thievery,” you sniffed. “For the purposes of this season I am simply observing, like a naturalist.”

“And what have you observed?” he asked as he spun you into him again. He was so close you could feel rather than hear the end of his question.

“That there is nothing natural about it,” you said, catching a glimpse of a couple frowning mother-daughter pairs at the end of the dance floor. It made you want to curl into Lord Shouto–to hide from their calculating gaze–but of course he was the whole reason they were glaring.

You decided to take the opportunity to remind him there were better dance partners available, whatever his purpose for calling you out here. “And that I’m rather underqualified. Did you know my Latin is just as bad as my Greek?”

“Your interests must lie elsewhere, then,” Lord Shouto said, gazing down at you curiously. “What are your hobbies?”

How to tell a nobleman that you had almost none? Servitude did not leave much time for hobbies, except for when Camie had insisted to her mother she had absolutely ruined a gown and would need to borrow you for hours–only to surprise you with a tray full of snacks, a few lurid novels, and hours of gossip. You could also play a mean game of cards, but of course it would be improper to tell a gentleman that.

“They’re secret,” you told him.

A white eyebrow went up. “Hurling apricot cakes at unsuspecting gentlemen, perhaps?” he asked.

You sniffed and purposefully trod on his foot. “Only when they surprise me in dark rooms.”

“I believe you surprised me,” Lord Shouto said. “I’d thought you meant to spring a trap closed on me.”

You look up at him, perplexed—then flushed furiously when it dawned on you. No wonder he’d asked whether he was free to go! “You thought I’d meant to trap you in an indecency scandal when I’d never even met you?”

Lord Shouto blinked slowly. “It would have been a bold debut.”

You shook your head furiously. “Rest assured, I have no designs on marriage at this time. Even if I wanted–” You cut yourself off, horrified that you’d almost just let slip your predicament, to the most powerful of persons you meant to fool.

Lord Shouto looked curious and bent his head towards you. “Even if you wanted—?”

You shook your head, and a small frown marred the beauty of his perfect mouth. “I’m talking nonsense.”

“I like nonsense,” he said earnestly—his tone surprising you.

You were thankfully saved from having to respond by the song ending, forcing the two of you into genuflections across from one another. You quickly backed up, as if to leave the dancefloor, but Lord Shouto’s hand snapped out, catching your wrist.

“Perhaps you might tell me about it over another dance?” He asked, his tone low, almost intimate.

Your stomach churned. A horrible little part of you wanted to–had liked how strong he felt under your hands, how sure his hands were around your waist, how upsettingly beautiful his face was up close. But you would not say more. And Caroline had informed you just this afternoon that an invitation to share more than one dance indicated some interest.

You doubted Lord Shouto had any real interest in you–but you could ill afford to draw more attention to the Utsushimi family than you already had.

“I am afraid I am spoken for—” you started, and Lord Shouto’s mouth hitched at the corner.

“I don’t see Lord Scotchwaffles at present,” he said, stepping closer to you.

It brought his horribly beautiful face that much close to yours, and you panicked, searching for a solution.

A memory of Lord Shouto earlier this evening flashed past your eyes–the swooning maiden, whom he’d looked like he wanted to drop. You could see his blank, uncomfortable expression, the way he’d held her away from him in fairly overt distaste. It was clear he did not much appreciate the dramatic machinations of eager young ladies.

Well, you could afford a bruised tailbone in pursuit of your escape. Here went nothing.

You quickly fluttered your hand in front of you, clutching your side like you were winded. You let out a noise like a wounded animal gasping for breath. You caught Lord Shouto’s eyes widening before you pitched sideways, closing your eyes and bracing for impact.

But the impact never came–-instead you collided with something firm, but much softer than the hardwood. Your stomach jolted as you were suddenly shifted and two strong arms went under you, pulling you close to a warm, hard chest.

“Miss Utsushimi,” Lord Shouto’s deep voice resounded in your ear, sounding concerned. Your heart rate doubled, realizing he’d picked you up, and the swaying motion meant he was carrying you somewhere.

Seven hells, you’d not meant for him to catch you!

“Miss Utsushimi, are you well?” Lord Shouto’s voice came again, and you were gently deposited upright, onto something cushiony–a chair. Two warm hands roamed over you, and you peeked an eye open to catch sight of Lord Shouto’s attentive gaze on you. His hand came up to take your chin, tilting your face to his.

An entire conservatory of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the gentle touch. Those mismatched eyes roved over you with worry–and something shrewder, almost like intrigue.

“Are you well?” he asked again, as over his shoulder you could see a crowd beginning to form–Lady Asui and Miss Uraraka, Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi.

“I–yes–the dance must have winded me,” you said, quickly supplying an excuse. “I’m alright. But I’m afraid I should not dance any more.”

Lord Shouto watched you for a moment longer, before something that was most definitely a knowing little smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he said, a strange hitch like amusement in his voice.

You startled, disliking his unexpectedly warm reaction. The point had been to scare him off, not entertain him!

But then Mrs. Utsushimi was carving a path through the crowd with Caroline at her side. Caroline looked worried, but Mrs. Utsushimi could not have looked more put out with you had she tried, though she rallied a valiant cry of, “Camie! Are you alright? We’ll take you home at once.”

“Yes, yes, I’m quite alright,” you said again, quickly sitting up, which brought you in even closer proximity to Lord Shouto, who hadn’t moved.

And it was then, in that moment, with Lord Shouto leaning over you with his eyes glittering, that you thought you were perhaps not alright. With butterflies tickling your stomach, and all your nerves alight under his touch—you realized you were, in fact, the opposite of alright.

You were in trouble.

Horrible, terrible trouble—in the shape of one handsome duke, who was perhaps shaping up to be much more shrewd than you had expected.

[victoriadallonfan]

End of Act 1 - Author Thoughts

So, this concludes Act 1 of Dead Eye. 

​It's been a struggle for me to write this afterthought piece, because I have learned so much from writing this original story.

This was not the first time I've written original fiction, of course. I had a brief attempt at a web serial back in late 2016 (I can't even remember the name of it), I've written numerous short fiction stories for Reddit Writing Prompts, and I've dropped some short stories here in Creative Writing in the past. Not to mention contest submissions over the years IRL (nothing gained unfortunately).

However, what made this different is that I actually committed to the act of finishing an entire arc and do my best to flesh out the characters as much as possible. I kept a plan, I followed it, and I tried to make it enjoyable for the readership.

​Admittedly, going from the hundreds of likes and views of my fanfic to the thirty or dozen on these posts felt initially disheartening. 

Initially.

But then I realized that I wasn't thinking about things in perspective. I was no longer using larger fandoms as a crutch for engagement or relying on readers already having a basic understanding of the characters: I was needing to WORK and gain the TRUST of the readers for a totally experimental project.

And bonus, I got amazing comments and analysis each chapter, with people seeming to really enjoy the mystery and action I wrote. I got people investing in characters in just a little under 30k words, which I think is pretty darn decent!

Is there room for improvement? Yes, absolutely. I ended up unhappy with how little screen time Milian got, but a lot of my plans for him involved future plot points that couldn't fit within 6 chapters that I challenged myself. I struggled a lot with describing the city (because I find building descriptions boring), and perhaps I made the tension between Sabra and Persa a bit too thick?

More things I could discuss on that, but there are also things I'm proud of. I really enjoyed the action set pieces and how I distinguished character behavior. I really like that my magic system (based on me noticing how special eyes are so prevalent in fiction, why not make an entire system set around them?) flowed so easily for me to write, and that it allowed me to do fun things with the world. Giant glowing eyeball in the sky makes me giggle all the time.

​So, what is the plan going forward?

For now, there will be a small intermission. I would like to get back into Janus and HITF, maybe do some other fanworks too, just to flex my brain a bit from being in Persa's pov for so long.

The plan is that after a month or two, I will then return for Dead Eye - Act 2 for another 6 arc continuation.

Finally, I want to say: Thank You

Thank you to everyone who supported me, be it by like, comment, or Ko-Fi donation. It was you who kept me going, and made me achieve a dream of becoming an actual author of original fiction.

I promise I won't let you down!