#I got multiple asks for the source of the letter writing set

[fireandiceland]

one thing you guys need to realise is that I always add the link to any merch or other official stuff from outside sources that I share here in the source of the post

[anticidic]

Can I ask from this ask game for Soukoku (all of the questions)? Thanks 🧁

https://www.tumblr.com/comingfromastatechampionasshole/119898100247?source=share

hi anon!! this looked fun, so I decided to do it 😊

1. Which one is the better cook

Chuuya. Dazai wouldn't know good eats even if it hit him upside the head. Dazai would try to cook, but he set off the smoke alarm not just once, but twice, and the last time he burnt their food beyond edible. I think Dazai would still try to hone his skills when Chuuya wasn't around.

2. What their love letters look like

Lowkey, I think Dazai would send a fake letter and then a really passionate letter full of him waxing poetic. The man gets caught up in his head too much and for too long, and it'd show in his writing where he fails to voice how he feels. You feel like you're reading someone's diary. The fake letter is to irritate Chuuya and pretend like he doesn't care about sappy love letters.

Chuuya, I think would be more straightforward and just say like, he went to the park and crossed over a bridge and it reminded him of the time they were there at night together looking up at the stars.

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope

I feel like Dazai would outlive Chuuya? It doesn't even have to be tragic, but taking elements from his canon self, I feel like after finding the one and settling down, he'd dread dying and his inner resolve would keep him alive.

He'd look like he was coping extremely well, or look completely unfazed by Chuuya's passing—the jokes go on, he continues annoying those around him. But then he goes home, it's just him and the four walls and a bed too big for just him, and it's cold. He talks to himself into the late hours nursing multiple glasses of alcohol and it goes on like that until dawn. He's avoidant of anything that reminds him of Chuuya at first because he stuffs every damn emotion down instead of letting them out, and he can feel that tiny crack going down the length of his face and splitting him open day-by-day.

Then, he's getting ready for another day and he goes into their closet that's now become entirely his, and he reaches for gloves because it's below freezing, and he accidentally grabs Chuuya's. The tears come because it's the final straw. And they don't stop.

But also taking parts of canon into consideration, I feel like Chuuya would have a shorter lifespan because of eventual corruption side effects catching up to him as he got older.

4. What they do on date night

Dazai would like doing something cozy, like ordering food and a movie in, but he gets roped into nights out at luxury restaurants, or to take a walk around a temple because Chuuya insists he needs fresh air.

5. How many kids they'll have

I can see them having two 👀 Dazai's the one really wanting the second

6. How they decorated their bedroom

Dazai's very minimalistic. Maybe a framed photo or two, a little lamp on the nightstand, and books he cycles through. Probably has a mini pile of clothes by the foot of the bed because he was late to work that morning. Chuuya wouldn't be as minimalistic, but you could tell he put thought and care into the decorations and how high quality the things he has are. A shoe rack for all his shoes to neatly line up on. A standing mirror by the dresser. Framed artworks hung up on the walls. A large bed with a lot of pillows and the bedding high quality.

7. Which one is the worse driver

Dazai, no contest. Chuuya will force Dazai out of the driver's seat if he has to.

8. What they argue about

Really stupid things. Like, Dazai not restocking the toilet paper. Chuuya forgetting to put his phone on silent when it rings on the nightstand at five am. Chuuya losing his mind over the fact his pack of cigarettes is slowly going down and he doesn't remember smoking so much, but it's really Dazai stealing them.

9. Which one swears more

Chuuya swears more out loud, but Dazai either swears in his head or to himself. Dazai will be sipping coffee at the table when he suddenly hears a loud, "Fuuuuuuck!" down the hall, and he goes to see what's up. But it's just Chuuya crumpled to the floor rubbing his foot because he stubbed his toe on the door. Then Dazai walks away.

Dazai will joke that Chuuya needs to wash his mouth out with soap, but he doesn't actually care that Chuuya swears.

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other

I think they'd be really into watching gritty shows or shows that have heists as a theme? The action would reel them in. But separately, I can see Dazai being into dumb reality shows because he "likes to make fun of how stupid people are" but he's really into them, and Chuuya likes cooking shows or animal documentaries.

11. What their first impression was of each other

Chuuya thought Dazai was a fucking idiot and actually couldn't stand him. (Rightfully so) And Dazai made it his mission to get under Chuuya's skin, and now whoops, look how they got here. A very push-pull relationship.

12. What they do for their anniversary

Dazai downplays it and acts cool when he casually suggests they go away to another part of Japan or they go down to Odaiba at night to walk along the pier and then dine by the water. He also got them a nice hotel room so it can just be them. Chuuya wasn't even really sure what to do, he was just gonna get a gift and take Dazai out.

13. Which makes a bigger deal of birthdays

I think Dazai would make a big deal about Chuuya's birthday, but not care about his own. Chuuya would dislike being reminded he's not only the older of the two of them, but he's getting older faster than he recalls the days going by like seconds. Dazai will joke about it, too, but he sprinkles in niceties like getting Chuuya a new pair of gloves.

14. What nicknames they call each other

I can't see them calling each other couple names honestly—I think they'd eventually come up with something only they understand/something stupid for one another. (I will say, Dazai thought he was hallucinating the first time Chuuya called him Osamu instead of Dazai, though.)

15. What they would change about each other

Chuuya would change Dazai's terrible habit of leaving messes everywhere, and Dazai would change how Chuuya hogs the bed and snores like a roaring machine.

[ray-ray-writings]

I HAD A SECOND IDEA.

And know I’m only sending multiple asks because you said you were fine with it earlier, if you’re getting clogged up lemme know straight away and I’ll calm it down.

Okay okay okay, right, so we all know Technoblade, anarchist pig boy, well lemme pitch you this idea.

He gets a hot tip one day about this cruel empire off of the SMP lands and he agrees to go and assassinate the king. He makes it there, waits for the person who messaged him, only for it to be the reader, aka he kings child. They want him to murder her father after they are forcefully married to a neighboring kingdom so that they can take the crown and better the empire. (or if you’d like so they can demolish the monarchy)

Techno agrees uneasily but as time passes and the two plan together (with a lot of escapades and a few moments of daring where they tug him into their room to hide him from the guards) he falls in love with them and decides that he can’t wait until after the wedding because he can’t bear to see them married to anyone else.

So he moves the plan forward, kills both the evil king and the cruel fiancé in the same day and whisks them off back to the SMP after demolishing the monarchy together.

They get introduced to the SMP as a stranger Techno met and fell in love with while on his travels and the reader is content to never bring up their heritage again. The only memory of it being in the way they give Tubbo pointers on leading a people or how Techno has to remind them that they are safe and they don’t need to stand so rigidly.

Just a passing idea lololol. Hope you like,

With ever love-🌻

My God 🌻 your brain is so big and it is absolutely stan 🌻 hours because this idea is so good???? Like??? Thank you so much for sending this to me and allowing the absolute honor of writing it!!!!! Also, this got a lot longer than I meant for it to be…. But I don’t care because it is such a poggers idea. (Because it did take so long this may be the only post for tonight... Not sure yet lol)

(P.S. In this, your mom has passed. I forgot to write it into the story but it’s what it is lol)

TW: Murder, and one mention of suicide

So I imagine that Techno is aware of the kingdom of Oryn, all of the DreamSMP members are. But none of them had ever really been there, they have only heard stories. And not all of them have been very nice stories. But Technoblade has no ties there and so even though he hates the government, he’s not very willing to just go in guns blazing…. Until… 

A letter arrives at his house one day. The letter asks him to come to Oryn and assassinate the King and the soon to be Prince, the one that is marrying the King’s only child. Technoblade would have refused had it not been for the two stacks of gold blocks that came with it, promising more if he chose to accept. Being half Piglin, he needs only to ponder for a moment before making his decision. The letter tells him to meet his contact just on the outskirts of the kingdom at midnight and if he does not show up, the contact will have their answer. It almost calm’s Techno’s nerves that the letter does not force him to agree to the mission, it is simply someone asking for help but is allowing him to say no if he wants. But Techno tells Phil where he’s going and that he will be gone for a few days, packs a bag, and sets out for Oryn. 

He gets there right on time. A figure much smaller than him stands on guard, dressed in a black cloak, waits for him. “Are you my contact?” Techno asks, deciding not to waste time. The figure quickly turns to him and their shoulders ease as the tension leaves them. “I am” the sweetest voice Techno has ever heard responds. It stuns him for a moment but he quickly snaps back out of it. “And who might you be?” The figure’s hand reaches out and carefully pulls their hood off of their head, revealing you. Techno knows who you are instantly, how could he not? “Y/N? You’re the one that is hiring me to kill the King and the Prince? Your father and fiance?” He asks a bit incredulously.  You let out a tired sigh but give him a firm nod. “I am.” “Why?” And so you dive into an explanation of how cruel your father is and just how much more cruel your fiance is. As you’re telling your story, Techno allows his eyes to wonder and he takes in your body and immediately notices that your face is bruised but is being covered in makeup and that your wrist is also bruised and he can only imagine just how bruised the rest of your body is. And before you can even finish, Techno cuts you off, “I’ll do it” you notice his demeanor has completely changed, but you don’t question it. All you care about is that he has agreed to kill your father and your fiance. So with a happy smile you reach your hand out and he takes it and you two shake hands. “Come, I’ll show you to the castle. You’ll have to stay in my room while we work and plan.” Techno doesn’t question you, only gives you a small nod and the two of you go on your way. 

Somehow you manage to sneak this beat of a man into the castle without catching anyone’s attention. “You’re going to have to stay in my room. Forgive me for being improper but I believe my father wouldn’t take kindly to finding his assassin in on of the guest rooms. You murmur as you guide him down a long hallway toward your room. A deep chuckle that fills your whole body with warmth rumbles from his chest. “That is quite alright your highness” “Please, just call me Y/N… My father makes everyone call me that but I hate it. So please, just Y/N.” “Okay then just Y/N.” The two of you are silent until you get to your room. You carefully push open the doors and Techno is blown away at the room. It is probably bigger than his house. But the thing that absolutely how much it just screams you. He’s only known you for maybe 20 minutes but he feels like by looking into your room he’s known you forever. A huge bed sits in the middle of the room draped in the comfiest looking blankets and pillows. Off to one side of the room, a small loveseat sandwiched between two comfy chairs sits in front of a large fireplace with multiple bookshelves with a multitude of books spilling from its holds. Many rows of chests and a few furnaces and smokers sit next to a door that he assumes leads into your very own personal bathroom. Also on that side is a table that is stacked with more books, paper, and pencils. “Please, make yourself at home. Bathroom is over there… Are you hungry? If you are, there is food in that chest over there, the one with the sign labeling it above it.” You offer. Techno gives you a warm smile of thanks before moving over to the chest and opening it finding some of the most rare foods he’s ever seen. So he grabs a little bit of everything, familiar stuff but also stuff he’s never tried before. You don’t mind, why would you? But he eats and then uses the bathroom, letting himself relax for a moment before walking back out to the room. 

Techno finds the lights have been turned off, the only source of light being the fireplace and two candles sitting on either of the nightstands beside the bed. He scans the room, searching for you, expecting you to be on the bed… Instead he finds you on the loveseat with a pillow and a blanket lying down. “What are you doing?” Technoblade asks, rather confused. You sit up slightly and turn to look at him. “Oh! I’m sleeping on the couch. I thought you would be much more comfortable on the bed rather than stuck on this small couch.” His heart flutters for the first time around you, something he will spend a lot of time thinking about later on down the line, but he let’s out a scoff. “You’re right, but I am not going to make the future ruler of this land sleep on an uncomfortable couch while I lavish in their bed… Come, get up. Let me sleep on the couch” You make no move to get up and he lets out a huff before looking over to the bed. He lets out a sigh and he cannot believe what he’s about to offer, but he will be damned if he lets you sleep on the couch for him. “You’re bed is huge… We could just share, if you were comfortable with that.” And your heart begins to thump hard in your chest. Because yes, you definitely thought about the offer, but you just met this man and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable… Then again the two of you are going to be getting rather close over these next few days… This might as well happen right? So you carefully sit up all the way and give the man a nod, “Yeah. That’s alright with me… Is that alright with you?” You ask shyly. A soft smile forms on his face and he lets out a chuckle, “Doll I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t comfortable. Come,” He softly commands, holding out a hand, softly beckoning you forward. Standing up, you shuffle your way over to him and accept his outreached hand. You both do your best to ignore the fire that spreads through your palms, up your arms, and fills your whole body. Techno carefully ushers you over to the bed, letting you pick which side you wanted to sleep on before letting go of your hand, to both of your disappointments, and wandering over to the other side of the bed and carefully crawling in beside you as to not disturb you. He carefully leans over and blows out the candle on his nightstand, you doing the same before the two of you settle down in bed. You two lie there, the only sound coming from the crackling fire. I mean, it’s a little awkward, sleeping in the same bed of a stranger you hired to murder your father and fiancé? But there is a pretty big space between you two and that relaxes you enough to the point where you begin to drift to sleep. So you turn on your side to get more comfy. His gaze moves to you as you sleepily close your eyes and mutter out, “Goodnight Technoblade.” “Goodnight Y/N” 

You know that big space between the two of you that you had before you went to sleep? Yeah, when you wake up in the morning, it’s nonexistent. You wake the next morning completely pressed into someone’s chest. For a moment, terror and panic rise in your veins but settles once you catch sight of a pink strand of hair and you realize what has happened and who is in your bed. Again, it’s a little awkward but you have known kind human touch in a long time so you simply close your eyes and snuggle yourself closer to the piglin hybrid and fall back asleep. 

Techno wakes up as you’re falling asleep. He too at first is very confused and nervous because he’s confused as to where he is and who the hell he’s holding to his chest and who just snuggled into him. But again, the memories of the night before flood his mind and a soft blush falls on his cheeks. He carefully tries to pull himself out of your grip, but you let out the cutest whine and bury your face in his chest. It causes him to stop dead in his tracks. He then decides that if you hated what was happening, you would have pulled away when you woke up or would have let him pull away from you. So he relaxes just a bit more and tightens his arms around you, pulling you even closer before falling back asleep himself. 

The two of you wake up together to a loud bang on your door, the door opening and closing, and then an Irish accent yelling. “Y/N! You lazy bum get up! You were supposed to meet me---- Who the fuck?” You and Techno quickly sit up and there at the end of your bed is your best friend, who also just so happens to be your lady in waiting. “Minx! We’ve talked about this… Knock god damn it” You grumble laying back down in the bed, surprising Techno by pulling him down with you and curling into him again. “I would if you actually answered the door… Who the fuck is this in your bed?” She says again, much quieter this time, but still loudly. Letting out a sigh, you decide that you’re not getting any more sleep. “Technoblade, this is Minx, my annoying best friend, Minx this is Technoblade… I’ve hired him to kill my father and fiancé” you tell your bestie. Her eyes get huge and her mouth gapes at you like a fish. “I know we talked about it, I didn’t know you were serious” “It was either this or killing myself and I think I deserve to live compared to those two cruel bastards.” Minx quickly composes herself and gives you a nod. “Damn right… Well then… I guess we can cancel our plans for the day so you two can begin plotting… I’ll make sure no one comes in.” “Thanks Minx. You’re a really good friend. I love you” “Yeah, yeah… I love you too bitch” And then she leaves. 

Techno has been silent this whole time, just observing. He doesn’t know how the hell Minx was so chill with him here and the fact he was here to kill her king… But once she leaves his attention is back on you. You let out a sigh, stretch, and turn to him with a big smile. “Come on… We should probably get started.” You crawl out of bed and Techno follows you, still a little bewildered. The two of you move in sync around the room as you get ready for the day. You two eat, use the bathroom (separately lol), and just get ready before the two of you meet back at the table. You get right into it. You two begin drawing out a plan. 

The plan: Your wedding was at the end of the week. So you would unfortunately get married to your fiancé but once you two would go off into your separate room after the wedding, Techno would be in there already and would slice his throat. You would make sure your father was nearby before screaming for him and when he ran into the room, Techno would kill him as well before running to the window and escaping. You would then call for the guards, once he was far enough away. But you would be secured in the position as the sole monarch of your land with no more cruel leaders coming your way. It was set… All there was to do now was wait. 

The two of you spend the rest of the week together. You barely ever leave the room and Techno leaves even more rarely. One time you were trying to take him on a walk and so the two of you were standing at the door. He opens the door just as you heard footsteps begin to walk down the hall, causing you to reach out and yank him back into the room, his body turning and his chest crashing into yours. You two stare into each other’s eyes before you realize the position your in and clear your throat before taking a step back to clear your head. But you two spend almost every minute of every day together, other than the times you have to leave to do royal things. But because of this you two get very close. He tells you about his life and you tell him about yours. He tells you about his family and about Phil, he offers to let you meet him one day. You’d like that, you really would. You two spend a lot of time reading together, sharing funny or sad parts in your book. Exchanging and recommending ones you think the other would enjoy. You two grow close but also hold each other at arms length, knowing that once the week was over, Techno would be leaving and you two would rarely see each other again. 

The night before the wedding changes everything though.

This day would be the longest day you two would be away from each other because you’re gone for a lot of the day, finishing the prep for the wedding. So the whole day Techno has been sitting on the couch reading. That’s where he would be when you walked in. Exhausted you would flop down beside him and adjust yourself so that your head was laying in his lap. He would look down at you a little amused, but would move one hand down and would begin running his hand through your hair. You relax into his lap and sigh in contentment. After a few minutes, you get tired of the silence. “Read to me?” You ponder softly. Again, Techno’s eyes leave the page and scan your gentle face. “Of course doll.” His eyes would shift back to the pages he was reading and he would begin to read aloud. His voice soothing as he reads and his hand still petting your head. Your eyes flutter closed as you begin to drift off to sleep. There is a slight pause of silence as Techno turns a page and you’re so sleepy but so warm that you can’t help the words that slip from your lips, “I love you.” And then you’re asleep. Techno freezes though. Did he just hear you right? You said you loved him? Him? The Blood God? Someone you literally hired to come here and kill someone? You love him? His thoughts race as he stares at your beautiful and relaxed face before it all settles on one thought. He loves you too. He loves you so much. There is no way that he would be able to sit through tomorrow. Knowing you, the one he loves, was out there getting married to someone so cruel and horrible, even though he would die shortly after… He wants to be the only one you marry. So with that thought, he changes the plan. He’s not sure how much you’ll like it… But he does it. He carefully sets the book down and moves your head out of his lap, stands up, turns around, picks you up and carefully puts you down on your bed. Techno tucks you in gently before grabbing his sword and quietly leaving the room. 

It’s late at night, no one is in the hallways which is perfect. He makes his way to your father’s room first, remembering exactly where it was from one of your rare walks. Techno quietly slips into the room and over to the king’s bed. He glares at the face of the king before bringing his sword up and sliding the sword across the king’s throat in one swift motion. The king’s eyes shoot open in a panic and meets Techno’s stare. The king opens his mouth to call out to someone, anyone, but he can’t make a single noise. The blood drips from his throat and soon the king’s eyes roll back in his head, and he’s dead. Techno darkly chuckles to himself before leaving the room once more and slips to your fiancé’s room. Again, stalking to the side of his bed and slicing his throat. Once more, the man’s eyes shoot open, the same panic lacing his eyes. “It’s a shame you’ll never get to marry Y/N. They would have been the best thing in your life. Too bad you’re an evil asshole… Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take care of them and give them all the love in the world” Techno hums darkly before driving his sword into the man’s chest. Again, no sound leaves his mouth as the life leaves his body. Pleased with himself, Techno pulls the sword out of the dead man and makes his way back to your room. 

The door opening and closing wakes you, causing you to panic. It can’t be morning already. You shoot up from your spot on the bed, a little confused as to how you got there and why Techno is not next to you, but your eyes shoot to the door and you find Techno stand there with a bloody sword and you immediately know what has happened. “Oh Techno” you breathe out, shooting off the bed and launching yourself across the room and into his arms, the sword falling from his hand onto the floor, sweeping you up into his arms. “What happened to the plan?” You question him, not upset. After all he did what he was hired to do, he killed the people you so desperately wanted dead. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch the person I love get married to someone else, even if they would only be married for 10 minutes… I want to be the only person you marry Y/N.” He admits melting your heart melting at the confession. “You’re the only person I want to marry too Techno” you admit back, pulling your face away from him. His eyes meet yours before he leans forward and crashes his lips into your in a passionate but sloppy kiss. You don’t mind though, you kiss him back with just as much passion. Too soon Techno breaks away from the kiss, “Come with me” he breathes out, “What?” You respond a little confused, “Come with me. Back to the DreamSMP. You don’t have to be the ruler. You can leave a note, tell them that there is no more monarchy, that they are free now. Come with me. Please. I can’t be with out you.” And who are you to deny him such a request. You nod enthusiastically, “Yes. Yes. I’ll go with you Techno. I can’t be without you either. I love you” “I love you too” the two of you share another passionate kiss. You’re the one to break away. “Okay, okay. I have to write the note. Gather all you can from my chests please.” You two split and quickly do you separate tasks. After you’re done, Techno is still packing so you figure you have enough time. “I’ll be right back my love,” you murmur walking over to him, kissing his cheek, and walking over to the door. Techno, although a little bit of nervous energy is flowing through his veins, he trusts you so he lets you go. 

You quickly sprint down the hallway and slip into your best friend’s room. You quickly walk over to her side and shake her shoulder till she wakes up. “Wot the fuck?” Minx mutters, her eyes peering open to stare at you, “Wot the fuck do you want?” She questions. “Minx. I’m leaving. Now. With Techno. The king… The king is dead, there are roses by the stairs (okay so you didn’t actually say the roses part… moving on). My fiance, well ex-fiance, is dead. Techno and I are leaving for his homeland… I just wanted to tell you goodbye.” Minx stares at you before lurching forward and wrapping you in a huge hug. “Let me know when you’re safe okay? I love you” “I will. I love you too… If you want, when we get there I can send you the coordinates. You could come too.” Minx pulls away from the hug and nods. “Yeah I’d like that… Now get out of here. Before you get caught.” You would lean down and press a kiss to Minx’s forehead, “i love you” “i love you” 

Techno was done packing when you opened the door. “You ready?” You ask him quietly. “Yes… Are you?” “I’ve never been ready for anything in my entire life.” You two share one more kiss before carefully exiting the castle and disappearing in the night. 

The king and the bitch… i mean ex fiance… are discovered dead the next morning. A guard rushes into your room to check on you only to find the note neatly placed on your pillow. It is announced within the next hour that the citizens were now free, that there was no longer a monarch due to the proclamation of the last ruler. Because technically once the king died, you became ruler and then all your proclamations would then have to be followed. People would be confused at first, but then they would celebrate. No longer under the control of a cruel and vicious king as well as you, the sweet child of that monster, was free and happy and were allowing them to be free and happy too? Sounds amazing to them. That day they dance and drink and toast to your honor. 

You and Techno make it back to his house safely and with no issues. The first thing you do is let Minx know you’re safe and sound. The second thing you do is kiss Techno. And the third thing you do is meet Philza. He is very surprised to see Techno coming home with someone, especially since he knew about the mission and knew who you were. But Techno and you explain everything and he immediately gives you the biggest, warmest hug you’ve had in a really really long time…. He hugs you like a father would. “I’m so proud of you for doing what’s right… And welcome to the family” you lose it. You cry into his shoulder and he just holds you and let’s you. You feel so safe and so welcomed and it’s been so long since you’ve had a good father, its been since your mom died which was many years ago. But Philza just lets you cry on him and comforts you as you do so… Once the tears are done, you go back to Techno and the two of you curl up in his bed and sleep for a while, exhausted from the days events. 

You slowly meet the rest of the SMP. Techno didn’t want to stress you or the others out so he introduced you to them little by little. You got along with everyone great, your training as a royal making it easy to get along with so many different people of so many different personalities. One thing you appreciated about Techno was that he never outed your royal status. You wanted to keep your past in the past and he accepted that right away, no questions asked. That being said, you definitely do spend a lot of time around Tubbo. Being around and being forced to lead for a long time like you were, it’s not so easy to quit cold turkey. So you help Tubbo govern L’Manberg, no matter how much Techno hates it. But he hears some of the advice you give and decide that maybe your government isn’t so bad. Nobody, except maybe Dream, puts two and two together. That Oryn lost its rulers and suddenly you’re here with Techno and you’re someone who’s really good at ruling…. It doesn’t matter though, that’s how you want it to stay. 

Techno and you get married rather quickly, nobody questions it though. They’re just happy that the Blood God found someone and has actually kind of calmed down a little bit. It’s a really beautiful ceremony where you got a lot of say in what happened, something that your other wedding didn’t have lol. But the two of you live the rest of your lives together just completely and utterly in love with one another and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ravennm84]

The Inspector

I read a short story on AO3 a while back about a teacher or adult sending a letter to the Board of Governors about the teachers of the school and how terrible they were, and decided to write a story about the person who was assigned to look into the accusations. Got some salt and justice coming along. And I must say, this was very therapeutic to write. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Inspector Walters had a bad feeling about the Francois-Dupont College since the moment he’d received the assignment. The Board of Governors had been debating conducting an investigation on the school since one of the classes had been nicknamed “The Akuma Class” by social media and a few news sources. It became a necessity when a complaint had been filed by the Dupain-Cheng family about their daughter’s expulsion. 

That complaint had surprised him. Only the Board of Governors had the power to expel a student after an investigation, and they hadn’t expelled the girl. The parents claimed that it was done on the same day as the accusations against the student, and was then retracted the following day. Again, something that only the Board of Governors had the power to do.

Looking over the incident report, the details were slim at best. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was accused of cheating on a mock exam and the answer sheet was found in her backpack. When looking at the schedule, he saw that the mock exam had been taken the day before and the teacher only noticed that the answer sheet was missing after receiving the exams. A fact which bothered him a bit, but he’d seen a few scatterbrained teachers, as well as students make the mistake of not getting rid of the evidence. However, he also saw from her student records that she was one of the top students and always got high grades, so there was some doubt that she would have cheated.

The next thing was the accusation that she had pushed another student, Mlle. Lila Rossi down the stairs, injuring her right knee. However, there was no mention of an ambulance being called or even a trip to the nurse’s station. It was also suspect that there was no mention of other injuries that someone would have received after falling down stairs; no recorded cuts, bruises, or anything. So either Rossi had the most well placed fall that kept her from major injury, or she was lying.

The last part of the report was that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng had stolen a necklace from Mlle. Rossi and put it in her locker. Again, he was a bit skeptical considering that the same two girls had been involved with a separate incident on the same day. There was a picture of the locker, but Walters quickly noticed that there was no actual lock on the locker, something that he should be seeing since the Board had funded upgrades for lockers months ago. There was also no CCTV record attached to the incident report, meaning that the system was down and not reported, or the principal never checked them and only went by the word Mlle. Rossi.

Looking over the rest of the file, it was even more suspect when he saw that only Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents had been called in. Mlle. Rossi’s contact, her mother, had been listed as “unavailable”. This was yet another thing that didn’t sit well with him. Following his gut, M. Walters set aside the Dupain-Cheng student file to look more closely at the Rossi student file. 

Not five minutes in, he knew that things were not right. The disabilities she had listed in the current file were not consistent with the files from her previous schools, and there were no doctors notes to support them as being recently discovered ailments. He attempted to call the number listed on the current file, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Comparing the number to the previous files, he noticed that the number did not match.

Finding himself very unhappy with the incomplete file provided by Principal Damocles, he decided that he would have to go to the school in person the following morning and see for himself what was really going on.

~oOo~

First stop he made was to the principal’s office. M. Walters had not alerted him of the inspection so that the man would not have a chance to change or hide specific documents, he’d seen that happen more than once. What he had not expected was to see a grown man playing with dolls/action figures behind his desk. Damocles quickly straightened up, hiding the dolls in a drawer before scowling at him. “What is the meaning of this? You can’t simply barge into my office without-”

“Actually, M. Damocles, I can,” he interrupted, pulling out his identification. “Inspector Walters, I’m with the Board of Governors, looking into a recent complaint filed against the school.”

“Complaint? What complaint?” He asked, sputtering a bit in surprise.

“The expulsion of Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he glared at the man.

“Oh, that incident has already been handled.”

“Is that so? Then please, explain to me how the incident was handled.” Pulling out a chair, Walters flipped open his notepad and clicked open his pen. Some of his colleagues considered the whole pen and paper thing to be a little old-school at times, but it had its purpose. He waved a hand at Damocles to begin.

“Well, Mlle. Lila Rossi suffers from a rare disease that makes her lie uncontrollably when she is stressed-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, M. Damocles. We will get to the reason why you reinstated Mlle. Dupain-Cheng in a moment. First, I want you to go through everything on the day of the incident.”

“Oh, of-of course,” he was beginning to fidget. “I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door. When I came outside, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs and Mlle. Lila Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she had been pushed.” Walters wrote this down and waved a hand for him to continue. “M. Harpele and I brought her upstairs and wrapped the knee that was injured, and then contacted Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents to talk about the incident, seeing as Mlle. Rossi had been badly injured.”

Walters finished writing that down before looking back up at Damocles. “And is that when you called an ambulance to look over Mlle. Rossi’s injury and check to make sure there were no other injuries?”

It was no surprise to him when Damocles mouth did an impersonation of a fish for a moment. “Well, um, no. I did not call an ambulance-”

“Then I can only imagine that you called the school nurse to your office to look her over and deem whether or not a trip to the hospital was necessary?”

Again, he began impersonating a fish. “I-I didn’t think it was- Mlle. Rossi claimed that she was fine and that only her knee was injured.”

“You just told me that you believed Mlle. Rossi was, and I quote ‘badly injured’, and yet she received no medical attention?” Walters hummed in a disbelieving manner as he looked down at his notepad and wrote down his thoughts. “That was quite irresponsible of you. I’ve read your personnel file and nowhere does it list that you have a medical background. Yet, you thought yourself qualified to treat and diagnose a girl that claimed to have been pushed down the stairs and could have underlying injuries, such as a concussion, broken bones, or internal bleeding?” 

To his satisfaction, the principal began to sweat, but he was nowhere close to finished yet. “I can imagine that Mme. Rossi was upset when you called her to the school for the meeting with M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng.” Just as he suspected, Damocles wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You have contacted Mme. Rossi about the incident, have you not?”

“Well, Mme. Rossi is an ambassador and is very busy-”

“Are you meaning to tell me that you failed to alert a parent that their child was injured while in your care?” When the principal looked away again, Walters glared before double clicking his pen and writing down more notes.Taking his time as he wrote to allow the man to sweat and worry about what was being written.

“We will return to your failure at contacting parents and guardians later. Now, tell me what you observed when you reviewed the CCTV footage of the stairs at the time of the incident.” Just as he suspected, the man became flustered and refused to meet his eyes. “Are you telling me that you did not, at any time, look over the footage to corroborate whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or accidentally fell?” 

Hesitating again. “I, um, thought it unnecessary. It was clear that she was pushed-”

“And you know that for fact, how, exactly?” He glared as he kept writing.

“As I said, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs while Mlle. Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she’d been pushed-”

“You also said, and I quote ‘I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door’. Meaning that you did not actually see whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or simply fell. Am I to understand that you believed one child over another without gathering evidence to prove or disprove the claim?”

Walters watched as the man’s parlor turned a pale green while muttering multiple failed excuses, which only served to anger him further. So far, Damocles had failed to show him, in any way, that he was qualified to run this school and had let an innocent girl suffer for his mistakes. “You are going to pull up that footage right now, and have it prepared for a meeting I will be setting up with Mme. Rossi later today. And not just the stairs, but the footage of the classroom to see exactly who stole the test answer sheet and the lockerroom to see if the accusations of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stealing Mlle. Rossi’s property is at all valid. And allow me to make something very clear, you are already looking at being brought up on negligence and abuse of power, seeing as you expelled and reinstated a student, something that only the Board of Governors has the power to do. If I find out that the footage is somehow ‘missing’, I will have no choice but to assume that you have purposefully erased it to protect yourself and will have you brought before the Board by tomorrow morning. Am I clear?”

The man gave a shaky nod, as he immediately got on his computer and began pulling up the footage from that day.

Getting on his phone, Walters called the number that Mme. Rossi had listed in the previous files and it went straight through. He easily scheduled a meeting for later that day and hung up.“I will be sitting in on Mme. Bustier’s class for the rest of the day, until Mme. Rossi arrives at 1pm for our appointment. Have all the footage ready by then.” Without another word, Inspector Walters left the office and made his way down to the Akuma Classroom.

~oOo~

Lunch had finally come and Walters was anything but impressed by what he had seen. To her credit, Mme. Bustier had been polite and understanding towards his presence in the classroom and seemed to go about teaching as usual. She was also a very upbeat type of personality, something needed in a city plagued by akumas. But that was the extent of his compliments towards the teacher. 

During the first half of the day, he witnessed the woman allow her students to become disorderly multiple times. Three of which stood out to him beyond the normal rowdy teenage energy that is normal for a classroom. 

The first was how a boy in the front of the room kept flinching and curling into himself whenever another student, who just happened to be Mlle. Lila Rossi, touched him. She was sharing his desk in the front, sitting inappropriately close, clutching his arm in a possessive manor, and ignored him when he asked her to let him go or give him space. All this was done in full view of Mme. Bustier, and she did nothing.

During the literature lesson, they were studying Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mlle. Rossi interrupted and began telling a story about being a descendant of Vlad the Impaler. A complete falsehood since Vlad’s only child had been killed as an infant. This was a fact that the teacher should have corrected or told the girl to pay attention to the lesson, but she did nothing. Allowing the girl to prattle on for close to 15 minutes before returning to the lesson.

The worst though, was when Mlle. Rossi, made another scene when she began complaining about how her left knee was still hurting from when Marinette pushed her down the stairs. The other students proceeded to glare and speak harsh words about the girl. It was at this time that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stood from her seat in the back and attempted to defend herself. Mme. Bustier did intervene this time, but she did not reprimanded the other students that were ganging up on the one girl. Instead, she reprimanded Marinette and told her that she was not setting a good example for the class. Then forced her to apologize to Lila for upsetting her. Blatant victim blaming, right in front of him, and the teacher had the nerve to smile at him as if to say that she had handled the situation.

Walters had written everything down, already deciding that he would need to call the Board at the first possible moment to alert them to the incompitent administrative practices of Damocles, as well as the toxic teaching methods of Bustier. It was now little wonder why this class had produced so many akumas. It was a miracle that there were any students left in the class that hadn’t been akumatized. But seeing as one student was clearly being bullied and the other was being sexually harassed, it likely wouldn’t be long.

He was just barely able to fit in the call and look over the CCTV footage before his meeting with Mme. Rossi in M. Damocles office. That had been interesting, to say the least. Before the meeting had even started, Mme. Rossi was voicing her worry about the amount of time that the school had been closed due to akuma attacks…

Once that had been cleared up, M. Damocles got to the matter at hand. Beginning with requesting information and doctors notes at her earliest convenience pertaining to her daughter’s injuries, disabilities, as well as requesting more information about her lying disease. Again, that had been a very interesting conversation that resulted in the woman yelling at Damocles in French and Italian about how incompetant he was and why hadn’t he gotten ahold of her sooner?

But the worst reaction came when Damocles told her about the day of the incident. They showed her the footage found of Lila, and yes it was Lila, stealing the answer sheet off of Mme. Bustier’s desk and then slip it into Marinette’s bag on her way back to her seat. Then the footage of Lila breaking into Marinette’s locker and planting the necklace. And finally, Lila smiling at Marinette before walking down the stairs and sitting on the ground before she started screaming. 

By then, another inspector from the Board of Governors had arrived to assist in the situation that he had reported during his earlier phone call and the students had returned from lunch. Walters requested Mme. Bustier to join them and to bring Lila along. When the girl entered the office and saw her furious mother and principal, she paled immediately and started lying.

Even when Walters, Damocles, and her mother tore apart every one of her lies, she kept trying to turn things around and make herself a victim. And to Walters’ horror, Damocles was actually buying her lies! It was at that moment that he decided that the man had no right being a school administrator and would be put on leave, pending the end of his investigation and the Board of Governors decision. 

Bustier attempted to side with Lila as well, claiming that the girl suffered from a disease and shouldn’t be punished. Completely ignoring that Mme. Rossi told her that her daughter suffered no such ‘disease’. The other inspector, Marchand, looked on in disgust before pulling out his phone and calling the Board of Governors right there, relaying his support of Walters’ recommendation against Damocles and Bustier. 

Walters took charge of the situation, forcing Damocles out of his chair to take his seat. “Mme. Rossi, as an inspector of the Board of Governors, I must ask if you fully understand the situations that your daughter has caused?”

The woman took a deep breath before slowly letting it out, all the while retaining a firm grip on her daughter’s arm after she had attempted to flee the room earlier. “If you would, please go over everything from the top.” The woman requested, her voice a bit hoarse after yelling at the principal, the teacher, and her daughter.

Giving the woman a sympathetic nod, he flipped open the notebook and went over his notes while Marchand kept Damocles and Bustier quiet and standing in a corner. “I have personally observed your daughter disrupting class, bullying a student named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lying to her peers, leading them to also bully Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and sexually harassing another student who verbally asked her to stop. We have video evidence of her committing theft, harassing the same student I witnessed her bullying, framing that student for assault, as well as framing that student of theft and cheating. All that, as well as your testimony of her lying to the school administration about different injuries and illnesses, fraud in regards to changing your contact information, and four months of truancy. 

“At this point, the school has no choice but to suspend Lila, pending an investigation to be completed by the Board of Governors,” he said, handing her the paperwork to sign, which she did right away. “At the time the investigation is complete, she will have the opportunity to plead her case to the Board. However, I want to make it clear that, from what I have seen, it is very likely that your daughter will be expelled.”

To her credit, Mme. Rossi held her head high as she nodded and handed back their copies of the suspension papers. “I suspected as much. However, I do request that a meeting be scheduled with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents so that Lila may apologize in person. I also want her to apologize to the class and admit her lies to them so that there won’t be any backlash on that poor girl.”

Lila turned to her mother in a panic. “No, Mom! Please don’t make me-”

“YOUNG LADY, you are going to tell the class everything you lied about, apologize to that girl, and admit that you have been bullying her. Am I clear?” Walters was impressed that the girl simply nodded as she curled into herself before Mme. Rossi looked back to him. “I will not allow Lila to escape her punishment, that includes telling the truth to the people she has wronged.”

He nodded in understanding. “I’ll see about arranging a meeting. However, the suspension will be taking effect immediately, if you wish to have her confess to the class, I suggest doing so right now before school lets out.” Walters then turned to give the teacher a hard look that had her wilting under his gaze. “I’m sure Mme. Bustier would have no problem with that, I will also accompany you. M. Marchand, would you mind keeping an eye on M. Damocles?”

“Of course, I would like to word with him in private, myself.” He said, sending the man his own scathing look.

Mme. Bustier quietly escorted the Rossis and himself back to the classroom. The gym teacher, M. D’Argencourt had been watching over the class while Bustier had been in the meeting. Walters asked him to stay, and that they would only be there for a moment before turning to nod at the other teacher.

“Students, may I have your attention, please?” She waited a few seconds as the students put away what they were doing, likely hearing the tremor in the woman’s voice. “As you know, M. Walters, from the Board of Governors, has been sitting in with us today. It has been brought to my attention that one of our students has not been honest with us and has been causing a fair amount of trouble.” 

Looking back at the girl and her mother, Mme. Rossi forced her daughter to step forward while keeping a hand on her shoulder. At first, she didn’t say anything. Then her mother leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, causing her to slump and tears to fall down her cheeks. “I-I lied, about everything. *sniffle* I don’t know any celebrities. I’ve never helped charities or been to Achu. *sniffle* I don’t have tinnitus, arthritis, or anything like that. I’m not Ladybug’s best friend and I’m not related to Vlad the Impaler. And-and…”

“And…” Mme Rossi said in a forceful tone, ignoring the stunned looks they were receiving from the class. Lila tucked her chin to her chest, muttering the rest of her confession under her breath. But her mother wasn’t going to allow that. “Speak up so everyone can hear you, unless you want to be grounded for twice as long with no allowance at all.”

The girl’s hands fisted at her side as she spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Marinette never bullied me. I-I bullied her. I told her that I would take her friends from her. I pl-planted the answer sheet in her bag. *sob* I put my necklace in-in her locker. She never pushed me down the stairs either, I faked it to get her expelled.”

“And why did you do all of this to that girl, Lila?” Her mother asked, making it clear that she had to answer. 

“Be-because sh-she knew that I was lying *sob hiccup sob* and I wanted her gone.”

“And what do you have to say to Marinette?”

Lila lifted her chin, glaring dangerously at the girl sitting in the back. “Sorry,” she snapped.

Mme. Bustier looked up at the girl, giving her a kind smile. “And do you accept her apology, Marinette?”

That really pissed him off, that woman had no right to put that girl on the spot after Rossi had done everything in her power to ruin that girl’s life. Before she could say anything, Walters stepped in front of Bustier. “Marinette, you are under no obligation to accept her apology, that is completely up to you.” Waiting a moment he saw the absolute relief on the girl’s face before quietly shaking her head and settling back in her chair. 

Walters then instructed M. D’Argencourt to continue with the class while he escorted Bustier back to the office while Mme. Rossi took her daughter home. 

There was still a lot to do in this school, it was clear to him that the two educators, and he used that term loosely, needed to go. There was paperwork to fill out, more CCTV footage to go over, interviews with the students of Bustier’s class, and calls needed to be made to the Dupain-Chengs and the Agrestes about Lila Rossi and what she’d done to their children. The investigation literally had weeks of work to do, but it had to be done. But Walters knew, by the time they were done cleaning house, the students and school would be better off for it.

~oOo~ Four Weeks Later ~oOo~

Walters was working on the last of the paperwork having to do with the Francois-Dupont College debacle, greatly relieved that it was over.

Lila Rossi had been officially expelled after the investigation for bullying, harassment, theft, sexual harassment, cheating, destruction of property, fraud, and truancy. During her trial before the Board, the Dupain-Cheng family had been present and she had been forced to apologize to them for what she had done to her daughter. From her file, he saw that the Dupain-Chengs, as well as the Agreste family, had placed restraining orders on the girl. The Agreste family were also pressing charges for sexual harassment. Mme. Rossi had mentioned a reformatory school for delinquent children in Italy, stating that she had already enrolled her daughter, despite the outcome of the Board’s decision. He was glad that the woman was taking everything in stride and seemed to be doing the right thing.

The investigation into M. Damocles had uncovered even more skeletons than Walters had expected. Negligence and abuse of power, those were easily confirmed. They also uncovered proof of favoritism, taking bribes to ensure that certain students were not punished for offenses or that they passed their classes, despite failing grades. But the nail in the coffin was when Walters tracked down the money that was supposed to go to upgrading the lockers, Damocles had embezzled it to fund his vigilante superhero activities. He had officially been fired and blacklisted from ever working for the educational system or any branch of the government. The new principal was a vice principal from another school, well versed in bullying situations and had degrees in accounting as well as education. She would be going over all the books to see exactly how much money Damocles had embezzled over the years, so the Board of Governors would be able to sue for the proper amount of restitutions.

The issue of Mme. Bustier turned out to be an interesting matter. While looking into her qualifications, it had been revealed that her teaching license had been suspended before she had been hired by Damocles to teach at the school. Not trusting her file, Walters contacted her previous school and found out that they had fired her for much of the same reasons he had put her on leave. She had enabled bullies, blamed the victims, and pressured her “star pupil” to take on the work of a teaching assistant. When that same student complained and refused to help anymore, Bustier had told his parents that the boy was a troublemaker, refused to follow instruction, and was talking back. The boy had insisted on talking to the principal, who had cleared things up with the student and his parents. Bustier had been fired for her behavior and her license suspended until she completed anti-bullying classes, which she never attended. She simply applied to a new school, where the principal didn’t look too closely at her paperwork, and resumed her toxic teaching methods. Because of this; Bustier had been fired, blacklisted from ever teaching again, as well as arrested for teaching without a license.

The whole of Bustier’s class had been assigned counselling sessions for the foreseeable future until the toxic habits that the teacher had instilled in the class could be rectified. Though Walters was pleased to see that there seemed to be progress, as none of the students had been akumatized since the day he had gone to the school. A new record for time between akumatizations. The substitute that had been hired was stern, well versed in squashing bullying habits, but was sympathetic to the victims. That was what that class needed for the time until the Board could find a suitable, permanent replacement. 

All in all, Walters felt that he had done his job with investigating the Dupain-Cheng expulsion, and was happy to hear that the girl was doing much better. Her record had been cleared, her grades were still at the top of the class, and she had given the Board a basket of baked goods on the day of Lila’s trial, which had been like eating little bites of heaven. She had even given him a custom notebook cover, that he was pretty sure she made herself, and a matching pen. It was a very kind gift, and might have thought it was a bribe if anyone else had given it to him, but he could tell that she was just grateful to him for listening to her and making her school life better. 

That was the reason he enjoyed his job.

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[guzmapkmn-archive]

Okay, so ... I don't feel too confident writing an f/o letter for you since I don't really know Oswald and I'm not too confident in writing Guzma, but I can try to think of something to help distract you!

Uhm ... tbh the only think I'm really thinking about is my own AUs, but that got me thinking--I'm pretty unfamiliar with your vampire AU, so what's it about? Like, does it stay set within the source's canon with just the vampire tweak? Or do you have some of your own unique lore for it?

If you don't feel like answering those questions right now, that's alright!! I'm just curious.

As for my own AUs ... the Pokémon one is basically living in my head given I've been playing Scarlet all day. I'm really happy that it's not as buggy as the videos made it out to be--there's certainly SOME visual things, but nothing gamebreaking. Aside from the one time it crashed, but eh.

I'm just thinking about the Pokémon Eva and Roland would have! Still trying to settle which types they primarily use, and I'm thinking Eva's grass/normal/fairy rotation is pretty solid. It's just Roland giving me trouble, now--I love him having dark and dragon types, but also steel and rock? But the new Tauros is fighting, so that just throws something else into the mix. Maybe he's just that diverse in his team building.

Anyway, I know this got a bit long ... but I really hope this helps you feel even a little better!! I'm sorry I couldn't write a letter ... I just don't want to write your f/os out of character.

~ librarian-lover 📖

ahh thats totally ok!! i appreciate the thought and the ask :]

OKOK vampire au is probably the au i have with the most thought out world building, though it still isnt much LOL just bc its not set in typical canon got.ham.

so the basis of this au is the entirety of got.ham is ruled by vampires, and there's multiple who have claimed their own districts to run. most of the ones in charge keep some humans as like. pets. i dont have a better word for it LOL but they still coexist.

the pax penguina is like a blood drive slash draft where every month a number of healthy adults are randomly chosen to give blood, so they're not like hunted on the streets for food. umm. i kinda stole some of this from an Adult Vampire Webtoon so. if anyone knows it just pretend this doesnt sound familiar ok.

anyway ryan is just Some Guy who gets involved with the wrong people and eventually gets captured by oswald who turns him into his pet, tho as they become closer he starts treating ryan more as his equal and then gay stuff happens etc etc

AND OOOOOH P.OKEMON AU... love that. ive tried to come up with one but i got nothing. i need all my aus to have lore i cant just slap mattwald into the universe i need a story </3 and ohhh assigning p.okemon is so hard theres just so many of them... i have trouble assigning p.okemon to my own s/is in universe LMAO

im glad ur enjoying scarlet!! i dont have either of them and idk if i will end up gettng them but i might watch some videos eventually!! it seems fun :]

[miioouu]

you should do a supernatural au with whoever you want !

It's only after I've written all of that that I realized you maybe meant it as the supernatrual show? If not then great (although im not sure this counts as super natrual, and if you did mean the series sjensjdb sorry i never watched) Anyway, that's a mess, so if you meant smth else please let me know, I'll write you smth else! Thank you for requesting!! ❤️💜❤️

Sero Hanta

      It's getting hot lately, it's the middle of June and you're dying of heat, typical summer weather. Which is totally normal, you're not really complaining, you're a summer lover. Since you were kid, you loved the bright sun, the hot air, sweating off and enjoying the clear sky. You enjoyed summer and it's multiple activities, from ice cream cooling you off, to hiking up to a fresher environment. But your favorite of them all has to be going to the beach. The sand under your toes and the waves controlling over your body, letting go. It all felt so nice. A bit too nice.

Enjoying yourself way too much, you didn't realize that the waves are getting you further and further away from the shore. The sun is setting and the water cooling off more, your eyes closed for a second enjoying the breeze, and that was your mistake. You didn't see the big wave coming, no one around you was there to warn you either, it came crashing over you. Turning you over, making you reach the bottom of the ocean, and pushing your body left and right, the impact leaving you blacked out.

It's a miracle you opened your eyes. Though you were met with darkness, with nothing but a few... Purple lights? That's weird. Looking around you, you find yourself in what seems like a cavern, dark, humid, jellyfishes were the source of light. You laid in the back, on a rock, a big one and you wondered what brought you here. Who brought you here. And your question was soon to be answered. A man, black haired and even blacker eyes making his way towards you. Agile and smooth in his movements, the ethereal light accentuating what you can see of his body. His torso smooth, his abs showing slightly, and what were that on his elbows? The closer he got the more obvious it looked, but not really. Are those scales? And is that... Is that a tail behind him? A mermaid! Merman! That can't be it. You must be dreaming, you really knocked your head really hard. Maybe if you just turn away, and close your eyes, this timr you'll wake up in reality. But that was in vain. A wet hand found it self in your shoulder shaking you, while the other still behind his back. His abyss eyes looked into yours, he looked so handsome, he looked so real, maybe if you.... As you reached out, your fingers shaking as they made their way to his cheeks, but as soon as he felt the contact he backed away. "I... I didn't mean to hurt you.... Are you ok?" Giving you a questioning look, head tilt to the side and an obvious confusion in his eyes, it's when you realized, he can't understand you, and finding a way out of here, might be more difficult than you expected it.

As much as you'd love to stay with the new found creature, you have a family that might be worried to death about you right now. So standing to your feet, you tried to make your way out of the cavern, though you were stopped. A webbed hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you backwards "Where do you think you're going?" Huh? So now he can speak?! "Why- why didn't you answer me before?" You wanted to sound more confident, more serious, but you voice came out as shaky and trembling. "Because you asked me a stupid question! I should be the one wondering if you're ok. Anyway, you can't go back now. The waves are still too strong, and it's so dark out, you'll only get lost. So why don't you stay for a bit more, and in the morning I'll lead you out! Here I even got you some games we can play so you don't get bored!" Finally the hand that was behind his back was revealed, stretching it before you, opening his palm, small fish bones, some pearls and shells shone in his palm, but what really attracted you was the big shell with something engraved on it. Four letters symbolizing who this man- euh merman before you was, in an intersting typography, the name "Sero" made your heart beat a bit faster....

Kozume Kenma

Living far from the city is fun. Every morning you opened your window, the fresh air carrying the smell of baked good from the small bakery accross your small house and the lavender growing infront of your porch door. You liked living like that. And you liked roaming around the village, petting every animal you see, from the elderly couple's cows, to the young boy's dogs, it's an amazing life you're living.

The pet that you liked the most, but unfortunately you don't think it reciprocate your feelings, is the nocturnal cat that's always meowing outside your window. It was a stray cat, only showing up at night, you'd throw it some food before it snatched it and left. Though as more time passed by, this cat seemed to like you more and more. It would stay out a little longer, eating in front of you instead of leaving to eat in it's secret hidden place. And on cold nights, it would rub its head on your leg, relishing in the pets you'd give them. This cat, white with spoltches of black and gold decorating its furr, seemed like it was abandoned, for a collar was still wrapped around its neck, and a name shining under the light on the medal "Kenma". And you loved that name, you don't know why, but it fits the cat, and everytime you think of this five letter name, you can't help but smile and your heart get warmer.

Cold winter night, you were worried; where's your precious Kenma. You were about to go look for him until you heard whines and scratched on your door, indicating it's your beloved street cat. Quickly letting him in, running to grab a towel and drying him, holding him close to your chest to keep him warm "Awww baby, you're cold yeah? I was worried about you all day long, why didn't you come earlier?" and of course you didn't get a reply, only a purr and a scooting closer to you, burying himself in the warmth of your body. So warm and peaceful, the cat drifted to sleep. And it could be because of the weather, or because you're so happy with the kitty next to you, it's still early but your eyelids are growing heavy, you fell into dreamland with your arms holding the pet close to you.

It's just so warm here, so comfortable, your mattress and your sheets are so soft, your heartbeat lulling him into an even deeper slumber, keeping him in your bed even well after the sun had risen. It's only when a sudden push made him fall of the bed, a high scream making his ear ring and the warmth of you once close body left him cold and shivering tat he finally opened your eyes. "Who are you?! How did you get here?! You know don't say anything, keep it for when the police comes!" That's when it all clicked in his head, eyes widening, moving fast as a cat to take your phone away from your hand. "Y/n, listen, calm down, calm down! I can explain, I swear!" Y/n? How does this stranger know your name? When he finally stood to his feet, you had a proper look at him. Long hair that stops right before his shoulder, dyed blonde but you could see the black roots. Eyes sly as a feline, golden, a bit strange. And it's when your eyes raked down, stoped to his neck you noticed something familiar, the collar of your beloved cat. "Y/n, it's me Kenma!" You always knew this village was bit strange...

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[overthinkinglotr]

Can I just ask what...is the contest for the Boorman adaptation? I mean... This is not a normal movie script, right?

YAY OBSCURE LOTR ADAPTATIONS TALK TIME!!! (We’re talking about the context of John Boorman’s LOTR, the one where Frodo has sex with Galadriel)

OK SO

Yes, John Boorman’s screenplay is so completely baffling and incoherent that it seems like it can’t possibly be real. I really don’t know for sure if the draft that’s floating around the internet is really the Real Thing. However-- the weirdest aspects of that screenplay seem to be corroborated by other sources?

Some sources say the screenplay exists in physical form at Marquette University, but idk if that’s the version that’s online. Maybe it is!

And I’ve come across multiple sources discussing the scene where Gimli gets beaten up and buried alive to “unlock his magic ancestral memories,” the infamous poorly written Frodo/Galadriel sex scene, etc.

But again! I personally don’t know how reliable all these sources are. A lot of the old Reliable Sources discussing the screenplay have kinda just Vanished off the internet, and finding Definitive Confirmation would take some digging. That someone else can do, because I’m not good at this. :P

But I’ll throw information at you and you can decide what’s real--

Here’s what I DO know for certain is true:

In the 1970s, John Boorman approached United Artists with a pitch for a movie based on Arthurian legends (which would later become the film Excalibur.) UA turned him down, thinking Arthurian legends weren’t marketable enough.

They instead commissioned him to write a screenplay for a live-action film adaptation of Lord of the Rings.They were kinda like “Lord of the Rings, Arthurian legends....same thing, they both have a wizard and a medieval sword guy in it. But Lotr is popular right now, so well have this guy write a tolkien thing. Someone who likes arthur legends will also be good at writing lord of the rings, because they’re basically the same.”

(But like...they’re not, obviously. King Arthur legends are a bunch of folklore that doesn’t have one single ‘plot.” Writing a King Arthur film means using a few characters and some famous imagery and throwing them in a medieval setting to vibe together, creating the film’s plot by cherry-picking the Arthur stories you like most and throwing them together in a blender. But Lord of the Rings isn’t like that! It isn’t a collection of folkloric stories with no clear plot! Lord of the Rings is ultimately a single story with a single coherent plot! Someone who wants to adapt their own take on something as plotless as  folklore might really Struggle to adapt a plot-heavy book like LOTR!)

So anyway, John Boorman wrote this screenplay for them.

But John Boorman’s movie was never made.

Why was it never made?

Here’s where we get into some SUPER FUN “unreliable narrator” territory!!!!

John Boorman’s claim:

According to John Boorman in his biography, the film was never made because UA was tight on money and the special effects required were simply too expensive for the 1970s.

Boorman really did try very hard to make his screenplay good! According to Boorman, he and his writing partner Rospo Pallenberg  “covered all the walls of a room with a breakdown of all the scenes in all three volumes,” “drew a map of middle earth,” “wrote detailed analyses of all the characters,” and spent several weeks devising a structure for the film. Then they wrote the script together-- Boorman wrote one scene, Pallenberg the next.

But alas, it was too expensive to film in live-action. The technology just wasn’t there yet.

So the studio was forced to have the film made by an animator, Ralph Bakshi.

Boorman says that Tolkien wrote a letter to him saying that he approved of his screenplay (which Tolkien hadn’t read) solely because it was going to be a live-action movie. Tolkien hated animation. Boorman says that Tolkien’s death “spared him” the horrible pain of seeing his story adapted into animation. According to Boorman the problem with the Bakshi film (which he never saw) was that it was animated, and therefore inherently bad. Unlike Boorman’s script, which was an amazing work of art that would’ve been a wonderful live-action (and therefore inherently superior) movie!!! If only it was made! Boorman mentions that the working conditions on the Bakshi film were horrible (because they were) and laments that budget constraints meant the studio was forced to sell the movie to a low-down NO GOOD “ANIMATOR!” >:((((

BUT

Ralph Bakshi, obviously, tells a very different story!

Ralph Bakshi’s Claim:

According to Bakshi, John Boorman’s screenplay was so UTTERLY incoherent that it was unusable. UA gave Bakshi the rights to make a film because they had paid a million dollars for a trash script, and now they were dealing with the Sunk Cost Fallacy(tm). Bakshi was allowed to make his film because UA had wasted so much money on Boorman that they were desperate for ANYONE to use the Lord of the Rings IP in a way that wasn’t completely incoherent and could make sOME money:

“I thought, ‘Wait a minute, why don’t I go make the film?’ recalls Bakshi. “So I call up Mike Medavoy and I go to United Artists, which in those days were on the same lot as MGM. In the main building on one side of the building was MGM — which Dan Melnick ran in those days — and on the other side was Mike Medavoy at UA. I went to see Mike in his office and he says,

���Look, I’ve got this (John Boorman) script and I don’t understand it. I never read the book. We don’t want to make the picture. What do you want to do?’ I said, ‘I want to animate it. Three pictures.’

He said, ‘We don’t want the picture. What we want is our three million dollars back for the screenplay that we paid Boorman. So I’ll give you the rights, and if you can get our money back you can make the picture any way you want.’ True story.”

So it is a fun game of, which director of a failed unfinished LOTR project do you believe?

John Boorman later reused a lot of his Lord of the Rings script ideas for his film Excalibur. I haven’t seen the full thing, but the film kinda feels like proto-Game of Thrones? I feel like it adds credence to the idea that the bad screenplay was real-- a lot of the weird way Boorman writes women/gender in Excalibur is reflected in the parodically awful FrodoXGaladriel Fanfic Stuff.

Plus, I’ve seen the Andrew Davies BBC adaptation of Les Miserables! And ithat adaptation is so terrible that I can believe that the nonsense in the Boorman screenplay, like FrodoxGaladriel, can seem perfectly reasonable if you approach it from the perspective of a mediocre middle-aged male writer. :/ Anyway! But my BBC Les Mis Salt isn’t really relevant here! :D

But yeah! That’s some context I have on hand. The exciting fun story of the Lotr movie that was never made! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

[world-of-aus]

Family Matters - (Part 2)

Pairing: MobBoss Bucky! x Reader

Word Count:3,103

Warnings: no warnings that need to be counted for

Author’s Note: Hope you all enjoy chapter two, can’t wait for this series to really take off which it should in chapter three and onward. Thank you all for reading and as always my taglist is always open! 

Chapter 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Taking a breath, you brought a shaky hand up to the bronze door knob, you were reluctant to twist it knowing it would more than likely be locked. These doors were always to remain locked, regardless of whether your father was attending to his business or not, “I don’t need any rats snooping around my studies” he would hiss glaring at you and your mother, and as a child you never thought anything of it but as you grew, you were right to heed those warnings or suffer the wrath of your father.

You twisted the knobs a shiver running down your spine when the door squeaked open. The door continued to swing open on its hinges while you stood there frozen, breath baited waiting to hear your fathers booming voice, but it never came. Hesitant steps drew you further into the room, shaky breaths slipped past your parted lips as you took in your father’s secret. Cold, dark, and eerie were just a few of the words that crossed your mind as you stood in your father's grand, luxurious, private space.

Looking at it now you couldn’t imagine your father having a hand in all the things Detective Stark had accused him of. You knew your father though, the type of man he was, he wouldn’t ever be caught with the like of mobsters, murderers, the sin of the city. At least you hoped you would have known him enough, but you were beginning to wonder if you ever did know who your father truly was.

Taking in more of the room your eyes finally fell on the substantially grand expansive flat-topped red wooden oak desk. Your eyes were drawn to the massive wooden structure, but what really caught your attention was the strewn stacks of manila folders and various paper work thrown around the top of it. Your feet carried you towards the desk, body rounding it as you stood in front of where you father was sure to have sat many times.

Shaky fingers ran through the strewn paper work, brows furrowing the deeper you got into it, there was various letter of foreclosures, dubious amounts of bank statements, and even the occasional printed email. You weren’t sure what any of it meant, but from the various red-penned markings you could only assume it wasn’t something in favor of your father. Pulling up the plush leather rolling chair you plopped your tense body into the chair, rolling yourself forward as you sorted once more through the papers, your fingers gripping a foreclosure notice.

Dear Mr. Y/l/n,

This letter is a formal notification that you are in default of your obligation to make payments on your home loan, account #1234567. The current account holds the sum of 5,000 payable May, 27, 2020.

The amount has been overdue since April 27,2020, you have ignored multiple requests to make a payment or reconsolidate your debt.

Unless the full amount is received within 15 days, we have no choice but to begin with foreclosure on your home. We have given you more than adequate notice on this issue, and we have no other choice.

Please act accordingly,

Wilson Lending Inc.

Your brows furrowed deeper as you looked over the notice once more, this couldn’t be right, your father was never behind on his payments, and you would know, your mother was always on top of the finances in your house hold. Looking through more of the papers you stopped at what seemed to be an email,

Mr. y/l/n,

I’ve been nothing but a patient man with you, and frankly I’m growing tired, you wouldn’t want me to send my men to pay you a visit to you and your lovely wife, would you? Shame that your daughter is no longer in the picture, such a tragedy to lose a child. You have a week to get my money, that you’ve owed for seven years now, again, you either pay my money, or I'll find a way to collect, and I assure you Mr. Y/l/n, you won’t want me to have to come collect from you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, fingers stark white from the grip you had on the paper. Tragedy to lose a child, money, collect, you couldn’t fathom what you were reading. What in the world had your father done, what had he been doing under the roof of this house. You sorted through the next one, this one completely knocking the air from you, leaving you feeling more confused and worried than ever before,

Mr. Y/l/n

It’s a tragedy for me to be writing this email, but had I done this in person I can assure you one of us wouldn’t be breathing when it was over. Do you take me for a fool, did you not think I wouldn’t catch on to what it was you were doing? Working with the enemy, such a shame, I know you know this is unforgivable, you were witness to what happened to the other fellow who crossed me. It’s a shame though that you continued to do business with who you did, you’re the only one to blame for your fate. I would end this by saying see you soon, but we both know that won’t be the case. My condolences to your daughter.

The email after that was just eight words long, but it was enough to shake you to your very core.

I’ll be seeing you very soon Mr. Y/l/n.

You threw the papers down onto the desk, your body slumping into the seat, trying to figure out what the hell was going on here. None of these papers except for the foreclosure statement contained any sort of information that could help you to understand what it was that your father was involved with. None of the emails which were your main source of concern contained any sort of information of the sender, and seeing as it was printed there was nothing for you to further dig into. Why was any of this laid out here in the first place, was this meant to be found, did your father want someone to see this information?

The longer you set there and looked at those papers the more you wanted to scream, to cry, you were feeling just as lost and scared, fearful of the uncertainty as you did seven years ago. You were frustrated because you couldn’t understand what was going on, you couldn’t even begin to grasp the reality of your situation. You’ve lost your parents in a tragic accident, you’ve just found out your father worked for the mafia, or at least laundered for them it seems, and to add to all this it would seem that one of the men Detective Stark mentioned earlier wanted to collect from your father, but what was there to collect, your father was losing it all.

You could feel the underlying pins and needles of your nerves, what were you supposed to do, should you contact detective Stark, take him all this information and see what he can make of it? What if you did just that and he thought you had been lying all long, what if he accused you like he accused your father, what if he suspected you did have a hand in all this. You chewed on your lower lip in worry as you thought about the next worry, your mind going back to the emails, were any of those emails from Pierce, Rumlow, or Barnes, and was one of those the men that was going to collect. Thinking back to the first email, you couldn’t place why your father would apparently fake your death, unless you had a sibling you were unaware of. You were stumped and you were only growing more and more confused the longer you sat thinking on all this new information. You felt like your whole life was a lie, everything you grew up in and around was all fabricated to the lifestyle of your father.

You went to pick up the same papers but were jumping back into your seat when the office phone trilled on the desk. Your heart was beating wildly away in your chest, eyes wide as you looked at the noisy device. You stared at it unmoving, should you answer it, should you let it continue.  You weren't given a chance to make the decision as the incessant ringing grew quiet an eerie silence filling the office once more. You stayed staring, once again jumping as it trilled again catching you off guard, it seemed to have gotten louder the second time. With shaky fingers you reached out picking the corded phone up and bringing it to your ear,

“h-hello?”

“Good morning, is Mr. Y/l/n in?” the voice on the other line questioned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “No, I'm sorry sir, but my parents have been in an accident and they,” god you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“oh, I’m so sorry miss, wait did you say parents, are you Mr. Y/l/n’s daughter?” he questioned

“uh yes, I'm his daughter, may I ask what the reason for the call is?”

“oh yes right, well, I'm calling from Wilson Lending INC, I was needing to speak with your father, but since that won’t be possible,” a pause on his end an irritated sigh sounding through the line, “actually you wouldn’t happen to be y/f/n y/l/n would you?” he questioned.

“Uh yes actually that is me,” you murmured.

“that’s actually great, do you think you could stop by our office, there’s something I will be needing to go over with you, seeing as you’re the next of kin.”

“uh”

“great,” he cut you off, “I can squeeze you in for 30 minutes from now, so I’ll be seeing you here,” he chirped.

You could barely get a word in before the dial tone was sounding through the receiver, the call having ended abruptly. A loud sigh left your lips as you placed the phone back on the stand, your body slouching into the seat, what more news could you possibly take today you thought with a groan.

Thanking the driver your slid out of the seat, coat wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you looked up at the lavish building before you, Wilson’s Lending INC stared back at you in grey bold letters. A shaky sigh left your lips as you felt a sense of dread roll through you, taking tentative steps you pushed yourself to the revolving doors.

The office was quiet, the only sounds in the room was the tapping and clacking of a keyboard from the receptionist, sat a few feet in front of you. Having heard the door the woman looked up an almost bored expression on her unreadable features, “You can follow me this way, Mr. Wilson will see you now,” she mumbled. Your eyes darted around the room, but saw no one else was in the building other than you, “please,” she spoke up again, “follow me right this way,”

Trailing behind her she led you int a small office space, “right in here, Mr. Wilson is expecting you,”

Mumbling a quiet thank you, you watched her walk back the way she had brought you before turning your attention back to the office in front of you. Drawing further into the office you were met with a cheery smile and an ever chipper voice, “Good morning you must be Ms. Y/l/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man beamed as he stood from his desk to make his way over to you.

His firm was grip, his smile contagious, “Sam wilson,” he added, “owner of Wilson Lending INC, its in the name,” he grinned, “please come in take a seat,”  

“since I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I'd like to go ahead and jump into it,” he spoke up after you had made yourself comfortable in your chair. You nodded your head allowing him to go on watching him sort through the papers on his desk, “Firstly I extended my sincerest apologies that we have to be meeting given the circumstances, my deepest condolences miss, such a tragic thing to occur,” he murmured.

You wanted to open your mouth to question that last bit that left his mouth but he was too quick, “Now in regards to your home, as I'm sure you knew it is now being foreclosed because of your father’s failure to pay, because of this before we go through with said foreclosure we are looking to hand over your home to the other co-owner, he has informed us he is willing to take it,”

Your brows scrunched in confusion, “co-owner?” you questioned, “what do you mean co-owner, are you speaking of my mother?”

Sam chuckled shaking his head, placing down the files he had down in front of him, “Your father had a co-owner but it wasn’t your mother,”

You slumped in your seat slightly, “why would he need a co-owner, shouldn’t it have been my mother?”

He let out a sigh, rubbing at his head, “Ms. Y/l/n, your father had a co-owner because alone he did not qualify to even begin the process to home owning, with more challenging lending standards when it comes to an individual's credit score, debt to income ratio, it was easier to qualify with the individual your father asked to co-own with him.”

A frustrated groan left your lips, the web kept weaving around you, “so what does all this mean, why was I called in?”

“It’s difficult to walk away from a mortgage when you have more than one borrower,” he began, eyeing you to see if you understood, “your father’s co-owner has kept up with his half but your father just recently was unable to make the payments, due to this the co-owner was called upon and has agreed to take over your home,” he paused eyeing you again, “the thing is if a co-owner dies their share goes to the other owners, in the co-owner ship a TIC agreement was signed where each co-owner can pass along their ownership through a will, meaning the remaining tenants might end up sharing the home with someone they never intended to.”

“this still doesn’t explain why I was called in, I'm sorry Mr. Wilson but you’re just confusing me further,”

He rubbed at his temples, “what this means, is that on a will your father passed his ownership to you, so I can’t necessarily just give your father’s co-owner the home without your approval now,”

A hand rubbed over your face, “so then give him full ownership,” Sam raised a brow at you, “Look Mr. Wilson my parent’s and I had a fall out years ago, if I can be honest with you I barely even know anything about them it seems, so if that is the easiest way to settle this for my father then so be it, I don’t even reside here anymore, so I can assure you letting the house go to someone who is more suited for it will be the best thing in this case,”

He was eyeing you, studying you, it was beginning to make you slightly uncomfortable, “is there anything needed from me?” you asked hoping to finish this up soon.

“yes, actually you and the co-owner will need to meet, he will need to buy you out, and you will need to be there to sign over given that you won’t have a change of heart,”

You raised your hand, “I can assure you there will be no change of heart,” you murmured, “how soon can we get this done, I don’t plan on being here longer than a week, I'm just here to sort out my parents things and I'll be on my way,”

“If it makes things easier, we can come to you, that way you won’t be pulled from sorting through your parent’s things, though I'm not sure there is much more to sort through,”

You raised a brow at his statement taken aback by the change of tone in his voice, “excuse me?” you questioned.

He smirked at you then, “no, not a thing Ms. Y/l/n, well that is all I have for you at the moment, Mr. Barnes and I will pay you a visit later this evening to go over the legalities of all this,” he grinned shooting you a wink.

You couldn’t help but be taken aback by the behavior as you stood on shaky legs pulling your coat and purse tighter around you. In your fraught state you almost hadn’t picked up on the name he uttered, almost.

“Mr. Barnes?” you questioned the name bouncing around in your mind as your remembered Detective Starks words.

He was grinning again, “Yes, Mr. Barnes, the co-owner of your home,”

Your face paled, heart dropping in your chest, “Are you okay?” Sam questioned his grin never faltering almost as if taunting you.

You nodded your head shakily before you were stumbling back slightly, a feeling of not being able to flee fast enough washing over you. You could hear his laughter sound through the building as you tucked tail and ran.

Hailing a cab you ran back home, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, you couldn’t get off the cab fast enough, handing the cab driver your money thanking him quickly as you made your way up the driveway. You needed to leave, none of this felt right, none of it, and with the information Detective Stark had shared with you, and the emails you had come across, you knew you needed to get out and fast you should have never returned in the first place, you should have listened to your father. You had made your decision as you rushed up the steps of your home head down not wanting to be spotted by any of the neighbors or cars driving down the street.

Searching through your purse for the keys you gripped them tightly as you pushed them into the lock, a gasp left your lips as the door was pulled open taking your keys with it. A tall, bearded, honey blonde stood before you a glowering look on his sculpted features. A shiver ran down your spine, as you back up slowly, another gasp falling from your lips as you back hit a wall of muscle. You turned your head ever so slowly, eyes drifting up to be met with a nefarious grin, deep piercing eyes, and a wicked mind.

“hello y/n.”

Chapter 3

Family Matter’s Tag-list: @broco8 @spideyxxboi @scuzmunkie @person-born-winchester @jennisahoe @rougeone0911 @ilovesupersoldiers 

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

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series masterlist

sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Among These Pages

Summary: After a painful breakup, you move to a new town and you’re instantly attracted to a small bookshop near your new residence. The new owner has definitely caught your eye.

Warnings: Smut and mild cursing

A/N: So this idea originated from a Discord chat (again) in an Arthur specific server. Needless to say this one was fun to write.

The hot sun beat down amongst the worn cement and faded asphalt of this little town you now called home. Bright and sunny, though a little bit too hot for your taste. You quickened your pace to seek the shade of a tree, careful to keep out of the paths of others.

Having slight relief from the blistering sun, you squinted around for another view of your surroundings. A small, quaint village bustling with its inhabitants. The streets were lined with independent shops, restaurants and cafes. The buildings and walkways were splashed with brightly colored plants and paint, immediately setting a cheerful vibe in the atmosphere.

After spending the first day moving in and unpacking, you decided to take a break and explore your new residence. You’ve only really experienced it through your car windows, and stopped in one of the cafes once or twice. However, you now wanted the full experience. Though with how sweltering it was, you were probably better off driving.

You fanned yourself for a moment and cast your attention down the length of the block. More food, smoothies, coffee, ice cream, except you weren’t all that hungry at the moment.

However, another sign caught your eye. Though too far to see, your curiosity spiked and you walked forward. As you drew in closer shapes began to appear, along with letters. Morgan Books, painted in gold lettering in a distinctly Western styled font. Underneath was a stack of books with one opened on top. A bookshop. Being from where you were, you were used to the large corporate bookstores. You hadn’t come across an independently owned one in years.

Checking this place out was a perfect excuse to get out of the sun for a bit. You increased your pace until you were standing at the store front. The building like the others surrounding had a somewhat rustic appearance, part of the charm that attracted you to living here. The windows were dusty and the inside was fairly dark, but you could make out the silhouettes of shelves. You approached the entrance and pulled open the door, ringing a bell overhead. You stepped across the threshold to be greeted by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

You sighed in relief and looked around. The shop itself was fairly small, or at least appeared that way as it was full of multiple bookcases, all of which were stacked floor to ceiling with books. The floorboards creaked elsewhere, and you turned to see someone appear from around one of the shelves.

A man, tall and broad-framed. He offered a quick smile. “Hey there, welcome!”

“Hello.” You greeted him politely.

He stepped closer, allowing a better view of his face. You couldn’t help but to notice how handsome he looked. “Need help findin’ anything?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah, just exploring, really. I saw this place and I wondered what sort of treasures lurked within.” You lightly joked.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ll find plenty here. Got new n’ used, so feel free to look ‘round.”

You nodded in response, and turned your attention toward the endless amount of books. You scanned the shelves, following along with the signs marked on top of which cases held which topics. You found that he had a little bit of everything; from encyclopedias to New Age books, to computer guides (from the early 2000’s) to conspiracy theories. You had to giggle to yourself upon reading some of the synopses for a collection of the more esoteric pieces.

Time soon became lost to you with more exploration. All the while the man who greeted you earlier moved through the shop occasionally. After a while it felt like you’d been here for ages. When you checked your phone, you’d realized nearly a half hour passed since first walking into this place. You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t anticipated spending that much time here.

As you were putting your phone away and moved toward the front of the shop, the man sat at his register and caught your attention.

“So, find any treasures?” he casually asked.

You paused to turn to him. “Guess I did, you have a…uh, an interesting collection.” You responded, tilting your head back toward some of the shelves.

He nodded in agreement, offering you a half-smile. “You’d be surprised what people come in askin’ for, or what people come in to sell.”

“Well if I needed a how-to book on Windows 2000, I’ll know where to stop by.” You said with a giggle.

He shook his head and smiled even more. “See? Those books have been on them shelves for years. Ain’t sure why I still keep ‘em ‘round.”

“Antiquity value perhaps?” you joked.

He gave a small, hearty laugh. “’Spose so. Guess I should get rid of ‘em, they belong in a museum at this point.”

His laughter made you smile. “Anyway, I should be heading back home and unpack some more…”

His expression changed to curiosity. “You jus’ move here?” when you nodded, he asked, “Where from?”

“Couple hours north,” you answered. “Needed a change of scenery, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “You’ll be glad ya moved here. This lil’ town has its charms, folks here are nice too.”

“I’m glad, believe me,” you sighed. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m glad to have found this bookstore too, it adds to the charm.”

He grinned at you. A cute, slightly lopsided grin that somehow made your heart flutter. “Glad you think so.”

---

The next two days was spent unpacking the rest of your house, keeping yourself focused on it to have everything organized before the first day of your new job. It was Sunday, and by noon you’d finally unwrapped the last of your décor and placed it accordingly in your living room. You smiled to yourself as your eyes panned across the room, proud of how much you’d accomplished in just three days. Sure, you didn’t have too many possessions, yet it was a relief to tackle the largest of chores.

Though you hadn’t expected to finish this soon. With only half the day gone, you wondered what else to do. You supposed you could explore more, and that little shop on the corner popped up in your mind, along with the image of the handsome owner…

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stop by again.

After a quick lunch break and heading outside, it was only fifteen minutes of walking before you reached your destination. It wasn’t as hot out today which you were thankful for. You strode up to the door and pulled it open, the bell once again alerting your incoming presence.

As soon as you stepped in, your eyes darted to the shopkeeper who sat behind the register. He peered up at your entrance.

“Hey, welcome back!” he greeted with enthusiasm.

You blinked in surprise. “You remember me?”

“’Course, when ya live in a small town, you tend to remember faces,” He explained. “Y’back to find more treasures?”

You smiled. “In a way, I finished unpacking earlier than expected so I thought I’d come back into town for a bit.”

“So you’re all settled in then?” he asked.

“For the most part. I start my new job tomorrow, so I’d figure I use my free time productively by…looking for more old computer manuals.”

He chuckled at that. “Now that ya mentioned it, I think I better do some inventory o’ the place. Might as well get rid of the useless stuff,” He spoke while standing up. “I won’t get in your way.”

You nodded, sidestepping as he rounded from around the counter to move past you. As he passed by, a short whiff of his cologne wafted through your nostrils. He smelled good, and you briefly turned your head to take a look as he walked away. He was certainly broad, almost too broad to fit in this little shop. Yet he moved between the bookcases with ease.

He turned a corner, obscuring himself from your vision. You turned your attention back to the books, looking for the topics that would particularly spark your interest.

It’d fallen quiet, aside from the creak of floorboards and sliding of books across wood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pass back and forth with a few in his hands, carrying them towards the back. You’d sneak another glance or two without him looking, appreciating his physique.

After a little while, you found yourself poring over a book on the religion of Wicca. It was something that piqued your interest in your earlier life, though never had a chance to really learn about it. You’d only just began to skim through it, although the content was interesting enough that you started to read.

A loud crash emanated elsewhere in the shop, causing you to jump in surprise. The shopkeeper hissed out a curse, prompting you to peer around in search of the source.

“You okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh of annoyance. “Jus’ one o’ these shelves fell apart.”

You listened to the sounds of him attempting to clean up the mess, and followed it through the narrow aisles until you found him. He was bent over, attempting to collect the disheveled books spilled at his feet.

“Here, let me help.” You said, automatically starting forward.

“No, you don’t have to –” he began, glancing up at you.

“There’s a lot here.” You stated, gathering a few into your arms.

He didn’t argue further, and together the two of you managed to collect them all. He nodded in thanks and headed toward the back once again, with you on his heels. He led you to an open door to reveal a small back room. From over his shoulder you spotted a chair and desk, and a pile of books placed haphazardly on top of it. He placed his armful on an empty space and gestured for you to do the same. Once you emptied your arms and exited the back room, you turned to him.

“Thank you.”

You nodded to him. “You’re welcome…” you glanced around the shop again, and an idea struck your mind. “Need any more help?”

“Nah, jus’ ‘bout halfway done I think.” He answered, placing his hands on his hips.

“I could help with that though,” you pointed out, though surprised at yourself for even offering. “Kinda curious what else you got that’s ancient and obsolete.”

“Oh there’s plenty…” he responded, rubbing the back of his neck while he peered around as a thoughtful look painted his face. “Tell ya what, if ya find anything interestin’ that need to be off the shelves, I’ll let ya keep it for free.”

Bewilderment crossed your mind. “Wouldn’t you be losing money then?”

“A couple of ‘em won’t hurt business,” he said. “Better n’ throwin’ ‘em out or puttin’ em in storage, ya know?”

You didn’t want to decline his offer since he had a good point, yet you still felt bad regardless. “Alright, fair enough.”

And so you set to help him. All the while you two held a casual conversation. You learned his name was Arthur, and that he owned this place for a few years. Other than running this store he lived on a small ranch on the edge of town. You shared a little bit about yourself, including your career and a couple of shared interests you had with him.

Surprisingly enough, you’d pulled out many more old texts than you anticipated. Some were so worn and dog-eared that there was no resale value, and Arthur told you to just throw them away. Throwing away books? You instead convinced him to give them away, and he found an empty box and labeled it “Free Books”. You skimmed through them briefly to see if they caught your eye, yet none did and they ended up in the box.

After a little over an hour passed before the both of you picked the place clean. You dusted your hands off after placing the last few in the box. Arthur picked it up and carried it outside, placing it on the sidewalk. We walked back in and said, “Hope that gives ‘em some good use.”

“Hey, people will take anything free,” you pointed out. “Maybe even pull in more revenue for you.”

“Well here’s hopin’,” he sighed, briefly glancing toward the floor before meeting your gaze with a small smile. “Thanks for the help again, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome Arthur, I actually had fun helping you.” You answered with a grin.

He chuckled softly. “Fun, eh?”

You nodded. “Sure, you’re a nice guy and fun to talk to.” You answered.

You weren’t sure, but his face reddened a touch as he ducked his head. He laughed again, shy and…cute. “Thank you, though I ain’t that much of an interestin’ person.”

“Nah, I beg to differ,” you argued lightly. “Either way, I think I’ll be coming back. I like it here, and if you’d need any more help…”

“You’ve been more than helpful Y/N,” he answered, waving his hand as if trying to flit away your words. He then paused, realization crossing his face. “Actually…no, never mind.”

“What is it?” you pressed.

“Well,” he released a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest, business ain’t as good as I’d hoped. I’ve been tryin’ to think of new advertisin’ strategies, pull in more customers. Problem is I ain’t too good at it.”

“So…you’re asking me to help you advertise? Or create one for you?” you questioned.

“I know it ain’t fair to ask,” Arthur answered quickly, his face shadowed with a look of guilt. “We hardly know each other and you jus’ moved here –”

“I’ll do it.” You softly interrupted.

He blinked, staring at you in surprise. “Whuh?”

“I said I’ll do it,” you repeated, smiling at him. “Luckily for you, I took a few advertising arts classes in college.”

The surprise remained on his face. “Uh –” he huffed, and cleared his throat. “I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’ –”

“I’m not, Arthur,” you assured him. “You were gonna ask for a reason right? I don’t mind. Besides, I haven’t used my art skills in years. Might as well put them to use again.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” You affirmed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll give me something fun to do after work.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. He finally nodded and spoke, “Alright, as long as I ain’t troublin’ you with it.”

“No trouble at all,” you replied with another smile. “I’ll come up with something good, I promise.”

His smile matched yours. “Then I look forward to it.”

---

The next few weeks kept you busy. After settling in at your new job and coming home to sit at your computer to design flyers didn’t leave you much time for other activities. Still you stopped by the bookshop to plan with Arthur and discuss strategies, or suggested many ideas that he seemed to like. You laid out a few thumbnails of different designs for him to pick and choose, narrowing it down to two that he really liked.

You stopped by every day to update the progress, even when you didn’t have to. Admittedly you were enjoying his company, and you had a feeling he liked yours as well. After moving to a town where you knew no one and were far from your family and old friends, you were just fine with considering Arthur as one. As time passed on he’d become friendlier and more open to you, offering you a drink or snack even when you’d come by for a few minutes.

Sometimes you’d stay longer just as an excuse to be close to someone other than your new coworkers, and to admire how nice he looked. He always dressed in either button-up shirts or a nice T-shirt and Wrangler jeans like a cowboy, the fabric accentuating his broad frame in all the right ways. His sandy hair was trimmed neatly, and he kept his face somewhat clean shaven, although something about having stubble lined across his sharp jaw set a spark within you.

A relationship was the furthest thing on your list at the moment, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t admire how attractive he was.

Soon after you produced a finished product, and quite proud of the result after not having designed anything since your college days. It was a weekend which meant you were free, and upon printing out a nice colored version, you headed to the bookshop almost instantly.

Arthur loved it, as you had hoped. He paid for multiple copies to be printed and distributed around the town, and you spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles and handing them out in some of the shops. You thankfully had gotten a positive response from most of those you’ve spoken with, which gave you hope. You wondered how Arthur was doing on his end.

After a few hours you’d met back up at the shop, tired and arms empty, but Arthur looked as pleased as you did. You settled down in the back room while he handed you a water bottle from his mini fridge. You took it gratefully and gulped a swig, sighing in relief.

“I think we did good.” you said as he settled across from you.

He nodded in response, followed by taking a drink from his own bottle. “I think so too, lotsa people seem interested.”

“I would figure more people would come in here often.” You said thoughtfully.

“You’d think, but this place is more of a tourist trap than anything,” Arthur responded. “Can’t complain, but I understand. Ya get used to one place, it gets borin’ after a while.”

“Well, hopefully this will be the beginning of a new era for this place.” You enthusiastically gestured to the surroundings with a flourish.

Arthur smiled at you, chuckling as he took another drink of water. He didn’t speak, however your eyes met his. You’d never noticed before how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were. From a distance they appeared blue, yet you could detect hints of bright green surrounding his pupils. You wanted to view them even closer. Somehow you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

The entrance bell however sounded, pulling your attention and his toward the front of the store. The telltale signs of potential customers. Arthur glanced out in surprise, and immediately stood up to greet the newcomers. You stayed in the back room while he dealt with the customers, listening to their voices with a smile on your face. Who would have thought it would work that quickly?

You left shortly after, catching Arthur’s eye briefly as you walked by him helping out a young couple that wandered in. A gaze that lingered a second longer than you intended, however you felt it was best to leave him to deal with his shop at the moment.

—-

Two weeks passed and you hadn’t stopped by Arthur’s shop, mainly because each time you passed by, the building seemed to be teeming with customers. You felt more than happy, and proud of yourself that you helped a business owner earn more revenue after a dull streak.

You did find yourself missing his company. Each day he hung in your mind like a cloud. You certainly liked him enough to call him a friend, yet those gorgeous eyes of his would meet you in your dreams.

That following Saturday evening, you received a text from him.

Hey, would you mind stopping by?

He was vague yet direct. Perhaps he was going to ask you another favor? Either way you were excited to see him again, and to inquire how everything was going. You headed over just minutes after responding to his text, hoping your eagerness didn’t overflow into your phone.

The first thing you noticed was the closed sign hanging in the window, which explained the lack of people this time. It was just past 7 pm, and you walked up the door and knocked. Movement shadowed behind the glass and Arthur’s silhouette appeared just a moment later, meeting your gaze between the glass and smiling wide. He opened the door.

“Hey there, come on in.” He stepped back and gestured.

You walked in and turned to face him. “So, I’ve noticed business has gotten better recently.”

“All thanks to you,” he responded, the grin on his face only growing wider. He then lifted his hand to reveal he was holding a bottle of whiskey. “I wanna thank ya.”

You blinked at the alcohol, surprised by this but you didn’t have any objections. You smiled and nodded in approval. “You don’t have to thank me Arthur, but I’m not about to turn down a good drink.”

He chuckled heartily. “Sure I do, the booze is jus’ a bonus. C’mon.” He waved toward the back room and strode for it, and you were right behind him. Once he stepped inside he grabbed a couple of plastic cups, and filled the both of them with a few cubes of ice. He then poured in the whiskey before topping them off with some soda. He handed a cup to you, and then held up his own.

“To you, for your design and advertisin’ skills.” He said, although rather awkwardly. You figured he wasn’t good at that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind. Bringing your cup to tap against his, you smiled again and took the first sip simultaneously with him. The sweet soda tinged with the smokey bitterness of the alcohol was a pleasant mixture against your tastebuds.

It was quiet for a moment, and Arthur took another sip before drawing in a deep breath. He focused on you. “Drink’s good?” He asked.

You nodded, taking another sip of your own. “Very. Haven’t had a chance to have a good drink since I moved here. Had to resort to a few gas station beers.”

He snorted softly, a small smile of amusement appearing on his face. “Gotta introduce you to the good bar in town sometime.”

This piqued your interest. “Oh? There’s a bar here?”

“‘Course, every small town has a bar,” he pointed out. “It ain’t on any of these main roads though, it’s closer to the outskirts. I imagine ya probably didn’t explore that much.”

“Can’t say I have,” you said thoughtfully. “But I’ll take up the offer of you showing me.”

“Jus’ name a time, ya won’t be disappointed.” He confidently replied.

You finished your first drink after a little while and Arthur poured you a second to which you were not opposed to. The effects were taking hold of you before you knew it. Your lips were looser with each sip you took, and you found Arthur was the same way. The two of you spoke about random topics, anything ranging between favorite colors to what you cooked yesterday. Things that were otherwise too boring to discuss, yet somehow with Arthur they seemed more interesting.

A little while later, the conversation became deeper. Arthur spoke some about his earlier life and what kind of environment he was raised in, and how his teenage years were spent bitterly. You shared the reason why you moved: you were previously living with your significant other, only to find your shared bed occupied by two bodies when you arrived home early one day when you weren’t feeling well. The reveal absolutely crushed you, which led into an emotional spiral and you looking for a new place to live the next day.

It’d been a little over a month since then. Your mind was still heavy on the breakup until you stopped by here the first time. Arthur and his charming little shop seemed to absorb any lingering sadness you had. Seemed like both yesterday and ages ago.

Regardless of the story, the pair of you were chortling in good spirits. You ranted about all the negatives about your old partner, releasing the leftover bitterness you’ve suppressed and turned it into humor. It only heightened your mood more, and with each drink it only increased.

After a few more minutes it quieted down again, though the smiles remained on your faces. You since became immune to the sting of whiskey, immensely enjoying the flavors and the inebriation that accompanied it.

Arthur reached over and poured himself another helping. His sigh caught your attention. He stared down into his cup, fixated with a thoughtful expression.

“I gotta say, I’m glad you wandered in here that day.” He murmured, peering at you with a sidelong look.

“Yeah?” you chirped.

He nodded slowly, taking a swig of his drink before focusing onto you with a serious gaze. “I’ll be honest, I was thinkin’ ‘bout closin’ up.”

You were taken aback by this statement. “Why?”

“You saw for yourself. Hardly any business. Shelves lined with books decades old,” he snorted without humor. “Truth is openin’ this place ain’t even my idea.”

“Then whose was it?” you pressed tilting your head in curiosity.

“My fiancée’s,” he smiled bitterly, gently swirling his drink. “Eh, ex-fiancée. Had the grand idea to run a business together. Picked out this place herself. N’ like a fool I fell for it.”

Ex-fiancée. Your heart raced upon learning this new information, and you wondered what happened between them. Would it be too prying to ask? “So…what changed?”

Arthur shrugged. “She found someone else more interestin’. Said we had too many differences in our lives to really enjoy each other…” he trailed off to take another sip, his eyes shifting to gaze in the distance.

Your heart broke for him. Rather than wallowing in those feelings, you instead asked another question. “But why hold on to this place if it was her idea?”

His gaze pulled back to you. “Guess for a while I was hangin’ on to the dream that she’d come back n’ pick up where we left off. Obviously that didn’t happen. Stupid, huh?”

You frowned at this. Hell, you understood that pipe dream all too well. There was a brief time where you wished your ex would come after you like in the movies in some dramatic fashion, pouring out apologies and begging you to come back. Wishful thinking.

You noted his hand was resting against the table. In a quick movement you reached over and placed your hand comfortingly on his forearm, and offering him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not stupid at all. You loved her and you held on to the one thing that you knew she loved too.”

Arthur’s eyes dropped to your hand. “For too long,” he sighed. “After a while I knew there was no chance. Still I continued, kept this place open for my own sake. Came here every mornin’ with a rock in my stomach, least until recently.” He explained, his voice softening towards the end. He peered over to you again.

Your heart raced once again. The way he was looking at you… it was obvious as to why he mentioned that last bit. Hell, you knew for a while. He wasn’t subtle about trying to steal glances your way these past few weeks. As attractive as he was, you were denying yourself of your own feelings out of protection. It felt too soon after your last relationship, although it seemed Arthur had been single for a while. You were afraid you’d change your mind. “And why is that?” you asked, wanting to play dumb to hide your initial hesitation.

His arm moved – at first you thought he was pulling away, until his hand met yours. Palm to palm, skin rough but warm. His fingers entwined with yours and you automatically did the same. “I think you know,” he murmured.

His thumb smoothed against the back of your hand. Your eyes bore into his. Such a gorgeous light blue, glistening in the lamplight of this tiny room. Despite the table in between the two of you, it was hardly an obstacle to view him in better focus. Upon closer inspection, you could detect pools of green surrounding his pupils, reminding you of tropical beaches.

His lips were parted, wafting his gentle breath against your face. Scented with alcohol and the sweetness of soda, he seemed to be growing closer.

You closed the space immediately, the booze flowing in your system offering a boost of confidence. His mouth was surprisingly soft against yours, and within seconds he returned the favor. Your free hands joined, mirroring their counterparts with ease. He pulled you closer with no effort.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly to stare at you with a soft expression. He released your hand to cup your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch with a smile.

“You don’t have to hold on to those thoughts anymore.” you sighed to him.

His smile mirrored yours. “Neither do you.”

---

It was nothing but pure bliss following that night. You’d fallen into a routine to spend some time with him every day, even when you had work. Arthur was such a sweet lover and was not hesitant to hold you whenever he had a chance. His arm around your waist, or pulling you into his lap. You helped around the bookshop more, even when he told you that you didn’t have to. Yet you insisted, and redecorated some of it to give a new energy while keeping its rustic look. It certainly attracted even more customers.

He took you to the bar as promised, and it quickly became a regular spot for casual dates. It was just as charming as he explained, accompanied with lovely patrons and entertainment. You were soon completely comfortable with this small town, completely integrated into its community thanks to Arthur. People often recognized your face from the bookshop, and the praise following was something he was elated to hear about.

A couple of months have passed, and you swore Arthur’s smile grew bigger each and every day. He looked forward to running the business again, and left those bitter thoughts of his ex behind with the help of you.

One particularly slow weekend day, you were spending time in the shop as usual. It was late afternoon and the last customer left an hour ago, thus creating a quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Closing time would be in less than an hour, and you just assumed no one else would be wandering in.

While Arthur manned the register, albeit with boredom, you began to observe some of the newer inventory. The shelves were thankfully lined with more recent texts to fill in the gaps of what you’d sorted through previously. Once again you found yourself coming across the book of Wicca again, the same one you were skimming through just months earlier. You were surprised no one purchased it with the heavy amount of traffic that passed through.

The book served as a better distraction than you realized. You pored over it, so focused on the information that you didn’t notice the presence that loomed over you until gentle hands found your waist.

“You can keep that if ya want.”

You blinked in surprise, turning your head to look at him. “No, I’d feel weird about it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s still your store, I just can’t take it.” You pointed out.

He shook his head and quietly laughed. “Ah, it’s alright sweetheart. I know you were interested in that. ‘Sides, it’s been sittin’ here for months, n’ I can always order more if people want ‘em. Pretty sure it’s here for ya.”

“I still feel like I should pay…or something.” You murmured, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Now I don’t wanna hear none o’ that,” Arthur lightly chided you, despite wrapping his arms around your waist. “I never did properly thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

You turned around in his grip, giving him a playful smirk. “As if all this affection wasn’t repayment enough?”

“’Course not,” he snickered, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Think I got quite a while ‘fore I’m even,” he reached over and plucked the book from its spot, and pressed it into your hand. “Until then, take this.”

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around the spine, and you sighed again. He was adamant about you keeping this book, and there was no use arguing with him. No point in denying a free gift anyway. “Alright, I’ll keep it.”

He smiled in response. “Don’t ever think y’gotta pay for somethin’ in here. If ya like it, then help yourself.”

“You tell that to all the girls?” you asked.

“Only to the ones I like.” He replied with a wink.

You giggled, stepping back to lightly slap his chest with the book. “Alright you, I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, drawing you back in for a hug and another kiss. “See ya tomorrow, darlin’.”

Breaking from the embrace, you headed toward the exit. Somehow you hadn’t noticed how much darker it got outside until you saw the iron-gray storm clouds through the door. You opened it just as a loud thunder clap rumbled through the air, vibrating the floor beneath you. A split second later, rain began to fall.

Well shoot, you walked here today.

Arthur’s low hum sounded behind you. He stepped up beside you to observe the weather. “Guess you ain’t goin’ anywhere for a while.”

“Guess not.” You agreed. You weren’t opposed to staying longer, however you were hungry and some leftover pizza at home was calling your name. Hopefully this storm would be quick.

Arthur seemed to have read your mind. “Got some snacks in the back, c’mon.” He said, reaching your free hand and leading you through to the back room.

The two of you settled at the table with a shared small helping of cut fruit. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to curb your appetite for the time being. It was quiet aside from the raging storm, which settled to an even calmer atmosphere. You popped a grape into your mouth, peering over at Arthur as he munched on an apple slice.

His eyes met yours. “Somethin’ wrong with my face?” he asked jokingly.

You snickered, scooting closer. “Yeah, a whole lot of handsome.”

He snorted and shook his head with a dejected smile. You learned early on that his self-esteem was low, even though he hid it fairly well. Any comments toward his physical appearance was usually deflected.

“It’s true, you know.” You insisted. “You ever see how some girls stare at you when they’re here?”

“Nah, only ever got eyes for you, darlin’.” He answered.

“It’s pretty obvious,” you continued. “They’re not so subtle with their googly eyes, even when they try to be.”

Arthur laughed again, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Guess I’m blind to it.”

“You must be, if you can’t tell how sexy you are…” you stood up briefly to slide into his lap. Your hands cradled his face. “Probably the most attractive man in this town.”

His cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink, ducking his head slightly to avert your gaze. “You’re jus’ bein’ sweet.”

“I’m being truthful,” You corrected, slipping your hand beneath his chin to tilt his face back up. Once he was looking at you again, your hands moved to his shoulders, down his arms and to finally take his hands. “I could stare at you all day, you know.”

He chuckled in response, entwining his fingers with yours. “I could say the same ‘bout you.”

“Ah, but this is about you…” you spoke softly, pulling his hands up to your mouth, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “From your gorgeous eyes to your sexy jawline to your absolutely stunning body. And the way you dress? It’s like you do it on purpose just to make me feel all hot and bothered.”

“I don –”

You gently shushed him by planting your lips on his. Tasting faintly of fruit, your tongue swiped out to steal the flavor from his lips. You pulled back to see the flustered expression on his face, his mouth betraying a slight smile tugging at the corners.

He released your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer on his lap. “Guess I can’t complain if you like it all.” He murmured.

“And then some.” You added, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He drew you in for a second kiss, softer and sweeter than the previous. He held you close to him, his body warm and solid against you. Seconds ticked by as it gradually grew deeper and more fervent. His tongue slowly invaded your mouth which you happily accepted. His large hands smoothed up and down your back, both soothing and igniting your body. A soft moan slipped from your mouth, unintentional yet you didn’t regret it.

This caught his attention. He paused and parted the kiss, confusion plain in his expression. His eyes however betrayed his thoughts, aquatic pools shining brightly in the lamplight. He wanted more and was held back by his hesitation. It seems like you would have to take the lead.

You offered a soft nod to him, a silent acquisition of permission for his unmentioned desire. Removing your hands from around his neck, you reached down and peeled your shirt off, tossing it to the side. Arthur’s eyes widened, staring without shame at your chest, only reflecting the hunger in its prominence. He moved then to attach his mouth to the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lovingly. Your head tilted to allow him more access, quietly encouraging him to explore more of your body.

He did just that. His calloused palms roamed the expanse of your back. His fingers trailed with feather-light precision up your spine. You shuddered in his grip, arching your back and pressing against him even more. He rumbled softly in appreciation while his other hand found the zipper of your jeans. You anticipated feeling him venture further, only for him to grip your ass. He stood up, catching you off-guard and you expelled a yelp. His journey with you was short as he brought you back down, resting your back on the table before him. You locked eyes with him as he smiled down at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. He dragged his fingers down your midline to the hem of your pants, gripping them to tug them straight off.

You were now down to your underclothing while he was still fully dressed. He was certainly moving fast. “You’re gorgeous too…” he muttered, his gaze scanning you up and down with great interest. He rested his hands on your hips, standing in between your legs. He leaned down to kiss your collarbone, moving his lips in a steady line following his trail from earlier. Looping his fingers through your underwear, he pulled them down just as his face reached just below your navel.

He tossed your panties with your other discarded clothing. As exposed as you were, you didn’t feel embarrassed. Your yearning for him was driving you wild. He kissed your mound before taking his spot in the center, and a split second later the wet presence of his tongue appeared along your slit, searching for his target until he honed in on it.

Good lord, who knew he was so good at oral?

You covered your mouth while he worked his magic against you, moaning quite loudly through your fingers. He held your trembling legs tightly against his shoulders, occasionally peering up at you for validation. Your other hand carded through his soft hair, allowing your touch to encourage him further.

He toyed with your entrance, exploring your inner walls. It wasn’t long until he hit that spot, a toe-curling and edge-gripping sensation that had you squealing his name. You were thankful this place was empty for once. He rubbed your inner thigh, offering his own encouragement. Your climax was arriving almost too quickly for you to comprehend. “A-Arthur,” you gasped. “God –“

You could barely utter another word as your pleasure washed over you like a powerful tidal wave, snapping your legs tightly to him while he lapped at you, drawing it out until you were writhing and whimpering from overstimulation. He broke free from your grasp with ease, standing back up to stare down at you.

As your breath evened out, you sat up slowly. “Where did that come from?” you asked.

He chuckled, offering you that crooked smile you loved so much. “I do have some tricks up m’ sleeves.”

You giggled with him, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He leaned into your embrace, joining his lips to yours for a short kiss. You brought yourself to your feet and pressed closer to him, highly aware of what rested against your thigh. Sliding your arms off, you knelt down. “I got tricks of my own too.”

Before he could speak, you palmed him through his jeans. He took a deep breath, easing out a quiet moan to you. You nimbly unzipped his confinements, reaching in to fish out his already hardened manhood. He was larger than you anticipated, but not enough to intimidate you. You wrapped your hand around, finding him thick in circumference. To describe him as well-endowed would only serve him some justice. Your fingers couldn’t touch.

You peered up at him. He was staring at you with curiosity, the rosy tint in his cheeks only increasing. There was still a hesitant energy to him, enough to not push you further.. You offered him a slow rub, memorizing every inch in your hand from root to tip. He released a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

A soft smile crossed your lips, and you brought yourself forward to kiss his hot skin. You parted your lips to slowly engulf him, keeping your eyes locked to his. Your tongue slid languidly along his silky flesh, drawing along the thick vein that lay on the underside. Soon you had a set rhythm, bobbing your head in an undulating movement. He moaned deeply, breaking his gaze to tilt his head back. His fingers tangled within your hair, a gentle hold that prompted you to take more of him.

The sounds he made were glorious. Guttural groaning with your name, pet names, wrapped with his pleasure. His palm pressed against the back of your head. As gentle as he was, you sensed an urgency behind it. And so you dove further, swallowing him whole with some effort.

“Oh –” he huffed, his hips shuddering with a small buck. “Shit, darlin’. S-sorry.”

You uttered a soft hum and rubbed his thigh soothingly in response. Pulling your mouth back, you deep throated him again. He swore out loud a second time and gripped a nearby chair. You repeated a third time, raising your hand to fondle his balls through his jeans. His breathing became erratic the longer you pleased him, taking him whole with long swallows and a wiggle of your tongue. He gripped your hair hard, though he broke any direct contact with your head, too lost in his ecstasy to aid your movement.

Though hardly any time passed when he spoke your name. “Sweetheart, ain’t g-gonna last.” He gasped out.

You stopped immediately, pulling your mouth off him with a pop of your lips on the tip, swiping off a small pearl of precum that formed. You sat back quietly on your knees as his breathing regulated, and he was able to straighten up and focus on you again. “God damn, your mouth…ain’t no other like it.” He sighed.

You smiled smugly and stood up, closing the space between you with a swagger. Your arms slung around his neck again while you gave him a sultry look. “Didn’t want to be done yet.”

Arthur caught on immediately, pulling you in closer with an iron grip. He ground against you, his rough jeans on your soft skin felt wonderful. His erection rested between your thighs, just inches of where you wanted it to be. “Didn’t think so.” He growled, setting a shudder through you.

With one swoop he propped you back onto the table. His lips hungrily latched to yours while his hands explored every inch of your bare body. His fingers found your center with easy, relaxed strokes. Your moans silenced in his open mouth. You could only hold on while he pleasured you with his hands, though your patience for all of him was wearing thin. His shirt balled up in your hands, fingernails digging deep into the fabric and against his skin.

You pulled back to gasp out. “Arthur, please!” you panted. “I need to feel you.”

He paused his ministrations, bringing his gaze to you. A sweet smile touched his lips and he moved to grip your hips, shuffling slightly to align himself to you. His hips rocked forward, allowing himself to poke between your folds. He invaded you slowly, inch by inch and spreading your inner walls. You hid a wince, underestimating his thickness. He watched your face intently as if to note any discomfort. Soon he was completely joined with you.

He caressed your cheek, asking a silent question of your comfort. You nodded to him and kissed his palm, then trapped his thumb between your lips to suckle on it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the faint surprise on his face, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

His hand left your face to take place once again on your hip. He brought himself back and forward in one smooth motion. The discomfort dissolved almost instantly as your body accepted him, soon replaced with waves of pleasure. You moaned loudly, gratefully, hanging on him while he rocked you to the very core.

He murmured a breathless swear, gripping you tightly while he continuously thrust into you. You were enveloped by your own ecstasy, whispering his name into the air. Lost in your pleasure, you almost didn’t feel him lift you from the table. He held you without effort, driving himself even deeper. His grunts and groans vibrated deep in his belly, vibrating against you.

“Sweetheart, ya feel so nice.” He crooned.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. You could only muster up a long moan the more he fucked you, the further he reached and the harder he rocked. He paused briefly to move from the little room out into the main area. You felt him press you against a bookshelf. The books housed in it shuddered and some fell.

“A-Arthur?” you panted in question.

“Scientology books, no one reads ‘em anyway.” He quickly answered.

You couldn’t help but to laugh, a hearty giggle that switched to a squeal once he pounded into you again. The bookcase creaked behind you, tapping against the wall. The small aware part of your brain wanted to be careful, that is until Arthur shifted to snake his hand between you, his fingers once again toying with your clit.

You stifled another squeal, keeping yourself from becoming any louder than you already were in case any passerby somehow heard you, despite the storm still raging outside. Arthur seemed to have other plans, ramming himself so hard that you could only shout his name. His mouth latched to your neck again, not hesitant to mark and abuse your flesh. He growled with a nearly animalistic tone, echoing deeply throughout the shop.

Your second was on a quick ascent, peaking and surging through your center and radiating through your muscles. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him. He grunted, unleashing a shuddering breath.

“Jesus, gonna finish soon.” He huffed to you, and caught your lips for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He held you again with both hands. His pace hastened and his hips became erratic, unshamefully moaning against your tongue.

Every one of your senses was overwhelmed in the most wonderful ways. Your taste and smell were overwhelmed with his essence, your nerves tingling as you came down from your high. Nails dug into his flesh, spurring him to finish even sooner.

The clear ringing of a bell pierced your otherwise distracted attention. The bell indicating the store’s door opening, followed by faint footsteps. It brought you back to reality quickly. Ripping your mouth from his, you tried to gasp out his name, only to have him nearly slap his hand over your mouth.

“Shh, nearly there sweetheart. Jus’ be quiet.” He grunted quietly.

Part of you was nervous about the idea of being caught by someone, yet another side seemed to enjoy the thrill. You barely managed a nod while he somehow quietly fucked you, keeping you pressed against the bookshelf and undulating rolling his hips. You locked eyes with him, hyperaware of the creak of the floorboards that sounded as if they were growing closer. Your heart raced despite the endless amount of pleasure racking through your body.

It almost seemed as if he wouldn’t finish in time, until he pulled out of you and stifled a low groan. Hot trails of his spend painted your bare stomach. His entire body shuddered and he eased your legs to the floor, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before ushering you to the back room.

Your legs felt like jello, but you managed to scurry back into the room, ducking from view of the shop while Arthur stuffed himself back into his pants and hastily adjusted his appearance before disappearing from your line of sight. You heard him greet the newcomers, his voice cheerful and not a hint of what just happened a moment before.

You swiftly and silently closed the door, cleaned yourself up, and redressed. A few quiet minutes passed by before Arthur opened the door back up. He smiled at you and let out a sigh of relief. “They didn’t catch us,” he announced.

“I thought it was closing time,” you said.

“Close, had ten til,” he rolled his eyes. “Usually how it goes…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course…” You stepped up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Despite the fatigue that took hold of your body, you felt energized from the whole ordeal. “You sent them on their way?”

Arthur took a hold of your waist, pulling you flush against his torso. “Once they found what they were lookin’ for, though they did hear us a lil’…I had to tell ‘em I was rearrangin’ some o’ the shelves.”

You snickered. “Gotta say, it was a little bit of a thrill feeling like we were gonna get caught. Like we’re teenagers sneaking around or something.”

Arthur snorted and grinned at you with a sly smirk. “Yeah?”

“Sure, but let’s wait until after closing time. Don’t wanna scare off the customers.” you amended.

He nodded, his face twitching thoughtfully. “Next time, I think my house is more suitable,” he laughed. “More comfortable than a bookcase.”

“Oh I’d hope,” you replied, arching your back and feigning a look of pain. “Pretty sure that threw out my back.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though quickly realized you were joking and shook his head. That same adorable crooked smile returned to his face. “How ‘bout I massage ya to make it up?”

“How about we do that at my house?” you proposed with a cheeky wink.

[tloujm]

Part III: Birthday Surprise

Author’s Notes: The plot and setting may look familiar to you guys in this. I mixed Abby’s trip with Owen with Joel’s trip with Ellie. While I could have made the museum romantic, I figured the Aquarium was more so. Also, this takes place several months after the 2nd chapter. To help imagery, it is late Autumn/fall. It’s cold and flurries of snow fall but not a full fledged winter yet.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s your birthday and Joel has a surprise for you. Despite being distant with him, you decide to go along and feed into your feelings for him. If you were waiting for cute, romantic Joel, this is it. This is the beginning.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel has loved you since he made the choice to leave the hospital with you in his arms. That was when he admitted it to himself at least. He constantly tried doing little things to make you feel better, especially after having a fight. Sometimes, that just meant giving you space. He held on tight to the moments he got to have with you that did not involve you bringing up the incident. In those moments, he caught a glimpse of what life could be like with you and he had a strong desire for that. All he wanted to do was protect you and forget about the Fireflies. 

The day before your birthday, you responded to a knock on your door only to find a wood carved version of your horse with a note attached sitting on the ground. You could tell it was from Joel by his handwriting. It explained that he had a surprise for you and it involved an early start. It was your birthday, so your positive disposition allowed you to accept his surprise.

He wasn’t kidding when he said early start. Joel was at your door knocking before sunrise. You groaned before lazily throwing your legs over the bed. He knocked again with more force before you made it to the door. He wished you a happy birthday before walking into your makeshift living room. Your eyes were tired, but you gave him a smile nonetheless when you thanked him. He sat on the couch, rubbing his hands together in front of your space heater while he waited for you to get dressed. Apparently, the surprise involved a hike to get there so you dressed in layers. 

By the time the two of you made it past the gate with your horses, the sun had begun to rise. It was not often that you got up while it was still dark. Sunsets were more of your thing. Watching the sun rise, however, was a different kind of beautiful. The sky turned brighter shades of blue as the two of you rode through unbeaten paths. At one point, the woods became too thick for the horses and you two had to start hiking. Joel secured both of the animals before guiding you in the direction of the surprise. 

“Alright, c’mon.” Joel said.

“I’m going to start guessing now.” You stated.

“You want to spoil your surprise?” He asked.

“I’ve held out long enough.” You responded. “Is it an alien crash site?”

“Stop trying to guess. I ain’t tellin’ you.” He said with his back to you.

“Okay.” You let silence fall between you before guessing again. “So is it a nice, new car? With heated seats and one of those tvs that hang from the ceiling to watch movies on?”

He sighed playfully. “You’re not gonna guess.” You fell quiet, trying to think of something even more outrageous. The two of you approached a ledge as the path grew narrower. Joel pushed back a bare branch to give you just enough room to scoot by without falling over the edge. “Mind your step.” He warned as he gestured for you to go first. 

The walkway was so narrow that there was no other choice but for your backside to brush up against Joel’s body as you walked past him. You took it slow as to mind your step. He was so close, you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Back in the day, you would have used this opportunity to flirt with him just to watch his face go red. After safely making it passed, you did the same for him and held the branch down while he walked across. 

“Fuck it, I’m done guessing.” You spoke up, filling the air with sound. 

“Oh, good.” He replied.

“But really though, is it a movie or something?” You got really excited before he could answer. “Don’t tell me you found some old abandoned theater and dusted off the projector and somehow figured out how to power it back up.”

“Um, no.” He said, slight disappointment in his voice. “Would you have liked that?”

“I would like anything you give me, Joel.” You replied genuinely. After a few more minutes of walking, the two of you come upon a clearing riddled with frozen over puddles. In the middle of it all was a huge temple front building. You approached the steps ahead of Joel. “Is this it?” You asked with a smile on your face. You didn’t quite know what it was, but having earned an art history degree, you had a penchant for big, old buildings.

He nodded. “Yes.”

You run up the steps like Rocky during his famous training scene in Philly. The grand doors had a faded logo painted on. It appeared to be of a dolphin and a whale swimming together like the Pisces sign. You waited for Joel to catch up with you before opening the doors. He watched as you made your way inside the large lobby. There was an enormous whale hanging from the ceiling with two grand staircases on either side leading to separate wings. The dead remnants of overgrown plants decorated the dark blue walls. As you walked closer to the information desk in the middle of the room, snow began to fall from the ceiling. You looked up and noticed that part of the roof was missing. It looked dilapidated rather than the result of an attack. It allowed in the only source of light, bouncing off the walls to cast a grayish-blue atmosphere. As you made your way further in, you found a mural on the wall of different aquatic animals.

“I think this is one of those zoos but for fish.” Joel quipped.

“Shut up.” You said playfully. He chuckled.

You walked up the stairs and immediately became attracted to a room with a shark head adorning the doorway. You headed in that direction first, but Joel warned you not to. You asked why, barely giving him the time to answer before you ignored his plea and continued to the door. It looked like a lounge room for adults. The walls were really just floor-to-ceiling windows. It gave an amazing view of the small lake behind the building. There was a bar, a large tv and multiple couches. You made your way around one couch and realized why he didn’t want you to go in the room. A skeleton, mostly decomposed, was lying on it, resting, waiting. 

“I didn’t want to move the body.” Joel spoke up. “He looked too comfortable.” He referred to the pillow behind the skeleton’s back and the blanket draped over the legs. You notice a piece of paper lying on his lap; his boney fingers keeping it in place. “(Y/N), no.” Joel protested as he watched you reach for it. 

“If it wasn’t meant to be read, then it wouldn’t have been written.” You responded. The paper had all kinds of stains on it, most likely from the decomposition of the body. The writing was faded and barely legible. “ ‘I’m taking Max away from here. He can’t spend his life inside this rotting building. All he’ll do is take on your weaknesses. I want Max to see what it looks like when people are willing to stand up for what they want. The world is harsh. It’s up to us to change it. Maybe we’ll come back someday. If we do, I hope you’re not still sitting in your stupid, fucking chair’. Wow. His kids ran off and left him.”

“Jesus.” Joel mustered.

The two of you go back downstairs and eventually find a doorway shrouded by dead vines. You pushed passed them, holding open a space for Joel to follow. Painted in large white letters are the words “Max’s place”. On the other side of the doors was the gift shop. You guessed that Max used this as his room while his family stayed there. Joel let you look around the pamphlets and trinkets. He watched on with a wide grin before he beckoned you over to the open elevator. 

“C’mon over here.” He said.

            You approached the opening and looked down. “If I knew you’d brought me out here to kill me by pushing me down this shaft, I would have stayed home”. 

“I’m not gonna kill you, darlin’, but we are going down.” 

“You’re joking.” You said flatly. 

“Nope.” He popped the “P” sound playfully as he climbed onto the ladder against the elevator shaft. He held out his hand for you to take. “It’ll be ok.”

“It better be.” You whined. He took your hand and guided it onto a rung. He began to climb down and you followed. 

He jumped off the ladder first, causing the elevator wires to shake. It made you nervous but you persevered. You gently hopped off the ladder onto the elevator roof and followed Joel through the opening of the new floor. It was very dark save from the light coming through the glass windows. You were in the basement level because there was nothing but water on the other side of them. You walked up to the plaques in front of them and read about the animals that were no longer there. You wondered if they’d been hunted or simply died when there was no one left to take care of them. Joel stayed until you were done reading. He followed you around the corner and stopped in front of a large fort made of cardboard boxes. It had a child’s touch as it was painted over with cartoonish figures. 

“Solid fort, Max.” You said.

Joel approached the entrance. “Ladies first.” He held the flaps open. You got on your hands and knees to crawl through. 

“Oh my God, Joel!” You exclaimed in a breathy tone. “You gotta see this! Have you seen this?”

He nodded. You turned to him in disappointment. “I had to secure the place before I showed it to you. ‘Sides, it’s your surprise, not mine.”

“How did you find this place?”

“I found it a few months back when it was warmer. I was on patrol with Nick. We came in from back where the lake is.” Joel explained.

“This place is beautiful, Joel.” You said, almost in a whisper. The room that you had entered was semi-circular and it was all glass. Even below your feet was glass. You couldn’t lie, it scared you for a moment. You were taken off guard when a small school of fish swam by underneath you. “Joel! Did you see that?”

“I sure did.” He replied with a smile. Through the algae and seaweed covering the windows, light peeked through and projected a dark blue glow. As the water on the other side moved, so did it's reflection on your skin. Joel gazed at the sight before him. You looked ethereal and it damn near took his breath away. He watched as your eyes filled with wonder. It was the purest thing he’d seen since the world fell apart. He allowed himself to gaze at you a few moments longer before he slid his backpack off his shoulders. “Now, this took a mighty great effort to find.” He said to get your attention. You turned around as he reached into his backpack. He pretended to dig around to prolong the suspense.

You rolled your eyes. “Joel!”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. Here.” He pulled out a light brown ukulele. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” He watched as your face broke into a smile. It was a wholesome experience and it made him warm inside. 

She whispered a thank you and took the ukulele. “I can’t believe you remembered. You said that you’d teach me how to play the guitar and I said--”

“You said you didn’t want to play the guitar. You wanted to learn how to play the ukulele and I said I didn’t know if I could help you with that.”

You looked up at him and met his eyes. “But you said you’d try.”

He took a step closer and watched as you fiddled with the strings. You experimented with the sound of each one before making up a little, silly tune. It was not perfect, in fact it was far from it. Still, you enjoyed playing. You even did a little dance as you plucked the strings. You twirled around and caught a glimpse of a shadow. You knew it wasn’t Joel; it moved too fast. The high pitched sound of the ukulele faded out as you stepped up to the glass. There it was again! Was it a large fish? It was too small to be a dolphin. What could survive in this cold water? You watched and waited. Joel came up behind you and did the same. A seal swam out from its hiding place and swam up to you. It's big black eyes gazed at yours. You were probably the first person that it's come across in a very long time. You let out a breathy chuckle as you watched it swim away.

“I do okay?” Joel’s voice filled the room. It was the softest you ever heard him speak. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You turned to him with a smile. His grin spread wide to match yours. “Thank you, Joel.”

He continued to gaze at you with loving eyes. It made your heart flutter and stomach do back flips. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next but all you knew was that the atmosphere was perfect. You wanted to kiss him, but was too scared. He took another step forward and you let him. Now, the two of you were close enough to touch. He leaned down and closed his eyes as he did. You saw what he was doing and you wanted it so bad but…

“Joel.” You said his name while pulling your head back. 

“I’m...I’m sorry.” He looked down at his feet. 

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s not you. I just...I’m scared.”

He playfully scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“No, it's not that.” You paused for a moment. It sounded logical in your head, but you were afraid it’d sound stupid out loud. “But what if I infect you?”

Joel looked taken aback. “What?”

“I’m a carrier of the disease. What if I'm contagious? I can spread it to you from a kiss like it was a cold.” You spoke with genuine worry.

He let out a small laugh. “You know how many times you’ve sneezed in the house without covering your mouth? If spores would have come out. I would have breathed them in and I’d be long gone by now.” 

You look down in shame before laughing yourself. “I’ll remember to cover my mouth next time.” 

Joel caressed your cheek, prompting you to look back up at him. You smiled, inviting him to try again and so he did. Joel leaned down and this time, you reached up and met him in the middle. You took his bottom lip between yours. His beard brushed against your skin but it was a welcome feeling. The two of you stopped for a split second before going in again for another kiss. Joel was the first to pull away. He knew it was the first time that the two of you had kissed and didn’t want to ruin the moment by going too far. He looked down at you and realized he was ready to go as far as you’d take him, however far that was. Kissing you was a heady sensation and it was something he’d been wanting to feel for a while now. 

******

You start to let Joel in more. Your romantic feelings for him overcame your apprehension. It still lingered in the background, but you convinced yourself to focus on the present. What happened at the hospital had already been done, right? You thought to yourself. What if Joel was telling the truth? You rarely allowed yourself to play that angle. Joel and his brother respectively left the Fireflies for a reason. Maybe they did something that rubbed him the wrong way and he didn’t want to stay there and wait for me to wake up. You couldn’t help but trust Joel after he fought to keep you alive during the journey out west. He must have had a good reason, whatever it was. 

Preparing for the Jackson winter was harsh but focusing on the present was easy and your present was with Joel. He walked you up to your door the night you two came back from the aquarium. He stood there awkwardly as if he wasn’t the one who initiated a kiss from you first. The long ride back showed you that you hadn’t infected him after all, which gave you the confidence to pull him into a goodnight kiss. You caught his eyes widening in shock as you pulled away. It was so different from the Joel that you were used to. Moments like these excited you in discovering more about him. 

It’d been a very long time since you were in a relationship and quite honestly you weren’t in many of them especially after the zombie apocalypse. You could only imagine it was the same for Joel given his guarded demeanor and the fact that he never talked about any past relationships. The morning after your birthday, he made you breakfast. He did a damn good job with what little he had in the fridge. It was easy to tell how much effort he put in it between setting the table and plating the food. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of attention. You were never good at hiding your feelings, but with Joel, you didn’t want to. People in the settlement noticed the change in your demeanor. The glow on your face. The pep in your step. Lynn definitely noticed and she wouldn’t let it go. You spilled everything to her. She soaked it up like a sponge but couldn’t believe it. “Joel?” She kept asking. Unlike you, Joel was much better at concealing his feelings. He always came off as a tough nut to crack. After a year and some change in Jackson, the townsfolk found him easier to get along with, but he was still a closed book. It made you wonder if even his own brother would be surprised by how gentle he could be. 

You didn’t see Joel again until later that night after his shift had ended. You left a note on the fridge door letting him know that you’d be down at The Watering Hole, the only bar in Jackson, if he wasn’t too tired to meet you there. You sat around waiting for him, nursing your gin and tonic. You missed cell phones for this very reason. If he was running late out on patrol or was too tired to come out, he could just call or shoot you a text. This blind waiting was almost too much to bear. You figured that you would just meet him at home and come back out later if he was up for it. Just as you got up, however, you spotted him walking through the door. You watched as he said hi to the barman before scanning the crowd. He smiled when his eyes found yours. You beckoned him over with your finger. 

“Perfect timing,” You began as he sat across from you. “I ordered you a dinner a while ago, so it should be out here any minute.”

“Thank you.” The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled. You noticed that he looked tired.

“We could go home as soon as the food comes if you’re tired.” You suggested. 

He waved his hand at the idea. “No, no. I want to be here with you.” He laid that same hand down on the table, palm up, encouraging you to lay yours on top. You did so and his fingers enclosed your smaller hand, giving it a squeeze. It was his first public display of affection. On the outside, it didn’t look like much, but it meant a lot to the both of you. 

“Joel,” You paused, not knowing how to start the conversation burning in your mind. “I, um....” You were nervous and you didn’t know why. What happened to that confidence you had on your birthday. Just as you decided to begin again, the barman came over with Joel’s food and drink. 

He thanked him before turning back to you. “I know there’s somethin’ here, (Y/N). I’m not alone in thinking this am I?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, Joel. I want this, whatever this is, to be something.”

“Whatever this is, huh?” He repeated. “Well how about this,” With his hand still grasping yours, his voice turned serious. “Go steady with me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Go steady? I don’t think the kids say that anymore.” You lightly made fun of his wording. Still it was everything you wanted to hear.

His face broke into a half smile. “Well, we ain’t kids are we?” The smile turned sly as he watched for your response. 

You shook your head. “Not at all.” You said coyly. 

[igniting-quill]

korest (south korea x estonia)

Finding Solid Ground

Magical AU, early 1900s

Ship: Korest (South Korea x Estonia)

AN: 

If I was a better writer (and more efficient one) I swear I could have completed this. It started as a 1K, grew to 4K, and is still incomplete! Such a frustrating thing writing is. 

I am a college student taking difficult courses this semester, and to be honest a little burnt out from working on this… so unfortunately this WIP has been put on indefinite hiatus (don’t fret! I have ‘finished’ it with an ending, albeit a kind of bittersweet one. However, most of this piece has not been written and/or edited yet). For now, the story has multiple flaws: weak research, a lack of continuity, and a lack of meaningful scenes: it’s a first draft. However, I still think there’s lots of good parts in it too, plus I feel like I should respond to an ask that is like 5 months old by this point. I have peppered in Author’s Notes to supplement some of those weaknesses. The further into the piece, the more frequent AN’s will pop up. All AN’s will be inside “<” and “>” like <this>. It’s a tad cringey and reminiscent of early 2000s fic, but it’ll have to do. Anon and anyone else reading this, feel free to take what I wrote and continue it. Parts of the good in this that can get salvaged? I think it’s a rather interesting AU, and would be honored if people expanded on it. Just please make sure to credit me. 

I didn’t have great world building in my writing, so this is a brief introduction. The setting? Middle of nowhere Korea, early 1900s. I have blended elements of history and fantasy. The “magic” here can either be inherent (like magical powers people are born with) or learned (Like in Harry Potter where the people have to learn spells to actually do anything as a wizard/witch). Additionally, sort of like a hunger bar in Minecraft, “magic” can run out when the magic user is tired/famished/overusing spells. There are only a few people in this AU that have magical power. Think of it as I made the Hetalia cast have magic in place of their immortality.

TL;DR: Anon, I spent a whole lot of time on this to no avail. I think I ship Korest now though.

---

The first thing Eduard saw was a night sky. Moonlight streamed through soft clouds and stars peaked behind gaps. Beautiful.

But then, a cold wind whooshed past his ears and bit into his skin. He glanced down. Then, his eyes widened in shock. The trees looked like tiny, snow-covered bushes from up here. 

Teleport!

Nothing happened. Shoot. Why did his powers have to fail him now?

He flailed, his arms grasping at thin air as he plunged toward the earth and braced for impact.

“AGH!”

His right shoulder lit up in pain as it crashed into a branch. Crack. He hung there for a second, the branch swaying dangerously before it fell away from the trunk, dropping him lower. 

“Oof! Gah! Eouh! Tss!”

He was out of breath by the time he landed on the frost-sprinkled forest floor. He was dazed, soaking in what just happened. The leaves and snow softened the blow of the fall, but his shoulder still stung. It didn’t help that a bit of his blood was trickling out in the snow. His head throbbed dully. He propped himself up with his arms and his glasses fell off his face. 

Now the world was a blur, including the glasses themselves. He narrowed his eyes and brought the glasses up closer to his face. They were broken along the bridge, split into two halves. He brought the right lens closer. The glass had a crooked vertical gash running through it, ending with a broken rim. He picked them off the snowy ground and placed the pieces into his pocket. Slowly, gingerly, he stood up. He hobbled over to a tree and leaned against it. 

“Hello?” a voice asked in the distance. Eduard blinked, trying to keep his eyes open. He shifted his head to look toward the sound, but all he saw was a blurry forest and a faint glow far away. 

The last thing he remembered was the world turning to black.

---

Eduard drowsily opened his eyes to see a small room. He was in a bed with a thick comforter. It was dark, the windows showed a navy blue night outside. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a stranger walking over with a lit light source, eerily warm for being so small. That’s all Eduard could tell without his glasses. He touched his pocket, relief pouring in when he felt his eyewear. But he still felt tense. One thing was certain: this was an unfamiliar place, he had to get out of here. He tried to muster the energy to teleport, but his body stayed firmly in bed. His magic still wasn’t working it seemed.

“You’re awake.” The man noted, walking over to him.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Yong Soo.” The other man said. Eduard narrowed his eyes, trying to make out Yong Soo’s facial features. But it was still too blurry. “I found you passed out on the forest floor and thought to bring you home. But first, no weapons please. Empty your pockets.”

Yong Soo respected him enough not to ruffle through his things. Not that Eduard had anything to defend himself with anyways. Reluctantly, he decided to take out his broken glasses. The man took them and examined the pieces.

“You better not take my glasses for long.” The threat sounded empty, even to Eduard himself, but it felt better than nothing. Being in an unfamiliar place with his blurry vision was putting him on edge.

“Don’t worry about them,” Yong Soo flippantly responded. “Now, my turn: how did you end up in this forest in the middle of nowhere?”

That question stilled him. Eduard wondered how to logically explain falling out of the sky without the use of magic.

“I… don’t know. I didn’t mean to land here. And you still haven’t told me where I am.” 

Yong Soo gently placed his lantern on a nearby table. “We are kind of a new country. I do not know if you know about us, Mr. Sorcerer.”

“Sorcerer?”

“Magic user.” Yong Soo recited an incomprehensible (at least to Eduard) verse and waved his hand. The lantern slowly got brighter.

Eduard sucked in a gasp: that move was powerful. All he knew was transportation spells.

“I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you ended up here.” Yong Soo gestured with his hands, trying to describe his thoughts. “A sprinkle of magic and a bit of boredom, and… poof you’re here now. The spell I used attracts other ‘magic users’ like you and me. I was trying to get my brother, but looks like I can’t get to him for some reason” He sighed, as if he had something more to say but didn’t have the words. “Anyways, I am sorry for barging into your life. Hope that this somewhat makes up for your fall.”

Yong Soo grabbed ahold of Eduard’s hand. Lightly, he nudged Eduard’s fingers so that the palm of his hand would face up. With a flick of the wrist, he produced fully fixed glasses and laid them between Eduard’s thumb and pointer finger. 

“Woah...” Eduard whispered in disbelief, examining Yong Soo’s work. There were spells of all kinds, but he never saw one that ever smoothly put objects back together like this. He put his glasses on and looked at Yong Soo. His blurry vision became sharp. 

The clothes Yong Soo was wearing were so different from the stuff back home. Eduard didn’t have the vocabulary to describe them. He wore something akin to a dress, and the waistline was high, right under the chest. The top of the outfit had long sleeves that were wide, hanging down instead of staying tight around the wrist. He also held a thick book in one hand, part of it hidden under the sleeves.

The light from his lantern lit him up so that his pale beige skin contrasted with the darkness of the room. Dark brown eyes and ink black hair, a flyaway curl sticking out the side. An Eastern Asian man. There was a happy smirk on his face, one that triumphantly proclaimed that he succeeded in fixing the glasses.

“Just a simple little time reversal spell” He tapped on the edge of the frames for emphasis, and Eduard pushed his glasses back up with a huff. “Keep those safe, they’re expensive.”

“Now could you please tell me where on Earth I am? I know I’m not at home.”

“Korea. A bit ago we were Joseon. Now, what’s your name traveler?”

“Eduard.” he paused, trying to grasp everything that was happening. First things first: “How long has it been since I got knocked out?” 

“A few days.”

“Shoot.” Eduard sat up and got out from the covers, ignoring the sting from his right shoulder. “I’ve got to go. Back. You know. Before I got transported to this place.” He tried to muster up the energy to teleport out, but, ever frustratingly, his body still didn’t budge.

“Well. How do you even begin doing that?”

“If I could just…” Eduard concentrated, envisioning his home, and pulling himself mentally closer. But nothing happened. Eduard inwardly groaned.

“Okay there?”

“You don’t understand.” Eduard grumbled, trying to avoid worsening his wounds as he shuffled back under the covers. “Before I teleported, I was writing up this article. I’m part of a team attempting to get an Estonian newspaper off the ground. And well, it’s important to me for my article through… that sounds odd but let me put it this way. Though it may sound simple, it could propel us to become our sovereign nation! Independence, that’s something that has been a rarity. And with all the Russification going on, it’s been rough going.”

<Above probably needs development, I don’t know much about this topic and did minimal research> 

Eduard paused. “Wait a second, how the hell are you speaking Estonian?”

“When I saw that you were European,” Yong Soo showcased the thick book he was holding, “I used up my resources. I searched up a spell that would break a language barrier. Unfortunately, due to my own lack of language skills, I wasn’t able to understand that deciphers written words unfortunately. Then it would be easier to read this damn thing”

Eduard looked toward Yong Soo’s spell book. He recognized the Latin letters, but not the language of the script. “Now where’d you get this from?”

“I got it from a... ” He hesitated, “An acquaintance. From out East, Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

Eduard heard rumors of a strong British sorcery. The spell should be pretty good.

Yong Soo kept going. “It was a good choice too. I have translated some spells in here and they are the only things keeping me from going bonkers. I isolated myself in the middle-of-no-where after all. Turns out it’s good to have a companion, even if that companion is a book.”

Eduard looked at the spell book, intrigued. “Since I can’t go back home anyways, should I test to see how well your spell holds up?

“Aren’t you already doing so? With, um, Estonian, right?”

“Well, if I *speak Russian you’ll understand me?*”

Yong Soo nodded. “Your accent changed a bit though.” 

“And, *if I stretch it… do you understand some broken German?*”

“I do.”

“How about-”

“Hold on. How do you know so many languages?”

Eduard frowned a bit, pausing to understand what Yong Soo was asking. “I’m a polyglot.”

“Yeah, I just so happen to be a polyglot too. But I learned about other languages out of necessity. I used to have a life of splendor, politics, and drama.” He pointed out the window. “I took a break from that by moving to a place with more trees instead of people. Right here. Now, what… ‘normal’ man would be that talented? There has got to be a driving factor.” 

Would it hurt to tell this Korean man about his life? If Eduard teleported out of here as soon as he could, it couldn’t do damage. “I told you earlier, I work for a newspaper. Using language, even other languages too, are my thing. At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home. I guess that’s what I get for being born into a place that got bulldozed over by neighboring powers continuously. The place gets pretty bi and multilingual. Other languages get impressed onto us.”

“By… ‘Us?’ You mean, ‘Estonians?’ Of a country that doesn’t exist?” 

“Yes.” Eduard said it with finality.

The Korean man seemed to be mulling over the words, unease spreading over his expression. “I wonder...” Yong Soo stopped abruptly. He walked over to a makeshift kitchen area. “I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too.

“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no. Plus, I told you I have to go back home somehow, even if it is too late.”

Yong Soo looked at Eduard with a knowing glint in his eye. “If you could teleport back now, you would have already.”

“You’re not wrong.” Eduard gestured towards Yong Soo’s hands. “But, you also have a spellbook in your hands. If you really wanted to help, you would have given me a magic boost. I would have been on the way.”

Yong Soo frowned. “I don’t even think there’s a spell for a magic boost. I could be wrong though. I got this book very recently and only a few spells have been translated.”

“That means?”

“Considering the fact that you being here is the combination of both my magic power and yours, it seems like the way back is if I incorporate my magic with yours once more. Unless you can teleport for long distances, you’ll have to stay here with me.”

Eduard felt his heart plunge. They were quiet after that statement. 

<AN: Eduard has a hard time dealing with this new reality that he has to stay in an unfamiliar place. I didn’t give enough breathing room to write his experience with that.>

Yong Soo pointed toward a dish on the table. “I’ve got some cabbage-based kimchi. I have been living on this stuff for months here in the middle of nowhere.”

Eduard walked over to the table, looking over the unfamiliar food. “What are... these?” He tapped on a small porcelain bowl filled with cooked white grains. Then he gestured to two evenly shaped straight sticks, each about the size of a rectangular-ish, thinner, flatter pen.

“A bowl of rice and chopsticks. Of course.” 

Eduard searched around. “You don’t have forks?”

Yong Soo looked up at Eduard and a tangible pause lingered in the air. “Ah. You don’t know how to use chopsticks, do you?”

Eduard crossed his arms. “Look, I appreciate this, but I can’t even eat the food you’re offering me.”

“Well,” Yong Soo took the chopsticks for himself, showcasing how they were used. “I could teach you.”

Eduard’s stomach growled, as if on cue. He sighed, grabbed the chopsticks, and looked up at Yong Soo. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“First of all, you're holding it wrong.” Yong Soo picked up his own pair and let Eduard see his hand. “You raise and lower the top chopstick. And then you can do this.” He grabbed a piece of the cabbage kimchi and lifted it over to his bowl of rice. 

Eduard fidgeted with his hand. He tried to ignore the feeling of embarrassment while trying to get a semblance of the position.

Yong Soo let go of his chopsticks and leaned forward. He guided Eduard’s hand to the right position. He backed up after he was satisfied. “Now try it. Move the chopstick above up and down.”

Eduard tried to focus on his shaky hands. He slowly nudged the chopstick up, but then the lower one clattered onto the table. Yong Soo smothered a giggle.

“Hey, hey now. I’m a beginner.”

“I know, I know.” Yong Soo smiled at Eduard and handed him the fallen chopstick. “Try again.”

Eduard eventually got the hang of the chopsticks. He tasted a bit of the food, gritting his teeth at the unfamiliar taste of kimchi.  

<AN: Yong Soo insisted it was a very common Korean staple, and concluded that Eduard just had a low spice tolerance for the red chili pepper.>

---

“You know what? I think I’ve rested for a couple of days, I should try a simple transportation trick. Transporting objects and people are my inherent abilities.”

“I say go for it.”

Eduard laid his chopsticks on the table and shook out his arms. Then, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the chopsticks, making sure to stay a bit away from them. “Come to me now…” 

The chopsticks vanished in a shower of sparkles. Eduard looked toward his hand expectantly. They didn’t appear. 

“Oof!”

A disgruntled Yong Soo pulled the chopsticks out of his hair. He handed them to Eduard. “They tumbled from the ceiling and ran into me.”

“Are you okay?” 

Yong Soo rubbed his head and then cracked up in laughter, “I don’t know about you, but I think you need to rest a bit more.” He tapped on the thick spellbook, “Maybe we can look through this together in the meantime.”

“Sounds fine by me.”

---

<AN: Brief continuity error below.>

“There’s something that’s been weighing on my mind Yong Soo. I normally travel short distances. How the hell will I get back home to Estonia?”

“You could make pit stops?”

“Not everyone is as hospitable as you, Yong Soo. Who knows what situation I could end up in.” He sighed, closing his eyes, taking off his glasses, and placing his head in his hand. “I've already been gone for awhile now. If I go back, I’ll get lost and be gone for good.”

Yong Soo looked up, at least that’s what Eduard could tell from his blurry vision, and stretched out his arms. “Well I am trying to work through this spell book to help you.”

“How are you translating it? Can you read English?”

“What do you mean?”

Eduard put his glasses back on and pointed at the spellbook. “The book’s in English, right? You said it was originally from a British sorcerer. I’m wondering if you can read it.”

“I can’t, not really well. But I did get my hands on this dictionary: English to Korean.” He lifted up a second, smaller book for Eduard to see. “I wrote a few notes for myself in the margins.” He pointed toward some notes on the sides. “English… is very different from what I know. Letters versus characters. It’s hard to decipher the text.” Yong Soo gave him a tired look, “You’re lucky, you know that? This dictionary was a really hard find. Without it you’d be stuck here with me until you walk to a port on foot and find a boat headed to Europe. The process is still extraordinarily slow, and I don’t know the vast majority of spells in here at all.” He looked back down to his book.

“Thank you for all this work you’re putting in for me. As a speaker of many European languages, maybe I could help?”

Yong Soo considered it and opened the spell book and the dictionary for Eduard to see. “Why not.”

<AN: they look over the spell book and determine which spells would be useful. This is a process that is tedious but rewarding.>

---

It was an abnormally warm winter night, so the two men decided to head outside and make a campfire. After all, it was brighter than a candlelit room with small windows. Out here, they had the stars and the moon too. Yong Soo clutched his spell book and wrote in the margins while Eduard semi-deciphered the word and matched it up in the dictionary. 

<AN: they get in a fight over something which gets somewhat physical, the dictionary (I was also considering the spell book?) slips into the campfire and burns up to a crisp. Imagine like a super comical, ‘keep the book up in the air like a volleyball’ shenanigans before it falls straight into the fire>

Eduard sat down, stunned. “I’ve solidified my own fate. I’m going to be stuck here forever. Shit.”

It was quiet except for the sound of a crackling fire. The two men started as the flames ate up the last of the pages.

“Maybe… maybe… how did you get that dictionary in the first place? What if we try that pathway again.”

Yong Soo mulled over the question before answering. “No that’s impossible. I got it through farway political connections.”

Eduard raised an eyebrow. “With a friend from Japan too?”

“Not friend. Acquaintance, and no it is not from him” He sighed and looked Eduard dead in the eye. “There’s no reason to hide the truth to you about it if we live in the middle of nowhere. Royalty: emperors and all. I used to work for them. Sort of. There’s a lot of things I can do with my inherent ability… I fixed your glasses with it. Mostly I fixed things there too: both physical and politically. In my free time I would make my own little inventions, tinkering with objects, and rewinding their physical state when I really messed up. But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless. I feel like I ran away from it all.”

<AN: I wish I got more details as to what sort of role Yong Soo would play in an Emperor's palace. But I didn’t do my research and frankly don’t know what he would do.> 

<AN: This scene, where the two stare at this fire, is supposed to be a tender, shippable moment: people at their lowest bonding. Talk about YS’s background with Korean Royalty/government. YS’s fears are shown, he’s being vulnerable and talks a bit about his worries. Like Korea being smothered by its neighbors of China (Qing Empire) and Japan, at this point in history, leaning toward the latter. Eduard comforts him, and talks about his own life experience, like how Estonia doesn’t have that sweet sweet independence but it could come (ahem foreshadowing 1918). After the tender moment, with the power of teamwork, YS uses his time-manipulation-on-objects ability and Eduard uses his transportation ability to bring back the dictionary. The logistics behind it have something to do with the fire being extinguished, the ashes being clumped together, lots of back and forth, before they legit reverse a chemical reaction. They are tired out afterwards but satisfied dammit. >

---

<AN: There’s a scene in which they learn each other's languages. It’s cute, it’s quirky, and they bond. I’m in no place to implement this because I don’t know Korean or Estonian. A few more sessions of meeting up later, or maybe even in this section, they figure out a mix of spells that can get Eduard to go home.>

---

It was time.

The morning was quiet. Eduard looked out the window at the woods. The landscape was dusted with snowflakes. He wore his original clothes, no use of borrowing a hanbok now that he was heading back. Yong Soo joined him next to the window. He scooted closer till their shoulders touched. Despite how cold it was, Eduard felt warm.

“I can’t believe we did it.” He said, looking over to his Korean companion. “Thank you.”

“To think-” Yong Soo shifted, and Eduard turned to look. 

Yong Soo closed his eyes and leaned forward a tad, his bangs shifting to cover his face. 

“Okay there?”

“Yeah.” He sucked in a breath and composed himself. “Before you go…” He handed Eduard a piece of paper covered with beautiful strokes of black calligraphy.

“I haven’t learned these characters yet. What does it say?”

“My name. Three characters read from top to bottom.” He pointed to the very top. “Im,” to the middle, “Yong,” to the last, “Soo. 임.용.수.”

He pulled out another piece of paper for Eduard and a calligraphy pen. “Write your name down now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to forget you.”

He looked Yong Soo in the eye, forlorn dark brown irises glancing back. He felt a sob rise in his chest and pushed it down. 

Eduard broke eye contact, and signed his full name on the blank sheet of paper. He handed it to Yong Soo. 

“Hold my hand, will you?”

He spread his fingers across the palm of Eduard’s hand. Yong Soo’s sleeve covered up their touch, but Eduard could feel their fingers lacing together. A solid grasp, and Eduard felt fulfilled and broken all at once. When he went home, could he ever feel this intact again?

“I don’t think I could forget you if I wanted to.”

“Write to me?” Eduard smiled despite the regret that he felt, swirling in his body. “I still need to learn that Korean.”

Despite his sad expression, Yong Soo broke into a smile. “Definitely.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Yong Soo let go of Eduard’s hand and stood back, flipping through the spell book in preparation. “In a time where I felt distant from the rest of the world, you were my solid ground.”

“I’ll miss you,” Eduard whispered. He closed his eyes.

Before teleporting away, Eduard heard a faint murmur in response. “I’ll miss you too.”

---

Footnotes:

“An acquaintance. From Japan. And he got it from a British guy. My acquaintance is not on good terms with magic, even if he was once enthralled by it, and so I bought it from him.” 

I have long strayed from the Hetalia canon, but this is influenced by those episodes where hws Japan couldn’t see the magic-spirit-types in the hot springs but hws England could.

“At the same time, polyglots aren’t rare back home.“

I have no idea if this is true, but I would think it would be. At least in modern times, it seems as if there's some sort of forced bilingualism that people from small countries that deal with. In this case, for an educated man like Eduard, I think knowledge of other languages (Russian for example) would be very helpful.

“I wonder if you like pickled, spicy food.” He beckoned Eduard to come over too./“Pickled, yes. Spicy, no.”

I was going to have this be a whole bit. About culture comparison and stuff! Turns out, as someone who is neither Estonian or Korean with very little motivation to read through a wiki page, I didn’t have enough content to implement my idea.

“But I was also a political advisor type. That’s where I really screwed up. Sadly my time spell doesn’t fix everything: it does not work well at all with organic matter for example. I left. I usually have some control over situations, with magic and all, but yet there I felt powerless.”

His mess up refers assassination of Queen Min aka Empress Myeingseong. I’m debating whether to keep this part in at all because it’s rather horrible to add things in with little research yet I keep doing it.

Thank you to @/alfredtalia for giving me insight into Yong Soo’s name. If your interested, here’s the link to the post.

There’s probably more that I could write here. I’m fine with discussing unanswered questions about this fic thru tumblr asks.

Thank you for reading this long long post!

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 6

Ch 6: Eccentricity

AN: Loved some of the PatB shorts more than others (You know my eternal hatred for THAT one). But that’s a story for another day. I’m sticking to the 90s versions of these characters though. For now. I might have a gander at the reboot versions someday. You never know!

Ch 6 FFN Link

April 22, 2015! Narf! You’ll never guess what happened, Mickey Mouse. I met the Brain! Well, I’ve only known him for about four months, or less than two days, depending on how you wanna look at it, but if anything happened to him, I would make myself watch Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender!

Tomorrow, I’m going to the mall and buying a hat. Can’t root for Farfignetown (I have to ask her how she spells her name!) at the Derby without a super fancy hat!

Love,

Pinky.

PS: Tell Minnie I said hi!  

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky stepped back to admire his handiwork, the tip of his blue glitter gel pen pressing under his chin as he leaned against it. He did his best to copy Brain’s messages, but he was probably gonna have to write only the first letters only in the future. He didn’t want to take up the entire calendar page again.

His ears twitched at a scraping sound behind him. The sparkly gel smeared against his fur as he turned around, leaving a blue streak across his chest. Egad, if he continued to cover himself in the stuff, he’d look just like one of the Blue Men!

Brain pushed a heavy textbook across the counter, finally stopping underneath a light panel on the ceiling. Then he flipped it open, climbed up, and began to read.

It wasn’t the same book he’d started reading after they’d shaken hands to seal their new friendship either.

“Whatcha reading, Brain?” Pinky asked, slinging the gel pen over his shoulder. “I thought you were reading about jeans! So, find anything good? I think I like the flare type best. Skinny jeans make me chafe.”

“I have no idea what you’re blathering about, Pinky,” Brain said, not looking up from the page he was on. His head shifted from side to side as he read on, and Pinky imagined a giant, fluffy marshmallow making the same movements.

His stomach growled, and a marshmallow dinner sounded heavenly. With cheese fondue and rainbow sprinkles and a light dollop of whipped cream on top…

Wait, no, no. The kitchen didn’t have Gruyere cheese! Processed American cheese wouldn’t provide that proper creamy texture at all.

What kind of host was he? Unable to serve proper cheese fondue to his alien guest?

Then Brain hopped off the book, growling to himself as he pushed up on the hard cover and the few pages he turned. The pages slid into place, but he wasn’t tall enough to get the cover to close the entire way.  

“Do you need help, Brain?” Pinky asked. He dropped the gel pen and grasped the cover’s edge, but Brain smacked him sharply on the wrist, forcing Pinky to let go. Pinky flicked his wrist, and the sting quickly disappeared.

“Don’t patronize me! I can get it myself!” Brain snarled. He pushed on the cover again, and it rose a couple inches in the air, only to land against his fingertips. He growled and spread his feet, jumping as he pushed on the cover once more. This time, the cover slammed into the pages with a heavy thud. “Your sources of information are woefully lacking with your livable yet rudimentary conditions. Penumbra had a much better database, and it’s been dilapidated for a long time.”

Pinky had no idea what dilapidated was. Probably something to do with laps though.

“Oh, well if you need more reading material, I’ve got just the thing!” Pinky said, motioning for Brain to follow him over to a tiny side table where all the magazines were stacked. “Let’s see, we’ve got Vogue, National Geographic, Reader’s Digest…ah, here we are! This one’s my favorite out of all the Zoobooks! Lots of pretty horses to look at. Zort!”

Pinky thumbed through the magazine until he found his favorite page, which had gorgeous art of a white horse running on grassy hills. “This one’s my favorite,” he said as he pressed the magazine into Brain’s hands. Brain nearly went cross-eyed just trying to look at it, but he held out his hands and pushed the pages back until they weren’t so close to his face. “I named her Pharfignewton after Pharfignewton! Isn’t her mane just the flowiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Including or excluding your mind in that comparison?” Brain asked. He closed the magazine and set it on top of the stack. “Your choice of reading material is peculiar, but I suppose brushing up on this planet’s ecology wouldn’t hurt.”

Pinky grinned. “If you think those are good, remind me to show you David Attenborough’s work sometime! His documentaries are amazing!”

Brain tilted his head, his antennae bobbing with the motion. “You’ve mentioned someone named Pharfignewton multiple times. An acquaintance of yours?”

“She’s not a quail, Brain. She’s a horse, of course!” Pinky laughed at his little rhyme. “Oh right, I’ve never showed you pictures of her, have I? Where are my manners? Anyway, I left them in the cage. It’s right this way! Or left this way. I can never tell which.”

Pinky ran back to the cage and squeezed through the bars, Brain trailing behind at a much slower pace. As Pinky slid his right leg through the bars, he realized just how dirty the cage was. There was a small puddle by the water bottle, and straw was scattered all over the place. Crumbs littered the floor around the food bowl, and his wheel had a stain shaped like a pomegranate.

It just wouldn’t do at all!

“Sorry for the mess!” Pinky called to Brain, who was watching him curiously from outside the cage. “I didn’t know I’d be having a visitor today!”

But Brain didn’t seem to care about the mess. Instead, he prodded the locked cage door.  

“Nicholas and Mr. Button, you’ve gotta wake up and help me clean!” Pinky said, shaking them frantically from where they were tucked into the straw. “Narf, you two were up talking late again, weren’t you?”

They were too asleep to respond though.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you sleep for now, but tomorrow I’ll be going over proper cagesitting behavior with both of you,” Pinky sighed. He carefully rolled up the photo of Pharfignewton he kept near the straw bed, hugging it close to his body as he slipped through the bars again.

“Pinky, those are inanimate objects,” Brain said, bending a paper clip until it was completely straight. He poked one of the sharp ends and winced.  “They won’t respond to you.”

“They’re real life objects, Brain. They’re not animated,” Pinky said. “Whatcha doing with that paper clip?”

Brain pressed his ear against the cage door, carefully maneuvering the paper clip into the lock. It slipped a quarter of the way in before Brain yanked it out again, his eyes darting around the room as if something would swoop down on them.

When nothing happened, he went back to inserting the paper clip. “Nothing to disable here. There’s no alarm system on the door,” Brain said, turning to Pinky. “I thought you were squeezing through the bars to avoid triggering it.”

“I’ve never had an alarm before. Do you think I should get one?” Pinky asked. “Just so nobody tries to burger my wheel or water bottle? Hmm, what would a burger with those ingredients even taste like? Not very appetizing, probably.”

Brain only stared at him, the paper clip almost slipping from his hand in surprise. “Don’t tell me the only reason you haven’t used the door is because you can’t unlock it.”

Pinky nodded. “Okay. I won’t tell you the only reason I haven’t used the door is because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to unlock it.”

Shaking his head in dismay, Brain reinserted the bent paper clip until it was halfway in, then turned it clockwise (or was it counterclockwise? Pinky always got them mixed up).

“There,” he said, letting the door swing open. “Now you can enter and exit as you please like a civilized mos.”

“Egad, that’s brilliant!” Pinky stepped inside the cage, then back out. In and out again, and again, and he almost started dancing the Hokey Pokey, which would’ve been a whole lot of fun, but Brain still hadn’t seen Pharfignewton’s photo!

Now that was a real tongue twister there!

“This is Pharfignewton, Brain! Isn’t she pretty?” Pinky asked, pressing the photo into Brain’s hands.

The photo had been taken two weeks ago, when her owner had hired a professional to photograph Pharfignewton as she sprinted around the field. Pharfignewton had given Pinky her personal favorite, one that showed her hooves flying through the air and her gorgeous mane streaming in the sunlight. She was having the time of her life, and she couldn’t have picked a better photo to give him.

“There’s certainly an uncanny resemblance,” Brain admitted. “And the size discrepancy between you and her is incredibly blatant. Not to mention the species difference.”

Pinky crossed his arms. “Oh, don’t be so intolerant, Brain. She’s big cause she’s a horse, and I’m small cause I’m a mouse. But we make it work.”

Pharfignewton would be gone for the next two months, possibly more when she achieved the Triple Crown. It would be lonely, but he could manage.

“You mentioned she was far away when I interrogated you.” Brain set the photo down, smoothing out a corner though it didn’t have any wrinkles.

“She’s still on the road to the Derby, I think. Can’t really get in touch with her though. Phones are kinda tricky with hooves, you know.” Pinky said. “She’s wanted the Triple Crown her entire life. So that’s why I gotta make a giant hat and root for her when she races!”

“I don’t understand how a hat factors into all this,” Brain said.

“Zort! I dunno,” Pinky shrugged. “You can’t have a Derby without horses, hats, and My Old Kentucky Home. Otherwise it wouldn’t be much of a Derby then, would it?”

Brain folded his arms. “I’m currently debating if I should take your words at face value or not. Your customs make no sense whatsoever.”

Pinky thought they made perfect sense, and cents, and all of the five senses really, but his stomach growled and that thought was soon forgotten. Brain never had Earth food before, had he?

Definitely a job for a genetically altered Earth mouse to show him the ropes!  

But first, Pinky had to clean the gel off his fur. It was starting to clump into spikes, and that wouldn’t do at all.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky rinsed himself in the sink, sticking out his tongue to lap up some of the cool water as it trickled out of the faucet. Thankfully, the gel hadn’t settled into his fur and was very easy to wash away. And flicking the water around the sink with his tail was loads of fun too!

Brain stayed on the outer rim, pulling on the stopper and handles by the sink out of curiosity. He edged closer to the stream of water, almost touching it with a gloved hand, but decided against it. But he wouldn’t stop staring at it either, like he’d never seen water in his life.

Maybe he hadn’t?

The moon was made of cheese and not water after all. Water would make the cheese all soggy and mushy and wash away the cheesy taste that made cheese so delicious.

“C’mon, Brain! Poit!” Pinky pushed his fingers together, trying to send a squirt of water up to Brain, though it missed his nose by a mile and landed on a small crumb on the slope of the sink instead. “The water’s just fine!”

“I’ll have to decline your offer, Pinky,” Brain said. “My information about water is rather lacking, and I’d rather not cover myself in a substance without knowing more.”

“I guess water would leave the moon cheese not very tasty to eat, huh?” Pinky asked. He braced himself and shot out of the tiny waterfall, and he was very glad for all the focus he’d put into leg exercises recently, because his running start was enough to get him over the rim on his first try. “Well, all you need to know is that water is wet, it splishy-splashes all over the place, and it’s fun to play Marco Polo in!”

Brain didn’t look convinced though. He removed one of his black gloves and touched a puddle, rubbing the water between his fingers curiously.

Pinky turned off the water, then dried himself off with a fluffy towel. He double checked his chest to make sure the gel was completely gone and patted down his fur.

“This way, Brain!” Pinky called, jumping off the counter and onto a spinny chair. The seat twirled around for a bit, making him slightly dizzy, but it was all in jolly good fun. Brain carefully climbed down, gripping the drawer handles and moving slowly. He slipped on the last handle and landed awkwardly on his right leg. He grimaced for a moment, his nose scrunching up rather adorably. “Blueberry bagels and cream cheese, here we come!”

“Your sustenance on Terra, I assume?” Brain asked. He followed Pinky through a corridor and into the kitchen, his large head turning every which way to take in all the sights of ACME Lab. Now that it was daytime, there were more colors than just shadowy blue. Pinky wondered if Brain would try to name the colors he saw. Pinky tried once, but there were just too many pretty colors streaming in from the window pane above.

“They aren’t consonants, Brain. They’re delicious and all, but they wouldn’t fit with the alphabet. A little bit of a mouthful, don’t you think? Poit!” Pinky climbed up the cherry-print towel hanging on the refrigerator door like he’d done a million times before. He braced himself against the fridge door, pressed his legs against the handle, and pushed with all his might, feeling that familiar strain of his stomach muscles.

The door opened with a satisfying pop. Breathing heavily, Pinky tumbled more than he climbed down the towel, landing on the cold floor of the refrigerator.

“S-surely there has to be a more e-efficient way to open a door than your method.” Brain’s teeth chattered together, his ears flattening to avoid the sudden chill. He took a few steps away from the open fridge, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Is it a-always this cold?”

“Oh, I haven’t even opened up the freezer! If you think this is cold, you’ll really feel like a mousesicle in there! But it’s worth it if you wanna get to the strawberry ice cream with the cute little mini spoons! Maybe some other time though. Right now, it’s important to get a daily serving of cheese!” Pinky exclaimed as he pushed two small tubs of cream cheese from a middle shelf. They each landed on the floor with a thud, and Pinky jumped down and retrieved them, closing the fridge door behind him with his foot.

Brain sighed in relief as soon as the door was closed, his arms dropping to his sides.

“They keep the blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer,” Pinky said as he led Brain out of the kitchen and into a room that had been marked with a yellow and black caution sign. The bagels were so delicious they even had to warn everyone to take caution! “Oh, now that’s a tongue twister. Blueberry bagels by the bagel warmer. Boobelly beige by the baguette warmer...oh, that’s a toughie. I’ll work on it.”

The bagel warmer was an oddly shaped toaster, with lots of wires and bulbs sticking out along the sides and top. It even had a conveyor belt running through it, but Pinky thought it made this toaster really unique among toasters. Why, he’d even been toasted in this toaster himself! Though it wasn’t as much fun as crispy pieces of bread made it seem. He just remembered a lot of smoke and electricity. And there’d been a lot of narf inside too.

Pinky set the tubs of cream cheese on the floor, then climbed up to the conveyor belt, which was propped on metallic cylinders.

“This is so much easier with two mice!” Pinky crowed. He peered down at Brain, who curiously poked at a red wire on the floor. “I don’t mind eating bagels by themselves, but there’s something about toasty bagels that just warms the heart!”

“If they’re truly that delectable, I suppose there’s no harm in trying it,” Brain replied.

“Did your file thingies say anything about Earth food?” Pinky asked. Because Brain sure didn’t seem to know much about tasty things.

Brain shook his head. “The Selenians didn’t bother with information about the lifestyles or cuisine of Terrans. It was irrelevant to their cause.”

Oh. Pinky tried to imagine being an alien who didn’t know anything about cheese, but came up blank. He’d eaten cheese and food pellets his entire life. He couldn’t imagine a world without them.

“Pinky, are you aware that machine is also apparently a gene splicer?” Brain asked, pointing to the letters along the side.

ACME GENE SPLICER AND BAGEL WARMER, it said.

“So it does. But the only things that go in are bagels and lab mice. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to splice a pair of jeans. Oh, that reminds me!” Pinky snapped his fingers. How could he have forgotten something so very important? The silly machine was on the gene splicer setting! Pinky pressed a conveniently labeled button that said ‘press here for bagel warmer setting’. How nice of the scientists to label their stuff!

He was so glad he discovered that before sending the bagels through. The gene splicer setting would’ve made the bagels extra crispy, and while Pinky didn’t mind, extra crispy bagels were a taste one had to get used to first. Nope, it was better to start Brain off lightly!

“Can you please get two blueberry bagels from the bag, Brain?” Pinky pointed to a bottom cabinet where the bagels were kept, grinning at the new tongue twister he’d come with. Egad, he was good at this! “They’re the tan circles with a hole and blue specks in them! Kinda like a donut, except without the frosting and sprinkles. Zort, Brain! You’ve never eaten donuts, have you? Oh, I am definitely making a list of foods you need to try!”

Pinky hopped onto a tall table and neatly tore a paper towel off its roll, then laid it flat on the conveyor belt. Following Pinky’s instructions, Brain retrieved two bagels from the cabinet and passed them up to Pinky. Brain still seemed rather confused about the gene splicer and the bagel warmer being one and the same. Pinky carefully separated each bagel so that he had four half-bagels with the inside lying face-up and arranged them on the paper towel so they would all be nice and toasty.      

Then Pinky realized he’d forgotten another thing. Namely, that he didn’t know how to turn the bagel warmer on.

He scratched his head.

That could be a real issue.

“Pinky, do you actually know how to work this machine?” Brain’s voice sounded oddly strained. Pinky turned around. Brain was hanging onto the side of the conveyor belt, his legs wrapped around one of the metal cylinders. He’d tried to climb up himself, but his arms were too short to get a proper grip, and if he leaned over anymore, he’d fall right on his chubby head.

Pinky reached over, grasping Brain’s wrists and trying to haul him up, only for Brain to be resistant to help. He wouldn’t budge, his wrists feeling oddly tense under Pinky’s hands. His pink eyes were wide and apprehensive, pointed ears flattening against his head.

“Brain?” Pinky said. “I’m just gonna haul you up. Could you relax a bit please? It’ll be much easier.”

Brain didn’t move for a second, searching Pinky’s eyes warily. Pinky just gave him an encouraging smile. Brain looked away, his brow furrowing, but some of the tension left his wrists.

Pinky pulled him onto the railing of the conveyor belt, Brain’s feet scrabbling in the air briefly before settling firmly on the metal.

“Thanks,” Brain muttered. He walked over to the various buttons and levers, examining each one curiously.  

“You’re welcome, Brain!” Pinky brought one hand to his forehead in a salute, only to remember that Brain was an honest-to-goodness alien, and probably didn’t know that particular gesture. So Pinky tried to make the Vulcan salute instead, but it was kinda tricky with only four fingers instead of five.

“This is very intriguing,” Brain breathed, pressing his face against a small closed window that offered a look into the gears and wires within the bagel warmer. “Yes, pure lithium power source, proton accelerators, and automatic anti-inertia capabilities? The use of nanoplasmic charges leaves a lot to be desired of course, but to have the rest of these things in one machine at your fingertips…”

Pinky didn’t understand anything Brain just said, but the alien’s fingers were twitching in excitement, his nose smushed against the glass. It was the first genuine smile Pinky had seen from the alien since they first met, and Pinky thought it looked really good on him. Even nicer than the jumpsuit, which was already really fashionable. “If you figure out how to turn it on, that would be really great!” Pinky grinned. Brain pulled down on a nearby lever, and the conveyor belt began to move. “Egad, brilliant!”

“The lever was labeled, Pinky.” Brain waved him off, pointing to the word ‘on’ stenciled next to him. But his head tilted up and his chest puffed out too. He seemed to like that word a lot. “Wait, you figured out the machine was on the wrong setting, but you can’t turn it on?”

Pinky shrugged. “It’s not really my type, Brain.”

“Never mind,” Brain sighed, the tips of his ears turning as red as his nose. He turned back to the machine window. “I want to observe this process.”  

“Me too!” Pinky exclaimed, and he hopped over to the window, smushing his nose against it just as the bagels were swept into the machine. Blue electricity sparked and jumped all around the metal structures inside, and the glass warmed beneath Pinky’s hands.

It was a beautiful sight, and Pinky licked his lips as the bagels crisped from the heat.

Beside him, Brain watched the electricity intently, murmuring a bunch of smart words Pinky didn’t understand, but definitely enjoying the show too.

Within several minutes, the bagels gained an extremely nice golden brown crisp, and the conveyor belt moved them out of the bagel warmer. Brain pulled the lever up and the conveyor belt stopped moving, the thrum of the machine beneath their feet slowly fading away.

They weaved around long, multicolored wires as they made their way to the other side, where the bagels awaited them.

“Troz! Looks positively dee-lish!” Pinky exclaimed, poking at one of the bagels. Firm and flaky, just how they were supposed to be. His mouth watered in anticipation.

“The scent alone is quite appealing,” Brain agreed, taking several sniffs of the bagels. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before.”

Pinky grinned at him. “Oh, just you wait, Brain! The real magic is just starting!”

Sliding down the cylinders, Pinky retrieved the two cream cheese tubs they’d left on the floor and passed them up to Brain one at a time. His lower leg strength had improved a lot in the past few months, and it was easy for him to hang on while he passed the tubs up.

“Show-off,” Brain grumbled as he took hold of the second tub.

Pinky just laughed as he fetched two plastic knives from a drawer and carted them back to Brain and the bagels.

“Here you go! Bon appetit!” Pinky said. He gave one of the plastic knives to Brain, who gingerly ran his finger across the toothed edge as he examined the flat, see-through handle. “Oh, be careful with those, Brain. You don’t wanna cut yourself.”

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said. “We have knives on New Selene. But I’ve never seen one with this particular material before. And much duller too.”

Pinky peeled away the cover of a cream cheese tub, drooling over the gorgeous smooth white surface inside. Brain copied him with the other tub, pulling off the cover completely. The alien took off his gloves and sniffed the cream cheese a few times, swiping one fingertip through the cream cheese. Then he tasted it.

Brain’s eyes widened immediately, his antennae perking up. He licked cream cheese off his fingertip four more times before he realized Pinky was watching him. Brain ducked his head and fiddled with his sleeves.

“That was…even better than I anticipated,” Brain admitted, his voice full of wonder.

“Aw, you don’t have to be embarrassed if you like it, Brain. I’m glad you think so, cause blueberry bagels and cream cheese is my favorite. Well, so are food pellets. And marshmallows, especially the puffy kind. And smiley face lollipops and…poit! I have a lot of favorites, it’s so hard to choose just one! Zounds, mac n’cheese too! You really need to try mac’n cheese, Brain! That one’s definitely going on the list. Anyway, if you think the cream cheese alone is good, try this!”

Pinky dipped the knife into the cream cheese. Once he got a good coating, he spread it across the surface of the bagel, took the largest chomp of the combined food he could manage, then swallowed. It went down a little rough, but it was delicious all the same.

“Scrumptious!” Pinky exclaimed. “It’s like a party in your mouth!”

Brain copied his actions again, and while he preferred to rip off chunks of the bagel and slather cream cheese onto smaller pieces, his enjoyment of the food wasn’t any less than Pinky’s. He made some funny ‘mmm’ noises in the back of his throat, his eyes closed in bliss as he worked his way through the first half-bagel.

Pinky started on his second half, licking cream cheese off his lips. This was a nice way to spend the evening.

“Brain, you’re welcome to share my cage if you’d like,” Pinky offered. “Mi cage es tu cage, you know.”

“Are you sure, Pinky?” Brain swallowed, thumping his fist against his throat to make the bagel go down. “I know we’re in a mutual partnership, but I wouldn’t want to impose in your living space.”

“You’re not imposing,” Pinky said. “Besides, plenty of unmarried people share living spaces these days.”

Brain was silent. He continued spreading cream cheese across a small portion of bagel, even though it was completely slathered at this point.

“Snowball and I were in neighboring cages. Aisam had to be housed alone because of their inclination towards territorial aggression. We had separate quarters for the journey to Terra as well.” Brain nibbled on a corner of his bagel. “Point being, I’ve never shared a cage before.”

“Sharing is caring,” Pinky smiled, finishing the last of his bagel. “Besides, it’s one more new experience for both of us. Isn’t that just dandy? I just hope Mr. Button and Nicholas didn’t leave too much a mess.”

“Very well. But we’re moving that sponge bed I slept on last night into your cage. It was much less aggravating for my back than the usual fare,” Brain said. “So…thanks for that, Pinky.”

“You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky replied, rubbing circles into his belly, his hunger satisfied.

Beside him, Brain seemed satisfied too. And there was nothing better in all the world than sharing blueberry bagels and cream cheese with a new alien friend.

AN: OK this one’s more of a breather chapter since the last 5 were like wham bam nonstop stuff for the characters. Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Next chapter will have Pinky finally getting his hat and Brain’s first mall excursion!

[lnarizakis]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ COACHES DON’T PLAY

MONTHLY NEWSLETTER #3

HOT OFF THE PRESS ! Thanks for picking up the third monthly newsletter of the school year! Not what you’re looking for? Please view the masterlist [here]! This month we’ve got (Y/N)’s third piece of dating advice, and what’s this...? Our very first submission that’s not anonymous! Let’s see what (Y/N) has to say about this!

EXTRA ! miya osamu x fem! reader. 1.8k words. original characters.

DATING-SAN HELPS INARIZAKI HIGH !

Dear Dating-san,

My name is Miya Atsumu but you probably already know that. I am a second year in Class 2 and I am the setter of the volleyball team of our school. You probably heard about us at nationals last autumn. My brother, who is in your class, has a crush on someone and he doesn’t know I am writing this. If he did, well, he’d probably kill me. Anyways, I found out by strict interrogation and a couple outside sources that he has a crush on your pretty third-year editor, Asai-san. He doesn’t know much about her but he met her through seeing each other during a Cooking club meeting.

He’s constantly thinking about her and I know this because his mind wanders far more often than usual. He is not playing very well during practice and frankly it’s getting me a little annoyed. That is the reason I am writing this letter to you. Please help Osamu get together with Asai-san before his little crush on her gets him kicked off the starting line-up for our games.

Thank you very much.

From, Miya Atsumu of Class 2-2.

(Y/N) stared at the email on the screen of the school-provided computer until the words didn’t look like words to her. Everyone else in the club room with her was focusing on whatever they were focusing on themselves, and they didn’t notice the boggling eyes of the author. She swallowed dryly down her throat, and the words on the screen blending together began to look similar to fuzziness that she didn’t care to make out to read anymore. (Y/N) blinked a couple of times to get rid of the dryness in her eyes, and as she looked up from the screen to focus on something else, she saw Asai Kanako, her editor, walk by in front of her.

“Asai-senpai. Come look at this email,” (Y/N) said, catching the editor’s attention. The short-haired brunette turned towards (Y/N), and hummed, asking what was up. (Y/N) becomes for Asai to read what was on her screen. She made her way towards the author and situated herself behind where (Y/N) was sitting. Asai leaned forward and read the email with her big, hazel eyes. She scanned the email, and stifled a laugh as she read how Osamu, (Y/N)’s classmate that Asai had the pleasure of knowing she liked, ironically liked her. When she finished, she leaned back and gave (Y/N), who turned around to look at Asai’s reaction, an awkward yet teasing smile.

“Well, good luck writing your advice for this month. You’ll need it,” Asai said, with a terribly taunting tone, as she walked away. She regrouped with the other editors at a different table in the room as they gathered around to look at some funny video that the editor of the sports column was currently sharing on his phone. (Y/N) turned back to the computer screen in front of her. She placed her chin on the palms of her hand and sighed lengthily.

Just how was she going to write something for this month?

✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Back in March, before the next school year had even started, (L/N) (Y/N) had assumed the role of the next Dating-san for the next year and her third year. She was extremely proud of taking up the responsibility, despite the multiple warnings that the previous Dating-san, her cousin, had given to her. He warned her that she could potentially receive dark or stressful emails, or perhaps even a letter that could possibly turn things for the worse. (Y/N) swept all of her cousin’s worries under the rug, as she was currently basking in the fame that she was to receive.

Her first letter she received in April was not at all bad. She had to help a girl, whose boyfriend she had suspected was cheating on her, come to terms with if he was actually cheating on her. (Y/N) advised that the girl must reconcile peacefully with him instead of coming after the girl with whom the boyfriend was cheating, which would cause so many unnecessary problems. A couple days later, (Y/N) received a couple of looks as she walked down the second-year hallway, and the stares confused her slightly until she passed by classroom 2-4, where she was met with the girl who wrote the letter, wrapping her arms around her and praising her. The whole situation was so comical it looked staged.

Her second letter that she received in May was way easier than the first. A first-year boy, whose email came out to look like he was crying as he wrote it, needed help with a crush he had on a girl he thought was so pretty he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to her, let alone confess to her. (Y/N) helped him gain the confidence he needed to introduce himself to her—with style, too, as he fixed up his hair and showered with a scented wash. He sent a follow-up email a week later thanking her like the god he had made her out to be. (Y/N) thought about that email for the next few days, strutting around the hallways like she owned them, hearing—or perhaps imagining—applauses all around her wherever around the campus she walked.

And now her third letter, sent to her one hot June afternoon, by a brother of the twin set that probably almost everyone knew as the Miya Twins. To make things worse, he sent the letter on behalf of someone—that someone being the one guy (Y/N) just happened to have a crush on. How does it get worse from there? She was doing so well before, and now this could possibly ruin her entire reputation as Dating-san. If she messes up her advice for Osamu (although she wishes she could, for everything in her wanted to pull Osamu to herself, claiming him as hers), the entire school would go against her and possibly riot. Oh, the possibilities! She had to get things right or else her entire career would crumble into shambles. What (Y/N) realized was that her affection for Osamu blinded her from being able to write the best advice she possibly could, since this letter that Atsumu had sent was far easier than the first (the May letter was still deemed the easiest in her opinion).

So here (Y/N) was, sitting at a blank word document opened up for her on the computer to write the best advice she could as Dating-san, but the crush she had on him blocked her from writing. Her hands hovered over the keyboard; she could imagine herself typing out what she wanted to say, but she just couldn’t. (Y/N) tapped her fingers over the keyboard lightly, so as not to keyboard-smash onto the word document, and her eyes wandered all around the club room. The person across from her, a fellow author whose name she did not know, watched as she continued her actions, slightly amused by her writer’s block.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asked playfully. A smirk ghosted upon his lips, and (Y/N) tilted her head away from the computer screen to get a better look at the person in front of her. She too smiled and shook her head no.

“Nah, more like: crush got my tongue,” (Y/N) replied, and the person in front of her nodded in understanding. He hummed, and laughed slightly. He apologized, and jokingly said that if she wanted to, she could take a walk around the campus to clear her head. (Y/N) declined the offer, not wanting to get reprimanded by their very intimidating, and—might the two authors add— very, very scary chief editor for leaving the club room without notifying him first. The two shuddered at the thought of getting reprimanded by him, especially with his scolding tone, and they went back to work.

After a couple more minutes of staring at the (still blank) word document, (Y/N) groaned into her hands, exclaiming out loud that she didn’t want to write a word of advice for her crush. It was something that everyone in the club room heard, at which they all laughed.

By the end of the club meeting, (Y/N) was able to complete a first draft of her advice column for the newspaper. She removed her hands that seemed glued to the keyboard, and stretched out her hunched back. Stretching out her arms, she groaned out loud. The author across from her stopped typing whatever it was he was currently writing and he watched and giggled as (Y/N) groaned out loud while stretching her arms. (Y/N) turned her head towards Asai, who was currently leaning back in her chair while drinking boxed milk that she got from the vending machine while sneaking out of the club room a couple minutes ago.

“Asai-senpai, can you please read over my work? I’ll send it to you,” (Y/N) asked as she clicked over some things on her computer to forward her document to Asai for her to edit and read over. Asai rolled her eyes, an action which (Y/N) had overlooked, given the distance they were apart from each other, and opened up her laptop where she would be reading the first draft.

Asai’s eyes scanned over the document quickly, not giving her full attention to it since the editor of the academic achievements column was currently telling her a story of how he almost picked a fight with someone from a different school. After reading through it once, Asai closed her notebook and promptly said that the draft was okay to be published. (Y/N) tilted her head confusedly and looked back at the document on her own screen.

Really?

Miya Atsumu:

Thanks for sending in a letter to Dating-san!

I think your brother would really appreciate the thought of you sending a letter on his behalf. It’s not easy confessing that you have a crush on someone, let alone if that someone is an upperclassman of yours.

As Osamu’s brother, you should let him off easy with volleyball practice. He may feel stress added on to what he is currently feeling. It may be difficult, but it will help him—and even you— in the long run.

For Osamu himself, he should know that Asai is a nice and easygoing person who enjoys talking with almost anyone. She has a soft spot for food, so he should probably try cooking something for her if he does fess up the courage to confess to her. He shouldn’t be shy when he talks to her because she can immediately be put off by people who don’t have a direct object in mind when talking to her. She is a very direct person and can be intimidating sometimes, but this shouldn’t deter you from wanting to make conversation with her.

I wish you luck on your endeavors! Have a great day.

From, (L/N) (Y/N), Dating-san.

taglist: send an ask to be added ! [ @lcaita @reogou @alienvarmint @annalyn-annalyn @kunimwuah @akaarin @wansseul @anime-simp ]

[cryingcow]

Rikiya, Kiryu, & Haruka - Rikiya’s Lonely Struggle [RGGO] - Ch. 2-3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 .

Watch me post this in the morning cuz its a holiday lol.

Previously: Rikiya wants to show Kiryu the famous Okinawan hospitality, but the people think that Kiryu is an evil mainlander who will take over their market, which is false. They also think that Kiryu has a bone-sucking fetish, which is true, if only because I had to type the phrase “suck on my bones” too many fucking times. Apparently Rikiya is so starry-eyed when it comes to Kiryu that everyone thinks he’s either in a Kiryu-worshipping cult or an active member of the Yakuza fandom (or both amirite? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ).

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CHAPTER 2

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Haruka: “Waa~ the meat is melting~!”

Kiryu: “It’s stewed well enough that you can eat the delicious cartilage.”

Haruka: “Rikiya-san, thank you for buying us the cartilage soki!”

Rikiya: “No, it was really cheap anyway. Hehe . . .”

Haruka: “Besides this, what other kinds of delicious food are out there?”

Kiryu: “This time, I’ll have to take a walk around the market.”

Rikiya: (They’re going. These two are more and more eager to go to the market. I have to get rid of the rumors circulating in the market as soon as possible. To do that, I have to get inside the Youth Club of the market, since they seem to be the source of the rumor . . .)

Kiryu: “By the way, Rikiya. Patriarch Nakahara called and asked me to drop by tonight.”

Rikiya: “To my boss’s place?”

Kiryu: “Yeah. It seems he wants to drink Awamori with me. Will you be present there?”

Rikiya: “I want to, but I have other plans tonight . . .”

Kiryu: “Why are you so busy lately? Are you involved in some kind of trouble?”

Rikiya: “What are you talking about! There’s no trouble! Anyway, thank you for being Boss’s drinking buddy! Oh, but if Boss has too much to drink, he has a habit of going on a rampage, so keep it in moderation.”

Kiryu: “So he’s a violent drunk. That guy should be more careful . . .”

Rikiya: “Well, I’m heading out for a while! Please give my best regards to my boss!”

----

Rikiya: “If you think about it this time, it’s questionable whether it’s suitable for me to be doing this, being Aniki’s younger brother . . . To not bother Aniki, I have to solve this problem not as his younger brother. Alright! I’ll definitely erase the rumors! Hmm . . . from what I heard, the Youth Club’s office should be around here somewhere . . . Oh! Here it is!”

Youth Director: “Who are you? Coming at such a time . . .”

Rikiya: “Are you a member of the market’s Youth Club?”

Youth Director: “Yeah. I’m the director . . . hm? You, you’re Rikiya of the Ryudo Family! What are you doing after getting brainwashed by Kiryu? Are you here to take down the Youth Club?!”

Rikiya: “Stupid guy. I can’t be brainwashed. What are you guys? Why are you blowing around fake rumors in the market?”

Youth Director: “Kiryu taking over the market . . . sure, we were the ones who gave this information to everyone. But that isn’t a lie . . . look at this!”

{The Youth Director takes out a sheet of paper with a flourish.}

Rikiya: “Hm? What is this letter??”

Youth Director: “This letter was found in the market’s opinion box.”

Rikiya: “Opinion box?”

Youth Director: “Customers write in their requests and points for improvement for the market. This letter was found in it. Read it.”

Rikiya: “‘Be careful. Kiryu Kazuma intends to take over the market. The market’s enforcers from the Ryudo Family cannot counter Kiryu. Because . . . Kiryu has already brainwashed the young captain Rikiya. Furthermore, Kiryu intends to kill the family’s head Nakahara in the future.’ . . . What is this letter! Who put it in the opinion box?!”

Youth Director: “The sender’s name isn’t written. It’s an anonymous report.”

Rikiya: “Do you guys really believe such a crappy letter?!”

Youth Director: “Well we didn’t bother with it at first. You were always on the land of Morning Glory, in a position to evict Kiryu. You couldn’t have been brainwashed by him. But then one day the situation changed completely . . . suddenly you started calling Kiryu, who was supposed to be the enemy, your Aniki! That couldn’t have been anything other than brainwashing, right? So that means what’s in this letter is true!”

Rikiya: “No, you’re wrong! That’s . . . !”

Youth Director: “There’s more. A new report was posted today. Here. Read it.”

{The Youth Director hands over another letter.}

Rikiya: “’Kiryu intends to poison the Ryudo Family’s head . . .’ Huh? Poison? He won’t do anything like that!”

Youth Director: “Hm? Oi, look! The man walking over there . . . !”

Rikiya: “A-Aniki . . . ?!”

Haruka: “Hey, Ojiisan . . .”

Kiryu: “What is it?”

Haruka: “Is it okay to give this drink to Nakahara-san?”

Kiryu: “Yeah . . . If Nakahara refuses, I’ll just make him drink it.”

Haruka: “Well, Ojiisan is forceful. But will this be effective?”

Kiryu: “Don’t worry. It’s a method that’s been used for ages. Now, let’s hurry up. I’m late for my meeting with Nakahara.”

Youth Director: “Oi! You heard that conversation just now!”

Rikiya: “Wait a minute! This has to be a misunderstanding!”

Youth Director: “Everyone, come out!”

{A bunch of guys exit the office.}

Member: “Is something wrong, director?”

Youth Director: “Kiryu’s heading over to poison the Ryudo Family’s head Nakahara!”

Member: “What! He’s on Tarekomi Street right now!”

Youth Director: “Let’s chase Kiryu down and kill him!”

Member: “Yeah! We’ll never let him meet Boss Nakahara!”

Rikiya: “Wait! Calm down!”

Youth Director: “Get out of the way, Rikiya! If you don’t know which side you’re on, then we’ll kill you too!”

Rikiya: “Just try it if you can! I will never let you through!”

{Rikiya defeats all the youth members.}

Rikiya: “So, Aniki isn’t going to kill the boss . . . but then what exactly was that conversation between Aniki and Haruka-chan? I don’t know . . . I should chase after them and see what happens . . .”

----

Haruka: “You said that it’s a method that’s been in use for a long time, but is that really true?”

Kiryu: “Yeah, if you’re an adult, it’s a story you’ll hear at least once. If you drink milk before drinking alcohol, a film will form on your stomach and it would be difficult for you to get sick.”

Haruka: “Hmm. Nakahara-san, I hope you can drink this milk properly.”

Kiryu: “Oh, the office of the Ryudo Family is just around this corner.”

{Kiryu and Haruka enter the office. Rikiya peeks out from his cover.}

Rikiya: “Haa . . . so that’s what it was . . .”

----

Youth Director: “Huh? Milk? Don’t lie, Rikiya!”

Rikiya: “I think this is all because of Kiryu-no-aniki’s fierce appearance and manner of speaking. Even in ordinary everyday conversation, it sounds scary when Aniki speaks. Maybe the guy who got into the opinion box misunderstood Aniki’s regular speech?”

Youth Director: “That can’t be it. There are multiple stories. The timing of the posting and the handwriting is different. You’re saying an unspecified number of people misunderstood Kiryu’s words all at the same time. Isn’t that quite the coincidence?”

Rikiya: “Well . . .”

Youth Director: “The problem here is you, Rikiya. Defending him with such an arduous excuse! It looks like you received a stronger brainwashing than I expected. Maybe something is embedded in your head?”

Rikiya: “Ha?”

Youth Director: “I saw it on TV before! Surgery to implant a chip in your brain! Could Kiryu do such a thing?!”

Rikiya: “No, that’s-”

Youth Director: “Do-Don’t come any closer! We can’t handle either of you! You guys . . . you’re no longer humans!! You’re monsters!!”

{The Youth Director runs inside the youth club office and locks the doors.}

Rikiya: “Haa . . . the rumors are getting more and more exaggerated . . .”

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-END-

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CHAPTER 3

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Kiryu: “Shit . . . this guy’s been hurt for two hours and yet he’s still clinging to me. What a stubborn bastard. Should I submerge him in hot water next? No, I have a hand at stake . . .”

Haruka: “How is it, Ojiisan? Has it fallen?”

Kiryu: “No, it hasn’t fallen at all. He’s like the oil stains on this frying pan.”

Rikiya: (What’s this about oil stains . . . I thought he was torturing someone there for a moment . . . Those who put those claims in the opinion box really might have just misunderstood Aniki’s regular speech . . .)

Rikiya: “Hey, Aniki. Why don’t you try keeping in mind to speak a little more gently?”

Kiryu: “Hm? Speaking more gently?”

Rikiya: “Because your voice is powerful, you might be mistaken for a scary person . . .”

Kiryu: “Is there someone out there who misinterpreted me?”

Rikiya: “No, nothing like that . . . but if bad rumors about Aniki spread around Ryukyu, wouldn’t that be hard? It would be impossible to visit every single inhabitant to set the record straight . . .”

Kiryu: “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Rikiya: “Eh?”

Kiryu: “Where do you start when you untie a tangled string? Isn’t it at the ‘root’ of the string, not the tips? If it looks too intricately intertwined, the cause may be a slight twist at the root. If you fix it there, the rest will unravel. The same is true for rumors and misunderstandings.”

Rikiya: “That’s it . . . ! So if you correct the person who misunderstood first, the rest will be solved?!”

Kiryu: “Yeah. Everything is from the root. Both when it entangles and when it unravels.”

Rikiya: (In this case, the root of all this is the person who put the message in the opinion box! I have to find them and set the record straight! That said, I should go watch the opinion box immediately!)

Rikiya: “Thanks, Aniki!”

Kiryu: “. . . hm? Are bad rumors about me spreading after all?”

Rikiya: “Wh-What are you talking about! That’s not true! There are only kind-hearted people in Okinawa!”

Kiryu: “Speaking of kindness, what happened to interacting with the people of the market?”

Rikiya: “Sorry! I’m heading out now! See you next time!”

----

Greengrocer: “Have you heard? If you go to Kiryu, he can bury a chip inside your head . . .”

Meat Vendor: “And for the rest of your life, you’ll be brainwashed by Kiryu and live as his slave . . .”

Rikiya: (The rumors have gotten so exaggerated, it’s ridiculous . . . I have to find the person who posted the letter soon . . . Even though I’ve been watching the opinion box for hours, no one’s written a letter . . . Well, it’s not like people post letters everyday, maybe I should give up for today . . .)

Rikiya: (Hm? Those guys . . . ? I’ve seen them somewhere before . . . Ah, that’s right! They’re the bouncers hired by the Youth Club. Are they on patrol? They’re sneaky . . . Hm? Is the one on the right holding a letter . . . ?)

{The right bouncer posts the letter in the opinion box.}

Rikiya: (He put it in the opinion box! Why did the bouncer . . . ?! Are they the ones who posted the lie about Aniki?! Is their purpose to be hired as bouncers . . . ?! If you think about it, it makes sense!!)

Rikiya: “Wait a moment!”

Hooligan A: “Ri-Rikiya . . . ?! What for?!”

Rikiya: “The letter you put in the opinion box, I’m checking it.”

Hooligan A: “Wh-What the hell!! You don’t have that kind of authority!!”

Rikiya: ‘I’m pretty impatient. Did you put in a bad letter that you don’t want to be seen by me?”

Hooligan A: “It has nothing to do with you! Don’t you dare lay a single finger on the opinion box!”

Rikiya: “Heh. Does that mean I can’t see the contents of the letter without knocking you guys down first? Good! Come on! I’ll beat you guys down again and again!”

{Rikiya beats them down.}

Hooligan A: “Ugh . . . don’t touch that letter . . .”

Rikiya: “I can’t do that. The letter that you posted is . . . this. What-?”

Rikiya: “’Protest the youth in the market. The Youth Club has not paid a fair price for the bouncers they hired in preparation for Kiryu’s invasion. The Youth Club should pay the bouncers as promised.’ Wh-What is this?”

Hooligan A: “It’s because of what you did yesterday. The Youth Club said, ‘We can’t pay as promised to a bouncer who loses to Rikiya.’ They reduced the reward for us . . . this is a letter to protest against that!”

Rikiya: “In other words, you weren’t the ones making up lies about Aniki . . . is that right.”

Hooligan A: “What are you talking about?”

Rikiya: “That’s enough. You guys go home. Next time I see you in the market, this beating won’t be enough.”

Hooligan A: “Shit . . . !”

{The bouncers bump into a woman while they run away. The paper she’s holding is nearly knocked out of her hands.}

Rikiya: “Are you okay, Ma’am?”

Woman Passing By: “Yeah, sorry . . .”

Rikiya: “You . . . haven’t we met before? Weren’t you the one who told me rumors about Kiryu-no-aniki?”

Woman Passing By: “Oh~ that time . . .”

Rikiya: “You come to the market quite often to shop. Hm? That paper you’re holding . . . is that a letter?”

Woman Passing By: “Um, this, uh . . .”

Rikiya: “Can I take a little peek?”

Woman Passing By: “Y-You can’t!!”

Rikiya: “There is no delicacy in forcibly reading a woman’s letter, but because of the circumstances . . . I’ll borrow it!”

{Rikiya yanks the letter from her hands.}

Rikiya: “What, what . . . ‘Kiryu Kazuma’s market takeover plan’s follow up report: After taking over the market, Kiryu intends to demand expensive protection rackets from each store.  . . . he’s willing to kill those shopkeepers who don’t pay the racket under the guise of an accident.’ Th-This is a lie!!”

Woman Passing By: “Um, that’s . . . !!”

Rikiya: “Why is there a follow up report before anything has even happened?! What the hell are you . . . ?! What is this letter for?!”

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-END-

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Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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