#yes! yes I did. I got embarrassed because I’d come to a standstill on the fic and felt I didn’t deserve to post a snippet 😅

[peaches2217]

New fic coming sometime this week — and it’s a doozy! It’s nearing 6k words, which is like. Twice as long as my previous longest oneshot.

I hope y’all like bittersweet angst~

[codex-archives-exe]

Only A Heated Touch Truly Conveys The Sentiment | Yahari Ore No Seishun Love Come Wa Machigatteiru. Kan. [EP 11] | Yukinon x Hikigaya/Hikigaya x Yukinon [Yukigaya] 

Transcript:

(Yukinon and Hikigaya begin walking up the bridge)

Hikigaya: “Sorry to drag you into this.”

Yukinon: “It was inevitable. There’s no way I could have refused in this situation.”

Yukinon: “Seriously, what are you doing?” 

(Yukinon, in denial, that after everything, Hikigaya persistently tries to be with her)

Yukinon: “I don’t get this at all.”

(Yukinon slightly ahead of Hikigaya, walking up the entrance of the bridge)

Yukinon: “It actually felt terrifying watching my own family get coaxed along like that.” 

Hikigaya: “I wasn’t really doing anything of the sort.”

Hikigaya: “To be honest, I’m terrified by the fact that they just backed down.”

Yukinon: “Good point.”

Yukinon: “My mom and sister definitely aren’t the type to give up that easily.”

(Hikigaya, awkwardly asking if he can move ahead because he has a bike, Yukinon shakes her head in disagreement) 

Yukinon: “That look my mother had... It was the same one she has when she looks at my sister.”

Hikigaya: “Do you mean she acknowledged you?”

Yukinon: “She might have given up on me instead.”

[...]

Yukinon: “Why did you say something so absurd?”

Hikigaya: “That was the only way I could stay associated with you.”

Yukinon: “...Huh?”

Hikigaya: “With the club ending, we’d lose our only real place of contact.”

Hikigaya: “I couldn’t think of another excuse to you to come to me.”

(Yukinon stops in her place, as Hikigaya moves up slightly ahead)

Yukinon: “Why would you do that?”

Yukinon: “What about your promise? I asked you to grant her wish.” 

Hikigaya: “We could say that this is a part of it.”

(Hikigaya puts the stop on his bike on the bridge)

Hikigaya: “Because she told me she wanted you to be a part of our afternoons filled with nothing.”

Yukinon: “Then there was no reason for you to do all of that...”

Hikigaya: “As if.”

Hikigaya: “Acquaintances, associates, friends, classmates. You can call it whatever you want. But I have no confidence I maintain that kind of relationship.” 

Yukinon: “That may be true for you, but I’m going to do this. I’m going to get better at doing this!”

(As Yukinon, walks out of Hikigaya’s way creating distance between them)

[...]

Hikigaya: “This may hurt to hear, but both of us have pretty much zero communication skills, and we make things too complicated.”

Hikigaya: “Not to mention that we’re absolutely terrible at socializing!”

Hikigaya: “I don’t think we can start doing it well now!”

Hikigaya: “Creating any distance between us won’t be the end of it, and I’m positive we’ll just drift apart even further apart!”

(Hikigaya starts to run after Yukinon as she walks further away) 

(Yukinon begins to walk faster and further away as Hikigaya reaches out his hand) 

(Hikigaya realizing that Yukinon is getting too far away)

(Determined - Hikigaya, begins to gain speed and run after Yukinon)

Hikigaya: “That’s why...!” (as he grabs Yukinon’s hand) 

Hikigaya: “If I let you go, I can’t grab hold of you again.” 

Hikigaya: “This is extremely embarrassing for me to say, and I’d like to drop dead right about now, but...saying all that stuff about  “taking responsibility” was totally insufficient...I don’t feel an obligation to do this...It’s more like I want that responsibility. Or rather ...I want you to let me have it...”

(Hikigaya, finally lets go of Yukinon’s hand, and they blush and look away from each other for a brief moment) 

(Yukinon rubbing her wrist and hand, where Hikigaya held tightly) 

Hikigaya: “It might not be something you’re wishing for, but I want to remain involved with you. This isn’t about obligation, but desire.”

Hikigaya: “So...allow me the privilege of distorting your life.” 

(Yukinon shocked, realizing what he really means) 

Yukinon: “What do you mean “distort”? What do you mean by that word?” 

Hikigaya: “Well, I don’t mean that I have enough influence to change your whole life or anything. I think both you and I go on to university like normal, reluctantly join the workforce, and then go on to live decent lives. But if we’re involved with each other, we’ll take detours, stay at a standstill, and things like that, right? That’s why I’ll distort your life a little.” 

(Yukinon sighs in relief, and then smiles, knowing what Hikigaya means) 

Yukinon: “If that’s what you mean, then my life’s been distorted for a while now.”

Hikigaya: “I agree.”

Hikigaya: “We met, talked, learned, and then separated...and at each my life got distorted.” 

Yukinon: “But you were already distorted from the very beginning.” 

Yukinon: “I was, too, though.”

Hikigaya: “And things are going to get even more distorted. But as long as I keep distorting your life, I intend to pay a price to make up for it. ”

Hikigaya: “Well, I have basically have no assets, so the only things I can give you are time, emotions, the future, a life and other vague stuff like that. I’m not living much of a life, and I don’t have a lot of prospects for the future. But as long as I’m involved in someone else’s life, I have to give something, otherwise it’s not fair.”  

Hikigaya: “I’ll give you anything and everything, so please let me be involved in your life.” 

[...]

(Yukinon blushing and somewhat upset)

Yukinon: “You’re wrong...There’s no balance to that at all!”

(Yukinon, upset, knowing very well, that is completely unfair for only her to rely on him) 

Yukinon: “There’s not that much value in the path that I walk to the future.” 

Yukinon: “In comparison, you have...”

Hikigaya: “That’s a relief, then.”

Hikigaya: “As it stands, there’s not much value in my life. It’s an unpopular brand that has so little value it can’t get any lower than it already is. It’s basically bottomed out. In a sense, you could consider it a principal-protected investment. Now’s the best time to buy in!” 

Yukinon: “You make it sound like a huge scam.” 

(Gently punching Hikigaya’s chest)

Yukinon: “Learn to present yourself better!”

(Yukinon, upset, knowing Hikigaya is worth much more than he always tends to describes himself to her) 

Yukinon: “Why are you standing there spouting all this stupid stuff that doesn’t matter? There’s something else you should be saying!” 

(Yukinon, knowing full-well he is talking about “love” but does not have the bravery or courage to be upfront about it) 

Hikigaya: “I can’t say it. No way. You really think I can put that into words?”

Yukinon: “I think I may be a very tiresome person to deal with.”

Hikigaya: “I know that.”

Yukinon: “In any case, I’ve done nothing but cause you problems.”

Hikigaya: “I’m used to that.”

Yukinon: “I’m stubborn, and I’m not very charming.” 

Hikigaya: “Yeah, that’s true.”

Yukinon: “I wanted you to deny that part, though...” 

(Hoping Hikigaya would at least deny one thing about her) 

Hikigaya: “That’s a tall order.” 

Yukinon: “I feel like I’ll only become more useless as I continue to rely on you.”

Hikigaya: “Which means I just to have to become more useless than that. If we’re all useless, then no one is.” 

Yukinon: “And also-!”

(Yukinon tries to deny every moment of Hikigaya doing everything for her)

Hikigaya: “It’s fine.” 

Hikigaya: “I don’t mind how tiresome you get. Or how burdensome. I could even say that’s a good thing about you.”

Yukinon: “What?” 

Yukinon: “That doesn’t make me happy at all!”

(As Yukinon, lightly jabs at Hikigaya’s chest)

Hikigaya: “Ouch...”

(Yukinon, then gently grabs and tugs a small part of Hikigaya’s scarf)

Yukinon: “There’s more than that, right?” 

(Yukinon puts her hand down, then Hikigaya grabs her hand, and puts her hand on his heart)

(Surprised, Yukinon looks back at Hikigaya as he does this)

Hikigaya: “It may not be enough compensation for distorting your life, but well...I’ll give you everything. If you do not want it, then throw it away. If it’s annoying, then just forget about it. I’m still going to do it regardless, so I don’t need you to reply.” 

Yukinon: “Well, I’m going to say it clearly.”

(Yukinon then grasps part of Hikigaya’s blazer then begins to lean on him) 

Yukinon: “Please allow me to have...your life.” 

Hikigaya: “That’s stiff.” 

Yukinon: “I don’t know any other way to say it, so deal with it.” 

(Yukinon completely leaning on him, almost crying)

(Hikigaya, then fully embraces Yukinon, and they hug each other) 

Preface

Hello everyone, so I used to have a Tumblr a long, long time ago; 5 years to be exact; but have chosen this time, because on this very site I used to endlessly blog and jot down so many theories and thoughts about the possibilities - the sheer possibilities, of this couple, this ship being a thing.

AND THEN IT FINALLY HAPPENED. 100% CONFIRMED. 

THERE ARE NO WORDS THAT CAN DESCRIBE HOW HAPPY I AM.

7 YEARS

3 SEASONS

38 EPS 

AFTER STORY CONFIRMED TO BE IN THE WORKS

Sadly, I do not have the receipts or any core theory pieces or fragments from my past blog because it was wiped. Attempting to reconstruct any form of it from past memory, from what I thought from this, solely came from the fact Yukinon and Hikigaya, despite having so many disagreements and dragging each other down almost in some instances - they always watched out for each other. They always did. No matter if it was Hikigaya for Yukinon’s sake, or Yukinon for Hikigaya’s sake even in the some of the most simple scenarios.  

I always thought the beginning of S3, was so daunting because the sheer separation of the Service Club caused so much anguish, because each one of them felt for a different desire for another. Although, the entire premise going out of his own way to be there for Yukinon. Is absolutely the cutest and most romantic proactive thing someone could do for someone they ‘genuinely’ loved. 

Yes, I did go out of my own way to write the entire transcript of that five minute sequence because it is so incredibly memorable, cute, and heartwarming. As many have claimed from the start, they were absolutely meant for each other, knowing how much they rely, trust, and lean on one another. The writing is just so beautiful and always gets my heart pounding, and I practically cry every time. I could watch this a million times, I could never ever grow tired of it. Protect these two AT ALL COSTS 😭💗💗💗💗 it being well worth the seven years of waiting, was such an understatement, I am so excited for whenever the After Story for these two gets animated. My heart will not be able to handle it. 

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

A Match Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Watts x Reader

Summary: After meeting one night in New York, you and Benny Watts are drawn to each other. As you go through different experiences with one another, you grow closer until it finally gets to be too much for Benny.

Word Count: 2685 Damn

Warnings: Alcohol and also a little sad?

Notes: hehe the plot continues... also please give feedback I’m still new to writing and can use the help 🥺

Your first date with Benny was like all your experiences with Benny. It started out ordinary, and ended up somewhere completely different.

He took you to a small cafe, one of those hidden spots known only to New York natives.

You and Benny sat down in a little corner of your own, and you felt an imbalance when he didn’t look nervous at all. After you ordered you relaxed a bit, finding out that he was just as anxious as you were. Sure, Benny had an incredible poker face, but the way he kept tapping his cheek while he leaned his chin on his hand had been the tell.

On the outside it looked as though the two of you were on a regular date, exchanging all the usual smiles and small flirtations, but that’s where it got a little more interesting.

Benny wasn’t conventional and didn’t care to be, and you were always trying to get past the surface of things. Neither of you cared for menial small talk, and instead went straight into a passionate exchange of thoughts and views. You ended up talking like you had known each other for years. There was a connection there, an obvious chemistry that you hadn’t found before.

There was a second date after that, and it was even better than the last. He had taken you to dinner that time, and once again you found yourselves falling back into discussion about various thoughts and ideas, nothing boring or ordinary.

As you cracked jokes back and forth and learned more about each other, you had a warm feeling. You recognized that for all these last few months, being with Benny was the first time you really felt at home in New York.

That was before, but this is now. Now is when a part of you shattered. Now is just after you got a devastating call that your father was sick.

“Thank you,” you said before hearing the click of placing the phone back on the receiver.

Thank you for what? You were just told your father was dying and you were supposed to say thank you? You had finally gotten the chance to go beyond your small town, thinking everything at home was safe, that it was taken care of. It was your father that convinced you of that.

Living where you did had it’s limits, and there wasn’t much for you there. He pushed you to get out and explore, telling you that you didn’t need to worry about him.

You were taken from your thoughts when you looked at the time, realizing Benny would be picking you up soon. You could’ve canceled, considering the recent circumstances, but you were grasping for normalcy at the moment, trying to shove away the awful reality you were just hit with. You told yourself it wasn’t because you were running away, you were just being considerate of benny. Yes, you were just being considerate. That meant you could push off thinking about all this until you got home.

This time, you and Benny were walking together in Central Park, and you were trying to pay attention to what he was saying as best you could.

“Hey, y/n?” You heard benny’s voice break through the numbness.

“Sorry, what?” You were embarrassed that he caught you blatantly ignoring what he was saying.

“I was asking if you were able to come to to the championship, but I think you’ve got other things on your mind.” He didn’t seem offended, more concerned.

“I’d love to, I know how important chess is for you, and I haven’t gotten the chance to see you get really competitive.” He would’ve been happier to hear your answer had he not seen straight though you.

“Right now, you’re what’s really important to me. Just tell me what’s really going on.” His admittance for caring about you would’ve made filled your heart yesterday, but today it made you want to run away.

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’ve been off the whole day, I just want to know why.”

“Nothing is going on. Why are you so convinced that there is?” Your tone became slightly more aggressive.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me right-“

“Just leave it Benny!” You snapped, letting go of his hand and and walking away from him. You didn’t know why you took off from someone you liked so much, but you didn’t really know why anything was happening at all.

You were stopped as Benny ran after you and grabbed you hand firmly. You tried to pull away, but he was stronger than you. He spun you around to face him. You became acutely aware of the tears that had started to fall from your eyes. Looking up into his eyes was your breaking point.

You let out a sob before caving into him. You felt his arms wrap around you before letting him usher you to a bench. He held you for what seemed like forever, until you were too tired to cry anymore. He was rubbing you back and gave you a little smile when you faced him. You apologized and hastily wiped away your tears, but he insisted that it was ridiculous of you to be sorry. You still felt guilty after your breakdown, so you explained what was going on to make it up to Benny. You couldn’t exactly run away anymore, physically or emotionally.

“It’s my dad. I got a call this morning. He’s sick, but he wants me to stay here. How am I supposed to stay here, dealing with a new job, a new life really, while my dad’s back home dying?” You let Benny see all the stress you were under, ready for him to leave now that he’s seen you as a mess.

“All those things, you have to take one at a time. If your dad’s what’s important right now, just focus on that.” It was easier said than done, but Benny wasn’t the emotional type and he didn’t know exactly what to say, but he cared, that much was clear. You just nodded, trying to pull yourself back together. “Are you going to listen to him? Are you going to stay here?” You could tell that behind his question, he was scared that you would say no.

“I- I don’t know yet.”

“Whatever you need, I’m here.” He said as he gently placed a hand on your cheek. It was smooth and warm and you wanted to lean into it, but you snapped out of it.

“Maybe what we both need is for you not to here.” You didn’t want to hurt him, but your walls had rushed back up. You had so many things going on, and the last thing you needed was a boyfriend. It pained you to say it, but you wanted to be honest.

“I don’t have to be here as... whatever we have going on now... but I can be here as a friend.” As of today, romance was off the table for you, but a friend was different, and Benny wasn’t the type to let go of you so easily, even if a friendship was all he could get.

You just nodded and looked down into your lap, not knowing what to do now. Benny knew it was time for silence, so he held your face in his hands so you looked up at him. He didn’t say anything as he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears sitting on your cheeks. It wasn’t a romantic act, it was more endearing, a quiet action as if to say that he was willing to catch you if you fell.

You let out a small laugh at his little gesture. His eyes radiated a sort of comfort now that you he was edging into a part of your life that even you avoided.

With the intention of continuing your date that wasn’t really a date anymore, he grabbed your hand to pull you up from the bench. When he tried to let go, you didn’t let him. He looked at you curiously but he didn’t question it. You didn’t even know why you did it, still mentally screaming to push him away. You both just ended up going along with it, holding hands for the rest of the day until he walked you back home.

Nearly 3 weeks had passed since then and you hadn’t gone out or had contact with anyone. Despite your moment with Benny, you had still distanced yourself from him. Holed up in your apartment, existing off of gin, cigarettes, and frozen foods; ignoring calls, presumably from your friends.

You sat in the middle of the living room floor, forcing yourself to sketch. It had been therapeutic for you before, but now you found yourself more agitated as your drawings felt forced.

“Argh!” You yelled out into the room as you threw the papers across the floor. The one thing that you could always turn to was your ability to do art, and now you felt a block.

After taking a swig of gin, you laid back on the floor. You had turned to alcohol after another call with your father. He demanded that you stay in New York and that you go on with your life. Instead you felt like you were at a standstill, unable to keep going knowing that the one person left in your life wouldn’t make it another couple of months, and yet you were unable to see him. It made you hurt and angry that he didn’t want you home, but you wouldn’t go against his dying wishes.

You groaned when you heard the sound of the phone. You dragged your hands across your face when it wouldn’t stop ringing, forcing yourself up to confront whoever was pestering you.

“What the fuck!”

“Glad to know you’re alive.” Bennys voice greeted you.

“Can’t you tell when someone wants to be alone?” You missed Benny, but you were slightly drunk and your defenses were up.

“What someone wants and what someone needs are two very different things.”

“Well then tell me what I need.” You said sarcastically.

“You should come out with us. We’ve been calling, Cleo and Annette and the rest of us. We haven’t heard from you.”

“Well the reason you haven’t heard from me is because I haven’t been answering.”

“Funny,” he said humorlessly, “we all miss you.” He paused, “I miss you. And I said I’d always be here so I have to make good on my promise.”

You paused. You had to admit, you missed them and Benny too, but everything just seemed so scary right now. For all your philosophies and ideas, you were hiding from your own thoughts. Going out with people would only expose them.

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have to have a night out, but have coffee with me at least.”

“Benny I-“

“Great. I’ll be there in five.”

“What? Benny no-“ He hung up. The bastard hung up on you. His audacity was what actually made you laugh for the first time in days. After a minute of laying on the floor, you gathered energy to trudge over to the bathroom and make an attempt to clean yourself up. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you made a grimace at your reflection. You brushed your hair and washed your face, brushing your teeth twice to get rid of the alcohol on your breath. You swiped some face makeup to conceal your dark circles and changed out of the pajamas you had been living in.

You buzzed Benny in, expecting him to wait downstairs in the lobby like usual. Instead you heard a knock at the door in the middle of clearing things up. You got flustered as you rushed around to pick up glasses, pillows and other articles littering the floor.

“I thought we were going for coffee,”You said as you opened the door, panting slightly.

“I thought I would make things easy, come to you.” He said as he made his way in, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “plus ive never been in here.” He took a look around, making no comments about the state of your apartment. He made himself comfortable, going through your kitchen, presumably looking for coffee or something to eat. “Do you want anything? More gin maybe?” He said as he picked up an empty bottle sitting on the counter.

“Benny-“ you warned, silencing him. He joined you on the couch with some chips he found in the cabinets and a can of coke.

“We don’t have to talk about anything serious, I just don’t want you to be alone. For my own sake really.” He turned his head away from you while saying the last part.

“You know I should be a dick more often, I’m making you all soft.” You nudged him in the shoulder as a small smile crept up on his lips, lightening the mood. Something about him being there made you unconsciously drop your facade. You had to admit it was nice to relax for a moment.

“Hey don’t go telling everyone.”

You didn’t talk about anything serious like Benny said you wouldn’t. After a while you eased into laughing and chatting casually. Eventually the conversation reached a comfortable lull.

“I missed you too you know. I didn’t say it over the phone.” You told him. Having him here with you made you feel bad for your outburst. You admired his patience for you.

“I knew.” He shrugged as he gave you a sideways little smirk.

“cocky bastard.” You said jokingly.

“Your favorite cocky bastard” he tilted his head towards you as he lifted his brow, smiling.

“Top 3 maybe.” You leaned back like you were pretending to think about it.

Suddenly you remembered what you talked about before the little breakdown you had on your walk.

“The championship! Do you still want me to go?” You sat up with your sudden remembrance.

“Course I do. I didn’t know you would still be up for it.” Benny looked happy, but you could tell he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I didn’t think I was, but I didn’t want to miss you winning.” You ruffled his fluffy blonde hair. He gave you that cocky smirk again. You really won points by stroking bennys ego.

“Well we can drive together then. It’s next week.” He said it nonchalantly, but he smiled as he took a sip of his drink.

You paused, not realizing the championship was so soon. You thought you had at least a month. You didn’t feel as though you were ready to enter back into the world yet. Just Benny was alright but having to hold your own with all those people while Benny played scared you. Benny caught your hesitation and went to hold your hand. They were chess players hands, soft with long fingers that intertwined with yours. They were cold and his rings were a bit uncomfortable, but your breath still hitched a bit.

No. You said you wouldn’t get involved with him. Still, you kept your hand in his. It was probably the one mildly romantic thing either of you could get without risking the friendship falling apart at this time.

“How exciting,” you finally continued. You lifted your coke and you and Benny cheers-ed together. Once again that warm feeling of home crept in, that feeling you got when being with Benny. No matter how many walls you built up, Benny, someone you hadn’t even known for more than a couple months, had an amazing way of bursting through.

Just this morning you were firmly committed to becoming a hermit, and now you were planning a road trip. You chalked it up to Benny being special to you. No, you pushed that thought away again. Special in a friend way. That’s what you needed, and that’s what he was willing to be. You were in a state of conflict around him, shoving him away and holding his hand to pull him close. You shook off your thoughts and looked at Benny, and there was a moment where his eyes shone with admiration, and then it was gone as he turned his head away and continued to talk about one of his chess feats while you listened attentively, just happy to be around him again, even if it was unwillingly at first.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (END 7 + 8: Heart-throb)

"It feels pretty good to have your wish granted by someone else.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Reblogs and likes appreciated! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution *Will be taking a short break for one or two days for mental health reasons, so no TLs will be uploaded while I’m gone

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ✩Light & Night★

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

✩ E7 LIGHT: Rest here ✩

MC: The view's pretty nice. How about we rest here for a while?

Evan: Sure. Let's sit here then.

I followed Evan and seated myself atop a rock by the river and gave a good big stretch, easing the tension out of my slightly sore hips and legs.

The vegetation around us was a little sparser now, and the golden sunlight fell upon us in mottled spots. The river had crystal clear water. The sunlight pierced through the waves, leaving shimmering gold patterns that wavered along with the current of the river.

There were occasional grey shadows that darted through the water. I excitedly patted Evan's arm to catch his attention the moment I saw it.

MC: Look! There are fish in the river!

Evan: There's quite a bit of them. Those look like striped bass.

MC: They're so big…

Staring at the plump and juicy-looking fishes, I suddenly became acutely aware of the snarling abyss that was my stomach as it slowly woke back up.

I never expected to get hungry just from that short trek.

Those fishes would be delicious steamed! Add soy sauce, a little wine to taste, and the meat will become tender and succulent, absolutely flavorful...

But it would also be equally good braised! Deep fry it first, then add soybean sauce, Sichuan pepper and star anise to spice it up. Then add water to let the sauce soak in, producing a flavourful, mouthwatering, aroma!

I couldn't help but swallow in anticipation. I guiltily cast a glance at Evan, hoping that he didn't notice my guilty inward musings of a glutton.

Evan: Don't tell me you're thinking whether this fish would be better braised or steamed?

MC: ??? ...Remove the camera you installed in my brain!

Evan: Why would I need a camera? It's written all over your face.

Evan: It'll be a little hard to steam or braise anything here, but we can try grilling the fish if we have a stove to work with.

Hearing the words "grilled" and "fish", I instantly felt rejuvenated. Gone were my sore hips and aching legs.

I jumped up from the rock I'd been sitting on with a start.

MC: Grilled fish sounds good! I've got the stove! And grills! And seasonings!

Evan: Brilliant.

MC: Then there's only one thing missing… How are we going to catch the fish?

Evan surveyed the area and pondered for a while before speaking.

Evan: There are traces of grilling being done on the ground. Someone must have grilled fish here before.

Evan: We can look around and see if there is any equipment left behind that we can make use of.

MC: Okay!

Evan and I each took one side of the river as we scoured the bank for any items that may be of use.

Soon after, I moved a patch of tall grass aside and lifted something in triumphant joy.

MC: Evan! Look at what I found! A harpoon!

Hearing me call out to him, Evan headed over. He took the rusty harpoon from me and gave it a once over.

Evan: Sharpen it on the rocks and it should be good to go.

MC: Great!

Evan took the harpoon to the rocks and gave it a thorough sanding to get all the rust off. Soon, the once-rusty harpoon regained its sharp, deadly, metallic glint. It looked as primed as ever.

After he was done polishing it up, I excitedly picked it up. Evan looked at me in slight surprise.

Evan: You want to try?

MC: Yeah! Plus, I'm wearing a dress, so I don't have to worry about getting my pant leg wet or anything like that!

Evan took one glance at the way I was brandishing the harpoon, looking ever so eager to try my hand at it, and softened. A helpless yet tender look dyed his orbs.

Evan: Alright, but be careful not to slip.

MC: Right!

I took the harpoon to the river bank and quietly searched for my quarry.

Soon enough, a shadow slid smoothly across the water. But, it had already gotten long out of reach before I had the time to react.

I observed the waters for a while more, familiarizing myself with how the fishes moved.

When another fish appeared, I timed myself, raising the harpoon high and bringing it down hard!

The harpoon jostled the river and disturbed the dirt at the bottom of the riverbed. However, there was no fish in sight when the waters came to a standstill once more. There was only a harpoon, firmly embedded into the riverbed.

MC: Feels like I'm swerving my hits a bit…

A small laugh came from behind as a warm hand enclosed mine, wielding the harpoon together with me. He dislodged it and returned it to my grasp with surprising ease and finesse.

Evan: It's alright. Try again.

Evan: Throw the spearhead further to prevent hurting yourself.

I nodded and took the harpoon. Soon, I took my aim at another incoming fish.

I inwardly encouraged myself: I'll get it this time!

I swung the harpoon and sent it stabbing downward. This time, I felt like I'd hit the target quite accurately!

However, the fish wiggled for a bit beneath my harpoon before speedily making its slippery escape…

MC: *Sigh*...Is it because I'm too weak?

Evan: It's because you hesitated.

MC: Hmm, maybe a little. I suddenly feel a little hesitant to deal the finishing blow when I think of how this harpoon inevitably pierces the fish’s body.

Evan: Reluctance to deal the finishing blow is only normal. How about I do it instead?

A strong wave of reluctance surged up within my heart. I swiftly hid the harpoon behind my back.

MC: Nah. I’ve only tried it twice! Give me a couple more chances and I’ll definitely be able to do it!

Evan: If you say so.

Evan: Then you'll have to be faster, and you'll have to land harder hits than that.

Evan: Or you can think of it as your enemy, or maybe someone you dislike?

MC: Hahaha… Well, about that…

I thought about it seriously for a while, but I couldn’t think of anyone I particularly disliked.

Hence, I looked back at Evan and casually dropped him a question.

MC: I can't really think of any off the top of my head. Do you have anyone you dislike?

Evan was taken aback. His eyes were slightly lowered as if he was hiding some sort of emotion that dwelled within.

I suddenly recalled that we’d come on this trip precisely because something had happened beforehand to make him unhappy. Now, his expression only made me understand it more with stark clarity: yes, he did have someone he disliked...

MC: You don’t have to think about unhappy things! I’m sure that person’s not a good person if they’ve made even you dislike them! I’ll teach them a lesson!

Evan: Why, thank you.

With the harpoon in tow, I returned to the river bank. Reflected in my mind was none other than how Evan had reacted to my earlier question.

Just what sort of issue would trouble someone as strong as him? On that same note, just what sort of person would cause someone as powerful as him to become this restless and uneasy?

Then, a fish slowly swam into my line of sight. And it was precisely with this sort of mood that I raised the harpoon high in the air, sending it plummeting downward without a moment’s hesitation!

However, the sudden force I’d flung it down with made me lose balance as I went down with it. I felt my waist move backwards from the force as my feet slipped from beneath me...

MC: Uwah!

Splash!

Water splashed in all directions as I slipped right into the river...

Evan: !!

Fortunately, this river wasn’t deep and only reached my waist. Evan swiftly support me as I stood up.

Evan: Are you alright?

MC: I'm fine… my butt's just a little sore… Ow…

Evan: Slowly.

He supported me back to sit on the rock. I looked down to inspect myself. My dress was soaked and dripping water everywhere.

I gathered my dress and wrung out a load of water from it. Ah, how I’ve screwed up...

Evan: Does it hurt anywhere else?

I gathered my hair together in slight embarrassment as I shook my head.

After ensuring that I was not injured in any way or manner, Evan moved to light the stove by my feet. He then removed his jacket and placed it over my lap.

Evan: Be careful not to catch a cold.

My stomach gave a loud rumble in protest the moment he finished. I quickly covered it in embarrassment.

Evan: Alright. Let me procure our lunch.

MC: I'll have to trouble you with it then…

Evan: It's no trouble at all.

Evan removed his glasses, rolled up his sleeves, and picked up my abandoned harpoon on the river bank.

Wrapping his jacket around myself, I looked up at him curiously.

I wonder what the CEO of Warson, ever dignified and well put-together, would look like brandishing a harpoon of steel?

❖☆———————————★❖

Just as I was thinking about that, Evan suddenly went rigid; and I, in turn, watched him with bated breath.

His gaze seemed to be transfixed on a particular fish. His dark red eyes narrowed with intent as the light in his orbs instantly turned to a cold glint; one as sharp as a deadly blade.

He raised the harpoon, the muscles on his arms and chest rippling as they made themselves known in their usage and exuded a raw, primal, sense of power.

The sun's rays glinted off the sharp blade of the harpoon, reflecting the cold light of the forest.

I watched him in a daze. It was almost as if I was watching a formidable and ruthless beast at work after having set eyes on its prey.

I'd rarely seen Evan with such an expression on his face. A thought suddenly popped into my head out of nowhere.

Maybe this was how Evan had always dealt with his enemies; swift and ruthless.

Then, the harpoon flashed through the waters as quick as lightning.

Water splashed everywhere as a muffled thud sounded. Evan had made his quarry, no doubt.

❖☆———————————★❖

With another slosh, the harpoon was withdrawn from the waters. A huge fish followed the length out of the water, trashing incessantly, its tail flicking to and fro.

When Evan turned to look at me, the usual warmth found in his eyes had returned.

Evan: Can you help me fetch a bucket?

I snapped out of the trance, hurriedly moving to fetch a bucket and brought it before him.

MC: You got it in a single strike! You're really awesome, Evan!

Evan: A young lady is waiting for me, hungry and cold, after all.

Embarrassed, I stuck my tongue out at him.

He removed the fish from the harpoon and dumped it into the bucket before returning to the river bank.

Following his return, the harpoon made continuous sounds as it pierced through the waters again and again. His actions grew increasingly precise, and I could tell that he was trying to let out some steam with how much strength he packed into each stab.

Soon, he managed to spear another two fish out of the river. They were both huge and plump, and he seemed to be much more relaxed when he turned back around again.

He knelt down and weighed his spoils with satisfaction.

Evan: The biggest catch weighs nearly 2kg. It should be enough for us.

Afterwards, he neatly killed the fish by the bank before putting them all on the grilling rack. I brushed the fish meat with the barbecue sauce that I'd brought.

The stove burned ever so strongly, and the place was instantly doused with the delicious aroma that rose into the air alongside the smoke. I rubbed my hands in anticipation, so excited about it that I couldn't quite sit still.

The fishes were finally cooked. I quickly took a bite out of it, leaning back in satisfaction as I did.

MC: How fresh! This is too delicious! You should try some too, Evan!

Evan: Sure. Careful not to burn yourself on it.

Saying so, he too, took a piece of the fish and brought it to his mouth. Under my watchful gaze, he gave it a serious chew or two as he contemplated the taste. Eventually, he gave a nod of approval.

Evan: Mmhm. Your sauce does a mean job too.

MC: Not bad, right? This is my personal recipe!

MC: With the fish you caught and my speciality sauce, these fish taste way better than any I've ever had in high-end restaurants!

Evan: We can always eat this again whenever you want to, so long as you're willing.

I nodded, unwittingly flashing him a smile, almost as if making a silent promise to him that we most definitely would.

MC: Have you ever gone fishing, Evan? You technically score full marks in wilderness survival!

Evan: I once lived out in the wild for a while at a time in the past, after all. But, I never had a harpoon back then, so today's my first time using one.

MC: Then you must be a naturally born hunter!

MC: I felt like you were exuding a predatory area when I saw you fishing earlier!

MC: How should I put this… It's as if you'll definitely catch the prey you set your eyes on.

MC: Unlike me… *Sighs*...

Evan: Why the sudden sigh?

MC: Well… I just thought that I'd put up a rather disappointing performance today.

MC: I was the one who got all enticed by the tasty-looking fish, but in the end, not only was I unable to spear a single one, but I've also rendered myself into a right state.

MC: The cat depicted in the cat emote pack online's definitely me. "Small, pitiful, and weak, but eats a whole lot like Tubbs"!

Evan smiled and shook his head. He rested his big hand on my head.

Evan: I don't think this is a fair comparison.

Evan: A kitten won't help me deal with the people I dislike, but that throw of yours earlier was one done with all your might behind the harpoon.

Evan: It makes me feel like I've met someone whom I can entirely trust.

His tone suddenly turned tender and very soft. So soft, that it was almost as if he had all his guards down; but so heavy, that it was as if he'd placed all his trust into it.

It was akin to a small drop of honey, the vicious liquid slowly spreading through my heart.

MC: Of course… I'll always be your most reliable buddy, ever!

MC: But, I'll be happier if I can really be of help to you!

Evan: You've already helped me plenty.

Evan: Next time I have to deal with them, all I have to do is to remember how brave you were and draw strength from that.

I froze. The only thing that my helpful brain provided was the image of me slipping right into the river, butt first. I panicked, instantly setting my chopsticks down.

MC: No! Forget that terrible throw I made earlier! Vanquish the thought!

I laughed as I ate, making a fuss of it all. Before we knew it, all the fish on the grilling rack had been swiped clean.

I embarrassedly put the chopsticks away, awkwardly coming to the realization that I was, in fact, not full yet.

70% filled is still considered full… I inwardly hesitated, mentally debating with myself. I was so absorbed in it that I failed to notice how Evan had a clear view of the expression that flickered across my face yet again.

Evan: I'll go catch some more fish to grill.

MC: Uh… About that… I'm sure the fish meat gets digested quickly! I'm sure that's just what it is!

Evan: No worries.

Evan: The charcoal fire's still going strong and it's still early before sundown. Plus, your dress isn't completely dry either.

Evan: We have more than enough time to slowly eat here, and we can do it until you're full and satisfied.

Evan: And as for just how many fishes you ate… I'll make sure to keep it a secret for you.

MC: Wha?

MC: Evan! I never pegged you for one before, but are you actually up to no-good!?

Evan: I'm being serious here.

Evan: It lifts my spirits whenever I see you eat.

Evan: It makes me feel like there's no simpler pleasure than that.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

★ E8 NIGHT: Walk a while more before resting ★

MC: I'm good. Besides, it'll be hard to get going again once we sit, so how about we carry on a little while more and see how it goes?

Evan: You're here for fun, so you don't have to be so hard on yourself.

But he'd probably seen the determination colouring my eyes, for he immediately added on to his previous sentence.

Evan: But I'll listen to the leader.

MC:  Hehe. Now that's more like it.

❖☆———————————★❖

We continued our trek deeper until the forest. Enamoured by the various sights and sceneries, the sky had turned dark long before I knew it.

Evan: Let's find a place to put up the tent. I think this place is pretty suitable.

MC: Okay!

We chose a location with a wide expanse of flat ground. Then, we set about executing the next step of the plan: set up the tent.

I took the tent from my bag, spreading it out on the ground.

First, we had to insert the two rods into the tarpaulin sheet. Then, we had to insert each end of the pole into the small hole on each corner of the tent.

However, this tarpaulin sheet was just way too big. One corner came loose right after I secured the other.

I tried my hardest to spread my arms as far as they could go, but it was still a struggle to secure both ends of the pole at the same time. I fought valiantly, only to end up covered in sweat from my moot attempts.

MC: This is the only time I hate having short limbs…

Evan: Let me help you.

I looked back in surprise. Evan had already returned from fetching water by the river.

He put the bucket down and came up behind me, spreading his arms and holding the curved poles in place with ease.

However, doing so made our positions very close to one another.

His arms were warm, firm, and much longer than my own; long enough to entrap me within when he spread it out horizontally like that. Adding on to that, our clothes were both slightly damp and sticking to our skin. I could acutely feel the faint rise and fall of his chest from behind.

The surroundings seem to be growing warmer, and I felt an inexplicable sense of panic.

Evan: You just have to pin the four corners down.

MC: Okay...

I fumbled as I ducked out of the cage of his arms, putting the rods into the small holes.

❖☆———————————★❖

With Evan's help, the tent was soon set up in no time at all.

Afterwards, we ignited the kerosene lamp again and set up a simple table and chairs. And thus, our little fort out in the wild was finally complete.

Everyone has an innate love of small secluded private spaces at least once in their lives. Looking at our small lodging, I felt a sense of joy well up from the confines of my heart.

MC: Evan, let's go in and have a look inside!

I couldn't wait to delve right inside. It was only after I'd spun a full round in fascination that I realized Evan was still standing outside.

That's not right. How could I have fun all by myself? The goal of coming here today was to make Evan happy!

I thought of a way to nudge Evan into action. A light bulb lit in my head.

MC: Evan, I'm the leader today, so you'll do everything I say, right?

Evan: Yes. What do you want to do?

MC: I want to play a game.

MC: I'll be your personal Doraemon for the day. I'll help you fulfil any wishes you want!

A flicker of surprise passed his face.

Evan: Why do you want to play a game like that?

I pulled him along with me, sitting him down on a chair before sitting right across him.

MC: You've always been my Doraemon, so today, let me enjoy the joy of giving just this once.

Evan: I mean, it's not like you can't; but, what are you sure you want to be doing that here?

MC: Challenges only make it that much more interesting! Feel free to shoot any request you may have!

Unable to ignore my insistence on this matter, he folded his arms and lapsed into thought.

Evan: Then I'll just make a random wish… I want this tent to look prettier.

MC: Gotcha! Leave it to me!

This was probably the first time Evan had ever wished anything of anyone…

And now, the one to listen to his wishes was no one but me… Thinking this, the yearning to fulfil his wishes for him only burned ever stronger.

I suddenly remembered how I'd brought a string of small, colourful, fairy lights with me; if only because I'd seen someone decorate their tent with it online some time before!

I held my excitement in check as I rummaged through my bag for the fairy lights, connected the battery to the string of light and turned it on. Then, I flashed it before Evan.

MC: Ta-daaaa! Look!

❖☆———————————★❖

It was well into the night. Dishing out the fairy lights in peak darkness lit up our surroundings in a dazzling array of colours.

Evan widened his eyes in surprise, gently taking the fairy lights from me and scrutinizing them.

Evan: You actually bought fairy lights? You're a competent Doraemon, all right.

The bedazzling lights shone on our faces, adding a couple more watts to his smile.

Evan lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in his memories.

Evan: You know, these fairy lights remind me of the New Year holidays.

Evan: I walked on the streets and saw the doors of many families decorated with fairy lights like these.

Evan: Celebratory and homey… I really adore it.

Watching Evan's wary manner of carefully selecting his words, I couldn't help but feel my heart clench slightly.

Maybe… this was what he imagined home to be like…

However, he quickly snapped back to reality, his gaze falling to the fairy light before us once more.

Evan: The workmanship of these fairy lights are very intricate, and each bulb is shaped differently.

MC: Yeah. Look, this one’s a small pepper and this one’s a little eggplant...

Evan: Yes. And this one here. This one looks like you; the little rabbit.

MC: It really is a rabbit! You've got some keen observation skills.

MC: But, why am I the only animal? That sounds a little lonely…

Evan: You won't be lonely; because the one right beside the little rabbit's me.

Evan spread his arms, displaying the light bulb beside the little rabbit on the string of lights. But, all I saw was a red ball of light there.

MC: And what does this one look like? I can't really tell

Evan: It doesn't matter what it looks like; because I'm the only one who will stay by the little rabbit's side, regardless.

Although his smile was much warmer in the light, his tone still held an undeniable wistfulness.

I felt an odd sense of panic, but I didn't feel like fleeing from it.

❖☆———————————★❖

Eventually, we put the fairy lights up on the tent.

The constantly flickering and changing lights made the tent look cuter, and much more lovely. It felt like home.

I watched as Evan entered the tent, settling himself comfortably within, his eyes narrowing into happy little slits in a closed-eyed smile. Seeing him this relaxed made my heart fill with joy.

MC: Time for your next wish, Evan!

Evan: Are we continuing? I'm already pretty satisfied.

MC: The game's only just started! You can be a little more willful; just like a little kid!

I gently tugged at his arm, softly coaxing him into giving in.

Getting him to relax was no easy feat; and now, I was finally seeing a glimmer of hope! I can't let it go to waste!

Evan: Alright, one more then.

MC: I'll say this first, but you're forbidden from wishing for something overly simple! I'm Doraemon; you've gotta put your trust in me!

Evan: Okay. Then I want to drink hand-brewed coffee.

He levelled a calm gaze at me, seemingly waiting for me to admit defeat; but I only smiled triumphantly.

MC: Just you wait and see!

I knew that Evan loved coffee, so I’d brought some ground coffee powder along with a set of simple brewing tools.

I lit the stove, boiled a pot of hot water, and slowly poured it into the filter where I’d placed the powder, balanced atop an empty cup, going in circular motions. Soon, a cup of fragrant hand-brewed coffee was made.

I handed the cup of coffee to Evan. He lowered his head to give the aroma a whiff, a pleased smile appearing on his face.

Evan: A fragrance that I love.

Evan: But it's missing a little something.

He then moved to personally make a similar cup for me. We both sat down across each other, nursing our cups of coffee and taking small sips from it.

Even while sitting on a foldable chair, the way he drank his coffee was still as elegant as ever.

The forest was silent. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of intermittent chirping of the insects hidden within the foliage, adding to the relaxed and leisurely atmosphere.

MC: Evan, don’t you think that it’s been a long time since we’ve stepped away from the bustling city life to simply spend time together like this, thinking about nothing?

MC: You seem busy lately. I'm honestly a little concerned if you actually have time to wind down…

Evan: Thank you for your concern. I do have the time to do so once in a while.

He raised the cup of coffee in his hand.

Evan: This is the aroma I settle down with every lunch break, to watch a movie, or to read a book.

MC: Right, I often do the same as well.

A flicker of thought entered my mind, and I immediately latched on.

MC: I know! I've helped you think of your next wish!

Evan: Oh? And what is it?

I smiled mysteriously at him, turning around to rummage through my bag.

I happened to bring a book along with me today, so I searched the contents of my bag for it, pulling it out and handing it to him.

He ran his fingers across the gold-gilded text that had been printed onto the book cover. After a while, he suddenly returned the book to me. I raised my head in slight surprise, only to see the slight smile hidden in the corner of his eyes.

Evan: If that's how it is, then could I trouble you to read a paragraph for me?

MC: Sure.

Opening the book, I picked out a story that was about the forest and slowly started reading aloud.

It was seemingly enough to please him. He held onto his coffee, slowly leaning into the soft pillow, closing his eyes in satisfaction.

After finishing a paragraph, I closed the book, only to find him staring at me seriously. There was a fire flickering within his crimson orbs.

Evan: You know, I actually like this story a lot.

Evan: The first time I read this book, I imagined myself in the protagonist’s shoes.

Evan: Riding a small boat in a remote and secluded river, letting the current take me wherever it goes.

Evan: Expecting nothing, with no destination in mind. It doesn’t matter if I get stuck in a rapid, or if I’m just turning around in place.

MC: Sounds romantic enough. What happened after? Did you ever try doing so?

Evan: Not yet. Later, I ended up coming to the forest many times, but unfortunately, none of it was to seek recreation.

Evan: Which means, this is my first time.

Evan: So, thank you; for making this a memorable night for me.

He seemed a little tuckered out, and his voice was as soft as a mere whisper. His eyes were slowly fluttering shut as he spoke.

His eyelashes slid down as his eyes closed, casting a faint shadow on his features. I quietly observed how picturesque he looked like that as I thought back to everything he’d just said. A new plan was born within my heart.

Perhaps this wish was something that I could truly fulfil for him.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next morning, at exactly 5 AM. I was roused from my slumber as my alarm clock rang.

I gave a big wide stretch, casting a glance at Evan. Thankfully enough, he hadn’t been awoken by the alarm and was still curled up in the sleeping bag next to be, fast and soundly asleep.

After doing a simple wash up, I quietly exited the tent.

We passed by a commercial campground yesterday while searching for a suitable campsite. It provided rental services of a wide variety of camping equipment.

That’s why my first thought had been this place when I heard Evan mention boating last night. Hence, I contacted them and reserved an inflatable kayak.

With the help of my mobile GPS navigator, I walked the forest for about half an hour before I finally arrived at the campsite.

After waiting outside for a good long while, the owner whom I’d previously made an appointment with came up to me in a right state of panic.

Campsite Owner: Sorry! Some trouble cropped up, so I’m late…

MC: Don’t worry about it. What happened though? Do you need any help?

Campsite Owner: Can I bother you? If so, then yes please! I’ll tell you what happened…

After a while, I handed a trembling kitten to the owner.

It began rolling about as soon as it returned to its owner’s arms, acting like a baby as it rubbed itself against the owner’s palm, as if expressing regretfulness for its actions.

MC: The little guy must have been scared out of its mind.

Campsite Owner: Yeah. Thank you so much, Miss! I have no idea what I'd have done without you.

MC: Don't worry about it. It's no big deal.

When I came to the campsite earlier, the owner had been in the middle of a cat problem. It had climbed to the top of the tree without anyone's notice and didn't dare come down.

It had been meowing helplessly at the very top. Hence, I immediately joined the rescue effort without a second thought.

I hear that it had already been stuck up the tree for about 10 hours or more. We didn't have a tall enough ladder, so it took a great amount of improvisation to finally save the poor kitten.

Campsite Owner: Oh, right. J nearly forgot your kayak. This isn't light, though! Can you carry it alone?

MC: Huh?

I stepped forward to test its weight. The folded inflatable kayak was indeed heavier than I expected. But thinking about how Evan would react upon seeing this kayak, I suddenly felt that this extra weight meant absolutely nothing in comparison.

Campsite Owner: *Sigh* Since you've helped me, I ought to repay you the favour by lugging this back for you. But I've still got appointments later so I really can't afford to leave...

Campsite Owner: Rental's free of charge then! Have fun with it!

MC: It's alright, I can just take my time carrying it back. Thank you!

After bidding my farewells to the owner, I took the kayak with me and left the campsite.

I hadn't made it fat when my arms started feeling sore. All I could do was to put the kayak on the ground and take a short breather.

As I spaced out, I suddenly heard a muffled sound coming from within the depths of the forest.

My ears tuned in to the sound in full alert. Whatever that was, it was by no means small. 

Was it an animal? Or was it someone?

The crunching sound of leaves approached closer and closer. Now, I could tell without a doubt that those footsteps were most definitely human. And it sounded a little rushed; panicked, even.

Feeling a little uneasy, I couldn’t help but stand back up.

Then, a familiar figure emerged from the dense forest.

MC: …Evan!?

He seemingly breathes out a long sigh of relief upon spotting me. He quickly strode up to me.

Evan: I finally found you, at least.

Evan: I woke up in the morning to find you missing, and you never picked up even when I called. I was worried sick.

He looked as calm and unruffled as ever at first glance. The only difference was that he seemed a little out of breath.

This place isn’t close to our campsite at all. How long has he been searching for me out in the woods?

Thinking about it made me feel a little guilty.

I ended up telling him briefly about the unexpected situation I’d encountered in the commercial camp and everything before that.

MC: I left really early. I initially thought that I’d be back before you woke up, but I never thought that I’d take that long to get back...

MC: I’ve been busy this entire time so I didn’t have the time to check my phone. Sorry for worrying you.

Evan: It's okay. Just… Don't leave my side without saying anything next time, alright?

I nodded and lowered my eyes in embarrassment. Unexpectedly, I then noticed that he’d buttoned a button near the hem of his dress shirt wrong.

Having never seen Evan disregard his appearance in this manner before, I very nearly failed to suppress my snort of laughter.

Evan: Hm? What's the matter?

I shook my head, undoing that button and rebuttoning it right. It was only then that he noticed his slight gaffe. He laughed at his own mistake.

Evan: …Thank you.

Looking into his eyes, I couldn't hold back the urge to ask him the one thing that had been nagging at my mind.

MC: This place is not anywhere close to our campsite. How did you know I was here?

Evan: I couldn't contact you in the morning, so I searched around the tent to see if you left anything resembling a note behind.

Evan: I remembered that you seemed interested in this place when we passed by it yesterday, so I thought that maybe this was where you'd gone.

I hadn’t expected him to see completely through me as he cast a glance at the kayak on the ground.

MC: *Sigh* Why did you figure everything out like that? I wanted to surprise you!

Evan: Don't worry about it. This is also a surprise in and of itself, don't you think? Thank you for all the effort you've put in.

Evan: It feels pretty good to have your wish granted by someone else.

He gently took my hand in his, enveloping my palm in his bigger one, transmitting his unusual body warmth.

Evan: But I also want you to know that just you being by my side's more than enough for me.

My train of thought was disrupted by his tender gaze, making it hard for me to gather my thoughts together.

MC: But I don't think that's enough.

MC: You’re always taking care of others and listening to their wishes, but you can’t forget yourself and your wishes.

MC: I want to hear more of your wishes. You can always be a little greedier when you’re with me, Evan...

He looked at me for a fleeting second before suddenly closing in on me. He only stopped when my figure was completely enshrouded within his shadow.

Evan: Then, can I be greedy one last time?

MC: Huh…?

Not waiting for me to give him an answer, he advanced a step forwards, pulling me into a hug.

His arms were solidly wound around me, and the fragrance of wormwood that came with his embrace was lasting and stronger than ever.

The strength behind his action made it hard for me to reject him, hard for me to escape. 

Oddly enough, I felt a little intoxicated by it, slowly closing my eyes.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next day, early morning. I woke up to the melodious singing of birds.

Evan was already awake, neatly dressed and sitting on the folded chair at the entrance, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Evan: Good morning. Sleep well last night?

MC: Brilliantly! I was so tired from walking so long yesterday that I fell asleep the moment my head met the pillow.

MC: Oh, right. It’ll take quite a long time to go back where we came, so let’s eat something, pack up, and leave as soon as possible!

Evan set his cup of coffee down,

Evan: Aren’t you forgetting something?

MC: Huh?

Evan: I recall you wanting to see bamboo piths, but we have yet to see any.

I froze, awkwardly laughing it off

That had originally been an excuse to get him outside and I’d totally forgotten about it.

MC: Hehe. I’m not that adamant about seeing bamboo piths.

MC: I only said that back then as an excuse to get you out so that you can relax.

MC: I heard that you had things rather rough before that so I was a little worried about you.

He looked slightly surprised. Then, he lowered his eyes, a warm smile catching onto the sides of his mouth.

Evan: So it was because of me.

Evan: Thank you for accompanying me here. I’m certainly much more relaxed now.

MC: But considering how you were previously… Are you really okay?

Evan: Yes. It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking. I was just thinking about some old people and old things and felt a little glum about it.

Evan: I never thought that I’d end up alarming others.

MC: Why am I “others” now?

MC: Don’t bottle your troubles up to solve them yourself. You need to remember to share them with people close to you as well!

Evan: Okay. I will keep that in mind.

I still didn’t know what he was troubled by, but I suppose this was still within my expectations.

From my impression of him, he has always been strong. It was almost as if he was shouldering a mission that no one knew about, walking down a similarly obscured path.

After finishing breakfast, we packed and prepared to leave the forest.

We idly chatted with each other along the way until suddenly, Evan stopped short while we were passing through an area.

Following his gaze, I saw a unique-looking umbrella-shaped thing growing within the shrubbery’s shade.

Evan: See? We still managed to chance upon it.

MC: Wow, are all of these bamboo piths?

We walked over together, squatting beside the small white fungi.

It had a small black cap and had grown out a long white mesh skirt.

This was the first time I ever saw a bamboo pith growing in the soil. I widened my eyes in surprise, unwilling to blink as I drank in the sight. After observing it for a while, I finally raised a finger, reaching out to touch its “skirt”.

MC: It’s so wet and soft-looking! It’s adorable! Have you seen it before, Evan?

MC: I can’t believe you managed to recognize it at a glance!

Evan: Yes. It was back during the first time I’d been driven into the forest as a child.

Evan: I witnessed the law of the jungle and escaped from the jaws of death of a snake. I felt like the forest was a place filled with danger and wanted nothing but to leave the place the faster, the better.

Evan: Then, just as I was hungry and exhausted, I saw a bamboo pith.

Evan: At that time, I didn’t know what it was and if it was actually poisonous.

Evan: Deep in the throes of despair, I thought “why not just take it, eat it, and see what my fate turns out to be”?

MC: Evan…

Evan: But guess what I saw while I was hesitating?

Evan: I saw it growing its fungus skirt. All it took was a little effort on its part, and its little skirt grew longer and longer.

Evan: I stared at it blankly, in a daze. I didn’t even notice that my legs had gone numb from how long I’d stared at it.

He retracted himself from his memory palace, turning around to face me with a smile.

Evan: It was as simple as a little young lady, capable of encouraging me with its adorability and enchantments.

Evan: It made me understand that forest, in all its gloom and doom, still has its own little interesting spots.

Evan: And that one is only capable of seeing it by living on, don’t you think?

His expression was quiet, but within those calm eyes of his, I could see that little boy who’d struggled his hardest to remain strong. I felt my heart constrict slightly at that and moved to hold his hand tightly in my own.

MC: Evan, that’s all in the past. You’re no longer that helpless little boy.

Evan: No, I’m fine.

Evan: I might have forgotten even this if we hadn’t seen the bamboo piths today.

Evan: It feels a little unbelievable when I think back on it now. It was a memory plagued by darkness, yet it still held its own beautiful moments.

I felt a pang of sorrow creep into my heart. Words of comfort were right at the tip of my tongue, yet I felt like they’d be completely helpless.

This man before me, strong as a warrior; someone who’d been forced to face life-or-death decisions from a very young age… Maybe he wasn’t as complicated as I initially thought he was.

There are many reasons why one would choose death, but to choose life? The reason was simple; just a little spark was required, and Evan was no exception.

MC: I forgot who said it, but someone once said that the meaning of existence that people spend their entire lives seeking out is actually hidden in the simple things.

MC: Evan, won’t you say that you might end up thinking similarly as well one day?

MC: You might not be able to find it immediately, but that’s fine. I will accompany you in your search for it, no matter how long it takes.

Evan fixed me with a profound look before stretching out his hand and reverently crossing it over my own.

Evan: Alright. Together we shall be.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

[writesowhatnext]

would’ve preferred a pillow fight // fred weasley

Summary: Ginny knows about the reader’s crush on her brother and she’ll be dammed if she doesn’t stir the pot a little

Request: Request where you're in Gryffindor and having a slumber party with some of the girls. You play truth or dare and are dared to say something embarrassing to Fred who's in the common room with his friends. When you get down there, you struggle to say it and Fred being the ass he is, is just smiling because you're just there flustered, and in your jammies haha

A/N: I loved this request so so much because I treasure Fred but also girls yes please and also bestfriend!Ginny is my favourite she’s one of my fave characters literally the films did her so dirty

Reader: female

Warnings: female reader, making out, swearing

Introducing Ginny Weasley to Truth or Dare might’ve been your greatest mistake to date. In your defence, you thought a muggle game might be fun for Friday night at the girls’ dorms. You, Ginny, Luna (who you’d managed to sneak in with a nifty spell Ginny had learnt from Fred and George), Lavender and Parvati had been meeting up for weeks now, all dressed in your lamest pyjamas as you goaded and teased each other, but you were beginning to get bored after your third round of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. And so, perhaps foolishly, you decided a change of pace would be nice and a muggle game you remembered from your time before Hogwarts would be fun. That, you quickly realised, was an oversight on your part, especially given Ginny knew everything about you, including your massive crush on her older brother Fred, a fact you hadn’t yet lived down.

“Okay,” Ginny hummed, spinning the empty bottle of firewhiskey between her fingers, watching it turn before it slowed to a standstill, pointed directly at Lavender.

“Christ,” she huffed, sighing shortly before shrugging. “Dare, I suppose.”

You faced Ginny, chewing your bottom lip as you watched a mischievous grin stretch her lips. Her eyes met yours and you saw, for a moment, the familiar glint of trouble that you so enjoyed in Fred’s.

“I dare you…” Ginny rubbed her chin, a caricature of contemplation. “To snog Parvati.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back to pick up your half-full cup of firewhiskey in your hand.

“W-What?” Lavender asked, her skin tinting pink as Parvati’s mouth dropped open, her dark eyes glancing from person to person.

“That’s not fair,” Parvati insisted, crossing her arms over her chest, not daring to chance a look at Lavender. “It’s not my dare!”

Ginny raised her hands in a faultless gesture, her shoulder raised as she kissed her teeth.

“She asked for dare…”

You snickered at her innocent expression, your smile widening when she looked at you, her intentions obvious.

“A dare’s a dare,” you shrugged as Lavender, turned to you, all but pleading.

“A dare’s a dare,” Parvati repeated, mocking you with all of the very little venom she could muster. You laughed, throwing your head back before you glanced at a very confused Luna, her eyebrows drawn together and her pale blue eyes wide.

“Fine,” Parvati muttered, her long, thin hands grabbing Lavender’s face, kissing her square on the lips.

You and Ginny burst into a round of applause, clapping as they awkward kiss turned a little more heated. Your cheers and whistles died off very soon, but their snogging did not and suddenly, you were submerged in silence as the two girls made out with each other, not showing any signs of stopping. You sipped your drink, looking at Ginny’s exasperated expression with raised eyebrows from over the top of your goblet. She looked at you and rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock annoyance.

“They don’t seem to be as reluctant as they were,” Luna mused, leaning back as she pulled at her feet, her legs spread wide either side of her. You scoffed, biting your lip to contain your laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Ginny said loudly, kicking at Lavender with her foot. “I’d say the dare is more than fulfilled.”

Lavender flushed at her words and even Parvati, ever the firecracker, had the good sense to look bashful as she pulled away, tucking her sleek hair behind her ear.

“Right,” Lavender said, earning a chuckle from you and Ginny at her swollen lips and fazed expression. Parvati glared and so you both settled down, pursing your lips in a rare form of submission for the two of you. You looked around as Lavender spun the bottle, catching Luna’s eye and winking as she smiled at you. Her face lit up and you couldn’t help the rush of affection that flooded through you.

“Brilliant,” Ginny cackled, her voice full to the brim with an enthusiasm that made your stomach drop. Turning back to the bottle, your face soured to see it pointing straight at you. As you looked at Ginny, her freckled cheeks lifted high thanks to her massive grin, you rolled your eyes.

“Fuck,” you whispered, only making her beam.

“What was that?” she asked, leaning forward against her crossed legs, tilting her ear towards you. “Truth, did you say?”

You kicked her, earning a giggle from Lavender.

“I think she said fuck, actually,” Luna replied, nodding in confirmation. Even you had to laugh at her tone, twisting your mouth to the side as Ginny leant towards you, her face alight with excitement. You really did hate her, sometimes.

“What’ll it be then, Y/N?” Parvati asked, tucking her feet underneath her as she smiled. “Truth?”

“Or dare?” Ginny said with her eyebrows raised and the evil hazel of her eyes ridiculously electric.

You leant back, knowing that you’d have to accept your fate either way. Prolonging your decision, you rubbed your hands over your face and groaned.

“Come on,” Ginny huffed, pushing at your knee with her foot as she grew impatient.

“Fine!” you said, sitting up and throwing your hands up. “Dare.”

Ginny smirked, something you knew would never mean good things.

“Anyone else want to take this one?” she asked, knowing full well their answer as she looked to each of them. Lavender shook her head, a picture of innocence as Parvati smiled.

“I think I’ll leave this one to you,” she said, turning to Luna.

“I’m sure Ginny has a really interesting dare planned,” Luna replied, smiling at you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes and pushing at Luna with your hand, knowing she knew full well just how interesting the dare would be.

“Go on,” you sighed, resting your hands on your knees, gently picking at the fabric of your pyjama bottoms. “What is it?”

“I dare you to tell my brother that he’s cute.”

You narrowed your eyes at her before a wonderful idea popped into your head and your face relaxed, only serving to make her suspicious.

“Alright,” you nodded, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

You wondered for a moment where Ron would be- probably in the common room with Harry if you knew him at all. As you made to walk to the door, Ginny lifted a finger.

“Hold on,” she said, her innocent smile anything but. “You have to tell Fred.”

You could practically feel your face drop at her words and even at his name, the butterflies you felt whenever he was around fluttered around your stomach. “And you can’t tell him why you told him.”

“You know, Ginerva, you’re a right cow sometimes,” you said, hitting your forehead against the door, listening as the girls behind you stood up, ready to follow you.

“I know,” she replied happily, so much so you wanted to pinch her. With a dramatic sigh, you pulled open the door and began your descent into the common room, praying to Merlin that Fred wouldn’t be in there. It was just your luck, you thought, as you peeked around the corner, spotting Fred sitting around the fire with George and his friends as well as Harry and Ron. Your stomach sank at the sight.

“Do I really-“

“Yes!” three voices insisted far too quickly. You scowled.

“I think that’s part of the game, Y/N,” Luna said gently, not at all encouraging as you stepped into the common room, forcing yourself to be brave.

It wasn’t until you got closer to the group that you fully clocked why Ron and a couple of the other boys were giving you such strange looks. You stalled a few feet away, suddenly aware of your messy hair and oversized “Resting Witch Face” t-shirt.

“You alright there, Y/N?” George asked, turning around in his chair. His tone was mocking but you could see the concern in his eyes, not wanting to tease you too much if you were having a meltdown, a mistake he’d made many a time before between you and his sister. Your insides flipped as you looked at the back of Fred’s head, feeling slightly sick as he turned around, facing you with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t you look lovely,” he snorted, dark eyes full of mirth. You didn’t even have the stomach to roll your eyes as you approached, avoiding looking too long at any of the boys’ faces.

“Fred, can I talk to you?” you asked, hoping you could do the dare away from prying eyes and listening ears. You turned to look by the stairs, glowering at the heads stacked on top of each other, peeking out from around the corner. Your eyes lingered on Ginny, making a face at her smug expression. Fred followed your eye-line, frowning. He hid the smile that tugged at his lips, suddenly clued in as to why you were acting so strangely. The flash of red hair disappearing behind the stairway to the girls’ dorms had been clear enough. He did love a dare.

“Of course,” he said, leaning back with one elbow resting on the arm of the chair and an expectant look on his face. You paused, flicking at the hairband on your wrist when it became obvious that he had no intention to take your hint. It was just like him, you thought, to make your life harder without even knowing it.

“Right,” you said, looking briefly at his amused eyes before redirecting your gaze, the stares of the seven-or-so lads around you feeling very heavy on your skin. “So, I just wanted to say… Well. What I wanted to say is…”

You frowned, swallowing and shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes?” Fred said, leaning forward expectantly with a smile. You questioned for a moment whether he’d been in on the whole thing. “I’m getting the feeling she wants to say something, aren’t you, George?”

You let yourself steal a glance at George as he spoke, nodding and smiling from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat. “I do get that impression, Fred.”

“What is it you wanted to say, love?”

You frowned at the sound of the term of endearment in Fred’s voice, your mouth going dry.

“I wanted to tell you… that, um, that I think you’re quite, uh, cute.”

You locked your jaw after the words tumbled out, feeling your face heat up instantly as you looked dead ahead, not daring to take a glance at Fred. You could just imagine his gob-shite expression: he’d be chuffed beyond belief, his eyes bright and a lopsided-grin on his lips. A handsome one, too.

“Cute, eh?” he responded, his surprisingly quiet tone drawing your attention. As you looked down, you found that you were almost right about his expression. The only difference really was that in real life, his eyes held much less mischief and were a much sweeter brown.

“Yes,” you said shortly, frowning, your voice barely audible over George and Ron’s sniggering. You swallowed, finally coming to the conclusion that you’d never hated Ginny more than at that moment.

“Any particular reason why you wanted to tell me that now?” Fred asked, his eyebrows raised and a smug smile dancing on his lips.

“Nope,” you shook your head, pressing your lips together and desperately trying to avoid his eyes. He hummed.

“No reason at all?”

You shook your head again, swallowing even though your mouth felt like the Sahara.

“Well, I should probably be-“ you began, turning to leave only to have your wrist caught by one of Fred’s large hands.

You looked down at him, shocked by his grip and immediately warm at the feeling of his skin against your own. An annoyingly amused smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he beckoned you closer with his hand. Against your better judgement, you leant in, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear the thumping of your heart in your chest. His face, you realised as a lump made its home in your throat, was so close that you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

“Has it got anything to do with my sister hiding round the corner over there?” he whispered so no one else could hear, raising a teasing brow. Something stirred inside your chest at his expression and the way the words rolled of his tongue and shakily, you inhaled, biting your lip.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you answered, but the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

“Of course, you don’t,” he mused, eyes scanning your face, looking for something you didn’t quite understand. He held you close by your wrist for a second, too long, you thought briefly, surveying your face. He released his grip abruptly and hummed before leaning back into the chair. You stood up straight quickly, breathing a little too heavily from the close proximity, your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

With your new-found freedom, you all but sprinted back to the girls’ dorm, almost tripping over the rug as you rushed to somewhere where Fred wasn’t seeping into your every thought.

“Oi!” he yelled when you were almost out of the woods, only centimetres away from Ginny. You turned on your heel to see Fred leant lazily over the back of the armchair with a cheeky grin rivalled only by Ginny’s.

“I think you’re pretty cute too.”

He shot you a wink and you thought, for a fleeting moment before your friends attacked you like vultures for details, that you had it a lot worse for Fred Weasley than you’d previously imagined.

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[marvelslut16]

Almost lost him

Pairing: James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x Stark!reader 

Synopsis: Tony’s little sister had always had feelings for one James R. Rhodes. She’s kept it a secret for years, but will everything come out after he is injured during the fight against Cap?

word count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Brief cannon violence. Angst. Mentions paralysis. Swearing. Age gap. Also I have a specific age for the character mentioned. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIP’s for over a year because I loved it so much and I didn’t want to end it poorly lmao. I know no ones gonna read it since he isn’t a popular character, but oh well. I love this fic and I love Rhodey so that’s all that matters. 

Tony and (Y/N) Stark have saved the world from terrorists once again.

“Can you believe this title?” you laugh showing Rhodey the article on your phone. 

“I was there too,” he says gruffly. 

“You just aren’t special enough,” you tease, sticking your tongue out like you’re five and not thirty-six. 

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to be a Stark,” Tony, your annoying but lovable older brother, enters the compound’s kitchen.

Tony took you under his wing and raised you since your parents died. It was a lot for a twenty-one year old to handle, no one he knew had to take care of an eleven year old. Especially one with newly discovered powers. They weren’t much, but when emotions would get overwhelming you would have white colored beams come from your hands. This later helped Tony come up with the idea for the repulsors on his Iron Man suit, which you helped him build.

As the years passed, you got a better hold on your new found powers. The more you and Tony dug into your parents past, you started to think that your dad had either given you something when you were a baby or your mom was given something while pregnant to make you like this. Your Dad always called you special, but you never thought you were this special.

“Any progress with Steve?” you ask hopefully. You know how much Tony values his friendship with Cap, he just won’t admit it. Especially because he’s hurt. 

“No,” he grunts, but tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care. You and Rhodey give each other unamused looks, clearly not believing the bullshit Tony is trying to feed you.

“I think you should try to reach out to him again, you clearly miss him Tony,” you frown at the dark haired man in front of you.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Rhodey speaks up from behind you. He’s closer than you remember, and you shiver as you feel the little licks of his breath on your neck as he speaks. 

“You love birds can shut up now,” Tony rolls his eyes, he leaves the kitchen without anything. 

Heat immediately rushes to your face and you can’t look Rhodey in the eye as you stutter out an apology for Tony’s actions. You quickly leave the kitchen before he can respond, wanting to put distance between your blushing self and the man you had been in love with for years. 

-- 

You had hoped that the conversation in the kitchen would have convinced Tony to reach out and make amends with Steve and half of the Avengers. But things only continued to escalate, where it seemed a battle between friends was unavoidable. So that's how you ended up in Germany, with your newest recruit Spider-Man, facing off against the people you cared most about in this world.

“Rhodey!” you scream as you watch him plummet to the Earth. Time seems to slow to a near standstill and all you can do is watch, too far away from him to be able to help somehow. Your knees buckle and you hit the ground at the same time his body does. There's a scream that’s so loud it rattles the windows of the airport hanger, a scream you weren’t even aware left your own lips. 

Vision tries to approach you, but you let out a sound that's between a sob and a scream as he gets closer. You’re angry, and scared, you can feel a rush of something in your veins. You ball your hands in fists, bringing them to your chest as you curl into yourself. 

The sound of metal crunching together pulls you from your rocking back and forth on your knees. You see a white glow, one that you're extremely familiar with, dissipating from around two shipping containers, now crushed together where vision was hovering. If he had stayed solid, he would have been crushed. You’re shaking even more as you stare down at your hands, you had never been able to move objects before. You could have hurt somebody. You can’t dwell on it too long because Peter runs to your side, telling you that Rhodey had a heartbeat and help was on the way. 

It had felt like hours since Tony, Peter, and you had landed back down in the states. Dr. Cho was working with a spine specialist and a neurosurgeon to figure out the extent of the damage. After a while, they had updated you three, telling you that Rhodey broke his spine and they were taking him into surgery. Tony had left to go fiddle with one of his suits, his coping mechanism. He left the kid with you because he didn’t want you alone. 

“How did you two meet?” Peter breaks the silence.

“Hmm?” you look away from the painting in front of you for the first time since you sat in the waiting room chair, to look at the boy. 

“Mr. Rhodes, how did you two meet?” he clarifies. 

“That’s a long story,” your eyes glaze over as memories start to come flooding back.

“I have time,” Peter gives you a small smile, you can really see what Tony see’s in the kid. The kindness that his Aunt May has taught him is abundantly clear, you know he’s only asking for your benefit.

“He met Tony when they went to MIT together, he somehow found a way to put up with my brother's antics. I didn’t meet him until two years after Tony graduated, so I was eleven,” you let out a little laugh as you realize just how long the older man has been in your life, and in your heart. “He came to my parents funeral for support for Tony, but he became my support system. Everyone seemed to ignore me and go straight for the golden boy, but Tony became too overwhelmed quickly. He introduced me to Rhodey who was the first one, besides Tony of course, to ask me how I was. He ended up spending the entire wake and funeral with me, giving me support and effectively distracting me from my pain.”

You look over at the younger boy, who seems to be staring at you with fascination. He sees the pain on your face when you stop talking, reaching over he grabs your hand loosely. Testing the waters to see if you’ll pull away from affection like Tony has with him. You give him a thankful smile and hold his hand before continuing your story.

“He joined the military not long after that. At first I would send him care packages and letters so he didn’t feel alone when he was deployed. One day when I was writing a letter one of Tony’s flings came into the kitchen and called me a pathetic child because I was crushing on Tony’s friend after I explained what I was doing. He never got that letter, or any after that. We didn’t really talk much after that, if he came to visit Tony I’d be pleasant before locking myself in my room. I guess I was embarrassed over my school girl crush. Years passed, lots of years, before Tony went missing, James was the one that told me what happened. And in those following months he would rarely leave my side, he wanted to make sure I was okay. We were finally both adults, and we gained a real friendship.” 

“That sounds like more than a friendship,” Peter sends you an innocent look. You furrow your eyebrows at him in response, Rhodey definitely doesn’t like you back. “I’m just saying, if Liz was like that with me I would be ecstatic that she liked me back.”

“He sees me as a little sister, Peter,” your heart breaking a little more knowing that you’ll never be able to be with the man you’ve loved for years. Before Peter can refute you, Rhodey’s Neurosurgeon walks into the waiting room- some guy named Dr. Strange. 

“How is he?” you jump out of your seat, Peter quickly following suit, his hand falling from yours at the movement. 

“He’s out of surgery Miss. Stark,” his voice coming out as cocky and full of himself, like he’s overly proud that he did this surgery. “But the recovery will be the difficult part.”

“What happened? What’s still wrong? And when can I see him?” you’re shooting out questions faster than the surgeon can answer.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you Miss. Stark, and you can’t see him until he’s out of the ICU,” the smug look is still on the surgeon's face, making you grow angrier with each word that leaves his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” Peter looks between you and the surgeon with wide curious eyes. 

“You aren’t family,” he states matter-of-factly. “Therefore I can’t tell you and you can’t see him.”

Your eye twitches in anger as your body starts to warm, your powers start to react to the strong emotion. You take a deep calming breath, keeping you from accidentally lashing out at the surgeon. 

“I suggest you rethink that answer,” you say deathly calm, Peter stares at you in awe as you talk back to the man. “And consider who paid for all of the new state-of-the-art Stark technology and equipment you have in this hospital. Things I’m sure that you used in that surgery, that I donated to this hospital through the outreach program that I created. Technology created by both me and my brother.”

“Is there a problem here?” a man’s voice comes from behind you, he sounds irritated that someone’s making a scene. You turn around to face the man, who is wearing a badge that says medical director on it. Perfect. His eyes widen as soon as he recognizes who you are. 

“Actually there is,” you frown. “My colleague, my friend. My favorite person after my brother really, he just had a pretty big surgery, but your surgeon here won’t tell me any details or let me go see him. So yes, we have a huge problem.”

“I’m so sorry Miss. Stark,” he exclaims. “Why don’t we go update you in private.” 

“Did I sound like a bitch?” you frown, whispering to Peter as the two of you follow the MD and the surgeon. He nods a little with a smirk adorning his face. 

“But it was awesome!” you grin at the young boy, remembering the excitement you felt when you saw Tony use his name to get what he wanted for the first time. 

“He’s paralyzed,” the surgeon throws the statement around like it isn’t a big deal as soon as the four of you enter a separate room. “From the waist down. There was nothing we could do.”

Your heart and your lungs seem to stop working at the same time. Peter discreetly uses his super strength to catch you as your legs give out at the surgeon's words. Tears start to pour down your face as you realize all of the things Rhodey will never be able to again. Like never being able to help defend his country again, or chase after you when you steal the last cookie that he wanted. 

You can’t help but feel guilty. If he had never met you and Tony he would be fine. He would still be able to do what he loves. He never would have been put in that situation. He’ll never be able to walk again. He won’t have the opportunity to dance at his wedding or chase his children around if he decided to have either of those. 

“I know it’s a lot Miss. Stark,” the MD’s voice is muffled. “But there was nothing we could have done-”

“When can I see him?” you cut the doctor off. 

“I could take you to him now,” he glares at the surgeon. “He won’t wake for at least a few more hours.”

“Peter, go call Tony and tell him the update,” you look at the young boy, he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the waiting room. 

The surgeon and the MD both ramble on about Rhodey’s condition but their voices sound muffled- like you’re underwater. You feel like you're suffocating in all the pain and grief you feel for the love of your life. He’s lying on the bed, oxygen tubing up his nose, at least ten wires connected to him, and the disgusting beep of his heart monitor reminds you how lucky you are that he’s still here with you. 

The two men quickly leave you with Rhodey, but not before the MD promises that he’ll be under constant supervision and he’ll receive the best treatments they offer. Not that you're shocked to hear that with the scene you cause in the waiting room. You grab Rhodey’s hand, careful to avoid yanking the IV in it, pulling his hand up to your mouth to give it a feather light kiss. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stare at his still body, you were so close to losing him today. 

The tears have stopped by the time Tony shows up close to an hour later, he had dropped Peter off at home before coming up to the hospital room. Your older brother looks as distressed as you feel, although he seems to be tryin to hide it more than you are. 

“How is he?” his voice is quieter than you imagined, like he’s afraid any louder will make you crumble. 

“Stable,” your voice is monotonous, and you refuse to tear your eye’s from Rhodey’s face as you respond to Tony. “About as good as he could be I guess.”

“How are you?” he cuts you off as you go to respond that you're fine. “And don’t bullshit me (Y/N/N), you’ve been in love with him since you were eleven. How are you feeling?”

You don’t respond, not with words at least. Instead you do crumble, letting out a quiet sob as you grip Tony’s hand that he was about to place on your shoulder. Tony runs his free hand through your hair and down your back, trying to soothe you like he used to when you would have nightmares after your parents deaths. 

“We almost lost him today Tony, I almost lost him-” another sob racks through your body. “And now he’s paralyzed. He can never walk again, can never defend his Country again. And for what? A disagreement between you and Steve? We could have lost him Tony for something so fucking stupid.”

Before Tony can respond, a muffled voice breaks through the tension in the room. The voice is gravely, but one you love so dearly, it’s Rhodey’s. “(Y/N)?”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

[sugasstrand]

First Time Meeting y/n

It’s your first time meeting them. How will it go?

Warnings: none :)

Characters: Sugawara, Kageyama, Hinata

Sugawara Koushi

It was a sunny day and you had decided it was a good day to sit on a small hill during lunch. You felt like you needed some alone time away from all of the noise your peers had been making. You were opening your bag to take out your lunch and put your earphones on to watch something on YouTube.

You had suddenly felt a presence behind you and stiffened. Next thing you know, you feel someone sit down next beside you.

“Hey I’m Sugawara Koushi and I saw you over here by yourself. Do you mind spending lunch with me?” The boy lightly smiled and blushed.

“Yeah of course,” you say as you put your phone away. “I’m l/n f/n,” you say smiling back.

You couldn’t help but notice some boys giggling and staring behind you two. You turn around to see who they are and see 2 boys straighten up in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry if you wanted some alone time I just couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are. I’ve seen you in my Liturature Class and thought it was so cute how you’re always participating. I think you’re smart.” He says the last part lowly.

“YOU THINK I’M SMART,” you ask in shock and start to laugh. “I can barely understand the bus routes but thank you so much. Truth is that I’ve been wanting to talk to you too.”

His expression brightens up,” Really? I’ve been so nervous to come up to you.”

Sadly the bell rings cutting your conversation short. You both get up ready to leave.

“Umm, I’d really like to get to know you l/n. Can we maybe hang out next lunch,” he sweetly asks.

“Yes, same spot?”

“Same spot.” He smiles and walks you to your next class as an excuse to be around you more.

Kageyama Tobio

“Y/n!!!!!” A young orange haired boy runs your way practically at God speed and embraces you in a hug making you tumble. “Shōyō!!! Get off,” you giggle.

“Please come to my next game,” he pleads,” It’s this Friday and I’m going to be on the starting line up.”

You couldn’t say no to his beaming smile. You had never seen him so excited about something. “I’ll go just tell me where and when.” He tells you all of the details and goes on and on of how amazing his team is.

Friday rolls around and you text Hinata that you’re there.

Shōōōyyyō I’m here and lost

Go to the enterence and I’ll meet you there

You sit down by a bench and hear your friend from a few feet away. “Kageyama I swear I have friends. I’m not like you all dark and sulky.” Hinata turns to you and gives you one of his big smiles. “Y/n! You made it.”

“Shōyō you’re my best friend of course I’ll come support you,” you laugh. You couldn’t help but notice the tall scowling figure next to Hinata. It seems like he was going to burn holes into Hinata’s head. When he turns to you his scowl goes away to what seems to be his resting face. He didn’t seem as scary anymore.

Hinata introduces you too and you give a warm smile to Kageyama which catches him off guard. After that he couldn’t meet your eyes. He wasn’t a man of many words. You start talking to Hinata as he tells you all about how annoying Kageyama is.

“I bet he’s not even annoying you’re probably being the annoying one,” you say triggering Hinata and making Kageyama crack a smile. That was the first time Hinata saw Kageyama smile and not he scary but to be honest it looking a little cunning to him which sent shivers down his spine.

“Y/n how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You made Bokeyama smile.”

Kageyama scowled at him sending Hinata to run behind you.

“Maybe because l/n isn’t an annoying dumbass, dumbass.”

“Is that all you have to say to me,” Hinata asks. “You should find new insults you idiot.”

“Me an idiot?!? You sure are one to talk.”

Now the two boys go head to head while you awkwardly pry them away from each other. Thankfully, they had to go warm up. They fought to get through the doors both trying to enter first. You sighed at the scene they had made. You couldn’t help but find it a little funny.

As the game went on you couldn’t help but notice how Kageyama glanced at you every chance he got. It became so frequent that Hinata noticed you start to blush when you made eye contact with Kageyama. Hinata shot you a teasing look with his eyebrows wiggling.

“What is he up to now?”

Hinata Shōyō

Oh God you two meet at the grocery store when he runs his cart into the oranges right in front of you. You where dumbfounded and at a standstill. He had really almost ran you over.

“I’M SO SORRY I’M SO SORRY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. ARE YOU OKAY? PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY.”

“Don’t worry I’m okay you didn’t hit me you just shocked me.”

“Uuughh I’m so sorry please forgive me.”

“Don’t worry it’s fine you’re all good. I guess it happens sometimes,” you rub the back of your neck.

You start to help him pick up the mess when your hands met. You both freeze realizing how close you two are. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was as he stared into your eyes. You blushed red at the realization of how close you two were and back away.

“Thank you for helping me pick everything up... you really didn’t have to.”

You smile and reassure that you don’t mind helping him. Well it’s true you didn’t mind being so close to someone so cute.

“This might be weird but can I have your number,” he asks while looking at the bag of orange in his hand. He looked up at you fiddling his fingers waiting for your response.

You were taken back but couldn’t help feeling like you were already falling. “I-Wait what’s your name?”

“I’m Hinata Shōyō.”

“Nice to meet you Hinata I’m l/n f/n.”

You both start to walk together around the store. Before you leave you extange numbers and go your separate ways. As you walk into your house you feel your phone vibrate. You check it only to see new contact.

[kindahoping4forever]

Fight So Dirty // Ashton Irwin

Cass and I are already having such a blast with this month’s Hoe Hours! This time we came up with a concept and thought it’d be fun if we each wrote a story with how our fav guy would act in that situation. Watch for Cass’ Calum story to go up over on @cal-puddies​​ tomorrow! (And then come back over to my blog on Sunday for a new story co-written by the both of us! Different premise but one I’m confident will be appreciated 😌)

Warnings: An argument with Boyfriend!Ash (gasp), an incendiary dildo, sexting, depictions of both male and female masturbation 

Word Count: 3615

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

————-

You had the idea when you were in the shower that morning and it seemed so perfect, you had to laugh; by the time your lunch break ended and you still hadn’t heard from Ashton, you had decided to go through with it.

He was out of town for a weekend writing session and the night before he left, he came over to your place for dinner and a proper goodbye. The last time he’d gone away, he’d hidden small gifts and short notes around the house for you and judging by the suspicious way he was slinking around while you cooked, he was planning on doing it again.

While you cleaned up the kitchen, he’d snuck into your bedroom, planning on leaving a cheeky note in your underwear drawer but instead he came stomping back into the room moments later with his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

“I told you I’d be there in a minute, baby. I just wanna get these dishes out of the sink now, I’m gonna be too tired later,” you turn and raise your eyebrows at him. “Hopefully.”

“What’s with the monster cock in your underwear drawer?” He spits out, voice deep and even.

You pause for a beat, more baffled than embarrassed. “I… what?” you ask, shutting off the sink and turning to face him. “Why were you in my underwear drawer and why does it bother you what I have in there?”

His jaw twitches but he remains cool. “Didn’t say I was bothered.” “Don’t seem unbothered,” you scoff.

“Answer the question,” he presses.

“Answer mine,” you argue.

Ash chews the side of his cheek in frustration. “I was trying to be romantic and leave you a surprise for while I’m gone but instead the thanks I get is discovering that my girlfriend is evidently hiding things from me,” he seethes.

“That’s a strange way to pronounce ‘hey baby, sorry my job takes me away from you for months at a time but I’m glad you’re an independent woman who is proactive in taking care of her basic human needs,’ you fire back. “‘Oh and thanks for making dinner for me.’”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re being.” You can’t believe how frustrated you are in this moment. “You couldn’t possibly have been thinking the only time I ever get off when you’re on tour is when you get horny and call me for phone sex?”

“I know you get off, you didn’t tell me it was like this,” he states incredulously.

Your eyebrows shoot to the sky. “Why the fuck would I tell you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

You want to scream, he’s being so unnecessarily difficult.

You grit your teeth and try to steer the conversation in a productive direction. “OK, what did you think I was doing?”

“Not fucking a mythological creature.”

“Ash, it’s not that big.”

“Bigger than me.”

“Don’t be fucking dramatic, I’m trying to see god, not go home to him,” you say sarcastically.

The fight had only gotten nastier from there. He’d accused you of not trusting him enough to share with him, you’d called him controlling and an asshole; voices were raised, petty remarks exchanged and he stormed out. The next morning, you weren’t surprised by the absence of an apology text and since you received a message that simply read “arrived” yesterday afternoon, he’d been radio silent.

You don’t fight often but when you do, you both go all out. Neither of you likes admitting you were wrong and neither of you wants to be the one to apologize first, especially in cases like this where you both have things to be sorry for.

Arguments with Ashton are a chess game, you have to consider every possible outcome before you make a move and you know he does the same. Which is why you know your plan is so genius, there’s no way he’ll see it coming. 

You step into the lingerie he’d hidden in the closet for you to find, adjusting it in the mirror until your breasts sit just right in the plunging sheer material. He loves you in teddies and you grin at your reflection when you think about how livid he’s going to be that the first time he sees you in this one will be under these circumstances.

You grab your phone off the nightstand and walk back over to the mirror, evaluating your lighting and angle options; you snap a few natural photos and then a few that are more posed, arching your back, using the inside of your arms to push your tits together, all the tricks. You swipe through your choices, make your pick and fire it off to him with the message: 

Mad at you but not your taste in lingerie. 

You don’t expect to hear back from him. Not yet, anyway.

Ashton reaches for his phone on the bed next to him; he’d just gotten back from a short run to clear his head after another largely unproductive writing session. He knew he shouldn’t have left town without resolving everything with you but the things he’d said, the way he acted… there was too much mess to clean up and not enough time. Besides, you definitely owed him some apologies as well and could’ve picked up the phone as easily as him. Things were at a standstill and it was weighing on him.

He’s surprised to see your name in his notifications but is instantly suspicious when he sees that you’ve sent a photo message. His finger hovers over the screen, not wanting to click on it right away, wanting to make you wait to see the “sent” turn to “read,” wanting to make you wonder if he’s even near his phone. He knows you well enough to know you’re watching.

You toss your phone on the bed and roll your eyes; you know he’s got to be back in his room by now and you’re willing to bet he’s staring your notification down just because he can. You shake your head and start gathering what you need for your next move.

12 minutes pass before Ash allows himself to click on your message; your photo loads and he instantly feels his blood pressure rise, for multiple reasons. The sight of you in that low cut, mostly see-through number is every bit as heavenly as he’d hoped it would be when he bought it - only in his fantasy, he was going to be there to nibble down your cleavage and mouth over your nipples through the lace before he ripped it off of you.

He’s not sure whether to take this photo as an olive branch or a threat but the accompanying text message has him leaning towards the latter and honestly, that’s more exciting to him than if you were trying to make amends. You’ve acted out like this before and it’s always led to some great makeup sex.

Your intended tone is unmistakable when another message from you automatically loads in the conversation thread; this time it’s a video, along with a text reading: 

Missed saying goodbye to you like this.

Intrigued, he clicks on the video and immediately bolts up from where he was laying. The video begins and the only thing he sees on screen is your empty shower and the dildo he’d found that night, suction cupped to the wall, intimidatingly jutting out.

You enter the frame, still clad in your new teddy, and get on your knees; he watches in disbelief as your eyes stare directly into the camera and you begin licking up and down the shaft of the toy before swirling your tongue around the head and popping it in and out of your mouth.

Ash is both impressed and aghast at your audacious behavior. The first time he ever left you for a tour, he’d slept over and had to leave at an ungodly hour. He was careful not to wake you in the morning but you’d set your own alarm so you could see him off; you surprised him by hopping into the shower and dropping to your knees and ever since then, the night before he goes away, he stays at yours and you say goodbye in the morning with a shower blowjob.

You close your eyes and hum as you bob your head up and down, letting the spit collect in your mouth and then dribble out, down both the cock and your body. The loud pop of you pulling off reverberates off the shower tile and you wrap your lips around the synthetic balls, murmuring enthusiastically. 

You pull away from the wall, a single string of spit connecting you to the dildo; you move back up to the shaft and dart your eyes towards the lens once more before closing them as you stretch your mouth down its thickness, taking it in further and further, letting out a few gags because you know it turns him on, even if he swears it doesn’t.

Ash doesn’t realize he’s holding his phone with such an intense grip until his hand starts cramping up; he switches it to the other hand, shaking his ailing one out, trying to ignore the urge he’s having to rest it near or on the tent in his shorts. He’s fuming that you’re taunting him like this, furious that it’s making him miss you and that anger is going straight to his cock.

He bites his lip as you gag around the toy once more, tears streaming down your cheeks; he knows you think he enjoys it when you gag for him simply because he likes knowing he’s big but his favorite part about it is how you look up at him when he wipes the tears off your face. It’s the combination of the pure love and adoration in your eyes mixed with the uninhibited desire and lewdness of your mouth sucking at his cock that drives him crazy. He actually wishes there was a way for him to see that in this video.

He notices something and scrubs the video back a few seconds; just as he thought, right before it ends, he sees you spread your legs wider and your right hand disappears off camera. He remembers the lingerie he bought for you was crotchless and he groans quietly, squeezing himself through his clothes as you moan around the cock.

Blowing Ashton always got you wet but without hearing his quiet groans or feeling his fingers gripping your hair, this just wasn’t the same; you love knowing how you affect him, love his lustful affirmations. You lightly rub your clit as you pull off the toy but it’s the thought of you possibly making him hard, making him moan from miles away that has you crying out.    

You send off the video and chuckle to yourself when you notice that he sees it immediately upon delivery. You’re preparing for the final part of your plan when you hear your phone; you’re intrigued to see it’s a text from Ash and you’re too proud of yourself not to click on it right away. 

If you’re looking for a reaction, this is as good as you’re going to get.

You purse your lips, thinking of how to respond; you sit your phone down and finish what you were setting up. No harm in making him wait.

Ashton’s cock twitches with interest in his shorts as he watches the video again; he pauses the clip to check the thread again to make sure you hadn’t replied back. Of course you hadn’t. He loves and hates that you know him well enough to know this would get a reaction from him and he loves and hates that he felt desperate enough to give it to you.

The phone vibrates in his hand and he swears he feels himself get harder in anticipation of what he might be clicking on.

Got you talking to me, didn’t it?

He scoffs at your smugness and his mind races to construct a biting comeback when your next message comes through.

Feeling pretty accomplished. Think I’ll reward myself :)

Ash's heart pounds as he wonders what that could possibly mean and he begrudgingly presses his palm to his crotch, applying pressure to his throbbing cock. A video loads into the thread, a shorter one this time, and he clicks on it with bated breath.

Your face fills his screen, eyes wide with equal parts mischief and lust. “I keep thinking about the other night, how it’s too bad you decided to leave,” you say. He has to dip his hand inside his shorts and give himself a light squeeze when he hears your voice sounding so heavy with want. “Things between us were so heated, we were both so… impassioned? I feel like if you’d stayed only a little bit longer, things could’ve easily been resolved by you bending me over.”

He groans and begins slowly stroking himself as he watches you prop the phone on the counter and step away to reveal that you’ve lined it up to perfectly capture your large dildo, shiny and lubed, suctioned to the side of the kitchen island.

You bend forward, breasts gracefully spilling out of that damn teddy he picked out, and reach behind you to guide the large toy inside you. You lick your lips as you back up on it, slight whines escaping your throat as it stretches and fills you in ways that remind you of how it feels when Ash is inside you.

You start off slowly, letting yourself adjust to the girth but it doesn’t take long for your need to get the best of you and you pick up the pace, throwing yourself back on the toy at a more intense pace. You let your noises fall freely from your lips, hoping your boyfriend knows that in your mind you’re making them for him, imagining it’s his cock that’s making you feel this way, wishing his large hands were covering your ass like they always do when he has you like this.

Ashton growls in frustration when the video ends a few seconds later; surely, this can’t be the end of your torture. Or what if it is, what if your plan was to get him to break and text you and then you’d make your point by leaving him desperate for you like this? 

Minutes that feel like hours pass without another message from you and he hates giving you the satisfaction of another response from him but he feels he has no other choice. He finally takes his shorts off and wraps a hand around his cock, thumbing at the beads of precum gathering at the head and spreading it around as he strokes.

It took you longer than you expected to get the angle right for what you’re assuming will be your last video but you’re confident it won’t take much time for you to build yourself up again; you’re looking forward to making up with Ash but you can’t deny how fun this fight has become.

You check your shot on the phone screen one last time and satisfied with what you see, turn to walk over to the dining room chair where you plan to ride your toy to orgasm. You’ve only made it a few steps when you hear your text notification chime and you stop in your tracks. A second text comes through and you know it has to be him.

You bound back over to your phone and click on the message, which reads:

Is this what you wanted?

You take in a sharp breath when a photo of Ashton’s cock, leaking and surely aching for attention, loads in the thread. You click on it and focus on how his long fingers are gripping it by the base; it reminds you of how he holds it when he’s teasing it across your lips when you’re on your knees for him and you’re both aroused and annoyed by how your mouth actually waters.

Ash maintains a light rhythm, mainly using his fingertips to work his shaft; he’s enjoying the tease and doesn’t want to get too far gone until you give him a reason to. He smirks as a new message from you comes in only moments after he’s sent his text. You must be getting desperate too.

Would rather see you cum for me.

He grins at your response and laughs under his breath as he types out his reply:

Then send me something worth cumming to.

You scoff loudly at his text and you’re not sure why your instinct is to send him a heart emoji but you go with it. You press record on your phone and look into the lens. “I was sitting in the kitchen last night, thinking about how if you’d stayed, we might’ve sat here and talked things out,” you gesture at the dining table behind you. “I don’t know if we would’ve ended up on the same side or agreeing to disagree... But I do know there’s a good chance I would’ve climbed into your lap when we were done.”

You walk back to the dildo that started this whole thing, now attached to the seat of a chair and you hover over it, teasing your clit on its tip before sinking yourself down on it. You rock your hips moderately, letting yourself get used to the feeling again and then you lean back, bracing a hand on the back of the chair and start working yourself over in earnest. Your free hand tugs at the deep neckline of your lingerie, pulling your tits out, knowing if he were there, he would ask to see them bounce.

Ash groans as he watches the video of you riding your toy, your whines filling his earbuds. He sucks his lip in between his teeth, wishing his mouth was capturing one of your nipples instead. He’s fully jerking himself off now and he can tell by the way you’re whimpering and grinding, you’re already close; he tightens his grip, wanting to finish along with you.

Thinking about Ashton, alone in his room with his cock in his hand, wanting you, has you feeling needier than you have been in a while. You bounce yourself vigorously up and down your dildo and your hand makes its way down to circle your clit. You imagine it’s Ash underneath you: his hands playing with your tits, his strong thighs tensing under yours, his hot breath on your skin, his wrecked voice telling you to cum for him. You shudder and feel yourself begin to pulse around the toy; you don’t intend for his name to fall from your lips, but it does.

His phone shakes in one hand as Ashton fucks up into the other, watching you tense on his screen, legs shaking and breath uneven; he’s almost certain he hears his name and he’ll never admit it, but that’s what brings him over the edge. He grunts as his cum spills over his fingers and he’s surprised at how loud his voice is; it briefly flashes in his mind that he’s probably just as loud when he’s with you but his outbursts tend to be muffled by your skin or your kisses. 

You’re still in a post-orgasm haze when your phone alerts you to a new message from Ash; you click to view it and smile sinfully at the sight of your boyfriend’s spent cock laying on his stomach, cum covering his skin. A text comes in seconds later that simply says:

Happy now?

You think of a quippy reply but then find yourself hitting the call button instead. He picks up before the first ring even finishes sounding.

“What could you possibly have to say to me after that stunt?” He greets you, words harsh but voice light and sleepy like it always is after sex.

“Made you cum that hard, huh?” You taunt, surprised at how much you’ve missed his voice after just a couple of days.

He lets out an exaggerated huff. “Pretty inconsiderate of you, considering your greedy mouth isn’t here to clean up the mess,” he teases back.

“You know, that’s the one thing my fake cock can’t do, it can’t cover me in cum like yours can,” you joke.

He snorts. “Uh-huh. The one thing.”

“By my count, yes.”

“You wanna start fighting again?”

You smile, then sigh. “What was that even about, babe?”

He pauses and you can picture the look of contemplation on his face. “Jealousy? Pride? Guilt? I don’t know,” he admits. “I was already feeling bad about leaving… always feel bad about leaving. Maybe that just reminded me of how often I leave you. I don’t know.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Didn’t cross your mind that I bought a giant dick because of how much I like yours?” You ask, half-kidding.

Ashton laughs softly. “I think that makes me kind of a giant dick, doesn’t it?”

“I mean…” 

He laughs louder. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You close your eyes and smile. “I know. I’m sorry too.” 

“Oh, not as sorry as you’re gonna be,” he warns playfully.

You grin, hoping you catch his meaning. “I can’t imagine what you mean by that,” you feign innocence.

“I can admit, I deserved all this," he states. You can hear the smirk in his voice. “But some of the things you said the other day? You deserve a little retaliation too, gorgeous.”

You bite your lip and sweetly reply, “What time should I expect you home, then?”

————-

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[anonbebe97me]

𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜 (Ch.4: Cupcake.)

A/N: This was a fic I’d originally posted on Wattpad last year. Hope you guys enjoy!

Description: Working for Mr.Yoo Kihyun was an absolute nightmare; Y/N hated everything about him, and was convinced he was either part demon or at least some sort of reptilian hybrid- never in a million years would she have expected to learn that he was, indeed only human, and even worse; that he might even be…likeable?

Link To: || 1 || 2 || 3 || 5 || 6 || 7

I sat at my desk, my face buried in my work as I tried to figure Kihyun's (and my) itinerary for our business trip to Korea. He had so many meetings that I needed to be in with him, that I could barely fit in any down time for myself.

My desk phone started to ring and I saw that it was coming from Kihyun. I sighed and bit my lip before I picked up the call.

"Yes, Mr.Yoo?" I asked.

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to stay late tonight. I need you to figure out the building permits so that we'll have them in time for Tuesday morning when we leave," He said.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to control my tone, "Are you sure you need me to stay late? I'd be happy to come in early for the rest of the week-"

"I want them done as soon as possible, so I need you to stay tonight and possibly come early as well," Though I couldn't see him, I was almost sure he was only half-paying attention to the conversation, as he was probably going through his schedule.

"Mr.Yoo, I think I'd really just prefer to come early-" I started feeling exasperated.

"And I'd prefer for you to do as I ask," He said, his tone steady but firm.

I looked down, defeated, "Yes, I'm sorry Mr.Yoo... I'll stay," I said.

Without another word, he hung up the phone.

I put my phone on the receiver and propped my elbows onto my desk, letting my face fall forward into my hands. My blood boiled, but the mental exhaustion that I felt was too great to dwell on it for too long.

Believe it or not, it was my dream to work at Yoo Industries, from the time I was in high school. My father worked here in the marketing department when it was owned by Kihyun's grandfather. I wanted to work in marketing myself, but no positions were open. Desperate to just find a job, I accepted the first one I saw; the position of a personal assistant to the CEO. I thought it would be a sure-fire way to secure a career in the company, but it seemed like I was at a complete standstill.

And yet, I still have hope...

When people started packing up to leave, I stared longingly at the elevator, wishing I could be one of them... thought it was quite a peaceful experience to be the only one in the office. Then again, a big con was having to stay late with Kihyun.

I was already feeling tired, though it was only about half an hour later than when I would normally leave. I yawned and stretched out in my seat. "I need coffee...I wonder if they're still open," I said.

I grabbed my mug and took the elevator to the lobby. Sure enough, Shownu stood at the counter, though it looked like he was getting ready to close up. I sprinted as quickly as I could in my heels.

"Oh wait!" I called out, causing Shownu to look up.

He smiled at me as I stood at the counter trying to catch my breath.

"Are you still open?" I asked between breaths.

"Well..." He looked around, a thoughtful look on his face, "Not usually, but I can make an exception," he said with a sweet smile, causing my stomach to turn to knots.

"You sure? I don't want to get you in trouble," I said, concerned.

"Don't worry about it," He gently grabbed the mug from my hand, "Besides, it's the least I can do for our prettiest customer..." He said, his sweet smile turning too a smirk.

I blushed uncontrollably and looked down. Suddenly, I as feeling wide awake.

He filled my cup and then handed it to me, "Thank you," I said with a smile.

I reached into my wallet for the money to pay for the coffee, but he put his hand up and waved me away, "This one's on me..." he said, making direct eye contact with me.

I didn't know how to react- I mean, I wanted to jump across the counter and have him right then and there- but I managed to nod.

"Wow... what a gentleman," I said, trying my best to sound flirty but not too eager.

"Thanks Shownu," I said before turning around and walking into the elevator.

This time, when I turned around, I saw only Shownu, who was still watching me as the doors closed.

My face was still burning when I got up my floor. Kihyun was sitting leaning on the front of my desk, his face glued to his phone. My heart dropped as I waited for him to notice the coffee in my hand and start yelling at me. I walked over to my desk- and him- with my head down and I put my coffee next to me.

"Did you need something, Mr.Yoo?" I asked.

He seemed to not have heard me, so I sat down and waited for whatever he as gonna say. I sipped my coffee, and I could practically feel my eyes dilating when the caffeine kicked in. Now, I was ready to work.

"You ever feel stuck?" His voice cuts through the silence as he looks up at the empty office, catching me off guard.

I was unsure of how to answer him, not only because of how random the question is, but because of how personal it seemed.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir..." I said, choosing not to answer.

He stood up and fixed his blazer, keeping his back to me.

"Nothing. Where were you?" He asked, finally turning around.

He spotted the coffee cup next to me on the desk and  sighed, "Never mind," he said.

He was usually quite rushed and energetic, but in that moment he looked as exhausted as I felt. He went back to his office without saying anything else. II hadn't realized that I'd been holding my breath, but once he'd closed the door behind him, I was finally able to exhale.

Do you ever feel stuck? His words rang in my head.

"The answer is...yes," I said, more to myself than to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 8:30pm, and I'd spent the entire evening doing the necessary research for the permits we needed in order to build the offices in South Korea. I hadn't seen Kihyun since the moment he'd had at my desk, and I was wondering how he was doing.

Kihyun walked out of his office without a word, got in the elevator. Surprisingly, he kept his head down the entire time. That was quite unusual for him.

My phone buzzed on my desk next to me, and Karina's name popped up on the screen. I picked it up and opened the message. Of course, in true Karina-fashion, she sent me a gif  of an old lady twerking.

Karina: Karaoke bar again this Friday?

I bit my lip, unsure of her plan. My phnoe buzzed again.

Karina: Come on, Lizzie was so mad we went without her last time. She said she'll buy the first round ;)  

I rolled my eye and replied to her message.

Me: Idk... I've got a bad feeling about it

Karina: Well don't. Your boss ain't gonna go to karaoke two weekends in a row. Normal ppl don't do that.

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, relaxing a bit.

Me: Normal ppl don't do that? Geez. What does that make us? Alright alright, we'll go. But if we see him, we're LEAVING.

Karina: Deal.

I sighed and put my phone back down. Just then, the elevator doors opened and Kihyun walked out holding two brown paper bags, one in each hand. They had the logo from the All-Night cafe, which was a few blocks away. My stomach growled, and I was glad he was still too far away to have heard it.

I looked down and pretended to be doing my work.

"Here," He said, placing one of the bags on my desk.

"Oh, did you need me to check it?" I asked, confused.

He shook his head, "No, it's for you."

"Oh no, Mr.Yoo, I'm not hungry, really-"

"I got it for you. You haven't eaten since lunch. Just eat it," He said, making his way to the entrance of his office.

I didn't know how to react- he'd never done something like this before.

He grabbed the handle to the door, but took a moment to glance at me, "and I heard your stomach growling... you're not a very good liar," He said with an eye roll.

I blushed, embarrassed.

He walked into his office, leaving me with the delicious aroma of whatever was in the bag. I reached into the bag and pulled out small cardboard box and a black container of fettuccine alfredo and broccoli. My mouth watered instantly at the sight of the pasta.

My favorite!

I put the container aside for a moment to see what was inside the little box. I opened it and was surprised to see a little pink cupcake with a small, edible pearl in the center of the frosting. I almost couldn't believe my eyes, and I glanced at his door in confusion.I grabbed my phone and look for Kihyun's contact.

Me: Thank you for the food, Mr.Yoo.

I then took a picture of the cupcake, deciding I had to document this uncharacteristically kind gesture- also, the cupcake was pretty.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and Kihyun's name popped up on the screen.

Kihyun: Don't worry about it.

I sighed and put my phone down. My stomach was growling even louder than before, soo I reached for the container of food and dug in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He did what!?" Karina and Lizzie exclaimed in unison.

Even through Facetime, they were far too loud for me.

"He bought me dinner...kind of. I mean, we were staying late because we were working on getting the building permits done," I explained.

"That sounds so romantic!" Karina squealed.

I rolled my eyes, "No, no, no. It was business. We weren't even in the same room for most of the time," I said.

"Well, what'd he get you?" Lizzie asked.

"Fettuccine and a cupcake?" I said, unsure of what that had anything to do with.

"Girl! He got you pasta???" Karina asked.

"And a cupcake, don't forget the cupcake," Lizzie added.

I was getting annoyed, "So what?"

"SO, pasta is like, a sexy meal, you know?" Karina said with a serious expression on her face, as was Lizzie's.

"Pasta is a sexy meal," I mocked Karina, "Do you people realize how ridiculous that sounds?"

"What about the cupcake? Was it like, Safeway brand?" Lizzie asked.

I shook my head, "No, it was from the All Night Cafe. You know that super hipster place we went to for Lizzie's birthday two years ago?" I said.

They squealed once more.

"Am I talking to twenty-five year olds, or teenagers?" I asked, irritatedly.

They laughed at my expense.

"Wait..." I said, remembering the picture I took of the cupcake, "I took a picture of the cupcake."

"Send it to me!" Karina exclaimed.

I chuckled, "Fine. But after I send it, let's move on from this subject," I said.

I went to my gallery and grabbed and selected the picture of the cupcake and then sent it.

"Let me know when you get it," I said.

"Kay," Karina said.

A moment or two went by and I picked my phone up again, "Did you get it?" I asked.

Karina and Lizzie shook their heads, "Nope. Maybe you have to hang up- sometimes the messages won't send when you're on Face time," Lizzie said.

I nodded, "Okay, I'll hang up. Let me know when you get it," I said, pressing the End button on the screen.

I went to my messages and pressed on Karina's name, but I didn't see the message.

Hm...that's weird.

Suddenly, Kihyun's name popped up on my phone.

What the..? He never texts me after hours.

I pulled his name down on the screen, revealing the message.

Kihyun: ???

I was confused, so I opened up the entire conversation.

"Crap!" I squealed.

On the thread between Kihyun and I, was the picture of the pink cupcake he'd bought me.

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[silversablinovaallday]

A Slice Of Pizza

Description: After the events of the Spider-man ps4 game and it's DLC's Silver Sablinova actually decides to take Peter up on his offer to get pizza. 

Read it on A03 Here

Hammerhead was finally down. With all the flames and sparks licking at his metal body, it was hard to be sure that he was really gone; but after a few long moments of locked servos and unseeing eyes remaining motionless, they knew they had accomplished their goal. It was almost sad to see the lump of robotic parts, hunched over themselves in an ocean of fire, while the barely visible, still flesh covered face was charred by the inferno. He had a rule against killing, but this time it may have been the only way. Hammerhead was too strong and if allowed to come back, would; no doubt, be near impossible to beat.

Attempting to use that fact to block out the terrible feeling of watching a man die at the hands of his partner; or rather, her jet, he instead used his regular wit to defuse the situation. “Huh, that was fun,” he beamed, turning to look at Sablinova. “Hey, do you have dinner plans? I know this great pizza place.”

She seemed taken aback by the invitation, standing still, thinking about it for longer than Peter would have expected. She hadn’t said yes but she hadn’t said no either. After the longest minute of his life, she sighed. “I cannot. I must return to my home country.”

“Oh, right. I know you’ve got a war but can’t you spare ten minutes? Send your men back and get some good food. You deserve it, you know? After everything.”

She began walking towards one of the jets left untouched in the hangar after the battle. The cockpit door lifted open as she got closer but she stopped before hopìng in. Not turning around fully, only tilting her head slightly towards him she calmly asked, “how close is this pizza place.?”

Peter perked up significantly. “Oh, it's super close! Especially for your jet! It's the best! You’ll love it!” He ran over, jumping in the pilot's seat before she could. “I’ll drive. Fly. I’ll fly!”

“You absolutely will not,” she protested.

“I’m already in here. What are you going to-” She lifted him right off the seat by the collar of his suit before he could even finish asking his question. “Oh, I guess that's what you'll do.”

“You are much lighter than I thought you’d be. I am concerned about how you deal so much damage in combat.”

“Well placed hits more than anything. Can you put me down now? This is kind of embarrassing.” She gave him a half-hearted smile that he had never seen before just as she threw him off the jet and back to the cold, hard, metal floor of the hangar. He recovered quickly, jumping back onto his feet with little effort. “Thanks, that was really uncomfortable. Come on let’s go! My treat! But we should keep out of the public eye so I’ll have them deliver to a rooftop. I’ll call, you fly.”

She rolled her eyes, jumping down into the cockpit. “Input the coordinates in the terminal. Then hop on and we can go.”

Peter did as he was told, already getting Eddie on the phone to order to the usual location. It only occurred to him as Sablinova took off, that he had no idea what type of pizza she would like. “Hey Eddie,” he yelled over the roar of the engine as it pushed off of the ground. “It’s me, Spidey! I’d like to order my usual and like two or three other pizzas. I’m with a friend and I don’t know what she likes so can you make a couple different ones. Like a cheese, veggie and maybe a meat lovers? That covers all the bases right?”

“Sure Spidey! Anything for you and you’re in luck; we’re not busy over here tonight so it’ll probably be really quick. Ten, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Eddie! See ya then!”

He hung up just as the jet set down on the all-too-familiar rooftop. Peter walked along the wing waiting for Sablinova. Through the glass, he could see her fidgeting expertly with the controls. Suddenly, he was very thankful she didn’t allow him to take the controls. He may be a scientist with a degree in chemical engineering, but that didn’t mean he knew how an advanced fighter jet worked; or how he could go about figuring it out.

“We got some time to kill before the delivery. Want to play a game,” he asked when the door opened.

“How old are you,” she asked sarcastically.

“Old enough to drink, not old enough to like it; know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Alright well I’m older than 21,” he laughed.

“I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed at him in a slightly more playful tone than usual. It was still forceful and direct but had a hint of humour in the tone. “I’ve done some research on you. You’ve been in the news for eight years.”

“Yeah? So,” he asked, extending his hand to help her step down from the jet and onto the rooftop.

She neglected it of course; leaving him hanging as she jumped down on her own. “Why then? Why did you suddenly appear then?”

Peter sighed and took a seat on the wing of the jet, leaving his legs dangling over the edge; watching as Sablinova paced with her arms crossed in front of him. She was waiting for an answer and; knowing her, would not let it go until he answered. “It’s when I got my powers. I wasn’t born with them, it just kind of happened one day. Long story.”

“How did you do it?”

“Now that’s classified. Forgive me but I’m not exactly planning on giving my secret of superpowers to anyone; especially violent mercenaries who have tried to kill me. And a few times at that. Besides,” he continued; his voice getting a little cheerier. “You can't anyway. The spider is dead and it's a complete fluke that it didn't kill me in the first place.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen when I started.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment with almost a hint of concern in her eyes. “You are a child. Twenty-three is far too young to be involving yourself with such dangers; spider powers or not.”

“You couldn't have done it without me.”

“We could and would have.”

“Yet I did all the work while you chased me like I was the criminal.”

“You were are a criminal.”

They reached a standstill. Conversation stalled, filling their air with the noises of the city once more. It was awkward and unnerving.

Her gaze never broke, and even through his mask, he felt as though she could see right through him. Perhaps she could. In all of a second, he realized just how oblivious he had been. He changed into and out of costume in alleyways and rooftops all in the time and her men were on surveillance duty. Perhaps one had managed to find him in one of these inopportune and compromising moments. Oh god, Peter thought. What if she’s seen my Spiderman briefs?

Peter tried to shake the thought and blurted out the first thing he thought of. “I feel like there's a ‘but’ coming. I was a criminal; but…”

She took her time responding. “But,” she continued. “I am thankful for your help in the end. You kept my client alive and I do believe you were the one who put my rogue outpost in their place during the devil's breath incident, and that; I have to thank you for.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Peter chuckled softly. “Oh, our pizza’s here. I can hear Eddie climbing the stairs.”

He jumped down from the wing and ran to the side of the building where the short but ever cheerful pizza shop owner was trying desperately to navigate the bulky pizza boxes through the narrow fire escape. Without a moment's hesitation, Peter lept from the building's edge, easily catching the railing on the balcony Eddie was standing on. “Hey, Eddie! How you been?”

“Better since you’ve given my place a shoutout. Thank’s for that Spiderman. Here’s your pizza.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Anything for you.”

“No, no. I can’t do that. This is four pizzas.”

“How about a picture of you eating it then for the company website?”

“You got it, Eddie. I’ll send it your way later tonight.”

“Thanks, Spidey. Enjoy your pizza date,” Eddie laughed pleasantly while handing over the pizzas and beginning his climb back down to the alleyway below.

“Ding, ding! Soups on,” Peter shouted as his head popped over the ledge. “I got a bunch because I didn’t know what you liked and I thought you’d kill me if I interrupted you when you were flying. So we got cheese,” he tossed the box like a frisbee at her; which she caught easily. “A meat lovers,” again tossed lazily to her. “Veggie,” another one on the pile. “And double pepperoni but that's mine so I’ll keep that.”

“You are not keeping the best to yourself.”

“And; let me guess, you'll fight me for it?”

She smirked at him, “you are learning. Very good.”

He laughed and passed the final box to her; topping off the pile like it were a layered cake. “Care to join me on the edge?” He lightly patted the railing beside him as he took a seat. “Second best view of the city from here.”

Sablinova took his suggestion and sat down on the railing; having to keep most of her focus on staying centred on the slim metal bar. He; of course, didn’t have to worry about that. He stuck firmly to any surface and didn’t need to worry about falling to the cold pavement below. Because of this, he seemed to be in better spirits than her; folding his mask up just above his nose, exposing most of his face making it easy to shove nearly the entire slice of pizza into his mouth without hassle.

She was shocked. Not surprised that he would do this: he had to eat somehow, but amazed that he would show her this with no hesitation. He was far more open and exposed like this. Was it possible that he trusted her that much?

For the first time, she could see the smile that she could only have imagined before; only it was nothing like what she imagined. It was much more full and sweet; curving lopsidedly whenever it wasn't being stuffed with greasy, cheesy, bread piled high with pepperoni. It was warming and comforting; reminding her that there was; in fact, a person behind that mask. Someone who had a life outside of being a vigilante. A man who had hopes, ambitions, family. For a moment she regretted all of the things she had done. How her men had hunted him. How she had given the command to bring him down no matter the cost.

A quick memory of her home country and how the money from Osborne would aid her cause reminded her that she had no choice but to follow orders and her feelings were mutual again.

Trying to break the silence; and hopefully, her unblinking stare, he took out his personal cell phone rather than his suits built in phone and snapped a selfie. “For Eddie,” he clarified as if she was confused. “Want to get in on a pic? I won’t send that one to him though.”

She was still mesmerized by the half-masked face. “Why take it then? If you aren't going to do anything with it?”

“Oh, I will! It’s gonna be my new phone background. Proof that you like me now.”

“I don't like you.”

“Oh really?” he smirked, raising his arm to take the picture. “Come on, smile! Turn that frown upside down.” She didn’t, so he raised his opposite, grease-soaked hand to lightly grip either side of her cheeks and pushed them into a chubby-cheeked smile. “There!” He snapped the picture before she could swat his hand away, violently grabbing his wrist in a death grip.

“Do not touch me like that again!” There was a new-found softness in her voice; matched with the residual smile that stayed after his fingers were removed.

“Lesson learned! My bad,” he laughed. “But I did get the picture.”

The phone was pushed closer to her and to her surprise, it depicted not her with a forced smile, but instead; the aftermath of his childish antics. She was smiling of her own free will, and so was he. Their hands a blur as she swatted him away. It looked almost friendly.

“That's definitely one for the scrapbook. At least it would be if I still had it. But that's fine; phone background it is. Do you like it?”

“I do,” she answered honestly; a soft smile creeping back on her lips. “You are a remarkable man, Spider. Something else entirely. How do you do it?”

“Do what? I already told you I'm not going to explain my powers.”

She took a slice of pizza and ate it while her eyes traced the skyline. “No. Not that. How do you manage your life? You must have a job, family, friends.”

“Oh, that. Well, it was really difficult when I first got my powers. Between learning how to control them, designing my suit and web-shooters, family, school, friends. To be fair though, I only had two friends so it kind of worked out on that end. Not too much obligation. Then one… he went away for a while, and the other became my girlfriend who broke up with me not long after.

“After the Devils’ breath incident I lost the only remaining family member I had. She was a wonderful woman. I wouldn't be anything close to the man I am today, had it not been for her.

“With her estate, I was able to get an apartment; I’ve been homeless for a while you see. Couch surfing; not that I sleep that often though. Not with being Spiderman. Oh, and my job doesn't exactly help either.”

“Nothing you are saying makes it sound like you are doing well.”

Peter huffed, “yeah. Saying it out loud now makes it sound a lot worse.” He scratched his chin absentmindedly. “I’m doing alright. It just sounds bad. I just need a job that forgives me being late and absent a lot.”

“I will add you to Sable's payroll.”

He choked on his pizza; and kept choking until he slapped his back hard enough to dislodge the hunk and send it falling to the ground below. “I’m sorry what?!”

“I will add you to our payroll. In exchange, you will continue to keep New York; and more importantly, Norman Osborne safe. And report directly to me at least once a week.”

He was still recovering; breathing heavily. “Is-uh, is this just a macho way of asking me to keep in touch?”

“It’s a business proposition.”

“Well; in that case, I accept. Even if it’s just so you can talk to me more. This has been nice. I always said you guys should pay me for my work. But wait,” he paused. “Don’t you need all that you can get to fight the war?”

“It’s worth having a strong ally in the wings in case we need them. That is if you'd be willing to come to Symkaria if your help is necessary.”

“Absolutely. Actually, I'd like that. Someone I care about is a reporter and she's going there soon to do media coverage and I’d prefer to keep her safe.”

“I will keep an eye on her. Mary Jane Watson correct?”

“Y-Yeah. How’d you-”

“I had this entire city under personal surveillance. I know everything, Mr. Parker.”

He choked for a second time that night, sending another chunk of pizza to the dirty alleyway beside the other. “You know who I am?!”

“Yes. Do not worry; only I know. None of my men are aware of your true identity.”

Peter could feel the anxiety rising in his chest. “How do you know?”

“I was given; no I should not say it like that; I took the surveillance tapes of the fight with Doctor Octavius. Oscorp has some of the most advanced surveillance technology in the world. Not only did I have multiple angles of your face once you removed your mask; but I also had clear audio of him calling you ‘Peter.’ Not much digging and research lead me to the one and only Peter Parker. Orphaned as a young boy, raised by an aunt and uncle until the uncles unfortunate passing. A genius; soft-hearted by nature with an outstanding lust to help people. Friends with a reporter named Mary Jane Watson at the Daily Bugle, who just so happens to have a history of working with Spiderman. I cannot say it was entirely too difficult to piece together who you are.”

“You never said anything,” Peter sighed. “I would've thought you’d out me when you came back.”

“Personal lives should be left outside of work. Secret identities are no different. I would gain nothing from revealing who you are to the public.”

“I guess I should thank you then.” Slowly he peeled away the mask revealing the blushing babyface underneath. “It’s nice having someone I can show my real self to. It’s lonely being behind a mask all the time.”

She seemed somewhat taken aback. She already knew what his face looked like, but there was a distinct difference between the grief-stricken and injured man in the video, and the sweet grin of the child-like boy in front of her now. “I can imagine your struggle.”

“Well since you already know, I think its time for a real introduction.” He extended his hand towards her, “hi! My name is Peter. Nice to meet you.”

She rolled her eyes; taking the hand nonetheless. “You may call me Sablinova or Sable if you wish. It is good to meet you officially.”

“You too!” He shook hands over enthusiastically and with a rockhard grip that may just leave bruises. “Now may I offer you some of the cold pizza that I can't seem to get a bite of? We have four after all.”

“I would like that very much.”

They spent many long hours up on the rooftop chatting, with only a few one-sided threats thrown in for good measure. And even though she hated to admit it; she was grateful for his unwavering kindness.

[looselucy]

Vitae & Mortem

Dystopian AU - Read the previous chapters

Part Nine

UNKNOWN TIME The first thing I saw when my eyes opened was a body. I jolted as upright as I could, noting instantly that I was restrained by shackles that kept me bound to the pipe where my back rested, but even though I knew I trapped I still tried to leap forward. It was Harry. Laying lifeless upon the floor, was Harry.

In a way, he looked angelic, beautifully soft, like he was just sleeping. But I knew that wasn’t the case. “NO!” I screamed, trying my best to free myself and leap to him. I tried my best to ignore the pool of blood that surrounded his body, just aiming at getting loose and reaching him and checking for a pulse, but he was too far away. I was sobbing loudly, knowing I couldn’t reach him but still trying regardless. “HARRY!” I cried. “HARRY, ANSWER ME! ARE YOU AWAKE? TELL ME YOU’RE AWAKE! HARRY?” It all came rushing back to me. That dark hallway and the fact we’d both been attacked from nowhere. Four noises that I couldn’t distinguish at the time had been our demise, and now suddenly I was waking in an unfamiliar room, and Harry was lifeless ahead of me and I couldn’t fucking reach him because I’d been cuffed to a pipe and everything had fallen apart. I struggled some more, hearing the chattering of metal as I fought my restraints, and I continued to scream. “HARRY!” Noises confirmed it wasn’t just the two of us, and then suddenly the only door leading to the room we were in was pushed open, a Krow stepping in with a black batten gripped in his hand, marching towards me. There was blood that sparkled on the end of it. I knew the blood was both mine and Harry’s. I screamed again, fear and pain and agony gorged within the noise as he took it to the side of my head with speed and aggression. Everything blurred, my neck snapping to the right and spit dribbling from between my lips. My vision just about remained intact enough for me to notice he then moved to drag Harry’s lifeless body from the room, and I wanted to scream again but my body didn’t allow it. I passed out once more only moments after the door slammed. UNKNOWN TIME Waking the second time around didn’t come with as much alertness as it had the first. Because there was no one there to wake to. Once again, I had to piece together the entire evening, a gentle humming working its way through my head as I struggled to pull myself together, my eyes refusing to focus on my surroundings, my wrists beginning to sting. It was taking every iota of strength I had to gather myself and make everything visceral again. I tried to take my time, taking deep breaths in and back out. I had to find some way out of there. I just had to. I’d learnt nothing from our venture, and I didn’t want it to be entirely pointless. I needed something. At the very least, I needed my life. The door was opening before I could gather myself, and then suddenly I retched, throwing up down by my side. It stung as it forced its way out of my body. There wasn’t enough substance in my stomach to hack the vomit, and it almost emptied me. I wasn’t surprised when it mainly consisted of bile and blood. But then it was over, and it brought back the senses that I had been lacking. “Don’t make a sound.” The man ahead of me whispered, forcing me to whip my head up to him. “If you scream, they’ll come in and shut you up.” The man crouched down to my level, and he wasn’t a Krow, I knew that much, but it still took me some time to figure who he was, and how I knew his face. I shuffled as far away from him as I could, scowling his way as he took his eyes over my features, silently taking in every cove of my face, and it didn’t look like he wanted to hurt me. It didn’t mean that I trusted him, only that my confusion grew and introduced a headache that swelled by the second. “Years I’ve been searching for you.” He whispered. “Years. And now you just… walk in here. You walk right to me.” “Don’t hurt him.” I gasped, my voice quiet. “Don’t hurt Harry.” “The boy?” I nodded, and all he did was nod back, almost like he was understanding me. Almost like he was agreeing to my request. He reached out as though he wanted to touch my face, but my instinct was to yank my head back and force my leg forward, kicking him and making him stumble. He didn’t seem shocked by my actions, like he’d been expecting nothing less as he got himself back to his feet, remaining at my level and rolling his shoulders. I’d made him angry, but he didn’t quite dare express it. “Where did you get your name from?” He asked next. “Book.” “That’s not your name.” “It is.” “THAT’S NOT YOUR FUCKING NAME!” I was gathering my breath like I was going to attack him, seething in the air through my clenched teeth and glaring at him. Then it all came to me. He was the Prime Minister. I recalled the images of him I’d seen on the screen in Gardan’s home, and I wondered why it had taken me so long to match those pixels to the real thing. Maybe it was just my surroundings, and the fact it seemed utterly implausible that the man supposedly running our country was in that grimy building. I had predicted he was working with the Krows, that he knew what they did, but I suppose I just hadn’t imagined it to be so direct. “Your name is Wendy.” He replied once he’d calmed. “I was Jane at school, and then Jax. I don’t have another name.” I spat. “You do.” He was breathless. “You have the name your mother gave you when you were born, which was Wendy.” “You’re lying.” Tears bubbled in my eyes. “You’re my daughter.” “YOU’RE FUCKING LYING!” He had to be lying. Ever since he’d made that announcement I had thought he was lying, a way of fooling the public and guising their guilt, but seeing him then it was harder to deny. Seeing the way he looked at me, and feeling the honesty in his voice, I was beginning to doubt my initial instinct. I wanted him to be lying. I wanted this to be another attempt to weaken me and maybe stop me from fighting him, but the more I thought about it, the less reasons I could conjure for him saying that to me. I sobbed loudly, staring blankly towards him and waiting for him to say something else. “What can I do to make you believe me?” “Nothing. I’ll never believe you.” I lied. “Why?” “Because I know you’re killing those kids.” I sat forward, spitting foully as I spoke. “And if I was your daughter you would have been there with my mother when I was born. Mortemosis should have taken you with her! If you were there you would have protected me, but you’ve done the opposite. I know you’re killing Lost Children-” “Some of them deserve to die.” “NONE of them deserve to die!” “Any threat to the society we have created deserves punishment, and you became a threat!” He pointed aggressively, his finger just inches from my face. “I was willing to watch you grow up like every other child, but you chose to rebel, and we had to take action.” “You created this world through a messed up disease that went wrong!” I spat. “What the hell is there to save?” “You’re naive enough to think this was an accident?” He sniggered. “I go to the effort… of making sure you’re placed into the official schooling system, and you’re still stupid. It’s embarrassing.” “What do you mean?” I trembled. “What are you saying?” He lifted back up to his feet, beginning to calmly pace up and down the small area available to him, this slight twitch to his lips that I viewed as a smirk, like he was incredibly pleased with the fact that he was about to inflict some knowledge upon me that I had never heard before, and frankly, had never wanted to hear in my life. “Mortemosis was no accident. The effect it has… that wasn’t an accident either. It’s purposeful, that the children survive. We did what we had to do.” “I don’t understand.” “We hand pick who dies.” He told me, so unmoved by what he was saying it was hard to comprehend the depth. “Mortemosis isn’t airbound. It doesn’t happen to an unfortunate few. We decide who dies. We abolish the poor. The uneducated. We inject the disease into those that we believe, the world would be better without.” “You’re sick.” I sobbed. “Your mother was scum.” He continued, coming to a standstill and gazing down to me. “I gave the order for the doctors to kill her, and they did.” “They wouldn’t do that!” “It took years to create a system we were in complete control of, and have our men working in each hospital. So yes, they would. That’s their jobs.” Harry had told me that people had their doubts about the disease, but I wasn’t sure anyone had ever considered that the victims of Mortemosis were chosen specifically because of their class, or their wage, or where they lived. This perfect world that they’d attempted to create was so much more twisted than I’d ever imagined. They decided who was worthy of life, and anyone who wasn’t was killed. He kneeled down again, eyes back at my level, still satisfied with the pain he was causing me. “How does that make you feel, Wendy?” He was trying to get a rise out of me. “I gave the order for your mother to die. How does that make you feel?” “I read about mothers in story books. They’re a fantasy to me. I’ve never had any kind of affection or… any kind of feelings for her. You can try to break me, but it won’t work.” “She was scum. Just like you. You’ve inherited all her bad and none of my good. I had high hopes for you, Wendy. I really did. But… you let me down, time and time again, believing… theories. Fighting and… pulling knives on innocent people. You killed a Krow!” “Kill or be killed.” I spat, not quite believing what I was saying but wanting to remain resilient. “And I had every right to believe those theories because what you’re telling people about Mortemosis is a lie! You kill people by choice and everyone should know that! You ruined our world!” “We made our world better, we made it safer!” “How can you say that?” I baffled. “There are thousands of children living on the street now. How is this better than before?” “Because you’re under our control.” He spoke like I was stupid for not figuring it out for myself. “We pick out the poor and the uneducated, and we make it so they’re not a problem for us. We’re creating a beautiful, and intelligent world. That’s what everyone wants!” “Is that why the Krows are killing Lost Children? Because we don’t work with your perfect world?” “We only kill the ones who are a threat to us, and our society. Like you. You knew too much. You were too busy fighting and trying to make a difference, so we had to take a stand. But we need Lost Children. We need them to keep people in line.” I couldn’t make sense of it. I couldn’t fully understand why in their attempts to create a perfect world with perfect people, they would keep Lost Children. At least the ones who didn’t show signs of anger or rebellion. Although people had become good at ignoring us, and acting as though our existence was moot, we were still there as a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong. Everything bad that had happened, was summed up by thousands of people asleep on the streets with nowhere to turn. We were the exact opposite of an ideal world. “I don’t understand.” I whispered, suddenly hanging on his every word. “The world is at peace. Diseases are cured almost instantly. Without bad, this world becomes ungrateful for the good that they have. People will start asking for more and more, unless they have something to compare their lives to, and force themselves to be grateful for what they have. That’s why you exist. That is why we keep Lost Children. Most of them. You are a reminder to people to be grateful for their lives. Nothing more, nothing less. We don’t have to feed you, or home you, or spend any money on you other than the schooling system that’s in place. Other than that, you cost the government absolutely nothing, and you make everyone so thankful for what they have. It’s perfect.” My life was put into place so that the fortunate would take note of their fortune. My life consisted only of a twisted plan to keep people quiet and happy, going about their lives and being reminded the very moment they left their homes, that what they had was good. My entire existence was strategically planned to shut people up. Mortemosis was more hateful than I had ever imagined. “We’re here to set an example.” I trembled. “People only become grateful, or feel lucky, when they can compare their life to others. When they look at their lives compared to the lives of the less fortunate, is the only time they can truly accept how much they have. We need you, to keep people in check. There has to be both good and bad. There is no good without evil. There is no heaven without hell.” Everything I’d ever read in my life had been monitored before I met Harry. I think a part of me began to believe that the man in front of me, whatever relation he might be, did want me to survive. He had wanted me to remain dumb and lifeless, with no fight in me. He didn’t want the Krows to kill me. He didn’t want me to fight. He wanted me to die naturally, freeze or starve to death like so many other kids did. He didn’t love my mother. He didn’t care for my existence, but that blood bond that he was saying we shared had forced him to want me have to have the simplest life a Lost Child could have. He didn’t want much for me, but he wanted that. “You showed so many signs of rebelling.” He continued, his words running close to my own thoughts. “And we let you be that way… for years. But it was too much. You’re too smart for you own good. You needed taking out. Because that’s another thing that helps us with Lost Children. You have nowhere to go, and in turn, you have no privacy. You’re easy to monitor, easy to track. We can watch your every move, and I saw you growing up… And I saw you becoming a threat. Enough is enough.” “You can’t hurt me.” I shook my head. “You wouldn’t do that. If I’m your daughter you wouldn’t do that.” “You’ve left me no choice. I tried for you, I really did.” “You did nothing for me!” I spat, sitting forward and trying to be threatening. “I made sure you were warned, that the Krows were looking for you. I made sure that happened, in the hope that you would calm down and stop fighting. I TRIED TO DO THAT FOR YOU!” I remembered the day perfectly. I’d taken Marby to eat at a charity I was familiar with, and the people running the place had taken me off into a private room and told me that they were specifically searching for me. My face dropped, adding things together in my mind, coming to terms with the fact that move had been purposeful, in the hope that I would keep quiet and become this shell of my former self. He had told them to take me to one side. I felt sick. “So we tested you further.” He continued, my silence spurring his words because he quickly realised I could barely breathe, never mind talk. “We wanted to see how far you were willing to take yourself in the hope of making a change. We wanted to see how far you’d go, and we also wanted to make you vulnerable… to bring out a weakness. Harry was the perfect way to do that.” I didn’t think he could confuse me more, but he’d managed it. I didn’t think that he had any news left to break that would force me to scowl even more than I already was, but with those words, he’d created a slurry of questions so furious in their wake, I thought I might pass out again, my mind burning. “What?” I shook my head, moving back from him again. “I… I don’t-” “You became attached to him, which was something you’d never done before. You allowed yourself to feel something for him. You began to sacrifice for him, and you made yourself weaker.” “I didn’t. That’s not true.” I began crying again, forcing my lies to be completely transparent. “You feel for him.” He snarled. “And that was what we wanted. We also wanted him to talk you into some risky situations, to see how far we could push you.” “STOP TALKING LIKE YOU KNOW HIM!” I cried. “There’s a reason he’s so clever, Wendy.” “MY NAME IS FUCKING JAX!” “There is a reason, that he wanted the two of you to go after the Krows. It was his job, to lead you here.” I dropped my head, my knees tucking upwards and my fingers clasping at the pipe that I was attached to, gripping the metal with fury and rocking my body back and forth. “You’re lying you’re lying you’re lying.” I sobbed. “Harry is a Krow. He works for us.” “YOU’RE LYING YOU’RE LYING YOU’RE LYING!” I refused to accept what he was saying. Maybe there was a part of me that had believed him instantly, this feeling in the pit of my gut that he was telling the truth, but I tried to fight that feeling so badly because he had been right. I did feel for Harry. I’d invested my trust in him. For the first time in my life I had opened myself and allowed people to break down the walls that I’d purposefully spent years of my life building, and that was all for Harry. I should have kept them intact. For the exact reason I built them in the first place, they should have remained upright and sturdy because this was the kind of pain that I had been fearing. “Wendy, I want to give you a chance at life.” He whispered to me harshly, and I gripped my eyes shut tighter. “I want you to step forward, to the people of London, as my daughter. I want you to stand at my side and be a part of my team.” “FUCK YOU! I’M NOT ON YOUR SIDE! I’D RATHER DIE!” I screamed towards the floor. “In return, I can provide to you a home, somewhere to sleep, all the food you could ever need. You would get total protection, for the rest of your life.” “I’m not doing anything for you.” I finally lifted my head. “You’re a liar and-and you’re lying to me about Harry. I know Harry. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to me.” “He’s on my team, and you should be too.” “Why? Why would I do that? Why do you want that? IF YOU THINK I’M SCUM JUST KILL ME!” “Having you gets more people on my side. People will see us together, and they’ll see that I saved you-” “FUCK YOU!” “-and they’ll stop questioning the work of the Krows, and they’ll love me. All you have to do, is stand by my side and support me, and I can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” “If you think that’s what I want, then you don’t know me! I don’t want a home I don’t want safety, I want justice! I cannot stand at your side because you’re a liar! I-I saw Harry… he was hurt. You’ve hurt him and you’re just trying to mess with my head!” “HARRY, GET IN HERE!” I didn’t want him to appear. I didn’t want to see his face. Despite my reaction to seeing him earlier, lifeless in the centre of a pool of blood, I knew I would rather have that image ahead of me for the rest of my life than to see the one boy I trusted and held dear to me on the side that I thought we had been fighting against together. I finally lifted my head, unable to breathe when I heard noises in the distance. “We wanted to make sure you really did care for him.” The Prime Minister whispered, a sinister smile shaping his face. “We wanted to make sure you weren’t just using him for your own gain. Having you believe he was hurt proved to us that-” “STOP TALKING! PLEASE STOP!” The door behind him opened suddenly, and then there he was. Harry, completely unharmed. I’d never seen him look like that before. Harry didn’t have a friendly face, there had always been something slightly threatening held within his dark green eyes and his broad frame, but there was something exceptionally ominous in the way he looked to me then. He stepped further into the room, shadows casting a menacing mask across his face, and there seemed to be no sign of the boy I had grown to know, and that was when I finally accepted the truth. All of it. I thought I might be sick again, my body wrenching in on itself as I heaved. Pete Banning, the man who I could finally accept was my father, pushed back up to his feet, and by the time I managed to lift my head, the two of them were standing side by side, glaring down to me and proving that an existence I despised in the first place was far more evil than I’d ever allowed myself to admit. Their plan, that had been going on for months, had been to weaken me and play with my mind, to toy with what I knew to be true and what I wanted from life. They had made it so that Harry put the idea of a home and family into my head, trying to change what I wanted from my life. Every single thing that had happened since the day I met Marby, had been put into place to bring me to this moment, and make sure I was at my very weakest. I snapped. I screamed as much as my broken voice could deliver, lunging forward and trying to attack them, being pulled back aggressively by my restraints, my wrists beginning to bleed with how desperate my attempts were, the metal stinging my broken flesh. I didn’t stop screaming, I physically couldn’t. My shattered vocal chords felt like the only release available, the only way of dealing with what my life had become. It was so relentless that I barely heard what he said next. “We thought killing Marby might be the thing to deteriorate your determination, but you’ve proved us wrong one too many times.” “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” “We’ll give you some time to think over your options.” With that, they left, sauntering out of the room like everything they’d just told me meant absolutely nothing to them. They just abandoned me, still screaming and crying and threatening to break my own bones in the hope of fleeing their trap, but it was no use. Accepting my fate was accompanied only by pain, and anguish. And for a while, I didn’t allow myself to acknowledge that death was not my only option. It was only when the screams stopped, and the tears dried, that I genuinely found myself considering my choices, and the deal he had presented me with. And then I exhaustion took its toll, and my eyes closed once more.

[sapphirethesexyone]

I finally snapped. It’s obvious to Me from the text messages, inboxes on Facebook and an embarrassing Facebook live video. I’m not sure exactly what’s been going on with Me the last few days but I do know I checked out at some point.

 I’ve had a rough week, but I’d be lying if I didn’t add that I’ve had a really rough month. As I announced multiple times over the last few weeks, not only am I going through a life transition but it’s been a rough month.

 I think I thought that I was fine without a regular therapist and this last episode has made Me realize that just isn’t true. For the last 3 months, I have been out of therapy for the first time since 2009. I don’t think I’m ready to be on My own. In fact, just before I broke down Thursday, My son’s mentor suggested that I seek therapy again.

 I know the people who view My life through My blogs and social media can’t even begin to understand how complicated and LONELY My life is. When you suffer major mental illness, having close friends and confidants isn’t generally easy. Even the most patient person will eventually tire of tiptoeing around you and putting their own feelings aside to think of yours and not “setting you off.”

 I’m at that place now with My only close friend. Reality is, we stopped being CLOSE friends quite some time ago. Around that time, My actual best friend of 15 years, got sick and slipped into a coma. I was devastated. My best friend was not only My friend, but My family and as a minister, was often the person I turned to for advice. He filled a role that had never been filled in My life before. He was like a parent, best friend and confidant.

 Without him, My life has been up and down and in constant turmoil. There was a fan who I had spent a lot of time with, he started to do so much for Me. I started to help him upgrade his life and we got closer. Over time, we spent too much time together, and I tried to end the relationship but he hasn’t wanted to it. It’s non-sexual but we argue like we’re a married couple.

 Within the last 2 weeks he has pushed every button I have. You’d think, being as though he is My only close friend and knows the other things I’m dealing with he’d keep his bullshit to himself but he hasn’t. I told him this Monday that after July I need space. This weekend is the first weekend we haven’t spent together in months and I NEEDED the peace.

 The school year just ended, My son failed every single class and ends the year with over 70 missing days. My son spent this school year in therapy, after school programs, a mentoring program and for 6 weeks, attended mental health therapy 3 hours a day, 5 days a week. Thursday, before I had My breakdown, I enrolled him in a 3-month drug monitoring and treatment program for youth.

 My son stays at My parents’ house 95% of the time, which wouldn’t bother Me in the least bit if My parents and I can get to a point where we can be on the same page about My son. My step mother hasn’t liked Me since I was a child and as much as she says she loves My son, she can’t hide her disdain for Me enough to help Me raise My son without a bunch of bullshit.

 I can admit there was a time when I may have not been the best parent, that was OVER 8 years ago, when I was in the thick of My illness. At a point, My mental illness was out of control. For the last near 8 years, I have been extremely lucid, mentally balanced and able to run My day to day life. On top of that, I have been 100% there for My son. Not only do I financially support My son, but I am the one who goes to every school  appointment, every therapist appointment, every program My son is in, I have set it up and attended every meeting.

 My father and stepmother want to pretend there is nothing wrong with My son, that there isn’t a history of mental illness in the family. Guess what, I’m mentally ill, My mom was and I’m damn near sure  My grandmother wasn’t right. My son claims to hear voices, be angry and he cuts himself for attention. There’s a hell of a lot more but you can’t look at these things and pretend there’s nothing wrong.

 I can’t even get that bitch of a step mom of Mine to answer the fucking phone when people are trying to call and make sure My son has all the resources he needs. Earlier this week, we hit a standstill that I’m not sure we will ever recover from.

 By the end of the conversation, I knew that before the summer is over I need to remove My son from their home. It’s easier than it seems and I think they forget. I have custody of My son, I pay for My son to stay there and I am his legal guardian and representative. It’s as simple as me saying pack your shit, you coming home and if anyone disagrees, pulling up with a police escort. They can’t hold My son hostage.

 She knows I plan to send My son to job corps, though I did suggest one local school. She asked Me to consider another local school knowing damn well that her son-in-law, who is the principal at the school, slept with her daughter before her daughter turned 18. She knows damn well that is called statutory rape and it’s even further a crime because at the time he held a position of power over her.

 I can’t send My son to a school with a child predator as the principal, even if he is family. Yes, I know he won’t harm My son, but I know his integrity level is so low that he won’t be a beneficial addition to My son educational life. If he were, as an uncle he would have stepped in to help with homework, school work modifying behavior etc. but he has not. In fact, My step brother, who is older than Me, was one of My brother in law’s students. The step brother who has never had a job outside of working for a mechanic, who has never lived anywhere but at home and with whatever woman will have him. He destroys the already stable lives of each woman he comes in contact with, an then moves her and her family back in to My parents’ home.

 Thursday, I had originally planned to have a rest day. I had invited a girl who lives around the corner from Me to hang out.  At 7:20 p.m. on Wednesday night, My son’s mentor called and asked Me to meet him Thursday to take My son to the drug treatment program. I just had the address and not necessarily where it was so google maps told Me the most ridiculous way to get there. I caught 2 trains and 2 buses Thursday to get to where they wanted me to meet.

 My son this ungrateful little asshole, has the audacity to come in My presence and not speak after he has made me lay into him Monday for not calling Me ack after I had been trying to reach him for days. I did not raise a disrespectful child and the level of disrespect that he has recently displayed causes Me to want to hit him in the mouth.

 There is no way My stepmom can pretend that he is not mimicking what he thinks he sees her doing, ignoring My calls and wishes for My child. I signed him up to be piss tested weekly fo the next three months and had a convo with his mentor while My son was doing an assessment.  I told the mentor how I feel about the lack of communication and respect involving My parents and child and that he IS coming out. Job corps is the only option I see as feasible for Me not worrying about the state of My child from day to day.

 At least at job cops he has access to programs and education that can get him somewhere in life. The bonus is not having to fight the people at Job Corps about what’s best for My own damn child. Even if he wants to continue his disrespect and all the bullshit he got going on, as least he’d be off the city streets.

 Last week there were over 20 shooting in Baltimore, last week, 4 young Black kids assaulted someone downtown. Kids are killing each other every day. The city is out of control. We have had more murders this year than Chicago. I can actually call My step mom and she tell Me that My son is out of the house but she doesn’t know where he is. My son is a minor, even if he lies about his destination, you don’t let Me damn child out the house without questioning where the fuck he is going.

 We are truly at a place that I can’t feel safe and secure with My son in My parent’s care. I’d rather send him out in the wood with strangers. My last verbal conversation with My step mother ended with her cussing Me, dropping F Bombs and she has not apologized yet. This morning I resent a message that My alter must have sent her yesterday. The message stated I would be picking My son up for a week the first week of July .

 She ignored it. I found it in texts today and sent it back to her again with a message that I would send it every day until she replied. She did. The fact that we have to play these kinds of games is the deciding factor that he will be out of there this summer. His mentor doesn’t think it’s a great idea because Of My son’s anxiety. My son is like Me though, he adapts well, My stepmother is the one putting this negativity in him.

 Right now, for the first time in My son’s life, I am doing something that I truly feel is not in My son’s best interest. It’s out of My character to not do My best by him. For the last two years, My son has been attending a summer writing and performance program. I love it for him and was excited to sign him up again. I and one of the women from his after school program, went through the full process of getting son set up in the program. The acceptance letter and information of start date always come to the house.

 My son should be starting the program soon but I haven’t heard one word about it. In fact, I saw the women who runs the program saying that there are still open slots for the program. I didn’t ask was My son secured in the program. I scrolled past her post as if I didn’t have a care in the world. When My son’s mentor asked Me about his summer program, I told him I wasn’t following up. If My stepmom wants to run plays around Me, then she needs to handle that shit too.

 She never does, she cooks cleans and washes his clothes but can’t be bothered to worry about his education, his therapy, or any doctor appointment outside of his general shit. Even when My son was rushed to mental ward in ambulance, she wasn’t there. The week of Mother’s day this year, My son  said that I’ve never been a mom before and he doesn’t need one now. Normally I’d ignore him and go above and beyond like usual.

 Not this time. I am not taking one step towards his summer program. His phone is not working. I refuse to make one call to fix it. He is broke, and his father just started paying child support. I will not put a penny in his pocket. I will financially support him as always, these next few months until I yank him out.

 I truly think and hope I’m wrong, that the reason that My step mom is fighting him going to job corps, has more to do with the money that won’t be coming in monthly, than My son being away from her. I mean hell, it’s job corps, not prison. He even gets to come home on weekends. When he comes home on weekends, it will be here to My home, not theirs.

 Thursday, when I left the youth drug treatment center, My plan was to call the Job corps office and schedule a meeting for the first or second weekend of July. Losing My mind Thursday kept Me from following up and making that call. I won’t mention My plans to the mentor or stepmom again. I have been courteous enough to include My parents in My decisions for my son though, they have no legal rights to know. That’s dead. The day I pick him up for job corps will be just like when I show up the first week of July.

 I will simply tell him to pack a bag for a week or two, and take him. After he is securely out at job corps, I will call them and tell them. Then arrange to pick up more of his clothes and personal items.

 I’m mentally, physically and emotionally drained. I am fighting life from every angle and am extremely tired. Every day is a battle. I keep trying to do so much. I really need a break. I think I’m going to take one around My birthday. I have this book to release on the 31st of next month. I wish I could relax though. After the book release, I would love to take a break. I only have one speaking gig lined up for August and it’s near the end.

 I think what’s in My best interest is to push through the rest of this month and July. To work really hard and start editing the book right away, as of now, there are only 2 essays still due in. I can edit and have the book finish early July. I can put it online early for pre-order and then put the ebook on amazon for preorder. By July 31st I can just hit the buttons to switch it over to on sale release pre done promo shit and then after 2 days of heavy promo, put most of it on auto pilot via hoostuite. I can run facebook and Instagram ads to sell while I relax.

 I think that’s what I’ll do. I will spend the rest of this month finishing book up instead of waiting until July. I will do all promo shit and set it up to release all July and into first week of August. Then take a break and not resurface until a week before My speaking engagement to do promotions on it. Just saying that alone to Myself, makes Me feel better.

 I can’t keep going like a robot, I’ve been on autopilot for so long it seems. The July 31st book release, will be the 3rd book I’ve released since April. Three books in four months, while handling other projects would be too much for any one. Doing all of this while running to meeting after meeting for your out of control child, fighting with your one friend, who is also your biggest contributor AND being legally crazy, can make you homicidal.

 I am legally disabled because the law recognizes that all of this is too much for Me to be doing. The fact that I am overworking Myself like this is unacceptable. Life and My schedule has to change, It’s time to get back to My daily yoga, going back to the gym, enjoying nature and writing. I have been working so much I haven’t been writing. I haven’t written anything for Myself, I have barely even written anything for My blogs.

 I haven’t had any “Me time” but I’m going to take it. I have felt disrespected by everyone around me lately, I’m changing My circle. I am in a place I can’t deal with another 18 months of My son in My parent’s home until he’s legal. I’m pulling him out. I am taking full control of My life, the people in it and the situations that are affecting Me.

 I refuse to keep putting My feelings aside, nor My mental health in the attempt to make others happy. I won’t even do it under the guise of what’s best for My son any more. My son is damn near grown. Soon, he will be legal and on his own, then he and his grandmother can do whatever they want.

 For the first time in My life, I’m going to do whatever feels best for Me, even if that means sending my son away. I wish he had a real father I could send him to, but I can’t send him to that loser. Job corps is better than where he is now, they’ll allow him to spend another 4 years in high school if he wants.

 My God, I must need a therapist. 3,000 words just poured out of Me before I felt relief. I just need to change My whole life. It’s nothing wrong with that, I do it every August for My birthday. Luckily for Me, this year I’m in a better position than ever and My son will be 18 in 18 months I am damn near free. I can’t wait to get free, when he’s 18 I’m finally going to have what I’ve dreamed of so long, My freedom from this place.

 I’m getting the fuck out of Baltimore and away from  all the crazy ass people.

[lunacatriona]

Holby City Fanfic Contest 2.0 - Voting!

Okay, so, we have eleven wonderful entries.

1. To vote, please reblog and add the number of your favourite.

2. Please only vote once.

3. If you have entered, you may vote.

4. If you have entered. you may vote for your own entry, but please refrain from telling anyone you did so.

5. If you want to leave feedback on any of the stories, please include that in your reblog.

6. Please keep feedback respectful. It is one thing to have an opinion, but entirely another to express that opinion in a rude or venomous manner.

7. Voting closes at 11pm on Monday, February 13th. It will take a while to read through the entries so just take your time.

8. Have fun reading!

Please note that the word limit kind of went out the window, so you’d be as well just ignoring that part while judging.

1. Title: Frosted Ponds and Beating Hearts Prompt: image of snow

Serena drives slowly on the icy streets as a fresh cloud-full of snow gently falls to the ground. She vaguely knows where she is, somewhere on the other side of Holby and close to Bernie’s flat. She reaches over to pick up the map on the passenger seat: spies a few street signs and confirms she is where she is supposed to be.   

She starts looking around the streets, craning her neck in search of a familiar figure. She indicates and turns a corner; sees a rather tall and coat clad woman leaning against a brick wall with an umbrella dangling from her hand. Serena pulls up into a free parking spot, put on her fur hat, and gets out of the car. 

Bernie looks up at the sound of a car. Smiles and pushes off the wall when she sees Serena pop up above the roof of her car and takes a few steps forward. Stops in the middle of the pavement and smiles: face extra bright and underlined by black wool. 

“I was beginning to worry you’d gotten lost,” Bernie jokes as Serena stops in front of her and pulls her in for a hug.

“Well, you’re directions got me here in the end,” Serena quips back as she lets go. “Though, they were very a bit jumbled. I can’t believe you don’t know where you live.”   

“I know where I live, I just don’t know what any of the streets are called!” Bernie response, slightly defensive.

Serena pins her with a stare and Bernie grins ruefully. Gestures toward her left, bowing her head slightly as she points Serena in the direction they should be walking. Serena smiles and fall into step beside Bernie and the trudge towards the end of the block: thick boots keeping grip on the sludge.   

“Why did you bother bring that?” Serena asks as they walk, pointing towards the now tattered umbrella hanging limply from Bernie’s finger.   

“Well, it wasn’t that windy when I left the house!” Bernie replies, tone indignant. “But there was this one gust on the way here and it just sort of happened.”   

Serena laughs and Bernie huffs. Throws the umbrella in a nearby bin as they walk towards the park.   

“But why did you bring it at all?” Serena presses.   

“I didn’t want us to get too badly snowed on,” Bernie mumbles, knowing it is a moot point now that the barely falling snow of the day has stopped completely.  

“Oh, that’s very sweet. But if you didn’t want to get me snowed on you shouldn’t have invited me out into the snow,” Serena quips, and laughs as Bernie’s makes a face at her infallible logic.   

They turn the corner, cross the road, and walk into an expanse of snow covered park: grass blanketed in white, trees iced with flakes, a frozen pond in middle and slightly off to the left. Serena notices a couple playing fetch with a dog in the far right corner but otherwise the park is empty: not even footprints in the snow, save their own as they slowly trudge towards the pond.   

They are both a bit breathless by the time they stand on the wood planks of the bridge curved over the frozen water. The stop at the highest point of the arch — Bernie leans forward and rests her weight on the railings; Serena’s gloved fingers grip the bar leaving fingermarks in the ice —they look out over the park.

“I see why you wanted to show me,” Serena says, breath misting in the cold air. She turns her face towards Bernie who looks back with big eyes. “This is lovely, thank you for sharing it with me.”   

Bernie smiles: small and bright and a touch embarrassed. Looks as if she wants to say something but nibbles on her lip to bite back her words. Serena turns her attention back the view, knowing patience is usually the best course of action with Bernie. Bernie follows suit, looking over at the couple still playing with their dog.

They stand in silence for several minutes. A few flakes of snow start to fall again. Then stop.

“You know, I missed the snow so much during my deployment. The rain too, and the cold,” Bernie says, looking out over the park. “Not that I hated the heat, you got used to it eventually, but it was constant and it made me miss the weather back home. Even though I’d grumble about never seeing the sun whenever I was homeside I’d still love it when it was cold.”   

“It was strange, being in the Ukraine,” Bernie continues and Serena manages not to tense at the mention. “Being away from home but not sweltering. I was so used to sweating whenever I was abroad. But Kiev, it was cold. Except it wasn’t a comfort. It was cold like home but it wasn’t. Home, that it.”   

“But now that I’m back here…” Bernie trails off: she might not have said “with you” but Serena hears it all the same. “The snow and the cold — it’s beautiful.”  

“It is,” Serena agrees, looking at Bernie’s profile. The corners of Bernie mouth curls into a smile: she turns and Serena sees that wide thin smile that always reminds her of a puppy. Serena smiles back before turning to stare out over the view. Scuffs the toe of her shoe on the wood of the bridge before speaking.  

“I’ve always loved the snow,” Serena says, still feeling Bernie gaze directed at her. “When I was a child I loved snowball fights and making angels and huffing in the air and pretending I was smoking.” Serena mimes inhaling; puffs out mist and giggles. “I love the brusque coldness and the excuse to wear layers of thick wool.” Serena pauses, looks up at the fluff on her head. “And any excuse to wear the hat, obviously.”   

Serena beams under her fur fringe: her face kitten that ate the cream smug. Bernie turns and lets out a bark. Leans over and bumps Serena shoulder with her own. Shuffles closer to bring their sides together, leaning on the railing again. Serena leans down too, keeping the crook of Bernie’s elbow pressed again her own.   

They look down at their hands, itching to tangle together. Serena looks up through long lashes and Bernie shivers. Serena notices and raises an eyebrow.   

“Sorry, seems I’m a bit cold,” Bernie says, tone playful and loaded. “Perhaps you’d like to warm me up?”   

“I think I can manage that,” Serena teases and turns to wrap her arms around Bernie’s waist. She pulls their bodies together and tilts her face; looks up to see Bernie looking down. Serena raises her chin as Bernie drops hers: their lips meet, slightly chapped but still soft and warm. Serena tightens the hug and feels Bernie melt against her.   

Bernie’s fingers brush against Serena’s neck and up to dip under the band of her hat. She curls her fingers in Serena’s hair; knocking it onto the ground. Neither notice it rock back and forth on the wood planks before coming to a standstill as the snow starts to fall again.

2. Prompt: “How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?” - Grace Hanson, Grace and Frankie

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything? You ask yourself, maybe you would like to say it out loud while you dive into your glass of whiskey and take a slow sip.

You are in Serena’s house and everything in her house is screaming her name. Her smell is everywhere, it stuns you and you curse the moment you accepted her invitation. 

«How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?» This time you say it out loud, and she doesn’t even seem to have heard you, as she holds a glass of delicious Shiraz in her hands. She looks like the kind of person who has the answer to your question. 

You feel stupid next to her, on her couch. You feel your heart racing while her head rests on your shoulder and she sighs while swallowing her wine. 

You’re a coward now and you always were, trying to drown your feelings for Serena inside a half empty glass. 

Pointless, you think to yourself. 

Your feelings are always there. 

You both had a tough day: the many losses in the operating room, your divorce, her problems with Jason. It all gets to you as a wave of nausea and you lose all your courage once again. 

You look at her leaning against you. She is your Goddess dressed with leopard print shirts and a smile as bright as a thousand sunrises. It is the thing that you love most about her. 

You are sad, like twilight, solitary and some would say cold as ice, she is exactly everything that you are not. She holds the sun within herself and, as the sun does with the moon, she lights up your life, she makes you feel alive again. 

You love her – yes, this is love, even if it was damn hard to admit it- like you’ve never loved anyone before her. 

«It’s all relative.» Her voice slow because of the alcohol reaches you, and you ask yourself how much time has passed since you posed the question. How long have you been in your head Ms. Wolfe? A minute? An hour? A whole day? Has the earth exploded and has everything started over until you reached this point in time again? 

You do not know. 

You think back to her words. You both already knew the answer, but it’s nice to have an excuse to hear her voice. This alcohol is not strong enough for you and it is having almost no effect. You grew up in the army and in those environments you learned to hold much more than a few glasses. 

Her eyes close, tired, while holding a glass of wine in her delicate fingers. You gulp down the rest of your whiskey before the ice turns it into dirty water. 

You search for the courage to kiss her while, with eyes closed, she is unaware that your faces are just a few inches away. 

You can always blame the alcohol if it were to upset Serena. 

You stop and you can feel her hot breath on your lips.

You move away from her.

How much do you have to drink to not feel love anymore? 

There will never be enough glasses of whiskey or Shiraz on the whole damn planet that will complete a task that impossible. 

The softness of her breasts against your side leaves you short of breath. You want to groan out loud but do not dare. 

What would you do to see those breasts, take them in your hands, kiss them, love them, love every part of her for the rest of your existence. But Wolfe, you’ll never be brave enough to confess your feelings and you know that. Maybe all you have left to do is to run away and forget about it, forget about how you came back to life thanks to her. 

Maybe one day you’ll do that when she will fall in love with the next idiot who will sooner or later steal her heart. Serena Campbell is too attractive not to catch man’s eyes. How long will it be before your heart will fall apart to see her in the arms of another? 

She is not your woman. 

You keep saying that, but it is pointless. Jealousy starts to crawl like a treacherous snake inside your mind. 

You picture her with him, in his bed, and you become furious. You squeeze the glass in your hand so hard you think that it will shatter. 

«Bernie.» Her voice awakens you from your slumber and you look in those worried eyes. You smile pretending that everything is fine and she seems satisfied with it. If only she knew, she would not take your hand in hers as she is doing now, she would not lean so much on your body, would not invite you to her house, even though at times you think she knows exactly the reaction she is causing in you. 

Serena Campbell is definitely not stupid. 

She occasionally flirts with you. You both do that with the other. But it is only camaraderie, isnt it. It is something that has to do with spending the whole day in the same department, the same shared office. Is that something that makes everyone think of you two as the self-appointed mothers of AAU. 

Yes, you could really be the mother of most of the boys there. You feel old and you think back to your children who don’t speak to you anymore. How would they react to knowing that their mother - more than fifty years old - is in love like a teenager with her best friend? 

God, you feel ridiculous. 

You feel Serena soft snoring against you and a sweet smile blossoms on your lips, thinking how beautiful she is without even having to try. 

How much do you have to drink to not feel remorse? 

You grab the whiskey bottle and drink straight from it, who cares if you eventually will die of liver disease. Your time on this earth sucks. An eternal purgatory that reminds you of your past mistakes, cruelly lists them every day before your eyes, and only looking at Serena seems to ease the pain for a few hours. 

Berenice, you think, the name of a beautiful proud woman, who sacrifices the thing she holds most sacred for love. You vaguely remember the legend, your mind clouded by alcohol. No name could be more wrong for you than this except well, maybe Griselda. Once Serena told you that it meant “Old Heroine”. You smile full of contempt. On second thought maybe, old but never a hero. 

You have another drink. 

Your thoughts become clouded and your limbs are screaming with exhaustion. The position is uncomfortable with Serena’s weight against you, but you do not want to move even one inch from there. Tomorrow you’ll deal with the back pain. Tonight you simply don’t care.

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything? 

Perhaps you know that, after all, this is where the punishment is. You’ll never lose your self-awareness and you will continue to mull over your feelings as you drown and fall asleep, perhaps for the first time in months, with Serena to warm you body and soul.

4. Title: Surprises often get unrequited Prompt: “How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?” - Grace Hanson, Grace and Frankie

Holby is always busy after the holidays, AAU being no exception. Serena’s been nonstop the entire day. The entire week to be exact, she thinks to herself, chuckling softly to no one in particular.

‘What’s brought that on then?’ Raf says, approaching her.

‘Just thinking how Holby holds no surprises,’ she replies. Raf gives her a questioning look. ‘Each case that comes through here seems to be a repeat of the last one, altered just a smidge so that you don’t feel like knocking yourself about just to change things up.’

‘You don’t have to remind me about that. I just had three very intoxicated boys, all more or less blaming it on food poisoning,’ he says with a grin of his own, before walking off.

The next day will bring relief to Serena as she has the day off, along with a certain someone who she spots walking across the ward. Somehow she always knows where Bernie is on the ward before looking, a new feeling that came after Bernie returned from Kiev. But just as soon as she sees her Bernie’s gone again and Serena starts to glower.

Their relationship is moving as it should be, they spend their days working together, and spend their evenings enjoying each other’s company. Tomorrow will be the first day that they’ll both have off together where the other hasn’t already arranged to do something else, and Serena plans to spend every minute of it with Bernie.

She just has to get through the last of her shift before they can head off to the restaurant Serena has made reservations for, which she had booked a month in advance. A point she will tell anyone who tries to get in-between her and Bernie’s night.

She makes her rounds, seeming to never run into Bernie despite her want to do just that. One look from Bernie makes any stressful situation just a little better, and to get one now would mean getting through these last couple hours a bit easier. Though despite her hopes she never bumps into Bernie and her mood dampers just noticeably. But it’s enough for Raf to notice.

‘I can see your earlier giddiness is gone, any reason for that?’ he raises an eyebrow. ‘Not seeing enough of Bernie maybe?’

Of course he means it as a joke, but it just makes Serena more miserable. ‘What does it take to run into someone here? This ward isn’t that big, and she can’t be in theatre at all hours can she?’

She doesn’t get an answer, merely a sad smile from him.

‘I better see her at the end of shift or else I’m sending you on a man hunt. Without pay,’ she points at Raf and he throws his hands up in surrender. She resumes her rounds before he can say anything.

Overlooking the rest of her patients and one surgery later Serena breathes a sigh of relief. She removes her bloody theatre gown after a particularly messy abdomen repair. Luckily she put on her scrubs before going into theatre in case of this situation.

It’s the end of her shift so she decides to put on her evening attire, a simple white shirt with her favourite blue blouse over it, and black dress pants to pull it all together. She looks at herself in the tall mirror in the corner and smiles, her mood finally lightening after a long day.

She walks onto the ward, everything has quieted down and she sees Raf give her pointed look and he shifts his gaze towards her office. She follows his stare and spots the very person that’s been on her mind the whole day, she gives Raf a wink before donning a sly grin on her face.

She hasn’t told Bernie what they’re doing for the evening, she only told her to keep her evening clear, which she already knows she will since they spend most evenings together already. Serena thought she may as well start the evening with a surprise, starting with a surprise hug.

Bernie is facing the two joined desks in their office, hunched over and looking down at something in her hands, her phone? A file? Serena can’t tell. She stops just outside the office to look over Bernie, she’s gotten used to openly admiring her. At first she was self-conscious of staring at Bernie, because she was a woman, but now Serena enjoys what she gets to look at when Bernie is not aware of it.

At the moment though Bernie’s body looks tense, a slight tremor to her shoulders, but Serena just rules it out as exhaustion after a hard day.

Serena looks around the ward and sees that no one is paying attention to her or the office before stepping inside. She doesn’t bother closing the door so as not to stir Bernie. Serena walks until she is behind Bernie and tries to keep her breathing under control. She leans forward and pushes up on her toes.

‘Hi,’ Serena says, trying to make it sound as husky as possible, into Bernie’s ear whilst beginning to wrap her arms around Bernie’s body. Before she can fully wrap her arms around her Bernie suddenly jolts upright, turns, and all Serena sees before she blacks out is a fist.

Serena wakes up in one of the vacant beds. She looks up with blurry vision, two sets of eyes looking down at her.

‘Welcome back,’ Raf says with a cheeky smile.

‘Oh Serena, I am really sorry,’ Bernie brushes her fingers against Serena’s arm. ‘I..I was just, distracted by something.’

Serena reaches up and feels her face. Her fingers delicately going over her swollen nose and cheeks, wincing at the tenderness. ‘I could only imagine what that could be.’ Serena groans out the last word.

‘Right, well. We’ll have to get you in for a CT, I’m afraid you have a minor concussion. So I’d like to keep you in overnight.’ Raf gently feels her nose and the surrounding area. ‘Good news is that I don’t think Ms. Wolfe broke anything.’ Serena groans again.

‘Rightly so,’ Serena mummers as she squints at Bernie’s sad smile.

‘For the most part I think you were very lucky. From the way Ms. Wolfe yelled for help we all thought something far worse had happened,’ Raf looks down at his watch. ‘Okay, I’m off. Someone will be around every couple hours to check on you.’ Raf heads to the nursing station to finish the night’s paperwork leaving Serena and Bernie alone.

‘I guess, urgh,’ Serena pushes herself up more on the bed. ‘This isn’t the romantic, wine-filled night I had planned.’ She looks at Bernie’s quizzical look, takes hold of her hand to reassure her, but notices the bruising around her knuckles. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Not so much. I’m more pained from actually hitting you. Really Serena, I am sorry, for this, and for the evening I’ve just ruined.’

‘You can make up for it by being my nurse for the night. First order of business I would like a glass of water with your best straw. I hear hydration can cure all.’ Serena manages to smile despite her swollen cheeks. ‘How much do you reckon I’d have to drink to not look like Rudolph anymore?’

At that question all of the tension in Bernie fades and she laughs heartedly. She gives Serena’s hand a squeeze before getting up to be the dutiful nurse.

When Bernie returns with all the necessities – water, an extra blanket, a pack of cards – the two begin an evening of familiarity. Bernie gives a not-so-clear reason as to why she was distracted, which Serena puts to the back of her mind as she asks Bernie how she got from the office to the bed.

‘When I realized it was you, I caught you before you fell and hurt your head more,’ Bernie says with a small smile. ‘And then I picked you up and carried you to this bed.’ She pats the bed in front of her. Serena’s face lightens at that fact.

‘I think that bit of information just took you off the hot seat Ms. Wolfe.’ They grin at each other, holding each other’s gazes. ‘But you are taking me shopping for a new blouse.’ She feigns a pout. ‘It was my favourite.’

‘Anything you want Fräulein,’ Bernie says before taking up Serena’s hand with both of hers and lays a kiss on it. ‘Anything.’

5. Prompt: Image of snow

They are walking, hand in hand, through the snow-covered streets. A freezing cold wind bites at their faces.  

“What do you think of Italy?” Bernie says. “I mean – you never got – “

“Perfect.” Serena says.   And that’s that. Honeymoon sorted.   

-   

Strolling, hand in hand again with Serena, along the sun-drenched Amalfi coastline, Bernie thinks life can’t get any better. A shimmering azure sea stretches out on one side. On the other dozens of white-washed villas rise over the cliffs. The scent of lemon tinges the air. There is only one thing that could improve her morning. Ice-cream. Soft, cold and delicious. And when she spots a place that sells it, she rushes ahead. Pulls Serena with her.   

“Steady on, soldier,” Serena says. Pulls back. Follows Bernie’s gaze. Realises what she has set her sights on. Quirks an eyebrow. “It’s half nine in the morning, Bernie.”   

“We’re on holiday.”   

And besides, Bernie thinks, there’s never a wrong time for ice-cream. So, making sure Serena definitely doesn’t want one – “We’ve just had breakfast.” – Bernie, very much like an excited child Serena thinks, dashes over to the little stall and buys herself an ice-cream.   

All of two minutes later, they have walked south down the road and Bernie pauses to check street signs for directions (only having taken one tiny lick of the ice-cream). All of two minutes later, after Serena vehemently said she did not want ice-cream, Bernie takes her eyes off it for one second and, of course, some of it goes missing.    

“Oi,” she says, even as she holds the cone out so Serena’s tongue can swipe the rim of the cone, “you said you didn’t want one.”   

“It was melting,” Serena protests. “It was practically dripping onto the pavement.”   

Bernie’s can’t help but smile, when Serena lifts her head and Bernie sees that’s ice-cream spots her nose. Serena utters her trademark “what?” and Bernie’s smile stretches into a grin. “What?”   

“You’ve got –” Some part of her is tempted to lean forward and lick the ice-cream off her wife’s face. The other part of her, that remembers the other tourists around them, passes Serena a tissue from her pocket. Which Serena uses, and then promptly, forgetting the other tourists around them, kisses Bernie on the lips.   

“Was that an apology?” Bernie asks, when they part.   

“No,” Serena says, and really is it any wonder what happens next, when her voice dips gloriously low and wicked so that only Bernie can hear, and really is it even Bernie’s fault what happens next, when Serena kisses her again, harder and deeper, slipping her tongue into Bernie’s mouth, and really did Bernie care in that moment when the ice cream somehow falls from her grip and into a mess on the floor, seconds after Serena admits it wasn’t an apology, it was her thinking of far more fun and inventive ways to enjoy ice cream. To steal it off people.   

Quite literally.   

-   

Needless to say, Bernie wasn’t really thinking of the wasted ice-cream earlier. But now they’re back at the villa, she decides – Serena Campbell, ice-cream thief extraordinaire –needs to pay. Serena, conscience obviously untroubled by such theft, is relaxing by the poolside, the sun lounger on which she lies on a bit too close to the water. Oh well, Bernie thinks. Serena has rested her straw sun hat over her face to shield her eyes from the sun. Soaking up the sun, she lies there perfectly content. Perfectly unsuspecting as a swim-suit clad Bernie creeps up towards the pool.   

Bernie turns back to take a long, appreciative look at the contrast between the deep blue of Serena’s halter-neck bathing costume (as well as its plunging neckline) and the creamy whiteness of the skin on display. She’s told Bernie she doesn’t tan, just burns much to her irritation when she was younger, and now she just slathers herself with sunscreen and enjoys the sun regardless. It’s a lot less risker, anyway.     

The sun has brought out dazzling constellations of freckles over Serena’s arms and upper chest and Bernie has to drag her eyes away. At least her last sight is a very beautiful one, before all hell sets loose via the incitation of Serena Campbell’s wrath.   

Bernie remembers Serena’s teasing question one day when she had snuck up behind the woman, quite unintentionally. Can you wear louder shoes, please? Bernie’s bare feet pad quietly to the edge of the pool. Stand right at the ledge. The nearest part to Serena. When Serena doesn’t stir, Bernie takes a deep breath and jumps into the water, curling her body up for maximum impact.   Maximum splashing.   

“Berenice bloody Wolfe,” Serena shouts, jumping up from the sun lounger. Bernie surfaces from under the water and twists around in the pool to admire her handiwork. Serena stands, sun-hat clutched in hand, not quite as dripping wet as Bernie had wanted. But her skin is glistening and there are darker patches on her swimsuit from the water and her face is, Bernie inwardly congratulates herself, a picture. Bernie can’t help but break into laughter.   

Her smugness will be short-lived. Bernie has declared war and, whilst she is laughing, guards down, Serena is swiftly going in for attack. Creeping up the edge of the pool herself. She dives in, forceful and graceful. Swims up to Bernie. Bernie is just about to tease “show off” before a wave of water hits her. Then another. Yes, Bernie Wolfe has declared all-out war. It takes a several seconds for Bernie to move back in the water, away from the incoming waves, and splash back. Gain the upper hand. Which she quickly loses.   

“Please,” she says, out of breath, holding her hands up in defeat. “You win.”   Serena mercifully accepts her surrender and moves close to Bernie, to where the pool is shallow enough so that they can both stand up, the water lapping just below their shoulders. They are almost stood chest to chest. Serena’s eyes are gleaming. Her smile is triumphant.   

“Was that an apology?”   

“No,” Bernie says, lifting Serena up in the pool so that her legs wrap around Bernie’s waist, “It was me thinking that –” Bernie grasps Serena’s backside, “surely”, Bernie lowers her head to press her lips against Serena’s collarbone, “there are far more fun”, she trails her lips upwards and Serena happily tilts her head back, granting her more access, “and inventive things to do in a swimming pool.”

6. Prompt: “How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?” - Grace Hanson, Grace and Frankie

Bernie hadn’t realised how much she had wanted, how much she had needed to get back to the daily grind of surgery. Blood on her fingers, organs in her hands. That familiar rhythm of slicing and suturing. Except the rhythm’s is off – she’s alone in theatre, without anyone opposite her – and it’s like a heart with only one beat. The other absent. Lost. The remaining one, stuttering on.   

She arrives at Serena’s with aching bones. Jason is out tonight, around Alan’s. It’ll be good for him to get out of the house. The air inside is heavy with grief and, some days, it’s like trying to move through mud the silence is so thick. Full of unsaid things. Full of questions, unuttered, because there are no answers. What now? How do they even get through this?   

What is she, Bernie, meant to do? What can she do? These past weeks, she feels like she’s done nothing but stand by and watch the beautiful and bright spark in Serena’s eyes swallowed by complete blackness. Done nothing but stand by as the woman she loves suffers an agony there’s no anaesthetic for.   And there’s no organ to remove. No bone to set straight. No bleed to find and stop. No open skin to stitch shut. There’s nothing Bernie can do.   

Bernie turns into the living room and sees that the surfaces are empty. Serena must have binned the flowers, rounded up the cards and stashed them away. Out of sight. There’s petals strewn across the rug. A few scattered on the coffee table. A photo-frame on the dresser tilted the wrong way, an ornament knocked on its side. Bernie spots the note Jason has left her, before she a chance to notice the missing vase that usually stands in the centre of the windowsill.   

Jason keeps a watchful eye on Serena. Bernie hadn’t asked him to, but he knows she appreciates it. That she finds it reassuring, most days. The note tells her that Serena was still in room when he went out at three. Had been in the most of the day. She didn’t eat lunch like yesterday. And she’s been drinking.   Bernie calls out Serena’s name as she moves into the kitchen. Red wine stains the countertop.   

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?   

Serena. Last night. Drinking after dinner. Sat next to Bernie on the sofa. Bernie telling her that perhaps she shouldn’t have another glass. Serena saying that Bernie never minded before. Neither of them mentioning what the before is. Serena pouring herself another glass. A smile creeping across her lips, strange and terrible.   

“How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?”   

Bernie reaching for the glass before it can reach Serena’s lips. Holding it tight.   “Serena,” Bernie, voice soft as the snowfall, before taking the glass from Serena, “it won’t help anything.” Bernie putting the glass on one side and turning back and pulling Serena closer to her. Serena leaning in to her and sobbing into Bernie’s shirt.   

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?   

Serena not seeing Bernie’s eyes, flitting all around the room. Not finding anywhere to land. Bernie not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do. Bernie hugging Serena tighter and tighter.   

After dinner. Last night. Serena. How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?   

The red wine stain on the kitchen countertop. The bottles she knows are missing from the fridge.   

Bernie runs. Turns out the kitchen and up the stairs. Shouts Serena’s name. Gets no answer. Her hands shake. Struggle to turn the handle of the bedroom door. Open it on the third try. Her heart hammers against her ribs. Blood rushes in her ears. She sprints past the empty wine bottles on the floor. Pushes opens the bathroom door. Finds the shower door open and Serena slumped on the shower floor, knees to her chest, eyes closed.   

Bernie yells her name. Crouches down next her. Puts her hands on her shoulders. Gentle, but firm. Says her name. Gentle, but firm.   

“Bernie.” Serena’s eyes open.   

Gasping from the run, terror still running in her veins, Bernie’s eyes dart over Serena’s body. Her hands follow suit, patting her down. Checking that’s she okay. That’s she safe.   

“I broke the vase,” Serena says, dull and flat. “That’s all.”   

She shows Bernie her hand. The cut that the shower has washed clean from blood.   

Bernie checks over Serena again. “Have you taken anything?”

“What?”   

“Have you taken anything? Medicine, pills. Serena.”   

When Serena doesn’t respond, Bernie lets her fear get the better of her. Raises her voice.   

“Serena. If I check the – “   

“I haven’t taken anything,” Serena snaps. Bernie has never been more relieved to hear her anger.   

“How much have you drank?”   

“Can’t remember,” her voice is faint. Barely a whisper. Tears form in her eyes.   “The water’s burning hot.” Bernie finally registers it pounding on her skin. She is on her knees, leaning forward into the shower. Her hair is drenched. Water runs down her back, soaking through her shirt just as it has Serena’s clothes. She’s half-dressed. Barefoot, in trousers and a bra. The water’s scorching and her eyes stare past Bernie, unfocused, uncaring.   

“Serena,” Bernie says, she cups Serena’s face with her hands, “let’s get you out of here.”   

“I wanted …” She chokes out a sob. “I wanted …”   

“I know,” Bernie says when Serena can’t get the words out. “I know.”   

How much do you have to drink to not feel anything?   Serena finally looks at her, properly. Eyes red-rimmed and shadowed by grey. Bernie almost wants to look away. She can’t stand the emptiness she sees in Serena’s pupils.   

Bernie eases Serena up and to her feet. She steps in the shower and turns off the water. Serena clutches at her and Bernie clutches back. For a moment, they stand together, shivering in the shower, clothes dripping. For a moment, they hold each other and Bernie whispers into Serena’s wet hair. I’m here now. I’ve got you. I love you.   

-   

The cut on Serena’s hand is not as worse as she thought. Bernie treats it with the supplies from the first kit in Serena’s bathroom. Doesn’t want to leave Serena even to just go down to the kitchen so fetches her a glass of water from there too. In the bedroom, Bernie unpeels Serena’s sodden clothes from her skin. Strips her own. Fetches towels and bathrobes.   

Serena pushes Bernie’s hands away when she goes to tie the terrycloth around her.   

“No, I want – “ She kisses Bernie, short and chaste. “I don’t want to get changed … I … “   

“Serena, I don’t think you’re – “   

“No. I just want you to … I just want to feel you … against me.”   And Bernie knows, again, what she wants.   

They crawl under the covers of the bed, exhausted, and Bernie pulls Serena close. Until there is no space between them. Until they are pressed as tightly together as the pages of a book. Skin to skin. Serena’s back against her front. Bernie presses feather-light kisses to Serena’s shoulder. She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what else to do. She knows, tomorrow, something must change.   

Her arm settles around Serena’s waist, her hand clasps Serena’s. Bernie listens to Serena’s steady breathes fill the room and presses her fingers over Serena’s wrist. Feels the pulse beneath.   

Wrapped within Bernie’s body, Serena falls asleep. Bernie never does.

7. Prompt: Image of a lost shoe

“I can’t believe it,” Bernie gasped, “I’m living with a camping snob.”   

“I’m … I’m not a camping snob. I just –”   

“Prove it. Come on a camping trip with me.”   

Why, Serena thinks now, did she agree? Why could she never resist a challenge? It was because of Bernie – I’ve practically slept on desert floors – Wolfe’s eager smile. Excitement Serena vowed she would mirror.    Even when Bernie booked a pitch without an electric hook-up.   

“What if Jason needs me? What if there’s an Emergency?” Serena protested.   “It’s only three days. We’ll take portable chargers. For emergency, only, though. And I know you’ll want to ring Jason every day, so I checked. There’s a telephone box down the street from the site.”   

And, despite such sacrifices that the whole ‘getting back to nature’ business meant, Serena got excited. Looked forward to spending time alone with Bernie, away from Holby, away from work, away from the pressures of daily life as a surgeon. Of daily life, full-stop.   

Whether it was a villa on the Amalfi coast or a campsite in Wales, Serena knew location didn’t really matter. It was a holiday, with Bernie. Their first as a couple.   

She couldn’t help her laughter when Bernie packed Scrabble – (“Sure you’re ready for that sort of competition, Miss Wolfe?) – and a packet of cards and poker chips – (“Sure you’re ready, Miss Campbell?”)   

She still harboured a certain level of trepidation about the trip, knowing she’d have to exchange 600 hundred thread count sheets for a lumpy sleeping bag, a memory foam mattress for one prone to deflate 30 seconds after you inflated it. But Serena stayed positive. Bernie wanted this trip, was an ‘outdoorsy person’, who enjoyed these things (much to Serena’s disbelief). As they set off for the weekend, Serena was determined that she wasn’t going to bring Bernie’s good mood down.   

And she doesn’t grumble once, not when the weather report announces expected blustery October showers and dropping temperatures, not when she remembers that she forgot her toothbrush – “it may be another country, but I’m pretty sure they have shops in Wales, Serena” – or when they journeyed into the countryside and the roads got very twister and narrower and if-a-car-comes-in-the-other-direction-this-is-going-to-be-very-interesting-indeed thinner and “Berenice Griselda Wolfe, if you don’t slow down this car right now, I will throw you off the cliff myself.”   

She doesn’t frown, either, when their journey stops abruptly. They wait as a seemingly endless line of sheep cross the road. “Did you see a farmer?”   

“No?”   

“Are you sure?”   

“Where on earth then – “   

Bernie just gives a shrug of her shoulder. Mutters something that sounds like Wales under her breath.   

The interruption means they don’t arrive at the campsite as dusk is settling. Campsite is a very loose word. It is more of a muddy field in the middle of nowhere. But no, Serena isn’t going to complain. Or she wasn’t until they pull up at their pitch – just another square of slightly less muddy grass – and it starts raining, thick and fast.     

“Maybe, we should just … wait it out.”   

“I don’t think this is the type of rain you wait out.” It looks like it’s staying for the weekend, is what Bernie means. “And, besides,” Bernie says, with a smile on her face that Serena feels is rapidly fading from hers, “we should get the tent up before night falls.”   

“Can’t we just kip the night in here and put it up tomorrow?”   

Bernie laughs before getting out the car. She thinks Serena is joking. Serena is, but only a bit.

Serena stays within the warmth of the car, but, when she sees Bernie unfurling the tent by herself in the now torrential downpour, she feels a stab of guilt. She promised herself. Think positive. And here she is, sulking like a petulant child. Wanting to write the camping trip before it has even begun. All because of a bit of rain.   

She steps out the car, and does so with a bit too much positivity that she doesn’t look what she’s stepping into. “Serena, watch the –"   It’s too late. Mud swallows her feet. When she tries to yank them out, one by one, her right shoe doesn’t come up. It remains wedged in mud. She is left, one foot on ground, one, shoeless, hovering in the air, imitating a flamingo. Very badly. She should have concentrated more in that mindfulness yoga class, she thinks, before she loses her balance. Bernie rushes over, but not in time.   

When she helps Serena up, all thoughts of positivity fly out of Serena’s head at an astonishing rate.   

“For Christ’s sake,” she says.   

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”   

“I’m fine, I just – “ She scowls, looking down at her muddied clothes and hands.

“It’s alright. I’ve got wipes in the –“   

“What?”   

“I’m kidding. This campsite has another across the road. There are shower and toilet facilities just over there. Let’s get you a fresh pair of clothes, hmm?”  Bernie says.   

Serena takes a deep breath. Positivity, she thinks. 

-   

After a long, surprisingly hot, shower and change of clothes, Serena is feeling decidedly more upbeat than before. She walks back, very carefully, in the wellingtons she had mercifully not forgotten, and sees that she had forgotten that Bernie occasionally did like to turn into Super Woman, and not just in theatre, when she sees that what was just sheets of fabric and pegs on the ground is now a, thankfully very sturdy looking, tent.   

Serena kisses Bernie on the cheek. “Thank you.”   

“Your very welcome.”   

-   

“Large portion of chips, vinegar. No salt,” Bernie says as she steps into the tent, grateful to get out the bad weather, “and just what the Doctor ordered.” She holds up a bottle of shiraz, trophy-like.   

Serena looks up from where she is nestled up in a very thick sleeping bag (and a couple of blankets on top for good measure). “Where did you get that from?”

Bernie just taps her nose. Zips up the tent behind her. “I was worried for a moment. I mean we’re got plastic cups we can use, but I didn’t bring a corkscrew. And then I remembered you’re Serena Campbell.”   

“I don’t know whether that’s meant to be a compliment or not.”   

“Depends on if you have a corkscrew.”   

“You know I do.”   

Bernie grins. She fetched tea while Serena set up the things in the inside of the tent and a couple of lanterns – battery operated – cloak the space in a warm glow.   

“Very homely,” Bernie says, crouching down to her knees.   “A girl does her best.”   

“Loving the hat by the way, Cinderella.” She nods to the fluffy monstrosity on Serena’s head.   

“My ears are cold. Heck, my everything’s cold. And will you stop calling me that.”   

Bernie pouts.   

Serena rolls her eyes. “Just because you fancy yourself as a Prince Charming, doesn’t mean – “   

“But I did retrieve your shoe.”   

“I didn’t lose it.”   

“Sorry, yes,” Bernie holds her hands up, “you simply misplaced it.”   

“Oh, come over here and sit down properly,” Serena huffs in mock-annoyance, “you’re making the place look untidy.”   

Bernie settles down onto the air bed. “Certainly, your majesty.”   

Serena swats Bernie with a pillow. Mumbles something about Bernie bringing in the cold with her.   

“By the way,” Bernie smirks, “I think you look very snug, but if you do need some … warming up later, I’d be happy to help. Purely in the interest of you not catching pneumonia, of course.”   

“I thought you’d never ask.”

-

Bernie is doing just that, sharing her body warmth so to speak and raising Serena’s own, when Serena hears something outside. All but yelps.   

“What was that?”   

Bernie is far too absorbed with other things to reply with anything other than a “Mmm” against Serena’s neck. Her lips suck at the soft skin there.   

“There’s something outside,” Serena hisses.   

“Probably just a sheep,” Bernie mumbles, “that’s wandered away from the field.”   

“It did not sound like a –“   

The rest dies on Serena’s lips. Bernie’s hand has wandered somewhere else as well. And she is particularly good at the art of distraction. 

- 

Later, when Serena is feeling the most positive she has about the camping trip, body sated and boneless and still thrumming with heat under Bernie’s own, Bernie takes her chance.   

“Serena?”   

“Mmm.”   

“What do you think about caravanning?”   

Serena groans -  and not in a good way.

8. Prompt: “One word can sometimes be sharper than a thousand swords.” (Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred D Taylor) 

“Idiot!”

The hissed word cut through the haze of Jasmine’s embarrassment. The patient was glaring at her in utter disgust, and she dropped the IV needle onto the floor as sheer panic took over her system. Meeting Morven’s eye, she jerked her head towards the woman before turning on her heel and sprinting for the ward doors.

It would be one thing if Ms Campbell was still here, and she could turn into her office and seek advice. But even that door was closed to her now, now that she had gone on an extended leave. And Ms. Wolfe was not an option to speak with, either, seeing as how she had rightfully taken Ms. Campbell’s side.

Swiping away tears, she made for the lift and blindly stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor and then trying to make herself as small as possible in the corner of the car. As the lift continued upwards, she tried to keep her sniffles quiet, not wanting to add grist to the hospital rumor mill. And then, a large, warm, hand was resting itself on her shoulder, and she was looking up into the entirely too kind eyes of Mister Hanssen.

“Doctor Burrows, are you on your way to the roof?” he asked lowly, and she gave a small nod before looking away from him. She had treated him badly before, and wasn’t certain how to act around him now. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Jasmine darted her eyes back up to his face, trying to suss out if he was being serious. There was no trace of mockery or derision on his face, and so she felt free to shake her head. “I think I might like that,” she murmured lowly before pulling away from him slightly, trying to ignore the fact that tears were still rolling down her cheeks.

Ever the gentleman, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over. Jasmine hesitated before using it, gazing at the snow white linen square, seeing the faint HH stitched into one corner. Taking a closer look, she realized that the entire piece had been stitched by hand, the spacing between stitches almost inhumanely perfect. “They’re made to be used, Doctor Burrows.”

“This is too fine to ruin with my tears,” she whispered, worrying the soft fabric between her fingers. “I ruin everything, you know. It’s just who I am.”

The elevator doors slid open, and she let out a squeak of surprise when Mister Hanssen spread his hand out on her shoulder blade to guide her from the elevator and over to the stairwell to complete their journey to the roof. It was only when they were taking a seat on the ledge that he removed his hand and began to speak. “You give your demons entirely too much power over you when you believe those lies, Doctor Burrows.”

“What if it’s true, though? I didn’t use my best level of care with Elinor, and look what happened. I destroyed her.” She wasn’t really certain which her she was referring to, and it didn’t surprise her when she started crying once more. “I’m just an idiot girl who thought she could make her mother proud by being exactly like her golden child sister.” Delicately, she dabbed at her cheeks with the handkerchief, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne.

“Words have the tendency to cut us much more sharply than a sword, Doctor Burrows.”

“Jasmine. I mean, we’re up here, where no one can hear us. It feels weird to have you address me that way.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like a doctor. Not anymore.”

She watched from the corner of her eye as his hand reached out and hovered above her knee. Jasmine nodded a little, giving him a brief smile, and then his hand was resting on her knee almost respectfully. Which didn’t help things, it just made her cry all the harder. And then, and then, she was stupidly leaning against his chest, sobbing her heart out. “Jasmine,” he said softly as he awkwardly settled his arm around her, letting her huddle in close to him as she sobbed.

“She’s dead, and Ms Campbell hates me, and I’ve been making mistake after mistake. I almost destroyed your career, and Mister Griffin’s, and I’m so tired. Do you know how hard it is to paste on a fake cheery façade every day?”

“No, because I am allowed to be taciturn and severe.” She nodded as she went to rub her cheek against his suit coat, only to check herself at the last moment, not wanting to get makeup on the obviously expensive fabric. “And Ms Campbell is deep in grief, what you think she feels about you might not be the truest.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I try not to lie, Jasmine. Now, I know that you were kind to Jason once, and I have something that needs to be delivered to him at the house. Would you kindly do me the favour of dropping it by?”

“Why me?”

“Because sometimes, we need to face our fears and realise that the giants in our minds are mere figurines in reality. And because Jason needs someone else besides me checking in on him. I don’t want to order you to do this, but I will, if I must.”

Jasmine drew in a deep breath as she sat up to look into his eyes. “I suppose. I do owe you, after all.” He shook his head. “I do. And I always repay my debts.” He gave her a small nod before standing and extending his hand to her. She clasped it firmly, allowing him to lead her down to his office.

It was a silent journey, and then she was accepting the small stack of magazines from his hand. She went to give the handkerchief back, but he shook his head a little. “Keep it.”

She gave a sharp nod before heading out to the lift and waiting for it.

Thankfully, there was no one else waiting, and she was able to scoot down to AAU and get changed without having to speak to anyone. Then, she was out in the car park and climbing behind the wheel of her old vehicle, starting it up and heading out.

It was only when she was underway that she realized she had no idea where Ms Campbell lived. Once more, she was in luck, as Mister Hanssen had texted her the address at almost her exact moment of need. Tapping on it, she let her GPS guide her the fifteen miles. And listening to the directions also allowed her to not think about the confrontation certain to come.

It was only when she parked outside the veritable mansion that her supervisor called home that nerves started to flutter at her chest. However, she was certain Mister Hanssen would know she had decided to don a yellow feather, and so Jasmine took a deep breath and climbed out of her car, slowly walking to the door.

Still, it took her few moments to knock on the door and then she was left waiting. It was only when she heard the familiar cadence of Ms Campbell approaching her that she wondered what she would say when the door was open. And then, the door was opening, and a tear streaked face was staring at her, anger and grief warring for dominance. “What are you doing here?”

Jasmine was barely prepared for those words, and she held the magazines out as a peace offering. “I’ve come to see Jason. And apologise.” Ms Campbell’s face softened for a moment before she nodded and moved aside, letting Jasmine in and without thinking, she reached out for the woman’s hand, squeezing tightly as if she didn’t want to ever let go.

9. Prompt: “Don’t worry, you’re just as sane as I am.” -Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Serena sat on her couch, relaxing, when Bernie’s keys were rattling in the door and she heard it swing open and her shouting “I’m home!” 

Serena smiled. She put the book, a travel guide of Cambodia, a country she had only ever heard her mother talk about, down on the coffee table, next to her glass of Shiraz. 

Bernie wore a nervous smile. When she tentatively walked further into the living room, Serena heard a weird clacking sound on their wooden floor that Bernie was not making. 

“I uhm,” Bernie stammered “I brought someone.” She let her hands fall to her sides, her gesturing having been useless. 

The clacking continued until… Serena could not believe her eyes. 

“Bernie, is this some kind of practical joke?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of what had walked forth. 

“I’m afraid not, love.” she answered, a bit of fear in her voice for her lover’s reaction. 

Serena stared. And stared some more. 

“Are you sure it’s real, Bernie?” she asked. 

The unicorn walked towards Serena on its own accord, its hooves clacking on the floor. It lifted the right front hoof and offered it to Serena, resembling a handshake. 

Not knowing the proper protocol, she took the hoof and shook it, deeply perplexed by the bizarre situation. 

The unicorn opened its mouth and began to speak. 

“You are Serena Campbell, if I’m not mistaken? Nice to meet you. I’m Dandelion Hooves, but you can call me Dan.” 

Serena mouth was open and saliva was threatening to fall out of it. 

“Bernie…” she stammered, looking to her for help. Bernie pointed to the unicorn with her head. 

Serena supposed it could be real so decided on the chance that it was real, that it was only fair to be a proper host. She closed her mouth and smiled. 

“Hello Dan, it’s nice to meet you too. Yes, I’m Serena. Would you like tea or some wine? We also have juice, I believe Jason, my nephew, hasn’t finished it yet.” She moved to get up. “And um… have a seat?” she didn’t think about the implication of sitting when you are not a human being, so Dan, awkwardly trying to be polite, sat on the floor next to a chair, not fitting into any chair and sitting in chairs was uncomfortable for Dan anyways. 

“If that would be ok, I would love a glass of water,” Dan said. 

Bernie jumped up, saying: “Why don’t I get drinks for all of us and you get to know each other a little?” and walked off towards their kitchen. 

“Well, I don’t want to be rude, but I’d like to know why you’re here?” Serena asked. 

“Well, your lovely partner brought me because my family threw me out and the hospital has no free beds and I am hurt.” It pulled apart the leather jacket it was wearing, a bandage appeared. 

Serena still wanted to understand, to question this, but in the face of a potentially real and sentient creature she didn’t want to insult it. It probably got enough of that shit anyways. So she treated it as if it was a human being. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry they threw you out. May I ask why?” Becoming a bit more comfortable with the situation and her current reality, she folded her legs beneath her. She was in her own home after all. 

“Yes, you may.” It pulled the flesh covering its teeth aside and Serena only realized too late that it had been smiling. “I came out to them as nonbinary. My mom threw a pot at me and told me to get out.” Its expression could be described as sad as far as Serena was capable of judging non-human facial expressions. 

“I’m so sorry. I hate to have to ask this, but… what is nonbinary?” 

 The unicorn sighed, then smiled sadly. 

 “Do you want the long explanation or the short explanation?” 

“Whatever it needs so that I’ll understand,” Serena replied. 

“Okay,” Dan said, then shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. “You know that there are two current recognised genders?” 

Serena nodded. 

“You have heard of trans individuals, being whose gender does not match the sex they were born in?” 

Serena nodded again, there had been a trans kid in Elinor’s class. 

“Well, there are people whose gender does not fit into the binary, into the categories of female and male. There are a lot of subcategories, but the generic term for all genders not part of the binary is nonbinary.” 

Serena nodded thoughtfully. “I do understand that.” 

“But Dan,” she began asking and Dan sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I do understand what nonbinary is supposed to be but… why do we need a term for that?” 

“I knew you’d ask something like that from your expression. At least you’re not as insensitive as some other people. Well look at me. I am not female and not male. That isn’t defined by my sex, neither by the way I dress but only by the way I feel. I do not feel female or male. I feel like something in between, sometimes like nothing at all and sometimes I feel a lean to some side, on a few days I even feel like I belong to one of the binary genders, but never for long. I am not male or female.” 

Serena took her glass of Shiraz and took a deep gulp. 

“I am getting more and more insensitive,” she began, but stopped because Bernie reappeared from the kitchen with a plate with three sandwiches, three glasses of water and a second wine glass for herself, setting all on the coffee table and letting herself fall onto the couch next to Serena, smiling brightly first at their guest and then at Serena. 

 Serena was looking at her. “Did you two get to know each other a little?” 

“Actually, we did,” Dandelion answered. “But I believe you unintentionally interrupted your partner, she wanted to ask me something?” It looked expectantly at Serena. 

“Um, yes I did. I um,” she blushed, “I just can’t quite believe you’re real. I don’t know, maybe you can pinch me or something? I’m sorry, I’m sure you get this a lot.” 

Bernie laughed. “My reaction was quite similar, Dom had to slap me before I was able to treat them properly.”

 “Them?” Serena inquired. 

“Oh um yes, Dan of course. Their preferred pronoun is “they”.” She smiled at Dan, proud to have remembered it, and they mouthed “thank you”, very happy about Bernie respecting their gender. 

“And besides, you’re just as sane as I am.” She winked. 

“Bernie, at this point this not really any consolidation.” Serena said, being half sarcastic. Bernie laughed and Serena joined in. 

Serena thought she had seen something move from the corner of her eye and turned her head. The reflection in an apple looked weird, but she thought nothing of it and said “Why don’t we eat? It’s been quite a day for all of us.” 

But then the apple began to shake and she put her sandwich back down to watch it properly. Bernie and Dan were too busy devouring their sandwiches to notice anything. The reflection in it… moved and now showed a female shape that was beginning to emerge. The female only draped in linen freed itself from the apple and grew quickly until it stood in all its gloriousness on their coffee table. Serena sighed, being beyond surprised. Bernie stared. Dan stared. 

“I am Aphrodite, hi. Can I have a sandwich too?” she asked. 

“Yes of course, help yourself,” Serena gestured, Bernie and Dan were still frozen. 

 She sat down cross-legged and grabbed a sandwich. Her drapes barely hid anything, her obviously female and male attributes were very visible. Bernie gulped. 

“And you are?” Between two bites, she threw her long locks over her shoulder and said snappily “Aphrodite, Aphroditus, Hermaphroditus, Cytherea, Cypris, call me whatever your want. Goddess of love, beauty and sexuality, to your service.” 

“Wow,” Dan whispered. Unimpressed, she continued eating.

“Why are you here?” Serena asked. 

Unhurriedly, she ate the last few bites, licked her fingers, then looked at them. “I am Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty and sexuality. You did a good job. Well, not at looking good, but at the other two things.” 

They stared. She sighed. “Do I have to spell everything out for you?” 

“Yes please,” Serena asked. 

“You,” she looked pointedly at Dan “came out and I just wanted to show you my support. You’re not alone,” she vaguely gestured at her body. “And you,” she looked pointedly at Bernie and Serena “are doing a good job of keeping up the tradition of sappho. Also you welcomed them,” headpoint to Dan “into your house and treated them nicely. Keep being good people and good sapphic women.” 

“Um, thanks, I guess,” Serena said. “Is there a protocol for this?” “Nah not really,” Aphrodite said, “everybody acts and reacts quite differently. Thanks for the sandwich by the way.” 

“No problem,” Bernie refound her voice. 

“Are you real?” Dan weighed in, the excitement showing in their voice. 

“Wanna touch me?” she dared him and scooched closer in the table. Dan touched her arm. 

 “Wow,” they whispered. Aphrodite hugged them. 

 “Keep up your pride, lad. We really need people like you.” She smiled. Then looked into the round. “I‘m afraid I have to leave, things to do, places to go and all that jazz.” 

Bernie nodded, still not quite believing her eyes. 

“Thanks for your encouragement!” Serena said. 

 “Will I see you again?” Dan asked. 

“We’ll see,” she said and mysteriously vanished into the reflection until it was just the ceiling light again.

“What the hell,” Bernie stated.

10. Title: Words of Meaning Prompt: “One word can sometimes be sharper than a thousand swords.” (Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, by Mildred D Taylor)

Pulses, at two o’clock in the morning, was a quiet affair, a few staff arriving for a caffeine and sugar fix to get them through the rest of the night. When Bernie Wolfe entered the hospital doors, a gust of cold wind blew through with her, causing her to shiver in her escape from winter’s hold. If there was one thing she hadn’t always missed when she was out on tour it was Britain’s winter weather. However, what she lost in the heat and constant presence of sand, she gained in being able to share that winter warming up with Serena - and that she wouldn’t trade for anything now. Even in their present situation with Bernie caring for Serena as she tries to process her grief, Bernie cannot fathom not wanting being here. She’s handled her own guilt - merited or not - for being able to save Jason and not Elinor. Though she might be the fantastic and fearless doctor that Serena had claimed she was, the bleeding damage done to Elinor’s brain was something she couldn’t fix. Serena had wanted to be alone tonight with Jason to fuss over as he continued his recovery, so Bernie had agreed to stay at her flat for the night. However, after three hours of tossing and turning, Bernie decided she’d head into work. It was technically a day off but at least she could get caught up on some administrative work that required her attention. Stopping at the counter, she ordered her coffee and a muffin. As she waited, she looked around to see if there were any staff she recognised. Sat in one corner, Zosia March huddled with Dominic Copeland. She smiled a greeting at them which Zosia acknowledged. She thought briefly about going over but a slight shake of Zosia’s head and a mouthed, ‘later’, Bernie nodded. She kept note to check later how they were doing. Paying for her order, she headed through the corridor to AAU and onto her ward. On a Thursday night, the ward was only a third full, and looking at the assignment board, she could see at a glance what was covered. Fletch was sitting at the nursing desk adding some notes to a chart. Upon seeing her though he startled slightly. “Ms. Wolfe. I wasn’t expecting you to be in tonight.” “Couldn’t sleep. How are things? Anything urgent?” Bernie inquired in case she had to go change into some scrubs. “No. There was just one procedure this evening which Raf took care of before he headed home at midnight. Jasmine is just checking on Mr. Donaldson now; appendectomy.” Bernie nodded in the direction of the consultant’s office. “I’ll be in there getting a dent in the paperwork. If you need me, don’t hesitate to holler.” Dropping her leather bag on one of the guest chairs in the office, she turned to hang her coat up before flicking on the small lamp on their desk. She sighed heavily as she dropped herself down into her chair. She wasn’t a religious person, but she uttered a prayer, or perhaps an oath to some higher power to take care of Serena and Jason in her absence. Pursing her lips, she reached over and grabbed the first handful of folders, opening the top one and read through the chart’s details. Typing the notes into the electronic charts, adding annotations to the surgical plan and outcomes, she moved from one chart to another to the next. It wasn’t until she heard a knock on the door, that she lifted her head to look at the clock on the wall. She rubbed a hand against the back of her neck and rolled it before looking at the door. “Come in,” Bernie called out. “Ms. Wolfe?” Zosia March stopped at the entrance, clearly hesitating and debating whether she should before glancing at Bernie. “What can I do for you, Doctor March?” Bernie asked kindly as she stood to move her things off the chair, and indicated for Zosia to take the seat offered. “I don’t… I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but I thought you might be able to help.” “I take it this is more personal than work related?” Bernie inquired as she looked at the younger woman’s troubled expression. “Dom?” Zosia’s head whipped up, meeting Bernie’s gaze before remembering that Bernie had seen the two of them in the cafe earlier. “I hate talking out of turn, especially about good friends, but I’m worried about him. He’s lost. He’s lost that spark and interest he has about life, about medicine. I thought at first that it was just a delayed reaction to missing Arthur…” Zosia paused and sighed. “But now I think it’s much more than that. He’s lost his confidence. He’s a very good doctor and I’d hate to see him lose the ground that he’s gained.” Leaning back in her chair, Bernie took a deep breath. She’d missed talking with Dom lately, not surprisingly with everything she’s been trying to do with Serena, but she’d seen him hesitant and guarded when she was covering Keller recently. When he’d come to talk with her in the Keller’s consultant’s office, he seemed genuinely surprised and confused that the decision for the conference trip was solely Mr. Mayfield’s discretion and as far as Holby was concerned, Dom was the chosen assistant. “He is a good surgeon. He certainly has the makings of a very good one.” Bernie smiled, thinking his cockiness reminded her of some of the young medics that had worked in her units while on tour. Turning serious for a moment, though, she added, “What do you make of Isaac Mayfield?” “Honestly?” Zosia asked, and continued upon seeing Bernie’s nod. “I don’t trust him. Gut instinct is that he’s up to no good. In fact, I know he’s not. After, standing up for himself, turning down the trip, Dom came to stay with Ollie and I for that week. He didn’t say much at all, but I could hear him crying through the night. Yesterday he told me Isaac had a one night stand before leaving for Hawaii.” Bernie’s fist clenched around a piece of paper and she took a couple of deep breaths. Doctor March’s instincts were adding up to her own impressions of the registrar. While nothing to pinpoint specifically, and certainly nothing that she could at the moment call into professional practice concerns, she’d seen attitudes and arrogance like his in the military. Recognizing that Zosia was still there, she looked over to the young woman. “You’re a good friend to him, Doctor March. Keep hold of that. Look after him. I will do my best to do that as well. As for the rest, let me look into it further.” “Thank you, Ms. Wolfe.” Zosia stood and rubbed her hands against her legs, seemingly not knowing what to do next, then gathering herself and shaking her head and plastering a small smile on her face. “I best get going. Need to make sure Mr. Rossini is not flirting with all the patients again.” Breaking her usual habits of personal space and interactions with work colleagues, Bernie extended a hand to Zosia’s shoulder. “We’ll find a way through this for Dom, okay?” “Thanks.” Zosia nodded and then left the office, leaving Bernie with some things to consider. Knowing she’d not have the requisite access to request the personnel evaluations from Human Resources of someone not on her ward without legitimate clinical concerns, Bernie would have to speak with Sacha Levy and Ric Griffin and that would have to wait until the morning shift. She made note of things she wanted to check out before she forgot, then stood and stretched. Peering into her cup, she ditched the last dregs of coffee into the pale next to her desk. She smiled to herself for a moment. Unlike the last time she’d been left in control of the ward whilst Serena was on suspension, Bernie had kept their office tidy in Serena’s recent absence. She’d even at one point taken a picture to prove that, though she’d not sent it to Serena, and her partner had not even mentioned the tidiness when she’d returned. Heading out onto the ward, Bernie took a look around, noting where patients and staff were located, before finding Fletch checking the IV drip line of one of the patients. Waiting for him to finish and approach her, she checked her phone for any emails. Nothing urgent, so she opened her Messages app and typed in a small message to Serena, 'Thinking of you. Take care. Love, Bx.’ “Is everything okay, Ms. Wolfe?” Fletch asked, startling Bernie as she’d not seen him approach. “Sorry. You seemed miles away.” “It’s okay. I was just going to ask how things were going out here.” “Things are all right. No worries.” Feeling concerned, he turned his head towards the office. “Was there anything Dr. March needed?”. “Just a consult, Fletch,” Bernie responded, indicating that it was not up for discussion, and Fletch nodded. “I’m going to go stretch my legs a bit. Page me if you need me.” “Will do, boss.” Fletch winked and smiled then headed back to his duties. Bernie walked out the AAU doors, and headed up to Keller via the stairs. Entering the ward, she spotted Essie walking towards her, after checking on a patient. Smiling, Bernie held up a hand as she looked around the unit for Dom. “Hey, Ms. Wolfe, did you miss us?” Essie lightly inquired. It wasn’t often they had a consultant from another ward cover but since Sacha was still out recovering and Ric was still acting CEO, they’d had a couple of locum consultants. “Something like that. Have you seen Doctor Copeland around?” “He’s with Mr. Mayfield in surgery at the moment. They should be close to being done.” Bernie nodded. “What do you make of Mr. Mayfield?” “In what way?” Essie asked. “Professional, mentoring, interactions with junior staff.” “Well, he’s personable. He gets along with everyone as far as I’ve seen.” “And Dom?” Bernie asked. Essie thought for a moment before responding, “He’s seemed a bit down lately but he’ll come round.” Bernie nodded, partially expecting that answer. If Dom was hurting as Doctor March indicated, then he was likely putting up a front, a wall to protect himself, a trait she identified with all too much. “Thanks. Would you mind not mentioning this conversation, please?” “Sure. Not a problem,” Essie responded, but now she was curious about why Bernie would be asking about Isaac. “Did you want me to tell Dom you were looking for him?” “No, that’s fine. I’ll just reach him later.” Bernie turned to leave the ward and as she got out into the hallway, she heard raised voices coming from a side office. She couldn’t hear the content but could hear the tone and recognised the voices. While she disliked confrontation when it came to her own personal life, she was certainly prepared and trained to deal with confrontation when it applied to staff, and as she liked and respected Doctor Copeland, she entered the room and just waited for their reaction. “Doctors Copeland and Mayfield, what is the problem?” Turning to his senior colleague, Isaac responded after a brief moment of a glare at Dom. “Ah, Ms. Wolfe, Doctor Copeland and I were just having an argument about patient care.” “It was my fault,” Dom started quietly. “I missed seeing something on the scan that was more problematic once we opened the patient up. She nearly bled out but we were able to save her.” “Can I see the scan, please?” Bernie asked. She waited until Isaac handed over the iPad with the digital copy of the scan enlarged. “The lesions were completely adhered to the outside lining of the bowel and were starting to penetrate into the colon, causing partial blockage and restricting blood flow. I take it one of the mesenteric arteries ruptured?” “Yes.” Isaac responded, feeling glad that someone else spotted the problem. “And how is the patient now?” Bernie inquired, ignoring Isaac’s smug expression. “Stable. We were able to remove all the lesions, repair the artery and remove the perforated section of the bowel.” Isaac was feeling pretty confident in his abilities but as Bernie took a look at Dom, she was slightly taken aback by his silence. Isaac noted her appraisal of Dom before she guarded her expression and he was not pleased. “Everything will be fine, Ms. Wolfe. We’ll continue his obs as per routine. Won’t we, Doctor Copeland?” Recognising that she needed to be careful but precise with her wording so that Dom would not bear any lasting brunt of Isaac’s ire, she spoke with quiet but commanding presence. “Doctor Mayfield, if I could hear you arguing out in the hallway, so could other staff. Whatever Doctor Copeland or any other junior doctor, nurse or staff does or does not do, it does not merit a shouting match. I’ll arrange cover for Doctor Copeland with another doctor for the rest of the shift. Be aware that this incident will be noted on record.” Bernie was aware of the seething look he sent her before schooling his expression. “Take 15 minutes to go cool off before going back onto the ward. I’ll be checking in later.” Bernie handed back the iPad to Isaac and waited for him to exit the room before taking a deep breath herself, rubbing her temples as the onset of a headache threatened to begin. Dom shifted his position from the corner of the room. “You didn’t need to do that, Ms. Wolfe. It would have worked out.” Bernie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe it ever does in many aspects.” She sighed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this argument wasn’t just about patient care, there was more than an element of the personal involved.” “It’ll be fine.” Dom shrugged, not quite believing his own words. Bernie was wary. And she was worried seeing Dom’s cowed mannerisms. Zosia was certainly correct in her assessment of Dom and Bernie regretted not keeping a closer eye on Dominic. She liked the young man who had given her far more support than she could have expected after Alex and her being outed, especially as she’d initially erroneously blamed him for the rumours outing her. Gathering her thoughts, she guided the junior doctor out of the side office and down the corridor. “Come on. Drinks are on me,” Bernie smiled. “Uhm. Ms. Wolfe, it’s four am. Albie’s closed hours ago.” Dominic grinned at Bernie’s playful expression. “And we’re at work, so Pulses it is. I need a caffeine shot to get me through the rest of the night.” “Ms. Wolfe? You said you were covering me with another doctor on Keller. What about the rest of my shift?” Dominic asked suddenly. “You’re with me, on AAU.” Bernie grinned widely. “Time to learn some trauma skills, young Jedi.” They stopped by Pulses to pick up some coffee and sugary treats then headed down to AAU. Bernie stopped at the nurse’s station to speak with Fletch for a moment, then nodded her head in the direction of her office. “Give me about 15 minutes or so to arrange cover and I’ll be back out here.” As promised, Bernie had returned with a smile on her face. She’d arranged with another doctor to come in for the last few hours of Dominic’s shift - someone who owed her a favour and someone who would certainly not put up with any bullying of any sort. Another fifteen minutes later, a delivery of a couple of boxes of pizza and bottles of soda arrived on the ward, much to the delight of the staff, thanks to Bernie. Pizza consumed, Bernie let Fletch know where she was headed if there were any concerns and she directed Dom to the wet lab where she began instructing Dom on some trauma skills. Directing him in techniques and the principles behind them, she added in stories and commentary from her experiences. All along encouraging him, correcting when necessary and praising his skills as he acquired them successfully. She was pleased with the teaching session. As the rest of the early morning passed, she could see the light in Dom’s eyes beginning to return, and she made a personal vow to continue to mentor and teach him. She’d have to arrange that with Ric and Sacha but she didn’t see much of a problem arising there. “Ms. Wolfe, don’t get me wrong because I really appreciate this, but why?” Dominic asked as he sat back, looking at the work he’d completed. “Why teach you?” Bernie deliberately set aside the issue of Doctor Mayfield’s earlier behaviour. “You’re a very good doctor. This morning you showed an eagerness to learn and improve your skills.” However, Dom decided he needed to address the earlier issue. “No. I mean with Isaac. You didn’t have to come in when you did.” He sighed. Bernie echoed that sigh. “Dom, do you really think he would have stopped? Maybe, for a while, before he found something else to go off about.” Dom looked like he might interject, but Bernie continued. “One word can sometimes be sharper than a thousand swords. I’ve learned that the hard way in my lifetime. It’s not always about fists or physical violence. It can escalate that way, but not always. Words do hurt sometimes, especially when aimed at a particularly vulnerable part of ourselves we try to keep hidden.” Sensing more behind her words, Dom questioned her, “Ms. Wolfe, what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Bernie debated whether or not to delve into her personal history, but she felt it was worth the minor discomfort to make a point. “My early years in the military, there was a senior officer, he had a way about intimidating junior officers and apparently his family, which we learned about later. He’d find a way to go after the weakest point, which in some ways was good and we learned the proper reasoning from other senior officers, but this guy was just cruel for cruelty’s sake. He drove a few of my fellow soldiers, male and female alike, out of the military. Nearly drove me out. I stood up for myself and reported him to someone I trusted. He was dismissed, not just the actions towards the junior officers but also on other offences, of which we weren’t privy.” Bernie stopped and sighed. “Whether it’s a personal relationship or a professional relationship, don’t let anyone make you feel any less than who you are, don’t let them bully or intimidate you. And if it happens, let someone know. This doesn’t just happen on the school yards. We’ve got a respectful workplace policy for a reason, and that applies just the same at home as it does here, especially if the relationship is between staff members. Let me know. Text, call, whatever. Okay? Also, please do that for Zosia. She cares about you.” “Thank you.” Dom stood up and stretched his legs. Sighing, he debated something internally, and then surprisingly, he gave Bernie a hug. It wasn’t something he generally did with fellow staff, particularly senior staff. Excepting Isaac, his last such emotional connection was with Mr. Hanssen after Arthur’s death. Pulling back, he wiped his eyes, straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “Thanks, again. How is Ms. Campbell?” “Surviving. We’re taking it day by day.” Bernie smiled broadly and her face softened despite the sadness. “I love her. So much.” “I’m glad. Love looks good on you, Ms. Wolfe.” A blush formed over Bernie’s cheeks as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thanks.” “Come on, Jedi Master.” Dom grinned cheekily. “We must get back to the ward to see how Fletch and Jasmine have left things. Bernie laughed. "Onwards and upwards, Mr. Copeland.” The two of them headed to AAU, light jokes and comments belying an emotionally charged morning, but both glad of its outcome. Looking at her watch, she noted that it was already past eight o’clock, on a partial shift that she’d picked up. She wasn’t due back until seven that evening for her official shift, so she could go home and get some food and kip before coming back in. Turning onto the ward, she saw Serena entering their office. Bernie gave a glance to Dom, who gave her a nod and a mock salute before heading over to chat with Fletch and Jasmine at the desk. Bernie continued on to her office, closing the door behind her. She waited a moment, assessing the tired expression rolling off Serena, then she crossed the short distance and enveloped Serena in a hug. Not caring that the blinds were open, she pressed light kisses over Serena’s forehead, down her nose and finally a gentle kiss to her mouth before resting her head against Serena’s. “I love you.” “Bernie.” Serena sighed then she wrapped her arms tightly around Bernie’s waist, not wanting to ever let go. “I love you, too.” Her own 'relationships in the workplace’ rules be damned; she needed this.

11. Prompt: “Ships in the Night” - Mat Kearney

It had always been the case that they worked opposing shifts on Thursdays, Serena on earlies and Bernie on lates, and even once they were living together – especially because they were living together, Serena wouldn’t change it. She might frequently be caught gazing soppily across the ward at the trauma surgeon, but Serena Campbell MBA was not going to arrange the rota around her personal life, thank you very much.

Yet it was Serena who complained most about it, coming home tired and a little jaded just as Bernie was getting ready to go in. “We’re like ships in the night,” she called through the bathroom door, listening to Bernie towelling herself down. The door opened just wide enough for Bernie to poke her head out and kiss the end of her nose. “It’s once a week, Serena,” she chuckled. “Hardly the world’s busiest shipping lane, is it?” Strands of wet blonde hair clung to Serena’s cheek. “I still don’t like it,” Serena huffed, teasing them away and running her finger through Bernie’s fringe.

So that’s how it became a thing.

Now when Serena got home on a Thursday afternoon, instead of finding the radio on and Bernie singing tunelessly along to the final words of each lyric, she would head straight to the ensuite to find Bernie waiting in a hot bath amidst a mountain range of bubbles, candles lit on every available surface. The first time there had been a piano concerto playing quietly from an iPod in the corner, but Serena, one eyebrow raised in amusement, had switched it off. “Too much?” Bernie had asked, scrunching her nose up in that way that made Serena melt.

Climbing in to Bernie’s embrace was the perfect way to wash off her shift. She didn’t need to narrate the day’s events, to explain that the patient who’d seemed to be doing so well yesterday had taken a dramatic turn for the worse or to complain that the ward seemed to be full of middle-aged men with raging libidos and a minimal understanding of body language. She could just drop her head back onto Bernie’s shoulder, her skin swiftly reddening in the hot water, close her eyes and let it all go. They would lay in warm silence, tealights flickering at the edges of their vision, each feeling the other’s heart beat against their skin and recognising in it the rhythm of the universe.

Eventually, but only once they were really and truly pruney, Bernie would step out and turn to offer Serena her hand before wrapping her in a fluffy towelling gown identical to her own (Serena’s idea, and she’d delighted in using the phrase ‘hers and hers’ repeatedly at the till before Bernie had begged her to stop). Then she would steer Serena to the bed, lay her down and fetch the body lotion that smelled of pink grapefruit and jasmine. Serena had started getting home from the hospital earlier, and Bernie arriving there later, to make time for Bernie to rub the lotion into Serena’s weary limbs.

There was a frisson – of course there was a frisson; nothing could be inert when these two were in close proximity – but this wasn’t about sex, or foreplay. Serena would watch the little frown on Bernie’s brow as she carefully massaged each of her toes, the balls of her feet, her heels, and marvel at this act of care that was now bestowed upon her each week, no matter what, simply because she had grumbled about the rota. Knowing that Serena would sooner take up Morris dancing than ask a colleague to take the increasingly busy Thursday night shift from Bernie (it being the new Friday and all), Bernie had simply set about making the hour and a half they had together that day one of Serena’s favourite parts of the week.

Sometimes, most times, Bernie would start at Serena’s feet and work her way up her legs, her back, her arms, pressing the tension out of every muscle until she could rest her hands on Serena’s shoulders, whisper “OK?”, and kiss her before getting dressed. Sometimes she’d start with the shoulders and work her way down, finishing by making playful conversation with 10 “little piggies” before pulling on her clothes. But always, always, she left Serena with the same words: “I can’t control the wind, my darling, but I can adjust the sail.”

[ecotone99]

[SF] The Last Job

Veronica was alone on the bridge when the first distress signal was detected. The beeping echoed quietly on the bridge, reverberating throughout the sleeping ship as the members curled up in their beds. She needed something to do. Something to smother the remaining hours until the end of the week, her thoughts more than enough to keep her awake, her mind wouldn’t stop on its ceaseless crusade, reminding her of every little mistake. The distress signal was a distraction, exactly what she was looking for.

“Merchant 6478-A we read your distress, can you respond, over?”

Over and over she could hear Tina’s stupid bloody voice bringing the whole mess to a stand-still. She could see all the faces turn to them, including Giles, and the raised eyebrows turning to awkward looks and nervous faces. She wanted the vacuum of space to suck her into nothing and believed the reversal of her insides to outsides would’ve been less excruciating than eating the rest of her meal amongst the crew. The pity before was condescending enough and she knew if she stayed on board it would be palpable.

“Merchant 6478, you’re very faint, can you adjust frequency?”

Captain Urak saw it all just like the rest of them, but at least had the courtesy to not stare at her, despite all his faults. He didn’t have time for nonsense, as he called it, only time for his job and his drink. Although she had no doubt they’d be discussing it in her next pay review. It all had to come out at the worst time, a fucking embarrassment to everyone involved and another flag she had been adorned with. All because Tina didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.

Veronica keyed into Urak’s terminal. “Captain? Sorry to disturb, we have a dead corporate freighter here, looks like asteroid debris got into the engines and the communications is down as well. Shall we dock with them?”

She heard the groan of her Captain, who had slept with a whiskey or two at his side since their trip began. “Lifeforms?”

“I’m detecting seven, sir, which matches the record we have for the vessel.”

“Dock then, Ven. I’ll be sending you and Giles down to sort the problem.”

Ven felt herself blush furiously before she could stop it, feeling like a foolish child as she stammered: “G-Giles, sir?”

“Yes, our security officer and an engineer. Is there a problem with that?”

“No, but-“

He emerged fully in the camera’s view, letting her see up close how little he cared for her opinion. “I want the air cleared before 06:00 tomorrow between you. Regardless of what’s been said and what’s true, I want things as normal as soon as this job is done. Is that understood?”

Veronica made sure he saw how she straightened herself and nodded stiffly to camera. “Yes. Perfectly.”

His transmission ended and she easily directed the vessel to dock with the corporate ship, the accuracies would have to come from her Captain and she would only need to make things normal with Giles. The logos and slogans splattered across the dull grey and blue surface of the hull, leaving only the bridge and engines free of it. From a distance, it was difficult to notice the paint worn by travel and splattered with dirt and rust. But Veronica saw it and thought briefly of her father, navigator on such ships, playing the elusive corporate game.

She had spent the day before testing the new software on board, stabilised the thrusters and fixed the food dispenser that had been playing up since launch. If she was able to do all that and not screw it up, she thought that it’d be easy to get back to normal with Giles. She could also theoretically turn herself into a sperm whale but she didn’t like her chances there, either.

Giles was tall, thickly haired, muscled and some thought thickly brained as well, but Veronica knew him better than most. He was a sucker for tinned peaches from mother earth, if they could get them; watched all the zero-g MMA matches once they grounded and had a fondness for jazz that Veronica hadn’t heard since her dad had died. It felt pathetic, to have that longing inside that never seemed happy to move along, trying to find bits of her father in what was left of her job. But it was how she dealt with it, how she avoided people calling her weak.

“You ready?” Veronica already knew, of course, by his holstered plasma handgun and suit.

He nodded. “Is the Captain awake?”

“Barely. And he’s been at the whiskey again.”

“Pretty sure we were told not to drink drive when we were kids.”

She shrugged, thinking of a joke but deciding to hold it back. “He’s the boss.”

Giles expected the joke as well, giving her a short pause to deliver it and adjusting himself when she didn’t. He took a deep breath and didn’t look at her as he spoke: “Ven, I think you’re a really nice person, but-“

“Save it.” Veronica spat. “Don’t you dare even start with that bullocks.”

“Ven-“

“Do you know how hard it is to be on this damned ship as an engineer? How many crusty old farts are condescending to me like I’m some fresh-faced whelp who doesn’t know how to use a spanner or a screwdriver? How I have to fight every day to get an inch of respect out of anyone?!” Veronica didn’t mean to raise her voice, but found it impossible to back down. She couldn’t show weakness. “I don’t need that shit from you. Not you too.”

“It’s not my fault!”

“No!” She took a moment to compose herself. “No, it’s not. It’s not, never was. It’s never one person’s fault.” She rubbed her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fucked anyway.”

“What is?”

“Us. Our talks, everything!”

“Why does that have to change?”

She didn’t answer – not because she wanted it to, that much was clear, but because it had already happened. He felt like a stranger to her, like she couldn’t trust him. Like he already knew too much. She rubbed her eyes, exhaustion catching up with her. “It’s been a long week.”

He nodded. It had been long for them all but it wasn’t hard to imagine the utter embarrassment she had gone through had destroyed whatever self-esteem she had left. Giles was under no illusion that he was the only person she really talked to in such a way and certainly wasn’t thick skulled enough to see that she wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.

The warning lights blazed around them, allowing them ten seconds to brace for the joining of the two airlocks. Their arms reached and grasped the handles above as gravity was briefly disabled as the ships came together. The lurch was powerful, but they were used to how it felt and were able to conduct themselves safely – both being subjected to enough training and safety protocols to last a lifetime. But what else was new in the depths of space?

Giles spoke again as they headed into the corporate ship’s airlock. “I didn’t know. Okay? I didn’t know that you-“

“It doesn’t matter.” Ven snapped, turning away from him so he couldn’t see her face. “The whole damn crew knows, Tina might as well have posted it all online, let the whole bloody milky way know about it!”

“Tina was drunk-“

“Tina was barely tipsy. She did it because she thought it was funny and I’m sure it was fucking hilarious.” Veronica hefted the airlock door closed despite the help Giles offered her.

“I didn’t think it was funny.”

Veronica was able to smell his bullshit from a mile away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The corporate vessel was one they had both seen time and time again during their patrol missions in the outer solar system. Like with the exterior, it was covered in corporate logos, slogans and even health and safety notices. Above their heads messy looking cables ran along each corridor with piping insulated alongside. Each ship was exactly the same, grey and blue, plastered with shameless advertising with only the faces manning them ever seeming to change. Yet despite this, there was something unnerving to Ven when she heard the distant beeping of a failing utility in the bowels of the ship and the cold whirs that seemed to freeze her bones. The darkness didn’t help, like the ship was derelict in a forgotten sea.

“Cap said there were people here?”

“I counted seven.”

Giles frowned. “Then where are they?”

“They could be injured, maybe they’re with their supplies in case of pirates.”

“Pirates?”

Ven frowned at his scepticism. “Well, what would you call them?”

He shrugged, allowing a smirk. “Just sounds like we’re kids playing at school.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think? I mean I don’t think any pirates go for peg legs and parrots nowadays.”

“The fashion could turn.” He pointed out, like an old spinster warning of bad weather.

“I’m not sure I’d put my money on it.” Ven admitted, trying not to smile, which was easier once she spotted a comms terminal. “Here we go.”

The dimmed lighting didn’t help with finding the keyboard and where she needed to place her fingers, but once she brought up the system’s commands, she was able to navigate easily through the old modules. Ven’s paranoia had focused on the thought that one or two men were bleeding out in the bowels of the miserable vessel, so she didn’t spend too much time looking through the essential systems. But even seeing the brief descriptions typed on screen were enough to make her pause.

“That’s weird…” She mumbled to herself. “Why did they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Well the engines aren’t damaged, not seriously enough for a standstill, anyway. They’ve been switched off through the ship’s software.”

“Why would they do that?”

Veronica glanced over at him, knowing he’d find her suggestions ridiculous before she even said them. “Sometimes when a ship has a software upgrade, the engines are remotely turned off for safety reasons and then tested once the upgrade is complete. I did that earlier today, actually.”

“Okay… So, they broke their own engines because they’re lazy?”

“I don’t think so. ‘Cos this isn’t the most recently updated version, in fact the last update was from three months ago. Going without updates even for that short amount of time can mean that the engines have been switched off due to a glitch in the system – it's rare, but it happens. But option three…”

“Yeah?”

“It could be pirates.”

She expected some mockery, maybe a surprised eyebrow at her paranoia, but he seemed just as convinced.

“Why would they do that?” He asked, lowering his voice.

“Turn off the engines, send out a distress signal and a bigger score usually turns up afterwards.” She replied, matching his tone. “Should we head back?”

“You can. I need to make sure they don’t have hostages.”

“No! No, don’t be stupid.” She hissed. “We get reinforcements, by the book.”

“People could die while we wait-“

“You could die! We need you on board.”

He removed his pistol from its holster and looked at her coldly. “Don’t be emotionally compromised over this. It makes sense, this is my job, just like yours is sorting out that terminal and getting back to the ship.”

She grabbed his arm. “Your job is to be smart about this. If there are pirates and if they have hostages, then they’ll wait for someone-“

The high-pitched squeal of plasma fire tore through their conversation and she could smell the burning flesh before he felt it. The heat quickly destroyed any nerves but the shock of smouldering smoke whisping from his shoulder was enough to send him immediately in a panic. He screamed so loud and hard she was sure the ship would shatter around them, tears and blood and sweat poured from him and all the time only one phrase thudded through her head. Her heartbeat in time with the terrifying thought: he’s going to die.

He was beyond the point of conscious pain or sanity as she wrenched the gun from his hand. She didn’t have time to think, reaching and firing where their attacker had shot, dodging back into cover and waiting until he needed to change his plasma pack. Their blind back and forth continuing with no clear goal, no clear target and Giles was screaming, shaking as he tried to reach for his medicine but unable to grab it without another screech, without another wave crashing down on him.

Her shots were random and fragmented, her eyes unable to adjust to the bright lights and darkness that cascaded one after the other. Sparks flew and singed her face and arm; plasma fire tore a hole piece by piece above their heads, melting some metal that poured like white-hot treacle towards them. The stranger was having as much trouble as she was but they kept up the stalemate, Ven kept firing, the squealing of the gunfire and his screams inevitably would bring the rest of them to them. She had to end it, or they would be surrounded. She had to kill him or they’d die too.

The insanity around her seemed to slow as her thoughts cascaded through time and space to the moments she had with her father, the panic and shock hitting her hard enough that the memories came unbidden. The wisps of vapor from his mouth, the virtual reality they shared between them, firing fake guns in fake shooting galleries, goading one another into making a riskier maneuverer. The days in the hospital as the cancer spread, continuing until it smothered him in darkness, the last days she felt truly connected to someone, the moment when he told her that he was proud of her. Knowing for sure that he’d never speak again and his funeral during a heatwave, the sweat and the salt and the red earth finally taking him.

Her next shot ripped through the neck of the pirate and she watched him tumble to the ground, almost completely unaware of how she did it or how she knew where he’d be. She didn’t see his face, believing it was a blessing not to know. Then she turned, grabbing what Giles couldn’t, stabbing the formula into his shoulder and gritting her teeth as he tried to mute his screams. But in moments, the fog in his eyes seemed to clear and his breaths were slower, purposeful and deep. He focused on her and grabbed the gun from the floor.

“I’ll cover you. Go!”

“What are you doing?!”

“Saving your ass, now move!”

“You’re not dying here, Giles!” She gripped the gun and tried to take it from him. “Get to the airlock. I have an idea.”

“You can’t take them all on alone, are you insane?!”

She ignored his hypocrisy, snatching the gun from his hand. Then she ran down the corridor, finding and accessing the first terminal she came across. She wasn’t sure if the trick would work, but it was the best chance any hostages trapped had. Trackers were fitted in the uniforms of all employees of corporate vessels; tracking their vitals as well and it wasn’t difficult to access the details through some old forgotten code. Most of the newer models had been patched out, but Ven was hoping the back door still existed in the older version.

She stared at the map before her, detailing each part of the ship and there were names only in one part of the ship, each name with UNKNOWN vitals. They were all in the disposal part of the ship, the disposal airlock and incinerator. The names disappeared one by one, the list shortening as each member of the crew was put into the furnace. Five became four, then three and finally two remained. The sickness bubbling within her was enough to make her eyes water, but she controlled any other response – she didn’t have time. There was nothing they could do.

She heard footsteps ahead in the corridor, hurrying towards her. The bastards were coming and they’d try to take their ship next, then everyone else would be in the incinerator. Giles was on his feet and moving as fast as he could, one arm cradling the other as he stumbled towards the airlock. Ven caught up, almost slamming into him but crashing into the door instead, getting the airlock open with shaking hands as the footsteps raced closer behind her.

“What about the hostages?”

“Gone.” She admitted, panting heavily. “Dead, all of them, dead!”

“What-?”

“We have to go!”

He moved into the airlock first, crouching on the floor and losing the remaining feeling in his arm. His face paling by the moment as the morphine started to wear off and his eyes glazed over with the terrifying fog. His breaths becoming ragged, panicked and his skin crawled as he started to tremble.

Ven heard the pirates before she saw them and the cracks of pistols and rifles deafened her as bad as the plasma blasts as she pulled desperately at the airlock. Giles stared, his arms entirely useless, his mind slipping away as the shock gripped him in a vice. She felt like a deer in headlights, exposed and disorientated as she tried to duck around the random bullets that tried to impede their escape. She screamed involuntarily and pulled and pulled as the heavy metal door finally succumbed and sealed them back. Even the most ambitious of pirates had sense enough to leave an airlock well alone.

She was panting, finding all the effort difficult to comprehend, still feeling adrenaline pumping through her. She had saved one life and that felt enough for a lifetime. She turned to him, bringing one arm around him to keep him steady and braced for the impact.

As they floated together, looking at the other’s singed face, the dirt that always seemed to appear and the tears and the fear that they had somehow survived, they both saw pin drops of red float between them. The blotchy red substance seemed to come out of nowhere and once one droplet appeared, another joined it, then larger balls of red floated between them. Giles frowned, believing he was losing his mind to the drugs at first but his face paled and the clarity returned as panic replaced it. He looked down as Ven did.

“Giles…?”

Ven didn’t understand why she didn’t feel the pain at first, as once she was reminded of it, it seemed eternally there. She wanted to scream, but shock had muted her completely, she only stared and felt all the fatigue hit her at once. As the ship’s airlock opened, her head had already dropped and her hand stopped gripping him completely. The shock wasn’t enough to keep her awake and Giles’ voice was like a whisper in an endless ocean. Even when he shouted for help she didn’t understand him and everything faded into darkness.

Ven’s senses were slow to return to her. Her head felt heavy, her arms ached and her stomach gnawed painfully in a way she didn’t recognise. Her eyes opened to a blurred room, the bright light of the open window and sterilised white walls only worsening her nausea. The beeping of her vitals grew louder as the faded blurry vision began to clear and adjust to the Martian sunlight. She saw a window with someone silhouetted against the foreground, sitting with a screen in his hands. For a moment, she thought it was her dad, a ghost to take her away. But the thick hair and young face was unmistakable.

“Hey.” Giles smiled at her warmly.

“Hey…” Ven was confused, trying to remember what happened and feeling the rush build in the back of her mind. She moved her arm suddenly, needing answers. “What-?”

He took her arm, softly, as if it was natural for him. She felt goosebumps as he spoke. “It’s okay. We destroyed the ship. Its okay, relax.”

“Where… How did I get here?” She kept trying to force herself to remember, but only recalled darkness after she collapsed.

Giles smiled a little. “You saved my life, remember?”

She felt as if she was acting on half speed, like a car needing to be pushed before the engine would start. “I… I did?”

“I didn’t know you could shoot like that, Ven. Y-you saved our lives.” He slumped a little, unable to look at her as she pressed him for answers, which he gave reluctantly. “Mac stablised us on board. I woke up a few hours later but you had lost a lot of blood and you weren’t waking up. I…” He took a breath to steady himself. “We were a week away from Mars and… And Mac said you weren’t going to make it.”

“So, you called an emergency shuttle?”

He raised his eyes to meet hers, sorrowful and regretful that he had to tell her. She slumped where she lay. “He didn’t want to risk his fucking career.”

“He said that everyone would have to take a cut.” Giles told her, not trying to hide the venom in his voice. “That the trip back to Mars would mean that we wouldn’t have the fuel to get back into the black. And that... That people took their risks when they signed their contracts.”

She gritted her teeth to avoid spurting obscenities, in some misguided allegiance to him or to keep the hospital sterile, she wasn’t sure. Ven took a deep breath, hoping it would disguise how hurt it felt to be reduced to a number. “How did I get here, then?”

“I requested to take the shuttle and drop you off for treatment. He refused, of course, telling me I wasn’t thinking straight and wanted me to be cleared by Mac before heading back out.” He shook his head. “If I waited that long...”

“I’d be dead.”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I took his shuttle.”

Ven’s eyes widened. “The Captain’s shuttle? You stole the Captain’s shuttle?”

“Stealing is a bit of an overstatement.” He replied and she laughed as he hoped she would. “He drinks himself to sleep on duty, it was bound to happen one day.” He looked back at her. “He threatened to have me court marshaled.”

She scoffed, unsurprised but disappointed. “Drunken prick.”

“I called him worse when he tried to force me back.”

Ven believed him, but also felt goosebumps as he kept his eyes on her. “I guess he fired you, then.”

“I made my resignation pretty clear, I think.” He replied. “But... I got to keep an eye on you, at least. Practice this speech, how’d I do?”

She smiled, despite everything that had happened, he still somehow made her smile and that had all seemed to make it worthwhile. “Well, I guess we’re even.”

“For now, anyway-”

“Do you want to go out for a drink?” Ven surprised herself even as the words were already said. “After I’m out, I mean.”

“I’d love to.”

Veronica didn’t know if her infatuation was a passing feeling or if a drink with him would be one in a string of mistakes. She didn’t know if she’d ever find work again, whether Captain Urak would be found out for his negligence or if she’d be the one to push against him. She couldn’t know anything about what would happen – but she knew for certain that the emptiness inside her was shrinking and was being filled with butterflies.

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