#myself to take up the professors time lest I take the time from someone who needs her help more than me

[aclowntiny]

A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU)

Inspired by the famous tumblr post 😄 also I’m quite tempted to do a part 2 for this one if anyone is into that hehe

Word Count: 3600 | College AU, Basketball Player!Mingyu, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: drinking mentioned, one suggestive comment, one minor swear

He was the guy on campus everyone would have sold organs to go on a date with. The sports guy. The really tall guy. Handsome, plays on the school team, movie love interest guy.

You were the weird girl hardly anyone talked to, and you just liked him because he drew on your notes with you.

History was boring you- you’d already answered the questions and they read the pages out loud at a snail’s pace, sending your eyes diving into the pages lest you want to rip your hair out and coat your long thin institutional table in it. Saving that, you reached into your backpack and pulled out a green ultra fine marker, popping the cap. You reached over and doodled a frog sitting in his funny little amphibian hunch on one of the multitudinous papers strewn about the table before the guy sitting next to you glanced over, a huge smile spreading across his face before he suppressed laughter.

"I've been frogged!" That, of course, had him almost snorting in aborted amusement.

Wait...did that mean? "Oh, sorry, those were your notes, huh?" You asked in response, hand hitting your head lightly. "I got them mixed up, sorry for defacing your property. I can get you a new sheet if you were going to turn that in-"

"Nah," your neighbor, whose name was Mingyu if you remembered from roll call, held up a hand of both restraint and reassurance, "it's fine! I'm going to keep it. I love him. I think he needs a hat, though."

"Oh, I got it." This time, it was a brown marker you grabbed, quickly outlining and filling in a tiny cowboy hat for your creation. "There we go, how's that?"

This time, a full snort. "He looks handsome to me. What's his name?" Mingyu whispered as your professor drew a tad bit closer.

"Uh, Clint Eastwood?" You shrugged, having not exactly thought that far- in fact, not at all, the whole shindig starting at full zero thoughts, head empty.

"Well, I'll take him with me to every class I have," Mingyu replied, glancing fondly at the doodled frog before taking his pencil and drawing a fly between two pieces of bread, "and feed him, too."

At that, you exhaled a quietened laugh, smiling back as wide as he'd done.

"What? Wouldn't that be what a frog eats?"

You had to admit that it would be.

From that day on, you two added one or two things onto Clint Eastwood's page every class session. He had a top hat at the ready for dressing up, a little garden of flowers, a very badly drawn horse to ride, a soccer ball to play with, and a plate of the takeout Mingyu had just really wanted that day. You didn't even know what his major was. Maybe it was just sports. Could one go to school for simply basketball? Who knew? You guys didn't really talk, just drew and whispered and laughed about your froggy little world. Either way, to your simultaneous amusement and annoyance you found yourself really able to see the hype behind the legendary Kim Mingyu. For all the popularity, he was a good guy. And you know what, he was cute. But, like, heart cute. The face cute was just a bonus.

~

"Hey (y/n), do you ever go to any games? I've never seen you at one," Mingyu mused as you strode out of class, backpacks loose over your shoulders.

"Well," you paused, letting your expression be cut by a half-joking, half-serious wince, "no offense, but I'm not a huge sports person? So I haven't gone because I don't have anyone to go with and it hasn't seemed worth the money. Not because of the game, just because of how much they charge for the ticke-”

"Hey, don’t worry, I get it," he laughed, "well, my little sister could use someone to go with, and the ticket would be on me. I save on buying them for myself because, well, you know."

"You're too busy slamming dunks or whatever it is basketball players do," you supplied.

"Depends on your position," Mingyu just chucklef in response, pushing the big silvery-painted fire exit-esque handle of the history building's double doors open.

"Basketball has positions?" You burst out incredulously, squinting both in confusion and at the onslaught of sunlight assaulting your eyes as you emerged past the threshold.

Another laugh. "Come and find out."

~

The game was made more fun by knowing a player- it gave you something to care about as your eyes followed Mingyu's run along the smooth floors, the way he leapt to toss the ball to some guy just as tall or even taller than him. He really played with passion, passion and a clear sense of fun if his remarks on the court were any indication. His sister was pretty cool, too. She looked like a fashion model straight out of Seoul, but she was fun and sassy, not afraid to tease her big brother about the shot he missed when he ran up and greeted you at the sidelines or shoot a questioning look between you two as you told him to do it for Clint Eastwood, whom Mingyu replied was his good luck charm before shuffling back off on sneakers that squeaked against the floor.

Even though you didn't actually hang out with him the whole time, just at celebratory victory ice cream after, you came to history lecture the next session feeling closer to Mingyu, and he must have felt the same as he started talking to you instantly. You rarely initiated conversation, but always welcomed it.

He thanked you for coming to the game as if he hadn’t paid for it, then asked what your major was. You told him and bounced the question back. Turns out it was business, not sports. That history lecture was just GE you both had to get out of the way. The most interesting history lessons to you weren't generic national history or war maps, but all the odd sideline stuff like how some people believed huffing toilets might have helped them during the Black Plague.

"They what?" Mingyu asked, eyes widening and mouth agape as class commenced.

Maybe that was why people didn't really talk to you.

Such reflection was inaccurate, however, as you mindlessly doodled a ridiculous-looking bug-eyed dog on the now-shared note paper and Mingyu chuckled and gave it a collar, smiling when your glance upward met his eyes.

The moment you rose from your seat after lecture, notebook shoved back into your backpack and pencil case into one of the side water bottle holsters or whatever they were called, Mingyu started talking to you again, this time about how glad he was that he didn't join a fraternity like his teammate Johnny.

"Yeah, because see, this one guy just got so drunk he didn’t know where his car was and his girlfriend lost her nose ring, then another guy was sick and they threw him outside and he woke up in the cold locked out of the house, and the houses stink, too, like they smell so bad…”

"Yeah," you muttered, taking each of your bag straps in your hands this walk, palms sliding over the rough fabric, "dude, you couldn't pay me to live in one of those."

“…they’re practically taking after those Black Plague people!” He joked, bringing a smile to both your faces as he mimed taking a sniff, waving his hands in front of his nose and bursting into laughter.

“Except they should know better,” you added, shaking your head in amusement, “they need to get smart like you and I.”

He didn’t laugh, just nodded in approval. "Right? And everyone there has already hooked up with each other. I'm so tired of all that, too. That's not the kind of date I've been looking for, you know?”

In a sense, you did not know, being that none of your classmates had even hardly made conversation let alone a risqué pass, but you got it. Being as popular as Mingyu was, you’d seen how fellow students threw themselves at him sometimes. Had to get uncomfortable, especially if his facial expression at a few of them said anything. They weren’t usually very original, either, poor guy. He was just a clear end goal, and someone who loved his sister and his little drawings and celebrated with ice cream as often as cocktails and laughed at toilets didn’t deserve that. Mingyu wasn’t an ideal, he was a real person. Someone who just needed to have some damn fun for once.

“Sure. You need some- no, you deserve some- creativity. If it was up to me, I’d take you on a date like no other,” you joked, chuckling as your gaze rose back up to his eyes.

“You would?” At the sight of Mingyu’s eyes widening, you wondered if your phrasing had inadvertently crossed a line. Sure, you were totally willing, but- “Alright, just name a time.”

“Wait, really?” This time it was your turn to gape, one hand dropping off your backpack strap to fall to your side. Your heart picked up its pace. Never in a googolplex of years would you have thought Mr. It Boy K. Basketball would want a date with you. Being his friend was surprising enough.

“Yeah, of course. I think it’d be fun,” Mingyu beamed at you, “and I trust you. My sister likes you, too. If…if you really meant it, that is.” He added that last bit as his own gaze dropped and one hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.

Giggling shyly at his sudden sheepishness as well as the situation’s sheer absurdity, you tilted your head his way, smile melting back out of the shock. “Well, thanks, that actually…really means a lot. Get ready for an epic time, then!”

He cocked a brow, turning down between a row of potted trees toward the food court. “Have something in mind already?”

Actually, you did have something you always wanted to do if you could get someone else- it would look too weird to be the only one. Why not do it with Mingyu?

“Be afraid,” you nodded, smirking in satisfaction.

“Well then, how should I dress?”

“Just casual is fine,” you shrugged and teased, “we can’t all afford black tie, Mr. Business Major.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, still giving that wide smile you’d come to anticipate seeing, “Friday night?”

“Friday night,” you repeated.

~

“Get ready for Friday Night Showdown!”

“Um, (y/n), this is the grocery store.”

Your lips turned upward proudly as you rotated from a fist pump into a Vanna White pose before the mart. “I know.”

“Are we…” Mingyu paused, clearly searching for words. “Fighting in here or something?”

“We are not,” you replied cryptically, looking all the more satisfied as you passed between the automatic doors, Mingyu at your side.

“Am I doing your shopping?” He looked at you with still-raised eyebrows, though amusement colored his expression.

“That would be messed up!” You denied, shaking your head. “Though admittedly funny.”

“Don’t get any ideas for date two!”

Your heart flipped at Mingyu’s easy smile, how casually he said that…the way he flushed and looked away the moment the words left his mouth. He was already thinking of your next date? Hope he likes seafood, you internally joked.

“Yeah, no shopping tonight unless you wanted some snacks. Because tonight,” you skipped over all the central aisles of kitchen supplies, soap, and dry goods, making a beeline for the meat section… well, more specifically the fish counter, “is all about the face-off.”

In a split second you caught Mingyu’s eyes dart down once more past rows of cans, bottles, jars of just about every color you could ask for, dancing over their numerical markers as if to say farewell to actual shopping. Then, his gaze was back on you, your gestures, over your shoulder to the tank at the end of the fish counter. The tank full of lobsters with big claws and small patience. His eyes met yours again. He knew. You could see it.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. Pick your champion.”

He twisted his cap around backwards, revealing his face, those big, innocent brown eyes, once more. “Uh, quick question: how do you suggest I keep mine straight from the others?”

He was asking in earnest. That was another thing you liked about Mingyu: not only did he possess childlike wonder beyond what somebody in his age and station in life probably should, he was also a bad liar in the purest, kindest of senses. He really, truly, had never had a grocery store lobster beatdown date, and he couldn’t fake interest if he tried. So now he wanted tips, advice you could give him as if you had already had loads of grocery store lobster beatdown dates. All you could do was smile back at the tall basketball player and every small kindness he’d shown you thus far. The way he’d simply seen you.

“Good question. Don’t they have different colored wristbands?”

He arched a brow, clearly fighting a snicker. “Different what?”

Pantomiming a band with one hand grabbing the other, you stuttered. “You know, the… the claw restraints! The wristbands!”

“I don’t think they have wrists, (y/n),” Mingyu teased, reaching over and ruffling your hair.

Well, of course you realize this means war. “Alright, you are on,” was all you said, eyes narrowing.

He perked up at that. “What’s the bet?”

“Winner gets to pick the next activity,” you reply, sauntering a few steps closer to the lobster tank and pointing to one with a purple band over its claws that was clearly ready to throw- well, for lack of better terminology- hands, “and I choose this one.”

“Well, in that case,” Mingyu returned to your side, arm pressed against yours as he peered into the tank, “the logical choice would be to pick the one in red in front of yours. May the best crustacean win.”

And at that, his competitive stare melted back into that boyish look as he turned to you. “…did that sound cool?”

It almost came out as a snort, you burst out laughing so violently. “That was legendary,” was all you could wheeze out.

~

“Ha ha! I can’t believe it!” Mingyu grinned and bobbed up from his bent tank stare like an excited puppy, pumping the fist that wasn’t holding the mart beer can he’d bought as his lobster shoved yours away in victory.

The pair of crustaceans had been locked in claw-to-claw combat, tussling very slowly over nothing in particular but their proximal frustrations, and Mingyu’s had apparently vented harder, shoving yours back after some aggressive minutes. Mingyu had gotten into the fight, nudging you when something extra exciting happened and even providing commentary on sideline fights between sips.

First drawing a fly sandwich, then that. Truly, who'd've thunk?

“Neither can I," you mock-pouted, crossing your arms, "purple always wins."

"Says who?" Asked Mingyu, who leaned down closer to you, face mere inches from yours.

"Says me," you shrugged, feeling warmth spread across your face.

"Well, you know what?"

You could feel warmth of his breath ghosting faintly over your cheeks, your lips. "Wh- what?"

"As much as I enjoy a good bar," he leaned back a bit, clapping, "I did need something else. Something new. This was fun! Wanna go play basketball in the park? I bet we'll have the court to ourselves!"

There it was again. The reason everyone liked him. Movie love interest vibes, even beneath the oddly-tinted fluorescent lights of commerce. A smile like a boy on the body of a man. Probably not something they usually imagined to see over a lobster tank. Over hoops in the park, though? That tracked, even if it was a bit of a one-eighty from his breath fanning your face.

Beside any of that, he had won the right to choose.

"Sure," you smile, "let's keep your winning streak up."

And with a hand clasped around yours, that athletic strength was tugging you out the grocery store door to a rush of evening wind and the sound of mutual laughter.

~

Basketball really was that man’s passion. Just about the only thing about it you knew about the sport was what a slam dunk was, but what different shots scored different points? You wanted to throw a three-pointer, but what was a three-pointer?

You learned what it was, what an assist was, that elbowing was illegal or something like that because every game had a reason to send the players to sports jail like grown-up cops and robbers.

You got the ball in the basket twice with no help, and that was achievement enough. Mingyu had ran across the court to high-five you both times as if you’d just won him a game. When you messed up the angle of another throw, he got behind you and, trying your best to focus with his chest flush against your back, you tried again and sent the ball sailing without the betrayal of the previous throw’s dramatic arc.

“So can we give Clint Eastwood a basketball now too?” Mingyu asked out of the blue, dropping to the concrete at your side, legs crossing and knees brushing.

“What,” you chuckled, “do you have him with you or something?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small white square out and unfolded it to reveal the piece of lined notebook paper with margins full of marker and pencil scratch, most notably your hatted frog friend. He kept those notes in his pocket?

With the one not holding Clint, he ran a hand through his short black hair. “I do like to have him with me,” he answered with a tentative smile.

You twisted slightly, feeling your spine pop from its prior exertion, and remembered his words from the basketball game as he’d visited your seat, making you laugh with a failed attempt at spinning the ball on his finger. “As a good luck charm?”

He shook his head. “I think we’ve added something almost every time we’ve been together. He’s like a log of all the memories we share.” With that, he scooched closer to your side, his jacket falling over the folds of your own clothes slightly. “And I like our memories, Frog Girl.”

What could you say to that? “Frog Girl?” You just giggled, eyes on his.

“That’s right,” Mingyu nodded, “I can’t believe I would never have talked to you if you hadn’t drawn a frog.”

“Ah, college,” you sighed, tilting your head, “the golden years, and yet it’s so easy to ignore everyone else.”

“Well, no longer,” Mingyu shot back, gaze honing in on…well, you weren’t sure, but you liked it, “I figured out what I want to do with my victory wish.”

You smiled at the phrase ‘victory wish’, a term that was just so him. “I thought that was this.” For emphasis, you waved a hand along the court, feeling the night breeze that much more on the skin of your palm.

“Nope,” he shook his head, smirking as his eyes fell back on yours, “I didn’t say I was using it then, I just asked if you wanted to come out here and you said yes."

Well, coat you in flour and call you a biscuit. "You evil genius, you." At that, you gave a grin and a shake of your own head, unable to resist feeling a bit impressed. Man plays games, he picks up some strategy. You'd have to remember that.

"I prefer to think of myself as a nice genius," Mingyu said, and then, switching tones completely, doing another one-eighty to one sweet enough to make your heart swell, he continued, "and about my wish: can I kiss you? I can't think of a better way to end Friday Night Showdown."

Deathly afraid of saying something stupid, you answered by shifting from your crossed legs, folding them to the side as you sat up, knee resting slightly on the edge of his leg as you pressed your lips to his. The slick of his sports jacket between your fingers felt cool as you gripped it to hold both yourself and Mingyu in place as he surged forward into you. For his speed, his eagerness, his kiss was surprisingly soft, not digging too deep but just firmly holding you, treasuring you as if the feeling of your lips was about to fade. Oh, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, you murmured in your head against the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips.

And as he pulled away, separation painfully slow, deliberate, Mingyu looked you dead in the eyes, blinked at the sudden return of hazy park streetlight, and said “Wow.”

You nodded. “Wow.” Can’t believe how well those lobsters worked, you wanted to say. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Basketball."

“Mr. Basketball,” he mused, gaze briefly drifting from yours, then back. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be that into me, being so funny and smart and artistic and stuff, but I just couldn’t help myself. And boy am I glad for that,” he grinned.

For that, all you could do was kiss him again.

No more hoops were shot that night, only words tossed out with new glee as you, now wrapped in Mingyu’s jacket, pointed out lesser-known constellations, like the Dutch giraffe one or the Poop Deck. After all, you had a reputation to keep up on that date, and everyone had already seen the Big Dipper.

[talubld-archive]

"Soooo if you have decided to remain permanently decoupled from the survey corps- what track are you planning on taking now?" He asked, seemingly out of the blue as he moved to sit by the child. He only had the vaguest idea of what had occurred on account of being seen as an 'outsider' by the majority of the people he'd encountered here, but it hadn't seemed very pleasant on either end.

He knew it wasn't really any of his business, but he'd never been good at staying out of things when there was something he was curious about. Back home, maybe Ingo would have reminded him not to pry, but he wasn't there to do that now. He was there, but he treated Emmet like he was a complete stranger. As much as he tried to just deal with it, knowing it was still leagues better than not knowing where his brother was or thinking he might be dead, he could only handle it in short bursts. If Emmet was around him for too long, he just got frustrated and upset and angry, and he always took it out on people that didn't deserve it. Even Ingo.

"The corps were not very helpful to me, either." He sighed, picking up a flat rock and trying to skip it over the lake's surface. "I am not always the best at sympathizing with others. But I know what it is like to feel stuck. Like this is your last stop, with no available transfers. So for what it's worth, I'm sorry. If I was not so lost myself, I would offer advice. But I don't have any. If you find a track that seems worth following, let me know. I'm at the end of my line." It was probably kind of stupid to basically be asking a kid of all people for advice on what to do or where to go next, but he'd already exhausted all of his other options.

@wrongtrain.

the ( now ex ) survey corps member looks out over lake verity with a mixture of emotions hidden by a stoic wall covering his features. uncertainty, rage, to name a couple, but never regret; to stand against regret would mean spitting on the ideals he holds not only about himself but that of the survey corps' hypocritical stance of the unknown. ironic, really, considering their main prospect is to discover the truth of the unknown yet they fear the very thing they sought for. to allow those from various regions to join their ranks, but to immediately turn their back on someone out of time - not only once, but twice, considering what happened with warden ingo.

to turn their back on someone who needed help after all he'd given them in return. was it too much to ask for them to trust him? of course, even rei understands that. that inkling of who he was before all this knew that too, but somewhere deep down he had hoped the people could see to reason - to see how he had nought to do with the events which had transpired; to see he had simply been following the orders given to him lest he'd be chucked out into the wilds to perish. yet the wilds is where he finds himself now once again. at least this time was by choice.

at least they had allowed him to keep the uniform after all he'd done, he muses bitterly.

" I was brought here for a reason, " rei finally regards emmet's question though it's easy to see even the once energetic and optimistic emotions he'd hold within his tone dwindled after the whole affair. " arceus, I think, sent me here with direction to seek all pokémon out and what happened with dialga and palkia seemingly calming down with me still here, I guess I'm living up to that. "

but where does that stop? to seek out all who live in the lands of hisui, or to travel and pursuit further into regions unknown? he's heard of a few lands here and there, some striking resemblance to regions he remembers such as the professor's homeland of galar, and that one security guard's home in alola... was it arceus' demand he catalogues all species from everywhere else, too, or just hisui? will he and ingo ever be able to return home? he doesn't know, nor does he want to to think about that until the time arises. at least this way he could still help the professor fill out his pokédex - this hadn't been laverton's fault after all, and rei would be damned to put someone else's dream in jeopardy purely because of the survey corps' treatment towards himself.

his mindless rambles come to a halt upon the realisation that emmet's words had changed from curiosity to that of despair - for a lack of a better word. rei's gaze tears itself away from the burning spot he'd created in verity's distance to return to emmet, frown eminent but replaced quickly with empathy and sorrow. he hadn't known much about the other's familial ties to warden ingo but seeing how they interacted, how he spoke about it all now, rei can't say he understands but sympathises at least with it all. to lose your family not once, but twice, even if they're there in form but spirits disconnected from each other. severed and likely to never return.

it was cruel.

rei sighs, but tries to give his best optimistic smile almost like his mind had been made up from the get-go. if meeting arceus could help the brothers, even if sacrificing his own way home, he'd take it. he'd take that any day. he's grown accustomed to this life now, anyway, doesn't remember a home. family. only those who showed him the kindness humans have yet keep so guarded. one being ingo, and he'd be damned if he couldn't help out in return. " you enjoy battling, don't you? there aren't many here who do but there are plenty of pokémon with aggressive dispositions who'd happily give the satisfaction of fighting back - as well as somebody who needs to fill out a pokédex of all species here. why don't you join me? we... don't have to travel together all the time but it's something worth thinking about. "

like the original journey of a trainer, his mind rings out in the distance. nostalgic for a time he barely remembers.

[aineryeo]

Sweet Tea ௹ OSAMU

Sweet Hibiscus Tea — Better Twin. 🍵

SYNOPSIS: You are not a protagonist but your best friend definitely is. When will you ever be, sweet little side-character? » 6.2k Words

THEME: A li'l bit of a slow burn love story, angst, just a treat as my first fic in a year. | Bit of profanity, cussin', teen drama. And use of dialogue references!

NOTE: Low-key felt like this was crap, rip. I still love you so much ‘Samu :( I may have not written this the best

If you were to think of what your role in life was, you were sure you were a comic relief character, and your screen time was just cut short because the viewers in the show you call, “Life” are not giving you the best reviews. With the amount of times you felt like you were cycling through all your days the same, waking up… Waking.. Up.. Wake— Yeah, that was about it.

Everything else was an objective agenda. You were a sufficient klutz, whatever that paper was. You ponder, in your inner monologue while you’re tapping your push-pen on your school desk in Inarizaki.

“— And we’ll be designing our own living rooms as part of the Course Outline for Interior Studies in the general subject.”

You had a best friend, continuing to ignore the incessant babbles, you say as you write a little note to remind yourself to think of a living room design to finish the work quickly later. You had a best friend, who you can easily say is the main character of life. You swear, as she sat close to the window, and how she wasn’t mean, she was charming; it was so hard not to like her. But she’s also insecure, keeps to herself enough, having you by her side.

“Hear that ‘Samu?”

“What now, ‘Sumu?”

“Interior Designin’! Weren’t ya listenin’ ya scrub.” Bleach-blonde hair.“What about it?” Disinterest; Bleached hair too, but ash-grey.

“Ain’t Kori-Kori real good at stuff like this?”

You observed the two famed twins of Inarizaki High. Actually no, you were forced to; how? Well, you sat between them, not like that ever stopped anyone, nor did it ever interfere with your boring experience of being a 2nd mid-year Senior. You just wanted to get up, and leave, get a job or something; not going to lie.

“Is there anyone talking at the back right there? Anything the class would like to hear, pretty sure.” Professor said, which immediately shut the two up, the other was blatant and oblivious, even whistling.

“Guessed so.” Your professor went on right after.

Your chin was resting on the heel of your palm now, but you felt someone roughly, no really, they roughly tapped your shoulder, the touch was from a clearly heavy hand. It came from your right, which was…

“Hey missy, pass this on to my brother, will ‘ya?” He grinned widely, his other hand that held the pen used to write a note in the torn paper from his notebook that most likely didn’t have any notes despite it being mid-year. You let out a bit of a grunt, not moving from your position, but you did use your hand that was tapping your table to pass it on to the other Miya without sparing a glance.

“...”

“...”

Your arm was about to die. 

You turned to the other Miya, a small frown on your face as he ignored your outstretched hand, his eyes were closed, arms crossed but he was definitely not sleeping, it was obvious enough. So you tried to aggressively wave your arm that held the letter while keeping an eye on the doting teacher upfront, trying not to be obvious. His brother had noticed that he was ignoring you as well, shrugging when your frown deepened, back straightening on your desk, your free hand now tapping on your table instead of being a rest for your head.

“Hey ‘Samu ‘ya jerk…!” Atsumu whispered, a volume tad higher, to his brother who proceeded to ignore him; and technically, you too.

You groaned and ignored the two, equally annoying twins that are involving you into a situation you don’t want to get involved in. So you just slammed, actually no, not slammed exactly but you did harshly place the torn paper that contained some unnamed letter from Atsumu directed to Osamu. Wistfully, this was noticed by your professor.

“Y/N. I believe it’s been made clear that passing notes is not allowed in my class, rather, on any occasion that involves other subjects as well.” They scolded.

You sucked a breath in between your teeth, your hand ran through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Switch seats with Yokori. This seating will last ‘till the end of the year, ‘lest you misbehave again. This applies to everyone else who has been swapped constantly.”

Yokori gave you a solemn smile, knowing you hated this, she gathered her belongings and quickly sat to avoid any more trouble; even opting to give you a pat on your shoulder on the way to her desk near the window, though not quite beside. One classmate separated you from being directly beside the scenery of school grounds that held the gym where your schools’ famous volleyball team resides for practices. Actually, this classmate was one of their players, Suna Rintaro? Your impression on him was that he was quiet… Enough, if not provoked or talked to at all, which you guessed was part of your luck. Because you were definitely not going to talk to him, less it required you to by any of your classes together.

So you sat, your professor continued, and your eyes landed on your best friend that sat on your previous seat, since your first year of middle school. Bored expression on once again, your thoughts dialed back, and you noticed a quick interaction from Atsumu towards your best friend who flushed slightly from the two’s attention, noticing that even the twin who ignored you earlier began perking up, just a little bit. And the feeling was slight but you felt a tinge of annoyance, proceeding to push it to the back of your mind, not letting the feelings against your best friend surface. Because she was good, and undeserving of it, obviously.

The bell rang, it was time for lunch!

Lunch is a happy time, because you can buy yourself chocolate, and you can, well, eat lunch. What else is there for? You were bored out of your mind at home after doing your homework, and studying enough for the day so you practiced cooking. Which you admit, was very enjoyable, especially when you finish. Today was tuna sushi rolls, seaweed-strapped spam meat, seasoned rice, and hot tamarind soup in your insulating tumbler. You didn’t notice light gray irisess eyeing you in your little daydream about your lunch for today.

“Y/N, you good?” Yokori, said best friend went next to you, who had just finished gathering your lunch bag. You nodded, smile small. “Yep, let’s go.”

The class dispersed quickly, you two walked side-by-side as she timidly told you a story about her situation earlier.

“So Atsumu-san was passing notes to his brother Osamu, right? T’was so weird because they kept asking me questions, but Atsumu-san was nice, he wanted help with that Interior Designing project we have going on.” She laughed, scratching her cheek. You nodded along to her story, she was used to your rather quiet demeanor, she knew you were still listening. “They said it’d be cool to attend their after-school volleyball practice.”

“Mmh. Really? They’re annoying though.” You humored her, to which she chuckled.

“I mean… It shouldn’t be bad to try it, right?” She said with a big grin, bright.

You jutted your lips forward as you bobbed your head in agreement, already taking your chopsticks and lunch out when you found a free table. “I guess so.” You said, mouth chewing on a roll.

You pour a portion of soup to get the food down your throat onto your tumbler’s cap that serves as the cup, and drank, “So I told them you’re coming with me, I’d be too nervous by myself… Hehe..” and spat.

“Kori, what?”

“Come with me…” She looked at you, nervously smiling with her eyebrows raised in mock questioning, “-please.”

“Okay.”

“I promise, I’ll ask you next ti— wait, really? Holy shit, Y/N, thank you! I’ll pay you back, for sure. I didn’t expect you to agree quickly, d’you have a crush on any of the VBC members, perhaps?” She teased.

You were eating continually, mouth full of rice as you pointed your metal chopsticks toward her. Speaking with your mouth full, “I don’t think there was any point trying to say no if I’d say yes in the end anyway. It already happened, what can I really do?”

She nodded in understanding, you were always like this, relaxed about what happened around. It was worth idolizing, at least. Your head felt like it was burning, the back, you mean. Was someone staring?

You were now sitting outside of the gym, deciding to hang around outside instead of watching sweaty boys play for hours. Kori became more relaxed, so you took the go-mark and asked to leave when you noticed that she was. The team was fond of her, you note, Shinsuke Kita the Captain even thanking her for thinking of buying them snacks and helping them around with their manager to fill up the boys’ water bottles. The team gave her attention and copied their captain in terms of providing gratification for her deeds. You heard her ‘lax conversation next to the banter with the twins that was a normal recurrence.

You were simply a drifting particle, a bystander.

Actually wait, you remembered that you had packed yourself a little snack in case you had to stay in school for some surprise activity you forgot about, or situations like this exactly. So you took out your little box of homemade onigiris, not noticing the figure looming at the door. It was their break, and you were about to bite.

“Hey, that yours?” You hear, stopping your bite mid-way, turning your head to see ash-grey.

“Huh.”

“Ya deaf or what, missy?” The nerve.

You looked at him, and bit on the prism-shaped rice, then looked forward once again, closing your eyes even. ‘Till you heard shuffling and a sleazy figure sitting next to yours. That was when you opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape. Osamu Miya, sat next to you, his legs spread, and his arms were holding his whole posture as his head faced yours.

“If yer gonna look at me like that, the least ya could do is gimme one, little miss.”

You shook your head and swallowed. “Stop calling me little miss, old man.”

“Hoho, old man?” He says, humoring you, you can smell his cologne from here, mixed with sweat from his practice. He leaned forward, his arms now intertwining, resting on his knees, he was facing you with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’d call you shit hair but your hair ain’t the color.” You shrugged, but it was the type of shrug where you slightly move your hands outward. So when you did, the hand that held your bitten snack was when the big fox ate his fill. “Mm, tastes good.”

“Fucki-” You screeched. His eyes went wide when you just shoved the onigiri in his mouth, “It has your germs now, better not choke, gran’pa.”

Osamu was trying to give you a snide reply back but he couldn’t, with the rice stuck in, he just kept chewing. As you stood up and yelled to Kori that you were leaving. You were a side character, nothing more, you thought; as you walked away from the boy who had tried reaching to you, but you failed to notice.

“So… He invited me to their house to hang out.” Yokori said happily on the phone, you were trying to sketch a few designs you felt like doing so hummed, already quite satisfied, spinning on your chair right after. “So…”

“No.”

“But I haven’t said anything yet!”

“You were about to ask me if I can come with you because you’re nervous to go alone, the usual, hm?”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...Yes.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“N-”

“I’ll order you takeout pizza!”

“...Okay.”

You heard her cheering yes! On the other line, to which you just slumped in your chair to. And so, the day came and you were right behind Kori, who was knocking on the Miya residence as of the moment. The one who greeted the both of you was Osamu Miya, you internally groaned, their parents were off, you heard.

“Tsumu!” Your best friend smiles, greeting the other twin brightly; and smiling so wide at the twin at the door. “Hello ‘Samu!” She said, before the blonde had pushed past the door to beam at her.

“Brought your li’l friend along, cutie?” Atsumu jokes, rustling your friend’s hair before beckoning the two of you to come in. You walk past Osamu who you had mild grudges with. Your friend turned to you, “I’ll be helping Atsumu with some plates for the project, we’ll be up in his room!” She said, innocently.

“Mmh, okay. I’ll stay here?” You asked, more to yourself, you didn’t really know where to stay. This wasn’t your place.

“Accommodate the guest ‘Samu, I need’a do important school stuff.” Atsumu waved off as the two walked up the stairs on the way to the boy’s room, pretty sure. You stood there in the middle for a couple minutes, unsure. The renowned ‘less annoying’ Miya was sitting on one of their kitchen stools, his cheek digging into his palm, just staring at you. You stared back. He stared back. You were both staring.

You broke. “Not gonna let me sit, or anything?”

“Sit anywhere or something.” He droned, still looking at you. He was enjoying it.

So you looked at the couch beside you, then spared a glance at him, about to sit until he spoke again, “Hmm, not there.” He said in his low voice that contained an underline of mockery, you were sure. Though to him, it was simply amusing, to watch you that is. If anyone outside the two of your observing based gazes, he was actually sporting a noticeable smile. A small triangle smile, as if he was shy to make it any bigger, in hopes of hiding something.

You tried the two other chairs, the floor, leaning on a wall, but it was all a reject. You were embarrassed every time. Did you really have to go through all this just to get takeout pizza? You’d have to ask more later, that's for sure. So you tried for a last option, there was a tall stool right beside his, and well, three others far from him. So you tried the farthest tall stool from him, which was the far left. He shook his head no, you furrowed your eyebrows, you moved to the second stool, still no? Every move made your head wrinkle further down ‘till you reached the last seat, right next to him. To which he finally said, “Got it, pretty girl.” with a big boyish grin.

You didn’t have time to react to the nickname before finally letting out a sigh as you stretched your arms, and legs before laying your head on your arms that were resting on the table in front. That whole interaction probably took at least half an hour, you didn’t really know, you didn’t have a watch. “Pretty, my ass.”

He hummed, resting his head on his arms as well, though he was facing you. “Yer ass is.”

“The fuck.”

“Ya got a bad mouth.”

You groaned, and buried your face in your arms. Wanting to escape this. But you were lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t subconsciously enjoy his attention. You weren’t used to it, you weren’t supposed to feel this, right? It wasn’t, it just, it’s not you. Right? You shook your head to which the boy watched you do, getting your head up, posture straight and looking at him. He looked back, like he always seems to do.

“What do you want from me?” You say.

Osamu kept his mouth shut, still looking into you, thinking of what to say. Unwilling himself to tell you what he’d rather. So he asked a question, “D’ya cook?”

“Yeah, I make my own lunch and snacks.” You said, wary. Already feeling suspicious, you raise both your brows.

“Let’s cook.” He suggests.

Here’s the thing, you can’t do anything right if someone’s watching you too intently. It feels awkward, who in their right mind is able to do this right when he’s gripping your wrist that was stirring the batter for what the both of you decided to make, muffins.

“Ya gotta put in the right amount of strength.” He instructed.

“I’m starting to regret mentioning that I don’t bake often.” You thought, you thought you just thought that it was only in your thoughts. Oh no, you were becoming redundant, was it always this hot?

“Yer burnin’ figuratively, and literally. By that, your eyeballs are wide as fuck.” Osamu pointed out, he was biting his lip, to keep from a wide smile. “Tryna bake with yer hot gaze?”

What? “Huh.”

Now Osamu had wide eyes, I think it came off more sultry than intended. So he moved away from you as if you were burning his skin, though technically, you really were. Playing it cool. “What?”

“My what.”

“Yer… What?”

You were staring at him with a confused expression, about to open your mouth when, “Hey scrub! Make me a snack, I’m starvin’ over here.” Atsumu yelled from the room, you heard Kori’s small laugh and a faint, “Don’t be so mean, ‘Tsum.”

“Right. Let’s put ‘em in the tray then straight to the oven, yeah?” Osamu started, standing next to you, his face was not quite visible due to his wide shoulders, if you knew better, he might be obstructing your vision to not see the steaming heat from his ears. Spoiler, you did. But you chose not to poke at a sleeping bear.

“You sick? Got red ears?” You poked at a sleeping bear.

Actually, you were expecting a snark reply, it was easier that way. Just be sarcastic back. It was when the both of you were done, and placed the tray containing the muffin batter in the oven to bake, did Osamu dip his index finger in the bowl of slightly empty batter, facing you, and licking it off his finger. You really tried, you did; you tried not to look at the way he did that so unabashed. Dipping the same finger on the last remaining batter before menacingly leaning closer to you, inches from your face. If you could measure it exactly, 2.8 inches? So close.

Your weight moved from the heel of your foot to the front, again and again, what was he doing?

“What are you—?” You began before you got cut off by his finger wiping the batter on your lips, it made it look like you had a mustache. You stood there surprised for a few seconds, not knowing how to react, and hated how you expected something so different. It was until you heard a click of a camera and a low chuckle vibrate from the boy in front of you that you took the few remaining flour that was right in your reach to throw it in front of his face, making a huge fog of flour. He coughed for a bit, his eyes were glistening as he took the bowl next to him, using his whole hand to wipe leftover batter, getting ready to chase you.

You noticed. So you ran, but not without screaming, the leftover flour bag in your hand.

“No, please,”

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” He replied breathily, both of you were circling the kitchen island.

It took a good ten minutes before he decided to jump the island, and ran to quickly get hold of you with both of his arms, his hair tickling the side of your neck which made you laugh too hard, flour was all over his hair and apron, you failed to notice the handprint of batter right on your chest because you were struggling so hard to get off his grip. He was laughing too, you put on your scowling face, though not really mad, to face him, who in turn faced you as well. You didn’t notice the distance between the two of you was nearly non-existent; I repeat, nearly.

“Hey ‘Samu! I’m starvin’ and I smell yer bakin way over in my room.” You heard quick footsteps down the stairs, which made you jump in your skin. But even with that speed, you were still caught. Because Atsumu had an unreadable expression, “This place is a mess! Did we interrupt too early, hm?” Kori taking a peek right behind Atsumu.

You heard a dry cough from the other twin, facing the other direction, you facing the other as well. None of you spoke in time, so you took it. “No, uh, we weren’t, nothing was happening.”

“The scene of the crime is proof!” Atsumu pushed, teasing, as he continued his way down next to Kori.

“Shut it ‘ya scrub.”

“Yer the scrub, scrub.” They started bickering, real easy like that, trying to beat each other up. You noticed Kori walking down the stairs as well, first with an expression you couldn’t quite place, as if she was thinking deeply. But when she noticed you looking, she quickly changed into a bright smile, even sporting a blush, ready to tell a story about what happened behind the closed doors of Atsumu’s bedroom.

The day ended quickly after that, Osamu forced Atsumu to help the both of you to clean the kitchen while Kori volunteered to. It continued on like that, Kori dragging you into one of her meetings with Atsumu, you complaining but coming anyway, and you end up stuck with Osamu as she goes to her rendezvous with Atsumu that at this point, you have no idea what they’re doing. You just tag along.

Right now, you were beside Osamu in the gym during their break from training. Near the door, his teammates a good few distance away as he sat on a bench with his usual posture. Slumped back, his arms arching, one behind you that you fail to think of anything. Just as a general position. You were voicing out a thought you had in a while, seriously.

“So I was balls deep into ghosts way back—”

He looked at you, disgusted. “GROSS,” Shoving you lightly, “God, please never, ever say ‘balls deep in ghosts’ to anyone ever again. I feel like washin’ my mouth having to repeat that.” He even added this mild shudder that was just an exaggeration.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t really want to think about anyone having sex with a ghost.”

“Huh, who said anything about ghost sex?”

“You did, Y/N! Just now!”

“I didn’t—Oh, holy shit. No. Oh no.”

“What?”

“Does ‘balls deep’ not mean you’re standing in, like, the shallow end of the pool, metaphorically. Like up to your balls or something.”

“No! Balls deep is—It’s…”

“Balls deep is…”

“Why are you two talking about balls?” Suna interjected, acting as if he was just hearing about your conversation now. He was actually listening since the start, noticing the short distance between the both of you, interest hiding behind his eyes. “Balls, as in, dick or something? That’s wild.”

“Suna, no!” You screeched.

Osamu was biting back a laugh. The team was watching the three of you converse, getting used to the sight of you with their teammate. Assuming other things up the clouds. Atsumu was watching his brother with hawk eyes, and so was the girl next to him, Kori, though she was looking at you. If Suna was being honest, he didn’t notice any form of chemistry between your friend and the piss haired twin. They were all smiles and bright, but they always looked like they were thinking of something different. Though he doesn’t know anything about it.

Practice ended. It’s been months, and your interactions with Osamu have gotten more laxed. Your thoughts about being nothing more than a side-character was starting to change, because with him, you felt that you were a number one choice. You felt that you were a main character. Osamu felt the same, being with you felt like time was moving too fast and he wanted to spend it more with you, he was becoming insatiable. With you, he didn’t feel second to his brother for once. Lingering touches, his hand forgetting to unhook from yours, and his arm slinking around your shoulders as he yawns and asks for one of your homemade snacks as he starts to make some after-school snacks to give back to you. 

You were invading his mind as much as he was invading yours. Sitting next to you during lunch, asking what’s in your bento, vice versa. Why was everything sailing so smooth? It was like it was just him and you. You heard rumors from the Miya fans that they were thinking you were Osamu Miya’s girlfriend. Forgetting your inferiority, sometimes the universe was just cruel, so it had to humble you.

“Atsumu and I broke up.” Kori sobbed.

Not to you, but to Osamu. You gripped your bag’s strap tightly. You peeled your lip with your teeth until the middle bled, so you sucked in the pain. No, you were not the protagonist. You weren’t, you never will be, and you never are in the past, present, and future. So you sucked in a breath to collect yourself, seeing Osamu pat the girl to attempt and comfort her, badmouthing his brother. “Sorry,” Her first gripped his shirt tighter.

“Osamu, please. It’s—I always liked you. It was just you.”

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t, but why? You wanted to hit her, that, or jump off a building and die. None of them noticed you yet, at least that’s what you thought, but the sobbing girl had already seen you before she started bawling, and the other twin was forced to give her a tight, but awkward hug.

“Yokori… I liked you.” 

You were about to walk to them normally after licking your lips from the blood, wanting to appear as a third party, to not let this happen. It just can’t. but you were pulled back by your collar. Who—

“Atsumu?”

He put his index finger in front of his lips to silence you, “Shh.”

So you followed him confused, he held your hand away from the scene. Leading you to the gates, the school half-empty, their practice about to start in half an hour or so. “Atsumu, why?” You croaked. 

He had his eyes widened a bit, why? Actually, why did he pull you from that scene? His other hand that didn’t hold yours, which you didn’t bother to remove with the energy seeping out of your body quickly; it was taking everything in you not to break down. It went to his nape, rubbing it in question to himself, why? It was just that, seeing you staring at a scene when he knew you liked his brother, at a scene too painful, for a best friend who was just trying to do their paper, he knew. So his arms safely wrapped around you as you stared dead into his eyes, looking at his features that resembled the other who had unknowingly captured your heart.

Your bleeding lip trembled, your eyes turned glossy of the tears held back, Atsumu looked at you, empathetic. He broke up with your best friend because he couldn’t see it happen, every time he saw you with his brother, that wasn’t what they both had. They were simply not meant to be, and he was fine, he just didn’t know, but he was glad that because of it, he found out that she liked his brother more than she did him. He’d be angry, he should be, for his sake, but he wasn’t angry for him, he was angry for you. 

He hid your face into his chest instead.  You didn’t sob, solely because you thought you didn’t deserve to. But you cried, you let your tears soak in, “You look like him too much.”

“Shhh, I know—” Sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to look at me.” He said, trying his best to comfort you, caressing your hair. As a pair of grey eyes watched the scene from a distance, unable to hear, but able to see. Maybe he saw too much as he grimaced.  

Osamu tried his best not to punch his brother right in the jaw, or push him away so he could yell everything he’d kept cooped up inside before you came running along, turning monochrome into a saturated-vision of the world. His teeth were pressing down on each other hard enough, he thought it might break, and shatter, just like his heart did. Of course, you chose his brother. Everyone always does. Every time he thinks he’s got it all, it’s all swiped underneath by his twin. Everyone says that it wasn’t their talents, or skills in volleyball that was the greatest gift they had ever received in life. It was their twin. But right now, he just thinks he was a curse he had to always deal with.

He jolted as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Suna.

“Practice. Kita’s calling. Call your brother.” The ever-observant boy runs over as he scans the scene, and hisses as he sees you wrapped in his brother’s arms. Though he knew more than that, he had first-class seats to this theatrical after all. But he’d rather not be part of the act club, it wasn’t his forte.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Osamu replied, briefly. A bit tense, still.

He looked back to Atsumu who had let you go, and you who were walking away already. On the way to your home, he was sure. But he can’t help but cringe, thinking of it as your way of walking away from him.

“Practice! ‘Sumu!” He yelled, devoid of anything.

You jolted, you were a bit far but he yelled really loud you could still hear it. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, but you were both overcome by swirling emotions that stopped both of you to do the bare minimum, smile and wave, no after-school snacks. Atsumu jogged towards them, not noticing his brother’s attempt at hiding his huge frown. Practice was hell for Osamu, he didn’t want to see his brother right now, not when he still thinks of your precious little form hugging his brother’s, not his.

When his brother accidentally served a ball hitting Osamu behind the head, it was more of a switch for his anger; his rage.

“Fucking hell.” He said, turning viciously towards his brother who was uttering lighthearted apologies. It wasn’t until he started stalking towards Atsumu did the team start watching them like hawks, Aran thinking it’s just another one of their silly fights. But that thought was cut off when Osamu suddenly launched a fist towards Atsumu. “Ya just get off on this, huh? Ya get off on giving me bullshit every time.”

“Woah, ‘Samu I said I was sorry. What the fuck.” Atsumu said, brows furrowed, voice starting to get scratchy at his brother’s tight grip on the collar of his shirt. His hand quickly gripped his brother’s wrist tied to his shirt, attempting to get it off him, starting to get riled up from getting hit out of nowhere. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?” He said, about to kick his brother off of him.

“You. You just took everything from me, ‘Sumu. You took them.” 

Osamu breathed heavily as Kita instructed the team to peel the twins away from each other as this wasn’t one of their silly fights at all. It held other issues. The captain knew that practice wouldn’t be able to continue like this, so he made them do drills before allowing them to go home. Looking pointedly at the Miya’s. The two brothers did what they were told to, going off to do their drills, and getting ready to go home.

They were walking silently side-by-side, both faces covered with a frown, Atsumu’s face having a bruise by the jaw whilst Samu didn’t have a scratch, only because Atsumu was realizing where it all came from.

“Did ya see?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look— It’s not what ya think, ya idiot.” Atsumu started, Osamu raised his brow at his brother. “I don’t want to say anything. Figure things out yourself, scrub.” Then the blonde started walking faster, leaving his brother behind to ponder.

The next day came by, he tried calling you but it never got through. Did you block him? What did he do? Did you really get repulsed by him to avoid him to that extent? That involved his texts getting left unanswered. You didn’t come to school today, he asked Kori, who he had rejected yesterday, and who was supposed to know about you more than he did. Though he was aware that you often felt inferior to her, as he told you the same about his brother, it was a feeling that you two were all too familiar with.

“I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry. She’s not talking to me either.” 

Osamu stayed quiet at that, he thought you just needed time. So he let it go, looking forward to talking to you the following days. But that was the problem, you weren’t there in the following days either. He knew where you lived but he didn’t want to impose as your family didn’t know him very well yet either. He stopped himself from visiting until it hit the second week of your absence. Where were you? Why have you disappeared as if you never existed in the first place? He was growing worried, he wanted you to exist. He loved existing when you were around. And he wanted to clear everything up after getting multiple clues from Suna, and his brother, obviously.

It was until the class of the second week you were gone, when Osamu promised to visit your house after school, did their teacher tell them news that tore Osamu in half.

“One of our students Y/N L/N has transferred schools. The administration just finished filing her transfer after her visit yesterday, she didn’t get to say goodbye as her family moved out the same day. That’s about it, the first class is Physics. Have a nice day ahead, students.”

His ears were ringing. You were gone. Gone like the liquid that slipped past his hold. Atsumu looked at his brother in pity, knowing how much he had lost at that time. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t hear Osamu crying in the shower when they got home. Or when he tried to not get his snot on his pillows, sniffling in the night. His heart ached for his brother.

It’s been years since 2nd year in High School, and Osamu has just opened up Onigiri Miya. His brother had gone pro on Volleyball, and he couldn’t be more proud. He still finds himself thinking back to a few months of pure bliss in highschool, and he tried dating a fair share as well, in hopes that he’ll get what he had with you. He didn’t. So he dedicated himself to his work, and his passion: cooking. A few more years and his business was a success, to which was hell for the first few months, having no investors, and all. He was wiping down his counter, black cap on, his hair not having the same old bleached-grey hair. Instead, it was back to his natural dark hair.

“What is this place, really?” 

“The name reminds me of someone from my highschool days. But I only heard about it now, is it really good?”

“Yeah, totally! We should bring our superiors here, and see if we get a few favors, hmm? The onigiri here is a star-choice.” Osamu sees someone turned around, laughing prettily, smiling all-wide, they were bright. Until the same eyes he used to look at in such a close distance, caught his own. His heart skipped two beats, or maybe skipped beating this whole time, maybe he died because god, did he finally send his angel back to him?

It was when you uttered his name under your breath, from the entrance that rang the bell prior to the conversation he overheard earlier did he confirm it. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, as he takes off his cap, ruffles his hair, chuckling deeply, and looking directly back at you; your heart spasms. “Where have you been?”

Bonus:

“Yeah, he was a real bitch when I first talked to him in high school.” You badmouthed him loudly from your table, which made him yell from the kitchen, “I was trying to see if you’ll take my hand and put the note there, okay!” Laughing, you didn’t notice him stalking behind you until he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Grumpy-ass.”

Living with 'Samu! ⁆ End Credits

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing. 

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company. 

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

 “Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked. 

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

 “Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

 “You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

 “I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again. 

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

 “If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants. 

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest. 

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has. 

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is… 

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”

[good-rwbyaus]

What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

Becoming :: mod lilac :: Part 1 out of 2. 

What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it. 

Test

“You cannot be serious, Headmaster!” Goodwitch burst into the room just as Headmaster Ozpin made his offer of early entry into Beacon. Ruby couldn’t help but grimace at the Huntress’s words - they hurt, especially since they came from someone she admired so. 

“Oh? But weren’t you singing praises about young Miss Rose earlier?” Ozpin spoke with a hint of joviality. “What was it? Amazing potential, excellent coordination, sharp eyes, animalistic instinc-”

Wait wha-

“All of what I spoke is what she could become in the future,” Goodwitch objected, “She’s still too young. Hasn’t even completed her training back at Signal. If you bring her to Beacon, she’ll just be building on an unstable foundation - who knows when she’ll topple over?”

“There’s too much she’s lacking in, “ the Huntress continued, “She hasn’t developed the muscle mass to fully control her weapon. And her situational awareness is poor, especially when she tunnel visions like what she did tonight.” 

Ozpin nodded his head at Goodwitch’s assessment. The gesture made her feel like a rock settled into her stomach, and the man’s following words didn’t help.

“Excellent points,” Ozpin agreed before he turned his head to her, “What do you have to say Miss Rose?”

Her eyes were like a deer in headlights, open and wide. She couldn’t lose this chance. She wanted to fight against the Grimm. And a day sooner she got into Beacon was a day sooner she’ll become a Huntress. She could stay at Signal, but... 

“I know Professor Goodwitch is right,” Ruby agreed hesitantly, “I’m lacking in a lot, probably so much that I don’t even know what I’m lacking. But Signal... Signal won’t help me.” She closed her eyes and sighed, “I’m tired of watching from the sides because the teachers are afraid I’ll break my fellow students’ confidence.” She trembled before gritting her teeth, “I’m tired of being left alone because the teachers think I’m already in a good place and there’s so many others that need help. They just tell me that everything will come with time and to practice on my own.”

“There’s only so much I can do learning through books and training by myself,” Ruby quietly said, “And my dad and uncle are busy with Hunter business and teaching. I can’t take too much of their time just because I want training.”

She shifted her feet uneasily before repeating, “I know I’m lacking, but Signal will not help me find those things. So please let me into Beacon.”

“All I ever wanted was to fight the Grimm. I want to become a Huntress. I never wanted anything else,” she bowed her head quietly, not able to meet either of them in the eyes, “Please give me a chance.”

The silence in the air was palpable, almost as if it could be sliced. It lingered, and she could feel Professor Goodwitch’s gaze pierce through her. Seconds felt like minutes as time dragged on, and before she could speak to get rid of the unnerving quiet, Goodwitch spoke first. 

“Beacon Academy’s Initiation will start in two months,” Goodwitch sternly stated, rapping the table with her riding crop. The woman looked straight into her eyes. “You will inform your family and then report to Beacon Academy tomorrow. Be forewarned that if you do not have what it takes, I do not want to hear anything more about early entry. Understand?”

Ruby lifted her head, eyes shimmering in excited tears. Professor Ozpin looked both amused and perturbed as he looked over at Professor Goodwitch and then herself. Professor Goodwitch looked every bit the strict disciplinarian waiting for her answer.

“Yes, I’ll do it! I won’t let you down. Thank you Professor Goodwitch. Headmaster Ozpin!”

----

Training

Metal barrels and chunks of asphalt flew swiftly through the fields, trying to tag its red-clad target. Meanwhile, bullets shot through the air trying to pierce into her Psychokinetic assailer. 

A sniper bullet managed to avoid her barrier of floating debris, forcing Glynda to step back to dodge it, the air in its wake stinging her eyes. Clearly, Miss Rose was getting used to this level of attack - the local masonry was no longer adequate. It seems that after three weeks of training this girl in the guise of testing she’ll yet again need to bring another element into play. 

The Disciplinarian - her weapon - swung towards the ground, her Aura channeled deep within the earth. 

“Ah!” 

The red-cloaked girl stumbled half-way from the miniature earthquake that was created. Large chunks of dirt and rock, larger than Miss Rose herself, floated into the air courtesy of her Psychokinesis before rushing to crush the girl in their midst. 

And just as she expected, Miss Rose performed marvelously. 

The girl quickly found her footing and bounced amidst the floating debris. A slice subtly cut through one of the boulders, so fine that she failed to see it at first - followed by a bullet from her blind spot. Glynda had already moved to duck under that follow-up bullet, and she couldn’t help but mentally complement Miss Rose's tactics, which were only inadequate due to not knowing the depths of her opponent. Had she been a student at Beacon instead, that would’ve been a fight-ending blow. 

Miss Rose would’ve been wasted at Signal. This girl was not meant to be a greenhouse flower, safely nurtured until she was ready to be brought out in the world. She was a wild rose, meant to grow in hardship and become all the more beautiful for it. Her presence in Signal - the other teachers must’ve sensed it somehow - was detrimental to the class; to them, she was like a weed that had to be kept in check lest it strangle the rest of the greenhouse. 

She knew this because she was the same way when she came into her Semblance - Psychokinesis - and became all too aware of the differences in capabilities between Hunters. 

Two more years at Signal would’ve ruined this girl. They would’ve dulled the girl’s sharp instincts like when she and Miss Rose first met. 

...Truthfully Beacon might not be the right fit for her either. 

“Argh, shit Glynda. Is beating on me really that fun?” the girl yelled accusingly as she bounced off against a floating rock. 

Oh whoops she was smiling. Glynda shifted her expression to something more neutral, but she couldn’t help but internally grin.

Their relationship had gotten a lot more casual a week in. Politeness tends to go out the window when exploding barrels were involved. 

“I’m only happy that I’ll be sending an inadequate student back to the institution she needs to go back too,” Glynda replied in a deadpan, flinging a volatile-marked barrel into the battlefield. 

“Oh fuck y-”

Boom.

---

Hunt

“What do you think, Peter, Bart?” Glynda said almost proudly as if introducing a prized student to an audience. Peter gazed upon the red-cloaked girl amidst the pack of Beowolves, many of which were turning to smoky wisps from her scythe blade. Even at this distance, she could see the girl’s every move, every strike an efficient take-down. 

“I’m feeling sorry for those Beowolves. Did you teach her how to be so...?” Port said quizzically as he saw the girl flip onto the back of a Beowolf, scythe at its neck - a single click later, and the Beowulf’s head was sailing over her.

“So?” Glynda questioned.

“So vicious. She’s really not scared about close combat” Peter commented, “Bit unusual, given her weapon’s part sniper rifle.” He observed as the girl rolled underneath a Grimm’s legs, only to swing the scythe from underneath. Urk. He squeezed his legs together at the phantom pain brought from that strike - Bartholomew did the same. 

“It wasn’t me. She came like that,” Glynda shrugged her shoulders, snorting briefly at the males’ sympathetic reactions, “Honestly, I didn’t expect this when I let her loose.” 

“...She was born to Hunt,” Bartholomew commented as he sipped from his thermos, “Probably more than me and either of you. Look at her face. She’s smiling. 

“...She’s smiling,” Glynda said quietly.

All three pensively watched as their soon-to-be-charge gleefully tore through the Grimm with a grin on her face, scythe reaping through them like they were wheat on the fields. 

----

Meeting

“How do you feel?” Headmaster Ozpin asked with a smile, “I heard you had an exciting two months.” Ruby and the Headmaster were standing together at the landing hall, observing the other students arrive for orientation. 

“Like coming out of a dream,” Ruby sighed happily as she hugged Crescent Rose’s folded form. “It was everything I wanted and more.” 

“I wouldn’t have thought you would look fondly on what other students call Professor Goodwitch’s Ego-Crushing Disciplinary Course,” he chuckled, “Of course, those students have far less friendly names for it.”

He couldn’t help but feel perturbed though when Ruby stared at him in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I like it? She pushed me to my limits and more,” Ruby stretched, “Same with the other professors.” Her gaze shifted away from him, a little hesitant and guilty, "But I’m having a feeling that Beacon regularly isn’t that exciting.”

“No, it isn’t,” the Headmaster said, “But you’ll be provided opportunities to go into the field as needed, though you’ll still be required to join a team and interact with them.”

“Those never did go well back when I was at Signal,” she grumpily said.

“You’re speaking as if that were ages ago. You’ve only been in Beacon for two months,” Ozpin chuckled. 

“It felt so much shorter. Guess time flies when you’re having fun,” Ruby laughed before rubbing her hand against a silver badge on her chest.   

“Hmm, what’s that?”

“Bar- I mean, Doctor Oobleck and Professor Port were joking about how I deserved a reward for surviving Professor Goodwitch,” Ruby laughed, “So they gave me a badge that's been defunct for a while, back from when Vale determined the seniority of a Hunter based on Grimm kills. Apparently this is the highest accolade.”

“Oh, should I be worried then about my position, Professor Rose?” Ozpin quirked an amused eyebrow. 

“Maybe~ I don’t know. I’d rather be out in the field. Never did like the classroom, “ Ruby grumbled, “Even more so now...Hopefully, being with the other students won’t be too bad.”

”Looking down on your peers already, Professor Rose?”

”Stop calling me that, Headmaster,” Ruby hopped up and down angrily, “People might get the wrong idea. And it’s not that I’m looking down on them. I’m just not used to competent teammates. Don’t worry though. Professor Goodwitch stressed to me the importance of a team. No good Hunter hunts alone.”

”Wise words. Perhaps you should hold some classes.”

”Stop joking around.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Little did the fuming Ruby know that there were some people that caught bits and parts of their conversation and that they were prepared to take those words very seriously.

------

Rumors

“Holy shit. Did you see that video of that girl decapitating that Nevermore?” 

“Yup. Can’t decide whether the Deathstalker kill by Team JNPR or the Nevermore kill from Team RWBY was better.”

“Probably team JNPR’s kill, since they’re actually a bunch of students. I heard team RWBY’s leader is already a professor here.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No joke. They say she just can’t get full professorship because of her age. Apparently she’s a combat prodigy from Signal, and she came to Beacon two years early to fast-track into a professorship. I mean, do you think the team being named after her is a coincidence?” 

“Hey, guys! You’re talking about Professor Rose, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So I personally heard the Headmaster call her Professor Rose before. A lot of people have during orientation actually. It’s just that it’s all supposed to be on the down-low. She’s on first-name basis with all the professors. Heard her call Professor Goodwitch by her first name when they’re in private.”

“She has balls. If I called Professor Goodwitch by her first name, I’d probably end up missing both of mine.”

“I didn’t need that imagery thanks. But if you want any proof, take a look at her badge. That’s an official Vale Hunter’s badge if you search online for it. Bit old and dated, but it exists.”

“Guess I shouldn’t ask to copy her homework then. Can I copy yours?”

“No. Go do your own.”

“Dang it.”

[nonfayth]

Tea Time Guide

Favorite Tea: Four-Spice Blend - A novelty tea blended with four unique spices inspired by the Four Saints. Enjoyment requires a mature palate. (30g)

Conversation Topics: 

A new gambit...  /  A strong battalion...  /  A word of advice...  /  Close calls...  /  Equipment upkeep...  /  Evaluating allies...  /  Exploring the monastery...  /  Fódlan's future...  /  Mighty weapons...  /  Monastery rules...  /  Monastery security...  /  Overcoming weaknesses...  /  Past laughs...  /  Potential training partners...  /  Reliable allies...  /  Someone you look up to...  /  Sturdy weapons...  /  The ideal professor...  /  The last battle...  /  The library's collection...  /  Working together...  /  Your ambitions...  /  Capable comrades...  /  Food in the dining hall...  /  Shareable snacks...  /  The ideal relationship...  /  The existence of crests...  /  Classes you might enjoy...  /  Plans for the future...  /  Dining partners...  /  Hopes for your future...  /  I heard some gossip...  /  You seem different...  /  Falconry...  /  Little sisters...  /  Assassinations...

Tea Time Dialogue

Greetings

“ It is my pleasure to join you for tea today. ” “ What a fine pick. I am quite taken by the unique taste of this particular blend, you shall find. ”  ( Favorite Tea ) “ I find tea this expensive is best reserved for someone who is knowledgeable, lest you waste your money on a detail that goes missed. ”  ( Five Star Tea )

Introducing Own Topic

1. “ Bern is home to a fine military, perhaps only rivaled by the likes of Etruria back on Elibe. ” Answer: Nod, Sip tea, Commend

2. “ Falconry is as much a display of showmanship as it is an opportunity to see how well a falconer can fare at leading. ” Answer: Nod, Chat

3. “ I take it upon myself to try and tutor my younger sister when I am able. I find it a good refresher of my own prior studies. ” Answer: Praise

4. “ The people of Fódlan seem quite devout. I find it imperative that I learn more about their beloved goddess and saints both. ” Answer: Commend, Chat

5. “ While my retainer is both loyal and strong, I wish at times he would cease holding back against me in sparring sessions. ” Answer: Laugh, Nod, Sigh

6. “ I am no mage myself, but I noticed a little girl in my manse's staff seems to have a talent for elemental spells. I wonder if it would be overstepping my bounds to help her train... ” Answer: Disagree

7. “ My father is strict with me, but I know it is because there are great expectations for a member of the royal family like me. ” Answer: Nod

8. “ Even something as innocuous as a gathering for tea can be a time to observe other nobles and see how they carry themselves or perhaps learn of the inner workings of their houses. ” Answer: Praise, Nod, Commend

9. “ You have a bit of something at the side of your mouth. I trust the confections here are to your liking? ” Answer: Laugh, Blush

Observe

“ My current look is my mother's own preference. I would like to perhaps push my bangs up out of the way, however... ” “ A prince sits with care for decorum even at a tea party for two. ”

End

“ I must be going now, but I shall say I have learned a lot about you from this. May we meet for tea again sometime when we both are able. ”

[ella-animine]

The Night We Met

The wind whistled through the trees like a heartbroken sigh. It cried out across the distance as though it could pierce through ones heart. Perhaps it could, if the heart it tried to pierce was not made of stone, that of a Witcher. Still, the sound reminded Geralt too much of the wails of monsters before dying. A swan song, of sorts; that of a creature mortally wounded.

It was wrong to have hurt him so on the mountain, wrong but necessary in the long run. It would do no good to have the bard follow him. Still, as much as he tried to forget, Geralt couldnt shake the memories and the feelings that Jaskier had drudged up. He had been his companion after all, one that Geralt had rather unfortunately cared for. But now, at what may be the end of all things, Geralt was alone, just as he was meant to be. No Mage or Bard to keep him company, Geralt took to The Path just as he always had.

There were flickers of him everywhere. The wind through the trees sounded like him; mournful. Every snapped twig drew Geralt’s attention. Worst yet, every town with a bard strumming in the ale house seemed to sing the same songs.

“I am not the only traveler,

Who has not repayed his debt”

He tried not to listen, but his ears often betrayed him and his head was filled with the lyrics. Sometimes his mind would wander to thinking of what Jaskier might be singing, what sort of scathing remarks he might have put to music in retaliation for Geralt’s actions.

Most nights Geralt had difficulty sleeping. This issue was only exacerbated by the lack of a calm heartbeat nearby to help him feel as though he were a little less alone in the world.

“I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again...”

Jaskier was well and truly lost in the world. He slowly bounced from town to village, drinking all the ale he could get his hands on and trying to scrape together enough meager coin to survive. His situation was hurt by the fact that lately he couldn’t bring himself to play the lively tunes or dramatic ballads that had won him fame and prestige. Rather he favored plucking slow and mournful notes from his lute, whispering and whimpering words that would sour even the worst drunkard’s fine mood.

He thought of where he was going in life. More directly, he thought often of where he should go more immediately. Perhaps Oxenfurt would permit him to return, although he wasn’t sure how useful he could make himself as a professor in such a sorry state. He would no doubt be unwelcome at his family table should he ever try to return home. His mother had made very clear what she thought of his chosen profession as well as his choice of company.

But he was without company anymore, and soon to be without a profession if he could not turn his life around.

Jaskier sighed to himself, rolling over in the hay that he had scraped together for a bed. He mumbled sorrowfully to himself

“Take me back to the night we met.”

Geralt tried various ways to take his mind off of the stupid bard and all of his tunes and lies. No matter how hard he threw himself into hunting, or how many prostitutes he paid, Geralt still found his thoughts drift. Jaskier had not been such a huge part of his life, or so he had thought, but the near constant stream of thoughts seemed determined to convince him otherwise.

As Geralt lay staring up at the ceiling after a rather athletic bout with another whore, he thought he may need to seek a mage or a healer to clear his head of the excess.

“Then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do...”

“And then I can tell myself,

Not to ride along with you...”

Jaskier sat curled up in the back of the cart a kind enough farmer had let him hitch a ride on for the next town. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and cradled his lute in his arms. He had not felt such low emotions like this in years, and although he detested to call them so, he could not escape the truth that he was experiencing the feelings of abandonment.

Jaskier stared into the distance, trying not to think of all the times he had walked these roads with Geralt over the years. He tried desperately not to think about all the times he had shared with the Witcher, that he would never be able to get back.

Time evidently wasted.

“I had all and most of you, some and now none of you”

Geralt huffed at the lyrics that he heard. For some damnable reason the new most popular song of the Continent was about lost love, and the lyrics drove him crazy. There was no escape from it, every bar or inn was taken over by one bard or another singing the tune. It floated on the wind and whispered between the trees even when Geralt chose to forgo a warm bed for the forest floor.

It was not that he drew parallels to his life, his own lost companionship and love, Geralt insisted that it was simply because all of the bards and poets were pure shit at performing it. He dared not acknowledge the following thought, that he knew of one such person who was not likely to disappoint. It had been almost months at this point, and Geralt still grit his teeth to think of how many innocuous things could force thoughts of Jaskier to overtake his mind. Whatever form of companionship the two had shared was surely not worth all of the trouble he was suffering for having ended things.

“I don’t know what supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”

Jaskier felt a sharp pain in his chest. The indecent proposal of becoming another’s bedfellow should have excited him, and yet he could not shake the pervasive ache that such a proposal brought.

He found a sad smile to paste on for show and blamed his lack of interest on being weary from his travels. He left before he could hear another word of argument, favoring to retire to his sparse room for the night and make a valiant effort to not allow himself to weep.

Despite himself, Jaskier lay on the threadbare mattress staring at the ceiling; he felt tears spill over and run down his temple. He wept harder still.

“Take me back to the night we met...”

Geralt propped himself up under a tree. He had narrowly escaped a violent collision with a territorial griffin, and was rather worse for wear. He tore the stopper from a vial and drank down the potion, knowing it would not cure him instantly but would alleviate some of the pain. The combination of lost blood and the potion clouding his senses permitted thoughts Geralt had shoved away to come to the forefront of his mind now.

He rarely felt fear for himself, as it was his duty to die if a monster ever truly bested him. There were times, though, that Geralt had known fear. He would never allow anyone to know, but here in the hazy theater of his mind he was free to relive all of the negative feelings he had little control over.

“When the night was full of terrors”

Geralt had known fear but a few times since boyhood. Few things were quite as terrifying as the agony of the Trial of the Grasses, but still there were moments etched into his memory that he would never be able to forget.

One such prominent memory was the day he had watched a curse force blood to bubble up out of his companions sputtering mouth at the grim news that he was likely to die. Geralt had done his best to remain unaffected, but he knew the moment that that Jaskier looked at him he would never be able to forget that sinking feeling of helplessness.

There were so many things he had never said.

“And your eyes were filled with tears”

As he lay tossing and turning Jaskier permitted himself the small mercy of letting his mind wander to thoughts of comfort. How he enjoyed a good strong wine time and again, or the rumble of pride he felt at receiving an audience’s applause. He mused about soft sheets and a full belly. He thought of the simple pleasures of enjoying his favorite fruit during peak ripeness, feeling the juice spill over his lips and be caught by a quick tongue. He thought of the slide of tongue and mouth when kissing, how a lover might show another affection.

How Jaskier had drawn his own lips chastely over his companion’s not just once when he thought the other was sleeping too deeply to notice.

Those thoughts no longer brought him comfort.

“When you had not touched me yet...”

Geralt recalled in the gauzy haze between sleep and wake how he had been the recipient of Jaskier’s affections. Witchers were, by nature, extremely light sleepers and as such Geralt had been aware every time that Jaskier had chosen to bestow upon him a light kiss. It was never more than a soft press of lips, and Geralt never dared move or give any indication that he was conscious of what happened, lest Jaskier would wise up and stop permitting himself the indulgence.

Geralt had long avoided thinking of why he never spoke or acknowledged the action, thereby through his own inaction encouraging its continuation. Deep down he supposed he enjoyed it on some level. Acknowledging it would take away the only pure affection Geralt would allow himself receive, because he was not supposed to know about it. Now, as the potion pulled Geralt deeper into a healing slumber, he longed for the gentle press of lips to his own, and cursed himself both for the longing and for never pressing to see what other affections he may have received.

“Take me back to the night we met.”

For the first time in a long time Geralt allowed himself to seek a room at the inn. It was supposed to rain overnight and he reasoned that Roach deserved a dry stable to sleep in for all the trouble he had put her through lately. It was already well enough into the evening by the time he staggered inside, and Geralt was hardly willing to invest any unnecessary attention in the other patrons of the inn and ale house. He hardly registered that someone was singing until his ear caught the sound of it better through the general din of the crowd.

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you”

Geralt felt his feet stop short at the words. His body turned without his consent and he listened closer to the song to be certain he was not being tricked or deceived.

“Take me back to the night we met”

There Jaskier practically moaned on a stool as he sang his latest hit. His eyes morosely scanned the patrons of the bar, looking perhaps for any kindred spirits of heartbreak and loneliness. There he found one with particularly rapt attention. A spectre from his past that Jaskier anticipated never to see again.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”

Geralt felt his sad blue eyes from across the room. He was positive the bard had to feel the intensity of his own golden eyes taking him in. Time felt as if it were suspended, caught in those teary eyes, and the next words felt as if they were merely whispered.

“Take me back...”

[shuuenmei]

resolution

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

Admittedly, I didn’t want to reveal this at first but after some thought and discussions, I decided to publish this out. This contains a big part of what I plan for Yuu (Rei) and how “black or white” will run in the future, and because it’s potentially very long, I’m placing this under the cut.

The sound of the clock ticking is the only thing keeping her company as she searched through the library.

Not this book, not that book, not this one either.

She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she doesn’t care.

She had to keep looking.

She refused to stay helpless and vulnerable like how she nearly died from those vine thorns-

She find herself idly touching onto her neck now covered in the bandages to hide the tiny scars from those thorns.

There’s so many things happening in such a quick span of time she finds herself unable to properly react and adjust how to adapt and survive.

“You were on a near dangerous spot, pup.” The words of her homeroom teacher rang when he was called by the headmaster to check on how severe her injuries were shortly after they brought Riddle back to his senses.

Of how she was lucky to have escaped strangulation when the vines enclosed on her neck.

Of how she nearly died from blood loss due to the thorns piercing her skin.

And the situation now truly sunk on her that she could have truly died not long after arriving in this world.

A deep, deep part of her mind screamed, feeling that for the first time, she wanted to live and survive.

To struggle for survival than to succumb to the temptation of sleeping forever, never waking up.

I don’t want to die I don’t want to die-

“That’s quite a heavy stack of books, little one.”

She couldn’t help but jump at the voice calling her from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that spoke.

“You surprise me Lilia-san.”

The older student gave out a light hearted chuckle in response.

“It’s good to see you.” He greeted before he wondered. “Now what brings you here to the library?”

“I wanted to look up something.” She answered.

She made up her mind after her homeroom teacher’s diagnosis of her state.

She honestly still feel sluggish from the injuries she had and Professor Crewel issued a permit to Coach Vargas to excuse her (And by extension, Grim) from physical education class until she is fully recovered.

With much time to spare after the rather disastrous duel yesterday, she decided to head over to the library.

There’s something that she wished to know about and if she can’t find what she’s looking for... she’ll just have to make do.

“That’s quite a lot of books you were holding.” He pointed towards the stack of books she was holding.

“It’s fine Lilia-san, I can handle this.” She shook her head as the two started to walk their way towards the table where she placed her bag and some of the books she had borrowed earlier.

“I heard you and your friends called for a duel with Riddle yesterday.” Lilia started once he was seated.

“Ah, so everyone heard about it?”

“It’s quite impossible to not know it, little one.” The old fae chuckled.

She numbly nodded, her hand idly reaching out to her neck as if there is lingering pain sticking to her neck like a phantom.

The fae’s magenta eyes looked at the covers of the books she had brought, now placed on the table.

“Hmm, interesting choices you have there.” With an ever present smile, he used magic to make the heavy books float to his way.

“The Origin of Magic, History of Magic Tools... they all seem to cater towards a specific time frame, to an even older time...” The fae soon implored as he placed the books down. “What has brought you to wish to learn such a subject?”

She pondered for a moment.

Should she speak about it?

She may have only known about Lilia for a few days, a week, even. But she felt that she can truly trust this older student and ask for his aid.

The Headmaster doesn’t seem too keen in watching over her own well being and had a very hands-off approach.

He’s not the kind of person she’d trust her worries of.

In contrast, Lilia, in his own way, had been helping her from the start.

The Headmaster may have tried, but seeing first hand at how he seems to be giving a hands-off approach, how she was told that the Headmaster wouldn’t have rushed her to the infirmary and call for Professor Crewel immediately until the fact that she is nearly dying from blood loss truly sunk in, with the rest of Heartslabyul having to urge him out to get her the aid she needed.

(There’s something about the Headmaster that reminded her of an ill memory of the past, but she has yet to recall the full context of it all.)

Lilia, from the way he speaks and how he treated her, makes her think of the senior as an almost father like figure.

Doting yet keeping a firm watch of those he consider his children.

So she took her chance and spoke quietly.

Of the events that led to Riddle Rosehearts overblotting.

________________________________________________________________

“...I see. That explains the bandages covering your neck.”

She nodded.

“...But pray tell, what convinced you to search for a specific time frame involving magic in the days of old?”

She didn’t say a word to Lilia, deep in thought, trying to think of an answer.

It was a spur of a moment and she couldn’t help but be curious.

Curious to know if there is a point of time where people are not naturally born with magic.

Maybe those of old do magic differently than those who lived in the present.

She also vaguely remember of a story she once read of how people of the past request the world to lend their energy to use magic.

If such method also exist here, does she have a chance to survive?

So she won’t be so weak, helpless and vulnerable like today-

Still, there’s a chance that she won’t be able to find what she searched for.

But nevertheless, she doesn’t want to give up so easily and find a way so she can survive in this unfamiliar world.

She needs to see the end of the tale that she is entangled in no matter what.

She found her answer.

“...I just don’t want to stay weak and helpless as I am right now.”

She spoke and continued.

“After I was told of how I nearly died... I felt myself getting reminded of how easily vulnerable I was as a magicless person.”

She clenched her right hand to a fist, her nails dug onto her skin deep enough to hurt.

“I’m an easy target to the whole school as the lone magicless person. Regardless of how I’m actually capable of being able to fight back, all my skills... they had limits. I can’t always depend on my new friends all the time, and eventually, I’ll run out of options and will get badly hurt like how I did today.”

She had decided, her resolution to her decision firm.

“So I plan to look for an information that can potentially help me survive against other students who would try and target me for as long as I’m here. I refuse to be an easy target just because I’m the lone anomaly of this school.”

That’s all that there is to it.

She wanted to survive longer in a world where she is placed in between many prideful magicians who could potentially end her life with their magic if they so wish it.

Maybe she won’t be a burden to her new friends that way.

She felt Lilia’s silent gaze at her prickling, almost like he is scrutinizing her.

“Do you have an empty paper available to use?” Lilia questioned after a moment of silence.

“I can tear one page off, but what do you plan to use with it?”

Lilia smiled. “You’ll see, little one.”

Despite the fae’s cryptic reply, she obliged and brought out one of her spare notebooks, ripping one of the papers out and handed it to him.

“May I borrow a writing pen as well?”

She wondered where this is going but gave the fae one of her blue pens in the pencil case.

Lilia draw a large set of letters enough to fill a whole paper that is set in a landscape like orientation.

When he is finished, he threw the paper above him and spoke out what sounded like a magical chant in a language she couldn’t recognize.

In response to the fae’s chant, the letters written in the paper glowed, almost like magic, and then the paper shifted it’s shape, shredded into small parts and then rained down on the table, small cuts formed at the empty space of wooden table besides them, as if the paper has turned into small shards of blades.

“Oh, I still had it in me to use them.” Lilia mused at the sight as the papers soon disintegrated into dust, residual magical energy following it. “Well, I shall repair it soon enough lest that young librarian aim for my neck.”

As Lilia reached for his magical pen and used his magic to fix the table, she felt herself feeling awed at the sight of the paper turned to small sharp shards.

“That was just a normal pen right...” She utter out.

She had to wonder how it was possible.

All that the fae did was just drawing rune like letters onto the paper...

“Indeed it is.” The fae answered her.

“I simply use the paper as a medium and the letters as a gateway for magical energy to enter the medium and give form to what the medium will function as.”

The fae’s serene smile remained ever-plastered on his lips. “Simply put, what I did is request for the world to lend me their magic through a medium.”

“...So you used the world’s magical energy instead of using the one that most magicians are born with?”

So such method existed here...

“Bingo, little one.” The fae gave out a good natured chuckle. Elaborating. “Before wands and magical pens came to be, people of days old once used to ask the world to do magic for them. However, this method had since been considered obsolete as society advances due to how many requirements it takes to actually use the world’s magical energy.”

He put the magical pen back into the pockets of his vest. Concluding. “For you, someone who is inherently magicless, this should be the perfect method for you to defend yourself should any of the other students dare to attack you with magic.”

Her eyes lit up. Feeling a glimmer of hope at the senior’s words.

“Are you sure you don’t mind teaching me?”

“Why of course not.” Lilia smiled at her. Reasoning.

“You are but a young lady thrown into an unfamiliar place with little to no contact of anyone you are familiar with, and no way of being able to return to whence you came from. You also happen to be placed in a school of prideful, magicians who can get easily provoked with little prompting, and can potentially harm and give you fatal injuries should they wish to do so. Anyone with a child of their own would worry for you.”

His smile then curved to a frown. “Though I supposed Crowley doesn’t seem to be that keen in regards to your safety following today’s events.”

After what happened yesterday, and of today, she felt what little trust she had on the Headmaster start to crumble.

She can’t completely trust the man anymore after today.

Not when he’s all too content to leave her to fend for her own self outside of providing her the basic necessities and the like.

(Deep down, that unpleasant feeling, almost like seething anger, of a memory she has yet to recall of people acting like the headmaster echoed in her mind)

She soon felt a hand on her head.

She was brought out of her thoughts as she realized that Lilia is patting her.

The gesture felt familiar to her.

Like a parent’s firm hand, guiding and assuring the child.

“The weekend is soon and it’s best that you recover first.” Lilia let his hand go as he advised her.

“I shall be free to teach you how to utilize the world’s magic to aid you for Monday, Wednesday and Thursday after school in the library. Is that an alright time for you?”

“...Yeah, that’s a good time.”

She felt herself smiling wide, almost genuine, grateful for the senior’s help.

“...Really, thank you for this. Lilia-san.”

The Diasomnia vice dorm head smiled back. “It is of no trouble, young one.”

Yep, this is what I planned for Yuu (Rei) in light of Heartslabyul and onwards. She doesn’t stay magicless for long.

This was inspired by the formalcraft concept from the Fate series, where you make the world do the magic for you. Think of it as not using your own MP in video games and use a specialized item that does the magic in RPG games.

Yuu (Rei) is still magicless inherently. So the method only makes her a magician by a technicality. Rather than making her an actual pure magician overnight.

As for why I went this route for Yuu (Rei):

1: The SI in Yuu (Rei) only know Twisted Wonderland based on Pre-release trailers and as such, has zero expectations of what the game would actually be. She doesn’t know that the game was meant to be a Joseimuke genre game with RPG, action and rhythm game mechanics mixed in, and only know based on what she could remember of the original stories the Disney movies are based on and the Disney movies that she remember watching, outside of what she remembers of the Pre-Release trailers. As far as Yuu (Rei)’s impression of the game’s story goes, she thought that she is in an FGO-esque Shounen genre story. So it’s either she stays magicless and die quickly, or survive and get stronger.

2: While yes, it’s established that it’s against the rules to use magic on others for personal fights, the main story proves that a good portion of the NRC student body WILL use magic on others when prompted. Unlike Ace, Deuce and Grim, the canon MC is completely defenseless. Despite Yuu (Rei)’s friendship with the ghosts and her own physical skills in Kendou, every single one of them has limits. Lando isn’t always guaranteed to tag along with her 24/7, someone will use magic to destroy the makeshift sword she had first before beating her down and giving her fatal injuries via magic. Additionally, Ace, Deuce and Grim won’t always be with her, so she’ll eventually run out of options to defend herself. At the end of the day, the real world doesn’t give a damn about what narrative importance you have in the grand scheme of the plot you’re involved in. Yuu (Rei) might be lucky this time, but the same can’t be said for the future.

...Welp.

Anyway, long story short, this is where Yuu (Rei) fully diverges from the canon MC.

I’m also going to start talking, writing and/or drawing stuff for things I plan for “black or white” in the future from here on out so do look out for those!

[kerikaaria]

Breaking Down Walls

(Seokjin x Reader) Oneshot, College!AU, Bi!Reader

Genre: (PG15) f2l, generous helping of angst, with a healthy dose of fluff

Warnings: Homophobia (side characters), toxic jealousy, false claims of sexual harassment (non-detailed), mentions of an unhealthy/toxic friendship, semi-mature jokes/references, swearing

WC: 17.8k

Description: Being suddenly outcasted and judged by everyone really forces one to build up walls. Having gotten used to not having friends and dealing with the snide comments, you plan on just keeping your head down until you graduate next year. That is, until someone decides they’re going to tear your walls down.

A/N – Thank you to the lovely @moccahobi and @ditttiii​ for beta-reading for me! I love you guys!

The first few days back at school were always peculiar. Some people were overly excited to start a new year or semester, working hard on their ‘first day back’ outfits and super pumped to do all their work on time (give it a week or two and they’d remember that they loved to procrastinate). There were those who dreaded it, mourning the loss of their vacation and reluctant to pick up their books once again. Others didn’t particularly care either way–just went through the motions, wanting to get through their education in order to reap the supposed rewards at the end of the tunnel.

And then there was me, who didn’t hate the fact that I was coming back to school, but rather hated the fact that I had to deal with my peers in order to do it.

I walked through the hallways, ones familiar to me after spending two full years here, keeping my head down and focusing on nothing but making my way to the next class of the day. So far things had gone as per usual in each of my classes, so when I double-checked my schedule to make sure that I had the right room for the abnormal psychology course before walking through the doorway, I expected the same here as well.

I scanned the room, looking for an ideal seat. Despite many still being open, all of the seats left required sitting next to one of my classmates. Holding back a sigh, I decided to go with the easiest path and picked an empty seat at the end of a row. Barely two seconds after I had sat down the person sitting next to me, along with his friend who was oblivious to the hearts in his eyes, packed up their belongings and looked for different seats to occupy in the class.

Yup, just as expected.

Unfazed, I started emptying my bookbag of the items I needed for the class. After gathering my notebook, pen, and textbook–even though I probably wasn’t going to need it today anyway but hey, I liked to be prepared–I was about to place my bag on the seat next to me, knowing no one was going to want to sit there.

But before I could even turn to look at the chair, it was occupied. By a person. A living, breathing person. 

I glanced around the room, figuring that in the short time it took me to get ready for class, the room must have filled up. But no, there were just as many open seats still left in the room. Looking past the person to the next seat over, I could see that even that one was still empty.

This wasn’t a class freshman could take so unless this person lived under a rock, I couldn’t figure out why they would voluntarily sit next to me. As curious as I was to see who was willing to jeopardize their entire social life over this seat, I avoided making eye contact and placed my bag on the floor.

The mystery student made no effort to get my attention or address me, so I relaxed as we waited for the professor to arrive and class to start.

Other than that, the class went by just as boring and ordinary as possible. The professor took ten hours to go over the syllabus that was almost the same for every class, talked about the attendance policy that was the same for every class, and told us our expectations that was - again - pretty much the same for every class. Basically, I didn’t know why the teachers bothered going over every little detail when they had to know we’d already heard it fifty times. Just tell me my final grade depended on this one big project and if I didn’t do it I was screwed, and that was all I needed to know.

The professor finished going over the monotonous formalities and dismissed our class just on time. I slowly gathered my things, preferring to wait until the majority of the others had already fought their way out of the door first before leaving. It was easier to avoid comments I didn’t want to hear that way.

As I finished getting my stuff together and went to stand up I looked to my left, seeing the rebellious classmate just sitting there, looking like he was waiting for something. A beat later, he turned to me and smiled. He smiled?

“Hello,” he greeted, holding out a hand, presumably for me to shake. “I’m Namjoon.”

I cautiously took his hand in mine. “(Y/n),” I responded while I finally got a good look at him. He had bleached blonde hair slicked to the side to expose his forehead. His features looked somehow simultaneously intimidating and friendly.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

If I didn’t dislike being around my peers so much, I wouldn’t really hate eating in the school cafeteria. Unfortunately, the food was paid for as part of the tuition and if I spent my days eating takeout and fast food, I’d be twice as broke as I already was. So I didn’t have much choice other than to eat most of my meals in a room filled with aforementioned peers. Sometimes it felt like I was a sitting duck in here.

I picked my poison for today’s lunch and scanned the room for an empty table. Luckily, there was one over in a corner where, hopefully, I wouldn’t be bothered. I placed my tray on the table before sitting down and taking my phone out to send a text message to the person I was supposed to meet, letting him know where I was and asking if he was on his way.

While I was preoccupied with my phone, I felt the presence of someone standing next to the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it was definitely not who I was waiting for. I mentally rolled my eyes, waiting to find out if this one was going to be typical or original.

“Is this seat taken?” a sickly-sweet voice asked.

“Yes, it is,” I replied apathetically.

She sat down anyway. I spared a quick glance over my phone at her before resuming to stare at my screen as though glaring at the text was going to force him to reply.

“I hear I’m your type,” the girl announced after a moment of silence. It appeared she was taking the typical approach.

I ignored her presence entirely, pretending that I had something interesting to look at on my phone.

“What? Am I not pretty enough for you to pay attention to?” she asked, pretending to be offended.

I actually rolled my eyes. It has nothing to do with looks, I thought. But instead I said, “Why? Would you be willing to roll around in the hay with me if you were?”

Her eyes widened, clearly not expecting me to put her on the spot like that. While she spluttered away, someone else approached the table.

“Excuse me, that’s my seat,” the newcomer said.

She looked up to see who was interrupting her embarrassment. After registering who it was she smirked and let her eyes wander over his figure, checking him out rather blatantly. 

I had to stop myself from gagging at the scene.

“Oh honey, there’s no point in trying with her,” she said, attempting a sultry, flirty voice. “You’re not her type.” She stood up and brushed her fingertips along his arm. “You could come sit with me though, I’d love to get to know you.”

He smiled while she batted her eyelashes up at him. “I don’t need her to be interested in me,” he said sweetly before swatting her hand away as his expression turned serious. “She’s my sister; I’d appreciate it if you left her alone. And don’t even try, sweetheart. You’re never getting into these pants.”

Her face instantly paled and she hurried away without another word lest she embarrass herself any more.

My brother sat down with a huff while I tried my best  to suppress my laugh. “Sorry I’m late, noona,” he said. “My literature professor apparently doesn’t know how to time manage his classes.”

“It’s alright,” I said. He looked at me concerned, silently asking if I was okay. “I’m fine, Chim. Don’t worry about it, you know I’m used to it by now.” I assured him, finally digging into my meal.

“The only reason people have gotten away with it up until now is because your brother wasn’t here to put them in their place.” He pointed his chopsticks at me. “I’m going to make sure no one treats you like that anymore.”

“Jimin,” I sighed, “you really don’t need to do anything. I appreciate you and your help when you’re with me, but don’t try to be my bodyguard. Try to enjoy your time at school, hmm? Go make some friends!”

“Who said I haven’t made any friends?” he responded defensively. “There’s this interesting kid I got paired up with as my lab partner in biology and we get along pretty well.” His eyes widened and he gasped, excitedly tapping on my hand. “Oh my gosh. Noona, I gotta introduce him to you. He is fine. I don’t swing that way, but holy crap does he make me question if I would for him.”

“Mm, sounds like a great start to a friendship,” I laughed. “So, you’re enjoying school so far?”

Jimin shrugged. “I mean, as much as I can enjoy school I guess. You know me, I don’t even know what I want to do yet.”

While Jimin continued to dig into his food, I more or less just pushed mine around. I did know that, just as well as I knew that our parents wouldn’t have been mad if he wanted to wait to go to school so he could try to figure it out first. And he certainly didn’t need to come to this school of all places.

While I didn’t get bad grades, I wasn’t exactly a star student. I had to work really hard to keep my grades up and even then I was barely above average. But Jimin, he was brilliant. Always class president, always effortlessly intelligent, always amazing in anything he did. Before last year, he was talking about going to schools more prestigious than this one. He didn’t need to be here, and I worried that the only reason he was, was because he felt obligated to me.

“Hey, noona,” Jimin called, waving his hand in front of my face and bringing my mind back to reality. “Instead of looking at your rice like it offended you, why don’t you tell me how your classes are going so far?”

I chuckled at his observation. “Well, they’re going about the same as I expected,” I said, shrugging. “No one bothers me and all the teachers gave us the same exact lecture about the syllabus.” I paused while I finally brought a spoonful of rice to my mouth. “Oh, there was one weird thing though.”

“Weird?” Jimin asked, worried. “What do you mean weird? Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing bad,” I clarified, making him relax. “It’s just, in one of my psych classes yesterday, someone actually voluntarily sat next to me. And not just that, he introduced himself to me after class too. Like he’s trying to be friendly with me?”

“That’s wonderful!” Jimin cheered, smiling so wide his eyes disappeared. “Maybe he’s being friendly because he wants to be your friend.”

“I don’t know, Chim,” I replied, thoughtfully chewing my chicken. “I mean he seemed really nice, but no one has approached me with good intentions ever since… before her.”

“Well, maybe he has some sense and doesn’t give a crap about rumors,” Jimin said around a mouthful of food. “Why don’t you give him a chance, hm? I’ll be your backup in case anything goes wrong.”

I slowly nodded. “I’ll think about it.” We were silent for a few moments until I said, “So, tell me more about this hot friend of yours.”

When I entered the classroom for abnormal psychology the next day, I was a little surprised to see Namjoon sitting in the same seat from two days prior. Despite the fact that he had chosen to sit next to me, and that he was also the one to initiate a conversation (even if it was only introductions), I felt nervous. What if I sat down next to him and he decided he didn’t want anything to do with me?

But then again, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have sat in the same seat… Right?  Steeling my nerves, I slowly walked toward the chair. I did my best to try not paying him any attention as I sat down and gathered my items for the class. After setting my bag on the floor, I chanced a glance at him and was relieved to see he was still there.

He turned to me and smiled, but before he could initiate any conversation (not that I thought he would want to) the professor entered the room and started his first actual lecture of the year.

“I’d recommend that you all start chatting and getting to know each other because there will be a few partner assignments in this class, and I will let you pick your own partners,” the professor said as the class was coming to an end. “The first one will be assigned next week.” Then he dismissed the class.

“Do you want to work on the assignments together?” Namjoon asked as soon as the professor was done talking.

Shocked, I turned to him with widened eyes. Did he seriously just ask me that? I was too baffled to say or do anything while he began to pack up his belongings.

“Do you have a class after this one?” he asked instead when I didn’t answer.

I blinked, refocusing on the present. “N-no,” I managed to reply.

“Well, if you’re hungry let’s get some lunch together,” he suggested, picking up my bag to start putting away my things for me.

Realizing that I had been standing there like an idiot, and that there were multiple eyes on us, I hastily grabbed the remainder of my things to put away, Namjoon holding the bag open for me. When I was done, I zipped it up and took it from him, slipping it onto my shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, following up his offer from a moment ago that I realized I hadn’t replied to.

I tentatively nodded and he smiled, leading me out of the classroom with him. I heard students whispering around us but Namjoon seemed to completely ignore them.

As we walked to the cafeteria, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was being nice to me. Jimin told me to give him a chance, but that was far easier said than done. Ever since that post on the school forum last year, I had been more or less alone. To protect myself I had to quickly learn how to build up walls that I never had before. Anyone who talked to me now did it with an ill intent, wanting to tear me down and make me out to be a bad person.

So why was this boy that I had never met before being so nice to me? I couldn’t believe there was no way he didn’t know about what had happened because I had yet to encounter another student who hadn’t heard about how I was such a terrible person. As much as I wanted to listen to Jimin and deep down hoped for the best, I had to keep my walls up. I couldn’t let my guard down because he was probably going to end up being just the same as everyone else.

We made it to the cafeteria, silently collected the food we wanted, and then he led me to a table he seemed comfortable sitting at. I remained quiet while I started to eat my meal, feeling Namjoon’s eyes on me as he did the same.

“So, you never answered my question,” he said after a few minutes had passed.

I looked up from my tray of food and met his eyes. With furrowed brows, I tried to remember what question he was talking about.

Seeing the confusion on my face, Namjoon chuckled. “About if you wanted to be my partner for the assignments?”

“Oh,” I  said quietly. I thought about it for a moment, but really there wasn’t much to think about. Regardless of his possible intentions, chances were no one else would ask me. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I answered, my voice staying quiet out of shyness. The only people I’ve had real conversations with in over half a year were my brother and parents, so my social skills were rather out of practice.

“Awesome.” He smiled widely, dimples I hadn’t noticed before on full display. “We should exchange phone numbers then,” he added as he pulled out his phone and presented it to me.

I entered my number into his phone with shaking hands before handing it back to him. He pressed the call button and I felt my own vibrate in my pocket before he ended the call.

“There, now we can keep in touch,” he said, still smiling. His attention, however, was diverted when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, hyung! Over here!” He waved to get the person’s attention. “I hope you don’t mind, my hyung and I agreed to meet for lunch during this time. I thought you two might get along.” I was curious how he came to any conclusion like that when we had just recently met, not having had any substantial conversations to actually get to know each other yet.

I turned to look at who it was Namjoon was calling to and saw a tall and rather handsome man approaching. His hair was a little longer, bangs parted on either side of his face and he had soft-looking thick lips. He was smiling at Namjoon as he walked up to the table, about to greet him back until he noticed me.

Once Namjoon’s friend’s eyes fell on me, his smile faltered and he looked surprised. His gaze hesitantly flitted back and forth between me and Namjoon and he looked unsure of what to do. Realizing that he must have recognized me and probably felt uncomfortable with the idea of sitting with me, I turned back to Namjoon and spoke up.

“Thanks, Namjoon.” I tried to smile but could feel how forced it was. I quickly started to collect my things. “I’ll see you in class.” I picked up my tray, quickly getting up to look for an empty table to sit at before he had time to respond.

Namjoon quietly called for me once and then I heard some rushed whispering as I walked away but I ignored it, not wanting to think too hard about it. This was why I reminded myself to be careful and not become too hopeful. I just needed to stick to my plan of keeping to myself until I graduated next year. It was only for two years. I could do it.

I found an empty table, thankfully a fair distance from where Namjoon was with his friend and sat down to finish my meal alone, in silence. Just like I was used to.

However, the silence only lasted a couple of minutes until someone suddenly sat in front of me. Shocked, my head snapped up to see Namjoon across the table from me, and his friend standing behind him, looking at the ground.

“Sorry about that, (Y/n),” Namjoon apologized, a soft smile on his face. “I could tell that Seokjin hyung made you feel awkward. We didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”

Namjoon’s friend, Seokjin brought his gaze up to meet mine. “I’m sorry if I made you think that,” he said. “I was just surprised to see you there. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you at all , if you are okay with that.”

It took me a moment to process the words. I couldn’t help but feel a little suspicious of how much it seemed Namjoon was determined to be around me, but I decided it was best not to voice my concerns right now. I slowly nodded, Seokjin seeming to relax at the motion and he took a seat next to Namjoon.

“I’m Seokjin,” he said. “I know Joon said my name but I figured it’d be polite to still properly introduce myself.”

“It appears as though you know who I am,” I responded, “but I’ll introduce myself as well. I’m (Y/n). Nice to meet you.” I offered my hand for him to take if he wanted, and he didn’t hesitate to do so. His hand held onto mine gently as he smiled warmly.

“Likewise,” Seokjin said, giving my hand a soft squeeze before letting go.

It was obvious to me that the two were close and seemed to have known each other for a long time. As we sat together, it was mostly Namjoon and Seokjin chatting and every now and then, one of them would address me to bring me into the conversation but I would keep my responses to a minimum. I didn’t want to be rude, but I still remained hesitant to be too open with them.

It didn’t take me long to notice others would look at our table every now and then, and many times my eyes had wandered around to gauge how much attention we were drawing. No doubt they were trying to figure out who was stupid enough to sit with me, and wondering why.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Seokjin said, pulling my attention away from a few tables over where girls were pointing and whispering. “Don’t pay them any attention.”

I suddenly felt self-conscious. Did they notice the attention too? I looked down at my food when I asked, “Does it not bother you that people are watching and whispering?”

“They are stupid,” Namjoon said, scoffing. “It’s none of their business what you or anyone else is doing and they need to learn to keep their noses out of it.” He paused, and I looked up to see him staring right back at me. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t care for rumors or gossip, so they can say whatever they want about me. It holds no value.”

Seokjin didn’t say much, but he did nod in agreement and gave me a smile. “No one has any right to judge anyway. I like to form my opinions of others based on my own experiences with them, not from what others say.”

Their words made me feel just a little more hopeful that for once, someone didn’t have a hidden motive. That maybe, just maybe, Namjoon and perhaps even his friend Seokjin didn’t want to harm me. I wouldn’t hold onto that quite yet, but I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this light.

Over the past two weeks, Jimin had been telling me a lot about this new friend of his, Taehyung. Basically every time we met up he would start gushing about him. Apparently Taehyung had the best sense of humor and was always making Jimin laugh (to which I reminded him was not difficult to do), was deceivably smart, and a really good listener. Each point that Jimin gave him was another reason for him to tell me how much he thought we would get along.

Which was why I wasn’t opposed to meeting him, especially considering that he was a freshman just like Jimin and may not have heard about what happened last year. From what Jimin told me he did genuinely seem like a nice guy. However, meeting two others as well? That was scary. But Jimin was so sure that it’d be fine and if there was anyone in this world that I trusted, it was my baby brother.

So I made my way to Daydream Café, feeling entirely nervous on the way. It was a place that students here frequented, but it also wasn’t quite yet lunchtime so hopefully most students weren’t out just yet.

A bell rang as I walked through the red-painted door, and immediately I was surrounded by delicious smells from the home-baked treats the little shop sold. I used to come here a lot with my friend up until winter last year, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed the atmosphere. It was genuinely a great place.

“Noona!” I heard Jimin’s voice call out a moment later, and I smiled when I saw where he sat, waving his arm high in the air to get my attention. Sitting next to him was who I assumed to be Taehyung, seeing how comfortable the two of them looked with each other. The other two with them where on the opposite side of the table where I couldn’t quite see them yet.

I approached the table, slightly waving at my brother’s friend when he smiled at me. Jimin got up to come meet me partway, practically dragging me the rest of the way to the table.

“I ordered your favorite for you,” Jimin said, pointing the cup sitting at the seat next to where he was sitting. “And this is Taehyung!” Jimin gestured toward his friend once he stopped pulling on my arm. I had to admit that my brother’s claims about how attractive the boy was were very accurate. I actually had to pause while I took in his seemingly perfect features, highlighted by a big rectangular smile. His bright blue hair reminded me of cotton candy, and it fit him surprisingly well.

Taehyung waved in greeting while Jimin pulled out my chair for me and sat in his own seat. After sitting down myself, I saw the two sitting across from us and my eyes widened in shock, recognizing them instantly.

“These are Tae’s hyungs, Namjoon and Seokjin,” Jimin said. “Well, Seokjin is his actual older brother, Namjoon is their cousin.” The three of them being related certainly made sense with how they each seemed to get the absolute best from the gene pool.

Namjoon and Seokjin also seemed pretty surprised to see me, but their faces both quickly dissolved into smiles. “Actually, we’ve already met,” Namjoon said from his seat next to the wall. “What a coincidence. Nice to see you, (Y/n).”

I smiled in return, having grown a bit more comfortable with them since we first met two weeks ago.

“Oh, really?” Taehyung asked. “How do you know each other?”

“I met Namjoon in my abnormal psych class,” I explained. “We’re doing an assignment together. And I met Seokjin when the three of us ate lunch together during the first week of classes.” I had seen Seokjin a few times after that too, since the two of them shared a dorm and that’s where I would usually meet Namjoon to work on the assignment.

While I was still hesitant to trust anyone other than my brother, I felt more relaxed with the both of them every time I saw them. I couldn’t help but still be scared that it was wishful thinking, but they really did seem like they wanted to be friends.

Jimin beamed. “I told you they were nice! Namjoon hyung must be the one who sat next to you, then.” He looked at Joon, who nodded in confirmation. “See, didn’t I tell you to give him a chance?”

“It’s awesome that your noona is already friends with my hyungs, Jiminie,” Taehyung said.  “This make things so much easier. We should all meet up every day!”

“Every day?” Seokjin asked, raising his eyebrows at his brother. “No way. We all have classes, and to be honest I’m not thrilled with the idea of having to see you every day.”

Taehyung frowned. “But Jinnie hyung, didn’t you miss me? We hardly saw each other the last three years, but now I can see you every day!”

“Seems like you’re the one who missed me,” Seokjin retorted before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Don’t let him fool you, Tae,” Namjoon chimed him. “He definitely missed you.”

Seokjin smacked Namjoon’s arm. “I did not!”

While the cousins were laughing and teasing each other, one of the workers at the café approached our table, untying his apron. “Hey guys!” he said as he plopped down on the seat next to Seokjin, across from me.

“Oh hey, Hoseok,” Seokjin said. “You on break?”

“Yeah, I got fifteen minutes before I need to go back.” He turned to look at me and Jimin, a bright smile on his face. “Do I get to be introduced to your new friends here?” he asked.

“This is my friend, Jimin!” Taehyung said, grabbing onto my brother’s arm. “And that’s his sister, (Y/n). She shares a class with Namjoon hyung too.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Hoseok said as he held out his hand for us to shake. Jimin didn’t hesitate to take it, while I was a little slower to follow. “My name is Hoseok. These two-” he gestured to Namjoon and Seokjin “-are practically glued to my side, so if you plan on sticking around them you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me.”

“Yeah because it’s definitely not the other way around,” Namjoon chuckled.

Jimin easily slid into comfortable conversation with everyone, while I mostly sat back and observed. It was a bit overwhelming, somehow feeling welcome and accepted – or at least not unwelcome – with so many people at once after so long. Taehyung was understandable, probably not knowing about the events from last year yet. But I was still trying to figure out Namjoon and Seokjin, and I knew for a fact Hoseok has been attending the school for a few years, having seen him around.

Feeling like I was almost finding somewhere I might belong, it seemed too good to be true.

Today was really beautiful despite fall starting to settle into the air, the heat barely there and breeze calm enough to keep it from feeling too chilled. Being unable to resist the pull of fresh air while the weather lasted, I found myself sitting against a tree in the school’s park, textbook in my lap.

I had become accustomed to spending most of my time in my dorm when I didn’t have class or need to eat, but it got stuffy always being indoors all the time. Days like today were worth spending outside, and usually I could be absorbed enough in my work that I didn’t pay attention to any looks and no one really bothered me.

It seemed that today was one of my lucky days. I successfully spent two hours here so far and had yet to have any intrusions into the bubble I created for myself.

But while I was in the middle of doing my calculus work, I felt someone sit next to me. Realizing my relaxing afternoon of being left alone was apparently over, I began packing up my stuff without acknowledging whoever wanted to interrupt my peace.

“You’re just going to leave when I stopped by to keep you company?” The very familiar voice said.

I halted my actions, turning to see a smiling Seokjin sitting next to me. I relaxed, placing my things back down. “Sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t think it was you.”

His smile faltered. “You figured I was someone else here to bully you.” It wasn’t a question but rather an observation.

“Yeah,” I responded. “That’s pretty much what I have gotten used to. I’m honestly still not used to the idea of there being people who want to talk to me and not do that.”

“I would never,” Seokjin replied. “But I understand what you mean.”

Having already closed my textbook, I decided I could finish later and put it away in my bag. “So, what brings you over here today, Seokjin?”

“You know, you can just call me Jin if you want.” He cleared his throat and looked at the ground when he mumbled, “Or oppa would work, too.”

“Are you?” I asked. “My oppa I mean.”

“Well, you’re a junior like Namjoon right?” Jin replied. “I’m a senior so yeah, I’m pretty sure I am.”

“Oh, okay.” I said. In the three weeks we had known each other, this was actually mostly new information. “Then I’ll try asking again. What brings you out to the park today, Jin oppa?”

A small smile flashed on his face for a split second before he answered. “I was just out enjoying the weather. I figured when I saw you sitting here, I might as well join you. But you can keep doing your work if you want.”

“Eh, I’ve been at it for about-” I checked my phone to see what time it was “-two and a half hours now. So I’m pretty due for a break I think.”

“Oh, good. Glad I could be of help then,” he smiled.

I nodded before resting my head back against the tree behind me. Namjoon and Seokjin had continued to be friendly with me, even outside of class and the assignment Namjoon and I were working on together. After three weeks it became really hard to still be suspicious that they had some kind of hidden agenda and I found myself growing more and more comfortable with them. But I was still determined to keep my walls up, just in case.

We sat in silence together for a few moments, just enjoying the nice weather of the sunny afternoon. Soon, Jin’s phone vibrated and he took it out from his jean pocket. After reading whatever was on the screen, he started looking around.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Not wrong,” he said. “But Tae sent me a picture of the two of us sitting here. So I’m trying to figure out where he is.”

Then, my phone started vibrating. I looked to see my brother was calling me. Sliding the green button on the screen, I answered. “Hey, Jimin. What’s up?”

I could hear laughing on the other end. “Seokjin hyung looks almost paranoid, looking all around like that.”

I rolled my eyes, turning to Jin. “It seems both our brothers are teaming up on us.” Going back to the phone call, I said, “Where are you two? It’s rude to spy on your older siblings.”

I could hear the notification sound of the call ending. But then, “Oh, you mean it’s rude to spy on your little date?” Jimin’s voice said from nearby.

Jin and I turned to our right to see both of our brothers standing there. Jin spluttered, seeming flustered at the fact that Jimin called whatever this was right now – which was most definitely not a date – a date.

“We’re not having a date,” I said plainly. “We’re just sitting here.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Taehyung said. “Looks like a date to me.”

“Yah!” Jin got up to encase Tae in a headlock. “Then what would you call you and Jimin hanging out all the time huh? If I’m on a date, then so are you.”

Taehyung laughed. “No offense to Jimin because he’s totally attractive, but you know I don’t swing that way, hyung!”

While they were arguing, I gathered all my things and stood up as well. “What were you guys up to, though?” I asked Jimin.

“We were just headed over to Daydream Café,” he answered. “Hobi hyung told Tae he saved a slice of his mom’s strawberry cheesecake for him.”

Oh yeah, that was something we had learned after meeting Hoseok last week, too. His parents actually owned Daydream Café, and his mom was responsible for many of the delicious home-baked treats there.

“Do you guys want to come with us?” Taehyung asked, finally out of his brother’s hold.

“Yeah sure, why not,” Seokjin said. “But I’m not third-wheeling you two. So I’ll go if (Y/n) wants to.”

I looked at Jin, shrugging. “Alright. It’s not like I have anything better to do, right?”

We all started on our way to the café, but before we could get very far I heard my name being called. I tensed up, easily recognizing the voice.

“(Y/n)!” she called again. I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath before turning around to face her. “I thought that was you. Long time no see,” she said, a smile that I once thought was genuine on her face.

“Hi, Yunhee,” I greeted back, trying to not seem too tense.

Recognizing her as well, Jimin gripped my hand tight and I could almost feel anger radiating off of him despite him now being behind me. “What do you want?” Jimin asked, absolutely no hint of the usual light, playful tone in his voice.

Yunhee took his reaction in stride, ignoring him and instead addressing me again. “I see you’ve managed to make some new friends,” she said, looking at Seokjin and Taehyung.

I remained silent, knowing that whatever I said would only fuel her and once she started going there was no stopping her. I looked next to me, seeing that Seokjin looked deep in thought about something and Taehyung was looking both concerned and confused at what was going on.

“It’s none of your business” Jimin said, still defensive. “We don’t want to talk to you, so please leave us alone while I’m asking nicely.”

I heard a light gasp from Seokjin, his expression lighting up and mouth opening and eyes widening. As quickly as it happened the expression was gone, replaced with a look of absolute disdain aimed right at Yunhee.

“You heard him,” he said, his tone sounding darker than I had ever heard it. There was a spine-chilling authoritativeness to it. “Leave. You’re not welcome here.”

Yunhee merely looked amused, a smirk on her lips and eyebrows raised, but made no move to leave. “You got yourself some pretty defensive friends here, (Y/n).”

Jimin walked around me to stand in front of her, face to face, while he kept a firm hold on my hand. “We told you to leave. You have no right to be talking to my sister.”

She made a sound of realization. “That’s right, you’re little Jimin. I almost didn't recognize you without your chubby little cheeks.” She turned back to me. “I just wanted to have a chat with my old friend. Can’t I do that?”

“You made it very clear last year that you aren’t her friend anymore, you backstabbing bitch,” Seokjin said, moving forward as well. “What don’t you understand about leaving her alone?”

At this point I became aware of just how much of a scene we were causing, many students nearby having stopped to watch the commotion. I tugged on Jimin’s sleeve to get his attention. I gave him a look that I hope told him that I wanted to get out of here, and he luckily seemed to understand.

“I guess we’ll need to leave if you won’t then,” Jimin said. “Come on, noona.” He placed his hand on my elbow, starting to lead me away from her. Seokjin and a still very confused Taehyung followed as well.

Luckily, she didn’t follow or try to say anything more as we walked away. We walked in silence for a little bit while I assumed we were still heading to Daydream Café. Then I remembered something that I heard Seokjin say.

“Jin oppa,” I said to get his attention. He turned to look at me, waiting for me to continue. “You called Yunhee a backstabbing bitch,” I said. “Why did you say that?”

He looked nervous, eyes flitting around and pressing his lips together, so I pushed a little more. “Do you know something?”

His gaze settled on me and he sighed lightly. “If we’re going to talk about that, maybe we should go somewhere more private,” he gently offered.

Now curious of what it was he had to say, I nodded.

“Let’s go back to my dorm?” Seokjin suggested.

“Namjoon will probably be there too, won’t he?” I asked.

“Probably,” Jin replied. “But I think that would honestly be better if he is, if you’re okay with that.”

I thought for a moment before carefully nodding. I assumed that if Seokjin knew something, Namjoon probably did too anyway. “Okay. I guess it won’t make much difference anyway.”

On the way there Taehyung kept looking at me curiously, but he kept any questions to himself for the time being.

Walking through the familiar door to Namjoon and Seokjin’s dorm, I quickly sat on their couch while my nerves started getting the best of me. I had no idea what to expect, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to get some answers about why these two didn’t seem to have an aversion to me like everyone else – and whether that was real or not. I looked expectantly at Jin, who had propped himself against his desk, when Namjoon came trudging out of the bathroom, hair damp from a shower.

“Hey guys, what are you all doing here?” he asked, glancing around at the relatively full room.

“We had an encounter with (Y/n)’s ‘friend’ from last year at the park,” Seokjin said. “And I have something I need to talk to her about.” He gave a pointed look to Namjoon, who seemed to understand what he meant and relaxed into the other seat in the room.

“Okay I know you have something to tell her, Jin hyung,” Tae chimed in first, “but I am really confused about what all is going on. I know it’s not technically any of my business, but I just feel like I’m the only one who is in the dark right now.”

I sighed. “Well, I guess basically you are.” I paused, thinking of how to put it. “You know about the school forum right?” I asked, getting a nod from him in return. “Just search for my name on there and you’ll no doubt find it.”

“That’s not right though,” Jin said. “The post on the forum isn’t the truth.”

“How would you know that?” I asked. “Everyone else seems to believe it’s true.” Jimin sat down next to me, wrapping his arms around my stomach.

Seokjin was silent for a few moments, seeming to collect his thoughts. “I knew her. Eunjung.”

The use of the name surprised me. “The post didn’t say her name. How do you…?”

“She was my friend at the time,” Jin continued. “I saw her after that post was made, and she was bragging about what happened. What she and Yunhee had done to you.” The look on his face couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than disgust. “She was proud of herself, thinking she did something good. That you… That there was something wrong with you and she was putting you in your place.”

Jimin’s arms tightened around me. “That’s terrible,” he said. “She was really that smug about slandering someone like that?”

Seokjin nodded. “I never knew she was like that. That was the last time I talked to her. I couldn’t stand even just looking at her after that.”

“And Namjoon?” I asked, turning to him. He seemed surprised that I was addressing him. “Did you know about that?”

“Yeah,” Joon responded. “Yeah, I did. Hyung was so appalled by it that he told me right after he found out.”

Learning that the two of them really did know the post from last year was only based on false events made me feel much more at ease. It was as if I were able to take a breath of fresh air for the first time in a long time, and I realized that while it may not be easy to just yet, I could honestly trust them.

“So is that why you sat next to noona then?” Jimin asked.

Namjoon hesitated for a moment. “I mean, it's one reason why I didn't automatically dislike her. In all honesty, I had entered the classroom right after her and saw that when she sat down the students sitting next to her left. It made me angry, so I just decided on the spot I wanted to sit next to her. But also – I said this before and I'll say it again – I don't care about rumors and gossip in the first place.”

“Okay,” Taehyung interrupted. “So, what I’m gathering is that this Eunjung and Yunhee are royal bitches and made a post on the school forum making you look bad?”

I hummed. “More or less, yeah.”

“So, if what they posted is untrue why don’t you just tell everyone?” Taehyung added, treating it like that was the easiest thing ever.

“You don’t think I tried?” I responded. “I tried, I really did. No one would believe me. I mean, why would they? They didn’t just make fun of me. They made me out to be this really bad person. Someone who, if what they were claiming was true, wouldn’t be entirely undeserving of how I started to be treated.”

“But you’re not,” Jimin said. “You’re nothing like what they said.”

“Can I ask?” Taehyung asked hesitantly. “What did happen?”

“(Y/n),” Yunhee singsonged as she sat next to me.

I hummed in response, barely paying attention to what was going on. Suddenly, she poked me in my side, making me jump and yelp. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You’re not paying attention to me,” my closest friend pouted. “But now that I do have your attention, tell me who it is.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who what is?”

“Oh, come on! I know that look!” She scooted closer to me, grabbing my arm. “You got a crush on someone, don’t you?”

I pursed my lips together as I felt heat rise to my cheeks before answering with a small nod.

Yunhee squealed. “I knew it! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“I-It’s no one,” I said, hesitant to admit my secret to her. Despite being friends for five years, I couldn’t help but still be afraid of what she would say.

She whined in disappointment. “Oh! I know, why don’t I try guessing who it is?” She hummed as she thought of her first guess. “Is it that guy who sits next to us in math?”

“Nope.”

“How about the guy-”

“Nope.”

“Is it that boy-”

“No!” I laughed. “It’s not any of them.”

“How do you know?” she pouted again. “You didn’t even hear who I was guessing.”

“Don’t need to, they’re wrong,” I shrugged.

She playfully glared at me. “Well if you won’t let me guess then you can at least just tell me who it is. The suspense is killing me!”

I contemplated it for a moment, wondering if it would really be okay to tell her. Well, five years of friendship couldn’t mean nothing, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt. “It’s um… Someone from my literature class.”

“Ooohhhhh, what’s his name?” she bounced up and down a few times in excitement.

“Um…. H-her name is Eunjung,” I said, feeling nervous now that it was out there and I couldn’t go back.

“Huh?” Yunhee said, suddenly no longer as excited as she was before.

Maybe this was a mistake. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” I started standing up, ready to walk away and just pretend like that never happened, but her grip on my arm kept me from leaving.

She laughed nervously. “No, no, don’t leave!” she said. “I’m sorry, I just… I wasn’t expecting that. I never knew that about you.”

“Well, it’s not exactly something I can just go around telling everyone,” I said, nervously rubbing the back of my neck. “Not that you’re just anyone! It’s just… I wanted to wait to tell you and then it just kind of never came up or was relevant and I somewhat forgot about mentioning it.” I paused, waiting to see if she would say something. When she didn’t, I asked, “Are you weirded out, or-“

“Oh, no! No I’m not,” she smiled at me. “Don’t worry! But anyway, have you talked to her? This Eunjung?”

“Not really,” I replied, relaxing. “I haven’t really had the guts to yet.”

“Well, you should! You can’t exactly ask her on a date if you don’t talk to her first, right?” Yunhee said.

“You think I should talk to her? I don’t know, how am I even supposed to know if I’m her type?”

“Can’t know until you try!” Yunhee singsonged.

With her encouragement, I eventually worked up the courage to strike a conversation with Eunjung, and we ended up getting along really well. Casual conversations about class turned into getting to know each other. Short text conversations turned into staying up late talking for hours. The more I talked to her, the more I found my distant crush turning into real feelings for her.

And the more time we spent together, the more I paid attention to the little things she did. When she would let her hand linger on my arm just a little longer, when I’d look over to her to see her already staring at me, when she’d naturally and casually wrap an arm around my waist while we walked. I was worried the signals I was seeing were all my imagination or that I was exaggerating them, but they started becoming so frequent I figured there was no way they could be. So one day, I worked up the courage to ask.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” I rushed out as Eunjung was walking toward my door to leave.

She turned around, tilting her head while she processed my words. “Dinner?”

“Y-yeah,” I replied, suddenly embarrassed.

“You mean… like a date?” Eunjung asked as she slowly walked back in my direction.

I tried to not show my surprise at her clarification. “If- If you want it to be,” I said so quietly I would have been surprised if she heard it.

But she did, and she smiled at me. “Yes. I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

We scheduled a date, and I found a decent enough restaurant that wouldn’t completely break my bank account to take her out to. Despite being super nervous at first, I quickly relaxed when she acted just the same as she always did with me. We had a really nice dinner, followed by a stroll around a park where she took the initiative to hold my hand as we walked side by side. At the end of the date we went back to the dorm building, and I dropped her off at her room first.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said, a big smile on my face. “I had a really nice time.”

“I should be thanking you for planning such a nice date,” Eunjung said, taking my hand in hers.

I felt a blush paint my cheeks. “It was nothing.” I lifted our joined hands, smiling dumbly at the sight and rubbed small circles into the back of her hand.

When I looked back up at her, I barely had time to even see what was happening before she leaned in and placed her lips on mine. It was a short, gentle kiss. But I loved it, nonetheless.

“So, could I take you out again sometime?” I asked as she opened the door to her room

Passing through the doorway, she turned around and hummed before saying, “How about I let you know tomorrow?”

I was so elated that night. I had been on a few dates before, but I had never felt like any of them had gone as well as that. It was crazy and dangerous, how quickly I found myself falling for this girl. The last thing she said played in my mind as a promise that we would continue seeing each other, and I went to sleep so happy and looking forward to what was to come.

But the next day, my elation quickly dissipated when things seemed really off on campus. All over school, people were whispering and I was pretty sure many kept staring at me. I wasn’t one to feel paranoid, but something was weird and I just couldn’t shake off a bad feeling.

It was when I walked into my first classroom and it went deathly silent so quickly that I really knew something was wrong. Having noticed that many people were also glued to their phones, I thought the most likely place for whatever it was that was making everyone act like that would have been the school forum.

Sitting in my seat and logging in, I found the most popular post at the top where my name was prominently placed in the title along with words that I could hardly even believe. I suddenly felt sick, and I hadn’t even read the actual post yet. Without caring what other people would think about it, I picked up my bag and hurried out of the class, heading toward the closest bathroom and locking myself in a stall.

LESBIAN STUDENT PARK (Y/N) SEXUALLY HARASSES PEER

Needing to find out what could have possibly led to that title, I began to read through the words and what I found was unbelievable. The post claimed that after befriending another girl – whose identity wasn’t revealed – I started putting unwanted advances on her, until eventually pressuring her into going on a date.

It continued to claim that I kept being touchy throughout dinner and on our walk, making her continuously feel uncomfortable. And best of all, the post claimed that when I took her back to her room I forced her to kiss me, and tried to force even more on her – things that I would never do and couldn’t even imagine. It said that she managed to get me off of her before she rushed into her room and cried herself to sleep.

The further into the post I got, the more my hands shook and the blurrier my vision became as tears clouded my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The whole time I was nothing but respectful and kept my distance until I was sure that it seemed like she was looking for the same thing I was.

She had been sending me hints. She was the one who clarified that when I asked her to dinner it was a date and said she’d ‘love to go’ with me. She held my hand. She kissed me. I let her control the pace, handed the reins to her so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. So what was all of this?

After spending who knows how long getting over my initial shock and I was starting to be able to think a little more clearly, I noticed something a bit odd about the post.

There were pictures.

A picture of us eating dinner, of us holding hands in the park, of our kiss outside her room. Her face was blurred in every one, but of course mine was fully visible for anyone to see. How were there pictures? If there were pictures… Someone had to have followed us. I went over anything else I could remember from last night to see if something stood out. Then I remembered our last exchange.

‘So, could I take you out again sometime?’

‘How about I let you know tomorrow?’

It clicked. She planned this. She planned this from the start. She said that because she knew this post would be on the forum and it would be her answer – a blatantly obvious ‘no way in hell.’ But, why? How?

I scrolled all the way back up the page to look at the username of the person posting. Our usernames were assigned by the school and contained our real names, a measure to prevent us from abusing the forums.

I felt sick all over again when I saw the username NYunhee427.

The room was silent after I finished explaining what had happened last year.

Taehyung was the first to break it. “That is… absolutely disgusting.” He said. “Why would anyone do that?”

I shrugged. “To be honest, I’m not sure why. I mean, I guess I just found out why Eunjung did. Leave it to me to get a crush on a girl who’s homophobic,” I laughed humorlessly. “But as for Yunhee? I still don’t know. When I talked to her, she didn’t give me a reason. She just confessed that after I started talking to Eunjung, she told her about my crush and they decided to start this plan. So from the start, Eunjung purposely pretended like she was interested in order to bait me.”

“It still baffles me,” Jin chimed in. “I don’t agree with her point of view, but I disagree even more with the way she did things. If she wasn’t interested, she should have just told you no and walked away. But to purposely fool you, and then tell everyone that you harassed her when that didn’t happen at all?”

“It’s sick,” Jimin said, his voice muffled from where his head was buried in my hair.

“Oh and another star to go into the inaccuracies column,” I added, “is that I’m not a lesbian, I’m bisexual. Yunhee should have known that, but I don’t know. Maybe she thought me talking about boys before was all fake? Or maybe she figured calling me a lesbian would make a bigger impact.”

“She’s such a royal bitch,” Jimin said, pulling himself away from me for the first time since he sat down. “I still can’t stand that she did that to you.”

“Didn’t anyone question why there were pictures?” Taehyung asked out of nowhere. He must have been thinking about it for a bit.

“Oh yeah, some people noticed that was weird,” I said. “But Yunhee just said that Eunjung told her about what I was ‘doing’ to her and asked her to follow us just in case she needed help.”

“Oh yeah because that makes sense,” Taehyung said. “Her going to your supposed friend for help.”

I shrugged. “People didn’t think that far.”

“And people wouldn’t listen,” Seokjin said. “They believed Yunhee and the post because there was ‘photo proof.’ They didn’t care what we said to tell them it wasn’t true.”

I looked over at Seokjin. “We?”

“Well,” Namjoon said, “I’m sure it’s not really a surprise that it was something the students wouldn’t shut up about for a while. People would say stuff to us or around us and we would voice our oppositions, but they didn’t care. They’d say we were blind and stupid. When in reality, that’s exactly what they were.”

“Thank you,” I found myself saying. “For trying.”

Seokjin offered me a small smile. “I’m sorry I never talked to you before. I saw how others would treat you when they did, and I figured you wouldn’t believe that a stranger was on your side so easily.”

I smiled back. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have believed you. To be honest, I still had trouble believing you guys up until today. I wanted to, but I just had too many bad experiences since that day to fully trust anyone other than Chim. I’ve built up walls, and I don’t know if I can just suddenly take them down, but knowing all this now I can at least say that I’m glad I didn’t push you guys away.”

“Well,” Seokjin said, “if you want those walls broken down, we’d be more than happy to help.”

Seokjin really wasn’t joking. Within the last month, the three of them fully absorbed both me and Jimin into their friend group. Rarely did I eat at the cafeteria without at least two others now, and Jin especially seemed really adamant about bringing me out of my shell.

While all of them were very welcoming and nice, there had really been a huge shift with Seokjin in particular. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been friendly with me before, but ever since everything was laid out on the table there hadn’t been a day where he didn’t at least contact me, if not spent some time with me in person.

Today was no different–yet again, I found myself at Daydream Café. The biggest thing that had kept me away from this place within the last year was the fact that Yunhee and I loved to hang out here together. I had found myself here only one time after everything had happened and I felt lonelier than ever, suddenly having no one to share my time with.

But now things were a bit different. I could still feel the weird looks from other students here and there, but I wasn’t alone. I was with my new friends–a term that I was still getting used to thinking. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked across the table at Seokjin who gave me a smile. Next to him were Hoseok and another friend we had been introduced to, Yoongi. And next to me sat Jimin.

“What was up with that girl sitting with you in the cafeteria earlier today?” Hoseok asked, taking a bite of the pumpkin-flavored desert we were all sharing.

I shrugged. “Who knows. Apparently she’s a freshman and somehow heard that I’m into girls but not about what everyone thinks of me. She was pretending to flirt and be interested.”

“Maybe she actually was interested,” Seokjin said, only half serious.

I laughed. “Yeah, right. After how many girls have come up to me saying, ‘I hear I’m your type. Let’s go on a date,’ in the past year, I can tell when they’re full of shit. And trust me, she was.”

“Good thing she didn’t stick around when we got there, then,” Jimin said.

“She was so unbelievably awkward as soon as you sat down, Jimin,” Hoseok laughed.

I observed as Yoongi smiled softly at Hoseok while he laughed. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, but I felt like there was something there that I was missing.

After Hoseok stopped laughing Yoongi looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “Why do you keep staring like that?”

I felt my cheeks heat up, embarrassed at being caught. “S-Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Just go ahead and ask,” Yoongi said.

It was my turn to be curious. “What do you mean? Ask what?”

“I see you trying to figure out what’s going on with me and Hoseok,” he answered.

“Oh!” Hoseok said. “I guess we haven’t mentioned it, huh? Sorry, we’re just kinda used to everyone around us knowing.” Hobi lifted his hand from where it was under the table, showing that it was entwined with Yoongi’s. “Yoongi hyung is my boyfriend,” he said.

“Ah, that makes a lot of sense,” Jimin said. “How long have you two been together?”

“Three and a half years,” Yoongi said casually as he pulled their hands back underneath the table. “We’re not usually very obvious about it.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said, mouth turning downward a little. “Can’t always be sure how people will react.”

“Don’t I know that all too well,” I said, staring at my drink sitting on the table, and Jimin placed a comforting hand on my back. I felt something brush against my free hand on the table and looked up a little to see Jin gently placing his warm hand on top of mine.

“Well, you don’t need to ever worry about that with us,” Seokjin said, giving a soft smile.

“And for the record,” Hoseok said nervously, “Yoongi and I don’t believe what everyone else says about you, either. Just in case we haven’t made that clear already.”

I felt a smile slowly grow on my lips. “Thank you.”

“Well, I should be getting to class,” Yoongi said, finishing his iced americano and pushing his chair back.

“I’ll walk you, hyung,” Hoseok said, standing up with Yoongi. “We’ll see you guys later!”

As they waked away, Hoseok waving goodbye, I could feel Jimin shifting around next to me.

“And I promised Jungkook I’d give him a call,” Jimin said. For some reason, he kept moving his gaze between me and Seokjin as he talked. “So, I’m going to get going now. Bye!”

Before I could blink, he got up and rushed to the door, leaving just me and Seokjin left at the table.

Jin seemed to be as flustered as me by his sudden exit, taking a moment to register what happened. “Alrighty then,” he finally broke the silence before removing his hand from mine and taking a sip of his tea. “Who’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, he’s Jimin’s best friend from back home,” I said. “He’s younger than Jimin, so he’s still in high school.”

“Ah, okay,” Jin replied before we fell into a bit of silence.

With it now just being the two of us and the comfortable quiet that hung in the air, I started to feel more conscious of the other people around us. Particularly of the next table over where a girl was whispering quite loudly with some choice words to describe me with.

I could tell Jin heard it as well, seeing him instantly tense up. “Why don’t we get going?” he offered, acting nonchalant. I just nodded in response before gathering my things and walking outside into the chilly autumn air.

As soon as we were out the door, Jin started striking up a random conversation with me. He was always doing this. Whenever we’d hear people talking about me or someone would say something to me, he made it a habit to start talking about something else as soon as possible.

I knew he did it to keep my mind off of what was said. By this point, there wasn’t really any more emotions for me to get out or work through with the situation–it had been going on for so long. So instead of going the ‘let’s talk about this’ route, Jin would do what he could to keep my mind off of it as much as possible.

But this time, I just found myself thinking about something else, instead. While Jin was rambling on about something–I think I heard him complaining about something to do with his business management course–I was examining his face, trying to will his inner thoughts and feelings to write themselves on his skin so I could understand him and why he did this.

At some point, he had stopped rambling and turned to me, apparently waiting for me to answer a question I hadn’t heard.

I blinked, refocusing my attention to reality. “Sorry, what was that?” I asked.

Jin gently shook his head. “I know you weren’t listening,” he said, but he didn’t sound accusatory, just understanding. “What’s on your mind, (Y/n)?”

Put on the spot, I wasn’t sure how to voice my thoughts. Seokjin waited patiently while I tried to put them together, and then contemplated if I really should say them out loud.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Jin assured, noticing my hesitance. “But I want you to know that you can trust me. I hope I’ve done enough to prove that to you.”

“You definitely have,” I said, barely audible. “I just… Sorry, I’m having trouble putting my thoughts together.” Jin nodded in understanding, remaining silent while he waited for me to continue. I took a few moments, looking around at the trees colored in reds and yellows while I figured out how to voice my thoughts. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you try so hard.”

Jin stopped in his tracks suddenly, eyeing me curiously. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“You’re just always putting such an effort into trying to make me feel comfortable and welcome,” I elaborated. “Even just now, I know you were only talking about random things to keep my mind off of what other people were saying.”

“Well, that’s what friends do, don’t they?” Jin asked, still clearly confused about why I had to point it out. “We are friends, right?”

“Yes. At least, I hope we are,” I answered bashfully. I looked forward as I continued walking. “But I wonder if you do it because you feel some kind of… obligation to be nice to me. Maybe to try to make up for what I’ve been experiencing.”

“(Y/n),” Seokjin said, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me toward him, making us stop once again. “Is that what it seems like to you?” His voice was gentle and his expression full of concern.

I shrugged, staring at my feet. “I just worry. I told you it would be hard for me to accept all this for a while.”

“Well, let me put your mind at ease,” Jin said, lifting my chin with his forefinger. “As much as I wish you never had to experience everything you’ve gone through the past year, I don’t feel any obligation toward you. Everything I do for you, I do because I consider you my friend and I care about you. If you need me to back off a bit, I will do that for you. But I can’t tell you how much I’ve been enjoying spending time with you this year so far.”

Jin moved the hand on my shoulder to the middle of my back to gently usher me forward and continue on our way, dropping it away once we were walking again. “Every time I spend time with you, I see that wall of yours slowly come down. A little more of your personality, the part of you that you’ve kept hidden from everyone comes out and it makes me so happy to see, and I realize that I really like who you are a little more each time. I know you haven’t shown us the entire real you yet, but I can’t wait for the day that you do.”

Looking at him, I could see him smiling softly and his eyes full of… something. Care? Adoration? Whatever it was, it made his eyes look like they were sparkling and I found myself both wanting to never look away and too embarrassed to keep looking. I managed to give him a smile before ultimately tearing my gaze away with a blush on my cheeks and feeling my heart race. How seeing him like that made me feel was definitely something I wasn’t going to be examining anytime soon.

“Thank you, Jin oppa,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say something that sounded that sincere to me in a long time.

We walked the rest of the way back to the dorms in comfortable silence, while I hoped Jin couldn’t tell the battle going on inside my head to keep thoughts that shouldn’t be there out. If I were honest with myself, it wasn’t the first time those kinds of thoughts surfaced in my mind. But I couldn’t let them take hold at all. I’d found new friends, and I wasn’t going to ruin it by letting my heart run off with fantasies at one of the first people to show me kindness like Jin has.

If only that was as easy to control as I wanted it to be.

Seokjin walked me back to my door first and before I could even think about the words, I asked, “Do you want to come in for a little bit?” I internally grimaced at myself for not being able to control my tongue.

Jin however, seemed pleased with my offer when he smiled and said, “Of course.”

This was the first time I had openly invited any of my new friends into my dorm. Luckily,  I was a relatively clean person so there weren’t any big messes around for me to fix and he wasn’t going to get an accidental look at my underwear selection.

After taking a quick look around, Jin made himself comfortable on the lone couch in the corner. “You keep your room nice and clean,” he commented, seeming to approve. “I wish you could rub that off on Joon. I’m the only reason our room isn’t a disaster.”

I chuckled as I poured us both some water from the kitchenette. “If you couldn’t get him to be more organized after being with each other for your whole lives, I don’t think I can do much.” I handed him his glass as I sat next to him.

Jin threw his head back when he laughed heartily. “That’s very true.”

I was surprised at how easily the two of us settled into conversation, chatting literally about anything. The nervousness I initially felt when I invited him in without thinking was soon long gone and replaced by a comforting warmth, wrapping around me like a blanket that I never wanted to let go of.

“You’re kidding!” I laughed when Jin recounted the story of when Namjoon found out about Hoseok and Yoongi’s relationship.

“I’m serious!” he said. “He walked into the room and saw them kissing, screamed like a little girl and ran down the hallway, tripping and knocking over this jade statue my mom had. He fell flat on his face and started crying.”

I doubled over sideways onto the couch as I couldn’t stop laughing, holding onto my stomach. “Oh my gosh, he must have been mortified.”

“Oh, he was,” Jin said, having a hard time talking between his own fits of laughter. “So were Hobi and Yoongi. They thought he was uncomfortable about them, but it turned out he was just shocked and utterly embarrassed about catching them. And then even more embarrassed by his fall.”

“That is definitely one way for your friends to find out about your relationship,” I mused as I righted myself and calmed down. I turned to look at Jin, whose gaze was already on me with a bright smile.

“There she is,” he said quietly.

I tilted my head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“The you behind that wall.” Jin reached his hand out to brush back some of my hair that had fallen in my face during my laughing fit and rested it on my cheek. “I’m really happy to see the real you come out like that.”

I felt my face flush while I tried to not smile too much. There was that look in his eyes again–the one that made them sparkle. Something about it was so captivating that I couldn’t look away, and Seokjin didn’t seem to want to break the eye contact anytime soon.

“I don’t want to overstep,” Jin started, seeming to think carefully about each word that left his mouth, “but I also want to be honest with you.” He took in a deep breath before continuing. “(Y/n), I-”

My ringtone rang out into the room, interrupting whatever it was Seokjin was about to say and bursting the bubble that was created around us. With a quiet sigh, Jin dropped his hand away from where it still rested against my cheek.

After shaking off the fuzzy feeling that had invaded my mind, I recognized the song playing as the one I set for Jimin. “Hey Chim, what’s up?” I asked when I answered the call.

“Noona, where are you right now?” he responded, sounding out of breath.

There was an urgency in his voice that made me concerned. “I’m in my room. Why? Is something wrong, Chim?”

“Okay, good,” he said. “Just- just stay there, okay? Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way.”

“Jimin, what is going on?” I asked again, entirely confused.

“I’ll explain when I get there. Just trust me when I ask you to not leave your room, okay? And don’t go on the school forum or Twitter or anything. I’ll be there in five minutes, tops.”

He hung up the call before I had the chance to ask anything else, leaving me an utterly bewildered mess.

I looked at Jin who, being close enough to have heard the call as well, looked just as confused as me.

“What was that about?” he asked, but it wasn’t really directed towards me.

“I have no idea,” I said, trying to revisit the conversation in my head. “He said he’s on his way here and to… not look at the school forum.”

As soon as the words left my mouth Seokjin was on his phone, most likely doing exactly what Jimin asked me not to. It only took a few moments for his fingers to stop in their tracks, his face looking shocked before quickly changing into anger.

“Yeah, don’t check the school forum, alright,” he mumbled. “What the fuck is this girl’s problem?”

With his reaction, I quickly went to take a look myself. When I made it to the forum, I had no trouble finding the post that Jimin obviously didn’t want me to see. It would have almost felt like déjà vu, if my initial reaction this time hadn’t been to laugh incredulously.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, scoffing.

Sitting prominently on the first page of the forum was a post titled ‘PARK (Y/N) FINDS ANOTHER VICTIM TO PREY ON,’ posted by Yunhee. Skimming through the post, I saw a picture of me and another girl sitting in the cafeteria. I didn’t really care about the contents because I knew it was full of nothing but lies. But looking closely at the picture, I was able to recognize the other girl even though her face was blurred.

“That’s the girl we were talking about earlier,” I told Jin. “The one who sat with me before Jimin and Hoseok got there.”

“Well, that’s just great,” he said, running a hand through his hair and clearly frustrated.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at my door and I heard Jimin’s voice calling through to let me know it was him.

I got up to open the door and he hurried in, swiftly closing and locking the door behind him. “Noona, you haven’t looked at the forum, have you?” he rushed out.

I showed him my phone which was still in my hand, and he sighed.

“I told you not to look,” he said, concern lacing his features.

“Well,” Seokjin said, making Jimin jump in surprise since he hadn’t noticed him yet, “if you explicitly say, ‘don’t look on the forum,' it kind of makes us curious about what was on the forum.”

“Hyung! I didn’t know you were here.” My brother relaxed a little. “Well at least you weren’t by yourself when you saw it,” he said, looking at me closely. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Chim,” I answered. “I’m more in disbelief than anything. I don’t get why she’s doing this again.”

“Show me your class schedule,” Jimin said suddenly.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re not going anywhere alone,” he said. “I need to know your schedule, and I’m going to talk to our friends and see how we can arrange that.”

I sighed. “Jimin, I told you not to try to be my bodyguard-”

“Yeah, that was before this-” he pointed at his phone, where he had the forum open as well “-happened. Things are a bit different now.”

“How?” I asked. “It’s not like people ever stopped bothering me, and they will keep doing it now.”

“You told me just a few days ago that it’s calmed down a lot since last semester,” Jimin said. “But this post is going to make it worse again, just like when the post last year went up. And I am not letting you go through that alone again.”

Not knowing what to say, I turned to Jin in hopes of some assistance.

“Sorry, (Y/n),” Jin said. “I actually agree with Jimin. That’s probably why she did this. She wants people to start bothering you again. For what reason, I don’t know. But if you think I won’t go out of my way to make sure you have one of us with you as much as possible, then you clearly don’t know how much I care about you.”

I could have sworn I saw a smirk appear on Jimin’s face for a moment, but it was gone so fast I couldn’t tell if I imagined it or not. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s see if we can get everyone here and come up with a plan.”

I sat down, giving into their insistence. While I had gotten more or less used to everything by now, imagining things going back to being just as bad as they were those first few weeks after the original post made my stomach drop—even more so when I imagined having to go through it on my own again. I knew there wasn’t much I could do, so I figured I should be happy with the fact that I had people to help me this time.

But there was one thing I knew I wanted to do. I needed answers, and I was going to get them one way or another. I needed to talk to Yunhee.

“Noona, I’m not letting you do this alone,” Jimin insisted once again as I walked down the hallway.

“Jimin, I have to,” I responded. “This is something I need to talk to her about on my own. If I bring you in there with me, it’s only going to make it look like I can’t handle it myself.”

It had been four days since Yunhee posted to the forum again and what Jimin expected was exactly what happened. People were so much more vocal about their thoughts about me, not even bothering to whisper their accusations and choice words. Whenever I was alone—which was mostly during classes—it was the worst. But between Jimin, Seokjin, and the others, we were able to work out a way for one of them to walk me between each class and be with me almost all of the time.

Hoseok had also talked his parents into letting me eat at the café for lunch and dinner. They had a private room in the back where they would rest and eat, and his dad was kind enough to make some extra portions for me. They didn’t even need us to explain the situation, having heard gossip from the students who frequented the café. And luckily, they already knew from their son how untrue it all was so they were more than willing to help me out.

I had already known which room in the dorm was Yunhee’s, having visited it many times before, so all I had to do was wait for a time when she was in her room so I could confront her. I knew for sure she was there right now, and I was more than eager to find out what her issue was and try to put a stop to all of this.

I paused in front of her door about to knock, when Jimin grabbed ahold of my arms to stop me again. “Are you sure I can’t come in with you?”

“Please, Chim,” I said. “I want to do this on my own. I need to.”

He sighed and slowly let go of his grip on me. “Alright, fine. But I’m staying right here. You call for me if you need me, understand?”

“I will,” I said, figuring I wouldn’t need him but knew agreeing would put him at ease. “Thank you.” I offered him a smile in gratitude before I took in a breath and finally knocked on her door.

“I know it’s you, (Y/n),” I heard Yunhee call from inside. “I heard you talking.”

“Well, then you know why I’m here,” I said firmly. “And we need to talk. You might want to let me in before I make a scene out here in the hallway.”

There was silence for a few moments before the door clicked as she unlocked it, slowly opening it to allow me in.

After I walked in and she shut the door behind us, Yunhee leaned against it and crossed her arms. “Well?” she asked. “What is it you feel like you need to say.”

I felt anger boiling in my stomach. “You know exactly what I’m here to talk about,” I said, clenching my fists. “You know just as well as I do that everything you posted, the other day and last year, is bullshit.”

Yunhee shrugged. “Well, they’re already out there, so I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Why would you even post them in the first place?” I asked. “You and Eunjung did enough damage last year, and I know it must have been you who asked that freshman to approach me the other day. Why would you do all of this?!”

Yunhee didn’t answer; she just looked at me with an unreadable expression.

“I haven’t done any of the things that either of those posts claimed, and you damn well know it.” I took in a deep breath to try to calm down a little and gather my thoughts. “I still don’t understand why you started this, Yunhee. I considered you my best friend. When I opened up to you about my orientation, I didn’t think you’d just throw five years-worth of friendship out the window and stab me in the back.”

“Stab you in the back?” Yunhee pushed herself away from the door. “Well, I felt like you stabbed me in the gut. For five whole years you couldn’t tell me that you were into girls?”

“I told you why I didn’t say anything before then. And apparently it was for good reason, seeing how you plotted against me with a homophobe and just tossed me aside when I did!” I rubbed my face with my hands in frustration. “Did I really disgust you that much that you felt all of that was necessary?”

“Disgust?” she asked, walking toward me. “No, (Y/n). You are completely missing the mark here. What happened was that the moment you decided it was appropriate to come out to me, it just had to be when you had found some other random girl—who you hadn’t even talked to at that point, might I add—to fawn over. In all the years I knew you, I never thought that you would have even looked at a girl like that. But you did, and instead of being someone that you knew and who cherished you, it had to be some random chick?!”

“W-What?” I had to run the last sentence she said through my head again to really understand the meaning behind her words. “No way. Were you- were you jealous?”

“Yes, I was jealous!” Yunhee admitted. “Here I was, thinking there was no way you could care about me the way I cared about you, that I was absolutely not your type. But then I found out I was wrong in the same breath that you confessed your crush on some other girl. Of course I'd be jealous!”

Taken aback, I needed a moment to absorb the new information before I could respond. “Well first of all, it's not like you ever told me that you were into girls either-"

“How could I when you were the only girl I had eyes for and I thought it was hopeless?” Yunhee said.

“Okay, I can see your point there,” I said. “But you could have told me after I was open about it! It didn't have to be the same day or even soon after but, Yunhee, there were so many things you could have done instead of letting your jealousy drive me away and make up lies about me!”

“I didn't know what else to do!” She shouted, flailing her arms in the air. “You clearly weren't interested in me like that and I was just so angry.”

“You said you cared about me as more than a friend, but that didn’t stop you from kicking me to the curb and starting all these rumors that not only alienated me but made me look like I was some terrible person when I hadn’t done anything wrong! That doesn’t exactly look like the actions of someone who cares. Did you even feel bad at all?”

“Of course I did,” she almost mumbled. “When I started it, I just wanted you to feel rejected, like how I did. The date and the post were all Eunjung’s idea. I had let Eunjung use my account to post it, and I didn’t know she was going to go that far with it. Once I read through it after it was posted, I felt really bad for what she said about you.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me, Yunhee?” I asked, finally taking a seat on her couch. “I can understand you feeing jealous, but you didn’t need to let your jealousy govern your actions. I was going to be rejected by Eunjung either way. And I get you wouldn’t have known that, but if you honestly cared about me and considered me your friend, you could have waited. Maybe even opened up about your own preference in the meantime.

“And when I inevitably got hurt by Eunjung, you could have been there for me. Who knows, you might even have been able to get the courage to own up about your own feelings about me too. There are just so many things you could have done better, instead of all of this!”

I took a moment to breathe and collect myself, while Yunhee remained silent. She was still standing in the middle of the room staring at the ground, at least having the decency to look a little ashamed.

“And what about this new post?” I asked. “If what you said is all true it doesn’t make sense why you would do that again.” When she still remained silent, I took the time to think about it. The only encounter I had with her recently was the day in the park, before Seokjin and Namjoon told me what they knew and I told the story to Taehyung. Maybe… “Don’t tell me you got jealous again.” I guessed. “That I had found new friends.”

Yunhee turned away from me, seeming to refuse to answer. But that was all the answer I needed.

“You did!” I said. “What the hell, Yunhee?!”

“What?” she finally responded, whipping back around and anger lighting her expression. “I was supposed to be happy that you found some new people to be friends with? That I didn’t seem to matter to you anymore?”

I scoffed. “Oh, and I was just supposed to forget about everything you had done to me and come crawling back to you saying, ‘Oh Yunhee, I miss you. I forgive you, please be my friend again’? Why the hell would I do that?! You completely betrayed any trust I had in you. I didn’t know that the worst part was all Eunjung’s idea, so I’ll give you that. But what’s even worse is that you let her go along with it, and afterwards you didn’t say anything!

“You didn’t tell me that that part was all her and you didn’t know she’d say that. You never came to me to apologize or try to make amends. I wasn’t the one who needed to reach out here, Yunhee. It was you. I don’t know if you still feel like your reasons justified their actions, but let me tell you as the one who get the shit end of the stick, they didn’t.”

We were both silent for a few moments while she took in my words and I calmed down a bit. When I spoke again, my voice was much more relaxed. “If you were hoping for us to be friends again, you should have apologized. You should have told me everything you did just now, not because I dragged it out of you but in an effort to be honest and ask for a second chance. But if you were looking for one, that chance is now completely blown.”

She lifted her gaze from the floor, all the fire in her eyes gone. “I’m sorry,” she said so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

“It’s too late to apologize to me now,” I said. “But I hope you will do better in the future. I don’t wish bad things on you, Yunhee. I just can’t forgive you for what you’ve done.” I sighed as I stood up to leave. “Thank you for finally being honest with me at least.”

Yunhee made no move to say anything else or stop me as I opened her door and left. As soon as the door to her room was closed again, Jimin wrapped me in a tight hug. I had no doubt he was able to hear almost everything that was said with how thin the walls here were.

“You did well, noona,” he said, giving me a kiss on the crown of my head. “I’m proud of you.”

The next day was luckily the weekend, and I wasn’t surprised at all to receive a text from Jin asking if he could stop by. Jimin had been the one to let the others know about my conversation with Yunhee, which I really appreciated. I needed some time to recover yesterday after what I had learned.

As for how people were treating me, I was clueless on what to do. As wrong as what she and Eunjung had done was, I wasn’t about to go telling the whole student body Yunhee’s secrets. Her sexual orientation, her personal thoughts and feelings, those were all her own business to tell. That luxury was taken away from me, and I knew that I didn’t want to do the same to anyone else.

Not to mention, I doubted anyone would even believe me anyway.

A light knock on my door sounded while I was eating my cereal. I opened it to let Seokjin in, and he followed me back to the kitchenette.

“How are you doing?” He gently asked.

I shrugged. “I’m fine. To be honest, I’m glad I have answers now. I’m no less upset with her but at least I know why she did it, even if it wasn’t right.”

Seokjin’s gaze when our eyes connected was so soft, it almost made me feel like I could melt. “I can’t imagine how hard all of this has been for you,” he said.

“I just wish she would have thought to react differently,” I said. “None of this would have happened if she just didn’t act on jealousy.” I sighed, briefly imagining how things could have been different. “But then again, I may not have become friends with you guys if none of this happened.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jin said, taking a seat across from me. “Our brothers still would have met and would have inevitably gotten us to mingle.”

“We probably would have just been acquaintances,” I pointed out.

Seokjin chuckled. “Would going through everything the past year really have been worth it, though? Only to become friends with us?”

I honestly thought about the answer to that while I finished my breakfast. I spent a lot of time building up walls, being alienated and ridiculed. It hadn’t been easy at all to get through, and it still wasn’t. But if all of that was a dark tunnel, then the light at the end would’ve had to be the new friendships I made, especially with the man sitting across from me right now.

“Yes,” I decided. My eyes met Seokjin’s, and I could see the bit of surprise in them from my answer. “Even if the only way for me to have become friends with you was to go through that shitshow, I would do it all over again.”

There it was again, that sparkly look in his eyes. A wide smile slowly grew on his face. “You amaze me, (Y/n). Do you know that?”

“There’s nothing ‘amazing’ about me, oppa,” I said.

“You are amazing,” he countered. “Not everyone would have the strength to do what you did yesterday. Or to get through the last year as well as you have. You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Finding myself blushing at his words, I decided it was a good time to rinse out my bowl so he hopefully wouldn’t notice.

Once I was done I made my way to the couch, Seokjin following behind me. I sat down, but he remained standing close by for a moment, seeming deep in thought.

“Do you remember how I was about to tell you something the other day?” he suddenly asked. “Before Jimin called you.”

I racked my brain, pulling out the memory—mostly about how intensely he had been staring at me and how fast it made my heart beat. I cleared my throat before saying, “Yeah, I remember.”

“I think now it’s even more important for me to be honest with you,” Jin said. “And I think I know you well enough to tell, but I just want to make sure first. You’re not feeling emotionally vulnerable right now, right? I know that yesterday was a lot for you to take in, but you seem to be doing well today.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, wondering what this was about. “I mean, yeah. I’m not like in shock or dazed or feeling particularly vulnerable or anything. Why?”

“Because what I have to tell you is important but I want to be sure that whatever you have to say in response is honest and comes from your heart,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, becoming worried. “Did I-”

“No, absolutely not,” Jin assured me, gently smiling. “Nothing is wrong.”

I nodded in understanding, but didn’t say anything as I waited for him to continue.

Jin took in a deep breath before sitting next to me and gently taking my hand in his. “I told you the other day about how the more I get to see who you are beyond your wall, the more I realize how much I like you. I wasn’t exaggerating at all, (Y/n). I didn’t realize it at first, but my feelings toward you started to become less and less platonic the more I got to know you. And before I knew it, I started to really like you. Not just as a friend, but as something more.”

I felt my heart pounding in my chest. So that’s what that sparkle in his eyes was—the same one that prominently shined in his earnest gaze now. Butterflies had completely swarmed my stomach, making me almost feel dizzy from his confession. I could hardly believe it. After I had worked so hard to try to keep those same thoughts and feelings from taking root in my own heart, he had felt that way all along?

“I don’t expect you to feel anything more than friendship toward me,” he continued, “but I just feel like I need to be completely honest with you. I can continue to just be your friend, but I don’t want any secre-”

I couldn’t stop myself from closing the distance between us and placing my lips on his. I felt him hesitate, probably shocked at my actions, but he quickly relaxed into it and returned the kiss. Despite not letting go, neither of us made any move to deepen the kiss, keeping it soft and light.

Eventually, I pulled away just slightly and slowly opened my eyes. “You have no idea how I’ve been internally battling myself to not fall for you, oppa.” I spoke barely above a whisper, knowing he’d be able to hear me with how close our faces still were. “I was scared that I was looking too deeply into things and didn’t want to ruin the best thing that had happened to me in so long.”

“Oh, thank god,” Seokjin said, looking relieved. “I was worrying about it so much, especially after learning how Yunhee had kept her feelings a secret and I was scared that if I didn’t tell you and you eventually found out about it later then it’d cause problems between us. But then I was so scared about telling you because we haven’t known each other very long and what if you didn’t feel the same and-”

I cut off his rambling with a peck to his lips before chuckling. “Well now you know you don’t need to worry about any of that.” I pulled away to look at him, feeling practically giddy now that I let myself feel everything I had been holding back before.

He smiled, leaning forward a bit to let our foreheads touch. “I guess I don’t, huh?” he mused.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I mean I’m glad that we were actually on the same page, but even if I somehow managed to not develop feelings for you, I would have really appreciated the honesty.”

“Of course,” he replied as he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. He leaned in to connect our lips once again and I let myself get lost in the feeling of our mouths moving together, exploring each other for the first time.

Time had fallen away. It felt like only seconds had passed, but at the same time it felt like it could have been years that we spent connected at the lips. Tentative and careful touches started to grow more confident and certain until I was practically sitting in Jin’s lap, feeling lightheaded and out of breath.

And then my phone started ringing. Jin groaned in frustration as he broke our kiss, catching his breath. “That’s Jimin’s ringtone isn’t it?” he asked.

I was still too out of it to use my voice so I just nodded, planning on ignoring it as I trailed my lips from his jaw down his neck, not wanting to separate from him yet.

Seokjin didn’t seem fully opposed to that idea either as I let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. But it was only a few seconds later when it rang once more.

Sighing, Seokjin gently pushed me away from him. “I think you’d better answer that, babe. He probably isn’t going to stop calling.”

Despite what we were just doing, I blushed at how casually he used the pet name with me. Realizing he was probably right, I got up to retrieve my phone from the nightstand, answering just before it would have gone to voicemail.

“Yes, Jimin?” I asked, trying my best to not sound out of breath.

“Noona!” he yelled. “What took you so long to answer?”

I walked back to the couch and Jin wrapped his arms around my waist as I sat down, resting his head on my shoulder. “I was… busy.” I heard Jin snicker next to my ear. “Do you need something?”

“Check the school forum!” Jimin replied.

“The school- but why?” I asked.

“Just trust me,” he said. “There’s something there you need to see. I’ll be at your room in like ten minutes, so please make sure both of you are decent before I get there.”

I spluttered, wondering if he had some secret cameras set up in my room or something. “Wha-what are you talking about?” I managed to get out.

Jimin laughed on the other end of the phone. “I knew Jin hyung was coming to see you, and you were just vaguely and suspiciously saying you took so long to answer the phone because you were busy? Come on, noona, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“We were not doing anything inappropriate!” I said.

“Yeah, we were just making out,” Jin added cheekily, earning a smack on the arm from me.

My brother laughed even harder. “I knew it!” He took a moment to calm down before saying, “Anyway, I really am going to head over. Check the forum, trust me. I’ll see you soon!” Jimin hung up swiftly.

“Alright, I guess we should check the forum this time,” I said as I navigated my way there on my phone.

The top post today yet again had my name in the title and was posted by Yunhee, but seemed vastly different from the previous ones. I clicked on the post titled ‘THE TRUTH ABOUT PARK (Y/N),’ finding myself completely shocked at what was inside.

Yunhee confessed every lie she told. Everything that was fabricated, even to the point of exposing that it was Eunjung who went on the date with me last year and lied about our interactions. She even admitted her reasoning on why she did it, saying that it wasn’t right for them to expose my sexuality to the whole school like that and that it was only fair that she exposed herself for what they had done.

My jaw dropped to the floor at the text displayed on my phone screen. “I can’t believe this,” I said, voice barely audible. “Did she seriously do this?”

“Unless we’re both hallucinating, she most definitely did,” Seokjin said, tightening his hold on me. When he placed a light kiss on my temple, I could feel the slight smile on his lips. “She may know she can’t take back what she had done and that you won’t forgive her, but she’s trying to make things right for you.”

“Yeah, I guess she is.” I surveyed the comments underneath where students expressed their outrage at Yunhee and how sorry they felt for criminalizing me over false rumors. “But now she’s going to be the one with fingers pointed at her and whispers behind her back.”

“She must have known that,” Jin said. “She knew it would be a price she had to pay for what she had done.”

I locked my screen and settled back into Seokjin’s embrace, feeling like an immense weight had just lifted off of my shoulders. I wouldn’t have to worry about facing my peers anymore. I could go outside, unconcerned of what people would say about me.

And best of all, I had people I cared about and who cared bout me to spend my suddenly new free time with. I had Seokjin.

After a few moments of relishing in the calm silence, Seokjin spoke. “So now that we’ve more than established how we feel about each other, and know that we can hang out without people bothering us, can I take you on a date?”

I smiled up at him before placing a quick peck on his lips. “I would love that.”

A/N - My first one-shot! I originally thought this would be about 10k but I ended up almost doubling that.. oops lol. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! Let me know what you think!

[a-deadly-serenade]

Alchemy Between You & Me: Chapter 1: Arsenic [Guy of Gisborne/Reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362053/chapters/66860944

“Come now, we don’t want to be late!”

Your mother ushered you forward with a firm push on the back and you glared at her in response.

“I doubt we’ll be sorely missed if we’re a few minutes late, mother,” you replied sharply and sat down on the opposite side of the coach, away from your parents.

“You don’t know this sheriff,” she huffed. “He is a very punctual man, does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Well, I find it hard to believe that he’ll be eagerly awaiting my esteemed arrival,” you grumbled and focused your attention outside to peruse the scenery that slowly trickled by as the carriage made its way through the forest.

“Actually, you’ll find that several acquaintances on the council are quite interested in meeting you,” your father said.

“Really?” you replied, one of your eyebrows raised skeptically. “And why’s that?”

“Do you think we’ve gone this whole time without mentioning you?” your mother gawked.

“So you aren’t ashamed of your unmarried daughter who is currently pursuing academics instead of a husband?”

“Of… of course not,” she replied and cleared her throat as her eyes darted away from your annoyed stare.

“They’ve been most fascinated in this talk of you performing alchemy,” your father added with a hearty chuckle. “It’s becoming quite the trend for some within the ranks to try their hand at turning cheap metals into gold.”

“Father, I’ve already told you that no alchemist has ever accomplished such a thing,” you replied. “Think of it as an auspicious rumor and nothing more.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure they just haven’t discovered it yet!” he gave you a big grin and took hold of your shoulder to give it an endearing squeeze. “I bet you could though!”

You gave an awkward chuckle. “Right…”

The remainder of the ride was filled with menial chit-chat on the part of your parents as they tried to play catch up on the finer details of what you did during your time abroad. You were frankly relieved when the carriage was pulled to a stop and the coachman announced that you had arrived.

Stepping out of the carriage you are greeted by an enormous castle, its stone walls stretching high into the sky, locking you in. The plaza was filled with a dozen other horses and carriages and a few guards stationed nearby came over to greet you and your family.

“Welcome to Nottingham,” one said and the two bowed before you. “I trust you’re here for the sheriff’s private dinner party?”

“Yes,” your mother replied. “We aren’t late are we?”

“Not at all!” the other guard said. “If you would follow us, we shall escort you to the great hall.”

“Wonderful!” she grinned and took a tight hold of your arm. “Now, I shouldn’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied curtly and flinched when she squeezed tighter for one second more before relinquishing her grip and following your father’s lead up the stairs.

With a heavy sigh, you followed after them. Heading down several hallways and a set of stairs, the two guards offered your family one last curtsy before they pushed open the large wooden doors and announced your arrival.

Down below, several rows of tables had been set up and they were filled with an assortment of foods. There were rich cuts of venison and pork, wheels of cheeses and baskets of fresh bread. Bowls of fresh fruit and platters of baked goods also intermingled amongst all of the savory options, and several servant boys and girls weaved through the crowd, each holding a pitcher filled with aged wine.

As you neared the bottom of the stairs, you heard someone exclaim,

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite nobles with their notable daughter,”

Your father chuckled and he and your mother both bowed before a short, balding man with a greying beard wearing luxurious black robes.

You quickly followed suit and you heard the man laugh to himself.

“Come, we are all friends here, let us dispense with such formalities,” he said and came closer to you. “Is this your little scholar? Hmm?” he asked and gestured to you.

“Yes, my lord,” your mother replied. “She has only just returned from Bologna.”

“Bologna?” he echoed. “Why I’ve heard they’re only second to Paris in terms of their education. But,” he tutted and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “I thought students were granted the status of a cleric by canon, yet here you stand, an educated woman.”

“Oh, well,” she laughed nervously. “She… she was only taught the basics by a friend of ours, a local professor at the university, nothing having to do with the seven liberal arts,” she feigned stupidly.

“Shame,” he quipped. “It’d be nice to discuss the semantics of moral philosophy with someone. I thought you claimed she was trained in alchemy?”

“Did you tell everyone in England that I was a training alchemist?” you snapped.

The man before you laughed. “Spirited! My last alchemist was a meek disappointment, I like it when they have a bit of fire in them.”

You grimaced and scoffed internally. This man was making you severely uncomfortable.

“Oh, but where are my manners?” he said dramatically and suddenly took a hold of your hand. “I am Vasey, lord of this castle and the town of Nottingham. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the lovely young lady that has managed to capture my interest.”

You felt your skin crawl and it took all the power within you to manage to flash him a shaky, crooked smile. “So,” you said softly and swallowed a lump in your throat. “You must be the sheriff.”

He grinned in response, the sight of a glittering jewel on his left incisor catching your attention.

“At your service. I’d love to have a chat with you later, my dear, but I won’t keep you from the festivities. Come,” he finally turned away from you to flourish at the literal feast decked out on the tables. “Eat, drink. Take this as a humble offering of friendship.”

“‘Humble’? You are much too gracious, my lord,” your father replied and the sheriff snickered at his praise.

“Yes, yes. Tell me, my friend, how have things been?” the sheriff wrapped an arm around your father’s shoulders and led him away from you and your mother as they started to discuss something in private.

“Well, that went better than expected,” your mother muttered and grabbed your arm again as she took you to a nearby table with a few empty seats.

A plate of food was all but shoved into your face and although you weren’t particularly hungry, you had an inkling that you should stomach something, lest appear ungrateful.

You picked at some roasted vegetables, but were grateful for the variety of cheeses available, and paired with the never-ending wine, you were able to find yourself somewhat satiated.

Taking a few more sips from your goblet, you felt your nerves begin to dissipate and you sighed as you leaned back into your chair.

Your mother was making meaningless conversation with a few other noblewomen beside her and your father, who had long since returned from his escapades with the sheriff, stood nearby, surrounded by a group of men who were all laughing and uproariously shouting about lord knows what.

Frankly, you did not wish to be pulled into either realm of their faux-pas spectacles so you quickly excused yourself and went over to admire one of the centerpieces. Yes, you were that bored and that stubborn.

How much longer do we have to stay here and play nice? you thought. The idea of having to speak with the sheriff again made your stomach tie into knots and you sincerely hoped that he’d get so wrapped up in everyone else vying for his attention that he’d forget about you.

You let your fingers trail across the beautiful bird feather that stuck out of the bouquet of flowers and heaved a heavy sigh.

The more you dwelled on it, the clearer it became that the only reason your parents had ushered you home as quickly as they did, was solely due to your most recent academic undertaking. During your time in Bologna, they hardly sent any correspondence back on updates about your other studies, such as literature or astronomy or even philosophy. However, as soon as you picked up a skill that could be monetized? Their tune switched almost instantly.

Although you had always had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, it saddened you that they viewed this skill of yours as nothing more than an opportunity to further their status. You were an alchemist, someone dedicated to discovering the mysteries of the universe… not a modern-day Midas that could turn piss-poor metals into gold.

Even tonight seemed to be a ploy of some sort. Had they only brought you along because the sheriff was so interested in you? What did they hope to accomplish?

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Something didn’t feel right, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it…

“Excuse me?”

You paid no mind to whoever had just spoken, lost in your own thoughts as you attempted to deduce your parent's plan.

“Excuse me? My lady?”

Ugh, you inwardly groaned when you realized they were talking to you. I suppose I can endure one conversation… you thought and hoped it would at least pass the time by.

Turning around you feel your heart skip a beat when you find a man standing before you, a rather handsome man, you might add.

He was tall, fair-skinned with short black hair that framed his sharp face. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine in the candlelight and he gave you a smile that made butterflies dance in your stomach.

“I apologize,” he said and his deep baritone made you gasp quietly in delight. “I did not disturb you, did I?”

“Oh no,” you quickly replied with a shake of your head. “No, I was… simply lost in my own thoughts for a moment. I should be the one apologizing. It was you who called out to me a moment ago, was it not?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I merely wanted to introduce myself,” he explained. “I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, the sheriff’s master at arms.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Guy,” you replied and flashed him a charming smile as you introduced yourself.

“What a lovely name,” he said and you felt heat rise into your cheeks at his compliment. “I thought it appropriate we meet as I wished to see for myself just who this infamous alchemist the sheriff kept heralding was.”

“Oh,” you replied and tried to mask your disappointment. So he was only interested in getting into your favors to please the sheriff… you supposed you should have anticipated this happening.

“I am curious to know what drew you to the field,” he said. “I heard you studied in Bologna. Do they offer alchemy as a class?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you could not help the laughter that erupted from you. “What? A class? No,” you chuckled. “No, most schools are run and sourced by the church and I can’t exactly say that the church is the biggest fans of us alchemists.”

“Really?” he mused. “And why is that?”

“We seek to understand the meaning of our place in this world,” you explained. “One of the duties of an alchemist is to answer the great questions of mankind and I suppose trying to scientifically discover the meaning of life goes against the morals of the church.”

“Do your discoveries stray from God, my lady?” he asked you with a smirk.

“I doubt blasphemy is an appropriate conversation to hold over dinner, Sir Guy,” you replied just as playfully and bit your lip as he laughed.

“Just as well,” he said. “I’m simply surprised. You are so young, I never would have imagined a lovely woman such as yourself would find interest in the sciences.”

“Believe me,” you replied. “Transmutation and metallurgy are far more fascinating than playing the role of the dutiful daughter.”

“You’ve quite the sharp tongue,” he commented and you felt your face turn hot. “Are the churches in Europe far more progressive?”

“Only if they’re paid enough to be,” you replied in a whisper and giggled at the devilish smirk that spread across his lips.

This night was turning out to be more fun after all! It was a first for you to hold a conversation with a man that wasn’t immediately off-put by your wits. Not only that, he could hold his own and was not offended by your rather dicey sense of humor. Where had men like Guy been hiding out for all these years?

“Ah, Gisborne!”

The sound of the sheriff’s voice instantly soured your mood and you frowned. Well, tonight had been turning around…

Vasey paled in comparison to Guy’s stature however, in spite of this, Guy’s previous confident demeanor seemed to shrink under the sheriff’s intense gaze.

“I see you’ve found the belle of the ball,” he snickered and you laughed awkwardly in response. “I’m not surprised you came sniffing around here.”

“Sir Guy was merely introducing himself, my lord,” you replied. “He’s been engaging company,” you offered Guy a shy smile at his surprised expression.

“Gisborne? Engaging?” the sheriff chortled. “Well, that’s a first. Unless, of course, he jumped straight into discussing his own experiment.”

“Experiment?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrows. “You conduct experiments, Sir Guy?”

“Only one,” he replied and awkwardly shifted where he stood. “But, that was some time ago.”

“Yes, and it did not end all too well either,” the sheriff scowled. “Tell me, my dear, have you heard of black powder?”

“I can do you one better,” you said matter-of-factly. “I know how to make black powder.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened in shock and he gasped in delight. “You do?” he said softly and then grabbed your hands, holding them reverently as if silently blessing you. “Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.”

“Is… that what your experiment was?” you wondered, hoping that your question would get the sheriff away from you as soon as possible.

It seemed to work and he relinquished his grip to take a step back and nod his head. “Yes. Gisborne here had been in charge of commissioning someone but, unfortunately, he,” the sheriff dragged his finger across his neck and then shrugged his shoulders. “Took his secrets to the grave.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call the formula for black powder a secret,” you replied with a coy smile. “It’s been known by the Cathay Empire since at least the ninth century.”

“So you’re telling me, that if given the right ingredients, you would be able to cook me up a batch of black powder?” the sheriff asked.

“Of course, it’s a simple combination of charcoal and sulfur and—“

Vasey instantly hushed you on any further talk about this formula but assured you that your enthusiasm was very much appreciated.

“This is good,” he grinned. “This is very good. I should have known you’d be the perfect fit ever since your parents first mentioned you.”

You are clearly confused by his words, your face scrunched up together as you gazed upon him skeptically. “‘Perfect fit’? What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Did mommy and daddy not tell you? That does add a bit of suspense to it then, hmm?” he laughed. “You, my dear, are to be my alchemist.”

“What?” you blurted out and started to laugh at the utter absurdity of the idea. However, any previous ideas of the sheriff lightheartedly joking evaporated into a puff of smoke when you took one long look at him.

Oh. He was serious.

“What do you mean I’m to be your alchemist?” you said carefully, your eyes narrowed only slightly.

“Do you think I just let anyone come to these private dinners of mine? A clue?” he shook his head. “No. I wanted to see for myself if you were as noteworthy as your parents heralded you to be and thankfully for you,” he took an imposing step forward and poked you in the chest with one of his stubby fingers. “You’ve passed.”

“My… my parents agreed to this?” you muttered and dread pooled into the pit of your stomach as your eyes whirled around in search of them.

They were nowhere to be found! Had… had they simply brought you here to be assessed by the sheriff? You weren’t something that could be passed around from one person to the next! You weren’t cattle!

“Where are they?” you seethed and the sheriff seemed to take an uncomfortable amount of glee in your anger.

“Their business is complete, my dear. My best guess is that they’re off to head back home.”

He made no effort to stop you as you shoved past him and raced up the stairs to make it to the courtyard.

Your heavy breaths fogged up in the chilled night air and the white light of the moon caused an eerie glow to fall on the shadows of the nearby coaches. You could hear a pair of voices whispering in a hushed tone as you neared your family’s personal carriage, anger coursing through your veins when you rounded the corner and came face-to-face with your parents.

“What have you done?” you snarled, catching them both by surprise.

“Darling!” your mother exclaimed and gave you a nervous smile. “What… what are you doing here? Surely you do not wish to miss the last half of the supper?”

“Save the act, mother,” you replied bitterly. “He already told me.”

“Told you what?”

The fact that she still tried to play innocent made your blood boil and you exclaimed, “He told me that I am to be his personal alchemist!” your feet stomped across the hard stone and you pointed an accusatory finger at the pair of them. “I am not some commodity to be passed around! First Bologna, now this? If you wanted me gone, at least spare me the theatrics and tell me outright.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” your father interjected. “You know we only want what is best for you!”

“That’s rich,” you replied sardonically.

“Watch your tongue, missy,” your mother snapped.

“No,” you quipped. “Do not lie and say that this decision was made with my best interests in mind when you and I both know that this is yet another cog in playing your roles as the sheriff’s loyal lapdogs—"

Smack!

The sound of a palm striking across bare skin rings out into the deathly quiet pavilion.

Your eyes are wide with shock and you feel tears start to well up and cloud your vision as you place a hand on your bruised cheek.

Your father huffed as he lowered his hand and gave you a menacing glare. “Now, I tolerated this attitude of yours when you returned from Bologna, believing you were scorned having been taken away from your studies prematurely. But this willfulness stops now. You are going to work for Vasey and that’s final,” he turned away to begin hauling himself into the carriage.

“Perhaps he will be the one to finally beat this resilience out of you.”

Your mother said nothing but her cold, piercing stare revealed all that you needed to know as she followed after your father.

When the carriage pulled out of the castle portcullis and receded from your view down the winding road of Nottingham, you released an arduous sigh.

You were silent as you ran in the direction of a nearby wall, hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes. You rested your forehead against the stone, its natural chill cooling your heated skin. It was only then, did you allow the tears to fall.

You gasped as a torrent of tears streamed down your face and you weakly slammed your fist against the stone wall.

They had abandoned you… again.

You slowly crumbled into a heap on the floor, tucking your knees into your chest as you wiped away your tears with your sleeve. Were you the one to blame here? You always prided yourself on your sense of independence and headstrong attitudes, but could this have been your very undoing?

Bologna, you thought, despite giving your parents this newfound opportunity to brag about having an alchemist in the family, had not been nearly as successful in stomping out your spirit as initially hoped. Was Nottingham supposed to take its place then?

While you had been in Italy, for a brief moment, you almost felt in control of your life. The opportunity to both grow academically and spiritually had been life-changing. Your mind has been opened to the endless possibilities and questions that encompassed the human spirit and it was with this newfound knowledge that you were able to finally act independently.

Your whole life up until that point had been dictated by your parents, from what you wore, to what you ate, to even the company you kept. It took being sent thousands of miles away from home to make you truly feel alive.

However, you should have known that this feeling of boundless freedom was never meant to last. Sooner or later they would have you crawling back to England, willingly or not, and once again, it was impossible to not feel both incredibly powerless and incredibly frustrated.

You’d had your first taste at real purpose, one that you pursued wholeheartedly, and now that had been stolen from you as well.

No matter how hard you vied for change, the end result was always the same and an overwhelming sadness encompasses you at this realization, one that settles into the very marrow of your bones.

You took a gander up at the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly alongside the white light of the moon. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, your shoulders sagging from exhaustion as the reality of the situation caught up with you.

This… was your home now, this was your life now. You supposed it could be worse but you doubted that the sting left behind from this sense of betrayal would ever leave your bruised heart.

The sound of metal spurs clicking against the stone caught your attention and you're rooted to the spot as a figure emerged from the shadows and towered above you.

“Are you alright?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when Sir Guy appeared in the moonlight, his face creased with worry as he kneeled down before you.

Turning your head away from him, you cough into the crook of your arm and wave off his concern.

“Yes, I’m… I’m alright,” you said softly, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. “I just needed some time alone.”

He’s quiet and you hear the leather of his pants squeak as he adjusts his footing. “Do you wish to be alone?” he wondered. “The sheriff was worried when you did not return, so he sent me after you. I can tell him that you already went off to bed if you’d like.”

Your lips upturned into a smile and although your eyes were surely red and your cheeks surely puffy, you turned to face him to express your gratitude.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Guy. I do not think I would be able to face the sheriff in the near future.”

“I’m assuming you spoke to your parents?”

You sighed and titled your head up to look back up at the dozens of stars that dotted the night sky. “Was it that obvious?” you replied dryly. “I was left with no say in the matter. It appears as though this had been their plan all along,”

“I hope you understand that you will not be treated as a prisoner here,” he said and you scoffed in response.

“Then why does it feel like it?”

You nearly jump out of your skin when Guy places a tentative hand on your shoulder and you look at him, absolutely bewildered.

“I apologize… if this isn’t exactly the life you envisioned. However, I assure you that life here in the castle isn’t completely unbearable.”

“Oh?” you said and felt yourself relax when you picked up the sudden playfulness in his tone.

“Once in a while, you’ll meet someone that turns this place around,” he said with a knowing smile and you laughed.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I doubt even your charming company could help me warm up to this place.”

“It’s not all bad,” he said and you would be remiss to say that you weren’t disappointed when he removed his hand from your shoulder.

“Since Nottingham is at the center of this shire, all of the villages are in relatively close proximity. It’s a nice escape to visit every once in a while.”

“Would the sheriff even allow me to go anywhere?” you asked cynically. “Seems to me the only reason I’m here is to be his alchemist.”

“I am not sure what your parents told you, but you are a guest here in the castle,” Guy replied earnestly. “I know the sheriff may seem rather… eccentric, but you are now a valued member of his team. Think of being his alchemist as your job. Even the farmers that toil in the fields all day have time to rest, recuperate, maybe visit the market,”

You finally brought your eyes to meet his and felt your heart skip a beat at the smile on his face.

“I’m sure this must be incredibly jarring, being brought home from Bologna only to be thrust here of all places,” he said sympathetically. “In time, however, I am sure you will learn to see this place as a second home.”

His kind words helped dull the sting you had previously been feeling, nevertheless it was hard to remain optimistic in such a situation. For now, you supposed you could get by with exuding a facade of collective composure, at least long enough till you decided how you truly felt about this place.

You reached over and gave Guy’s arm a reassuring squeeze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Thank you, Sir Guy,” you said. “I… I will try.”

He smiled and got up from the floor and offered you his gloved hand. You took it and in one strong pull, he hoisted you up.

“If you’d like,” he said. “I could show you to your room.”

“That would be lovely,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

You shyly wrapped your arms around the one he politely extended to lead and the two of you silently began to walk through the halls of Nottingham castle.

It was much bigger than you initially anticipated and if it weren’t for Guy, you surely would have gotten lost. You started to worry about the following morning and sincerely hoped that the sheriff would send someone down to fetch you lest you wander off into an unsavory part of the castle.

The halls were sparsely decorated with various weapons and tapestries but nothing too extravagant, which you found a little odd considering the sheriff’s rather audacious wardrobe choice.

Walking up a set of stairs, Guy leads you down a hallway before slowly coming to a stop before a large wooden door.

“This is where you shall be staying,” he said and pulled it open for you.

It was fairly large and furnished with a bed, desk, armoire, and even a fireplace. It did not exactly feel very homey but, for now, it would do.

“Feel free to request anything that you may need with any of the guards stationed around,” Guy said. “They’ll fetch anything so long as they can find it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied and dragged your hand across the blanket that lay on top of the bed. It was surprisingly very soft.

“And, if you’d like, I could give you a tour of the castle tomorrow, to help you familiarize yourself with its layout. I know how confusing it looks to first-time visitors.”

“That would be very helpful,” you said and turned back to face him. “Thank you, Sir Guy—for everything. It’s reassuring to know that I have at least one friend here.”

His eyes lit up and he gifted you another stunning smile before he bowed his head. “Of course, milady. I will be here at your beck and call, all you need to do is ask.”

You giggled and curtsied as you said, “You are too kind to me. I will see you tomorrow, then?”

He nodded his head. “Of course. Till then, I wish you a pleasant rest of your evening, milady,” he said and departed with one last glance, closing your door with a quiet click.

[houseisekai]

House Isekai: A Realm Reborn - Part 2, Through the Maelstrom (3 of 3)

House Isekai ARR Masterlist Here

—

Client: Hilda Valentin Goneril

Refusing to work with the newly reformed House Isekai due to Class VII, Duvalie takes her orders and storms off to Goneril territory, trying to get home faster. Not wanting to leave Duvalie completely alone, Raelyn and Fireteam Alpha-Nine accompany her.

Reports indicate of a giant serpent-like beast terrorizing the ocean trade routes near Goneril territory, and an unknown entity accompanying it…

--

[Respite and Sunlight - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

The carriage carried a group of knights as it made its way towards the fishing town.

As the horses leisurely drew the carriage forth, the dirt kicking up on the path, the driver turned his head and shouted out.

(Driver) "We're almost there, milady."

Hilda sighed as she stretched, putting her head back onto the carriage.

(Hilda) "Finally. That took forever."

She looked around and noticed the two knights accompanying her were calmly sitting still, not saying a word.

(Hilda) "Am I seriously the only one who noticed?!"

(Knight 1) "No milady, we feel the same. Now isn't the time to be lax, however."

(Hilda) "Percy, I remember you being the one telling me that this town wasn't anything to be concerned about!"

(Knight 2) "It was, until that letter came in. We only put the request out three days ago, how could mercenaries possibly have responded that fast? And I do not like the descriptions of them either..."

(Percy) "I agree with Jonas. Tech that looks too advanced for random mercenaries to have? This seems like it's a trap..."

(Hilda) "I sincerely doubt the Separatists would cause any trouble for the Alliance. And what strategic importance would a fishing town like this have?"

(Jonas) "I think that's all the more reason to be wary, milady. Besides, orders from Lord Holst were specifically to-"

(Hilda) "Yeah yeah, I know, make sure I'm safe and everything. It's when we get out to the ocean, you guys can start doing your jobs properly."

Jonas looked at Percy, in which his response was just a shrug.

(Percy) "Hmph. I wonder what those mercenaries are like..."

...

Duvalie woke up and quickly looked around before her shoulders relaxed. They were still inside the building the Class VII members led them to.

Duvalie noticed the ODST's were already awake.

Dutch was near the window, looking at the small blue device curiously.

(Dutch) "Hell is this thing?"

It was making a small static noise, Dutch poked at it until Mickey came close and examined it himself.

(Mickey) "Looks like a jamming device of some kind."

(Buck) "Yeah, it's messing with my helmet's visor a little. You think a fishing town like this would have something that'd warrant a jammer?"

(Romeo) "Oh, you're finally awake."

The ODST's turned to Duvalie who picked up her sword and shield.

(Duvalie) "No one bothered to wake me up?"

(Mickey) "Hey, Fie's orders. Not ours."

Duvalie rolled her eyes and noticed Raelyn and Class VII were gone.

(Buck) "They said they were going out to patrol the area, wanted us to stay in here in case someone tried snooping around."

(Duvalie) "Guess that's fair enough."

Duvalie stood next to Buck, both of them not saying a word while Romeo cleaned his sniper and Mickey and Dutch were still examining the supposed jammer.

(Buck) "So...what exactly is your problem with those kids? If you don't mind me asking."

(Duvalie) "Ugh, we were enemies during a war, then we fought alongside each other and thats IT. Don't wanna talk about it. And we're NOT friends."

(Buck) "Alright, I believe ya. Dunno why you have to say it so forcefully."

(Duvalie) "Because it doesn't go through THEIR thick skulls! I DON'T LIKE REAN EITHER!"

(Buck) "Listen, Duvalie. I am right next to you. Stop frickin' screaming."

(Dutch) "Plus, you're making it harder to figure out what this is."

Duvalie and Buck turned to Mickey and Dutch who were still staring.

(Duvalie) "What in the hell is so fascinating about it that you two are still looking at it?!"

(Mickey) "Because, I don't think it's just a jammer. It's something else..."

That caught everyone's attention.

(Romeo) "...What makes you say that?"

(Dutch) "It's making some static noise, and it's sticky too. What kind of jammer is this small?"

(Duvalie) "Huh. I don't think we had anything like that in our world, so where did those brats...?"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

(Raelyn's voice) "We have returned."

The door opened with the members of Class VII and Raelyn.

(Fie) "Coast looks clear, and looks like we already got someone to help out with the Serpent problem."

(Buck) "Damn, that was fast."

(Raelyn) "I recommend we hurry, lest we make the townsfolk angry again."

Everyone grabbed their equipment and left the house, Class VII leading the way.

(Mickey) "Hey, so those blue things you put in the house, what exactly are those?"

(Laura) "It's best we not say just yet."

(Dutch) "That's...reassuring."

(Elliot) "Anyways, we visited the tavern from yesterday and he said someone wants to see us there."

(Fie) "And you can leave your weapons down, it won't be a fight."

(Duvalie) "What makes you say that?"

As they were walking to the tavern, Hilda and her two knights exited and saw them.

[Musica Universalis - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

(Hilda) "Oh my gosh!"

(Elliot) "Ha, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

(Laura) "It's been quite a bit hasn't it, Hilda?"

(Fie) "Yo."

Hilda smiled as she ran up and grabbed all three of them into a hug.

(Hilda) "It's so good to see you guys again!"

(Percy) "Hey...you were with the professor when you came to Derdriu all those years back!"

(Jonas) "Don't think we've seen their friends though."

Hilda noticed the new group behind Class VII and raised an eyebrow.

(Hilda) "These your friends?"

(Raelyn) "Raelyn Amuto, at your service."

(Duvalie) "...Duvalie."

(Buck) "Call me Buck. Squad behind me is Mickey, Dutch, and Romeo."

(Elliot) "Hopefully, we just got here super recently ourselves. Though, Rean and the others can watch over them."

(Hilda) "Wait, everyone else is here?"

(Raelyn) "Not exactly."

Raelyn quickly caught Hilda and her knights up to speed.

(Hilda) "I see...So it's happening again?"

(Laura) "That's what we're here to investigate. Originally we came here to see what was blocking communications from Sitri to us, and find out what teleported this group here."

(Elliot) "After a day of investigating, we think it may actually have to do with the serpent problem you're having."

(Buck) "Huh, isn't that convenient."

(Duvalie) "When exactly did this problem pop up anyway? We only got here three days ago."

(Hilda) "Hm...I think it was about a week ago. Same time Claude let us know something was coming from the Tower, actually."

(Romeo) "...Too convenient."

[Briefing Time - Trails of Cold Steel 3 OST]

(Raelyn) "It seems to line up with our arrival. Has there been anything in the past House Isekai and your Houses have fought that can cause this amount of trouble?"

(Hilda) "Too much to count..."

(Laura) "It wouldn't be the first time for us."

(Fie) "I think we can kill two birds with one stone here then. We can investigate that Serpent and determine if it has anything to do with our problems."

(Hilda) "Sounds good to me."

(Dutch) "So...how exactly are we going to fight a giant water monster? Our gear isn't equipped for aquatic fights."

(Percy) "We have that taken care of. We're going to use a boat and investigate it the old fashioned way."

(Duvalie) "...That is the worst idea I've ever heard."

(Buck) "Inclined to agree with the lady. That seems a good way for our asses to get eaten out there."

(Elliot) "I'm kinda drawing a blank on what else to do. It's not like they have any high tech boats."

(Jonas) "Unfortunately, he's right. All of our efforts on expanding our sea travel has been fruitless, or its too early to tell. It only has been two years before we began these projects."

(Raelyn) "Us Space Marines are engineered to breathe underwater."

(Romeo) "Damn, is there anything you guys can't do?"

(Raelyn) "Have good luck."

(Duvalie) "Was that a joke?"

Raelyn's head slowly turned to Duvalie.

(Raelyn) "It is the last thing I would joke about. You all being near me already carries a risk of a violent death, including myself."

(Dutch) "What, your gun malfunction on you in battle a lot or something?"

(Raelyn) "It is a curse our Chapter seems to suffer. For one reason or another, something unfortunate happens, and I guarantee you it will happen when we attempt to hunt this beast."

(Hilda) "Jeez, quit that downer talk, we'll be fine! We've survived plenty worse than just some monster. Heck, it's not even our first monster we've fought!"

(Laura) "If that is the case, where is this boat?"

(Percy) "This way."

Percy and Jonas led the way to the docks, everyone following them.

Fie looked behind them and saw a small boy and girl staring at them. Specifically Raelyn.

She noticed an older girl walk up to them, she couldn't be older than 15. Fie put a mental pin on them and quickly followed along.

The older girl knelt down to get on their eye level.

(Older girl) "Hey, why are you staring at them so intensely, they didn't say something to you, did they?"

(Young girl) "Nuh uh, Mila! The big yellow man was super nice!"

(Young boy) "Yeah, he helped her out and everything!"

Mila had short brown hair and a small stature, carrying two daggers on her back.

(Mila) "Did he now...?"

...

The group took an Alliance controlled ship out into the coast, being helmed by the local garrison.

They set out to the last known location to where this Serpent had been reported, which fortunately was only an hour away from the town.

The day was bright and the winds were strong, and not a cloud in sight.

They skipped across the waters with relatively little trouble.

Hilda stood next to Class VII while everyone else was scattered.

(Elliot) "Man, I can't remember the last time we've been out by the sea."

(Laura) "A shame it wasn't for a more pleasant reason."

(Fie) "Oh, hey Buck."

Buck walked up to Hilda, followed by Raelyn and Duvalie.

(Buck) "Mind if we ask you something, miss Hilda?"

(Hilda) "What's up?"

(Buck) "Who exactly are these Separatists your townsfolk are so quick to anger about? An insurrection?"

(Laura) "I remember hearing about it while we were investigating the area as well."

Hilda frowned and looked back out to the sea.

(Hilda) "After House Isekai left Fodlan, our three nations decided to form a temporary pact in order to fix the damages done by Those Who Slither and the Church. It...hasn't been easy.

For the first two years, the Empire and Kingdom were at war, until it suddenly stopped with the Church to be the ones on the offensive.

The Battle of Gronder had all our blood shed, and its nothing that everyone can easily forgive with how recent it was.

So when news that we'd all be fighting as one, it made our citizens outraged. The only people who knew the truth about Zanado and Byleth was our militaries..."

(Elliot) "So, these Separatists...-"

(Hilda) "They've been wanting us to split up and leave each other be, just like it's always been. The Alliance has a mixture of Imperial and Kingdom Separatists, and Claude has been doing his best to keep the neutrality. It hasn't been easy, in addition to the Zanado Tower acting up again."

(Raelyn) "Which is why you sent this letter of the Serpent to Garreg Mach, correct?"

Hilda nodded.

(Hilda) "And if it requires House Isekai's help again, I fear the worst..."

(Laura) "Rest assured, we will do everything in our power to help Fodlan."

(Buck) "Not sure how long we'll be staying but, might as well. It's either that or be stuck here."

(Duvalie) "Wait a second, if you guys were stuck here before and got out, then how did you get in?"

(Fie) "Teleportation with the help of the Doom Slayer."

(Hilda) "Wait, he was the one that set you guys up with that?!"

(Raelyn) "I am not sure who he is, but perhaps he can teleport us out of here."

(Buck) "With how troublesome everything sounds, I sort of doubt it'd be that easy to get out of here."

(Fie) "Only one way to try."

Fie reached out a small crest of House Isekai's logo and pressed the center.

...Nothing happened.

(Fie) "Uh oh."

(Duvalie) "W-What does that mean?"

(Elliot) "Huh? That's how we were able to teleport from our world to the base! Why isn't it working?"

(Hilda) "Does that mean you're stuck here too?"

(Buck) "Well, that's fantastic..."

Dutch, Mickey, and Romeo were listening into the conversation.

(Dutch) "They got Insurrectionists to deal with too?"

(Romeo) "Great, that means we'll be here even longer."

(Mickey) "Their teleportation isn't working, so what is the cause of-"

(Percy) "Hey, we need everyone up here!"

[Dark Clouds Gather - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

The groups looked up and went to the top deck where the wheel was. Percy and Jonas stood near the captain.

(Hilda) "What's the problem?"

(Jonas) "The skies in front of us are suddenly starting to darken."

(Captain) "The weather the way it was, this was too fast for it to suddenly darken! Something's about to happen!"

(Buck) "...Motion tracker's picking up something!"

The ODST's turned on their visors, blocking out their faces while Raelyn silently looked at his tactical display.

(Raelyn) "I am detecting something as well."

(Romeo) "Hey, remember that conversation about your luck from earlier? Suddenly beginning to believe it..."

Everyone drew their weapons as the crew of the ship shouted, readying cannons and bows.

Hilda drew out her relic axe and looked in the water.

(Hilda) "Where exactly are you sensing this thing?"

The ODST's had their weapons drawn, slowly looking to their left. The movement was quickly circling around them.

(Elliot) "U-Um, how big is this Serpent, exactly?"

(Percy) "Not sure, reports are inconsistent."

(Raelyn) "If it is as big as we expect it to be, what's stopping it from tearing this boat in half?"

Raelyn readied his Bolter and quickly turned around to the back of the ship, finally seeing a shadow.

(Buck) "ON OUR SIX!"

Only the ODST's and Raelyn turned to the back at first.

It took everyone else a second to realize what Buck meant, turning around and facing the same direction.

[Wreck to the Seaman - Final Fantasy XIV OST]

The shadow quickly vanished underneath the ship, making everyone nervous of what its about to do.

The ODST's and Raelyn paid attention to their motion tracker, and realized it was suddenly in place.

(Romeo) "Why the hell's it stopping?"

(Raelyn) ...!!! "It's not! CAPTAIN, TURN YOUR SHIP TO THE RIGHT, NOW!"

The captain quickly got on the wheel and steered right, the wind forcing the ship to make a hard right.

From the waters emerged a massive serpent, the water splashing onto the ship and blowing back some of the crew members.

The waves rocked the ship violently, almost tipping it over.

(Elliot) "AGH!"

Elliot lost his footing and was about to go overboard before Dutch grabbed his arm.

(Dutch) "Hang on kid!"

The ship barely managed to balance itself, throwing itself back with a force that made everyone lose footing again.

Duvalie was the first to stabilize herself when she realized the serpent was staring at them.

As the serpent opened its mouth, it was about to strike before Duvalie leapt forward and hit its face with her shield, making it stagger back and roar in anger.

Duvalie used the force of her attack to launch herself back onto the ship, twirling her sword.

(Duvalie) "Little help?!"

(Percy) "FIRE THE CANNONS!"

Crew mates rushed to the cannons and lit the matches.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The cannons opened fire, most of them missing their mark while only one managed to hit the torso of the beast.

Raelyn and the ODSTs rushed to the side and held the triggers of their guns, the bullets rushing towards the head.

The serpent dove underwater to dodge the gunfire.

(Crew) "IT'S COMING AROUND THE OTHER SIDE!"

Its head emerged from the water on the opposite side of the ship, its head about to strike into the heart of the ship before Laura ran to the middle and swung her sword upwards, the blow knocking it away.

Fie used her gunblades to fire at its head as well, but the bullets deflected off the scales and it dove back underwater, this time no one being able to see where it went.

(Buck) "Dutch, Mickey! Heavy weapons, NOW! Romeo, crow's nest and snipe that son of a bitch!"

The ODST's nodded and quickly did as they were told, Raelyn going to Duvalie with his Bolter still raised.

(Duvalie) "Hey, Amuto, got any ideas?"

(Raelyn) "One, but with my luck-"

(Duvalie) "Grr, SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR BAD LUCK! It's either that, or we let the ship get torn in half!"

(Raelyn) "If that is the case, please hold onto this."

(Duvalie) "...Wha-"

Raelyn put his bolter into Duvalie's arm, almost making her tip over from the weight.

(Duvalie) "HUARGH!? H-HEY...W-WHAT TH HELL?!"

(Raelyn) "I will be right back."

Raelyn pulled out a knife and looked over to the side.

(Hilda) "H-Hey, what's the yellow guy doing?!"

(Elliot) "Huh?"

Elliot, Fie and Laura turned around and saw Raelyn peeking over the edge.

(Fie) "What is he...?"

(Laura) ?! "WAIT, ARE YOU GOING TO?!-"

(Raelyn) "BROTHERS, SISTERS! PREPARE FOR ITS RESURFACING!"

[Through the Maelstrom - Final Fantasy XIV OST]

Raelyn hopped over the ship's edge and dove straight into the water.

He quickly looked around, and noticing a shadow emerging from the depths as it was rushing upwards at him.

He did everything in his power to swim away from the ship and-

(Buck) "The hell is he-"

Everyone saw Raelyn shoot upwards as the Serpent's mouth grabbed him, the Space Marine now in its teeth.

Although it tried to devour him, the armor's weight and size made it extremely difficult to do so.

(Elliot) "OH AIDIOS!"

(Percy) "Is he insane?!"

(Romeo) "QUIT STARING AND FIRE DAMN IT!"

Romeo cocked his sniper's handle back and pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out across the air as the bullet attempted to hit the wildly flailing serpent.

Raelyn was being thrashed around, the teeth unable to go through his armor. He swung his knife into the beast several times to no effect despite it piercing the scales.

(Raelyn) "INCOMING!"

Having no option, he grabbed the beast's upper jaw and slammed his fist onto it, the force of the blow knocking the beast's head onto the ship.

The ship almost submerged itself into the water from the sheer weight of the serpent's head.

Everyone managed to keep their footing, letting Duvalie, Hilda, and Laura strike fast.

Duvalie dropped the Bolter and let it slide onto the floor as she stuck her sword into the teeth, breaking a few off and letting Raelyn awkwardly roll out of it's grasp.

Hilda smashed it's skull with her axe overhead, Laura swinging her sword sideways to strike at its mouth.

It recoiled back in pain, tipping the ship over again.

Raelyn was about to get on his feet before the cannons from the right side slid over and hit him back into the water.

(Hilda) "Wow, he wasn't kidding!"

The Bolter slid over into the water and landed near Raelyn, which he quickly grabbed and looked for the serpent again.

It was coming through the other side, but it was only now he realized how huge it was.

The tail was coming near him, and he rushed over to grab it as the tail violently dragged him along the water.

Dutch grabbed a Spartan Laser while Mickey had a rocket launcher, both of them checking their motion trackers.

(Buck) "Right side!"

Romeo reloaded his sniper and quickly spun around, being the first one to see the serpent emerge and fly towards the boat.

(Romeo) "It's gonna ram us!"

(Dutch) "Like hell it is!"

Dutch's Spartan Laser began to form a red line as it whirred up making a high pitched activation noise.

Mickey fired first, the rockets flying off and trying to lock onto the serpent. They went into the water as it nimbly swerved to the left and right, the waters catching the explosion.

Raelyn held on as the water's currents fought against him, using one hand at a time to climb up the serpent until he got near the eyes.

The pupil looked directly at Raelyn and widened, realizing he was there.

Raelyn's hand with the knife stabbed directly into the eye, making the serpent thrust upwards into the air, roaring and shaking into the air.

(Dutch) "GOTCHA!"

With another second passing, the Spartan Laser shot out a force even stronger than the cannon, a burning red beam of death searing through the Serpent's skin, making it drop into the water dead.

(Buck) "Good work, gentlemen."

(Elliot) "Whew, is everyone okay?"

(Percy) "Check on the equipment and for any wounded!"

(Jonas) "Captain, get us closer to the body we need to-"

Jonas stopped midsentence when he looked up.

Percy noticed it and turned around, seeing what he was staring at.

[Blinding Indigo - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

"An assassin from our homeland? Or a foolish trespasser upon these waters?"

(Jonas) "What in the hell?!"

(Percy) "SOMETHING'S UP HERE!"

(Buck) "OPEN FIRE!"

Fie and Buck pointed their guns and pulled the triggers, the bullets passing through the aquatic creature's body, letting them drop onto the floor, water splashing from the impact.

"Very well. Then Her power shall crush the miscreant that dares pollute these waters."

The creature began glowing, making the clouds above them start pouring rain and the water glow as well.

The Serpent Raelyn was still attached to started glowing a pale blue, the wound quickly regenerating. He was quick to aim his bolter and open fire on it, but had no effect.

Hilda and Laura ran up to it with their weapons swinging overhead, it quickly teleporting away as it vacantly stared at them.

Elliot was about to cast a spell with his staff until he realized the rain was forming puddles on the ship, slowly bubbling.

(Elliot) "Uh, guys?!"

Birds made of water emerged from the puddles and flew at Elliot, the force of the impact making him fall onto the floor.

Romeo immediately turned his attention to the bird and pulled the trigger.

The bird exploded into water, it calmly splashing down onto the ship.

Hearing something behind him, he reached for his pistol and spun around, pulling the trigger.

The bird exploded, and it was then he realized a puddle was beneath him.

From the puddle emerged a wolf-like creature that leapt up, knocking Romeo off the tower.

Before he could land, Duvalie caught him and set him down to the floor and raising her shield as the wolf leapt on top of her.

Its teeth was made of water as well, but Duvalie didn't want to find out if it hurt just as bad as a real wolf, so she plunged her sword into its body making it explode.

Mickey switched to an SMG and opened fire on the other puddles before anything else could show up, Buck and Fie joining in while Hilda, Laura, Jonas, and Percy fought other wolves.

Dutch was about to switch weapons before hearing the water explode behind him.

The Serpent was glowing the same blue as the winged creature, Raelyn still on top of it, stabbing it with his knife.

(Dutch) "Oh for the love of-"

He aimed his Spartan Laser at the Serpent again, only for the shot to be taken and hitting birds that flew in the way.

Elliot rushed over and healed Romeo of any injuries, making him push away the staff.

(Romeo) "Stop healing me and get to killing these things!"

Romeo reloaded his pistol while Duvalie dispatched of another wolf that was trying to attack from behind.

(Duvalie) "They just keep coming!"

Meanwhile, Raelyn lost count of how many times he stabbed the head of this beast, it would not stop moving.

It tried ferociously to be rid of Raelyn, eventually dunking its head back underwater and using the tail to swipe him off.

Raelyn flipped several times underwater, trying to steady himself as the Serpent bit Raelyn again, this time half his body inside it's mouth.

He said nothing as he remained calm, putting his bolter into the mouth before he was thrown out of the water and into the air.

Raelyn broke through the top deck and landed onto the bottom, creating a massive hole on the top part of the ship.

The Serpent's tail slammed onto the side of the ship as it wrapped its head around to the front deck of the ship.

Dutch aimed the laser at the head, until realizing it was too close to the ship.

(Dutch) "Damn it, I'd just rip this ship apart if I took the shot!"

Fie hopped onto the Serpent's back with both her gunblades anchoring her onto it, making it twitch only a little.

She pulled the triggers several times as the bullets went into its body.

It loosened up its grip on the ship, Laura using her sword to chop off part of the tail, making it roll over and tripping some of the crew and water-formed creatures.

Buck picked off one target after the other, struggling to reload.

A wolf jumped onto him, the teeth scraping against his helmet's visor as he grabbed his knife and plunged it straight into its neck, making it disappear.

As he got up, he noticed that the winged creature only staring at them.

(Buck) "The hell is this thing?!"

Elliot tried to heal any injured crew member he could while Hilda, Percy, and Jonas covered him.

Slamming his spear into a wolf, Jonas turned to HIlda.

(Jonas) "What do we do?! There are too many of them!"

The ship slowly began to crack loudly as the serpent's grip refused to let go.

(Captain) "At this rate, the ship is going break!"

(Percy) "Wait, wheres your yellow friend?!"

(Duvalie) "Think we saw him make a hole into the lower decks!"

(Dutch) "Then what is he-"

Cannons fired onto the serpent's side that was directly next to the ports, before an entire cannon was thrown out, a rope attached to it making the serpent drop from the weight.

It finally loosened its grip and struggled to get the attached cannons off of it.

(Raelyn) "The rope will not hold, TAKE THE SHOT BROTHER DUTCH!"

(Dutch) "GOTCHA!"

Dutch grabbed his Spartan Laser and charged it, aiming at the head.

Multiple puddles formed around Dutch before the others rushed to it and stuck their weapons inside.

As several birds were about to fly into the shot again, Raelyn emerged from the lower decks and opened fire with the bolter, the shots thundering out and completely shattering them into droplets.

Dutch's Spartan Laser kicked back as the beam hit his target, its head being completely blown off, making the serpent's body go limp and dissolve into the water.

The winged creature suddenly stopped glowing, making the ODST's spin around and open fire, the bullets going into the creature.

Hilda, Fie, Laura, and Duvalie swung their weapons at it, the streaks of their weapons severing it.

Elliot's staff formed into a violin-like shape as he casted a spell that formed a circle of light, blasting upwards and making the creature finally dissipate into the air.

[End Song]

The weather finally began to clear above them, everyone now trying to catch their breath.

(Dutch) "Lord, can you please get us out of this ocean now?"

The ship began to making an uncomfortably loud screeching noise before crewmates were on it, trying to fix the damages.

(Dutch) "...So was that a yes or no?"

An explosion occured where the serpent's body was, a mixture of the rain and saltwater pouring down onto them. A tiny rainbow formed from the storm in sight of the direction back to the town.

(Dutch) "...Amen."

(Fie) "Ugh, finally."

(Elliot) "That wasn't like anything we fought before..."

(Hilda) "Whew...to be fair, don't think we ever had to fight in the ocean."

(Duvalie) "So, do any of us have an idea of-AAAAAGH!"

Duvalie suddenly fell to one knee, grabbing her head.

(Buck) "H-Hey, what's-URGH!"

Buck quickly followed suit, then the ODST's fell to one knee as well, mimicking her action.

The members of Class VII and Raelyn were soon to follow, their heads pounding as their vision suddenly faded to white.

...

...

It was an empty lake with a strange platform in the middle, the sun was bright and the skies only had a few clouds.

And going towards that platform was a blonde-braided man and a small floating companion.

(Paimon) "Hm...Is it a good idea to mess with this?"

(Aether) "It's where the villagers told us that this...thing was, so it's not going to get rid of itself.

(Paimon) "Yeah, but still-"

Before they could continue their conversation, they heard something appear behind them.

It was a small floating creature with a staff, laughing maniacally.

(Aether) "Damn it, why now?"

Aether's sword materialized into his hand and was about to swing before a bright light appeared in front of them, catching the both of them off guard.

(Abyss Mage) "Eh?"

(Aether) "What the?-"

The bright light made the both of them step back, Aether accidentally triggering the platform, and the weather suddenly clouded up.

(Paimon) "Uh oh!"

(Aether) "Damn, now we have to deal with this-"

Before he could finish, the bright light exploded and made the air push them back, before slowly pulling them in.

The Abyss Mage and whatever was summoned with the platform was sucked into the light.

Aether and Paimon came dangerously close to before he shot a powerful gust of wind out of his hand, making him fly further back as the light quickly disappeared.

The weather returned to normal as he got up trying to catch his breath.

(Paimon) "What the heck was that?!"

(Aether) "I...I have no idea..."

Everything started to turn into a static mess as Aether and Paimon slowly faded out of view...

...

(Hilda's voice) "Hey...HEY!"

Everyone's vision returned to them as they looked around confused.

(Percy) "What was that about?"

(Buck) "Alright...we all saw that too right?"

(Duvalie) "Agh...you mean that lake platform thing...?"

(Laura) "I...saw it too!"

(Raelyn) "As did I...None of us possess any psychic abilities I am unaware of, correct?"

(Mickey) "If I had the ability do that crap, I would've in that fight!"

(Hilda) "What are you guys talking about?!"

Everyone turned to Hilda and her knights. It seemed they were unaffected.

(Fie) "You...didn't see that?"

(Hilda) "No, you guys just all reached for your head at the same time!"

They all looked at each other now.

(Elliot) "Was that some kind of dream?"

(Dutch) "Looked more like a memory to me."

(Romeo) "Memory of what? Who the hell were they? And what was that winged bastard we were just fighting having to do with that?"

(Jonas) "Captain, take us back to port."

(Captain) "No need to tell me again. RAISE THE SAILS, LET'S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Everyone slowly rose up, with Raelyn helping Duvalie up.

They all remained quiet on the ride back.

An hour passed as they finally reached the shore, reaching for their heads.

(Laura) "If we go to another ocean, it will be too soon..."

(Fie) "Let's go head back to the building and-..."

Fie frowned as her ARCUS unit was now beeping.

(Fie) "...Someone's been inside."

They all reached for their weapons and slowly approached it, including the door.

Percy and Jonas quickly scattered the townsfolk, Hilda drawing her axe and joining them.

The ODST's went near the door and silently held up their weapons, turning to the others and nodding.

Duvalie raised her shield and was the first one in, kicking down the door and drawing her sword.

(Duvalie) "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

(Mila) "AAAAAGH!"

The young girl fell backwards, completely terrified of all the weapons suddenly pointing at her.

Romeo and Raelyn looked around the room to make sure no one else was present.

(Fie) "Hey...you're that girl who was talking to those kids."

(Mila) "I-I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU ANGRY! I WAS JUST CURIOUS!"'

Fie turned to the blue devices she stuck on the walls and back to the girl.

(Mila) "U-Uh, I was just wanting to talk to the big yellow guy!"

Everyone turned to Raelyn, who looked back at the girl.

(Raelyn) "...What is it?"

(Mila) "I-I was just wanting to thank you for helping those kids? From yesterday?"

(Raelyn) "...Ah. I do not believe she means us harm."

Everyone slowly put away their weapons while Raelyn took off his helmet and knelt down.

(Raelyn) "Why did you break in here?"

(Mila) "The door was open, promise! At first I checked to see if you were home and...well, then I got curious."

(Elliot) "You could've gotten hurt! You're lucky it was just us, I don't think other mercenaries would be nice enough to let you go unscathed!"

Mila was about to say something before noticing Hilda.

(Mila) "M-MILADY!"

She quickly scrambled to get on one knee before Hilda sighed.

(Hilda) "Hey, come on kiddo. Get up, no need for that around me."

(Mila) "Are...are you guys just mercenaries?"

Raelyn cleared his throat to catch her attention.

(Raelyn) "Yes, we are. Do not mistake our intentions, we were just for the coin. But...give the children my regards. My name is Raelyn. Yours?"

(Mila) "M...Mila."

Raelyn nodded.

(Raelyn) "Then I will see you home. Everyone else we should prepare to get moving."

(Buck) "Right. Pack it up ladies, let's get ready to move."

(Dutch) "On it."

Mickey and Romeo nodded and checked around the house for leftover equipment.

Duvalie shrugged and stood in the corner with the members of Class VII. Hilda stayed with them as Raelyn walked out with Mila.

Fie activated her ARCUS unit and checked the screen.

The blue devices started to beep rapidly, making everyone turn around to see what the noise was.

(Mickey) "So...now can we know what that is?"

(Fie) "Yup. First we just gotta get away. No evidence and all that."

(Mickey) "...Oh, that explains why it looked familliar."

(Duvalie) "Huh? W-What is it?"

(Buck) "...Are we safe-"

(Fie) "I gotta push the button first. We're fine. We put these here last night in case we had to leave early."

(Elliot) "We made sure this building was abandoned and out of the way of everyone."

(Hilda) "Uh...what are they talking about?"

(Laura) "We have our things, let us get moving."

...

Raelyn walked alongside the girl, his helmet underneath his arm.

(Raelyn) "Mila, do your parents know you like to snoop around like this?"

(Mila) "Hah...y-yeah. It wasn't for anything bad, I promise!"

(Raelyn) "Hmph. Those children, who are they to you? Siblings?"

(Mila) "Nah, they're orphans. From the war..."

(Raelyn) "War?"

(Mila) "You know...the Five-year war? The one with the Church and Empire?"

(Raelyn) "Ah. My apologies, it seems I forgot."

(Mila) "Are you really mercenaries? Figured you would've remembered that at least."

(Raelyn) "...I am. My age is getting the better of me is all."

Mila raised an eyebrow at Raelyn's half assed excuse.

(Raelyn) "Regardless, you did not answer my question."

(Mila) "Oh, right. Well they were kids that were on the streets for a while. None of us really knew what to do, so I became friends with them! They ended up following me around everywhere for the past three years."

(Raelyn) "Then you have a good heart it seems. What are their names?"

(Mila) "The boy is Emil, and the girl is Lena."

(Raelyn) "Well then, take care of Emil and Lena. They are going to need you for the coming times."

(Mila) "Yeah..."

Raelyn stopped following when Mila approached a door, assuming it to be her house.

(Raelyn) "Take care then, Mila."

(Mila) "W-Wait, where will you guys go?"

(Raelyn) "I cannot say. Wherever the wind takes us I suppose."

(Mila) "Will...we see you again?"

Raelyn put on his helmet and turned to her.

(Raelyn) "If the Emperor wills it, then yes."

(Mila) "Emperor? Like, Emperor Edelgard?"

(Raelyn) "Er...different one."

KABOOM!

Raelyn turned to the source of the explosion, seeing his group semi-casually walking away from it.

(Mila) "What the?!"

(Raelyn) "Get inside. I will investigate."

Mila nodded and quickly went inside while Raelyn walked over to the group.

(Citizen) "Good goddess, the building collapsed on itself?!"

(Citizen 2) "No one was hurt, were they?"

(Citizen 3) "N-No, just-" cough cough "Some dust!"

(Fie) "Aaaand that's your answer to what they were."

(Duvalie) "Bombs?!"

(Laura) "We wanted to cover our tracks."

(Raelyn) "Would that not make them suspicious of us even more?"

(Elliot) "No more than they already were."

Buck's visor picked up signatures to their side, quietly watching them.

(Fie) "There's been people watching us ever since we arrived."

(Dutch) "Think it's those insurrectionists?"

(Hilda) "Too early to tell. We'll investigate things from our end."

(Mickey) "Well, good luck to ya then, ma'am."

Hilda nodded and went joined Percy and Jonas who were looking at the collapsed building.

(Buck) "Well then, mission accomplished on our end. Wonder how the other kids are doing."

(Duvalie) "More importantly, I want answers to whatever the hell's going on with this talk of separatists and that vision thing."

As they walked away from the town, Mila watched from the window.

(Mila) "Just who are you...?"

PART 2: ENDED

TO BE CONTINUED…

[Lost in Paradise - ALI]

Gotta get it homie gotta move it If you gonna do it then, push everything to the side Everybody just talk nobody really do it You should keep a secret until you actually do it No need to double check with someone Use your judgement only, break the walls Let’s do flashy fake More Cool, keep it low, prove them wrong I won’t give up the fight in my life 'Cause my life is living for love I won’t give up the fight in my life Stand off and groove on time Tokyo prison Going to relight your feelings When times get too rough Night and day are fading Going to relight your feelings There’s no time to explain Gimme your love Access to your love Oh yeah Lost in paradise Night and day are fading out When times getting rough Access to your love Lost in paradise Night and day are fading out Keep on dancing now Hеy hey hеy hey heyeah

[psychopersonified]

Legend has it...

Part of the prequel series to "Are we ever going to talk about this?".

A glimpse into Bond’s shared office with the Double-Os. Explore a little more of Q’s recent backstory prior to meeting Bond. Mostly banter and fluff, but there are spots of emotional poignancy - it all ends well so it is safe. 

This one was inspired by a few things: like Bond in his Naval uniform, HRH Prince William’s real life weeklong stint in the Secret Service incl MI6.

Tags: Not dating, dates. Clueless Q but getting there. Intimacy in plain sight. Naval uniforms. 006 is a bit of a cad. Banter. Humour. Q Origins. 

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

“So you do have an office. A rather nice one in fact. Why then do you insist on doing your paperwork amidst the clutter in Q-Branch?”

Bond looks cagey, like he’s hiding something. He clears his throat and mutters, “The WiFi is better down there.” 

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

SIS Building, Level 9 - Double-0 Division Office

Of course Bond knows where his office is, the Double-0s share a bullpen somewhere on the 9th floor. Only Agent 009 ever uses it with any regularity, so the man practically has the whole space to himself - which if you consider the square footage alone, makes his office larger than Mallory’s, even if it is not as imposing. He’s even arranged his desk so he sits apart, monopolising the fantastic view behind him. 

Bond is mildly peeved. 009 had put him charge of housekeeping the Double-0 office though who made him the boss of the division is anyone’s guess. Agent 009 fancies himself Mallory’s deputy, which if you ask virtually anyone in SIS, he is - informally at least. 

In all honesty Bond can’t argue with that, 009 is possessed of good leadership skills and experienced enough to carry it well. It is just that aside from 009, Trevelyan and himself, all the other agents are away on mission. 009 is with Mallory and Tanner, busy finalising the itinerary for the coming royal visit by The Royal Highnesses Prince Charles and Prince William - a weeklong visit to the British Intelligence Services (which included MI5, MI6 and GCCHQ) so they are understandably swamped with the planning and coordination. 

The least Bond could do is to help out by doing this comparably small task of making the division office presentable for the visit. Alec is present in the office with him, but practically useless. He had injured his arm (bullet wound) during his last mission and it is conveniently in a sling at the moment. From the sounds if it, it was merely a flesh wound that Alec is milking for all it is worth in the face of menial labour. 

What this all means at the end of the day is that 007 is on his own - it reminds him of boarding school, only this time all his roommates are gone and he is saddled with the responsibility of cleaning clean up before the professors come to inspect their dorm or they all cop the punishment. 

“Would you stop your moaning?” Bond snaps irritably at his ‘roommate’. “All you have to do is feed the bloody papers into the shredder, you’re not a complete invalid.”

“I’m doing that! It keeps jamming!” Trevelyan slams the cheap plastic feed cover shut, having just unstuck the temperamental machine - possibly because it was cheap.

“Take the staples out first will you? And feed the thicker papers in one at a time.” Bond instructs. 

“Arrrgh! This thing is mind numbingly slow...” Alec continues to moan. 

“You have to empty it Alec. It’s not a bottomless pit.” Bond reigns in the temptation to throttle the other agent. 

The childish part of Bond is indignant, it is not fair. He hasn’t stepped into this office space for almost two years, preferring to do his paperwork and research in Q-Branch where he’d cleared a small empty space on Q’s workbench. Other times he would commandeer the makeshift Q-Branch lounge with it’s well worn Chesterfield sofas. If anyone asks why he’s there, he just uses the excus that the WiFi is faster down there despite not having a shred of either empirical or anecdotal evidence. 

Bond’s prolonged absence from his office means that his desk has since been converted into a catch all purgatory; collecting detritus from all thirteen agents - things that they couldn’t be bothered to decide to keep, file or dispose. There are at least two years worth of interdepartmental circulars, equipment manuals, Health & Safety reports, copies of expense claims, greeting cards, even copies of his premature obituary - piled a foot high over the entire surface of his desk. Even his chair hadn’t escaped the treatment. 

Bond continues to sort through the papers, sending those that need disposal to Alec’s growing ‘to shred’ pile. The other agent shoots him a dirty look. 

“Do you smell something?” There is a stench coming from somewhere around his side of the room that has been bothering Bond all morning. 

“Aside from your poor choice in aftershave?” Alec’s juvenile insult is automatic. 

Bond rolls his eyes even though they have their backs turned to each other. “No really, smells like weeks old bin.” He wrinkles his nose. 

Alec could care less as he is wrestling with the shredder bin. He finally manages to wriggle free the overfull collection drawer with a Neanderthal yank. Strings of paper explode absolutely everywhere. “Bloody fuck!”  

Bond turns around, Alec is trying to keep the mess under control by trying to shove the bin back in, which of course is now impossible. Her Majesty’s finest, ladies and gentlemen. 

“James! Hand me a bin liner will you?” Alec requests with some urgency. His useful arm pressing down on the springy mess threatening to overflow.

Bond grabs the roll and lobs it in his direction. The other agent only has the use of one arm so he can’t conceivably catch the projectile. It hits Trevelyan square on his injured arm. “Oww! Bond what the hell?!”  

“Stop your whining, you’ve endured worse. Now, clean it up.“ 

Minutes go by and countless invectives later, Alec has the situation under control. No, that’s too generous. The damage has been somewhat contained - with the majority of the shredded mess now in the bag, Alec ties it off then declares, “I need a break. I’m going to take these to the incinerator.”  

“Already? You’ve only been at it for an hour.” Bond can’t believe the lazy arsehole. There are at lest four more boxes awaiting his attention. 

“Try doing it with one arm, it’s hard work man.” he grouses. 

“Will you stop milking it. Take the blasted sling off, you don’t even need it.” Truly annoyed now.

“How dare you! It’s medically prescribed.” Alec defends himself with exaggerated affront, hefting the bag over a shoulder. 

Bond huffs in resignation, “Fine, then get me coffee while you’re at it please.” 

Alec is already heading out, his back is towards the other agent, he flips him off with the hand on his supposedly injured arm, “Not bloody likely!” and disappears out the door. 

A moment later, Alec’s booming voice carries down the hallway, “Oh hello Quartermaster. Come for a visit have we?” 

“Hello 006. How’s the tidying up coming along?” Comes the softer reply.

“It would be quicker if 007 would pull his weight. Look at this! He’s making me do all the work. Have a word with him will you?” he shakes the bag on his shoulder for emphasis.  

“Trevelyan!!” Bond warns from inside the room.

“Ah! There he goes again. Toodles Q.” Alec hurries off before 007 makes good on his threat. 

Q peeks around the door into the legendary Double-0 office. “Heard that you’ve been put to task. Came to see it for myself.” Q says cheerily.

Bond is standing behind a desk, a stack of papers balanced on one forearm, another held in his other hand hovering between two piles he was making. All around him are open box files labelled with post-it notes. Agent 007 doing filing. The rumours were true - only the Queen or in this case two Princes could compel Bond to clean up his office. Either that or hell really has frozen over.

“If you’ve come to gloat, please make it a quick one - before I set this place on fire.” 

Q steps further into the room. It’s a generous size. Each agent has a set comprised of a decent sized desk, high backed chair, side cabinet and a tall cupboard. There are even a little plaques on the desks engraved with their names. So very civil service. 

The room itself is divided into roomy cubicles and arranged into four rows of three. However, One set stands apart, closest to the panoramic glass windows and looking ‘over’ the others - Agent 009, Q presumes. 

On one wall there is a setup of communal facilities like a bulletin board, stationery cupboard, printers and a shredder. Speaking of the shredder, the poor machine is in a state; the collection bin is detached and lying on its side a few feet away. Scattered around the base of the shredder and indeed all over the carpeted floor are bits and strings of shredded paper; like someone had a fight with the machine and lost. The static from the carpet is going to make this mess an absolute pain to hoover up. 

Q comes to stand in front of Bond’s executive sized desk and picks up his name plate ::James Bond C.M.G, R.N::

“So you do have an office. A rather nice one in fact. Why then do you insist on doing your paperwork amidst the clutter in Q-Branch?”

Bond looks cagey, like he’s hiding something. He clears his throat and mutters, “The WiFi is better down there.” 

Q looks skeptical. He would know, he had worked with Mark to add secure repeaters all over the building’s dead spots. They had carried out WiFi speed and coverage tests all over the building and there isn’t any significant difference anymore. “That’s a common misconception, 007. We’ve tested the speeds—“

“—Yes well, it just feels that way.” Bond cuts him off before Q pokes more holes in his excuse with inconvenient facts. 

Q decides to let it go. Instead, he makes a slow circuit around the room out of curiosity - observing the individual touches that each agent has added to their space, a little glimpse at their personal choices and preferences.  

For example 001, their longest serving female agent, silver haired matriarch with a razor sharp wit that could cut through any armour better than depleted uranium bullets - but collects tacky porcelain teacups from her travels. Q fears she might become a politician someday and maybe even Prime Minister.

Then there is 008, who is retiring by the end of the year. Poignantly he has pictures of his family all around him. An ex-wife whom he still loves and is battling serious illness; and teenaged children that he has missed out on most of formative lives. His retirement couldn’t come soon enough. 

When Q is finally done snooping, he comes to a stop at the cubicle opposite Bond’s and seats himself on the edge of the desk, “Ugh something smells ripe….”

“Yes, it reeks in here.” Then suddenly Bond looks up concerned, “It’s not me is it?”

“No…don’t think so.” Q reassures distractedly. He turns around in place, sniffing. “It think… It’s coming from around here,” he spies the owner’s name on the plaque - Alec Trevelyan. Q gets up and rounds the desk. When he bends over closer to the desk drawers the smell gets significantly stronger. “I think it’s coming from in here.”

“What is it?” Bond asks curious now. 

“Well I’m not opening it! Who knows what kind of souvenirs 006 brings back from his missions,” Q backs away from the desk, images of severed ears and pinky fingers briefly crossing his mind. After all, they are all barely restrained psychopaths at the best of times. Although if that were true, what does that say about Q then; that he prefers their company to that of most people - well not all of them, just one in particular if he were to be honest. 

Bond laughs, knowing exactly what Q is imagining, “No stomach for the macabre?” he crosses the short distance to Alec’s desk, gently moving Q out of the way. “Besides if he were to bring back a souvenir, he would be sure to pickle them first.”  

He’s teasing of course - but nevertheless, as he hooks his fingers under the drawer pull, he braces himself for what he might find. The drawer slides out smoothly, releasing a noxious plume of rotting stench.

“Oh Christ!!” The smell nearly makes him gag. Q covers his nose with the sleeve of his cardigan and leans over Bond’s hunched shoulder to see. In there lies what looks to be the remains of someone’s putrefied lunch or lunches. A banana so rotten its has liquefied into black slush, a circle of half eaten soft cheese sitting on top of the rotting liquid that is now absolutely overgrown with mould and the piece de resistance - a quarter tray of what must have been sashimi of some kind. The rotting seafood, vegetation and cheese slurry a potent combination. 

Fucking Alec is always leaving food around to the dismay of his colleagues that share the space. It is no wonder then, there is every so often the passive aggressive ‘cc all’ email from some returning Double-0 about clearing out leftover food and a reminder to consume all food in the break room at the end of the hall outside. 

Bond slams the drawer back shut and retreats to his side quickly, herding Q along with him. 

Q looks a little green around the gills, “I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that I ate lunch before I came in here.” 

“I hope you don’t mind being one agent short, because I’m going to kill Alec when he gets back.” Bond resolves.

“IF he comes back you mean. You know him, he’s likely absconded to an early dinner by now.”

Bond dreads the implication, ”There is no way in Hell I’m cleaning that mess up.” He draws the line at that. Nope. No way. 

Speaking of killing agents, there is a small stack of printed cards on the corner of Bond’s desk. Q picks them up, he’d seen these before, several years ago. It’s Bond’s premature obituary from the small ceremony the service held in his honour. Q was a senior tech then and had not known Bond other than brief glimpses when he came to pick up his kit. 

“Are you shredding these?” 

“Rather odd to keep them.” A curios thought pops into his mind, “Where were you then, Q? Had you joined the service?”

“I was Senior Tech, equivalent to Nish’s S position. It’s likely we never crossed paths but you would have been familiar with my tech in the field… You didn’t spend as much time in Q-Branch then as you do now.” Q tries to needle him about that again.

Bond sidesteps it with an expertly placed question, “Did you come to my funeral?”

“No, it was a small private affair. Only the old Q and R went. Besides, I was atoning for my sins then.” The question triggers Q to reminisce about those few months before he met 007 and how much his life changed within that short span on time. 

——

Flashback: 3 years prior...

45 minutes before the start of The Istanbul Incident.

The phone rings down in Q-Branch’s general line. After the sixth ring, “Anyone going to pick that up?!” Engineering Minion A calls out as he wipes his hands on an oily rag. Its early, 7:30am so Q-branch is mostly deserted. Minion A is loading ammo into 008’s BMW before the agent arrives to pick up his car. 

Nobody answers, so Minion A has to trudge over to the phone. For his trouble, he is rewarded immediately with a string of expletives as greeting coming through from the other end. It is too early in the morning for this, “Look either you calm the hell down or I’m hanging up.”

“Where are the cyberboffs in Q-branch?!” the voice on the other side demands. 

Minion A takes a deep breath and explains that it is early, they’re not in yet but he’ll check. He finds a still sleepy Q (who is currently still Collin Mitchel, holding the S rank) in the small pantry hidden in the back of Q-branch nursing his cup of tea. Hair in a wild mess as usual. He informs him about the call and warns that the person on the other end is in a right mood. 

Q picks up the transferred call to a frantic Mark of IT-Branch on the other end. “Fuck Mitchel! Please tell me its you guys messing about the Level 5 servers right now! I know we said surprise us but it’s a little early in the day don’t you think??” Mark is referring to the CyberWar games that IT and Q Branches usually play on Friday nights to strengthen MI6’s cybersecurity. 

“What are you talking about? I’m hardly awake enough to operate anything more sophisticated than a kettle…” Q sighs as he removes his glasses and rubs his sleepy eyes. 

“Collin…” Mark’s voice goes dead serious as he attempts to calm down, “… I’m not dicking around right now. If it’s not you or anyone in Q-Branch, then why the hell is my system logging unusually large data downloads from Level 5 severs?”.

That gets Q’s attention. Mark is one of the best in IT-Branch and and they share a mutual concern about the state of MI6’s cyber security preparedness. There have been times when Q has thought of asking Mark to transfer to Q-Branch, coaxing him to the ‘dark-side’ as they call it. So Mark’s uncharacteristic panic is like a jolt of adrenaline that wakes Q up faster than the strongest cup of tea. Q punches the speaker button and replaces the receiver before grabbing the nearest chair, spinning it around and settling in front of a console. He logs in and pulls up the data traffic log Mark is monitoring. 

Over the past year IT and Q Branches have come to a truce so to speak. Q-Branch will provide the cybersecurity tools and IT will carry out the implementation. What it meant was that Q and his colleagues would build the encryption and protocols, but it was up to IT to roll it out, monitor and patch. So just like what they did for the field agents, they made the weapons but it was up to the agents when and where to use it. In the event an active threat was present, they will work together to repel the attack. IT was in the midst of overhauling the systems - but as anyone can imagine, with so many layers of legacy systems, it was a slow process. But at least it no longer resembled Swiss cheese. 

They’ve secured the most sensitive files with the latest encryption at least - but that is always double edged, put too many padlocks on a door and you’re telling the burglar where you’re hiding your best stuff. 

“I see it. When did it start? Q switches to his game voice. Crisp, efficient.

“15 minutes ago. I was on my morning run when the alarm came through. I ran back as fast as I could.”

“Can you shut down the server?”

“Not while Ops is running. They’ll loose access to classified files for cross-referencing. As well as the encrypted satellite feeds that run though it. We’ve got Eastern Russia running right now and Istanbul is coming up soon.”

“Has M been informed?”

“Not yet. I was hoping it was you guys mucking around.” 

“Mark, I don’t have full access to the servers from Q-Branch terminals. I can hack it, but I’d rather not cause even more alarm.” 

“Get up here then! M and Tanner just arrived, you can work up here and.... I’d rather you came with me to face M.” 

“You’ll have to buzz me up, I don’t have full clearance.” 

A second later he hears Mark’s muffled voice yell something to someone in his team.

“Davis is going down to get you now. Fuck. …Mitchel is this it?”

The question hangs heavily. They’ve been predicting something like this to happen for a few months now. In the last 18 months, there has been an increase in breach attempts on MI6 systems. Together IT and Q-Branch have managed to repel most of them or limit the extent. It’s a cat-and-mouse game. Both sides using each successive attempts to gauge skill and strength. 

The elevator ride up to Q-Branch was excruciating. Q now understands why M wants to have the two branches working closer together, the bureaucracy is eating into their response time. 

When Q arrives at IT-Branch, Mark is tracing the source. M and Tanner standing close by. It’s coming from an MI6 laptop - using the credentials of an Agent Sebastian Ronson who is currently on mission in Istanbul. Q slides into the station next to Mark, they fall into practiced ease. Mark will defend the keep, and Q will chase the trail. 

“Contact Agent Ronson, now!” Tanner tells Mark. Mark calls the mobile number registered to Ronson in Istanbul. 

*Click* an automated female voice informs them that the number is currently not in service. 

They pull up the Istanbul Ops file, Ronson has three other field agents with him. He calls the other numbers with the same result. He calls the hotel next, but the front desk informs them that the men have checked out. 

While Mark is trying to make contact, Q is tracing the breach, trying to identify the affected files. To his relief, the files in this partition were not just encrypted, they were protected with a copy prevention and decryption protocol that he had written. He didn’t know what the files contained, he didn’t have that security clearance. He just built the moat and the fortress that surrounded it. What the higher ups put in it was anyone’s guess. But one thing he did know was that whoever wanted the data had to physically retrieve Ronson’s authorised hard drive to to get to it. 

He informs M as much. 

Something about the this whole situation seems odd, ”Ma’am if the hackers anticipated that they would need an authorised laptop as a file cache, and they’ve cut off Ronson’s communication with us - the only logical assumption is that they not only know the location of Ronson and the team but they have a plan to retrieve that laptop.... and very soon. Before we re-establish communication or Ronson suspects something is amiss.” 

Tanners eyes go wide, M goes very still. This would mean the hacker’s plan is live - making this a life threatening emergency.

“Do you know what files were downloaded?” M asks. 

“I can show you the list of files, but I don’t know what’s in it.” Q pulls up the log and moves aside for M to look for herself. 

One of the folders makes M’s heart skip a beat. It’s a summary of field reports from across NATO agencies informing each other of their activities including embedded undercover agents and informants. The idea was to coordinate efforts and reduce doubling up agents which might increase suspicion and also prevent ‘friendly fire’ so to speak from multiple agencies working independently. It’s not a list per se, but it would be fairly easy to put the information together into one. 

M points out the folder to Q, absolute certainty in her voice, “He’s after this folder. Can you delete it remotely?” 

Q activates remote access of the agent’s laptop and gets to work. 

::ERROR. Remote access denied. Sys admin required::

Q tries 3 more times with different admin credentials with the same result. Now they’re in real shit. 

“Mark I’m locked out.” Q looks to Mark. Mark tries an even higher level credential and still nothing.

“We have to pull the plug—” Mark tells him. 

“—Wait till I’m done. If you do that now, the download stops, and the hacker will know we’re on to them and cut the connection.”

“Isn’t that the point?” M interrupts him sharply.

“Ma’am, if he already has the file you think he’s after, and everything else is just a blind grab, then this is the last chance we have at wiping that drive. I need him to remain connected until I can hack in and execute the delete code.” 

M sees his point. Use the other files as bait, the hacker doesn’t actually know the right folder yet. Q turns back to access the laptop through backchannels, several long minutes later, he finally manages to get in. He has partial access, one of them happens to be turning on the webcam on the laptop. 

“Come on, come on…” The webcam turns on, but no-one is in front of it. “Mark, the webcam! Try getting through to Ronson.” Q broadcasts the feed to the main IT room monitor and the video conferencing camera attached to it.

While Mark scrambles into action, Q continues to chip away at the hijacked laptop’s protocols to gain delete access. Over his shoulder and speakers he can hear Mark trying to make contact with their agent, accessing the laptop’s volume control remotely and cranking it up as high as it would go. 

“Agent Ronson! Can you hear me?… Agent Ronson?” 

There are sounds of men talking in the background, and suddenly Ronson comes into view. 

“Agent Ronson! Your position has been compromised. You need to move urgently. You are to remove the laptop drive and destroy it immediately.” Mark informs him. 

“What? What’s going on? We’ve just finished our morning briefing and about to head out.” These precious few seconds of confusion will cost Ronson his life. 

“Abort mission, get out of there and destroy the laptop!” M steps into view of the camera and barks the order. 

Ronson finally realises the severity of the situation, but it is too late. He barely has time to draw his weapon when the sound of a door being kicked open is heard. Automatic gunfire sprays into the room, including two right into Agent Ronson’s torso and its over. Ronson collapses into the armchair, as they watch, impotent. Few seconds later the assailant pushes shut the laptop screen from behind. They never get a look at the person. 

In those few seconds before that, Q finally gains access. Just after he executes the secure delete code, the connection is terminated. The screen goes dark. Q doesn’t know if it worked. 

All eyes are on him. Not just his superiors, but the rest of IT techs, the room is dead silent. 

“I..I can’t be sure it worked. If they shut down the laptop before the drive is wiped, it would mean the data is still on it. But they will have to still break the encryption on the files to read it. That buys us time—”

M starts walking away before he is even finished talking. Tanner on her heels. Q can hear her rapid fire orders to him as they turn to enter the main Ops room and to her office. 

“Where is 007?”

“On his way.”

“Who else do we have in Istanbul?”

“Eve Moneypenny, junior field agent.”

“Get her on the ground to support 007.”

“Medical evac for Ronson and the team?”

“Still trying to contact them…..” Their voices fade away as the doors close. 

Mark and Q share a look. -Shit-….doesn’t even begin to cover the magnitude of this cockup. Q can’t stop the feeling of crushing disappointment building inside. They’ve lost this one. 

Mark in an uncharacteristic fit of anger-filled frustration, picks up his mouse and hurls it at a wall. There is nothing they can do anymore, Ops team will handle it from here. “I’m going to shower,” he announces to the quiet floor. Q notices that Mark is still in his running gear and sweaty either from the run or the emergency. 

Q waits till Mark is out the door before slowly rising and facing the rest of the IT techs staring at him wide-eyed. It’s literally first thing in the morning and they’ve just watched a field agent take two right in the chest. Not an everyday occurrence. 

He takes a deep breath and starts rattling off orders even though Q isn’t technically their boss. 

“Revoke Ronson’s credentials, check and update credentials of all the other agents in the field that we can contact, pull the activity logs and study the hack, comb the application code for a trojan, check the other servers to see if anything else was downloaded, request for Ronson’s laptop to be returned as soon as Ops can recover it…..” and so on. No one questions him, and the floor bursts into a hive of activity. 

Weeks later, when the dust settles and the forensics completed, they would learn that Agent Ronson was never aware of the breach. Ronson’s laptop was just an entry point, they intercepted data traffic through his WIFI. It was excruciatingly simple once they examined the remains of the laptop. The hackers switched out his secure mobile hotspot and used the same network name - a moment of inattentiveness on Ronson’s part and that was it. A key logger captured his credentials and the hacker used it as an entry point to gain access to the system, releasing a virus that burrowed into deeper levels of the classified database. 

———

Two Weeks later…

The young woman about his age in the monochrome pantsuit looks over at him,”What are you in for?”

Her question stops Q’s nervous pacing outside the conference room. 

“I mean we’re both here for the Istanbul investigation…” she coaxes. There is no smugness - just deadpan with a hint of dark humour to her tone. She doesn’t look so great herself, her hands have kept up their anxious smoothing of the fabric covering her thighs. It somehow puts Q at ease, knowing he’s not the only one here facing the firing squad. 

Might as well, she’ll hear about it in the meeting anyway, “Failed to delete Ronson’s computer hard drive in time. What about you?” 

“Shot the double-0 agent who was in the middle of retrieving said drive,” the woman replies wryly.

“Ah... that is unfortunate,” was all Q could come up with. He’s heard the story. It was all everyone could talk about the past weeks. So this is the junior agent with the dubious honour of being the first field agent to kill a Double-0 through friendly fire. 

Then because Q is an emotionally bumbling halfwit who thinks humour solves everything, he adds, “Do you think they’ll put us in neighbouring cells? I hear the dungeons are pretty bleak this time of year.” 

Instead of the exasperated look he is expecting, the woman regards him and smiles slowly, “Eve Moneypenny, Station-T.” She eventually offers as introduction. 

“Collin Mitchell, Q-Branch” he reciprocates, shaking her hand.

—

The meeting goes as expected. No intel about the drive or any sign of decryption activity. 007 is still MIA, no body was recovered - if they don’t find a body in another week, they’ll call off the search teams. There is now serious pressure to restructure how Ops is carried out. They can’t have Ops, IT and Q-Branches working separately without a clear chain of command not in this day and age. 

In addition to that, the incident brings home the need to have the handlers and agents work much more closely, like a ‘hand in glove’ so to speak - instead of fobbing them off to a constantly rotating shift of support team. Ronson second guessing Mark’s information was a result of a combination of factors; the unexpected mode of communication and him not knowing who Mark was and therefore not trusting the information. Precious seconds wasted in establishing veracity of the information likely cost him his life.

Agent Moneypenney is suspended from field duty. Pending reassignment possibly to a desk job. Q is temporarily assigned to IT branch to help with securing MI6 systems - he has already been helping out Mark the past few weeks, but this order means he has to dotted line report to IT-Branch Head Timothy Hayden who hates his guts and second guesses everything Q does. It is not going to be pleasant. 

Outside the SIS building in the park across from the train station, Eve and Q sit morosely on opposite ends of a bench, picking at their lunch arranged between them. 

“Well, I think we got off lightly all things considered.” Eve speaks first. 

“Speak for yourself. Hayden still wants his pound of flesh after the print-pocalypse I caused two years back. I’m going to be debugging applications for the rest of my life if he has any say in it.”

Eve snorts, then a few moments later very sombrely reminds him, ”I killed someone Collin.” 

Q hangs his head. Perspective. “OK. You win... “ He says very gently, trying to lighten the mood. “…So much for our promising careers in espionage.”

They eat their lunch in silence for a while before Eve speaks up again. “I thought of going to see his next of kin; you know... to make amends. Tell his wife and children how brave he was, how his last moments were spent defending his country. Least I could do... Maybe even ask for forgiveness one day.” Eve’s face crumples, her voice cracking. 

She draws in a long shaky breath, then through a thick sob she says,“Tanner tells me he didn’t have any. This bloody -job- was his whole life.” She gasps, a hand coming up quickly to cover her mouth and nose, muffling the earnest sobs that were wrecking through her now. Before this, she had held steady for two weeks to the day since she pulled that trigger. 

He doesn’t know what to say, up to two weeks ago he had been mostly sheltered from the more gruesome aspects of his job - Ronson was the first agent he’d ever seen killed live, not a recording after the fact. One moment he was talking, the next, fatally wounded - his story ended right that moment. Ronson had an ex-wife, no child.

Not knowing what else to do, Q moves their lunch away and scoots close, wrapping his arms around Moneypenny and she does the same for him. They don’t say much after this. But it is the start of their standing Thursday lunch. A friendship forged through mutual adversity and tragedy. The both of them having to work their way back into M’s good graces. 

——

Back to Present…

“Oh? Not classified is it? Would you be able to tell me about it?” Bond looks genuinely interested. 

“Over dinner… if you can finish up here by then.” Q raises an eyebrow at the amount of work still to be done. 

Alec chooses that moment to swan back into the room, two ladies from the secretarial pool in tow, one on each arm. They gingerly lower him into his chair and he sighs in excessive relief. The ladies coo soothingly at him, massaging his allegedly sore shoulders and back.

“Awfully nice of you to come back.” Bond says but refuses to acknowledge his theatrics. 

“I had to, left my pills here. Sam dear, could I have some help with these?” He pouts pitifully at her as he hands her the blister pack of pain medication that was on the table. Then,“Ta, so kind of you,” when Sam pops the requisite number of pills into his mouth and Ginny brings his coffee to his lips. 

Q shakes his head at 006’s antics. He can be such a loveable cad. Not too long ago 007 was reputed to be the same - twin terrors that made M rethink her decision on a daily basis. 

“Oh, and we brought your coffee as demanded.” Ginny comes over to hand Bond his coffee - it is no longer hot but warm. She glances apologetically at Q, “Sorry we didn’t get you one, sir.” 

“Well, now that you’re back, mind finishing up here?” Bond shakes a box of papers awaiting the shredding machine for emphasis.  

“Ooooh… give me a moment. The meds haven’t kicked in.” Alec moans woefully, which prompts the women to renew their fussing over him. 

“Really sir! Can’t you see Alec isn’t fit to do any heavy lifting?” Sam admonishes Bond. 

Her audacity takes Bond aback, he glances at Q and spreads his arms in a ’look what I have to endure because of Alec’ gesture. Q smiles back at him sympathetically. 

An idea forms in Bond’s mind. He makes a show of stapling a stack of papers that needs to be filed. “Oh bugger!” he proclaims loudly. “Ran out of staples. Alec do you have any refills?”

Alec still basking in the female attention pulls open his desk drawers distractedly before turning to look. Within seconds, the stench of his past meals come back to haunt him as it wafts intrusively into the room. He slams the drawers back shut again. 

“Oh! What is that smell?!” Ginny straightens, alarmed. Sam recoils as well. Both women stepping away from his desk instinctively. 

Alec shots to his feet, eyes wide, “Whoops! Looks like break time is over. I ought to get back to finishing the housekeeping.” 

006 quickly usher the women out, sending them on their way with a wink and a flirty quip, “I’ll see you ladies later this evening. 5:30? I shall count down the hours.” 

When they are out of earshot, he rounds on 007, “You bastard!” 

Bond’s infantile snickering turns into outright uncontainable laughter. “How is it my fault? Throw your dammed leftovers away.”

“Oh I’ll throw something alright,” Alec grabs his empty coffee cup and is about to pitch it at Bond’s head when Q slides in front of him. Q levels them both with his Quartermaster stare, quelling any further childish escalation of hostilities. 

“Well now, if the both of you are quite finished sabotaging each other, perhaps you’d like to bring those boxes and the offending drawer down to Q-Branch?”

Twin looks of confusion.

“We have an industrial shredder and a power washer down in the lair... If you gentlemen would like the use of it.” Q smiles and nods his leave. 

——

Day of HRHs Prince Charles and William’s Visit

Q-Branch is abuzz with activity, even more than usual. The labs are cleaner than they ever will be again. Not pristine, but not quite the mad scientist lair and far less a safety hazard than it usually is. 

Everyone has on their cleanest lab coat, overalls and PPE. Q’s even had a haircut and attempted to tame it with ‘product’ this morning. 

Center stage for this portion of the visit is the modified Aston Martin V8 Vantage recovered from 007’s latest mission - with a battered front end and deep gouges along its flanks. On top of Bond’s decorative additions - it was also generously riddled with bullet marks, much of it concentrated on the pockmarked windscreen and windows, none of which penetrated the bulletproofing thankfully. 

Q nearly had a fit, it would have been impossible to repair the damage in time; but Moneypenny had the brilliant idea to turn the narrative in their favour - a gritty, uncensored example showcasing the dangers their agents face in the line of duty and the tech used to keep them safe. And what better way to bring the message home than to have the actual agent that survived the ordeal; Commander James Bond aka 007 regale the Royal Highnesses with the story himself. 

So they left the car pretty much alone, other than rolling it into the centre of Q-Branch. It cut a forlorn picture sitting there, with its damage on full display - gun barrels sticking out, boot open and bits of carbon fibre hanging off. It looked like a squashed insect in the middle of a clean floor. 

As for the man of the hour himself, he had sauntered into Q-Branch right after the tour of the Double-0 office was done. He’s there practicing his story, memorising the script Eve wrote for him. Not that he needed a script to remember what happened - he was there after all, but he tended be a little sarcastic and churlish with his words, at least in his written reports so the script was an insurance against that. 

Moneypenny had insisted that 006 & 007 wear their military uniforms as it added to the pomp and circumstance, Mallory agreed. So Bond and Trevelyan were in their Naval uniforms. Trevelyan was somewhere in the building making full use of the uniform and the effect it produced on anyone inclined to go home with him. Last Bond saw of him, he had amassed a small entourage of both sexes in the cafeteria. 

*Pheeeww-whiit!!* 

There were loud appreciative catcalls and whistles when 007 made his entrance to Q-Branch wearing his immaculate Naval Commander ensemble. He’d politely tipped his hat to everyone as he went around looking for the Quartermaster to present himself - curios to see if it produced any effect.

“How are the preparations coming along?” He found the Chief Overlord in the back pantry making a cup of tea and had sidled right up behind him to rumble in his ear. Q chokes on his tea. Bond quickly rescues the mug from the quartermaster’s hand while the man sputters and recovers from the fright. 

“Bond! How many times have I told—,”Q’s words are cut off abruptly when he turns around to face the insufferable agent. 

“… have I… I…,” He tries to restart his standard tirade, but it dies on his lips so he gives up and resigns to just staring. His brain is frizzing out, Q’s sure. The only thought on his mind is what a dashing figure he cut - those magnificent the gold braids on his cuffs, the eight gold buttons glinting in the light, the shoes polished to perfection. 

He could almost forgive this man for ruining his prized car. Almost. -The navy colour brings out his eyes-. And for loosing the rifle. Maybe. -What do all those insignias mean?-

A minute later, and Q is still lost in contemplation. Bond leans in close again, blue eyes shining, “Are you nearly done with your assessment?” He brings Q’s rescued mug up to his lips and takes a long sip, never breaking eye contact throughout. 

Q’s eyes trail down to Bond’s throat, the way his Adam’s apple bob against the white collar and dark tie as the agent swallows. At the sound of Bond clearing his throat, Q’s eyes snap back up again to regard the agent in the eye. -What were they taking about again?-

“Right. Yes. Preparations. Everything’s ready… And how are you with your script?” Q reclaims his mug, clutching it with both hands to protect it. The bastard has taken to stealing his drink at every opportunity, ever since that night of the party* here at Q-Branch. 

“All squared away in here,” Bond taps his temple with a finger. “The hair’s new,” He makes an observation of his own. He brings up his right hand and lightly cards his fingers through Q’s fringe. It breaks up the neatly gelled hair, letting a few pieces fall more beguilingly over his forehead. Personally, he prefers the perpetually messy look Q wears on a daily basis.

Q is transfixed by the presumptuously familiar gesture. All he can do is let his gaze drift along the hands, up to the white cuff peeking out of the navy sleeve, the triple gold braid rank insignia on the sleeve, up the arm to the crisp line of the shoulder and back to Bond’s face. 

Those fingers that were a second ago in his hair lowers slowly to touch the back of Q’s hand that is wrapped around the mug, drawing a slow teasing circle on the skin before circling his wrist to pull his hand and the mug up to the agent’s mouth - stealing another long sip. When Bond finally withdraws, his bottom lip graze lightly over Q’s forefinger. 

Q’s breathing has transformed into embarrassingly short and shaky pants. -The fucker doesn’t even drink tea on a regular basis- so all this, is for Q’s benefit. And it is highly effective. The warm flush that has crept over his cheeks throughout the ordeal, spreads like wildfire over his skin right down to his groin at that final touch. 

It comes out as an almost whimper, “Is it just me, or is it too warm in here?… Perhaps I should check on the settings. It wouldn’t do to broil our royal guests.” Q edges along the pantry counter, out of the agent’s magnetic circle of influence - he needs all his faculties intact right now. 

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Bond catches his cardigan sleeve just before he is out of reach. 

“Yes, of course. See you after.” Q ducks out of reach as soon has Bond’s fingers release him.

  ——

Post Royal visit…

-It is perfectly normal to have a standing Friday night dinner with a colleague isn’t it?- Q questions the reflection in the lavatory mirror.

The royal visit to Q-Branch had gone off without a hitch. M was mighty pleased, 007 was engaging and respectful, his minions competent and efficient and all of Q’s live tech demonstrations went smoothly as rehearsed.  

Now that it was over, Bond was waiting for him outside so they can adjourn to their dinner appointment. The prospect of spending this evening with the agent, as they almost invariably do countless nights before this, feels daunting all of a sudden. What the bloody hell is wrong with him tonight? This is so uncharacteristically like him.

Q knows that Bond loves to tease. And Q has permitted and played along all this time - but he’s not sure how Bond would feel if the agent knew how many less than ‘proper’ fantasies of Q’s he has had a staring role in. Q feels bad about using the agent like this. He genuinely enjoys Bond’s company and tries to stay in it for as long as the other would permit; but sometimes Q thinks he might be imposing on the agent’s down time.

-This is karma- Q thinks. His sins finally catching up to him. That blasted naval uniform and its amplifying effects on Bond’s already considerable charms - he can’t think straight when the agent is in it. Squashing his arousal has been especially difficult this evening. He doesn’t want to cause Bond any discomfort... in case the agent notices. 

Perhaps cancelling tonight would be the decent thing to do; and maybe put a stop to subsequent dinner invitations. Oh but no… the thought of not having these evenings with Bond hurts him like a round kick to the chest. A curious if painful reaction, one that he is not prepared to examine just yet.

-Oh you selfish prick.- We all know how short a Double-0’s tenure can be. Bond should be spending his time with someone he has a chance of developing a consequential connection with; not humouring a romantically challenged quartermaster. There he said it, happy? 

Where had this melancholy mood come from? -From the depths of your guilty conscience you dolt.- Or maybe its sexual frustration?

By the time he’s done with with the self recriminations, Q’s so morose he’s close to losing it emotionally. He had turned his back to the mirror at some point, and is now leaning against the sink counter, head bent, a hand in his hair, phone in the other. He seriously considers calling Eve, she knows how to deal with… squishy emotions like adult. 

But before he can make the call, the lavatory door creaks open. It is after hours, so there shouldn’t be many people still about. 

“Q? Are you in here?” Bond’s voice calls out. Shit. He must have been waiting too long for this liking. 

The man steps into view. One look at Q and immediately concern colours his voice. “Q, are you alright?” Then seeing the phone in Q’s hand, “What happened?” He steps in close, wrapping his hands around Q’s elbows. 

“I uh… I… I don’t know where to start.” Q is hesitant for a few seconds, looking for his words. But then it seems the cork on his bottled up emotions pop and it all comes pouring out.

“Bond… I feel… somewhat guilty. These dinners, I mean. I sometimes feel I’m taking advantage of your time. I’m not imposing am I? And please be honest. I won’t hold it against you. I know you Double-Os have this weird game about flustering the quartermaster, but I don’t want you to think I take the game seriously and that I’ll withhold any tech you’ll need because of it. If you have somewhere better to be, please don’t hold out on my account—” 

He feels a full on ramble developing. Maybe he should stop talking so the man can answer. Or maybe he’s afraid of the answer and that’s why he can’t stop talking. 

“—Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely enjoy these evenings with you. I look forward to every one of them in fact, but I don’t want you to feel like you -have- to continue with them because of some silly game. We both know your down time is precious and you don’t have many opportunities to socialise outside of your cover. So it would be immensely selfish of me to continue to take up that time…“

Q pauses, not because he ran out of things to say, but because he ran out of breath. He gulps air like a drowning man and continues… because if he stops talking, he just might start blubbering like some hysterical idiot. 

“You ought to be spending this time more constructively, with someone you care about and have that reciprocated. Not that I’m indifferent… your welfare concerns me greatly. Hence this overdue lecture about not wasting your time on something that would essentially amount to… to… to nothing.” -Oh wow… that fucking hurt to say out loud.- Right in the diaphragm, just under the sternum. Q unconsciously presses a thumb as close to the spot as he can get. 

He meant every word of it. He wouldn’t stand in the way if Bond found someone he would rather spend time with. -What is he even saying, of course he wouldn’t be in the way, he had no claim in the first place.Silly dolt.-

“Not that there are any expectations on my side.” Q is quick to put him at ease on that front. -Liar-. Why is he even saying these things? It was just dinner between friends. Why is he being so bloody melodramatic about it? -Shut up. Shut up.-

Q gives his head a shake for finality, “Bottom line is, I’ve taken advantage of you and I apologise.” He finally looks Bond in the eyes, or tries to. The man’s face is blurry, Q thinks to reach up to clean his glasses but realises to his horror that it is unshed tears that is clouding his vision. -Well isn’t this perfectly humiliating.-

Bond is studying him with intense blue eyes - searching for something. The moment stretches…

It reminds Q of that silly Netflix show where the characters roll a dice and their futures split into six different outcomes. For the first time Q wonders if there exists a timeline where he and Bond could conceivably end up more than friends. There is a likelier chance that in some timeline, maybe even this one - Bond walks into the sunset with some femme fatale he picks up along the way. Alive and whole with the possibility of finally finding the happiness he so deserves after years of tragic sacrifice. And Q has no choice but to shake his hand and watch him go. Knowing Bond, he’ll probably ask to keep the DB5 too. 

-Well, good luck getting that thing serviced at any random garage.- Q digs his thumb harder into his diaphragm to distract himself from the flaring discomfort. 

Bond’s voice is low and soft when he finally says something, “Q… this might have been longest ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech anyone has made. Are you breaking up with me?”

That earns Bond an involuntary chuckle even through his unshed tears, “Don’t be facetious… *sniff*…I’m being serious.” Bond is right though, this whole conversation was silly, they were just friends. What kind of person weeps over dinner with a friend?

From Bond’s point of view; he knows if he leaves Q to his own devices tonight, the quartermaster will play the gentleman and logic himself out of going out with Bond ever again. Even if that’s not what Q wants himself. Bond can’t risk that. 

At the same time, he doesn’t want to push too hard, not when Q hasn’t had a chance to process his own revelations. He has heard enough between the lines of Q’s rambling admission to be fairly confident that his affections are not in vain. All that is needed is patience. 

Bond chooses his words and tone carefully, “You’re right… in some aspects. My time is precious, and perhaps limited—,” wry smile,”—So the fact that I choose to spend it with my quartermaster says something about the depth of my fondness for his company. 

“As for taking advantage of me, in so much as it is possible,” this one, he is less clear how Q came to the conclusion, “It is true, if there was anyone in the world who might be capable of it, it would be you. But only because I allow it.” He gives Q a few moments to process what he had said. The quartermaster wasn’t the only one who can tiptoe around a subject without actually referencing it. 

Bond studies Q as he mulls over the words. He would make a terrible poker player. Q fidgets when he thinks; self soothing gestures - fingers stroking his own hands or turning an object over and over. Over the last half year, those unconscious self soothing gestures have spilled over to include Bond himself, if he is in close enough proximity. Q’s favourite is the tie pin if available, and if not, the cuff links on his sleeve. The satisfaction he derives from be being a source of comfort to Q is unquantifiable.

This evening is no different, despite the ‘breakup’ speech, Q’s fingers have found their way to a gold button on Bond’s uniform - the pad of his thumb worrying over the embossed gilt crown and anchor motif. 

“So… it’s not an imposition then? You don’t mind this?” Q summaries felling terribly silly, now that the melancholic fog is lifting. 

“Q, not even terrorist with a gun to my head can compel me to give up state secrets, what makes you think I can’t fend off an unwanted dinner appointment?” This statement coming from anyone else would have been hyperbole, but from Bond, it puts his little freakout into perspective. “Believe it or not, I look forward our evenings as well.” 

“Ah. Right… “ More contemplative fidgeting with the gold button. Then a deep breath and a noisy sniffle, “Does the invitation to dinner still stand? Some food would do me good I think.” Maybe it’s the low blood sugar that is causing this silliness, Q’s certainly going to play it off that way. Though he suspects this weekend is going to be one of quiet introspection about this oddly personal relationship developing between them.

Bond smiles, leaning close to whisper in his ear, “Dinner always stands.”

Q lets Bond lead him out of the washroom and into the lift, thankful that no one was around to notice how long they spent in there.  

In the lift, Q rests his back and head against the side wall. Bond is crowding close next to him, despite the empty lift. He has his arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the same wall, body angled towards Q and watching him contemplatively. 

“You don’t mind my aftershave do you?” Bond asks all of a sudden with cheeky grin.

“What?” The bizarre question makes Q turn his head to look at him.

“Its not offensive or overpowering is it? You know, in case its off putting to the marks.“ Bond continues, verbally nudging Q to play along, to fall back into their usual banter. 

“I didn’t think it appropriate that I should have an opinion about it before.”

“Well, what if I want you to have an opinion about it now?”

Q can’t stay away from their usual play for long; this time it is him that initiates, leaning in close. Bond tips up his chin automatically, to give his favourite boffin better access. Q presses close, nose just shy of touching the underside of Bond’s jaw and takes a long whiff. 

It’s the end of a long day so there is only the barest hint of aftershave mixed with his natural scent. -God. He smells good.- 

Q passes his verdict, “I… I suppose if I were to have opinion about it, I’d say you smell… perfect.”

————The End————————-

Extended scene….

The lift dings and the doors open. Bond and Q part reluctantly back to a semi-respectable distance. But not before a waiting SIS employee on the other side of the door catches sight of them in what could be construed as a compromising position. 

What’s-his-name takes longer than normal to step into the lift, dawdling on the threshold trying to make up his mind to get in or take the next one - despite the virtually empty lift. 

The man in the Navy uniform is undoubtedly a Double-0, but the younger one he isn’t so sure, one of the boffs in IT or Q-Branch from the looks of it. If they’re carrying on a secret affair, he doesn’t want to be an unwitting witness - rumours have it, those Double-0s have a way of making interlopers… disappear. 

His indecisiveness makes both men shift their attentions towards him. Both expressions quizzical. Navy man sweeps an arm round the empty lift, welcoming him to enter.

“I’ll… um… take the next one…” he says awkwardly and steps quickly out of sight. 

——————Fin——————-

Note: If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Enjoy!

Q’s Origin story might make more sense if you read my attempt at writing Q’s backstory in the plot outlines below: (they’re not full fics but you’ll get the sense of who this version of Q is.)

Series 1 Pilot here. 

Series 2 Episode 1 & 2 here. 

And Episode 3.

Also I’m lazy, so some of the other Double-0s are based on pre-existing characters from other fandoms. 

009 is based on Harry Hart (Galahad) in Kingsman.

001 is based on Emma Thompson in Johnny English and Late Night, I love how comedically irreverent and straight talking she is, I can imagine her being fed up with the way everyone else talks in their roundabout way and calls them out on it.

[anneshirleycuffbert]

Anne’s letter to Gilbert - #3

[for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!]

Dearest Gilbert,

Thank you for the chamomile tea. It could not have come at a more perfect time.

Half the girls have caught colds and I am afraid I will be next to fall victim to their sickness, seeing as Diana has contracted it. Nevertheless, I swore to love her as long as the sun and moon shall endure. When I was an orphan staying at the Hammond’s–who had three sets of twins! three!– I nursed them all back to good health when they had croup. A cold is nothing compared to what the Hammond children went through that bitter February, so I’m positively certain we shall all be well in no time.

I believe taking care of someone because of and despite their illness is one of the most beautiful and valiant things a person can do in their lifetime. I suppose that is what began to soften my heart to you that day I came by to drop off your books whilst your father was ill. From the short time I talked to him, I felt that he was kindred. May I ask, do you miss your father terribly?

Marilla and Matthew do their best to hide their aging and all that entails from me, but I know better. They are not getting any younger and I dread the day that will inevitably come when I will not see Matthew feeding the goats or Marilla making her famous plum puffs. When my imagination conjures up the image of an empty Green Gables, I must stop myself then and there lest I plunge into the deepest depths of despair and never escape the nightmare. I’ve never told this to anyone, not even Diana. How my greatest fear is not being able to pursue my passions, which are too numerous to count if I tried, but of losing my dear Matthew and lovely Marilla. I was afraid that no one would understand, but I think you do.

I haven’t made my mind up yet which is worse, for a person to never know love or for them to have known it and lost it. But when I am at risk of letting these pesky thoughts run my heart to the ground, I think on the happy things. Matthew polishing his most unusual radish and Marilla and I buying material for my dress. I think of the day you and I marched to the town hall and protested for the right for freedom of speech alongside our classmates. I think of you, Gilbert Blythe, and how you love me despite my many faults and flaws. I’m still pinching myself.

Bash was most elated to see me when I visited, and Delly has much grown since the last I saw her that you’ll have trouble deciding whether to laugh or cry the day you return. Although she is still a baby, I see dear Mary more and more in her. She possesses an unusual resolute wisdom and I patiently await the day when I can converse with her and unlock all that lies in her imagination and mind. And Elijah– oh, he adores his baby sister. He takes her for morning strolls around the farm so that Bash can sleep in after long days of working. Miss Hazel, Elijah, Delly and I walked all the way to where the stream meets the Lake of Shining Waters and found Miss Stacey fishing with some of her students and Rachel Lynde, of all people! Miss Stacey sends her warmest regards and a reminder to keep the promise you made to her.

Jerry certainly made a point to tease me about you. I asked him about the post script he wrote to you, but he infuriatingly would not reveal its contents, saying that I must learn to accept that I cannot always get what I want and I should thank him for teaching me this lesson. The nerve! I didn’t thank him, of course, but I will keep his words in mind and practice them by refraining from asking you to divulge the information I desire. To answer your question, Jerry had made it a habit to spell my name without an E and one day I was made to believe he did it for the purpose of annoying me, rather than simply being ignorant to the proper spelling–which I may have been able to tolerate–so I might have snapped at him. Okay, I did snap at him but he only found it hilarious. Now he overcompensates with a capital E.

As for your request to visit me at Queen’s and escort me to Avonlea, you have my enthusiastic approval. Please be advised that Mrs Blackmore has strict visiting hours for suitors, who may only visit between the hours of 2:00-4:00pm on Saturdays, in the parlor. (But I wouldn’t be too worried because Mrs Blackmore has already taken a liking to you, and I suspect it’s because chamomile tea is her favorite.) The girls and I have become much acquainted with the parlor, for many students at Queen’s have developed a taste for the Avonlea scholars. Mrs Blackmore, it turns out, has quite a number of redeeming qualities under her intimidating exterior. She has a no-visiting policy for suitors during exam season and when there is sickness in the house. One of the benefits of having half of my housemates ill near exam season, is that we finally have a respite from the boys who’ve made it a habit to visit.

I do feel sorry for Moody and Ruby, who I never knew until recent how devoted they are to each other. Ruby, one of the fortunate spared from sickness, was caught trying to sneak out of the house after hours. We all presume it was to meet Moody under a nearby willow tree, but Mrs Blackmore has no solid evidence and therefore no collateral to prohibit him from visiting again once we’ve all recovered from our colds. I think Mrs Blackmore does not really want to expel Moody Spurgeon from the house, because when he visits he usually plays us a few songs on his banjo and Mistress Mang–our term of endearment for her–dearly loves music.

How are you and Benjamin Frederick Wright getting along? I am intrigued to meet him. Dr Emily Oak, as well, for as you said, she is a kindred spirit. I figure she must be if she’s worked her way, beating all, to become a doctor working at an acclaimed university.

I joined the Poetry Reading Club and the Writing Club and found many kindred people there. Yesterday I was asked by one of my professors to consider joining Theatre and another to think on applying to be one of the editors for the Queen’s Verdict, the college’s newsletter. I’m still thinking on it, seeing as I’m already in two extra-curriculars. And, as you very well know, the last time I was involved with a school newspaper, there were many negative consequences. I don’t think I could bear to disgrace myself in Charlottetown.

I hope you aren’t holing yourself in your books and studies for too long, Gil. It’s important to take time to be at leisure and refresh your soul. Promise me that you’ll take a walk, talk to your classmates, and try something new. Maybe explore the city with your dear roommate. I heard they have a camera at U of T, so if you ever get the chance, have a photograph of yourself taken! In regards to your all-inclusive apology, it is wholeheartedly accepted. The slate has been wiped clean.

As I write this letter, I am sitting under one of my favourite trees in all of Charlottetown. I will introduce you to her when you visit me. Oh, how I wish tomorrow would come sooner than later because then I would be one day closer to seeing you again. But I must admit, I do appreciate our correspondence via letter, as it helps me filter my words and choose them carefully. I’m afraid of how I might act and what I might say when we are reunited, given my horrible habit of callously spewing out the words I think in the moment I conceive them. I miss you terribly and I do not trust myself to act proper when I see you in person. But Mrs Blackmore is determined to make a lady out of me yet, so only time may tell.

Take care of yourself, Gilbert. I love you. Come home someday.

Anne

P.S. word of the day: Retrouvailles - the joy of reuniting with someone after a long separation. (A bosom friend who is studying French is just as handy as any foreign vocabulary dictionary)

P.P.S. Oh, darling Gil, do you not know? In order for a duel to be classified as such, there needs to be a prize. I propose the loser gives the winner a kiss. And as Rachel Lynde says, pride comes before the fall—so pucker up, Slateface. I hereby engage in this long-distance duel.

———————————————————————

lolol I know I said I wouldn’t be posting during exams, but writing this was like a mini-break from studying so I hope you enjoy! I’d love to know what your favorite part of the letter is!

This is Letter #3! for an index to the first two shirbert letters and awae shorts, click here!

[jasonbehrs]

i wanna read every word, chapter 3 + epilogue

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never met?” “Uh, do you mean like we’ve-been-doing-long-distance-slash-online-dating or like I’ve-been-crushing-on-the-cute-barista-at-the-library-cafe?” “Ummm, more like I’ve-read-their-poems-and-sure-they’re-very-talented-but-their-handwriting-alone-makes-me-smile.” “… That’s oddly specific.”

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: eunhyuk, ryeowook; guest appearances by the rest of sj-m and yesung ship: eunwook genre: romantic comedy themes: alternate endings, strangers to lovers, handwriting, identity reveal setting: college chapter: 3+4/4 word count: 5.8k

read it below or on ffnet, aff, wattpad

~~~

He and Ryeowook haven't hung out alone before, but he's sure this won't be awkward. Their only real link may have just been Yesung, but Hyukjae likes to think he successfully ingrained himself into that entire friend group in time. He tells himself that he and Ryeowook would have had a solo hangout at some point. Ryeowook's crush situation just expedited it.

They had agreed to meet at the quad but didn't specify anything beyond that, so Hyukjae chooses a bench with high visibility so that Ryeowook could find him easily. He crosses his legs and balances a laptop over one knee and a notebook over the other, figuring he could get some work in while waiting.

Not long after, the other plops himself right next to him and pulls out his own work without even saying hi.

Hyukjae keeps his face down as he smiles to himself. So Ryeowook's feeling just as apprehensive about this as he is.

Something about that realisation makes him brave enough to break the ice. "Ah, my favourite person under 5'2". How do you do?" he snarks without pausing his typing.

In response, Ryeowook uses a single finger to tip Hyukjae's notebook onto the ground without remorse.

"Okay, I deserved that," Hyukjae admits with a chuckle as he bends to pick the notebook off the ground and put it away. "So… did you bring one of the love notes?" he asks once it's apparent they didn't really have anything else yet to talk about aside from that.

"Of course!" Ryeowook rummages through his bag and pulls out what Hyukjae can only presume is the poem scrapbook he's heard the others talk about.

"Um, is there a problem?" Hyukjae asks as he eyes how Ryeowook holds the book to his chest with both hands, making no move to hand it over.

After a long moment, Ryeowook looks at him with hard eyes and a blush on his cheek. "You have to promise me you'll be careful with it. Like, if you want to look at one more closely, then tell me, and I'll take it out for you. Actually, you'll have to clean your hands first, too; I'm worried about oils. I'm pretty sure I have wet cloths somewhere in this bag…"

Hyukjae has heard the others call the scrapbook "a little extra." He privately agrees, but seeing the way Ryeowook is so protective over the thing makes him think perhaps Ryeowook himself is, in fact, a lot of extra.

He wisely leaves those thoughts unvoiced and instead motions for Ryeowook to hurry up. The other hesitantly hands over the book, and Hyukjae makes a big show of settling it calmly on his lap.

It would have been funnier if Ryeowook hadn't legitimately sighed with relief at his action.

Hyukjae lets it go; and with more interest than he expected from himself, he opens to the first page.

"Where did you get these?!" he yelps before he could help it.

"What? Why are you yelling? What!?"

Hyukjae can only distantly hear the other, however, as he is far more preoccupied with the absolute whiplash of recognising his own handwriting in the scrapbook. Page after page is filled with his rejected songwriting assignments, now forever immortalised thanks to Ryeowook's tender care.

Ryeowook flicks him in the forehead, and he struggles to collect himself. "Um, I mean. Um. Wow! This looks like an impressive collection," he stutters out awkwardly. "And, uh, actually! I don't think you ever told me the whole story?" he blabbers, knowing full well he actually has heard the whole story but needing to redirect Ryeowook's attention towards anything other than him right now.

So he sits there and lets Ryeowook gush over Poem Person, identifying that he is slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that said person is actually him.

Sassy, doting, health-nut Ryeowook is wistfully waxing poetic over him, over his words, over his handwriting (a concept so baffling he actually has to stifle a chuckle in real life lest he hint to Ryeowook he is not actually paying attention).

He nods absentmindedly and offers encouraging smiles at what he hopes at the right places, but his mind is more concerned with figuring out: What the fuck is he gonna do?

~I think I must be broken somewhere. Since when did I start not welcoming even myself?~

The answer, apparently, is string Ryeowook along.

Ryeowook may have initially been hesitant about getting Hyukjae's help; but now that he has it, he has bolstered his efforts to track down and meet Poem Person. Hyukjae is astounded at his forward and creative ideas, stuff like signing up to audit the class one day or even straight up coveringthe chair in chalk so that he could easily spot the person walking around campus.

"Honestly, I need a sidekick, someone to help me pull these things off," Ryeowook explains one day while they're brainstorming over lunch.

Well, Ryeowook's brainstorming.

"I'm also kinda hoping you'll be close enough to the student to act like a wingman when we finally do meet. First impressions are everything, you know."

Hyukjae, for his part, is busy trying to maintain his poker face.

He didn't come clean to Ryeowook in the quad that day because he didn't want the awkwardness. Hyukjae was not mentally ready to hear that his brand new friend had been harbouring a crush on and had been engaging in borderline-stalker behaviour over little ol' him, and he suspects Ryeowook wouldn't have taken the news very well in the moment either.

Now though, he's just trying to maintain the status quo.

It's no secret that Ryeowook had built up an idea of what Poem Person is like in his head. What's the harm in letting him have a little crush on a figment of his imagination?

So yes, he continues to plot with Ryeowook, he continues to bother Donghae by tossing scrap assignments at him in class, he continues the whole ruse.

The harm, as Hyukjae is quick to discover, is that he grossly miscalculated the effect the lie would have on him.

It starts with a text.

Are we still on for tomorrow at 2?

yep. the student union still good?

Yep, see ya there

"Who are you texting?" Siwon asks as he plops beside Hyukjae on their apartment couch, his attention mostly trained on his own phone.

"Huh? Oh, just Ryeowook. I told you about him; I'm helping him meet this guy he has a crush on."

Siwon raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his phone. "Oh? You were smiling at that phone like someone agreed to go on a date with you."

Hyukjae stiffens. "I was not."

That makes Siwon look up. Hyukjae valiantly meets his gaze, but he breaks eye contact just a moment later.

"... Right."

Curiously, fear follows shortly after.

Hyukjae doesn't even notice it at first. It was too subtle compared to the overwhelming confidence he gets from being around Ryeowook. With the way the other talks about him, to him, without knowing it's him… it's a heady feeling. (Case in point: The day before a modern dance midterm, Ryeowook texted him a photo of a recent Hyukjae original along with a copious amount of heart-eye emojis, and Hyukjae felt so energised that his professor pulled him to the side after his performance and concernedly asked him point-blank if he had started taking steroids.)

Ryeowook doesn't just see the best in him. He guesses at Hyukjae's flaws and turns them into superpowers. He paints an image of Hyukjae in colours that he wasn't even aware existed. It's an instant ego boost.

It isn't long, however, until Hyukjae stops hearing musings and starts hearing expectations. Ryeowook believes in a vibrant, exciting, romantic persona; someone smart and adventurous who can enable him to be as silly as he has the potential to be.

Since when was Hyukjae any of those things?

He isn't afraid of Ryeowook's wrath when the jig is eventually up, no. Wrath he could handle; wrath he deserves. Instead, he is afraid of the disappointment, the unimpressed "Oh." that Ryeowook couldn't help but let slip once he processes the truth. Hyukjae wouldn't be able to handle seeing the light in Ryeowook's eyes—the light that used to be reserved for him even if the other didn't know it—dim.

And finally comes realisation.

"Don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Hyukjae asks him one evening. They got to-go meals from the dining hall and moved as far west as they could without leaving the campus entirely. The sun is due to set any minute now, and they wanted the best seats possible.

"What do you mean?" Ryeowook asks with furrowed brows still trained on the skyline.

"You've spent so much time thinking about this guy, analysing his mood and habits and whatever. You'll meet him for the first time, but it won't really be the first time for you, you know? You'll know all this stuff about him already whereas you're a complete stranger to him. That's gotta be, like, a power imbalance or something, right? That's not fair to either of you. You've mentioned before that you don't necessarily want to date Poem Person, but that's not even a good basis for being friends with him."

Ryeowook glances at him from the corner of his eye and smirks. "If Mi were here, he'd have a lot to say right now."

Hyukjae chuckles as he lets the other change the subject. "He'd actually have only one thing to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Ryeowook hums but doesn't say anything else, attention still mostly on the sun's slow descent to the horizon. Hyukjae would have liked an answer, but he gets it. He just sprung all that on the other without any preamble, and Ryeowook probably needs time to think. Hyukjae isn't entirely sure what he wanted to hear anyway.

Ryeowook doesn't speak again until the sky finally begins to bleed red, a threatening promise for the end of the day. "You have a point, of course. I'll constantly be comparing the person he is to the person I made him out to be, even when I don't mean to, but… Something tells me that won't matter as much in the long run." He chuckles, low and with disbelief. "I couldn't tell you why; but I feel like even if I told him the whole story, even if the first things I ever say to him are the questionable antics I've engaged in just to meet him, he wouldn't run away."

And he would be right, of course. Look at where Hyukjae is now.

"You're thinking too highly of him," Hyukjae says. He means it as a way to distract from the mortifying ordeal of being known, but it comes out bitter without his permission.

Ryeowook smirks. "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Ooooh, are you lonely?" he teases. "Don't worry, I pay back my debts. Just tell me as soon as someone catches your attention. I can't promise forever, but I can promise a first date, for sure." He winks.

There is a long moment between when the sky finally turns black and when the streetlights flicker to life, one conveniently spotlighting the pair with its glow. It mocks Hyukjae with its inevitability.

~This night blesses the day we meet. The moon is open in the sky, and the stars smile.~

"Hyung, I'm bored."

"Okay."

"Entertain me."

"In a minute, I'm reading something for class."

"What's it about?"

"The cultural impact of Black youth on the interfaces of music and body expression in early 1970s New York City."

He appreciates Ryeowook's offer to swing by and keep him company while he studies in one of the many lounges strewn about academic campus, but he'd appreciate it a lot more if Ryeowook would actually let him study.

Ryeowook blinks. "I understood all of those words individually."

Hyukjae drags a hand down his tired face. "I'm basically in the same boat, so please? I'll do whatever you wanna do as long as I can make it to the third page of this article today. I really need to participate in tomorrow's seminar or else I'll have to take a make-up quiz."

"Fiiine," Ryeowook whines, but he thankfully starts scrolling through his phone in silence.

After a few minutes of quality reading, Hyukjae hears Ryeowook rummaging around, so he languidly raises his eyes to see how the other is choosing to preoccupy himself.

He shoots up out of his seat, barely taking the time to set his laptop down properly in his haste. "What are you doing with that!"

Ryeowook looks up from where he is crouched besides Hyukjae's open bookbag, holding a notebook in his hand. "Oh, did you need this?"

"For what? No. What?" Hyukjae spouts in rapid fire, thrown-off by how Ryeowook responded to his question with one of his own.

Ryeowook's eyes light up. "Excellent! I thought you needed this for your homework," he comments as he lets himself fall backwards onto his butt. "I was just gonna read your handwriting while I waited. I can't believe I never thought to check yours out before. I've basically gone through everyone else's in the friend group."

Hyukjae could kick himself for letting such a good excuse slip right out of his hands, but the room seems to have gone in slow motion as Ryeowook proceeds to open up the notebook to a random page. Like a man possessed, Hyukjae dives straight for Ryeowook's lap, successfully knocking the notebook out of the other's grasp in the process.

…

"Hi," he says over his shoulder when the silence has gone on for too long. Ryeowook raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Hyukjae chuckles awkwardly while he manoeuvers himself out of Ryeowook's lap with as much grace as a baby deer on ice. He quickly snatches up his notebook while Ryeowook is still prone and simply observing his movements, and then he doesn't know what to do next.

Ryeowook takes over from here, standing up calmly and striding right into Hyukjae's personal space. Despite having several centimetres on the other, Hyukjae cannot help but feel small under the other's assessing gaze. "There is clearly something in that notebook you don't want me to see."

Hyukjae eyes the room, trying to calculate his odds. "Yes," he hesitantly confirms.

Ryeowook narrows his eyes. "Is it about me?" he asks with an edge to his voice.

"No." The half-truth comes out much quicker, thankfully.

Ryeowook purses his lips then nods. He takes two steps back, and Hyukjae almost does something silly like reach for his waist to keep him nearby. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you finish your homework without intruding on your privacy. In return, you'll buy me boba and bring me a notebook I can read the next time we meet."

Hyukjae sighs with relief and readily agrees to those terms.

A few days later, he confidently hands over Siwon's old notebook from their shared Psych 101 class and a medium taro boba.

Ryeowook opens up to the first page then laughs in Hyukjae's face, high and bright. "This is your notebook?" he manages to ask through his cackles. "No wonder you didn't want me seeing it. You must have known I was going to make fun of you."

"Why? Why?" Hyukjae demands, affronted. It may not have been his handwriting, but still.

"It's like your handwriting is Jekyll, and you're Hyde. I look at this, and I don't see you at all."

Hyukjae looks over Ryeowook's shoulder to see what he's working with, and he can't help but agree. Siwon's handwriting is neat, consistent, and in perfect lines straight across the page. Rich kids and their calligraphy classes, dammit.

Nevertheless, he tries to salvage the situation. "Come on, you know I'm a neat person."

Ryeowook snorts, but he nods his head in agreement. "That may be true; but if someone had to write a list of things about you, 'neat' wouldn't even make it in the top 50."

"Can you think of 50 things about me?" Hyukjae teases as he slinks back around to Ryeowook's front, effortlessly plucking the notebook out of the other's hands in the process.

Ryeowook crosses his newly freed arms in front of his chest and smirks. "Yep. 1 would be that you're a brat, and 50 would be that your feet smell."

"Yah! My shoes don't breathe!" Hyukjae whines. "I want 50 nice things," he continues above Ryeowook's snickers.

"Oof, that'll be tough. How about just 5, and you get to pick what movie we watch next?" Ryeowook haggles.

Hyukjae rolls his eyes but agrees. He'll take what he can get.

"1: You're not half-bad at impressions. 2: You like strawberry and chocolate, but only as separate flavours," Ryeowook starts, counting off on his fingers as he goes. "3: You're great at charades. 4: Everybody likes you because 5: you know exactly what to be, do, or say when the situation calls for it. You're not just flexible as a dancer, but as a person, and it's the best thing about you."

Hyukjae doesn't fight the toothy grin that stretches wide across his face. "You think so?"

Ryeowook nods very seriously, but there is an undeniable glimmer in his eyes. "Absolutely. With a lack of other suitable candidates, it's your best quality by default."

~I don't know why you keep staying with me. I lack so much for you, and I'm sorry about that.~

It would be easier to stop being in love with Ryeowook if the other didn't actually seem to value his company and insights.

There are days when they've hung out and talked about anything and everything but the song lyrics, when Ryeowook will bake Hyukjae strawberry scones and give him meaningful feedback on his choreography. They're both witty but in different ways, so they're always cracking up; and in those moments, he can't help but imagine he's already told the truth, that Ryeowook has already accepted him, and that this is what they could look like together.

But then he looks into Ryeowook's eyes and the warmth he sees there burns at a different temperature than the warmth he feels, and Hyukjae is painfully reminded that is not the case.

He can only take so much.

Despite knowing in his gut that it's the absolute wrong call to make, Hyukjae retreats. Stuck between yearning for Ryeowook yet fearing facing him and being frustrated with himself for equivocating on what to do, it's easier to just not do anything at all. He cancels more, begs off group hangouts, throws himself into his dance rehearsals. He even attempts going to the gym once just to keep his mind occupied and off of the problem.

Honestly, life could get better.

As he presses 'ignore' on the nth call he's received from Ryeowook that week, he offhandedly notices that blowing the other off feels way worse than lying in the first place. Let's see him spin that into a positive.

Hyukjae's doing great on his passive, brooding agenda until a few weeks later when he accidentally looks up from where he was perusing just as Henry enters the music library. By virtue of the youngest's classical performance degree, the two of them share the most colleagues and classes of any pair in the group.

He is honestly lucky it took so long.

He offers a stiff nod in acknowledgement and hopes that that's that, but Henry wanders over to his aisle with too much nonchalance to have not been intentional.

He doesn't leave Hyukjae in suspense for too long. "Ryeowook-hyung won't stop baking, you know."

"Huh?" Hyukjae asks dumbly, thrown completely off-guard from the unexpected comment.

"Seriously, he won't stop. You could get drunk off the stench of vanilla extract permanently in the air of the apartment."

Hyukjae realises with regret that he's never had a good opportunity to hang with the group at Ryeowook and Mi's apartment. "Oh. That's good, I guess."

"It would be better if we were allowed to eat any of it," Henry says, flicking through the records in front of him. Hyukjae almost believes it's a fake, idle action, but sometimes Henry nods and writes something down on his phone after inspecting an album.

"Yeah, it would be," Hyukjae offers at last for lack of anything better to say. Despite the stilted and tense atmosphere, he feels compelled to continue the conversation.

Henry nods again, but Hyukjae could tell that's for him. "I think he's saving it for someone that he expects to come by, but who else would come aside from any of us, you know?"

It is unclear if Henry includes Hyukjae in that 'us,' but Hyukjae doesn't dwell on it. Something much more pressing is on his mind. "What kind of stuff is he baking?" he asks, very afraid of the answer.

"He's been experimenting. Caramel chip cookies, cinnamon-lemon cupcakes, strawberry scones… But you know him. It's all low-fat, protein-enhanced flour shit; pretty sure he'd get kicked out of the nutrition program if it weren't," Henry says with a chuckle, but Hyukjae can't bring himself to laugh along.

Those all sound perfectly delicious, and something worse than vanity tells him that that's on purpose. The thought fills Hyukjae with so much more guilt that tears press against his eyes.

"Um, t-thanks, but I gotta—I gotta go," he stutters out through unmoving lips. What it is he's thanking Henry for, he has no clue; but he's far more preoccupied with exiting stage left from this scene as soon as humanly possible. "It was good to see you again," he adds as a reflex, already two steps further down but still facing Henry.

Henry raises his head from the jewel cases just as Hyukjae reaches the end of the aisle, and the slight smile he gives is so loaded with patronisation, pity, and perception that Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs.

~Longing is a beautiful pain I thought I could endure.~

After a whole class of not paying attention to a single minute—instead, wondering if maybe he should just get out with it, all of it: the deception, his feelings—Hyukjae leaves to find Ryeowook waiting right outside the door for him to exit.

"You don't normally get up this early," he comments in surprise, walking up to the other before he could help himself.

Ryeowook shrugs. "Well, I needed to talk to you, and I realised I didn't know enough about you. I don't know where you live, where you normally like to hang out; all I knew for sure is that you had class in this room at this time, so… Anyway, can we talk?"

Hyukjae's immediate instinct is to come up with an excuse, any excuse—he spent a whole class thinking about what he would do next time he faced Ryeowook but still hadn't settled on an answer—but Ryeowook reads his hesitation for what it is and makes the decision for him.

"Actually, we're going to talk whether you want to or not! Starting with: why have you been avoiding the group, avoiding me!" he yells. Hyukjae winces from Ryeowook's harsh words and high tone but can't bring himself to say or do anything more to stop the tirade. He's in no position to ask for leniency.

"I turned it over and over in my head, and I realised: I didn't even do anything! Are you mad at me because I didn't take enough time to get to know you? Are you tired of helping me? Why are you—you should have used your words and said something—whatever it was that was bothering you!—instead of just ignoring me like that!"

Hyukjae only notices that Ryeowook's volume and impassioned speech is attracting attention from other students and faculty in the hallway because he's avoiding the other's gaze, but he knows Ryeowook would be embarrassed about it later.

He hurriedly ushers them back inside Bomnal 235 despite Ryeowook's protests. The other angrily shrugs off Hyukjae's touch as soon as possible and stomps to the rear right quadrant of the room to sit, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid movement and pouting cutely.

Well, Hyukjae would think it was cute if he noticed it. His attention is instead captured by Ryeowook's choice of seating. If Ryeowook practiced the same seats code of conduct, then…

Without really thinking about it, he moves up and slides into his own seat, exactly behind Ryeowook's. He can tell the other is surprised he doesn't sit next to him, but Hyukjae focuses instead on the half-baked plan that formed in the time it took to ascend the stairs.

Ryeowook is petulantly turned towards the front, sure that he's said his piece already and waiting for Hyukjae to talk. Instead, he feels something light and crunchy hit the back of his head. "Yah!" he yelps, turning to glare at the offender, who is steadfastly scrawling something down on his notebook.

"You're doing it again. You're ignoring me instead of talking to me. If you're just gonna sit there and do homework, I'm gonna lea—YAH!" He's cut off by another bunched up piece of paper hurtling right for him, which he angrily swats away in mid-air. "What are you doing!?" he demands, but Hyukjae just throws another wad of paper at his desk instead, his aim perfectly allowing the paper to land right next to where Ryeowook's notebook would have been if he were in class... almost like he's done it dozens of times before.

Ryeowook frowns and picks up the most recent paper and smooths it open before gasping.

He would recognise this handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding my only crumpled wish You and I are in it

He quickly lifts his eyes back to Hyukjae, who refuses to meet his gaze even as he throws another wad of paper at Ryeowook's desk. Ryeowook picks up the first one that bounced off the back of his head and scrambles to find the second one which he had swatted away.

In this very short moment I'm just following my feelings

With trembling fingers, he finally opens the first one, which reads, "Didn't you say you'd recognise my handwriting anywhere?"

He looked up with cloudy eyes to see his desk slowly being overrun with scraps of paper and Hyukjae continuing to write on. Ryeowook slowly walks up to the paper pile and begins opening them one by one.

I'm sorry it turned out this way.

On each paper is a single sentence,

Honestly, I thought you were a lot of extra.

a confession, sometimes, or a timeline.

The sun set, that streetlight flicked on, and I knew it for sure.

As he reads the pages in no certain order,

You thought so highly of me, I was flattered and burdened all at once.

he literally pieces together Hyukjae's story,

What else was I supposed to do except throw them on his desk and annoy him?

from when he first realised the truth

It was so embarrassing to see all my rejected song lyrics immortalised forever by your hands.

to why he had avoided the other.

I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to hurt me either.

As he continues reading, Ryeowook couldn't help but feel there is something missing, something that ties the whole narrative together. Alas, even after he finishes all the pieces on his desk, he couldn't figure out what.

Far past the point of anger and instead seeking to simply, finally understand, he looks to Hyukjae, who finally meets his gaze.

Without Hyukjae's constant scratching at his notebook paper, the classroom is loudly silent. He underhand tosses one final wad of paper to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook reads the intention in the action and catches it easily. He opens it up to read a final set of lyrics.

I still can't say the words Those words that make my voice run dry I love you more than anyone else

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. "You love me?" he asks with trembling lips, voice no louder than a whisper but reaching Hyukjae all the same.

Hyukjae slouches into his seat, hands outstretched and anxiously tapping his pen on the table. He keeps his head turned to the side when he nods. "I couldn't help it."

"And you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?'"

Hyukjae snaps into an upright position. "I wanted to!" He looks Ryeowook in the eye, trying to express as much sincerity as possible. "By god, I wanted to. But the way you talked about Poem Person… That's the guy you deserve. He wouldn't have led you on for weeks because he's a coward," he spits out.

"But he did."

"But he shouldn't have."

"But he's telling me now."

"But he wasted your time!"

"Why are you talking about yourself like that; he's you!"

"You didn't know that until five minutes ago!"

Ryeowook takes a moment, and Hyukjae forces himself to match the lowered state of tension that results. "It's not so hard to believe, now that I know the truth," the other says after a beat.

Hyukjae doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. Ryeowook rolls his eyes. "You've heard me go on and on about your impulsiveness and emotional depth and whatever." He gestures to the pile of papers in front of him. "That's what this all seems like to me."

"I can't possibly have been what you expected, what you were hoping for," Hyukjae argues, trying to force the situation into a boiling point. He just laid himself bare in front of the person he's in love with, and none of his worst-case scenarios have come to fruition yet.

"I was hoping to meet the person with the lazy H's and the perpetually rose-coloured glasses, that's it," Ryeowook maintains calmly, but Hyukjae doesn't feel calm at all. He just keeps tapping, and Ryeowook sighs. "What I expected doesn't even matter. I knew there was a real person behind those notes, someone who came with all the complexities being a person entails. All my daydreams were just that; and even if every single one of them were wrong, and for some reason I couldn't handle that disappointment, that's on me. How I reacted to finally meeting you was not your responsibility."

"Are you?"

"What?"

Here it comes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hyukjae."

The soft tone of Ryeowook's voice makes his heart clench, and Hyukjae shuts his eyes in self-preservation.

His anxiously tapping hand is stopped later by an equally soft touch, and he looks up in shock.

He hesitates to recognise the warmth he finds in Ryeowook's kind, earnest eyes. It's different from what he's seen before, but he doesn't want to categorise it any further than that. Has he imagined this temperature so much that it doesn't look out of place?

Ryeowook can see the moment Hyukjae focuses on him again, and he brings his other hand to squeeze both of Hyukjae's in turn.

"How could I be?" he asks, and he means it.

~I'll hold your two hands and confess, I pinky promise. Thank you for coming to me.~

EPILOGUE

Mi hums to himself as he turns the key to the lock of his apartment front door, arms laden with grocery bags…

… Which he allows to drop to the floor in shock as soon as he catches sight of the couple making out on the couch.

Ryeowook and Hyukjae break apart at the noise, heavily panting and cheeks flushed. Neither of them stop staring at him, and he cannot stop staring back.

Mi has so many thoughts running through his head, like Since when has that been a thing? and I can never sit on that couch again, but the one that comes out is, "What about Poem Person?"

If possible, Ryeowook and Hyukjae's cheeks flush even further, and Mi's incredulity slowly makes way for glee as he expects their response.

The caught pair turn to each other, communicating hurriedly through eye contact and muscle twitches alone before facing Mi again.

"Um, well, long story short…" Ryeowook begins.

"It was me," Hyukjae finishes.

Mi can't help it as he begins crying real, happy tears.

The gender has finally been confirmed.

~This happiness I noticed can be our starting point.~

~~~

A/N (6.14.2021): Wow, hasn't this been a ride! Eternal thanks everyone for reading and commenting; thanks Dorcas for your support; and thanks Amy for being my sanity check.  If you hadn't already noticed, SJ lyrics were abound in the fic, whether in section breaks, narration, or dialogue! Were you able to recognise all of the songs? :D

Also, now that you've read the whole story, I'd love to know: Did you notice that neither Eunhyuk nor Ryeowook ever feel guilt for their brands of dishonesty? As written, do the chapters progress in such a way that it is sensible—maybe even natural—despite the lack of it?

If you did notice, did that impact your reading experience at all? If you didn't, does knowing now change anything? And ultimately, in a story whose crux is deception, is guilt necessary for redemption?

Share your thoughts in a review, comment, PM, DM, whatever!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN DRUGLIKE

Foreword to Jessica Livingston's Founders at Work. You may not have to go back seven paragraphs and start over in another direction. When friends came back from faraway places, it wasn't just out of politeness that I asked what they saw. Imagine what Apple was like when 100% of its employees were either Steve Jobs or Steve Wozniak. Hacker culture often seems kind of irresponsible.1 I can't tell, even now. Certainly schools should teach students how to write. One group got an exploding term-sheet from some VCs. What kept him going? And I can see why political incorrectness would be a momentous change—big enough, probably, to justify a name like the new model spread rapidly. The reason to launch early, to understand your users.

Though the immediate cause of death in a startup, it pays to offer customer service on a level that wouldn't scale, because it's easier than satisfying them. Sun's future. Sun's business model is a down elevator. There are two bad smelling words, color spammers love colored fonts and California which occurs in testimonials and also in menus in forms, but they are not enough to stop the mail from being spam. Using a slightly tweaked as described below Bayesian filter, we now miss less than 5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives. It's very easy for people to switch to a new search engine. I just wanted to keep people from getting spammed. Of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of only one who would voluntarily program in Java. That, it turned out. Sun servers for industrial strength applications. It was a way of hacking the investment process.

Could there be a connection?2 Make something great and put it online. A lot went wrong, as usually happens with startups. Among other things, this would be one of them, because with our help they could make money. Maybe the people in charge of the taxi line. But those are also commodities, which can be handed off to some lieutenant. The winners slow down the least. There were a lot of small, inexpensive computers before the Mac. That makes sense, because there are a lot of nasty little ones. In the old economy, the high cost of presenting information to people meant they had only a narrow range of options to choose from. As Fred Brooks pointed out, small groups are intrinsically more productive, because the internal friction in a group grows as the square of the environment. At one point in this essay I found that after following a certain thread I ran out of ideas.

This is another lesson the world has yet to learn.3 It's like telling the truth. G b 5 max.4 What you want is to increase response rates. Dartmouth, the University of Vermont, Amherst, and University College, London taught English literature in the 1820s. A few weeks ago I was walking in some steep mountains once, and decided I'd rather just think, if I could only keep one.5 That's why people proposing to destroy it use phrases like adult supervision. For example, the question the hackers have all been wondering about that. If someone in my neighborhood heard that I was looking for an old Raleigh three-speed in good condition, and sent me an email offering to sell me one, I'd be delighted, and yet this email would be both commercial and unsolicited. I started writing this.6

For me, interesting means surprise. Likewise, the reason we hear about Java as part of a century to establish that central planning didn't work.7 Hard as it is to double all the numbers in good. Unfortunately that makes this email a boring example of the use of Bayes' Rule. Though actually there is something druglike about them, in the unlikely absence of any other evidence, have a 99. When I was in college in the mid-1980s, nerd was still an insult. Equity is the fuel that drives technical innovation. For example, Y Combinator has now invested in 80 startups, 57 of which are still alive. This essay is derived from a talk at the 2008 Startup School. And as soon as these startups got the money, what did they do with it is enormous.

I found myself talking recently to someone from Hollywood who was planning a show about nerds. You grow big by being mean. 05214485 i'm 0. If you throw them out, you find they often behaved like nonprofits.8 This time the evidence is a mix of good and bad.9 What made it not a Ponzi scheme was that it was unintentional.10 Don't worry too much about making money. If you throw them out, you find that good products do tend to win in the market. They don't want to bet the company on Betamax. Why risk it?11

I'm advocating: filter each user's mail based on a corpus of my mail. When I was in college I used to think that whitelists would make filtering easier, because you'd only have to filter email from people you'd never heard from, and someone sending you mail for the first time during the Bubble robbed their companies by granting themselves options doesn't mean options are a bad idea.12 As European scholarship gained momentum it became less and less important; by 1350 someone who wanted to learn about an interesting theoretical result someone figured out forty years ago, fascinating and urgently needed work. I admire most are not, on the whole, captivated by Java. I need to talk the matter over. There's a whole essay's worth of surprises there for sure. Make something people want. Is anyone able to develop software faster than you? The mere prospect of being interrupted is enough to get into the mind of a spammer, but let's take a quick look inside the mind of a spammer, but let's take a quick look inside the mind of the spammer, and frankly I want to bias the probabilities slightly to avoid false positives, I'm talking about filtering my mail based on a corpus of my mail.13

Notes

Actually Emerson never mentioned mousetraps specifically.

Since the remaining power of Democractic party machines, but its value was as a company if the quality of investor who merely seems like he will fund you, however, is he going to eat a sheep in the sense of a startup you have two choices and one kind that's called into being to commercialize a scientific discovery. This doesn't mean easy, of the problem to fit your solution.

The optimal way to do it mostly on your thesis.

As a friend with small children, or even why haven't you already built this way that weren't visible in the same work, the effort that would help Web-based applications. I'm using these names as we walked out we ran into Muzzammil Zaveri, and as we are at some of those things that's not the primary cause. And at 98%, as they do the opposite way as part of their pitch. Many will consent to b rather than trying to work in research too.

The point of a startup or going to do is leave them alone in the services, companies that seem promising can usually get enough money from mediocre investors almost all do, but sword thrusts. You have to mean the hypothetical people who want to figure this out. No big deal.

I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve a lot of legal business.

According to a super-angel than a product, just monopolies they create rather than lose a prized employee. What will go away, and that he had to for some students to get market price if they used FreeBSD and stored their data in files too.

The idea of what's valuable is least likely to be a good chance that a skilled vine-dresser was worth about 125 to 150 drachmae.

Acquirers can be times when what you're doing. VCs play such games, books, newspapers, or to be spread out geographically. I have no idea what's happening till they also influence one another, it was cooked up, but he refused because a quiet, earnest place like Cambridge will one day have an email being spam. Teenagers don't tell 5 year olds the truth.

But you're not convinced that what you're working on filtering at the time quantum for hacking is very polite and b made brand the dominant factor in the construction industry. This argument seems to have been seen mentioning the possibility. Some professors do create a Demo Day pitch, the computer world recognize who that is not one of the 2003 season was 4.

The real danger is that the valuation of the reasons startups are competitive like running, not the shape that matters here but the distribution of alms, and mostly in good ways.

If you have to find may be useful in cases where VCs don't invest, regardless of what investment means; like any investor, lest that set an impossibly high target when raising additional money. You won't always get a good product. It is just feigning interest—until you get nothing.

The empirical evidence suggests that if the selection process looked for different reasons. Exercise for the others to act through subordinates. There is something there worth studying, especially if you were doing Bayesian filtering in a world in which YC can help in deciding what to do that.

[muertawrites]

story time.

yo okay so while i’m talking about writing that sokka x reader step sibling fic it has brought up a memory that is literally just too wild not to share with y’all so hold on to your tits it’s about to get weird.

i grew up in a pretty sheltered town. it wasn’t a super small town (the population was over 100,000 when i lived there), but it very much functioned like one - i.e. everybody knew each other and was into each other’s business. you couldn’t walk two steps without running into someone you knew or go a single day without finding out someone’s deepest darkest secrets. it could get pretty high stakes, but it was the kind of trashy reality tv drama we live for as human beings. 

when i was in high school, i was a part of the school choir. i wasn’t friends with everyone (i did my best to keep my distance so i could stay out of the local gossip, which worked in my favor because probably only two people from high school know what’s become of me or even care and honestly good, i like to keep an air of mystery about myself as far as people from my past are concerned), but some of my friends were friends with a kid named jesse, who was also in choir. he was your quintessential early 2010′s hipster: scruffy hair, tiny pubescent mustache, buddy holly glasses, listened to shit like the smiths, and wore nothing but skinny jeans, cardigans, and moccasins, even when it was summer and 115 degrees (f) outside. he was also buck toothed and looked like a rat. 

we never really spoke to each other, but i always got the sense that we wouldn’t get along if we did, so for four years jesse and i basically had a mutual, unspoken “mind your own business” agreement which worked out pretty well (one of my friends from freshman year who was a notorious homewrecker kept trying to fuck him despite him having a girlfriend, but by that time she and i had cut contact so that was as close as we ever got to having any kind of in depth interaction with each other. you know, small town things.)

we graduate high school and part ways, i moving across the country to the cancerous tumor that is the state of delaware, and jesse moving absolutely nowhere and enrolling in our town’s shitty community college. one of my close friends who also attended the college had a creative writing class with him, in which a lot of the focus centered on short stories. i forget what the prompt was for the assignment i’m about to recall to you, my beloved readers, but part of the project was a peer review; and who does my friend get paired with for hers? that’s right, darlings - our favorite urban outfitters mannequin, jesse. 

now, before i go any further, i want to be very open and outright about two important facts of this recollection: i have not changed jesse’s name for the sake of his identity, and i don’t feel any remorse in not doing so. i might still be playing by small town rules, but anybody who does the sort of thing i’m about to relay to you and doesn’t expect any future exposure and subsequent embarrassment from said thing deserves all the shame they have coming to them (and yes, i do realize that i run and am posting this to a self-insert fan fiction blog, but i will state for the record now that i am open to any roastings that will come years from now because of it. i’m not the type of bitch who can’t own her weird.) 

anyway. my friend calls me one night while she’s reviewing jesse’s short story and she has the juiciest news for me - the project that he’s turning in is erotica. and not the type of erotica that is beautifully written, leaves readers feeling all kinds of hot and bothered, and is kept in sock drawers for generations because, let’s face it, humans have been horny as fuck since we were producing porn via cave paintings. oh no. this is some bad sex awards, rough and ready dramatic reading (shoutout to my ancient tumblr folk, lest we forget those galloping abs), literally too cringe-inducing to read erotica. 

jesse’s short story was about himself. it was about himself, home alone with this step sister (who doesn’t exist in the real world, but looks uncomfortably similar to a bitchy girl who ruined my friendship with my equally bitchy ex best friend, who were both part of his circle of friends), when the step sister in question approaches him out of the blue and inquires him for sex in their laundry room atop the running dryer. 

let me repeat myself. 

jesse from high school wrote a short story about himself fucking his imaginary step sister on top of a dryer and handed it in as an actual assignment for an accredited college course. 

i don’t think even pornhub could make this shit up. 

my friend was too good of one to read me any of it aloud, but based on her description of events, it read a lot like watching one of those internet pornos where the step sister gets stuck in some precarious position and the step brother rapes her with very “tee hee, oops!” overtones (we are giving jesse redemption points for, despite making his step sister character a one dimensional fuck toy, at least having fantasies that are based on consent). 

i can’t be hypocritical and say that i don’t have fantasies - everyone does! hell, the whole reason i’m taking the time to sit here and write this down instead of writing the stuff you guys actually want to see is because i have an idea for a self-insert fanfiction in which the reader is a certain character’s step sibling and they have feelings for each other, and the situation reminded me of this dark comedy of a repressed memory. 

but did i ever shamelessly try to submit any of my fanfiction for credit towards my bachelor’s degree? no. nobody should do that. but jesse from high school did.

and, horrifyingly enough, that’s not even the worst part of this story. no - the worst part is that when they turned in their final drafts, their professor liked jesse’s submission so much that he praised it and read sections of it aloud to the entire fucking class. going to a four-year state university was awful, but i can at least find peace in the fact that none of my professors would have ever even considered accepting smut for an assignment, let alone openly spreading it around for other students to see.

if you take anything from this strange experience from the archives of my equally as strange life, let it be one of these - there are people out there who have far less talent than you have and are still praised for their skill, so there’s no reason you should be unsure of yours, or (for the kiddos who are either in college or will be there in the near future) don’t use your dirty fantasies as a source of content for any of your scholarly work.