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phykios · 3 years

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Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12).

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog.

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation.

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.”

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut.

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass.

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other.

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.”

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets.

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…”

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks.

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.”

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up.

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…”

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements.

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.”

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.”

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?”

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun.

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.”

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response.

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?”

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.”

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper.

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise.

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release.

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene.

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says.

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…”

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea.

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?”

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--”

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much.

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.”

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit.

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses.

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles.

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door.

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen.

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom.

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street.

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing.

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things.

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.”

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else?

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says.

“Who are you working with?”

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question.

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?”

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand.

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.”

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile.

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice.

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…”

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared.

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear.

Annabeth, behind him, coughs.

“S-sure. No problem.”

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him.

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend?

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice.

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far.

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?”

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps.

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly.

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…”

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?”

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock.

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before.

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his.

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could.

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.”

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan.

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today.

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor.

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit.

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision.

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…”

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.”

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him.

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together.

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together.

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all.

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time.

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him?

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode.

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes.

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust.

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner.

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath.

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks.

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops.

He squints at one of his doodles.

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar.

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books.

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response.

Percy approaches the table.

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra.

Percy picks up the book, squinting.

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself.

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares.

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look.

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?”

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness.

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch!

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?”

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance.

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes.

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?”

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes.

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.”

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says.

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.”

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.”

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head.

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21.

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music?

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth.

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly.

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill.

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it.

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…”

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake.

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window.

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos.

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.”

Jamie looks up.

There’s a four year old staring at her.

“Hi,” Jamie says.

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks.

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her.

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.”

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers.

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.”

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit.

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him.

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin.

She really should have just stuck with German instead.

#my fic #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #percy should be a classics major and here's why #the percy major for the stem hating author #also i feel like i have to say:#1) classics conferences are not like that #2) if only it were that easy to get the bm to return looted antiquities 🙄#pjo fic #percabeth fic #percy jackson

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taleasnewastime · 4 years

Text

Flatmates | Part 1

Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst.

Word count: 19.7k

Part 2

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption (though just for fun).

Authors Note: So, I wrote a thing and it turned out to be very long so I have decided to split it into 2 parts. The second part isn��t currently finished but it is not far off so hopefully won’t take me too much longer. This has taken me a while to write and it’s not perfect by any means, but I like it so whatever. It’s based off the same concept as the book “The Flat Share”. I hope you all enjoy it!

Flicking through the ads for a spare room seemed like second nature to you now. You felt like an expert on the topic. You could easily create a presentation detailing the common mistakes people made when advertising a room, how you could easily spot if something was too good to be true, and when someone was probably a hidden psychopath, just from what they’d written about their spare room. You could probably draw a map of the city and detail the average prices of a room in each area, how fast some rooms went in some areas compared to others and which areas were best to look at. Having lived in the city for two years you felt like you knew it pretty well, but as soon as you started to search for a room to rent you realised how little you actually knew about it.

When you moved to the city it was with your best friend Lily. You had rented a two bedroom flat together and the first few months were amazing, the whole two years were amazing, but after living in the city for just 3 months Lily found a boyfriend. So after he basically moved in with her, and you effectively becoming a live in third wheel, and even though you were the one to find the flat in the first place, you decided you should move out. You didn’t resent Lily for it, and it was your decision to move, but it still made you sad, the end of a chapter in your life. You would still be in the same city and would still see each other all the time but it felt like a new chapter, one where she was getting serious with a guy and where you were still single and sharing a house with someone. It’s almost as if you hadn’t left university.

Finding a spare room was easier said than done. You had asked around at work whether anyone was looking for a flatmate but everyone was either in a serious relationship or already tied into a contract with other friends. You’d even been desperate enough to ask friends of friends, putting it out on your Facebook that you were looking for someone to live with hadn’t helped, so you turned to looking for spare rooms online.

Again, this was easier said than done. But you still looked, every day and night refreshing your search in the hopes of finding the perfect room or roommate, not wanting the perfect room to slip through your fingers. You had even looked around a few places, one that was an actual dump, clothes and dirty plates laying around the flat, one that was nice but a bit small and a 40 minute commute to work and one that was almost perfect if not for the fact the other people living there were doing drugs as soon as you walked through the door.

You had even wondered whether you should just up your search to find a flat of your own, you were on a good wage, you felt like a young semi-successful business woman, why couldn’t you have your own place? Well due to extortionate rent, that’s why. So after considering getting a flat to yourself for approximately 10 minutes it was back to looking at spare rooms.

Continuing to scroll down a page listing rooms you reach the point where you had already seen all the rooms past that point. You pause and stretch your back, twisting your neck slightly to ease some tension, and reach to take a sip of your drink. You had decided to come to a coffee shop early on a Saturday to do some searching, finding you were way more productive and less likely to get distracted in the public place. And though you had been good so far, that didn’t mean you had found any results. Deciding to refresh the page one more time before giving up for a bit, you set down your cup.

Scrolling to the top of the page you click refresh and watch as the pictures disappear for a second before popping back. You are shocked to see a new ad, one that wasn’t there a second ago. From the small icon it looked good, the description detailing a rough location and a price that seemed almost too good to be true. Clicking it to expand the details and see more pictures you were shocked at what you were seeing. A spare room in a flat that was probably double the size of where you currently lived, in one of the most sought-after areas in the city, and the price of the room wasn’t through the roof. You read through the details looking for some sort of catch but couldn’t see anything, just a number at the bottom of the page saying to call with queries or interest.

Instinctively you pick up your phone and type in the number given. This was so unlike you, normally someone to not make a quick decision, to mull over everything before acting, but even you could see that this could be something too good to miss. You were willing to risk looking into it more given how long you’d been looking, even if it was just to find out they’d accidentally missed a zero off the end of the rent price. It took 5 rings before someone answered the phone.

“Hello,” a female voice sounded out.

“Hi I’m Y/N, I’m calling regarding the ad that has been placed on spareroom.com,” you put on your most formal, chipper voice.

“Oh, that was quick,” you can hear the surprise in the voice.

“Yeah, I guess I was just looking at the right time,” you say, not wanting to sound too desperate in admitting that you basically live on that site.

“Well, is there anything you wanted to ask? Any details I missed from the ad?” She asks.

“I was actually hoping I could come and have a look at the room. The pictures and description make it sound great but it would be nice to see it in person,” you reply.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll have to have a look when it’s free,” she pauses and you can hear the flicking of pages as if she is looking through a diary. “You see it’s not actually my flat, I’m just putting it up for a friend, I guess. It’s kind of complicated actually, but I can talk you through it all when we meet,” her tone and what she says worries you slightly, you knew that there had to be some sort of catch. This was definitely too good to be true. “We could actually go look this afternoon if you’re free?” She says.

“That would be great,” you say. Even though there was some doubt seeping into your mind from what she had said you decided that it was still worth going to look around. The worst that could happen is that it’s awful and whatever complicated situation she was talking about was a deal breaker and then you would continue your search. But this complicated situation might not be that bad and then you may finally have a place to live. It was worth spending some of your Saturday looking around a flat, plus you got to snoop in someone's house which was always a perk.

“OK, I’ll text you the address and a time, I’m guessing this number is ok?” She says.

“Yep, this number is perfect. I look forward to meeting you later,” you say.

“I’m Rosie by the way. Should have introduced myself earlier,” she gives out a small laugh at her words. “Anyway, just come to the address later and tell the doorman you’re meeting me and he’ll point you in the right direction. I’ll put all of this in the text, don’t worry.”

“Great, see you later,” you reply before you both hang up.

Placing the phone down on the table you go over the conversation you just had. A doorman? The place looked fancy from the pictures and you could tell by the address that it was in a good area but a doorman? Maybe this place was out of your league.

Just as you are think this a text comes through and you look at the message.

Hi Y/N, this is Rosie. It was nice speaking to you and I look forward to meeting you in person. As I said just let the doorman know you are looking for me and he will help you out.

At the end of the text she lists the address and you immediately open a new tab to look into the building. A few news stories pop up with a list of famous people who are rumoured to live in the building, a few pictures of them entering and leaving the building. Next there were a few websites that list the prices of the flats and you suck in a large amount of air, eyes widening at the price. You would never earn that sort of money in your lifetime let alone be able to spend it on a flat. Maybe Rosie was right when she said there was a complicated story behind this spare room. Why the hell was someone, that was obviously rich, listing their spare room for some stranger to live with them?

Looking down at what you were wearing and then at the clock you decide that you have enough time to rush home and change into something that could be classed as a bit nicer than your current attire. Almost slamming your laptop shut, you shove it into your open bag before downing your drink and rushing out of the café.

Your eyes pan up the side of the building, your head falling backwards on your neck so that you can see the top. It was shear glass and you imagine that the views of the city from the upper floors are beautiful. After taking in the building you look down and slowly move towards the door, continuing to question how you managed to find this place advertising a spare room. Glancing down at your phone and then at the fancy plaque by the door, you check for the tenth time that you are at the right place. Confirming the words do in fact match each other you reach for the door only for it to swing open for you, a man in a smart black suit holds the door and looks down at you. There is a small forced smile on his lips and you can see by the look in his eye that you would not want to be on the wrong side of him.

“Can I help you?” He questions, his voice just as stern as his demeanour.

“Hi,” you almost stutter the words, intimidated by the man. “I’m here for Rosie. I mean Rosie said to meet her here?” Your voice is full of the nerves that are currently swimming around your stomach and you curse yourself for not asking what Rosie’s second name was.

The small forced smile is replaced by a more genuine smile, the man's eyes softening as he looks at you. “She told me you’d be coming. Come on in,” relief washes over you as the man steps out of your way, holding the door open so you can enter the building.

Giving him a small smile as you walk past him, you step into the lobby. The ceilings are tall and light floods in through the windows. There are a few sofas scattered for people to sit, some coffee tables with magazines and books on top. A small desk is by the door, some buttons and papers scatter the desk and you assume that is where the man who had just held the door open for you sits. At the far end of the lobby there are some elevator doors and placed around the edge of the room there are large leafed plants. If this was just the entrance to the building what the hell do the flats look like, you think. This room alone was nicer than any other room you had stepped foot in in your life. The doorman steps past you and heads towards the elevator and you slowly follow him.

“You will be going to the 14th floor. When the doors open there is a small room, almost like a porch and there you will see the front door to the flat. Rosie is already up there so if you knock, she should come meet you,” he gives you the details after having pushed the button to summon the elevator and you nod at his words.

There is a small ding as the doors open revealing a small mirrored room. Looking to the man for reassurance you step in and say thanks just before the doors close, leaving you on your own. You can feel your heart thump in your chest as you push the number 14. The elevator feels like it's hardly moving as it ascends and you rub your sweaty palms on your trousers as you near your destination.

Just as the man described, when the doors open there is a small room. Again, a small sofa with some plants welcome you, just as they had in the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator you head to the door and knock hard before you can over think the situation you have found yourself in. It only takes a few seconds but each one feels like an hour before the door opens. A girl stands before you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, a well fitted black dress on, light make-up on her face. She beams at you as soon as the door is opened and you feel her energy infectious, a smile appearing on your own face as you look at her.

“Hi, it’s Y/N right?” She says as she extends a hand for you to shake. “I’m Rosie, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you say as you shake her hand, nerves slowly dissipating as you do.

Stepping out of your way and holding the door open, much like the doorman had earlier, Rosie silently invites you into the flat. Taking a step in you slip your shoes off before looking around. The place looked exactly like the photos you had seen, if not slightly better.

“So I thought I’d give you a quick tour and then we can have a chat and go over a few points,” Rosie says and you nodded.

You silently follow her around the flat, where she shows you the kitchen, a modern open plan space with a big island in the middle where you could sit and eat. A living room with a light grey square sofa that could easily accommodate 20+ people, this faced a TV that covered nearly half the wall. Then you moved onto a hall where you walked past several doors before she opened one that held a large bed and had an attached ensuite. The whole place seemed like it was over the top, there was everything you would find in a normal flat but it seemed to be doubled in size here. Pictures and art lined every room that you went into and the decor looked like it was straight out of a high-end magazine.

Walking around you felt like you didn’t belong here, it was the most amazing place you had ever seen and you were unsure what the catch was. You would never in a million years be able to afford a place like this. When you had seen your could be room, Rosie leads you back towards the living room but carries on past the door to another room. Set up as a snug come library of sorts, it was definitely your favourite room you had seen, it felt the homeliest and the view of the city was amazing, if you really focused you could make out your office and current flat.

Rosie takes a seat on one of the armchairs and indicates for you to take one of the other seats.

“So that’s a quick look at the flat. What do you think?” She asks.

“I mean it’s beautiful. I’m kind of wondering why the rent is so low and why the spare room is being advertised in the first place,” you admit, hoping to get to the point quickly.

“Yes,” Rosie sighs and looks out the window which makes your heart pick up in slight panic. “Well like I said I don’t actually live here I’m just doing this for a friend. And as you will have also noticed the flat is empty apart from us. Basically, the person who owns the flat, my friend, he is a busy man and doesn’t actually live here that much. He often is travelling on business for long periods of time and when he is in the city he works a lot so even then he is hardly home,” she pauses to gage your reaction which is pure confusion, unsure where this is headed. “Well he doesn’t like the idea of the flat sitting empty all the time. He wants someone to move in and live here, keep it clean, use the appliances so they don’t seize up or anything.”

“So he wants a live-in house sitter. The rent is so low because I’ll be expected to do jobs around the place?” You question, slightly confused by the explanation. Was this guy making the rent so low because he was expecting the person to almost work for him in return. You already had a job, you didn’t need to be coming home to work some more. “Could he not just hire a cleaner to come here every day?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Rosie is quick to reassure you. “He just wants someone to live here. You wouldn’t be expected to do any jobs, if something broke then someone else would come and fix it just like in a normal contract. And a cleaner comes here once a week already, so you would only be expected to keep the place tidy,” she pauses again, obviously searching for the words to explain what she means. “He just wants someone to live here, to enjoy the space, to make it homely, to just appreciate the flat in the ways that he can’t.”

You remain confused. The person that lived here was obviously rich, they were obviously successful, why would they want someone to invade their space just so that the space is enjoyed. Didn’t they want to enjoy the space themselves without someone lurking around. It didn’t really make any sense to you.

“You would hardly see him,” Rosie continues seeing the unease on your face. “To be honest you may never meet him, like I said he is hardly here and when he is, he is a pretty private person.”

“That’s what's confusing me,” you admit. “I’m not going to lie, this flat is amazing and beautiful and I have never seen anything like this in my life and I don’t think I will ever be able to afford to live in a place like this. But if I could, I wouldn’t want anyone living here, even if I was hardly here, I’d want it all to myself. And the rent is so ridiculously low for a place this nice, he could be charging through the roof and still have people paying him to stay here,” you have to stop yourself from rambling, remembering that you are still being considered to live here, you didn’t want to blow your chances by saying the wrong thing or convincing them of raising the rent to a figure you couldn’t afford.

“I think that’s the thing, he doesn’t want just anyone staying here, he wants someone normal. It’s not about the money for him, like you said he has money. Listen, I can’t speak for him about his reasonings for doing this, and to be honest I tried to convince him to not do it, like you said he could get any crazy living here. But I guess that’s my job, to find the best person to live here for him,” Rosie says.

“And have I passed the checks?” You smile at her, the tension in the room lessening slightly.

“I’m not sure yet,” she laughs faintly.

“To be completely open and honest with you, I googled this place when you sent me the address,” she raises an eyebrow at your confession a small smile on her face and you can tell that she was expecting this. “It’s seems like a popular building, lots of well-known people living here. Am I allowed to know who my potential flat mate is?”

“It’s a very nice building, and like you said lots of very famous people live here, but unfortunately the person who lives here is not one of them. Just some hot-shot business man,” you can tell the speech is rehearsed and you are unsure whether to believe her, but to be honest you are secretly glad it’s not a famous person. And it made sense they weren’t, a famous didn’t need some crazed fan living in their flat.

“Suits me,” you nod at her and you can see relief wash over her face. “To be honest I’m not the sort of person that is into the whole fame thing anyway. I don’t really keep up with the latest gossip or news about what people I don’t know are doing,” you admit, and it was true. Sure you could recognise some famous people and you could pick out certain faces from a line up, but that was just because it was impossible to avoid all celeb news. You honestly had no interest in what a person you didn’t know was doing with their life.

“You don’t read TMZ and scour the internet over whether Taylor Swift has got a new boyfriend on your weekends?” Rosie says and you can hear the sarcasm in her voice.

“I didn’t know Justin Bieber was married until last weekend, and I honestly have no idea who he is married to,” you admit and you see the smile on her face widen at your confession. “But then I do know who Leonardo Dicaprio is and I know he is into environmental issues and finally won an Oscar a few years ago,” you say with a shrug giving her an insight into your level of celeb knowledge.

“But then who doesn’t know that,” she laughs at your statement. “So you may not even know if you bump into a famous person here?”

“Honestly when I saw the list of names online there was a few a recognised but not many. I’d possibly recognise their face but may not be able to place it,” you say and she hums in response her faced scrunched in thought as she looks at you. You were being honest with her and you hoped she could see that and didn’t think you were saying all of this just to secure the room.

After that the conversation moves onto some questions about you; where you work, why you are looking for a room, questions about cleanliness and general upkeep, normal questions someone would ask a potential new flatmate. When Rosie finishes her questions you both get up and head to the door, she stands at the door and watches as you call for the lift.

“Thanks for coming today,” she says.

“Thanks for letting me look around so quickly. It really is a lovely flat,” you reply.

“I’ll be in contact with you to let you know our decision either way, obviously I will have to discuss this with Hobi,” she slips up and reveals the name of the man that lives here. You try to remain passive at the name though you can see the slight panic in her eyes at her mistake, though you honestly don’t recognise the name. “And there are a few other potential people that are going to come have a look around to,” she carries on as if nothing had happened.

“Of course, I don’t expect it to be a quick decision,” you say. “Do you have any idea when I’ll hear by?”

“I’ll get back to you by the end of next week,” she says.

You nod at her and hear the ding of the elevator from behind you.

“It was nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing from you,” you smile as you back into the elevator.

“You too, Y/N,” Rosie says before the doors close.

As you stare at your reflection in the mirror heading down to the lobby you are a bit in shock. What the hell was that place and who the hell was this Hobi that owned a flat that he hardly lived in? The situation all seemed so strange, something you could never have imagined. As you head down to the lobby you imagine living here, and as amazing as it was you wonder whether it is even somewhere that you’d ever feel comfortable. You feel out of place just stood in the elevator and would probably walk around on egg shells in fear of breaking anything in the flat. It was all in Rosie and the mysterious Hobi’s hands now so there was no point even thinking about it until you heard a reply, you reason as the doors finally open to the lobby.

“So let me get this straight. Some rich ass man wants you to live in his expensive ass house where you will basically have the place to yourself and all you have to do is make sure the place is tidy?” Lily says.

“I mean, kind of yeah,” you reply.

After meeting with Rosie you had come home and after changing into some comfier clothes you had collapsed on the sofa and told Lily about your crazy day.

“When do you move in?” You can hear the excitement in Lilys voice.

“I’ve already told you, today was just me looking at the place. They need to tell me if they want me first and then I have to decide if I want to live there,” you explain for what feels like the fiftieth time.

“I’m still not understanding why you would turn down this offer. It sounds too good to be true, an amazing flat that will basically be yours for basically shit all money.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh, your brain slightly aching from all the thoughts that had been running through your head since you left the flat. “It’s too good to be true, there has to be some sort of catch.”

“And what if there isn’t? What if it is exactly how it looks? You over think everything Y/N, please just this once don’t over think it,” Lily pleads.

“I’ve not even been offered the room yet,” you say, but when you look at Lilys face you give in. “But fine. If they offer me the room, I promise I will not over think it.”

Lily squeals slightly and leans in to give you a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see this amazing flat,” she says into your ear.

You simply roll your eyes at her, unwilling to correct her statement, you may never move in.

Over the next week, however, you can’t get the flat out of your head. You continue to look at possible rooms online, as you still might need to find something, but as you scroll you never really take in anything, nothing living up to what you had already found. By the Tuesday you all but stop looking, deciding that if everything falls through and you don’t get offered the room then you could pick up your search again. A few days off wouldn’t kill you.

But your lack of searching only increases your thoughts of the flat. You remember the details of the city out of the window, it never looking quite as beautiful from where you stood on the ground. You remember the big kitchen, and curse whenever you were in your own and Lily walked in, making it feel cramped. You remember the room that could be yours, the bare walls and how you would decorate them, the big bed you could be sleeping in, the shower that would surely have amazing high pressure that wouldn’t cause the water to be just a trickle. You remember the little snug room that you spoke to Rosie in, the books and CDs that lined the walls and the different comfy chairs that all had contrasting patterns. As much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

What you also couldn’t get out of your head was this mysterious man. Though you had caught the name when it slipped out of Rosies mouth you decided to respect his privacy and did not look into the name. If he wanted to remain unknown then so be it, as Rosie said you would probably never meet him anyway so it made no difference to you. And although Lily had asked several times you only told her that you didn’t know who owned the flat and that it was just some business man, that is essentially all you knew anyway.

As the week started to draw to a close you became more and more attached to your phone. Any notification or noise that came from it sent your heart racing at the possibility of it being Rosie. Yet none of them were her. As Sunday started to draw to a close you gave up hope entirely. To be honest you had expected to hear by Friday night so the fact it had been two whole days and you still hadn’t heard anything, you had essentially given up hope.

By Monday you were slightly annoyed. After work you opened up your laptop and started to scroll through your frequented websites in search of a possible new room. You were annoyed that Rosie hadn’t even messaged you to say that they weren’t offering you the room. When you had left her she had said that she would let you know either way, yet here you were without a word.

You became slightly grumpy at home too, pushing your bad feelings onto Lily and her boyfriend Eddie. Every time you caught yourself snapping or being moody you would apologise, but Lily understood and didn’t blame you for your behaviour. You were in a complete funk by Tuesday evening, annoyed at yourself now for getting your hopes so high. You should have been realistic and realised that the flat was too good for you. That of course they would offer it to someone else. That you were right from the start, you didn’t belong in a place like that.

As you sit on your bed your phone rings, you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, head somewhere completely else.

“Hello,” you say. Hearing your own voice sounded weird, it came out flat and devoid of emotion, not your normal self.

“Hi, Y/N? It’s Rosie,” you perk up at the voice and have to pull the phone away from your head to check the number. Sure enough it was Rosie. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No, no, sorry,” you stutter out, coughing slightly to make your voice sound more normal. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

“That’s my fault sorry. I said I’d let you know by last week and it’s my fault entirely that I am so late, there’s been a lot going on recently. But again my fault, no excuses,” she says.

“No, it’s OK,” you reply, feeling your bad mood drift away, only to be replaced by nerves. The anticipation of what she was about to tell you made you feel like you were back at school waiting for your exam results, were you going to pass and feel elated or fail and go back to your funk.

“So, as I assume you have guessed, it’s about the room you viewed the other week,” she explains as if you have no clue what is going on. You remain silent letting her fill it with an answer. “So I have spoken to my friend and as I said we did have some other people come and look at the flat, to be honest we had quite a bit of interest,” her words were not filling you with hope and you had to will yourself to sound positive when she lets you down. “But me and my friend both agree that you would be the perfect match and he would like to offer you the room.”

You almost drop the phone at her words. Your mouth pops open in shock, eyes go wide as you stare at the wall in front of you. No words escape your mouth and your brain fails to come up with anything to say. The line stays quiet.

“Obviously if you have found something else in the meantime, we understand. As I said it’s completely my fault for getting back to you so late,” Lily fills the silence.

“No,” you managed to say when there is another pause for you to speak. “I mean yes,” you almost shake your head in an attempt to get your brain to shift into gear. “Sorry. I mean you don’t have to apologise. And yes, I would love to accept the offer,” you are shocked at how calm your voice sounds as you feel anything but calm.

“Great, that’s amazing, Hobi will be so pleased,” she says the name this time with purpose as you will now be sharing a flat with him. “I’ll have to draw up some paper work which we can go through together, and there will be a few house rules that I should tell you, and I’m sure you will have lots of questions. Otherwise, I think everything is all set up for you to move in.”

“Great,” is the only word you can think to say as already everything seems to be moving at break neck speed.

“I’ll get everything sorted and text you about meeting up so we can go through everything,” Rosie says.

“I look forward to it. Thanks for getting back to me,” you reply.

“I promise I won’t leave it so long this time,” she laughs down the phone.

You both say your goodbyes before you hang up and drop the phone on your bed in front of you. Sitting there for a minute in silence, you stare at the wall, your mind seemingly racing but also unable to have any thoughts. After a second you leap into action, quite literally jumping off the bed. Running out of your room you start to scream Lilys name.

“What is it,” Lily burst opens her bedroom door, popping out into the living room just as violently as you had seconds ago.

“I got the room,” your voice is still loud and sounds out around the room.

“Oh, my, effing, god,” Lily stomps over to where you are stood and engulfs you in her arms. Looking over her shoulder you see Eddies head poke around the door.

“What's all the screaming about?” He says.

“She got the room,” Lily screams your earlier statement, jumping up and down with you still in her arms. You both laugh as you spin around in circles.

“What room did she get?” Eddie questions, still stood in the door way.

“THE room. I told you about this. She got the room,” Lily says, pulling away from you to look at Eddie.

“Oh right, the room,” Eddie says, and you are unsure if he is saying it just to appease the two of you. “Congrats Y/N,” he gives you a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say. “Hey, shall we pop something open? To celebrate? Me moving out, you guys finally having your own place, lots to celebrate.”

“Hell yes,” Lily replies, already walking over to the fridge to get something to drink.

It had been a mere two weeks since you had the call with Rosie to say that you had the room and in that time you had packed up your belongings, signed the paper work that Rosie had set up for you and gotten the keys to your new flat, well the room within the flat.

When you had met up with Rosie she had gone over some of the things that your flatmate would be expecting from you. How he expected the flat to remain tidy, he didn’t want to come home to dirty dishes left out or dirty clothes dumped over the flat. He wanted all his things to stay where they were, you weren’t allowed to go into his room or two of the other rooms that Rosie hadn’t shown you on your tour. She gave you details of people to call in the cases of emergency, of people that would come round to the flat such as the cleaner, and let you know the doorman was called Keith and he could help with almost anything. The only number she didn’t give you was that of your new flatmates. She told you that overall Hobi had said to make yourself at home and to treat the place like it was yours. Though after all the rules she had listed you felt like you may struggle to do that.

At the end of your meeting though you signed the documents and she handed over the keys to the flat. She gave you a date that you could move in and said she would meet you there to make sure you settled in and check that you had no final questions. As you left the meeting you felt like the whole thing seemed very formal, it felt like you were buying the flat not renting a room, even when you had rented your flat with Lily you hadn’t had to jump through this many hoops. You had just over a week to pack up all your belonging and move into your new flat.

That’s where you stood now, with Lily and Eddie outside your new building, each with a couple of bags in your hands.

“I kind of thought you guys were joking when you were describing this place,” Eddie says as you all head towards the door.

“I’ve seen pictures and even I thought Y/N was joking,” Lily says.

“I’ve been here, and even I thought I was joking,” you laugh with them.

Keith, the doorman, opens the door for you as you approach and welcomes you in, obviously now informed on the fact you’d be a new resident. Thanking him you make your way to the elevator and after all cramming in with the bags you had, you head up to the flat. You excitedly pull out your new key and twist it in the lock, and sure enough the door swings open. You give a small squeal as it does, it all finally hitting you that this was real.

“This is fucking insane,” Lily says after she dumps the bags she was carrying at the door and starts wondering around the flat. “Like fucking insane,” she emphasises, opening random doors in the kitchen. “Theres actual food in here,” she says.

“It’s almost like someone else lives here,” you say in mock wonder.

“But can you just help yourself?” She asks as she continues to open every door that is within reach.

“I have no idea. Rosie is coming over at some point so I’m sure we can clear all that up,” you reply. “Anyway, stop snooping. I want to give you both a tour.”

You grab her hand and start dragging her around the flat, Eddie diligently following you both around. They are both the perfect people to show around, providing the right sound effects when needed, ooing and ahhing when you open a new door. You end the tour where you had with Rosie, in the snug and you each take a chair.

“I will never stop saying how amazing this place is,” Lily says. “Maybe I should move in and you can stay in the flat with Eddie.”

“Hey,” Eddie mocks offense. “I think I should move here and you two can go back to sharing the flat,” he jokes and you both laugh.

“The one big thing I notice is a lack of pictures,” Lily says and you nod, having noticed the same thing. There were paintings and pictures on the wall but those were art, no personal pictures, no pictures of friends or family or of the man himself. “Do you not think that’s a bit strange?” Lily questions.

“Maybe he prefers art, I know people who don’t have pictures in their houses,” you defend your new flatmate.

“Name one,” Lily challenges and when you don’t offer any answers she carries on. “Maybe they’re in those secret rooms that we’re not allowed in.”

“You mean his bedroom,” you roll your eyes at her. “I wouldn’t want him going in my room when I’m not here,” you reason.

Lily puts her arms up in defence, doing a fake surrender. “Well the place is amazing,” she moves the conversation on and you’re glad of it.

“It’s pretty sweet,” you reply.

“I will miss living with you though,” Lily says with a small pout.

“We’ll still see each other all the time though,” you reason with a smile and she gives a reassuring nod.

Lily and Eddie help you unpack your belongings in your room. You hadn’t bothered to bring any pots and pans or plates as Rosie had said all of that was communal and you were more than welcome to use it. You had also left behind some of items that would be too big to fit in your room, deciding that the flat was fully furnished anyway and the stuff you owned would look cheap. So, it didn’t take the three of you long to unpack.

As promised Rosie popped round at one point to go through a few final points with you, show you some things she had missed on the original tour and answered any questions you had.

Eddie and Lily stayed for some food, otherwise they headed home and left you alone in the flat for your first night. The place felt big, bigger than normal, when you were along in it and after clearing up the food you decided to just stay in your room, the living room feeling too intimidating for you on your own.

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the flat. The first few days you felt like you were tip toeing around, not wanting to touch anything or put anything out of place in fear of getting some sort of telling off. After a couple of days and after seeing no one in the flat you started to care less, it started off small, not putting pots and pans back perfectly, leaving a book on the side, leaving one of your blankets on the sofa. And after no one magically appeared to tell you off, you started to care less and less. Sure, you kept everything tidy and in its place as promised, but you stopped caring about everything being perfect.

Though you started finally living as if the flat was somewhere you lived and not just somewhere you slept, you did start to feel lonely. Having always lived with someone it felt weird to come home from work and the flat be empty. Weekends when people were busy were hard, having to stay in a flat that was so quiet. You enjoyed being able to speak to someone, to walk out of your room at any moment and be able to just say hi to someone, to ask a basic question, to laugh at a film together, to comment on something that had happened in your day. You had to admit it, you missed actually living with another human being.

It was late on a Tuesday night, you were tucked up in bed and just about drifting off to sleep when you heard the front door slam close. You jump up in bed and pull the covers tighter around your frame. Your sleepy mind not comprehending what was happening in the moment, you listen for further sounds to confirm your suspicions. Sure enough, someone was in your flat as you hear footsteps sound out along the hall outside your room. It take you far too long to connect the dots and realise that it was your flatmate and not some random person breaking in. Slightly embarrassed at the fact that you had completely forgotten that you don’t actually live alone, you stay sat in bed with your covers wrapped around your frame unsure what to do. Should you go out there and introduce yourself? Should you stay hidden away in your room? Would he even remember that he had a flatmate, or will it have slipped his mind just as it had yours? What if he came in here because he had forgotten too and sees you sat in bed?

As the thoughts and possible scenarios run through your mind you continue to listen to his movements. You could hear him dragging a suitcase to his room earlier, and now you hear his footsteps making their way back towards the kitchen. Seconds later you hear the distinctive noise of a plate being taken out of the cupboard and placed on the side. He must have got some food from somewhere. Finally, you hear him head towards the living room and briefly hear the TV before the volume is turned down. It’s then that you realise that of course he has remembered you live here, and unlike you he is not being weird about the situation, instead being considerate and trying not to be noisy.

Laying back down in the bed, you turn and pull your knees into your chest. The adrenaline still pumps through you from the thought of your flatmate being so close. If you were to just open your door to go and get a glass of water you might see him, might finally get to meet the man you had thought so much about. But even that simple act caused nerves to wrack through you. Him coming home this evening was so out of the blue you didn’t feel mentally prepared for a situation in which you meet him. Though you would never know his schedule, the fact you had no way of contacting the man not helping. Instead, you decide that sleep is the best option, chickening out of trying to meet him. It doesn’t come easily but eventually you do fall asleep.

The next day you wake to your alarm and as you get dressed for work you almost forget that you may not be alone in the flat. Once you open your door and head for the kitchen however it becomes blaringly obvious. Although everything is clean and put away, you can’t help but notice how things have moved. Again, you start to tip toe around the flat, quickly making and eating your breakfast before tidying away. You are unsure if the man is even still here, but if he was you didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. Being ready for work in record time you leave.

By Thursday night and after having heard the late-night entrance of your flatmate for two consecutive nights you decide to leave him a note. You had made too much pasta for tea, which was a common occurrence, but rather than Tupperware the excess up and store it for a future meal, you decide to plate it. It was a spur of the moment decision and as you look at the two plates in front of you, you wonder what you were doing. What if he didn’t even come home tonight, maybe he’d gone off on another business trip. You stop yourself from over thinking and decide to just go with it, if he wasn’t here then you could just have the pasta yourself tomorrow.

After eating your meal, you place the spare plate in the fridge and then go in search of something to write on. It doesn’t take you long until you are back in the kitchen with a post-it note in your hand. Now it was time for you to over think everything you could possibly write down. Should you go for, made too much food, left you some. Or maybe, hope you didn’t have too hard a day, food in the fridge. They all sounded personal, as if you knew the guy, which you definitely didn’t. You spend a good 10 minutes thinking of all the things you could say and all of them sounded personal, you decided that there was no way around it so just settled on: There some pasta in the fridge if you want it.

Trying to not back out of it you place the note on the counter in a place that couldn’t be missed if you walked in the room, and then you left the room in a rush, as if you might be caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Watching a film in bed, one ear listening out for your flatmate, you eventually fall asleep without hearing any noise.

Getting ready for work the next morning and walking into the kitchen you see a note on the side. He must not have come home last night you think as you head over to get rid of the note. As you get closer however you notice that it is not your handwriting on the note. Instead a gentle scrawl is on the page.

Thanks, it was delicious.

Four words. Yet your heart manages to pick up speed in your chest due to nerves. Opening the fridge, sure enough the pasta you had put in there the night before was gone. A smile comes to your face at the thought of your flatmate enjoying the food you made, and you are glad that you decided to leave the note.

Over the next week the food cooking and note leaving continue. You still had not seen anything of the man, but you would hear his late night clangs as he came home from work. You started to wonder what it was he did that meant he got home so late. But, although you were unsure, he would still be in bed when you left for work, so maybe he just had a weird shift pattern compared to you. Every morning you would wake and look forward to reading the notes he left you. They started to get longer, as yours had, he started to give you ‘tips’ or requests for how to make it better next time. Things like less spice next time, please and the peanut sauce was great, add more next time! They never failed to bring a smile to your face, and over the week where the exchanges happened you felt your mood picking up, deciding maybe the flat wasn’t so lonely after all.

It had been two weeks since your first post-it note exchange and as you walk into the kitchen you can't help the smile that comes to your face at the sight of a new note. The smile falters slightly when you read the particularly long note however.

Delicious food, as always, next time you could add some mozzarella to the top? Won’t need food for the next few days, though I will miss it, off on a trip for work. Also, it still feels like I live here alone, where is all your stuff? Please feel free to move anything around or put up your own pictures. “See” you in a few days.

There was so much to take in. Your heart sank slightly when you read that he was going away again, the weekend was coming up and though you hadn’t seen him the previous weekends, part of you hoped that you would bump into him, thinking the weekend was the most likely time for it to happen. He hadn’t said how long he was going away for, just a few days, which could be anything from 2 days to a week. You wish you had a way of contacting him outside of these notes, you wanted to ask when he would be back so you could go back to leaving him food. The thing that really got you though was that he wanted you to add your own stuff to the flat. So far the only item that was yours outside of your room was a stray blanket, and even that wasn’t very you, having chosen the most beige one you could find that would fit with the décor. Pulling out your phone you open your messages with Lily composing a text.

Y/N: Fancy coming to the flat this weekend to help me decorate?

You get a reply almost instantly.

Lily: I thought you would never ask. I’ll come Saturday with some wine and pyjamas.

You smile at the text, that’s why you loved Lily, she was never shy and said exactly what she wanted.

“So you still haven’t met him yet?”

You were sat in the flat after having a day of shopping with Lily. Your purchases were still in bags on the floor as you sit in the living room.

“No,” you confirm.

“But you’ve spoken over post-it note?” Lilys face scrunches slightly at her words showing how weird she finds the situation you are in.

“It’s just notes about things around the flat, like if I leave him food or something,” you shrug trying to normalise the situation. “I don’t have any other way of communicating with him.”

“Maybe you should just ask for his number then.”

“He obviously doesn’t want me to have it or Rosie would have given it me from the start.”

“But now you actually live here and have for just over a month, maybe he’s changed his mind.”

You just shrug at her statement not knowing how to reply.

“Or you could just meet him,” Lily pushes. “You said you hear him come home. You could easily just come out of your room and introduce yourself.”

You regret ever telling Lily any of this, mainly because you know she has a good point. You could easily just walk out of your room and introduce yourself and not make it weird. But you knew yourself and you knew you would make it awkward and uncomfortable, just the thought of doing it brought out a cold sweat.

“Yeah, not going to happen,” you say.

“You’re going to meet him one day,” she says. “Why don’t you just do it now, on your own terms rather than when you are least expecting it.”

Again, she had a good point.

“We’ll see,” you respond as a way to show that you were not going to give in and wanted the conversation to move on.

“Alright, but when you do eventually meet him, you know I want all the details,” she says.

“That’s the only reason you want me to meet him isn’t it, so you can finally know what he looks like,” you roll your eyes at her.

“It’s killing me. How is it not killing you? How do you not just want to see what he’s like?” She asks and you can hear the desperation in her voice.

“You have a boyfriend,” you laugh at her.

“I didn’t say I wanted to get with him,” it was her time to roll her eyes at you. “I don’t care if he’s ugly or the hottest guy on planet earth. Are you not the smallest bit curious what he looks like?”

“He could be some old man for all I know,” you reply, trying to act indifferent, though you agreed with Lily, you were dying to know who you were living with. You had images in your mind of what the guy looked like, and with the lack of pictures around the house, your imagination grew even more, some days picturing some hot business man, other days imagining an older gentleman with a long beard.

“An old man living in a house like this?” Lily flings her arms around for effect. “No, he’s 30 max.”

You hum in agreement. “What do you think he does then?” You give in and start to play along with Lily.

“Some hot shot banker? Or maybe a lawyer,” Lily throws out some guesses.

“Or a spy?” You do a fake gasp.

“A spy who lets some random woman come and live with him? I think not,” Lily laughs.

“He is always travelling. Off chasing all those bad guys,” you laugh along.

“Humm, living with James Bond? I could be on board with that idea,” she nods, a wide smile on her face.

“James Bond it is,” you agree, your face mirroring hers.

“So come on then, how are we changing James’ flat?” She stands up and heads over to the bags of stuff you had bought.

You both spend the rest of the weekend changing around items in the flat. You don’t go wild and change anything too dramatically, small changes here and there, a few more vibrant coloured cushions on the sofa, some colourful blankets, a few more house plants strategically placed. You added a fruit bowl in the kitchen as well as some more jars on the side full with teas and coffee, a vase that you could fill with flowers on the kitchen island. You did change one piece of art, taking down the piece that you hadn’t liked since you first arrived, a dark colourless abstract painting. You placed it by your flatmates bedroom door so that he could decide what do you with it, placing a note on top of it that just read: you did say I could change things around.

As promised Lily stayed the night and you were so glad she did, having the best time with her. You drank wine, watched films, talked and decorated the flat. It was the best you had felt in weeks and by the time she left on Sunday you felt like you were more at home. Walking around the flat you were glad that the man had suggested you put your own stamp on the place. Though you were no longer tip toeing around you still had a feeling that you didn’t live here. But now looking around you felt like you finally lived here, like you could relax.

There were no new notes over the next week, the painting and its note remained outside the mans bedroom, indicating he hadn’t returned. The few days he said he would be away obviously meant longer than the weekend you had assumed. You didn’t mind, with the flat feeling more homely you felt like you relaxed more into the space, spending less time cooped up in your room.

When you woke up and went to the kitchen each morning your heart would drop when there was no new note however. Though you always wondered why, they were always short thank you’s, maybe the occasional longer note about something in the food he enjoyed or would change, never anything that special. You reasoned that the feelings were just because it made you feel less alone in the flat.

Eventually though the notes returned. Walking into the kitchen one morning you saw the distinctive post-it note lying on the counter top and had to stop yourself from running over to read it. Picking it up you read over the now familiar handwriting.

I’m back. The place looks a lot better. You were right about that painting, I have always hated it and don’t know why I kept it up for so long. Yours looks so much nicer.

The smile that you were suppressing came to your face. Such a simple note with hardly any information, yet it lifted your mood instantly. You were glad that he liked what you had added to the flat. It was his suggestion in the first place, but a small part of you did worry he would change his mind when he saw what you had done. Your style did seem brighter than his, apart from the much-loved snug room which you had not changed at all.

That evening you did as you had been doing whenever you knew your flatmate was home, you cooked extra and plated it up for him, leaving a note to let him know on the side. The days passed like this, you leaving him food, him leaving a thank you note in the morning. The notes started to get longer in length, sometimes you would find notes in other places around the flat. A note on a DVD recommending you watch it, a new colourful cushion with a note on it saying that he thought it would go with the ones you had added, some ingredients in the kitchen with a note asking if you could make a certain dish that evening. You returned the notes, leaving reviews of the films he had suggested, recommending books in the snug, adding your own in the collection that lined the walls, leaving notes on a new plant you bought that detailed the plants name and a fake greeting from said plant.

The post-it notes became an almost scavenger hunt, your heart leaping every time you saw the bright colour from corner of the room. Though you had still never met the man, you feel like you were slowly getting to know him better. Though you could walk past him in the street and not realise it was your flatmate, you knew what foods he liked, his favourite films and that he was prone to over loving plants accidentally killing them.

It was a Tuesday when you woke up early, your body aching all over. Your throat felt like it was on fire, your chest tight. You had felt a bit rubbish the night before but had gone to bed early and thought you’d wake up fine this morning, but as you lay in bed you felt like pure shit. Literally rolling out of bed, you groan as your feet hit the floor. You attempt to head to the kitchen but only make it so far before deciding to go lie down in the living room instead.

As you lay there, you wonder why you moved from your bed in the first place, it was much comfier there. You attempt to go back to sleep, having a few hours until you needed to get ready for work. This goes out the window fairly quickly as your body feels like it’s on fire, your head pounding, your limbs aching. You hadn’t felt like this in so long and you are unsure what had caused you to become so ill, and for it to get this bad so quickly and out of nowhere.

Getting up again you make it to the kitchen just to down some paracetamol and water before heading back to the sofa. Laying down you flick through Netflix, shoving a random film on in the hopes it would lull you to sleep. Opening your phone you text your manager, apologising for the hour but saying that you didn’t think you’d make it to work. With that you watch the film and it's not long before you drift back into sleep.

You wake hours later, the film long finished, TV off and a blanket over your body. Your mind struggles to function as you blink at the bright light streaming into the room. Your body still aches and you head continues to pound. Sitting up you catch sight of the cup of water and pills on the coffee table, a distinctive bright post-it note next to it. The temperature you were running at made it near impossible but your face still manages to heat up when you realise what had happened. Shrugging the blanket off, which you now realise you didn’t fall asleep with, you lean over to grab the water and pills, taking those before doing anything else. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the note your flatmate must have left.

Left you some water and paracetamol, looks like you might need it. Theres soup in the fridge. Don’t worry about cooking tonight.

The note confirms your suspicions that your flatmate must leave for work after you. It also confirms that he must have found you asleep in here this morning and put the blanket over you. Your face remains hot at the thought, not just because you were running a temperature. You’d never met this guy and the first time he sees you is when you feel like crap and are passed out on the sofa.

The next thing that has your mind racing is the fact that he said not to worry about cooking tonight. Why would you cook in your current state? You had obviously got into the routine of you cooking him dinner, but surely he wouldn’t want to eat anything you made in fear of contagion. He probably just wanted to make it obvious that he wasn’t expecting any food that night.

You don’t think about it for too much longer, your head starting to not hurt as much, the paracetamol you took earlier slowly kicking in. Putting something random on the TV again, it isn’t long until you fall back asleep.

Waking up from what felt like a deep sleep, you already feel slightly better, the sleep helping. Without opening your eyes you hear the noise of the TV and are surprised that anything is still playing, it felt like you had been asleep for hours, but maybe it hadn’t been that long and the film you had put on was still playing. Groaning at you aching body, you roll over, eyes still closed as you curl in on yourself. Deciding that you should check the time to see if you could take some more paracetamol or not, you slowly sit up, another groan leaving your lips as you do so.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” A deep voice speaks out.

Your eyes bolt open, head shooting towards the voice, you almost forget the pain your body was in as you go rigid with shock. You find the source of the voice. A man was sat on the opposite side of the sofa to you. Concern is written all over his face as he looks you, he is sat with a big oversized sweater on, a top poking out of the bottom, grey jogging bottoms on his legs that are crossed underneath him. He has dark brown hair that is slightly messy and parted to show off his forehead, his dark brown eyes look at you as you remain sitting in shock, you mind not comprehending what’s happening, wondering whether you were in some dream.

“What time is it?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky and hoarse from your illness and the fact you hadn’t spoken all day.

A laugh leaves his lips as he looks down at his watch and you notice his perfect white teeth and the way his smile causes his cheeks to squish and small simples to form on his face. “It’s 5.40,” he says, eyes going back to you.

The statement confuses you even more, if you weren’t ill today you would have just been getting home from work. Something wasn’t adding up in your mind, you had felt like you had slept for a few hours meaning it should be the time the man had stated, but you assumed the man to be your flatmate and yet he was never home at this hour. Maybe he wasn’t your flatmate after all. You put a hand to your head and groan at how much it was pounding.

“I’ll get you something for that,” the man leaps off the sofa at seeing your distress and almost runs to the kitchen. Reappearing within a few seconds he walks over to you, giving you a pint of water and some tablets, before he sits down on the sofa, closer to you than before.

You down the tablets and take a few extra gulps of water before looking over at the man, his eyes already watching you. “Sorry, I just feel really crap,” you state the obvious, your voice helping make your point by still sounding hoarse.

“I found you on the sofa this morning and got a bit worried,” he admits. “Have you had anything to eat today?”

So, this was your flatmate. Your face heats suddenly at his words, remembering waking up with a blanket over you this morning. Your eyes fall to your lap in embarrassment. “No,” you croak in answer to his question.

“Are you hungry? I could cook something? Or warm up some soup? Or just order some food?” He fires the questions at you and you bring your eyes back up to him.

“I’m not really hungry,” you say and you see his face shift to one that looks a bit annoyed.

“You need to eat something,” he scolds you slightly. “You’ll feel better for it,” he says before pulling his phone out, taping on it. “I’ll order something for both of us, you don’t have to have much, but you’re having something.”

You watch as he continues to tap on his screen, he doesn’t even bother asking if there is anything you fancy eating, deciding for you. Pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you flop down on the sofa so you’re are lying again. Feeling less nervous around the man, probably due to how ill you felt. You realise that this is the first time you had met and spoken to him in person. This is not how you imagined it happening, you looking like a complete mess, sweating and coughing all over his very expensive sofa. You look over at him from your current position, eyes taking him all in as his eyes are for once on his phone and not you. You had to admit that he looked familiar, you wouldn’t be able to place where you knew him from but you were sure you’d seen him on your TV.

Putting his phone down, he looks over at you and your face heats at the realisation that he has caught you staring at him. A smile forms on his face as he looks at you.

“All ordered, it should be here soon,” he says and there is a slight pause before he continues. “I’m Hoseok by the way. I’m assuming you guessed, but I’m your flatmate.”

Hoseok. Rosie had called him Hobi, but that was obviously a nickname. You give him a small smile before saying your name.

“I guessed,” he nods at you, his smile widening. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N.”

You hum lowly at him in agreement, your heart pounding slightly in your chest and you’re not sure if it’s due to your illness or the presence of the man currently sat in the room with you.

“Sorry I look and feel so rubbish, I’m normally more fun than this,” you croak.

“I think you look perfectly fine,” he shrugs keeping his eyes on you and you have to look away in embarrassment.

There is a seconds pause before you speak again. “Why are you here anyway?” You ask before realising how rude that must have sounded and continue to clarify your point. “I mean, you’re never normally home at this time. Did you get to leave early today?”

It was his turn to falter under your gaze, his eyes flicking away from your face and resting on the TV. You see a slight pink creep up his neck.

“We didn’t have much on this evening and I saw how ill you were this morning that I got a bit worried leaving you here alone,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, but your heart almost grows in size at the gesture. The man hardly knew you yet he had taken time off work to come and look after you?

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say feeling slightly bad.

“Don’t worry about it,” he continues to act as if it is no big deal. “Anyway, it was about time we actually met.”

You hum in agreement, deciding to sit back up again, reaching for your water to take a sip. “I just wish I felt a bit better,” you repeat your earlier statement.

“Me too,” Hoseok says softly. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I really love what you’ve done with the place. I know I wrote it in a note but I want you to know I really mean it.”

“It’s just a few cushions and plants,” you try to push off his statement.

“Maybe, but it makes it feel like someone actually lives here. I enjoy coming back here now, rather feeling like I’m living in a hotel.”

“Some hotel,” you mock and he laughs gently. “But it’s seriously nothing. I should be thanking you for letting me stay here and invade your space with my rubbish.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not rubbish,” he says. “Just take the compliment,” he smiles at you.

“Ok, thanks,” you give in. “But I do also honestly want to say thanks for letting me live here. It is a very nice place you have here.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You watch his face shift in emotion again, an almost sadness coming over his features, and you nod at him. “Most of my friends told me that I shouldn’t do this, let someone live here that is. And I nearly listened to them. But I used to come home and just feel like it wasn’t my home. I thought that having someone else actually live here would make it feel lived in and more like a home, and maybe at the start that didn’t quite happen,” he shoots you a look and you know he is referring to how you didn’t put any of your stuff outside the confines of your room. “But that’s why I’m saying thank you for living here and putting your stuff everywhere, because now I enjoy coming home and I feel like I am somewhere that is lived and loved, and that makes me feel nice.”

Your heart warms at his words. He had said he liked the decorations on a note before and had obviously thanked you enough times. He had even started to buy more decorations for the flat incorporation with things you had added. But you had no idea that it had this much of an effect on him. You smile gently at him.

“I don’t know, is that weird?” He says into the pause, obviously worried he had gone too far with his words.

“No, not at all,” you reassure him. “It’s nice to know that you like my additions. But what about the snug? That always been warm and homely?”

“The snug?” His face scrunches in confusion before being overtaken by realisation. “Oh, the snug, I like that,” he smiles at you. “That’s all my sisters doing. I let her loose on that one room when I moved in and I think it’s where I feel most at home. It’s definitely the most me room. Believe it or not I actually like bright colours.”

He had a sister? You were slowly learning more and more about the man and everything was interesting to you. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything.

“I think it’s my favourite room. She has great taste,” you say.

“She’ll be happy to know that.”

“Are the two of you close?”

“In a way. We get on and I try to talk to her as often as I can. But as you may have noticed, I have a pretty hectic life so it’s hard to see her and my family.”

If anyone could understand that it was you, you lived with the man and this was the first time you had seen him. You felt sorry for him, he was obviously very successful and had a lot of money, but you could see that it made him sad that he didn’t get to see his family very often. Was money really everything? But then you still had no idea what his job was, maybe it was worth all these sacrifices he seemed to be making.

Before you can question him anymore a buzz sounds from the door.

“Must be our food,” he says and you slowly start to rise. “You stay here,” he leaps up, raising a hand in your direction. “I’ll go get it and bring it all through,” he says before leaving you alone in the room.

Pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders you look towards the TV. You felt like you were in some sort of fever dream. You had expected to meet your flatmate at some point, but when you imagined it, it was some awkward meeting in the hall that lasted a few minutes, not what was currently happening. You had felt awkward at times, otherwise the conversation had been easy. You couldn’t remember the last time you had met someone for the first time and were able to talk to them as easily as you just had with Hoseok. Normally you would have been stuttering, especially if they looked as good as he did. You reach for your phone and open up your messages with Lily.

Y/N: I just met James Bond.

You send the message, both of you having called your flatmate James Bond ever since you had the joke about you living with a spy. Needing to tell someone about the encounter you had just had you of course told the only person you could. As normal with Lily you almost instantly got a reply.

Lily: WTF!! What’s he like? Send me a picture! I need details!!

Y/N: I am not going to take a picture of him. And he’s nice.

Lily: I need more than that.

Y/N: Can’t talk now, he’s coming back. Will call soon.

Lily: Why did you even bother telling me, it’s like you’re trying to torture me. Call me tomorrow.

You chuckle slightly at how dramatic she could be before looking up to see Hoseok walk in with arms full of food.

“So I know you said you weren’t that hungry, but I thought you might change your mind when everything got here,” he says, placing the banquet of food on the coffee table. “What do you want?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” you say genuinely meaning it, but when you look at him and see his stern face you give in. “Maybe just a bit of something plain? Those noodles look good.”

He gives you a wide smile as he picks up the noodles and hands them to you with some cutlery.

“Thanks,” you say taking it off him. “And you’ll know how much I owe you?”

He ignores your comment, instead picking up the remote and looking to the TV.

“What we watching?” He asks.

“You know when I said I don’t care if he’s the hottest man on earth, I take it back,” Lilys voice sounds through the phone the next evening.

You had taken the day off work again, although you felt slightly better you still weren’t 100% and when you called your boss he had said it was fine for you to have another day off. The previous night you had eaten a bit of food and watched a movie with Hoseok before falling asleep on the sofa again. You were awoken to him gently saying your name and rocking your shoulder, telling you to go to your own bed to sleep. The following morning he had knocked on your door to check on how you were, dropping some food and medicine off before explaining that he was heading off to work. You had no idea when you would next see him, and he didn’t let you know when he would next be home. After trying to sleep off your illness for the rest of the day you finally called Lily to give her the details that she was craving.

“You haven’t even seen him, how are you assuming he is the hottest man on earth?” You laugh.

“Y/N, you just described him, you made him sound like a walking god,” you cringe at her words, you hadn’t realised that you had made him out to be like that, but maybe you inadvertently had.

“He’s alright I guess,” you attempt to back track.

“Yeah, whatever,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling down the other end of the phone. “So what did you talk about?”

“Normal stuff,” you shrug. “He was mainly just making sure I wasn’t too ill.”

“Aww, he sounds like he’s the cutest,” she coos.

“He was probably just making sure I wasn’t infecting his flat, which would then make him ill,” again you try to downplay it.

“Will you stop. Just admit he ticks all the boxes. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he looks after you and he’s rich,” she lists off.

“Sure, but I never see him. I live with the guy and I never see him, surely that is the biggest red flag going,” you reply. “Anyway, it’s not like that. We are flatmates, we met last night and talked like normal flatmates and it was nice.”

“OK, nothing’s going to happen, sure,” she says. “Maybe he has friends? You could definitely settle for a friend.”

“This is not some dating expedition,” you laugh. “Can’t I just talk to a guy without their being any romance or possible intentions behind it?”

“You’re right, sorry,” she sighs. Lily always did this, you couldn’t bring up a guys name without her questioning you about him. You know there were only good intentions behind it, she just wanted to see you happy, but as you always told her, you could be happy and also single.

“It’s alright. It’s just he’s basically my landlord so I don’t want any weirdness there.”

“Yeah, you have a pretty sweet set up there, you wouldn’t want anything ruining that,” she agrees. “I just want you to have the best.”

“And one day I will,” you smile down the phone. “Listen, I think I’m going to have a snack and then probably sleep some more. I should probably try and get back to work tomorrow. I love you and will see you soon.”

“Love you too, hope you feel better tomorrow,” she says before the line goes dead.

After that one encounter with Hoseok, things went back to normal. You got over your illness and started to go back to work. Hoseok went back to his normal life of coming home at god know what time when you were asleep. You’re paths never crossing, except for the post-it notes, which seemed to almost double in quantity. Handwriting become smaller and more cramped on the notes so that more details could be given.

The notes still remain on fairly mundane topics, never straying into anything to personal. You still had no real idea who the man really was, what he did for a living, where he went every day. But you did have a good idea who the man was in the sense of his likes and dislikes. It didn’t feel like much, but you still enjoyed reading his notes every day. Replying to them with your own thoughts.

It was a Friday night and you had agreed to go out with some friends. It wasn’t common for you and your friends to go out, preferring quiet nights in. Heading over to Lilys to get ready you had both decided to make a bit of effort, sipping on drinks while you both dance around your old flat and slowly put make-up on.

Getting tipsy before heading to the club wasn’t necessarily your intention but you had both got carried away pre-drinking. By the time you met up with the rest of your friends you were on the right side of tipsy, this however quickly changed. You kept up with your friends, drinking drink for drink, and this was not good for either of you. It had hardly turned 1am as you were both jumping around the dance floor in each other's arms.

“I love you so much Y/N,” Lily slurs into your ear.

“I love you too,” you beam back at her.

A laugh escapes you as Lily takes you in her arms and spins you around. Then a hand is placed on your shoulder stopping the spinning and you look to see who it was.

“Eddie,” you continue to smile as you replace Lily with Eddie, squeezing him in your arms slightly. He had said that he was out with friends and that he would turn up at some point to join you, and then be around to take Lily home, so his appearance wasn’t too much of a shock.

“Hey, he’s mine,” you hear a voice behind you before you are almost ripped from the man, Lily taking your place.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie laughs. “There’s enough of me to go around,” he jokes.

Lily leans up to give him a kiss on the lips, Eddie allowing it until she tries to deepen it, when he pulls away.

“You seem happy to see me,” Eddie looks over to you with an apologetic smile. Lily almost seems to go limp in Eddies arms and he struggles to hold her. Rushing over you help him lift her up, looking up at him a bit concerned at the sudden change in her state. You thought that the two of you were on the same level, but you were obviously handling your drink a lot better than she was. While she seemed to be past drunk, you were on the perfect level still coherent to remember everything but drunk enough to not care about anything.

“Let’s go get some air?” Eddie suggests, already starting to drag Lily and therefore you outside.

“I’ll get some water,” you suggest. “I’ll see you outside.”

Rushing over to the bar, you ask for three glass of water and when they’re handed over you head outside to look for your friends. What you see is not pretty. Lily is hunched in a corner, Eddie stood over her with his hand on her back. You feel like you sober up slightly at the sight.

“Here, drink some of this,” you hand Eddie one of the cups to try and he tries get Lily to drink some. “God I’m so sorry, I should have got her to slow down,” you say.

“It’s alright, she’s alright. It’s no one's fault,” Eddie is now having to reassure you and Lily. “You just had a bit too much to drink didn’t you love,” Eddie continues to stroke Lilys back.

You down some of the water that you had got for yourself, your brain spinning at bit due to the alcohol.

“I think we should head home,” Eddie looks up at you.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.

“No, we’ll be OK, you stay and have fun,” he replies.

You nod at him, but now feel distinctively not in the mood to party. Lily was the main reason that you had come tonight anyway and as she was heading home you saw no need to stay.

“Home sounds good actually, I think I might do the same,” you say to Eddie.

“Alright, come on, I’ll call you a cab,” Eddie hauls Lily into his arms and helps you both over to the street to go home.

With Eddie calling you a cab it takes no time for you to get to the entrance of your building. You stumble slightly towards the door, and nearly fall on your face as you go to open the door but it opens before you get there. A hand comes out to help you before you fall though.

“Oh, hi Keith,” you smile at the doorman.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiles down at you, his hand still helping to support you. “Good night?”

“It was great thanks. I just had a few drinks,” you say though you know you both know that is an understatement.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Keith says as you both make your way over to the elevator, you still clinging to his arm for support. He calls for the elevator and you stand and wait, your head resting on his upper arm as you close your eyes and give a content hum. Over the time that you had been living in the flat you had grown to love Keith. He always seemed to be there and had helped you out many a sticky situation. Whenever you had time you would stop and talk to him about your day, and you had learnt so much about him in the process. But you know when you sober up and think back to this current moment part of you will die of embarrassment.

“I hope you have had a nice night too,” you pout up at him, always saying that he worked too hard.

“It’s been made ten times better now that I have seen you,” he jokes and you laugh at him.

“Always making me blush,” you say as the elevator arrives and you walk into it. “Hopefully see you soon,” you point a finger at him and smile.

He laughs at your drunken state and nods his head. “I’m always here,” he says as the doors close on him.

You have to take a breath to steady yourself as the elevator rises. Fishing in your bag you go on the hunt for your keys as the doors open. You decide to take one of the seats to stop yourself from wobbling around, helping you find your keys quicker. Once you have them you stand up and move towards the door. A hand on the door frame you jab the key at the key hole, missing a few times before you finally get it in the lock and open the door.

Stumbling into the house you close the door and wince at how loud you were being, only now conscious of the fact you probably weren’t home alone and it was very late. You haphazardly kick off your shoes, and wince again when they make a loud noise when hitting the wall. In your drunken state you continue to the kitchen and stumble around in search of a glass, filling it up with water when you finally locate it.

“Y/N?” A familiar deep voice sounds out and it is only then that you hear other voices in the flat.

“Hello?” You say, cringing slightly at the state you were in when Hoseok obviously had friends around.

“Y/N? Come join us in here,” Hoseok shouts again in the direction of the living room.

You take a few deep breaths as you slowly head to the living room, water in hand. Internally trying to sober up, yet your mind still fuzzy, and your walk a bit wobbly.

When you get to the door you look around the room, leaning against the frame for support. Hoseok was sat on the sofa facing the door and therefore you, a smile on his face. Around him are four other people. One man with blonde hair, and a wide smile like Hoseok, another man with longer brown hair and a boxy smile, a third man that only had a small smile that showed no teeth, and a woman who had long brown hair that nearly reached her hips. Your eyes whip around the people in the room, all their eyes on you, the room silent.

“Hi,” you give a small awkward wave at everyone with the hand holding the water, which sploshes around, some escaping the glass and you give an audible “woops” as you watch it.

“Hey. Sorry I would have told you about this but it was a very last-minute thing so I didn’t have a chance to leave you a note,” Hoseok explains. “I did knock on your door to invite you, but you were obviously out. Been anywhere nice?”

“No worries. I’ve just out with friends, sorry I didn’t leave you a note” you point over your shoulder as if to clarify where you had been, and the boy with blonde hair lets out a small giggle as more water leaves your glass. “I’ll clean that up,” you say stupidly as it’s just water, and Hoseok gives you a fond smile.

“You guys leave each other notes?” The blonde-haired boy continues to smile as he looks at Hoseok.

“Well, yeah,” he says awkwardly, looking over at you shyly, and you can only join the boy in laughing, realising how stupid it sounded.

“He’s never given me his number,” you shrug a massive smile on your face. The alcohol causing you to say things you would never normally say.

“So you leave each other notes?” The boy's eyes are now back on you as he continues his questioning.

“I guess it’s the only way I can talk to him,” you say, eyes going to Hoseok, a red tint coming to his face. “I just say the normal things, good morning, how you doing? What you up to? And then I get a reply 10 hours later, it’s like living in the 19th century,” you laugh at yourself, the blonde man joining you, unsure what the hell you were babbling on about.

“Maybe one of you should have just written your number on one of the notes. Then you would have caught up to the 21st century,” the boy that previously only had a toothless smile was now looking at you with amusement, a small gummy smile on display.

You hum in response. Honestly you had considered it, but you were too scared of the rejection. Hoseok had never provided you with his number and you thought maybe there was a reason behind it. You had left the ball in his court, though you were unsure if he knew that.

“I should maybe introduce you guys,” Hoseok speaks up, trying to move the conversation on. “This is Yoongi,” he points to the guy with the gummy smile, “Jimin,” the blonde-haired man, “Taehyung,” the boy with the boxy smile, “and Liv,” he points to the girl. “And this is my flatmate Y/N,” he introduces you and you do another embarrassing wave.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Jimin smiles at you and your face heats up at the words.

“Have you?” You say, not believing him.

“Oh yeah lots. Only good things don’t worry,” he reassures you, though it doesn’t do any good, your mind thinking about all the things that Hoseok could have said about you.

You nod your head slowly at him, still unsure if he is messing with you. “I hope he didn’t tell you about how awful I looked when I was ill,” you say suddenly remembering.

“He mentioned it, though I don’t recall him describing you as looking awful,” Taehyung smirks.

“Did you want to join us?” Hoseok cuts in, and when you look at him you can see that his face has turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

“It’s alright, I was just going to head to bed,” you point to your room this time, making it clear where you meant, Jimin giggling at your action again.

“We have alcohol,” Yoongi mimics you by pointing at the bottles set on the table.

“I seriously don’t think I need any more,” you say. “Water should be enough,” you hold up the glass which causes more liquid to fall out.

“Just stay for one. Looks like your waters going to need a refill soon anyway,” Jimin jokes. “I promise we are nice. We want to meet Hoseoks flatmate that he won’t stop talking about.”

You look over to Hoseok to gauge his reaction, you didn’t want to intrude on his mini gathering. He gives you a small nod, letting you know he is ok with it.

“Ok,” you give in, finally moving away from the door you were propped against. “But I seriously do not need any more alcohol. God knows what I’ll start rambling on about then.”

“Just one,” Jimin says as he starts to pour out a concoction of different liquids. “I want to hear your rambles.”

You make it over to the sofa and almost fall down onto it, sat at the far end closest to Jimin. Downing the remainder of your water you place the now empty glass on the table before taking the glass Jimin hands you.

“To new friends,” he laughs as he raises his own glass so that he can cheers you.

You pout slightly as you take the smallest sip of your drink, even that feeling too much.

“So what do you do Y/N?” Liv asks you before you have even taken the glass away from your lips.

“I work in marketing,” you say, a small smile on your lips as you look at her. “Sounds boring I know,” you laugh at yourself.

“No, marketing's cool. What company do you work for?” She reassures you.

“I work in digital marketing at a relatively small company. I basically help work on their apps, making them better and more accessible for the customer,” you say and can almost see everyone's eyes glaze over in boredom. “It’s not the best job in the world, but I enjoy it,” you say feeling slightly insecure. Hoseok was in a career that made him a lot of money and he was probably friends with people who also did the same. You are suddenly very aware that you are probably in a room full of people that made more in a week then you do in a year.

“I think it sounds great,” Jimin jumps in. “I love apps.”

You laugh at his attempts to reassure you, thankful for his kindness. “What do you guys do then?” You say it lightly as it seems like the next natural question but you instantly regret it, all eyes in the room shooting to Hoseok who looks worried, and the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly.

“I’m a PR,” Liv speaks up and you are glad that she breaks the tension in the room. “Of sorts anyway. I basically just manage people schedules and what they need to be doing.”

You nod at her words, actually interested in what she was saying. “I’m not sure I would be organised enough for that,” you say.

“But come on, we want to know more about you. How come you’re living here with Hobi?” Liv steers the conversation away from jobs and though you are glad the tension in the room is slowly disappearing, it does not help your curiosity when thinking about what Hoseok does for a living.

“I needed a room, he was providing one,” you shrug, deciding not to go into detail, taking a sip of your drink to avoid talking.

“And are you enjoying it here?” Liv presses.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you give a smile, taking another sip of your drink. “The décor wasn’t the best, but now I’ve improved it, it’s great.”

A laugh ripples through the room and that combined with the alcohol gives you some fake confidence.

“What’s it like living with Hobi? Has his OCD cleaning annoyed you yet?” Taehyung asks.

“No, it’s late-night snacking that would annoy me,” Yoongi chimes in.

“Come on guys, it’s surely his singing. I’ve heard him in the shower multiple times and I think my ears are permanently scarred,” Jimin laughs.

“No, no, what about all his clothes. Has he asked to take over some of your closet space yet?” Taehyung starts to laugh just as hard as Jimin, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

“Go on then, what’s the most annoying thing?” Yoongi asks and all eyes go to you. Under the pressure of the eyes your face starts to heat up, your previous confidence dissipating into the air.

“We all know it’s my obsession for tea. I go through the stuff so quickly Y/N is probably having to buy the stuff daily,” Hoseok saves you and you give him a small smile to show how much you appreciate it. “Anyway, let’s stop harassing Y/N, she’ll never want to join you guys for a drink again if this is how you treat her.”

“No, I’m fun,” Jimin pouts at you. “She’ll want to hang out with me again,” he says and you giggle at his words. “Yoongi is the boring one here.”

“Hey. I’m not the one harassing her with questions,” Yoongi shoots back at Jimin.

“Well at least I’m welcoming and not sat in the corner looking all grumpy,” Jimin continues and you can tell that it is just the way their relationship goes by the smiles on both of their faces.

“I was the one that offered her alcohol,” Yoongi says.

“Neither of you are fun,” Hoseok jumps in. “Let’s just play a game.”

“A game sounds good,” Taehyung agrees, standing up to go and get something, coming back a few seconds later with a pack of cards in his hands.

You end up playing a game that you had never played before, yet somehow ended up winning the two games you played.

“You know the winner has to drink, right?” Jimin looks at you.

“That wasn’t a rule last time I won,” you say.

“That was a practice,” he defends.

“Why does the winner have to drink?” You look around the table in the hopes someone would back you up, finding no one was going to. You give a small huff and cross your arms in annoyance. “I would have at least tried to not be as good if I had known. Though it would have been hard to not have one you are all so rubbish,” you say with a small smile as they all start shouting out at your insult.

“That definitely deserves a drink now,” Taehyung chimes in, and you give him a small glare.

“Come on, as the newest member of the group you should drink,” Hoseok adds and you open your mouth in mock shock at him.

“If anyone was going to have my back, I was hoping it would be my lovely flatmate,” you say and you see a few eyes flick between you as internally cringe at the fact you had called him lovely. “Maybe you’re not so lovely after all,” you say unsure if you were making the situation any better.

Deciding to end your embarrassment you pick up your glass and down its contents, face scrunching up when it was all gone.

“Now that’s honestly enough, I don’t want a throwing up Y/N on my hands tomorrow,” Hoseok says. “I’ve already had to look after her once,” he gives you a smile and you look away in embarrassment at the memory.

The night turns to talking. They continue to ask you the occasional question but talk turns to topics and people that you don’t know. While they try to include you at the start, all the alcohol you had drunk starts to make you go sleepy and you end up passing out on the sofa to the sounds of their voices.

Head pounding, throat dry, a slight queasy feeling in your stomach, it felt like you were ill all over again, but this time it was self-inflicted. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, to realise where you were and what had happened. The last thing you remember is being on the sofa, everyone talking while you struggle to keep your eyes open. But this morning you find yourself tucked in your bed wearing just your underwear and t-shirt.

Slightly embarrassed about not knowing what occurred last night, you roll over in search of your phone, finding it on your bedside table. 7:10am. You groan, cursing the fact that you naturally wake up so early due to work.

After failing to get back to sleep, you decide you may as well get up and have some water and see if you can stomach any food. Rolling out of bed you change into your actual pyjamas and head to the kitchen. Downing a pint of water, you pour a second glass and sip on it while you make some toast. Taking a bite out of you, you walk to the living room planning on watching a film. You almost chock on your toast however when you see a figure on the sofa. Having assumed you were home alone, or at least the only one awake at this time, you are surprised to see Jimin tucked under a blanket.

Though he is fast asleep your face instantly heats up with embarrassment. You stand awkwardly in the door, not knowing whether you should turn on the spot and head back to your room, or go in and watch a film as planned and risk waking the man. You opt for the third option. Turning on the spot you head instead to the snug.

Settling into your favourite seat, looking out at the barely lit city below you, you continue to chomp on your toast. Placing the empty plate that once held on the coffee table, something catches your eye. Standing up you take a step so you are stood by the wall of books and knick-knacks. But placed on one of the shelves, right in the corner, is a picture.

Picking it up you pull it closer to your face so you can study it. A family, a man and a woman with a young girl and boy stood in front of them. They all have big smiles on their faces, looking like they are mid laugh. The little boy was unmistakably your flatmate Hoseok. Though he was probably 15 years younger in the photo, he still had the same eyes, the same hair, the same smile.

“My parents and my sister,” a voice says from behind you and you almost drop the frame.

Spinning round you see the man you had just been staring at in the photo. Hair fluffy and sticking up at odd angles, he obviously hadn’t brushed it, in a pair of long plaid pyjamas, and a pair of animal slippers on his feet. He had obviously just rolled out of bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, placing the photo back where you had found it.

“You don’t need to apologise,” he smiles at you. “It’s your flat too.”

“I don’t usually snoop around your stuff,” you continue to apologise even though he’s already told you that you don’t need to. “I had just never noticed this before and wanted to have a closer look.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” he chuckles slightly at your rambles. Moving closer so he stands next to you he picks up the photo you had just put down. “I decided a few more personal touches might be nice around the flat. You must be rubbing off on me,” he looks over at you and you shy under his gaze, eyes going to the photo in his hands. “My parents,” he points at the two older people in the photo. “And my sister,” he points at the young girl.

“Very cute,” you say.

“We were on a day out and my dad asked someone to take this photo. It’s one of my favourites.”

You look at him as he stares down at the photo and can see the almost longing in his eyes. You can tell how happy he is just staring at the photo in his hands. Almost snapping out of a daze, he visibly shakes his head before placing the picture back in its spot.

“A simpler time,” he says with a pang of sadness in his voice.

“Things always become more complicated when we get older,” you say. “Which reminds me. What happened last night?”

He chuckles at your words and you are glad to see the smile return to his face.

“You had obviously just had a bit too much to drink. I’d blame Jimin’s drink making if I was you,” he says.

“God, how embarrassing,” you shove a hand over your face in an attempt to hide, unsure what you had done.

“Nothing embarrassing. You just passed out on the sofa, don’t worry,” Hoseok continues to smile at you.

“Thats embarrassing,” you say, peaking through your fingers to look at him. “And how the hell did I get into my bed?” You panic slightly.

“Well, we tried to wake you,” Hoseok’s face goes slightly red at the words. “But you were completely knocked out. So I carried you to your bed.”

“Oh god,” you groan. “And my clothes?” You almost don’t want to ask but also need to know the answer.

“That was all Liv,” Hoseok is quick to defend himself, hands in the air in mock surrender.

“Jesus, I’m a mess. I’m so sorry, your friends are probably wondering why the hell you have me living in your flat.” Dismissing his clear embarrassment over how you ended up in your bed in just a t-shirt and your pants, for your own embarrassment.

“Forget about it. Let’s just go have some food and watch something,” he doesn’t wait for your answer before leaving the room, you trailing behind him.

“I think Jimins asleep in there,” you say sheepishly before Hoseok walks into the living room.

“He’ll be alright,” he shrugs at you before walking in.

You follow him in, noticing Jimin still sleeping on the sofa, seemingly not bothered by Hoseok clattering around. Being a bit quieter, you sit down on the sofa, legs out in front of you as Hoseok turns the TV on.

“What we watching?” He asks.

“I don’t mind.”

“Letting me choose may not be wise,” he warns and you just smile at him, letting him know you honestly don’t care. “The notebook it is,” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

It takes about 20 minutes of the film to play before Jimin finally wakes up. You and Hoseok had been relatively silent before he woke up, but Jimin is quick to change that. Sitting up you both watch him as he squints around the room in confusion.

“Looks like you had fun last night,” Hoseok laughs at Jimin with his blonde hair ruffled all over his head, his undercut on show.

Rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes squint as he continues to look confused. You give him a small smile when he meets your eye contact, before looking away, wanting to give him some sort of privacy haven just woken up.

“Have you guys eaten yet?” Are the first husky words that leave Jimins mouth, and you can’t help but laugh along with Hoseok.

“Fancy ordering something?” Hoseok asks and as you look around to him you see Jimin giving a silent nod, hand on his forehead.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” You ask Jimin a bit concerned. Nodding he hardly looks at you. “And I still owe you for the food you got me last time,” you say to Hoseok as you get up to get some water for Hoseok.

“And I told you not to worry about it,” Hoseok calls after you as you walk out the room.

Reappearing a few seconds later, hands now full with a cup of water and some paracetamol, Hoseok and Jimin are already talking food.

“Will you at least let me pay for this one,” you plead, handing Jimin the things in your hands getting a small thanks in reply.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoseok barely looks at you as he scrolls through food options on his phone. “What about Moose cafe, they do good pancakes?” Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he aims the question at Jimin.

“Jimin, tell me what you want, I’m buying it,” you say stubbornly, whipping your phone out.

“No, I have it,” Hoseok shoots you a glare.

“Jimin, I just got you that water, the least you can do is let me buy the food,” you say.

“Jimin, you’re in my house as a guest the least I can do is buy you food,” Hoseok replies.

“I pay rent to live here, so I could also use that as an excuse,” you roll your eyes at Hoseok. “You are the one that keeps telling me to treat this place like it’s mine,” you raise your eyebrows at him. “Please just let me pay,” you plea.

“For God's sake,” Jimin finally speaks. “Will you guys just shut up? Listen, he is not going to let you pay, and neither am I.”

“Why have you got to be so nice? I owe you money, why won’t you let me pay it,” you whine slightly. You felt like Hoseok was already doing you a favour by letting you live here so cheaply, you didn’t want him doing you any more favours on top of that. It may not be much money for him, but for you it was, if it was any other friend you would have paid them and they wouldn’t have refused.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Hoseok repeats, a small smile returning to his face as he realises he may have won. “So, what’s everyone having?”

“I’ll have the pancakes with bacon,” Jimin says.

“Y/N?” Hoseok looks at you.

“I don’t want anything thanks,” you reply.

“Don’t be like that,” the smile falls off Hoseoks face at your stubbornness.

“I have food in the fridge I need to eat,” you shrug lightly.

“Just add some extra pancakes in for her,” Jimin pipes up and you shoot him a glare.

“I won’t eat them,” you say.

“They’ll just go in the bin then,” Jimin says.

“I can afford to buy my own pancakes,” you slouch into the sofa, letting them know what was getting to you.

“We don’t doubt that you can’t,” Hoseok voice is softer, realisation hitting him. “It’s just pancakes. Don’t over think it.”

You don’t reply to him, feeling like you were making the situation more than it needed to be, after all it was just pancakes. But your money insecurities were slightly getting to you. And he takes your silence as compliance to order the food, letting you and Jimin know that the food was on the way.

“Last night was fun,” Jimin attempts to cut the slight tension that has arisen in the room.

“Yeah, thanks for letting me crash,” you say. “Your friends are really lovely.”

“Was nice to have you join, everyone really liked you,” Hoseok says.

“Even though I passed out?” You cringe at the thought.

“Especially because you passed out,” Jimin laughs. “Now it’s not just me that’s done it in the group.”

“Great, not sure that’s the best reputation to hold,” you say. “I’m guessing you have the day off work?” You ask Hoseok, noting the fact he was still in the flat when he would normally be gone.

“Oh yeah, we have a few days off,” he says.

“You two work together?” You are still intrigued to what your flatmate does, but are also conscious that whenever the topic arises the atmosphere shifts.

“Unfortunately,” is the only reply you get, essentially cutting the conversation short, and increasing your intrigue on the subject.

“Have you got any plans with your time off?” You ask.

“I’m planning on just hanging around the flat, so sorry but you’ll have to put up with me for a few more days,” Hoseok replies. “Maybe Jimin and some of my other friends will come round one night?” Hoseok directs the question to Jimin. “If that’s ok with you, of course,” his head shots in your direction, almost as if he forgot you live here.

“It’s your flat, invite whoever you want,” you say.

“But you know you can invite whoever you want here too?” Hoseok says.

“Of course,” you say, though your voice doesn’t sound as sure as your words.

“Well if Y/N is here, I will be coming round all the time,” Jimin winks at you and you give a hearty laugh in response.

“Jesus, is there anyone you don’t flirt with?” Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you continue to laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed by the comment.

Saved by the doorbell, you almost leap up when you offer to go and get the food. Leaving the room, it doesn’t take you long to get the food and plate it up, carrying it all back on a tray you stop outside the door when you hear your name mentioned.

“You haven’t told her?” You hear Jimin ask.

“How does it really ever come up into conversation? It’s not something you just casually say,” Hoseok says.

“I’m still on team tell Y/N. And now I have met her, I am even more pro,” Jimin says.

“I will, I just need the right time,” Hoseok says.

“And like you said, there is no perfect time. The longer you wait, the weirder it will be,” Jimin says.

You have no idea what they are talking about. What could Hoseok possibly be keeping from you that Jimin thinks he should be saying? And why does Hoseok think there needs to be some perfect timing for him to tell you?

Realising you had been stood eves dropping for a second or two too long, you decide to walk into the room, pretending you heard nothing. The two of them seemed oblivious to the fact that you may have heard them, and you keep it that way. Eating your pancakes and chatting with them you enjoy your day off with your flatmate for once.

366 notes · View notes

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader

A/N: Oh yeah this is still going 😄 (The poem is not mine! Credit to the person who did write it!) Follows TFA as a bit of a filler. Like I said I am working my way to Hux’s speech 😅

Warnings: Erm, fluff? Hux and Ren with their usual hatred. Not much in all honesty, at least I don’t think so. (Let me know if that needs changing!)

Word Count: 3973

Read Part 5 on AO3 here.

He was reading a report from one of the other ships when the door opened and he looked up in surprise. Phasma entered but she didn’t sit down like normal and Hux placed the pad down.

“We have a situation.” She stated.

“What situation?” He asked wearily, pulling his gloves back on before standing and leading the Captain to the bridge which was abuzz with activity.

“Sir! An unsanctioned departure has been reported from the main hangar, a Special Forces TIE is attempting the leave, communications have not been established with the pilot…” Hux felt anger flood his system. What was happening? Why all of a sudden was everything going wrong? He turned to Phasma, his posture stiff, his hands tightly gripping each other as he fought his rising temper and waited for her explanation.

“It was one of our own. Reports of a stormtrooper leading the prisoner to the hangar and entering a ship.” Hux felt a curse filling his mouth but stopped himself from spitting it out. A trooper? One of his own men was defecting. He felt momentarily rigid, the audacity of this trooper rendered him speechless.

“Who?” He spat, his eyes glaring into her helmet but he could tell by the line of her shoulders she was just as angry as he was.

“I shall run the register and find out,” she snarled. He looked out of the viewport to see the lone TIE fly out into space.

“Well don’t just stand there! Shoot them!” He commanded loudly.

“Sir, they’ve taken out our turbo lasers.” Hux did a quick mental check of his ship's weapons, deciding what would be the best to use.

“Use the ventral cannons.”

“Bringing them online,” reported Mitaka.

“General Hux.” Of course. “Is it the Resistance pilot?” Hux bit back the first thing that came to mind when he saw Ren, if the stupid oaf hadn’t brought him onboard none of this would be happening right now.

“Yes and he had help.” The words made his mouth dry out. He was still not accepting that one of his own men could betray him like this and he was determined to make an example of them. “From one of our own. We are checking the registers now to identify which Stormtrooper it was.”

“The one from the village, FN-2187.” Hux schooled his features to one of indifference, of course Ren should already know that information. It made him question though, if the Commander knew of the troopers mind why he didn’t mention this earlier? Was it to see how Hux would deal with this? Was it to try and undermine him? To shatter Leader Snoke's faith in his abilities? Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to let this slide.

“Sir, ventral cannons hot,” reported Mitaka.

“Fire!” Hux enunciated firmly, his wrath barely contained as more information came to light about what was transpiring.

“General,” he went to stand over with Phasma by the holoprojection where she had pulled up FN-2187’s records. His eyes travelled over the information not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

“FN-2187 reported to my division, was evaluated and sent to reconditioning.”

“No prior signs of non-conformity?” He asked curtly, wanting her personal opinion.

“This was his first offense,” she stated bitterly and Hux could tell she was smarting heavily under that armour.

“General, they’ve been hit.” He moved round to the screen.

“Destroyed?” He asked hopefully.

“Disabled. They were headed back to Jakku, the fighter’s projected to crash in the Goazon Badlands.” Hope flared in his gut.

“They were going back for the droid,” he thought out loud. “Send a squad to the wreckage and double the troops on the ground. Do not come back empty handed but destroy the droid if it cannot be captured.” His gaze slid to Phasma and she nodded in understanding before marching off the bridge to carry out his orders. Ren stepped before him and Hux had to stop himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Destroy the droid?” The dark presence questioned loudly.

“Leader Snoke was explicit.” Bristled Hux. “Capture the droid if we can but destroy it if we must.” He hated repeating the instructions that were said to both of them like he was talking to a child.

“How capable are your soldiers, General?” Hux didn’t miss the sneer emitting from the black mask.

“I won’t have you questioning my methods,” spat Hux, the venom in his voice evident. Kylo started to move and Hux stepped up beside him, not ready to let this conversation go.

“They’re obviously skilled at committing high treason. Perhaps Leader Snoke should consider using a clone army.” You absolutely pathetic individual! Hux could feel his lip curling as his mind fired off all the insults he could spew at the Commander. He stepped before Ren bringing the larger man to a sudden halt, his gaze staring fiercely into the ridiculous mask.

“My men are exceptionally trained, programmed from birth…”

“Then they should have no problem retrieving the droid. Unharmed.” Ah. So that’s what he was fishing for this whole time. Hux smirked coolly.

“Careful Ren, that your personal interests not interfere with orders from Leader Snoke.” Ren pointed a finger in Hux’s face emphasising his words.

“I want that map. For your sake, I suggest you get it.” He stalked off and Hux was left looking at the bridge of his ship almost vibrating with unmatched hatred. He didn’t miss the threat in Kylo’s words but he was the one who had screwed up here, not Hux. His feet were moving before he could process where he was going, taking him through the corridors of his ship right to your door. He didn’t knock this time, letting himself in and hoping you could forgive the intrusion.

You looked up from what you were reading on your datapad, at the sound of your door opening. It had been hours since you’d seen him but you didn’t think he’d be back any time soon. He strode in, his face impassive and ruddy as he paced the length of your quarters and back to the door. He was agitated, you could see his gloved hands behind his back clenching and releasing with every step he took. His hair was falling slightly loose and his green eyes blazed with annoyance. You weren’t sure what to do, he clearly thought of your quarters as a place he could come when he was this wound up and it made that ball of warmth expand in your chest.

You wanted to speak but you weren’t sure how well it would be received so you settled down and just took the time to admire this fine man strutting up and down your living area. He paused and looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it.

“Can I help in any way?” The sound of your voice made him inhale and his gaze finally alighted on you, his pacing slowing but not stopping.

“No, but being here is helping.” You were burning to ask what had happened, what had got him so worked up and you wondered if Kylo had done something to annoy your General.

“Would you like me to read to you?” You asked calmly, picking the datapad back up. “It’s just some poetry from the core worlds.” You looked up at him noticing the frown that marred his sharp features, but he nodded slightly and you took a breath in.

“Is all we do for nothing?

In the end, I mean.

Is any of it worth it?

Truly?

Don’t you know that only

A few of us reach the stars?” Your gaze drifted to him to see his pacing had stopped but the frown was still in place as he regarded his boots. You continued.

“The rest of us claw at the ground

Below our feet

Wondering why we

Could never quite grasp the moon

Or even touch the clouds.

Why do we continue?

If we cannot gain glory

Why bother attempting?

Why bother a chance with a

Flickering light when

You could gain certainty?

Because only legends get to carve their names in the sky….” You looked up to see he was looking at you now. An intense glower lit his gaze, his hands were fidgeting at chest level and you felt your heart flutter against your ribs. “That’s what you’re going to do,” you said softly. “When Starkiller is ready, your name is going to be carved into the history of the Galaxy.” He stepped forward, his fingers flexing as a heavy breath left his chest. The moment suspended around you both as you stared deeply into each other, the intensity of his expression made your insides quiver. His name fell unbidden from your lips hoping you could convey enough feeling into that single word. Your heart was pounding now, a dull ache inside you at the memory of his kiss from the other day. Your lips tingled and subconsciously you ran your tongue over them which drew his gaze to your mouth but to your disappointment he backed away and you couldn’t stop your heart falling into your stomach. The sound of your door closing after him splintered your heart and you curled your fist in defeat. You didn’t know how to get him to open up, to get him to see he was worthy of your attention.

Hux strode down the corridors, his body flooding with adrenaline, his heart galloping against his ribs accentuating the tight feeling in his chest. Every breath felt like a chore as he struggled to get air into his lungs. His mind could barely gather a worthy thought and the image of your open expression and gaze of pure admiration shook him to his core. He didn’t know what to do with it, this feeling that snaked around his insides whenever he thought of you, and now he had the image of you looking at him like that imprinted in his mind. He wrung his hands together, suddenly finding himself back on the bridge.

“Report!” He barked.

“S-sir….” He looked up at Mitaka noticing the nervous look all over his face and he just knew something had gone wrong.

“Well?” The poor man was shaking in his boots but Hux didn't have time to pussy foot around his Lieutenant today.

“The droid got away.”

“The pilot?”

“Not found.”

“FN-2187?” He asked abruptly, already fearing the answer.

“W-with the droid.” Mitaka licked his lips before continuing, his back almost bowing under the pressure of Hux’s intense glare. “They escaped on a YT model freighter.” Fury swept through Hux like nothing he’d ever felt before, his hands gripping each other tightly as he tried to rein himself in from doing something he’d regret. Is this how his father felt? Whenever Hux did something wrong? The difference was Brendol set his son up for failure, Hux had everything in place so these miscreants could not possibly fail.

“Report to Ren at once.” He ignored the way Dopheld blanched at the order and Hux tried not to think it could be the last time he’d see him. Giving news like this to Kylo Ren was usually a death sentence. But someone had to take the fall for this failure, this failure that had nothing to do with Hux at all. In fact if Kylo had exercised his special abilities on the surface of Jakku none of this would have happened. Hux stood stock still in his office, the urge to sweep everything off his desk was monumental but also a waste of effort, so he fought the urge. Automatically his strung out mind thought of you, the scent of your hair as it brushed past his cheek, the warmth of your body as you leaned into him, the taste of your lips on his mouth, and he realised he owed you a decent dinner. He opened the door to his office only to find the Captain on the other side.

“Yes Phasma?”

“Commander Ren has…destroyed a control panel.” This wasn’t news to Hux, he knew the man would exercise his temper and destroy something on his ship.

“Mitaka?”

“Alive, he’s in the medbay as they had to sedate him.”

“The man is….” He couldn't say what he wanted to say about the huge blundering fool that seemed to just destroy everything he looked at. He bit back the rest of the sentence slipping behind the mask that helped him cope. “Send out to our informants we are looking for this BB unit. Source a description from the troopers that saw it. Now I am off to have dinner. I don’t want to hear from you or Ren or anyone unless Mitaka dies. Also give the heading to go back to Starkiller. Understand?”

“Perfectly.” She smirked, standing aside to let him pass. He strode down the corridor feeling an odd sort of confidence knowing he was coming to spend time with you.

“Back so soon?” You asked when the door to your quarters slid open but when you looked up your blood ran cold. Commander Ren stood just inside your doorway, his entire body seemed to vibrate with a dark energy you could feel and it frightened you. Hux coming in here steaming was one thing, Kylo Ren was an entirely different animal. “Can I help you Commander?” You asked softly not wanting to startle him or show any signs of aggression in case it triggered him. His breath was heavy and ragged as it filtered through his mask. You found yourself wondering what was under the helmet, was he human? Did he wear the mask because races other than humans weren’t generally accepted in the First Order? You tried to keep your expression blank as his hands rose slowly, the hiss and click of his mask sounded loud in the quiet and he pulled it off his head revealing a human face. The first thing you noticed was his shock of dark hair, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t expecting it to be hidden under that helmet, and the length...it showed he had no regard for the First Order regulations. His eyes were bright, a rich honey colour and they were fixated on you, his lips were full and plush, freckles dotted his pale skin and you couldn’t help but trace them to his ears. The tips protruded from his hair giving him a boyish look, he looked so young. So this was Leader Snoke’s apprentice, the wielder of the darkside and wrecker of your husband's ship.

“I had nowhere else to go.” His voice was deep and rich, it’s tones pleasing on your ears but you didn’t believe him for a second. Goosebumps rose over your skin as he reached for you, the tendrils of his power licking up the side of your neck and you shook your head.

“I can feel you.” You almost snapped and he withdrew. Surprise marking his handsome features and you realised he must wear the mask all the time so he wouldn’t be any good at hiding his expressions. “Why do you do it?”

“I want to know more about you.”

“Then just ask?” You didn’t have time for this, you knew Hux could appear at any moment and you didn’t want anything upsetting the General anymore. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You have a sense of calm about you. It’s appealing.”

“That may be, Commander. But you need to find somewhere else to go.” You saw his gaze turn to the door moments before it opened, a look flickered across his face and his hands tightened on his helmet. Your breath stuttered as Hux walked in, if he was an animal his hackles would have been raised. His shoulders were back pushing his chest out, his green eyes spitting fire at the Commander, their gazes locked in a silent battle. “The Commander was just leaving.” You said loudly leaving no doubt from your tone that he was an unwelcome guest. Hux moved behind Ren breaking the eye contact between them, the taller man looked at you and momentarily he looked lost. It was fleeting, a haunted shadow flying across his expression and it sowed that single seed of doubt in your mind. The mask was slipped back over his head and once again he was the faceless monster that terrorized the contents of the ship. He left without a word and you looked at Hux, one hand was behind his back, the other was clenched before his chest as he surveyed the rushing light of hyperspace out of your viewport. You got up and went to stand next to him, you wanted to reassure him but something told you not to speak at all. You noted the way his jaw clenched over and over again, his thumb flexing over his closed fingers, the way his nostrils flared slightly as he took a breath making his chest heave. The tension in the room was becoming unbearable and you desperately wanted to say something to break it, you wanted him to yell or tell you off, even just look at you. Anything was better than this gut wrenching silence. You toyed with the hem of your outfit trying to distract yourself from what was possibly going through your husband's mind. It was late and you were tired, so he must be utterly exhausted. You turned to him, your sudden movement making him flinch slightly.

“Are you hungry?” He barely shifted to acknowledge your question but you were already moving. “I have some Jogan fruit I can prepare.” You didn’t wait for a reply. Dragging a knife from the stand in your little kitchen area, grabbing a plate and you began to slice the fruit into slices. You pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler and laid it all on the table, but he didn’t move, his back still rigid with whatever feeling he was trying to contain within himself. You broke to seal and poured two glasses, slowly moving back to his side and offering him the glass. To your relief he took it, a soft nod dislodged some of his flaming red hair and it fell across his brow. You eyed it for a moment before commenting. “It looks long,” you said softly.

“Yes, I noticed that this morning.” His voice cracked slightly and you wanted nothing more than to take him into your arms and stroke his hair until he fell asleep but you knew he’d recoil if you did, so you settled for comforting him in the only way you knew he’d accept. Just standing in his presence and silently letting him know he wasn’t alone.

“Who normally cuts your hair?” His feet shifted and for the first time you watched as he ran a hand through it, ruffling more strands and a look of disgust crossed his features for a moment.

“I don’t know, I try not to look at them because…” he trailed off looking down at his glass and it dawned on you, they would have to touch him. You felt your heart expand, what had happened to make him so fearful of something as simple as touching?

“You know, I used to cut my fathers hair. I could give it a go.” He looked at you, both brows raised in surprise as he rolled his lips after a sip of wine, you couldn’t help but smile slightly now he looked like he was relaxing a little. “Only if you want me to….”

“Yes.” His answer seemed to shock him slightly and he took another gulp of wine, his gaze turning back out to the lights and you marvelled at how they reflected in his eyes and darted across his handsome face giving him an otherworldly appearance.

“Now?” You asked hopefully. His fingers fiddled on the glass, his gaze darting to the side and you saw his throat bob as he swallowed hard. “We don’t have to,” you suggested trying to backtrack.

“It needs doing.” He necked the rest of the wine and turned to pour some more.

“Ok well I’ll need it wet, luckily for you I have a comb and some decent scissors from Arkanis.” His face paled and he rocked on his heels slightly, his knuckles whiting out with his tight grip on the glass. You stepped into the refresher and laid a towel for him. “I’ll wait outside, I just need you to wet your hair,” you reassured him. Your entire body ached seeing him react this way and you made a note to question Phasma in more depth about his past. He strode past you without a glance and locked himself in the ‘fresher, you had no idea how long he’d be so you decided to sit and wait at the table. Picking up your datapad you’d barely read a page when the door reopened.

Your breath puffed out of you at the sight of him with wet hair, his tunic was undone at the top and you tried to keep your expression neutral as a rich flush threatened to engulf your body. He was the most handsome you’d seen him and he was letting you touch him. You couldn’t ruin this now. You gently tapped on the chair and he made his way over to you, sitting carefully down, his bare hands tugged on his top like he was uncomfortable, his back was dead straight and the first thing you did was put his glass back in his hand. You stepped behind him seeing the subtle shift in his shoulders as the tension gathered in his neck, the muscles corded and you could see his jaw clenching tightly.

“I’m going to brush your hair,” you stated softly. The comb was dark as it ran smoothly through his stunning hair, you’d never seen a colour like it, so bright and vibrant. The appropriate crowning glory for such a man. “Now I’m going to start cutting, please don’t move.” You bent down using the comb to create a straight line and you just trimmed and blended his hair in as much as possible. For the top you ran your hand through the silky firery strands, trying not to get carried away with the feel of them between your fingers. The dampness was cool on your skin and you bit your lip as you tried to concentrate. You wanted nothing more than to touch his hair all the time, this was the longest you’d been in close proximity to him, physically touching him and it made your heart thud loudly. When you came to the front you saw his eyes were closed, a little wrinkle appearing as he screwed up his nose at the sensation of stray strands landing on his face. You softly blew on his pale skin, close enough to see the gentle smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He flinched but didn’t pull away even if his hands balled into fists. You murmured an apology, running the comb through once more before declaring he was done. You went to brush off his shoulders but he rose suddenly and you caught the way his hands shook as he dusted himself down. He swept them over his shoulders and down his arms before straightening his uniform, his hair freshly washed and cut meant it fell freely across his brow and he ran a hand through it, clearly irritated that it was in his face. His eyes met yours for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“I should be going.” He said firmly, picking up his gloves from the table and heading to the door.

“Goodnight, Armitage.” You turned to gaze at him over your shoulder and he dipped his gaze slightly.

“Goodnight.” He replied through stiff lips before leaving you alone, once again.

46 notes · View notes

lofitojii · 4 years

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PART [I] Guardian Angel

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Summary: You are a new sidekick to the number two hero of Tokyo, Hawks. You team up with another sidekick, Bakugou, in an ongoing investigation on a serial killer. Unexpected interactions happen that flip the whole case around causing new, confusing feelings which alter your relationships in ways you never saw coming.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warning: Minor Swearing

A/N: It’s HERE!!! The new series I’ve been working on for the last month is finally planned out and I’m super excited about it! Please let me know what you think, there will be posts made for discussions before the new part is released.

NOTE: This is not following the current story at all. The League of Villains do not play any part in this at all, only Dabi.

Guardian Angel Master List

*★*――――*★**★*――――*★**★*――――*★*

The fall air was crisp, every inhaled breath chilling your body from the inside out. The leaves looked as if they were on fire, the deep crimson, the burnt orange, lighting up the grey world they resided in. This was your favorite time of year, when you could visibly see the seasons change. Despite the fact the darkest part of the year was right around the corner, you were looking forward to all of it. This year was going to be different, you could feel it ridden within you.

It was your first day at your new job, completely unaware and new to the area. You had moved in the weekend prior, receiving the job through a simple phone call interview. You had no idea who or what your new boss looked like. All you knew is that you were hand picked from a group of qualifying sidekicks to the number 2 hero, Hawks. Apparently he is a very busy man, and the only thing you knew about him was that his quirk was similar to yours. Except he can’t put his wings away.

How can you not know who the number 2 hero is? Well, coming from a rather small town where you worked 7 days a week kind of took up most of your free time, and when you did get a moment to yourself, you were either reading or spending time with the locals. You didn’t care much for TV or the news or social media. You enjoyed quality time and company, something most people didn’t really understand.

Your quirk was known as the ‘Angel Quirk’ meaning you had white wings that grew in size under your control, whenever you pleased. You also had a healing factor to your quirk, using your feathers as a type of medicine as well. You were a Pro Hero’s sidekick back in your home town but received an email one morning that read:

Dear Y/N,

After doing intense research and speaking to your most recent employer and university teachers, you have been chosen to accompany Japan’s number 2 hero, Hawks, as his personal sidekick with the goal of becoming one of Japan’s very own perosnal Pro Heroes. According to your employer, he has said he feels you have greater potential that you can’t utilize in your small town. Please give us a call or email us back. Thank you!

-Hawks Agency

You had no idea your previous employer had reached out until you received that letter. You didn’t mind doing small hero work here and there in your small town but when your boss stressed to you that you could be and do more, you decided to reach out. You didn’t know what you were expecting but you had received the job within the first 10 minutes of your interviewl.

So that’s where you are now, downtown Tokyo, trying your best to understand how the train systems worked. Yeah, you could’ve just flown there but you didn’t want to make a scene before debuting with your new boss. It was just something you had decided, thinking that maybe an article would be released about a new hero coming to town rather than being seen with Hawks himself first. You didn’t want to come off as rude or arrogant, even though you knew you were probably overthinking the situation.

You just wanted to make a good impression, regardless of what your old boss had said about you. They already have this idea of you, and you wanted to live up to that idea. Your boss did speak highly of you, you didn’t want to let anyone down, mainly yourself.

“Damn, this city is huge,” you cursed out loud, looking up from the city map you had picked up at the subway stop before you hopped on. “So if that’s the coffee shop, then I still have about a good mile or two before I get to the agency building. Maybe I should use my wings to get the- OOF!” you were hit in the back, causing you to choke on your words and stumble over onto the cement.

“Sorry!” You looked up to see a man, his red wings casting a long shadow over you. “Didn’t see ya there! Sometimes I’m too fast for my own damn good.” He reached his hand out, letting you tightly grip it as he helped you up.

“You’re good, I was the one standing there like a mindless idiot,” you joked, reaching down to pick up the things you had dropped due to your collision. When you stood up, you noticed that he was already gone. Wow, so much for being polite. He said sorry but what does that mean when he just flies off without saying anything else? Whatever, you had to get to work so you just decided to brush it off.

You expanded your white wings, trying your best to fly higher than the city clouds in order to keep people from seeing you. You thought to yourself that maybe this was the best route to work, clear yet cold skys. Not to mention you would cut your full trip in half. You landed in front of the office building, retracting your wings back to its original, small size before entering the building. You approached the girl that was sitting behind a desk, tapping away at her keyboard. You cleared your throat before interrupting. “Hi, I’m the new sidekick Y/N. Just wondering where I need to go?” You asked the front receptionist you guided you towards the elevators.

“It’s the top floor,” she smiled. “Good luck, Miss Y/N.” You let out a sigh of relief as you stood in the elevator alone. Your day had just barely started and yet you could feel yourself already growing tired of everything. Your temper was rather short today, that man setting something off in you when he left without saying anything. Thank god you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Tokyo was a rather large city, what are the chances of running into him a second time? You tried your best to shake off the incident that took place this morning, not wanting it to ruin your full day ahead of you.

You walked up to the giant wooden doors, knocking twice before opening them. You were greeted with a huge open window, a single desk sitting in the middle of the room with a beautiful view behind it. There were bookshelves lined with literature you had read or had planned to read. “Similar tastes,” you whispered as you traced along the backbone of the books. The room was empty, leaving you alone to examine the things you found interesting to you.

“You like what you see?” Wait a second… That voice... “You must be the new sidekick. How’s it going? I’m Hawks.” You turned around and were faced with the man that had knocked you over earlier. For some reason, dread took over, your actions visible to the man standing in front of you. “Why the long face?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” you scoffed, the man giving you a blank look. “You literally knocked me off my feet earlier? I dropped everything?” He was still giving you that stupid blank look. “You’re joking…”

“OH! I remember now. Yeah sorry about that,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “I was in a hurry.” Wow...

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes at his comment, unimpressed with the lack of remorse that came through his tone. You felt as if this relationship would be decided here, right now, just based on the way you were feeling as he stood there, a stupid grin plastard on his face. You let out a deep sigh, trying to regulate your breathing so you wouldn’t lash out on your new boss who was standing inches away from you. “I guess I’ll introduce myself since we’ll be working together. My name is Y/N L/N, I’m from a small town about 4 hours out of Tokyo. My quirk is known as the ‘Angel Quirk’ meaning I can do anything you can but better.”

“Woah, woah,” he stopped you, waving his hands in the air. “That’s a pretty bold statement, newby. What do you mean ‘better’?”

“I mean I can hide my wings if I want to, and also can expand them when I choose. They regenerate within the hour, I can use them to heal both internal and external wounds depending on how severe the injury is. I can also use them as weapons, hardening them as I please.”

“Okay but can you use them to listen to things? Do you have the ability to use them as an extension of you? As in, can you use them to listen or to track?” He was grilling you with questions, almost as if you struck a nerve with him. It was quite amusing to see him all flustered like this.

“I can use them to track things within a certain radius, the further away from the feather, the harder it is for me to make things out.” He furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Okay yeah, your quirk is better in some parts but that doesn’t make you better than me.”

“I never said I was better than you, I only said my quirk was better. You’re the number 2 hero for a reason, I have no doubt in your skill at all.” He really got his feelings hurt that bad by your comment? Talk about a fragile ego.

He let out a sigh, sounding a little grumpy in his words as he went through the paperwork with you. “Oh and take this,” He handed you a bag, his cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know what it looks like but the design team came up with it since we do have similar quirks.”

“A new costume?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at the fabric with the paper bag. It was a body suit, like an actual teddy style body suit, a pair of sheer tights, and some knee high boots. There was also a pair of yellow goggles, matching the ones Hawks were wearing. “What if people think we’re dating?” You didn’t really think about it much until Hawks gave you your new costume that was almost identical in color to his. It was balck and gold, just like his shirt, the cropped jacket being a deeper shade of brown, just like his jacket.

“And? So what if they do? I wouldn’t mind faking it,” he smirked, winking directly at you. He began to laugh as you reached your hand to hide your crimson cheeks. They were warm, you knew his comment made you blush, and so did he.

“Shut the hell up,” you responded, biting your lip. “I’m going to request a new jacket at least. I’m sorry but this color is hideous with the black.”

“You really think so?” he asked, looking at his own jacket. “Well in that case, I’ll ask for them to give us black ones.”

“White,” you stopped him. “I want a white one.”

“White it is, m’lady,” he bowed, getting up from his seat. He leaned over his desk, transitioning from his bowed state, coming face to face with you. He was so close you could smell the lingering fragrance of mint coming from his breath. “I’m excited to work with you.” You quickly got up, bowing in response all in one quick motion, knocking your head with his. It was loud, painful, and embarrassing all within the 30 seconds that it took place. “Ow ow ow ow ow,” he rubbed his forehead, exposing the red bump that was getting ready to form.

You were quick to pluck two white feathers from the right side of your back, leaning over the desk and pressing it to his forehead. “Hold still,” you struggled to get out as Hawks winced in pain. You let out a deep breath, focusing on the feather in your hand. It was quick to dissolve, leaving Hawks in awe with what had just happened. He sat back down, watching you apply the same treatment to yourself.

“Wow,” he breathed, still in shock from what just took place. “Your quirk really is cool.”

“The only downside to my healing is that it’s only possible with the right side of my wings. The left side doesn’t have the same ability,” you admitted while sitting back down, your wings returning to their smaller size so you were able to sit more comfortably. Hawks just sat there, gobsmacked with the events that just occurred. “To be honest, we gotta get this whole bumping into each other thing under control.”

“You’re telling me,” he whispered, leaning back in his own seat. He finally snapped back into reality after being lost within himself. “Go change into your new costume and I’ll put the order in for the white coat. You’re going on patrol today with one of my other sidekicks. He’s newer to the team so it will be good for you two to get comfortable with each other. I will warn you though, he’s a bit of a hot head. Short temper, super egotistical. Great guy though, you’ll love him.”

“He sounds wonderful,” you noted sarcastically. You were soon interrupted by the sound of the door opening, being greeted with a blonde haired man with quite the aggressive scowl.

“What the hell did you say, you damn bird?” You turned your head, taking notice to his rather large grenade equipment covering his forearms. Those have to be super heavy, the look like they weigh more than the man himself.

“There you are! Bakugou, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Y/N! You guys are going to be working together from here on out. You’re still my sidekicks, so we’re still a team here but when it comes to the more lowkey stuff, like investigations and patrolling, you guys will be working together.” Did he really just say ‘lowkey’? How old is this guy? He’s got to be older than you, having started his own agency, right?

“Yeah, whatever,” Bakugou growled. Hawks wasn’t kidding when he said this guy was a hot head, the vibe he was giving off really intimidated you. But then again, you weren’t one to take shit, not even from some punk coworker with a short temper. “I’m leaving in 10. Better hurry you noob.”

“Noob?” You questioned, grabbing your things and following Bakugou out the room. You stopped before you reached the door, turning around and bowing towards Hawks. “Thank you!”

“Good luck, kid!” He waved back, his smile sweet and reassuring. You had experienced something rather unpleasant that morning with Hawks, only to find out he was your new boss. He seemed to be quite the air head, or at least spacey in some aspect. He was interesting to you, and for some reason you wanted to know more about him. The fact he had asked for you specifically out of all the other applicants was even more interesting to you. Did he choose you for another reason? Was it because you had a similar quirk to his? As time goes on, you can only hope that you’ll uncover these hidden secrets you were so focused on. He didn’t need to tell you he was hiding anything, you could just feel something in his aura.

You followed Bakugou who led you to the women's locker room, telling you he would wait outside the door for you to be finished. He actually told you to ‘hurry the fuck up’ but you just rolled your eyes at his demand. You thought to yourself that if anyone else would have been paired up with this guy, you were sure they would resign due to his attitude. You weren’t one to give up, though. You were here for a reason, having a set goal that wasn’t about to be ruined due to some smart asses comments. Not to mention, the children in the foster home you grew up in were mean as hell.

When you put on the outfit, you were flustered by how revealing it was. You did mention that you needed flexibility in your costume but you didn’t think it was going to be some kind of lingerie set. Hopefully the coat you requested is available soon, thinking that maybe it would help cover up some of the more revealing parts.

You exited the locker room, only things on you being your Hero License and your outfit. Bakugou handed you an ear piece, letting you know it’s used for the both of you, two other side kicks and Hawks himself. “So what exactly are we doing today?” You asked, exiting the building with Bakugou by your side.

“We’ve been asked to investigate the west side of town. Rumor has it that some dick head guy has been spotted frequently in the area who has been linked to a chain of murdered victims. All the bodies have similar burn marks, as if it’s this guys sick way of marking his work. Our job is to try and see if we can narrow down his exact location.” You had read over the file prior to moving to the city, being asked by the agency so that way you weren’t too behind on what was going on.

Description: Black hair, scars covering majority of his body, black coat, black shoes, distressed jeans. Last known location: West Tokyo. Number of bodies linked to crime: 12.

“Well then,” you started, letting your wings grow to their full capability. You reached your hand out towards Bakugou, signaling for him to grab on.

“What the hell? What are you doing? I don’t need your fucking help.”

“I get that but if you let me carry you, we could cut our trip time in half and with it being fall, almost winter, it’s going to get dark soon. I have no doubt that you can get there by yourself but if we want to play it smart and more efficient,” you sang, reaching your hand out again for him to take, letting your actions finish your statment. He wasn’t happy about the idea but he knew you were right, making it obvious by his aggressive huff.

You wrapped Bakugou up in your arms, taking off the second you knew you had a secure grip on him. With flying to the west side of town, it really did cut the travel time in half, leaving you an extra hour or so to investigate, much longer than what the estimated time stated. “Land there!” Bakugou yelled, pointing at the roof of a mini mart that was placed in between two rather tall buildings. You released your grip on him, his immediate reaction being annoyed and bothered by the ‘wind’ and you ‘flying too damn fast’. You just ignored his remarks, letting him take the lead on the investigation so he would stop complaining.

“How long have you worked for Hawks?” You asked, taking a seat next to Bakugou. He lowered his glasses that matched both yours and Hawks’, using them to enhance his sight towards the ground below.

“Why do you care?” He growled, avoiding any sort of eye contact with you.

“Well I don’t but if we’re going to be working together, I think it’s important that we have a bearable relationship, don’t you agree?”

“No I don’t. I don’t care who you are or where you come from. We’re co workers, that’s it.” You didn’t expect Bakugou’s words to hurt as much as they did. You barely met the guy and he’s already made his decision on how the relationship was going to be. A part of you wanted to just let it go, to just accept the fact that he didn’t care for personal relationships, but the other part, the part of you that always got you into trouble, wanted to know and be more with him.

“Well I care,” you finally blurted out, causing Bakugou to finally look over at you. “I’m not saying that we have to be friends but if we want to be a strong team, we have to get to know each other on a more personal level. I can see you’re very strong and I also know that we could be really good together. So ignore me all you want but I’m not going to stop asking.” He looked puzzled, as if no one had ever bothered to speak to him like this. It was as if he was thrown into foreign territory and had to figure out how to navigate to the sudden outburst.

“3 months,” he answered, immitadly turning away from you. You couldn’t help but smile at the small achievement you had accomplished. It wasn’t something drastic or something to celebrate, but you took it as a win regardless.

After sitting on the roof for a good half hour, you had decided to take street view, letting Bakugou keep the high ground. You were told that the suspect wore a black coat, had dark features, but the main identifier being his scars. He wore the black coat to hide his arms and body and wore a face mask to hide the scars that are suspected to be on his face.

After mindlessly walking for what felt like forever, Bakugou finally came through the ear piece. “Angel, there’s a man fitting our description on the other side of the street, walking towards your direction.” You were quick to react, trying to spot any signs of a man in a dark coat. You thought you were going to lose him in the crowd, having to make your way through groups of people walking in your opposite direction.

“Bakugou, I don’t-” You were suddenly cut off, being pushed back by the force of colliding with another person. You lost your balance, falling straight onto the concrete sidewalk below you. “Ouch…” You winced in pain, the collision of your bum hitting the hard concrete rattling you a bit. You looked up to see what it was that you had bumped into, Bakugou screaming in your ear before you could put the pieces together.

“THAT’S HIM!” You made eye contact, complete shock written across your facial features as you stared directly at the man you had been looking for.

“Here,” he reached his hand out, offering to help you up from your fall. “Sorry about that. It’s easy to get caught up in these crowds.” You were hesitant to take his hand but did it anyways, knowing that you had to diminish any sort of suspicion. His hand was rough to the touch, as if it was scared more so than dry skin. You noticed his stitches that held his scars together, slightly grazing over them as you released. “Oh uhh.. I got these cause my quirk is too strong for me to really handle.” The man seemed to be around your age, his whole appearance matching the description you were given.

What do I do?

“Oh I wasn’t meaning to stare,” you hesitantly assured him, trying to awkwardly laugh off the situation.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he finally changed the subject, the new topic being just as stressful as the last.

“Oh yeah I’m new to town! Just doing an internship so I’m still kind of new to all of this. I’m just out patrolling the area, making sure nothing bad happens. Ya know, the normal hero stuff.” You awkwardly scratched the back of your head, avoiding eye contact as best as you could. In all honesty, you wanted to cut this conversation short and let Bakugou track him to wherever he was planning on going, but your mind had gone blank. You were unable to think of an out so instead, you had to let the conversation carry on until you found an opening.

“Well I bet people will feel better having such a pretty hero like you around to keep them safe.” Woah woah woah… Did he really just call you pretty? And are you actually blushing right now at his comment?? Get it together Y/N!

“Eh- haha. I mean I’m just doing my job, just like any other hero.” Please leave. Please go away. Please give me an opening to get out of here.

“I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you then?” His smile was everything but welcoming. You could see that this man wasn’t someone who found heroes pleasant to begin with. The uneasy feeling you had when you made eye contact the first time started to grow, causing you to internally panic. “Cute wings. Reminds me of another Pro Hero I see flying around here sometimes.”

“Uh… Who?” You asked, trying your best to play dumb. He furrowed his brows, your response coming off more suspicious than before. “I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m new here and I don’t even know who I work for. I was just sent here as soon as I got there so I haven’t really met anyone.”

“Huh. Well I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. Especially if you have wings like that,” he said, pointing to your enlarged wings. “He’s a pretty big fan of people who have similar quirks to his.”

“I’ll definitely have to keep an eye out then. Sounds like we’d get along.”

“The names Dabi, by the way. And you are?” Did he really just tell you his name? Was the whole ‘play dumb’ act really working? Could this be some kind of message that he wants to send to Hawks since he was the one who mentioned him?

“You can call me Angel,” you responded, knowing it was better to offer your hero name rather than your real one. You chose the hero name ‘Angel’ because it could be taken as either a hero name or even a birth given name.

“Angel,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. “Fitting.” You didn’t respond this time, wanting to let the conversation end there which Dabi caught onto. “Well I’ll let you get back to work Angel. I hope I see you again.” And with that, he was gone, disappearing from your view into the crowd of people.

You were quick to make your way around the block so that way you could communicate with Bakugou without having to worry about Dabi overhearing anything if he had happened to still be in ear shot distance. “Angel what happened!? Did you get anything?”

“I’ll come find you! Just keep tracking him! I’m on my way!” you told Bakugou before lifting off above the city. You were quick to spot Bakugou who was jumping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping a steady pace and decent distance between him and the suspect. Once Bakugou stopped, you took that as a sign to land on the closest building and follow Bakugou’s actions so that way you could keep a low profile since the suspect now knew who you were. You mentally kicked yourself in the butt, knowing that you should’ve just left after he helped you up.

“What did he say?” Bakugou barked, his vision focused on the cluster of buildings in front of him.

“Well I got his name.”

“And?” He looked over at you, his expression completely unreadable. Were you going to get in trouble for making contact? And on the first day too?

“Dabi.” Bakugou’s face went white, his expression telling you that maybe they knew more about the suspect than they were telling you. “Bakugou, who’s Dabi?”

“I pinpointed the location. Let’s get back to the agency and report to Hawks what we found.”

“I’m not taking us anywhere until you tell me who this Dabi guy is!”

“Suit yourself you dumb bird.” He was quick to blast off, making his way back in the direction of the agency. You were in shock by his sudden outburst, creating quite the distance between you two. What is going on? You were so confused, only being left more in the dark as Bakugou ignored your multiple questions.

Snap out of it Y/N! Follow him!

“What- Bakugou!!”

#hawks #Hawks fanfic #hawks x reader #hawks x female reader #hawks one shot #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #Dabi #dabi x female reader #dabi fanfic #dabi x reader

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bohemianrequiem · 3 years

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Here’s my Codeswapped gift for @nemesisadraste ! I had so much fun writing for Sam and expanding upon her relationship with Odd and the other Lyoko Warriors. I hope you have just as much fun reading it!

Prompt - Sam becomes a Lyoko Warrior

If you had told Sam earlier today that her evening would be taking a turn for the unexpected, she wouldn’t have doubted it-

Things were always that way when Odd was around and that was how she liked it. The unpredictability of their dates as a simple plan for dinner would turn into an hours long romp through the market district of town, both of them perusing clothes neither one could afford, was just another part of the fun of their relationship. Funnily enough, she had come to begin expecting these little pleasant surprises the more time they spent together. However, there was another trend that Sam was beginning to develop over the last few weeks.

First, Odd’s phone would ring and would with his nonchalant greeting of “What’s up,”followed by the name of one of his various friends from Kadic. Usually Jeremy or Ulrich, sometimes Yumi, and very rarely a strange girl named Aelita would be on the other end. After a moment, Odd’s brow would furrow, his jaw would set, and an uncharacteristic seriousness would envelop his entire person. “For real? Yeah, I’ve got it. On my way.” He would then flip his cell shut and turn his gaze towards Sam, his features slowly softening to the goofy boy she’d come to care so much for.

“Sam, I know what you’re gonna say-“ He placed his hands up in mock surrender, a worried chuckle already slipping past his lips before he could even finish his sentence.

“Let me guess, you’ve gotta go?” Sam sighed, more out of habit than any actual disappointment. Like she’d said, this was becoming a frequent portion of their date nights. At least this time they’d actually got to enjoy a movie together and make it halfway through dinner. Her burger half eaten and now being laid down on a plastic red tray, she shrugged. “Do what you gotta do, man. Text me when you get back to the dorms for the night?”

Odd blinked once, then twice. “A-Are you sure?” Obviously surprised at her lack of frustration at his need to preemptively end their date. Sam just waved her hand in dismissal, as if pushing the worry out of existence.

“Yeah, Dude. I know Kadic’s got you guys doing hella group projects this semester. Go help your friends.” At least, that was the excuse Odd had used before. She might have believed it the first time or two, even if schoolwork wasn’t usually that high up on Odd’s list of priorities, but something about his behavior recently had clued her into the fact that this was about something much bigger than school. “So, go on. I’ll be fine making it back to my place.”

Odd took his bottom lip between his front teeth, a habit that Sam had long since stopped trying to break him of, then nodded. “Thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” He gave a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, then dashed off down the sidewalk. “I’ll text you later, okay?!” He called out over his shoulder as he rounded the first corner.

Another thing Sam had come to accept about Odd was that he was a terrible liar. Case in point, he had literally just ran off in the opposite direction of his school. After a couples minutes of anxious internal debate, she began to follow.

~~~

When Sam arrived at the old factory on the outskirts of the river that cut through town, she had initially worried that she’d lost Odd’s trail and accidentally followed someone else’s. After all, what would Odd be doing at some old place like this?

However, maybe this place wasn’t quite as abandoned as she thought. Despite the paint having chipped off the walls decades ago and piles of scrap iron cropping up throughout the interior, the floor looked relatively clear of dust and other small debris. Somebody, or maybe a groups of somebodies, had obviously been coming through here quite frequently to keep the dust and other objects from settling. That and the ropes hanging from the ceiling, one of which was still gently swaying from side to side as if it had just been handled, clued her into things not being quite what they appeared.

Deciding not to trust the rickety old elevator, which likely didn’t even run anymore, Sam followed one such dust-free path from the main floor of the factory down to another area full of old machines. They looked like the ones used in car factories to put heavy pieces of metal on the chassis of vehicles together, but had obviously been in a state of disuse just as long as much of the factory.

From this room, a winding trail that many times lead Sam to various dead-ends finally culminated in her opening a door into a spacious computer room, complete with some type of projection emanating from the center of the room. A few steps in and she could hear the frantic clicking and clacking of a keyboard across the room. Hidden by the sizable monitor in front of his face, a young boy spoke little.

“Okay, Odd. You should be able to see the construct now.....Yes, I know it’s huge, but you need to get inside of it and regroup with Yumi and Ulrich. I’ve lost contact with them for exactly-“ He checked his watch. “Ten minutes now. And communication with Aelita is spotty, at best. It’s up to you to....to uh....” His eyes lifted from his watch’s face to see Sam standing just a handful of steps into the room.

“Yo,” She put her hand in the area in a tentative wave. “Jeremy, right? I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say this isn’t your social studies project, is it?”

Sam swore she could see a vein in Jeremy’s forehead pulse as he slowly sat backwards and readjusted a microphone attached to his earpiece. “Odd? Were you aware that your girlfriend is here at the factory?”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Was he seriously just going to ignore her and act like they weren’t even in the same room together? “Is that really Odd on the other end? Let me talk to him.” She took a number of determined steps towards Jeremy, the boy defensively putting his hands up around his earpiece.

“No, no, I don’t think she’s infected, but she does look awfully upset. What’d you do to her this time, Romeo?” He stood up and put his hands out placatingly. “Samantha, please-“

“It’s Sam,” She interrupted as her march came to a standstill in front of Jeremy, placing her hands on her hips and impatiently tapping her foot. “Never Samantha.”

“Sam. Right.” He nervously adjusted his glasses. “I know this is gonna be difficult to understand, but you can’t talk to Odd right now. He’s on a very important mission right now. Odd’s still here at the factory with us, at least technically, but you’re not going to be able to see him until he’s finished.”

A mission? Was this some kind of code or was this dude seriously losing his marbles? “What do you mean he’s here but he’s not? Why can’t Odd just tell me all this himself, without all the lying and hiding?”

“He’s not hiding, Sam, he’s doing something extremely important. Come look.” Jeremy motioned her over to the computer monitor behind him. As she took in the many blinking lights and constantly changing lines of code, Jeremy sat down and relaxed. “See? He’s right here, located outside of this massive structure the geography of which I’ve been mapping for days now. The only problem is that I can’t quite figure out what’s inside of it. That’s where Odd and the others come in.”

“The others? You mean Yumi, Ulrich, and Canada girl, right?” Sam shook her head. “Wait, wait, so you expect me to believe that Odd’s inside there? Inside the computer?”

Jeremy nodded. “Exactly.”

Sam had come to accept a lot of things about Odd: from his personality, to his hobbies, but this went beyond all of that completely. Just as she was about to voice her disbelief again, a frantic beeping came from the computer. She watched over Jeremy’s shoulder as he began typing with near reckless abandon and spoke into his microphone again.

“Odd, bad news. You’ve got hostile hornets inbound. Four of them by the looks of it.” Four red dots appeared on screen, worryingly close to a blue dot indicating Odd’s location. The hornets zipped around the screen, surrounding Odd and barraging him attacks that Sam couldn’t see. From the way Jeremy’s face contorted with worry, though, she didn’t need to see the attack to know things were bad.

“This isn’t good. The hornets shouldn’t be able to move that fast. It’s like being inside the construct has super charged them or something.” A dull beep sounded and Jeremy tsked. “Odd, you’ve just lost fifteen life points. Be careful!” Sam could barely hear her boyfriend’s voice over the other end and desperately wished she could reach out and answer.

“What happens when he hits zero?” She asked, the quietness of her voice surprising her in the moment.

“What?” Jeremy was busy typing away on the keyboard as he tried to discover the source of the hornets’ sudden power-up.

“I asked you what happens when Odd hits zero life points. You said he already lost fifteen, so what happens to him when he hits zero?”

Jeremy pursed his lips. “He’ll be devirtualized. Right now, he’s inside the computer program, but if he loses all of his life points when he’ll be ousted and return to being here in the factory with us.” He added under his breath with added frustration. “At least, that’s what’s supposed to happen....”

“And what does that mean?” Sam was beginning to lose her patience with Jeremy’s infuriating tendency to under-explain what was going on.

“It means, well, that they aren’t coming back like they’re supposed to.” He leaned back and breathed out a deep sigh. “Yumi and Ulrich have already lost all of their life points, and yet haven’t devirtualized. I can only guess as to why, but their shared code must be stuck in some kind of feedback loop within the simulation. To put it simply...” He looked up to her. “I can’t get them out.”

Sam nearly slammed her hand down on the computer keyboard, but fearing damaging Odd, settled for simply unleashing a verbal tirade onto Jeremy. “And you just sent Odd in there to deal with it by himself? I thought you guys were supposed to be his friends!”

“Of course we are!” Jeremy shouted back. “Odd knows the risk, so do Yumi and Ulrich. He’s not alone though, he has Aelita inside Lyoko to help him and he has me out here to provide support. Ever since we’ve met, we’ve all always had each other’s backs and that’s not going to stop now.”

“Then...” Sam’s gaze turned from Jeremy and settled on the computer screen. Her anger slowly ebbing away and revealing the worry underneath. “What are we going to do now? What can we do to help Odd and the others?”

Jeremy bent over the keyboard. She could practically hear the gears turning inside of his mind - there was a reason his friends all called him Einstein - until he snapped his fingers. “If we could temporarily overload the construct with some bad data, then that should be enough to slow down the hornets and put Odd at a greater advantage.” A flurry of keystrokes filled the air. “But, ah, it’s no use. I have no dominion inside the construction, no access to any towers, and I can’t directly send anything to Aelita in order to sabotage the hornets. If we went that route, I would have had to given the bad data to Odd right as he was being virtualized. But it’s too late now-“

“So give it to me.” Sam cut in. “If you can’t give it to anyone else to make the enemies easier to destroy, then upload the data with me and I can take it to Odd and Aelita.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Jeremy was about to launch into a deep explanation of the danger of a first timer launching themselves into an already precarious situation, before Sam put her hands on the arms of his chair and gently swiveled it around to face her.

“You said you care about Odd, well so do I. I don’t care about what might happen to me, I just want to chance to help.” Her voice was quiet, but sincere. A bit of insincerity slipped in with her next words. “ ‘Sides, I wasn’t asking, Pointdexter. Now put me in before I start keyboard smashing this thing.”

Jeremy thought for a long moment, then another, before slowly nodding. He could see why Odd was so crazy about this girl. “Fine. Head downstairs to the transporters and I’ll guide you from over the speakers. I can’t follow, but I can get you where you need to go from here.”

~~~

It was like a rush of electricity moving up her spine, before spreading throughout her entire body. The next thing she knew, Sam was staggering to the ground and could barely catch herself before falling face first. In her ear, Jeremy’s voice spoke.

“A little rougher than the usual, but not bad for your first time. I kind of had to rush your Lyoko avatar, but it should suffice for the time being. Most of it was procedurally generated anyways so-“

“Dude, c’mon, mission at hand before we start talking technical?” Sam shook her head as if clearing out his voice.

“Right, right, of course. You should be able to see the construct before you, it’s geometry is marginally different from the surrounding sector.” True to his word, her dark eyes scanned upwards and eyed the pale stone fortress before her. It’s coloring clashes drastically with the surrounding fog and light lavender rock of the Mountain Sector.

“The entrance is wide open. Isn’t this usually the part of the game where you have to defeat some kind of gatekeeper or something to get further into the dungeon?” Sam remarked as she swiftly passed into the threshold of the construct fortress.

“This isn’t a game, Sam. This is a matter of whether or not XANA can gain a new foothold within the Lyoko program, thus giving him greater power in the real world.” Jeremy pauses for a moment. “And, uh, Yumi and Ulrich already took care of the krabs guarding the entrance earlier....so there’s that.”

“I knew there had to be a gatekeeper!” Sam yelled triumphantly as she trekked further in. Hard, angular edges formed from what looked like polished stone walls guided her deeper and deeper into the otherworldly building. “So, speaking of mobs, what kind of weapons do I have?”

Jeremy audibly pressed a few buttons on his end and Sam could hear the sound of metal clinking together on her belt. “Like I was saying, I didn’t have much time to code anything too fancy. These digital shurikins should help if you encounter any ranged enemies and this-“ A weight suddenly appeared on her back. “-Is a copy of one of Ulrich’s katanas. I’d suppose you know how to use these?”

“Of course.” Sam chirped. “Sharp end towards the bad guys, then throw and stab, right?” On the other end, Jeremy groaned uncertainly. “Kidding, kidding. I think I can make these work. Now, what about this thing?” She motioned towards the metal gauntlet that encased her right forearm.

“In addition to being armor, it acts the as the containment module for the bad data I need you to inject. Once you engage the enemy, all you have to do is get within striking distance with the gauntlet and then-“

“Uh, Jeremy? I think the enemy’s already here.” After turning a particularly sharp corner, the narrow hallway Sam had been traveling down opened up into a room with high ceilings and expansive flooring. Towards the center, Odd pushed a very weary looking Aelita out of the way of a hornet’s well placed laser blast.

“Get behind me, Princess, these bozos are stronger than they look!” He fire a quick barrage of laser arrows towards the trio hornets, but their impressive speed allowed them to easily dodge each blast.

“No, Odd! Here!” Aelita kneeled down and bowed her head. Within a moment, a rock-like structure the same color as the rocks from the Mountain Sector appeared overhead. It shielded them from the hornet’s blasts, but shuddered with each and everything strike.

Within Sam’s ear, Jeremy voice came to life. “Aelita can’t maintain that barrier forever. And once it breaks, they’ll be totally defenseless. It’s up to you now.” Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Sam removed one of the shurikins from her belt. As the hornets were completely focused on breaking Aelita’s barrier, they all but ignored Sam as she quietly slipped closer towards the enemy.

Angling her shot towards the wall, Sam let one of her bladed weapons fly. The shurikin gained speed as it bounced off the wall and hit it’s mark on the broad side of one of the hornets. The virtual insect fell to the ground, dazed from the sudden damage it had taken.

“Now! Sam!” Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to the screen.

“Already on it, Pointdexter!” She ran forward and, with a small leap, descended upon the hornet. “Slow!” Out of the wrist of her gauntlet popped two bladed prongs, that soon became buried deep into the hornet’s body. It shuddered for a moment as it’s virtual body was pumped full of problematic data manufactured by Jeremy. Sam pulled the prongs out of the hornet’s body and threw up a hand to cover her face as the creature exploded.

Above her, the other hornets shuddered and jerked midflight before falling to the ground. “You’ve done it! The hornets are down for the count, and the rest of the construct’s data steam has been disrupted too.” A few keystrokes pass. “And Ulrich and Yumi are being devirtualized now!”

“So, now what? Do we keep going further in or...?”

“No way. Everyone’s life points are way too low, not to mention you and I are going to have some explaining to do to the others.” Sam nodded her head as Jeremy’s voice left her ear. Before she could ask anymore questions, Odd practically slammed into her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked Sam straight up into the air.

“Sam! You were so cool! You were like ‘pew’, ‘shing’, ‘stab’, ‘jab’, and then you-“ Sam groaned out-loud.

“Dude, cool it! You’re gonna strangle me to death after I literally just saved your life! Put me down!” Odd loosened his near death grip around his girlfriend and slowly lowered her to the ground. He gave a sheepish laugh. Beside him, Aelita giggled at his bashfulness in front of Sam.

“Right, sorry. For real, how did you get here? Did Einstein call you or something?”

“Not exactly. I, kinda-sorta, followed you here from our date. Then when I saw you guys needed help, I had Jeremy virtualize me.” Sam looked Odd up and down for a moment. “Why...Why are you a cat boy?”

Aelita put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing, but failed to contain her amusement as tiny snickers slipped past. “Yeah, Odd. What is with the cat get-up?”

Odd’s cheeks flushed with color. “W-Well, it’s kind of a long story. I sorta showed up here like this the first time and since then I’ve just learned to roll with it. But what about you? You look awesome!” His eyes ran over the black jumpsuit with satisfying white lines going down the lengths of her covered arms and legs, accented by an indigo crop top overlaying the outfit.

“Jeremy told me he was using Yumi and Aelita’s outfits as a basis for mine, but most of it was generated automatically when I first got here, I guess.” Sam looked at Aelita and her gaze was instantly drawn to her point eyes and face markings. “I guess between you two, I’m kinda the odd one out. No cats ears, no elf ears, just plain ol’ human ones.”

“Hey, you guys.” Jeremy spoke to all of them through his computer’s microphone. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation on fashion, we really should get you three back home. Ulrich and Yumi are already here, so I’ll start the devirtualization process. You first, Aelita.”

As Aelita began to disappear into unraveling strands of code, Odd put a hand on the back of his neck. “Sam, I’m sorry you had to find out this way about what I’m always doing with my friends. I wanted to tell you, and I didn’t like lying to you, but trying to explain all this to you always just seemed so...impossible.”

“Odd, if you had told me about all of this, I probably would have thought your brains had finally melted out of your ears from playing so many video games. I’m not angry or anything, more like amazed really. I almost still can’t believe anything like this even exists. I’m glad you’re safe though. Aelita and the others too, of course.” She kicks the ground with her shoe. “So, uh, does this mean I’m like part of the team now or what?”

Odd shrugged his shoulders. “If you want to be. I’m sure the others would agree that you’ve already more than proven yourself, but there’s still a lot we would need to talk about first. What Lyoko is, what we’re fighting, where Aelita really comes from...”

“I knew she wasn’t from Canada!” Sam yelled, before laughter overtook both her and Odd.

“It was the best we could come up with on such short notice. You’re telling me people from Canada don’t naturally have pink hair?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure nobody from anywhere is a natural pink, dork.” Sam flicks his nose with her index finger as the devirtualization process begins to take her. “I’ll see you back topside, alright?”

Odd nodded. “Yeah, see you back in the factory, dork-kisser.”

#code lyoko #code: swap #odd della robbia #jeremy belpois #Sam King

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Strings”

Happy Saturday, RWBY friends! I am, quite obviously, going to dive into the recap in just a moment, but first I wanted to take a short detour to discuss the elephant in the tumblr room. Namely, Supernatural.

For those of you out of the loop, the tl;dr is that a fifteen year, beloved show ended with a truly horrendous finale. Specifically, the finale rejected everything that the show had been building towards: the logical conclusion to character arcs, the theme that “family don’t end in blood,” the potential for a queer romantic relationship… I could go on. The point I want to make is that the fandom had every reason to believe we’d be getting these things. This isn’t a case of fans upset that the finale didn’t go the way they wanted as an individual viewer, but rather that the finale didn’t go the way the show clearly and explicitly said it would. It’s not an exaggeration to say that in many respects, viewers were straight up lied to.

(I recommend reading the reviews.)

What does this all have to do with RWBY? Well, I can’t help but think that history is repeating itself. Certainly there are some notable similarities between the two series. Both have long, meandering plotlines with no clear end in sight (though I hope RWBY doesn’t reach the 15 Volume mark…). Both began with a small, core cast, but quickly expanded—generating the expectation that these now equally important characters will be given their due. Both have moved from the small conflict of fighting everyday monsters to a god-based mythology. Both have a popular queer relationship dangled in front of the viewers, featuring scenes where they’re “obviously” in love… but will it ever be confirmed? Both have a fanbase that says loudly and confidently that the writers know what they’re doing. Just wait! It’s all been planned! We’ll be rewarded for our patience and soon all the naysayers will be proven wrong.

Thing is, the Supernatural fandom wasn’t rewarded. Right up until a week ago those fans—myself included—had faith that the writers knew what they were doing because they can’t really be that out of touch with their own story...right? It’s not possible. Yet they were, it was, and now that I’ve gotten solid proof of precisely how far a show can go to reject its own logic, themes, and premise, that just makes me more wary of RWBY’s mistakes. Before I had a solid faith that things couldn’t possibly get that bad, that no matter how much RWBY might be messing up in the short term, it will undoubtedly pull it together overall, because what show wouldn’t? Especially a show with such promise and, at times, wonderful storytelling. Well, Supernatural didn’t manage it and frankly I’m not sure what to do with that information.

Seriously. I don’t have any grand conclusion here. It’s not my intention to suggest that anyone should stop watching RWBY, or to claim that it will absolutely fail because Supernatural did. Obviously, we don’t know what will happen until we get to see it in the show. I only want to acknowledge these parallels and the similar journey I see both fanbases on. I can’t help but wonder if, a couple years from now, RWBY fans will be making incredibly optimistic posts about how it’s all coming together, just have some faith, everyone who says that the group won’t get a satisfying ending, or Blake and Yang won’t be confirmed are just mean trolls… only to wake up that Saturday morning and get another metaphorical slap in the face.

It’s something to think about.

But here I’ve spent a page talking about the wrong show. Let’s get into the episode!

We open on a black screen with lots of ambiguous noises. At first I thought this was Oscar struggling in the Hound’s grip or something, but then I remembered that RWBY likes to insert an episode between cliffhangers. I watched Ironwood (presumably) shoot a guy and he only came back this week (though that question still isn’t answered. At this point I kind of wonder if it will be). Oscar was kidnapped last week, which means we won’t get to see him until next week. Or… two weeks from now? RT skips the week of Thanksgiving, don’t they? Sounds familiar doesn’t it? Something horrible happens to Oscar and we need to wait two weeks to find out how it’s resolved.

Watch him escape the Hound off screen and return to the group with a new outfit 😂

So it’s not Oscar we hear, but Ruby, the last one coming out of the tube. Weiss is in the process of pulling Nora’s ear for that stunt… with a frankly strange looking hand. What’s up with RWBY animating weird hands lately? I’m pretty sure that’s not how anatomy works.

Anyway, Nora counters that this was a “Once in a lifetime experience,” but they were all going to go through the tubes regardless. Weiss isn’t pissed that you sent her through, she’s pissed that you did it unexpectedly when she was alone, heading into enemy territory. But of course, there’s no one in the room to hinder them, so the mistake is meaningless.

We’re setting the tone again though. For the first half of this episode everything is sunshine and giddy adventure, which doesn’t fit the situation at all. It also creates emotional whiplash when I’m suddenly supposed to be super worried about things later on. This sort of about-face works once in a blue moon, as an emotional punch, like we see in Mulan:

But RWBY does it every other episode, which makes the overall tone of the series confusing instead. Half the time RWBY feels like two different stories—the cartoony tale of girls going on fun adventures, and the traumatic tale of a fantasy war—that have been badly spliced together.

“Alight, Robo-Girl, which way?” May asks and Penny demonstrates why she’s the best for sneaking into a facility. She’s able to map out the whole place, including seeing where everyone is so they can avoid detection. Kudos to RT for going this route. I was worried that they would have Ruby and the others straight up attacking Atlas grunts, knocking them out/potentially even killing them because who cares, right? They’re the bad guys! So I’m glad they’re working to get in and out undetected. Granted, we see in some places that they’re clearly willing to fight the soldiers if it comes to that—they’re reaching for their weapons when Penny opens the final door, expecting the room to be full of people. They were going to attack—but at least they’re trying to lessen that conflict as much as possible. That’s the sort of choice I expect to see from heroes and I’m glad we got it here.

After scouting the area Penny corrects May: “And my name is Penny,” to which Ruby gives a satisfied “Heh.” I’ve got no problem with Penny rejecting nicknames, even potentially well-meaning ones, because she’s always struggled with her status as a real girl and her name is her own. She gets to decide what others call her. I do, however, have a problem with making the presumed trans character the one who is corrected. Granted yes, we haven’t gotten confirmation in the show that May is trans, but RT doesn’t get to cash in on that rep without likewise suffering the consequences for how the character is treated. You’re telling me that a trans woman is going to roll her eyes when someone asks her to use a specific name? Please give May flaws, yes, she’s a person, but out of all the millions of flaws across the human spectrum, this is the one we’re shown?

Not to mention Ruby’s continued attitude. It’s like, ‘Yeah, May. Stop being a horrible person who draws attention to the fact that Penny is a robot. I never did that.’ Except when Ruby first met her she didn’t know Penny was a robot. Just like she didn’t know Blake was a faunus—something we’re reminded of this episode. We might assume Ruby wouldn’t have ever made any missteps at the beginning of these relationships, but the fact remains that she got to know both girls before their minority status was ever revealed. Ruby loved them before she ever had to grapple with their differences.

Put in her place, May then demonstrates that she can make lots of people invisible, not just herself. That’s handy. She creates an invisibility bubble that reminds me of Harry’s invisibility cloak. In the sense that others might not be able to see you, but they can still hear and touch you, which makes sneaking around still pretty challenging.

No sooner have I thought that then two guards get into the elevator with them. The group keeps quiet as the duo discusses how no one can get close to Salem’s storm without “getting shocked right out of the air.” Interesting. And frankly one hell of a roadblock if the Hound escapes into the clouds. Oscar may be gone for a while if he doesn’t escape on his own... The woman also comments about how creepy it is that all the grimm are just hanging out, waiting. It’s “worse than if they’d attacked.”

No it’s not! RT, stop trying to implement the idea that Salem withholding her forces is some epically cool choice. She should have decimated everyone by now and the fact that she hasn’t just shows how transparent the problem is: you’ve created a villain that’s too powerful and now you don’t know what to do with her.

As the group sneaks out of the elevator Nora grins and presses all the buttons, which is, as expected, a dumb move. They’re supposed to be sneaking into this base. If they’re caught they’re going to be thrown in jail at best, killed at worst, but Nora wants to risk that for a practical joke? Again and again we see this insistence on incorporating comedy where it’s not only unnecessary, but actively interferes with other aspects of the scene.

Reaching a terminal, Penny inserts her finger and gains access via Pietro’s credentials. She’s really demonstrating this episode why she’s… pretty terrifying? I mean, Penny is an incredibly powerful fighter with a computer’s view of the world, access to everything in the most powerful Kingdom alongside its information, and she now has Maiden powers to boot. Which, I should add, it took her one fight to master (because remember, the heroes are now always as strong as they need to be to win…). Now that Watts is planning to hack her, I expect her to be an incredibly formidable enemy, just given the amount she could potentially do. I think Penny herself is too kind to exploit all that potential and as we’ll see via Pietro briefly taking control, she doesn’t always have the knowledge to use the tools at her disposal. But in the hands of someone like Watts? He’ll turn Penny into the ultimate weapon.

Access granted, they learn that they have to go “Right through central command!” Of course, Penny makes it sound like a fun game and the spy-movie music/cartoon lecture doesn’t help. Again, tone. It’s adorable! It just doesn’t fit sneaking into a military base with your lives on the line while Salem waits outside. That was a RWBY Chibi moment.

Penny explains—twice—that Ruby can use her semblance to fly them all through central command and it’s treated like a revelation. At first, I was pretty confused because Ruby has been dong this for ages? She carried Weiss in “Argus Limited” and Nora during the Geist fight. But upon close inspection, what Penny seems to have “figured out” is that Ruby can carry multiple people at once because the “mass doesn’t matter.” Okay. Not a contradiction then, though I think RT could have made it a little more clear that Ruby was shocked at the idea of carrying multiple people, not carrying someone at all.

What I do take issue with though is Ruby mastering this skill instantaneously. I mean, why is Ruby being forced to try this on the fly (pun not intended)—Penny has known the layout of the building since they made this plan. She knew they had to get past central control and that it would be packed with people. She’s obviously thought about Ruby’s semblance a great deal—and why is she succeeding? Give me a Volume 7 where Ruby actually trains in this technique, set up via Harriet’s comment early on about her semblance, and then she’s victorious here when it finally matters. Or give me Ruby assuming she can pull off this incredibly difficult skill only to fall out of her semblance halfway through, a roomful of Atlas personnel staring at them. Then what?

Not this.

This is a character who does everything perfectly on the first try without ever having to fail. Ruby is boring like this.

Crisis averted, we transfer to Ironwood who is… working with Watts.

What else is there to say? I’ve already laid out all the reasons why this is stupid and makes no sense. Others keep coming onto my posts to explain to me how Ironwood’s awful deeds up until now fully show his decent into villainy, conveniently ignoring the numerous limitations he was under and his choice to do what he thought was best for the world using inaccurate information. Ironwood was always a divisive character and many are happy to ignore the years’ worth of deconstruction done—a man who looks like the Evil Military General but actually isn’t—because they never liked him to begin with. Not liking him is fine, no one has to like any character, but I’m honestly shocked by the number of viewers who refuse to acknowledge how bad the writing is, even if it means defending a character they hate a teensy tiny bit (#SupernaturalVibes). As a friend put it, Ironwood now feels like a caricature of his former self, a Pure Evil Ironwood who appeared out of nowhere and is now here to stay. He shoots kids. He shoots unarmed civilians. He teams up with Salem’s men and tries to hack Penny. These are undeniably horrible acts, they’ve just been given to a character who never would have done them until RT randomly flipped the Evil switch.

The “RWBY” tag, alongside all the fluff moments of this episode, is now filled with posts encouraging Marrow to turn, yelling at the Ace Ops for being “bootlickers,” and capslock screaming at anyone who dared to speak up for Ironwood. It still sucks to have bad writing twisted into an attack on the fans and it’s going to continue to suck until at least the rest of Volume 8. I’d like to again remind everyone that Qrow teamed up with Tyrian a few episodes, yet because he’s again in Ruby’s graces, that was twisted into a ‘not that bad’ situation. The issue isn’t really that Ironwood is teaming up with one of Salem’s subordinates, but that he’s doing it to go against RWBYJNOR… the second a character teams up with Salem to get what Ruby wants (to not have her team in jail) then that’s totally fine… but that’s a wrinkle a lot of people are happy to ignore.

So yeah, Ironwood is an idiot now too. Like Qrow also was last Volume. He really thinks Watts isn’t going to betray him somehow? Although, I do wonder if the chance to ruin Pietro’s creation outweighs his loyalty to Salem, but the point is that Ironwood can’t be sure of that either. At least he’s smart enough to keep Watts under continuous guard. He puts his hand on Watts’ shoulders and goes, “I’d hate for us to have to try motivating you. Again.”

So he tortures people too now? Like I said, caricature. This was Ironwood and we were given no clear idea of where he disappeared to.

RIP a great character.

Watts notices though that Pietro has apparently accessed a secure area and alerts Ironwood to it. I laugh that the information is just ¡EMERGENCY! In large, red letters. Ironwood immediately makes an announcement for everyone to be on guard. It’s a level 3 lockdown — that won’t impede the group leaving via airship! — and they’re to use “lethal force” if necessary. Weiss is disgusted.

As much as I disagree with making Ironwood into a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy — he’s definitely wrong to be doing this — I also find myself rolling my eyes at reactions like that. Yes, Weiss. You attacked four operatives until they were knocked unconscious. Prevented an entire city from escaping Salem’s wrath, endangering them all. Now you’re breaking into the most classified room in the Kingdom to steal an equally qualified project and use it for your own means. There’s no reason why Ironwood would level his might against you. Is death still an extreme response? Yes. Should Weiss be acting like Ironwood is crazy for responding to them in an extreme manner? No. Her remark makes it sound like Ironwood is attacking her poor, innocent, defenseless team… not the team that’s been lying to him, betraying him, attacking him, and stealing from him. Not the team carrying deadly weapons into a facility to take what they want at any cost.

With their presence known, May wants to go grab an airship. That’s the series now.

Meanwhile, Penny insists that they can still complete their mission and we see Nora come up with some sort of plan.

Except, what plan was this?? What did she say to the group? ‘Hey, let’s wait around until some guy conveniently walks by with a full cup of coffee. Then we can trip him and the mug will fly alllll the way across this gap to land on a terminal, startling at least two workers. Except this guy will be hated by the whole room because he’s always messing things up—his coffee mug has been changed from #1 Dad to #1 Dud—so that this little mishap will create a ruckus that gets everyone involved, giving us the opportunity to slip by them all.’

Seriously, what? This kind of “plan” only works with someone like Clover, where we know he has a good luck semblance and thus all these unlikely pieces fall into place. I could absolutely buy Clover smiling smugly, working under the knowledge that he just has to wait around a few minutes and something will come along that works entirely in his favor. But Nora? How did she know any of this would happen? Obviously she couldn’t have, so what exactly was their intention if this coffee carrying, hated guy didn’t show up? RWBY, your contrived plots are showing.

I do, however, love the grimm Jaws poster. Jaws is an absolute favorite of mine, so seeing a reference to it in RWBY? A funny one at that? It almost makes up for how bad this episode is lol.

Because frankly I’m bored. The group sneaks around, criticizes May and Ironwood, briefly confuses me about Ruby’s semblance knowledge, and gets through tons of Atlas personnel in the stupidest way possible. I have to watch this guy running out of the room with coffee on his pants screaming, “WHHHYYY???” and he doesn’t notice the five girls standing right next to him. It’s silly. It’s boring. Luckily for RWBY, things are about to pick up in the second half.

After Ruby gets them upstairs and the final room is also conveniently devoid of people, Pietro takes control of Penny—including yellow possession eyes like Oscar has with Ozpin—and he...gets Amity started. That’s it. After a whole volume of ‘It’s not finished yet’ and ‘We barely have the resources’ and ‘Robyn stole what we were using to do idek what with’ he presses buttons for a while and they’re in. How good for them!

I do love that Penny calls Pietro “Dad” though. I’m here for the android-father relationship.

While Pietro works we turn to Blake, Weiss, and Nora. Blake tries to convince the audience that Ruby and Yang had an actual fight with, “I’ve never seen Yang and Ruby fight like this.” Yeah, because no one in this group has ever said the sliiiiightest thing against Ruby, so you all read the tinniest disagreement as a “fight” to be worried about. I mean, doesn’t RT have friends to draw inspiration from? They’ve never disagreed about Huge and Complex Questions before? Never gotten pissed and then shrugged it off the next time you want to text? RWBY’s idea of a diverse friend group feels like many other writers’ idea of a sibling relationship: anyone with an actual sibling goes, “What is this?” Speaking of, Weiss explains that sisters often have “very different ideas about what’s right” as if, again, people don’t have different ideas? Just in general? Why is this suddenly a sister thing? She’s clearly thinking about Winter, but doesn’t actually bring it up, so all we’re left with is the same situation we had last Volume. Weiss thinks she’s right, Winter is wrong, and they’re just going down their separate roads because there’s definitely no reason to re-examine any choices here. It’s all static.

Until Winter betrays Ironwood, of course.

Nora tries to reassure Blake that the group will be fine (ha) even though they’ve split, the irony being that we, the audience, know they just got wrecked by the Hound. Jaune is a great leader though, Oscar has grown so much, Yang could defend them all in a fight, and Ren… well, she can’t think of anything to say about Ren. I hate the Nora is acting like Ren has drawn away from her for no reason, after she chose to kiss him—without consent—rather than listening to what was bothering him, then proceeded to pretend that this mystery problem never existed. What does she expect? I do, however, like the general acknowledgement that she doesn’t know who she is without Ren. Who is Nora? Someone who is “strong and hit[s] stuff?”

See, this feels like RT writing self-consciously because Nora doesn’t have much of a personality. Oh, on a surface level she’s bursting with it, but past the bubbly exterior? That single layer? We can add maybe one thing to this “Likes Ren, is strong, hits stuff” list: she’s funny. That’s it. Anything else we might add like “she’s loyal” or “she’s kind” is just a generic characteristic of this entire team. They’re all meant to be crazy talented good guys and even the “is strong” aspect is suspect when others frequently pull off attacks as showy as Nora’s hammer hits. So who is she? What are Nora’s dreams? What are her hobbies? Her fears? Her history? We’ve seen a single flashback of her on the streets and one scene back at Beacon where she listens to music and reads a magazine. Seven years worth of material and that’s it. There’s a reason why the go-to, non-combat action for Nora in fics is “makes pancakes.” We know so little about her still.

So I was excited for a brief, shining moment. Yes! Explore who Nora is outside of being strong and hitting stuff! … and then her big action this episode is, as she says, being strong and hitting something. Don’t get me wrong, outside of that setup it’s pretty epic. I like Nora going to those lengths to save Penny and I absolutely love the repercussions of the choice: a broken aura, passing out, and badass lightning scars all over her arms and neck (especially when women often aren’t allowed to accumulate scars in visual media). That’s pretty damn awesome. It’s just that it comes on the heels of the story insisting that Nora is more than this, that we’ll learn something new about her… and we haven’t. This is indeed cool, but we already knew that Nora was willing to crazy lengths by hitting things really hard. That’s already her established norm.

At least this moment has some really nice characterization alongside the stupidity. The conversation between Ruby and Penny is just plain stupid. Penny wants to stay to help with the evacuations, but Pietro says she should come with him in Amity. Why? As Ruby says, because then she’ll be up in the sky and Salem won’t be able to access the relic.

That’s what Ironwood wanted to do! We could have had this conflict episodes ago with you all working with him! I really can’t with this cast. Also, the rest of this is still confusing. I thought pretty much everyone was in the slums by now, so what evacuation are they talking about? Do they plan to evacuate everyone in Mantle out of the kingdom somehow… like Ironwood wanted to do with Atlas? And why are they acting like Amity is evacuating some people too? I thought they were just using it as a communication device? To add insult to injury, Ruby then contradicts herself a minute later when she tells Harriet that Ironwood can’t have the relic because “Salem will find her way to the relic no matter where you go.” Ruby, if Salem can access the relic high in the sky she can also access Penny in the sky. If you believe that literally nowhere is safe then why are you sending Penny away under the claim that she—and via her the Relic—will be safer? If you want Penny in Amity to lessen the chance of Salem getting the Relic, why can’t Penny be in Atlas while simultaneously (hopefully) getting a whole slew of people to safety?

I’m continually confused by this “plan” of theirs. Their claims just flip-flop according to what (supposedly) contrasts them with Ironwood. Even though that’s not actually the case.

Penny is me, sad while watching this train wreck of a scene.

So yeah, the Ace Ops are here. I’ve wondered since the trailer why Weiss looked smug while everyone else was startled. Turns out it’s because of her line, “So, your first time losing to us wasn’t enough?” I can’t express how much I dislike all the girls’ personalities now. I want to shake some compassion and humility into them. Plus, they never should have won that fight in the first place. Marrow yells, “We were holding back!” but coming from the team’s weakest member it reads as defensive. Like we’re supposed to go, ‘Lol yeah right, Marrow. Just admit you got your ass kicked,’ even tough the Ace Ops should have wiped the floor with them, holding back or not. That’s my biggest takeaway from this fight: it’s the reverse of what we should have gotten. The Ace Ops should have beaten Team RWBY with ease and struggled greatly against an android Maiden, not falling before a bunch of teens and succeeding against Penny if not for Nora’s timely breakthrough. Your half-trained cast of growing heroes should not come across as more powerful than an intelligently designed weapon now wielding magic.

Before the fight starts we get a whole lot of lines that are, frankly, frustrating. Vine tells Penny, “I thought you were supposed to protect the people, not hurt them” which is true enough. Penny is taking action that is putting a lot of people in danger, regardless of the fact that Ruby is at the helm. Problem is, the Ace Ops then blame her for Winter’s injuries and “stealing” the power? That’s not the issue here. The issue is Penny’s blind loyalty to Ruby, but by having the Ace Ops back a stance that is clearly inaccurate—Penny didn’t cause Winter’s injuries, Cinder did; Penny didn’t steal the powers, she was encouraged to take them—it makes them come across as Very Evil people who will twist things to make poor Penny look like the villain. Even if this is a case of Ace Ops having bad intel (which seems unlikely. Wouldn’t Winter have told them what happened?) RT has avoided letting the Ace Ops take a justified stance here because that would make them look too sympathetic… even though they do have multiple justified stances to take. Like, ‘Hey, stop keeping half a kingdom here where Salem can easily kill them all’ or, ‘Hey, why did you spend months betraying Ironwood and then turn on us instead of trying to find a compromise?’ Even, ‘Why did your uncle help kill our leader?’ There’s plenty that the Ace Ops should be rightfully pissed about, so choosing Penny and Winter out of everything feels like RT is firmly backing them into Ironwood’s corner: you’re just bad now and bad people blame innocent girls, rather than acknowledging the actual wrongs done against them.

So we have Ruby contradicting herself and the Ace Ops backing warped ideas that make them look worse than they actually are. Adding to the stupidity is the fact that Elm mentions that Winter is in “critical condition” and Weiss… doesn’t care. Harriet then tells Ruby that she’s “throwing [her] in jail right next to your uncle, runt” and... Ruby doesn’t care. Qrow is missing and Ruby just found out he’s been captured by Ironwood, yet there’s no reaction whatsoever. This show continues to go hard on the ‘screw adults’ mentality, huh? Ozpin needs to keep quiet and is horrible for coming back. Ironwood is now a cartoon villain. Winter made the wrong choice so no one cares about her anymore, not even her sister. The Ace Ops remain enemies despite trying to talk things out. Qrow? Barely know him. Who’s he? This is a Ruby loves Penny episode. There isn’t enough emotional nuance for her to care about him too.

The sad thing is I adore Nuts&Dolts. In a different context these moments would be a goldmine for me.

If anything, this episode feels worse than the majority of last week’s because there are good things here that have been thrown into a bad setup. I can’t get excited for the group’s battles when I see who they’re attacking. It’s hard to squee over Ruby hugging Penny when she doesn’t react to Qrow. Watching Nora go all Thor feels like it only has half its potential when it’s coming out of a very messing, ‘I’m more than just being strong and hitting things… which is why I’ll continue being strong and hitting things.’ RWBY has excellent moments set into a terrible story.

The fight, at least, is exciting. The Ace Ops goad Penny into stepping away so they can trap the rest of Ruby’s team—smart—and she’s forced to hold her own while Weiss tries to break through with her knight, then Nora overloads the system. To be frank, I’m not great at analyzing combat. Not unless I’m looking for something specific like whether a win is justified. I’ve already mentioned above the broad issue of the Ace Ops very nearly beating the most powerful fighter next to Salem herself, yet failing so spectacularly against Team RWBY. Outside of that context though? I really enjoyed this. Lots of tight action, creative attacks, teamwork, some emotional pauses throughout… it feels like a pretty solid battle. Put it on Youtube as a clip, outside of the rest of the story’s messiness, and you’ve got yourself a fantastic watch.

We can’t stay in the combat forever though. During all this Weiss calls the Ace Ops “cowards” for making it four vs. one. You know, RWBY should really just do away with dialogue and make the show purely action because the cast frequently sounds so stupid when they speak. Like her comment about Ironwood’s lockdown… really Weiss? ‘Yes, we might be wanted criminals who betrayed this group in the worst possible way, but how dare they not do the honorable thing and have three of their teammates sit out while trying to capture us? Even though the girl they’re trying to capture has magic. I mean, the nerve of them!’

Weiss, at this point I’m not sure how to explain to you that the people you’ve made into your enemies do not owe you a fair fight.

Another detail: we get to see Ruby fall off the edge of the walkway and this time she remembers she can fly! A definite improvement from Volume 6.

Finally: by the time Penny’s eyes go full Maiden in Elm’s grip, I think we’ve seen everything from our trailer. Episode 4 will truly be a mystery.

Ironwood has, of course, been watching the fight this whole time. When it looks like the Ace Ops will lose against the team he means to send in reinforcements, but Watts says he has “a message for your operatives.” Instead of capturing Penny they steal one of her swords instead, ending with a shot on Marrow looking conflicted.

Because remember, there’s no actual moral grayness in this story. The protagonists are right and everyone else is wrong. It’s (supposedly) black and white. Which means that if the Ace Ops have any hope of surviving this Volume and being seen as anything other than evil bootlickers, they have to join with Ruby. Marrow seems primed to do that.

Am I surprised? No. Disappointed? Always lol.

May has the airship ready to go and they fly off… despite the shields. And the lockdown. Consistency? Who’s she? Nora is said to be “in bad shape” and after another hug Penny leaves to hide in Amity, even though Ruby thinks that hiding is a useless, cowardly choice. Just not when she and her allies choose to do it.

We end the episode with Watts receiving Penny’s sword and making the statement, “If you can’t beat them… then make them join you.” I have to say, his cheesy villainy is something I continue to enjoy, even if it’s heavy handed at times. Watts is just fun. I do have to say though: if Penny is hacked, what does that say about her agency? We double-downed on the ‘real girl’ narrative by giving her the Maiden powers, but she’s simultaneously synthetic enough that a single piece of her can remove all autonomy? It once again feels like RT isn’t sure what point they’re trying to make, they’re just chucking a lot of themes at the wall and seeing what sticks. Still, we’ll have to let it all play out before making any judgements.

And that’s it for this week. It seems like this is a slightly shorter recap than normal, though that may be because I struggle with discussing pure action sequences, which made up a decent chunk of this episode. I’ll no doubt return to the Ace Ops vs. Penny fight when I’m not on a self-imposed, one day deadline for posting. The only thing left is to update the Bingo Card, but I don’t think we made any headway this week. So... good job, RWBY?

I’m still going to hold off on the civilian’s square until Salem’s army actually attacks, as well as the two day timeline square.

No Winter this episode

Watts is teaming up with Ironwood which is… so much worse than him teaming up with Jacques again. Does a square get an X if the canon is even worse than what you assumed it would be??

Maria was mentioned this episode. Jury’s out on whether she’ll actually do anything.

Atlas is still standing, we knew Penny was heading towards a hack so it’s not much of a cliffhanger, no Qrow, no Ozpin, no Neo or Cinder.

It certainly looks like we can check off “The team gets Amity up and running,” but let’s just see if there are any problems next episode. If the problem is only ‘We would have launched it if not for Salem’s attack’ or something, I’m checking it off. The point is it would have worked.

I’m also leaning towards “More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship” given Blake’s heart-to-heart with Nora… but let’s see if the Volume does anything more egregious.

All in all (and perhaps despite what I’ve written above), I don’t think it’s fair to totally drag this episode. As said, this feels like a strong episode in a bad story, something that I would have LOVED if a) Salem weren’t here and b) the ‘ethical dilemma’ wasn’t boiled down to a ‘Team Ruby is good’ and ‘Ironwood and everyone associated with him is evil’ situation. It’s an episode whose tone and character action belong in a different version of RWBY. If you gave us this fun episode in an earlier Volume against a Pure Evil antagonist? It would have been great.

Ah well. It is what it is. Expect more emotional whiplash when we come back and everyone learns that Oscar has been kidnapped by Salem’s talking pooch 🙃

See you then! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby strings #mymetas #rwby recaps #apologies if this Recap is messier than normal #I have a zoom meeting in five minutes lol #gotta go fast!

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kyber-heart · 3 years

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@actualanxiousswampwitch’s comment on one of my posts the other day, reminded me of a few things. So here’s a very self indulgent list of things that I hope will come to the game in 2021 and beyond.

Zeltron as a playable race: Like I said, it’s easy money for BW/EA. It’s just pink humans...

An expansion of Dantooine’s map for the Malgus and Aryn Leneer storyline: We seen the datamined map BW, you cheated us big time bro. Now it’s probably gonna be a shitty one and done instance or a flashpoint...

A Conversation with Aryn Leneer about being in love and marrying as a Jedi: This is super self indulgent of an ask, but I’ve always felt that BW never really gave Jedi characters any sort of reprimand for breaking that law of attachment. It would be amazing to get a conversation about it, especially from Aryn. Learn her perspective and what advice she could give, or if Gnost Dural/Satele Shan will be more relaxed with that rule going forward?

Bothawui added as a planet: This was planned as part of the scrapped first expansion, bits of it have been recycled around the place, notably for Dantooine. Yet I still would love a map that is comprised of two player cities and several islands.

Bothans added as a playable race: It’s probably not everyone’s first choice to be the next most popular race to be added, but many have pointed out that species like Kel-Dor and Rodian have too much of a unique head and facial design to work with existing actions such as kiss scenes. Bothans would be perfect to add instead.

1 New Class Companion: Okay this is one of those things that the rational part of my brain knows BioWare won't do, but I would love to get a new unique companion for every class. Ideally, I would love them to be a new protegé. This could be especially interesting with the whole Saboteur/Loyalist thing.

Expanding The Fleets and The capital worlds: I’ll be upfront, I don’t like Odessen much. After 5 years of seeing it, I’m ready for a change, to be honest. I think it would be kinda awesome to revamp the The Fleets and Capital planets (Coruscant & Dromund Kaas) to have level 75 areas. In game, it has been nearly 20 years since we saw those worlds last, it would be fun to go back and see them again and how they have changed. They could add a new level to The Fleets or (and what I would rather see) add a new Battle Cruiser for 75 quests and content. For the planets, they could add a new level to The Senate, and The Citadel, or (and again, the option I would prefer) add a new map similar to Section X on Belsavis. Satele mentioned training grounds on Coruscant, an Enclave on Coruscant would be awesome. Seeing Acina’s/the emperor’s throne room on Kaas city would be cool.

Twi’lek customization bundle: At least give us some decent complexion and makeup options. Seriously, the makeup is so heavy handed and the complexions are often just... weird! We should also have some more complexions without eyebrows because lore-wise, Twi’lek don’t have hair. I would also love a feature that lets us position the Lekku draped over the shoulders or something. They could add new head options for Lekku like the Nautolan heads.

More customisation bundles of every race: I know I singled out Twi’leks just now, but that is in part because I think Twi’leks have it worst in customization options. However, new masks for Miraluka, new tattoos and corrupted eyes for Mirialan, Togruta and Rattatakki, more jewellery for Sith Purebloods. Most of these races really have been left in the dust since launch honestly. An overhaul of the customization feature in general would be nice (seriously why are eyebrows and stubble under ‘complexion’) but new options would be a good step towards a better CC.

#anto's ramblings #swtor complaining #feel free to add to this #or dispute my ideas #i had this in my drafts for a couple days #figured i may as well post it

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katherinewilliams221b · 4 years

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For A Greater Good 13/18

not my gif. just the text- Threats

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12]

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse

The first storm of May left the school in a darkness Kate never saw before. The temperature had abruptly dropped; the exams were getting closer and the Quidditch game that week had been cancelled as a result of an avalanche that had reached the castle grounds.

Ranunculus glacialis; Draba lactea; Dryas octopetala; Cicerbita alpina... she was reading the different plants stuck together with Spello-tape and correctly classified that she had hung on the walls of the classroom. The herbarium project had been successful even among the most reluctant students; so much they begged to go to the lake and expand their works of art with aquatic plants.

With a proud smile, Kate looked out the window of the herbology class, following the comings and goings of the students who passed by and lamented their lost quidditch match.

In the distance, Mer Yankelevich was coming from the lake, wearing a large hood to protect herself from the rain.

Her gaze turned to the column. Astrid Rhode and Libor Marek were talking beside it. The teacher must have felt eyes resting on him, for he scanned his surroundings. Realising that it was Kate who was watching him, he turned his attention back to Rhode, who glanced at her as well. “In my experience,” the curse-breaker from Iceland than Rhode had hired had said, “someone has tried to break a curse that does not exist.”

In another time and in another school, all eyes would have been on Kate. Now, free of that burden, she turned to see if her students had finished copying on their scrolls the Herbivicus charm used to make plants grow at high speed.

“I know that the attempt to make the umbrella flowers germinate has not turned out as we expected. They are very obstinate flowers, but we must be even more stubborn. This Friday, we will change the fertiliser we have been using for a more refined one”.

Thunder rumbled on the castle walls and some children began to get restless.

“Perhaps they don’t like this weather,” she joked before climbing onto the platform where her desk was placed. “When we get the optimal conditions for their germination, we’ll practice the spell until they come into bloom. However, and this is very important, we must not let the flowers open yet. We want to prevent them from pollinating naturally before we select them.”

Micael Angelov raised his hand. “What about the fanged geraniums?”

“I’ve been doing several tests and they germinate properly. They are easy to control and that is why we will be working on them after getting at least ten healthy umbrella flowers...”

The classroom door blasted open, revealing a hooded figure. All the sheets and scrolls in the class were scattered with the gust of wind that came in with the stranger. Thinking that it was Mer Yankelevich, she went to the door to ask for explanations, but Corentin’s face stopped her. Surprised, Kate aired her wand to close the door and stop the cold coming in.

The librarian lowered his hood and immediately apologised to the students, who began to whisper.

“I must talk to you,” he murmured.

“Can it wait until the end of the class?”

Corentin nodded and headed for the end of the classroom where he stood on a corner without looking away from the window. He kept looking outside until the bells indicated the end of the lesson.

“Let me know if you want to go to the greenhouse before Friday and I’ll open the door for you. Jon, you must give me the list of your inventory, ah! Wait! I have your works on the mandrakes corrected, on Wednesday we will comment on it... Be careful outside!”

When the class was free of students, Kate approached Corentin, who was looking at her with a sly smile.

“You are getting more comfortable here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Last night someone went through my desk. Don’t worry, they were unsuccessful. I have the plans well in hand, but that shows that someone has the same goal as us.”

“And also that they have been spying on us.” She waited a moment and added, “This is not a good sign, Corentin.”

“I advise we continue with our... project.” With one hand, he gestured to the windows, and the curtains closed, leaving them in almost total darkness, except for the candlesticks on the ceiling.

He shook his sleeve, and from a black smoke the different scrolls that made up Nerida Vulchanova’s maps appeared.

Kate had some candles levitated, providing light and some warmth around them. From her desk, she took out seven books on magic walls, curses, portals and doors, and as every day since the discovery of Nerida’s painting, they began their study session.

After a couple of hours, Kate dropped her head on the desk with a thud.

“I have superposed all the rooms, corners and nooks of these plans, and they are all dead ends.”

“And there is nothing in these books that works... There are spells, incantations, words and words that say wonderful things and nothing at the same time. It’s like reading a blank page...”

“Did you wake up poetic today?”

“What do you think is inside?” Her voice sounded a little nasal, as she had her entire face smashed against a book, “One of the Deathly Hallows?”

“I doubt it, it’s not known if Grindelwald got any in his time at school and I don’t think, in case he had the elder wand, he came here to hide it.”

She raised her head and scanned the desk “Let me see the room behind the portrait again.”

Corentin gave her the plans, forming the rectangle that represented the secret room.

“If you look closely, there is no passageway connecting the trophy room to this place, and I have been trying to match it to one of these, but nothing convinces me.”

“We lack information.”

“That’s obvious. But there are no other documents than the ones we have here. There is a possibility that Vulchanova destroyed them.”

“No...” she trailed off. She checked several sheets and held one that was blank. Only a triangle adorned one corner. “My grandmother was a Muggle...”

Corentin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to take this as a lack of interest, but what does it have to do with this?”

“When I was a child, I was not allowed to see my grandparents. One of the conditions for allowing my parents to marry was to cut off contact with that branch of the family, and in return, the Williams offered my grandmother protection from anti-Muggle politics.”

“I’m sure this is going somewhere...”

“Of course my mother didn’t cut off contact. I was very young, but I remember the distinctive smell of...” she sniffed the parchment and a hint of a smirk appeared on her face, “lemonade.”

“I really try to follow you.”

“My mother wrote letters that, in the eyes of wizards, were empty. Muggles have a technique for making invisible ink.”

She extended her arm to one candle and held the paper so close to the flame that Corentin leaned over in his seat for fear that she would burn it.

As Kate moved the parchment, several lines appeared in a copper colour, which Kate recognised perfectly.

“Fascinating.”

Kate chuckled and left the parchment on the table. “I don’t think Vulchanova intended you to live in a controlling regime in order to decipher her map. Just that you knew a little about alchemy.” She pointed to the triangle in the lower corner. Corentin’s eyes shone with excitement.

He grabbed the missing piece of the map and spent long minutes trying to fit the lines over the fragment they already had. Meanwhile, Kate was trying out different pieces of parchment and new lines appeared on the existing maps as she drew them closer to the fire.

“Look,” said Corentin, “it can be accessed in several ways.” From where Nerida’s painting was, two paths branched out showing two tunnels leading to the room.

Kate gasped. By turning one of the sheets of paper, she made the newly discovered lines coincide with others drawn in ink.

Corentin imitated the procedure of heating the scrolls and, as if in a perfectly synchronised dance, they fitted each parchment with the previous one, forming a map of the ground floor that occupied the whole desk.

When Kate placed the last paper, a golden light emanated from one corner. The light moved through the junction between the papers, forking and coming together until it disappeared. Corentin raised a corner, noting with fascination and surprise that they now had a single plan of the castle.

“Wait! It’s disappearing!”

Corentin brought the map closer to the candles and the rooms and passages reappeared, making both of them sigh in relief. “With the Muggle trick that doesn’t happen.”

“Maybe she thought she had to give it a magic twist.”

After tidying up the room, Corentin left Kate thinking about their more-than-suspicious meetings.. They had to be more careful from that moment on; if someone was watching them, they could get into trouble.

The storm had subsided, and instead of the sky it was Kate’s stomach that was roaring.

Corentin had taken her students’ books back to the library, so she exhaled happily that she could go directly to the dining hall. As she opened the curtains, she came face to face with Libor Marek, sitting on the outside stone wall.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted as she closed the door behind her.

“I thought you’d never get out.”

“Have you... been waiting for me?”

“No. There are rumours that Karkarov has returned to the grounds... I’m here on Rhode’s orders. When the students are eating, the guards reinforce the doors and this area is left empty...”

“I don’t see you too worried.”

Marek huffed and began a thorough inspection of his wand. “I will not hunt down the man who gave me a job.”

“Igor Karkarov...?”

“Yes.” He did not look up. Kate waited for him to say something else, but concluded that she would have to force him.

“Who else did he hire?”

“And how would I know that? I was the last to arrive. Well, Hodges came later, but that was Rhode’s doing.” He shook his head and put his wand up his sleeve before looking around. “I’m going to eat.”

“Didn’t she tell you to stand guard?”

Marek walked up to her and in a raspy voice said, “I would stop whatever it is that you’re doing .”

The difference in height gave Kate some security, but she chose not to adjust her stance to one of defiance; the last thing she wanted was to duel that man again. “Watch your back.”

Marek squinted and left her standing in the cold, wondering if he was referring to himself or someone else.

The rest of the week proved uneventful. After the discovery of Nerida’s complete map, Kate avoided the library as part of an unspoken agreement with Corentin. The librarian, for his part, did not contact her until Thursday afternoon when they enjoyed each other’s company with some tea and biscuits.

Only one sentence was exchanged about their research and that was Corentin commenting nothing out of the ordinary had happened and that only Sheyi Mawut approached the library to borrow a book on batting techniques.

Friday’s class in the greenhouse was fruitful; Kate’s students managed to germinate seven umbrella flowers with the new fertiliser, eight according to the children, who took the flower grew in such a way that it shot up into the air, opening a gap in the greenhouse roof, as a success.

Kate proposed a prize for whoever found the flower when it fell.

The path to her room after the class was full of obstacles; the students, motivated by the proximity of the competition, practiced their spells and incantations in the corridor or moved in groups to see the lists of participants.

Amidst robes and hats, Kate spotted Leron Angelov’s head in the distance. She had no intention of worrying about him until she saw him stagger down the hall. He rested both hands on a door and dropped his head forward.

There were students everywhere, but Kate could perfectly see Cassandra Steiner make her way through to Leron. She opened the door and pushed him into the room.

With firm steps she advanced to the classroom at the end of the corridor and without waiting a second more, she muttered Alohomora, and burst inside.

Like a niffler caught in the middle of a robbery, Cassandra looked up with big eyes. Her expression hardened instantly. She waved her wand to where Kate was and she heard the click of the door closing.

Without her eyes off Leron Angelov, she moved closer to get a better look.

He seemed to be standing in a strange position. His eyelids were not fully closed, his arms hung like two dead weights on either side of his torso and his legs... his legs did not touch the ground.

He floated in the air, without a broom, without a spell. His posture was grotesque, and Kate looked at him in horror because even though she saw no rope, he seemed to be hanging.

“Is... is he dead?” she asked with a trembling voice. She sought the healer’s gaze, but she was busy airing out the desks in the centre to create a larger table. “Steiner, is he dead?”

“No. Shut up. Help me with him.”

Both healers grabbed Angelov’s body and turned it in the air until it was in a horizontal position.

“Hold him against the table.” Kate obeyed and put her hands on Leron’s chest. She had to use a lot of strength as the body insisted on levitating.

Meanwhile, Cassandra moved around the makeshift table, uttering a spell repeatedly. Angelov’s hands and ankles were quickly anchored to the wood.

“You can let go.” She informed, before heading for the windows and starting to close the curtains.

Kate watched his eyes move behind the eyelids, and small wrinkles appeared on his forehead from time to time. As a good healer, she followed the inspection, looking for symptoms that could explain the teacher’s unusual situation.

The buttons on his left sleeve were open, revealing a red and bruised arm. By removing the sleeve completely, she discovered what Leron Angelov had been hiding.

Puncture marks covered the inside of his elbow, made so fiercely that a wound had begun to form.

Kate let go of a slow breath and reached into the pockets of his tunic.

“You won’t find anything,” announced Cassandra, “I’ve already taken care of it.”

“What is it that makes him be like this?”

“Something called Billywig.” Kate exhaled at the news. She should have deduced that before. She watched as Cassandra opened a small chest, containing several rows of vials, and grabbed one. “Although you already knew…”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to fool me. Didn’t Rhode ask you to spy on him? To catch him in the act?”

“I’m pretty sure that Rhode doesn’t know about this.” Steiner stared at her.

“Does he sting himself in the greenhouse?”

“Not since you started using it. Thanks for that, by the way, since you started playing teacher, it has been impossible for us to keep track of him.”

Kate frowned. “Us? Who is ‘us’?”

“You’d better get out of here, things are going to get ugly.” As if on cue, Angelov’s body moved. He opened his eyes, injected with blood, and tried to get rid of his bonds with a force that did not seem like his body.

Cassandra forced the contents of a vial into his mouth until it was empty. In a few moments, Leron fell asleep.

“Calming draught?”

“Do me a favour and stop meddling in matters that don’t concern you.” Kate ignored Cassandra’s attempts to keep her in the dark.

“Steiner, who else knows about this?” she asked with a solemnity unbecoming of the situation. “I need you to trust me.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but gave her an answer, anyway.

“Jorgensen. No one else can know about this, understood? If you tell anyone, I will make sure you never set foot in this school again.”

“I wasn’t planning to do that anyway...” she replied, referring to the part about revealing his secret, but also valid for the latter statement. “May I ask... why do you keep the vials... locked up?”

“Because these potions are not part of the school’s inventory. When Igor Karkarov was here, there was no problem; Rhode implemented a budget for ingredients that Jorgensen has to meet.”

“Don’t you grow your own ingredients?”

“I thought you’d noticed that you’re the first person to use the greenhouse in a decade. Kent sometimes picks some herbs from the forest, but it’s not usual.”

“But why do you have them at the hospital wing?”

“Kent and I buy what we need for the potions, he brews them, and we used to keep them in my room until Rhode started bringing in people from the British ministry, guards, inspectors... so we moved them to a place where they wouldn’t ask questions.”

Kate looked at Leron, who was becoming agitated again. “Kent hasn’t found a formula that won’t make us waste so many potions. For now, this is what we can do.”

“Beats his son, you know?” Kate accused.

“When he’s under the influence of the Billywig liquid, he’s not aware of his actions. Giving him so much calming draught doesn’t help his memory either. Micael went into his room. I hadn’t had time to tie him up and his hand slipped out. He went after him for a while, to make sure he said nothing. Most of the time he doesn’t even go near him.”

“That doesn’t speak in his favour either.”

“I didn’t say he was going to win an award for being father of the year.”

“Why are you doing this? Isn’t it better that he’s in a hospital and not teaching?”

“Look where we are, Williams. Many of us have known each other forever. We take care of each other here.”

“And Micael? Do you take care of him too?”

“Of course we do.”

“What about the sticky box that was with the bottles?” Cassandra rolled her eyes, irritated by the interrogation.

“I pick up the billywigs that Leron leaves all over the place and give them to Jorgensen. What’s left of them is useful in some potions.”

Leron awoke with a start, and the mediwizard came to his aid immediately. When he saw Kate, he gripped Cassandra’s wrist.

“Don’t worry. She knows.” Cassandra got rid of the magical bonds and he stood up slowly. He groped the ground and after a while managed to stand up without floating. He eyed Kate as she aired her wand at the tables, making them return to their original place. She felt his mind on her, and she purposely avoided his stare.

“My wife passed away some years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She still didn’t look at him.

“I have the feeling that you’re not” at that she raised her head.

“Why is that?”

“Because of the way you looked at me at the staff meeting. With utter...disgust. You have a very expressive face, even when you think you are concealing it.”

“Your perception of me is based on your own experiences.”

“No. No, I know when a person doesn’t like me. And I could say the same thing to you.” A heavy silence fell over them. Kate watched as Cassandra organised her things.

“My son has good grades in Herbology. I didn’t think that could happen.”

“I am not giving him special treatment just because he’s a professor’s son.”

“I meant nothing of the sort. Just implying that you are.... You know how to connect with children. You... talk with them. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s...how you often interact.”

“I’m not sure if you have a wicked sense of humour or you just really despise me.”

“Everyone, at one time or another, loses a loved one. Sometimes prematurely. That doesn’t give us the right to compromise the safety of those who are still alive.”

“Who are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the school year, and in a few months you became a teacher and the talk of the town. I hear your name everywhere, from everyone’s lips. And every time I turn around, you are there. One might think... you are up to something.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Just an observation. But let me give you a piece of advice...”

“No. I won’t tell anyone about your condition if that’s what you’re worried about. But If you hit Micael again I swear....”

“You shouldn’t be threatening me.”

Kate found herself positively conflicted. She meant it when she said she didn’t want to betray their trust, and as a healer she wanted to help him in any way she could. However, the need to protect the boy was competing with her compassion for his father.

Abstracted by her own thoughts, Cassandra’s voice went unnoticed and only caught the last few sentences.

“We’ll get out first. Rhode will be coming to give the Dark Arts lesson now. Don’t tell her about this.” With one last look, they disappeared out the door, leaving Kate alone with her conscience.

She took a few steps towards the wall and exhaled as she let herself fall back slightly. She rested her head on the stone and closed her eyes, seeking the only thing that could comfort her at that moment.

Charlie.

Perhaps if she concentrated enough, she could connect with his mind as she had done the night they spoke through the flu net. She visualised his freckles when the sun hit them, the movement of his fingers when he drew. She tried to remember his laughter...

Kate?

She opened her eyes suddenly. Astrid Rhode looked at her with concern.

“Williams, are you all right?”

No, she hadn’t said her name before. A little upset at her cowardice preventing her from talking to Charlie in a way she would never have imagined. She peeled off the wall and nodded fervently.

“Yes! Yes... “

“Is there anything you should tell me?”

“Nothing at the moment, no. Although... I wanted to ask you: why did you send Professor Marek to stand guard at the back of the castle?”

Rhode raised her eyebrows. “I have done no such thing. Why would I?”

[Part 14]

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