#i'll upload the next chapters tomorrow

[ziracona]

Got some big old new chapters for you fam. [Fate/GO AU – The Kid (pt: 1, … 22,23, 24, 25,26, 27, 28_1, 28_2, 29_1, 29_2, ?)]{Some spoilers for og FGO/Temple of Time, vaguer spoilers for early CITLB} Chapter 28: Haya Ishida (it's 'too many blocks' 9_9 for tumblr bc they do text weird, so it has to be posted in two parts.)

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Alright. That’ll do for now.

Stiff from crouching so long to draw sigils, I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, then flip up the ornate hood I picked out for this mission again. I’m not the easiest, but I’d still like to give enemies here as little to work with as possible when it comes to identifying me, and for as long as I can. The only time racism has ever worked in my favor; I’m pretty sure most regular human enemies I run into here will have absolutely no idea what I historically looked like. I think a lot of them don’t even know I’m Ethiopian…

“How are you feeling, Billy?” I ask, turning to appraise him. His clothes are still bloody, but the wound is all but gone now. Good, then he’s back to almost 100%.

“Fine, Ma’am,” he replies, tipping his hat to me on reflex. He rolls his shoulder to prove it. “I’m good to go soon as Kotarou is back.”

“Good,” I say, “I’ve done my territory creation and established a little safehouse here. If anything happens, we can come back. Inside, our recouperation will be drastically sped up; it borrows from the natural magical energy in the nature around us, to supplement our own. It’s well cloaked, as well, and the surrounding area has alarm sensors if anything with hostile intent gets close. Plus, if any of our allies get within a mile, they’ll be able to sense it as a location friendly to them; it might help us meet up with some of the others.”

“Great,” says Billy. He starts to get up, but I’d prefer he save all the energy he can until he’s entirely healed, so I sit down opposite him before he can, and he awkwardly sets down again too.

I fold my legs, cup my chin in my hand, and lean forward to study him.

Uncomfortable, he fidgets under my gaze.

“Why did you tell Kotarou to evacuate me?” I ask.

“Huh?” says Billy, genuinely taken aback, “Oh, I thought I told you. That Pissaro guy—he was—”

“-He might have had a skill advantage on someone like me,” I agree, unblinkingly fixed on Billy, “But he might not.”

“Well,” says Billy falteringly, “he was still gonna target you.”

I shrug, chin still in my hand. “So? He’s an Assassin. You realize I’m the best suited to fight against him, right? I’m a Caster.”

“I mean, yeah,” he says awkwardly, “I guess that’s true. …Do you…wanna fight him? Next time, I mean?”

I shrug, still carefully watching him.

“Well uhm. I’d prefer if you didn’t, then,” he says, “Even if he don’t have a skill to counter you, and you got the class advantage, you go and fight him, and he’s gonna be gross about it. Even if you kick his ass, he’s gonna be gross about it.”

My eyes sparkle. Oh, that was it?

I stand up and pick up Billy’s hat so that I can ruffle his hair, then plop it back down. He gives me an incredulous look.

“You’re a good young man, aren’t you?” I say happily, “Thanks for looking out,” and, humming, I summon a little bag and take out the things I need for coffee.

“Uhm. You’re…welcome?” says Billy.

He comes over and watches me create a little hovering fire, and use my smoke to hold a metal kettle above it. I accelerate the process, and it boils almost instantly. Turning, I set down two cups and two little filters of coffee, and pour the water over them, then remove the metal filters.

“You made coffee?” he asks, kind of excited.

Mhm, and I know you love it. “You’re worried about Ritsuka, and we have to wait for Kotarou anyway, right?” I say, offering him a cup, “You looked out for me, so I’ll look out for you. We can take a moment to refresh, and then I’ll see if I can’t find something helpful.”

“Wait, really?!?” asks Billy ecstatically, “I thought you wouldn’t look into the future about this!”

“I—whoa, easy there!” I stop him from choking down the entire boiling hot thing in one swig, just barely. It’s cute how worried he is about her. “—I said I wouldn’t read Doctor Archaman’s. Not Ritsuka’s. I do try not to look into the futures of anyone close to me, but that’s not what I’m going to be doing. Indirect divination is going to be safer. It’s less precise than gazing into the future, so the effects for better and worse, are also less precise.”

Despite my best efforts, Billy inhales the coffee more than he drinks it, and then excitedly hands me the empty cup with grounds at the bottom.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m not going to read the grounds—I was just making coffee; that’s my bad, I can see how you would have thought that,” I chuckle, “No—I’m going to do something from my home.” After taking a sip of my own coffee, I gingerly take off the golden sandals on my feet, and hold them together in my right hand so the one on top points towards me, and the one on bottom points away. “Now,” I say, turning to Billy, “Ask me what you want to know. Just one question.”

“I-I don’t know,” he says, running a hand through his bangs, “I should ask what to do, but that’s so vague—is that too vague? Is it better to ask where she is? Or how to find her? –No, okay—how do we get her help? She’s out there all alone right now.”

I nod, focus, and violently toss the sandals so they change position in the air, and fall.

Billy leans in with me as I study the position. …Huh.

“What is it?” asks Billy, “You got a real surprised look just then.”

“Well…” I look at the results again to be sure, then at Billy, “…Apparently, she’s already got help.”

Relief floods his features. “That’s great! It’s gotta be Robin or David then, right?”

I look at the angle the sandal on top has landed. A piece of the gold chain adornment on the side is still swinging back and forth, when long ago it should have gone still. The shadow it casts, for just a moment at the zenith of its swing…a butterfly?

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

“Owwww….”

I look up and squint at the bloody, formerly greyish bark of the tree I scraped my face against on the way down. I can’t believe the first thing to draw my blood here was a damn tree.

Sore, I pull myself up out of the crook between a branch and the trunk, near the base, where I finally hit tree sturdy enough to break my fall. Once free, I drop to the ground, and look up at the damage I inflicted with a wince. The poor thing is a scrub tree—maybe fifteen feet tall. I’ve snapped every branch in my trajectory except the last one.

“Sorry,” I tell the tree sincerely, placing my palm against the rough bark. At least I only damaged a Robin-sized area. It’ll live. Just…damn I broke a lot of branches.

Sadly, per usual, I don’t have time to worry about that. Ignoring the raw patch of skin making up most of the left side of my face, I activate my coms. “Hello? Robin, checking in. I got knocked off course almost immediately. I—” Hang on.

There’s no…fuck, I’m not modern enough to know the word, and the Throne didn’t find it important enough to give me one, but there’s a not-quite-silence to an audio connection. It’s…feedback, maybe—static, or maybe just the hum of electronics. There’s nothing on mine, though. There’s also no answer to my message, as I wait in silence and listen.

“Hello? Does anyone copy?” No. Nothing. I try switching the coms off, and it doesn’t change the amount of sound coming from the coms. I switch it back on. Nothing.

Shit, this means either mine was damaged in the fall, or something’s interfering with it. God I hope it’s the former.

Going for plan B, I glance around the area for a moment, just to be sure nothing’s creeping up on me while I’m distracted, and then I focus my energy inward.

Before I even try contacting anyone mentally, I can tell everything is wrong.

Ritsuka!

I’ve only ever felt this kind of connection severance if my master is dead, and I’m now living off my independent action; fuck! Fuck, did the fall kill her? H-How is that possible?! With so many of us-!

Praying I’m wrong, I shut my eyes and focus every ounce of myself on the connection to my master.

…

I slowly open my eyes, feeling sick. It’s gone.

My body acts on its own, and I stagger back into the tree, then sink to the ground.

I stare ahead, at nothing.

How.

How did we lose her? She was just-!

I have to shut my eyes and breathe for a moment. It’s been a long time since an experience made me want to throw up.

What do we even do now? I start to ask myself, without the kid, what it even matters, but of course it does. We’re trying to keep the entire world alive.

I fucking hate that. I hate that I don’t even get to dwell in the despair of losing her. I should get to want to give up, even just for thirty seconds. She deserves that. She mattered. A lot, to me. I haven’t had another Master I can remember who ever…

…I’m sorry, kid. I’m so, so sorry.

I sink my fingernails into the dirt beneath my hands, then, slowly, drag myself back to my feet.

“Ah! Hello! Robin!”

What?

I’ve barely taken stock of my surroundings, but I’ve landed right near a riverbank, and as I turn to look, I see David jumping up and waving two-handed at me from the other side.

“Hang on! I’ll cross over!” he calls excitedly in my head, and I watch him take a running leap, bounce off a resting crocodile’s back halfway to leap again, and land almost beside me.

“Robin!” says David, beaming at me like this is a great occasion and not one of the worst days of my life, “Oh this is so excellent! And here I thought I got lost alone. –Oh, dear, your head though.” He touches the raw flesh on my face, and I squint my eye shut reflexively. “Don’t worry,” he promises, summoning his kinnor, “I’ll fix that up for you in a jiffy.”

“Don’t bother,” I say, a little angry at him.

He pauses and blinks at me in confusion, head tilted.

“Have you somehow not noticed?” I ask, because it’s the only explanation that makes any sense, “Our Master-“ God damn it. I feel my voice starting to crack, so I choke the emotion back down and take a second to get it under control. “…she’s gone,” I can’t keep the spite out of my voice. I hope he can tell it’s not for him.

“Oh!” says David with the expression of someone who just realized he left the oven on at home, “Of course! –Sorry, I forgot—”

I deck him in the face so hard he goes flying into the river with the force of a cannonball. Birds take flight in fear around us, and even the crocodile he stirred up earlier makes a hasty retreat.

Furious, I walk to the edge of the river to wait for him to crawl out so that I can hit him again.

He comes up about ten feet out, gasping for breath, sees me waiting there, and starts waving his hands. “Wait-wait! I didn’t mean it like that!”

I rush him, and he yelps and leaps over me, landing back on the bank.

“Robin, she isn’t dead!” calls David desperately as I whirl on him again.

I stop my charge, right at the edge of the water, and stare at him.

He’s giving me a very apologetic—no, almost pitying look now. “I-I’m sorry, truly,” says David with sorry little smile, “I forgot you’d of course be thinking that too.”

“What do you mean she’s alive?” I ask, afraid to believe that, “Our connection to her is completely gone.”

David nods earnestly. “It is. I thought she must be dead too, when I landed about fifteen minutes ago-“ Fifteen minutes ago…? “You’re right, our connection was broken, but she isn’t dead.”

I lower my hands. “…How can you know?”

“Well, I prayed about it,” says David as if this is the most obvious answer in the world.

I’m about halfway to a, Oh, so you just have a good FEELING, jackass?! when I remember who he is, and falter. I mean. Actually, considering this is King David I’m talking to, ‘I prayed about it’ might qualify as a credible source of information.

“Okay,” I say, raising a finger at him and walking out of the river, “But when you say, ‘I prayed about it,’ you mean you got a reply, right? Not ‘I felt calmed’ -not ‘It seemed like it’ – you know what you’re telling me?”

“Of course,” says David, cocking his head, “If I just felt reassured, I’d have said, ‘I think she’s fine.’ I’d hate to put my intuition up and claim it was divine information. I do have some scruples.”

Oh thank God. …Literally, I guess? I exhale slowly. “Okay. I guess I believe you.” I give him a dubious look. He’s the picture of innocence, which just makes me trust him less, but, I do believe he’s got some scruples, and I have a hard time thinking this is what he’d lie about—especially in this situation. “But then, how the hell did we lose our contracts?”

What’s more, that means we’re both on borrowed time. Thank God we’re Archers…

“Well, I can’t say I’m entirely sure about that,” says David. He gestures upwards, to the sky, and I squint up, trying to see what he’s indicating. “You’re much more modern than I am, so your ability to sense magic isn’t the same—or your resistance—but you might still be able to see it in the air.”

I can’t so I grimace and shake my head.

“It’s everywhere, in this area. You can’t tell at all down here, because it’s part of the energy layer on everything, but I can see it way up there, where its range ends. The sky past it is different enough for a pretty stark magical contrast,” says David, “I felt it hit me with a spell while I was still rayshifting in, just as I hit the border—well, not a spell exactly. But not exactly a bounded field, either. …”

He considers, knuckles to his lips.

“…Alright you know how hallowed ground comes with its own set of area restrictions? It’s quite like a bounded field. But, areas can accrue such properties naturally, rather than having them set—”

“—I’m familiar with innate magic to a land, or spot, yes,” I say.

“—Right, well, it was like that,” says David, “It was natural magic…well. It didn’t feel naturally placed, but, that was the type. At a guess, I’d say someone has found a way to distort and redirect natural properties-“

“-Like they did with us, at Ur-Shanabi,” I say, “Didn’t the Doctor say that the world state is changed, and right now, all forms of energy transfer are in flux?”

He nods. “I think someone else has gotten a hand on that, and not in a good way. I mean, we knew as much. I can’t say I expected it to be at a degree that could peel off my contract in mid-air. I’m not even sure what natural magic could be reapplied to do that in the first place…”

Huh. I almost feel like I know the answer to that one. It would be something meant to equalize, isolate, or liberate. Where have I seen something like that in nature before?

“Well, anyway,” says David, putting a hand on my shoulder and giving me a piteous expression, “I’m terribly sorry about the misunderstanding. I couldn’t sense anybody in here, and I’ve been running around for a bit, so I was distracted by my relief I’d found you.”

“Sure,” I say, still distracted, “Sorry uh—that I punched your lights out.”

He shuts his eyes and smiles. “Understandable! And no permanent harm done. Actually, it’s sweet you care so much for our little chavera.”

Not really. I think we’re all pretty dedicated to keeping this thing going, and the kid breathing. “If being here snuffed our contracts, that means she can’t call anyone. Our coms are fucked too, so she can’t contact Chaldea. We have to find her as fast as possible.”

David nods, finally looking serious. “Indeed. The Doctor will be in the same position.”

Oh shit yeah, your kid. I’d completely forgotten he was here, but of course David hasn’t. I actually do feel bad about punching him now.

“What’s worse is a lot of our party might be Archers, but not all of us,” I add, because someone has to say it. At worst, all of the Archers have two days, if we don’t fight anything. Some of us, including David and me, a lot longer. But, the others?

“I have thought of that,” agrees David worriedly, “They might not be gone. It’s been less than half an hour, and even the least suited classes can generally hold out a few minutes. The Casters might be able to slow down their vanishing, by sucking energy out of the surrounding jungle, and the Avenger can survive for a while on his own.”

“—Which leaves the Assassin and the Lancer,” I say slowly. Shit, and Cu Chulainn’s our strongest fighter, too. I’d hate to lose him right out of the gate.

“Well, speaking about it won’t save them. If they’re lucky, maybe they’re not alone. One of us could keep them alive for a little while,” suggests David.

That’s so disgusting; God am I glad I landed near David, actually. I can’t imagine the deep discomfort of having to decide if I was going to watch that Lancer vanish, or make an offer both of us would kill me for. Oh God, and the Assassin’s a teenager. That’s even worse…

David pats my shoulder sympathetically. “Come. We have a lot of people to find.”

 “Sure,” I manage, refocusing on the mission. Well, at least we know where to start. “Look, before we rayshifted, they told us to head west, towards the ocean, if we got separated, or lost. If the kid’s landed alone, that’s what she’s going to do; she’s a smart girl. She won’t forget instructions that fast. For that matter, your s----”

David gives me the single most vicious look I’ve ever seen on him. Damn it…I’m going to make them regret giving me sensitive information. I’m usually so careful. What the hell am I doing?

“—suuupposed to, so, uhm—everyone should, including the two humans,” I manage.

David looks up at the sun, which, it being afternoon, is sliding towards the western horizon, and starts off towards it, gesturing me to follow.

“Hey,” I say in his head as we go, “You said you were here for fifteen minutes before finding me?”

“Yes?” he replies, sounding confused.

“I just got here. I did hit my head coming down, but not badly—I didn’t think I’d blacked out at all,” I say, “But, if that’s true, I’m missing something like thirteen minutes of time.”

David doesn’t stop moving, and neither do I—plenty of jungle to scour. But, I see his brow furrow.

“Odd.”

“Yeah, in a word,” I reply warily.

He thinks for a few seconds. “…My best guess would be that the magic shell here hit you a lot harder than it hit me. You don’t remember anything?”

The answer is ‘no,’ but I try anyway. Do I? There’s…the rayshift. I remember seeing sky, and jungle below me, and—

“…No,” I reply finally, “I remember…feeling like I hit ground, while still in the air. It hurt—knocked the breath out of me. But I don’t think it knocked me out, because I remember how it felt, and being confused by it, and if I remember being confused I hit something, then I was awake long enough to react to it. After that though…there’s nothing until I’m snapping off tree branches and scraping my face on my way down.”

“That isn’t very good,” says David worriedly.

Yeah, no shit. I don’t feel great about it myself…

“What’s oddest is that you didn’t wake up in the tree. You remember falling. How did you lose fifteen minutes, falling through the air?” says David in my head as he ducks under a particularly low-hanging branch on one of the trees ahead.

This is a great question, but, it’s one I don’t have an answer for. At all.

“Wait,” I say, and he stops; I stop beside him.

“Yes?” says David out loud, now that we aren’t moving. It’s almost uncanny how thick and tall the forest is—or, ‘jungle,’ I guess, is—so close to the river. When Da Vinci said to be careful of flooding, I assumed the reason we couldn’t climb trees would be the trees were all scrub. Now I’m a little unnerved by our location and my time discrepancy.

“You’re from the Age of Gods. Even as an Archer, you’ve got some sensitivity to magic, right? Can you…sense anything wrong with me?” I ask.

He tilts his head and considers. “A curse, you mean? Something to explain your memory?”

“No. Look, if I just got hit by something that blacked out a few memories, I don’t think it’s a real problem—physically, I’m fine,” I reply, gesturing broadly to the complete lack of damage, “But, if it took me fifteen minutes to hit the ground and I’m missing memories? Then where was I, that I don’t remember? Better not to take chances. As many heroes and monsters as can use some kind of geas or mind control…”

He nods. “Pragmatic. You seem quite yourself, mentally, and I sense nothing off right now, but I suppose someone could have hidden a nasty curse inside you.” David places a finger to his chin and thinks, then waves, and his kinnor appears in the air. “Well, I’m not sure I have the skill to seek out such things, but I do have the ability to banish them. It should only take a moment.”

Relieved, I follow his gesture to sit, and fold my legs. He sits opposite me and begins to play, eyes shut, focus as precise as a surgeon.

It’s truly incredible. King David acts so light hearted and irresponsible—annoying, even—most of the time, and yet he can create melodies so profound and moving, it makes me feel like I’m hearing music for the first time. It’s just a simple stringed instrument, but I feel worries ease and tension fade from my head as he plays. All my lingering doubts, my thoughts about John, Will, Marion—everyone. For a moment, this little lyre plays a song like the world is promising they’re all okay, and the struggle is over now.

A sound like a vase shattering snaps inside my head, and something rips out my left eye from inside, to David and my immense shock.

He yelps and jerks back, snatching at whatever has just ejected from my body, and I scream in pain and reel back against a tree. It hurts. It hurts! It hurts so fucking much. I can’t be down an eye! I need that shit to aim!

Cursing and writhing with as much dignity as I feel I need to scrape together for David, which thankfully isn’t much, I cling to my left eye socket and try to stop the bleeding. “Fuck! What the hell was that?!”

“I don’t know!” comes David’s worried and confused voice, “I didn’t expect anything to happen at all—I sensed no malevolent presence anywhere near you!”

“Well I think you missed something!” I growl from the dirt. Fuck that hurt!

“Are you okay? Did that really take your eye out?” comes David’s worried voice. I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Are you in a lot of pain? –You look like you’re in a lot of pain.”

“YES! I’m in a lot of pain! Something just blew out one of my eyes from the inside!” I snarl. At least having someone to yell at makes me feel a little better.

There is the familiar sound of David’s kinnor, and a calm settles on me again. I feel the pain in my eye lift, and struggle back up as it clears my head a little, still covering the socket with my hand. “God I hope whatever that was isn’t something meant to steal eyes. If it was just like getting shot and it just happened to be my eye, it should grow back once I recover enough magical energy,” I mutter.

David gives me a sympathetic smile, then stops playing. He reaches into his cloak, and hands me a bright gold stone, the size of a shooter marble, or a slingshot round. It’s still got some of my viscera on it.

I grimace, and take the thing in my right hand.

“I’ve never seen something like this,” I say after a moment, glancing at David, “I mean, I have—there are rocks everywhere—but I can’t remember any kind of myth about a creature or a curse that leaves a crystal of some kind inside you.”

David starts to answer, and then looks alarmed, and snatches the rock out of my hand. I let him, because the last time that thing did something to me, it blew out my eye, but nothing seems to happen. I give him a quizzical look.

“…Odd,” says David, inspecting the stone more closely, bringing it up to an eye and squinting—which uh, I absolutely would not do if I was him, considering what just happened to mine. “I sensed magic—it was interacting in some way when you held it. Here!” He pushes it back into my hand. “Hold it again!”

“I don’t want to hold it!” I snap, throwing it back, “I’m not a huge fan of the way it interacts with my body!”

“Oh, just hold it!” pleads David, catching it and leaning on top of me to shove it against my chest, since I won’t take it.

“Get off!” I snap, but I quit halfway to shoving him off, because I feel it interacting with me. There’s a…a hum to it, almost. It doesn’t hurt. Actually, I feel the remaining pain in my eye dwindle to nothing. What the hell?

Confused, I slowly remove my left hand from my socket. I can see. Poorly, but I can see.

“Oh, well, that’s so deeply disgusting,” says David lightly, trying to smile, “Good thing there’s not a reflective surface here! But you keep at it—I think it’ll reform the rest of the way pretty quickly if you keep absorbing energy from that! Just turn your head away from me please—I don’t want to see it.”

It’s incredibly weird, but I know he’s right. I don’t have very high magic abilities, but even I can sense when I’m actively using it, and I’m definitely absorbing something out of the rock.

“I’m…not sure I should do this,” I say, removing the marble from his hand, and closing my own, gloved hand around it. The sensation stops. “Whatever it is, I don’t really want to chance some other creature getting a glimpse out of my eye because I used its magic to heal myself. I’ll just keep it shut and wait for it to heal on its own.”

“Well, fair enough,” agrees David. He tears off a length of his scarf, and I use it to wrap my head, covering my left eye. “…What about the stone?”

I hold the little marble in my hand and think. Shit, I don’t know. “Well, I could toss it, in case it can track us or explode. Or, I could hold onto it, in case one of the casters can figure out what it is once we meet up, or whoever planted it would just use it again.”

“Of two minds,” agrees David thoughtfully, putting a finger to his lips again. “…flip a coin?”

“That’s not very intelligent, or strategic,” I sigh, “But, on the other hand, I don’t want to spend any more time on it, and there’s no one here to judge us, so…I won’t tell if you won’t?”

David grins angelically. “Tell what? I don’t remember anything odd happening when we were alone at all.”

I smile back in spite of myself, dig out the coin Ur-Shanabi used as a catalyst for me, and flip it. “Heads with me, tails we leave it,” I call, and I catch the coin and open my fist. I hold it up to show David tails. He nods contentedly, and I pull back and chuck the rock as far as I can. Which, as an Archer, is several miles. Shit. Wait. Hope I didn’t hit anything living with it. ...Oh well. Too late now.

I turn and follow David again, making a steady path east.

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

Well. At least I didn’t land by any of those snakes or crocodiles Da Vinci was talking about, I think, trying to make myself feel better.

I’m not sure how long it’s been. I wish I had thought to bring a watch. It feels like so long though, and nobody’s found me. Does that mean something’s wrong?

Nervous, I look at the back of my hand. The command spells there remain a stark red. They were able to recharge my first two at Chaldea, so I’m back to three. Maybe…that means that it would be okay to use one?

No. Don’t be like that Ritsuka. You can do this! Da Vinci and Doctor Romani said to only use one to call a heroic spirit to you if you were in danger. ‘I’m scared’ doesn’t count as being in danger. Remember how useful the one you used to save Kotarou was? What if you waste one on this now, and can’t heal one of your friends later?

Still…Da Vinci said on her last check-in over coms that they still couldn’t get a fix on where I am. …The rational part of me that got instructions on what to do when I was a toddler knows that you’re supposed to stay put when lost, because if you move, then you might walk into a place the people looking for you already checked, and won’t think to check again. You might even keep on passing them back and forth forever. When, if you stay, then a methodical searcher has to find you eventually. …But, before the rayshift, we were told to go west if we got separated and couldn’t communicate. I know I can communicate, and I’ve been told to stay, but I see the sun setting, which it does in the west, so I know where west is. I really want to get going. I feel antsy the longer I stay here, like…like I’m running out of time.

Maybe…Maybe if I ask if that’s okay, they’ll say yes?

It can’t be bad to try, right?

“Hello?” I say, turning on my coms, “Doctor, Da Vinci, uhm—I was wondering. It’s been a while, and I still don’t even know where I am. Are you sure it wouldn’t be smarter for me to head west, like we planned? Once I hit the coast, I’d be sure to see stuff I could point out as landmarks, and there was supposed to be a town nearby, right?”

Anxiety building, I wait for their reply.

It doesn’t come.

Anxiety turns to panic.

“Doctor! Da Vinci! Anyone! Please, come in?!”

Nothing. Frantic, I check my coms, and they’re definitely on. I turn them off again anyway, just in case, then back on. I can hear static on the other end, so I know they’re not just dead, but if they’re replying, I can’t hear it!

“Anybody?” I call desperately into the earpiece, “This is Rit—” It explodes in my hand, and I yelp and fall back a step, staring in horror at the pieces. What just -?!

Oh forget it! This definitely counts as an emergency!

“Billy!” I call, raising by hand skyward, and I feel the spell pulse out—and then fold back in on itself like a spring, unused. No. “Billy, here!” I try again desperately, and again, my command spell tries to take, and something stops it.

Oh god.

Sick with worry, I cling to my hand and look around. I can’t even see what’s happening, but there’s no way my coms just randomly exploded! Something’s happened!

At the very edge of my hearing, I pick up something coming this way. I don’t know what to do! I can’t fight well on my own! Do I hide?!

I look around for anywhere to do that—a-at least the foliage is thick! Praying for luck, I scramble away from the sound, and into the bushes and trees, trying to make sure I don’t snap branches and leave tracks behind me—trying to remember the little Billy and Kotarou and Robin told me about sneaking while we were building stuff inside Blade Works. Ahead, I see a tree whose roots are half visible from erosion at the base, and I scramble among them, beneath it, and go as deep in as I can and press my back up to the dirt. I feel bugs crawling around with me, running along my neck and arms, and I remember what Da Vinci said, but all I can do is pray any ones that bite me won’t be venomous.

C-Come on. Think. W-What did he-?

“Your hair is bright, like me. Color gives away quick in the woods. That’s why hunters now wear orange.” I hear Kotarou’s voice in my head, and try to calm down and focus. What did he say after that? “Try to use whatever’s around you to hide that. For me, I usually would wear hoods and scarves. Masks aren’t just to hide your face, they’re also to hide your pale skin if you’re out in the night. Dirt’s not easy to use for hair, but it covers clothes and skin well, and it’s everywhere. Leaves and clothing are better for hair.”

Right! O-okay.

Shaking, I pull the green jacket of the mystic code that Da Vinci made me off, and tie it over my head like a hood, then start digging up fistfuls of earth and rubbing them over my skin as fast as I can. I hear them getting closer, up behind the tree. It’s got to be so many people for that many footfalls! That’s not good—my group wouldn’t have so many. Crap oh crap oh crap.

“This is where the signal stopped,” comes a voice I’ve never heard before, up near where I just was.

“Ah. There,” says another. The second voice is low and serious, firm. It scares me. “That’s why the signal cut out, Master.”

‘Master’? A heroic spirit?

“Damn it,” comes the voice of a third man. There’s an irritated sigh, and I hear something being kicked. “They must have finally figured out we were tracking it. Blown to bits, too—no way we can repair that and piggyback it. Well, no matter. They can’t have gone far. Go—find whoever it was.”

“Will you be waiting here?” comes the voice of the heroic spirit.

“We’ll search the immediate area,” replies the third man, who must be his master, “If it was a servant, though, they might have gotten pretty far already. You’re a rider, though. Catch them.”

“Sir,” replies the spirit.

There’s a sound like a rush of wind, and I squeeze my eyes shut and freeze. Please, please, please don’t let him find me.

“The rest of you!” calls the first person I heard speak, a man with a much higher voice than the master’s, “Let’s go—circle and expand outwards! If they’re hiding, find them. Search for any energy trails; they might be using a mystic code to try and cloak. Don’t forget to look up and check the trees.”

What must be a hundred voices call out assent, and I hear people everywhere, beginning to fan out.

I’m so dead! What am I gonna do?!

My brain flings images I don’t want it to into my head: Toujou. A knife by my eyes. I see all my friends on the ground, in pain. Robin trying to drag himself closer to me. Billy with his gun aimed and his hand shaking, blood dripping out of his ears. I see the images that were only ever in my head, of Mom and Dad and Akira, and what would be about to happen to them. I see Emiya’s face, waiting for me to order him to die. Thinking I’d do it.

I see me, helpless. I see Toujou. I see that knife so close my eyelashes brush against it.

Trembling, I hear footfalls close to me. Someone steps down from the little rise by the tree and hesitates, glancing around. He ducks, and shines a flashlight towards the roots, and I shut my eyes and stop breathing and pray.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry—you’ll wipe away the mud on your face—don’t cry.

The footfalls resume.

He missed me! I breathe again, choking back sobs. Ahead of me, I can see black boots and dark green uniforms, as men move on past me deeper into the jungle, armed with machetes and guns, searching for me.

And I realize. They’re going to turn around, at some point. They’re going to come back.

From the side, I’m hidden by the thickest roots, but from the back, where I crawled in…

I have to run.

My odds of being missed are so small. I know it. I know I should run. But where?! H-How will I get past them? I can’t!

I-I could stay. Maybe they won’t find me!

“No energy sensor response off the path!” calls a man far off to my right.

“Confirmed,” comes another from a long way back behind me.

“Goggles,” calls the man the servant called ‘Master,’ from up ahead and past me now, “Switch to infrared. It might be one of the humans; check for heat.”

No, I can’t stay. I’m dead if I stay. I have to run!

Okay. Okay you can do this Ritsuka. They fanned out, so their backs are all to you. Just walk forward, towards o-one of them, okay? A-and once you see a big rock or something, get on the other side, and try to circle around it when they go back.

I know it’s a bad plan. I know I’m not good at this. I know I’m little and scared and weak, and I don’t know what I’m doing at all. I. …I think I might be about to die. Or get captured, and…hurt, again. But I have to try. I can try. I can do this.

Digging for all the courage I’ve ever had, I wait for the soldiers to get a little further out, and then I crawl out from under the roots as fast as I can and bolt forward. On my first step, a hand closes over my mouth and nose and jerks me back.

I try to scream, but I can’t get any sound out—I can’t breathe! The man’s other arm locks around my arms, and he pulls me against his chest like it’s easy. For a moment I’m kicking at air, then he crouches, dragging me down with him—I’m fighting for my life but he’s so strong! I-I can’t do anything!

“Shh-shh-shhh,” comes a steady whisper in my ear, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I need you to stay quiet, okay? If anyone hears us, it’s over. I’m going to let you breathe now. Don’t scream.”

I’m trying not to cry, but I don’t scream, just tremble as he lets go of my face and I can breathe again. I try to twist my head up to see him, and he obliges and loosens his grip to let me move a little, but he doesn’t let go.

The man holding onto me is wearing a uniform like all the others, dark green, with a logo that looks like an elongated star. He’s wearing an army cap, but under it, I see pale hair. He looks foreign. Maybe…maybe fifty? The man looks tired, and his face is worn and scarred, but he smiles at me, and his gold-brown eyes that looked so terrifyingly fierce a moment ago look gentle when he does.

“You’re the master of Chaldea,” he says as if he’s checking my nametag.

“H-How can you know that?” I ask. I didn’t even think they knew we existed.

“I wish I had time to explain,” says the man softly, “but I don’t. Now, I’m going to start walking. I need you to put your feet on top of mine, so we only leave my footprints, okay? We’re going to walk slow, and careful, and I’m going to make sure nobody sees you, alright?”

I nod, trembling, and try clumsily to get my feet on top of his.

“Hold onto my arm and stay as close to me as you can,” says the man. He wraps one arm around my chest, and I cling to it with all my might. Pressed against him to make as close to one silhouette as we can in the failing light around us, he clicks on a flashlight with the other hand, and begins to walk slowly north-east, mimicking the movements of all the other soldiers.

“You’re doing good,” he promises under his breath after a few seconds, “Alright. I’m going to take you as far as I can. If anybody spots us, I need you to scream and kick me. Make it look like you’re breaking free—I’ll let you go. Then keep running this direction, straight as an arrow. You hear that sound?”

I do my best to listen over the sound of my own blood pumping in my ears. There’s a…a not quite a rumbling sound. Something like it though?

I nod.

“Good. That’s a waterfall,” says the man calmly. His eyes have that razor sharp focus back in them, almost orange with the gold tint to them. It scares me. But—but the color is kind of like mine, which is comforting, and he’s helping me, so I swallow my fear and try really hard to listen and hold still. “There are three groups out here. You see the star on my chest?”

I glance up at the star near his shoulder again and nod.

“There’s another group with a symbol like a yin-yang, and one with a symbol like a crescent moon. All of us are your enemy,” continues the man in undertones, stepping carefully over a branch while keeping me balanced on his feet. “If my group catches you, they’ll kill you.”

I’m so scared I want to throw up. You can’t. Everybody’s counting on you! D-Do what he said. Calm down. Calm down calm down calm down; it’s gonna be okay.

“If the group with the crescent moon catches you, they’ll kill you,” he continues, voice level and calm. Factual, “But if the group with the yin-yang catches you, they’ll take you for questioning. This gives you a chance. Got it?”

I manage to nod. I can hear soldiers around us calling out updates to each other, and I want so bad to look, but I know people can sense when they’re being looked at, and might look back, so I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Good. That waterfall ahead is the boundary between our territory, and the yin-yang group’s. If you make it across the river, make as much noise as you can. We can’t follow you, and they should have border guards close. You’ll survive,” says the man, “I’m not going to be able to take you the whole way. I’m sorry. But I can give you a head-start. Just keep running towards the sound of the waterfall. The louder it gets, the closer you are to the river.”

“You’re not coming?” I ask, opening my eyes to glance up at him.

“I’m sorry; I can’t,” he replies, eyes still focused straight ahead, like a hawk scanning the ground for prey, “This is the best I can do.”

“…but,” I ask, my own voice sounding very small in my ears, “won’t you be in trouble for helping me?”

He pauses, for just a half-second, caught off guard, and glances down at me, then smiles. “Only if they catch me,” he replies with almost playful confidence.

It makes me smile back.

“3D mapping—area scan,” calls the first man I heard speak, off a long way to our right and behind us now.

Around us, about every other soldier stops searching to activate some handheld device, and they begin to trace beams of light around the environment.

Crap!

The man crouches, wrapping himself around me, and reaches both arms forward to inspect the ground ahead, as if looking for tracks. His coat is unbuttoned now, and falls loose on both sides, partially obscuring me.

“Stay calm,” he whispers, voice reassuring and confident, “Get as close to me as you can. We’re one heat signature. Nobody will notice, unless we give them a reason to notice. They’re not inspecting soldiers for an odd shape. They’re looking for heat signatures where they shouldn’t be.”

I lean back against him and then hold as still as I can. He moves calmly and with purpose, fingers tracing a branch I saw him snap himself, as if trying to determine if a human or animal caused it. A beam from the soldier fifteen feet to our right scans over us and I hold my breath.

It passes on behind us, and the soldier calls out, “Readings negative.” Voices around him echo the same.

“Widen the search area!” calls the first man.

The man with me stays crouched a few more seconds, tracing his fingers along the ground, then stands up again and continues to walk, shining his light methodically over the jungle ahead.

“Great job,” he whispers proudly, as if this is such a normal situation and I’ve done a good job on my math test, “Stay brave. It’s keeping you alive. It’ll keep you alive for a long time like this.”

“Who are you?” I ask in awe as we begin to walk again, holding his arm as he takes careful steps with my feet on his.

“Nobody,” he replies, a smile playing on his lips as he glances down at me, “I’m just a friend.”

The sound of the waterfall ahead is loud enough now that I can at least tell it’s water. For the first time, I start to feel like maybe I can really do this. He seems so sure, it makes it seem like it can really be done.

“…Thank you,” I whisper.

The man smiles, and looks at me for a moment as if thinking. He shifts his gaze back to the jungle ahead and keeps walking, but he speaks again when he does. “Listen-“

“—Ritsuka,” I tell him. I-I don’t know if he really cares, but I feel bad. He could get in so much trouble because of me, and I don’t even know what to call him.

“-Ritsuka,” he says, tightening his grip momentarily in a reassuring way, “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to remember it. Alright?”

We’re at least twenty-five feet now, from the nearest soldier, and I feel a lot less terrified, but his voice is more tense than it’s been.

“I’m going to be playing your enemy while you’re here, and I can’t break character while anyone’s watching. I might have to hurt you and your friends. If I see you again, and I’m not alone, run from me like you would anybody else. This may be the only time I get to talk to you.” His voice is intent and grave, and his face is deadly serious when I look at him. He has that razor focus and the bright gold tint that sends shivers down my spine back in his eyes, but then he glances down and meets my gaze, and the look softens. “Please, though. Whatever happens, whatever I say later or do, know that what I’m telling you right now is the truth. I’m on your side.”

…I believe him. I mean, why else would he help me now? It’s not like I could possibly get away. …That’s not my only reason, though. There’s something about the look on his face, and I just…I trust him. It reminds me…I think it reminds me of the way Emiya looks at me. Emiya’s face gets cold and hard when he’s thinking about a fight, but he’s not like that really, and when he smiles, it’s like he’s lowering a shield to do it. That’s what this man makes me think of. Like the cold look itself is a weapon, and the smile is the real person behind it.

“Okay,” I whisper back, and I mean it.

“There will be a time in the future when I need you to trust me,” he continues, eyes on the jungle ahead, “When it comes, I’ll call you by name. And when I do, no matter what’s happening, I need you not to try and stop me. I need you to stay still, and think about wanting me to reach you.”

I must accidentally have let how confused I am show on my face, because he glances down and gives me an apologetic little smile.

“I know it’s strange, and I can’t explain it, but it’s the only way any of this works. It’s the only way. I promise, you’ve got the pieces now. When the time comes, it’ll all make sense. I just need you to trust me, and to remember this. Can you do that?” He stops moving and waits for an answer.

I meet his gaze. He looks so sincerely worried. I still don’t even have a guess who he is, or why he’s doing this, but…there’s something that makes me sure he’s trying to help.

“I promise,” I reply.

The man looks so relieved, almost happy for the first time, even. “Thank you,” he says like it’s him being rescued by me right now, and he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head like my uncle does, “Good girl. Now, you see that big tree ahead? When I walk up to it, I’m going to set you down. Once I do, you’re on your own. Walk slow and steady until you hear a shout. Once you do, start running. It’s a five-minute sprint from here. No matter what happens, don’t stop running. Even if they fire at you—even if they hit you. Get back up, and keep running. I promise you, as long as you do that, you’re going to make it to the river alive. I’ll make sure of it. And if you make it over the river, you survive. Are you ready?”

“No,” I choke out, but I try to smile up at him, “But I have to, so I will.”

“That’s the way,” he says reassuringly, “Good little adventurer. Run straight. Don’t look back for anything. Don’t stop.”

We reach the tree. I feel him let go, and he sets me on the ground, then steps back, one step, another. Only his hand is on my shoulder now. He gives it a squeeze.

“You can do this. Now: go.”

He lets go.

I start to walk. My steps are steady and slow, methodical, like his were. Constant, intentional, focused. I keep my eyes ahead, on the jungle. The sun is starting to go down, but I can see just fine, and I can hear the rush of water ahead.

Step, step. Another foot, another three. I keep walking, shoulders squared. I pass the first tree I picked out to walk towards at the edge of my vision, and pick a new one up ahead. I keep going.

“There!” comes a shout behind me, and I see a light shine past me and onto the jungle ahead.

I run. I run like I’ve never run before.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode in my chest; I can feel it in my throat, but I just keep going, tearing through underbrush and vines, over branches and roots.

Behind me, scores of voices fill the air. I hear people shouting at me to stop, at each other to stop me, to fire, and I hear the crack of a gun and jump in fear. Another goes off, another.

I’m shaking as the sounds like little explosions shatter the night behind me, but I keep running and running. I hear a tree by me crack as a bullet lodges in its side.

All I think is ‘run’. There’s nothing but blind fear inside me, and that one thought.

Run.

Something grazes my arm and knocks me forward, but I keep my footing and tear forward. If the jungle wasn’t so dense, I’d have to be dead, but everyone behind me is basically firing blind. Some part of me I didn’t know I had thinks, ‘You’re going to die, or you aren’t. You have no control, so run.’

I do.

The sound of water churning is getting so loud I just know I must be close. My lungs are burning with effort as I scramble over logs and rocks. The voices behind me are getting closer and closer, but I’m almost there myself. I’ve got to be.

Just run. Just run!

Something smacks me in the back, and I’m on the ground. I don’t remember falling. The pain explodes inside me, and I scream. My hand goes to the right side of my chest, and comes back red. The green of my jacket was brown with mud, and now it’s a wet russet. I realize in a panic I’ve been shot, and I can’t stop the bleeding.

‘Even if they hit you, get back up and keep running.’

I hear the man’s voice in my head. But I can’t—I’m not strong enough! All I can feel is the agony in my chest, and my arms shaking. I can’t push myself up! I keep seeing that vault room in my head, but there’s no one to save me this time.

The voices are getting so close. I hear someone shout, “She’s down! We got her!”

No. I promised!

With a scream of pain, I drag myself up, and start to stumble forward again, picking up speed until I’m choking for oxygen as I run.

I have to stay alive! I’m anchoring my friends! If I die, they have no magic to keep them going, and they’ll all die too! I can’t die—I won’t. I want to go home! I want to see Akira again—I promised him I’d be okay! I want to see Mom and Dad! I want to see Billy! I’m not going to die, not while there’s even a chance I could live!

My shoes squelch as blood runs down my leg and into my shoes. My lungs tear at me. My chest throbs with pain. My nausea builds.

But I just keep running.

There’s something like a bolt of light that slams just past my head, carving open a rock. I don’t even know what kind of gun could do that, and I don’t look. Run!

Ahead, I see clear blue through foliage—a break in the trees.

So many guns echo behind me, I’m sure every second that a bullet will go through my head. Terror turns into speed, and I crash through the last line of trees and stumble out onto the edge of the river.

I did it!

I’m so close! Digging deep for all I have left, I rush forward—but—I-I’m at the top of the falls, and the water is churning here—fast and strong. It’s only about fifteen feet across, but with the current this strong, how do I-? Do I cross on the rocks? They’re so small and so far apart—there’s no way I can jump that!

I hesitate in a panic, right at the edge of the waterfall. Crap! I—I have to try and swim, it’s all I can do! Even if I can’t, I have to try!

“Rider! Stop her!”

I know I have to jump in the water, but I’m so scared, I do what I was told not to, and I turn to look.

A tall man in some kind of roman armor stands at the edge of the trees. Through the slit in his helmet, I see fierce eyes like a raging firestorm.

They lock onto me, and he raises his hand and a bolt of light leaves his palm.

The shot hits me in the chest with a crack, and I go flying off the falls.

Everything feels slow around me.

My back hits something and I grab onto it on reflex. A jolt slams through me as my arms take my body weight and snap my fall to a stop.

A vine, curling out over the falls from one of the trees—that’s what I knocked into—what I grabbed. I'm clinging to it above the fifty-foot drop for dear life. About ten feet up, I hear shouts, and I see the man in armor step into view. He raises his hand at me again as men with guns join him on the ridge to finish me off. I hear the water churning below me, and I know my odds of hitting deep water safely have to be almost nonexistent, but I have to try!

I let go.

Wind rushes past and I tuck my limbs in straight and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to brace for the coming pain if I live. I hear myself scream.

Something hits me in the back, then under the legs, and I feel my descent slow.

Huh?

So scared I can barely think, I open my eyes, and there’s an old man looking back at me. I realize on a delay that I’m in his arms. And we land gently, on a large rock in the middle of the little river below the falls.

I-I’m alive?

Up on the ridge, I hear shouts and movement, and all the relief of a second ago is torn away. I look and can’t see them, but I hear them making their way down.

“H-Help,” I manage, my voice sounding so broken and small in my ears. I think I’m crying. “Help me, please! I-I have to get to the other side of the river—I have to run—please—”

I try to get out of the old man’s arms, but I can barely move. There’s no strength left in me. I see so much blood on my chest, I think maybe I could die any second. I try again, and I can’t even sit up in his arms. I break into sobs; I couldn’t feel more trapped if I was encased in concrete. No. Not so close!

“Please,” I cry.

The old man glances at me, then over at the edge of the river. I look too, and see lines and lines of men with guns form ranks and take aim. The tall man in gold armor is with them.

“Drop her,” calls the man the Rider called ‘Master,’ his own gun leveled at the old man holding me.

“No,” says the old man casually, as if he’s not worried at all by this army of death, “I rather don’t think I will.”

“We have a truce with you,” spits the Master, tightening his grip on his gun, “Getting in our way is a breach of contract. Your Master wouldn’t look kindly on that.”

‘Your Master’? I think, looking up at the old man again. He sounds English, and his clothing is very different from the soldiers chasing me. I look for the yin-yang, or the crescent moon the kind soldier told me about, but neither is on him. He’s wearing a tailored brown suit with a dark cape that fans out at the collar. There is a medal like a coat of arms pinned to his shoulder, but the symbol on it isn’t any of the things I was told to look for—there’s an x and four butterflies.

“Getting in your way on your own turf is a breach,” agrees the old man readily, shifting his stance so his side faces them, and he’s half-between them and me, “But I’m not on it, and neither is she, if you’ll just take a look.”

Irritated, a man with a slightly different uniform then the rest steps up beside the Master and speaks, and I recognize his high voice as the man I heard directing the search. “You’re in the river. That’s no-man’s land.”

“Oh, am I?” asks the old man without an ounce of sincerity, blinking down at the rock, “Damn these old eyes. Well, I suppose that makes what to do a matter of opinion, rather than contract, as I don’t recall any particular rules about no-man’s land itself. Unfortunately, as reasonable as your request is, the young lady here asked me for my help only moments before. I’m terribly sorry, but you see it’s a bit of a first-come, first served in my time off, and well, she was just so much politer than you.”

“Last warning,” says the man with the high voice and unique uniform, “You aren’t the only servant here. We’ll make you regret it.”

There is a glitter in the old man’s eyes, and a hidden sharpness like he’s gripping a concealed knife in his sleeve when he speaks, “Will you?”

Someone fires, and instantly the landscape is engulfed in the sound of guns. I cry out and squeeze my eyes shut, flinching and trying to brace to be shot again. I feel movement, incredibly fast, but no pain, and I open my eyes again just in time to see the old man holding me reach the pinnacle of a 30-foot leap, and summon a massive coffin. He shifts me into just his left arm, and catches a chain attached to the top of the coffin, then swings it like a mace as he comes down on the army, knocking back the first two lines of gunmen below.

The spirit who must be a Rider moves forward just as fast, leaping onto the coffin as it lands, and springing off it at us. He draws the sword at his side and lunges at the old man’s head, but the old man lets go of the chain to summon a walking cane, and manages to knock his blade to the side.

The coffin vanishes, and the Rider and the old man land at the edge of the river and begin to cross blades in the water, me still clinging to the old man for dear life. He’s fast—ducking and deflecting, as the man in armor slices at him again and again, relentless, but focused. They’re both so fast, I can only see the cane and the sword for instants at a time, when they meet. The movements are nothing like the fighting I saw Cu Chulainn or Emiya do—it’s just as fast, but it’s restrained on both sides, feeling out their enemy’s ability with precision and calculation, not trying to overwhelm it with brute force or determination. They move like fencing matches I’ve seen in the Olympics, carefully navigating the rocky edge of the river without ever looking away from their opponent. Even holding me with one arm, the old man seems able to stand his ground. He dodges or parries every thrust, and the Rider, even with less range, seems to effortlessly deflect every swipe he takes.

On the shore, I hear the soldiers shouting and cursing, but I don’t hear more gunshots—I-I guess we’re moving so fast, they’d be too likely to shoot their own servant on accident. I want to look for the man who helped me, but I’m so afraid that one of the other soldiers might notice and I might give something away, so I don’t. I just pray he’s okay.

The speed of blows between the servants speeds up as they get a feel for the style the other man is using, and they begin to leap and duck so fast, I can barely see anything at all. Even the sound of blows is so fierce, I know being hit by the flat of a blade would shatter my bones. Water kicks up around us as they dodge and skid about one another. The old man sweeps at the Rider’s feet, and the Rider sees it coming and jumps early, slamming a foot onto the cane and pinning it there. Target wide open, the Rider lunges at the old man’s chest, but just as quick, the old man rips the head of the cane back, drawing a hidden sword from inside it, and swings up to deflect the blow.

The cane sword is long and thin, wickedly sharp, and the older man starts to go on the offensive, pushing the Rider back as he adds thrusts to his attacks, but it’s like the much more deadly weapon doesn’t even make a difference, and after the first two swipes, the Rider adjusts effectively, and begins to push him back again.

How? The Rider’s sword is so much shorter. He has a lot less range too, a-and I can see that the old man is skilled!

It’s my fault, isn’t it? Because he’s trying to protect me and fight at the same time. What if I get him killed? I-I want to help, but I don’t know what to do! I’m afraid anything I try would just distract him! I try as hard as I can to think of a way, but it’s getting hard to think at all. I can still feel wetness spreading along my chest. It hurts so bad. All I want to do is go to sleep, but I’m too scared to shut my eyes.

The Rider makes a lunge, and the old man slides to the side, using his momentum to sling water from the edge of his cape at the Rider’s eyes. Just as quick, he steps in and thrusts his sword at the opening in the Rider’s helmet, and the Rider doesn’t dodge. Instead, he moves towards the blade, and I think the blade is going to go through his head, but at the last second, a circular shield appears in his open left hand, and he slams it up, knocking the cane sword to the side as he lunges, and his swipe catches the old man across the chest and shoulder, carving a spray of bright red.

No!

My rescuer lets out a sound of pain. Banking on his momentum, the Rider rams the edge of shield into the old man’s side and knocks him back a step, stepping in and swinging for his chest again as he does, and I do the only thing I can think of and shout, “STOP!” at the top of my lungs, raising the hand with command seals.

The command seal fails like I know it will, but like before, a bright ring of light and energy pulses out from my hand before collapsing in on itself, and blinded by the sudden surge of mana, the Rider falters. The old man, whose back is to the light, doesn’t; he runs him through.

Sensing the blade at the last second, the Rider manages to twist and take the sword through his arm instead of his chest, but he falls back bloodied.

“Enough!” calls the Rider’s Master, “Rider! Return!”

Instantly, the Rider is gone, landing back at his master’s side, blood still trickling down his arm.

The old man holding me straightens up, his own chest bleeding like mine now, and lowers his sword.

“Winning would be easy, but this isn’t worth tipping our hand,” says the master to his servant. He turns to the old man then. “Take her, then. But you crossed to our side and injured sixteen of my men just now—your master will hear about this. I will see you’re properly disciplined.”

“Dear me, how petrifying,” says the old man, “I do take it we’re done then, though?” He glances at the Rider, and gives him a little nod. “Not bad, Rider. I’m sure it’s difficult carrying your entire faction on your back, but I daresay you are uniquely qualified for it.”

I haven’t seen a real expression on the Rider’s face before, past the helmet, but I see a hint of a grimace at that. “Archer,” he says, voice low, and I recognize it from before, when I was hiding. “For a man who avoids the front lines with such abandon for those on it, it seems you can protect at least one other when pressed. In that singular aspect, I can respect you.”

The tension in the old man’s posture eases a little.

“Come on,” says the Rider’s Master, “This will sort itself. We have more work to do.”

“Move out,” orders the man with the unique uniform.

Angry, the gunmen follow orders and begin to retreat their own way again, some helping along or carrying wounded comrades. The Rider stays and studies us for another moment, then turns and follows his master back into the trees with the rest.

The old man stands still until they’re gone, then his sword-cane vanishes, and he glances at me again. “You still alive, my dear?”

I start crying.

The Archer looks amused and a little sympathetic. He shifts his grip to hold me in both arms again, and leaps effortlessly to the other side of the river. “Now-now. Cheer up—you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“Th-Thank you,” I manage. I’m trying so hard to stop crying, but I can’t. It’s like my body’s trying to cry all the fear in me out, and I can’t make it stop.

“Welcome,” replies the Archer, “Not a bad trick there with the command spells yourself.” He glances at them with interest. “How did you do that? I didn’t think one could cancel a command mid-call.”

“I didn’t—something’s wrong with them here. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything better to help. Are you okay?” I ask through the tears.

He preens. “Naturally. It was just a flesh wound—not to worry. Now, you on the other hand are in a rather bad way, aren’t you?”

I feel tears spilling down my cheeks. “A-Am I going to die?”

“Oh, not to worry,” promises the Archer. He finagles a kerchief from his pocket while holding me, and sets it in my palm, then guides my hand against the wound. “Just keep pressure on it for me, will you? I’ll get you to a medic momentarily.”

I do as he says, and hold the cloth against my wound with all my might, even though it hurts so bad I want to scream, and he turns to the jungle and begins to run, weaving effortlessly through it so fast I only see the trees we pass as blurry colors.

“I-I’m Ritsuka,” I choke out, trying as hard as I can to stay strong, “What do I call you?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean my True Name?” asks the man. He considers. “Probably not supposed to share that with you. –Faction advantages and all that. I suppose you could call me ‘Archer.’”

I can’t hold it in anymore, and I begin to sob uncontrollably.

“—D-Don’t take it that hard, m’dear,” says the old man apologetically, “It’s standard procedure.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob, “It’s not you; I’m just scared.”

I can’t get any other words out, so I just bury my head in his vest and cry and cry and cry, until I don’t think there’s any water left in me to keep going.

When I finally stop, and my brain calms down enough to think, I can see his shirt is soaked through. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s alright,” he says, and his voice is a little softer. I leave the vest to look up at him, and it’s getting so dark that I can’t see him well anymore through my swollen eyes, but I think he gives me a reassuring smile. “You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you, my dear?”

I press my head against the vest again. He smells like old books. “Thank you for saving me, Archer,” I manage in a choked whisper, “I’m so sorry I got you hurt.” I don’t have anything left to cry with, but my body tries, and I end up just kind of trembling.

He doesn’t say anything this time.

I’m so tired, I think I pass out. Maybe I’m just so weak that my memory is faulty. Everything around me starts to get fragmented and disjointed, and then I’m not in the jungle anymore somehow; I’m surrounded by buildings made of metal, and there are people moving about around us. I blink, and try to lift my head and focus on them. Where…am I? What’s going on?

My vision is so blurry, everybody just looks like shapes. It’s too hard. I shut my eyes again.

“Well I’ll be damned,” says someone, “Hall called to complain about you stealing some quarry of theirs and brutally attacking their men for no reason. We were all taking bets—I can’t believe you scored the jackpot. Kayano’s gonna be thrilled.”

“She’ll be less thrilled if the girl dies,” says the Archer, “Nearest medic?”

“Someone should be on shift in A wing,” says the first speaker.

I hear the words, but my brain feels heavy and confused. I don’t understand them. Trying hard to drag myself up from the weight of my exhaustion, I lift my head again and try harder to focus.

The man carrying me opens a door, and steps into a hallway. Human shapes turn to look our way, and I realize on a delay that they’re soldiers with guns. I gasp and cling to the Archer, beginning to tremble. “Run, Archer!” I plead, terrified for us, “They have guns!”

“Who’s this?” says one of the soldiers.

“A prisoner in need of a medic,” says Archer’s voice.

Prisoner?

He moves towards the guards, and I bury my face against his vest again, cringing as I wait for a bullet.

“It’s alright,” comes the Archer’s voice much lower, almost a whisper, “They aren’t here to shoot you.”

“How do you know?” I whimper from in the vest.

I feel his hand pat my shoulder.

“Christ. What did you do to her?” comes a voice I’ve never heard, “You know we wanted her alive, right?”

“I didn’t do this!” says the Archer, indignant, “Where do you need her?”

“On the table,” comes the same voice, more rushed, “Hey! Akami—I need two more in here. We’ve got a patient who’s lost a lot of blood.”

I hear the sound of people rushing about, then I’m pulled away from the vest. On a disjointed delay, I realize the Archer is setting me down.

“No, wait!” I say in a panic, clinging to his arms and trying to climb back up to his chest.

“Easy!” A woman in light blue scrubs catches my shoulder and starts to push me down against a table.

“No! Please!” Frantic, I dig my fingers into his sleeve for dear life, “Please don’t go!”

The Archer gives the woman an awkward glance.

I start to thrash, trying to kick the strange woman off of me and get back to my friend. “Help!”

“Shit—guards! Help me hold her down! Akami—I need 47mg of Propofol, now!” shouts the woman.

“Should I just stay?” asks the Archer.

“Please, please,” I sob.

“No!” shouts the woman over me, “You’re in the way!”

Men with guns reach us, and pin me against the table as I thrash. They’ll kill me! I can’t! I can’t die! I promised Akira! I-I want to live! I need to live! I scream and fight, but they’re so strong. Someone presses my head to the side and down against the table, and there’s a sharp, stabbing sensation in my neck.

My head feels funny. Sound begins to fade, and I tell my body to move, but I can’t.

There are so many strange people, in dark purple uniforms with a little symbol like a yin-yang on their chest. They all look so angry and scary. I can’t remember where Billy is. Why am I alone?

My eyes feel heavy.

Past the scary men and women, I see the old man who helped me. He’s watching from by the door. When he sees me looking at him, he smiles sympathetically at me and waves. Does…does that mean…I’m okay?

I can’t keep my eyes open.

I guess…I’m pretty tired…

I should…should……

rest…

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

“Octavia, Marcus—anything on Robin and David? Like—at all?” I plead.

The pair of staff members give me sympathetic looks, and Marcus shakes his head.

“Damn it!” I say, whirling my chair back around to face my own desk, “Elron, Kawata, Meuniere?”

“Well, everyone’s alive,” offers Elron, “Other than that, monitoring their readings hasn’t turned up anything useful, except that Robin’s all over the place…”

“-Mapping has improved! We were able to coordinate a lot of the data we got from Emiya and Kotarou, and the small amount of actually useful information Mozart gave us,” says Kawata right on his heels, “It’s not great, but we have a general idea of where in Peru they are now—which is a lot further inland than we were aiming for.”

“And-“

“—What about Ritsuka’s location? –Sorry Meuniere I’ll come back to you,” I say.

“Well, we narrowed it down on Emiya and Kotarou’s information, assuming she’s in one of the blind spots. Cross-referencing that with her description of local flora, she’s north and east of Salieri and Mozart somewhere, but that’s as much as we’re sure,” says Kawata in the voice of someone very sorry because they know how little this helps.

“—Hang on—I’m sorry Ji—uh—Meuniere-?—uhm—do you prefer Jingle, or Meuniere-?” cuts in Roman apologetically.

“Uh, I haven’t thought about it, I guess,” replies Meuniere thoughtfully, “Just so long as you can pronounce it right, I’ll take either.”

“I’m gonna go with Jingle then,” says Roman, somehow with a completely straight face, “I think the first-name basis camaraderie could really help given the uh—the ‘well this is all a nightmare’-ness of the situation. –A-Anyway, back to you in a second; Elron—what do you mean Robin’s been ‘all over the place’? Every time I’ve checked his vitals, they’re fine—well—they’re very, very slightly weaking every second, but he and David are the Archers with the highest Independent Action status, so, by an extremely miniscule amount."

"--Yeah, uh, that's because they only read insane parameters every so often, and for like, a second,” replies Elron, “You remember that human kid, inside Unlimited Blade Works that you told us about?”

“Patxi?” says Adele, who has joined Chaldea staff in the command room after proving her coding skills and arguing her way inside.

“Yes, the Russian,” agrees Elron, “You all mentioned that time was one of the forces in flux right now, and for someone reason, that caused him to—for brief moments of time, and without any lasting damage—appear shot.”

Adele, who I guess never saw that happen, glances at her brother, who has similarly argued and proven his way inside—albeit to the group handling data scanning and translation.

“I saw that,” agrees Macarios, “Freaky. He’s not the only one though—I think he’s just the first one we noticed.”

“—Well, I figure what’s going on with Robin is probably the same,” says Elron, “—I’m keeping an eye on it, and I’m recording the fluctuations in the log, just in case, but it always goes back to normal shortly after.”

“…Hmm—send me that file?” says Roman.

“—Uh—what were you going to add, Meuniere?” I circle back as the Doctor begins to pour over Robin’s log.

“I was going to say that from the air samples, we’ve collected a lot of data on the area that shouldn’t be there,” says Meuniere.

“Shouldn’t be there?” I echo.

“Yeah,” he agrees worriedly, “There’s magic concentration like we’re in the age of Gods or something. We knew energy transfer was in flux, but this is way beyond what we predicted. Or…makes sense.”

“…Which suggests to you..?” I prompt.

“Well…” he pushes his glasses up, “I noticed a really small density reading change in some of the areas our people are in compared to others. Out of curiosity, I asked Mozart to send a familiar out as far from the action as possible, towards the sea. It’s not reached the end of its range yet, but last transmission it sent, the energy has already dropped steeply, towards the upper end of what we expected.”

“So,” says Roman, who must have been half-listening after all, “That means either something in this specific part of the jungle is generating extra magical energy, or it’s being stored or drawn here by something.”

“Exactly,” says Meuniere, “Damned if I know what that means or what could cause it, but. It’s definitely a thing.”

Hmmm….

“Roman? How about you—anything on Robin’s data?” I ask, whirling my chair to him, which, since he’s at the desk next to me, is super easy.

“I regret giving you a wheelie chair,” he says, eyeing me tiredly, “—Elron was right about it not seeming to have caused him any permanent damage. It’s not a time fluctuation though. It’s an item.”

“An item?” asks Elron from over at his station.

“Or a spell that’s already been cast,” adds Roman, “But my money is on item. It’s really hard to flip a powerful spell on and off and on and off again, but it’s not hard to open and close a box with an artifact inside.”

“Weird,” I comment, “But, if it’s an item, then it’s almost certain he’s the one essentially turning it on and of, so at least we don’t have to worry.” I pat Roman on the shoulder.

He still looks worried, but he tries to give me a smile. “Uhm…Alright—We’ll need to check in and give Ritsuka an update soon. I wish we had anything but ‘sorry keep waiting,’ to say, but at least she’s safe. …It’ll be sundown in a few hours though, and…in the jungle alone.”

“—Don’t worry. We’ve got time,” I encourage, “Everyone already split up to look, and we know the general areas to check out.”

“—I-I’m getting a call from Akira and Mash,” says Roman, harried, “Can you please check in with me? It’s been a while since we made sure he wasn’t…you know, being hunted by some monster again?”

“Sure-sure—tell the kids I say ‘Hi’ and ‘Great job kicking ass in France!’ Mash is already so much stronger—I watched that last fight,” I say.

He smiles, and then turns away, answering the call.

As bad as it probably is that Roman split into two again, I’m pretty relieved not to be doing all this alone. Having him here means we can tag-in, tag-out who handles the kids in Orleans, and who handles the group in Peru. Trying to do both simultaneously would have been a nightmare.

“Heeey, Romani!” I say, pinging his communicator.

“Ah—Da Vinci. I was hoping you’d check in. Any news on Ritsuka?” comes his garbled voice. We’ve done everything we can to improve the connection, but ‘poor quality’ is the best we’ve been able to upgrade to.

“She’s still fine,” I reassure, and since I’m sure he’s wondering even if he won’t ask, I add, “No sign of David and Robin yet, but their readings have remained optimal. I’ll be sure to let you know if that changes.”

“Thanks,” he replies.

“How about yourself?” I ask.

“Well, I’m alive,” he tries rather pitiably to joke, “Uh—air quality isn’t great, and I haven’t been able to move up towards the surface at all, but I’m working through this floor of maze pretty well. I can at least keep a record of where I’ve been, and I am extremely glad to confirm that at least the walls don’t move. I don’t have enough magical energy to scan very far ahead, but I’ve picked up a reading I think might be a leyline! I’m heading towards it. Slow going, but okay so far. Once I get there, if I’m right and it is a leyline, I’ll have some real options.”

A massive weight lessens just a little on my shoulder. I smile even though there’s no one to see. “It’s good to hear your voice,” I say, a pang in my chest.

“Huh?” comes his confused reply.

Crap. Da Vinci, why did you say that to the poor man? You’re a stranger. “—I mean, I can see your readings, but just the same, every time I check in with one of you and you actually say, ‘Don’t worry, Da Vinci, I’m still alive!’, it really puts my fears to rest,” I cover pretty flawlessly. I almost wish I wasn’t so good at lying—it doesn’t give a lot of chance to everybody else.

He chuckles—nervously, I’m pretty sure—but hey, a laugh is a laugh. “Well, glad to help! I am still alive, and I’m going to keep heading towards that reading I hope is a leyline.”

“Great. You keep it up, and we’ll check in again soon,” I say.

“Ah.” He sounds disappointed. I shouldn’t be surprised—I mean, he’s down there completely alone in some pitch-black labyrinth with a horrible creature in it. I’d be hoping for some conversation too. “—Uh—before you go! Any word on the others? Is everyone still okay?”

“Mmmm, mostly,” I reply, which is mostly the truth, “Emiya took a pretty bad hit in a fight with another spirit, but he’s on the mend. Billy got a little scraped up too. Other than that, so far everyone is fine. We’ve gained a lot of information, too.”

“…Could uh. …Look, I know I’m…’there’ already, sort of—but the me here on the ground would really like whatever information we’ve figured out too. I know you have to be slammed trying to monitor all of this and Mash and Akira’s work at the same time, but is there anyone up there who could just give me a summary of what we know so far?” he asks, “—It doesn’t even really have to be a staff member! I’m sure if you pulled someone else in from outside, they could read data to be.”

That’s not a half-bad idea, and I feel bad for him, so. “Yeah, no problem,” I say cheerily, “Hang on.” I mute my com link. “Hey Octavia? Could you go snag a civilian volunteer? Anyone who can read and is willing to sit and do it out loud for a while will work.”

“You got it,” calls Octavia, hopping up.

“We’ll have someone on it in just a minute,” I promise, unmuting, “They’ll call you back.”

“Thanks,” comes Romani’s voice. He sounds relieved but also sad, “Sorry I can’t be of more help myself right now.”

“Well, in a way you actually are,” I say, glancing over at the other ‘him,’ “He’s doing a bang-up job of running the Orleans scenario. –You want me to have him give you a call when he’s done, update you on that too?”

“That would be great, actually,” says Romani, “—Da Vinci? Uhm. Thank you.”

“Of course!” I say, practically sparkling, “It’s my job as resident genius.”

“…Not just that,” says Romani.

Oh?

“Is uhm. Is this a private channel?” asks Romani.

I glance over at Duston and Meuniere who are both suddenly trying to look as if they are totally absolutely positively not listening in, which they are clearly doing.

“Hang on!” I say angelically, and I end Romani’s call and blast the volume up on my own line and clap in front of the mic, making those two jump and wince and snatch their headphones off. I swap my active channel to my personal line instead of the open mission channel for Romani, and call him back. “Okay! Now we’re alone. What’s up? Keeping in mind that I can’t help people from overhearing my verbal half of this conversation.”

“Yeah. Uhm,” comes Romani’s awkward voice, “…I know we can’t really get into it, and we shouldn’t—whatever happened in your—whatever is going to happen, to me. With all of us. But, uhm…Just. The way you greeted me, I have the sneaking suspicion that I die first.”

Shit… I don’t say anything.

“That’s not really a surprise. I’ve always known I was going to,” he adds, somehow almost fondly, “But…you stayed. That means I left Mash and Ritsuka with you. So, thank you. I don’t know what happens, after I’m gone. But I can guess, and, I know enough to know I left you with a hell of a mess to handle all alone. I’ve leaned on you so much in seventy-two hours. I uh…I have to imagine I did it even more, for a whole year of command. And then, when I was gone, you didn’t have you to lean on. So, thank you, for taking care of the kids, and the world, and…my whole awful, hopeless, pile of a mess. …And, I’m also sorry. I’m sorry I left you to do it alone. And…I’m sorry it got you killed.”

“…Why are you telling me this now?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he replies, and I don’t like it, “…I’ve just got kind of an odd feeling. It…occurred to me that I don’t actually know what’s going to happen, and, you know. You never know when it’s your last chance to say something like that-“

I rip off my headphones and drop them on the desk. “I’m going in!”

“-What?!” says Roman, startling from his chair beside me and looking frantic, “Oh, please don’t! I need you here!”

“Your ‘self,’” I say with angry air quotes, “is giving me his death speech! I’m not sitting around to find out why!”

“Da Vinci-!” tries Roman, swiping at my shoulder and missing.

I storm out towards the coffins in a fury. You are not doing this to me again!! Hell no! Not a day into an operation!

I hear pounding footsteps behind me, and Doctor Roman dashes past me and skids to a stop, pinwheeling to face me. “Wait wait wait! Please!”

“I know, Roman! I know you need me here!” I say, pausing and gesturing angrily, “But I’m not staying!”

“It isn’t like that!” tries Roman, “He—We didn’t mean it that way! This whole thing is just really weird, for all of us!” I push past him, and he gets in my way again. “—We don’t know how to talk to you!”

“This isn’t about how you talk to me; it’s about keeping you alive!” I snap.

I forge on, and this time he clamps his hand around my wrist and jerks me to a stop. I turn in surprise to see his face is dead serious, like it almost never is.

“You let me die last time,” argues Roman calmly, “—You knew, right? …Yeah. You must have always known. You were fine with it. You understood it had to happen. Nothing’s changed. We ran the math already—you were there. Even if he dies, our existences only snap together when we’re in the same moment of time. They’re a year in the future in Peru. I’ve got less than a year to stop this, and you know what happens at the end, right?”

I’m quiet. I stop trying to pull away, but I don’t look at him.

“You knew that, right?” says Roman more softly. His grip loosens. “I’m never going to be in two-thousand and seventeen. Even if a ‘me’ dies in Peru, the me here will never catch up to that death. There won’t be a ‘me’ still alive for it to kill. And even if he comes back alive and well, I’m still going to die at the end of twenty-sixteen. –Maybe sooner,” he adds, with a sad little smile, “if we can find the location early. Maybe I won’t even ‘really’ make it to 2016. …So…please. Please, Da Vinci.”

His voice is gentle and kind; sorry, a little sad. He lets go of my wrist, but I stay still.

“Please stay, and help me. I know… …I know I don’t know,” says Roman, “what you’re going through. I can’t imagine having to do this twice. Nobody deserves that. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know you. I’m sorry I can’t just let you do what you want. Believe me, I do at least know how utterly unfair this is. I know how much I’m asking.”

I turn slowly, pained, and look at him.

He’s Doctor Roman.

The same as always. Awkward, funny, hesitant. Brave, cunning, kind. Alone. Except for me.

He looks exactly like I always remember. I hate it.

It isn’t fair. I can’t do this again. I didn’t realize it until just now, but…I can’t. I’ve missed him every single day, every single moment, since we lost him. I’ve thought about him with every cup of coffee I make, and every voice I hear that isn’t his, and every drop of blood I see.

I’m a genius. I’m an artist, and an inventor. I live in my dreams and my desires and my own choices, with the gusto for life of a true hedonist. I’m utterly selfish.

But I could never even want things again, except for the kids to be alright, after he was gone. There wasn’t anything left out there in a world without him, for me to want.

I was on the base.

I think about that all the time. I was in the last room, doors sealed, crew with me, guns ready for our own deaths. I wasn’t with him, when he died. I feel like, if I could just know which instant of my life it happened during, it would change something significant. But, I never will.

And I know it wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he looks so painfully, agonizingly sorry. I can’t guess at why. He’s right. He doesn’t know me. He isn’t a Roman who knows me well enough that he could feel so bad for me. “But I need you. All of us need you. I…I made the kind of mistake that people can’t even dream up nightmares about making, Da Vinci. And I’m trying. I am doing everything that I have ever learned, or half learned, how to do. I am playing every card in my hand, and using every drop of sweat and blood in my body, to try and fix this. But I…” He looks down, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are glossy from trying to hold back tears. “I can’t do it alone. I wouldn’t ask you to stay, and suffer through something so awful again, if I thought I could do it any other way, but. …There is so much at stake here. I. …Just, please. Please help me, Da Vinci. Please stay and help.”

I pity him. I admire him too.

I turn and walk to him, and stop. He looks so relieved, I want to laugh with how sad it makes me.

“Roman,” I say softly, and I place a gloved hand against his cheek, “you didn’t make a mistake. You were cursed. Fate has a way of hunting all of us, especially the best of us, and when we least deserve it. This world is cruel. It always has been. Your fate turned on you, but I won’t.”

He looks at the ground. I can tell he wants to argue with me, but I think he’s afraid that if he does, I’ll storm away. Smart man.

“You’ll stay, then?” he asks after a moment, looking up again, cautiously hopeful.

I lower my hand to his shoulder and stay close, studying his eyes. Most people can’t stand this, but he doesn’t flinch and get uncomfortable, or turn away. He just waits, looking back sadly.

“Doctor,” I ask, feeling agonizingly hopeless looking into those eyes, “is there anything that you still want?”

“I want this world not to end,” he says readily, holding my gaze, “I want people to live. I want to fix this.”

I kiss him.

Left hand on his shoulder, I slide my right hand up and cup his jaw and press against him. I hear a faint sound of surprise when I do, but he doesn’t pull away.

He doesn’t pull away, or kiss back. He just stands there.

I kiss him deeper, my tongue in his mouth, trying to ignite something, anything—trying to wake him up. I slide my hand behind his head and wrap my fingers through his hair, and he tilts his head easily for me when I pull him back, but that’s all he does. I kiss his jawline, his chin, I tug down the zipper on his coat and breathe deep and suck on his exposed neck. I go lower and kiss his collar bone. He says nothing. He does nothing.

Despair building, I kiss his mouth again, and I pull him to the floor with me. He lets me.

I lay on top of him and kiss him deeply; I run my hands through his hair; I kiss his eyelids, his forehead, his lips.

He stays still beneath me. He shuts his eyes when I want him to. He does nothing, but watch me. With pity.

“You stupid man!” I sob, pushing myself up above him and looking down at his calm face, his sorry eyes.

I’m crying. I wonder if I have been crying the whole time.

I sit up and climb off him, and bury my head in my knees.

I never cry. This is so stupid. I can’t believe a man has been able to make me weep like his wife.

After a moment, I hear slow movement, and feel a hand on my shoulder.

“…Da Vinci?”

What can I say? What would be the point in saying it.

Roman doesn’t try again. Instead, he sits. I feel him move right next to me, and press his own knees to his chest, and then just sit there, waiting.

I make him wait, and then finally come up out of my knees and slump to the side to lean my head against his shoulder.

“…I’m sorry,” says Roman finally.

“For what this time?” I ask in a tired, bitter voice.

“That I’m not him,” he answers, and it hurts more than anything else he might have said.

For a moment, we sit together in silence.

“…Yet,” whispers Roman.

I turn my head to glance at him. He smiles at me. I know the smile. It’s the only one I’ve ever loved more than my Mona Lisa’s. It’s the one he always had.

“For what it’s worth, I hope I get there,” says Roman hesitantly, “I hope someday I deserve that.”

“Idiot,” I say, and I lean back against his shoulder and sigh.

After a moment, he puts an arm around me.

For what it’s worth, I think with exhaustion, you are him. He was him long before I met him at all.

There is a fairly loud throat clearing from the back of the room. Roman and I both turn to look.

“Hey, uh,” says the Russian kid, Patxi, that I’d asked Octavia to get. He scuffs a boot uncomfortably against the floor, “They need you two at the command room, but the first person they sent saw…uh…maybe misinterpreted things going on on the floor back here, and chickened out, so they sent me because 'I don’t even work here so you can’t fire me’. So yeah. Uhm. There’s an emergency, although I have to think that really means ‘urgent update,’ because no one was screaming, and they didn’t have the guts to actually talk to you, and nobody’s that incompetent in a real emergency. Anyway, come back if you want. Or don’t. See ya.”

He leaves.

I glance at Roman. “I like him.”

I smile, and he smiles back.

“You know,” says Roman, “he does have a directness that comes in handy.”

Roman pulls himself to his feet and then offers me a hand. I take it, and for a moment, we stand there, almost holding hands.

“Would it help at all, if I said I’m really glad to have you back?” asks Roman.

“Maybe,” I say playfully, fixing my metaphorical mask back on, “but not as much as those massive hickeys will. The gossip in the command room is going to lighten my mood for the next five hours!” I turn with an air of light giddiness I don’t truly feel, and float back towards the command room. Behind me, I can hear Roman cursing under his breath and trying to finesse his collar high enough to hide them.

I smile.

Then after a few steps, I pause. Roman doesn’t notice, and rams into my back.

“—Ah! Sorry—I was—” he starts.

I turn and cut him off. “-Will you make it fair, for me?”

“Fair?” he echoes in confusion.

“I have to go through this twice. That’s not your fault, but, there’s something you could do to make it easier on me,” I say, “But you won’t like it.”

“…I’ll do it,” he says slowly, “so long as I can.”

“Want to live again,” I order.

He blinks at me.

“I know you gave up on having a future. Think about it anyway. Live like you might have one, even though you know it would take a miracle. Hope, even if you know it’s pointless. Live like someone who isn’t going to die. –Not like someone who is pretending he isn’t someone who’s going to die,” I add, cutting off something he was about to interject.

For a few seconds, he considers me.

“…I know that’s not fair,” I say, “I’m asking you to suffer. But, it’s worth it. Some kinds of suffering are. And if you can do that for me, I’ll do this for you.”

“…That seems quite fair,” he says quietly, and he gives a gentle smile and offers me his hand, “Partners?”

“Partners,” I agree, shaking his hand, “One more time.”

[vynegar]

14% of the way through....

[phantaloon]

the way im so excited about this fic as if im not the one writing it and whos been wanting to put it into words for like three months lmao

[causenessus]

ALSO!! I ASKED THE LOCAL OMI ENTHUSIAST @/NECTARDADDY WHAT OMI WOULD SMELL LIKE SO CREDIT FOR THAT BRAINSTORM SESSION GOES TO THEM I'M SORRY I FORGOT TO WRITE THAT IN THE EXTRAS </3

try again

part 0.4. NEXT TIME

"the playground seemed so big when they were younger. and now they’re here again, 10 years later, and it looks small. their world is bigger than just this playset now. the metal that forms the foundation of the structure is still a shiny, vibrant red, but the cracked, faded plastic shows its age. where has time gone? 'who are you now?' she wants to ask. as a kid, time goes by slowly, and you tell your parents you can’t wait to grow old. they tell you to enjoy your childhood, but you never believe them. and even now, she’s not sure she does. she's not old, but old enough to know time goes by fast. since their meeting in her office, she’s reflected more on how she’s grown up. she doesn’t miss her childhood– she likes the freedom that has come with adulthood, but at the same time, it’s slowly weighing her down. she’s old enough, that she can no longer spend her summers relaxed in a quiet house, laying in bed all day with the door open while both her parents are at work. she can't spend the nights stretched out on her back, against wet, dewy grass, looking at the stars with him while staining her favorite shirt. now she has responsibilities to take care of every day, and any little mistake can no longer be taken back. she’s an adult now, and no one is there to pick her up when she falls."

content warnings + notes: calling atsumu a little cupid whore (/lh), drinking, y/n is having a crisis, pay attention to unsent messages :) very long written part... oops </3

she downs the last of her glass in one go. 

it’s cheap whiskey, and she hates the taste. it’s probably the worst she’s ever had, but the burn down her throat is a little pleasant. 

completely going against her plan to drink something light, she decided she would need some liquid courage if she was going to do this. her hands are splayed across the cold bar counter as she stands from her chair, mind buzzing a little as she grounds herself. 

akaashi doesn’t notice her absence in his drunken state, but iwaizumi does. kita looks up as well, but remains seated, keeping akaashi company after nodding to iwaizumi who stands up.

“where are you going?” he asks following her out of the bar, pushing past a few groups of people in their way. he's not asking it like he's accusing her of anything, he just sounds concerned.

but he doesn’t need to worry, and she faces him as they make it out. “going to see omi,” she practically sings the answer, her voice careless as the nickname spills out of her mouth before she even realizes it. it comes too naturally to her, and the thought ruins the nice numbness in her veins from the alcohol. instead, she starts to feel the guilt build up again.

iwaizumi still stands in front of her, arms crossed, matching her own stance. “you’re going to see sakusa?” he repeats, brows raised.

“mhm,” she hums, shifting from one foot to the other. her shoes are starting to bother her, too. she'll probably take them off as soon as iwaizumi lets her go.

“where?”

she sighs, starting to feel restless just standing there. the warm lights and ruckus from inside the bar invite her back in, and so does the pull she feels in the opposite direction down the street, where she'll see him. “an old park, can i go?”

“no, hold on,” he stops her before she can even take a step, “you’re going to go meet a man you haven’t talked to in years after a single interaction at a park this late at night?”

“yes?” she quirks a brow at him, “it’s an old park we used to go to a lot. it’s not far from here and i know him. i’ll be okay.”

“i’m not saying sakusa’s going to do anything to you, but i’m not letting you walk there alone. especially when you’ve been drinking. let me make sure you get there safely and then i’ll leave you, deal?” he proposes, and she sees how much he cares in his eyes. they’re a pretty olive green and despite how sharp they are, there’s so much love in them. it reminds her of her own eyes, and how she feels when she looks at sakusa; her head starts to panic in alarm and get defensive, but at the same time, her heart slows down, as if telling her he's safe.

she knows iwaizumi makes a good point, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little extra safety, or a human purse. “fine,” she sighs, “but only if you hold my shoes.”

their walk to the park is silent, but it’s a peaceful silence. she’s walking next to him barefoot, feeling even shorter than before. he questions her a few times, to make sure she actually knows where she’s going, and she insists that she does. she’s had a little bit to drink, yes, but she’s not drunk. and she's confident she could still find her way to this park blindfolded. she’s walked these sidewalks hundreds of times, ran to this park from every direction and route possible. it was always their spot, whether they lay in the wet grass or sat on the playset. the memories of being with him back then make her feel a little grim, and iwaizumi looks down at her, noticing.

“you okay?” he asks, nudging her shoulder closest to him with his arm.

“yeah,” she sighs, watching the way her shoes clank against each other in his hand with every step they take.

“what’re you thinking?” he asks, still looking down at her and she looks back up at him.

“i just don’t know what i’m doing,” she says, trying to voice her feelings while she turns to stare back ahead of them. “what are we gonna do? what does he like doing now? what if i’ve changed and he doesn’t like who i am anymore? i'm so scared of disappointing him.”

“you’re good enough as you are, y/n,” he silences her and she glances back at him in surprise. “don’t let a man change how you see yourself. you’re good as you are, and if he doesn’t think so, he can fuck off. there's no such thing as an expectation or a right way for you to act. he’s probably changed too, and that’s just how people work. did he text you or did you text him?”

she gives him a smile at his words, nudging him back with her shoulder as a way of thanking him, “he texted me.”

he gives her a grin at that, “he texted you? asking to see you?” when she nods he continues, "damn that's ballsy. he really wants you, y/n. and i hope he's a good person. i’ve seen him around and worked a little bit with him, he seems alright.”  

she flusters a little bit at his words, “i’m sure it’s not like that. we just used to be very good friends, you know that. i’ve never stopped missing him, maybe he felt a little bit of the same way.”

he nods at her words, giving a hum in thought. they’re walking along the fence that’s been set up around the park, and she can see the entrance coming up, where a lone lamp post is lighting the way. “but you want him, don’t you?”

she knows he’s asking it in a romantic sense, and she does. she knows what she feels for him is more than just friendly, and she’s felt stupid for never being able to fall in love with anyone else because she’s been stuck on him this entire time. “i’m happy with anything,” she decides to say, “if we start hanging out again, that’s enough for me. i just want him to be a part of my life.”

they stop at the park entrance, and she can see the playset from here, just a bit down the path. “do you want me to walk you there? or are you’re fine from here? i think the walk helped you sober up a little bit, so i feel better about leaving you here now. just make sure you text me if you feel even slightly off, got it?”

“got it!” she responds with a smile, giving him a small salute as a joke. “thank you for walking me here, iwa. i'll be fine on my own now and i’ll text you when i'm walking home.”

he rolls his eyes at the salute but gives her a smile, “sounds good. i’ll check in with you then as well. i might come meet you halfway or who knows, maybe your guy will want to walk you home?”

he’s giving her another shitty grin that she’d like to slap off his face, and it’s her turn to roll her eyes, “whatever, iwa. see you in a little bit.”

she pulls him into a hug, trying to tell him all her feelings at once, thanking him for his advice and for walking her here, and he’s quick to reciprocate it, rubbing her back for a second before they pull away. he gives her her shoes and waves her off, making sure she steps onto the playground before he leaves, and she sees him.

tonight, it seems they’ll be sitting on the top of the playset, above a tube that connects one platform to another. she steps up onto one of the platforms first, dropping her shoes on it before clambering on top of the structure.

he offers her a hand after watching her (probably ungraceful) climb which she hesitates to take for a second. her heart feels like it's trying to escape her chest as she takes it, the contact sending chills along her skin.

“hi,” she whispers after she's sat down, stealing a glance at him, unsure of where to start.

“hi,” he says back, already looking at her. he looks better than when she saw him last, but perhaps that's just because today has been better for him. there are still bags under his eyes that she can see despite the lack of light around them, but she can also see that his eyes look brighter today. she wants to mention it, say she’s glad to see that he looks like he's doing well today, but she shouldn’t. it’s too early–

“you look good today.”

the words spill out of her mouth and she immediately slaps a hand over it. she had drank more after texting him purposefully, knowing that it would mess with her ability to reason and this was the consequence, although she wasn't sure yet if it was a positive or negative one.

he laughs in response, giving her a small smile that she hasn’t seen in years. she missed seeing it; she missed him.

“thank you,” he says, holding her gaze and she’s unable to look away, “you look good too. although maybe a little drunk.”

her cheeks are burning red and she feels hot despite the fact that she was practically shivering the entire way here, latching onto iwaizumi and his body heat. “no i– well– yes, i have been drinking but i didn’t mean it that way– i mean you do look good–” she has to take a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, “i meant you look happier today, sorry.”

he’s still looking at her, smiling. and maybe it’s a tiny bit bigger than it was before, and she smiles back.

she has no idea it’s because of her–that he seems happier today. he’s only just found her again after so many years apart, and yet he’s glad she’s in his life again. this is only the second time they’ve seen each other after so long, and she’s already had this big of an impact on him. and maybe it was due to atsumu’s influence, and the way that he kept bringing her up, and how it had been their entire conversation over dinner, but he didn’t really care. he was happy to be talking about her again, and to see her again. they had been so close, and it felt strangely nostalgic whenever he saw her, as if he was a child again, tossing and turning on a bed stand, sick to his stomach for home.

but he had been homesick for her this entire time, and he didn’t want to talk about her as if their time together had passed; he wanted to be close to her again. but only if she let him: “that guy you came here with, are you guys–”

“oh, no no no,” she immediately cuts him off, shaking her head before he gets the wrong idea. “he’s just a friend. my roommates and i went out to dinner today and then we went drinking. he just didn’t want me to walk here alone.”

he nods, feeling strangely relieved to hear that. “i just came from eating out with my roommates, too. i cut it short because one of them was being annoying.”

she hums in thought, a smile breaking out on her face, “hm, that can’t possibly be atsumu, can it?”

he can’t even joke back, just rolls his eyes with a sigh at the mention of his friend.

“i just texted him earlier tonight. finally scolded him for setting up that entire meeting between us. i mean– who even thinks to do something like that?”

“just him. he’s got one brain cell working for him and it’s got a funny way of working,” sakusa responds, looking forward to the field in front of them. they used to spin around on that field, trying to stay standing the longest before they both fell onto wet grass, too dizzy to keep standing. “i think it worked out nice, but there were definitely other ways he could have planned that out.”

she can’t help but look at him, slightly surprised. so he was happy to see her? perhaps she should’ve understood that by now; here they were sitting side by side on an old playset. “yeah, it did,” she can’t help but say, not even thinking twice about agreeing with him. “and if you don’t mind me bringing it up, do you think you will come back for a second meeting? i was just wondering.”

“yeah, i’m thinking about it,” he answers, still not looking at her, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question. she’s brought the topic of conversation back to her job, and reminded herself of everything she shouldn’t be doing right now. she shouldn’t be doing any of this. she’s looking forward to seeing him in her office again, but she shouldn’t. she should be treating him as a client, not as an old face or a silly old crush. and she shouldn’t be seeing him outside of the office; it ruins that professional relationship she should be trying to maintain. she's giving into him too easily, even after he had been the one to accuse her of something hurtful upon their first words to each other in years.

a particularly cold wind blows through and she shivers, breathing in sharply as her shoulders raise towards her ears on instinct, trying to protect them from the cold. in her defense, she hadn't foreseen sitting on a playset in the middle of the night today and had not dressed accordingly.

“are you cold?” he asks, hand already reaching towards the open black jacket he was wearing, a plain white shirt underneath.

she’s looking at him, face completely blank. her mind is so far gone, thinking about countless other things, including every single way this interaction could go. ‘what was she even doing here? why did she agree to come?’ the moment he texted her she put up little to no resistance. she lasted one text, trying to set up a boundary between them to prevent herself from getting hurt and then completely dropped it. how could he be so casual about seeing her again? was their friendship something shallow to him? something he could easily replace or come back to?

he’s saying her name, and her mind returns to the boy in front of her, blinking twice before responding, “sorry. i was just thinking about something. i’m fine. you don’t need to give me your jacket or anything.”

“but if i want to?” he asks and this is where she failed last time, and will fail again, and will always fail, because she can never resist him.

“i–”

the jacket is already around her shoulders before she knows it. it’s warm, and the weight of it on top of her shoulders is comforting. the smell of him is enveloping all of her senses and her entire mind, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but it.

it was simple, and really not that heavy or distinctive of a smell. just clean clothes–his detergent, and maybe a hint of lemon or lavender. it was easy to get used to, and it had become familiar to her after being around him so long in the past, but she hadn’t smelled it in so long, she felt like she was suffocating now. with the smell came so many memories associated with him, and it took everything in her not to let out a shaky breath, giving away her emotions.

he didn’t know what to say, looking at her. her chin was resting on top of her knees, pulled up close against her chest, and her eyes were closed, brows furrowed as if she was trying desperately to hold something in. had he come off too strongly? he liked to think he still knew her, could read her mind, tell when she was cold, and when she needed something, but maybe he was wrong, or just moving too fast. maybe she didn’t feel the same way, and didn’t want to be friends again.

“thanks,” she murmurs finally, eyes opening again, although she’s staring at the ground below them, and he’s unsure of where to look–at her, or the ground as well.

“yeah,” he replies, and the conversation falls quiet between them again.

it’s almost comfortable between them. it would be if she wasn't feeling like she was ruining everything and only digging herself a bigger hole. maybe they went quiet because he was sick of her now, and regretted asking to see her. and should she even care or not? should she get up and leave right now? what was the right thing to do right now, objectively? not what was right according to her heart, but according to her head?

she should be keeping her distance from him, not allowing him to get closer, giving him the chance to hurt her again. he had let them get distant, she reminded herself. he had let their friendship crumble without saying a word, he didn’t see her the way she saw him, and she couldn’t rely on him to be there for her.

“how are you?” he breaks the silence, and the question sets off every nerve in her body. it’s like her mind is being torn in two, trying to find an answer to the simple question. it’s not really that simple– he’s asking it, referring to the last 10 years of her life, and he’s asking her to be vulnerable and share about herself, and she can’t do that.

“don’t do that to me,” she says, shutting her eyes again.

“do what?” he’s looking at her, at his jacket draped around her shoulders, and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to hold himself back from reaching out to fix her hair, which has been slightly caught underneath the jacket. 

she lets out a heavy, quiet breath, “don’t ask me that– like you care.”

“i do care,” he responds immediately, and she’s sure if she looked up at him, he’d be looking at her. but if she looks at him, she’ll break.

“we shouldn’t be doing this. we can’t be doing this. i shouldn’t be seeing you outside of my office. i listened to you talk about your struggles for an hour that you would've otherwise paid for if it wasn't the first meeting. you can’t turn around and ask how i am for free. that’s not fair. we should be nothing more than a therapist and a client. it’s easier for me to look at you that way because–” her voice gets caught in her throat for a second as she tries to talk confidently, but her voice gives away her feelings. she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears before they even reach her eyes, but she blinks through them, “because i look at you and still see what we used to be. but so much happened between us, and then you left, and that still hurts.”

‘then will you let me make it up to you? then can we go back to what we were before? and can we be more?’ the words are heavy in his head, and too forward to say out loud, but he has to say something. he has to say something now because he didn’t say anything back then.

he had always assumed that she had just been disappearing from his life altogether–from his notifications, the school hallways, and his walks home, but he realized now she had done that on purpose. she had purposely removed herself from his life so they would never see each other, and he had never stopped her. of course she hadn’t believed him, when he had said it was good to see her in her office, and of course she hadn’t fully understood what his ulterior motives were when he texted her out of the blue about wanting to see her again, because he had never showed how much he cared back then. but he had to tell her now that she was worth everything.

“i don’t mind paying it,” he ends up saying, and finally gets her to look at him, “i don’t mind paying to see you for an hour. i’d pay to be around you anyday, especially if you’re going to refuse to see me anywhere else, then i’ll just force you to put up with me for an hour every week.”

she laughs with a shake of her head, “you’re not forcing me to see you. i want to see you outside of that time…i just–i shouldn’t.”

“why not?” he can’t help but ask. “you’re still friends with atsumu, too. you text him outside of your appointments all the time.”

“yes but–” i like you more than a friend. hell, i’ve been in love with you for the past 10 years of my life. actually, probably for even longer, but who’s even counting at this point– she takes a deep breath again. she should leave soon, and think about this. she’s going to end up letting him convince her if she keeps listening to him, “maybe next time. i’ll tell you how i’ve been next time, okay?”

she’s giving him a next time, and he’ll take whatever he can get. they can start slow again. being her client is like being her acquaintance. people are always acquaintances before they’re friends; they can grow from here.

"when is next time?" he responds quickly, realizing it sounds like she’s going to stand up and leave soon, but he's not losing sight of her again.

she avoids looking at him, keeping her knees are pulled to her chest as she picks at the worn-down plastic of the playground tube they're sitting on, "i don't know, sakusa. i really need time to think about all of this. i don’t know what i’m doing here, or why i showed up tonight.”

her words feel like a burn in his lungs, but even when his sides are aching on his morning runs, he keeps going. "but you showed up anyway."

she finally looks at him, and he swears he could get lost in her eyes forever. he can’t believe he went through their entire friendship without telling her how beautiful she was, in every single way. he can’t believe he ever let go of her. perhaps that cliche saying was true, that you never know how important something really is until you lose it.

"i did," she echoes, continuing to stare into his own eyes.

"are you going to leave?" he asks, unable to look away.

she looks back down at the threads of green plastic she was pulling at, and his eyes follow. they used to meet at this playset all the time. during the summer, when she’d sleep over, they’d stay up until three in the morning, and then she’d nudge him about sneaking out. he used to worry about what would happen if his parents checked on them and saw that they were gone if they sneaked out, but she always ended up convincing him in the end. they rarely fought or had disagreements. with enough talking, they always managed to persuade the other to agree with them.

“i am. because we both need time to think. you need to think about if you’re going to see me again for therapy and i just need to think. about everything," she replies, and he watches her grab the edge of the tube, steadying herself as she moves to stand before he slides himself off the tube onto the ground below. it’s not that far of a drop for him now, although it was the scariest drop ever as a kid. now he stands eye level with most of the playset, but she's looking at him like it's still that big of a fall, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

“i’ll help you down,” he says with a smile and she blinks.

“no, i’m fine–” her words die out as he looks at her, brows raised in expectancy. this is what he meant: they were always able to push the other to do something, no matter how much they tried to resist in the beginning.

she lets out a sigh, trying to buy time as she fixes her skirt, preparing herself to slip off the tube. it really shouldn't be that scary, but she exclaims as she drops, barely registering the hands on the sides of her waist that catch her while her own clamp down on his shoulders.

her face is red as he lowers her down gently to the ground. whether it’s from the embarrassing noise she let out or the fact that he caught her, she’s not sure. maybe it’s both. even when he lets go of her, she can feel his hands on her still, as if they've been permanently etched into her skin. he’s looking down at her, and there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes and the smile on his lips. he's too close to her, and she can't stop looking at his lips so she looks down at the ground instead, clutching at the jacket around her shoulders before she remembers it’s not hers.

“oh, here’s your jacket back,” she starts, moving to take off the piece of clothing before he stops her with a hand over he own.

“you can keep it for a little longer if you– if you let me walk you home,” he says, on the verge of losing all of his confidence, but he just can’t let go of her. he doesn't want to watch her leave, but he knows she needs a break.

she looks up at him, feeling like her lips are quivering with how nervous and flustered she feels, “you don’t have to do that, really. i can walk home by myself.”

“but if i want to?”

it’s a repeat of a conversation they had earlier, because she can never give him a complete no, and he always knows to take that as a yes.

she’s ruining everything she’s trying to do for herself right now. she’s trying to set a boundary between them, and horribly failing. because what if he walks her home, and he happens to live nearby again? what if they start to see each other more often? or worst of all, what if he ends up leaving again?

well what if he doesn’t?

oh, whatever.

fuck the what ifs.

they can try again.

.

.

.

"it's gonna rain soon / and pull me back in.

"i had the words / you thought a hundred times

"oh darlin' / will you still walk me back home?'"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

not really any extras! i just hope u enjoyed <3 and that this chapter was good and not too long or just a bunch of rambles!! i had like three ideas i had randomly wrote down and then just copied and pasted into this chapter and was trying to make them all fit 😭

IWAIZUMI AND Y/N HAVE A PLATONIC SIBLING-TYPE RELATIONSHIP!!! JUST MAKING THAT CLEAR also i'm a sucker for iwaizumi but that's besides the point

omi just kind of got up and left at some point during dinner when atsumu got tipsy and started talking to shoyo and bo. he said goodbye to osamu and then left

they all have each other's locations anyway and shoyo and bokuto trust him to know what he's doing

kita, akaashi, and iwa ended up going home soon after iwa got back from walking y/n to the park and then he and kita stayed up all night waiting for her to come home while akaashi was passed out <3

this fic lowkey goes a little bit off the rails!! but hopefully u guys enjoy it <33

AND I KEEP FORGETTING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS I'VE KIND OF LOST IT NOW!! but y/n's pfp is a pufferfish because they symbolize protecting yourself and setting boundaries <3 interpret that as u will

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[ziggyzolch]

Headache (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: If you could describe yourself in three words, they would be: little shit speedster. Causing trouble was your favorite pastime, and you've never been caught. That would change, however, when an angsty witch is assigned to capture you.Warnings: Cursing

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

The stench of vomit and cigarettes fills your nose as you duck and hide in an alley next to a nightclub. Wiping sweat off of your forehead, you peek your head out of the alley and watch the police cars that were chasing you turn the wrong corner. After making sure the coast was clear, you let out a breath then fall to the ground in laughter. “Idiots.” You push out in between giggles.

Being a little shit was your specialty. From egging random houses to stealing the batons of unaware police men, there was nothing you weren’t up for. Graffitiing police cars wasn’t something you did often, but definitely what you had just done. You were adding the finishing touches, pubes, to the massive penis you just spray painted on the car when a cop finally noticed you. It was embarrassingly easy to outrun him, you can’t blame him though.

You discovered your superhuman speed the first time you got caught messing around, and your shit-headedness increased tenfold. The early years of your childhood were a mystery to you, only rarely getting short, useless flashbacks to being in a lab of some sort. You figured that's where your abilities came from, but in all honesty you didn’t really care. Whatever you didn’t remember was not your problem.

A good 3 minutes of laughing later, you catch your breath and sprint back to your dorm, ignoring the glowing red light at the corner of your eye.

❅❅❅

Walking into your dorm room, the first thing you notice is how cold it is. The door closes behind you, a red mist dissipating around it. Your eyes widen and you let out a quiet ‘What the fuck’ before the sound of your chair moving catches your attention. Your window was open. The first explanation you think of is that your roommate is playing a stupid prank. “You aren’t funny, Kate. Why are you even still up-” You pause, a figure suddenly appearing in front of you.

That is most definitely not your roommate.

They cover your mouth right when you're about to scream.

“Shh, she’s sleeping. Move.” The stranger, which you now know is a woman, turns you around and pushes you out of your dorm, her hand still covering your mouth. Your thoughts start racing. ‘What the fuck! I should’ve brought my rape whistle with me. This is definitely human trafficking. Couldn’t they kidnap me tomorrow, I have homework-’

The woman turns you around “Shut up! For fucks sake- ew!” She stares at you in shock. Did you just lick her hand? After an awkward stare off you finally speak, “Fuck you, rapist!” You turn to run when you’re stopped by a…red cloud?

You can hear her voice getting closer while she stomps towards you, “Don’t even try to run, and I’m not a rapist you little shit.”

“Let me go!”

“That’s not happening.”

“Yeah cuz you’re a RAPIST.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “Tony told me you were a handful but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Yeah well…Fuck you and Tony!”

“Oh my god.”

“Rapist!”

“Enough!” You’re about to reply with another accusation when red fills your vision.

Wanda picks you up from where you passed out and sighs in exasperation. Tony’s in for a ride.

❅❅❅

Next Part

A/N: This is the first chapter! I'll probably upload more on AO3 and Wattpad, @ziggyzolch on both :)

[avocadorablepirate]

Beneath The Surface - 5

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: When memories, buried deep within your sea of emotions, resurface, you’re left to question what lies beneath the surface. Did he truly mean to leave you behind, or was there something more to his silence than you ever understood?

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of smoking, mentions of death, mild gore, OP spoilers, this story follows the Dressrosa arc.

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Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait, been a busy couple of months. Just for the long wait I’m going to upload one more chapter either tomorrow or some time next week :) Anyway, thank you for reading, hope you like this chapter.

Law felt his stomach drop. Doflamingo let out a maniacal laugh that echoed through the shattered throne room, followed by a low almost thoughtful hum. "Such a shame," he mused. "If you had both stuck with me...maybe you two could have lived a good life together." His words dripped with false pity, a cruel and unforgiving grin forming. "But now, I'll have to kill you both."

Law clutched Y/N tighter against him, desperate to keep her safe. Doflamingo's presence, his words, even Luffy's angry shouts as he tried to get out of the threads Doflamingo had wrapped him in - none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except the girl bleeding out in his arms.

Doflamingo shook his head in mock disappointment, letting out a small sigh. "The biggest mistake you made," he drawled, voice rising with pride. "Was thinking you ever had a chance of defeating me. I am of the noblest blood! A Celestial Dragon!"

Law felt more sick than he had previously. Each word that Doflamingo spoke was another knife to the gut. He has always known that Doflamingo carried himself like he was a cut above the rest. But hearing those words from his mouth made Law's stomach twist with revulsion. And then, Doflamingo twisted the knife even deeper.

"And you know who else is?"

Law's breath stilled. His world seemed to tilt.

No.

Doflamingo was lying. He had to be. It had to be nothing more than his usual manipulative lies. But the gleam in his eyes never left. Sheer amusement dancing behind them as he watched Law take in his every word. "Oh, come now!" he said, almost giddy. "There was a reason why I said she reminded me of Corazon...all that unbridled compassion. Unable to hurt even the smallest fly. Don't tell me you never wondered!"

It suddenly all made sense. Y/N's past, the way she spoke of her childhood in fragments, never fully understanding the grandeur of the place she lived in. Had she even known?

Corazon. Corazon had been a Celestial Dragon too. Had he known?

A memory stirred - one from years ago, when Law had still been just a boy, following another person who had given him a reason to keep living.

The crackling of fire filled the night air. Hues of gold and amber dancing against the rocky walls of the cave they had taken refuge in.

Corazon sat with his back against a boulder, a cigarette balanced loosely between his fingers as he lazily tended to the morsels of food that they had for the night. Law sat across from him, arms crossed, staring intently at the fire with his usual sullen expression.

Corazon exhaled a wisp of smoke, watching Law shift uncomfortably from the cool wind that rolled through - not about to admit that he was feeling cold. "You're quiet tonight. What's on your mind Law?"

It hadn't been long since they had left the Donquixote Pirates, and Law still wasn't entirely at ease around Corazon. He shot him a guarded glare. "Nothing."

Corazon chuckled, taking another drag. "That can't be true. Usually you're yelling at me about something by now."

Law rolled his eyes and scowled, but he didn't deny it.

A few moments passed in silence before Corazon pressed again. "C'mon, tell me what you're think about."

Law hesitated, his fingers tapping against his knees. He didn't want to say anything - he really didn't - especially not to Corazon. But the worry had been gnawing at him for weeks.

Finally, he muttered under his breath, "...Y/N."

Corazon tried to suppress a smile, he had heard the soft whisper of Law's friend's name, but he loved to tease. "What was that?"

"Y/N...," Law said louder this time, but still hesitant.

Corazon raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh?" A shit-eating grin spread across his face. "Now this is interesting."

Law scowled once more. "Shut up."

But Corazon's grin only widened, revelling in the boy's sudden shyness. "Stoic little Law, thinking about a girl?" He placed a hand dramatically over his heart before wiping a fake tear. "Why I never thought this day would come. What a historic moment."

Law turned away, hiding the heat creeping up his neck. "It's not like that."

Corazon hummed, clearly amused by the sight before him.

Law let out a sharp exhale, his hands now nervously fidgeting at his sides. "I just...will she be safe?"

Corazon paused mid drag, his teasing smile faltered momentarily. "Don't worry! We'll go back for her once you're cured."

But that hadn't been enough to convince Law. If anything, his shoulders slumped further, his expression more grim. Corazon noticed the shift and, after a second, tried a different approach. “What’s she like?” he asked casually, hoping the subject might distract Law from whatever was weighing him down.

Law seemed to be in thought. "...Strong." His voice was quieter now. "She's strong in her own way."

Corazon's expression softened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Law picked up a small rock and threw it into the fire. Sparks shot up into the air before fading. “She’s always helping people. Even when she has no reason to. Even when they've done nothing but hurt her. She just does it anyway.”

Corazon smiled faintly. “Sounds like me."

Law scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

The older man laughed, ruffling Law’s hair despite the boy’s protests.

But Corazon saw it - the way Law’s voice softened when he spoke about her. The way his eyes flickered, a little more alive. To Corazon's surprise Law continued to speak. “She never talks about it, but...I can tell. She didn’t grow up like us. She lived somewhere big - like a palace or something. She said it was lonely. Always had guards, always had people watching her, but she never really knew them. Then one day her parents decided to leave it all behind."

Corazon blew out smoke, his expression unreadable as he mulled over something far more serious than teasing Law about his obvious attachment. His grip on his cigarette tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax. A palace, isolation, a life of luxury, yet you still felt like you had nothing.

He had no doubt.

He knew where she came from. It now made sense why his brother was so fond of her. But he said nothing. If it were true, Law didn't need that burden - not now.

Instead, he continued to listen to Law ramble on about the girl. “She acts like she’s fine, like losing her family doesn't bother her anymore, but sometimes...I can see it.” His voice dropped lower. “That same loneliness.”

Corazon frowned at Law's words, but made an attempt to lift the mood. "She seems like she's trouble," he said, a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

"She’s not!" Law snapped, his voice sharp with instinctive protectiveness, as if she were standing right beside him.

Corazon's lips quirked up as he nudged Law with his elbow. “So, what you’re saying is...you’ve been paying an awful lot of attention to her to know she's not trouble?”

Law’s expression twisted into offense. “Shut up.”

Corazon grinned. “No, no, this is interesting. No one knows this much about someone they don't pay attention to. That’s some real dedication, Law.”

Law shoved him. “I swear to god, shut up.”

Corazon burst out laughing, dodging the boy’s next attempt to push him over. “Admit it! You like her - no, you love her don’t you?”

Law buried his face in his hands, hiding his cheeks that were burning red. “I do not.”

“Oh, you definitely do.”

“I don’t.”

Corazon smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Tell me, have you ever wanted to punch someone just because they upset her?”

Law flinched.

Corazon’s smirk grew. “Can't deny the allegations now Law."

Law groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Corazon grinned, taking his coat off and placing it over Law. “But you do love her~” his voice sang. Law scowled, but there was no real bite to it.

Corazon exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear. After a long pause, he spoke. "You know...sometimes, people like her - the ones who give everything without asking for anything in return - those are the ones who need protecting the most."

Law glanced at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. Corazon offered a soft smile. “So, protect her, Law. Once this is all done, go protect her."

Law looked back at the fire, Corazon’s words sinking in.

“Yeah…”

Those words echoed through Law's head now like a curse.

"Oh this is too good."

Law was drawn away from the memory - Doflamingo's voice, smug and venomous, cutting in. "You've connected the dots, haven't you?" He smirked. "Corazon must have known. But he didn't tell you. How tragic."

It didn’t matter that Corazon didn't tell him. It didn't matter even if Y/N knew. Right now, all that mattered was that she was dying - and it was because of him.

"Poor, poor Law," Doflamingo mocked. "To have everything fall apart minutes before your death." Doflamingo stepped closer, strings dancing at the tips of his fingers. "It makes me kind of pity you."

Law felt his heart pound against his ribs, his mind screamed at him to move - to do something - to protect Y/N like Corazon had once told him to.

But he hadn't.

He had attacked with the full intent to kill, and she had been the one to take the blow. His Injection Shot had torn through her insides, just as he had planned it to do to Doflamingo.

He hadn't protected her.

He had hurt her.

And now, the image of Y/N's bloodied body, the memory of Corazon's dying smile, the sound of Doflamingo's laughter - it was all too much.

Doflamingo was right. She was like Corazon. And Law? Law was starting to think he was like Doflamingo. He hurt the people he called family.

—————

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @riftmage27 @enigma-of-grand-designs @extremely-ashtridic @crmnic @bluebunny002 @lynndt-chocolate @thekatisspooky

[gudfornuthin]

The Baker and the Ballerina

Chapter nine

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (au)

Summary: A message mix-up, a late-night bakery date, and a chance for Frank and Y/N to get closer. Nothing could get in their way, right?

Word count: 2.5k

Series Warnings: slow burn, cliché tropes, mentions of PTSD, mentions of abusive relationships, (eventual) smut, violence

A/N: Ain't no way I've cut this series down to 22 chapters from 32 Imao. I just realised this way chapters can be longer, and it won't take me ages to upload it all. As always, thank you for reading and feedback is greatly appreciated :)

It's another restless night for Frank, as the man stands downstairs in the bakery's kitchen. It's peaceful, the soft lighting around the edge of the room creating an orange glow, just bright enough for him to see what he's doing. Writing down new recipe ideas and also sketching out a plan for Y/N's studio. She didn't ask him to, and Frank isn't sure how exactly she wants it to look, but it doesn't hurt to show her some options.

As he's just about to grab some ingredients needed for a new bake, his phone pings. Frank stops what he's doing and grabs his phone, seeing a text message from Y/N. He smiles and opens it, his eyes going wide once he sees what she sent.

A photo of herself, wearing a tight-fitting ballet outfit, legs and arms bare. It's a low-cut neck and comes up incredibly high on the side of her thighs. Not much is left to the imagination and Frank can feel his heart beating fast, among other things. The image is paired with a simple text reading, ‘is this too revealing? Thinking of what to wear for the classes I wanna run in the studio :\’.

Frank has a sneaky suspicion that the text wasn't meant for him, unless Y/N has suddenly changed her tune and wanted to test the waters of their relationship. Either way, he decides to have some fun and tease her with his reply.

‘Not at all, they won't be able to take their eyes off you ;)’

He puts his phone down and waits for a response, already smirking at the thought of her realising the mistake she made. It doesn't take long, but rather than another ping from a text, Frank's phone starts ringing. Her name flashes on the screen and he answers straight away.

"Hey."

She doesn't respond immediately, the only sound from her end being the slight huffing from her breathing.

"Sweetheart-"

"Please don't make this more embarrassing than it already is," she finally says, mumbling and sounding incredibly awkward.

Frank laughs. "I didn't say anything!"

She sighs. "God, that was meant for Farah. I'm so tired, and in my defence you guys have really similar names!"

"Don't worry," Frank says. "Maybe change my name in your phone to save the confusion next time."

Y/N hums. "Sure, you'll just be down as the guy I can't stop making a fool of myself around."

"Kind of a mouthful, but sure." There's a brief pause, and Frank continues. "Really though, you look incredible."

"Thank you, Frank," he can hear her walking around as she talks. "So, I probably already know the answer to this but, why're you up so late?"

He leans against one of the counters. "Y'know, mind's messing with me again. Thought I'd spend some time looking over new recipes. You?"

"Actually I'm still at the studio, need to clean up the rest of this mess left behind."

This makes Frank perk up, as he chooses to boldly ask the following question. "You wouldn't wanna come over, would you? If you have time."

"And do what, exactly?"

Frank shrugs, looking around the kitchen. "Well, you could help with some last-minute prep that needs doing for the bakery tomorrow?" He heads into the front, looking out the window. "We'll count it as another 'non-date'."

Y/N smiles. "I wouldn't wanna be the reason the bakehouse runs out of pastries tomorrow."

"Of course not."

Once again, Frank hears her moving around. "I'll be right over. Lemme just change real quick."

"Damn, I was hoping l'd see the leotard in person," he jokes.

She rolls her eyes in amusement. "Shut up."

The call ends, and Frank quickly rushes out the front door of the bakery, heading across the street to the studio. He waits patiently for her, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the quiet chirping of crickets.

The door opens and he looks up to see Y/N, a confused expression on her face. "Hey, why'd you come out?"

"I know it's only over the road," Frank says. "but I didn't want you walking by yourself this late."

They begin to walk back to the bakehouse, Y/N smiling at his words.

"You really know how to make a girl feel special."

They get back to the bakery and head for the kitchen, Frank grabbing trays full of pastry and placing them on the tables in the middle of the room. Y/N feels like a lost puppy, sticking close to him and having no clue what to do. Thankfully, Frank notices this.

"You want me to show you what to do first?" he asks.

She nods. "For the health and safety of your customers, l'd say yes."

He chuckles and gets to work. Folding and spreading out the raw pastry, encasing thick slabs of butter in between each piece, and shaping them into perfect croissant shapes. Just as Frank was enamoured by her ballet skills, Y/N is enamoured by his baking ones. He's a natural, and she can tell this is where he thrives. It's meticulous and complicated, but Frank makes it look so simple. He's in his element, even if the pretty woman watching makes him feel nervous.

Once completed, he takes the tray and puts it in the oven. "Alright, you wanna give it a go?"

"If you're okay with a botched batch of disfigured croissants," she replies, not wanting to mess up his work.

"I'm sure they'd turn out fine," Frank says. "But maybe you'd feel better filling and decorating?"

He goes over to where a rack of baked goods are resting, taking one tray and putting it in front of Y/N. The smell is intoxicating, the golden-brown crisp of the puff pastry making her mouth water.

"So," Frank starts. "We're adding all things pistachio to the menu, I'll need you to drizzle some of this pistachio cream on top of the croissants and crumble up some pistachio pieces to spread over it."

She nods. "Sounds easy enough."

They get to work, Y/N going much slower than Frank. Both of them perfectionists, but the latter having more confidence in what he's doing. Once half the batch is done, Frank grabs two piping bags.

"We'll add some pistachio filling to the rest," he hands her one of the bags. "Not too much, don't want it spilling out, but not too little otherwise the first few bites will just be pastry."

Y/N nods again, picking up one of the croissants and placing the nozzle underneath it. She tries squeezing the bag, nothing coming out at first. She tries again, glancing at Frank who's already on his third pastry. She looks back at hers and squeezes once more. A sudden splat and half the pistachio filling explodes, covering the table, multiple of the croissants, and of course herself. Dread consumes her, as she waits for Frank to yell or berate her. Instead, he quickly grabs a towel and hands it to her, gently taking the ruined piping bag from her hands.

"Guess I won't be offering you a job anytime soon," he jokes.

The dread quickly leaves, replaced with relief and joy after seeing Franks reaction.

"Sorry," she mumbles, but smiling either way.

"S'okay," he gives her the piping bag he was using. "Lemme show you how to do it this time."

She goes to grab another croissant but feels Franks presence behind her. His front pressed firmly against her back; she freezes in shock. His arms wrap around either side of her as he covers her hands with his own on top of the piping bag. She hates to admit that she isn't opposed to what he's doing, although knows they're crossing into dangerous territory. To an outsider, what they're doing must look so cliché, a young man and woman embracing in such an intimate manor.

"This okay?" Frank asks, his gruff voice vibrating through her spine.

She subconsciously leans into him. "Maybe it is for Sam Wheat and Molly Jensen."

He leans over her shoulder, as she looks back at him, seeing the confusion on his face.

"Ghost," she elaborates. "The movie with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?"

Frank shakes his head. "Never saw it, not really into chick flicks."

Y/N scoffs, turning around to face him properly. "You don't have to be into chick flicks to watch Ghost, it's a classic."

"Are we finishing this or what?" he argues back, holding the piping bag and pointing it at the forgotten pastries.

"Well you've ruined the mood," Y/N grumbles.

There's a brief pause, and before she has time to react, Frank squeezes a perfect line of the pistachio cream across her upper lip. She jolts and gasps in shock.

Frank smirks. "That's how you use it by the way."

She huffs, wiping the cream off her face and taste testing it. "It's really good."

"I'm glad, hoping it'll be a new favourite with the customers."

- - -

After finishing the rest of the croissants and packing them away for the following day, Frank and Y/N clean up the remaining mess they made. As she puts away one of the mixing bowls, her eyes graze over a bunch of drawings and messy sketches.

"Wow, are these for the studio?" she asks.

Frank moves over to where she stands. "Yeah. Not saying you have to use any of them, but I just like to have the ideas planned out."

She shakes her head at his tone of uncertainty. "No, these are really good! You've got more of a plan then I do."

Y/N continues sifting through them, happy to see Frank showing genuine interest in this major project.

"Y'know I'm off on Sunday," Frank says. "If you need to go grab some things for the studio, I'm more than happy to go with you."

"That'd be great, thank you."

The night carries on much the same. The pair of them talking over different plans, adding new ideas to the sketches, and Frank showing her his new recipe ideas. Time flies by, and sleep is the last thing on either of their minds.

- - -

Sunday soon rolls around, and Y/N is making her way to Bakehouse 31 for her day of shopping with Frank. While most of the basic work is done, there's still final touches to do on the flooring and setting the walls ready to be painted. Frank was kind enough to let her take his sketches of the studio home with her, as to figure out what she really wants to do to it.

As she turns the corner, Y/N spots a commotion outside the bakery, quickly realising it's Frank and an older man. Their expressions are similar, and their conversation appears heated. It's not hard for her to guess that the man is Franks father. She holds back for a moment, not wanting to intrude in their less than cheerful conversation.

Eventually the older man leaves, walking in the opposite direction to where Y/N stands. Frank appears visibly stressed and upset as she walks up to him.

"Hey," her words startle him as he turns and spots her. "You okay?"

He clears his throat and waves her off. "It's nothing, let's just go."

She purses her lips. "Was that your dad?"

Frank doesn't say anything, simply huffing in acknowledgment, confirming her suspicion.

It doesn't take long for the pair to arrive at the store, Y/N's two main goals consisting of finding all the materials they need, while also taking Franks mind off his father. They stroll up and down the different aisles with a cart, grabbing important, and not so important, things.

"Is this a diamond encrusted lamp?" Y/N questions, picking it out of the cart as soon as Frank places it in.

He rests his hands on his hips. "Well it's not real diamonds, the thing only costs twenty bucks."

She looks at him, brow furrowed. "Where am I gonna put this?"

Frank shrugs. "Put it downstairs, it'll make it cosy."

She shakes her head, putting it back on the shelf. "We're focusing on the studio first. I need the bare minimum finished before I even think about décor."

As they carry on, going back and forth and arguing over what they need and what they don't, Y/N can't help but feel the domesticity of it all encompassing her. it's innocent enough, and she knows Frank is only doing this because he's mostly responsible for the original workers leaving half a completed job behind. Still, walking around the store together, laughing and joking about the unique and strange decoration options, most strangers would see them and assume they're a couple. Which is just crazy. Y/N hates to admit it, but she doesn't mind being mistaken for one.

After an hour or so, and an almost full cart, Frank and Y/N make their way to the front of the store.

She goes to pull out her purse, but Frank stops her. "I've got this."

"No, no, no," she argues. "This is a lot of stuff, and I've got the money put aside for it."

"I know and I don't doubt you have it all planned out," Frank says in retort. "But I also know how hard it is starting out when it comes to your own business. So please, let me get this for you as a way of helping you out."

She smiles slightly. "You're already helping out by finishing the job."

He shakes his head. "That's time I had to spare. This is a gift."

"I thought the bags full of buttery pastry were gifts," she mumbles in jest.

Frank rolls his eyes. "Come on. I'll sort this shit out, you go and call a cab. There's a lot here so no point dragging it all back on foot."

Y/N knows she can't convince him to let her pay so she nods in agreement, patting him on the arm and leaving the store. The smile hasn't left her face as she stands near the curb, waiting for a cab. The idea of trying to finish the work on the studio alone sounded like a nightmare. But with Frank, she couldn't wait to get started.

As she continues standing outside the store, her phone pings in her bag. She pulls it out and checks, not recognising the number. She clicks on it and the message opens, her heartrate picking up as she reads it over.

"Your boyfriend's a looker. I'm sad how quickly you moved on though.'

Y/N looks around frantically, feeling cold as a shiver shoots up her spine. It's not hard to figure out who it's from. Her ex-boyfriend Jonah, who now knows where she is.

- - -

Taglist: @nialhero-blog @luvrgirlsworld @britt217 @solstararis @legit9thlunaticwarrior

[winterhue]

DO YOU LIKE IT?

Pairing: Mark x fem!Reader (m/f)

Genre: smau ! 18+ , humor, fluff, smut, romance, campus life

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

ch 01: so are we fucking?

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previous | masterlist | next

AN: so I changed Mark's (artist) twitter username from @ brokenmelody to @r_e_m__ cause that's supposed to be his stage name. Also, just to clarify, the part where winter mentions johnny thirsting over yn, she means yn's real life persona and not her online persona. I'll upload the next chapter either in an hour or tomorrow. Feel free to share your thoughts and suggestions. Much love <3

SYNOPSIS: YN is a quiet, shy photography major respected for her talent and sweet personality, while Mark is the campus heartthrob known for his rich, extravagant lifestyle and irresistible charm. But they both hide their true selves—each living a double life.

What happens when YN discovers that her favourite indie song artist is actually Mark Lee? And how will Mark react when he learns that YN is the famous mystery girl popular for her erotic pictures on the web and on the pages of the popular men's magazine.

taglist: @ant-onie @14juno @slayhaechan

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

[goforth-ladymidnight]

Me: * nervously twiddling my thumbs and overthinking after posting, as per usual * I sure hope he likes it! I sure waited a long time to post it. He probably figured out it was me by now but was too polite to say anything. Is this chapter too short? Does it make sense? Maybe I should have--Oh, hey look, a notification from Tumblr. Eeek, it's from @achaotichuman!! Okay. Deep breath. Be cool, be cool...

Me, clicking:

Me, 2 minutes later: I think he likes it.

🥰🥰🥰

For @achaotichuman, from me! 🎅Happy @acotargiftexchange!

You asked for:

Canon-compliant (ish) post-ACOFAS/ACOSF

Tamcien

Angst

Mutual Pining

Hurt/Comfort

I hope I delivered! ✨🎁

Full disclosure: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but, uh... I got carried away. 😅At this point, I just know it's going to be multiple chapters. So, um... Merry Christmas to you!! 🎄

Thank you for giving me so much freedom with this story! While it's not specifically a holiday fic, I did give it a Winter Solstice setting. (Happy Solstice, by the way!) And thank you for your patience for this very last-minute reveal.

I hope you enjoy!

THE WOLF AND THE FOX

Ch. 1/?

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Wordcount: 2.1k

Summary: It's the day of Winter Solstice, and while Lucien has an obligation to visit the Night Court, he decides to visit Tamlin in the Spring Court first to deliver a very important message.

The first chapter is available to read on AO3 now, or you can read it here below the cut:

Part 1: Winter

* * *

It was the beginning of winter when the fox approached the wolf’s den.

* * *

The vines were new.

The last time Lucien had visited the Spring Court manor, the claw marks in the door were the first thing anyone saw. A warning, perhaps, of what could happen if anyone dared to knock. Now, however, tangled vines grew, hiding the gouges—and the door knockers—from view. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought the vines meant that nature was healing the broken manor. But he did know better. Nature was taking over.

Lucien pushed on one of the doors, and it creaked where he pressed, straining against the green vines that clung to it.

“Tam?” he called through the narrow opening. “Tam, are you in there?”

Silence.

He pushed harder, and the vines snapped and snarled as they fell, releasing their hold on the door before falling into a rustling heap at his feet. It even seemed as though they sighed, but he could have been imagining it. The door swung slowly open, so Lucien took a deep breath and tugged at the hem of his embroidered jacket before stepping across the broken threshold.

His golden eye whirred against the dim light, but he didn’t need it to see. He knew the room very well. Or, at least, he used to.

Here was the black-and-white marble floor, once shining, now covered in dust and debris. There was the winding staircase with the oak banister that seemed to be held aloft by delicate vines made of brass, now badly in need of a polish. And there, there used to be a table that held enormous vases of freshly plucked flowers from the garden: hydrangeas, peonies, tulips, roses… The Lady of Spring’s roses.

But that table was broken now. It had been whole once, strong enough to hold a broken body… a winged faerie with no wings…

Lucien shivered at the memory and turned away.

Rosehall Manor was empty, yet full of so many memories… Memories, and ghosts.

Lucien squared his shoulders and looked around for the one that was neither man nor ghost. He was looking for a beast.

“Tam?” he called out again, and his voice echoed. “Tamlin Hawthorn, High Lord of Spring, I seek an audience with you.”

“An audience,” a familiar voice echoed, drifting from the top of the stairs. “How formal of you.”

Lucien lifted his head, but saw no one. His metal eye could see through glamours, but the owner of that deep, growling voice didn’t need one. Not when the manor was filled with so many shadows.

“Tell me: What is the occasion?” the voice went on, though it rasped a bit, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. “I need to know if I should serve wine or whiskey to my guest.”

Lucien swallowed. “It’s Solstice, Tam,” he managed.

“Summer, or Winter?”

Lucien’s shoulders sagged a bit. “It’s Winter, Tam.”

“Ah. Winter,” Tamlin mused distantly. “Whiskey, it is, then.”

Before Lucien could respond, Tamlin called out, “Alis? A glass of my finest whiskey for the Night Court’s finest emissary… What’s that? You say you’ve returned to the Summer Court? As has everyone else in the manor? Oh, yes. Yes, I see.”

Lucien rolled his good eye, but his host didn’t seem to notice.

“It would seem that I have no servants left to serve you,” Tamlin said dryly. “Or whiskey to serve. Or glasses to serve it in, for that matter.”

It seemed to Lucien that the dark shape at the top of the stairs sank down like a cat and crossed its massive paws.

“So, in light of the circumstances, perhaps we should dispense with the formalities, so that you may be on your way… to enjoy the rest of the Night Court’s most auspicious holiday.”

“Tam, this is serious,” Lucien chided. “I need to speak with you.”

“And I need to finish my nap before I go hunting tonight, so make it quick.”

Lucien took a deep, albeit exasperated, breath and shook his head in resignation. “Fine. It’s about Feyre.”

Any amusement in the beast’s voice, however mild, vanished in an instant. “What about Feyre?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“You haven’t told me.”

Lucien spread his fingers wide. “Before I tell you, you should know—”

“Is she dead?”

Lucien sighed. “She’s with child.”

A long pause. “I see.”

“I just…” Lucien lifted his hands, then let them fall. “I thought it would be better if you heard it from me.”

“And I suppose you thought I would be grateful.” There was a sneer in Tamlin’s tone, but it softened when he asked, “Is she happy?”

“I would assume so.”

“And her mate?”

“You already know the answer to that question.”

“Yes,” Tamlin mused quietly. “I am surprised that he didn’t come down here himself to gloat.”

“Rumor has it he was too busy doing just that in the Hewn City last night,” Lucien said wryly, then cleared his throat. “But I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t invited.”

“What a coincidence. Neither was I.”

Lucien’s lips twitched into a smile. For a moment, it was like old times… but his smile faded as he remembered the other reason he had come. “I have business in the Night Court tonight. Are there any messages you wish to convey?”

“If you expect me to offer up my congratulations, you can piss off,” Tamlin snarled, all traces of friendliness gone. “I have nothing more to say; to you, or to them.” The beastly shape rose to its feet. “Now get out, and take your formalities with you.”

“Tam, wait,” Lucien said, starting for the stairs.

A sharp growl stopped him short. “It may be Solstice, but that does not mean you can enter my home uninvited. Do so again, and you will find thorns in your boots. I still have that much power, I can assure you.”

Lucien’s toes curled at the thought, but he reached into his jacket pocket anyway. “It’s just—I have something for you.”

“If this is another message from Night—”

Lucien pulled a small envelope out of his pocket. “It’s an invitation.”

“To what.”

“To a party,” Lucien said simply. “With the Band of Exiles,” he added, and held it out.

There was a long, long pause. “Why,” was all the beast said.

“Because it’s Solstice,” Lucien said gently. “And you’re my friend.”

When Tamlin remained still, and silent, Lucien stepped forward—slowly—and carefully placed the envelope on top of the flat swirled handrail at the bottom of the stairs.

As he stepped back, he continued, “I know I should have given it to you sooner, but… I had hoped…” He shrugged, struggling to find the words. “I thought you might invite me here like you did last year,” he admitted at last.

Now that his good eye was fully adjusted to the dim light, he could see the gleam of the beast’s green gaze as it fell on the creamy envelope.

“To do what, exactly,” Tamlin said flatly.

Lucien shrugged again. “To celebrate. To be together.”

“As we once were?” Tamlin finished mockingly.

Lucien’s face flushed.

“Those days are over,” Tamlin said coolly. “You know that. You’ve known that ever since the night of the Masquerade Ball.”

Lucien took a step forward. “Tam…”

“Don’t.” He said it so sharply that Lucien actually fell back a step. “I am still High Lord, and you do not have my permission to approach.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I thought you hated formalities.”

“And I thought you had business to attend to… at the Night Court.”

Lucien snorted in disgust and looked away. “Very well, if you must know, Feyre invited me to spend the evening with her and her family… for Solstice.”

“Is that right.”

Lucien looked to the top of the stairs, but the rest of Tamlin’s beastly expression was still well-hidden by shadow. “My mate is going to be there,” he said flatly. “I have to go. If there is a chance that someone out there wants me…”

“I never said I didn’t want you.”

Lucien blinked against the sudden blurriness in his right eye. His left eye was always clear. Clear and cold and mechanical. Pity that his heart couldn’t be the same.

Tamlin continued, “I only said it would be best if we… remained friends.”

Lucien swiped away a stray tear from his cheek with his thumb. “Is that all we were?” he asked evenly. “Friends?”

Several—painful—heartbeats passed before Tamlin answered. “The Cauldron has finally blessed you with a mate,” he said quietly. “After everything you’ve been through… You deserve it. It’s what you’ve always wanted—”

“Not always.”

In that moment, the golden thread of fate that bound him to someone else seemed to grow slack. He took a tentative step forward, and Tamlin did not rebuke him.

Lucien reached out and laid his hand on the banister, next to the unopened invitation. “The party is tomorrow night, at Northwall Manor,” he said gently. “It’s just going to be me, and Jurian, and Vassa… Will you come?”

Lucien’s heart rose as Tamlin seemed to be considering it… but it fell when Tamlin finally answered.

“The Spring Court cannot withstand another attack from another Archeron sister,” he said flatly. “Elain is bound to you, just as Feyre is bound to Rhys.”

Lucien shook his head. “Tam…”

“You saw what Feyre did when I tried to sever her bond,” Tamlin snapped. “To get closer to your mate, you helped her. You chose her over me. You chose them both over me.”

Lucien’s chest grew tight. “As if you didn’t choose Ianthe over me.”

Tamlin growled. “I did what I thought was right… for Feyre.”

“So did I.”

Tamlin’s green-eyed glare seemed to glow in the dim light… but even so, he was the first to look away.

“Go away,” the High Lord said quietly.

Lucien blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I said: Go. Away,” Tamlin repeated emphatically. “Go. Enjoy your party. Enjoy what’s left of Solstice.”

Lucien watched in dismay as his shaggy form turned away from the landing. “Tam, wait…”

“What?” the beast snarled. “What do you want from me? A gift? An apology? Fine.”

His heavy paw touched the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry I listened to the words of a High Priestess that I trusted for centuries,” he snarled, then took another step. “I’m sorry I tried to save the woman I loved from my worst enemy.” With each step, he got closer, and angrier. “I’m sorry I allowed Hybern onto my lands instead of waiting for them to invade. I’m sorry I sent my men across the Wall to be butchered like cattle. And I’m sorry I was a coward and sent you Under the Mountain in my place. If I had just let Amarantha have her way with me at the High Lords’ Ball that night, none of this would have happened.”

Lucien slowly shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he said distantly.

Tamlin’s beastly green eyes stared directly into his own. “Yes I do,” he said quietly.

Tamlin was in even worse shape than Eris said. Gone was his shining golden mane, replaced by matted fur as dull as dirt. His bone-white antlers were cracked and crusted with dried blood from the long thorns sprouting there. He was much thinner, too; his under-eyes and cheeks were hollow, even with the fur.

Lucien slowly reached out a hand to touch Tamlin’s furred cheek. “What happened to you,” he murmured.

Tamlin’s lip curled, revealing his long, yellow fangs, and he snapped, barely missing Lucien’s fingers.

Lucien instinctively jerked away and flexed his fingers, but he knew—deep down—that Tamlin didn’t want to bite him. “I was trying to say that what happened to you is not your fault.”

Tamlin growled at him. “I don’t want your damn pity,” he muttered, then turned away.

Lucien huffed in aggravation. “Then what do you want?” he called out as the beast took the stairs two at a time.

Tamlin was already at the top when he called back, “I want to be left alone, and you can tell your masters that I said so.”

“They’re not—” Lucien faltered, because that’s exactly what they were. As long as Elain dwelled in the Night Court, they could make Lucien do whatever they wanted, like a puppet on a string. That same string—that golden thread—tightened around his ribs, and Lucien let out a tired, resigned sigh.

“Happy Solstice, Tam,” he managed, then gave a slight bow before turning away toward the sliver of fading sunlight still visible through the open doorway.

He might have been imagining it, but he thought he heard something sigh: “Happy Solstice,” before he stepped across the threshold and winnowed away to the realm of the Night Court.

* * *

At his approach, the wolf growled a warning growl, so the fox retreated into the safety of the shadows.

* * *

[trippinsorrows]

is....it gon be too much if i post something again tonight and tomorrow? like, what is an appropriate amount of time for spacing things out? cause, i literally feel like i've posted something damn near every day this past week, and that just feels like way too much.

but, unpretty gon be done by tonight, and i got another dreamland oneshot done and ready to post. i'll be working on the ltye chapter in the mornings for the rest of the week to have that uploaded next weekend, so there's that too. i just feel like i'm overwhelming ya'll with content. help.😭

[melly-softic]

My next One Shot Catwin

I've been writing a Catwin one-shot based on Taylor Swift's song "Guilty As Sin" for WEEKS.

It's about an AU at a catholic boarding school and I tried to add all the characters. It also has a direct relation to religious trauma and I've been working on it for so long that I feel it's my best piece of work so far. I have never been so obsessed and dedicated to writing a story before.

The problem? I don't know if I should make it a one shot and publish it who knows when (I've thought the whole story, so far I've written half of it and even if I finish it tomorrow I still have to translate it all and have my beta review it) or just upload it as a Fanfic, uploading in chapters what I've done and so I'll be advancing along with the story.

I forgot to clarify that the difference between one shot and fanfic is that in the fanfic I don't need to wait for my beta to review the chapters, since it is only one part I can take the time to check the corrections myself. (Edited)

I will leave you the image that will be the cover of the story in case it catches your attention.

PS: These results can also be considered to know in which format to upload next works.

[kaoriartss-blog]

Starburst

Chapter 15: “Lights, Camera…”

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Pairing: Poly Skz OT8 x Reader idol

Genre: Romance, angst, female Oc

Warning: Use of Oc, romance, angst, swearing, Idol x Idol, 18+ progressive, use of swear words, use of translator.

Series: Starbursts

Summary: The story centers on Lia, a newly debuted solo idol struggling to find her place in the K-pop industry. Despite her talent, she feels like she's missing something, a special connection that helps her shine. The members of Stray Kids, who are at the height of their careers, are drawn to Lia's unique energy when she's invited to collaborate with them on a new album. As they work together, the connection between Lia and the boys intensifies. With pressure from the media and fan expectations, they must find a balance between their careers and personal lives.

Comment: First of all, I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I speak Spanish, but I didn't want to deprive you of this story. I'll be using a translator, so it's possible that some phrases might get lost or be incomprehensible. Second, I thank you in advance for taking the time to read. I'll also be uploading the chapters to Wattpad in Spanish and to Ao3 in English.

Updates on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. I also remind you that English is not my first language.

The day had arrived.

Since early morning, the production team had set up in the streets of Ikseon-dong, a vibrant urban district full of murals, colorful cafés, and charming alleys—an ideal setting for the opening scenes of the Connections music video.

The energy in the air was palpable.

One by one, the members of Stray Kids were dressed in modern, urban outfits while the cameras were readied for dynamic shots using steadycams and drones.

Lia was inside the styling trailer, seated in front of the mirror while a stylist combed through her newly dyed hair: platinum blonde. It was a radical change, but it suited her—like a statement of intent. Bolder. Brighter.

“Are you sure about this?” one of the girls asked as she adjusted her earrings.

Lia nodded.

“For the first time in a long time… yes.”

The words echoed inside her.

She could still feel the warmth of last night’s kiss. It hadn’t been mentioned. No messages. No calls. Just glances exchanged during breakfast and while everyone got ready. Chan had given her a subtle but genuine smile. And she had answered with one that said, we’ll talk later.

---

First scene: the street.

The song played from portable speakers to guide their movements. The choreography started gently: walking together, exchanging glances, high-fiving. A group of young artists searching for connection—a reflection of the lyrics about identity, friendship, and passion.

Chan, Lee Know, and Changbin led the first lines, while Lia followed them to the center, fitting into the rhythm perfectly, wearing a sincere smile.

“Cut!” the director shouted. “Perfect, now one more take from the drone!”

While the cameras were being readjusted, the boys spread out. Lia walked over to the snack table and grabbed a bottle of water. As she turned, she saw Seungmin watching her.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he said softly, stepping closer.

“Felt what?”

“The chemistry between you and Chan.”

Lia tensed for a second, but Seungmin smirked.

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to make a scene… today.”

She let out a nervous laugh.

“And tomorrow?”

“Who knows.” He winked, grabbed a cookie, and returned to the set.

---

Second scene: the rooftop.

The sun was casting orange hues as they climbed to the rooftop overlooking the Han River. The choreography here was more emotional, with synchronized movements symbolizing unity. Lia had a special shot with Han and Hyunjin, spinning between the two in a sort of freestyle dance while the lyrics spoke of finding oneself through others.

Between takes, Hyunjin approached her with a cold drink in hand.

“You look different.”

“Because of the hair?”

“No. Because of your eyes. You're… brighter.”

She looked at him tenderly.

“Is that a good thing?”

“If you shine, we’ll all see you.” He handed her the drink. “Don’t hide, okay?”

---

Last take of the day: full group.

They were all lined up. The sunset behind them, the wind in their hair, and the camera pulling away slowly as they struck the final pose of the choreography.

“Connections!” they all shouted in unison, raising their arms, smiling.

The director clapped from behind.

“That’s it! We got the shot!”

---

Later, back at home.

It was already night. The team had returned exhausted but satisfied. Some were showering, others sleeping. Chan was in the studio, reviewing footage on his laptop.

Lia knocked gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Always.”

She walked in slowly, sitting beside him. Neither spoke for a moment. Then, Lia broke the silence.

“I don’t want what happened last night to be something we forget.”

Chan closed his laptop.

“I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to.”

“And…?”

“And I want it to happen again. But only if you want it too.”

Lia leaned in. This time there was no doubt, no awkward silence. Just a second kiss—more certain, warmer.

When they pulled away, Chan smiled.

“We’re shooting the final scene of the video tomorrow. What do you think about ending it with all of us walking out from the darkness into the light… and you at the front?”

Lia raised an eyebrow.

“Are you planning to let me steal the spotlight?”

“You can’t steal what’s already yours.”

She laughed, lowering her gaze.

“Then tomorrow… I’ll shine even brighter.”

---

The second day of shooting began with a clear sky and air cooler than the day before. The team moved to a new set: a restored abandoned building lit with neon lights—perfect for the song’s introspective scenes, where the members appeared alone or in pairs, symbolizing different facets of the search for identity.

Lia arrived early with the makeup team. Chan was already reviewing shots with the director, giving her space. Their eyes met a few times, but they didn’t approach each other yet. Work came first.

First scene of the day: alone in front of a mirror.

One by one, the boys filmed brief scenes staring into an old mirror under soft lighting, projecting silent emotions: doubt, determination, joy.

When it was Lia’s turn, the director asked her to portray the moment of “self-discovery.” As she stepped onto the set, Jeongin offered to join her.

“I don’t want to interrupt your scene,” he said with a smile, “but if you want a friendly face behind you… I can be that.”

Lia laughed and accepted. In front of the mirror, while she lip-synced her verse, Jeongin gently clipped a hairpin into her hair that he had brought without saying anything.

“This color… suits your new version better.”

She turned to him, lowering her voice.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Not yet. Just getting ready.”

---

Second scene: artificial rain.

For the emotional part of the song’s bridge, sprinklers simulated a soft rain over a narrow alleyway. Lia and Felix were to share this shot, both walking without umbrellas, crossing paths and turning to look at each other.

Between takes, Felix stayed close, offering her his jacket and helping her dry off.

“Doesn’t it bother you to get soaked like this?” she asked.

“Not if you’re by my side.”

The words hung in the air. He looked into her eyes a moment longer than necessary before pulling his hood back on.

“You look beautiful with your hair all wet,” he added right before the director shouted, “Action!”

---

Third scene: rooftop at night.

As the sun set, the sky turned orange while they prepared the final group shot in a building’s lobby. The set’s LED lights flickered with the video’s signature colors, and the song was now familiar to everyone.

While waiting for their turn, Han approached Lia with two warm drinks.

“Hazelnut coffee,” he said. “The favorite of someone who’s stealing way too many hearts lately.”

“Including yours?”

“I won’t lie. You’re causing trouble.”

“Is that bad?”

“Depends… are you going to keep doing it?”

Lia bit her lip to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Maybe.”

---

Fourth scene: group choreography.

Everyone together. The final choreography involved synchronized moves, rotating camera shots, and explosive energy.

Minho, wearing his usual serious expression, stood beside Lia for the partnered dance section. Between takes, he moved slightly closer, grabbing her wrist in a move that wasn’t in the choreography.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, surprised.

“Practicing how not to let you go.”

Lia didn’t have time to reply—the music started again.

---

End of filming.

After the final shot, everyone clapped. The crew celebrated with cold drinks, candid photos, and laughter. Lia took a few steps away from the group to look out at the city lights through the window.

Hyunjin approached her quietly.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded. He stood beside her without saying anything else, simply sharing the silence.

“Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream,” she said. “Everything is so… intense.”

“Dreams are real too, while you’re living them. And you’re in one now.”

He turned to look at her, his gaze intense but gentle.

“You know what’s special about a shared dream?”

“What?”

“No one wants to wake up first.”

---

As everyone was leaving the set, Chan hung back. He watched Lia as she talked with each of them, smiling, letting them get close. There was no jealousy—only a kind of acceptance.

She was the center of this story. And all of them, including him, orbited around her.

When their eyes met again, Lia gave him a calm smile. He responded with a slight nod.

No one was competing. They were just feeling.

And that was the truest connection of all.

[waywardserpent176389053]

Natsuki's Doki Doki Panic

So, I wrote this awhile ago and thought it would be a good idea to post it here as well. I'll upload the other chapters in the next few days.

Anyway here is chapter one.

The Clubroom Incident.

Natsuki woke up tired. Groaning, she forced herself out of bed and moved to get dressed. Lately she had been getting more and more exhausted, worn out by simple day to day effort. Natsuki had already stayed home from school a few times, but she was falling behind on class work and had to study for the big test. Besides, today was Literature Club and Natsuki wouldn’t miss it if her life depended on it.

As she put her shirt on a spike of pain lanced though her chest. This had also started happening recently, and it bothered her even more than the exhaustion. Natsuki rubbed her sternum, was something wrong with her heart? No, it couldn’t be, she was young and healthy. Natsuki shook away her troubled thoughts. She was going to school, she was going to Literature Club, she was going to talk to Yuri, and she was going to have a good time. Filled with resolve she headed down the stairs to start her day.

Monika was already finishing up breakfast when Natsuki entered the kitchen. The smaller girl gave a quick wave and hoped up to take a seat at the central table. "Hope you prepared extra!" Natsuki said with a smile.

The club president turned to her ward, "Natsuki! I thought you still weren't feeling well?" Monika asked. It had only been a few months since Natsuki came to live with her after Natsuki escaped from her fathers 'care', and the smaller girl had spent a not insignificant portion of that time ill.

Natsuki shrugged her shoulders "I got better." She responded simply. "And I'm hungry, so if you could." Natsuki gestured to her empty plate. Monika rolled her eyes before dropping a pancake onto Natsuki's plate, which the girl immediately attacked.

Monika sat across from her friend and began to eat her own food. "This is the most energy you've had in a while Natsuki" Monika said. "I hope you still have enough to make it to Club after school."

Natsuki nodded as swallowed another bite of pancake. "That's the plan. And I need to catch up on classes, even with your study help I still think I'm missing some things..." Natsuki trailed off.

"I'll ignore that insult" Monika stated calmly before taking a sip of her drink. Natsuki reddened immediately in response "Sorry I didn't mean-"

"It's fine Natsuki, I'm aware that I have limits and it was a joke anyway." Monika gave Natsuki a soft look. "I'm not him, I won't get angry for no reason, okay?" Natsuki released a breath and nodded. They spent the rest of breakfast quietly chatting.

Finally they made their way outside getting inside Monika's car. Right before leaving Monika turned to Natsuki again "You are sure you're fine?" Monika questioned.

Natsuki beamed. "Never felt better" she lied. Together they set off.

Unfortunately for Natsuki she wasn't fine, there was something wrong with her heart. While she had recently escaped her father’s abusive hold, the years of malnutrition had reaped a toll, stunting her growth and, critically, weakening her heart. If Natsuki had been in good health before she had starved then perhaps her heart would still be in good shape. But fate could not be so kind, in addition to the malnutrition Natsuki had been born with a heart murmur. On its own it would have been harmless, but working in concert with the malnutrition it created a critical flaw in her heart. Now with a ticking time bomb in her chest Natsuki went about her day with little knowledge about how close to death she was.

The day had been a hard one. Natsuki had struggled to stay awake through her classes, and had twice more felt sharp chest pain. By now Natsuki had decided that she would go to the doctor, probably tomorrow if she could manage it. Not tonight though, it was probably already too late to schedule an appointment anyway. And Yuri... Natsuki really wanted to see Yuri again. She had become increasingly sure that Yuri probably liked her back, and that thought was just so exciting. Her happy feelings were interrupted by another jab of pain. Natsuki sucked in a breath and clutched her chest. That one had really hurt! She waited a moment for the pain to recede before continuing on, now very sure that there was something wrong. Suddenly, a pair of arms embraced her.

“Hey Nats! How ya doing?!” Sayori nearly yelled. Natsuki smiled even as she fought down another wave of pain. ‘God, if she does that again I might have a heart attack’ Natsuki thought to herself.

“Fine” Natsuki lied. The pain was fading once more, but it wasn’t completely subsiding. Sayori gave a quizzical look.

“Are you sure Natsuki? I mean, you missed a lot of school recently.” Sayori had a concerned look.

“While I got better.” Natsuki said with a grin sticking out her tongue. Sayori smiled back.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing to worry about then.” She began to make her way to the Club room and Natsuki followed. “Oh! By the way MC won’t be here today.” Sayori explained.

Natsuki turned her head “Why Not?”

“Some family dinner thing or something” Sayori said as she waved her hand about.

“Shouldn’t you know? You’re dating him, Sayori.” Natsuki laughed and Sayori did as well.

“Well I don’t know everything he does!” Sayori exclaimed as the two friends shared their mirth.

Meanwhile, within Natsuki’s chest her heart continued to suffer. Going through back to back jolts had unbalanced the organ even further. It would now take only one or two more pushes before failing completely.

At last Natsuki and Sayori arrived at the club room. Monika had set things up as usual, and Yuri had already seated herself in the corner. She was beautiful, her purple hair flowing over her shoulders, her face a picture of perfection, and her chest... Natsuki calmed herself, no need to get too excited.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to have a light day today, no poem readings or anything like that.” Monika said with a smile.

“So just personal reading?” Yuri asked.

“Yep!” Monika replied. She had already pulled out her own book and taken a seat. “You can read together of course, but I’m sure you already knew that.” She said with a knowing glance in Natsuki’s direction.

Natsuki could take a hint and had already made her way over to Yuri. “Mind if I sit?” she questioned.

“Well you would have to if we want to finish our book” said Yuri with a soft smile. Natsuki returned the smile and took up her seat next to Yuri.

Together they picked up where that had left off. Each took turns reading out loud as they flipped each page. Being so close to Yuri, sharing this experience with her, the book itself, all of it combined to make Natsuki very happy. The warmth sunk into her chest which caused another wave of fresh agony.

Natsuki grimaced and rubbed her chest. ‘Goddamn it! Not again’ she thought, trying very hard to make Yuri not notice.

“Is something wrong Natsuki?” Yuri said as she turned around. Natsuki had failed.

“Um, well nothing really. I feel fine.” Natsuki lied. Yuri gave her a stern look.

“You sure? You missed a lot of school. And just then you looked like you were in pain? Natsuki, if something’s wrong you can tell me.” Yuri wore a look of concern.

“It’s nothing serious,” Natsuki replied. “I’ve just been tired lately, that’s all.”

Yuri gave an unsure and worried glance towards Natsuki. “Okay” she replied. They returned to their reading, surrounded by a new uneasiness.

Meanwhile, Natsuki’s heart rate began to rise, half due to nerves, half due to the malnutrition and murmur. Natsuki shifted around in her seat, a small trickle of pain flowing into her chest. Suddenly Yuri spoke again.

“Sorry. It’s just that...” Her sentence trailed off and Natsuki froze, waiting for her to finish the sentence. Yuri took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s, well, I don’t know how to put this...”

Natsuki had moved to the edge of the seat. Both Sayori and Monika were trying to hide their very clear glances behind their books. Yuri was blushing heavily now, twisting her hair between her fingers, she continued. “I just really care about you and... I think I might like you Natsuki.”

The room was silent. Natsuki sat bug eyed on the chair next to Yuri, her face just as red as hers. Her breath was coming out fast as she hunted through her mind for a response. “Yuri...” Natsuki began, then the most awful wave of agony Natsuki had ever felt washed over her.

Acting on instinct Natsuki moved her hand to her chest, digging into the shirt above her left breast. “I...” she tried to communicate something, a warning, a cry for help perhaps, but it died on her lips as she struggled to draw in air. Yuri was immediately next to her, her expression one of fear.

“Natsuki! What’s wrong!” Yuri said, almost falling out of her chair as she rushed for her companion. Sayori was almost immediately next to Natsuki as well, helping her out of her chair along with Yuri. As Natsuki stood black spots began to creep into her vision. She tried to walk, but her legs felt like they were made of lead. Sayori was trying to help her walk (when had she started walking?) but she had no balance. Her legs gave out, she reached out to grab a desk, succeeded, then her arm gave out spilling her to the floor. Natsuki was aware of her friends surrounding her, their desperate voices, and the overwhelming sense of her heart seemingly being crushed.

Within Natsuki her heart had taken too much, the organ was beating out of control and rapidly heading towards complete arrest. With every skip and stutter a new pulse of torment swept through her. Within moments the pain became too much for Natsuki’s consciousness and she fell into the black void of senselessness. Her heart couldn’t take the punishment either, within a moment of Natsuki sinking into unconsciousness ventricular fibrillation took hold. With that Natsuki’s life began to slip away.

The Club erupted in chaos, Sayori stood over the collapsed Natsuki in shock, Yuri had fallen next to the girl and was shaking her shoulders begging her to wake up, and Monika was only just beginning to process what had just happened. Monika shook her head, she needed to focus, a friend and Club member was in trouble and she looked to be the only one who could help. Monika moved to Natsuki’s side, kneeling down and rolling the girl over. Natsuki’s eyes had closed and worryingly her lips were turning blue. Monika checked Natsuki for breath or pulse, and unsurprisingly found neither. For a moment terror threatened to overwhelm her, one of her close friends was literally dying in front of her. Monika took another deep breath and steeled herself.

“Yuri! Call 911 now!” Monika shouted. “Sayori! Run to the theater and get the AED!” Monika was already undoing Natsuki’s blazer, her fingers gliding along the clothing.

Sayori nodded immediately and sprinted out the door. Meanwhile Yuri, shaking, handed the phone to Monika. “911, what is your emergency?” Asked the voice from the phone, calm and focused.

“My friend just collapsed, she isn’t breathing and doesn’t have a pulse” Monika quickly spoke into the phone, her hands struggling to undo Natsuki’s vest, it’s zipper jammed a third of the way down.

“Do you know CPR?” The operator questioned as Monika continued to wrestle with the zipper. Yuri was next to her and, without a sound, handed Monika a knife. Monika took it without hesitation, using it to slice through the vest and white button-up underneath. Natsuki was now left only in a simple black bra.

“Do you know CPR?” The operator repeated her question as Monika interlaced her fingers over Natsuki’s sternum.

“Yes'' Monika replied with more calm than she felt as she forced her weight forward. The compressions were fierce, each one crushing Natsuki’s chest in and rocking the rest of her body to and fro. “We are at Grancastle High School, room 119.” Monika was composed as she forced her friend's heart to pump blood, keeping a steady pace of fast compressions. Monika switched her gaze up to Yuri, who looked on the edge of tears.

“Yuri,” Monika said quietly, “I’m going to run out of steam if I have to do all this alone, I’m going to need you to breathe for Natsuki” Yuri’s eyes went wide as she turned red.

“But-”

“I’ll show you how to do it” Monika said as she finished the first round of compressions, she moved towards Natsuki’s head. “It’s easy” Monika said with forced serenity, “You tilt her head back” Monika handled Natsuki with great care as she bent her head back. “Then you pinch her nose shut and give two breaths.” Monika’s lips met Natsuki's, the smaller girl’s cheeks puffing out and her chest expanding with the breath. Monika lifted her face from Natsuki’s for only a small moment, huffing in another breath before forcing it into Natsuki’s body. Respiration completed, Monika returned to compressions without hesitation, hammering her friend's sternum.

Monika looked up at Yuri who still looked petrified. Monika’s gaze pierced into Yuri’s “Yuri, if you don’t help, Natsuki will die” her words were edged with ice. Yuri took a deep breath and steeled herself. She moved next to Natsuki, close enough to hear the air forced out from her lips with every one of Monika’s compressions, Close enough to see her crush’s stomach bulge as her chest was forced down, close enough to see her feet sway in a fast rhythm. Yuri rested her hand on Natsuki’s head, already it was beginning to cool. Yuri forced down a wave of nausea as Monika finished the set. “Breathe!” She commanded, and Yuri, drawing in a breath, obeyed.

Natsuki’s lips were slack as Yuri's own met them. She didn’t move or react to the contact in any way, Yuri’s breath merely moved into her causing her chest to expand. Yuri sucked in another gasp of air and forced it into the girl again. The same result followed. Mechanically Monika moved back into position and once more tried to force Natsuki’s heart to beat. Natsuki remained still, her only motion caused by the outside effort of the CPR.

The sound of sprinting foot falls heralded Sayori’s arrival as she practically leaped through the door, AED under her arm. “I’m sorry! I forgot where it was for a second and I paused-“ She was crying as she knelt down with her friends.

Monika quickly glanced her way, not once ceasing her compressions. “It’s okay Sayori, just set it up.” Monika didn’t bother to look up from her frantic work. Sayori unzipped the machine and flipped it open.

“REMOVE CLOTHING FROM PATIENTS CHEST” The AEDs voice was unsurprisingly flat. Sayori snatched up the clothing shears, and moved to Natsuki’s bra as Monika paused her compressions. Sayori hesitated only a moment before cutting the last piece of clothing on Natsuki’s chest. Immediately Monika was crushing down Natsuki’s chest once more, the smaller girls exposed breasts moving in pace with the rhythm.

“REMOVE AND ATTACH PADS AS SHOWN” Was the next prompt. Sayori unpeeled the pads and attached them around Monika’s hands: one on the right under Natsuki’s collarbone, the other on the left below Natsuki’s swaying breast. “DO NOT TOUCH PATIENT- ANALYZING HEART RHYTHM” The machine stated before beeping twice. Monika and Yuri moved back leaving Natsuki laying still on the floor. Though invisible to the rest of the club, the AED carefully measured the electrical impulses of Natsuki’s heart, finding them chaotic and not fit to sustain life. “STAND BY- PREPARING TO SHOCK” the AED announced before releasing a high pitched whine. The AED continued: “ EVERYONE CLEAR. PUSH THE FLASHING BUTTON” Sayori reached out and pressed down on the blinking red light.

The stored charge rolled though Natsuki’s body striking her fibrillating heart and causing her body to spasm slightly. Her head lolled to the side and fingers twitched as the AED did what it could. “SHOCK DELIVERED. ANALYSING HEART RHYTHM.” Once more the machine searched for a stable heart rate, but the shock had been ineffective and Natsuki’s heart still shook uselessly within her. “CONTINUE CPR” Without missing a beat Monika returned to keeping Natsuki alive.

“Shouldn’t she have woken up?” Yuri said as tears began to streak down her cheeks. “It doesn’t always work on the first one” Monika didn’t bother to look up from Natsuki’s chest as she answered Yuri.

“Then…” Sayori attempted to form a question before Monika interrupted her. “Then we shock her again and we keep going until the medics get here or she wakes up.” Sweat was gathering on Monika’s brow, the toll of the constant, exhausting compressions. Her face was expressionless, her gaze focused on making sure that every push on Natsuki’s rib cage carried enough strength to force blood through her dying friend’s system.

“Breathe.” Monika said, almost as much to Natsuki as Yuri. Yuri once again forced oxygen into her crush’s system, then repeated the action. As Natsuki's chest rose with Yuri’s breaths it became clear that a large bruise had settled between her breasts.

“DO NOT TOUCH PATIENT- ANALYZING HEART RHYTHM” The AED’s voice shook Yuri back to attention. Once more the AED searched for a life sustaining heart rhythm, and once more found only an ever-weakening fibrillation. “STAND BY- PREPARING TO SHOCK.” Monika and Yuri moved back, while Sayori already had her thumb over the shock button. “EVERYONE CLEAR. PUSH THE FLASHING BUTTON.”

Everyone’s gaze was locked on Natsuki as Sayori practically hammered the blinking red light. This time the shock was much more visible, arching Natsuki’s back slightly. It only lasted for a brief moment before she crashed back down, her small breasts swaying with the impact. Once again Natsuki laid still and gave no response. “SHOCK DELIVERED. ANALYSING HEART RHYTHM.” A brief moment passed, “CONTINUE CPR.”

“Goddamn it” Monika whispered under her breath as she returned to keeping Natsuki alive, the rest of the club looking on with increasing horror. They didn’t say anything, perhaps they were too frightened that saying something would cause the worst to happen. A sudden pop sound caught their attention, Monika briefly pausing before continuing to force down Natsuki’s sternum. “What was…” Sayori started before Monika interjected “I broke a rib, it happens.” Monika was clearly exhausted, her breathing had become haggard and even more sweat covered her. Tried as she was she did not relent, she wouldn’t until Natsuki got better, her body gave out, or she was forced to stop.

Monika finished the set, “Breathe” she gasped out as Yuri scrambled to position. Two breaths and more canned AED dialogue as the club waited. The machine searched for electrical activity and found none, not even the chaos of fibrillation. After the last shock Natsuki’s heart had fully given out slipping into complete cardiac arrest, it now lay still in her chest. “NO SHOCK ADVISED. CONTINUE CPR.” The voice said.

“Fuck!” Monika practically yelled before going back to desperate compressions. “Wait” Sayori said eyes wide “What does that mean?” Yuri’s hands covered her mouth, she was beginning to shake. “It means we keep going,” Monika huffed out with difficulty. Doubt was beginning to eat at the club, as far as they could reckon their friend was dying on their watch.

It was then that the paramedics burst in, wasting no time in surrounding the fallen Natsuki. There were two of them, both men dressed in matching blue. One had already begun to move Monika away from her friend while the other took over CPR. “Easy now,” said the one pushing Monika back, “We’re going to help your friend now, but I need to know some things, okay?” The man's voice was calm and Monika gave a shaky nod.

“How long had she been down?” The paramedic asked as he opened a bag, revealing an EKG. He removed the AED pads and with haste attached the leads of the new machine, the green screen flaring to life displaying a straight line. He turned to his partner “Asystole” he reported.

“Seven minutes” Monika guessed, Sayori nodded in agreement. “We gave her two shocks from the AED, but it told us to stop.” The paramedic nodded as he took out a pen light and opened Natsuki’s closed eyes. He shined the light in as Monika continued, “She just collapsed, I don’t think she has any condition.”

“Pupils reactive,” he said to his partner, “Anything else? Drugs maybe, she’s sick?” Sayori piped up: “She’s been out of school a lot lately. She said she was too tired to come.” The paramedic knoded, “Giving her a dose of epi, continue CPR” he said as he removed an ambu bag and attached it to Natsuki’s face. He quickly forced three breaths into her before pulling out a syringe and an injection port, he attached both to Natsuki’s neck. The injection was quick, and he immediately returned to the ambu bag, casting his gaze towards the flatlining monitor as the other medic forced Natsuki’s dead heart to beat. The club members had also turned their attention to the EKG, Sayori and Yuri holding one another in blind fear, Monika beside them trying to regain her energy.

A minute passed, then another, as the drug slowly worked its way to Natsuki’s heart. As the epinephrine came into contact with the cardiac muscle it began to twitch and spasm. On the outside the EKG began to spike and surge at random, both medics snapping to attention and grabbing the defibrillator out of the case. “Set for 300,” said the medic with the ambu bag as he set the paddles where the AED pads once laid. “Charge set” his partner stated, the other medic nodded as he turned to the club, “Stay clear.”

The AED shocks had been much smaller in visibility than the full defibrillator, the shock arching Natsuki’s back in full her chest straining against the paddles. Her body fell back to earth with a jolt, shaking with the impact. The monitor showed a large spike settling down into another flatline before picking up again, the arrhythmic peaks of V-fib returning. “Continue CPR, prep second shock” said Ambu bag medic as he returned to his assigned role, his partner doing the same.

Natsuki’s body shook with each compression, but as before she did not reawaken. The paramedics counted softly as they crushed her chest. Before long the paddles were charged again. Another yell of “Clear” preceded another discharge of electricity into Natsuki, but once again her heart failed to return to a proper rate.

As the efforts to revive her friend continued Monika watched the EKG. The longer the resuscitation went on the weaker the waves became, the once high peaks of the arrhythmia flattening out. They were running out of time, if Natsuki fell into asystole a second time the chances of saving her would plummet.

Without comment the paramedics charged their third shock, their expressions set into determined masks. They carefully set the paddles on Natsuki’s naked chest and glanced around at the other girls. Each had their gaze locked on their friends, each face set in a different mask of fear. The paramedics didn’t bother to say clear.

This third shock bowed Natsuki’s entire torso upwards, body seeming to stay in that arched position for a full second before gravity cast her body down with a harsh thump. All attention turned to the EKG, which after the shock had gone flat. A breathless second passed, followed by another. Hope began to flee the room before the EKG announced with a sharp beep and the green line twisting into a peak that Natsuki’s heart had contracted. Then another beep and peak traced across the screen, and a third, and a fourth.

One of the paramedics dug his index finger into Natsuki’s throat, “Sinus Rhythm, slow but stable.” Immediately Natsuki was being placed on a stretcher and wheeled, out her friends following behind. Within moments the paramedics were placing her in an ambulance, the club tentatively standing close by.

One of the paramedics turned, “ Does she have any family to contact?” he asked.

Monika shook her head, “No, she lives with me right now.” The paramedic nodded, and reached out helping her into the ambulance. Sayori and Yuri watched as Monika turned to them with a terse smile. “I’ll call you if anything changes.” Her friends wordlessly nodded as the ambulance doors closed and it drove away.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #36] DENIAL

warnings: drinking, star lovers (the drink), star lovers (the people), v wholesome! v lovely! loverboy jjk, the bday chapter

a/n: just one tonight 'cause im a bit pressed for time :( I'll upload some extra ones tomorrow hehe

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Stay," Jeongguk lazily whines into his pillows, hair a tousled mess, skin clammy and glowing in the dusky haze of an early spring morning.

Light pours in through his unclosed curtains, the city intruding on your peaceful state of slumber, stealing you from the sanctuary of shared dreams. His arm is looped around your waist, your back to his chest.

He's keeping you close. Doesn't wanna do anything, just doesn't wanna be alone. More specifically, he doesn't want to be without you.

Is paralysed by a new fear, it would seem; one in which you leave.

He wants to keep moments like these bottled up. Safe. Unbreakable.

An empty bed is really nothing to fear, but he's had a taste now of you with someone else. Has seen you with another man. Has met your ex. The guy you once thought was your forever .

Jeongguk isn't sure that he's capable of thinking that far ahead, but he has watched The Notebook upwards of a hundred times with Jimin. When he thinks of Noah, he thinks of Allie, and when he thinks of Allie, he thinks of you.

See, Jeongguk is more than capable of thinking that far ahead.

It's just that he was trained by the girl who used to hold his heart that forever was a silly concept. It's a slow process, but gradually, he is unlearning it. He didn't ever get his heart back from her; instead a new one bloomed in his chest where the empty space once was. It's armoured, this time. Little squares of silver glass act as a protective casing.

If it were ever to break, the pain would be catastrophic. He might just die.

And so Jeongguk would like you to stay.

As much as you'd like to, you know you can't - Danbi and Hoseok have pre-booked you in for a 'friend date.' Under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to bail on it, even if it does mean leaving an incredibly sulky Jeongguk to survive his hangover alone.

You're not sure at which point last night you both decided that sex wasn't on the agenda. It was never discussed. Just never happened.

Instead, Jeongguk had kissed you.

Again, and again.

Until your lips were numb, and yet you could feel every deliberate coming together of your bodies. Soft declarations of affection, reserved only for the gentlest forms of love. Something of which you know better than pretend you could have with him.

It's well established, now, that Jeongguk is simply breaking down your intimacy boundaries. Is showing you that you can do all these things you deem to be intimate, without them actually having to mean what you think they do.

In theory, it's working. Kissing Jeongguk doesn't scare you.

In practice, Kissing Jeongguk does terrify you.

Not for the act itself. You do that willingly. Wantingly.

But for the fact that you're unable to think straight when you look at him, these days. It's not working. You can't separate the intimacy from the act, but you're so far gone now that it's almost impossible to go back, so instead you're stuck in this limbo.

You never want anything to change, but you're doing this all because you're trying to encourage change. It's fucked. Utterly, undeniably fucked.

These two entities - who you both are during the daytime, and who you both are when the sun goes down - are converging at rapid speed. It's getting harder to distinguish which is which.

All that's certain is that two orbiting stars will eventually, always, inevitably crash.

It's a countdown. Celestial union, or blackhole. Both feel equally terrifying.

Much better to pretend as if it isn't happening.

Easier.

"Can't," you whisper. Reinforce boundaries that have long since been broken. "Told you, I'm a busy girly. Book me in for a friend-date next time you wanna see me."

The phrasing is deliberate. A reminder of where you currently stand with one another, as declared by him more times than you care to remember.

"We had a night out," he sulks. "It automatically is a two-day affair. Always is."

"No, it's not," you softly laugh, getting out of his bed and finally putting your clothes back on. Your outfit from the night before is pretty basic, so you don't need to steal one of his shirts to protect your dignity. Disappointing .

You're out the door by midday, leaving Jeongguk to fester in his hangover pit alone - of which he does. For hours .

It's partially the hangover. Mainly the fear-induced paralysis that has overtaken his body. All he can do is stare up at the birds and wonder how the fuck it got to this point.

By the time Taehyung shows up at Jeongguk and Jimin's place that evening, Jeongguk's wearing clothes. Has managed to go a whole thirty minutes without complaining about his hangover. It's a record. Jimin knows. He's been counting.

It's bad. Skull-splitting, eye-dehydrating kinda bad. A hangover he wouldn't wish upon his own worst enemy.

This is a lie.

He wishes Seokjin nothing but hangover headaches for the rest of eternity. Scowls when he thinks about Seokjin. The tension of his muscles further exacerbates his headache. He knows it serves him right for thinking such negative thoughts - but as far as he's concerned, it's just another to be annoyed at Seokjin for. Prick.

Throughout the day, you've sent him pictures of your incredibly sorry state - glitter everywhere, hair piled on top of your head. Kind of matches his hair, of which is still tied in a scrunchie that you'd put him in the night before.

The last picture you'd sent through had dropped into his inbox fifteen minutes ago. Was read immediately.

Carrying a soda the size of your face, you're with Danbi and Hoseok, as promised, heading into a movie theatre downtown. He can't remember what you'd said you were seeing. Some superhero movie, he thinks, that he knows he'd care way more about if he didn't feel like such ass.

In fact, Jeongguk thinks he'd rather die than be at a movie theatre right now - but he also does like the idea of a dark room right now. Perhaps you aren't entirely insane.

Jimin had insisted on something 'healthy' to get Jeongguk out of his hangover slump, which is why, as Taehyung chucks his coat on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, he's stuffing his face with a chicken teriyaki wrap.

"Fuck me," Taehyung laughs. "A little worse for wear?"

Jeongguk just grunts. Hair all over the place, still haphazardly half-tied up by one of your scrunchies, he's covered in glitter.

There's no mistaking who he spent the night with - not that he cares to hide it. Can easily explain that you put the glitter on him, if anyone asks. The scrunchie, too. And if they don't? Fine. Let them assume what they like.

"How's DB?" Taehyung follows up, stealing a little lettuce from the chopping board, before plonking himself down next to Jeongguk - which earns another groan.

"Fine," he says through a mouthful of chicken and tortilla wrap. It really is not his finest hour. "Said she wanted to die just before they got to the cinema, so I'm sure she's gonna have a great time."

Funny, how those little phrases and intricacies of your identities seem to weave together these days. You're apparently constantly on the verge of death, and he's perpetually covered in glitter. Quite the pair, you make.

"S'pose that's what birthday weekends are for, aren't they?" Taehyung shrugs, not really thinking much of it, and not noticing the way Jeongguk seems to freeze.

Mouth full, wrap in hands, he almost chokes.

Jimin just asks, "It's Danbi's birthday? Why didn't you mention it? We could have-"

"Oh, no. It's not," Tae says, narrowing his eyes in confusion. He tilts his head. Why on earth would Jimin assume that?

The confusion is contagious. Not a single one of them understands exactly what's happening.

"Danbi's birthday isn't until the summer," Tae continues, a little caution in his tone. Has had it in his calendar since the first date. Is already planning a trip away for them both. Looks at Jeongguk, who is still frozen in position, like a frame in a cartoon that the animators forgot about. And then, he realises. "Gguk..."

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk says. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, mouth still half full, even if he has tossed the rest of the wrap back down onto his plate.

The penny drops slowly, and then all at once.

"Oh, holy shit," Jimin says, getting to his feet, 'cause apparently the shock is that severe.

"You didn't..." Taehyung gasps, not finishing his question. "Gguk!"

"I didn't!" Jeongguk insists, swallowing down the bite of his wrap that had been suspended in his mouth for far too long.

And he really didn't - didn't forget , that is.

You've never told him your birthday. He's never asked.

"Fuck."

"Fuck," Jimin parrots.

"Fuck," Tae also echoes, but adds, "Dude... what the fuck?!"

Jeongguk stands. Begins to pace. Moves his hands in bizarre little motions as if he's trying to piece everything together.

Not once have you ever told him your birthday, he thinks.

"I swear, she never mentioned it," Jeongguk whines.

And he's right.

You haven't.

It's not without reason.

In a few short weeks time, it'll be a year since your first purple starfucker.

Though it was Hoseok's break-up you'd been commiserating, your own hadn't long since passed. The wounds still stung and it was better to lick salt off the back of your hand before a tequila shot than it was to sprinkle it in your emotional damage instead.

Drowning your sorrows had led you to Dionysus, your heart break just as fresh as the lemon that followed the tequila shots. The bitterness of the fruit didn't compare to the bitterness in your heart.

Hardly a surprise, though.

Break-ups are never easy - just like forgotten birthdays are always sad.

When your boyfriend asked to reschedule dinner plans and then showed up to your apartment at just gone midnight with no apology? No realisation of what he'd done so terribly wrong? A little ruby red rouge on his earlobe that you both knew came from the lips of someone else?

Oh, it was tragic .

Counter arguments of 'if it meant so much to you, why didn't you remind me?' frustratingly cursed in the dead of night, and pleas of 'I shouldn't have to beg you to give a shit about me' framed your demise.

And so Jeongguk has never experienced your birthday. Can't forget it, if he never knew it, you theorise. Not like Seokjin should have done.

Jeongguk doesn't know the flavour of cake you'd pick, or if cake is something you even choose to have on your birthday. He doesn't know how you do your makeup, 'cause he knows most girls go for glitter on their special day - but by that metric, every day would be your birthday.

You're thankful to have not had to discuss it. Part of the reason you like spending time with Jeongguk is the fact that he lets you forget ghosts of the past - and this time last year does still, regretfully, haunt you.

It's not like you properly celebrated Jeongguk's birthday with him, either.

Granted, it had been a boy's night - and a pretty quiet one, at that - but still. It was six months ago, though. Longer, in fact. So much has transpired since then.

The entire fabric of your friendship has been embroidered and embellished to the point of it being unrecognisable. What once was cheap tulle is now layers upon layers of glittering, sequin-emblazoned material, stitched with the finest of threads. There are constellations in your hems, and stardust between the seams. One of a kind. Impossible to replicate. Many will try; all will fail.

"Was it today? Yesterday?!" Jeongguk frantically asks Taehyung, 'cause he seemingly knows more. This acknowledgement pisses Jeongguk off. He should know this shit. Taehyung shouldn't. "How do you know?!"

"There's a bunch of birthday cards in their apartment-"

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans.

"Was literally yesterday-"

"YESTERDAY?" Jeongguk shrieks. Stops dead in his tracks.

If the Rock, Paper, Scissors battle had gone a little differently, he'd have known.

If he'd have insisted on taking you home, he'd have known.

So many tiny, meaningless decisions had led you back to his place last night. If he'd have been wiser or smarter, maybe he'd have realised. Maybe you had been giving him signals, and maybe he had missed them all.

And then his mind is jumping from conclusion to conclusion.

Did Seojoon know? Had he gotten you a gift? Oh, God. It's all so fucked.

But then he's thinking about Seokjin. Has seen white roses and a calling card on more than one occasion. Not for a while, granted, but he also saw the look on Seokjin's face when he'd insinuated that you'd moved on.

"Roses," he panics. Looks at Taehyung with such horror in his eyes, that it's a miracle he doesn't burst a blood vessel. "White roses. Were there any at their place?!"

"I don't think so?" Taehyung guesses, trying to remember what the apartment looked like when he last left. "I mean, I don't remember noticing any."

Jeongguk nods. Puffs out a breath from his marshmallow cheeks. Holds his knees as he keels over a little, body ravaged by a stress he doesn't quite understand. He resumes his posture a little too quickly, the pain of his hangover shooting straight back to his brain.

"Right. Shit," he curses. Then curses a couple more times. Pushes his hand back through his hair and then looks at his friends.

Though they're both well aware that missing a birthday is never good, Taehyung and Jimin are surprised at just how badly Jeongguk is taking this.

Feeling bad is one thing. Looking like he's just committed crimes worthy of jail time? A little excessive.

As Jimin smirks, Jeongguk snaps, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just acting like-"

"Don't," Jeongguk warns.

"-You're in love with her, or something."

He doesn't deny it.

Just rolls his eyes. Doesn't have time to waste debating the true nature of his feelings right now - especially not when he knows Jimin would never believe his denials, regardless.

"She never told me," Jeongguk steers the conversation away from matters of the heart. Wants to focus on logic instead. "Was with her all evening, and she literally didn't mention it once."

He explains the night before. Leaves out the part where you were his favourite date of the evening. Also leaves out the part where he held your hand on the entire cab ride home, and the way he'd kissed you once you were finally in the confines of his room.

There were no expectations; no illusion that it would lead to anything beyond a kiss.

And it didn't.

He'd kissed you just to kiss you. Slowly. Intentionally. Kept his dick well away, 'cause he knows how often the pair of you escalate things beyond the point of no return.

It had confused you at first. Made you worry a little - but the way he encouraged you back in whenever you pulled away let you know just how deliberate he was being.

"Shut up," Jeongguk had smiled into your lips when you'd given a small hum of perplexion. "Just kiss me."

And now he's standing in the living room, stroking at his bottom lip as if he's trying to remember the way you felt; if the poutiness has been from pleasure or disappointment.

"Okay. So?" Jimin just shrugs. Really does think Jeongguk should chill out a little, but knows that he won't. "She must have not wanted you to know."

Jeongguk doesn't like this. Scowls. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Some people just don't like birthdays," he shrugs again.

"Nah, Danbi baked her a cake," Taehyung interjects. Laughs to himself. Is disgustingly fond. "Danbi is great at many things, but baking is not one of them. I don't think she would have gone to all of that effort if DB doesn't like birthdays."

Just one look at you is enough to know that you're the kind of girl who enjoys birthdays. Of course you do. The pomp and pandemonium of party poppers? How could you not enjoy such occasions?

"Fuck," Jeongguk curses as he begins to pace once more.

On the one hand, it's not the end of the world - but on the other, he feels awful that he didn't make a fuss. Didn't get you a present.

But then there is also the worry - what if you had told him? What if he's just forgotten? What if the only reason you didn't mention it was because you wanted to see if he remembered?

The aching lull of his hangover subsides. Is overthrown by the stress of failure.

Jeongguk is uncertain as to whether or not you like surprise parties - but he does know the effort you went to for his final exam celebrations. Knows that what you did for him is likely the sort of thing you'd like to be done for yourself.

After all, people show their love in the ways they wish for it to be reciprocated. You're both acts of service kinda lovers. Nothing is too much trouble. Anything to make the lives of the people you care about easier. Better. Happier.

"Okay," Jeongguk eventually sighs as thoughts begin to formulate. "We need to do something."

We ? They think, but don't voice. This is not a group project. This is a Jeongguk thing.

"Yeah," he thinks out loud, totally in his own world. Jimin and Taehyung watch on as he triumphantly nods to himself. "Do something. Okay. Fuck. Do what? What would B like? Fuck."

And then he groans. Throw his head back. The motion is a little too fast. His hangover pounds, reminding him of his fragile state - so he reaches for the chicken wrap he was half-way through demolishing when Taehyung dropped the birthday bomb on him. A little bit of brain food will surely do him good.

"You know her better than us, mate," Taehyung shrugs. Knows what he'd do for Danbi, but also knows Danbi is the type to arrange her own surprise party. "You're the best judge. You and DB are basically attached at the hip these days."

"Okay, one - no we're not," Jeongguk scoffs.

"Yeah, you are," Jimin objects through a mouthful of chicken. Is glad he's not the only one who's noticed. Yoongi's been so busy with wedding preparations recently that he's not been around to shake his head in despair at you both.

"We're not," Jeongguk insists.

"Danbi reckons you are-"

"Oh my god, let me breathe," Jeongguk whines. Rolls his eyes. " You're the one who's always with Danbi."

Taehyung smirks. Raises a brow. "Yeah? She's my girlfriend, Gguk."

The silence that follows is left vacant by Jeongguk. There's no response he could possibly give that would convince either of his friends that he doesn't feel a certain type of way about you.

It's written all over his face whenever you walk into the room; how Jeongguk fucking glows in your presence, glitter sparking on his once pristine skin. You've corrupted him, and he hates to imagine life in which he doesn't notice specs of glitter on his skin in the early morning light. He's a better man for knowing you. He thinks his friends would agree.

Undeniably, they would.

"Whatever," he eventually dismisses. Sighs. "How the fuck do you throw a party for the living personification of a disco ball?"

"Maybe you don't," Jimin suggests. "Maybe she is the party."

Jeongguk isn't sure what Jimin means by this. "Huh?"

"I don't know," Jimin admits. "Just thought it sounded cool. Disco balls are, like, the centre of everything, right?"

He's not wrong - at least not in a party setting. The disco ball you'd been gifted for Secret Santa is proudly hung up in your bedroom, and whenever the light hits it right, the walls are dappled in the most glorious of sparkles.

You really are the embodiment of one, Jeongguk thinks.

And as if he's just been hit with a dozen speckles of refracted light, Jeongguk gets an idea.

"Tae, have you got the code for their place?" He frantically asks, to which his friend nods.

Jeongguk has your door code, too. Knows it from the times you've invited him over and told him to just let himself in. Doesn't want to admit to that, though, which is why he asked Taehyung.

"Okay, text Danbi," Jeongguk says. "We're breaking in."

"We?!" Jimin exclaims. "I'm not breaking the law just so you can get your dick wet-"

"Jimin!"

"What?" He feigns innocence, as if he's not airing Jeongguk out like a freshly washed load of laundry.

"This is not about getting my dick wet," Jeongguk says in disbelief. "We don't even fuck-"

"Bullshit."

"-And shut up, she's your friend, too. We're all breaking the law, because that's what friends do for one another."

"We literally all know you fuck. You've got an incredibly warped sense of friendship, Jeongguk," Jimin assures him. "And committing crimes definitely doesn't fall under the dictionary definition of it, either."

"It's not breaking the law if I've got the code," Taehyung interjects, though if he's being honest, he's not really sure of the law. Just assumes it's fine. "What are we doing, though? Why are we breaking in?"

Jeongguk declines to answer. Instead, says, "Text Danbi. Tell her we're going there. They'll easily be another, what, two hours? At the cinema, right?"

Shrugging, Taehyung supposes that the timeframe is probably accurate.

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, head down, brain trying to order things succinctly. "Let me just shower really quickly. How far out is the place you get your art supplies from, Tae?"

"About forty minutes," he explains. Jeongguk's been with him a couple of times. It's always been Taehyung driving on those occasions though, so he doesn't really remember the location. "It's on their side of the city."

The plan is beginning to formulate in Jeongguk's head. Dots are connected. One big idea is trickling down into achievable steps.

"Alright. If I give you a list, can you run there and pick some things up? Jimin, you good to come with me to their apartment? To set things up?"

He doesn't elaborate on any of his plans. Will just waste time if he does - and the boys know not to delay a frantic Jeongguk. Will just make him even more irritable, and he's unbearable enough with a hangover.

"You didn't throw me a party," Jimin huffs - but is reminded that Jeongguk did in fact pay the bar tab for a night of extremely heavy drinking in Dionysus, instead. A week's salary? Pissed away. "Yeah, fair enough."

"Anyways," Jeongguk adds. "This isn't gonna be a party. Just us three and those three, I think. It's a bit too last minute for anything big."

"What about Nabi? Hayun?" Taehyung innocently asks - but the glare thrown his way by Jeongguk for even thinking to ask such a question says everything he needs to know. Eyes wide, a soft smile on his lips, Taehyung holds his hands up. "Hey, was just asking!"

"Well, don't," Jeongguk offers.

There's an ambiguity to Hayun's place in Jeongguk's life, these days. A couple instagram reels sit unopened in his inbox from her, 'cause he doesn't care to entertain her. The last time he'd seen her was at the surprise party you threw after his exam. The same one he left early, 'cause you weren't there and it made him feel all funny inside.

On occasion, he wonders if he's being too harsh. Wonders if maybe he should just talk to her; explain that he's not the guy he was. No better, no worse. Just different.

"She said you've been ignoring her," Taehyung adds. Doesn't doubt it.

"We've just got nothing to talk about these days." Jeongguk shrugs. He's in no mood to even so much as think about Hayun. This weekend is yours. Thoughts about her aren't welcome. "Anyways, doesn't matter. She's not Byeol's friend. There's no need for her to be there."

Taehyung pushes it no further. Respects Jeongguk's reasoning.

"Right you are. Give me your list before your shower," he says, wanting to get a head start on whatever it is Jeongguk's got planned. Doesn't wanna be the reason it fails. Knows Jeongguk seems to have a lot of emotion riding on this, and he wants his friend to succeed. Thinks it's about time a little happiness came his way.

Just like Danbi thinks you deserve it, too - which is why she insisted on going straight home after the cinema. The plan had been to go for a drink, or grab food - but Taehyung's slightly ambiguous but very desperate texts were all she needed to see to change the plan.

"Careful," Danbi laughs with you as you meander up the stairs to your apartment, a little uneasy on your feet because you're still feeling a bit rough. Popcorn tub in hand, you've barely touched it - which is unheard for you. No matter how large the serving size is, you nearly always finish it before the films even started.

You just couldn't hack it today. Put it down to the hangover. The sweet scent of the popcorn usually has you salivating, but it made you feel slightly sick today.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it," Hoseok offers, not wanting it to go to waste. He's already demolished his own popcorn and half of Danbi's. Just loves it. Think it's the closest thing humans have got to magic.

"Not so fast!" You say. "I will eat it - just need my stomach to settle."

It's the only big symptom of your hangover that's still lingering. Usually, it's your headache that is the most stubborn - but the surround sound of the cinema bullied that right out of you. Showed no mercy. Forced you to confront it head-on.

"If you let it go stale before you let me have it, I'll end the friendship," he warns - and you do know he'll absolutely be a baby about it. Will most definitely have a little tantrum, but nothing that would serve to end your friendship. He might just not share his own food for a few weeks.

"I won't," you insist. "And hey - it's my birthday weekend. You can't be giving me ultimatums like this, Hobes. Totally unfair. You should be, like, worshipping the ground I walk on."

Danbi checks her phone as you and Hoseok babble nonsensically, tailing just a little behind you to make sure you don't see her message thread. Sends one to Taehyung.

Home soon x

It's reiterated to Jeongguk and Jimin, who quickly get into formation - which is really just a straight line blocking the view of the coffee table.

Nibbling down on his bottom lip, there's really no need for Jeongguk to feel such anxiety - it's just that he knows he shouldn't know about your birthday. Knows he shouldn't be in your apartment right now. Knows you won't be expecting this. Knows that he runs the risk of upsetting you, just in case there's a more substantial reason as to why you withheld your birthday from him.

"Fuck," he whispers, hearing the three of you amble up the stairs. "Do you think we should go?"

"Gguk," Taehyung deadpans. "It's a bit late for that."

"I know but-"

"Shush," Jimin laughs, as the sound of your conversation grows closer. "They're near."

Nodding, Jeongguk does as he's told, bottom lip kept stable beneath his top row of teeth. Tongue toying slightly with his lip ring, he doesn't even know how to explain what you're about to walk into. Decides it's better to just simply stop thinking at all.

The beep of your door code being entered echoes the thump of his heart, until the lock clicks. Bolt retracts. The door is pulled open, and Jimin counts a quiet, 3, 2, 1.

The way in which all three of them - Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung - burst into a chorus of 'happy birthday to you' is comical - all singing at slightly different tunes, volumes, and tempos. It's a jumbled mess, and they all refer to you by different names - but as you stand with a bemused smile by your door, Jeongguk knows it's worth it.

And finally, he begins to smile, too.

The anxiety and nerves are replaced with the unadulterated joy that comes with seeing you - and given the way you had said goodbye to him earlier that morning, he's glad that you seem equally as pleased to see him.

It's not that you'd had an unpleasant goodbye. Not in the slightest. If anything, it was too pleasant.

Jimin hadn't yet woken. The pair of you had been standing in his doorway; you fully dressed and ready to go, Jeongguk in a pair of sweats and nothing else, save for the scrunchie of yours still in his hair.

The pair of you had been a mess of giggles and 'go,' despite him pulling you back. 'I'll text you later' and knowing nods, but then 'wait, come back.' Grabbed waists and stolen kisses that neither of you had any business taking from one another. So many kisses. Pretty, dainty kisses, on his pretty, darling lips.

He'd held your hand as you walked away from him for the final time. Was a broken man when you eventually let it fall from your grasp, turning around with a coy smile as you headed for his elevator.

Glitter in his dishevelled hair, stars in his dark brown eyes, Jeongguk had been everything . Had been the boy next door, with his sweet giggles and appled cheeks. Had been the bad boy you know you should stay away from, with his messy locks and tattooed skin. Had been the mirror of you, with his glitter-covered skin and love-drunk gaze of adoration.

You'd spent a great deal of your time in the cinema fretting over it. Overanalyzing. Overthinking.

What if it was too much? What if he knew just how violently the butterflies had been swarming in your diaphragm? What if he'd just been reciprocating your actions because he hadn't wanted to make you feel bad?

Yet when you see him now, you know that none of those questions, nor their answers matter. Whatever is happening between you both simply doesn't matter.

You don't want clarification. Don't want to open yourself up to hurt. Just want things to stay exactly as they are.

Funny, really, how Jeongguk had been fretting just the same. Worrying that he had done too much. Is aware of how deeply intimate you regarded kisses to be. Should have held back. Should have fucked you last night. Should have done a bird. Stuck to the rules.

Instead, he had just kissed you.

Is well aware of the message it sends. Has been worrying that it perhaps isn't a message you wish to receive. Still doesn't know for sure - but knows that he'd like to keep things exactly as they are.

Just like you do.

Might be reading different books, but you're on the same page. It's like being in a mysterious book club. Just gotta wait until one of you decides to read aloud - but neither of you wants to be the first to go.

"What is this?" You laugh, utterly confused by everything in front of you.

Jeongguk, Jimin and Taehyung stand in a row, adorned in the silliest of photo booth props - party hats, feather boas, novelty glasses. The room around them is dressed to the nines - steamers, lights, bunting, things hanging from the ceiling - and there are half a dozen packets of polaroid film for your camera.

"It's your birthday party," Jeongguk says a little shyly. Looks behind himself, as if to check it's all still there. Smiles when he looks at you again. "You really thought you could get away with it, huh?"

Puffing your cheeks out with a little air, you scrunch up your face, surprised that he's scolding you - albeit very playfully - in front of other people. Flirts like this are typically reserved for your time spent alone together.

"Don't know what you mean," you smile, as Danbi and Hoseok encourage you further into the room. Looking around, you can't hide just how touched you are by the chaos surrounding you. There's something new, something different everywhere you look. "This is insane."

And it's only even more overwhelming when the boys part ways, and reveal the coffee table to you. On it are a dozen different papier mache shapes - Roman letters for your initials, ambiguous animals, and different-sized spheres - and what must be thousands of tiny mirrored squares. There are adhesives in abundance. Everything you need to make your very own disco balls - or some sort of iteration, at least.

"Guys," you say softly, appreciation lacing your voice. Have stars in your eyes, not just around them. "What is all this?"

When you pout in their direction, hands over your heart, Jeongguk thinks it looks like you might cry. Hopes you won't. Fears you will. Pulls you in for a hug to remedy it. The rest of your friends talk amongst themselves. Greet one another. Enthuse over the state of the place. Give you guys a second to one another.

"What the fuck?" You laugh softly into his chest. "Gguk, you didn't have-"

"Shut up," he smiles. Presses a kiss against your hair. Is discrete enough that no one notices. Smiles. "It was your fucking birthday , B."

"So?"

"So," he emphasises as he pulls away, holding your shoulders. "Birthdays aren't about the birthday person. Not really."

"No?" You laugh.

He beams. "Nope. They're for the people who love the birthday person."

It shouldn't come as a surprise that your best friend loves you. It should be expected. Shouldn't make you feel the way that it does. Oh, it's all so beautifully fucked.

"Kinda like a funeral," Jeongguk ponders out loud, not dwelling on the unintentional mention of love. "They're a time to show appreciation for the deceased. Birthdays are just the same."

Laughing, you shake your head, and let him manhandle you a little further into the room to have a better look around. "I don't think birthdays and funerals are that similar."

"Well," Jeongguk says. "You didn't tell me about your birthday, and I doubt you'll be the one telling me about your funeral, either. So they'll be similar in that regard."

Cringing, your shoulders tense slightly. Jeongguk simply rubs them, easing your awkwardness. "You've got a point."

"I know I do," Jeongguk laughs. Drops his hold on your shoulders to grab you a glass of the premade drinks. There are six of them. Long, not short. Purple. Raising your brow as you accept it, Jeongguk nods. Confirms your assumptions. "The long version of a star fucker. Star lover, I think we called it."

Fitting .

Joining your friends to sit around the coffee table on the floor, music humming from the speaker, you're lost for words.

There are no actual words that can be used to express your gratitude, you think. Nothing you can say to articulate how much this means to you.

"How did you even plan all of this?" You laugh, unable to contain your happiness.

"Don't look at us," Jimin laughs right back. Nods over to Jeongguk. "He's the mastermind, over there."

Glancing across to Jeongguk, you can't help but let yourself indulge in the nonsensical idea that his starry eyes are reserved for you, and you alone. He shrugs.

"You didn't give me much choice," he asserts.

"Wait," Hoseok interrupts, finally piecing it all together. Had just been in a bemused state of 'what the fuck' since arriving. Looks at you with horror. "You didn't tell him it was your birthday?!"

Awkwardly scrunching your face up, you shake your head. "I just didn't wanna be a bother."

It's not entirely a lie, but it is also an incredibly superficial explanation. There are layers to your reluctance to share your birthday with Jeongguk. Reasons. Past disappointments. Ones that Hoseok and Danbi are well aware of.

Even though he thinks of it, Hoseok doesn't mention last year. Doesn't reiterate his opinion of Seokjin being a heinous asshole for what he did.

Instead, he accepts your answer. Does tell you that you're an idiot, though.

"Hey," you whine. "It's my birthday weekend. You have to be nice."

"He's right, though," Jeongguk backs him up.

The smile he gives you is fond. Could call you the nastiest names he likes, but with a gaze like that? All you'd hear is a sweet melody reserved just for you, sung only by him.

Laughter echoes around the room as the evening settles in. All opting for slightly different shapes, your disco balls are truly an embodiment of who you are. Danbi is decorating a T, and Taehyung is decorating a D. It's all very vom-inducing - but they're too sweet for you to take the piss.

Jimin does it enough for everyone, anyway. Tells them that they're the most disgusting couple he's ever known.

Funny, how this attestation makes Jeongguk glance in your direction. Wonders what he'd think of you two as a couple. Knows that he'd probably also think you were disgusting if he saw how the pair of you behave together, sometimes.

Hoseok has gone for one of the animals. It's just the head. Can't decide if it's a cat or a dog, but decides it doesn't matter. Tells everyone it's definitely a squirrel. Nobody else can see his vision.

Jimin was going to do a J, but upon seeing Danbi and Taehyung's couple letters, opted for a cube instead. Disco balls go against all of his interior design desires, but he'll make an exception for you.

Traditional in his choice, Jeongguk is painstakingly trying to perfect an actual disco ball. Chose the second biggest size. Wanted to do the biggest one, but also wanted to use this as a practice run. Maybe he'll make a hobby out of restoring broken disco balls.

Beside him, you're also doing a sphere - just a much smaller one. Cuter. Daintier.

"That's so unfair," Jeongguk pouts when you finish your first row of mirrored squares. He's barely even begun. Wishes he'd set his sights on something smaller.

"Go big or go home," you remind him - then head to the fridge to get the jug of Jeongguk's special cocktail. Topping up everyone's glasses, you know exactly how this night is gonna go - and you couldn't be more pleased.

"You're trying to get me drunk," Jeongguk grins when you finally reach his glass. "Trying to sabotage my disco ball making skills, aren't you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sorts," you assure him - but honestly, you think the imperfections, if any, would only add to the charm. "You made the drink. It's on you if you can't handle it."

"Oh fuck off," he laughs, challenged. Takes a sip. A really fucking big sip. Nearly finishes it. "I'm a bartender, baby. I can handle it."

Laughing, you pretend to have not heard the way he just called you baby. He was just messing around. Didn't mean it.

"Sure you can," you tease, filling his drink back up. And so he repeats it. Half-flirting, half-competing against nobody. And so you top his drink right back up again. "Someone's got something to prove."

A second night of drinking in a row isn't what you'd been anticipating, but you welcome it. Think that you need a couple of drinks to handle the confusion of how you're feeling. 

As the disco ball construction descends into chaos, and no one is quite able to get the spacing or positioning just right, you realise that this is the magic of a disco ball; how the broken can still be beautiful.

Yet when you look at your small creation, you're pleased. Sure, the lines are a little uncoordinated. There's a wibble wobble here and there - but it's yours .

Danbi and Taehyung manage to make theirs look pretty good, and Jimin's isn't too bad either.

Hoseok protests. Say they had it way easier.

"You chose that shape," Jimin laughs. "Don't blame us!"

For all of his artistic talents, disco ball crafting is not one of Hoseok's. It might also be that he's had six of Jeongguk's little cocktails.

He's had to remake the cocktail twice already, given how frequently you're all topping up for glasses from the jug. It's gonna be a messy night - but for once, there's no uncertainty over whether or not Jeongguk will be going home with you, for he's already here.

"It's my day off," Jeongguk jokes on the third remake. "Should be paying me."

"I'll make it up to you," you quietly promise him with a smirk, out of earshot from your friends.

He looks at you with inquisitive eyes as if to question what on earth you could possibly mean by that - and decides he's better off not questioning it. Will revel in the ambiguity of whatever the fuck is going on between you. Enjoys the flirt too much, especially when he's a little tipsy.

"Wait, wait - a little to the left!" Danbi instructs Taehyung as they begin to string up the makeshift disco balls in the meantime.

It's a labour of love, but it's worthwhile. Eventually, one by one, all of the creations take their rightful place, haphazardly tacked to the ceiling with tape that's a fair amount stronger than Jeongguk's washi tape. The sunset lamp you and Danbi rarely use is turned on. Pretty pink and peach reflections cascade all over the walls, dappling you all, too.

The clandestine touch of your hands as you pose for pictures is hidden from your friends.

There's an awareness that the way in which you're behaving is not normal of friends; that the lines between who you think you are, and who you truly are, have become blurred. There's a giddy silliness to it all, and it's why neither of you want it to stop. Childish, and stupid, it may be - but it's freeing, too. A farewell to the expectations that have kept you both in boxes for so long.

By the time you've drunk home bar dry, Hoseok is already asleep, and Jimin isn't too far behind. They're crashing in the living room, so you fetch their duvets and bedding, while instructing Jeongguk to go to your room.

"I can sleep out here," he offers. Doesn't wanna make things awkward for you - but you shake your head.

"Always save on the heating bill when you're here," you tell him. It's not a lie. It's also not why you want him in your room, either.

Thing is, you're both fucked. Jeongguk's mixing was getting stronger and stronger with each new pitcher. There's nothing either you can do to fight the drunken sleep that takes over as soon as you're beneath your sheets.

It makes it even more shocking that when you wake up the next morning, you're without a headache. If anything, you feel worlds better than you did the morning before and it worries you. Likely means that you'll crash later on in the day.

Jeongguk's not awake, so you slip out to grab water for you both. It's still dark, curtains drawn, but you can see light seeping in through the cracks. There are no curtains in your living room, and your phone is dead so you've no idea of the time. Dread to think of how long Jimin and Hoseok might have been awake.

"Oh, holy shit," you whisper in surprise as you walk into the living room, greeted by Jimin, sitting on your couch like a meerkat, posture perfect. He's wrapped in a soft blanket, face puffy from last night's lack of water and abundance of vodka.

"Mornin' DB," he croaks, channelling his best ET. Keeps his eyes glued to the television - where Allie and Noah are talking about birds.

"Notebook?" You ask, not that he needs to answer. You've watched more times since you've met Jimin than you have in your entire life.

He nods. Croaks. "You got any paracetamol? Dunno what Jeongguk put in those drinks but I think he might have been trying to kill me."

Before you can answer, a sleepy and dishevelled Jeongguk emerges from your room, shaking his hair out with his hand. He yawns, and says, "I was."

"Knew it," Jimin groans, flopping down to lie on the sofa. He's really not made for hangovers. "What were we even drinking?"

Jeongguk comes to stand beside you, hand on your hip as he reaches around to grab the phone charger plugged into the socket by the toaster. Speaks to Jimin as if he's not driving you insane. "Star Lovers."

He cements the name. Gives it delineation. A place in your life. Squeezes your hip as he says it. Wonders if you notice. If you're aware of his intentions.

You are - you just tell yourself he doesn't realise what he's doing.

"Tae and Danbi up yet?" You ask. Jimin just grunts. Is obviously feeling just like Jeongguk did the night before. "Where's Hobes?"

From the bathroom, you hear another grunt.

"You good?" You laugh, calling through to your fallen friend.

Another grunt.

"Put you down as a maybe," you say, but get him a Powerade from the fridge regardless. Pass it over to Jeongguk. "Can you give him this?"

Jeongguk looks at you with a little confusion.

"Don't wanna walk in on him if he's got his cock out," you say. In the past? Probably wouldn't have phased you. Now? Still wouldn't - but you don't wanna have to witness anyone else's cock right in front of Jeongguk, for some reason.

"Well, nor do I!" He protests, and passes it right back.

"Cock's not out," Hoseok whines from the bathroom. "Gimme fuel."

You narrow your eyes at Jeongguk, then proceed to deliver Hoseok's drink, only to nearly fall over laughing at his sorry state. He had somehow managed to retrieve his disco ball in the night, and is now hugging his ambiguous animal head tight to his chest, curled up around the toilet bowl.

"Think you killed our friends," you tell Jeongguk when you retreat to your bedroom, toothbrush in your mouth.

Jeongguk sits on your bed, shirt off, duvet pooled around his waist. Hair a mass, a lazily lopsided grin on his face, he's sin in the most heavenly of ways.

He shakes his head. Declares innocence. "They did it to themselves."

Now you shake your head. "You assisted."

"You're alive," he says. Is chancing his luck. Looks ever so pretty as he does so. "And I'm pretty sure you drank just as much as they did - so it's their fault. Not mine."

Humming some sort of disagreement, you leave the room to go and spit out your toothpaste, hopping over a still half-alive Hoseok.

When you return, Jeongguk's looking through some of the polaroids from the night before. You've no idea how many were taken - but imagine most of the new film is ruined with extreme closeups of Jimin and Hoseok's faces. They were doing that for, like, maybe ten whole minutes.

"Look at this one," he smiles, passing it over to you. "You should keep it safe."

It's one of you and Danbi, caught off guard, giggling about something. You rarely have pictures together - spend your time enjoying the moment instead of preserving it - so to have such a candid moment is precious.

Joining him on the bed, you don't really think much of the way you're sitting; staddled over his legs, looking down to where the pictures are on his lap.

"Hello," he says quietly.

"Hi," you whisper back.

"Come here often?"

"More than I should," you smirk, the double entendre dangerous for you both.

And yet Jeongguk licks his lips. Looks down to yours. Is shameless as he says, "Not enough. You should come here all the time."

"Well it's not like I 'come' anywhere else," you shrug, then cheekily correct yourself. "Sorry, not like I 'go' anywhere else."

Jeongguk is about to flirt back, but is thrown off by the way your body suddenly jerks a little.

Sucking air between your teeth, your hand presses against your abdomen. The swift pang of discomfort isn't unusual. You have ovaries. They don't always play ball. It's not the end of the world.

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, cocking an eyebrow. Strokes your hip. Wants to soothe whatever is wrong.

Nodding, you sweep aside his concern. "All good."

He doesn't buy it. "What's up?"

"Nothing," you insist - and you genuinely mean it. A skipped month here and there really comes as no surprise. Your body isn't a machine. Sometimes it doesn't do what you expect it to, but for the most part, you're fine.

It's not until Jeongguk's brows furrow, head tilting, that you think perhaps you should be concerned.

"When did you last-"

"It's fine," you dismiss immediately, not really wanting to discuss your menstrual cycle as a form of foreplay. 

Your body just does this occasionally. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. The pain was a little sharper than usual, granted, but you were also drinking the night before. Your liver is probably throwing a tantrum.

"B, don't fuck around with shit like this," Jeongguk says, his tone not one you're used to hearing. It's direct. Stern. A little sexy, if you're being honest, but the look on his face would suggest now is not the time for a little flirt.

"I promise," you say instead, giving him a soft smile, hands cupping his jaw. "If I thought anything was wrong, I'd be the first to freak out. Just a couple days late. No biggie."

Jeongguk nods. Is seemingly soothed by your touch. Knows that what you're saying is likely true. Knows that you'd have already been to a pharmacy by now, if you had any reason to believe your skipped period was the result of his cock.

"If anything happens..." Jeongguk starts, but trails off. You wait it out. Let him gather his thoughts - of which he eventually does. "Just let me know when you get your period, m'kay?"

With a nod, you promise you will. "If it's not here within a day or two, it'll probably mean I've skipped this month. I can take a test if it will make you feel better?"

Without hesitation, Jeongguk nods. "Why not just do one now? Get it over and done with?"

"Because if I do a test today and get my period tomorrow, I'll be annoyed," you laugh. A single day really doesn't make that much difference in the grand scheme of things. "Plus it's a Sunday."

"So?" Jeongguk laughs.

"Lazy day," you smile. "I don't wanna do anything that requires heavy thinking - and let's not forget how much alcohol I've had in the past 48. I've definitely killed off any lingering pests."

Jeongguk scoffs. "My sperm aren't pests."

"Pests are annoying," you say. "And you are also annoying. Do the maths."

"You're literally sitting on my lap," he shakes his head.

"You can be annoying and sexy."

"You're unbearable," he tells you, but the softness of his smile and the dimples in his cheeks would suggest that he doesn't think that in the slightest.

Nudging your nose up against his, you smile. "And yet you're holding onto me for dear life, aren't you?"

His grip only tightens. Hikes you further up his lap. Reaches down to discard the polaroids. Gets you right where you belong. "Think your blood alcohol content is high enough to kill pests, still?"

"So you admit it?" You tease, ignoring his question. "Your cum is an annoyance?"

"I'll admit it if you stop begging for it every time we fuck."

"Let's try now," you whisper. Let your nose nudge a little further against his. Don't kiss him - but you could . It drives him insane. "Let's see how I do."

He's about to lift the hem of your shirt. About to retrace the steps of a dance you know by heart at this point. Is about to disregard any and all of his initial panic of the morning - but then you're both distracted by a subtle thud.

Glazing over to the wall between yours and Danbi's room, it doesn't take a genius to work out what's happening. There's a second thud. A third. Fourth. A sound that is a little different, but incredibly human.

"Oh, fuck," Jeongguk laughs.

Whatever is happening in Danbi's room is exactly what was going to happen in your room.

"Oh my god," you laugh along with him. "Shit - Jimin."

"Let's go," Jeongguk taps on your thighs for you to get off, and you do so without hesitation.

The flirt had been fun, but it's not worth the humiliation of Jimin finally hearing you fuck. Jeongguk adjusts himself. Only has a semi, so it'll go down fairly quickly. Nothing to worry about.

"Oh thank God," Jimin hisses when you get to the living room. "Thought it was you guys."

"We don't fuck!" You both say in unison, and then look at each other as if you're offended by the quick denials.

"Right, yeah," Jimin mocks. "Totally believable. Good job, guys."

"Shut up," Jeongguk laughs, coming to rough house with a very delicate Jimin. They're as boisterous as brothers; testament to their friendship formed before they were tall enough for roller coasters. Gets him in a headlock. Jimin bites his arm. "We're just friends."

Jimin says something, but is still biting Jeongguk's arm, so it's completely muffled. With a big grin on your face, you just turn the TV up and plonk yourself down beside them. "Grow up."

And just like your denial earlier, Jeongguk and Jimin pull apart to look at you with great offence, and both say, "You grow up!"

You're certain that the boys will never outgrow how childish they are, and it worries you that the same could be said for you and Jeongguk.

Looking up to the disco balls in your living room, you notice the small swirl at the bottom of Jeongguk's mirrored tiles forms a small heart, and wonder how intentional it was.

He'll never tell you. Will keep it a mystery.

The world's worst kept secret: how much Jeon Jeongguk adores you.

A silly little thought to have. Implausible. You've seen him around girls he's loved. Don't think you into that category.

The most stupid thing at all is that you're even thinking about it. Why would you care to be loved by him? Why would you want your favourite person in the whole world to adore you? Why does it make you feel all nervous and yet remarkably calm all within the same second?

And when you look over time, and catch his eyes, why does his smile make your heart hurt?

But then your ovaries act up again. Give you a little pinch to remind you they're still there, even if they're not doing their job properly.

That must be it, you think. Just heightened hormones from your cycle being out of sync.

A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts, but Jeongguk offers to get it. You let him. Watch on with great curiosity as he takes a second to assess what's been delivered. 

He looks down. Shakes his head. Scoffs. Lets out a laugh that sounds anything but humorous. Pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

Is bitter - jealous - as he simply says, "It's for you."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[catherinekal]

I finished the next chapter! but AO3 is down right now. rip.

Guess I'll upload it tomorrow.