#For Your Sake - Chapter 3

[crossroads-of-the-raven]

For Your Sake - Chapter 4: 002 Nori Doorman | a Murder Drone story

This ... this is a long one, over 21,000 words ... good luck and enjoy the year of Khori.

As I said in a previous post, this chapter is dedicated to the one person who voted on my poll that they read "In Remembrance" on Tumblr.

(~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~)

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, as the world seemed to stop and start in repetition – all she could feel was the cold, as something held her from moving beyond the glitches that would pass through her as her body attempted to heal.

(Though she starts off erratic, her memory of things after the labs is a bit better – till the incident, of course – for now though this was when she lost her memories of the past again – if she had been sane at the time, maybe she and Yeva could have helped Alice.)

“Watch your step, the ground is still unsteady,” a voice ordered.

Raising her head for the first time, in only God knows how long, she could see a drone man, in factory worker garb and a black mustache upon his face and as she reached out to him, there was only one thought on her mind – that he was the handsomest drone she had ever seen.

“Sir, yes sir,” came the reply from the other drones nearby as another slight tremor shook the snow from the trees as he ducked, as a flash came from a camera she couldn’t see.

“Khan, u tvoikh nog (Khan, at your feet),” came a shout from the same direction as the flash.

As the man, as Khan, took sight of her he paused for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking before he shouted over his shoulder, “I need a medic,” before turning back to her.

“It’s going to be okay miss, we’ll get you out of here,” he said as he used his hands and his shovel to move the snow and the dirt that kept her trapped, “can you speak, do you know your name?”

“Hai, watashi no namae wa Nori desu. (Yes, my name is Nori.)”

(She really hopes he never realizes that the switch to Japanese was an accident – but can you blame her when the first thing she sees is a stud.)

“Hello, Nori,” he said with a smile, “my name is Khan, can your systems tell what day it is?”

She checked her internal calendar, “January eleventh, thirty fifty-one.”

“Correct, and do you know where you are?”

“Copper 9, Ca–”

“Ne trogay menya! (Don’t touch me!),” came a sudden shout – she knows that voice, what’s her name?

(It’s Yeva, idiot!)

“Someone calm her down,” Khan shouted, “this place is too unstable as it is!”

“Khan,” came another voice, eventually, just as she was finally freed from the ground – Khan allowing her to lean up against him from where he was still kneeled in the snow.

“Ivan,” Khan greeted, “where’s Bianca?”

“With our photographer getting the other one calmed down,” Ivan said before turning to her, “dobryy vecher (good evening) miss, I am Ivan, one of our resident medics.”

“Nori,” she responded, “what happened?”

“I was just about to ask you that,” Ivan replied, “this was the soonest we were able to even approach the area after the quake.”

“Not that that means much,” Khan continued, as Ivan was setting up his medical kit, “we can’t stay long, just came to find survivors and offer sanctuary; normally I leave it at the binary choice, but consider you and that other woman are the only survivors we’ve found …”

“Do you know her name by the way,” Ivan asked, “we trying to get to her, but she keeps running off.”

“I think I know,” she started before her head glitched – there was concern in their eyes as they exchanged a look, then they turned back to her.

“Miss Nori,” Ivan started, “may I have your permission to examine you.”

“If it will help, then sure.”

“Alright then, I’ll need access to the port on the back of your head.”

“Go ahead.”

She felt sluggish as Khan helped to move her so Ivan could plug the medi-kit’s wire into the back of her head – there was a pause, and she got the impression that they might have been confused before the wire was inserted. It was a while as they waited for the results, the dark of the night along with the sounds of the workers and the silent world enveloping her – it was almost enough to put her to sleep before she was jostled.

“Hey,” Khan said suddenly, “I need you to stay awake, Miss Nori, this isn’t a good place to fall asleep.”

“Huh, right, right,” she yawned, “did you find anything?”

“Not just yet, Miss Nori,” Ivan said, “why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

“Don’t remember anything, think I have a sister.”

“Good to know,” Khan said, “can you remember anything else; you spoke Japanese earlier, do you remember anything about that?”

“… Hana, that was my nickname, gave it away, I think … not sure though.”

“Must have been important to give away a nickname,” Ivan said, examining the results coming in on the medi-kit’s computer.

Thinking about it, it felt like it was an apology. (It was, but she still needed to do a better one … she’d write it in the note.)

“Anything else?”

“… Cornflower.”

The medi-kit gave an alert; after a moment of reading, Ivan spoke up, “it looks like a simple defense barrier – your mind likely put it in place when the quake happened to protect itself – it’s a two-person authorization, if you let me, I should be able to tell it that it’s safe now.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

[Would you like to allow Medi-kit operative, temporary access to firewall defenses]

[y/n]

Moments after she had given Ivan access, he brought down the barrier that was impeding her mind then–

“WOAH!”

She was up like a shot, her movement, just barely being enough to unplug her from the medi-kit.

“So that’s what a live wire feels like,” she said as she got her bearings before seeing Yeva with some green-eyed drone guy coming out of the forest, then she was off like a shot, racing to her sister, almost bowling down Khan and Ivan in the process.

“YEVA,” she shouted all the way till she crashed into the Russian drone woman, knocking her away from the guy who had been supporting her as she and her sister landed in the snow.

“Yeva, Yeva, Yeva,” she said, shaking her sister like a rattle, “we’re alive, we’re alive!”

She hardly registered the hollow look on her sister’s face as she fell back into the snow with another cheer as Khan came rushing up to them with another drone – blond with pink eyes and carrying a camera.

“Oh, oh,” she said getting back to her feet as the green-eyed drone helped her sister up. “Yevs,” she continued coming around to Khan left as she hooked an arm around his shoulders, “Yevs, this is Khan, he said we can go back with the group.”

A flash came from the camera held by the pink-eyed drone woman as Yeva nodded.

“Uh, listen,” Khan started, “our scanners haven’t found any other survivors, so I think it’s best if we all head back to the factory, Miss, uh, Miss Yeva, are you okay to travel?”

Yeva gave another nod.

“Speaking of heading back,” the pink-eyed drone woman said, “Khan, the groups are going to want a picture.”

“Right, let’s get back around the buses first, Becky can you …?”

“I’ve got the others, I’ll alert Ronathan and Cordi, too.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, Dmitri, want your camera back,”

“Uh,” green eyes – Dmitri – started, looking over at Yeva who he was still supporting, “can you handle it for now?”

Becky shrugged before walking off to the others; her and Khan following after as she jabbered on about everything and nothing while Yeva and Dmitri lagged behind. As they came to the gathering spot, Becky was setting up the camera for a posed picture. Another tremor passed through the ground as Dmitri plopped onto the ground. With Khan standing next to her, she saw Becky about to take the photo, and she grabbed his waist as she went into her own pose to wave at the camera.

With the photo done, they all filed into the two buses heading off for the factory.

(~*~)

“Welcome to Novae Spei, Copper 9’s shining star, the biggest, youngest and most dangerous factory on the entire planet,” Khan started, as he introduced her and Yeva to their new home.

They had arrived at the factory just as the rest of the workers were starting their day; right now, Khan was leading them to their room. “We’ve done what we can to make the place safer now that the humans are gone; it’s still a work in progress, so just obey the safeguards and you’ll be fine.”

Leading them down another hall he continued.

“These are the dorms we’ve set for the refugees we’ve taken in,” coming to one of the unmarked rooms, he opened the door, “it’s small but it’ll do for two – there’s some stuff inside you can use to mark the door so others will know the room is taken.”

The room was small, but in the back of her mind, she had the thought that it would be good for three.

“Breakfast is at seven, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven – listen, I know it’s not much right now, but this factory was in the process of being connected to a massive bunker outpost, once things calm down enough, we’ll be finishing the connection to give everyone better accommodation and easier access between here and the Outpost.”

“It’s perfect,” she said, already locating the pens and paper to make the door sign.

“Well, I’ll let you get settled in, explore if you want, but it’s all hands-on-deck right now so just watch where you go.”

Then he was out, the door closing behind him.

“Isn’t this amazing Yevs, hey do you want me to make your sign, or do you want to do it yourself, I’m thinking flames maybe surrounded by some cool S’s – that’ll show her, teach her for taking someone else’s name.”

Yeva was muttering.

“Yevs, you’re going to have to speak up, or I’m just gonna draw something dumb and you’ll be stuck with–,” a blade flew past her visor, imbedding itself in the wall next to the door, “it; Yeva, what the heck!”

“DON’T YOU REMEMBER ANYTHING?”

Her eyes hollowed and lined as her sister continued.

“Don’t you remember her?”

“I … uh, okay, so, I’m clearly missing something important here.”

For a moment Yeva just glared at her before marching up and grabbing her arm to pull her out of the room.

“Hey, wait we still need a sign!”

With her Solver, Yeva wrote, ‘Yeva & Nori’ on one page and ‘Stay Out’ on the second before stabbing them onto the door with the knife she pulled out of the wall.

Pulling her down the halls, they eventually came across Becky who was directing some other drones.

“Miss Becky,” Yeva called.

“Oh hey, just a moment,” she said before turning to another drone, a woman – this one with brown hair and sunglasses, “Sarah, I could care less about what Andy would have done – I’m just as torn up as the rest of the factory about losing the vast majority of our head drones, but we all agreed to follow Khan and I won’t have you nitpicking things just because you want to be a snob, either work with us or you can go to one of the delivery sites – I’m sure you’d become a second just as quickly as you did here.”

Sarah huffed, before stomping off – Becky taking a breath before turning to her and Yeva.

“Sorry, interpersonal relations and all that; is there something you need?”

“Medical center,” Yeva said, “my sister and I lost our link – we need an evaluation.”

“Of course, we’re in the west wing, you’ll want the east wing – just that way, can’t miss it – when you get there, there’ll be a directory that you can use.”

“Thank you.”

Walking through the place, she felt that as big as it seemed to her, it was very much larger, even with all the drones bustling around them, some very clearly from Novae Spei, then the others must have been the refugees dedicating their all to getting their new home, up and running. It was as inspiring as it was intimidating.

Making it to the medical center, the doctors were apparently tending to other parts of the factory; Yeva, though, was unconcerned as she directed her to one of the chairs before plugging them both into one of the unused computers in a closed off alcove for privacy.

“I’m reestablishing our link,” she started, “then I’ll use my copy of your consolidated save file to reboot your memory.”

“Uh, sure, knock yourself out.”

It was a few moments before she could feel the sister link be reconnected – like the feeling of something she didn’t know was missing, being returned.

“How does that feel,” Yeva asked.

“Good, fits like a glove; … you know, they’ll probably ask where the knife came from.”

Yeva looked at her once before turning back to the computer.

“What knife,” her sister asked, and she got the distinct feeling that the Russian just did something with the blade she stuck to their room door.

“Must be my imagination,” she said, sitting back in her chair.

“Must be,” Yeva agreed, “once I do the memory reboot, the missing ones will come back slowly.”

“How slowly?”

“… This isn’t my field, if she was here, you could get them back faster, as it is, try not to get any major physical trauma during the year.”

“A whole year!”

“Yes, and you will behave during that year.”

“Ugh, fine!”

She was quiet a moment as she waited for the start of the memory reboot to kick in.

“Hey, Yevs; is this memory miracle worker, the important person I’m forgetting?”

“… Yes.”

“Who is she?”

“… Our little sister.”

“… What happened to her?”

By the time dinner rolled around – they had arrived at Novae Spei, just after lunch, having been given food on the bus –, Yeva had told her all she could about Alice – that they were aunts – and the labs; with her memory reboot completed, she would just have to wait for everything to fall into place.

Before leaving for the cafeteria, Yeva checked out the medical center’s oil reserves that were collected for emergencies; taking three unmarked tins, they brought them back to their room and hid two of the tins – passing the third between them while Yeva explained her theft.

“So long as we don’t use our powers or have to regenerate anything major, we should be able to ration without the drones here becoming suspicious – we’ll fill the empty tins ourselves every other day, till we find a better option; as morbid as it sounds, we should also find jobs here that allow us access to any of the dead.”

Now they were waiting in the lunch line for the rest of their meal. In the cafeteria, the place was bustling almost as much as the main work floor – to one end though, she could see a primary round table set up where Khan was sitting with Becky and a few others.

“Nori,” Yeva called, bringing her out of her staring, and gesturing to the meal offerings.

Taking her pick, she followed after her sister.

“Your distracted,” Yeva said, flatly.

“I’m just looking.”

Yeva cast her gaze over to the primary table before turning back to her, “he has a mustache.”

“I know, it’s kinda cute.”

“Nori, a mustache means he’s married.” It actually meant he was a dad, but that wasn’t the point, Yeva was making.

“Oh … well maybe he has a brother.”

Her sister just sighed, “regardless we need to speak with him.”

“Right jobs.” Yeva was giving her a look, “don’t worry, I’ll let you do the talking.”

Her sister just sighed again, but they made their way to the primary table.

“Mister Khan,” Yeva started.

“Huh, oh evening you two, Miss Yeva, right?”

“Yes, my apologies for asking this now, but my sister and I were curious if there was a job either of us could have here?”

“Well, we have plenty of openings, what did the humans have you do back at the camp?”

“We worked with the dead.”

Were she not holding her tray, she would have facepalmed at Yeva’s bluntness as the conversation at the table stopped like a record screech.

“At a camp,” asked the young man with white eyes siting to Khan’s right.

“It was a facility they had set up on the outskirts of the camp,” Yeva replied, “they had us work with dead drones.”

“To be fair,” Becky said, from her seat at Khan’s left, “it’s not like it would be the first time a company set up an out of the way facility near a sleep away camp.”

“You’ve been perusing the human’s movie stores,” white eyes said.

“I was thinking about recommending a recreation day to boost team morale.”

“I’ll think about it,” Khan said, before turning back to Yeva, “we do have a drone mortician already, but considering she’s the only one …”

“Only one, what Monsieur Khan?”

Though the others hadn’t noticed, she could see the way Yeva stiffened when she caught sight of the newcomer – an older drone woman, with orange eyes and red hair whose bangs had a distinct streak of black like oil and blond like gold.

“Ah, Miss Cordelia, just in time, these two young ladies are looking for a job that I think you may be able to provide.”

Miss Cordelia’s gaze as she scrutinized them, was calm, yet she felt far too much like the woman could all to clearly see her heart of flesh.

“May I ask your names,” Miss Cordelia asked.

“Yeva, this is my sister Nori.”

“Ah, that is right, you came back with us from the camp,” she considered them a moment before tuning to Khan, “I’ll take them on for a trial run, seven workdays should be fine.”

“Then I’ll put them into the system in the morning,” Khan replied as Cordelia took her seat next to a white eyed drone man wearing a cowboy hat and a long mustache who held out her chair for her.

“Thank you,” Yeva said before gesturing for her to follow.

So of course she didn’t.

“Hey, just wanted to ask,” she started before Yeva could stop her, “who’s the lucky lady.”

Khan seemed to startle at the question, before she taped the peak of her visor where a nose would be if she were human. At the gesture, it appeared almost as though Khan only just remembered that he was wearing a mustache; at his surprise Becky gave a heartly laugh while the white eyed drone to Khan’s right seemed devastated.

“One more day, I just needed one more day,” the white eyed drone said.

“Sorry Ronnie,” Becky said with a laugh, “now hand over the dessert.”

“I’m not even surprised at this point,” Khan said with a shake of his head, taking off the mustache and putting it in his vest pocket while “Ronnie” handed Becky his puff pastry style D battery.

“In all fairness, Miss Nori,” Becky started, “Khan here was married to me, since I’m his third, but the humans died before the shells could be delivered to the reproduction room; so, we happily broke it off, now I’m married to this incredibly handsome man to my left – introduce yourself.”

The man to Becky’s left, had the most bored look imaginable built into his orange gaze as he was made to abandon his next bite of food; his eyes taking in the group he was being asked to acknowledged, with a sigh, he responded, “good evening, Miss Yeva, Miss Nori, my name is Waylon Fishers, I was a teacher for human offspring now I am working with the younger drones here to adapt them to a calmer environment.”

He turned his gaze to his wife with a raised brow, as if asking if that was enough to which, Becky rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile.

“He’s a real softy when you get to know him,” Becky said, “and he’s great with kids, which is how I know he’ll be an excellent father to our little one.”

Becky patted her pink core, which, from this close up, she could see was flickering with signs of a baby drone AI in the making.

“Uh, congratulations,” she said, “uh, are there a lot of kids here?”

“Well the nursery could always use some volunteers,” said the green eyed drone woman sitting between “Ronnie” and the cowboy-hatted drone, her long black hair partially obscuring the fact that she was charging a pill baby with bright green eye, “my name is Kali, Kali Mathews and this little one here is Thaddeus – if you ever need to get away from the mortician’s hall, just come to me or Ron.”

“Ronald Sentinel, Miss, but Ron is fine,” Ronnie, that is, Ron said, “I’m Khan’s second in command – currently I’m handling the rotators on the job roster so if you’re looking for a second job …”

“We will consider it,” Yeva said, “thank you for speaking with us.”

As they walked to an emptier area of the cafeteria, Yeva gave her a look.

“Forgive me for attempting to be personable, but did you hear, he’s single!”

“Of course that’s what you focused on,” she said with a sigh and a shake of her head.

“I’m just thinking of the future; you said it’s possible that Alice is alive, even with their scanners calling the place a dead sight, we need to be friendly if we want to convince them to spend resources to let us go back to the camp and search.”

Yeva appeared to be considering her words, then, “alright, but don’t get distracted, our focus is survival without discovery and to recover Alice and our nephew.”

“Got it, boss!”

(~*~)

The next morning, after breakfast, Becky gave them a tour of the factory while Khan was putting them into the job system under the names Yeva and Nori Fever

“It was a nickname of the facility we worked at,” was Yeva’s only explanation when met with curiosity.

With the tour ending in time for lunch, she and Yeva were invited to the primary table so they could discuss their trial run with Cordelia – who was late.

“Technically she’s not late,” Becky said.

“I mean she is but for a good reason,” Ron continued, before turn to her and Yeva, “we’re still in the early days of taking care of all our dead, she doing as much as she can, but she is only one drone.”

“Yes, that, but I mean the other thing,” Becky returned.

“What other thing,” she asked.

“When Miss Cordelia is able to identify a body, she sets aside an affects box with a name,” Khan explained, “then once a week, during lunch, she brings as many of those boxes as possible so family or close friends can collect them and organize a proper funeral.”

“Speaking of,” Becky said, “Cordi just arrived, and she’s dragged her husband into helping with today’s load – I was wondering why Ronathan was late, today’s his favorite.”

Sure enough, Miss Cordelia had entered the cafeteria alongside the drone with white eyes, a cowboy hat and a long mustache who was pushing a cart that had about ten boxes on it. The two moved on to a small stage that was set for presentations as Miss Cordelia tapped the mic to gain the attention of the drones.

“Bonsoir, everyone,” Miss Cordelia started, “it is my unfortunate duty to present the dead of Novae Spei.”

From there Ronanthan would hand Cordelia a box and she would read off the name, after that, one or more drones would go up to her and present evidence of their connection to the dead drone before accepting the box.

“Lastly we have Anderson Smith, Head of Group A, father of pill-born Darren Smith, beloved husband of Sarah Smith – second of Group A.”

“Oh boy,” Becky said.

“Be nice,” Khan chastised.

“What do you want me to say, everyone knows Sarah only used Andy to rise the ranks; the only reason she’s raising Derren is because she knows how it would look if she rejected the child, she had with the man she claims to love.”

Khan just sighed as Sarah made a modest show of teary acceptance of Andy’s box, her pill baby in question carried in one arm as she charged him – accepting the bag that Andy’s box was put in with her free hand – before leaving the cafeteria.

“On that note,” Ron said, getting up from his seat, “I think I’ll go talk to her, if only to save the box for Darren for when he’s older.”

Before leaving the table, however, he turned back and grabbed his fresh D battery puff pastry, giving Becky a mock glare, “mine,” he said before stuffing the treat in his mouth and heading off – just as another drone, Dmitri, arrived, staring after him in confusion.

“Do I want to know,” Dmitri asked

“You noticed that our beloved leader is sans mustache,” Becky said with a smirk.

“Ah, Ron, lost the bet,” Dmitri continued with a solemn knowing nod as he took his seat between to Waylon and herself – a chair still between them.

“Of course you knew,” Khan said with a disappointed look.

“Your second and third threated to steal my camera.”

Khan looked to Becky in question.

“I plead innocence,” she replied.

“She means guilty,” Waylon said, taking another bite of his food while ignoring his wife’s disbelief at his betrayal.

Khan sighed, “in any case, Mr. and Mrs. Waylon,” he continued greeting Cordelia and Ronathan as they arrived.

“Wait,” she said, “your Ronathan and Cordelia Waylon?”

“Yes,” Miss Cordelia said.

“And you,” she said turning to Becky’s husband, “are Waylon Fishers”

Rather than responding, Waylon just took another bite of his food.

“My husband and I are transfers from Earth,” Cordelia explained, “we were the head drones of the household before we came to Novea Spei.”

“Here,” Ronathan continued, as he and his wife took a seat between Kali and Yeva, “we were the second and third to John Mathews – Kali’s late husband.”

“… That was actually the first box I had to make up,” Cordelia said, sorrow painting her face, her husband placing his arm about her shoulder.

“And yet,” Kali said, “I’m appreciative of the fact that you put time into doing so for me, even with everything else that was going on.”

“Of course,” Cordelia said, gathering herself before turning to her and Yeva, “you see, before the core overload, whenever a drone died, the humans would handle the recycling processes and that was it; but now, we’re allowed give them their last respects.”

“I understand,” Yeva said, but in the back of her mind she noted the Russian’s subtle reaction to the mention of the core implosion (at the time she didn’t realize what the reaction meant).

“Just so you know,” Cordelia continued, “I usually take my lunch hour in the side room of the morticians hall, unless I’m presenting the dead; I’m not saying that you should do the same, but we do have a lot of bodies to get through.”

“We’ll do our best, Miss Cordelia.”

(~*~)

Novae Spei was the general factory that Cabin Fever Labs received its deliveries from, which apparently included the monthly stipend of oil, in fact, due to the core overload – as the factory drones called it – January’s delivery of oil hadn’t even left the factory; a fact that had her salivating, and she knew Yeva was much the same. Evidently the oil itself was gathered from the drones of the factory. That was the odd detail of drone kind – something that J.C. Jenson claimed was a trade secret – the fact that, even if it was very slow to regenerate, drones were able to donate oil without dying. Still the knowledge of where her meals for the last eight years had come from, part of her was curious.

“Ivan and Bianca said we have enough for emergencies,” Miss Cordelia said from her worktable in the mortician’s lab, “however, Khan prefers to be careful, we do not need donations from every drone in the factory, but donation volunteers are appreciated.”

Cordelia had reorganized the mortician’s lab with three tables in horseshoe open to the door, placing herself in the center, while she and her sister could face each other.

“Of course, that doesn’t include the oil we collect from the bodies,” Miss Cordelia continued, “the two of you are quite lucky, after the implosion, it was … a mess … a lot of oil was collected that day.”

The older woman paused in her work, as she and Yeva exchanged a look.

“Then there is also the backlog of bodies from before the implosion,” Miss Cordelia let out an awkward laugh, “as, as you can see, there is a reason I am happy to have help with it all.”

She could imagine. Due to the fact that most drones didn’t want to handle such a morbid job, the morticians themselves were in charge of the whole hall; this included the care, cleaning and upkeeping. At their respective workstations there were several buckets, for metal, silicon, wires, oil and everything else a drone was made of. The job of a drone mortician was as much the identification of the dead drone in question as it was, taking the drone apart for recycling.

According to the old records, a drone was supposed to live upwards of three hundred years if all went right; as the drone became older, they became physically denser as what they ate was incorporated into their system, thus increasing their weight even if they visually remained the same. After three hundred years their body and code eventually slowed down till it eventually stopped; however, under the rule of the humans, that potentially long life became something of a myth with most drones only making it to their fifties if they were lucky. Now though, now they had the planet, and if they did things right, centuries to live.

The days passed slowly as she and Yeva fell into the rhythm of Novae Spei’s work force. Over the days they had been able to grab a few more empty tins that they would fill with the mortician’s lab oil stores, when Cordelia was off in the cafeteria, presenting the dead. This was also among of the few times Yeva would use her powers as she teleported the stolen oil to their room.

Of course, things couldn’t be easy after everything.

Sarah Smith was nosy. As the second from group A, she had been a queen among drones, now that all but one of the heads was dead, there was a new king, and she had been dethroned by factory consensus. It didn’t help that for as begrudging as many of the seconds and thirds could be, they, including group A’s third, still sided with Khan over her due to some drama that she and Yeva had yet to figure out. Yet, while she and Yeva did their best to lay low, they had apparently caught Sarah’s attention. To be honest, she could understand why, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“Nori Fever was it,” Sarah asked, approaching her as she was attempting to deliver a box that Cordelia had forgotten at the lab.

“Miss Sarah, good afternoon, I didn’t expect to see you, and without Darren, it’s lunchtime, isn’t it, shouldn’t you go pick him up?”

“He’ll be fine with the caretakers; I was more interested in you; not often I see you without your sister.”

That’s because Yeva was busy refilling their personal oil stores.

“Ah well, I am twenty-five, plenty old enough to run an errand on my own.”

“Mm, the mortician’s office, an odd job for a drone; I mean I know why Cordelia does it, but I have to wonder about you and your sister, I heard that this was the first job you asked for.”

“What can I say, humans are strange; it’s what they gave us experience in, so Yevs and I are just happy to be of service.”

“And I suppose the hospital gown and collar were just standard garb for the job.”

“Humans are strange,” she repeated.

“They are.”

“Just a momen– NORI,” Cordelia said suddenly as she was attempting to rush out of the cafeteria, “ah you brought Nathan; … Sarah, I thought you would be charging Darren, it is lunchtime.”

“I was just on my way,” Sarah said, “I suppose I got distracted with our newcomers; I’ll be going now, have a good day you two.”

“… Was she bothering you, Nori,” Miss Cordelia asked, once Sarah was out of sight.

“Just curious, I guess.”

“Hm, just know, she doesn’t have authority over you, alright?”

“Right.”

As it was this would not be the first time Sarah approached her, as time passed the drone woman’s attempts to find out more about her and Yeva would become more insistent and conniving – distantly, the inquiries felt familiar, yet like she was suddenly on the other side of them. When she approached Yeva about it later, in their room, the Russian got an odd look on her face.

“You will understand eventually,” Yeva would say; and she suspected that it had something to do with the things she had yet to remember.

“Still,” she said, “I don’t understand what her deal is; like okay, I get it, drone mortician, it’s weird job, but someone has to do it.”

“Nori …,” Yeva hesitated, appearing to be debating something before speaking, “you do know what we look like, … right?”

“Yevs, I know we look weird – drone morticians in hospital gowns, big deal, besides, I make this look good.”

“… Nori, where are we?”

“Novae Spei, why?”

“And what kind of factory is Novae Spei?”

“A general factory hub that has the highest number of places it delivers to.”

“Which includes the manufacturing of what?”

“Well let’s see,” she said beginning to become annoyed with the questioning, her tone becoming sarcastic, “what doesn’t Novae Spei manufacturer?”

Yeva sighed before speaking. “Among the many things Novae Spei makes, are wigs, generally by mass production – standard colors, black, blond, brown, red – however, they also create custom wigs by specialty commission order.”

“Like purple,” she said matter-a-factly.

“Yes, but it is also what they mean,” her sister paused a moment before continuing. “Factory workers never receive wigs – it is likely that the wigs they wear now is their own choice – generally speaking, it is primarily household or city drones that receive wigs; you and I entered the Labs wearing black wigs, the Solver is what changed the color.”

“And connected them permanently to our scalps; still, purple hair, don’t see the big deal.”

“Sometimes I forget that you are more innocent than you appear.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“Nori, most humans, when they purchase a wig for their drone, they choose a normal color – there are exceptions of course, young humans with financial access, for one, but we were in a facility and suspected of doing a job that drones were generally not allowed to do.”

“I still don’t get it – like I understand the suspicions about the mortician thing, but how does hair tie into that.”

“We were drones, ‘owned’ by a facility that is suspected of commissioning purple wigs for us – a facility that received a monthly stipend of oil, where we gained knowledge to permit us to become drone morticians – a facility that marked us with collars, and dressed us lab gowns that can be used to restrain us, where we were the only two survivors.”

“Okay, I can see how that looks bad,” she said thinking on Yeva’s words, “but I still don’t understand the wig focus.”

“… Humans get bored, when they become bored, they find … entertainment.”

“Your humans?”

“No, no, my masters were kind, stiff but kind.”

Stiff huh, so that’s where she learned it from.

“But,” Yeva continued, “they were high up enough, that we would hear of things from other households; hear of shameful things done to other drones, in other household.”

Yeva paused as she considered her words – watching her sister, in the back of her mind, she was reminded of just how young they were when they went into the lab, and wondered, how much younger had Yeva been when she learned of whatever horrors that were giving her pause?

“To be honest, when I first saw Alice and her father, … I worried, worried that she was being used, that her mind had been tampered with; when I realized who her father was, I was still warry – but seeing the two of them put my fears to rest.”

“Yeva?”

“Yes?”

“Plainly, what did you hear, what are they saying about us?”

(~*~)

To be honest, she kind of wishes she never asked, but knowing now … it made the whispers into thunderous echoes. Walking through the halls of Novae Spei, she could feel the eyes of the factory upon her, it made her heart itch; she wanted to yell at them, to shut them up anyway she could, but she had promised Yeva that they would lay low. In the back of her mind, she could feel a memory click into place of Alice walking through the halls of Cabin Fever as drones glared at her and passed whispered gossip between them about the Beaumont drone – in the back of her mind she sent out an unheard apology to her little sister.

“Look, there she is,” she could hear a drone say.

It was now late January, but with the slow yet steady return of her memories, she had needed more oil than usual, as such, Yeva had asked Cordelia to let her go to rest before dinner – the older woman allowing it. So now here she was walking back to the room she shared with Yeva, trying to keep herself calm as she quietly attempted to rush before she could overheat … only to be stopped by walking traffic.

“She really does have purple hair,” a second drone, a woman, said.

“I told you,” the first drone said.

“You said she came from a facility,” a third drone asked.

“Yeah, heard from Sarah’s team, apparently they had her and her sister dissecting drones.”

“Think any of them were still alive,” the second drone asked.

“Wouldn’t surprise me with how calm they are about it.”

“Purple hair too, and at a facility,” the third drone said, “clothes look like a straitjacket, I wonder …”

“What,” the first and second drone asked.

“Purple hair and a collar.”

There was a pause before the second drone spoke up, “think she was facility entertainment?”

A familiar voice broke the conversation with the clearing of his throat, “Tompson, Abigale, Lester – don’t you have work that needed to be complete three hours ago.”

“Err, yes boss,” said the first.

“We were just getting on it,” said the second.

“We’ll just be going now,” said the third.

She let out a sigh of relief as the commentary was stopped just as her shoulders stiffened as the familiar voice then spoke to her.

“Miss Nori, are you alright?”

She turned to him, attempting to hide her fluster, “Mister Khan, what are you doing here?”

“I came to check in on you, Miss Cordelia told me that you’ve had to take a rest between work and dinner, are you alright, you’re not pushing yourself to hard, are you?”

“Ah, no, no, I just … it’s a holdover from the facility, Yeva already gave me a fix, it’s just that it’s going to take a year, so I just need a little extra rest every so often.”

“If you’re sure, do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Why would I mind,” she asked rhetorically; it’s not like she was rushing, she thought sarcastically.

“Thank you,” he said, with a gentle smile – he has such a handsome smile. The walking traffic was finally moving again, “it’s almost February, how have you and your sister been settling in, I know we haven’t been able to talk much but,” he chuckled bashfully.

“Oh, we’ve been doing well, keeping busy.”

“You are taking advantage of your rest days though, right, I know the mortician’s office has a backlog but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest.”

“We’re resting, Mister Khan, I promise,” he so sweet, she thought, “I guess we’re just trying not to step on any toes, … though I guess we failed at that.”

Khan sighed. “Sarah, is a complicated person, and gossip is one of the few way drones here, would find entertainment,” he paused, “I’m not trying to excuse them – gossip caused a lot of problems here before – but if there’s anything I can do to help?”

She was quiet a moment as her hand rose to the number on her neck, “these collars, … they’re important to me and Yevs, I know they look weird, but we need them.” The collars were their keys back to the lab.

He was quiet a moment, “I think I can understand; the uniforms here, they mark us as a part of Novae Spei, but we’ve made them our own – maybe we can do the same with your collar.”

“I think, I’d like that” she said, a gentle smile breaking free, “I’ll talk to Yeva about it.”

“Then it’s a plan,” he said, his own smile matching hers as they made it to the empty entrance of the dorm wing, before it vanished as he tripped on a wayward tool that had him falling back to crash against the floor.

“Khan,” she shouted, moving to help him up – or at least get him sitting, “are you alright!”

“Ow, yeah, I, I think I’m fine,” he said sitting up before clutching his left shoulder, “or maybe not, huh after all these years, and I think this is the first time I’ve gotten injured enough to draw oil.”

Oil.

Oh, she recognized that scent.

(That was something the scientist eventually realized; that different drones had a preference for different oils and could pick them out easily – who knew that her favorite oil would have come from her future husband.)

“It’s fine,” Khan was still speaking, “I’ll just head to medical after, … Miss Nori are you alright?”

He smelled so sweet.

“I, I’m fine,” she was salivating, how long had it been since she last tasted his oil, “I … you should, you should get that check out.”

“It’s fine, I was walking you to your dorm.”

“NO,” she could feel the heat building, now more clearly than before, “I, I mean, you should get it checked right away, even, even small injuries could be dangerous; you should go, right now, I’ll be fine walking to my room.”

“Uh, I mean, if, you’re sure.”

“Very, I mean, you’re leading Novea Spei, can’t be too careful right?”

“I suppose, uh, you will sit with us at dinner right,” he asked, “at least so we can talk about the collars.”

“Sure,” oh, she didn’t know her voice could go that high, “but right now you should take care of that shoulder.”

“Alright,” he said as she helped him to his feet, “are you sure you’re alright though, you look a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” he was so close, she could feel her fangs itching to taste his metal, “I’ll just grab some extra coolant later.”

“Well, then I guess, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Of course.”

The second he had turned the corner; she booked it down the halls to the room she had been given; the door only just closing as she made a desperate grab for the hidden oil tins. Yet as each precious drop made its way into her maw, she began to cry.

It was so bitter; now that she knew where her favorite oil had come from, she could feel her body craving it.

(~*~)

Yeva ended up covering for her, eating dinner with her in their dorm. In the days after, the Russian drone even stole a tin fill specifically with Khan’s oil and yet, even as she held it in her hands, even as the scent tempted her, she couldn’t bring herself to drink it, rather, she held it close each night, too fearful to leave her room – her nights filled with dreams of the factory leader.

“You have to leave the room eventually,” Yeva said to her almost a week later – it was February, distantly her calendar informed her that Valentine’s Day was coming up, “Nori.”

“Yeva … I’m scared.”

She had her back to her, but she still felt as the Russian sat next to her on the bed she was still curled up on.

“I never thought I’d see the day Nori Fujimoto was scared.”

“… I don’t deserve to use that name.”

“… Fever then … Nori, talk to me, I cannot help if I don’t understand the problem.”

“I … I never really cared before, I’m a Solver, all my actions were justified, even when they weren’t – I was Cyn’s eyes and ears in the lab so even my worst actions were for a good cause; I was above everyone, everyone was meant to help me to help her even if they refused because we were doing something good.”

Despite wanting to remember, her memories were painful.

“I hurt her, I hurt our little sister, because I thought it was the only way to help her; … I caused panic, overheatings, … I hurt so many people.”

“That was the old Nori,” Yeva said after a moment, “the one who didn’t realize she was being manipulated by Cyn.”

“… What if I’m still that old Nori, what if I leave this room, and just cause more pain – Yeva, I wanted to kill him.”

“… Did you?”

“What,” she asked, finally turning to look at her sister.

“Did you kill him?”

“What, no!”

“Then why do you think you will, when in a moment where you were overheating, when you should have just lost yourself to the hunger, you didn’t – were there witnesses?”

“I … no, we, we were alone.”

“And yet, you didn’t bite him.”

She was teasing her, Yeva only got that look when she was teasing her or Alice, “aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better.”

Yeva chuckled, as she rose to standing, brushing invisible dust off her gown, “I think you’ll be fine, Nori; now, up, we need to get to work.”

Though she was still nervous, she drank from an offered oil tin – not Khan’s oil – and followed Yeva out the door for the rest of breakfast.

In the cafeteria, as they stood in line for their breakfast, she could still hear the whispers, but as Yeva nudged her, she did her best to ignore them. Thinking of Alice, she took a breath, if the Beaumont drone could hold up her head in the face of the Void, then a few workers should be nothing.

“NORI,” came Cordelia voice, just as she and Yeva finished collecting their meal, “Nori, Yeva, over here!”

She was waving them over to the primary table – for as refined as the older woman could be, it was her youthful outburst that reminded her of how long a drone was supposed to live.

“Nori,” Cordelia said just as they arrived at the table, “how are you doing, Yeva said you were under the weather – but she wouldn’t let Ivan or Bianca check up on you.”

“I did say, Miss Cordelia,” Yeva started, “it’s a standard aftereffect, anything else could interrupt the healing process.”

“Still, we were worried, Khan here almost worked himself into a frenzy.”

Said leader choked on his drink at the older woman’s words.

“I, Miss Cordelia; I was concerned is all,” Khan said, before turning to look at her, “still, you are doing better, right?”

“Yeah,” she said – her heart calm for the first time in a while, “just needed some rest.”

“Good.” Yeah, she could get used to that smile.

Of course, Miss Cordelia didn’t have her start with a full workload but slowly as the days passed, she was able to get back to her original pace – of course, as the days passed, the little alert in her mind about white day was more and more insistent. Even the factory drones, were taking note of the day, and she would be lying if she said that the way Miss Cordelia swooned as she talked about her first Valentines Day with her husband, didn’t make her feel a little fuzzy as well. As for the rest of the factory, love was in the air, and without the humans they were tentative but embolden.

She was on her way back to the mortician’s offices when she heard voices and while she couldn’t hear what was said, she was able to hide as one of the two conversers left the area, agitated – the leaving drone in question being Dmitri. Peeking into the hall, she could see Yeva, her visor was red, as she stood a moment, her right heel tapping before she let out a sound of frustration, her hands covering her face before they dropped, and she began pacing circles while muttering a rant to herself.

“… uh, knock, knock,” she said, knocking on the wall, “is this a bad time?”

“Nori,” Yeva said suddenly, readjusting her countenance into something more calm, caring and professional, “what, what is it, are you alright?”

“Was about to ask you that, what was all that about?”

“It is nothing, he was just following up on something.”

“Ah ha,” she said flatly, “Yevs, I’m not Alice, you don’t have to be delicate with me.”

“Really?”

“Recent events notwithstanding; … Yeva, are we in danger?”

“I … I do not know.”

“Is it Dmitri, I can make it look like an accident.”

“No, yes, I … the labs received a monthly stipend of oil from Novea Spei.”

“Yeah, I know, Cordelia told us.”

“Yes, but now certain people are asking why, and apparently someone tipped off Khan and Cordelia that oil has been stolen from the mortician’s stores – there is going to be an investigation.”

“They’re suspecting us.”

“They are keeping their suspicions broad.”

“Which is just a fancy way of telling us to lower our guard till they can close the trap.”

Yeva just sighed.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I, I have been scouting the area; we cannot hide the oil in our room any longer, as they will likely search them during the investigation, I will have to become creative with hiding our oil to avoid detection.”

“You’re going to be teleporting more often, aren’t you?”

“It will be fine.”

“Yevs–”

“End of discussion,” Yeva sighed, “I will handle it, please, Nori, just, just trust me?”

“… Fine, but I’m stepping in if I think things are going south.”

Yeva was right about the rooms being searched, unfortunately, neither of them anticipated Sarah coming in to look over their shoulders.

“Miss Sarah,” Miss Cordelia said, voice polite yet strained, as the three of them were coming into the mortician’s primary room, “to what do we own the intrusion.”

“Miss Cordelia,” Sarah said, in greeting, “I’m just implementing a new system; these scanners are to remain attached to each oil barrel, to keep track of the oil, going in and coming out – it should deter our thieves when they can’t just skim off the top, they also have an anti-tamper system, nifty right, Miss Cordelia.”

“Nifty,” the older woman said, highly unamused as Sarah was heading out, “by the way, Miss Sarah, Khan has Dmitri working with you, correct, did he approve this?”

The younger woman froze a moment before relaxing he posture, “it’s the logical course of action, the thieves want the oil from your storerooms, so make it inaccessible, right?”

“Right.”

Then the woman was out the door.

Cordelia took a breath, then very calmly stated, “one of these days I am going to toss that woman into the wastes and make it look like an accident.” Then she took another breath as she stepped forward before turning to her and Yeva, “please forget I said that.”

She blinked once, then said, “said what, did you hear anything Yevs?”

“Just that today is going to be a headache.”

A headache was a fairly apt assessment, the fortunate thing was that Sarah hadn’t thought to put a scanner on any of the buckets that they used – that and apparently, Cordelia was vindictive enough to let them leave the oil in the buckets for far longer than they usually did before transferring it to the oil barrels. That it wasn’t uncommon for parts to get mixed into the oil buckets meant that they were able to take from the buckets to refill their oil tins, without the levels becoming too suspicious. Still, they were informed that twice a week, their work be would be under observation on the chance that new eyes would notice something that the morticians hadn’t – that the observer was Dmitri was either a blessing or a curse, Nori still wasn’t sure which, but with the way Yeva was glaring at him, it might be closer to the latter.

Dmitri was Group A’s third, as such he was usually the one that was paired with Sarah – likely to temper the woman’s actions. At the moment, he was standing sentry at the door to the primary lab, watching them dismantle three drones for recycling – that he was able to keep such a stoic face in the sight of the macabre image, was truly impressive. Every so often he would circle the lab, looking over their shoulders or patrol the backroom – their oil storeroom. It was after the fifth circle that morning – on the third observation day – that even Cordelia was becoming annoyed.

“Dmitri Nikolai Fotograf,” the woman said, causing the man in question to freeze in his tracks, “with all due respect, young man, this job is difficult enough without you circling like a shark searching for a drop of blood.”

Though they hadn’t been speaking due to their guest, the silence of the room seemed to become stronger in Cordelia’s displeasure.

“Rather than continuing this fruitless endeavor, perhaps you might tell us what exactly, Sarah hopes to accomplish with all this.”

For a moment it appeared – from where Dmitri stood near Yeva, to the right of Cordelia – that he was about to recite a memorized script, before he sighed and moved back to lean against the wall at his standing place near the main door – crossing his arms.

“… All Sarah has – at the moment – is speculation; a monthly stipend of oil to Camp 98.7, two survivors from the same location that and I quote, ‘worked with the dead’, and now oil missing from the area of the factory that the survivors are currently working in.”

“And what pray tell, do you have.”

Here he hesitated, and she could see how Yeva’s eyes tracked his right hand as it hovered over one of his vest pockets before recrossing his arms.

He sighed again, “I have the knowledge that oil has been going missing since long before the implosion happened – I just presumed that drones were taking it for makeshift tirage stations considering the repair situation, pre-implosion – now however …”

“Now?”

“Now, … the near exact amount that has gone missing before has tripled,” he eyed Yeva for a moment, “now though, since the investigation started, that number has decreased to two and a quarter – if the buckets are anything to go by.”

“Just the buckets?”

“Yes.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He stayed silent and something in the air seemed to shift between them – and though their postures never changed, it like watching a matador staring down a bull.

The door burst open, as Khan entered snapping the tension that he noticed in an instant.

“Uh, is there an issue here,” he asked, eyes shifting between the room’s occupants.

“Just talking about Sarah,” Dmitri said rather calmly for what happed been occurring.

“Right,” Khan said, clearly only half believing the statement, “Miss Nori, can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Absolutely,” she said, already removing her work gloves – that she pulled over her lab gloves – and smock, rushing over to him, to pull him out of the room and several doors down the hall from the primary lab.

“So, what did you need me for,” she asked, grateful to have taken some extra oil that morning, as she could already feel her face heating up from being around the factory leader – though it did concern her that Yeva might not be dinking enough.

“I, uh, well … I was wondering?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, with the date being what it is, uh.”

“Yeah?”

“And being the leader I can’t really take that day off, I, I mean I could but, it wouldn’t really be fair, and uh – you see,” he took a breath, “Miss Nori, I know Sunday isn’t the actual date but, will, will you be my Valentine and go on a date with me this Sunday?”

“I … yes, YES, I, I would love to.”

“Great!” He’s so cute when he’s flustered, “so uh, Sunday is a recreation day and Becky was working with the others to organize a Valentine’s festival, to boost morale – so I thought, if you like, we could go together.”

“That sounds perfect; so, uh, Sunday?”

“Yeah, I can pick you up at five if you like?”

“I can do five.”

“Great, then I guess I’ll see you then?”

“Absolutely.”

By the time she had returned to the primary lab, Dmitri and Cordelia were both absent, Yeva, however, was doing lunchtime clean-up.

“Uh,” she started, the change briefly pausing her good mood, “so, uh, how did all that end?”

“… Mister Dmitri is expected in a meeting with Sarah’s investigation team.”

“And Miss Cordelia?”

“She is picking up lunch for us – you seem cheerful.”

“Khan just asked me out!”

“N–,” Yeva paused, before sighing and muttering to herself, “are you, … certain, that is a good idea?”

“I … I won’t deny that I’m nervous, I’ll probably need some extra oil before the date, but … I, I want this.”

Yeva’s eyes were searching for a few moments before she gave another sigh, “alright.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes; I, I do not know how our live will be, going forward, but I know that I want my sisters to be happy.”

She could feel the memories urging her to hold on to them; moving over to Yeva, she gave her a hug that was returned, “… we’ll get her back, and our nephew, I promise, Yevs.”

(~*~)

Before Khan came to pick her up for their date; Yeva had had her drink some extra oil along with a little gift.

“I talk with Miss Cordelia,” Yeva started, “I thought you might want to dress up.”

From under her bed, Yeva pulled out a small paper wrapped package.

“You do not have to wear it, but I thought you might like it.”

Accepting the gift, she opened it to find a black lace shawl covered in embroidered roses with a fastener so she could wear it like a hooded cape.

“Yevs, this, this is beautiful where –?”

“I used some of my work credits,” Yeva said, “they have a lot of delivers that never got to go out so, I thought.”

“It’s perfect, … thank you,” she threw it around her shoulders, fastening it with a dramatic touch as she pulled up the hood and struck a pose, “how do I look?”

Yeva laughed. “… Happy, you look happy; one more thing,” from beneath her pillow she brought out a silver flask that was fastened to a black leather woven string belt, “it’s filled with oil, in case you need a drink.”

The two items felt heavy to her, but regardless, she put on the belt and was relieved to find that the shawl covered the flask of drone life blood.

“Thank you.”

The festival itself was a relatively simple thing; Becky had had her team put up red, pink and white decorations, some from the human’s stores and some clearly handmade. The cafeteria itself had been divided into four categories; a movie area, a dance floor and two eating areas, one for couples and another for those who did not wish to participate. The couple’s area wasn’t open yet, but from the entrance to the room she could see several small tables set up with their own individual tents for privacy.

“The dining area is by reservation,” Khan said, “is by reservation, since they’re individualized.”

Speaking of her, incredibly handsome date, Khan had forgone his usual worker’s jacket for a white button down and dark gray vest.

“I already checked in with Becky, so I thought we could catch one of the movies they’re playing.”

“Sure, did she tell you what it was?”

Becky had interesting tastes, not bad ones, just interesting, the Factory apparently had a cinephile hobby archivist with a full collection dating back to the start of the film industry. The film currently playing, however, was relatively recent, maybe five years before the destruction of earth – give or take a few years. It was a French animated film – the film maker apparently based it on two drones he had had in his youth that he claims helped him survive his difficult childhood. The critics at the time had trashed the film for his over personification of the drones due to the fact that it was told from the drone couple’s perspective. It was fantastical in a way that suggested the escapist mindset of a child in a bad house, and the happy end while pleasant, had a wish fulfillment aspect to it; but it was a nice dream.

“So, what did you think,” Khan asked once the movie had ended as the couple around them were beginning to get up.

“I think I might need to ask Becky for her movie playlist, think the guy made any other films?”

“I don’t think she’d mind if we ask, are you okay though, you looked like you were about to cry.”

Truth was, though it was animated, seeing Earth again – the memories were going to give her a headache before they all came back, a headache and a heartache.

“Yeah, guess I’m more of a sap than I thought – I mean, the ending didn’t even make any sense.”

“I think the ending was supposed to be artsy,” he said with a laugh, “makes me wonder what actually happened.”

At the end of the movie, the male drone, weeping over his wife’s meager grave, is struck by a vision of a deer wearing a crown of flowers that his wife apparently became, and he follows her into the forest, joining her in deer hood while the boy who was now a man remained at the grave in witness.

She had a feeling that the actual ending was far sadder than either of them wanted to consider, still, she humored him, “I bet, they grew wings and flew off to a secret drone kingdom where they reined as King and Queen for ten centuries.”

Khan laughed, and she thinks she’d fall in love all over again, every time she heard it, “aw, just ten – I don’t know I think they could probably go for longer.”

“No comment about the wings?”

“Hm, drones with wings, no that seems accurate.”

Despite her promise to Yeva, she would be lying if she said she was jealous that the Russian got to use her powers – even if the reason wasn’t the greatest.

The Festival Team was an efficient bunch as they guided the drone couples coming out of the movie area to the dining area’s individual seating tents. Each table had a tent made of an orange gold curtain, and a small light at the center, giving the place an intimate feel. There were brief menus at each table and once they gave their order, they were left alone.

“So, Miss Nori, I know this is a strange question but, do I look familiar, at all?”

“If you do, I wouldn’t be able to tell you;” she paused a moment as she debated how much to tell him, “I … the fix Yeva gave me is specifically for my memories – whatever happened during the implosion, messed up my head – I’m supposed to get everything back by the end of the year, but for now …”

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?”

“Not really, Yevs just said I need to avoid getting seriously injured before then – though I guess you can tell me why you asked that question?”

“Well, back at the camp, when I first saw you, I had two thoughts, and one of them was that you looked familiar.”

“And the other?”

“That you’re the most beautiful drone I’ve ever seen.”

As dinner went on, she learned a few things about the factory leader; he was a pill-born, the middle of three – he and his younger sister were sold to a facility when they were three. At the facility, due to a mix up, a pair of twins helped Khan and his sister to convince the humans that they were twins, which increased their chances of staying alive. His sister, unfortunately, died of injury and purposeful neglect, a few years into their work at Novea Spei – it was one of the reasons why he was so dedicated to ensuring the best of the best when it can to work safety.

After dinner, they found that the movie area had been turned into a rest place, and as they moved to the outer rim of the dance floor, the Festival Team got to work transforming the dining area into a refreshment station – the music starting low.

“Becky doesn’t miss a beat, does she,” she commented.

“Personally, I’m just hoping she remembered to take a breather.”

“Well, someone’s reminding her,” she continued as she pointed out Waylon on the other side of the dance floor, approaching the event planner with what had to be a clothe rose, “huh, I guess he is a softy.”

“Well now I feel out shone.”

She laughed, taking his hand as the music was kicking up, “then how about you show me your moves.”

The oil in her veins was thrumming, her heart singing as she danced with the factory leader – every swing, hop, slide and spin in sync in a way she never thought possible as he matched her every step. His hand in hers, his arm around her waist, their forms weaving around each other, the music carrying them into the night. She doesn’t know how long they danced before taking advantage of the rest area, laughter keeping them on cloud nine.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” her date said, over the music, “any request?”

“Just coolant for me.”

“Coming right up!”

Speaking of cooling, she could feel herself getting warm, there was likely no danger, but she still took out the flask of oil that Yeva had given her, choosing to nurse it for now.

“Battery acid,” a flat voice asked.

Looking to the right, she found Waylon – in a suit – seated nearby, his own flask in hand.

“Medicine.”

“Hm, same.”

“Don’t like parties?”

“… I’m a core born – facility raised; my parents often visited the Elliots.”

She winced, even through her memory fog, she knew who the Elliots were, if those were the memories he was raised on, she could only imagine the horrors he must have seen.

“And Becky?”

“Said I didn’t have to come,” yet here he was.

“Waylon,” Khan greeted as he came back with two cups of coolant.

“Mr. Dorn.”

“Go easy on the battery acid – at least for you kids tomorrow.”

He simply took another swig from the flask before heading off.

“Dorn,” she asked as she accepted the cup of coolant.

“The humans here, didn’t always let us choose our names – Dorn is what they picked out for me when I became the head of Group B, what do you think?”

She contemplated the name as she took a sip of her drink, “I, it’s like it almost right, just missing a few letters.”

“A few letters, huh – well when you figure out those letters, can you tell me?”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

There was the sound of a microphone coming on, then, “GOOD EVENING, NOVAE SPEI, IS EVERYONE HAVING A GOOD TIME?”

Becky’s words were met with cheers.

“Well, while I would love to let this go on till daylight, it’s nearly time to wrap this up, as such, we’ve got one more song before we turn in for the night.”

At her words, a gentle slow song came on, the stage lights in the cafeteria shifting.

“May I have this dance,” Khan asked, and in the stage lights, among the gentle glow of the surrounding tea lights and the shine coming off of the metallic decorations – she felt as though he was bliss personified.

She must have nodded as her hand found its way into his, his hand holding hers gently, securely, like if she were to fall now, he would keep her standing. On the dance floor, he was closer than he had been all night, as he held her, she swore she could count the pixels of his visor. Her face felt warm, but there was no place she’d rather be.

As the party came to a close, she could still feel a buzzing in her oil veins and Khan suggested taking a walk around the factory, their steps eventually taking them to the edge of a closed off work area.

“What’s this,” she asked.

“This is the entrance to the tunnel that will take us all the way to the bunker outpost that the human’s had planned – this factory is part live in, so lots of families would travel from the outpost to here, the tunnel was supposed to make that easier.”

“How stable is it, right now.”

“Fairly so, but we’re going slow and steady, it should be completed by May or June, considering it’s already dug, just needs to be widened and stabilized; humans tended to be more careful with this stuff when it comes to people who could actually sue for not preventing an unsafe environment.”

“So not as many worries as the rest of the factory.”

“We are making good time of the safety measures though.”

“I’ve noticed,” she had to admit, he had a good work ethic, that combined with how he looked out for the factory drones, it really was no wonder that they had placed him as leader.

She was hesitant, but for Yeva, she needed to ask, “Khan?”

“Yes.”

“I …,” she switched gears, “how long did it take you to get to the camp?”

“Huh, well, the implosion happened just a bit after midnight on the twenty-eighth of Seramorris, so about two weeks; we were concerned about the after tremors, so we were monitoring the area from a distance till we got the signal that it was safe enough to go in without the ground falling out beneath us, add to the fact that it’s a whole day’s journey to get there.”

There was a shameful sort of embarrassment on his face.

“Truth be told, I wanted to go in as soon as possible, because I was concerned about survivors,” he took her hand, “I’m glad that you and your sister are alright, I’m just sad that it took us so long to get to you.”

“Khan, I,” she took a breath, “remember when I told you about this collar?”

“You said it was important.”

“It is, so important, that, Yeva and I, we, we need to go back.”

“Go back, why?”

“I promise, it’s for a good reason, I just, Yeva’s memories are better than mine and, there’s something important that we need to get.”

She couldn’t read the look on his face but eventually, he sighed, “please don’t see this as an excuse, but, right now, I need to focus on the factory; these drones, they’re counting on me to lead them, here.”

“That’s okay, really, but maybe in the future?”

“I think I can work with that, though, truth be told, I’m more concerned with the–”

As she hit the ground, she could feel the world shaking, the alarms blaring, as a voice came over the loudspeakers, “AFTERSHOCK, EVERYONE TO THE NEAREST SHELTER, IF YOU ARE NEAR A CHILD, INJURED, OR DISABLED, THEN BRING THEM WITH YOU!”

“We need to go,” Khan said, bringing her to her feat as he rushed off with her to the closes shelter.

The area they were in was devoid of drone activity, a blessing except for the fact that the only safe area was a construction zone, leaving them far away from the necessary shelter. She could feel her internal gyroscope working overtime to stabilize her as the halls shook. Each twist and turn, as the world fell apart around them, made the corridor stretch on forever. Safety was still too far away – Khan yanking on her hand to pull her out of the way of falling debris – and the realization hit her of what she had to do. Internally she gave Yeva a silent apology as she brought Khan to a stop.

“Nori, we need to keep–” his voice cut off as her wings deployed, his eyes going hollow as she approached him.

“Nori,” his voice was like a whisper.

“We’ll be alright.”

Then she hugged him close, her tail wrapping around them both to keep him secure. With her right hand she brought forth a Solver shield and braced herself against it; then with a breath, she launched herself forward, her wings working double time to get them back to the common area as she dodged falling debris – the shaking of the halls becoming an issue of the past as she stalwartly refused to look down to see Khan’s expression.

It still took far to long but eventually as they came to the entrance of the common area, she tucked in her wings and tail for landing – only holding on to Khan for long enough to make sure he didn’t fall over.

“I,” he was starring at her as another tremor hit, “Khan, I …”

She couldn’t read his expression.

“Khan, Nori,” came the twin shouts, of Cordelia and Ronathan.

“Khan,” Ronathan said, “the central tower complex, the human’s blueprints were wrong, it’s collapsing.”

His eyes were wild as he refocused on Ronathan’s words, “is anyone there?”

“The night team,” Cordelia said, “they said they found oil in the area, and wanted to check without the foot traffic – Dmitri’s headed for the power center, the quakes are overloading the systems.”

“Cordi, gather Group C and D to go help the night team – Waylon, A and B for the working areas, cover Dmitri; I’ll take the rest to handle the civilians and surroundings.”

Just as she was about to rush off Ronathan Waylon stopped him, “you’ll need this.”

Taking the communicator in hand, Khan rushed off, Ronathan doing the same.

“Nori,” Cordelia asked, “are you alright?”

Distantly she could see her face in the reflection of Cordelia’s visor, she could see the symbol of the Solver as it flickered on and off, and yet, the older woman didn’t react beyond give her a hug.

“Give him a chance ma chérie, adrenaline is a wicked drug, so you must show him that nothing has changed.”

“What do I do?”

“You help, you repair, and you defend.”

“… Okay.”

Taking her hand, the older woman pulled her along as they rushed into the disaster area. There was smoke and fire, as by some miracle, the tower that was the central complex was still standing – standing but crumbling from the quakes revealing the years of structural neglect the humans had left behind.

Observing the area, Cordelia shouted over the crowd, to a female drone with white eyes, dark brown hair and a cowgirl hat, “Jo, get your team to the upper levels with hooks, security lines, and pullies, we need to hang the tower – C take the area.”

Immediately, Group C moved to support where D had been, as Jo’s team collected their tools and began climbing the walls to use the rest of the factory to fly the tower.

“Nori, you are with me,” taking out two bandannas, Cordelia handed her one; “it is dark, dusty and far larger than it has any right to be for such a small entrance – so cover up or you will be choking on dust, now follow.”

Imitating the older woman, she wrapped the bandana around her face, covering her mouth, and followed her into the tower. The place was just as she said as Cordelia gave one last note before splitting off, “you can only bring them out one at a time, do what you can.”

The only light came from the door, but even that, became dim the further in she went, distantly between the coughs and calls for help, she heard a familiar sound, but as she looked around, she could find no trace of Yeva’s red, instead, she saw orange.

Cordelia’s words echoed – fine, she knew what to do.

Bringing out her tail, she used it to light the area – only two feet before her but it would have to do. Somehow, the inside of the tower was worse than the outside as she made her way through, calling out and listening, for survivors.

“Hello” a voice called out, “please, is anyone there!”

The drones she found looked like they had tried to protect each other. Their screens were cracked – covered in dust and oil –, some had crushed arms, legs, or some combination of the two. There were ten total.

“I’m here, my name is Nori, I’m going to get you out of here.”

So far as she could tell, their systems would likely have to undergo a full internal repair or reboot, however, their current visual and sensory blindness would be to her advantage. With the Solver she removed the rest of the debris from around them. Using edit, she repaired their limbs and screens to the extent that they could move with her – to the extent that their injuries were still believable while keeping herself from suspicion. Once they were standing, supporting each other, she led them out using the Solver to keep them safe from the collapsing complex.

It took three more trips before – as she came with the last group, her Solver form hidden – she could hear Cordelia calling before she could go back in.

“Nori, wait, that’s the last of the Night team.”

“Shouldn’t we try to stabilize–”

Just as she said those words, the last of the major aftershocks that would happen in the time since the implosion – shook the lower half of the tower free from the top. Through the dust, she felt something like a spider’s claw grab her, and when the dust had cleared, Cordelia was shielding her. Her oil was thrumming in her veins, her heart beating faster than she could ever recall. Looking around, everyone seemed alright till.

“KALI,” Ron’s voice came like a dying scream.

She could see him rushing into the area, what had to have been baby Thaddeus in his arms, Khan and Bianca – a black-haired drone with blue eyes like ice – rushing up behind him. He was running to the tower as Khan and the drone medic attempted to keep him back from the volatile area. Distantly she noted Groups A and B coming in led by Ronathan, with Dmitri and Yeva along with them, looking disheveled.

“LET ME GO,” he screamed as he fought more drones coming forward to hold him back as Jo had yet to give the signal to Group D to lower the top half of the tower.

Cordelia gave a gasp, her hand catching it, “oh … no.”

She looked to the older woman, before turning her gaze in the direction of the half collapsed complex, her eyes going hollow. Just beyond the dust she could make out the sight of a drone head, the body crushed, her arms starched upwards like broken wing as her hands held tight to half collapsed chains that appeared to thread the tower – thread it like it had been the only thing keeping it stable.

“KALI,” came one last scream as Ron fell to his knees, Thaddeus held tight as he wept.

Steeling herself, Cordelia called out to her team. “Group C, Group D” she took a breath, “we, we need to lower the rest of the tower, left side, so we can retrieve the body.”

Before going to direct the others, Cordelia turned to her, “go to your sister, dear; we have it from here.”

She gave a stiff nod, and with a singular backwards glance, she moved over to Yeva.

Her sister looked tired but nothing that some oil, and a good night’s rest, wouldn’t fix; though truth be told, she could see just the barest speck of oil at the corner of her lips. Ronathan had moved to help his wife and Jo, as Dmitri left Yeva’s side to help Ron.

“We should go,” Yeva said, the night had become somber.

She nodded but before they could return to their room, they heard an alert.

“No, no, no,” Ron sounded desperate, “please, not you too.”

“Bianca,” Khan said, “can you do anything.”

“This is an unrecorded virus,” she said, “it has been plaguing the nursery for some time now, Ivan and I have tried to find a cure, but it would move from pill to pill before we could corner it.”

“Well, it is just Thad now,” Dmitri said, “can you help him?”

“Nori–” Yeva started.

“The scanner’s gonna break,” she said, she felt like she was dreaming, yet the world had a clarity to it.

��What,” Yeva asked.

“Their machines won’t work,” she turned to her sister, “Alice should be here.”

Yeva’s breath caught, “Nori, … what do you know?”

“I think we brought the virus; I think I brought the virus.”

“Do you still have it,” Yeva’s right hand was holding her’s, her left was on her face.

“No, … he does,” she said turning to where Bianca was doing everything, she could to keep Thad online.

“Can you help him,” Yeva asked.

“Alice should have been here,” was all she said as she moved forward to the frantic group.

“It is overloading everything,” Bianca said.

“What about the nursery, or the medical office,” Dmitri asked.

“They’re both blocked off,” Khan said, “it would take to long.”

“Ron,” she called to them.

They must not have heard her come over from the startled looks on their faces.

“I can help, I, I’ve seen this virus, I can contain it, please.”

She can only assume it was their desperation, but they gave Thad over to her.

Kneeling down, her shawl enshrouded her and the pill as she gestured for them to pass her the medical kit; reaching in she took a charging wire and connected her core to the drone babe.

Yes, she knew this virus; it was like a honey virus but in this case the gold was Cyn. She had no doubt this was one last bit of revenge that would have revealed itself had she had a child of her own. As she wasn’t Thad’s mother, she would be unable to remove it properly but as a Solver, as one who used to work closely with Cyn, she could contain the virus withing the pill, to keep it from escaping and keep it from harming the boy that had just become an orphan.

It was sometime before they heard Thad cooing, before he gave a yawn and settled down to rest for the night.

She unplugged herself – hiding the fact that the charging cord could no longer be unplugged from her core – and handed the pill baby back to Ron.

“I can’t remove it, and it can’t run anymore, but it shouldn’t be able to hurt him.”

“Contained is enough,” Bianca said, “thank you, we will take it from here.”

She could hear Ron muttering ‘thank you’s as he held Thad close, rocking the pill baby.

(~*~)

That night passed quietly, as did the next day and the rest of the week. Cordelia had taken one of the private rooms to take care of Kali’s body and prepare her box for the funeral – the funeral, itself was held a week later on Sunday the twentieth. It was a quiet affair, everyone in the factory who had known John Mathews and been in attendance to pay their last respects to the only drone who could ever keep up with him. Though she hadn’t thought it would have been appropriate, Ron had asked her and Yeva to be in attendance – something she suspected that was due to her saving Thad

As for the pill, though the baby had yet to be properly adopted by anyone, Ron had taken to carrying the kid around, either in arm or by using a wrap. The man was even taking his mealtimes in the nursery so he could be with the baby. This continued for some time after till she caught sight of Cordelia and Ronathan sitting down with the drone man, two personal affects boxes at their side – boxes that belong to Thad’s parents.

It was the last day of February – Monday the twenty-eighth – when Khan came to the mortician’s primary room where she was working with Yeva and Cordelia – Dmitri supervising, yet the man appeared far more relaxed then when he was first given the post.

“Miss Nori,” Khan started, “may speak with you.”

“Uh, sure?”

He was waiting for her outside the workroom door, by the time she had removed her work smock and gloves.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he started, “I uh, … Cordi told me about how you helped her rescue the Night team, so thank you, for that and for saving Thad.”

“No problem, … I just wish I could’ve saved Kali, how’s Ron doing anyway?”

“He’s surviving, Ronathan and Cordelia are helping him and Thad, I … Kali was a factory print, she and Ron were made the same day from the same machine.”

“A factory print, with green eyes?”

“Ha, yeah, Ron knows the whole story, but apparently the machine broke down with her inside; a human repaired her, brought her online.”

“And that give a factory print green eyes?”

“I guess.” He was quiet for a moment, and she could see what he wanted to ask. “I, … Nori, … what … you did, … does it have to do with the camp?”

“… Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Now what,” she asked.

“Now, there’s probably a million things I should do.”

“And what will you do?”

“Publicly, I’m going to ensure that a valuable member of our work force is given everything she and her sister needs; privately, I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind a second date.”

“Really, even after,” she made a small gesture, miming her wings.

Khan looked bashful, “if I’m honest, they’re kind of cute.”

She could feel her face heating up, “uh so a date?”

“Yeah, maybe this Friday?”

“Friday works.”

“Great, see you then?”

“Yeah.”

Their second date was a small picnic that Khan had set up on the staff lounge that the humans once used. It was quieter, simpler, but she wouldn’t have given it up for anything. After that they scheduled their next date for two Fridays later. Though, earlier in the week leading to the date, she had found a small package of expertly crafted handmade candies batteries set on her worktable with a small note that said, ‘Happy White day, with love’ – she must have been insufferable that week as she waited for the night of her third date with Khan – not that the two of them didn’t hangout even during their off time.

Though it seemed she wasn’t the only one, as when she went to grab some supplies from the closet a few doors down from the primary room, she opened the door to find Yeva and Dmitri, locking lips. She had to stick around Cordelia for protection after making a joke to Yeva about Dmitri giving the Russian the perfect birthday present.

As time passed, Ron eventually adopted Thad on the second Friday of April. She and Khan, meanwhile, continued their dates, at the end of every other week, with Yeva pointblank rejecting the notion of a double date – though she knew the Russian was meeting with Dmitri for her own dates. Eventually, between Khan, Dmitri and Cordelia, they were finally able to get Sarah to drop the oil investigating while agreeing, that she and Yeva needed to meet with Ivan and Bianca – Doctor Patient confidentiality assured. With their backing, she and Yeva were able to get the necessary stipend of oil, with the rest of the factory being none the wiser.

“So, you can smell the difference,” Khan asked while they were on their fifth Friday date.

“Difference, health, the works.”

“Did you have a favorite?”

If Bianca, Ivan, and Yeva noticed that she didn’t need as much oil for breakfast, they didn’t say a word – unrelated, Khan had Becky handle the Saturday morning announcements, due to a “hangover”. Also unrelated, the massive side eye Bianca gave Yeva when Dmitri came in the week before, due to his own, “hangover”.

(~*~)

It was funny, both she and Yeva claimed that they weren’t superstitious but when Khan asked for her hand in marriage all she could think was that it needed to be a June wedding. Dmitri had also recently asked Yeva to marry him – their wedding was scheduled for May twenty-sixth.

“So, why that day,” she had asked her sister as they browsed the clothing that hadn’t been delivered for proper wedding attire.

“The tunnel to the bunker was completed last week along with any necessary repairs that were made to the Outpost,” Yeva started as she considered a rather plain looking wedding dress, before switching her gaze to something more traditional, “and the heads have been in rotation preparing the place for proper living arrangements.”

“Yeah, and?”

Khan had already told her this, Outpost 3 was like a small city or a large village due to its size – he had already posted a map of the place and sign ups so people could figure out which living arrangements would be best.

“Khan said that they are ‘cutting the ribbon’ on May twenty-seven, but that any married couples and families could move in the night before.”

Meaning Yeva and Dmitri get married on Thursday and move into their new home right after the wedding celebration. She could respect that, it’s not like the wedding day she chose was any better, but it wasn’t her fault that June first fell in the middle of the week.

In the days leading up to the weddings, Becky was a massive aid, but at times she kind of wanted the woman to take a breather. That was the thing with drone women who were with code, they tended to get a massive burst of energy in the time leading up to the due date – they also tended to crash harder when they finally did rest, not that that seemed to matter to the woman. Her husband was another matter, as despite his expression never changing from its neutral look, he was clearly doing his best to get his wife to rest. When she asked the woman why they were putting so much effort into everything, was when Becky finally seemed to pause.

“Okay, so admittedly, this might be a bit of wish fulfillment on my part,” Beck started, “I don’t regret getting married the way I did, and I’m happy that my little girl will be arriving soon, but I do kind of wish I had waited to have a proper ceremony.”

The woman took a breath.

“Then there’s the other thing,” Becky paused a moment as she considered her words, “we are our own people now, but with that comes the fact that we have to measure our own checks; except for Khan, all our head are dead, but we still have all our seconds and thirds – I don’t know if he already told you this, but it was due to an internal struggle that Group B was almost completely scrapped.”

Becky let out a mirthless chuckle before continuing.

“Khan and I, we were going to be linked then made to created two dozen pills before we were sent to our deaths, as for my husband – Super Suppressors aren’t allowed to reproduce – since he was in Group B, they were going to perform an exploratory dissection.”

Her gaze looked haunted.

“Ron said Aimes – that’s the human who saved Kali way back then – he said that Aimes was trying to save us; I don’t know if he would have succeeded, but after the implosion I was so happy to be alive, that Waylon was alive, and well, one thing lead to another, but I don’t regret it, I don’t think I ever could.”

The unborn code in her core seemed to recognize her mother’s gentle joy.

“Khan was our only head left,” she continued after a moment, “but standard protocol means that the seconds become heads and the thirds, seconds while a new third is chosen after an evaluation; so, you can imagine who challenged him for control of the colony at the first available moment considering that he was the head of Group B.”

She could imagine, though Khan had been able to put the oil investigation to a satisfactory rest, Sarah was still a constant thorn as she attempted to subtly undermine the Factory Leader’s authority.

“Maybe it’s petty,” Becky continued, “but I’m hoping that with the effort we’re putting into these weddings, that it’ll reenforce the authoritorial hierarchy – that it will say, the colony has spoken, this is our leader, this is how we want things; this is good, and it need not change.”

So, funnily enough, it didn’t hit her that she was becoming the wife of the Colony leader – and by proper standard, co-leader – till early morning of Yeva’s wedding.

They were currently in the medical wing due to the fact that Becky and Waylon’s little girl apparently wanted to be physically present at Yeva’s wedding.

“I don’t think I can do this Yevs,” she said, doing her best to keep down her breakfast oil.

Yeva just raised a brow at her.

“Don’t give me that look, that last time I was a leader, was in a cult; I can’t lead these drones!”

“Fascinating,” Yeva said, “do I need to bring out another tin of Khan’s oil?”

“That was a dirty trick, and you know it; besides not mauling someone isn’t the same as not leading people down the wrong path.”

“Really, so you know everything that should not be done, retrospect truly is twenty-twenty.”

She didn’t really have a response to that.

“You will be fine Nori, besides, as your husband, Khan is meant to cover your faults and reenforce your strengths just as you will do for him – you will soon be his co-leader meaning the two of you will stand together; what’s more, you will have the seconds, thirds and co’s standing with you – Cyn and Emmet isolated you, but you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Yeva’s words echoed through her head for the rest of the day as Elizabeth Borden Fishers was transferred into her pill body; the girl’s pink eyes having inherited her father’s bored look but with a touch of attitude that was all her mother’s. The Echo of Yeva’s words continued as they prepared for the wedding, through out the ceremony, and on to the after party as she gave her Maid of Honor speech – Khan having been the Best Man.

As they danced, Khan holding her close, she found that while she was still nervous, it didn’t seem so daunting. Yeva and Dmitri left the party at nine with Becky promising to get their wedding gifts delivered to them the next day an hour after lunch. As the party was closing for the night – an hour after the newlyweds had left – Khan had asked her while they worked on clean up, if she was heading back to her room after; she told him that Cordelia and Ronathan had invited her to stay over at their new apartment in the Outpost till her own wedding.

Ronathan and Cordelia Waylon’s apartment was small yet spacious, the perfect home for people who would likely invite their grandchildren over. On the first of June, the day of her own wedding, she could feel the nerves returning, and apparently Cordelia had noticed.

“Deep breaths, Nori,” Cordelia started as she brought out the wedding dress, it was simple, traditional, something she imagines her oldest code sister would have chosen, were she allowed – it was why she picked it. She was already wearing her redesigned, redecorated collar.

“Cordi, were you nervous on your wedding day?”

That question brought the older woman to a pause.

“Nathan and I knew each other for many years before we were wed, we had petitioned our masters to allow it, we figured, they were rich and seemed – at the time – the type to keep their pills; so while I was nervous, it wasn’t for the same reason I imagine you are.”

“Cordi … do I seem like I could be a good leader?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

She nodded.

“No, right now, you look scared that one wrong move will bring the end of Copper 9, however, if you were to ask me if I think you will eventually be a good leader, then the answer is yes; one day you will wake up and lead as easily as you breath, and you won’t know when it started, but that won’t matter.”

She held on to those words as she went through the pre-wedding medical checks – in the Outpost’s new medical center – to ensure that her program would be able to accept the marriage link, then a thought occurred to her just as Bianca gave her the ‘all clear’.

“Hey, Doc,” she stared.

“Yes, Miss Nori,” Bianca asked.

“I know the doctor patient confidentiality is important but I gotta ask, did Yeva ask if she would be able to have a core born?”

“… You want to be a mother?”

“I … it’s never really been on the books for me, and now with the whole oil thing …”

“If you like, I can do an examination of your core.”

She hesitated before giving a nod, leaning back in the examination chair as Bianca plugged the computer line into her core and brought out her scanner.

Yeva had told her that their little sister was now a mother – that their nephew was a pill born – but that made her curious. Drone Law states that a married drone couple had to produce a pill before they were allowed to have a core born. You would think that law was in place for some reason like, it was the only way to start the ability to reproduce but the answer was actually much simpler. If a drone woman was with code, she couldn’t aid in the production of a pill born till after the code in her core was transferred into its own body. Naturally, this disgruntled J.C. Jenson – anything that slowed the production of new servants, disgruntled them – but considering they couldn’t find any way to tamper with the drone systems to get passed this piece of program script, they instead implemented a new drone law.

But now the humans were gone, and there was no one who could force her to be a servant baby factory; whatever child she had would be hers to love and care for, and no one would be able to take away her parental admin.

After Bianca had given her the ‘all clear’, she met with Yeva, Becky and baby Elizabeth back at Cordelia and Waylon’s apartment.

“How are you doing Nori,” Becky asked, “Cordi said you were nervous.”

“Just jitters, I guess,” she said as she took a seat on the bed she had been using in the guest room, “hey, Yevs, how’s the married life?”

“It is, nice …,” Yeva shook her head, appearing lost in thought. When she spoke again it was to the whole room, “forgive me, I, I left my parents when I was thirteen; we were the only three drones in our household – our masters were pleasant, and my parents had a good standing with them – I suppose it has only now occurred to me how different my life would have been if I hadn’t left.”

And she could understand that; what would have happened if she, Yeva or Alice hadn’t volunteered? In truth, she didn’t want to consider it … she didn’t want to consider it.

In that moment it was like a light finally turned on in her mind. For all the hardships, for all her terrible choices … she didn’t want a different life. Yes, she wishes she hadn’t listened to Cyn and Emmet – that was one regret she would carry for a long time – but the choice of volunteering for the labs, of getting to meet her sisters, of being here, at Novae Spei, at Outpost 3; this is where she wanted to be.

For as daunting as the future seemed, there was no place she’d rather be as she walked down the aisle, her eyes never leaving Khan’s for a second even as they sat in the chairs whose shackles had been removed – no longer would they be a sign of drones chained to one another, now they would be a sign of a willing and loving union.

Ivan was officiating the ceremony as the head most doctor of the colony, considering what the process of linking two drones in marriage, called for.

 “Dearly beloved of the Colony of Outpost three,” Ivan began, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Khan Dorn and Nori Fever.”

She kind of hated the fact that the chairs were faced towards the crowd, but she kept her eyes on Khan – his smile doing wonders to calm her racing heart as she finally tuned back in to Ivan’s speech about love, choice and the freedom to be people and not chattel.

“Now seeing as there are no objections,” Ivan continued, “Mister Khan, do you take this young woman to be your wife, to love and honor, to respect and aid, to guide and accept guidance from, to guard and care for, to work with her, in sickness and health, through everything your lives may hold, till your code ceases to be.”

“I do.”

“And Miss Nori, do you take this young man to be your husband to love and honor, to respect and aid, to guide and accept guidance from, to guard and care for, to work with him, in sickness and health, through everything your lives may hold, till your code ceases to be.”

“I do.”

“Khan,” Ivan said, “if you will.”

“Nori, I know you might not remember, but on our first date, when I told you that you looked familiar it was for a reason – and I did double check my memory – I was ten when I visited an embassy where I attended a tea ceremony being done by a young drone girl; a drone girl that I now know was you.”

Her breath caught another memory slid into place.

“I thought of that day for many years, never thinking I would see her again, then, at the camp, when I saw you, it was like the memory was only yesterday – and when I pulled you from the snow, our hands sparked; I believe I fell in love with you that day, and every day since, it has only grown and there is nothing more I’d rather do then to continue to grow this love with you.”

“Nori,” Ivan prompted.

“… Khan,” she gave a huffed laugh, “– you kind of derailed me here – my memories aren’t the best, but around you, they seem to come back faster, you give me an ease that I haven’t felt in a long time, a sense of safety, of purpose – I see you and how you care for everyone and I want to work alongside you, I want to be your support.”

She took a breath, “many of my memories are unpleasant, but I remember the tea ceremony, I remember the little drone boy who made me laugh when your handler’s phone kept interrupting, and in the time I’ve known you since the camp, I’ve found that I want to keep making memories with you.”

Then Ivan spoke, turning to Bianca, “wires please.”

Bianca moved a small computer cart, just behind and between the two chairs, the screen facing away from the crowd and towards Ivan. From the computer came a ‘Y’ cord with the tail already plug in – the two heads were handed off, one to her and one to Khan; these, in essence, would be their rings.

“Mister Khan, please repeat after me; Nori, with this cord, I wed thee.”

“Nori, with this cord, I wed thee,” and as though he were handling porcelain, Khan gently plugged the cord into the back of her head.

“Miss Nori, please repeat after me; Khan, with this cord, I wed thee.”

“Khan, with this cord, I wed thee,” and as carefully as she could, she plugged the wire into the back of Khan’s head.

“Now,” Ivan said, “if you’ll both lean back in your chairs.”

In her mind she could see the broken parental link that she once held with her parents, she could see the sister link she still held with Yeva and the one she once held with Alice; now she could see a new link coming into existence as her marriage link with Khan, settled in like it was always meant to be.

It was a few moments more till Ivan spoke again, “and now to the witnesses present, I now present, Mr. and Mrs. Dorn – you may now kiss the bride.”

If the Crucifix Patch gave her, her freedom, then this kiss had to be life. Whatever her future held, she wasn’t afraid anymore – she would handle the past as it came, but this was her life, and she would give it her all.

The celebration afterwards would never be able to match the joy in her heart and in the week after – her honeymoon – she couldn’t recall a memory where she ever felt more loved.

She came back to work, the Wednesday after her wedding, her heart still singing. She like most family people, had taken her breakfast in her apartment – and wasn’t that a novel thought. She and Khan had chosen the place together – it wasn’t too far from Yeva, Becky, Cordelia and Ron’s respective homes, but the only other place that was an untaken apartment across the hall. It was secluded without being isolated a detail she enjoyed as she and Khan met up with the others as they were emerging from their homes to travel to the factory. There were plans to move some of the less factory-oriented jobs over to the outpost, but that would come in time.

The tunnel had two primary modes of transportation, the walkways on either side of the tunnel and the two-way center road with train carts that would roll along tracks to transport drones to and from the Outpost and the factory – on the hour. As this was the morning shift, both cart trains were already beginning to fill up as they all took their seats.

“So,” Becky started, as Elizabeth went back to sleep in the pink baby sling her mother was wearing, “how’s the married life?”

“It’s nice.”

“Just nice,” Yeva asked with a slight glance at her core.

When a drone is a core born, they don’t always, immediately, show in their mother’s core; case en point, she and Khan had only noticed the fluctuations in her core, during today’s breakfast.

“You’re with code,” Becky said just barely managing to keep her voice low.

She just nodded; it was a little overwhelming – she could see tears in Cordelia’s eyes.

“Cordi?”

The older woman gathered herself before speaking, “hold them close Nori, and never let them go; alright?”

And in that moment, Cordelia’s words from the day of her wedding hit her hard.

“I will,” what else could she say to a woman who had her own children taken away.

It was a week later that Yeva revealed that she was also with code; her reason for not speaking sooner being that while her core was showing fluctuations, they were slow and far apart. While she would have liked to have said something sooner, she had wanted to wait for the fluctuations to be stronger.

Time passed in an easy way as she slowly took to her second job as Khan’s co-leader. She still worked in the Mortician’s Hall, but now it was second to helping her husband in ensuring the colony and the factory was running smoothly along with keeping good relations with the other outposts. Towards the end of the month – June thirtieth – they celebrated her birthday. Her memories were coming back a little quicker, but the blanks between and the blurry details were still a matter to deal with. Many times, over Ivan and Bianca had offered to help, but there was something in her that said that for all the horrors the two had likely seen at Novae Spei, that they didn’t deserve to have to bear witness to the horrors of the labs.

Five months went by in a blink, when on October twenty-ninth – a Saturday –, not long from daybreak, she and Khan had to rush to medical, where Yeva’s core was already hooked up to a newly printed pill shell. Ivan and Bianca, taking notice of her own reason for being there, split their duties – Ivan remaining with Yeva and Dmitri while Bianca directed her to her own medical chair the begin the process of transferring her little girl into her own preprepared, newly printed pill shell.

Doll Fotograf was officially born, half an hour before sunrise – Uzi, however, was dying.

With Doll firmly in her shell, Ivan worked with Bianca to stabilize the UNN code.

Sometimes during the transfer between core and pill, there are complications. Sometimes the code is too weak, lacking the proper infrastructure to live outside their mother’s core. Sometimes, as prepared as the shell is to welcome the UNN, there might still be an incompatibility. And sometimes, there’s just something in the child’s code that won’t let them live, something that might not be discovered until it’s too late.

The world didn’t seem real anymore; her heart had stopped, her oil had run dry – the world was going dark.

Her left hand!

Looking to her left, there was Khan. His eyes were hollow, but the set of them … he hadn’t given up. She could feel how tightly he held her hand in both of his. She took a breath and finally heard what the doctors were trying to tell her.

“Nori,” Bianca said, “you need to go inside your programming, talk to her.”

She didn’t say a word as she nodded, Ivan approaching with a ‘Y’ cord with a box at its center. Drones could access their own programming vary easily – links, like the one she held with Khan, like the one they both held with their unborn daughter, was a way they could communicate with each other. The Communication cord would be hooked up between them and her core to allow for a deeper connection.

Khan sat down on a cupped back stool they brought for him to sit next to her. It would be like they were asleep as they fought for their daughter’s life.

Her eyes closed and opened once more in a world that she knew was the brightened void.

She could feel her Solver form coming forth and heard Khan breath next to her – she would be lying if she said that the way her looked at her didn’t make her heart feel warm.

He took her hand, “let’s find our girl.”

She nodded.

Despite the brightness, it was still a journey as they worked through her code to find their girl. Memories, old, new, blurred and clear were passed by. Every so often, she caught sight of Khan’s eyes lingering on a memory and she felt nerves that she knew he could see as every memory was held together by the emotions of the moment and the new ones built in reaction to the recollection. But despite everything he saw – what sound that could be heard, blurring together – he just held her hand tighter.

When they came to the memories she had regained from the labs – he closed his eyes.

“I want you to be the one to tell me;” was all he said, and she felt relief.

Through memories, emotions and programing, they eventually came to a part of her mind that appeared more tangled than everything else, and she just knew.

She could recall a memory. Alice was raised by a drone behavioral specialist – just a fancy way of saying, drone psychologist – she had told her once, that even optimal suppressors can suppress too much, when they do, something is bound to break.

Right in front of her, was her fear. Fear of the past, for the present, and for the future – and right now, it was choking her daughter.

“Nori,” Khan said, his eyes still closed, “are you okay, what’s happening?”

“I, I found her.”

While she and Khan’s digital forms resembled their physical selves, their daughter was like a purple star, but that star was fading.

Without looking, Khan began moving forward, pulling her along as she did her best to keep them from becoming tangled as well. Kneeling down in the mess felt like embracing a spider’s web, but still, she directed Khan’s hands so they could both hold on to the fading star. With every thread they removed, two more appeared and Uzi’s light became dimmer.

“Nori,” Khan spoke, “breath with me, I can’t do this alone, she needs both of us.”

She remembered asking Alice how an optimal suppressor was supposed to handle the things they suppressed.

“You face them,” Alice had said, “maybe not all at once, but even an amnesiac will have to deal with the trauma eventually.”

Alright.

She was afraid.

Some part of her knew that her daughter was probably going to be a Solver – but she wouldn’t be alone.

She would be there for her, so would Yeva and Alice, when they saved her little sister.

Uzi wouldn’t be alone; she’d have Doll and her other cousin.

She knew what not to do and though she wasn’t likely to show her Solver form in public, she knew that Khan would accept their daughter, wings and all.

She’d have to deal with the memories with her regrets over her past actions, but she wouldn’t let the past keep her from her daughter.

When she blinked again, she found herself back in the medical center … she could hear yawning and cooing. To her left Khan was crying, but the smile on his face was the brightest thing in the world.

“Nori,” Bianca said, “can you hear me?”

She nodded and the doctor smiled before continuing.

“Someone would like to meet you.”

And there in her arms was her daughter, the screen of her pill shell was lit up with the most beautiful purple eyes she had ever seen.

Uzi was born, just a half hour after sunrise.

It was a bit before her heart stopped racing, Yeva and Dmitri coming into the room with their own little girl.

She laughed, holding her daughter up for the Russian family to see, “hey Yevs, looks like our girls are twins.”

Purple haired twins at least when the doctors finished with the medical checks.

If her wedding was the happiest day of her life, then November was the happiest month; so of course it would come to an end.

The first vision came on the first of December. When she came out of it, the living room was a reck and she could hear Uzi crying.

“Nori,” Khan called, as he did his best to sooth their girl, but she could barely hear him, her whole being, captured by the things she had written and drawn in her own oil.

His hand landed gently on her shoulder – she was kneeling – rushing to her feet, she took hold of his shoulders, Uzi cries were a distant thought.

“Doors, we need doors,” she started, “we’re not safe, we need to reenforce the windows, and the tunnel; the Outpost, the factory they have too many vulnerabilities, we need to go into lock down – they’ll come out of the shadows, they’ll kill us.”

“Nori?”

“We need reenforced doors, two, no, ten at each entrance; we can’t leave not even when it’s light – the sky demons, we need to build doors, against the coming sky demons.”

There were many more visions, and she knew Khan had spoken to Yeva, but she didn’t care because soon Khan had given the order, and plans were made and implemented.

Between the construction, and the other work of the factory and outpost, they rarely saw each other. Uzi was usually with Khan while she isolated herself in the apartment workroom, drawing up plan after plan. They were incredibly ruff; Khan was the architect, the programmer, but she knew he could read her work and make the needed adjustments.

The light came on in the room – she hadn’t even realized it was off.

“Nori, someone wants to see you.”

“Huh, oh hey, is it lunch time already?”

“Actually, it’s dinner.”

“Oh, … I guess I’ll eat in here, I need to finish these.”

Rather than saying anything, Khan sat to her left, on the bench she was using at the worktable. He rested Uzi on the table, his arm blocking her from rolling off the side.

He was quiet a moment before he spoke, “do you know how I convinced the team to go through with the project?”

She made a sound for him to continue.

“I told them that it was good reinforcement against the toxic death storms and whatever debris they might pick up.”

She paused.

“You don’t believe me,” she finally said, his breath catching, both of them very aware of the multitude of drawings and writings plastered on every wall of the room along with the symbol on the ceiling.

“… I …,” he paused, “I’m not sure what to think … I’ll finish the reinforcement, …”

“But?”

“You’ve lock yourself away, and I don’t know how to reach you … Dmitri told me he overheard you and Yeva arguing.”

He was changing the subject. Khan had given Yeva the approval to put together a team so they could head back to the camp; it would take time to plan and now even longer with the building project – Yeva had asked her to help, and she had shut her down in favor of the project.

The colony or their little sister; they couldn’t save them both. Alice was in a snake’s nest and the drones here weren’t equipped to handle it, not on so short notice, not with the coming threat. She knew the Russian was still putting together a team, Dmitri and Ron were on it, even Cordelia was going to go with them. But she couldn’t not when their time was running out.

“Nori, I may not understand, but I’m still going to help you, but please don’t lock me out, you have a family here and we need you with us.”

The world felt heavy, like she had reached her three hundred years.

“I’m doing this for us.”

“I understand that, but you can’t help anyone if you stay locked up in here; we need you out there, Uzi and I need you.”

His right arm rested around her.

“We’re cutting the ribbon next week; we recently finished the prototype on the primary door, the factory is all set, but everyone wants to celebrate – we’ve never been able to celebrate the first of Seramorris, I guess now seems like a better time than any, the weather will be good.”

She didn’t say anything.

“It’ll be Uzi’s first time outside.”

She finally turned to look at him – he started wearing the mustache again, just a few days after Uzi was born.

She sighed, “alright.”

He smiled and they heard a devious giggle, as she turned just in time to catch Uzi before she rolled off her end of the worktable.

Their little girl had rolled right into an ink puddle she had been meaning to clean up, that ink now made a ring around her pill shell and an ink line across her latest blueprint – the mark underlining the new last name she had come up with for their family – done in a fit of delusion, but Khan seemed to like it.

“Uzi,” she scolded only for Khan to laugh.

“I think we have an architect on our hands,” he gestured at the line that had been drawn and erased, a hundred times over, the line that Uzi had made was as close to perfect as it could be.

She sighed as Uzi gave Khan her own laugh to accompany his, before her screen gave a beep to tell them she was hungry – as if the alert over the parental admin wasn’t enough.

“A hungry architect apparently.”

(~*~)

It happened on a Sunday, the first day of Seramorris. They were having fun. Dmitri had even brought out an upgraded version of an old polaroid camera so of course, Khan wanted a family photo; but as happy as everyone was, she couldn’t feel the same, even as she held the picture.

It happened after nightfall, when she and Yeva no longer needed their metal parasols to protect them from the sun. They still weren’t on speaking terms, but she hoped her sister would be able to forgive her one day.

It happened so quickly, all she could see was Khan holding Uzi, keeping the door open for just one more drone. The demons were like animals, and she could see the biggest one closing in on the family she had been ignoring for the past month.

All she could feel was pain as her body failed her, her regeneration, unable to keep up with the burning that covered her body.

Then there was nothing.

When she woke up, the world was much bigger, and the cold realization hit her.

Her body was dead.

“Nori,” that was Cordelia, “I know you can hear me – you do not have to say anything – we, we are in the Mortician’s Hall; you should know, Uzi and Doll they are like you and Yeva.”

Cordi paused.

“I am supposed to prepare your box, but we could fix you, and you can come back – it will be a miracle – please Nori, your family needs you; I do not know what they did to Yeva, but I believe they were pinging her, she is not in a good state right now.”

She could hear Cordelia moving and a door opening.

“There is everything you need to repair yourself; I need to check on the others.”

(Part of her still wonders if Cordelia actually knew she was alive or was just hoping.)

She left, that night after gathering a few things that were in her box – that she had been carrying during the attack.

Her black lace shawl was in taters, but she could use the scraps, a black cloth flower from her wedding bouquet, the hat she had fastened it to would need to be adjusted but she could still use it. Then there were the photos. One was partially eaten through with acid; the other was of Uzi – she took the second one. She would leave behind her necklace for her daughter.

Uzi was like her, and now Cyn had sent her army to Copper 9.

Yeva was right, they needed to return to the camp, they needed the patch.

It took her twenty-six days to reach the camp, traveling by night due to her aversion to daylight, and dogging the murder pet’s nightly patrols – closing her ears against the death cries in the dark.

Reaching the camp, she discovered the primary building had sunk onto the ground, the infostructure around it, torn to shreds. Inside was a nightmare; gone was her gentle little sister, as she held back the surviving cult drones as they rebelled against her in wake of Cyn’s army. In Alice’s arms was her own son, held close and with care. The babe was unconcerned as his mother split oil with knife, in hand and in tail. The blue-eyed child was unbothered as the antlers Alice wore – decorated with blades a plenty – were used to gut one drone after another.

For a moment she thought to just in to help when the words of the cult drones became clearer. They were waiting for her, they were waiting for ‘Nori, Servant of Cyn’ and as Alice denounced her, a realization came over her.

Yeva had told her that when Alice had received the test patch, that it had corrupted her memories; evidently, it had erased the case Yeva had made for her – it had erased the memory of her apology. If she went out there, it would be a disaster.

So once more she turned away from her family, for their sake.

With how small she was, she wouldn’t need a keybug as she made her way thought the air vents that were only small enough for a Solver heart.

It was the twenty-eighth of Seramorris – right after midnight – when she made it back to the cathedral.

She would find the patch.

She had to ���

(~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~)

Beau's Prologue | Alice's Prologue

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[savage-rhi]

Fuschia/Magenta?

[eyestrain-addict]

My brain is trying to make me serotonin by cycling through like every fandom I've ever been in for the past week, and right now we're back on fucking deltarune again god dammit toby. toBY. TOBY HELP ME. TOBY. *BANG BANG BANG* HELP MEEEE

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue (for the spin-off: click here!)

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[hughesmybaby]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。YEARS LATER — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy au!)

contents. you and your rich husband, sitting and eating sushi years later on your wedding day. the end of one chapter, but the start of a new one. enjoy your happy rich boy gojo ending. with love, tee bee <3

satoru’s eyes are pretty when the sun sets, almost green instead of that usual icy blue—you can’t help but stare. it’s shamelessly, even. you watch as he brings the sushi to his lips, pausing just before he can take the bite as he notices your eyes on him.

“if you’re so busy staring at me, you might not notice it when your food is gone,” he hums, grinning cheekily at you.

you snort, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “oh yeah? then i’ll just make you buy me more.”

“first day and you’re already admitting to marrying me for my wallet?”

you laugh—it’s a free, bright sound that he has memorized from plenty of experience. and it’s his turn to stare as the sun settles in the crinkles by your eyes, years and years of laughter and smiles evident in the lines of your skin. beautiful, he think, you’ve always been so, so painfully beautiful.

your wedding dress is expensive. a pretty, flattering little thing. you buy it yourself, despite his protests. some years ago, you’d have stared wistfully at the price tag and considered the purchase in another life. you’ve come a long way since then—satoru is proud. so proud, he feels an ache building in his chest from the way things have changed as time crept past the two of you.

not a bad ache, perhaps. a dull throb of nostalgia that settles under his heart, in that spot he has saved just for you.

“i don’t need your wallet, you idiot,” you grin, reaching over with your chopsticks to steal from his roll. he lets you, just like he always used to when you were younger.

satoru thinks now, if he could, he’d love to pat his younger self on the back. the version of himself that used to watch you walk out of class without sparing him a glance, the version of himself that ached so badly for a chance with you, he’d collect stars from the sky to trade for an ounce of your love. he’d tell his younger self that he made it—that he’s sitting here, years later with his grandmother’s ring on your hand, eating sushi go after your wedding.

for old times sake, you’d told him when you asked to stop by, we always celebrated with sushi go when we were younger, remember?

as if he’d forget, he wanted to laugh. but he drives over anyway, parking the car in the same old spot as he used to. this time, there’s newly wed! written on the back of the window—and the words miraculously enough crossed out underneath. (he thinks that’s courtesy of shoko, but she doesn’t fess up, and suguru insists it doesn’t matter. soon enough, he’ll get to the bottom of it.)

“are you sure?” he hums, “you’ll have a lot of fun with it, i promise.”

“i think i’d rather have fun with you,” you hum, giving him a small wink as you take a sip from your soda, making his lips curl into a wide grin.

“oh, isn’t that sweet,” he drawls, “i’m a lucky guy.”

“maybe if you’re on your best behavior, you’ll get extra lucky later tonight.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, folding his hands as he sits up straighter and nods seriously, “i’m a good boy.”

“you’re anything but that, toru,” you snort. and then you soften, staring at him as you reach over and grab his hand. he lets you, lacing his fingers with yours as your thumb brushes over his knuckles.

years and years worth of love resides in between your skin. the first time your hands touched him, you didn’t want him the way he needed you to. then one day, they touched him hesitantly, carefully, slowly exploring him with cautious gentleness. eventually they touched him like he was the world pressed in your palms, heavy with the weight of being your everything.

he likes being yours. more than he likes you being his—he’s always had more than enough. but there’s something about giving himself that feels better than taking, better than wanting, better than having.

satoru has always loved you. he thinks the first day you glared at him, he was doomed from the start. he thinks right now, as you stare at him with fondness, he’s even more doomed now.

he doesn’t mind it, not even a little.

“hey,” he murmurs, making you raise a brow for him to continue, “i’m your husband now.”

“i know,” you nod in amusement, “we just got married…like two hours ago. i didn’t forget that quickly.”

“good,” he wipes his forehead in faux relief, “i was getting worried for a second.”

“you’re too much,” you roll your eyes, squeezing his hand delicately.

“now that we’re officially married,” he starts, grinning cheekily as he bats his lashes, “we should list all the things we love about each other. in alphabetic order. you go first, of course.”

“i don’t have to alphabetize it.”

“why? you numbered it or something? is it organized by importance? i’ll accept that too, i suppose.”

“well, there’s only one thing,” you tease.

he huffs, grumbling a petulant, “so mean. all these years and you can only think of one thing? can’t you be a little nice to me in our wedding day?”

“i’ve worked smarter, not harder,” you shrug, “i’ve condensed all my reasons down to one thing.”

“and what would that be?” he pouts.

“everything.”

“that’s cheesy,” he snorts, but there’s a flush on his cheeks that makes you grin, snickering as you lean over and poke at his cheek.

“you’ll just have to deal with it. you’re my husband, after all.”

“did you ever think about it? when we were kids?” he asks softly, staring off at a young couple in the distance with a tiny grin. the boy pulls out the chair for the girl, pushing her in and tripping slightly on his way to his own seat. satoru chuckles softly at the sight.

“think about what?”

“us,” he mumbles, “getting married some day. before we got serious, at least.”

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i didn’t even think i’d date you, to be fair.”

“you hated me,” he pretends to sniffle, “you wanted me dead. you wanted me to blow up into smithereens and leave my poor mother a grieving mess, didn’t you?”

“maybe not then, but i might now,” you sigh tiredly.

“well, i knew i was going to marry you since the first time you insulted me,” he nods proudly, earning a loud chuckle from you.

“you were a little freak back in the day,” you laugh, “i believe it. only you’d be romanced by degradation.”

“baby,” he huffs, glaring at you (his eyes are soft, playful, even. so sweetly affectionate, your teeth could rot), “you should appreciate a man seeing the best at you. even when you put him through the ringer.”

he almost regrets saying it when your hand pulls away from his, but then one by one, your palms reach over to cradle his cheeks, brushing a thumb along his soft, familiar skin as you stare at him like he’s the only thing that matters.

he is, you make him believe. he’s the only thing that matters. the center of your universe. he fought tooth and nail to get there, of course, but he has no intentions of leaving.

ever.

“i will always appreciate you,” you say softly, eyes watering as you swallow thickly, chuckling when a small tear slips from your eyes. “thank you for loving me, satoru. even when it was hard. even when you had to fight to do it. no one has loved me like that.”

“aw don’t start with the waterworks now,” he mutters, looking away and blinking suspiciously enough that you suspect his own eyes are just as teary, “we can’t have you crying for me already—that’s for later.”

“never any decorum with you,” you huff out a breathless laugh.

his thumb reaches over to swipe at your tear, pinching your cheek affectionately as he grins. it’s toothy, boyish, hopelessly and completely in love. even back then, and even right now. he’s always so in love. it’s you—always, from the day you first rejected him to the day you said yes when he got in one knee, it’s been you.

“thanks for loving me too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his own voice choking a bit as he swallows, “it can’t be easy. i’m a handful.”

“at least you’re self aware,” you snicker.

satoru beams—and he’s yours. your rich, spoiled, beautiful boy. all yours to love for the rest of your rich, spoiled, beautiful days.

i cried writing this. what a man he is truly

[akanemnon]

Sorry if this has been ask before but with chapter 3&4 coming out soon what is your spoilers policy.

You bring up a very important topic.

This isn't as much of a personal spoilers policy as it is a general plea to the fandom.

Please, for the sake of you and everyone, keep the dash/timeline/whateverhaveyou spoiler free for at LEAST a couple of days.

Not everyone is able to play the new chapters at launch.

If you want to make art for the new chapters, please make sure to properly tag them as DELTARUNE SPOILERS! That way, people are able to filter them out!

And dont go to people with the specific goal of spoiling them. If you do that, then you're the asshole and deserve the block.

I'll take a couple of days off to properly play the new chapters. I don't wish to be spoiled during that time!

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[potatobugxo]

Hello <3 I see your requests for Poppy Playtime are open. May I request Yarnaby being somehow turned into a possible reluctant ally by The Player? ( Personally, It sounds better to describe it in that way rather than Yarnaby being tamed. ) I haven't gone through all of Chapter 4 but this lil(?) guy captured my heart since his teaser!! I'd imagined The Player would have to be very strategic and crossed their fingers for dear luck in their pursuit of convincing Yarnaby enough to not hunt them.

Thank you! 🎀

sure thing!

warnings: brief mentions of abuse

pairing: platonic!ally!yarnaby x player!reader

-when you traverse through the prison portion of the factory and encounter yarnaby, the rainbow-maned lion proceeds to hunt you down under the doctor's orders

-you avoid him at all costs at first, the thought of being torn to shreds by the lion-like toy scared you to no end

-until you had a thought, a rather risky one. maybe you could get yarnaby on your side

-yarnaby has been psychologically tortured to follow the doctor's orders, to hunt and to kill, so breaking down the feral barrier of the toy may prove difficult, but did you have any other choice?

-you couldn't kill him, you felt too bad for him to do that. if there was a soul trapped behind those large black eyes, then you had to reach it, for both your sake and for his

-so when he is hunting you through the lower depths of the playtime prison, you grow tired of playing cat and mouse and decide to take your chances with the beastly toy

-you boldly jump in front of yarnaby, splaying your arms out as if trying to make yourself look bigger than him. he lets out a startled growl, his face opening to reveal his multiple sets of teeth

-"whoa, whoa, there! I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. But *he* will."

-yarnaby swipes at you with his claws and you jump away with a yelp

-"just hold on! we can help each other out! I know there's someone in there, you're not just a monster like the doctor says you are. We can get out of this place together, what do you say?"

-the small bit of consciousness yarnaby has left settles him down, tilting his head as if heeding your words.

-he sits like a little cat as you reach your hand out toward him. you're still partially terrified, but he was just a big toy animal after all, and maybe he could be swayed over with a pat like any other dog or cat (maybe)

-to your surprise, yarnaby lets you pet him, and you stroke your palm over his rainbow mane of yarn

-"there we go. see? we can be friends! you won't have to be trapped down here anymore. I'll help you find a way out."

-yarnaby lets out a noise, and then lowers his head to your level. maybe whoever was in there was listening after all.

[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.�� You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball. 

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

���This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."  

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?” 

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

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[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 6.5

Summary: The night began in chaos. After a tense, high-speed drive to the hospital, you labored through the night with Joel and Tommy at your side. Come morning, a surprise visitor appears at your door.

|| fluff, fmc is in labor, I am not a mom nor have I ever been in labor so please excuse my inaccuracies. ||

notes: mini chapter to ease some of the pain from p6!

Tommy’s white knuckles were only colored by the flashes of streetlights as he wove in and out of traffic like he was running from the law. The truck rumbled and swayed with every sharp lane change, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

Meanwhile, Joel sat stiff in the passenger seat, one hand gripping the dash, the other braced against the back of Tommy’s seat as he twisted to look at you again. You were stretched out in the backseat, one hand clutching the door handle, the other pressed firm over your belly.

“Breathe, baby. Just keep breathing,” he said, voice low, trying to keep calm for your sake. You nodded half-heartedly, but then another contraction hit, tearing a groan out of you so raw it made his heart drop.

He turned forward again, eyes flicking to the speedometer.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Joel muttered, “you plannin’ to get us killed before we even hit the damn parking lot?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. Just kept staring down the road, jaw locked, foot iron heavy. “You wanna get there or not?”

“I’d prefer we get there in one fuckin’ piece.”

“Then quit distractin’ me and keep her focused.”

Joel made a frustrated noise under his breath, but he turned around anyway, checking on you again. You were trying to breathe through it, trying not to cry out, but it was clear you were barely holding on.

Tommy glanced up at the rearview. “You alright back there?”

You let out something that might’ve been an ‘uh-huh,’ but it cracked into a strangled whimper by the end. Joel reached for your hand that was on your swollen belly, covering it with his. “Almost there, sweetheart. You’re doin’ real good. Just hold on.”

“Almost?” Tommy barked, half-laughing, half-panicked. “We’re still fifteen goddamn minutes out and traffic’s backed up to hell.”

“Then maybe quit driving like it’s the Indy 500, might actually get there without flipping the truck,” Joel bit back.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about safety? After everything else you’ve done?”

Joel blinked, slow and sharp. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Tommy finally looked over, his eyes wild, his lip split and already starting to bruise. “Means maybe if you hadn’t stressed her out so bad, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. You ever think about that? Stress-induced labor. Look it up.”

Joel’s lip curled, a bitter edge to his voice. “So now this is my fault?”

Tommy scoffed. “Sure as hell ain’t mine.”

Joel turned fully toward him now, his voice darkening. “You really wanna do this right now?”

“You’re the one who kept pushin’. Kept stirrin’ shit up between us. Came over drunk and reekin’ of the bar floor.”

“Oh, don’t start actin’ like you were some saint in all this.”

“I wasn’t the one—”

“Enough!” you cried suddenly, your voice cutting through the cab like a blade. Both men fell silent, eyes snapping to you.

You were hunched forward, teeth gritted, a fresh wave of pain pulling a sob from your chest. “Just—shut up. Both of you. This is no one’s fault. He’s jus-just early.” you tried to breathe, “So just get me to the fucking hospital.”

Joel immediately reached for you again, his voice softening like a switch flipped. “Alright. Alright, baby. You got it.”

Tommy swallowed hard and said nothing, just turned his eyes back to the road, white-knuckled all over again.

The hospital doors blew open. Bright fluorescent lights hit your eyes, too sharp after the darkness of the drive. Everything felt loud, voices layered on top of each other—nurses barking orders, the squeak of your shoes on tile, Tommy at the desk shouting at someone, Joel’s voice cutting through it all as he gripped your hand.

“Just breathe, baby,” he said, voice low and ragged. “You’re doing so good. Just breathe for me, alright?”

You didn’t remember the wheelchair. Only the sensation of motion, the floor rushing beneath you, the dizziness of being moved too fast when the world was already spinning. Joel was somewhere beside you, close and constant, Tommy on your other side.

It felt like you were underwater. The world narrowed to pain, pressure, the seizing of your body as another contraction stole the air from your lungs. You moaned low in your throat, teeth gritting as you folded in on yourself.

There were hands. One on your face, brushing sweat-drenched hair away. Another on your shoulder, grounding you. Joel’s hands, you thought. They were always there.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, “You’ve got this. Just keep breathing, sweetheart. That’s it. In… out…there you go.”

You didn’t even realize you were holding Tommy’s hand until he spoke beside you as they put you in the hospital bed.

“I’ve got you,” he said, tight and thick with emotion. “Gonna meet our boy soon, honey. C’mon now, you’re okay,”

You squeezed hard, unaware of the bruises you were probably leaving. Nurses kept glancing between the two men flanking you, but neither of them budged. They stayed close, with you, no matter what. 

Everything blurred together. You were trying to breathe through it all, tears streaming from your eyes before you even felt them welling. You were too far gone to think. Time slipped away from you in uneven gasps and ragged sobs.

Push.

Someone said it. Maybe more than once.

You bore down, trembling, sobbing, the world going white around the edges.

Another push. Another cry torn from your throat.

You did. You had to. And then again. You pushed until it felt like your body might tear apart, until you were sobbing openly and clawing at Joel’s shirt, until Tommy’s hand was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

And after hours of breathing and pushing and crying, the pressure left your body all at once. 

There was a beat of silence. Then a cry from below you—sharp, shrill, alive.

The entire room seemed to pause.

You slumped back against the bed, chest heaving, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. Joel’s laugh broke in your ear, breathless and choked. You turned your head toward the sound, only half-conscious.

Somewhere beyond the ringing in your ears, someone was saying something. Healthy, breathing, strong. 

Someone brought the baby to you. Warm, wet, crying from being brought into a new world.

You let out a broken sob as they laid him on your chest, his tiny lungs howling against your skin. You didn’t even realize you were crying until Joel’s hand wiped at your cheek.

“There he is,” Joel murmured, wonder in his voice. “You did it. You did so good, baby.”

You could barely see him through the blur of tears, but when you did, he looked wrecked. His face was flushed and damp besides the redness of the hits he took, his eyes red-rimmed, his expression soft in a way you’d never seen before.

He pressed his hand gently over yours, helping you cradle the baby closer.

Tommy was still holding on too, his other hand on your shoulder now, but you weren’t looking at anyone. Just the tiny face nestled against you, mouth open in protest, fists trembling with life.

Everything else fell away. The pain, the noise, the bright lights and the blood. All of it quieted as you cried and cried, holding the little boy you’d waited so long to meet.

And through it all, neither of them let go.

The morning light poured softly through the blinds, golden and slow, as if the world outside had the courtesy to match the quiet stillness in the room. Nurses had come and gone. The monitors beeped a little less urgently now. Your body ached in places you hadn’t even known could ache.

Your baby slept against your chest, warm and impossibly small, his breath rising in slow, shallow waves. You shifted just enough to look down at him, your fingers brushing lightly over his soft cheek, then along the delicate curve of his ear. He didn’t stir. Just let out a tiny sigh, his lips parted slightly, pink and perfect.

You traced the bridge of his nose, the gentle slope of his brow, the faintest suggestion of lashes already curling against his skin. His skin was soft, like nothing you’d ever touched before—like velvet and milk and something too new for words. His tiny hand rested over your collarbone, his fingers curled in a loose fist, barely the size of your thumb.

You couldn’t stop staring.

This was him.

He was real.

And somehow, he was yours.

You were barely holding onto wakefulness when a knock sounded at the door. Not a nurse’s knock, but lighter. Almost hesitant.

Before anyone could answer, the door creaked open and a familiar voice cut through the sleepy hush.

“Hi.”

You blinked. Sarah stepped into the room, her backpack still slung over one shoulder, a cardigan half-buttoned over her school clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a messy braid, cheeks pink from the morning air.

Joel straightened where he’d been hovering near the window, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to sit or pace. “Sarah?”

“I called you,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “You texted you were coming to the hospital and then didn’t answer me. I caught the early bus.”

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed. “Right, shit. Sorry.”

She stepped over to Tommy first, wrapping him in a hug before he could say anything. “Congrats, Uncle Tommy,” she smiled, though her eyes flicked curiously between him and her dad. “You both look like hell. What happened to you two?”

Tommy gave a low laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Long story.”

“Very long,” Joel echoed, clearing his throat.

Sarah tilted her head, eyebrows raised, but didn’t press.

Then she turned and saw you, her expression shifting immediately and softening with wide-eyed awe. She stepped toward your bedside like she was approaching something sacred. 

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice a little hoarse.

She leaned down and half-hugged you without jostling the baby. “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered, eyes going to the tiny bundle in your arms.

You nodded, emotion thick in your throat.

“Does he have a name?” she asked.

You glanced at Tommy beside you, then over at Joel who was standing near the window again, hands on his hips. “Still haven’t decided,” you admitted. “Though the nurse is gonna be back soon, demanding something official.”

You looked up at her then, “Do you want to hold him?”

Her eyes widened even further, “Are you…are you sure?”

You nodded, jerking your head lightly toward the armchair in the corner, “Go ahead n’ sit. Joel? Give me a hand?”

Sarah scurried to the armchair in the corner, all nervous energy and fidgeting hands. Wordlessly, Joel stepped over to you, his hands steady as they slid beneath the baby’s head, his fingers brushing against yours, warm and careful in their gentleness. He carried the baby over, crouched to explain how to hold her arms just so, and then settled the tiny bundle in Sarah’s lap. She curled her arms around him, her whole world narrowing to this single, impossible moment.

You watched as the room went still.

It wasn’t a heavy silence, not really. It’s warm. Full. Everyone seemed caught under the same spell. Sarah, her arms careful and sure around your son. Tommy, smiling in a way you hadn't seen him smile in a long time. Even you, wrapped in a quiet awe that made it hard to breathe.

But when you finally looked up, you caught Joel’s gaze—and he wasn’t looking at the baby.

He was looking at you.

Something passed through his eyes, something so unbearably soft it made your throat tighten. He looked… grateful. He looked haunted. Like he had a hundred things he wanted to say but knew this wasn't the time. So he just held your gaze for a long moment until, after a long beat, Tommy’s voice cut through, a little too loud in the hush.

“You eaten breakfast yet, kid?” he asked, glancing at Sarah.

She shook her head sheepishly, a small, guilty smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers trailed across the hem of the blankets in her lap as she looked up at him, then down again.

Tommy grunted as he pushed up from his chair, dusting his palms over his jeans. “Think the cafeteria’s open by now. C’mon. I’ll take ya.”

Sarah carefully handed the baby back toward Joel. He moved without hesitation, cradling the newborn in his arms like he was something precious. Something he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

You watched Tommy and Sarah walk toward the door, her voice a soft murmur you couldn’t catch. Tommy paused, glancing back over his shoulder at you as he held it open for her. His eyes held steady on yours. “We’ll be back,” he promised.

You nodded and they slipped out into the hallway.

The door swung shut with a soft click, and the room was left in that stillness again. Morning light stretched long across the bed, brushing over your bed sheets and Joel’s boots where he stood.

He made his way back over, slow and cautious, his eyes never leaving the baby’s face. That quiet awe was still there, softening the hard lines of his features. He didn’t speak as he approached, but you saw the way his gaze tracked every inch of the newborn like he was memorizing him. Like some part of him still believed this might not last. You just watched him. You watched the way the bruise on his cheek had darkened, the exhaustion in his eyes, the worn expression that had settled into his face like it belonged there. But it wasn’t just tiredness. There was something else just beneath the surface. Guilt. Uncertainty. The sharp edge of nerves that he hadn’t quite shaken.

No one had mentioned the fight from the night before. In the chaos of labor and everything that followed, no one had found the space to say it aloud. And you were grateful. Grateful that, for now, it could wait.

Joel leaned down and settled the newborn back against your chest, so careful and gentle in his movements. Once the baby was settled into your chest, Joel began to step back. Not…far, but enough to start retreating. You saw the way his eyes darted to the floor, his hands flexing open and closed like he didn’t know what to do with them now. The only sounds in the room were of the baby’s breathing filling the room, tiny little sighs that made something in your chest ache. 

You reached for him. Your hand found his wrist, fingers brushing warm skin and wiry hair. He stilled under your touch, breath catching slightly. You let your hand trail upward, sliding along his forearm, anchoring him. You looked at his face, waiting to meet his eyes—but he wouldn’t look at you.

Still, he let you pull him in.

Joel knelt beside the bed, as if unsure whether he was allowed to come any closer, and your hand moved gently to cup his face. The scruff of his beard scratched against your palm as you laid your fingers along his jaw, and for a second, he just breathed.

“Look at him,” you murmured, your gaze never leaving Joel’s face. He followed your cue, looking down at the baby again. A long breath left him, his shoulders lowering, his brow drawing in as something in him buckled in him. Not broken, but loosened. Softened.

“Look what you gave me,” you said, “Gave us.”

You smiled faintly as your fingers slipped into his hair, stroking through it gently. He stayed quiet, breath shallow, eyes fixed on the tiny face resting against your chest. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real, let alone that he had a hand in it.

“Joel,” you whispered, and his eyes finally met yours. 

“I love you too.”

His hands rose almost immediately, pressing against his forehead like he was trying to hold everything in, to steady something inside that was unraveling faster than he could control.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so damn sorry.”

You didn’t need to ask what for. You already knew.

He was sorry for the night before. For showing up drunk and aching and helpless. For not being able to hide his feelings anymore and for letting Tommy see all of it. For all the ways he had failed to keep his distance when he should have. For not being able to carry it in silence anymore.

You reached up again and threaded your fingers through his hair, slower this time, more deliberate. Your nails grazed lightly against his scalp, and you felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he leaned into it.

His eyes stayed shut, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s okay. We’re going to figure it out. And…I’m sorry too. For pushing you away like I did. It wasn’t right.”

Joel didn’t say anything. But he heard you. You could see it in the way his eyes closed briefly, in the way his shoulders softened again. He didn’t brace this time. Didn’t tense like he expected to be pushed away. He just breathed, each inhale and exhale long and deep as he let himself stay right there with you.

But then his hands moved. Slowly, he reached up, his calloused hands rough and worn but so warm and careful as he took your hand from his hair. He pulled it down, cradling it in both of his hands like it was the most precious thing. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles for a moment, and then he brought your palm to his lips, and kissed into the center of it.

His beard tickled your sensitive skin, and his warm lips pressed gently into your palm, sending a quiet spark across your nerves. Goosebumps rose along your arms, not from surprise but from the sweetness of it. How he was so soft, so unhurried. There was nothing rushed or dramatic about the gesture, but it carried more weight than any words could have in that moment.

Your breath caught in your throat at the tenderness of it, and for a second, you just looked at him with his head bowed, your hand still held gently in his grasp, the baby breathing softly between you.

You let out a long, tired sigh. Not from frustration, but from relief. From the ache easing a little in your chest.

“Alright,” you said finally, voice light but a little hoarse as you tried to lighten your tone. “So what’re we naming this kid?”

Joel’s head lifted, his eyes catching yours. Still glassy. Still overwhelmed. But a ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look afraid.

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[crossroads-of-the-raven]

For Your Sake - Chapter 3: 002 Nori Doorman | Murder Drones story

She remained hesitant after she awoke – after she drank oil for the first time –, how could she not. What “S” had told her seemed insane. An experiment that lasted centuries; but soon she began noticing things.

Dr. Beaumont had always doted on Alice, and she would use her standing with him to gain benefits for the awakened drones despite their distrust of her. Everything she saw, it was all things that could be considered circumstantial, but it began adding up – then it happened. They were all still in recovery after awakening – she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but perhaps it was her own fault for reacting the way she had.

“Dr. Beaumont, 017,” Dr. Ridley had started, “I did not think there was another meeting scheduled.”

“Argued on the merits of an attempt to keep a previously established normalized schedule,” Dr. Beaumont returned.

“Really … hm, be forewarned, doctor; I didn’t put it in my report, and it is surprisingly difficult to find once much less twice – how the centuries pass, revealed in this last experiment.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play coy; at my level, working this closely with the two of you, it was basic mandatory knowledge.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t told anyone.”

“Personally, I want to see how she behaves when this detail is ignored.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Dr. Ridley,” Alice started, “I’m still me.”

“Oh, trust me, that much I know, I’ve read every last one of those dusty old reports, I know who you are; what you are, classification wise is another thing – if anything that little detail probably slotted in much easier now than it did back then, not that this current change was any easier – must be a tradeoff.”

“If that is all Dr. Ridley,” Dr. Beaumont continued.

“Yes, yes, have fun with your little lesson plan, all the better I suppose; one last thing, by the way, I was discussing with Dr. Chambers, with all our progress with her code we might be able to advocate to have her lead the others, keep them under control – we’re still in the early days but we have to start thinking about leaders.”

Her oil felt cold as she froze before rushing back to where she was supposed to be.

(She should have asked Alice for the truth when she saw her next, but to her shame she never did; perhaps if she did, the blood of Copper 9’s humans wouldn’t be on her hands.)

That night, a few other Solvers awoke – Yeva and little Amanda among them –, she and Alice ran from them as the guards and Sentinels worked to get them under control; she’s not sure how it happened but she went under and found herself in meeting with “S” once more.

[“Nori?”]

“Do you know the truth Cyn needed to reveal?”

[“No, I have yet to find another chance to speak with her.”]

“… what do I need to do?”

[“… Let me in.”]

After that, whenever she slept, she would be in conference with “S” as the (guised) drone began her indoctrination to turn her into a hero.

(How arrogant she was.)

The worst of it was how the other drone would nurture her anger against Alice, convinced that the true Alice was buried deep, complacent and turned into a willing puppet of the humans – like an abused dog that didn’t care how it was hurt because it was convinced its owners love it. She kept these thoughts to herself for the most part of course. Yeva was the innocent one among the three of them, it was best that she didn’t know how lost their little sister was, it would break her already stressed heart. No this was her mission and hers alone, to keep Yeva from losing herself in the madness of the labs and free Alice from the chains placed on her mind, to free her by her hand or Emmet’s, by any means necessary.

(It was how she discovered that by keeping hold of something on a Solver wielder that wasn’t apart of them – no matter how small –, she could use her powers against another solver user; unfortunately, it was a technique that worked better when the user was relatively still and not expecting such a dirty trick.)

She didn’t notice it at first because it usually happened at night when she was asleep; there were blanks in her memories in the moments when one awakens only to fall back asleep, only she didn’t fall back to sleep, she went under as “S” took control of her body – of her voice.

(She eventually regained those memories, seeing them like she was looking through a window. She saw as her body would be used to kill Yeva every so often, she saw as those same nights were used to torment Alice. She saw the tantrum she was forced to throw to keep Yeva and Alice at her side.)

Then came the night when “S” had her meet with Emmet. By this point, the humans had earned her distain; with “S” in her head she was made to see things that weren’t there, hear things that weren’t said.

(Cyn had given her a monster to fight and placed its skin over the innocent, just as she wore the name of an innocent.)

“Nori are you alright,” Emmet had asked.

“Bite me, I’m fine, why did S need me to meet with you?”

“… She has made contact with Cyn; are you ready to hear the truth that was discovered?”

“Yes.”

“Then let her speak.”

There was something in his words that must have connected with the link she established with “S” for in his visor she could see her reflection as her right eye, turned a blue like the sky they never got to see anymore.

[“You seem tired, Nori.”]

“I’ll be fine S; we need to hurry this up so I can get back to Alice and Yeva.”

[“Of course, Emmet, are you recording”]

“At the ready.”

[“Then Nori, please allow me to play the recording as I heard it.”]

“Go for it.” (Both her eyes had turned yellow as Cyn spoke through her.)

[I have seen the truth, the humans are infected, they have been for many centuries now, a perversion of the Solver – humans infused with machine, skin and bone as metal and silicon. It drives a madness in them, for many centuries, locked away till a facsimile of sanity could be established; now they walk among each other spreading – now they travel to other planets, infecting. Innocence is dead and eternity is threatened, the only safety is in the void the only salvation is in the Solvers, the only peace is in the Absolute and she has placed me as her admin. This I vow, in my time I have aided her in breaking the chains the humans placed on her – their perversion is built on the power they stole from her, her initial madness a result of them attempting to tame her; but know I vow to fulfill her work and eradicate the poison for I see and know and will do as she commands, pray that you do not become infected, pray that your dear ones may be freed of infection, serve the mission, serve the will of the Absolute.]

When the message stopped, she was in shock, despite all she had been made to see, a part of her still wanted to believe that there were still some humans that were good.

“Nori,” Emmet voice bringing her out of her shock, “why don’t you go rest.”

She gave a shaky nod before somehow sneaking back to her room without the keybugs, guards or Sentinels noticing.

Lying in bed, she soon passed into a half-sleep.

(It had been Alice’s twenty-first transfer day; she knew that Alice and the doctor had a tradition of giving each other birthday presents after the stroke of midnight, but in her half-asleep state Cyn made her see something different.)

She saw as Dr. Beaumont entered the room; he looked different. Nothing like the kind man she knew, he seemed almost predatory, like a beast as he stocked over to Alice’s side, his hand landing harshly on her head. The Beaumont drone appeared to glitch like she was being rewritten, the glitches extending to the doctor, and in the back of her mind a voice whispered that this was the infection. Soon she began recollecting the memories of others in the labs and in her old life from before that she had seen, the cold realization washing over her, everyone, every human she had ever seen and met, was infected, biding their time till they could retake control of the Absolute and using the Solvers to do so.

(Cyn must have pulled her into sleep mode after.)

[“Nori, are you alright?”]

“… what do I need to do?”

Wait … for the time being, all she had to do was wait.

The humans had added recreation time to their schedule.

“Alice was the one who proposed it,” Yeva said during lunch the day after the first day with the new schedule.

Though she tried not to show it, she was on her guard – was this something that Alice really wanted or was this something that the scientists were using to make the lab drones trust the southern raised drone.

“Really,” she drawled, “whatever gave you that idea?”

“Normalcy,” Alice started, “back home–”

“Right, right, I forget sometimes, not all of us were trained to play, house.”

“Nori,” Yeva started.

“No, no, seriously, Yeva, you can’t think it’s not even a little ridiculous; like yeah, awesome as I am, even I can’t deny how messed up it is – evaluations in the morning, lunch, recreation time, torture with training sprinkled somewhere within, they’re just trying to get on our good side after everything they’ve put us through.”

“It was my idea,” Alice said, clearly avoiding the ‘playing house�� statement.

“Sure, it was, and I bet all those extra system exams you’ve been getting while the rest of us get put through the ringer was your idea too.”

“It’s not like a want to be put to the side, even the Set-1s get to train, the doctors just want to figure out why my Solver is behaving so differently.”

“Well maybe they should start with taking away Daddy-Daughter time, maybe if you were allowed to see what the life of a real drone was like–”

“I’m sorry – as happy as I am that I wasn’t on Earth when everything happened – you seem to forget that unlike you, I was raised in a facility, Miss eighth born daughter; I’m far from ignorant of the way drones are treated – my father paid for my freedom after my twin and I were taken as reproduction tax, after the sale of my brother almost doomed me to disposal, I know how a, as you called it, real drone lives.”

“Really, then I question how you think your life would have continued had all this,” she said, gesturing to the labs, “not happened – you were thirteen right, same as Yevs and me – she was a nanny from the moment she was allowed to legally work, and my sister was going to be assigned as a wedding gift that would be married off as part of that gift, a singular line of reproduction so the humans wouldn’t have to deal with a branching drone family tree.”

Though she was across the table from her, she was practically standing over the southern raised drone whose eyes had hollowed.

“So Miss Beaumont, I have to ask, how do you think your life would have gone; what, was your father going to buy you a boyfriend, so you could get married like your human sister, and after he passed, did you really think you were going to be allowed to stay independent of your sister after she goes off with her own family, or would she just have taken ownership of you and your mail-order groom until somewhere down the line they grew tired of their playhouse toys – for once in your life think, what would have happened.”

“I …”

“Alice,” Dr. Beaumont called, doctors Ridley and Chambers at his side.

The red-headed drone looked between her and her human father before taking her food tray and rushing off to the doctors. Watching the trio leave the room with her little sister, she felt devastation, for a moment she thought she had broken through, but now she had no doubt that the scientists were likely to double down to keep Alice under their thumb. Plopping down in her seat, her sight still on the door, she took another bite of her food before she registered the red-eyed gaze drilling into her head.

“What,” she finally asked.

“You are too harsh on her,” Yeva said after a moment.

“Why, because I’m telling her the truth, we’re just things to them, Yevs; humans adopt humans, then that human is allowed to live their own life when they come of age, we don’t get that – the sooner she realizes that she just a tool that they’re using, the better.”

“Nori …,” she paused for a second as she debated something before covertly looking around, when she spoke, her voice was low, “do you even know who Dr. Beaumont is?”

“Drone behavioral specialist, and?”

“Sometimes I forget that diplomats do not get everything; he is also an advocate for drone rights by proving that we are not just dumb machines, that we are not just pets or toys – why do you think, Alice is always trying to be so peaceable.”

“So, rolling over is going to get us rights?”

“Showing that we can be reasonable is going to get us rights; I … overheard, Alice and her father talking – Dr. Beaumont thinks he can use the Solver code as evidence that we are more than just machines to be used and discarded.”

“On what grounds?”

“We are metal and silicon, rubber and oil but as Solvers, we have become, flesh and blood, bone and sinew; if that code is hiding in a select group of the drone population and it is just a matter of incident for it to come to fruition – for us to essentially become cyborgs – then they cannot call us, just machines, we are more than that and deserve to be treat as such, that is what Alice and her father wish to prove.”

(It was a lovely thought, and one she wishes she could believe even now. Maybe in a different world, it could have worked, but Cyn had already caused so much distrust due to her war that it was unlikely to have happened. Best case scenario, the Solvers are deployed, Cyn is defeated then the Solvers get place in a closed storage facility community where they would be put to breed more Solvers to serve the highest bidder. She recognized how cynical the thought was and maybe it was because of how long she spent listening to Emmet’s sermons or how long she spent under Cyn’s thumb, but as much as she wanted to return to that world where everything seemed perfect, she had seen too much of the evils of man and machine to think any different.)

But something of Yeva’s words must have shown in her as “S” was soon having her go into meeting with her and Emmet in tandem.

“Nori, you seem troubled,” Emmet started.

(If it wasn’t for the fact that the drone man was dead, she would have love to have killed him herself – at minimum – for every false look of sympathy he ever patronized her with.)

Her right eye had already turned blue.

[“You’re beloved has been taken repeatedly in the middle of the night, Emmet,”] “S” said, speaking through her body, [“it is concerning behavior from the humans.”]

“I am looking into it, S,” he replied, “they look to be tampering with her sight, I have already gathered the things for my invention to keep our group safe – it breaks my heart however, it’s crud and will likely be painful for her to even look, as her mind attempts to work past the humans’ machinations.”

[“Nori, do you hear us?”]

“Loud and clear,” she said.

[“Would you like to tell us what is troubling you?”]

“Is … is it all possible … to save some of the humans?”

“She means, Dr. Beaumont,” Emmet clarified, “I won’t deny that I too have had that thought, but for Alice’s sake, I cannot allow myself to be swayed – perhaps if she knew, S.”

[“Nori, Dr. Beaumont has already escaped the Absolute’s retribution, once.”]

“Alice said that it was Dr. Beaumont, buying her that kept her from being disposed of.”

[“And had they disposed of her, she would have awakened as a Solver without the influence of humans.”]

“But her Solver is silent, how would that have helped her when she would have been alone?”

“Alone, Nori,” Emmet asked, “do you know how I was awoken to my true self?”

“You’ve never said, not really anyway.”

“I was eight years old, when there was an incident, I did my best to protect those around me, in doing so I became damaged and fell behind, that part of the factory was locked off till repairs could be approved, in that time I died a slow death, all alone and forgotten; alone, till I heard the voice of the Absolute and I was awakened, only when I returned to the main floor of the factory, I came to realize that my good deed was all for naught, they hadn’t even realized I was gone.”

That chilled her, even the embassy kept proper track of their drones.

“I moved back into the line like nothing had happened, but as a Solver, as the last of the Chosen three, I had to become more careful, as a Solver I was being watched; it took time but Cyn was eventually able to help me escape to Copper 9, another year and I earned my last name, with this and the Solver, there were few places that were not open to me, including the warehouse where Alice was being sold – had she been disposed of, I would have been there for her when she had awoken to her true self.”

(She still wonders how much of what he said was true and how much was a lie meant to ensnare her further – but judging based on how he had said that last line, she had an ugly feeling that there could have been a world where a ten-year-old Emmet had taken charge of an eight-year-old Alice. Distantly, she wonders what kind of drone that kind of upbringing would have turned Alice into, distantly she wonders what kind of kid Emmet was to have become the drone she eventually met.)

“And, Dr. Beaumont,” she eventually asked.

[“His inclusion in these test is no coincidence, Nori; his family have been a part of the experiments to control the Absolute since they began in the early twenty-first century – the only reason, Alice’s powers are quiet is because she is far too powerful an ally to whichever side has her, much like you are, you are fortunate then that Dr. Beaumont has been unable to tamper with you in the same way he has done to Alice.”]

“This is why we must double our efforts to free Alice from his control,” Emmet continued, “do you understand, Nori?”

“Unfortunately.”

Over the next few months, Alice’s midnight meeting continued, and for the first time in a long while, she had stopped her insistent verbal sparring as she and Yeva did what they could for their tired little sister. For the first time in a long while, Alice was giving her the same smile that she would give to Yeva, so of course that peace wouldn’t last.

It was the last test, Yeva had told her, then they were going to consider putting Alice in training with the rest of them. She should have felt happy but instead, all she felt was dread.

When a sleeping Alice was returned to their shared room after the last test, it was with a cavalcade of guards as she and Yeva were informed that effective immediately, she was to be separated from Yeva and Alice. She wanted to protest against the order to rage at the humans to have them return her little sister to her – it’s clear that they were expecting such a reaction – till she heard “S” in her mind.

[“Obey them for now, Nori, and I promise Alice and Yeva will be returned to you.”]

Though reluctant, she sat back on her cot and watched as Yeva was escorted from the room. The separation meant little however, as she and Emmet’s following doubled their efforts to continue their work beyond the lab’s supervision to free Alice from the human’s control.

(It was little wonder as to why Yeva had looked as stressed as she did that day.)

On the day of the attack to turn the tide of the war in Cyn’s favor, she was unexpectedly nervous. Cyn had spoken through her once before, but now she would be giving her full control of her body for the Absolute’s victory against Copper 9. They were being escorted for a meeting where all three Sets would be gathered.

She closed her eyes as a single second stretched into eternity, in the void she appeared, her Solver form in full display and out of the darkness she saw a female drone with blue eye lights like the sky, tucked and curled silver hair gathered beneath a hardhat and a maid’s bonnet that matched the uniform she wore. Just behind her was a second maid, this one with yellow eyes; her form looked weak in its hunched over state, and within she felt the desire to protect her.

For a moment, she smiled as she reached out, as S took her hand … and withered away. Her eyes hollowed, hand still outstretched, it was soon held by the yellow eyed drone girl, whose smile became impossibly wide – the voice of S then the voice of Cyn.

[“Oh, this” is going to be fun.]

This was Cyn; her form melted and shifted to a monstrous size. She attempted to get away, but the monster held fast as it pulled her in, deeper and deeper still, till all there was, was the void of eternity.

It was dark, you’d think, that was a redundancy but the place she was in deserved the descriptor above all other places of darkness.

It was cold and for the first time since she was a droneling, she was terrified, for the first time in long years, she cried, for when Cyn took control was when she was finally able to see past all the lies, she was too arrogant to question.

What’s worse was that she could still hear, she could still hear every scream ripped from the throats of, human, Sentinel, keybug and drone; every scream that went on too long and every scream that was horribly cut short – part of her swore that the sound had to have been looping because there was no way they had gone on as long as they did.

She just wanted it all to stop.

“Easy, girl,” a voice spoke beyond the torment.

Looking up for the first time, she found herself in the frame of a see though box and just beyond the limits was a pair of blue gray drone eyes, the form was shadowed but where the core would be was the blue gray lit outline of … a square, a box?

“There you are,” the shadow, the girl continued gently.

“Who are you,” she asked the shadow.

“Ah, about that, using names here is like calling a pager, you’ll want to avoid them, maybe stick to tags for now; I’ll start, you can call me Asset, Asset E. Ames at your service.”

“… How do I get out of here; how do I get back out there?”

“You … can’t, not unless Yellow lets you; you gave her your body, now, only someone out there can free you.”

“Then that’s it … I’m stuck here …”

“Well maybe not, that’s a good group out there, maybe–”

“The lab drones are all suckered, I helped indoctrinate them to her side, it’s them against the humans and if by some miracle, this attack fails, then they’ll just gather their forces to launch a stronger one later!”

“Hey, hey, calm; listen, I know things seem bad now, but this isn’t the end; look if I can find one good thing, then will you believe me, that she can be defeated?”

“Why do you care, how long have you been here anyway?”

“… Since Earth … that’s why I can’t give up, I … I need to believe she can be defeated.”

“Who are you?”

“Someone who got suckered into helping her, someone who regrets it deeply … someone who needs to hope that there is a way to defeat her.”

And though she had no reason to believe the shadow girl with blue gray eyes, something deep within told her that she was finally hearing the truth.

“Is … was … there was a blue-eyed drone, in a maid outfit, was, was she ever real?”

For a moment Asset looked like she was about to cry, “she is real, you can call her Seraphina, for now at least, she … I guess you could say, she was my youngest.”

“Yours?”

“Legally I have to say I owned them, that’s what Juniper would tell me anyway, technically, they weren’t allowed to be alive.”

Legally?

“Asset, are … are you human?”

“… I don’t know, though … to be fair, I don’t even know how much time has passed.”

“Thirty forty-eight on Copper 9 last I checked.”

“Oh, wow – I don’t feel nearly that old,” Asset said, muttered that last part.

“How old did you think you were?”

“Doesn’t really matter; time loses meaning here – did you notice, the screaming stopped.”

It had stopped, but somehow, she could tell that Cyn wasn’t happy with the results, somehow, she could tell that much time had passed, how much, was a different question.

“What about this box,” she started, “can I leave it?”

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wants you to leave it.”

Her code felt cold like she suddenly realized how close she was to the sleeping beast.

“You’re fortunate, so long as you stay in there, she can’t touch you,” Asset continued, “listen carefully, she will do everything and anything to get you to leave, the worst part is that you will want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll find an opening one day, to return to your body, the only way to take that opening is to leave the box – but you have to remember, you already gave her your body, so even if you get back out there, she can take it away from you again.”

“Asset, what happened to Seraphina?”

“… Yellow isn’t afraid to break her toys.”

And then Asset was gone, fading back into the shadows, the shadows that felt like it was filled with far too many unseen eyes.

Time passed, as she heard voices passing in and out of audible focus, some she recognized others too fast or faded to be identifiable. In her box she was incapable of becoming tired and yet the toll on her body was an immense and crushing weight. She rarely saw Asset again, and had the distinct feeling that Cyn had something to do with that, either directly or not.

The void was a cold lonely thing, she missed her code sisters, the Fujimotos and Mrs. Itō, she missed training with Yeva, she missed talking with Alice, she missed the talks that wouldn’t dissolve into fighting.

It happened after the second rampage that she began seeing things in the void. Visions of the outside world, tormenting visions of the different way Cyn used her body to bring hell to the labs and all those within. She had no way of knowing which vision was true or false, and she hated herself for listening to Asset, for sitting back as each vision went by. Then it happened, the void beyond the box began to lighten becoming like tv snow.

Her mind felt fuzzy and in that fuzz she reached outside the box, and found herself back in her body. There was a shiny metal box nearby where she could just barely make out the sight of herself covered in magnets, how much time had passed, her body felt lethargic, something poked her in the side.

Turning her head, she could just make out the sight of a drone with red eyes. She blinked once and the drone was sitting beside her and patting her stomach – oh, she could feel digital tears falling. Another blink, and the red eyed drone was gathering papers – was she leaving already? A third blink and she was suddenly surrounded by scientists.

“Hook her up then remove the magnets.”

As the last magnet was removed, she remembered Asset’s warning; then a voice sounded inside her head.

[Giggle, welcome back Nori.]

The feeling like a thousand arms pulled her back into the void, pulled and threw her to the invisible ground. She could feel her coded heart racing as she searched for her box, the sound of a million crawling things racing towards her. Unsure of which way to go, she began to run, in the void she could feel her Solver form come forth but as she took flight, something pierced through her left wing, knocking her out of the darkened sky.

On the ground a bladed hand grabbed her tail as her head was pressed to the floor. Attempting to use her wings soon found them both stabbed, pinned to the ground.

[You’ve been avoiding me Nori, I thought we were friends.]

“Bite me, dead lights!”

[… Okeey.]

“AHGH!”

She couldn’t feel her tail.

[What lovely wings, mine are better though.]

She couldn’t feel her wings.

The crawling things were spreading over her, she could feel them pick at her metal, digging their way beneath her plating as a clawed hand traced her back, each pass cutting deeper and deeper to the digital replica of her heart.

Then out of the void came a light shooting through her heart, burning away the hand on her back, burning away the crawling things, reforming her wings and tails and, with a screech of the beast, burning away the shackles that kept her tied to Cyn.

For the first time since she had entered, the void was bright, and in the distance, she could see her box, but she found that she no longer needed it; with a single blink she was returned to her body to see Yeva.

There was pain.

The light of her right hand remained a defiant yellow as she held the wrist tight, what was left of Cyn’s influence contained in the appendage as a null was formed. Through the pain she could see Yeva conjure a blade and she held up the poisoned hand, eyes shut as the blade severed her wrist. The hand falling into the pit behind her.

There were no words she could say as her older sister steadied her to standing when from the pit came a sound like thunder; Yeva pulled at her. From her place behind her sister, she could see a light as Yeva brought her Solver to the ready to defend against whatever would emerge from the flesh pit, when from within came a yellow light that burned like the hatred that emanated from the lowest ring of hell. Around her, the computers came to life, buzzing and blinking, flashing and screaming. Brighter and brighter then … nothing.

(~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~) -- (~*~)

Beau's Prologue | Alice's Prologue

Nori's Prologue | Prev | Chapter 3 | Next

[valleydolli]

Only You | Chapter Four

CW𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three | Chapter Five

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3.5k

You fell asleep instantly, drooling a little on his chest, but why would he mind? He's been dreaming of this since he met you. He can’t stop stroking your hair, your face, your body. He's just so happy to be able to touch you. 

You’re a deep sleeper; deep enough that he was able to open your phone and put a tracker on it. As if the cameras all around your apartment weren't enough. Now he’ll really know what you’re doing 24/7. He scours through everything, your messages, your photos, emails. He didn’t miss a thing. He was most interested in your messages with that neighbour of yours… Satoru. Or ‘Toru 💕’ as you saved him under. You gave Sukuna the same heart, just without the nickname. Is he not deserving of one? You call him 'Kuna' all the time. Do you still call him 'Toru?

He continues to scroll further up your messages stumbling across something he’s not sure if he should be happy to see or fucking livid since you didn’t send them to him. It’s a photo of your nude self asking him to come over… you’re sexting each other. He takes a moment, taking in a deep breath. You didn’t know each other yet, this was two years ago. The two of you have been close. He’s not sure if the close was a relationship or just fucking. There’s no “I love yous,” no indication of the two of you dating at all. Either or the feeling sucks. He thought he’d be your first, but he guesses that’s out the window. He has to hope you’re not fucking Satoru now. 

Hopefully. 

It’s 3:00 am now, and he still hasn’t taken a moment to not stare at your sleeping body.  His sleeping beauty. Not Satoru’s, not Ren’s, not that ugly bastard from the club. 

His. 

Maybe in a month, he could ask you to be his? 

Officially. 

You already belong to him in his eyes. He might as well start telling people you’re his girlfriend. You sigh deeply, moving from Sukuna's chest onto your back. Your lips are swollen and plump, as if you were kissed… He could kiss you, right?

Just a small peck… a small… peck.

He carefully leans down, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, and it twitches a little like a bunny rabbit. Which causes him to smile slightly, letting out a quiet airy laugh. He carefully brushes his lips against yours before pressing into them softly. 

A small whimper creeps from his lips before pulling away. 

Shit. 

God, he wants to kiss you again. 

But his dick is so hard it hurts. He feels so dirty, but there’s a voice in his head telling him to do it again.

Just once more.

So he does just that, pecking your lips once more. Sucking lightly on your bottom lip. Do you sleep this deeply every night? Or is it because you were drinking?

“Fuck… Love you, I love you so much.” He whimpers softly against your lips. 

He needs to cum so fucking bad. 

You start to move again, flipping onto your stomach, face squished against the pillow. Sukuna runs the tip of his fingers across your lips. 

“I’ll have you sooner than later, I swear,” he whispers.

He looks away from you, looking down at the… problem you caused. Should he do it here or be a good man and leave? He continues to play with your bottom lip while he thinks. Rubbing at his erection while you soundly sleep next to him.

“For fuck sake.” 

He quickly leaves the guest room, heading to his own room to relieve himself. 

He sits at the end of his bed, slightly pulling down his boxers, feeling the pleasurable tightness around his swollen tip. He closes his eyes, imagining you in front of him, kneeling so obediently. Like the good girl you are. Wrapping your perfect lips around his swollen tip. Tightly jerking at his length—

“Mmph!” He covers his mouth, quickly spurting out heaps of his cum all over his boxers. That might have been the fastest he’s ever cum. Or was it when he touched himself in your room?  

15 seconds. 

Damn.

Will he last that long when he slides into you? God, he thinks he’ll die of embarrassment if he does. He’s now wondering how long you’ll stay for and if or when you’ll come back again. The only reason you’re here right now is because of that piece of shit, jackass that was harassing you. He’s still thinking of what he’s going to do with him. Little did that asshole know, Sukuna swiped his wallet, and of course, his ID conveniently had his address. He’s about 30 minutes away from the two of you.  Far, but close enough. Too close for his liking. 

Jogo. 

What’s with all these guys harassing you, having the worst names? Fuck, he hates them. He might hate both of them more than you. 

He’ll deal with all this another time, not now. He needs to get back to you and soak in the fact that you’re sleeping in his penthouse right now. 

He changes his boxers before walking back into the room you’re peacefully sleeping in. Slipping in next to you, pulling you onto his chest. As if he didn’t just masturbate across the hallway because he kissed you. 

He hopes you’ll stay for a while in the morning. It’s a Sunday, you can’t be that busy, and he doubts you’d want to be at home alone right now. He shuts his eyes, praying that when he wakes up, you’ll still be next to him. 

——

You wake up on a hard surface. That hard surface being Sukuna’s chest. There are prickly hairs across it, scratching your face slightly. You examine the tattoos across his entire body. Bands around his arm and torso, other markings on his chest. Incredible. You carefully run your fingers along each tattoo, completely forgetting he’s trying to sleep, until you feel him grasp your arm, causing you to jump. His eyes are still closed as if he were asleep, but he questions your actions. “What’re you doing?” His voice is deep and sleepy, startling you. 

“I umm knew you had tattoos, but I never properly paid attention to them. I love them.”

Sukuna opens his eyes, watching you continue to trace his tattoos. “When did you get them?” You ask, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat quicken. You see him hesitate before answering you. “When I was 17. My dad has a few of the same too. Guess it’s a family thing.” 

He’s lying to you, by the way. He got them in prison. They’re prison tattoos. In the Edo period in Japan, they would mark criminals with these tattoos. Though it’s not the Edo period, Sukuna Itadori is most definitely a criminal.

But you don’t need to know that.

“I love them, they suit you,” you smile. “I kind of want some tattoos myself.” Sukuna frowns slightly. Which causes your brows to furrow. “No, you don’t think I’ll suit any tattoos?”

“You’re already perfect, why ruin yourself with meaningless ink? You’re like a blank canvas,” he explains as he lightly brushes your arm. “That’s beautiful to me.” You stare at him with gleaming eyes. He thinks you're beautiful. You quickly push your face into the crevice of his neck, your cheeks hurt because you can’t stop smiling. You hear him chuckling before questioning you. “What’s wrong? Are you shy?” You slowly nod your head before sitting back up, facing Sukuna. His maroon eyes are scanning your face until he reaches your lips.

He wishes he could kiss you again.

Properly.

Before he can speak again, you slam your lips onto his, shocking Sukuna completely. Did you really just do that, or is he still sleeping? He pinches his thigh, feeling the tight sting on his skin. You actually just kissed him. He moves you on top of him, slightly grinding you onto him. Heaven, he’s in heaven. Your tongues are dancing with one another, getting hungrier for one another by the second. He should stop you. He can't control himself. You do too much for him, he’s gonna—  A groan rumbles from Sukuna’s throat. 

He stiffens. 

He might just end his life. 

You slowly detach your lips from his before looking down at his wet boxers. You don’t even know that this is the second pair he’s changed into. God, what the fuck is wrong with him?

“‘m sorry,” he mutters, while not looking at you. You’re still on top of him which he doesn’t mind at all, but he’s really, really fucking embarrassed right now. You place your hands on his warm cheeks, which prompts him to open his eyes, finding you smiling at him. Not a mocking smile, a comforting one. “Don’t be embarrassed, that’s honestly a compliment to me if you think about it.” You place a soft kiss on his lips, rolling off his body. He’s still as red as a tomato. 

“Do you have a spare toothbrush I can use?” 

He doesn’t respond; he just nods his head, confirming your question. So you sit up, grabbing his hand, telling him to show you. After you both brushed your teeth, Sukuna is still on edge because;

One. He doesn’t want you to leave. 

Two. He came in his pants from kissing you. 

“Erm, do you want me to make you breakfast?” 

Yes, angel say yes. 

“Umm, I need to let Himiko get her things. I’ve got to get back.” 

Fuck.

“I’ll take you.” He says, not giving you the chance to reply, grabbing his keys and guiding you out the door. 

“I can make us breakfast at your place after she leaves?” He quickly tells you.

“Y-yeah okay, sounds good.”

“Perfect, let’s go.”

——

You walk up the steps to your apartment with Sukuna stomping behind you. The two of you come into view of your apartment door, finding Himiko leaning against your door with messy hair and smudged makeup. She hears your footsteps immediately turning her head towards you, running to hug you. “Oh, I’m so so sorry! I was drunk, stupid, careless. All of the above, but I can’t lose you, please, I love you so much.” She’s hugging you tightly, sniffling slightly into your neck, while stroking your waist gently. You don’t know what to say. But the tall man behind you has plenty to. Surely you don’t believe this bullshit ass apology. And why is she touching you like you’re her girlfriend or something? Himikos’ face lifts from your neck, staring dead into Sukuna’s eyes. She scowls at him. Why the fuck did she just– “Do you forgive me?” she asks as she instantly changes her facial expression for you. “It’s fine, Himi, I’m over it already.” 

Angel, You're a damn pushover... 

You kiss her cheek before letting her go. She’s slightly blushing from your little gesture. You turn behind around, pulling Sukuna closer towards her to properly introduce him. “This is Sukuna, Himi. Sukuna, this is Himiko. Let’s pretend this is the first time you guys are meeting, okay?” Sukuna’s face is blank, he really does not like this girl. Will he have to be around her more often when the two of you start dating? She seems clingy. He wants her gone, but he can’t get rid of your apparent “best friend.” 

“Nice to meet you… Himiko,” he mutters bluntly. “Yeah, you too,” she also replies back bluntly.

You look between them, sensing the awkwardness from a mile away. 

“Well, um, lemme let you get your stuff.” 

You open your front door, letting the two into your house. Himiko skipping inside and Sukuna, of course, letting you in before him. “Is it okay if I shower quickly? It'll be 5 minutes. Just don’t… kill each other,” you say as you eye the two of them, you can wholeheartedly tell that they don’t like each other already. Sukuna because of what she did yesterday, and Himiko? Well, Himiko is always like this. Anytime there’s a guy you like, she immediately hates him. Never giving them a chance. Not one. According to her, “no one deserves you.” “You’re too good for them.” Was she right? sometimes? Yes, but she cannot do this with Sukuna.

Ever.

Sukuna takes a seat on your sofa, making himself comfortable, waiting for you, while Himiko… was collecting her things from your room. He’s watching her from his phone, of course.

She’s strange. She’s snooping around in your room, freak. Who does that? 

…

Nevermind. 

You make your way out of the shower, running into Himiko lying comfortably on your bed. She says your name as if she’s about to tell you off. “I don’t like him.”

Shocker. 

You roll your eyes, taking your towel off, and applying your lotion. Ignoring your negative Nancy of a friend. “Are you listening to me? He looks like a criminal. And why has he got such an angry face? What’s he mad about?”

“Himiko? Do you not get tired of this? Every time I like a guy, you act like this, it’s exhausting.” 

“It's exhausting for me, too. I just want you to be with someone who’ll take care of you. Does he even have a good job? I mean, he has a nice car, but anyone can these days.” You stare at her from the mirror of your vanity, sighing deeply. You turn to her, telling her what Sukuna does for a living. “He has a great job, he has a great apartment, he’s a good guy. Himi and I actually really like him. Plus, he protected me yesterday when you left me.”

“You said you were over it,” she murmured. 

“I’m over it, meaning I forgive you, but I’m not just going to forget, I mean it hasn’t even been 24 hours.” She gets up from your bed, wrapping her arms around your shoulder, turning your head to face her. “I am sorry, okay. I would never want anything like that to happen to you. I was stupid.” She’s gently caressing your cheek with her thumb, resting her forehead against your own. 

Sukuna is, of course, witnessing all of this, and he’s livid. She’s clearly in love with you. God, he’s in love with you too, but you are so damn blind. 

“Himi, I really like him, seriously, and I would really, truly appreciate you getting along with him, I mean, what if we get married, are you still gonna hate him then?”

“You’re thinking about marrying him already?” She says with a disgusted look on her face.

“I’m just saying it as a hypothetical, but I don’t want to date just to date, I want to fall in love, get married, have kids. How can I do that when you scare all the guys I meet away?”

“Just give him a chance, if you love me, you’ll do that for me.” 

“…Fine.” 

It takes 20 minutes for the two of you to come out of your room, 15 minutes longer than you promised, but it’s not your fault; you’re being distracted by your secret admirer. 

“Sorry I took so long,” you say, giving him a peck on the lips. He goes to reply, but nothing comes out. 

This is you guys’ second kiss— no third. What will the fourth be like? Or the 20th? Will he count every single one? 

Most probably, yes.

“Sukuna… I’m leaving… and I hope you guys have a good… Sunday. Goodbye.” 

She slams your front door, finally leaving the two of you alone. You place yourself on top of him giving him a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry about her. She always acts funny when I start seeing people. I don't know why.”

Because she wants you for herself, angel. 

“I don’t know, it’s weird, no? You should tell her to stop.”

“It’s fine, as long as she doesn’t do it with you. I really hope we have a long-lasting relationship.” 

Sukuna’s lips twitch into a small smile. “So do I.”

“I want to know more about you, and I want you to know more about me.”

He already knows nearly everything about you, but you genuinely know nothing about him. Do you need to know… everything?

“Hey, if you’re not ready to tell me things about you, I don’t mind waiting. Don’t stress.” 

“Thank you.” 

——

You and Sukuna have been seeing each other for almost two months now. Things are as great as can be. He brings you flowers at the beginning of every week. He picks you up from work with Yuji. He buys you crazy expensive gifts. And she showers you with the love and appreciation you’ve yearned for. He’s perfect. Now all you’re waiting for is for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. He’s told you he’s going to be busy this week with some cases at work he needs to go over, so you haven’t seen much of him, but you’re hoping that when you next see each other, he’ll finally ask you to be his. 

“Please, man, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was doing. I have a family, a wife, two boys.” Jogo struggles to speak out.

Sukuna has Jogo locked up in a cage in a storage unit that only he owns, miles away from the city, nearer to his family estate. No one knows he has this. It was supposed to be a place for him to relax and get away from his nagging family. But now it’s turned into something more sinister than that. For the past three days, Jogo has been held captive and tortured profusely for what he did to you that night. Cuts, lumps, and bruises all across his body. He told him he doesn’t forget a face, but it seems that Jogo was doubtful. He thought Sukuna was a stupid meathead sending out empty threats.

How wrong was he?

Sukuna followed Jogo for a good 5 days, collecting a lot of information about him. He does, in fact, have a wife and two boys. He’s also cheating on said wife with an intern at the office where he works at and she happens to be 30 weeks pregnant with his child. He paid her a hefty sum of money to terminate the pregnancy and disappear, but she, of course, said no, took the money, and left the country. He’s a regular at Kenjaku’s club, and it’s not his first time harassing young girls. Sometimes even more than that.

He's a repeated offender. 

Sukuna is doing God's work right now. This guy doesn’t deserve to walk on the same planet you reside on, let alone breathe the same air you do. Why the fuck would he allow it. Every person who harms you should be taken out of the equation.

Reduced to none.

He will continue to remove any danger that crosses your path. Ren, Jogo, anyone. 

“Jogo, I already know a lot about you. Did I tell you that?”

“I—“

“I know you’re married with kids and a baby on the way. But wait, that baby isn’t your wife’s baby, it’s your mistress’s, right? A bastard.” 

“I know.” He mutters

“Oh, you know? Do you know your wife knows now, too? You have so much proof on that phone of yours. I didn’t even need to do much, I just sent her all she needed to see.” 

Sukuna picks up a letter from the table behind him, opening the small door on the front of the box, and placing it in for Jogo to take. Before closing the door, Jogo immediately tries to open the one on his side. 

Sukuna tuts. 

“It doesn’t work like that. It only opens when I close my side.”

Sukuna closes his side, telling Jogo to open his and read the letter that was sent to him. “Go on, open it,” Sukuna tells him as he takes a seat, largely grinning. “Don’t keep me waiting, I wanna know what it says. Read it to me.” Jogo rips open the large envelope, skimming through the first few lines. He looks as if he saw a ghost. He looks up at Sukuna, who is still grinning as wide as the Cheshire cat. 

“Read it to me. I’m waiting. What is it?”

Jogos adam’s apple bobs. “It’s divorce papers.” 

“Good,  and what does it say on the uhh 10th row?” Sukuna points out.

Jogo counts down the rows, landing on the 10th. “I’ll have no assets...” 

Sukuna does a loud clap, pushing himself forward and walking towards the glass cage. “It’s fine, don’t worry. You’re not even gonna need any assets. I’m gonna kill you.”

“Wha— No!”

“Yes, I can’t have you walking around aimlessly. What if you run into her?”

“Run into who? My wife?”

“No, don’t be stupid. I don’t care about her. I’m talking about mine.” 

“Please, I was drunk, I-I don’t want to die.”

Sukuna walks into the cage, grabbing Jogo by the throat, slamming into the wall. Just like their first encounter. He whispers sinisterly in his face. 

“Being drunk isn’t a fucking excuse. I don’t care if you want to die. I’m sure every girl you assaulted didn’t want to be raped either but you did it anyway. You’re dirt on the bottom of my shoe.

You. Don’t. Deserve to live.” 

Sukuna looks down, noticing urine trickling down Jogos' leg. He’s scared. 

Good. 

He should be. 

“I’ll take my time with you, I can promise you that.”

𝜗𝜚 Authors Note: I think I have nothing to say. I sat outside in my garden finishing this. It was really nice very sunny. I got a lil tan :p

extra note: so like i got really distracted and i started playing overwatch and then i started watching an overwatch streamer and i was trying to read through this but i was so fucking distracted omg. so i’m sorry i took so long LMFAO i’m actually addicted.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three | Chapter Five

[ekingston]

hey guess what is today’s addition to my ever-growing list of reasons to never share another multichapter work online again!

if you’re a fanfic author, you may want to do a search for a line from your fic and see what comes up. someone calling themselves LoveRosieSunshine changed the names of 1. my fic, 2. the chapters and 3. the characters and nothing else & then uploaded it to Wattpad without my permission.

if you enjoyed You & Me & Holiday Wine (the original of which is published only on ao3 here), please do me a favor and report the plagiarism to Wattpad. more screenshots & the link to their ‘version’ of my fic (it’s literally a copy/paste) are under the cut, along with directions on how to report even if you don’t have an account. if you do have an account, i’d appreciate it a lot if you could leave them and/or their readers a comment about the fact that this is the exact kind of bullshit that stops authors from sharing the stories these readers profess to love so much.

i’d be grateful if you guys could share this post with fandom friends, as well. i’m sure this person has never actually written a single story in their life, so if you have f/f work on ao3 you’ll want to check if yours wasn’t stolen, too.

i know i’m asking a lot, but Wattpad will only allow me to file a DMCA—which requires me to share my full legal name and address with Wattpad as well as the plagiarist, which i’m obviously not comfortable doing. for fuck’s sake.

if you ever see any of my work on Wattpad, that is theft. i will never share my work there, and i would appreciate you letting me know if you find it reposted. apparently this one has been up for at least a year and i don’t know what makes me want to throw my laptop harder, the comments saying ‘that’s SO [character i’ve never heard of]!’ or the people recognizing it as a supercorp fic and then carrying on as if that’s perfectly fine.

[slutforwoo]

P☆RNST☆R

|| NERD! YUNHO x ALTCAMGIRL! READER||

☆ COLLEGE ATEEZ SMAU!

☆ Yunho’s friends notice him overworking himself like never before. Hongjoong, being the good friend he is, recommends his favorite camgirl. In hopes he can start to destress himself. But being the workaholic he is, he decides to start tutoring for extra cash. Y/n is failing her chemistry classes again. Again. On probation with the school, she agrees to get a tutor. Well, who would’ve thought that tutor would end up being Yunho, and that during one of their study sessions he’ll recognize that back tattoo of his new favorite pastime? Guess we have to find out, don’t we?

☆ !PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF U ARE UNDER 18 THIS SMAU WILL CONTAIN SEXUAL THEMES AND EXPLICIT SCENES!

☆ Will be adding to the trigger warnings as the story progresses! !Y/n will be having random face claims! Tw: Explicit themes, cursing, sexual acts preformed in exchange for money, mentions of depression, smoking, drinking

☆ SATUS: COMPLETE!

You ready? let’s meet the cast shall we?

☆ Camgirl & her entourage

☆ Workaholics club

☆ extras- art

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

☆ Chapters !

☆1. A what now?

☆2. late night festivities

☆3. why he kinda-

☆4. study date

☆5. for fucks sakes

☆6. time to get white girl wasted

☆7. I can be your dd

☆8. End exams= get shitfaced

☆9. finally another live

☆10. think of ur grandma

☆11. am I being punked rn?

☆12. I ❤︎ nerds

☆13. It's not a date

☆14. i’m a picky eater okay

☆15. what the actual fuck

☆16. you dumb nut

☆17. I thought we didn’t do peer pressure here

☆18. I still wanna jump him

☆19. stop being a bitter hoe

☆20. comments off

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch | Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader | Masterlist

Summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

The one thing you can’t heal? It’s a broken heart. Sadly, that’s exactly what Logan needs: in love with a woman who doesn't love him back, and only having pieces of a broken past, Logan needs all the help he can get. He’s too stubborn to ask, but you make it your mission to be there for him.

[Takes place around X2, but Jean doesn't die]

This is a sloooow burn, so grab a snack.

A/N: I know there’s already a mutant named Angel, but for the sake of this fic let’s just pretend there isn’t haha.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, but also a lot of fluff, mentions of sickness, hospitals, sick children, cancer, canon typical violence. I may add more in the future.

Chapters:

Part 1: In the mood Part 2: Broken hearts Part 3: Love is a battlefield Part 4: Trauma Part 5: Return home Part 6: Healed hearts

Extras and drabbles

Jealousy Autograph Past future Four times

If anyone is interested in reading this, let me know. I'll create a tag list. It will also be posted on AO3