#i knew i would love him - hes got a bow in his character art! assigned fave by design!

[pagesofkenna]

I would die for Honda Torikoshi

[enhypia]

° 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ˚ SN ; is it just a part we're playing?

it was supposed to be just a school film. so why is it that you find yourself wishing that you're really kim sunoo's love interest?

pairing: kim sunoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

featuring: mild jaywon

notes: mild slow burn

word count: roughly 3.9k

⊱ ── {⋅. ♪ .⋅just for a moment⋅. ♪ .⋅ } ── ⊰

series masterlist ⸺ enhypen masterlist

act 1 scene 1

"you got in! you got the lead!" your friend exclaimed hugging you. you let out a squeal and jumped up and down with them. you got the lead role for the grade-wide school film project, out of 20 applicants for the female role. you still can't believe it. "wait but who got the male lead?" you both went to check.

"kim sunoo" you say, you share a look "the '35 oppa' ??" they asked wide-eyed. you've known of sunoo since the start of the school year since he was known for his looks and personality but that's about it. you guys haven't shared any classes so you basically just knew him on a face level.

"i don't really know him that much but from what i heard he's really nice" your friend assured. you nodded and grinned. they hugged you once again and showered you with congratulations.

"congratulations, ms. (y/n)" you turn around to see the professor who was handling the project "thank you so much professor!" you say sincerely.

"there's going to be a short meeting later with all the cast and crew at 4PM in the art room, okay?" you nodded and bid another thanks and goodbye as he went on his way.

act 1 scene 4

"hello everyone! before starting this off, i would like to congratulate everyone who got casted" a round of applause filled the room.

"first, let me call on some important people"

"mr. park jongseong and yang jungwon, your head student director and scriptwriter" you smiled and clapped for jungwon who was situated next to you. you and him have been close friends since he became your neighbor 5 years ago.

"and our main leads, mr. kim sunoo and ms. (l/n) (f/n)" you blushed lightly at the attention but bowed your head a little as a sign of thanks.

the professor gave us some advice and motivation as well as the flow of the whole project, the what's, whose and how's of it all.

"that's all for now, you guys could go home but i do recommend to stay even just for a few minutes to get to know each other a little since you guys would almost always be together for the following months" he dismissed us and you looked back and saw a lot of those with assigned similar jobs are piling around each other.

"hello!" you faced the front again to be met with what you describe a "sunshine" smile

"i'm kim sunoo, it's nice to meet you" he held out his hand, to which you grabbed and shook.

"hey i'm (l/n) (f/n) but you can just call me (y/n). it's nice to meet the leading man" he chuckled and glowed at the praise.

"i look forward to working with you!" you say excitedly.

sunoo nodded "me as well"

"congratulations sunoo and (y/n)! let's work hard" you both turned to see jay and jungwon.

sunoo and you made eye contact and shared a grin. "let's do our best!"

act 1 scene 16

filming started 3 days ago and so far everything has been going well, for you and sunoo. jay and jungwon have been bickering with each other since the 1st day because jay wanted to change something from the script but jungwon wasn't budging, saying that jay didn't understand the importance of those scenes.

you give it a few more weeks before a betting pool starts on when those two will be together. anyways, you and sunoo have been doing well with your individual shoots and your first scene together will be filmed in a few hours. which brought you to where you are now, walking towards said boy.

"hey sunoo! our first scene together is next; do you want to practice lines?"

"yes! i was going to ask you about it too" he answered. you grinned and sat at the free sit next to him.

"it's where our characters get to know each other right?" you nodded and positioned your chair so you were facing each other. you and sunoo started exchanging lines, a few sharing of tips here and there and some adjustments to suggest.

"i want to love my character (youngjae) but he's making it really hard with this kind of attitude" he complained making you laugh.

"i have a love-hate relationship with mine (eunmi) since there are some times where i'd agree with her and times where i don't"

and along with your characters getting to know each other, you and sunoo had learned of each other as well. so, when filming started and it only took two takes, you could say the bickering duo were delighted.

act 2 scene 5

"sunoo? you in here?" you knocked before peeking inside to check and indeed, he was there. "hi! what'd you need" he greeted with his usual sunshine smile.

"i wanted to ask if you've eaten already?" he shook his head 'no' in reply.

"we're going out to eat, do you want to join?"

"who's going with?" you started to list names and noticed his expression falter slightly at one name. "so uh, you in?"

you see him hesitating, "but if you want it can be just the two of us?" you followed quickly.

your eyes widen at the implication and you scrambled to clarify. "i mean, if you're more comfortable with that since it's no problem with me"

"eh? will it be okay with the others though?" he asked worriedly. you gave him a reassuring smile, "they'll live, i eat with them all the time, they can manage an hour without me"

he grins and nodded, "if you're sure then let's eat!"

you laugh and motioned for him to follow you. "oki, let's go!"

you guys ended up at the mcdonald's near the filming site where both of you are in a heated debate.

"sunoo, it's white and gold."

"it's black and blue!" you pulled your hair in mock frustration, sunoo copying you.

"it appears we've reached an impasse" you say seriously, leaning back on your seat with your arms crossed. he finally breaks and bursts out laughing. you joined him immediately letting go of the act.

"how did we even reach this point?" you asked after catching your breath from laughing too much.

"i believe that's your fault, you're the one who brought it up" he pointed making you glare at him.

"i was expecting we would have the same answer!" sunoo burst out laughing again and you couldn't help but stare. you didn't know why it sent a jolt to your heart.

"what?" he asked upon noticing your stare, you got out of your trance and shook your head lightly trying to quickly think of an excuse.

"i was just wondering uhm, what's going on between you and minho?" you mentioned the name of the person you noticed sunoo was hesitant with.

awkward tension filled the air as he fidgeted in his seat "you don't have to answer though, i understand" you quickly assured

"no it's okay, i just feel they don't like me that much, they've been kind of cold and rude to me"

"you think it's because they're your understudy?" he pouted and nodded

"yeah, it makes me feel a little guilty but at the same time, i worked hard for my spot you know?"

you agreed immediately "yeah! it's not like you stole the role from them."

"i'm happy you got it, i like you more than them" you teased to lighten up the mood

"thanks (y/n)" he chuckled and smiled at you making you freeze in your spot.

he's beautiful.

act 3 scene 9

right now you and sunoo were at the mall. filming ended earlier than expected so you decided to use the extra time to go to the mall to buy a gift for your cousin, and apparently sunoo overheard you talking about it and decided to come with since he had to buy some things as well.

"(y/n)! look!" you turned to sunoo's direction to see him trying on character headbands, you chuckle at his look but then he puts on a headband on you as well. you both look at the mirror and shared a laugh.

taking out your phone you decided to take pictures and it seems he had the same idea. you guys posed and took countless mirror selfies wearing different head accessories.

"ah, we look cute in this" you say showing the picture to sunoo, he nodded in agreement and asked you to send it to him. in the end you guys decided to buy a matching one.

"do you want to eat first before heading home?" you asked to the boy walking next to you and who was also carrying the bags of your purchased items. granted that they were light, he still insisted on carrying them.

"yeah, i'm down to eat. where do you wa-" he cut off what he was saying when he spotted something, someone rather.

following his line of sight, you saw who he was looking at. there in all their glory was jungwon and jay in what looks like another heated bickering, but the smiles and blushes on their faces tells you that it's all fun and games.

"did you join the betting pool?" you whispered as you and sunoo try to move away to not get caught by the pain. "yeah, i give it a week after this whole project is done"

"really? knowing jungwon, i gave it 2 weeks" he chuckled. "seeing what we're seeing right now, we might not even reach the end of filming"

"don't let me down, won!" you say raising your fist up as a "fighting!" and walking forward, ultimately deciding to leave the two lovebirds alone.

sunoo laughed at your antics and pointed at a nearby cafe "is that okay with you? their cheesecake is amazing"

"you had me at cheesecake"

--

the both of you settled on your seats after claiming your orders.

"you think jaywon saw us?" you asked sipping on your drink.

"jaywon?"

"jay + jungwon, that's what everyone calls them"

"probably not, they were busy being disgustingly sweet" you laughed as he faked a disgusted look.

"speaking of disgustingly sweet, we have scenes to film like that as well" you reminded him.

"yeah, and a major fight scene after, jungwon really didn't let our characters breathe" you guys share a laugh.

"i'm a little nervous about that actually since i suck at forcing myself to cry" you sighed in worry.

"i can easily make myself cry, look" he stared at you and blinked a few times and a tear falls in a matter of seconds. he grinned at you and you stuck your tongue out at him.

looking out the window you noticed it was starting to get dark. "we better head home" you say pointing outside.

"i didn't even notice the time passing wow" he says in disbelief and you hummed in agreement.

'let me take you home"

your eyes widened and you were about to disagree but he gave you a look that made you shut up.

"it's okay with me, i think i'd breathe easier knowing i saw you get home safely" you blush at the statement. kim sunoo that's illegal, warn a girl next time.

"and you're neighbors with jungwon right?" you nodded and he smiled.

"i live a block away from him, so we're still going the same direction, don't worry"

"okay, thank you sun"

after that, you and sunoo had grown incredibly closer than before, he started walking you home almost everyday as well. a betting pool had also started regarding the two of you after everyone saw the growth in your relationship. your friends had started to tease you about sunoo but you waved them off despite the butterflies that fill your tummy every time you're with him.

you remind yourself to keep things professional, your characters are the ones falling in love here not the two of you.

act 3 scene 15

"i like you" he says brushing the hair that fell on your face back.

"w-what?" you stuttered still not processing what he said.

he chuckled and repeated his statement word-for-word "i. like. you"

"i heard you the first time! you don't have to repeat it!" you exclaimed covering your face to hide your blush.

he took your hands off your face and held onto them tightly and stared directly into your eyes.

"i-" you swallowed and sighed to calm yourself. "i like you too"

a huge grinned blossomed on his face and he engulfed you in a hug. he let out a disbelief laugh before pulling away but still keeping his hold on your waist.

"you do?" you nodded and hummed in reply. he hugged you again and rocked you guys back and forth, your contented laughs spreading in the air.

"CUT!"

"that was great sunoo and (y/n), for the next-"

"wait! i really have to pee, i'm sorry!" you say and hurriedly walked to the restroom.

you didn't need to pee, you just needed a break. you leaned on the counter sink trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

you shut your eyes tightly, desperately wanting to forget sunoo's stare and hold, and the irritating "i like you" ringing in your mind.

how do actors do this and not fall in love? you thought. clutching your chest, you try to ignore the growing desire to wish that the confession was real.

act 4 scene 3

"okay let's take a break" jay announced. you and sunoo let go of each other. since 2 days ago, you guys had been filming cuddling and date scenes, the disgustingly sweet and affectionate ones.

you can confirm that it's not doing you any good. it just makes you long more and more. it reached the point where you started cursing jungwon in your head for writing scenes that would absolutely make you fall in love. or the characters rather.

right, the characters. you remembered.

it's all just pretend. it's not real, it's for a film, sunoo isn't really falling for you.

that hurts, but you let it hurt because at least just for a moment, a moment underneath the lights, your heart isn't broken.

act 4 scene 17

"why? why did you play me like that?" you asked, voice starting to crack.

"is this all just pretend? was anything you showed me real?"

"no, it's not like that" he says taking a step forward but you backed away making him stop in his tracks.

"then what is it youngjae?!" you cry. his silence made you scoff.

"how could you? how could you be so unfair?" tears started to build in your eyes.

"i'm here falling for you more and more while you're here still unsure about your feelings" and one-by-one they started to fall.

"yet you had the guts to confess and tell me you like me" you let out an incredulity laugh.

"that's cruel, youngjae" you wiped your tears angrily.

"i'm sorry please let me-"

"just go" you cut him off. "what?"

"go! i can't look at you right now" you backed away again as he reached out to you.

"eunmi..." he trailed.

"just go jae, please" you begged, your voice cracking. he backs away and turns to leave, his head hung low.

you let out a choked cry and fall to your knees, your sobs filling the set making the hairs of everyone behind the camera stand.

"cut!" jay announces softly, still in awe with your performance.

you quickly stood up and before you could even wipe your tears, people started clapping. you blush at the praise and attention but still bowed in gratitude.

"that was amazing, (y/n)! and your ad-lib?? genius!" jungwon exclaims giving you a thumbs up.

"honestly, i almost forgot to act because i was in such awe" you turn to see sunoo approaching you.

"thank you guys really, i don't even know myself where i got all that from but i'm glad it turned out okay" you excused yourself to freshen up for the next scene.

and as sunoo stares at your retreating figure, he wonders why he wanted to do nothing more than to wipe your tears and wrap you in his arms when you had started crying. even if he knew it was all just an act.

act 5 scene 20

everything was coming to an end. sunoo and you had less scenes together and more individual shootings so you weren't seeing each other as much as usual. sunoo watched as you filmed your scene, this is the first time he saw you again after 3 days, he can't deny that he missed you.

"sun!" he instantly grinned at your outspread arms and accepted the hug. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages, or am i just embodying eunmi too much?" sunoo laughed at your statement but agreed nonetheless.

the film has a bittersweet ending. eunmi eventually moves on and forgives jae, they even became sort-of friends. but in the end eunmi leaves and says goodbye, and jae never had another chance to express his love again fully.

"it does feel like ages"

"but can you believe this is the last scene? and possibly the last take?" sunoo shook his head in response, he can't, he doesn't want to believe that this is the last of everything.

and in the last shot of jae watching eunmi leave to enter the boarding area. sunoo couldn't help but compare the similarities in the situation.

after this film, will he still see you? will you guys keep in contact? or would you guys grow apart? become just people who wave at each other in the hallways? and he realizes how much he doesn't want that to happen.

"eunmi!" that's not part of the script. sunoo is silently panicking, you turned back around and the confusion on your face wasn't an act.

"stay safe, i love you" the smile you gave did something to him.

"thank you, jae. i will" you sent a final wave and continued walking. the camera captured perfectly his smile and how jae clutched his chest as a tear fell from his eyes.

"OKAY! CUT!" a series of shouts and squeals of joy filled the studio.

"sunoo-hyung! i think that just made the ending a million times better" jungwon fusses happily

"and (y/n)?! the look? the response?" he did a chef's kiss motion, making you laugh.

"after watching the take, i'm happy to say that we're finished!" jay announces happily, and everyone celebrated again.

"congrats to us, sun" you say softly, leaning on to his side.

"we did well." he replies, patting your head.

you hummed and said "we did"

act 5 ; finale

it's been 2 weeks since filming ended, and everything has been handed to the editing team to do their magic. it's also been 2 weeks since sunoo and you had a proper conversation, just the occasional hi's and hello's whenever you bump into each other in school. it's why you were somewhat excited and nervous for the premiere since you'll be seeing him (and everyone) again.

today will be the premiere of the movie to the whole grade, the school rented a whole ass theater to accommodate everyone. upon arriving you saw that yours and sunoo's seat were next to each other, everyone that had a big role were in the front row with you guys as well.

"yo" you let out a small shriek, turning around you saw the culprit doubled over in laughter.

"sunoo i will kick you" you threatened but he just continued to laugh at you.

"i'm sorry, your face-" you rolled your eyes and smiled fondly.

"you ready to finally watch the film?" you asked when he calmed down.

"i'm so nervous about it!" he exclaims putting his hands around his face while he rants away.

"wah i miss you so much" you cry hugging him, seeing his reactions and just hearing his voice again triggered your emotions.

sunoo chuckled and patted your head, you smile lightly at the feeling. "i miss you too, we couldn't talk that much" he pouted.

"i know, sorry i couldn't find the time, i had to make-up for the activities that i missed" you apologized, pulling away from the hug.

"no worries, i had too as well"

"everyone, please take your seats, premiere starts in 10 minutes"

--

a round of applause resonated in the theater as well as some hoots and cheers as the film ended. everyone who worked on the film had wide grins on their faces.

"i would like to invite the cast and crew on stage" your professor had motioned for you guys to come up and one-by-one you guys filled the stage.

"the faculty and of course the whole student body express our sincerest congratulations and job well done to each and everyone of you"

"anyone, who want to share some words?" naturally, you all pushed jay to the front, and laughed at the mock glare he sent you guys.

jay conveyed his gratitude as well and a little bit of his experiences, once he mentioned jungwon's name, everyone acted and teased him immediately (he blushed!). he closed his speech with a "our hardwork paid off" and as the event ended, the cast and crew headed to jay's for the after party he planned.

there, everyone caught up with each other, a bond had clearly formed in the duration of the whole project. it was evident by how you and sunoo were basically joined together by the hip as you watched everyone below from the 2nd floor. the both of you had decided to move away from the group for a while since they were starting to get in a heated debate on the top 3 best scenes of the film.

"i like you" sunoo said. you chuckled and faced him. "youngjae, no"

"i'm saying this as sunoo" you freeze, your eyes widening. you had assumed he was talking about the scenes.

"w-what?" this was a massive case of deja vu

"but i'm not like youngjae, i'm confessing right now since i'm sure of what i'm feeling" you gulped as he took your hand.

"and i know eunmi and jae didn't work out, but i hope we do"

you let out a sigh of relief and leaned your head on his chest

"as (y/n), i want to say that i like you too" you reply looking up at him.

sunoo laughs happily as he wraps you in his arms. but your hug was cut short when you heard squeals. you and sunoo share a look before going down to check the commotion. there you jay and jungwon sporting massive blushes on their faces and your eyes darted to their clasped hands.

"are you guys official now?" you asked excitedly, they both nodded sheepishly

"since when?" "today" you whooped as a lot groaned when they realized you won the bet.

"2 weeks after, pay up bitches!" you exclaimed but before you could even celebrate your win. "wait!" jay pointed at yours and sunoo's intertwined hands. now it was your guys turn to blush.

"we're not together yet, just mutual feelings" sunoo clarified. cheers rang around the room.

"please hold on for one more week before putting a label and let me win the bet" jungwon pleaded rocking you back and forth by the shoulders.

everyone laughed and threw in some protests about his statement. you looked back at sunoo, squeezed his hand and gave him a wide smile. sunoo wholeheartedly believes that his heart just did a cartwheel.

"it's not a part we're just playing now, huh?"

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

series masterlist ⸺ enhypen masterlist

a/n: this is so long omg, i tried to make it shorter honestly but ??? neways, i'm sorry for going ia suddenly, it was midterms week so i couldn't find time to write properly. i hope this lengthy one made up for my absence, if not, then please look forward to the next updates~ ni-ki's will be next.

also!! if you have time, please vote enhypen on MAMA for worldwide fan's choice top 10. thank you <33

[enhyupn]

⧉ enhypen as your classmate that has a crush on you! ᝢ ∷

pairings: ot7 enhypen members x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence in jay’s one

genre: pure fluff + high school!au

a/n this also. Was in my drafts 💭 i was contemplating if i should post this or not but here i am 😫 i Post too much sorry everyone iJust have no life outside of school 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

⌗ heeseung

heeseung is definitely the type of person that tries to talk to the person he sits beside all the time

he nudges you all the time and whispers your name whenever he wants your attention

and the fact he had a huge crush on you also added to it

enhypen always have to listen to him since he never ever stops talking about you. like ever.

“oh my god you will never know what y/n told me when i—” and suddenly he’s cut off by the rest of them yelling “we know!”

you never snap at him because you kinda... enjoy the attention

maybe thats how you knew you kinda liked him too, since you could never let sunoo get away with this if he ever called for your name in class

your relationship only stopped there for a while, since the two of you lowkey scared of each other

“no i feel like y/n’s gonna snap at you one day, like completely just punch you in the face” jay once told him and ever since, he’s never looked at you the same

you think heeseung’s just intimidating, the amount of times you’ve jumped in your seat whenever he’s called your name is numerous

although, one day you fell asleep in class due to the fact you left your english essay last minute the night before

heeseung, noticing you drooling on the table, wrote down the notes for you

he handed them to you after class and you were so touched that you couldn’t stop telling sunoo about it

“his hand writing’s so neat and—” “i get it, you can shut up now!”

you even told heeseung his hand writing was the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen for a week straight

he was happy of course, but honestly unsure how he was supposed to reply to the compliment

he figured out by himself that all he needed to do was ask you if you wanted him to write your name

“heeseung, i mean it! i can’t get over how you write ‘the’, it’s just so— so neat!” “oh really? let me write your name out”

being the smooth guy that he was, wrote down his number instead of your name

and you being the oblivious person you were, ended up being utterly confused

“heeseung i think—” “I WROTE MY NUMBER ON PURPOSE”

you never really got over the shock, nonetheless still took his number and texted him that night

you ended that night by kicking your feet in the air with your face feeling like it was on fire

oh, you also ended up planning a date with heeseung on saturday, not a big deal

it was actually the biggest deal ever

the rest of the head canons are under the cut!

⌗ jay

jay was 100% the type to tease someone when he had a crush to get their attention

he wanted all your attention and the way he got that was through telling you your portrait of a dog looked stupid

well yeah, it did but he didn’t need to point it out

everyone in your art class knew jay had a raging crush on you

he just didn’t know how to express it

his friend jake told him the way into your heart was talking about a mutual interest

jake was, sort of, right about his advice. well, until you and jay started bickering about a character you loved but he oh so hated

“mabel in gravity falls was annoying and weird” “jay if you say that one more time i will shove this paint brush down your throat”

jake, who was trying to play cupid, could not understand why he was so bad at this

i mean jay had no problem getting girls to like him but you? did you genuinely hate jay or something?

“no jake i don’t hate jay” well that answered his question

“he’s just weird” “weird? i’m weird?” “yeah do i need to repeat it again? park jay is weird” you two were a match made in heaven

jay didn’t know when but he had a revelation, maybe this wasn’t the approach he should take to get your attention

after that, he started to be extremely nice to you

it definitely scared you

“d-did i do anything?” “what no? i’m just saying your painting looks beautiful y/n” “oh no something’s definitely going to happen”

he was finally tired of trying so hard while ending up with nothing achieved

jake, being the one out of the two who had the most realistic ideas, decided to give him one more tip

“do you think it’ll work?” “it’s fool proof”

the tip was simply him asking you out to the movies, something that was a little too forward for jay

“no i don’t think it’ll work jake” “jay i swear to god you are going to end up single For the Rest of your Life”

it took... many attempts... and many insults towards you for him to even get the first line out

“Y/NPLEASEGOTOTHEMOVIESWITHME” “the movies? sure” “wait, really? i meant it in a romantic way by the way” “oh? sure i’m free on friday”

turns out you were into him too i mean it was kinda obvious from the way you dealt with those insults

even when you started dating after that date, the insults never stopped

it just now targeted jake, who really is just asking for it at this point from the amount of times he’s asked for credit for ‘getting both of you together’

he was never getting that credit

⌗ jake

jake would leave secret love letters in your locker every time he walked past it

i mean the action wasn’t as secret as he thought it was due to the fact you knew he was the one leaving those letters

for god’s sake the boy was literally in almost all your classes, you were walking the same way as him when he slipped those letters in???

you still were very grateful for them

without them, i think you would of not coped with school

they were all incredibly detailed and even had little doodles drawn around them

you once had remembered he mentioned that he wrote these in the morning before school started during first period

he also told you he was really really shy you found it incredibly cute

the only way he could speak to you without melting was through these letters

somehow you decided that the best thing to do was put replies in his lockers too

his first reaction was complete embarrassment, the fact you knew who he was had his face heating up like nothing else

but he soon realised you didn’t think it was weird or creepy, you actually looked forward to his letters every school day

he mustered up so much courage after that to talk to you in person, to personally thank you

“THANK YOU Y/N!” “NO IT’S FINE JAKE YOU DON’T HAVE TO BOW”

he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck before pulling something out from his back pocket

the final letter in his series of love letters showing up in his hands

“open it” his shy smile making your brain Melt in endearment

the letter contained the usual, the hello y/n! and the usual chatter about his day

what you didn’t expect was the fact he had asked you out at the bottom of the letter

“y/n i’ve liked you for a while now, will you go out with me?” you read out loud before realising what you had just read. “OH MY GOD YOU ASKED ME OUT?”

you pull him into a tight hug, something that jake heated up at

“is this a yes?” “are you seriously asking that right now? of course we are”

you two became the most sickly sweet couple ever

plus the fact you still placed letters in each other’s lockers made enhypen gag (in an affectionate way)

they were just jealous nobody was putting letters in their lockers

⌗ sunghoon

sunghoon always seemed to be there whenever you needed help

especially since you two helped out at the library together every wednesday

he looked forward to it every week, you could tell from the fact ever tuesday he’d remind his friends that the next day he was seeing you again

“tomorrow’s wednesday you know what that means” “yes sunghoon we know, you’re seeing y/n tomorrow”

whenever he’s finished his work (which he does at an incredibly fast pace) he always seems to end up trailing you

constantly asking if you need help, desperate to do something

you find it endearing, always ending up chuckling at his whiney words

“y/n! do you need any help i’m finished” “not at the moment but if you wanna chat i can!”

out of all the enhypen members i feel like sunghoon would have the softest feelings for his crush

like even outside of your assigned library work, he’d constantly check up on you during lunch

“here y/n! it’s a packet of those gummies you like” “how sweet that you remembered! thanks for them”

you, even with sunghoon’s constant affection, couldn’t realise he had a crush on you

you thought that he was like that with everyone, you didn’t think that you were particularly special to get any type of unique treatment from park sunghoon

it wasn’t until your classmate asked you if you and sunghoon were dating

“hey are you and sunghoon dating?” “ummmm no why” “oh my friend wanted to know, they like him that’s why”

that didn’t sit well with you.

you thought long and hard about it but there was literally no reason for you to be bothered about it

i mean? you didn’t like him like that right

wrong

you decided to ask his dearest friend heeseung for help

“heeseung what do i do why do i feel like this” “i don’t know ask sunghoon” “...you aren’t helping”

heeseung being the big blabber mouth he is, told sunghoon all of this

“y/n won’t shut up about you” “really? you’re telling me the truth right? please don’t lie to me”

from many many uplifting comments from his friends, sunghoon was able to talk to you without mentioning the library

“so... what did you do in art class today?” “oh? i don’t do art” i mean at least he tried

after a few attempts he finally hit the nail on the head, securing his place as one of your friend... not the position he was aiming for but at least it was something

that’s when he prepared himself for the final boss (that’s what heeseung called the plan)

interrupting the conversation you both had on what disney show was the best, he popped the big question

“no but mulan was pretty good too also do you wanna go on a date with me” “oh sure! that was really random though”

i mean his timing was incredibly terrible but you were over the moon

even with the calm messages the both of you had sent, the two of you were screaming at your screen, unable to contain any composure

i mean it’s sunghoon... even if he handed you a piece of trash to as his way of asking you out you’d still say yes

⌗ sunoo

no but sunoo definitely asks your friend what your favourite song is and puts it on his story so you can slide up and be like “omg!! i love this song”

OH he also texts you randomly at 11:11 and 22:22 so you think it’s a sign

he so so so desperately wants your attention all the time

he goes up to you at lunch even when you’re with all your friends and makes conversation with you making you forget all about your friends

he sits in front of you in maths! so he knows how bad you are at the subject, he can hear your muttering about how you got a question wrong every morning but don’t Worry! he finds it adorable for some reason

at first he started to pretend he wouldn’t understand a question so he could find a way to talk to you

“hey y/n! what’s six times five again” “are you serious?”

he’s actually kinda good at maths so you’re always confused on how he doesn’t understand basic multiplication but can get 90% on the algebra test

he loves, and i mean loves, talking to you during class

even if the teacher scolds him he doesn’t care, it’s simply the highlight of his day

he gets so pouty and jealous when you excuse him in the middle of a conversation to talk to someone else

he gets jealous especially whenever you talk to his friends instead of him

“hey ni-ki! what did you get for number five?” “oh i got—” “I GOT TWELVE FOR THAT ONE Y/N!”

you kinda adore it not gonna lie

at one point your teacher got incredibly fed up with you two talking class

so! sunoo resorted to passing notes to you

‘y/n did you hear? oh my god, jihan from the maths class beside us told me that yeojin from the year above us got suspended because she started fighting the teacher over her phone. can you believe that? i mean i would of done the same thing’

it was quite clear sunoo talked a lot even through notes too

i mean as if you didn’t reply with the same energy

‘I HEARD THAT TOO!! gowon from her class told me, plus! intak said he saw the whole thing too... omg honestly i think yeojin’s so cool for doing that. maybe i should fight our maths teacher if they try and yell at us for talking again?’

they were one of the many things sunoo loves you for <3

one day ni-ki, being the number one shipper of you two, decides to play Cupid on the two of you

he drew out a note that looked too similarly to a middle school confession text and placed it on sunoo’s desk

“do you like me y/n... tick one. yes. no.” “do you like it?” “what the fuck is this”

i mean sunoo Took it anyways, he knew you’d find it funny too

as usual, you prepared yourself for a long class of sliding notes to each other

you looked forward to it, you found it as a source of entertainment and you liked talking to sunoo anyways

“pssst, y/n!” “thanks— wait did you give me the right one?”

after many whisper shouts and glares from your teacher, he finally convinced you that they were the real deal

obviously. You chose yes

that’s how you landed a date with sunoo to a picnic at han river

sunoo and you were. Kinda.... thankful for ni-ki

you two just never wanted to admit his stupid cupid-ry worked

⌗ jungwon

definitely the type to ask you “what homework did we get?” so he can start a conversation with you

replies to your private story with like “omg that’s so funny” or like “PLSSSSS me too”

you do exactly the same with his ps honestly

he always talks to you before class and you have heated discussions about the homework the night before

YOU ALWAYS ALWAYS end up sitting beside him in every class you have together

like it’s not even on purpose anymore (it’s actually fate)

always lends you pens and pencils when you forget them

he also never Asks for them back so you Have like a stash of them at home beside your bed because you always forget to give them back to him

you and jungwon are the kids in pe class that walk around the track gossiping

“jake told me that half of the soccer team aren’t getting along these days because they all like the same person” “no way really? what about their team work, isn’t there some sort of huge match next week?”

the gossip only stays between you two but only ever during pe

you two talk about more, interesting things outside of pe

since you two are in basically every class together, you walk with him everywhere

once when you were about to trip over, jungwon caught you and when you realised you were in his arms, you just blankly stared at him for a good five seconds

once you got off of him your face started to heat up so fast jungwon’s too

every time you have homework due and you didn’t do it he lends you his word

“y/n take this! it’s the french homework from last class” “thanks so much jungwon!”

the real story starts with when you and him were practicing speaking french in the library

you, being terrible at french, needed some sort of help with this

jungwon decided that, even though he completely sucks at french, he should tutor you!

and there you were, ten reasons why i hate you style, in the library struggling on how to pronounce beaucoup

“bow-cewp” “good job y/n!” “jungwon i know for a fact that you don’t know if i’m saying this right”

you stuck up with it because, well because he’s jungwon

“je t'aime you”

i mean you were Terrible. at french but even the stupidest person in the world could figure that out

“i like you too jungwon, now help me with question six” “YOU COULD UNDERSTAND THAT?” “i had a paris phase when i was younger of course i did”

turns out the Parisian style bakery across the street is the perfect date on an afternoon after school

what was even more perfect was that you got 85% on your test with the help of your boyfriend

⌗ ni-ki

he was your partner in cookery class, the both of you had no cooking skills in your bones but you still made it work

you were in the class since your family constantly nagged at you for being terrible in the kitchen

while ni-ki enrolled because he needed the something to show his friends after school

ni-ki thinks he fell for you at first sight

you were baking cookies as your first task and you basically saved him by reminding him to put on oven gloves before getting the cookies out

“that’s the bare minimum” jay tells him. “i don’t care... you wouldn’t know what love feels like”

he looks forward to cooking class because if you every week

he even has it scheduled on his calendar

honestly it’s kind of a miracle the food you two make is some sort of eatable

he always asks you for help even if it’s the simplest thing ever

“y/n? which one is a cup?” “the one that literally says one cup?”

you don’t care though since you think it’s cute

you always end up doing most of the cooking and chopping whil ni-ki just washes the dishes and watches the pot boil which eagerly waits for the food to finish

you’ve met all of enhypen before since ni-ki likes them to gather around your creations and take pictures of them together

when enhypen first collected him from cookery class, they asked him which one of your classmates were you

he literally shyly pointed at you as he hid his face with his hair

“them” “huh? ni-ki who are you pointing at” “them, beside the fridge”

your final exam was to decorate and bake a cake

it’s safe to say from the many burnt cakes you and ni-ki have done, you two were in trouble

you both wanted that passing grade so you practiced almost everyday after classes the week before

he was in charge of the icing, apparently according to him it was his specialty

“look y/n!” “how cute! a little unreadable but very cute”

finally. the Day of the exam came

you both had to prepare and bake the cake together under two hours

you were lucky that you both weighed the ingredients before you arrived

it was definitely. The most stressful two hours you two had ever felt

it also didn’t help that ni-ki shooed you away when he was icing the cake

by the end of it, your face was Dusted with flour while ni-ki’s apron had butter and frosting stains all over it

you were instructed by ni-ki and even your teacher, to stand where the fridge was, out of your sight to see what he was doing to the cake

you were hazily scrolling through your phone when jungwon snapped you back into reality

turns out jungwon was outside the room the whole exam because ni-ki told him he needed support and having him there comforted him

almost instantly after your jungwon interaction, ni-ki called you from your table, excitedly waving his arms in the air

“y/n! y/n! i’m finished!” “perfect! let me—”

your eyes widened realising his cake didn’t say anything like ‘happy birthday’ like you two had planned

instead the icing spelt out a prettily written out ‘y/n, will you go on a date with me?’

your eyes seemed to water at the gesture, unsure why you got so emotional at icing

“n-ni-ki... that’s so c-cute” “why are you crying? oh my god you hate me don’t you?”

it took you ten minutes to stop sobbing (happy tears) and you gladly accepted his proposal

so now you got a Good grade and an amazing boyfriend that can... sort of! Cook

while eating the cake you were reminded with something, remembering some words from earlier

wait did mr lee know about this?

[jeonqquk]

racket | jjk

↳pairing: jungkook x reader ↳genre/tags: badmintonplayer!jungkook and badmintonplayer!reader, barely any badminton related stuff, rushed asf, accidental confession-?, they dont even kiss wtf ↳rating: everyone <3 ↳wc: 6k

Jeon Jungkook was capable of being the eighth wonder of the world. He may not have come into existence in the 1700s but his ability to do almost everything perfectly was bewildering. Whether it be eating an entire cake in the span of a half-hour or defeating even the coaches at badminton. 

Everybody loved Jungkook, his sweet and caring nature paired with those godly features attracted everyone to him- in many ways. Unfortunately, you weren’t part of the everybody lot. 

You hated Jungkook. Absolutely despised his abhorrent ass. So much so that if he were the last person alive, you’d even kill yourself just to stay away from him. But that was highly unlikely, so you weren’t going to kill yourself. 

The hatred had just always been there, his competitive side seeming fucking atrocious to you. The feeling was mutual, though, so you didn’t feel as guilty as you would’ve if you just detested him while he behaved politely with you.

Jungkook was petty, even you knew that by now. His competitiveness always getting the better of him and turning him into someone with a completely different persona. Losing was not something he was used to. Maybe that’s why he had only a handful of friends, he would do anything to win. It could be a silly bet or even a tournament- Jungkook just had to win.

All the people he was friends with though, their relationship was beautiful. There were only 4 or 5 boys he actually got along with and their adoration for each other could be seen by anybody. 

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you weren’t also as competitive as him. You’re technically in no position to say that Jungkook’s hatred towards losing was unhealthy because you hated it too. You thought it made you seem weak, incapable- and you supposed that it was the same reason as to why the youngest Jeon son hated losing as well but you never tried understanding him. Let alone let him speak for a minute if he was in a 10-foot-radius of you. 

It was better this way, you thought. It was better to hate him than actually trying to befriend him and catching those unwanted feelings. Hating Jungkook was simpler, easier. Or so you thought for the 10 years of the two of you attending the same badminton academy. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the two of you were in the same class at college as well. So you had to deal with his annoying self for the larger part of the day. 

It was around a month before the annual badminton tournament of your state and obviously, you and Jungkook were taking part in it, more intent on defeating each other rather than the opposing teams. This wouldn’t work though, your coach had called the two of you after practice one day and had said “Listen, Jungkook, Y/n. I know that you’re both really good players and also hate each other.” he sighs, “I’m not asking you to befriend each other, no. I just want the two of you to get along for the tournament. For the sake of our school.” The coach makes a pleading face and you just nod, looking over at Jungkook to see his reaction. He hums and looks down. 

After the coach has walked away, you look at Jungkook again, getting ready to tell him that this wasn’t really going to affect the way you behaved with him but he beats you to it, his voice reaching your ears as your lips stay parted midway.

“So, I guess...no more arguing?” Jungkook finally looks at you with a slightly questioning face and you’re left momentarily blank, his proposition seeming so out of character that you’re at a loss for words. This wasn’t expected out of Jungkook. What was expected was that he would just scoff before glaring at you for no reason and stalking away. Him asking you if you wanted to stop the childish arguments the two of you had was not expected. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook was actually trying to put an end to those mini-wars of yours. Your reply is dumb “Uh- okay.” You’re still in a daze from what he said and it’s only when he snaps his fingers in front of your face that you immediately want to spit out a sassy remark but bite your tongue on it, not wanting to disregard Jungkook’s suggestion just after seconds of it having come out of those pink lips of his.

Not knowing what to do, you nod and turn around to get into the locker rooms before heading home. You’re oblivious to the fact that Jungkook almost called your name, wanting to talk to you more, he didn’t know why, but decided against it. You wouldn’t accept the offer anyway.

The walk back to your house is quiet, you’re humming a random tune and there aren’t many vehicles on the road, except for school buses dropping kids home. Unlocking the door, you step into your house and close it behind you before keeping your bag in your room and changing out of your clothes. After all that is done, you check the time and see that it’s 3:18 pm, you have around 2 hours before badminton coaching and suddenly feeling motivated, you heat up some leftover pizza and walk into your room to paint something. 

You may not be good at art, you admitted that without any shame because there were a lot of other things you could perform flawlessly. Playing badminton, whining and being able to smell any fried food from miles away to name a few. But you didn’t want to do art because you’d get good at it or something, it was something you genuinely enjoyed and the comments from other people didn’t matter as long as you were satisfied with yourself. And that meant your circles not looking  like amoeba.

You take out a drawing book that had been laying in the third drawer of your desk for months and dig up some paintbrushes and watercolour tubes you had left before sitting at your desk to finally start your work. You let your fingers guide you, not thinking much about what you were doing and what the outcome would be. Occasionally dusting your hands from the pizza crumbs, you were quite focused on your work.

30 minutes later, you’re leaning back in your chair and surveying your painting. Woah, it looks pretty-

Wait is that fucking Jungkook you see? “Huh?” your forehead is creased in perplexity, did you just paint a goddamn Jungkook? It looks like Jungkook, though...the bambi eyes and that tiny pout on his lips. How did you-

You were so confused right now. What were you thinking? Well, you obviously weren’t thinking.

Wow. Apparently, you had drawn Jungkook, your sworn enemy, without knowing. Not knowing what to do with the average portrait that didn’t do any justice to his actual features, you quickly clean up your stuff and keep it all back in its respective drawers. 

It’s now 4 and you get out your books to get some homework done before leaving for coaching. Ugh. You’d have to see Jungkook there too. You wonder how he’ll behave with you, hopefully, he won’t come anywhere near you. 

Sighing as you finish the assignments before stretching back in your chair, you get up to change into your sports clothes before grabbing your bag and water bottle, looking at yourself once in the mirror before walking out towards the pleasantly close by badminton academy you had grown way too accustomed to. 

Upon reaching the building, you walk through the reception and smile at the elderly lady who sits there every day. You push the door that leads to the courts and walk on the side, greeting your friends that were warming up. You don’t see Jungkook anywhere right now so that’s a good sign and you bow slightly at your coach in respect although the many years of being taught by the man have obviously gotten the two of you very close. Your bag is kept near a bench in its usual place and you put on the shoes you could wear only on the badminton courts before picking a corner on the side of the court and begin stretching. 

You’re walking to get your racquet when you see Jungkook jogging up to your coach, saying something to him with an apologetic look before getting a  playful shove from sir as he nods towards the benches where Jungkook would most probably keep his stuff and do some quick exercises before joining the rest of you. 

Said boy’s gaze meets yours and he smiles. You don’t reciprocate the gesture, scoffing and moving over to Jihye who’s already looking at you with a cheeky smile adorning her face. “What?” you question, not understanding why she was acting so weird “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” she gives you a playful shove to which you reply by tch-ing and rolling your eyes, done with her childish behaviour. “Seriously Jihye what th-”

“I saw Jungkook smile at you.” 

The look on your face is an accurate representation of what you were thinking right now. So what? That smile was nothing, he was just acting upon what he had said earlier. “Yeah, so?” you reply boredly, watching as Jihye’s mouth open wide- wide enough for her to fit her entire fist inside.

“Yeah, so? Are you shitting me Y/n? Jeon Jungkook just smiled at you and you didn’t even do anything in response?” you’re still watching her blankly. Although you admit that it’s not her fault entirely, even you were shocked, very shocked when he first told you about the no-more-fighting pact. 

“He just said that we shouldn’t argue now, because the coach at school said that it was going to be bad for our team. You know, in the tournament.” you simply shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact and Jihye is about to reply before the coach is calling all of you for a shadow drill. 

Shit.

You are given one side of a court and by some way or the other, Jungkook is opposite to you, his black pants sticking to those fleshy thighs so deliciously and hi-

What?

What is wrong with you? You’ve been thinking about Jungkook unconsciously- first drawing him and now this. Get a grip Y/n.

The whistle of your coach sounds throughout the entire room and your chain of thoughts is broken as your run towards the left side of the net from your position in the centre of the court before picking up one of the shuttles and running back to the centre, moving to the right side of the net now and doing the same as you continue the drill. Jungkook is swift, his feet are balanced and he still manages to look so graceful as he runs around his side of the court. 

You’re finally done with all the corners of the court twice as you move to sit in the space between the two different courts as you pant. The two people who were waiting now go to your and Jungkook’s positions as they begin the shadows drill now. You’re surprised to see that Jungkook has opted to sit next to you, you with your bright pink skirt sticking to your skin in all its glory.  

“Hi.” he smiles and turns towards you with his hand outstretched in front of your form. With a questioning look on your face, you shake his hand. How far was he planning on going when he said that the two of you wouldn’t be having those silly arguments anymore? To you, it meant that the pair of you would just stick to your own places and not interact with each other or do anything that would result in the bickering to resume. 

“Hey..?” Jungkook retracts his hand, leaving yours in mid-air. “So you uh wanna like hang out..um..like somewhere?” This boy had been taking you by surprise too much lately, why would he randomly ask you to hang out?

Sure he had said that he didn’t want the two of you having those little fights anymore but this? This was unexpected- really fucking unexpected.

“Uh...so suddenly?” he slightly frowns “Why?  Are you uncomfortable with it? That’s totally fine though!”

Jungkook was being too friendly, a little too friendly, you were confused and shocked at his tactics but tried not to show it on your face. “I mean, yeah, okay.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could even realise it and his face was now bright. His smile so sweet, you feel a cavity forming and he nods. “Cool! After practice then..? He trails off, suddenly hesitant and you’re still dumbfounded by how quickly things had taken a turn, for the better you supposed. 

Not even a day ago, the two of you were ready to claw the other’s eyes out and now, you were agreeing to go out with him. This is not a date though. Jungkook and you are just going out to bond as friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Nodding, you smile lightly, trying to reduce some of the awkwardness from your face as you suggest a cafe to meet up at. 

Practice is over and you are walking out of the academy with Jihye chattering beside you. “Oh! I almost forgot, so about that  Jungkook thing. I saw the two of you talking also.” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, or that’s what she thinks it looks like. Turning to face her, you sigh at her usual habit of sticking her nose into others’ business and tell her simply that he had just asked you to meet up at the cafe so you could just chill. 

“Holy shit, it’s a date!” Jihye seems more excited about the meet-up, not date, her hands coming up to join in front of her chest as she looks at you in bewilderment. “Why are you so passive?” your friend is way too excited for something so normal but then again, this was you and Jungkook. The two of you could never go a day without insulting the other before. Now you were meeting up with the same guy at a cafe in another hour or so. When you tell Jihye this, she stops walking, putting her hand on the left side of her chest- where her heart was. Her dramatic behaviour was now normal now and you knew the reason for her overreaction. 

Your love life was drier than the Sahara Desert in a fucking draught. You had been on just a handful of dates in your entire existence, only 5 or 6 of them ending up with you fucking the guy. The others had just been awkward, mainly because of your edgy self. 

It wasn’t that big of a problem though, you were too occupied by your college work and badminton tournament preparations that anything else just seemed like a waste of time. For instance, instead of going out with some guy, you could stay home and binge-watch Stranger Things. There were a lot more practical things that could be done without the company of males. 

The only reason you agreed to go out with Jungkook was that you wanted to see how it would end up. There was a very slim chance that your meeting would go very well but if Jungkook kept behaving as sweet as he was now, you wouldn’t even have a solid reason to be rude to the poor fellow. Nevertheless, you were not going to completely relax because one never knows. 

“I’m coming over to pick out your outfit!” Jihye is excited, jumpy because this is new- you going out with someone of the opposite gender. And although it was completely normal for someone else, you just looked at your friend judgmentally, feigning annoyance and earning a light shove from her that has you stumbling on the sidewalk. 

“‘Kay'” she squeals when you agree and invites herself to your house, saying that you should take a shower while she picks out your outfit. You trusted her though, Jihye’s fashion sense was really good and you knew for a fact that whatever she would pick out would be trendy. 

Unlocking your house with the bronze key, you walk in and keep your bag in its place before walking to get a glass of water for Jihye and yourself. She accepts and plops down on your couch before you pull her up by the arm, a disgusted look on your face. “Go wash up first.” she pouts but heads into the bathroom near the hallway nonetheless to wash up. You shout to her from your room that you’re heading to shower and she shouts back an “Alright.” from downstairs as you open the door, heading in for a steamy shower. 

40 minutes later, you’re getting out of your bathroom, content, to Jihye’s shrieking. Something along the lines of missing the date and you roll your eyes when you hear the last word. It was not a date for God’s sake!

You nonchalantly nod at no one in particular and apply your cream before heading out in a bathrobe. She’s sitting on your bed with some outfits placed on your bed. At first glance, they all look colour-coordinated with some accessories here and there but upon closer inspection, you see that every piece of clothing on your mattress was one of the shortest you had in every category. 

“Do you want me to look like a slut?” you ask with your arms folding in front of your chest, and Jihye looks at you with wide eyes, offended that you even had the nerve to comment on her outfit-picking skills. 

“No! These are all fine for a meet-up.” She uses finger quotes for the last word and you smile to yourself, “Uh, let me just stop you there. I don’t really know what people mean when they use this.” you make the finger quotes and she gasps “Did you just-” your shoulders raise and as the laughter dies down, you walk closer to the bed, mentally evaluating each outfit she had oh so carefully picked. They’re all really stylish, you gotta admit that but you’d never say it to her face. The one closest to the headboard consists of a full-sleeved plain white turtleneck that had a greyish-brown dress that reached your mid-thigh laid on top of it. It was something you could wear, maybe with some electric pink leggings. You see that Jihye, who is now rummaging in your collection of shoes, has also laid some black boots in front of the bed that matched the first dress. 

Your gaze travels to the one on the middle one and you immediately furrow your eyebrows, already ruling the strapless crop top and ripped shorts out. Too much skin. 

The one to the far left is also decided to not be inappropriate for the occasion as you didn’t think Jungkook would want to see you in a burgundy top with spaghetti straps. The jeans that had too many huge holes in them didn’t even look cool at this point. What were you thinking when you bought this.

Jihye comes out with some heels for one of the outfits “Why are you even putting so much effort into this? I can just wear a shirt and sweats.” She huffs out, unamused, as you giggle at her annoyed face. “Kidding. So, I really like this one.” you point at the dress and she smiles slyly “Showing off your long legs I see.” Punching her shoulder, you make some place to sit on the bed, glad that you shaved today. “Now, get out of my room. I need to change and apply make-up.” She nods and you watch her close the door behind her, getting up to lock it for extra safety measures. 

Not like she was gonna barge in and catch you in your star printed underwear anyways. Changing into the turtle neck and then the dress, you look at yourself in the mirror and if it wasn’t your frizzy hair, you would even think you looked cute. You brush your hair and settle for a high ponytail. Putting on your shoes, you apply a little bit of make-up, not wanting to seem overly eager but the excessive amount of perfume may or may not give you away. 

As you open the door and walk down to where Jihye has changed into some sweats she had kept in your house for times like these, she gasps upon seeing you, chip almost falling out her mouth and chews it before widening her eyes comically “Babe! You look so good.” you smile at her compliment, giving her a twirl as she gets up to probably to hug you before deciding against it, shaking her head. 

“So, is my make-up looking fine?” she nods furiously and you pick up your purse that was on the dining chair before looking at the clock to see that you only have ten minutes before Jungkook arrives. You bid Jihye goodbye, not worried in the slightest bit about her being alone at your house. 

As you’re walking, the cafe comes into view and you spot a familiar figure walking into the shop as well and you increase your speed to enter at the same time as Jungkook to make it seem as if you weren’t even slightly late. He doesn’t notice you even when you’re right behind him and walks to a table to sit down as you sit opposite him immediately, realising that he had walked to a two-people table in the corner of the shop. 

His eyes widen and he stutters out in shock, “O-Oh, you’re here,” Nodding, you hide a smile and greet him back, trying not to get into an argument with him. It’s silent for a while, you think of anything to say to break the awkward atmosphere but just as you’re looking up from the ground to speak to Jungkook, his voice is filling your ears. “Do you want to order?” He waits and you simply nod, “Okay, I’ll come to get my coffee.” 

Just as you’re getting up, Jungkook keeps his hand on you without warning, head shaking frantically. “No! I mean, I can get it for you.” Looking up in surprise, you’re unable to speak for a moment. Did Jeon Jungkook just say that he would buy you coffee?

You shake your head and snap out of your trance. Or at least you try to. “No, it’s alright. I can get it myself.” Jungkook rushes to quieten you again and looks like he won’t let you win, so you sigh and back down. “Fine.” He giggles and walks off to the counter while you take your phone out to kill time. Getting bored when you see that there are not any notifications, you switch the device off and look out of the window, watching as people get out of their cars for a pitstop at the cafe before driving away again. 

“Here are the coffees.” You turn your head and see Jungkook setting two cups of coffee on the table before sitting himself. Looking at what he got you, you thank him for bringing the correct order and he just sends a light smile in your direction, rubs his hands together and picks up the cup with both hands. You almost coo, but hold yourself together. This was your enemy. 

That reminds you, “So, why are you suddenly being so kind to me? It’s really weird to experience you treating me nicely.” You hadn’t meant for your tone to come off as accusing, but it does, and you have to watch Jungkook’s eyes flash with hurt for a second before shaking his head lightly. He places his cup back in the small saucer and his hands on either side of it. 

“I knew you would ask me this.” egging him on with a raise of your eyebrows, you take a sip of your coffee “Remember how Coach said that we should stop arguing?” At your nod, he licks his lips and continues on with his explanation, “Well, I thought about it-” “You told me to stop arguing right after he left.” “I thought about it and I decided that we really shouldn’t be having these fights. Like, what’s the point? I’m not getting anything out of it. You’re not getting anything out of it.” He ignores your words and when you hear his, ask yourself why you hadn’t tried to put a stop to the childish arguments you had with Jungkook. 

You don’t know why you ever fought back. Well, you did hate losing and Jungkook did everything to rile you up- so he was at fault too- but there was no specific reason as to why you hated Jungkook so much. “I don’t know, you were the one who started them. I don’t have a problem with becoming friends.” 

Jungkook looks at you, looking as if he’s trying to figure something out, pouty lips looking kissable but you quickly brush those thoughts off. “So..” his hands come closer to yours and you’re shocked to feel your heart starting to beat faster, its pace picking up as Jungkook’s hand comes closer to yours. “..friends?” his pinky intertwines with yours and you feel your face turn red, the action igniting something in you. 

Looking down at your fingers intertwined seems to be a big mistake as you gasp, the sight just overwhelming you. His hand fit in yours perfectly, and even if he meant it just as friends, you couldn’t help but imagine how it would be to be loved by Jungkook.

No! You two just started behaving normally around each other and you’re already thinking about loving him?

A voice in your head sounds as Jungkook retrieves his hand to pick up the call that had distracted you. You take your hand back and keep it in your lap, tingling sensations till lingering. 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically for a second, and you reassure him that he could take the call but he tells whoever was on the other side of the line that he was busy, cutting the call after he told the person that he would call them back later. 

“Sorry about that.” you barely catch his mumble and shake your head, “Don’t worry.” As you finish your coffee and make small talk with Jungkook about random things, you start growing more comfortable around him, cracking jokes and laughing at his lame ones. You’re discussing some things about the upcoming tournament when Jungkook suddenly leans in closer. 

You move back out of shock and he stills, eyes suddenly going wide as his breathing halts. Your own starts getting heavy, his sudden action having caught you terribly off guard. After partially having gained your composure back, you see that Jungkook is still in the same position, “J-Jungkook?” He takes a moment to snap out of whatever trance he was put in and blinks once, twice before gasping loudly and jerking backwards. His back hits the chair and his mouth is still open in shock at what he did. 

“S-Sorry..” he trails off, chewing his lip and your eyes follow the motion carefully before darting them back to his face quickly. He furrows his brows and starters ahead of you before shaking his head, murmuring something to himself. “You ok there?” you try to keep your voice soft, soothing as Jungkook shifts his gaze to you, wide eyes looking absolutely adorable. 

You question him again, worried, “What wa-” “I like you.” 

Silence. 

You sputter, his words having caught you off guard and if Jungkook’s eyes could go any wider, they do, his hand instantly coming to slap over his face and he curses, “I-fuck.” You’re still shocked by his confession and your brain takes time to process what he said, the three simple words not registering in your mind until suddenly,  Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the present. 

“Y-Y/n?” He sounds hesitant, and your face must be an accurate representation of what you’re feeling right now because Jungkook begins speaking again, his eyes filled with worry as he tries to fix his mistake. “No. I mean, yes, I like you-” Your face portrays horror at his words again and he rushes to correct himself, hitting himself on the head once. 

“You what?” Your voice is hushed for unknown reasons and Jungkook looks around, trying to calm himself down by breathing in and out and you use the time to do the same, the initial shock having worn off as you exhale loudly and take a bite out of the cookie from the small plate he had gotten. 

“I like you, Y/n.” Jungkook’s tone is more serious this time, and you try maintaining  a straight face, his words finally sinking and you choke on your saliva. “Like like me?” you question dumbly and he nods desperately, licking his lips and drumming his fingers on the table, a nervous habit of his. 

“Oh,” Jeongguk tilts his head at your response and you muster the courage to ask him a question that had been lingering on your mind ever since he confessed. “Since..?”

He coughs loudly into his mouth, trying to hide the blush that creeps up his cheeks and looks at you with a suddenly brave gaze, “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n. The reason I started annoying was because I wanted you to notice me, not because I disliked you...And better confess now instead of regretting not doing anything before right?” Your mouth is left hanging at his confession now, the real reason for his pestering finally coming out into the light. 

“Why would you annoy me, though? You could've just come up and talked to me, it would've been way easier for us.” At this, Jeongguk blushes, trying to cover his burning cheeks from you and cups his face in  his hands. “I don’t know..you were really annoying, to be honest.”

“I was annoying- you asshole!” You lean over and hit his arm, much to his chagrin and he frowns before swatting your arm away. Silence falls over the two of you, but it's not the awkward kind, you just sit quietly, drowning yourself in thoughts about Jungkook. 

“So…” Beside you, Jungkook shifts shyly and lowers his head when you look at him, the sight igniting something warm inside you. “Can I ask to ask you out?” His hair sits prettily atop his forehead, hands on his lap and his lips are scrunched into the cutest pout. 

“Why don’t you ask me and find out?” You aim for a teasing tone, but miss by a mille, instead sounding breathless and at this, Jungkook smiles before leaning in closer. “Will you go on a date with me?”

Even though you knew he was going to ask you, the words still send tingles throughout your entire body, heart racing and you nod before you can even think.  

It has you suddenly thinking about the drastic turn of events. The guy who was once (not even a few hours ago) your biggest enemy had just confessed to you and was asking you out. You’re thinking if it was a bad decision, but with Jungkook looking so innocent and just, like a child, it’s hard to think straight. Your heart beats erratically as Jungkook gives you one last soft smile before getting up and walking to pay, and you try chasing him and stopping him from paying for both your and his drinks but as much as you want to, you’re still stuck in place, everything that happened recently replaying in your head. He comes back in a few minutes and holds out his hand for you to take, and as you’re getting up with his help, your heart can’t help but flutter, the feeling of his warm hand encompassing yours turning you mushy like dough. 

“Seriously?” You can’t help but scoff, and beside you Jungkook lets go of your hand to feign an offended face. “What! You said you liked Call of Duty!” Jungkook defends himself and you stare blankly at the venue of your first official date with Jeon Jungkook. 

The baby pink blankets that adore his couch look inviting, so do the various snacks on the coffee table but still, this was your first date. You had really expected him to go all out and take you to dinner at a classy restaurant. And then maybe have ended with a drumline playing on a bridge. Ok, maybe that was too much. 

This doesn’t mean that you’re disappointed, though. Nope. This- a date on Jungkook’s couch with Call of Duty and snacks- was perfectly fine. Great, even. You finally crack a smile, nudging his shoulder and muttering a ‘Just kidding.’ under your breath when his face turns sad. 

You grab his arm and sit on the couch, patting the space beside you for him to occupy as you shuffle through the unhealthy packs of chips and nachos to find your favorite one. Jungkook grabs a drink and you shuffle under the soft blanket, curling up and look at Jungkook, trying to act cute as you prepare to embarrass yourself. 

“Cuddle with me?” Jungkook almost spits his drink out, surging forward as his head turns towards your direction you’re positive he gets whiplash. “W-What-Did you..” Nodding, you try pouting but know for a fact that it looks more awkward than cute and huff out, “Just-” Jungkook nods suddenly, “Ok.” and gets under the covers. Your face heats up when you finally realise that you just asked The Jeon Jungkook™ to cuddle with you, and as he ever so slowly crawls towards you, your body turns stiff. 

“I-Is this okay?” Jungkook hovers his hand over your waist and as you look at him with wide eyes, you nod lightly, indicating the green signal, his body heat not helping at all. Jungkook’s soft voice filters through your ears, and you swear you could listen to him forever. Even if he was making fun of your obsession with hard peaches. Yes. 

“We can watch a movie if you want..and then play COD?” he suggests and you mumble out a “Sure” and watch as he picks up the remote to scroll through the various apps whose subscriptions he had. 

He pauses at Netflix. “Can we watch Full House?” his voice is timid, and you turn to furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he would seem hesitant while asking that. Everyone loved Michelle. 

“Why not?” At your words, Jungkook’s eyes light up and he smiles widely, turning towards the TV to play the show. 

You rip open a packet of Cheetos and Jungkook tries (keyword: tries) to slyly wrap his arm around you from behind but doesn’t go unnoticed, and you move forward for him to easily slide his arm around you, not even bothering to look at his red face because there’s a really high chance that you’ll combust. 

2 episodes into the new season, you turn to Jungkook and he notices, eyebrows raised as you gulp, 

“I think I like you too.” 

“That would’ve been really romantic if your Cheetos breath wasn’t hitting my face.”

epilogue 

“Yesss, get it Kook!” Jungkook comes running up to you and you slap his arm in enthusiasm. He hugs you, tight, and your arms wrap around his body as well, congratulating him in his victory. His last hit had been a smash, one his opponent hadn’t  been able to defend and the match had indeed with your school winning, the trophy yours for the third time in a row.  

“We won.” The words coming out of Jungkook’s mouth urge you to hug him tighter, and you do, nodding although he probably can't see you. “We did.” Your boyfriend lets go of you to embrace his teammates and you laugh with all of them, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, realise that he may not be as bad as you first thought him to be.

tysm for reading whatever the fuck this is <3 send in feedback, if you want!

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[thesolitarystripe]

The knights of Lumina were posted outside the main city gate; arming gleaming beneath the hot summer sun. Each one sat atop a night warhorse, varying in color and size but matching in the same obedient stillness. Not a single living being moved within their formation. Every so often, a necessary tail flick to ward off the relentless flies could be seen but otherwise, it was as if the gods had left a magnificent painting as a gift, by the city entrance. At their front was Thomas Grey. Sir Thomas Grey. He was the right hand of the king, protector and personal guard of the kingdom’s princess, and a peasant by birthright. A bastard. It was odd to find one of his lineage within the knighthood and of the highest-ranking position but, his history within Lumina’s royal family spanned from the first year or his life, to now. Twenty-eight years. The young knight rode atop a bright palomino whose coat shown as brightly as the golden stalks of wheat their farmers grew. Its mane was a striking cream color. One dark brown eye, like most equine creatures, and the other an eerie crystalline blue. The mare had been gifted to Thomas as a boy for he too, was crafted uniquely by the gods. Hair as brilliant as the sun, white gold, and eyes as different from one another as night and day. Thomas bore one azure iris and the other a vibrant verdant. It was a rare condition, one seen perhaps between one person every few cities over. Some thought it a blessing, others a curse.

“Sir, dust from the East there,” a voice stated from behind Thomas whose head had turned to take note.

“Our guests have arrived, look sharp men.” Thomas squeezed the belly of his horse, urging her forward. The creature obliged and took Thomas forward with the rest of his men in his wake. Presently there were fifty of them on horseback, only a sliver of the knighthood. They were to greet and escort a small caravan of royalty from the Eastern kingdom of Stalwert. It was an admirable city whose trading routes and exports were undoubtedly some of the best. Lumina’s king sought an alliance by way of marriage. The princess, while not opposed to the arrangement had her reservations—all of which Thomas was acutely aware of. Many did not know his full history, they simply knew that Thomas was a babe dying on the streets when he was found by the royal family during one of the kingdom’s festivals. He was taken in, under what circumstances or pretenses they did not know. Thomas was raised within the castle walls, groomed to be a knight, and fast became the young princess’ most dear and trusted friend.

There had never been thought to anything more. Thomas knew, while his station was admirable, his birthright made him unsuitable for any romantic pursuits when it came to the princess of Lumina. Therefore, the idea never entered his mind though many teased them as children. One was never without the other unless stolen away by their mentors and tutors. It was easy for King Marcus Abraya to assign the young Thomas to be his daughter’s guard, even at the young age of sixteen. Most nights she stole him into her chambers to make her laugh rather than stand guard at her door. They were fast friends. As such, Thomas took today very seriously. He would be this prince’s harshest critic and report any concerns regarding his character to King Abraya himself.

The fleet of knights swarmed the royal caravan, introducing themselves well and offering their protection as they entered the city. The King and Queen of Stalwert greeted him warmly but there was no appearance made by the prince. Offense number one was noted. Thomas led the way back within the city walls, lines of commoners formed all of them trying to gain a look at the potential future king of Lumina. They would see no one. The man kept himself hidden away within his carriage. Only when they were within the sprawling courtyard, just in front of the alabaster castle, did Thomas bring his men to a halt. All of them but Thomas stays on horseback while the blonde dismounted and tended to the royal family. He stood at the carriage door and offered his arm, seeing the Monarchs safely to the ground. It was now, that he beheld the prince. He was of a modest build but clearly untrained in the art of war. The prince was of average height and looked quite small standing beside Thomas who was six feet and six inches more. This prince appeared soft, a man of the arts perhaps with caramel colored hair and deep brown eyes. Thomas would’ve given his honest remarks—the prince was handsome, devilishly but wouldn’t last a day within the ranks of any knighthood Thomas knew of. It wasn’t a prince’s job, however, to wage war with his own hands. Thomas was sure the man was likely a brilliant mind, expert at strategy, and adept at making treaties. Thomas was eager to speak of such topics with him as Lumina got to know their potential ruler over the course of the next few days.

“Prince Robert,” Thomas bowed deeply, the crown of his head exposed. “Might I speak for the knights of Lumina when I say it is a great honor to have you within our kingdom. Please let me know personally if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.” Thomas stood upright again and found those dark eyes regarding him.

“Thank you, knight, what may I call you?”

“Sir Thomas Grey, my lord,” he replied, bringing his gaze up to meet the prince’s.

“That is a wild look within your eyes, Sir Grey. A defect at birth?” He pointed between his own two eyes as he observed Thomas more closely.

“Indeed sir, I was born with it.”

“Interesting,” Robert sighed before he turned on his heel. Ending the conversation.

Thomas felt a strange sensation wash over him. Something in his gut churned. The skin on his arms pulled up and away from his bones and he had to stave off his urge to frown. The knight led the royal family within, only to be greeted by King Abraya within the great hall. The three flocked to the King and Thomas stood quietly behind, surmising what it was his gut was telling him. Every move Prince Robert Winsley made, ignited Thomas’ nerves. Distrust was already being sewn within the belly of the knight whose hands were clasped in front of him, face expressionless as he watched the greeting of two kingdoms unfold. Their ruler of Lumina ushered the royal families into the throne room, his knighthood in tow behind him. At the head was Thomas, to his right, Belor, and his left, Edward. The three highest of rank and the ones trusted to enter the throne room and stand guard within. Outside, lower ranking knights took their posts and waited behind closed doors. Thomas took his stand beside the elevated slab of marble that held three ornately decorated thrones. The largest in the middle was made of solid cherrywood, a deep red in color and carved with the Kingdom’s crest: an ivory horse, rearing back on its hind legs, mane whipping behind its muscled neck as if the wind blew against it. The background was black while the sides were embroidered in intricate floral patterns. While there were no other colors, save the natural hue of the wood, the marking was unmistakable on the backing of the king’s throne. There were two others, lesser seats but still beautifully made of strong oak. Within the smaller ones sat their Queen and beside her, the princess. The moment Thomas’ gaze lifted and he met the eyes of his childhood friend, the princess smiled. Her eyes hadn’t yet sought out her suitor before they landed on Thomas who was as reserved as ever but offered a half upturn of his lips. The Knight took his place beside the royal ladies while King Abraya waved a hand grandly through the air and motioned to his kin.

“I am pleased to introduce you to my lovely Queen, Amina, and my daughter.” Both women stood with the grace and poise of a swan, their dresses flowing around their bodies to accentuate every luscious curve and dip. Thomas stood with eyes forward, hands crossed in front of him.

“It’s a pleasure,” they both said in tandem as they curtsied and then sat again. Prince Robert flicked an eye over his potential wife and merely nodded his head. The second offense. Thomas wanted to scowl but kept his expression smooth. The royals fell into conversation as King Abraya brought their company to sit and rest; over his shoulder, Thomas heard a familiar clearing throat. Mismatched eyes found the princess who was already looking incredibly bored; she was obscured by her father’s commanding height so she could not be easily seen. The princess rolled her eyes. Thomas smirked.

He puffed out his cheeks and made an exasperated expression.

The princess smirked and stuck out her tongue.

Thomas’ eyes grew wide as if offended. Then he returned the gesture, tongue poking out of his lips and eyes crossing lightly.

The princess bit her lower lip and dropped her chin, desperate to hide her giggling.

Thomas straightened, happy to know he hadn’t lost his ability to make their princess laugh. Even after all these years. The two exchanged glances across the room, every time Thomas looked, his princess had turned away; as soon as he averted his gaze, she was peeking back at him rosy-cheeked and coy. When their eyes finally did meet, each one couldn’t stop the break of a smile across their faces. Children at heart, surely. Thomas clasped his hand over his wrist more tightly, with more resolve than ever to ensure Robert Stalwert was worthy of Lumina’s princess.

[pan-cakez]

Last Straw

Inspired by this post: https://countingdowndays.tumblr.com/post/189602949856/prompt-lila-salt-adriens-mom

For their assignment over the weekend, the class had to write about their favorite film. The class was abuzz with excitement at the prospect of being able to write about something that they loved, and have an excuse to watch the movie again without judgement. When the class was dismissed, everyone kept on talking about the films that they chose, and some people even offered to have a showing with their classmates after the presentations. Adrien stayed silent. He knew what film he was going to pick, and even though his classmates may not appreciate it in the same way he did, he still wanted to share it with them.

When he was walking outside, Marinette called out to him. Adrien stopped and turned around to smile at her. “Hey Marinette! What’s up?” Marinette smiled at him and rubbed the back of her neck softly. “What movie are you going to write about?” Adrien chuckled. “The only movie that I ran out of my house to see. What about you?” Marinette twirled her fingers around and looked at the ground. “I’m doing a movie on the heroes of Paris that just came out. I honestly think that people need to stop seeing Ladybug as the only one, when they’re better together.” Adrien felt his cheeks heat up, and he rushed into the waiting car while yelling and quick, “Gottagobye!” leaving Marinette standing on the curb in confusion.

During the car ride, Adrien couldn’t really focus on anything. All that he could think about was how supportive Marinette was. He’s tired of being seen as lesser than Ladybug. He gets it, that he could really step up his game, but at the end of the day, he just doesn’t want anyone to feel the same misery that he does, and will try his hardest to make everyone happy. He’s glad that someone sees him as something positive, rather than a nuisance like Ladybug does.

When he arrived at home, Nathalie was there waiting there for him, tablet in hand. Adrien stood at the bottom of the staircase while looking up at Nathalie. “Does father still have a copy of mom’s movie? We’re doing a report on our favorite movies for class.” Nathalie looked down at him stone-faced. “I’ll ask your father. In the meantime, it is time for your piano practice.” Adrien sighed and walked upstairs to his room. He decided to play slow classical music. He got so lost in it, he didn’t realize his father was there until he cleared his throat. His head snapped to the doorway where he saw Gabriel standing. Adrien shot up, and stood up. Gabriel walked up to Adrien and handed him a flashdrive. “This is a copy of the film. It’s yours to keep.” Adrien smiled softly, and took the drive. “Thank you father, this means a lot to me.” Gabriel nodded and clasped his hand behind his back. “This movie means a lot to mean, and I’m glad it means a lot to you as well. I think your mother would be honored to have her movie be your favorite.” Gabriel walked away without any further comment. Adrien walked to his desk, and after loading the movie, he watched it for the first time this weekend, of many.

On the morning of the presentations, the classroom was filled with chatter. Adrien mostly kept to himself, but Marinette sat next to him, making sure that he was okay. Adrien smiled at her kindness. He knows that Marinette is the only person in the class that knows his mother stars in this piece. The fact that she could guess correctly that he would be emotionally vulnerable today really spoke to Marinette’s character, and he genuinely wanted someone as caring as her around more in her life. She made the wait for his turn much more bearable. Marinette when before him to ease him. To say that Marinette’s presentation made him feel butterflies in his stomach was an understatement. To hear that he was truly appreciated, and that his work as Chat Noir made a difference to people really warmed his heart.

When it was his turn, he took a deep breath and looked at Marinette. She gave him a smile and a thumbs up. Adrien started talking, and explaining the movie. Everyone was captivated by his presentation, and absorbed every word. He explained how rare the movie was, and how it’s fully in black and white, and how it was an artistic choice, rather than a limitation of technology in the case of older films. He explained the plot, and how the movie wasn’t a piece of media, but a piece of art. When he finished the presentation, Marinette had some tears in her eyes, and Adrien smiled softly at her, and the rest of the class just clapped. Adrien bowed and took a seat next to Marinette, who immediately hugged him. “I’m so proud of you. You did amazing!” Adrien let out a chuckle. “So did you Marinette!”

After all the presentations was done, everyone talked about the presentations. Everyone congratulated Adrien. Lila walked up to their table, and smiled. “What an amazing presentation! I didn’t know you loved this film so much.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and smiled softly. “Well there’s so many reasons behind it. The actress is also phenomenal!” Lila smiles, and sees her chance to woo Adrien. “Well, I know the actress personally, and I can definitely get you to meet her. We’re pretty good family friends.” Marinette looked at Lila in disgust. Adrien balled his fists, but kept it hidden under the desk, and tried his hardest to keep his cool. “Oh? How do you know her?” Lila smirked, fully believe she had him in her grasp. “Yeah. I see her all the time when I go to events. I actually have her number.” Adrien scoffed, knowing she was lying, and decided to finally expose her, and was going to use this to do it. He always let her slide because she never hurt anyone, but with this lie, it was too much, and his last straw. “Hey Lila, can you call her? I would very much like to meet her.” Lila didn’t expect it to get to this point, but she’s still going to pull his strings. “Definitely. I can call her and see when she’s free next week.” Adrien looked her dead in the eye and said, “Great. Tell me what my mom says.” Lila’s face dropped and the classroom went dead silent. All eyes were on Lila. “I always let you slide on every single one of your lies. I tell Marinette to leave you alone because no one is getting harmed, and they’re just little white lies. But this isn’t a little white lie. How many people have you lied about knowing to get people to like you? What about you isn’t a lie? You absolutely disgust me.” Adrien stormed out of the classroom, and Marinette ran after him. Marinette got him to stop before he walked out of the building, and pulled him into a hug. Adrien cried into Marinette’s shoulder and she just let him get it out. She rubbed his back gently and whispered comforting words. Adrien slowly fell to the floor and Marinette went down with him.

After Adrien stopped crying, Marinette and him walked back to the classroom, where the class was ganging up on a terrified Lila. “You made me ruin my friendship with one of the best people I know,” Alya yelled. “You cast Marinette out because she was the only person who saw through you! She knew that you were full of it, and warned us, and we didn’t believe her! We cast out a perfect friend for you,” Rose screamed. Madame Bustier stood in the corner, calling the principal, not knowing what to do. Marinette and Adrien started walking towards the crowd, and everyone split to let them through to Lila. Lila looked at them and Adrien almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “Your work with the Agreste brand is now done. We will make sure to communicate with further business partners to let them know about your horrible tendency to lie. You’d better start looking for a different place, because the socialites, and celebrities here will have absolutely nothing to with you.” Lila was truly shaken by Adrien’s cold words. Marinette rubbed his back softly to make it easy on him. Mr. Damocles walked inside and called for Lila. The class watched her walked out in shame. Once she had left the classroom, Marinette felt eyes on her. Marinette shook her head and let out a sharp, “I don’t want to hear a word out of any of you.” The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The bell rung shortly after, and Adrien and Marinette walked out together, and Adrien asked if Marinette would like to watch his mother’s movie together. Marinette gladly accepted and when they arrived at the Agreste mansion, Adrien explained everything, which infuriated Gabriel. Adrien invited Nathalie and his bodyguard to watch the film with them. Marinette made chouquettes for everyone, and eventually Gabriel joined although he didn’t say anything. Adrien was just happy to be sharing this with so many people who appreciate it.

@virgil-is-a-cutie​ thanks for reblogging the post!! Its how I found it!

[reinabeestudio]

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wrote a humble one-shot featuring Phantom Thief Karamatsu and Detective Shinshia, inspired by the Phantom Thief set from Hesokuri Wars lol.

It is very simple, and I did it just to cater myself LMAO. But maybe some of you find it cute✨. As a small fact, I titled the story “Alone Together”.

Story under the cut!

Finally, February was here! Heart-shaped decorations in every store, roses of different colors were seen over different parts of the city, cute sweets… last but not least, there was the romance. For a long time, this was a sour month for the sextuplets. They were phantom thieves of renown, yet they never got a single chocolate in their whole lives by their fans! It was truly demoralizing, almost as bad as Christmas.

Tradition said that women were the ones that gifted chocolate for the men they had chosen. This year, however, the blue phantom thief had a mission. An important gift to give.

Karamatsu tried so many times in the past to convey his feelings to the new detective: Shinshia Doremi. She acted rough and distant at first. “We are enemies,” she declared coldly. But in the rare moments they could spent together, her behaviour softened and the real Shinshia Doremi was exposed: a warm, yet shy girl. Sadly, everytime he tried to tell her about what he felt, someone or something would interrupt their moment together. Often their separate duties, as detective and phantom thief. 

Oh, Cupid, how cruel was he! Keeping the hearts of this couple in the scale of Lady Justice, its pans so close but never together! Such a tragic fate!

Well, perhaps the vision he had of their love inside his head had evolved into something more dramatic than what it actually was in real life. But it added some excitement to whatever their situation was.

Karamatsu was no fool, either. He knew there were others interested in the girl… Mostly, his boisterous, shitty eldest. He noticed the way that idiot looked at her, and it wasn’t love. At least, not the the type of love he felt inside. The blue thief decided it was time to strike while he still had the chance, and ask her out. Subtly.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Once more the young detective ended up being one of the few remaining people in the department. Rookies got so much paperwork, it was just ridiculous. She had to keep a dictionary close to her, too. Some of these characters looked like an amalgamation made of nightmares.

To keep boredom away, Shinshia started singing, the words echoing throughout the empty office. A soft duet, the name of which she could not call to mind at the moment. However, she did remember that it was a popular love song. It was one of the first songs she heard when she first arrived to Japan.

The sun goes to sleep once more

In this lonely time, I wonder

Is your heart dreaming of me?

The detective finished with the paper she had in front of her, and grabbed the next one in the pile. “How tedious,” she thought. She kept singing to herself.

Stars twinkle above our heads

And the moon gives us her best glowing smile

But tonight, I’ll be yours...

“... And yours alone.” 

Another voice joined in with her song, singing along. Shinshia went silent and turned around, but she saw nothing besides empty desks. She went back to her paperwork, along with her song.

However, before she could sing another word, Shinshia stopped entirely when suddenly a pair of hands covered her eyes. “Who is it?” a familiar male voice asked in a sing-song tone.

“The sweet release of death, I hope.”

She resumed her work when she regained her sight as the infamous phantom thief, Karamatsu, casually leant against her desk with a subtle smile. “Long day, I presume.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears . “You should leave before someone sees you. Unless you want me to handcuff you.”

Karamatsu laughed quietly. “Heh, being helpless at your mercy sounds like a very tempting offer, darling. ” Shinshia’s face immediately flushed and he laughed again, genuinely. “But I am here to steal you away.”

“Steal me away?” Shinshia asked, not even looking away from the papers. She put some loose locks of hair behind her ear again. She was often pulling hair away from her face lately. “Sorry Karamatsu, but I have a ton of paperwork left to do. I can’t be stolen right now.”

“C’mon, Shia-chan! It won’t be for long. I’m just asking you to take a break.”

“I told you, I’m busy right n-”

The phantom thief put a hand over the paper she was writing on, and the scowling detective finally looked up at him. It was in that moment when she noticed that he was wearing casual clothes, and not his usual garish outfit filled with blue glitter. The only part that did stand out was, perhaps, the black eyepatch on his left eye. He felt triumphant over this, how she looked at him.

“Tonight, be mine alone ♪.”

After a minute of silence and a staring competition that was perhaps getting a bit too intense for the situation, Shinshia got up from her desk grumbling. “Fine. A short break.”

With a triumphant spring in his step, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms effortlessly and left the office. His plan was working so far.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Now this was strange.

Karamatsu dragged Shinshia out of the office. That was not the strange part, but instead of avoiding crowded places like he always did, they just… kept walking. Out in the open. Walking didn’t bother her, it was just unusual. He was a famous criminal, after all. It was a miracle they left the building so easily. Or maybe the author was just too lazy to think of something smart.

Wait, author? What author? That makes no sense. Just ignore it.

It was snowing outside. Snow wasn’t common where she was from, so she still marvelled at the sight of it everytime. Despite how much she enjoyed watching the snow fall, it was still cold in the streets. So smart was she, that she forgot to grab her jacket before they left, and now she was constantly rubbing her hands together.

Karamatsu laughed. “You’ll end up setting them on fire, Shia-chan.”

Shinshia snorted. The comment was lame, yet she snorted, like the fool she was. Karamatsu took her hand on his own and blew on it, before he decided to put both of their hands inside his coat pocket. She glanced at him, noticing that he was actually doing the same at her. However, as soon as he noticed her eyes on him, Karamatsu quickly looked away and instead focused on the cars that passed by.

After spending their evening with an impromptu stroll, they finally headed back to the building. Karamatsu spent most of the time silent, which was even more unusual that this whole situation. Usually, he loved doing long monologues filled with inscrutable flowery words that probably sounded cool only in his mind. But during that evening, Karamatsu seemed focused in whatever was going through his head at the moment. Then again, Shinshia didn’t talk much herself.

The poor detective couldn’t help it! He was a man that had to be put behind bars for his crimes, she knew this. However, everytime they were together, her mind just stopped working properly. This had been happening since she actually caught him once: Karamatsu, one of the six-colored phantom thieves that stole valuable pieces of art all around the city. He was pretty popular among the youngest members of her department, some of them even called themselves his fans. That was done in secret, of course.

Shinshia knew little about the man next to her. Truth be told, she wanted to unveil that air of mystery around him by herself. Not as a detective, but as… something else. Maybe as a friend. Or maybe as something deeper. Only the author knew.

Hold on, what-- you know what, nevermind that.

First she thought, maybe she was just starstruck. After all, as soon as she arrived to that building, she was assigned to the case of the phantom thieves. Shinshia was in a country that was so different  to her native Spain, and she knew no one, besides this guy. A criminal. But he kept coming back when she was alone, giving her advice and listening to her troubles… And then a bond bloomed between them. So sudden, yet so natural, as if it was destined to happen.

“Shinshia,” Karamatsu called to her softly, pulling her from her thoughts, “I have a little present for you.”

“A present? Why?”

“Just a little something I got for you! It’s fine, I promise.”

Shinshia sighed. “Well, fine.”

His eye glittered as he clasped his hands happily. Gosh, what a big baby. “Good! Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say you can, understand?” He said that last part in English, for some reason.

Strange request, but Shinshia did what he told her anyway, and closed her eyes. She could hear Karamatsu fumbling with something- not sure with what, but it was small, she supposed. He did say it was a little something, after all. Suddenly, she felt his hands on the sides of her head, playing with the locks of her hair. He put them back, and then she felt those same hair locks being slightly pulled back by something. She feels his warm hand linger on her chin, delicately caressing along her jawline before pulling away.

“Open your eyes.”

Shinshia opened her eyes, feeling really curious about what Karamatsu did. He took out a round pocket mirror and then he showed her: a blue hair bow was holding back her hair.

Karamatsu smiled at her softly. “Your hair is growing long, Shia-chan. It keeps getting in front of your eyes, doesn’t it?” She nodded, impressed. When did he notice her annoyance at her hair? It was such an insignificant detail. “Now I can see your cute face again.”

Shinshia looked down, feeling her face warm up. “T-Thanks.”

After he put the small mirror back in its place, he took an envelope out of the same pocket. He gave it to her. It would have looked like a normal letter, if it wasn’t for the small heart on the back… And the blue glitter. So painful.

“What is this?” Shinshia took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a single piece of black paper with text in gold letters. “An invitation?”

“Observant as always! It’d make me very happy to see you there.”

“I’m not sure, Karamatsu… this is very sudden.”

“But, Shia-chan! It will be so much fun!” Karamatsu looked at her with puppy eyes. Uh, eye. “Do it for me. Please?” 

How was that working so well, what the hell. Shinshia sighed in defeat. “I will think about it.”

Feeling victorious yet again, Karamatsu took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Shia-chan. I hope to see you there.” Those were his last words before he turned around and walked away, quickly melting into the crowd. Now Shinshia Doremi was left alone at the doors of her workplace with her heart beating incredibly fast.

The detective looked down at the sparkly envelope. This thing was so shiny that it hurted to look at it for too long. It was so painful! It was so tacky!

“You're so troublesome.” she said to no one. She released a deep sigh.

She was in love with the blue phantom thief called Karamatsu.

Shinshia decided to attend to the party, after all.

She didn’t go to parties often… mostly because she wasn’t invited to any of them. But, if she was being honest with herself, the promise of meeting him again was too tempting to resist. Also, free food and drinks.

Woah. She really had to have a deep crush on the man of strange monologues, if she was going to ignore her insecurity just for him. What a guy, he was making miracles happen even when he wasn’t present.

So she got ready, donning the prettiest dress she could find inside her closet. She wore the blue bow he gifted her, and after checking herself in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch purse and left to the party.

“Even if Karamatsu isn’t there, it’s better than to be alone during Valentine’s day,” she thought as she locked the door of her house behind her.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

It was a Valentine’s dance party. It should have been obvious, considering the day it took place. But she wasn’t aware that Valentine’s Day parties existed at all. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they? Maybe the host was single as hell, and this was their attempt in trying to find a partner. Or maybe it was a Jay Gatsby trying to find their Daisy Buchanan. Yikes, hopefully not. 

Also, every celebration needs a party, obviously.

Somewhere, someone in the world will throw a party for Cat Day. Maybe they will put a silly little hat on top of their cat’s head, followed by the confused pet trying to swat it away with its little paws and failing as the owner was in the floor laughing to tears.

That turned to be a very amusing thought, after all. It’d be so funny if someone celebrated Cat Day like that. She didn’t even know if Cat Day existed at all, but now she really hoped that it did.

Back to reality, Shinshia grabbed a glass from the nearest table as she looked around, moving between the many guests that were having fun together. Where in the world was Karamatsu? How could a single man wearing a black eyepatch be so difficult to find among so many colorful outfits? Pretty sure his full name was Karamatsu Sandiego. A famous thief whose signature look features a blue, glittery matching top hat and long cape. Of course, it all checked out, she just solved the case.

The detective was so into her own dumb line of thought that she didn’t notice the carpet, and her shoe caught. There was barely time to react; carpet veered up, her drink tipped forward, and suddenly the floor was very close. Extremely close. However, she hadn’t bit it, and that didn’t quite make sense. Gravity existed, and through gravity, she should have hit the floor.

There was something holding her up. A hand, which connected to an arm, which led all the way to a well-tailored suit. A delicious, familiar fragrance reached her nose.

“Well now,” a voice purred so slowly, and hands turned her to face upwards. Karamatsu’s face slowly turned into a tender smile. “I see you decided to come after all, darling.”

“Ah, well…” Shinshia really couldn’t say much with her waist held so enticingly by those hands, as warm hands brushed up against her skin and tickled. “I... I had to make sure that you didn’t steal anything! There are many people here wearing valuable jewelry, I’m sure you’d manage to steal something.”

“Heh, it seems my plans were ruined by the great Shinshia once more!” Karamatsu continued onwards with that smile just deepening at her sight, and somehow, he seemed to be leaning a bit closer. The room rang with cheery laughter, and the party carried onwards without a single glance towards the thief and the detective.

“You always seem to be,” one hand caressed its fine way up to her shoulder, “Stumbling around me. I’m starting to wonder if you are tripping on purpose now, hmmm?”

He knew well she wasn’t doing it on purpose. But before she could complain about that, he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her completely. The hand on her waist pulled her just a little closer that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. He laced his fingers with hers. “I enjoy our moments together, darling.”

The orchestra struck up a mesmerizing waltz, and Karamatsu’s eye perked up enough that Shinshia could practically see the lightbulb above his head.

“Let’s dance!” he invited her without a second thought, and Shinshia stumbled as Karamatsu guided her to the dance floor. A violin hummed and a key plucked, and then his hands were on her waist, a smile beaming away. 

Unexpectedly, he was good at the waltz. What the hell, that was not fair. Shinshia found herself tripping quite a lot, and the phantom thief just chuckled everytime she crashed into his body. It didn’t seem to phase him either, he just grinned all the wider and adjusted until she fell back into rhythm. 

Finally, somehow the rhythm came to Shinshia. Maybe it was the guiding steps of Karamatsu. Maybe it was the smile he gave her as she fumbled along. Or, perhaps, it was the hand he still had on her waist, caring as it kindly led her along despite her inexperience. Whatever it was, it had her steps synchronize with Karamatsu’s, and suddenly she started noticing other things: how his rings glistened in the light as Karamatsu led both of them through the swarm of couples, or how his brown eye never looked away from her face. Small details, yet they were such lovely little things that made her heart beat wildly inside the detective’s chest.

“Say, Shinshia.”

“Yes?”

“You said you came here to make sure I didn’t steal anything, right?”

Shinshia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she nodded. Where was he going on with this? Was he actually going to do that? She told it as a joke, she didn’t want to work tonight.

“Heh, well, my beloved Shinshia... ” Karamatsu leaned down slightly and whispered. “I believe I already stole something.”

Shinshia didn’t really notice the song grew faster until a violin screeched in delight and suddenly Karamatsu was really close. When the song was over, he had dipped her just as the last violin ended with an exaggerated flourish. 

Karamatsu leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, and perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad thing, tripping over her own shoe. Not when she could feel him gaze at her in rapt adoration. Not when Karamatsu had her so lovingly wrapped in his hands, and clutching as if she was the most fragile, most precious thing in the world that had happened to him.

No, perhaps it was for the best.

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

Talk + Vodka = Truth (Marvel AU)

Plot: AU The Avenger caught the blonde stalking him for the past few weeks and he wants answers.

Characters: Hawkeye/Ronin!Changbin (SKZ) x Yelena Belova!Felix (SKZ), plus mention of Black Widow!Minho, Kate Bishop!Yeji, and other MARVEL characters

Rating: PG-13 (Language, spy behaviors, the Snap/the Blip, Red Room, assassin work, death, drinking, mention of PTSD)

Notes: This one shot is based on the MARVEL x SKZ moodboards I’ve been making for fun. The story is set between the events after Black Widow, Avengers: Endgame, and before the Hawkeye Disney+ show. If you’ve not watched the first two films and wish to avoid spoilers, please skip this story. Additionally, the contents of this one-shot are fictional and were created for fun.

Happy Birthday Changbin!

                                        --------------------------------

“You sure you’re old enough to be here, Kid?”

The blonde rolled his eyes, before reaching into his jacket to produce an ID.

The waiter and the man seated across from him watched as the ID was handed over. The former scanned the front and sighed as he passed it back to the blonde.

“Sorry, guess The Blip screwed you over - you look young for your age,” the waiter apologized. “What can I get you?”

“Vodka,” the blonde replied. “How much for the bottle?”

Changbin raised a brow and stared at the young man seated across from him. This guy could put away a whole bottle of vodka? It didn’t seem right, plus that was pretty unhealthy to be drinking that much. 

“Let me check with the bartender on that,” the waiter said. He turned to face Changbin and asked if he wanted the usual.

“Unless he intends to drink the entire bottle, I’ll take whatever vodka he wants,” Changbin responded.

The waiter excused himself and went to check on the vodka situation.

“Drinking a whole bottle of vodka in one go is bad for your liver,” Changbin noted as he folded his hands in front of him.

The blonde snorted and quipped that Changbin sounded like his brother. The comment made the Avenger raise a brow and he straightened up in his seat.

“The bottle is gonna cost you $35, tip not included,” the waiter announced when he returned.

Before Changbin could grab his wallet, the blonde beat him to it and placed a crumpled $50 into the waiter’s hand. “Keep the change.”

The waiter unfolded the bill and immediately left to grab the bottle and some glasses for serving. The place wasn’t busy for the early to mid-afternoon, but Changbin had a feeling the waiter wasn’t used to getting a larger than average tip during this time. The pair watched as the waiter returned within seconds with the bottle and two glasses.

Changbin flashed the waiter a light smile and told him to take it easy. He slid the bottle closer and opened it, before pouring some of the contents into one glass and nudging it across the table. “So, wanna tell me who the hell you are and why you’ve been stalking me for 2.5 weeks?”

The blonde barely had the glass raised to his lips when he heard the questions. He looked up from his glass and parted his lips slightly in shock. This made the Avenger snicker as he poured some vodka into the other glass for himself.

                                       --------------------------------

About a month and a half after burying Tony and Minho, Changbin noticed that the same blonde guy would show up in various places around the same time. The guy tried to be less obvious with disguises and using remote ways to track him, but after working with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. for years, the Avenger’s picked up on people attempting to trail him.

Earlier today, he sensed he was being followed and urged his new protege to take Lucky and get somewhere safe. Sure Yeji gave him lip for trying to protect her, but the last thing he’d want is for her to get killed, thanks to someone hunting for him. Once the young woman had left with the dog, he hung around the area and pulled his bow on the blonde, who had a regular sidearm pointed at him. For a while, he tried urging the blonde to drop the gun before he shot first, but the blonde remained defiant with his gun pointed at the Avenger. What made them stand down was the sound of a siren and the blonde looked a little concerned when he heard the alarm.

Changbin made up his mind and told the young man to follow him so they could get under cover somewhere to finish the matter. He chose this hole-in-the-wall place that he visited at times during The Blip, often sitting and brooding over his missing family in between kills.

The blonde swore in Russian and put his glass down. “All right Old Man, I’ll make this easy for both of us. Name’s Felix. My employer told me you killed my brother and that I’m supposed to bring you in. But before I do that, why did you do it? He was telling me before The Blip that the Avengers were his real family, not me or our parents.”

Changbin tilted his head as he looked closely at the blonde across from him. If the kid wasn’t an assassin, he looked like the good kid you’d find in a suburban neighborhood, probably playing sports and making lots of friends. But the Russian, the mention of his brother again – wait, was this...?

“Min,” he offered in a soft voice.

The blonde nodded sharply and he picked up his glass again. “He’s dead, thanks to you. I’d like to know why you killed him, before I decide if I wanna bring you in dead or alive.”

The Avenger stiffened when he heard the accusation. His partner told him to go for counseling after fighting Thanos, as he was suffering terribly from losing Tony and Minho. Talking to the counselor about Minho was hard and the former couldn’t convince him that it wasn’t his fault that Minho insisted he sacrifice himself for the Soul Stone. Telling his kids that their Uncle Min wasn’t coming home was horrible, as they asked where he was and talked about their favorite memories of the red-haired “uncle” they had come to love.

“Do you know anything about Thanos and the Infinity Stones in that goddamn gauntlet he wore?” Changbin asked after prolonged silence.

When Felix shrugged, Changbin sighed and pushed his glass away as he recounted the attempts to stop Thanos from killing Vision for the Mind Stone, losing everyone he knew, then trying to get the stones again to undo what happened 5 years ago.

“It was the shrinking guy’s idea, some kind of time heist,” Changbin said. “Minho and I went to some planet in space, while the others went elsewhere in time for the other stones. We get there, this creepy red skeleton guy tells us that one of us has to sacrifice ourselves –”

“So you chose my brother?”

“YOH! I wasn’t done talking, you little shit,” Changbin snapped as he narrowed his eyes. He took a deep breath and groaned as he tried to explain what happened next. This was the hard part whenever he went to therapy – it was difficult to talk about Vormir without getting choked up and replaying the images of Minho using a stun function in his cuff to distract him, and Changbin trying to grab his hand to stop the former spy.

“Damn it, I told him I was supposed to do it!” Changbin yelled as he slammed his fist on the table. “He actually tried to keep shit together after The Blip. Me, I, I lost it. I lost my whole family. My partner. My kids. All while we were at home, having a normal day. Then I went out and I hunted down every bad guy, every gang, every criminal organization, everyone that survived and didn’t deserve it!”

The Avenger hung his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep it together without crying. He could hear Minho’s voice, urging him to let go of his hand on Vormir.

“Let me go.”

                                        “No. Please don’t.”

“It’s okay...”

The blonde took small sips from his glass as he watched and listened to the Avenger. Despite hating his time in the Red Room, he has to give his instructors some credit for teaching him the art of lying and reading a target’s body language. Based on what he’s seeing right now, the Avenger is telling the truth and Minho actually sacrificed his life to save the world. Which means, his employer lied or she exaggerated the story a bit, just to force him to cut his time off short. It wouldn’t surprise him – Val refused his request for a pay raise before handing over Changbin’s information for his next assignment.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m working for a female version of Dreykov, Felix thought. He put his glass down and stared across the table at the Avenger.

“Surprisingly, I believe you,” Felix replied. “Last time I saw my brother, he was going on about how he was trying to do good and forget about...yeah, well he was telling me how great things were with the Avengers before the Accords.” He played with his glass and tilted his head slightly. “You weren’t...dating my brother, were you?”

Changbin jerked his head up at the question and he paused for a few seconds, before laughing loudly. The blonde shot him a quizzical look and Changbin shook his head as he tried to compose himself.

“Oh man no, no way. Min was my colleague and sometimes, he thought it was funnier to ignore most of the shit I said,” Changbin said. “I swear he did it to piss me off, but other than that, we were friends.” He propped his elbow on the table and looked thoughtful as he recalled their mission in Budapest.

“He ever tell you about Budapest?”

Felix nodded and recounted his story of running from Dreykov’s project, otherwise known as Taskmaster, while protecting a serum to remove the brainwashing effect on the other Widows. “He makes me bleed out a bit, then we’re crammed in an air vent. An air vent. Think I saw tic-tac-toe games scratched inside the vent.”

“Wait, in the subway?”

“You mean it was the same vent you two hid in after you tried to kill Dreykov?” Felix asked. “That must have been...”

“Oh that was a weird three days!” Changbin laughed. “He got so annoyed by me complaining that I was hungry and said I was too loud. Once we got outta Budapest, he complained on the Quinjet that it was amazing I had someone in my life at all. But wait, what do you mean by ‘tried to kill Dreykov’? I thought Min said it was a hit – I saw the building go up in flames after the guy’s daughter went in. Don’t tell me that guy’s your employer.”

Felix made a face and he picked up his glass again.

“We’re going to be here a while...”

[puppy-phum]

I’m too embarrassed to say this off anon BUT U GOT ME INTO BTS FIC CAUSE I READ YOURS AND NOW I CANT STOPPPP so tell me about across and beyond pls pls pls

I am so incredibly happy that someone is interested in my bts stuff ;; I haven't talked about these fics to anyone in ages haha. also thank you, so, SO much for reading my fics ♥ you are amazing!

but to talk about across and beyond! I started it during last summer bc I had finished the king: eternal monarch (which I enjoyed very much? it was surprising when it has such a strong romance aspect and I usually avoid those). the idea of some kind of alternate universe plus time travel was so interesting to me that this created itself! 

(sorry am placing this under the cut to spare other ppl of my rambling)

it’s a story about modern era young CEO Jungkook whose father testaments him this old flute with a request to solve a secret of his. Jungkook, who is more into painting and art in general than his father’s business, needs to solve the secret before he can give up his position as the CEO. so, he starts figuring out the flute and what it means, and then travels, first by accident, to this other universe that exists somewhere in a historical era. 

and this is where men with sword came along! I watched the first season and part of the second one and it wasn’t phenomenal or anything but I loved some of the characters a lot! especially king jian bin and his bodyguard/advisor(/boyfriend) qi zhikan (played by yi bochen who now acts as chen yuzhi in killer and healer if you happen to watch that. also yang hao’s actor from sand sea, zhu jian, is in this! a very random combo). so I took some ideas from that world when I created the universe for Yoongi who Jungkook befriends (and well, obviously falls in love with). Yoongi is the deputy prime minister of his city and very exasperated by this young boy that just happens to appear in his mansion. Jungkook is, however, a fresh wind in the middle of his tiring duties as his kingdom is facing a war. 

it was somehow very easy to assign roles for all the members in both universes (historical and modern) and figure out what Jungkook’s father’s secret would be and how it would all play out. I also liked all the pairings I chose: yoonkook, taejoon (obviously bc I adore them) and then 2seok in the modern world and jihope in the historical one. I wrote quite a chunk of this during that summer but then got stuck on the moment Yoongi finally gets to Jungkook’s world :’D I am excited to finish this at some point tho bc I love what I have planned for the ending (even if parts of it are very sad). 

here’s a snippet for you to give you some feeling of this:

It was fine. He wasn’t even sure he could bring Yoongi through, unsure of the way his flute worked, of the way the worlds twisted around him. No one in his own world knew about the real purpose of his flute and he was afraid to tell. 

He doubted they would take it as well as Yoongi. They lived in a modern world - magic didn’t fit in. And if anyone was ever trying to travel through the worlds with him, it would have to be Yoongi. 

He breathed in, slowly, softly. In the space between worlds there was no air but he tried still. Only his chest moved, nothing going in, nothing coming out. He did not need to breathe here because he did not exist in this space but he liked trying, liked proving the space wrong. 

Yes, he was still alive in that space. Yes, he still had his body, could see familiar hands by his sides, could feel his toes when he wiggled them inside his shoes. He could hear his voice if he spoke and could touch the sandy ground under his very much real feet. 

It was just that this space was not real. He took no space in the world while he was in here and that was the reason why being here twisted time, he believed. Time took no space in here either. It did not flow like it used to when he walked through. 

There was no air, only sand and the steel gray sky. Doors were open everywhere, and then Jungkook walked through one. 

“Wha- Where were you? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” 

Namjoon hurriedly stood up from the couch he’d been occupying, phone still lit in his hands. He was wearing a sharp, light gray suit to fit his gray dyed hair and fancy shoes that had obviously cost a fortune. His round glasses glimmered in the lowly lit up room, and Jungkook could see the worried lines around his dark eyes. 

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he murmured and Namjoon’s eyes narrowed into slits. 

“You were not in that kitchen a few minutes ago,” his vice president observed and Jungkook felt the dread in his stomach. He was about to face the modern world. He was about to tear it apart with his magic. 

“No, hyung,” he answered softly, “I was traveling.”

the pov switches between Jungkook and Yoongi as they both of course know different things of their worlds and different ppl so here’s also a snippet of Yoongi’s pov too (bc I really do like this fic): 

“Get him a change of clothes,” he told Seokjin who bowed and went on his way. Jungkook looked at him with wide, surprised eyes, and Yoongi could see more stars in them, could almost taste the excitement. He did not know if it was the boy’s or his own. If it was excitement at all, tilting slowly towards something daring. 

“Don’t speak with anyone and stay by my side,” he instructed when they climbed into the carriage and started their way to the palace. Jungkook nodded, looking so very different in his new clothes. The robes he wore belonged to Seokjin, the two men sharing the same physique which guaranteed that the robes at least fit. All the layers of misty blue and shining gray made the boy look ethereal. 

They had not been able to hide Jungkook’s short hair but Yoongi did not think it mattered. He could lie it was because of different customs, that Jungkook was his visitor from a faraway kingdom. 

Technically, he was. If Yoongi believed in his stories - which he thought he might. There were too many details. The boy’s eyes were too telling. 

“Wow,” Jungkook gasped as they arrived, fumbling a little bit with his long robes as he climbed out with Seokjin’s helping hand. Yoongi hummed, looking at the golden palace with the eyes of a stranger. The palace looked unreal, like it had descended from heaven. With all its details and decorations, it felt like it had been made with the hands of a god. 

Was Namjoon, perhaps, from a heavenly bloodline after all? 

Yoongi shook his head lightly and then gathered his robes to his hands, climbing down the small ladder that had been placed next to the carriage. He wore robes with more brown today. There were still green details in his outfit to show his assigned colors but the dark brown was dominating, bringing out the delicate golden threads that crisscrossed all over his outer robe. On his back, there was a picture of a golden swan. 

“I’ll introduce you to people when needed. Remember to bow and speak respectfully,” Yoongi said once more and Jungkook smiled, nodding again. The boy had a tendency to forget his manners, and Yoongi really hoped they would not get into trouble because of a simple slip.

thank you for allowing this to me ♥ I hope you enjoyed all of my ramblings and these snippets ^^ 

[roman-writing]

A Study in Hospitality (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,395

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

Author’s note: I’m so predictable for writing this…..

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

“The assignment was to fall in love.

The details were up to you.”

-Louise Gluck, ‘Averno’ 

–

Everyone was always excited whenever a new batch of half-bloods rolled into camp. Not that many of them would admit it, Hilda included. Mostly they pretended to be bored at the concept of introducing new students to the grounds, in the hopes that they would come off as cool and aloof.

Unlike the others however, Hilda didn’t have to try very hard. She could pull off cool any time, any day. And everyone knew it. 

So, when a sleek black limousine rolled up, students idled around the camp’s main square in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new blood. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, which meant that nobody could get a good look inside. Honestly, it looked more like a hearse than anything else.

Hilda leaned against a pillar, and twirled a lock of shockingly pink hair around one finger. She arched a curious eyebrow at the limo as it rumbled to a halt with a high whine of brakes. 

It could use some new brake fluid. Technically speaking she could do it, but she wouldn’t be caught dead beneath the hood of a vehicle. She had an image to uphold. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her manicure.

“My money is on Ares,” Claude said beside her. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “You say that every time.”

“Because I’m right.”

“I hope not. The last thing we need is more meat-heads.” Hilda scrunched up her nose at a few other students loitering nearby, who were all clearly in Ares Cabin. One of them was challenging another to do push-ups. Hilda watched as the challenge was accepted with gusto.

Shirts came off, and the two boys dropped to the grass of the central field. For all their faults, at least the children of Ares had some rockin’ bods. 

Claude nudged her, and she dragged her reluctant attention away from the Ares boys.

The driver had stepped out of the vehicle. An honest to god butler-looking guy, complete with waistcoat and spotless white gloves. He rushed to one of the passenger doors, and opened it.

An old man unfolded from the bone-white leather seats inside. His suit was ashen but impeccable and pinstriped. He had silver hair and a hatchet face. When he stood to his full spindly height, he seemed to loom despite his heron’s stoop and the silver-headed cane clutched in his hand. 

He was no god – at least none that Hilda recognised – though he could not have been fully mortal. Mortals couldn’t cross the camp lines. 

Seteth stepped forward. When he nodded his head, it was like a bow of deference. “Margrave Edmund, thank you for joining us. You are most welcome here. I will look after your daughter personally.”

Hilda and Claude exchanged puzzled glances. Generally Seteth preferred a more hands off approach, letting professors Hanneman and Manuela take charge of lectures and whatnot. Seteth only ever dealt with individual students for special cases. Like delivering punishments, or handing out missions.

The Margrave had eyes like pale and tarnished coins. He bowed his head in return. “Thank you, Cichol. I entrust her to your care.”

A strange shiver ran through the earth at the sound of Seteth’s true Titan name. Seteth himself seemed unperturbed by the casual use of it. Meanwhile Hilda was left wondering how the hell this guy – fancy titles or no – managed to get away with using that name without being struck down by spears of light from the heavens.

“What daughter?” Hilda whispered.

Even as she spoke, another figure stirred within the shadows of the limousine. A girl stepped from the vehicle after her father. Hilda blinked in surprise. Most newcomers were young. They tended to be anywhere between ten and fifteen years of age, when they first arrived at camp half-blood. But this girl could not have been under the age of twenty, or Hilda would eat crow.

She was tall, thin, and gaunt as a blade. She wore a dark dress that made her dark eyes appear even larger and more lustrous. There was an odd quality to her pale hair, like the sheen of blued steel. Hilda might have thought it were dyed, if this girl didn’t look like the least likely candidate for hair dyeing. Her skin held a pallor as though she rarely saw the sun, and she seemed to shrink away from the bright early afternoon light. 

The driver pulled a black suitcase from the boot of the limo, and deposited it at her feet. When he got a bit too close to her, she shied away from him. She tried to mask it as though she were reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. It did little to help her overall bedraggled personal appearance. Next to her sleek half-mortal father, she appeared disheveled, and not in an artful way. Honestly, Hilda probably could have tied a better messy bun in her sleep. 

Claude leaned over and whispered to Hilda, “My bet is rich heiress of old money.”

“Hmm…” Hilda took a moment to consider her best guess. “I’m going to go with: orphan adopted by screwball philanthropist.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Oh, you’re on, pretty boy.”

They shook hands. 

“Marianne,” Seteth said with another of his pseudo-bows, “It is lovely to meet you. Please, if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay, let me know.”

For a moment she said nothing. She seemed afraid that Seteth was going to bite her or something. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft and tremulous. “Thank you.”

After speaking, she looked to Margrave Edmund as if for confirmation that she had said the right thing. He gave her none. Indeed, he did not so much as put his hand on her shoulder for comfort before nodding towards Seteth and folding himself back up into the limo. 

The driver – butler? whatever – shut the door behind him, then trotted around to his own door. Marianne did not turn to watch the limo go, though at one point her dark eyes flickered in the direction of the dust plumes that rose in its wake. Immediately however, Marianne lowered her gaze to her own feet. 

When the limo had gone from sight, Seteth gestured towards the suitcase. “Allow me.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take it.” Marianne picked up the bag before Seteth could even reach for it. She spoke so softly, it was difficult to hear her over the raucous noise of the nearby Ares boys. 

Claude hummed a contemplative note under his breath. “Either the heiress has something in that bag she doesn’t want anyone to see, or she isn’t as pampered as I’d originally thought.”

Hilda shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always think someone is hiding something?”

“Because they usually are.”

“Well, newsflash, but it reflects poorly on your own character. Just - y’know - an FYI.”

He shushed her, craning his neck as though it would help him better overhear what was going on further down the field. Seteth was leading Marianne across the centre of the field, the exact opposite direction from cabin eleven. 

“Not an undetermined, then,” Claude muttered to himself. “Aphrodite?”

At the sound of her own mother, Hilda snorted. “Aphrodite? Not likely. Look at her, and then look at me.”

“Alright, point taken. So, Athena, then.”

“I dunno,” Hilda tongued at the inside of her cheek. “She seems a bit dreary, even for the Athena kids.”

Hilda and Claude watched from beneath the shelter of decorative white-marble pillars, as Seteth led Marianne across the field. A number of other curious faces also turned to follow their path, eager to learn of where this newcomer fell into their ranks. 

Seteth stopped before the Demeter cabin, and knocked on the door. 

“Wait, really?” Claude said. “She doesn’t seem like a child of Demeter.”

“Wow. Prejudiced, much?”

Claude pointed towards a small cluster of the Demeter kids that had emerged from the cabin to greet their newest member. “Just look at them. And then look at her.”

Hilda pursed her lips at having her own words thrown back at her. But she had to admit, he had a point. She didn’t tell him that, though. His head wouldn’t fit on his shoulders otherwise. Children of Apollo were almost always predisposed towards a certain cocky arrogance, and he had it in spades.

But the new girl definitely didn’t look anything like the other children of Demeter. Where Marianne was narrow and gaunt, the Demeter kids were homey and apple-cheeked. When Mercedes, the head of Demeter cabin, stood beside Marianne, the contrast could not have been more stark. Mercedes held out her hand to shake, but Marianne backed away a step as if the thought of being touched repulsed her. 

Claude gave a sympathetic wince. “Oooh, chilly.” 

“Okay, okay if you’re so sure that she’s undetermined, then why doesn’t Seteth just put her in with the Hermes kids like all the others?” Hilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Claude mused. He had that look on his face he always got when he stumbled across a particularly convoluted puzzle. “But I intend to find out.”

Hilda patted him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck with that.”

When she turned to walk away, intent on heading back towards the arts and crafts centre to work on her latest jewelry piece, Claude called after her. “Wait -? You really don’t care about getting to the bottom of this?”

“Nope!” Without looking back, she waved at him. “Later!”

–

Before the day could end – heck, even before dinner – Hilda ran into Seteth on the path between the mess hall and the cabins. She only caught sight of him at the last second as she was rounding the bend and humming to herself, when it was far too late to leap into the bushes and hide. Just her luck. 

Raising her hand, Hilda greeted him with a cheeriness that was way too over the top. “Oh, Seteth! Good day to you, and farewell!”

And with that, she turned heel and began power walking in the opposite direction. Screw dinner. She could sneak into the dining pavilion later. 

“Just a moment, Hilda. How are you feeling?”

With a low groan, Hilda stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself before she could turn back towards him with a forced smile on her face. “Oh! Ah, fine! I’m - I’m doing just fine. Thank you so much for asking!”

His eyes were a piercing green. He never seemed to need to blink. “Is that so? I’d heard you had fallen ill to a headache, and one of your fellow colleagues took over your duties of sweeping the armoury for the day. How thoughtful of them.” 

“Well, you know how it is.” Hilda rocked back and forth between heel and toe. “My friends are just so kind and helpful like that.”

“Indeed. You should count your blessings that you have been so favoured.” His stare bore into her as though he were balancing her very spirit on the bronzed edge of a sword. 

“Oh, I do! I - uh - I definitely do. Count. Every day.” A nervous little laugh escaped her at that. She could hear her voice strain slightly beneath the charmspeak laced into her words. She never could refrain from a bit of hypnotism when she was angry or nervous. It was a bad habit from her younger days. 

Of course, it did nothing to Seteth. The magic washed over him like water from a duck’s back. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In fact, now that I know you have recovered, I have an assignment for you.”

Hilda’s heart skipped a beat. An assignment? She hadn’t been given an assignment in, like, years. 

Okay. Maybe it had only been six months. But that was forever ago. This camp was only so big, and even if she wasn’t a year-rounder, she was so bored. 

She immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Let’s hear it, then.”

Seteth’s hands were clasped behind his back in an officious pose. He looked like a statue. One of those stiff Egyptian ones. “I take it you, along with the rest of the camp, have heard about the newest addition to our ranks? Marianne von Edmund?”

“Yes,” Hilda said slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “Is she going to be joining me on the mission or something?” 

“Hardly. Marianne doesn’t know anybody here, and I need you to do what you do best.”

“Which is -?” Hilda made a gesture with her hands, implying that Seteth should expand upon that topic. She was very good at a great many things. He was going to need to be a bit more specific.  

“Befriend her, of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She frowned in puzzlement. “What? Why me?”

“Because you are one of the camp’s most senior students -”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“- And because you know everyone, and everyone knows you. Which means that you can be a conduit for her to the rest of the camp. Introduce her to others. Make her feel at home.”

“Uhhhh everyone knows you, too. Why can’t you show her around?”

Seteth’s brows drew down. “I am the camp overseer. I have many duties to attend to, and while I hate to admit it, I cannot be everywhere at once. I am asking you to do this because I know you are the most capable for the job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to expect too much from me?”

“At least once more.” Something like the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Seteth’s mouth before vanishing once again. “Truth be told, I have always harboured high hopes for you. Especially after having trained your brother.”

It was true. Holst used to be the head of Aphrodite cabin. Everyone expected Hilda to do the same, which is exactly why she didn’t. 

Head of a Cabin? Yikes. Way too much responsibility. 

Hilda made a face. “No, thank you. And why can’t Mercedes have this assignment? She’s the head of Demeter cabin. She’s the one who should be showing her newbie the ropes.”

“It is important that Marianne is made to feel at home here. Unless you would like to excuse yourself from the sacred duties of hospitality?”

At that, Hilda’s blood ran cold. If there was one thing you did not mess with, it was xenia, the sacred concept of hospitality. She’d heard stories of those who broke the rules of hospitality, and she rather liked keeping her organs arranged in the way they currently were, thanks. 

With a huff, Hilda crossed her arms and accepted her fate. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever.”

“You are disappointed,” Seteth said. It was not a question.

“Well, yeah,” Hilda mumbled. She scraped the toe of her shoe against the ground, sketching out a misshapen heart in the dirt. “When you said ‘assignment,’ I thought you meant with, like, weapons. And monsters. And going out there." 

She gestured towards the treeline in the West, which demarcated the camp from the rest of the world. 

Seteth looked in the direction indicated with a heavy, thoughtful expression. "Trust me when I tell you, Hilda, that this assignment is the most important you will receive during your time here.”

Hilda snorted. “What? Showing around The Marquise Mopey?”

At that, Seteth’s eyes flashed. He looked at her, and she paled. In his face she could see the blood-drenched earth, the frenzied clash of spear and shield from time immemorial. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was not in fact the soft-spoken gentleman façade he wore, but one of the five Kouretes. Ancient, Titan-born, and brother of the Furies. A deity of wild mountainsides, an inventor of rustic arts, the first of the armoured warrior-gods.

His voice was soft yet dangerous; it bore the weight of millenia when he spoke, “If I hear that you have been anything but kind and generous to our guest, you will answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Hilda held up her hands as if to fend off a physical blow. “Woah! Relax. I wasn’t going to be all mean girls towards her, or anything. I love making friends!“

In an instant, the intensity faded from his gaze as though it had never been, though the air around him still seemed too warm. Or perhaps that was just the early summer heat. "Good. Then you’ll have no issue attending dinner with her.”

“Wait, you mean, like, right now?”

He arched a cool eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

“What? No! Not at all! I’m going to crush this assignment. You’ll see. I’m hospitality incarnate.” Hilda ran a hand through her hair, and lifted her chin. “Hell, I’m the most charming person in this place! How hard can it be?”

–

As it turned out, it was hard. Very hard. 

For starters, Marianne was difficult to even track down. Hilda looked everywhere. Demeter Cabin was empty, but for Ashe, who was watering the plants out front even though he could make them grow just by snapping his fingers. He claimed Marianne hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since her arrival, before she promptly vanished like smoke. The last he heard, Mercedes and Seteth had been giving her a tour of the camp.

It took Hilda over an hour to find her. By the end, she had given up on asking people if they had seen a tall, morose newcomer since her arrival, because nobody had. Not a single soul. It wasn’t until Hilda had well and truly given up – honestly, screw this; she was hungry and it was dinner time – that she spotted her. Hilda was emerging from the armoury, having given up all hope, when she blinked. 

There, wandering at the edge of the forest, was Marianne. The dark blue of her long dress blended into the shadows of the woods. She looked like a lost spirit, the setting sun chasing her footsteps but never truly reaching her. As though the light were afraid to touch even the delicate gold embroidery of her hems. 

Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth, and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you by the forest!! Yeah, you!”

At the first sound of Hilda’s voice, Marianne had stopped. She pointed to herself, then looked over her shoulder, as though there were the off chance Hilda was actually addressing a tree behind her or something. 

“Don’t move! Just stay right there!” Hilda started jogging over, and boy if that wasn’t dedication then she didn’t know what was. These heels were not made for running. Seteth had better give her such a good fucking score on this assignment. 

Hilda slid to a halt, nearly tripping as her heels caught on a loose stone in the ground. But she made the recovery as gracefully as she could manage. Which was super graceful. Divinely graceful, even. Well, semi-divine anyway. Close enough. 

Luckily, Marianne followed instructions. She had not moved. Now, she blinked languidly at Hilda, her expression guarded, her stance tense, as though she were ready to bolt at any sudden movements. 

Hilda pointed into the thick darkness of the forest. “You really shouldn’t go out into the forest alone. There are all sorts of monsters in there. Didn’t Seteth or Mercedes tell you that? Honestly!”

Marianne glanced towards the woods, but she seemed curious rather than afraid. “What kind of monsters?”

“I dunno. Minotaurs. Dragons. Hellhounds. All sorts.”

“Right,” Marianne said slowly. “And those…are bad?”

Hilda stared at her. “Yes. Yes, those are very bad.”

Marianne’s shoulders caved inwards as she seemed to shrink away from her. “Sorry.”

Oh, geesh. As far as first exchanges went, they were off to a bad start. Shit. Dazzle time. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being very rude.” Hilda straightened to her full height, which barely reached Marianne’s chin even when Marianne slouched like she was now. Hilda smiled as brilliantly as she knew how – which was Very Brilliant, let’s be honest – and held out her hand. “I’m Hilda. You’re Marianne, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Oh. Um - Hello.” Marianne did not take her hand. Instead, she lifted her own to her chest, and gave a nervous flutter of her fingers before clenching her hand into a fist beneath her collarbone. 

A long moment of silence passed. Hilda lowered her hand. She tried to think of some way to break the ice, but each time a topic came to mind, it sloughed out of reach as though Marianne’s very presence rejected friendly conversation. Like trying to push together a set of repelling magnets.

It was the first time Hilda had ever been at a complete loss in a social situation. She wasn’t sure she liked it. 

Eventually, Marianne said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at interacting with people.”

“What? No! It’s fine. You’re fine,” Hilda lied. “I’m just glad I found you when I did. Next time you come out here, be sure to bring a friend. That’s all.“

Marianne stared at her as though she were a hydra and had grown an extra head. "I don’t have friends.”

“Well, that’s very rude of you. I’m right here, thank you very much.” Hilda grinned, and brushed some of her long hair over one shoulder with a flounce. 

If anything Marianne appeared taken aback. Her head jerked as if she had been struck, and she looked Hilda over. “What -?”

“No, no, you don’t need to say anything. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

“Th - Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome. Hey. It’s dinner time. Want to walk with me to the dining pavilion? I’ll point out everyone to you, so you know names and stuff. Sound good?”

“Um -”

“Great. C'mon! It’s this way.”

Gesturing for Marianne to follow, Hilda started walking in the direction of the dining pavilion. For a moment she heard no movement behind her. Then, hesitant footsteps. Marianne walked silently; Hilda could barely hear the rustle of leaves and the press of earth in every step. Hilda talked as they walked. She pointed out various landscapes and features, revealing hidden information about them that absolute squares like Seteth wouldn’t have told their newest member.

“If you want a really good time,” Hilda said as they strode along the pathway that followed the lake, “Take a dip in here at night.”

“What monsters are in the lake at night?”

“Absolutely none. It’s just fun!” Then Hilda amended, “Well, that’s not strictly true. I mean, there are totally monsters living in there. But the point is that at night the water is still all warm from the day, so it’s really nice. Plus it’s about the adventure of it, you know?”

That only seemed to puzzle Marianne all the more. Still, Hilda glanced over to find Marianne studying the lake with a faint gleam of curiosity in her eyes. 

Hilda winked. “I’ll take you out one night. It’ll be fun!”

Ducking her head, Marianne mumbled, “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“No time like the present! Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a great teacher. And I definitely won’t let you drown, or get eaten by a monster, or die, or - y’know -” Hilda shrugged. “- whatever. Because that’s what friends are for.”

To that, Marianne made no reply. She offered no further comments, allowing Hilda to carry the conversation all the way to the pavilion perched over the edge of the lake. Hilda was all too happy to do so; she filled up the silence with idle chatter. And yet, she never once got the impression that Marianne wasn’t listening. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The sun was setting over the hills by the time they arrived at the pavilion. Their shadows lengthened along the ground. Hilda noticed but made no comment on how Marianne’s shadow was nearly twice as long as her own. Marianne was taller, after all. That must have been the reason why. 

The dining pavilion had not walls, only pillars lined with torches, but rain and wind never seemed to be able to get inside. Other students were already crowding the large tables that surrounded a central brazier bearing a bed of red-hot coals. Hilda stopped at the edge of the pavilion, and turned to Marianne. 

“Alright, first thing’s first. You can’t sit at another god’s table. That’s just the rules. So, you’ll be over there.” Hilda waved her hand towards the Demeter table, where Mercedes and Ashe were already seated. 

For some reason, that made Marianne shrink a bit more. She tugged at the ends of her long sleeves so that her hands were partially covered. The action reminded Hilda of a turtle trying to retract into its shell. “What if there’s nobody else in your Cabin?”

“Then you sit alone, unless you get special permission. It sucks. I know. But it’s only for meal times and sleeping. And luckily you and I don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, that brings us to our next point.” Hilda began to tick off names on her ringed fingers. “Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades Cabins are all empty. The Big Three haven’t had kids in, like, centuries, because their kids are always too powerful and kind of a pain in the neck or whatever. Hera Cabin and Artemis Cabin are also empty because goddess of marriage and goddess of virgins. Don’t like philandering, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Then we have the rest.”

Hilda pointed out each group in turn throughout the mess hall. “You already know the Demeter kids, so I won’t bother. There’s Hermes Cabin over there. Wanderers and thieves and lost souls. Undetermined kids go there, too. Anna is their leader. She’s the oldest student here. Don’t take bets with her. You’ll lose every time.”

Hilda moved along to the next group. Two of them had their noses in books while eating. “Athena Cabin. Nerds. All of them. Edelgard’s the boss there. Don’t let her pretty face fool you; she’s always calculating something behind the scenes. Or at least I always get that impression.”

“Then there’s the Apollo kids.” Hilda waved at Claude, who had caught sight of her. “That’s Claude. He sucked up the arrogance and charisma of all the other Apollo kids, but he’s not a bad guy at heart.”

“Next to them is Dionysus Cabin. Always check any food or drink they serve you. Enough said. There’s Hephaestus Cabin over there. Messy and creative. My people at heart if not by blood.” 

Hilda’s hand drifted towards the next table along, the largest of the bunch filled with rowdy teens and twenty-somethings all with more muscles than sense. "And of course Ares Cabin. Just a bunch of guys being dudes. Dudes being guys. And also Petra is there. She’s pretty nice actually. Just don’t get on her bad side. She loves a fight more than anyone else I know. And if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll kick their asses for you. Got it?”

Marianne nodded, wide-eyed and attentive.

“Which leaves Aphrodite Cabin, full of the greatest people you’ll ever meet, including -” Hilda gestured to herself with a stunning smile, “- yours truly.“

At that, Marianne asked in a faint yet curious tone, "Are you the leader of Aphrodite Cabin?”

Hilda scrunched up her nose as though at a bad smell. “Gross. No way. I leave that job to Lorenz, thanks.”

“Oh,” Marianne ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, or -”

But Hilda waved her away. “Nah, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go grab some food. Oh! Before I forget.” Hilda pointed out the central firepit. “Remember to leave a bit of your food, so you can offer it to the gods after we eat. Very important. Don’t skip that step.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Then again, solemn just seemed to be her natural state of being.

“Okay! See you later, then!” And with that, Hilda flounced off towards her own table.

Behind her, Marianne floundered for a moment, before drifting over towards the other Demeter kids, who greeted her with smiles. Hilda watched as Marianne did not return them, just sat as far away from the others, so that she was perched on the very corner of the bench. 

This was going to be a lot harder than Hilda had originally thought.

With a resigned sigh, Hilda tucked into her own meal. No sooner had she picked up her knife and fork however, than she felt something soft smack into the back of her head. A rolled up napkin landed on the table by her elbow.

Hilda looked at Sylvain, who was sitting directly opposite her. “Don’t tell me. It’s Claude, isn’t it?”

Sylvain grinned around his fork, pulling the utensil out of his mouth to answer, “Well, if you want a break from the guy, I’m always free.”

“Funny,” Hilda replied in a complete monotone. She twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, Claude was trying to catch her eye.

He lobbed something else towards her. This time, it was a little origami paper airplane with a wedge-like arrow shape. It flew straight and true, landing directly by Hilda’s plate. Groaning, Hilda unfolded the paper and read its contents. 

‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in the newblood?’

“Do you have a pen?” Hilda held out her hand towards Sylvain.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he handed her a tube of unused lipstick. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Shrugging, Hilda uncapped the tube, gave its base a twist, and wrote her reply in bold scarlet. “Who even uses this shade?” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, I could totally pull it off, but -”

Sylvain had returned to his meal, but he said firmly, “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Hilda finished. She capped the lipstick and handed it back over to Sylvain. Then, she turned to toss the paper airplane back towards Claude. Whatever magic he had infused in it while folding its edges still remained, for it ducked and dipped around other students right for him like a bird in flight. Hilda did not wait to see his reaction to her reply, which read:

‘Seteth asked me to look after her. And no, I won’t help you with whatever you’re planning.’

She was a few bites into her meal, when the airplane returned. She crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it into the brazier, where it burned. Behind her, Hilda could hear Claude’s sound of outrage. Sylvain snickered into his cup. 

From where Hilda sat, Marianne was just within view. Her slouched shoulders, her head bowed. Hilda watched with mild interest, as other students at her table attempted to engage her in conversation. Even those from other tables who were near enough tried to lean over and introduce themselves. They were all rebuffed. One by one. Without fail. 

Eventually, Marianne had finished with her meal. Or perhaps she was simply finished with being in so crowded a space. She was a slow eater, but she was one of the first to rise from her seat. She picked morosely at her food, as though everything tasted like ash. And when she approached the brazier in the centre of the tables, her plate was still mostly full. 

Marianne scraped her food into the brazier, and murmured something under her breath. The coals leapt to life with a dull roar, like the sound of distant waves against the shore. The flames burned a hot, pale, hungry blue, searing the food to white ash. 

The entire dining pavilion fell silent. The clink of cutlery faded. People turned to stare. Marianne stood before the brazier, clutching her plate and knife, glancing around at all the stunned faces. She set the plate and knife down, then scurried from the pavilion, her head lowered.

After she had gone, people resumed their eating, but slowly. Over the heads of the other tables, Claude mouthed to Hilda: ‘What the fuck was that?’

Hilda shrugged at him, and then pretended to ignore the rest of his gestures for the remainder of the night. 

–

Hilda did not think about Marianne for the rest of the evening. She went back to the arts centre, and finished off a new bangle she had been working on for the last two weeks. Even then, she was not completely satisfied with it, and tossed it back into the forge for one of the Hephaestus kids to re-smelt into something. 

After giving up on that piece, Hilda went back to the drawing board. She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and began sketching out ideas for a brooch. Or maybe a hair pin. It could have been either. The forge blazed on the other side of the room. This area of camp was always populated, even in the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours at night. Someone could always be found tinkering away on something. And tonight that person was Hilda.

She eventually wandered back to her cabin, but only when the designs all started bleeding together. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, she went about washing her face, changing her clothes, and crawling into the top bunk that had been assigned to her years ago. She could hear Sylvain snoring on the opposite side of the cabin, and was tempted to throw a pillow at him to get him to roll over. 

At some point, she had fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, a pinkish light was filtering through the tinted windows right into her face. To make things worse, Lorenz was swanning about, handing out that week’s chore list to everyone. 

He reached her bunk bed. “Hilda.”

Hilda pulled a pillow over her head, and rolled over.

Lorenz circled around to the other side of the bunk bed, so he could wave her chore list in her face. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Hilda groaned, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

He swatted at her pillow with the folded up piece of paper, until she gave up and snatched it from his hand. 

“There,” he said smugly. “Was that really so hard?”

“Not all of us are up with the larks every morning,” Hilda grumbled, but he was already striding away to dish out everyone else’s responsibilities. 

Not bothering to sit up, Hilda hung her head over the side of the bed so that her long untidy hair fell over the side. She rubbed at one eye as she read over the week’s chores. 

Monday - 0900 to 1100 - Cooking Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Tuesday -  1100 to 1430 - Pegasus Stable Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Wednesday - 1500 to 1700 - Gardening Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

…Now, hang on just a damn second. 

Hilda rubbed at her other eye to make sure she was reading everything right. She frowned at the page, and held it a little closer to her face. 

Okay. She was definitely reading that right. Apparently hospitality homework extended to more than just a quick Intro to Camp 101. But really, Seteth didn’t have to go out of his way to pair them up for everything. It wasn’t like she was going to try to wriggle out of her assignment. That was just insulting. And completely untrue.

Hilda let her arm flop to the side, and the page of chores fluttered to the floor from her grip. She covered her eyes with her other hand, and groaned. Honestly this should’ve been the easiest assignment ever. If not for the fact that Marianne was so much work. 

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked from across the room.

“No,” Hilda sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

– 

The first chore was cooking. Or rather, it was preparing lunch meals for a group of younger students going out into the forest for the first time with Manuela. 

It went poorly. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen. Which was odd, because Demeter kids were all great at cooking. It was one of their Things. Right alongside having a greenthumb that would make an eighteenth century English landscaper cream himself. 

The food wasn’t disastrous, by any stretch of the imagination. They got the meals ready and packaged in time. But nothing tasted that great, and there was an awful lot of mess left over afterwards, which meant that Hilda moaned about having to clean up the whole time. All the while, Marianne remained silent, looking like she was at a loss on how to use a modern sink to wash the cutting boards. Like she’d been dumped into the present day from hundreds of years ago. 

Hilda did the bulk of the talking for the whole two hours. Every now and then, Marianne would make a noise, like a soft hum at the back of her throat, as if that were her sole form of contribution to the conversation. Once – shockingly – she even asked if Hilda could pass her a knife. When their fingers almost brushed along the handle, Marianne dropped the blade and stuttered on her apologies for two whole minutes. 

So, yeah. This assignment kind of sucked so far.

–

Monday passed without much incident. At ten minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Hilda wandered up to the pegasus stables for their shared chores. Marianne was already there. She had a handful of carrots, and was feeding one to a pegasus. The beast’s head leaned out of his stall as far as he could go in an attempt to get closer to the source of the treats. 

"Don’t be greedy,” Marianne chided softly. Even so, she fed the pegasus another carrot.

“Heyoo,” Hilda greeted. 

Marianne almost dropped the carrots in one hand. She turned to see Hilda striding towards her. “Oh. Good afternoon, Hilda. You’re looking - uh - well.”

“Thanks.” Hilda did not even take offense to the belated attempt at praise. It was more than Marianne had been able to muster up over the last two days, which meant progress. Baby steps. They would get there. Eventually. Very eventually.

Stopping beside Marianne, Hilda nodded towards the pegasus, which was still chewing on the end of the carrot. “You’re awfully good with them. Normally, they hate me.”

The pegasus spoke while still chewing, his words punctuated with loud crunching noises. “I don’t hate you. That’s quite a strong word. I’m indifferent about you.”

Hilda scowled. “That’s even worse, Grass-Head.” 

“My name,” the pegasus said in as acidic a tone as psychic words could convey, “is Minty.” 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s any better.”

“I like horses,” Marianne admitted. “My father used to let me ride his sometimes.”

At that, Minty stamped his hoof, which scraped against the stall door. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ride me. You smell like rotten eggs. But if you keep the carrots coming, I’ll let you pet me.”

“How generous,” Hilda drawled.

On the other hand Marianne hastily offered another carrot. Minty grabbed it between his teeth and began to chew, while Marianne reached up to pat his head and play with his silky forelock. 

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your dad had horses?”

Marianne mulled over her words very carefully before responding. “Yes. Four of them. They didn’t talk, though.” 

“Did they still like carrots?”

“Uhm -” 

But Minty answered instead, “All horses love carrots.” He snuffled around Marianne’s hand, trying to reach the other bunch of carrots held there. 

“There are other pegasi here,” Hilda pointed out. Indeed, a number of other pegasi were watching this exchange from their own stalls, their heads eagerly extended above the doors.

“Ignore those guys,” Minty said. “They definitely don’t want these.”

“Greedy asshole,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”  

“Whatever.” Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and said to Marianne, “I’m going to go grab some gloves, pitchforks, and a wheelbarrow. I would highly recommend wearing gloves, yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” Marianne gave Minty one last carrot, taking the time to pat him on the head some more, before turning to follow Hilda. 

Marianne spoke a bit more today. Not much more, but a bit. The pegasi all took an interest in her, even if they generally did not want Marianne to touch them unless bribed with treats. They made odd comments about her smell, while remaining generally uninterested in Hilda’s presence entirely. 

Which was rather insulting, really. Hilda was not a person accustomed to being treated with indifference. And charmspeak did not work on pegasi like it did on people. Annoyingly. 

Hilda tried. She received a series of nickers that could only be described as amused in a mocking way. 

Afterwards, Hilda was sweaty and annoyed. She tipped a load of straw into the last stable, and raked it around, while Marianne chatted with the pegasus. If only it were that easy to get Marianne to talk to actual humans. Her sentences were still short and carefully combed of any personal information, but still. 

And at the end of it all, Marianne even offered Hilda a little wave and a hesitant, “See you tomorrow,” before they parted ways for the day. 

Leaning on a pitchfork, Hilda watched her go. “Weird,” she muttered under her breath, when she was sure Marianne was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Minty said from behind her. “You’re telling me.”

–

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hilda was just about ready to bail on chores entirely. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d made it this far in the first place. She should have been awarded gold stars for exceeding all expectations. Normally she would have weasled her way out of the week’s responsibilities by Tuesday. 

Not that it had anything to do with Marianne. Because it didn’t. Hilda just hated chores. She had a jewelry project she wanted to work on, some people she wanted to flirt with, and a monster hunt in the forest that sounded like way more fun than gardening. 

Plus, it was hot. The late afternoon sun was an unimpeded glaring yellow dot in the sky, and Hilda was boiling. She fanned herself with a pair of leather pruning gloves. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of pink-lensed glasses, and her head was covered in a black-ribboned straw hat. 

Marianne stood beside her, hands nervously wringing another pair of gloves together. Whereas the sun glared down upon Hilda in full force, it somehow seemed to miss Marianne. As though she were sidestepping the light entirely. She still wore a dress with long sleeves, and long hems, and a high collar. 

“I honestly don’t know how you’re surviving in all that.”

Marianne blinked in confusion. “What?”

Hilda gestured with the gloves towards Marianne’s clothes. “Aren’t you baking?”

Plucking at her long hems, Marianne said, “No.”

Hilda blew a raspberry, and pulled her gloves on. “Lucky you. Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

An empty flower bed stretched along the ground at their feet. It skirted the edges of one of the main pathways between the cabins and the amphitheatre. The flower bed was narrow, but long, extending over a little hill and out of sight. Even looking at it made Hilda’s knees feel tired. 

She and Marianne had hauled a cart from the garden sheds, laden with trowels, liquid fertilizer, seed packets, and enormous quantities of small sprouting flowers. They had since unloaded all the flowers onto the path, ready to be planted over the next few hours. 

Hilda was picking up a trowel, when it suddenly struck her. She rounded on Marianne, excitement lacing her voice. “Hey, you’re a Demeter kid! That means you’re really good with plants and stuff, right?”

“Uhm -”

“Great! You can just -” Hilda wiggled her gloved fingers at the flower bed “- do that nature magic you guys are so good at, while I clean up. And we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t think -”

“Don’t worry,” Hilda said, already gathering up all the gardening supplies so that she could carry them back to the shed. She would make the trip in one go if it killed her. Only cowards had to make two trips. “Nobody will care, so long as everything is planted and growing properly. Besides, this way we can both get out early. Hey! I can take you to the lake for some swimming practice! Doesn’t that sound fun? Let’s do that.”

She didn’t give Marianne a chance to answer. She was already grabbing up the cart’s handle, and hauling it back over to the garden shed. 

The trip took a grand total of ten minutes. Feeling triumphant in her cleverness, Hilda sauntered back down the pathway. She was daydreaming about finally casting that new hair pin design in gold, when she rounded the corner, and froze. 

Marianne was kneeling on the ground. In a great circle around her, the seedlings had been arrayed. When Hilda had left, the plants had been green and bright. Now, the leaves and flowers were all black and wilted, and the earth around them dark as if scorched. Faint curls of smoke drifted through the air from the ground, and the smell was rancid. Like sulfur. 

“What -?” Hilda started to say, but she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Marianne jerked to her feet, brushing off the hems of her dress with trembling hands. Before she could get a good look at Marianne’s face, Hilda turned, and found herself face to face with Mercedes, who looked between the two of them in astonishment. 

“Is everything alright?” Mercedes asked. Her eyes widened when she looked at the flowers at Marianne’s feet. “Goodness! What happened?”

"I -” Marianne’s lower lip trembled. She looked to be on the verge of outright tears.

Before she could say anything, Hilda stepped forward. “It was my fault,” Hilda insisted. “You know how I am. I thought I was spraying liquid fertilizer, but I’d accidentally grabbed that magic weed killer Ashe has been developing out in the sheds.”

With a nod of her head, Mercedes hummed. “Yes, that does sound like it would do the trick.”

“I’m so so sorry, Mercedes,” Hilda continued in her most wide-eyed, contrite tone. She smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless!”

Immediately, Mercedes placed her hands on Hilda’s upper arms, warm and comforting. “Oh, no! Don’t blame yourself! It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“You think so?” Hilda put a breathless quality into her voice to really sell it. There was no need for charmspeak here. It would probably work on Mercedes, but she didn’t need it. 

Mercedes nodded. “Absolutely.” 

“Thank you so much. You really are a life-saver, Mercedes.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Helping is the least I can do.”

There were still the seed packets left over. They had escaped whatever magic that had blighted the area around Marianne. In Mercedes’ capable hands, it took a matter of minutes for the seeds to be scattered and growing all along the flowerbed. Still, a dead patch remained in one section of the flowerbed, where the seeds refused to grow, even beneath the force of Mercedes’ magical gifts. 

“How strange,” Mercedes mused, studying the patch with a quizzical tilt of her head. “The soil in this area feels odd. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

If Marianne’s shoulders could hunch up around her ears any more, then her head would become a part of her chest cavity. 

Hilda tried to distract Mercedes. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “I wish I had powers like that.”

It worked. Mercedes turned her attention away from the flower bed. “Don’t be silly. You have extraordinary powers yourself, Hilda.”

“Oh, no. Not like you, and the others. You’re incredible. Really.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Marianne remained silent. Her eyes were downcast. Something about the late afternoon light made them appear darker. 

It took another five or so minutes to convince Mercedes that they should part ways without carrying around any suspicions. By the end, Mercedes continued on her way towards the amphitheatre with a merry wave of farewell and a promise to more clearly label the experimental weed killer in the garden shed. 

When she had gone over the hill, leaving the two of them alone, Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew!” She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself with its wide brim. “That was lucky. Are you alright?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to do - I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Hilda reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. But before she could touch her, Marianne recoiled. 

“Please, don’t,” Marianne gasped. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She wiped at them with the backs of her hands, and staggered away a step. “Don’t touch me. Don’t -”

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne had already turned tail and was stumbling away. She did not bother to take the path, and instead fled directly across the field. The ground in her wake bore dark blistering marks in the shape of her footprints, as though her every step were bleeding the earth dry. 

Hat in hand, Hilda stared after her. “What,” she muttered, “the fuck?” 

–

NOTES:

The title is a reference to “A Study in Scarlet.” Not that there’s any murder in this story, just to allude that there is a mystery

This AU does not perfectly follow the Percy Jackson world. It just takes some of the main tenants from it. eg/ the Titan Wars are over, and many Titans (such as Seteth) have successfully integrated with the rest. And yes I know that if the Hades cabin is there, I should include the others to make up the full twenty. But I’m lazy.

None of the Percy Jackson characters will be making an appearance. It’s just our FE crew here. 

[anxtheroliveinthehouse]

I saw your requests were open!! Hello!! Can I request a L from death note reader insert (that is if you make up your mind about your feelings on writing them, if you’re not comfortable I completely understand) with a Soulmate AU?

Hello! Thank you for requesting! I’m sorry it took a few days for me to respond but I had finals this week and I was also very ill on the one day I had off ;-; 

I thought since you were the first to request and it is the festive season, I might as well do a reader insert. You requested a really broad scenario so I hope you don’t mind me writing this story as the AU but if it had occurred “before” the events of Death Note and as a first meeting (as I imagine it happening). It also turned out really long because I actually loved writing this. It’s a little angsty as well (again I hope you don’t mind). If you’re down for another part to this story with a bit more fluff, I’m fully ready to write (**types aggressively**). Happy Holidays (★^O^★)

Request: 26) Soulmates AU, Reader insert

Anime: Death Note

Character(s): L

Relationship(s): Reader x L

Words: 3227

It had always been a struggle to the train station after your last class on Thursdays. Whether it was your professor running over time or the slow running elevator and crowded stairwells, there was always something that kept you from leaving the building when you should. Or perhaps, as it was in that moment, a torrential rainstorm darkening the once beautiful day in Tokyo. You didn’t mind the rain, however it seemed to always come at inconvenient times. Especially on the days when you were carrying large amounts of your artwork to and from the university. 

Your large, black portfolio case- large enough to carry poster boards in- was tucked tightly under your arm in hopes that the copious amount of rain wouldn’t soak through. Your assignments, projects, everything of importance to you and for your classes were inside and with the inconvenient rain, you knew you were screwed. For a second, you stood at the entrance to the art building looking lost at the sight before you: obscuring amounts precipitation, wet cement, dripping gutters, deep puddles.  

Of course, you had forgotten your umbrella in your fervor to leave on time that same morning. You didn’t think to check the weather while fighting with your backpack, forcing it to fit all of your supplies. In fact, the only thing extra you left with was a protein bar sticking out between your teeth. Besides, you couldn’t be bothered with carrying on. There was no room in your backpack for a travel-sized one and you didn’t have extra hands to carry everything you need. To even get out the door, you need one hand to close and lock the apartment door and the other to fumble with the ridiculously long case. You certainly couldn’t hold an umbrella while trying to deal with your case, train passes, and eventually keys on your journey back home. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t even think to bring one. You would have spent too much time struggling with it. 

It was only a ten minute walk to the station, and with your light jogging pace you got there sooner. You quickly descended the steps and into shelter from the rain. Surrounding you were the usual for a busy station, people milling about, some running to their desired platforms or destinations, and the walls plastered with advertisements. There were a few that made your stomach knot uncomfortably, even after seeing almost every day for the past year or so. Somehow the message being conveyed wasn’t as happy and cheerful to you as the advertisers were trying to come off as. Get you Soul Mark removed with DermCare Lasers!

You avert your eyes as you pass the smiling men and women in the photos showing off clear skin where presumably their Soul Mark once were. You didn’t understand the purpose of Soul Marks, but you also didn’t understand some people’s obsession with trying to get rid of them. Regardless of the miraculous biological, genetic, statistical, and even religious observation, study and knowledge of Soul Marks, there wasn’t a definite answer to why they existed. Despite being born with a birthmark that you and only one other person in the world carried, it didn’t mean that you weren’t meant to be with them. There were plenty of people who ignored their marks and choose who they wanted to be with. Though, the data clearly showed those who sought for their matches in Soul Marks worked out better in the long run. 

You weren’t sure what to think of yours. The mark was definitely a part of you, so you didn’t want to get rid of it. It was a permanent option to get it removed, and a very painful one at that. However, you also didn’t like the idea of a set destiny or fate. Choice was a very important thing to you. There were a lot of things you couldn’t control in life and your mindset was to make that amount as little as possible. The idea of having no control over who it was you were meant to be with by God, the Universe, or even some mathematical mistake was terrifying, no matter who or what was pulling the strings.

The hand around your case’s straps tightened considerably. You were allowed to be angry, you told yourself. Everyone had a different way of coping with the marks. As kids, people were told to ignore the marks until they were old enough to understand. However, the prevailing and ever present culture was already planting the seeds into kids’ minds swaying them to try and find their matches despite the contrary words of parents and elders. In fact, those same parents and elders were often hypocritical. If a child found their match at an early age, there was a lifelong push for the children to marry once they were old enough, essentially grooming them to only expect everlasting love from oftentimes a stranger. 

Movies, TV shows, and books often presented these scenarios as desirable. You found them creepy. You didn’t understand the appeal of falling head over heels for someone who you wouldn’t think twice about if you hadn’t seen their mark. In fact, it was a common trope in comedies to see one of the characters remark how unattractive someone was only to find out that very same unattractive person was actually their match. Then, all of the sudden the two characters were madly in love and found each other irresistible. Really, how shallow could they be?

It really didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you were going to find your match anyways.

——————————————————————————–

Somewhere in the absolute chaos that was the Tokyo underground, there was an unexpected delay and so your usual line was cancelled. The closest station to your apartment was more walking and an even longer train ride. You kicked the digital sign announcing the cancellation with fury. Immediately, you regretted your decision as pain flared through your foot. Fellow passengers and general onlookers gave you curious, yet disturbed stares and glances as you grabbed your foot and hopped.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

After the pain subsided enough to let your foot down, you gave another glance at the sign and looked beneath it to the map to see what else you could do. There was a line that took you to a more commercial area near where you lived. It was still going to be a longer walk back home, but the train was coming sooner than the others and was a shorter journey. You also reminded yourself that you could visit one of the many cafes in that neighborhood. It sounded like a really good idea once you realized that you could wait out the storm and not have to walk back in the pouring rain. Not to mention a hot beverage to warm you up. So you raced to the platform and hopped aboard, thinking dreamily about what you wanted to order. 

It was on the way up to the cafe, one that sat within a multi-story commercial building, that you noticed a man sitting on the adjacent building’s rooftop in the rain. As you lingered in the landing of the cold, harshly lit, and echoey stairwell, it struck you as bizarre. You stopped to gaze at the man in the rain. Under any other situation, you would have left him be. He obviously didn’t want anyone’s company sitting out in the rain like he was. However, you had a very imaginative mind. It was one of the reasons why you excelled in visual art, but it often ran away with outlandish ideas if you weren’t careful. That was why when you had turned away from the window you saw the man through, you felt a twinge of guilt. What if he needs help? Sick or injured? What if you didn’t help and he died?

You rolled your eyes and huffed. Why were you like this? You turned back around to the door that led to the rooftop and left your portfolio case next to it. You pushed through the door aggressively and made your way over to the man. 

He was tucked into what looked like a very uncomfortable position. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his hands cupped them neatly, and his back bowed against the concrete wall that served as a base for the fence that surrounded the rooftop. Through the rain that fell into your eyes and the wind that whipped your hair around so high up, you studied him. 

You watched as his eyes adjusted to your feet in front of him. Slowly, they worked their way up to your face. He looked small and empty. His dark eyes showed no expression, his mouth neutral, and his shoulders while hunched didn’t really seem tight with stress. He looked completely okay to you health-wise. Maybe it was his mental health that needed to be checked out.

“Can I help you?” He asked in a quiet and impassive voice.

“I was wondering why you were sitting in the rain?”

He paused for a moment, those dark eyes still burning a hole in you and his equally dark hair plastered around his thin, pale face. He then tilted his head up towards the sky. His eyes flitted shut with the harsh oncoming drops.

“Oh, I hadn’t even noticed.”

Your mouth twisted involuntarily with a lot of different emotions. Confusion and unsettled were the two that seemed to stick out the most.

“Okay, so … Do you need anything?” You asked still trying to be polite.

His mouth opened as if he were about to answer, but he snapped it shut after further consideration. His gaze fell back to your feet and became unfocused.

“No, I don’t believe there is anything pressing that I need at the moment.”

The rain seemed much louder than it had before. The constant drumming was deafening once the man finished his sentence. Your apprehensiveness continued to grow. The urge to take slow steps back to the door was strong, but for whatever reason you fought against it.

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t look up to you and his blank expression never wavered. “Yes, I’m sure.”

You crouched down to his level and matched his stare. Your eyes caught his and at once the world seemed to stop. Something about him made it seem like you and him both had all the time in the world to be sitting there in the rain. It was something about his eyes, you thought. They were too dark and the bags under them were too deep, especially since you guessed he was around your age. Yet, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he had seen and experienced a lot more than you had. 

You hold your knees like he did. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

His demeanor changed considerably. It went from cold and robotic to something akin to amusement. His eyes lit up as his attention had been fully won over by something you did. His expression was much like a cat that had set its sights on its prey. You recoiled from its intensity.

“Worried for a stranger, are you?” His mouth opened into a smile. “Very friendly, indeed.”

You felt like you needed to defend yourself, “I was only trying to be nice.”

He hummed in consideration, “Perhaps, but I don’t accept that people are just nice. So if you would let me humor myself, could I try to understand your motivation for coming out here?”

You weren’t sure how to respond to his question, but he began speaking again without an answer.

“I’ll describe the situation from your point of view. If you could, correct me if I’m wrong. A man on the rooftop all alone in the pouring rain. You see him and come rushing to his aid in case he was in need of your help? Because perhaps he was hurt in some manner?”

“Well, yeah?”

He chuckled breathily and brought the tip of his thumb to his lips, “What did you expect in return for helping me?”

“What?”

“You saw a benefit in helping me, what was that benefit?”

“That I get to help another human being?” Your voice was starting to get louder and more tense. “Here, come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee at the cafe next door.”

His eyes followed your hand which was outstretched towards him. He was thinking, you could see it somewhat now that he was biting the tip of his thumb. It must have been a habit of his.

Your eyes met his again as he accepted your offer tentatively. 

“Friendly, indeed.” He repeated.

When you both stood up, you took in his statue. He was a little taller than you, perhaps more so if he weren’t slouching as much. His shoulders upon further inspection may have been slouched in a way that looked like he was tense. It looked like he was carrying a heavy burden, stupidly reminding you of the ancient Greek story of Atlas, the titan who held up the sky and heavens. However, no sooner than that unnecessary though filled your head, a sudden and heavy weight suddenly crashed upon you as if you had taken over Atlas’ job.

Once that odd man stood and his white long-sleeved shirt was exposed, you could see clearly through the wet material. On his chest was his Soul Mark clear as day. It was very pigmented against his pale skin and stood out even more so with the shirt. You would have maybe looked away if it were anyone else with any other mark. Yet, with your awful luck and this goddamn inconvenient rain, you could clearly see that his mark was the exact same as yours. There was no mistaking it. You’ve spent your whole life staring at your mark, unhappy that it was there, but too used to it to get rid of it. Sometimes you wished you were born without one. Then, you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of a chance encounter like this one.

You must have not moved for a long time. He caught you glaring at his mark and glanced down as well. His hand touched the wet shirt, the tips of his fingers dragging over the mark.

“Do you recognize it?” He asked, his voice much softer than before.

You couldn’t lie to him. Your head bobbed unevenly with your jerky nodding, “It’s my match.”

This took him by surprise. His usual wide-eyed stare was wider and curious. 

“Interesting,” he murmured, “The probability of meeting you was already slim to none, and considering who I am and what I do …”

Your stomach sank even further. What he was saying sounded like he was probably a serial killer or something.

“Let’s go inside, to the cafe?” He bent down to level his face with yours before walking towards the door. 

You dumbly followed, still in shock and really unable to comprehend anything other than your impending doom. It was like everything had narrowed down to a single point in your life, where meeting your match was not merely a coincidence, but a certainty. As much as you tried to struggle against fate and pull away from losing control something so personal as finding your soulmate, it hadn’t really mattered in the end. You still ended up in the most ironic of circumstances, finding the very person who shared the exact same birthmark in a very uncharacteristic move. You thought sarcastically that you shouldn’t help anyone else out of the kindness of your heart ever again.

The door shut heavily behind them in finality. The sound echoed up and down the stairwell. Then, there was an eerie silence. No more rain in the background to blanket and surround you.

You pushed your dripping hair out of your face and locked eyes with him again. “What’s your name?”

You might as well ask. The thing you have been fretting over and having anxiety about was now happening. You had lost the will to care about panicking and being overly blunt.

He looked uncomfortable, “I go by L.”

“L?” Your head fell with disbelief. “Like the letter?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe that’s your real name.”

“It isn’t my real name, no. I just happen to go by it, like a nickname, or an alias.”

You considered him for a moment, “Why?”

“My work.” L tucked his hands in the pockets of jeans. “It’s quite dangerous. I don’t like others knowing my personal information. Of course, you can find a lot about someone with just a name and description of appearance.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a detective. A private detective would probably be a better title, though I often find cases to study and solve without an initial client.”

You looked him up and down again, “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” He countered.

“I’m in university, third year.”

“I’m a little younger than you, a year or so. Depending on your age, you could be young for a third year?”

“I am.” 

L had that weird, open-mouthed smile again. “What’s your name, then? Since we’re going to be playing twenty questions?”

You couldn’t help but grin at his sarcastic tone. “My name is [YN].”

“Well, [YN], I’m afraid I can’t accept your offer for coffee.”

You had completely forgotten about what you had said to get L out of the rain. You had gone through a complete cycle of emotions since then and couldn’t be bothered to remember.

“I don’t mind,” You say, “It doesn’t hurt my feelings at all.”

He cocked his head and studied you for a brief moment, “I’m glad to have met you. Regardless of the strange circumstances.”

You felt sick once more, but there was a bit of relief in realizing that L was not what you had expected and he certainly didn’t expect some heartfelt gestures from finding his match.

“I’d like to keep in touch.” L said fumbling around his back pocket, looking for something. “After all, I wouldn’t mind having an artist around.”

“How did you-?”

No sooner than you had uttered those words his eyes dropped to your portfolio case then back up to you. You felt a flush rising in your cheeks and ears. Your portfolio case had your name on it, of course he would have assumed it belonged to you.

“So you’re an artist.” L said. “I’d thought initially you were an architect and that was based on your clothing. However, with more deduction, I was only thirty-seven percent sure.”

“My clothing,” you said jokingly angry, “What about my clothing?”

“Never mind that. You’re case distracted me. It’s quite large. I had thought you were carrying designs for equally large projects.”

“Wow, thanks for noticing my large portfolio case.”

L’s smile grew larger, “I must take my leave. I will keep in touch.”

He began to descend the stairs in an unhurried manner. As reached the first landing, a cell phone went off and you saw, before L turned the corner, that it had been his.

“Hello? Yes, Watari. I’m on my way down, I’ll be out there soon …”

You stopped listening as you knees wobbled under your weight. You fell against the stairs and curled up into a ball. What the hell just happened?

[spring-emerald]

my boo!

“I’m really sorry for the short notice, Daichi-san!” Yachi exclaims, bowing deeply repeatedly that Daichi’s worried that she might break her spine or her neck.

“It’s alright, Yachi! Don’t worry. It’s really fine!” He says with placating hands even though she can’t see, just to make her stop.

It’s supposed to be his day off from work, but he received a panicked call from Yachi about needing a person to stand-in because one of the new workers who’s supposed to start tonight can’t make it due to an unexpected injury. She sounds like she’s near tears and so stressed about the whole ordeal that Daichi doesn’t have the heart to reject her even though he’d just settled down on his couch. And so he’s here, at the Horror Village, awaiting instructions and his turn for make-up. He saw the line of people outside and knew that this night is going to be a long one, but well, more people to scare, the merrier, he guesses.

The Horror Village is newest main attraction in the block. It’s different in that instead of being an abandoned building made into a haunted hospital or mansion, the whole compound is made to look like an ancient, abandoned village, with rows of low, rundown houses with dilapidated roofs, broken windows and eerily hanging flags that flap along the gust of wind. There’s a man-made but non-operational well in the middle, the bucket lying on the ground beside it, and an abandoned shrine and a ‘castle’ with dark, twisting hallways. Despite the eeriness of the place, the attraction was a hit among the teenagers and people who’re looking for a safe place to get a good scare. And seeing as it’s the Halloween season, the number of visitors has since then doubled.

“Hello, Sawamura,” Hana greets him, standing behind him. He returns her greeting through the mirror.

“Saeko-san is also absent for today?” He asked. Saeko’s usually the one who helps him as she’s the one assigned to do the complicated make-up of the Bloody Samurai, the role that Daichi usually plays.

“No, she’s in the backroom, doing Azumane’s make-up. He’s the samurai for tonight.”

“Ah, right. Then…”

“Oh no. Yachi forgot to tell you, didn’t she?”

“Forgot what?”

As it turns out, they need a person to stand in for the Mangled Maiden. Yachi proceeds to have another bowing bout because of it, but luckily, Daichi was quick to dispel it this time. He doesn’t mind playing a different role, and he’s quite excited to be honest. As Bloody Samurai, he usually roams around the grounds, screaming as he lash his blood-rusted sword, looking for revenge to the person who killed his love. A role which leaves him very tired after his shift. But as the Mangled Maiden, the love of the samurai, he just has to wait for the poor unfortunate soul to roam around the castle and find their way to the room, where as their story suggests, the maiden was brutally deflowered and killed the night before her wedding by another samurai- a jealous, blood-thirsty admirer.

So yeah, anyway. He won’t be too tired this time, he hopes.

He thinks he would have fun creeping around people, shocking them with his bloody presence. Though he isn’t sure how he’s going to be effective as a maiden, because while the long-black wig that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush since forever hides his short cropped hair, and Hana was able to contour his face to make it look smaller even while caked with white foundation, there’s only so much they can do to hide his broad shoulders under the blood-spattered white yukata. And he won’t be even able to scream their ears off, as what the Mangled Maiden is known for, because he can’t recreate the high-pitched wail that his female colleagues have perfected into an art form.

Hana did suggest though that maybe he can whisper instead, a broken, choked ‘help me’, and Daichi actually liked the suggestion that he practiced until he’s satisfied with the sound that comes out, while on his way to his designated station.

The buzzer sounds and the red bulb in rooms with people on them lights up signals the beginning of the night at the Horror Village.

-----

It turns out, being the Mangled Maiden, while not tiring, is completely boring. Okay, maybe he’s being a little harsh with the assessment, seeing the maze castle is the last place that people will go through before they can reach the exit, but waiting for the people to arrive, while the sounds of their screaming are echoing around the compound left Daichi wanting to get into the action.

Finally, just as he starts feeling sleepy, he hears footsteps, then a thud from the hallway, which means that they’re getting closer. Though it should be a few more minutes until the first person or first group of people arrive here, but nevertheless, he positions himself on the ripped futon, leans against the bloody sliding door, looking every inch like the murdered ghost he should be, flicks the switch of the lantern off and waits

There’s little light coming from the lanterns on the hallway and the opposite wall and he watches from the corner of his eye as the person, a tall guy, enters the room hesitantly and looks around it.

The room is meant to lure people in and give them a false sense of security because it’s well-lighted as compared to the rest of the rooms in the castle, but then, just as the people think they could breathe, the lanterns will die, drowning the room in complete darkness and lets them stew in their panic for a few moments until the lantern near the maiden flickers open and that’s when the scare jump will happen.

At least, that’s how Daichi saw it. And that’s what happened, actually. Honest. He whispered repeatedly, while he stands up and takes a step, eyes already adjusting to the darkness and he can see the outline of the person slowly turning to find the source of the sound and once he’s fully turned to Daichi, he presses the switch on and light floods the room, allowing the person to see the bloody reality of his state.

“Help me.” Daichi whispers, knowing he also has the glazed eyes going on because he can feel it, but the reaction he was expecting is not the one he gets.

There’s surprise, there’s clearly that. But there’s no screaming in terror or for Mommy or any profanities. No jumping in the air or flinching because of the scare. No flailing or falling on their butts and scrambling pathetically to slide away from him.

The guy is looking at him surprised, but only because he’s like a mushroom that popped out of nowhere.

And then he laughs.

Daichi immediately feels embarrassed, the shame burns right through his being and he can feel his face heat up. He takes pride in his work, does his best and while it may sound sadistic, finds pleasure when he’s able to scare people out of their wits. Because hey, this is what they came in here for, right? So if they’re not scared then that just means that he’s not doing his job well. And while he knows that some people would be made of sturdier stuff, they would still get surprised by something, one way or another. But this? Well, this is just shameful.

He hides behind his wig and starts retreating back to the futon but the guy was quick to catch his wrist and stop him from leaving.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, a trace of amusement on his voice. Daichi, still embarrassed, can only nod.

Daichi wants him to go and be on his merry way now, but the guy doesn’t let go of his wrist and it makes Daichi look up at him, only to find that he is also looking down on him as well.

“Can I join you?” he asks, gesturing to the futon behind Daichi.

Daichi can only blink up at him. “…What?” he asks, breaking character. The guy chuckles lightly.

“I got separated from my group and I don’t know where they are, so might was well just wait for them here. I mean, if that’s alright?” He grins sheepishly. Before Daichi can say that he’s not sure that’s a good idea since if he’s found his way here the other visitors eventually would too, the guy already side steps him and flops down on the futon.

“Hey, come here,” he says, patting the space beside him. “You must be tired, right?”

This guy is so weird, Daichi can’t help but think. He shakes his head and is about to switch the lanterns on the hallway leading to the room on again but decides against it. “Uhm, visitors can’t stay here for long. You’re almost near the exit.” You can rest outside if you’re really tired goes unsaid but the message was clear.

“Yeah. I know… but the thing is, if my friends find out that I got out before them, they’re going to say that I probably ran around like a headless chicken waiting to escape and that’s not even how things happened.” The guys shrugs.

“But…”

“Please? I’ll be really quiet. And I’ll leave if we hear people coming.” He puts a hand on his chest while the other is raised in a swearing position. Daichi looks at the dark hallway beside him and listens as the visitors outside keep on screaming and figures that they’re still a long way from here so he might as well. Having company is better than trying to stop himself from falling asleep. He sits down on the space beside the guy, noting the delighted grin he gives him as he did so, and fixes his yukata and wig.

“My name’s Kuroo Tetsurou, by the way,” Kuroo offers a hand to Daichi. “What’s yours? I mean, pretty sure it’s not Mangled Maiden since you’re neither mangled nor a maiden.”

Daichi raises an eyebrow at the audacity of this man. Smartass. Rambler too. He’s lucky he’s cute. A little. Not that Daichi’s going to say that to his face. “It’s not. It’s Sawamura Daichi.” He takes the hand and shakes it hard adding in a squeeze to convey his annoyance. No one up-ones him, not in his territory. He still haven’t forgotten how Kuroo laughed at him.

“So,” Daichi starts, sitting straight because he’s proud that he got Kuroo massaging his hand after he let go of it. “If you didn’t run around like a headless chicken waiting to escape, how did you get here so fast?”

“Uhm, I walked? Well, I’m not easy to scare so I went through every room like a breeze. Until I got here.”

Daichi gives him an unimpressed stare, all complete with a fake blood running down his eyes. “People like you shouldn’t be allowed to enter here. You’re going to put us out of business,” he grumbles. Kuroo chuckles again.

“Yeah, sorry about that. But for what it’s worth, this place is creepy. Like, the design is downright scary and detailed. I would know, I lived in a traditional house my entire childhood. And the backstories for the ghosts you have here are good. Like, it’s possible these characters are real people who lived then, and that’s actually scary to think, that their souls could still be roaming around because they still haven’t found peace.”

“You’re awfully talkative for a stranger,” Daichi can’t help but remark.

Kuroo rubs the back of his neck. “Am I? Sorry. I get like that when I’m nervous.”

Daichi frowns lightly at him. Nervous? This, coming from a guy that said he breezed through the houses and rooms of the horror village, who’s sitting in almost darkness with a horror character and still looks the picture of complete nonchalance? “What do you have to be nervous about?”

“I’m talking to a cute guy and I just don’t want to mess this up, you know?” Kuroo says with a shrug, though he’s unable to meet Daichi’s eyes now.

It takes a while for Daichi to register what Kuroo said. And when he did, his blush comes back full force but for an entirely different reason. He’s so glad that it’s dim and that his face is covered in a thick layer of make-up. He couldn’t hide the squeak that came out of him in an attempt to cough his surprise. “W-what?”

“…Yeah.”

“…I’m wearing a wig and make-up. This is not what I look like.”  

“I know. But it was still love at first fright.”

Daichi has no business getting giddy about it because it was completely lame, truly it was, and he tried, really tried, he even pursed his lips, mashing them and feeling the creamy consistency of the lipstick he’s wearing, but he finds himself grinning wide, the fake blood trickling from the side of his mouth cracks a little and goodness why does he like the hopeless ones?

He’s about to reply but then he hears footsteps coming. “Get out,” he whispers, bolting up and lifts Kuroo from the futon and pushes him out.

“Oh shoot, it’s that bad? I’m sorry-”

“People are coming, you need to get out.” With the presence of mind that didn’t turn into mush at Kuroo’s lame line, he switches the lanterns outside on and the one nearby, off.

“Oh. Oh, I thought- Wha-” Kuroo stops when Daichi pulls at his wrist looks at his watch, thankfully, he’s wearing his glow-in the dark one.

“My shift ends at 8,” Daichi says in a haste. “Let’s see if you’ll still be frightened of my face.”

[wooleeza]

Code: Realize High School AU. Victor Frankenstein is a transfer student from Switzerland, and Headmaster Saint Germain pairs him up with the school's star shooter, Abraham Van Helsing, who needs to gain credits for social service in order to qualify for a scholarship to university. They begin an awkward friendship, but it is not long before Van realises that his feelings go beyond platonic for his new friend who has brought light into his life. How will the oblivious Victor react?

Please note that this is a slash pairing of Van with Fran (i.e. M/M) and will have mature content at the end of this tale, so please only read if it is your cup of tea. No copyright infringements are intended and I make no money from this. I'm merely playing in the lovely sandbox these otome game characters have inspired. Please request permission if you would like to translate or repost this story on other platforms. Feedback is much appreciated! Thank you for your support!

Cover design by hikari011 ❤️ Thank you for the lovely art and ideas which made this story possible.

Code Realize AU - Chiaroscuro - Chapter 1: At Your Acquaintance 

Chapter Summary: Van meets Victor

It had begun to drizzle, and Abraham Van Helsing, aged 17, glanced up at the sky in irritation. Rainy weather meant inconveniences to his clay shooting practice later, and besides the added burden of cleaning and drying out his beloved handcrafted wooden shotgun, the humidity would make his glasses fog up. If the rain came down hard and fast, it would be hard to watch for hits and misses. More to protect his gear from the rain rather than himself, he unfolded the portable umbrella that he was carrying.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a tall and slender boy carrying a stack of books in his arms. He was hunched over the books, seemingly more concerned about protecting them instead of himself from the elements. His jacket, which looked at once both too large and too short on him, had been pulled forwards to shield his precious cargo.

Rolling his eyes, Van Helsing stepped forward and held out his deployed umbrella. “Here,” he said brusquely, and the other boy jumped probably a foot into the air before looking at him with a startled expression.

Large green eyes rimmed by long eyelashes stared at him past oversized, rimless, rain-speckled glasses, then shifted their gaze to the fabric case that he was carrying on his back. The boy shook his head frantically, sending his copper-brown hair into a fluffy, dishevelled cloud. “It’s a short walk back,” he said, his voice musical, soft and lilting. “Thank you!” Then he was off at a fast trot, slowing down shortly after as if to catch his breath, before disappearing around the corner.

“Hmmm.” Van Helsing stood there awkwardly with his proffered umbrella still extended outwards. The boy had an unusual accent and he wondered where he was from. Shrugging, he righted the umbrella back over himself, then continued on his way.

***

The rain escalated, and just as Van Helsing had predicted, the downpour made it hard to see his hits and misses, and his shotgun was now wet from the rain. He would have to wipe it down as much as he could and dry it out for at least a day, then polish the surface so that it would gleam again. It had been a gift from his late father to him, and he would keep it as well-maintained as he could.

“Nice shooting today, Abraham,” said Jimmy Aleister, the coach of the shooting club. “If you keep up this standard, you’ll be representing the district in no time.”

“Hmmm,” came the non-committal reply, and Aleister sighed. Abraham Van Helsing was his star performer in both pistol and shotgun, but his personality had always been rather prickly. The boy was antisocial to a fault, which reminded him…

“I want to put your name in for a regional competition,” he began carefully, “so I contacted your headmaster. He agreed with me that there is great potential for you, and that this could gain you a free ride to and through university, but there is one area you need to work on first.” He paused, wondering how to phrase the next part, but eventually settled for the direct approach, for it was the best way to deal with Abraham. “He said you need to fulfil the social service aspect first, so he told me to tell you to approach him after your lessons tomorrow.”

“Hmmm,” grunted his star gunner again, and Aleister fought the urge to throttle the stubbornness out of this brooding teenager. “Do consider it, Abraham. A free education stands before you if you do well there. It isn’t something that just anyone can get. You’ll lessen the burden on your family out there on the East End, and you know they gave up so much just so you could study in Central London instead.”

The blond boy was quiet as he began cleaning the drops of water off his shotgun. Finally, his reply came, soft and curt, but betraying the slight Cockney accent he was always embarrassed about nonetheless. “I’ll think about it.”

***

The next day, Van Helsing stood outside the door of his headmaster’s office after he was done with lessons for the day, and upon knocking, was bidden to enter. He was surprised to see the copper-haired boy from the previous day already seated inside. The latter’s jade-green eyes also widened upon his entry.

“Ah, Abraham! You arrived at just the right time. Are you here to talk to me about the social service fulfilment?” Headmaster Saint-Germain said pleasantly. The headmaster was a well-spoken individual, more compelling than strict, and he was not an easy man to handle, so nobody dared to cross him when they could help it. Van Helsing generally tried to fly beneath his radar, but his reputation as the school’s star shooter preceded him, so encounters were inevitable. He nodded wordlessly – the Headmaster knew his more reticent ways.

Saint-Germain gestured to the empty seat beside the copper-haired boy, and Van Helsing took it. “This is Victor Frankenstein,” he said, indicating the former. “He is a transfer student from Switzerland, and he will be with us at least until the end of this year. Victor, this is Abraham Van Helsing. He’s one of our stars on our shooting team.”

Now that the pleasantries were out of the way, Saint-Germain could finally get down to his real objective for summoning the two of them.

“Abraham, your coach Jimmy contacted me about the possibility of signing you up for the regionals. It will be a great step forward for you, and a scholarship is all but guaranteed if you do well. Even qualifying for it alone can boost your shooting standing, but if you want that scholarship, there is a criterion which you have failed to meet so far where social service is concerned,” he said. “You must have at least 40 hours of social service rendered each year, and according to my records, you seem to have sorely neglected this aspect in favour of your training. You only have 3 hours of that so far, and there are only two months left to the regionals.”

He flicked his intense blue gaze over to Frankenstein, who was fiddling nervously with his hands in the other chair and darting anxious glances at the blond youth beside him. “And that’s where Victor comes in. Our young friend here joined us just this Monday, and he needs help in catching up with our curriculum. He’s got the knowledge, mind you, but he’s facing some issues because all of our subjects are not in his native language. In particular, he’s having difficulties with the English assignment he’s received from Mr Lupin.” The blue eyes turned back to Van Helsing. “It will be a win-win situation if you can tutor him, Abraham. I’ll count the hours towards your social service requirement, and Victor here will receive the support he’ll need to integrate into our system. What do you think?”

Van Helsing sat there, absorbing the barrage of information that had been launched at him. He hadn’t been keen on social service to begin with, because it involved interacting with people and that was the least of his strengths – he didn’t like either of his last experiences at the elderly home or the orphanage because the residents had mocked his Cockney accent, and so he had just given up. He had no idea what Frankenstein would be like, but the boy had been nothing but pleasant so far and given that it was just one person, he could always distance himself from him after the stint was over if it turned out that they did not get along. He could tolerate his presence for a while at least. “I’m fine if he is,” he answered.

Saint-Germain smiled and turned back to Frankenstein. “And you?” he asked benevolently, receiving a tentative nod in return. He clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Well, it’s settled then. Why don’t the two of you head on out to compare your schedules? I’m sure Victor will be available most afternoons since he has yet to join any of our clubs or activities. I’m certain that you can both work something out.”

“Thank you, Mr. Saint-Germain,” said Victor as he rose from his seat and bowed. As for Van Helsing, he was more than glad to be out of the headmaster’s office, so he gave a terse bow before beating a hasty retreat. The headmaster watched them go with a benign smile curving his lips. Abraham Van Helsing, talented as he was, had been too much of a loner ever since he entered his school, and most of his peers were terrified of his taciturn ways. A non-judgmental stranger as sweet-natured as Victor Frankenstein might just be the first real friend that he would finally make.

Continue reading the other chapters on: Wattpad - https://my.w.tt/dozBfLjTZ4  Archive of Our Own - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23127223/chapters/55339897

[mikey-girl12-archive]

Our spot

words:1033

warnings: death, marriage,

characters: Patton, Roman, 

-----------------

Patton needed to escape, it was too much. His tutors were putting so much pressure on him that he just had to get away. Walking towards the throne room he entered silently, moving along the wall to his mother. She smiled at him moving to stand by the 8-year-old.

  "Hey Pat, hows my boy?” she looked down at him. He smiled, the fact that his mother had left the meeting to talk to him made him feel slightly better already.

  “I'm okay, mother. I would like to take a walk. Are there any knights available?” The boy knew he wouldn't be allowed to leave the castle alone. His mother pursed her lips, looking around the room. Every knight was in the meeting. Her eyes landed on the young knight in training in the corner. Holding her finger to signal she needed a minute she walked to her husband. She whispered to him, causing him to look at her then look across the room. After a minute he nodded, smiling at his son over her shoulder. His mother returned and grabbed his hand.

   “All the knights are busy, but we have a knight in training around your age. It'll give you the break you need and him the practice he needs.” suddenly she stopped kneeling in front of her son.

   “Are you okay with not having an adult with you?” Patton nodded, he preferred not to have adults with him. Smiling, his mother stood again, taking his hand.

   “Roman? Could you come here?” the young knight stood to attention at the sound of the queen's voice.

   “Good evening, Your Highness.” he bowed. She smiled, fluffing his hair.

   “We have an assignment for you. This is Prince Patton.” she moved to the side to let Roman see him. “He wants to go for a walk but needs a guardian to go with him. That's you.” Romans eyes lit up.

  “Make sure he is safe, and call if you need us okay?” they both nodded. Smiling at the young boys, the queen watched as the duo left the room before returning to her seat.

-------------------

  “So, Prince Patton, is there somewhere you would like to go?” Roman asked, looking at the future ruler of his kingdom. The other boy shook his head. Roman nodded walking along in silence for a minute before he got an idea.

  “I know a place in the woods! It's a clearing that not a lot of people know about. You could relax there.” Roman suggested. Patton nodded, following the beaming boy. Patton was shocked as they entered the clearing. It was rather large and spacious, there were flowers of every color. Patton stepes forward spinning around to take it in. finally, he stopped and stared at the knight in training.

  “Can we be friends?”

-------------------------------

  Patton didn't have many friends, it was hard to have any with all of his lessons and the fact that he couldn't leave the castle. So he quickly became close to Roman. They grew up together. Roman trained Patton in the art of the sword, and Patton got his tutors to let Roman join him in his lessons. And every week on Saturday they slipped away to the clearing. It saw every important moment in their lives. Heartbreaks and sorrow, happiness and rejoice. It became their spot.

-----------------------------

  They laid there, staring up at the clouds. Pointing out shapes only they could see. Eventually, Patton sighed turning to face his best friend.

  “Ro, do you think I'll ever find love? Or will I end up marrying for the good of the kingdom?” Roman looked at his friend.

  “You’ll find love, Pat. everybody finds love eventually. Some just find it before others. And your parents love you too much to force you to marry.” he looked back to the sky.

  “What about you?” Patton returned his eyes to the sky as well.

  “I've already found love.” Roman whispered, silently smiling. Confused Patton turned to look at his friend.

  “Who?” his heart was beating fast, hope flooding his veins.

  “You.”

-------------------------------

   “Pat! Come on, Patton! I know you're here!” Roman called from the edge of the meadow. He heard a rustle and looked up. Patton was perched on a branch not far up in the tree. He was looking ahead of him, tears trailing down his face. Roman moved to the trunk and pulled himself up into the tree. Sitting in front of Patton, he gripped the branch. Patton looked at him then looked away.

  “I'm not ready to be king, Ro,” he whispered, the tears coming faster. Roman reached one hand out and wiped away the tears. He smiled a small, watery smile at his boyfriend.

  “It'll be okay, Pat. You're not alone, we're all here for you. I'm here for you.” he grabbed Patton's hand.

  “Your mother and father would be proud of you. And you'll be a great king okay? Your people love you.” finally Patton smiled, a soft smile.

  “I miss her, Ro.” moving closer, Roman wrapped his arms around Patton. Both quickly losing balance, slipping off the branch. Roman twisted around, locking his arms around Patton. Both hit the ground with a soft thud, before looking each other in the face and laughing. Patton smiled, laying his head on Romans chest. They stayed like that until well into the night.

-------------------------------

  Patton sighed turning to look at the man beside him.

 “Can we stay like this forever? Just you and me alone in this forest?” he looked back to the sky. Roman smiled looking over at his boyfriend, then down at their intertwined hands.

 “No, but we can be together forever.” Patton pulled his eyebrows together in confusion as Roman pulled his hand away from his. Turning his head he saw Roman kneeling and gasped sitting up.

  “Marry me?” The words caused tears to spring to Patton's eyes. He nodded slowly before he let out a sob and flung himself into his boyfriend's arms. Roman smiled catching his fiance. Pulling back he slipped the ring on the king's finger. It was a simple, silver band with two heart-shaped stones next to each other. One red and one blue.

 “Just you and me, forever.”

[danyka-fendyr]

Scar Tissue Chapter 2: Dynamic Du-OH- A Sudden Realization

A/N: I’m posting this without editing because I hate myself. I will eventually come back and fix my many sins. Tagging @writingtheworks the works again. Do I think that Bruce Wayne invites his butler to family dinners? Yes, yes I do, and Gotham’s snooty societal standards can’t stop me or him. Take that you elitists. Rorie was exhausted. You really couldn’t blame her. She’d been listening to Jason monologue Romeo and Juliet repeatedly for about an hour now. She loved her best friend, but she was ready to stab Shakespeare. She understood this was his masterpiece, but did he have to do this to her?

“Jay, I promise you, you will get the part. The first 5 times, heck, the first 10 times, this was the most beautiful performance I had ever seen in my life,” I told him.

Jason broke character, collapsing out of a dramatic pose, arm extended, head held up, looking to an imaginary balcony.

“You cried the first time,” he said, grinning.

Rorie had never seen someone so pleased over her tears. ...Well, okay, that wasn’t necessarily completely true, but she’d fought the Joker, alright? He was pretty sick, and not in the good way.

“Yes, because it was amazing. We’ve been over this. You are amazing,” she said.

Jason blushed under the praise, his neck, cheeks and ears tinting pink. When Jason blushed, he blushed with his whole head. It was sort of cute. Or at least, Rorie assumed it would be cute if you were like, into that kind of stuff. Rorie, of course, was not.

“Anyway, you should try to get some sleep. We have patrol tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t want to look burned out for your audition. It’s no good having a Romeo who looks sleep deprived,” Rorie tried to reason with him.

“What if he’s sleep deprived because he’s been up all night thinking about his Juliet, and how she refuses to audition, despite Alfred’s best efforts,” Jason teased.

“And you. Don’t forget you,” Rorie sighed. 

Alfred and Jason hadn’t gotten off her back about this since they first started holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet. Rorie refused on the principle that the characters made a long series of stupid decisions ending in a tragedy that could have been completely avoidable. Jason had countered with the fact that he had caught her reading it out loud, rather passionately, mind you, when they had been assigned the story for English class. It wasn’t Rorie’s fault that the story was still emotionally compelling, despite entirely lacking logic. Juliet admittedly had some pretty lines.

“This is too cliché. Why couldn’t the school play be something prettier, like Wuthering Heights?” Rorie objected.

“Your obsession with Wuthering Heights will never end, will it?” Jason asked.

“The writing is beautiful Jason!” Rorie cried, more passionate even then when she was playing the part of Juliet.

“Maybe if you get the lead role this year they’ll choose it next year. You could get friendly with the Mrs. Dowly, convince her it would be a good idea.” Jason carefully dangled the carrot in front of his prey’s face.

There was a pregnant pause while Rorie considered.

“You really think so?” she questioned, shooting him an uncertain, slightly untrusting look.

Jason nodded, his enthusiasm making the gesture comical so that he resembled a bobble-head. “Absolutely! Mrs. Dowly always considers how her leads feel.” 

Jason would know. He was the theater teacher’s pet, and had been the lead many, many times. All the other theater nerds were jealous of him, if they didn’t absolutely hero worship him (something Rorie found ironically humorous, considering their nightlife).

Rorie sighed, the sound deeply resigned. In contrast, Jason whooped.

“I will only be auditioning,” she warned him.

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“You will in no way try to convince Mrs. Dowly to show me any kind of special favor.”

“Of course not.” More bobble-headedness, this time a vigorous shake, like he was a wet dog.

“If I do, by some miracle, get the part, you will not gloat, tell me you knew it, or anything of the sort.”

At this, Jason pouted. Rorie glared.

“Can’t I be proud?” He gave her the puppy dog eyes.

He gave her the puppy dog eyes. Jason knew she couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. A little pride. But none while we’re in school!” Rorie caved.

“Yay!” Jason chirped, wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers by her side.

Rorie pouted, and Jason celebrated. It was at this moment that Bruce walked in, Alfred following closely behind with a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” There was a tone of deep, rich amusement to Bruce’s voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in what was usually about as close as he came to a smile (unless he was playing the role of ‘Brucie Wayne’).

“Rorie’s going to audition for the school play!” Jason cheered.

“With conditions!” Rorie added, seeing the look of excited shock on Alfred’s face and the knowing approval on Bruce’s.

“Well, miss, I suppose we’ll have to get you in shape!” Alfred declared.

“Oh no.”

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Wonderful, miss! The way you sigh it out is beautiful. Very wistful. Now if you could just make it a little bit less breathy,” Alfred instructed.

Rorie puffed a sigh, and Jason tried not to laugh at her. She looked frustrated. Not as frustrated as she could be, since she wasn’t doing math, but her hair was messy and her posture slumped, face red from trying to hold back an oncoming temper tantrum. Alfred had this tendency to sometimes work out the details a little too much when it came to Shakespeare, or really any kind of play or production. He was a man of the theater indeed. 

Jason decided Rorie might need a rescue.

“Maybe I could work with her for a bit Alfred. You could take a break, maybe make some snacks?” he suggested, knowing Alfred would never leave drama without a specific task and purpose.

“Cookies?” Rorie asked, a forlorn hope swimming in her eyes.

“Ah! Of course! You lot do look as though you could use something to munch on. It will raise the spirits!” Alfred clapped his hands, looking as invigorated as he always did when he was allowed within range of fine art. “I’ll prepare some fruit, and perhaps some cookies if I feel it is warranted.”

By that Jason was pretty sure Alfred meant that Rorie ate too many cookies and that she was going to get cavities. He was trying to be nice right now though, since it was obvious that Rorie was seriously considering dropping out of the school play.When she got the part, the entire household had been elated. Well, Jason and Alfred had been elated, and Bruce had been smugly pleased. Emphasis on smug. That was his adopted daughter, after all.Jason was pretty sure that if ‘Brucie Wayne’ wasn’t supposed to be keeping up his eligible bachelor status, Bruce would have posted his pride all over ever social media platform he knew how to work. Jason’s phone pinged, and he checked his notifications.

Scratch that. Bruce wasn’t able to keep it in anymore now that he had not one, but two children in theater. He had just made the dorkiest post Jason had ever seen in his life on Twitter. 

“So proud of @jtodd and @roreo for scoring roles in the school play! I look forward to seeing them play Romeo and Juliet, respectively. If you have the time, come down to @gothamacademy and watch. #Illbesittingfrontrow”

Jason hoped none of the other kids at school saw that. Jason knew every one of the other kids at school had seen that, even the ones who weren’t theater geeks. Jason was pretty sure any kind of a reputation he had was gone now.

“Oh no,” Rorie groaned.

“Oh no what, Miss?” Alfred said, poking his head into the room at the first sound of oncoming disaster.

Rorie extended her phone to him, letting him see the tweet Jason himself had just been looking at.

“All the kids at school will see this, Alfred! We’re done for.” Rorie exchanged a look of horror with Jason.

Alfred looked thoughtful.“We shall see, miss.”

And see they did. 

Arriving at school the next day, Rorie did her utmost to go incognito. Sunglasses and a dark hoodie obscured her figure, and she kept her head bowed as she walked through the halls. Jason didn’t bother with this. His strategy was to not show any kind of weakness.

He strutted down the halls, trying to appear more confident than ever before, his hair slicked back with gel he had stolen from Bruce a while back and his favorite leather jacket on. He would have been wearing sunglasses, but Rorie stole his coolest pair.

As it turned out, Jason’s strategy worked better, unfortunately for Rorie. Some of the boys tried to pick on him, it was true, but he just ignored them. If you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that he was riled up, but only if you knew him well. He kept his anger close and in check. He could always exact revenge later if he still thought they were worth it.

Rorie was taunted mercilessly though, since she reacted a little volatiley to the whole thing. The second someone had insinuated that her rich daddy bought her spot, she was spitting words that were dangerously close to obscenities, a seething pot ready to boil over. Jason had swept in several times that day to save her when it looked like she might not be able to control herself. In thanks, she gave him his sunglasses back.

Now, Rorie was sitting in the library, the only place where people would leave her alone, it seemed. She was reading through Jane Eyre again, trying to distract herself from the snake’s nest of anxiety, self-doubt, and bitter, petty rage boiling in her head. It wasn’t working that well.

It worked less well when Amanda Bixby sat next to her. Rorie didn’t dislike Amanda particularly, but she also didn’t particularly like her. Amanda was...Well, Amanda was a bit of an airhead. She didn’t mean to be, but she just happened to be that one girl that never thought about anything but makeup and boys. There was nothing particularly wrong with this mindset, but it simply didn’t mesh with Rorie’s more practical attitude. 

“So, Jason’s like, your brother, right?” Amanda said, her tone friendly yet suspiciously slimy sounding to Rorie.

“Yeah, I guess. More of a best friend, really.” Rorie shrugged.

“But you’re super close, yeah?” Amanda confirmed.

“Well yeah. We live in the same house.” Rorie didn’t feel it necessary to mention that they had shared a bathroom until last year when she had demanded Bruce let her have her own. 

Rorie was prepared for a plethora of things. Amanda was into theater, so it was entirely possible that she was hoping Rorie would be able to share some of Jason’s acting secrets with her. Or, it could be that she needed help with her English homework, something Jason also excelled in. As it turned out, Rorie was woefully unprepared for what actually happened.

“So what kind of girl does he usually go for?” Amanda asked.

Rorie choked a little bit. “What?”

“Like, does he have a type?” She twirled a strand of long brown hair around her finger.

“Umm….I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me about girls,” Rorie said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I mean, you’ve got to know something about his girlfriends. Are they tall? Short? Blondes, brunettes? C’mon, gimme something here,” Amanda said.

In truth, Rorie was unsure that Jason had ever even had a girlfriend. He was only 15 after all. 15 was a bit young for a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Rorie felt like 15 was young.

“Why do you ask? I mean, it’s not like Jason’s particularly attractive or anything.” Rorie laughed nervously.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a total dreamboat. All the girls know it. Plus, have you ever seen his arms when he takes off that leather jacket?” Amanda bit her lip in a way that Rorie definitely did not like. “I bet he’s ripped. Not to mention that he’s tall. And he’s only going to get taller you know.”

Amanda was clearly not in the building anymore. Her eyes had glazed over dreamily, and Rorie took that as her cue to be anywhere but where she presently was. Sneakily, she made her escape, mumbling under her breath about some urgent play preparation she had to do.

Rorie raced out of the library so fast it was almost superhuman, forgetting to put her sunglasses back on as she went. They were perched on top of her head when she crashed into someone, causing them to clatter to the floor, and her to nearly follow. Fortunately for her, someone had good reflexes and caught her, a warm, firm hand holding her back and pressing her against a lean, muscular torso.

“I am so sorry, you have no idea how mortified I am, rea-” Rorie stopped short when she realized that the person who was holding her was rather familiar.

She pulled back, peering into their face to find none other than Jason Todd himself. Rorie wanted to say “speak of the devil,” but she was a bit distracted at the moment, because at it turned out, it would seem that Amanda Bixby was right. Jason Todd was a dreamboat.Rorie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed between now and an hour again, when Rorie had last seen Jason. However, now that it had been mentioned to her, he had very nice, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, incredibly long black lashes, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes Rorie had ever seen in her life. She swallowed heavily as she realized that, prior to knowing who was holding her up, she had been appreciating their toned body structure as well.

“Careful there, Rorie. You’ll get hurt.” Jason smiled at her, revealing a blinding white set of perfectly straight teeth that seemed intent on sinking themselves into Rorie’s heart.

Oh no. Oh no.

Opening night had finally come, and Jason was bouncing around with excitement. He had no reason to worry. He had done this dozens of times before, and he had every confidence in his leading lady.

He was watching her right now, mumbling her lines under her breath and coughing as hairspray was applied rigorously to her carefully created Shakespearean hair. 

“Oh, Romeo, oh Romeo,” Rorie said, rocking back and forth slightly, to the deep consternation of the girl working on her hair.

“Actually,” Jason said, watching himself appear in the mirror behind her, already in full costume, hair done, “it’s ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo’.”

“I’m gonna fail. I’m gonna fail in front of everyone, and they’ll all laugh, and this will be the end of my acting career, and I’ll have to switch schools.” Her eyes, previously closed, snapped open. “I’ll have to switch schools Jason. I’ll have to go to a boarding school in Scandinavia where nobody knows my name.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jason reassured her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and shooing the irate amateur hairdresser off.

“But what if I’m not?” Rorie asked desperately.

“Then I’ll fail even more epically. I’ll say lines from Napoleon Dynamite instead, and then I’ll trip and fall on my face, and then I’ll roll over and start making snow angels, except there will be no snow, at which point I will have made my first mistake as it is obvious that one cannot make snow angels without no snow.”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rorie dead-panned.

“See! It works!” Jason grinned broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rorie, on her part, tried to look slightly less miserable.

“You’re on in 5,” someone informed him as they passed by.

Rorie gave him an unsure look, seeking a few last moments of reassurance.

Jason walked around until he was facing her, crouching so he could look her right in the eye. “You’re gonna be great, don’t worry.”

He smoothed down a few stray pieces of her hair, giving her one last strong, certain smile before heading to the wings. It was showtime.

Acts 1-4 went flawlessly. Despite her nerves, Rorie was a natural on stage. She sounded like Shakespeare had written her himself, and Jason was matching her ever move. They were a perfect pair, naturally, and they had the kind of trust most lead actors could probably only wish for. This came as a package deal with the many shared near-death experiences.

It was Act 5 where things began to get sticky. Specifically, the death scene. Everything had been going fun. They had rehearsed this scene in bits and pieces plenty of times before, and everything was timed perfectly. The grief they portrayed was stunningly believable, the laboured breaths and the hasty tears working together to paint a picture of gut-wrenching agony. Jason had caught a glimpse of Dick crying in the audience.

Specifically, it was Act 5, scene 3, line 125 that was giving Jason a good deal of trouble. He had said all the lines leading up to it, and now he found himself agonizingly close to a “dead” Rorie with the task of kissing her.

He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would have to kiss her for this performance. Maybe some tiny part of him had even looked forward to it, entirely without his knowledge or consent. They hadn’t practiced this particular scene, however, and Jason had conveniently forgotten about it until now. Or rather, he had been making a conscious effort not to think about it at all.

He hovered over her, his mouth inches away from hers. She was so warm underneath him, hair splayed out and hands neatly folded over her stomach, eyes lightly shut. Jason tried to steady his heart rate, failing miserably, and after running through a plethora of alternative scenarios in his mind, each more wild than the last, he determined that he would just have to do it. If she hated him afterwards, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gently, he connected their lips. It was like a revival. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon. Her body, almost unconsciously, craned into him, kissing back so softly and subtly that the audience couldn’t have noticed, but Jason most definitely did. Without thinking, one hand reached into her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her like Romeo would kiss Juliet, like a man would kiss his lover with his last dying breath, slightly clumsy, but intimate and gentle, with a fervor Mrs. Dowly had probably not foreseen.

He broke away, rushing through his poison scene and dying as quickly as possible. It felt fitting, since he was pretty sure he was already dead. Then, it was Rorie’s turn. What she did next was not entirely expected.

She worked her way through her lines with an untold urgency, weeping at the sight of her Romeo lying dead below her. Her performance was like nothing Gotham Academy had ever seen before, as emotionally charged as it was. And then, he broke from script. She kissed Jason.

It was similar to the first time, but less clumsy, and Jason nearly broke character out of sheer shock. He didn’t have the time though, with the brevity of the kiss. It was hard and fast, and then she stabbing herself with a fake knife as ripples of surprise waved through the audience.

The last few scenes were played out, and everyone took their final bows. Jason could see Dick sobbing at this point, overcome by emotion. Jason felt similarly overcome, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He rushed his way backstage, finding Rorie in the mess that was the closing of opening night. He grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

“Rorie,” he breathed out her name, still stunned even now.

She turned pink, staring at her feet as she answered. “Yes.”

“You kissed me,” he stated.

“You kissed me first.”

“On script,” he said.

“Are you mad?” Now she looked up at him, twinges of hurt flecking her eyes and accenting an ocean of bright green worry and fear.

“Am I mad? No, I’m definitely no mad.” Now, Jason grinned. He grinned like a fool. “Just wondering if you’ll do it again.”

Rorie smiled shyly, starting to look as giddy as Jason now felt.“At least buy me dinner first,” she said, mischief in her eyes and tugging at her mouth as she shrugged in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m pretty sure dinner is on Bruce tonight, but if you think I’m not going to buy you dinner at the next available opportunity then you are very, very wrong,” Jason said.

Rorie laughed, reaching up to hug him in his favorite way, the only way he ever wanted to be hugged by her ever again.

“Deal, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear.

Dinner was awkward. Dinner way very, very awkward.

It wasn’t that Bruce disapproved, after the two stumbled through an explanation of their budding relationship. It wasn’t that Alfred disapproved, or Dick, even. No. Horrifyingly, they were all delighted.

“What do you mean you knew?” Jason and Rorie shrieked in unison.

Bruce tried to bring the table back to some form of decorum, since Dick’s exclamation of, “I knew it!” and small victory dance coupled with Rorie and Jason’s indignant screams was slightly out of place in one of Gotham’s nicest restaurants.

 “I mean, it was obvious. You two are always all blushy and cutesy around each other whenever I come over,” Dick explained, cutting into his steak.

“We are not!” Rorie protested, burying her face into her bouquet of brilliant red roses, of which it had turned the same hue.

Jason in turn felt like burying his face into the orchids he was currently holding for her, a gift from Dick. The roses were from Bruce, of course. Alfred had simply baked cookies back at home.

“I’m afraid you are, miss. It’s rather endearing, if it’s any comfort to you,” Alfred reassured.

“This is so embarrassing. You all knew?” Rorie said.

“And now the whole school knows, after that display.” Dick grinned. “You two got so lucky Mrs. Dowly didn’t tear you to pieces.”

As it happened, Mrs. Dowly had rather liked the show. She said that Rorie’s improv had been so impassioned Shakespeare should have written it into the original. Rorie had wilted into the very bottoms of her shoes, looking as though she were trying her best to melt into the floor.

A waiter came by to check on them as they were finishing up, Dick shoveling the last bites of his steak into his mouth. 

“Any dessert?” he asked politely, no doubt with good intentions.

“No!” Jason and Rorie shouted.

The last thing they wanted was more awkward dinner conversation.

“It would seem not,” Bruce said, smiling his, “people are watching,” smile. “We’ll just have the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter ran off to retrieve the bill, leaving Jason and Rorie to suffer once more.

“So how long had you been thinking about that kiss scene, huh Jay?” Dick asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jason groaned, his face turning red in that full-flush way that he had about him. Rorie, on the other hand, decided to change tactics. If you can’t beat’em, join’em.

“You know, it’s kind of cute when you do that,” she said.

“What?” Jason asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Blush. You do it with your whole head. Neck, face, ears. It’s cute.” Rorie shrugged, trying to hide her own blush.

“Ewww, this is officially too sweet for me now,” Dick said, feigning a gag.

“Please Dick, try to behave like an adult,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The waiter came by and Bruce quickly paid in cash, clearly having come prepared for an outing with his children. Rorie could only guess how enormous the tip was.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the man.

“I have already informed the valet that the car is to be brought around, sir,” Alfred said.

“Thank goodness, because I could use a good night’s sleep,” Bruce said.

Rorie and Jason grinned at each other. Bruce Wayne might get 8 hours, but his alter ego never did. It was time for the Bat to roam the streets of Gotham, Robin and Batgirl at his side. It was time to be a hero. 

[swanslieutenant]

If the Stars Align - Chapter VII

Summary: The Musketeers AU. Danger lurks around every corner in the French court and as a Musketeer in service of the royal family, Killian’s duty is to protect them from any and all threats. As his relationship with Queen Emma develops into something more than just friendship, threats against the queen escalate and put everything they hold dear into jeopardy.

Rating: M

Content warning for the story: violence, mature themes, minor character death.

Art by @hook-and-star-ink​ , @acaptainswaneternity and @seastarved. Follow this to check all the pieces currently published and give them some love!  

Catch Up on tumblr: ch1, ch2, ch3,  ch4, ch5, ch6

AO3: ch7

In the weeks after Gillert’s death, no one can find any trace of the mysterious woman in the pub, the one the Musketeers are convinced is Regina, Robin’s estranged (and thought dead) wife.

Killian doesn’t know the whole backstory, much to his annoyance. Robin has been mute on it, only telling them the bare essentials. Before he was a Musketeer, when he still lived in a small village outside of Paris nearly a decade ago now, he’d been married to her. They’d been married for a year before she was accused and convicted of murdering a young woman who had died mysteriously a few years earlier. He’d left town before her execution date, unable to watch his wife die, and as far as he knew, she’d died by the hangman’s noose while he was on his way to Paris.  

Killian can tell there’s more to the story, with the way Robin’s eyes grow haunted and grief-stricken at the mention of this young woman who Regina killed, but he doesn’t pry. Killian has own hidden past; he wouldn’t want anyone snooping into that either.

Today, instead of searching and inquiring and continuing, the Musketeers are spending time at the barracks. In a week’s time, Emma and her retinue are going to Nantes for a wedding of one of her former ladies, a young woman named Ariel. Killian’s squadron of Musketeers will be accompanying her, meaning they've got to get things straightened out for the near month they’ll be gone.

Though the morning was productive in assigning chores and duties, as the afternoon heat rolls around, cleaning and packing falls to the wayside and the Musketeers end up lounging around the courtyard instead, making the younger recruits do all the work.

Killian doesn’t feel too bad for them, though, because after lunch Mary Margaret Whale arrived, dressed in a pair of loose trousers, a borrowed sword clutched tightly in her hands, a determined edge to her jaw. The sight of her made all the recruits drop their mops and brooms, clustering around the edge of their practice fencing ring as she declared that she wanted to duel the Musketeers.

Since the events at the Bastille and the death of Gillert, Killian’s sensed an uneasiness amongst the queen’s ladies, but especially with Mary Margaret. She’s never had any defensive training and, from what David’s told him, she’s determined to fix that. David has already trained her in the basics, and with her presence at the barracks today, she’s determined to take on new challengers.

Killian has already had his turn, ending up with his face shoved into the dirt by the heel of her boot, his left knee smarting from where she kicked him to the ground. He wasn’t going on easy on her; he just wasn’t expecting her to be so vicious after only a few weeks of lessons.

He retreated to his quarters to clean up, and when he returns, Robin is in the ring with Mary Margaret, looking in a sorry state of affairs himself. Lancelot’s gone too, sporting a split lip as he sits beside David, dabbing at it with a damp cloth as they watch Mary Margaret and Robin.

To join them across the courtyard, Killian would have to walk through the fighting ring and he has no desire to do that, lest Mary Margaret see it as a challenge and knock him down again. Instead, he drops onto one of the tables on the other side of the ring with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his sore knee as it twinges in protest.

Will, already seated there, chortles as Killian digs out his flask from his jacket, taking a deep drink, hoping the rum will help his knee.

“Hurt, mate?”

Will leans over, meaning to slap him on the knee, but Killian grabs his hand before he can, holding it tightly and giving him a dark glare.

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your turn.” 

As he says it, Mary Margaret takes a winning step in her fight against Robin, spinning and slashing his sword out of his hand. Robin immediately steps back, hands up in surrender.

“Your victory, Madame.”

Mary Margaret inclines her head in acknowledgement, then her face breaks into a wide smile. She turns to David behind her, whose own grin could light up a dark night, and rushes over to him.

Robin joins Killian and Will on their side of the ring, collapsing on the table top and panting, “That woman is a brilliant fencer. I don’t know what David’s been teaching her, but she’s fantastic.”

Will laughs, and casts a disparaging look at Robin and Killian. “I’m not surprised that she can best you lot, but she hasn’t faced me yet.”

Mary Margaret hears him, and marches over, twirling her sword so it rests on her shoulder, David looking on smugly from behind her.

“That’s right, Sir Scarlet! I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of defeating you yet.”

Will chuckles, standing and drawing his own sword. “Ah, Madame, I fear this Musketeer will be one you cannot beat, neither by your charm –” he looks pointedly to David, who flushes like a schoolboy – “or your skills.”

Mary Margaret smiles sweetly as she bows low to Will for the beginning of the duel. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

As they start to circle each other, confidence emanating from both of their steps, Killian can’t help but what Emma would think about seeing her friend best the Musketeers with such natural talent and skill.

Mary Margaret had informed them Emma had wanted to come and watch, and maybe brush up on the few skills she learned in Denmark while on the run from the Norwegians. But the king caught wind of it, and put his foot down.

He was apparently worried about what impression it would make to have the Queen of France visit the rough and tumble Musketeer garrison in the centre of Paris, far from the protective walls of the Louvre. Since the attack at the Bastille, and the subsequent execution of the guards, there’s been an uneasy tension in the streets of Paris. People can understand men sentenced to death for treason against the royals, but hanged without a trial? That’s turned even some of the loyalist Parisians nasty and grumbling, and it could spell trouble for Emma if anyone caught wind she wasn’t in the Louvre.

Killian understands, but that didn’t stop his heart from sinking when Mary Margaret arrived without her. And though he is enjoying watching Mary Margaret beat her way through the Musketeers, he would’ve enjoyed it even more with Emma’s presence beside him too.

Absently, Killian’s hand migrates to the sword charm around his neck, untucking it from under his shirt. He’s fiddling with it while watching the duel between Mary Margaret and Will, and nearly snaps it in half in surprise when Robin asks, “What’s that?”

He lets it drop from his hand and says, as casually as he can muster, “Just a trinket.”

Unfortunately, said trinket falls back against his chest and doesn’t slip in behind his open vest, the jewels sparkling in the sunlight.

Robin stares at the glittering sword and snorts. “That’s a bit of an extravagant trinket, Jones, even for you.”

“It was a gift,” Killian says simply, hoping to leave it at that, but at Robin’s raised eyebrow, he sighs and adds reluctantly, “From a friend.”

“What kind of friend do you have that can afford that?”

Killian stares back at him, unease running through him, suddenly feeling on guard. He’s uncertain of what to say; the queen has been known to give gifts of thanks before to other soldiers for exceptional duty, but Killian doesn’t need to see what the others received to know that his is not that kind of present.

That thought makes him almost more nervous to share with Robin, but his fellow is staring at him expectantly, eyebrows crunched together in curiosity, and Killian has to give an answer. He thinks about lying, but the swan crest on the back will betray him should Robin ask to see it.

Damn it all anyways.

“The queen gave it to me.”

And, true enough, whatever Robin was expecting, it wasn’t that. His eyebrows raise dramatically, mouth popping open in surprise.

“The queen?”

“Well, don’t go bloody announcing it to the whole world,” Killian grumbles, shooting a glance around, but all others in the courtyard are engrossed in watching Mary Margaret and Will duel, giving no sign they have noticed Robin’s exclamation.

Robin holds out his hand, beckoning expectantly. “Let me see it.”

Killian curses darkly, but pulls the chain over his head and passes it to Robin. The other man examines it closely, eyes widening at the jewels along the little sword, before flipping it over. Killian sees the exact moment Robin finds the engraving of the swan, because though his eyes were already wide, they nearly bug out of his head now.

“Her swan crest?” He looks up sharply, and glares at Killian. “I hope you haven’t done anything stupid.”

“I haven’t,” Killian replies, and he’s far too aware of the petulant, stubborn edge to his voice. He reaches out for the sword, and Robin reluctantly drops it back into his hand. “It’s just a token, that’s all. As thanks for saving her at the Bastille.”

The words sound like a lie even to his own ears, and Robin shakes his head. “A token worth more than our yearly salaries combined and personalized by the queen with her swan.”

Killian doesn’t answer, and Robin swears. He glances back to the courtyard, where David is watching Mary Margaret get the upper-hand with Will with shining eyes, pride emanating from his features, and mutters, “What is it with Musketeers and married women?”

Though his heartbeat quickens at the implication, a spark of hope flaming to life in his chest at the mere thought, Killian tries to play it off with an affronted scoff. “You’re being ridiculous, mate. It’s just a necklace. A sign of her thanks. Nothing more.”

But it is a weak lie, and Robin’s expression is wary, a warning glint to his eyes.

“Don’t be a fool, Killian. You know what would happen to you and to her if anything happened between you two –”

“Nothing will,” Killian mutters, hoping the words don’t sound as bitter as they taste. “Nothing will happen.”

An exclamation of applause bursts out from the spectators as Mary Margaret knocks Will to his knees, David jumping forward to twirl Mary Margaret in the air.

“David and Madame Whale are one thing,” Robin says sternly, and Killian stiffens, “but if you do so much as look at the queen in a way that draws suspicion, you could be in serious trouble. And, more importantly so could she.”

Killian opens his mouth, ready to retort again, but Robin holds up a hand for silence.

“Nothing can come of it,” he says. “Whatever you think –”

“I know that,” Killian interrupts, frustrated now. “I just –”

“What the hell is going on here?”

The new voice is loud and angry, cutting Killian off. At the entrance gates to the barracks, furious and red-faced, is Victor Whale. Instantly the hubbub in the yard fades into silence, and Mary Margaret takes several steps away from David, twisting her arms to hide her sword behind her back.

“The Musketeers were teaching me –”

“We were just –”

Dr. Whale scoffs, and both David and Mary Margaret fall silent. He steps further into the courtyard, his eyes falling to the sword she tried to hide and to her dusty trousers and sweaty face. He shakes his head in irritation.

“When I heard the queen had granted you a free afternoon, I thought it would be nice for us to spend some time together. Imagine my surprise to hear you instead had come here, of all places.” His eyes flicker to David, similarly dusty and sweaty, and his lip curls in disgust. “I would think if it were not appropriate for the queen to come here, you, Madame, would take similar discretion to not harm your reputation of holding such company.”

Mary Margaret flushes bright red, and David grits his teeth. An insult like that to David is an insult to them all, and Killian closes his fist, clenching the sword charm in his hand tightly. He feels Robin tense beside him too, and watches Lancelot shift his weight, hand drifting to the sword at his waist.

But Dr. Whale pays them all no mind, oblivious to the now-tense Musketeers. He holds out his hand expectantly for Mary Margaret and beckons her forward.

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

She hesitates for a brief second, eyes flickering to David with a pained, wistful look that only incenses Dr. Whale further. He steps forward, close enough to grasp her hand tightly in his, and snaps, “I said we’re leaving.”

When Mary Margaret is at his side, he turns his cold glare to the Musketeers, to David and Will in the yard, and to Killian and Lancelot and Robin on the benches, and surveys them with a disgusted frown.

“And I’ll thank you, Musketeers, to not ‘teach’ my wife such barbaric things in the future. She has a place in this world, and it certainly is not behaving like you lot.”

He turns sharply and pulls Mary Margaret alongside him out of the courtyard, talking angrily now about respect and propriety and decency.

The mood in the garrison has soured now, the recruits grabbing their mops and brooms again, and David watches them leave, frowning and morose. Lancelot claps him on the shoulder in solidarity.

“Barbaric, is it now?” he says, not bothering to wait until Dr. Whale is out of earshot. “Wasn’t so barbaric all the times we’ve saved his arse.”

Robin begins delegating duties to resume the clean up and packing, but Killian’s hardly listening. He’s watching David, at the unreadable expression in his eyes as he watches Mary Margaret and the doctor until the round the corner down the street, and Robin’s words from before echo through his mind again – what is it with Musketeers and married women?  

The thought gives him a chill, and he shivers. He shakes his head to clear the thoughts, jumping down from the table to join the other and tucking the charm back under his shirt. The cool metal settles against his chest, resting just above his heart, and he can’t help but agree with Robin’s assessment – what is it indeed.

Back at the Louvre, the afternoon seemed to drag on and on. Emma, furious at Neal’s refusal to let her join Mary Margaret, had retreated to one of the lesser used sitting rooms, one where he never ventured so she wouldn’t lose her temper in front of the court and prove his point further that see, the queen shouldn’t spend time with rough men, this is what it does to her temper.

She almost left anyways, damn Neal to hell, but Cardinal Gold’s Red Guards had somehow got wind of her intentions, and had casually set themselves up at any entrance Emma walked by. They couldn’t stop her even if they wanted to, but the thought of them reporting to Gold that she’d left anyways made Emma’s skin crawl; he doesn’t need anymore ammunition against her than he already has.

So, even more furious now, she’d stomped up to the sitting room. Other than being a neglected space, the room happens to be one that overlooks the main entrance to the Louvre, one where she can wait and watch for Mary Margaret’s return. There’s a small part of her too that’s hoping one particular Musketeer elects to accompany her friend back to the palace, because, honestly, she’s not sure what else could improve her mood today.

Emma picked up a book and stared at it until her eyes start to burn and water, and she hasn’t read a single word of it. She’s angled it so she can look over the top and out the window, but so far, no one of any interest has approached the palace. After a while, she wonders if Mary Margaret will ever return, and Emma finds herself not blaming her at all; Emma doesn’t know some days if she wants to return to the palace either.

After hours of waiting, she finally spots Mary Margaret’s dark head striding through the courtyard with a man at her side. A surge of hope rushes through her, but is dashed almost immediately; it’s not any of the Musketeers – it’s a furious Dr. Whale.

A pit of dread settles in her stomach, her mind already jumping to the worst conclusions of what has occurred. She sets her book down and gets to her feet. Her other ladies rise instantly, but she waves them back down and orders them to remain here as she sweeps from the room.

By the time she’s circumvented through the palace towards the main entrance, she can hear Dr. Whale’s voice echoing from within the foyer and she marches towards the doors. The pages quickly swing open the doors for her, and though it’s apparent that Dr. Whale was in the middle of lecturing Mary Margaret, he falls silent mid-sentence at Emma’s arrival.

“Your Majesty,” he says, inclining his head in a bow as Emma marches right up to him, hands on her hips. 

“Dr. Whale,” Emma says, and not bothering with more of a greeting than that, continues, “I am glad you’re here. I hear Lord Grincheux is in dire need of your assistance. His gout, you know. Makes him very grumpy.”

Annoyance flashes in Dr. Whale’s eyes, but it’s gone quickly and he nods. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll see to him right away.” 

He glances once at Mary Margaret, who refuses to meet his eyes, staring at the wall across the foyer. A muscle in his jaw pulses, but he doesn’t say anything else with Emma there, and departs from the hall.

The moment the pages close the door behind him, Emma softens her stance and turns to Mary Margaret, demanding, “What happened?”

Mary Margaret glares at the doorway which her husband disappeared through. “Nothing. He found out I was at the barracks and overreacted, as usual. Said I made a fool of myself by cavorting with them.”

Emma frowns, a rush of anger on her friend’s behalf coursing through her, and she squeezes Mary Margaret’s arm. “I am sure you did no such thing.”

She shrugs. “I suppose I was, though. Sword fighting isn’t exactly the proper behaviour for a lady.”

Frustration joins the swell of anger, and maybe because she herself has already had an infuriating day, but something inside her snaps. She’s been on edge for weeks now, ever since the Bastille where she thought she was going to die at any moment, and finally she feels a clarity at why she is still so rattled - neither she or Mary Margaret were prepared for the Bastille.

“It should be proper for us too,” Emma proclaims, making Mary Margaret look at her in surprise. “We have a right to defend ourselves, just as much as men do. More, considering the type of things women are often faced with. Why do they get to learn how defend themselves, while we have to sit around and wait to be saved?”

Mary Margaret’s mouth is hanging open, but Emma continues, her voice growing louder and fiercer with every word. “At the Bastille, if Killian and David had not been there we would both be dead right now. I only know a few disarming moves the guards taught me in Denmark years ago, and I haven’t practiced those in years. I couldn’t have saved us against those guards. We are alive because the Musketeers know how to fight. We deserve to know those same skills so if next time they aren’t there, we can save ourselves!”

Her words echo through the hall now, making all the pages and servants in the hall stare at her. Emma flushes at the attention, already knowing the news of this latest ‘temper tantrum’ is surely on its way to Neal or Gold, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

“I agree with you,” Mary Margaret says, resting her hand on Emma’s arm. “But what can we do about it? I know the Musketeers would teach us at the drop of a hat, but neither of our husbands will let us go to the garrison.”

Emma grits her teeth together, and shakes her head. That’s always been the problem – as much as the palace is a beautiful home, she sometimes feels like it’s nothing more than a beautiful cage.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to figure something out.”

Three days later, Emma’s still thinking about what to do. They’ll be leaving for Nantes in three days, and with the flurry of packing and sending most of her household on ahead, there hasn’t been much time for thinking up a plan. This evening was supposed to be one of her free evenings, and Emma was looking forward to settling down and trying to figure out a plan, but then Neal dropped a surprise on her – he was going to host a goodbye dinner for her.

When the messenger arrived at her quarters, she thought for a moment that Neal was summoning her to give her a lecture about her outburst the other day. But, instead to have a dinner hosted in her honour? It’s been a long time since that happened.

Some of his old friends are in Paris, and Neal invites them to attend too. The group, which Neal affectionately nicknamed years ago as “the lost boys” are a ragtag of men orphaned as children and forgotten for much of their youth. At one point, Emma had been friends with some of them too, the lost girl amongst the lost boys. But that had been years ago at this point, and now she feels like a complete outsider amongst them, now the single woman in the boys’ club. 

Especially with the newest members. They’re younger by nearly a decade, young men in love with the power and money and prestige that comes with being in the king’s inner circle. But Neal doesn’t see it that way, and even if Emma said something, she knows it would fall on deaf ears. She’s had a way with telling when people are being dishonest her entire life, but Neal’s never believed in her.

Dinner passes quickly, with much of the talk revolving around business and international politics. Emma is excited to hear about their travels, as she’s been trapped in France for years, but every time the talk veers towards the impact of religion on the international politics, someone clears their throat and the conversation shifts immediately. As dessert finishes, Emma’s starting to feel more like the elephant in the room than a mere outsider.

After the food is cleared away, one of the men teaches everyone how to play a new game he learned in Belgium. Neal promises a new horse to whomever comes out with the most profit of the night, raising the stakes. The men’s eyes shine at the prospect, the game becoming serious and more vicious as the evening goes on.

Emma doesn’t join in, not after the askance glances she gets for asking to be dealt a hand in the first round, and she’s bored after twenty minutes, deciding to call it a night. To her annoyance, no one notices she stands; this was supposed to be her goodbye dinner, after all, but no one rises to say a goodbye to her as she marches from the dining hall.

Too frustrated to sleep, instead of returning to her quarters, Emma wanders the palace. It’s past midnight now, the servants asleep ahead of another long day, and the palace is almost eerily quiet.

She wishes she could give Henry a kiss goodnight, but he’s already on the road to Nantes, having been sent on ahead. Henry’s a good traveller, but ten days straight of horses and carriages makes him as grumpy and miserable as a toddler; Emma learned that the hard way a few years ago when she started going to Bordeaux for the winter. Sending him ahead will allow him a few days’ rest at a hunting retreat halfway to Nantes where Emma will meet up with him to finish the trek.

The original plan had not been to bring Henry with her to Ariel’s wedding, but when Emma realized that meant leaving Henry in Paris where Gold could conduct his ‘lessons’ without her supervision, she put her foot down. Either Henry was coming with Emma for the month or she wanted Gold out of Paris for the same length of time.

And to her complete surprise, Neal had agreed.

(Though she’s not sure she should have been that surprised; Neal without the cardinal’s influence for a month? France would crumble into the sea.)

Gold was furious when he learned of Emma’s plans, angry that he was being ‘sidelined’ and he only calmed when Neal decided the Red Guards could accompany Henry to the halfway point, the Musketeers taking over when she joined him.

That in turn prompted Emma to send Mary Margaret with Henry, wanting someone she trusted with him at all times, but now she misses her friend’s presence. She would normally seek her out to decompress after an evening such as this, but in the silence of the palace halls, she’s reminded how alone she is right now.

In her wanderings, she’s ended up at the south end of the palace, near a large hall that overlooks the gardens outside, and to her immense surprise, she’s not the only one in the room.

“Sir Jones?”

Killian nearly jumps a foot in the air, hand automatically reaching to the hilt of his sword. He relaxes almost as quickly when he realizes it’s her, and dips his head into a bow.

“Your Majesty. My apologies, you startled me.”

“You startled me too,” Emma says, moving across the hall to join him. She can’t believe her luck, and her mood feels almost instantly better, as it always does when in Killian’s presence. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I was updating the palace guards,” he explains. “Since the attack at the Bastille, we’ve been checking in with them more regularly.”

“And now you’re lurking in one of the halls?” she teases, stepping closer to bump his arm with hers. “Staring out the windows at the flowers?”

A light blush covers his cheeks, and he glances out the window again. “I was on my way out when I passed this window, and I wondered if ... if I could see your swans. To see how they are doing since ...” He trails off, looking uncomfortable, and Emma’s heart twinges.

“They’re doing well. Madame Gillert and her daughters are taking care of them for me. It’s ... it’s what Monsieur Gillert would have wanted.” She pauses, trying not to think about the haunted eyes of the widow and her daughters when she’d given them Monsieur Gillert’s swan pin, clean from blood, and instead fixes Killian with a hard stare. “Any news on suspects?”

He hesitates for a moment, and then says, “There have been some leads. But we haven’t arrested anyone yet.”

Emma narrows her eyes; he’s telling the truth, but there’s a sliver of dishonesty there too, and her inner sense for lies pings. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He looks back to her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Emma plants her hands on her hips and stares pointedly at him. “I know when someone is lying to me. Or at least leaving out some of the story.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then seems to think better of it and he nods briefly. “Aye, you’re right, love. I just – well, there’s nothing concrete yet, no arrests, but we do have a suspect.”

“Who is it?”

Killian looks uncomfortable for a minute. “Her name is Regina. She’s – she’s actually Robin’s wife.”

Emma chokes out, “His wife?”

“His estranged wife,” Killian clarifies quickly. “He hasn’t seen her in nearly a decade, and he thought she was dead until a few weeks ago.”

Emma gapes at him, her mind swirling, trying to paste all the puzzle pieces together.

“What did Robin’s wife have against Monsieur Gillert?”

Killian shrugs, shoulders tense and stance annoyed. “That’s what we don’t know yet. But we’re still investigating, and when I know more, I’ll let you know.”

She nods, and wants to demand more right now anyways, but Killian shifts his weight slightly, wincing as he moves more of his weight to his left leg, and she frowns.

“What happened? Are you injured?”

He shakes his head, and lets out a chuckle. “I’m fine. I have Madame Whale to thank for this.”

“Really?” Emma says, surprised. When Killian nods, though her mind is still jumbled with the name of Monsieur Gillert’s suspected killer, she can’t help but smile at the thought of Mary Margaret knocking Killian to the ground. “That’s incredible. I wish I could have seen that.”

He must sense the wistful tone to her voice because he smiles softly. “Your presence was missed there, Your Majesty.”

Emma glances to him sharply. Perhaps it’s because she knows Neal never seems to care whether Emma is around (he probably won’t have noticed her absence yet from the dining hall) or maybe because she’s annoyed that she was kept away from attending the barracks with Mary Margaret or maybe because when she told Killian to tell her the truth he did, no questions asked, but she suddenly doesn’t want to be Your Majesty with Killian anymore.  

“Please, call me Emma.”

His neck cricks as he whirls his neck to look at her. “I – what?”

Emma gestures to the empty hall around them, her fast heartbeat loud enough to fill the hall as far as she’s concerned. “It’s only us here. ‘Your Majesty’ is so formal … and sometimes I do not wish to be the queen. Just Emma.”

He stares at her blankly. “What?” he asks again, dumbfounded, and Emma feels a thrill rush through her; it’s not often she shocks a Musketeer into silence.

“Are you sure Mary Margaret didn’t hit you on the head earlier?” Emma teases, and at that Killian breaks out of his stare with a chuckle.

“Maybe she did.”

Speaking of Mary Margaret’s time at the barracks... an idea occurs to her. They’re about to go to Nantes, will be on the road for weeks, away from the control of the court, the cardinal and the king. Now with the news that they have a suspect for Gillert’s killer, a woman who knows how to fight and kill, Emma feels even more defenceless herself, and this may be her only chance to ask Killian if he’ll do it.

“I want to learn how to fight.”

Killian blinks several times, thrown by the sudden change in conversation. “You – pardon?”

“When we were at the Bastille, I was useless.”

Catching on now, Killian opens his mouth to disagree, but Emma barrels on over him.

“Yes, I was. And I haven’t felt that kind of fear since I was a young girl in Denmark. I need to be able to protect myself. I may not be allowed to go to your barracks, but I know Sir Nolan found a way to teach Mary Margaret without Dr. Whale knowing before that. For me, it may be more difficult, but I think we can find a way. Besides,” she adds, as he’s just staring back at her and maybe it will have to be a tit-for-tat that will convince him, “I taught you how to dance. This will make us equal.”

He laughs, broken out of his shock, and shakes his head with a grin. “That is true.”

But he doesn’t say anything else, and for a second, Emma fears she’s put him in an awkward position, realizing too late that Killian’s duties aren’t just to her – he also has to respect whatever the king wants too.

“Neal doesn’t have to know, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she adds, but Killian frowns and shakes his head.

“It’s not that,” he says, and his mouth quirks up into a smirk. “I was just thinking that if you’re as skilled a dancer as you are a fighter, there won’t be much use for me anymore.”

An enormous weight lifts from Emma’s shoulders, and she breaks out into a grin.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Of course! If you want to learn to defend yourself, I will do my best to teach you. I doubt I’ll be as good as a teacher as you, but –”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect.”

That sentence lingers in the air between them, her internal thoughts spoken out loud. For a second, Emma wants to take them back, but that quickly disappears at the look on Killian’s face, the slightly stunned way his eyes widen. He comes to his senses, shaking his head and stepping back.

“Your Majesty is too kind.”

With the prospect of fighting lessons looming on the horizon, a tide of recklessness sweeps over Emma, flooding away any thought of common sense. She doesn’t regret saying that to him – she wants him to know what she’s feeling. She doesn’t have Henry or Mary Margaret for comfort or companionship, but maybe she isn’t so alone here after all.

“Emma,” she corrects, closing the distance between them again. They’re nearly toe-to-toe now, and though the room is dark, lit only by the pale moonlight, she can see the blue of his eyes, as blue as the seas he used to sail.

“Emma,” he repeats slowly, rolling out the syllables on his tongue and sending a thrill right through her. He licks his lips, eyes darting down to her mouth, and at that, Emma doesn’t wait any longer.

Common sense be damned, Emma grabs the collars of his jacket, hauling him closer and crushing her lips against his.

For a single moment, Killian doesn’t move, too stunned to do anything. But Emma keeps kissing him, pressing herself closer against him, and he finally reacts, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her back as if his life depends on it.

His lips are soft, softer than she ever could have imagined, and it’s as if her body is aware this could never happen again, because she opens her mouth, wanting more right away. He follows her lead, deepening the kiss, and Emma groans. He tastes vaguely like rum, and she wonders if he had a drink from his flask before she got here. But she doesn’t think about that for longer than a second, as his hand is in her hair, tilting her head to the side to kiss her more insistently.

It feels like an eternity later when they break apart for breath, both gasping for breath. Emma can feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest, every nerve in her body tingling and burning, and she wants nothing more than to haul him closer again. But the common sense Emma stifled for the past few minutes comes slamming back as he starts to say “That was –” and she realizes just what she’s done.

You’re the queen, Emma.

This could get him killed.

“A one-time thing,” Emma says, releasing Killian’s collar and stepping away. She smooths her dress with shaking hands, her mind torn between just turning back to Killian, consequences be damned, and the screams of her sensible side telling her to get out of here before a servant or a guard or hell Neal wanders in.

But the consequences are too enormous, and she swallows, trying to ignore her tingling lips and the rum she can still taste, and makes her decision.

“Wait a few moments, then leave out the west wing.”

Killian is silent from behind her, and Emma can easily imagine the wrecked expression on his face because she’s sure that’s how she must look too. She’s nearly at the door before he finally speaks, his voice following her out the door, soft and gentle.

“As you wish.”