#tumblr staff truly is something else huh

[8scarpiastr1]

Tumblr rn lol

[itsclydebitches]

(WLW anon) I really don’t like the “bad rep is better then none at all”. I hate that. We should want good rep, because bad rep has been used time and time again by homophobes as to say we shouldn’t get representation. To me it’s not “gay can have the same flaws as het”, it’s “fix the flaws in the het”. Also I know Renora being independent was a good, I was just saying in comparison BB. Also, yes, they were separated, but also didn’t stop thinking about each other. Especially bad with Yang.

Indulge me for a moment because I want to take a trip down memory lane and list some—just some—of the queer rep that has been important to me over the years:

Ellen comes out both as herself and as her character… years later, she’s a hated millionaire who is criticized for how she treats her staff

The wildly influential Buffy gives us two women entering a loving relationship… except then Tara is killed off, Willow goes evil for a time, and Buffy comes under fire for Joss Whedon’s everything

The beloved and respectable headmaster of one of the most popular book series ever published is revealed to be gay… except it doesn’t count because it wasn’t in the text and now all of Harry Potter is cancelled because JKR is transphobic

Kurt is an unambiguously gay teen in a hugely popular TV series, acting as one of the first overt representations a generation has seen… except he’s way too stereotypical and Glee is a joke now

Orange is the New Black gives us a number of queer women, including one of our first trans characters… but isn’t it problematic that they’re all criminals?

Brooklyn Nine-Nine hosts an out gay captain and gives us a bisexual coming out story that resonated with many, myself included… except now we’re supposed to hate all the characters on principle because they’re cops

Korra and Asami walk off into the spiritual sunset together… but they never kiss or anything, so that doesn’t count either

Steven Universe gives us a queer relationship and a wedding… but it’s an issue that this is just a kid’s show and, really, does it count when the rep is embodied by space rocks whose entire species only creates a single gender? Feels like a cop-out

Same with Good Omens. Yeah, Crowley and Aziraphale clearly love each other… but you never see them kiss or declare their intentions. It’s great ace rep though! Unless you want to level the criticism that asexual characters are always nonhuman

A character intended to be a minor guest becomes a show staple and eventually declares his love for one of the two main characters… except then Castiel immediately dies, Dean doesn’t respond, and they never meet on screen again

I finished Queen’s Gambit the other day and the main character had a one-night stand with a woman! … but everyone is talking about how bisexuality is used to represent her lowest point, so that’s bad too

I could go on for literal pages. Some of these arguments I agree with (Dumbledore), others I’ve pushed back against quite strongly (Crowley and Aziraphale), but all of them are valid criticisms depending on what part of the queer community you’re in and what your expectations are. My point here is that it’s all “bad rep.” I mean that seriously. If anyone reading this is scrambling for the comment section to say why [insert media title here] is actually fantastic rep, I guarantee that someone disagrees. Or if they don’t, give it some time. Just wait until the characterization becomes offensively outdated, or another part of the story ruins the relationship, or it comes out that the author did something truly horrific, or the terminology changes and it’s labeled as “problematic” now… just wait. At some point, any rep we feel is good rep now will be criticized, cancelled, and dragged through the mud. The rep that I personally haven’t seen much push-back against—like the beloved Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who, or Schitts Creek that just won a ton of awards—is wrapped up in the criticism, “So it’s all just about able-bodied, cis, (mostly) white dudes, huh? :/”  Even the argument that queer characters need to be written by queer authors doesn’t hold up. I absolutely adored Sense8. “Wow, a gay main character in a loving relationship with another gay man, both of whom enter a loving poly relationship with a woman, another lesbian trans main character who marries the love of her life on screen, an entire cast arguably queer due to them sharing orgy scenes centered around the emotional intimacy they share, everyone survives, and this was written by two trans women! Great, right?” Well, not according to the wealth of opinions explaining how Sense8 is horrible rep, actually. Every piece of rep we’ve got is either currently flawed or will become flawed in the future.

So what do we do with that?

That’s where my “I’d rather have bad rep than no rep at all” comes in. For me, that’s not waving the white flag. That’s not an oath that I won’t expect better rep in the future (I do) or that I won’t criticize the rep we get (BOY DO I), but rather just an acknowledgement of reality. The vast majority—if not the entirety—of rep is “bad rep” in one way or another, but I’d still rather have it than nothing at all. Because I’ve lived just long enough and studied media just enough to know what nothing looked like. It was watching all queer characters meet untimely deaths. Before that it was watching queer characters be derided and treated as jokes. Before that it was nothing but coding, where queer characters didn’t exist except in our own headcanons and interpretations. Obviously “bad rep” covers a very large range of issues and “They haven’t even confirmed this relationship yet” is a bigger issue than “This queer character embodies one or two, mild stereotypes,” but ultimately I’d take any of it over nothing at all. And enjoying what we’ve currently got doesn’t mean I’m willing to settle for it indefinitely.

To use an iffy analogy, imagine there’s a factory. This factory makes plates. So. Many. Plates. Big plates, small plates, plain plates, decorative plates, plates for every possible occasion in your life—and everyone with a steak for dinner is pleased as punch. You though? You’ve got soup. You need a bowl. Your entire life you’ve been struggling to eat your soup off a plate (it doesn’t work) and listening to friends and family claim that the plate with a slightly raised edge could be a bowl if you squint (it’s not). To say it’s frustrating is an understatement.

But then, one day, the factory starts producing bowls too. Hurray! Except as soon as you get your hands on one, you’re told you really shouldn’t be using it, let alone praising it. Look at the state of that bowl! It’s cracked right down the middle, ugly as hell, shoddily made all around… you’re not really going to settle for that, are you? And no, you obviously still want the factory to produce better bowls, but at the same time, this is a bowl. You’ve never gotten one before and you can finally enjoy your meal, even if the soup leaks at times. Sometimes a lot. But you’re still feeling better about your meal than you ever have before. And what you then begin to realize is that lots of the plates are a mess too. They also have cracks, they’re also ugly, many are also shoddily made. The difference is that the factory is producing so many plates at such a rapid pace that every steak eater is able to get by. One plate breaks completely? You’ve got a thousand fallbacks. Don’t like the look of this one? A thousand other options. You disagree about what “shoddily made” means? Luckily there are enough plates that everyone can find what they prefer! But the bowls… there’s only a few. Some are really expensive. Others are only available for a limited time before they suddenly disappear. Your bowl breaks and you have to wait months, years sometimes, to get another one. You’re constantly told to go buy this one obscure bowl no one else has heard about and yeah, you like it... but you’d also like to buy one of the bowls everyone is already enjoying. You find yourself looking at the plates and thinking, “I��d like that. I’d like to have so many options that the flaws, while still a problem, are much more bearable.” You’re still going to demand that the factory get its shit together, you’re still going to (rightly) complain about the awful quality of your bowl… but it’s still nice to have a bowl, period. There are still things you like about it, even if it’s a mess: the color, the size, the beauty of the shape of it. Its potential. You’re still pleased you have something to enjoy and that helps serve the need you’re looking to fill, even if that something is imperfect.

That’s “bad rep is better than no rep.” To bring this very long response back to Blake/Yang, I don’t think their problems negate their benefits. Is their relationship currently non-canonical and filled with a number of writing issues everyone has a right to be angry about? Yup. I express that anger a great deal. Are they still half of a team on a very popular show that is (presumably) set to be canonized as queer? Yup. I’d much rather live in a world where big shows like RWBY try to include queer rep and fail in a multitude of ways—with the expectation and hope that they’ll continue to improve—rather than in a world where authors a) don’t care or b) are too scared to try. Because that’s where a “good rep or no rep” stance leads. The danger isn’t homophobes because they’re, well, homophobes. It doesn’t matter if the rep is good or not, they hate it on principle. But if queer authors writing for other queer identities, or allies writing queer identities, or even queer authors writing their own experiences (like in Sense8) continually come under non-stop fire for their attempts… there’s a good chance that many people won’t ever try. We’re already seeing that here on tumblr with young authors admitting that they wouldn’t touch [insert topic here] with a ten-foot pole because just look at what happens when you get it wrong. And authors will get things wrong because authors are fallible people forever unlearning their own ignorance. So though it might sound strange coming from a blog that has turned into such a RWBY critical space, I am glad that RWBY’s queer rep exists, despite all the frustrations that I share about it. I think a RWBY with various types of “bad” queer rep is better than a RWBY with no queer rep at all, particularly when “bad” or “good” is so intensely subjective. There’s a middle ground between passively accepting whatever we’re given, and tearing into rep with such ferocity that we end up rejecting it all. There’s a space where we can be critical of rep and embrace the parts that work for us, simultaneously.

I hope and expect the het rep will get better too, but… that’s never going to happen instantly. To quote RWBY, there’s no magic wand we can wave to fix all our problems. Rather, it will take slow, plodding, meandering, lifetimes’ worth of work to see that change occur and I personally don’t want to spend the one life I have waiting for that perfect rep to show up. Because it’s unlikely that it will. While we work, I’d rather find the good in what rep we’ve already got.  

[yumeisha]

Love In Print [Masaru] - Episode 1

“But Mari, I don’t WANT to go read this on Wattpad, I want to stay here on Tumblr!” Listen, my friend. Let me help you. Here’s all of Episode 1! (But the rest is over here if you decide you want to read it!)

— SATURDAY NIGHT —

 She’s started to think of it as the summer of weddings. Like purgatory, but with more flowers.

Reiko sighs. Another Saturday, another charming garden venue. Soft, flickering tea lights float in shallow porcelain bowls. It looks like something lifted straight out of Pinterest, and it’s pretty in all the right ways, hitting every obligatory aesthetic beat. The music is loud and many of the guests are amiably drunk, swaying in slow circles on the dance floor or queuing up for one more lap around the buffet.

Alone at her table, Reiko hides behind the towering lily centerpiece, nursing a headache. She fishes her phone out of the tiny, mostly useless evening bag she’s bought to go with this dress and takes refuge in her work inbox.

She’d love to go home, but it’s too early to make her retreat. Another two hours, she coaches herself. You can make it for two more.

“Come on,” says Ren, prodding her in the shoulder. Reiko jumps half a mile and nearly drops her phone, not that her cousin notices. “We’re missing a cake opportunity,” he whines.

As usual, Ren resembles a figure pulled directly off some runway in Milan. Impeccably attired, hair artfully tousled, a Rolex gleaming from his left wrist. Reiko plucks at a tuft of fur caught on the cuff of his tuxedo.

“You know, there is such a thing as a lint roller. You have one somewhere in your apartment.”

Ren peers down at the wad of cat hair slowly drifting down to the grass beneath their table. “Lint roller? What lint roller?” And then his face lights up. “Oh! You mean that tape-on-a-stick thing from the last time you came over?”

“Yes,” Reiko answers patiently. “That tape-on-a-stick thing. You use it to make sure you aren’t leaving the house dressed in cat fluff.”

Suzu pops up behind Ren. “He likes for everyone to know that he’s more complex than he appears. An insufferable playboy and a sophisticated cat bachelor.” She loops her arm through his and makes a show of sniffing at his clothes. “Ah,” she breathes. “The smell of too much money, layered over eau de too many cats.”

“I have three. How is that too many? And why aren’t either of you interested in getting some cake? This is a wedding. You go to weddings for cake.”

“That’s definitely the primary reason for attending weddings.”

“It’s from Fujiwara’s, you know. They never do weddings anymore. You’re missing the dessert event of your lives.”

Suzu straightens his boutonniere. “You accosted the Fujiwara grannies for these people?” A low whistle. “Wow. Dad must really like them.”

Reiko follows her twin’s gaze. Their father, Ryuuki, is busy holding court at a neighboring table. He laughs raucously at someone’s cheesy anecdote and is having the most fun out of all of them. “It’s all business, I suppose,” she says, unable to keep from smiling despite how little she’s enjoying herself.

Suzu snorts. “Of course it’s all business. Isn’t it always?” To Ren, she says, “Hey, how long before we’ve done our duty for the family market stall? I still have ten pages left to write on a research paper and it’s…” She grabs his arm in order to check the time on his fancy watch. “… 9:34. With half an hour’s drive back to my apartment.”

“You can spare ten minutes to have a slice of legendary cake, Tachibana Suzuna.”

“God, okay. But it better not be weird like that sheet cake you ordered for the charity auction last month.”

“Not weird. Avant-garde.”

“Uh-huh. Also, it tasted like beets and had radioactive magenta icing. So gross.”

“You and Reiko just really have no appreciation for the finer things in life. Let’s go, the line’s only getting longer.”

“Don’t want any,” Reiko pipes up. “I’ll have a slice vicariously, through Suzu.”

“Twin powers,” Suzu concurs, initiating the special handshake they invented when they were six. Almost twenty years later, they’re still augmenting the sequence with new moves. “Anything I ate, Reiko also ate. And vice versa. Page 2, Line 21 in the Twin Manual.”

“The worst plus-ones anybody ever brought to a wedding,” complains Ren. He pours Reiko a fresh glass of water from the pitcher on the table and gives her a pat on the head, a gesture of silent sympathy.

She watches Ren and Suzu as they stop to tease Ryuuki along the way. And then she blinks back the onslaught of unwanted tears, reaches for her phone again, and taps the newest e-mail notification. Three unread messages beckon through Reiko’s blurred vision. She scans the subject lines, head bowed over the glowing screen. Slipping into the steps of a familiar dance, she starts at the bottom with the oldest message first, because that’s easier than confronting her emotions.

PRE-ORDER CAMPAIGN - SPS OMNIBUS EDITION. A reply from the manufacturer about a shipment of Star Princess Sanna enamel pins she asked about on Friday afternoon. Delayed for another two weeks. Not ideal, but better than never getting them in at all. Reiko marks it for a response later.

TENJOU DELIVERY WEDNESDAY. Timestamped a mere ten minutes ago. She isn’t the only one working on a day off. Reiko notices right away that the message has been flagged as important, which is odd. This e-mail appears, without fail, every Monday of her life. Throughout the long history of this exchange, the message has never been flagged as important. At least, not that Reiko can remember.

She almost opens it, curiosity triggered, but then she sees the subject of the next e-mail and momentarily forgets everything else.

ALL DEPTS: QUARTERLY MEETING — MON @ 10AM

A thrill dances through her, momentarily displacing the throbbing ache in her skull. The sounds of the reception fade away. She taps the message and it unfurls into a calendar invite. Representatives from every department at her publishing house will be expected to attend, including Reiko and the other senior marketing staff.

Most meetings are a dreary prospect, especially when scheduled for first thing on a Monday. At these quarterly gatherings, it takes hours to discuss things like sales figures and future business plans. But this one is special, because they’ll finally present the twentieth anniversary plans for DUCHESS Magazine’s most iconic franchise to date: Red Thread. The first manga she ever read all the way through, start to finish. The reason why she applied at Yumeisha in the first place, as soon as she’d graduated.

Reiko accepts the invite and adds it to her burgeoning, meticulously color-coded calendar. She can’t keep from breaking into a smile. She’s still beaming at her phone when she hears the grass crunching softly under someone’s feet and looks up to find that she is no longer alone.

The someone is tall, just about as impeccably turned out as Ren, and wearing a pair of dress shoes so highly polished that Reiko can see her reflection in them. He’s shed the jacket and rolled up the sleeves of the crisp white shirt underneath.

There is only a bowl of tealights to see him by, so it takes a moment for Reiko to recognize the man now seating himself across from her. But if the head of blond hair hadn’t given it away, the green eyes and trademark smirk would have made it very clear within the next two seconds, anyway.

She blinks at him. “Oshiro?”

“Hi.”

“Um, hi. What are you doing here?”

He leans back into the chair and stretches his long legs under the table, instantly making himself at home. “Attending a wedding,” he replies. “Chatting with the bride’s aunties. Waiting for you to pay attention to me.”

“And sending e-mails?”

“No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

Reiko puts her phone down. “It’s weird seeing you outside of work. This is the last place I’d expect to run into you.”

“Why? Because you figured that I live at the office and camp out under my desk on days off?”

She laughs. “I mean, yeah.”

“To be fair, I’d expect the same of you.”

Well, that really is fair. Sometimes Reiko looks up from the endless loop between work and her apartment, her apartment and then work, and realizes that her entire existence can be summed up in three boring sentences or less. And then she’ll go back to her computer screen, her half empty coffee mug, the pathetic little granola bar that will have to serve as her lunch. But that’s just the way of things, isn’t it? At least she genuinely loves her job. It would be much harder to bear, otherwise.

“I’ve considered just packing myself a bag and living in my cubicle,” Reiko admits, without any real shame. In the background, the band segues into their much livelier cover of a depressing breakup anthem. Over the noise, she adds, “At least it would save me a commute.”

“So dedicated.”

She shrugs. “So lazy.”

“Anyone truly lazy wouldn’t be checking her inbox at a wedding reception,” Oshiro points out.

“Guilty as charged. Have you come to scold me for not participating in wedding activities?”

“No, I’ve come to ask you why you haven’t opened my e-mail.” He waves his own phone at her. “I checked three seconds ago. It definitely still says unread.”

“It’s flagged important and with a read receipt? Seriously?”

“Seriously. It’s high priority. Read it right now.” He angles a covert glance over her shoulder, in the direction he came from earlier. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, don’t reply until I’m back over there.”

“Wait, you want a reply, too? What am I supposed to say? You send me the same four lines every week. I have the thing memorized by now.” To prove this point, she clasps her hands behind her back and recites, “Heading to Tenjou on Wednesday. They need endcaps, window decals, sticker packs, blah blah blah, for insert-manga-title-here. I’ll stop by and grab them on my way out. Thanks. Oshiro Masaru, DUCHESS Sales, 81-4-8914-1111, extension 822.”

His demeanor shifts, now part bemusement and part blatant self-satisfaction. “Look, Tachibana, I’m beyond flattered that you hang onto my every word like this. Not surprising. I’m extremely eloquent in my digital correspondence.”

She rolls her eyes. “There it is. I knew it was coming.”

“You even know my extension by heart,” Oshiro continues blithely. “It’s like my wildest dreams coming true. But what I really need right now is for you to open that e-mail and write me a timely reply. By timely, I mean don’t hit send until I’m at my table again. And then I’ll read your response and write you back. So on, so forth, rinse and repeat, until this torture is over and we can both leave.”

“Ah.” Reiko crosses her arms. “You want a prolonged reason to be on your phone.”

“Correct.”

“Because you don’t want to be here.”

“Also correct, but needs clarification. I don’t want to be at this wedding. I do want to be at this table with you.”

He tips his head towards his original seating arrangements. Reiko risks a covert glance and notes that Oshiro’s vacated chair is surrounded by chattering ladies ranging from middle-aged to elderly. Somehow, without ever speaking to a single one of them, Reiko can tell that they’re the problematic aunties who don’t get along with any of the other aunties. Consequently, they’ve been placed where they can ostensibly do the least damage. From the looks of it, they’re having a fabulous time.

Reiko bites her lip, smothering a surge of laughter. “Wow. How did you end up with the best seat in the house? Like, who did you offend?”

“Ha ha. I owed the groom a favor and he cashed in, majorly.” Oshiro leans forward. “They’re a nice bunch, don’t get me wrong, but if they set me up with another of their nieces, I’ll be double booked from today until Christmas.”

“You’re welcome to sit here instead,” she offers. “We have an extra chair. My dad prefers to migrate between friend groups.”

“Thanks, but I can’t just abandon my post. I wouldn’t put it past them to follow me over here, or else I’d take you up on that suggestion. I figure random texts to my brothers will seem rude, unlike important work e-mails. So play along, won’t you? And keep in mind at least one of them will be reading over my shoulder the whole time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What on earth do you think I’d be putting in that e-mail?”

“I’m just saying, don’t use this as an opportunity to confess your undying love or anything. Maintain professionalism and all that.”

“Gosh, what a tall order. How will I ever comply?”

“Dig deep, Tachibana. Find that inner strength.”

Reiko pulls a face. “You came all the way here just to make me do this?”

“Yes,” says Oshiro. “You’re welcome. I’ll look for your thank you note in the mail. I also like gift baskets. The ones with baked goods are okay, but no edible fruit bouquets or artisan cheeses. Nobody wants those.”

“But why me?” she persists. “Don’t you have anyone else you can trade fake work e-mails with? What about Ueda? Or your boss?”

“Hey, take it easy. I’m not used to outright rejection.”

“I’m not rejecting you, I’m just confused.”

“What’s there to be confused about? I don’t want to be here. Neither do you. Let’s help each other out.”

Neither do you. Reiko feels very, very obvious, now.

He watches her expectantly. She can tell that he’s fighting hard not to break into one of his insouciant grins. Reiko can’t decide if she wants to smack him or bask in the infectious warmth of his attention, like a deprived houseplant straining to soak up every drop of sunshine it can get.

This conflicted reaction is more embarrassing than being caught on her phone. For God’s sake, it’s just Oshiro.

Their departments — Sales for him, Marketing for her — are often flung together, which means running into him at Yumeisha is pretty normal. They take the same elevator from the lobby and frequent the same break room on the tenth floor. He stops at her desk most Wednesday afternoons, as promised in his e-mails. Once in a while, if she stays even later than usual, Reiko might see him striding ahead of her through the lobby’s sliding glass doors, crossing the street to catch the same train. They never talk much, though, unless it’s about work.

Still true, she concludes, as Oshiro stands up and pushes the chair into place, preparing to return to the Island of Matchmaking Aunties. He walks backwards away from her, hands in his pockets. “Talk soon,” he tells Reiko, smiling as if he’s guessed all her secrets. And then he’s gone, threading his way through the crowd while she stares after him, utterly bewildered.

Read more episodes on Wattpad!

[yuthoe]

Schedule Changes (PENTAGON: Adachi Yuto)

HELLO, IT’S 12:48AM AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF.

I had to churn this out because it won’t leave my head. I’d like to thank my irl friend @shiiiiiiiiinwun for inspiring me to write this collection (yes, I’m gonna be doing one for all of ot9). And for someone who’s been watching anime since she figured out how to use the internet, you’d think I could’ve come up with better names, and faster.

EDIT (06/29/20): Hi! it’s my first time making an edit like this, so i’m kinda insecure abt it lol, i hope it’s okay. this is the 2nd yuto version i did, so it’s slightly better than the first one. tumblr rlly doesn’t want us to go overboard on image size huh

WARNINGS: n/a; some angst, maybe? who’s proofreading idk her. WORD COUNT: 3,314 it’s so fucking long.

---

Minister Sakaguchi,

Unfortunately, Her Majesty will not be available for your meeting today at 3PM; urgent matters have arisen that need her immediate attention. If you would like to reschedule with her, please reply to this email.

Thank you very much for understanding.

Regards,

Y/N L/N

Secretary to the Queen

You sigh, wondering if the email you’ve typed is in the appropriate tone that won’t offend Minister Sakaguchi; in all the years you’ve been working for the royal family it doesn’t get easier writing and replying to the emails of government officials, invitations to interview Her Majesty for magazine features, requests to attend public functions like galas and balls. The ridiculous amount of mail she gets, that are automatically forwarded to you, is mind-boggling, in anyone else’s eyes. It doesn’t surprise you anymore, though.

The queen as a monarch takes the backseat to running the kingdom, to any foreigner that decides to take a look at articles from international news sources. Her name isn’t mentioned as much as the king’s when it comes to referencing big developments in the state. Rather, the local newspapers and online sites have her name and face on some article at least once a week. The queen takes care of the little things, smaller projects that delve more into social welfare than her husband’s institutional programs. She is a strong advocate for women’s and children’s rights, as well as a figure in health outreach programs for the poorer sectors of society. Her compassion and dedication to her job is what made you want to work for her; she was like a role model to you, along with her husband.

It was a stroke of pure luck that got you this job; your first day as the secretary for Minister Yamazaki turned into you being his substitute with only a day’s notice. He had gotten sick with the flu and you were immediately thrust into a role you knew almost nothing about. So you took all the files related to the subject of the meeting and studied up on them the night before, turning up the next day and pulling out opinions as if you yourself spearheaded the project. The queen, upon finding out that you were new, was so impressed and had talked to Minister Yamazaki (who was still in his sickbed) over the phone about enlisting you under her employ.

It’s been five years since then. Five fast-paced, fulfilling, exciting years working closely with the royal family. At this point, your relationship with the queen is more of a friendship than strictly professional, and you’re grateful for it. The people you interact with on a daily basis are mostly considerably older than you--ministers, program leaders, the palace staff--and the talk is all business. So you’re grateful for your weekend teatime with the queen, sometimes with her children joining you, who are some of the only people your age you talk to on a regular basis, apart from the younger maids and kitchen staff. The afternoons out in the garden are the queen’s time to unwind and review everything that happened the previous week, as well as scheduling the succeeding weeks. The stress of planning therefore comes to a head on Saturdays so the week can sail by calmly.

Today is one of those Saturdays. Minister Sakaguchi had scheduled a dinner meeting with the queen yesterday--something about the upcoming fair for disenfranchised women, although you suspect Minister Sakiguchi will try to sneak in pitches for other programs she has in mind. The queen had agreed, so you penciled in the meeting into your schedule. However, the queen seemed under the weather when she came out earlier, that you had advised her to cancel it, assuring her that Minister Sakiguchi would understand. 

The queen takes a sip of her favorite rosehip and lemon tea, fingers delicate on the porcelain, and you send the email, huffing out a sigh. You place your phone facedown on the glass table and take a sugar cookie from the plate. “Just sent the email, Your Majesty,” you say. “Now you can just focus on resting tonight.” You smile as you take a bite.

Your boss smiles as she replaces the teacup on its saucer. “Thank you,” she says, relaxing against the lounge chair. “To be honest, I didn’t think Minister Sakiguchi would talk so much about the fair anyway. She probably suggested a meeting to tell me more of her ideas for the women’s sector.” You smile. Bingo. “Is anything else scheduled for tomorrow?”

You glance at your open laptop, as well as the printed-out spreadsheet on your lap. It’s an organized mess of colors and times and places and people. “Just the charity gala tomorrow night. I’ve coordinated with Subaru and she said the king will be late by an hour. Will you go alone?”

She tilts her head in thought and hums. “I don’t want to be late. Is there anyone available?”

You click through the several pinned tabs on your laptop to the tab for the royal family’s shared schedule. “It seems Princess Akari is free, as well as Prince Yuto,” you say after a moment.

“Ah, Akari will be busy designing something for the fair, I think, so maybe she won’t want to go,” the queen muses.

“So you’ll just take the prince, then? I’ll contact Daiki and ask him to notify the prince.”

“No need,” a deep, disembodied voice comes in from somewhere in the hedges before Prince Yuto pops his head into view. He walks towards the table as you clear up a space for him, closing your binder and putting that on top of the clipboard among other printouts on one of the spare chairs between you and the queen.

The prince strides across the grass in his black dress pants and long-sleeved shirt, to greet his mother. He places his hands softly on her shoulders and leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek. The queen smiles and accepts the kiss, patting a hand over one of his; her mood instantly lifts, and her posture relaxes further. As the youngest son, she dotes on him a lot; he in turn always keeps his mother company and can rarely be seen in public not by her side or his father’s. You think their relationship is sweet, and so do the many news articles posted online about it.

Prince Yuto takes a seat on the only empty chair and fixes himself a cup of tea while saying, “What’s the gala for?”

“The orphanages in the farther provinces,” the queen says as she takes a saucer and stacks it high with dark chocolate-coated cookies, pushing the small plate at her son’s direction. “Some dignitaries from other kingdoms as well as celebrities will be attending. And I will announce the new scholarship program for our state schools. There’s a chance your father won’t make it, so I’d like a companion.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Mother,” Prince Yuto says after swallowing a bite of cookie. He turns to you. “What time is it?”

“Call time for the royals and major government officials is 7PM, and the program starts at 7:30. I’ll contact Daiki with the details as well,” you say.

The prince shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns to the queen. “It’s such a shame, I thought you two were talking about Y/N transferring to my office,” he jokes. It’s a bit that he’s brought up many times before, and both you and the queen take it as a joke since you figure he just wants someone closer to his age with more experience than Daiki, who is about four years older and has only been working with him for two years.

The queen lets out a laugh and takes her teacup again. “What’s the matter with Daiki? He seems to be doing a good job.” Her eyes meet yours as she takes another sip, glinting in amusement.

Prince Yuto is smiling his bright, beautiful smile that the camera loves as he looks fondly at his mother. He probably got wind of her feeling run-down and hurried here to try to distract her. You know the queen is the most important person to him, and the queen may not know it, but it’s obvious to everyone else. “Well, as you know, Y/N is better,” he continues, “and Daiki-san is a stick-in-the-mud.” The teasing makes you huff out a laugh, immediately raising a hand to cover your mouth; Daiki is truly a stick-in-the-mud, even more than you are.

The queen laughs boisterously, throwing her head back. “Oh, you’re such a jokester, Yuto.” She sighs, fully relieved, and you’re thankful he decided to stop by. The queen finishes her tea and says, “Well, this was a fun teatime. I have some paperwork I have to sign, so Y/N, you may go.” She turns to her son. “It’s so nice of you to stop by, sweetheart,” she says, and leans down to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. “I’ll be seeing you both.” The queen glides away, and you briefly wonder how she can walk that gracefully in heels over damp, unpaved grass--but then you remember she’s the queen and has been doing this for years. She turns around the corner of the hedge and disappears.

You sigh and shut down your laptop, gathering your stuff as you message Daiki about the charity gala. You slide the laptop in your bag, and put all the printouts in order into a folder, before slipping everything else inside. You’re just about to get up to leave before Prince Yuto’s voice stops you.

“You sure you won’t consider transferring to my office?” you hear the prince suddenly ask. He’s looking at you, piercing eyes that make everyone in the kingdom, young and old, swoon. And if you didn’t talk to him everyday and your self-control had been any less, you would probably give in to whatever he wanted.

So you try to mask your rapidly beating heart behind a fond, teasing smile. “Well, I don’t really have a say in it. Don’t think the queen wants to let me go, anyway,” you say, taking a proffered dark chocolate-covered cookie from the prince and biting into it. The rich, slightly bitter punch of the chocolate explodes on your tongue.

The prince looks at you with a small smile. “I was serious, you know,” he says simply. “I mean, you won’t be as busy so you’ll have more free time, and the stuff I do is just small, as a minister for cultural arts. I split it with another person.”

You’re already shaking your head. “I like my job. I love working for the queen and seeing the results of what she’s done. You know she’s been my role model since I was a teenager, so this is a dream for me. And as much as I want a break sometimes, I can’t let this opportunity go.” You sigh, heart heavy now, and stand. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

He stands with you. “I know I’ve told you to call me just ‘Yuto’ before, didn’t I?”

“But decorum--,”

“Yeah, fine, practice etiquette in public, but when we’re alone you can just call me by my name.” You don’t answer, and hesitantly purse your lips. And then the prince begins to pout. “Come on, if you don’t wanna work for me, at least call me Yuto.” He presses the tips of his index fingers together and says, “I miss you,” so cutely, with his big puppy dog eyes and hilariously deep voice that’s sorely out of place for the cutesy thing he’s trying to do.

You have to laugh, bending down at the waist and steadying yourself with the table as you cackle. “Fine, fine,” you relent. “I’ll call you Yuto in private from now on.” You heave your heavy bag up onto your shoulder with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

***

“You look beautiful tonight,” someone says behind you. You turn carefully, eyes meeting Yuto, in another black ensemble: turtleneck under an overcoat with black dress pants and boots. His hair is slicked back artfully, apart from the stray locks of hair that insist on falling over his eyes. Simple, but very handsome; the paparazzi and journalists must be having a field day with that outfit.

And you look down at yourself: standard black satin-and-chiffon off-shoulder gown that you usually wear to these types of stuff. Your shoes are your everyday pair, and you’re thankful that the dress comes all the way to the floor because they are getting scuffed at the tip. Your hair is wavy, the result of sleeping in a braid through twelve hours, but you manage to tame it into a loose bun that’s mostly out of your face. The only accessory you have is the necklace you’ve worn since your mother passed down to you six or seven years ago. Makeup is minimal because you are here to assist, not be the center of attention. Everything you put into your appearance tonight is just to make sure you look clean and professional. And invisible.

You roll your eyes at the prince. “Your Highness, I look like this everytime the queen needs to go somewhere fancy. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the right word.” You know he means well, but you’re just plain, from your shoes to your face to your position in society, you’re just simple, unremarkable.

The prince furrows his brows and takes his place standing beside you. “You are, though. You may not see it, but I do.” He casts you a quick glance before turning his focus to the stage, where a popular singer is performing one of her new songs onstage as an opening act. “And those photographers over there see it, too.”

You whip your head at him before scanning the event hall for any cameras pointed at you, heart pounding hard in your chest. You don’t spot any, but you still say, “I think you had better take your seat, Your Highness. I bet those people just want to make a scandal out of nothing.” Prince Yuto may be the youngest out of the royal children, but that does not mean he is risk-free. He is being trained for the position of Minister of Culture and the Arts; he has a large following of young people who look up to him as a leader and as a person; he is one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear for anything bad to happen to him.

The work tablet you brought is getting crushed in your folded arms from how tight you’re clutching it. “I’m going to find Daiki--,” you say softly, making to leave, but getting stopped once again by the prince.

He’s holding one of your arms gently, but strong enough to pull you back beside him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Let them. It’s fine.”

You pull your arm away. “Your Highness, it’s not fine. You can’t risk a scandal blowing up on you right now. Everyone has eyes on you, even if you don’t think so.” You’re worried. The last thing you want is for him to get in trouble because of you.

The prince sighs. “Y/N, there’s not gonna be a scandal if we’re actually together.”

You take a moment to think. “What? You want us to pretend to be a couple? I don’t think it’s a good idea; people might get the misconception that you’re slacking off, or--,”

“No, I mean--,” he sighs frustrated, more at himself than at you, but he keeps his composure and his face remains stoic; you both are still in public, after all. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I just didn’t know how to say it, and I certainly didn’t plan on telling you at a charity event where hundreds of people could hear.” He’s rambling--a sign that he’s nervous, unprepared.

Prince Yuto takes a calming breath before fully facing you. “I like you, Y/N,” he says softly, aware of the number of ears that are possibly listening in. “I’ve liked you since the day you started working for my mom, and I liked you even more the longer you stayed. You’re a hard worker, you’re dedicated to your job, you genuinely care for the queen and the things she does for the people. And I’m thankful that I got close to you as much as I have because you do mean a lot to me. I know I don’t show it, because I’m not sure how to show it, and I don’t know how you would react to it. But I do like you. Very much.” He releases a breath and looks you in the eye. “So will you try? To be with me?”

All this you take in with wide eyes and a shocked-open mouth. You know the prince is not the most outgoing person; he’s most relaxed when he is with people he knows, which are limited to his family and their secretaries, along with some of the senior palace staff. You’ve never seen him in a pickle of trying to get someone’s attention, but you do remember him offering to carry your heavy work back once or twice and you insisting on carrying yourself; him telling you that you look beautiful even if you wear the same plain things all the time; him giving you a box of (really expensive) chocolate for Valentine’s Day on the excuse of “I gave all the royal family’s employees chocolates”; him giving you a piece of his favorite chocolate cookies, even though you’ve never seen him offer them to anyone else.

All this time he’s been telling you how he feels and you’ve never noticed. And you yourself can’t even tell him the same because you don’t want to risk the prince getting hurt, you getting hurt, the queen getting hurt because of your selfishness. Your work is important to you, and you can’t jeopardize it for your happiness.

But here he is, Prince Yuto. Being brave enough to know the uncertainty of what lies ahead and being prepared to face it, if you answer him; if you push aside your fear of messing up and tell him you like him back; if, for once, you look to your heart instead of thinking of your work.

He stands tall beside you, an imposing figure of grace and compassion. A man people look up to. A leader who is innovative, yet respects traditions. A role model for young people who are inspired by his music, his acts of service to everyone. A son that is loved by his parents, a brother that is loved by his siblings. A friend who listens and is always there, but always pushes you out of your comfort zone.

How can you not fall for him?

How can you say no, when everything around you points to yes?

You’re nodding your head before you know it, still too shocked to properly process the last five minutes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll try being with you.”

The blinding smile is back, and you can’t help but return it. The prince nods, unable to suppress the grin on his face and gestures to the audience, milling about finding their tables. “I’ll be on my way, then. Find my mother.” He clears his throat, fidgets about with his coat and pockets. “Good luck for the rest of the night,” he says with a nod, before leaving.

You just curtsy, still beaming and your heart is drumming in your chest like crazy, but it feels light. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and you can take flight at any moment, straight into his arms.

[artificialqueens]

oh, my sunlight, chapter two (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 5060

AN: Chapter two! I love this verse so, so much. Thank you for all the sweet words on the first chapter, I appreciate it endlessly. Thank you writ for betaing and being wonderful <3

“Stupid blazer, so much for being a maternity fit-”

“You good, baby?” Vanessa pops her head out from their en suite bathroom, half dressed in the pantsuit that she’s going to be wearing for the German Chancellor’s state visit.

Brooke huffs. “Can’t get these buttons to close. How am I supposed to look professional if I can’t even button my damn blazer over my belly?”

Vanessa walks over, a soft grin taking over her face before she leans down to kiss Brooke’s stomach, grabbing both sides of her blazer. She fiddles with it, tongue poking out and lets out a whoop when she gets the blazer closed. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on keeping up the pantsuits. There’s gotta be other clothes that are more-”

“Nope. Still gotta match the rest of the agents.” Brooke doesn’t even see it as an option. She can still keep up with everyone, she’s still the agent in command and she’s not going to be sitting back unless she fully has to.

“You’re seven and a half months pregnant, B. Don’t think that I didn’t hear you grumbling about your back aching earlier.” Vanessa comes up behind her to massage out the knots in her shoulders and Brooke can’t help but sigh into the touch.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Ness.” Brooke’s good at handling herself. She’s been trying her best throughout the pregnancy to keep up, to not let things change, despite Vanessa’s tutting about it.

Brooke knows that she’s going to have to cut down on the work soon, for Vanessa’s sake more than anything else. Her wife’s been more worried than she has, always willing to let engagements and presidential business slide for any prenatal appointments, or any moments when Brooke hasn’t been feeling the best. Not that Brooke wants Vanessa to worry too much about her.

As little as she wants to admit it, Brooke’s been enjoying the doting. It had irritated her slightly at first, Vanessa being overly worried and willing to push anything aside for her needs. It had reminded Brooke of when she had been recovering from being shot years and years ago - her natural tendency of wanting to fold in on herself and silently carry on not being possible with Vanessa at her side. But she’s learned, over time. To accept help from those who want to give it. Especially her wife.

“I’m gonna give you a full back massage tonight, regardless.” Vanessa places a kiss to Brooke’s shoulder before coming around to face her.

Brooke grins. “A massage, huh?”

“Get your dirty ass mind out of the gutter. Though that can be arranged, too.” Vanessa winks at her. “Do you need help with your pants?”

Brooke huffs. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated-”

“-Your belly is also starting to block your view of your feet, baby.” Vanessa ignores Brooke’s protests and grabs her pants, holding them out for Brooke to step into.

Brooke scoffs when Vanessa buttons her pants for her (’There, was that so hard?’), but has to admit to herself that Vanessa’s help speeds up her changing process by quite a bit.

Vanessa tugs on her own blazer as Silky barges into their bedroom. “You got approximately twenty minutes before we gotta go down to the first floor and debrief.”

“Ever heard of knocking, Silk?” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath when Silky is followed by two baby faced interns, jotting down notes as they look around the room. “These ain’t open quarters.”

Brooke forgets, sometimes, that they’re living in the White House. That the high ceilings and ominous portraits that line the walls hold a long, detailed history. That the low hum of noise that’s always present is because their residence holds not only their living quarters, but also government offices and tours for the public.

“But I’m your best friend and also part of your staff, and the one who has to tell you that your ass is going to be late to meet the Chancellor of Germany, and that ain’t a good look for anyone.” Silky turns towards the interns, whispering something to them before they run off.

Vanessa waves a hand airily. “Angela won’t even be mad. Hell, she gave me a hug the last time that we met. We’re cool.”

Silky shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got the nerve to call her ‘Angela’.”

Vanessa shrugs. “That’s her name, ain’t it?”

Brooke has to hold back a smile. She never gets tired of watching Vanessa. It’s refreshing, really, the way her natural charisma tends to lend itself to politics. The way she’s been able to actually accomplish things during her time in office because she can use her likeability to her advantage. It’s an art, one that Vanessa’s truly perfected.

Silky leans back against the bedframe, turning towards Brooke. “Wilson’s looking for you. Something about perimeter mumbo jumbo. Hell if I know.”

Brooke snorts. “So helpful. Thanks though, I’ll contact him.” She pulls out her work phone to call the other agent, talking through the security measures for the Chancellor’s visit.

It bothers Brooke more than she wants to admit, the fact that she can’t physically do the work anymore. Being the one on the front lines, protecting Vanessa. Brooke feels like she should be the one doing it, because how can she trust other people not to make stupid mistakes and put Vanessa in danger?

But she’s been trying. To let go, to relax. To delegate.

To prioritize the fact that she’s growing a small human. Their small human.

She still can’t believe it sometimes, that it’s actually happening.

The one line on the pregnancy test is staring back at her, taunting her, because-

It didn’t work.

Maybe she should take another one. Maybe this first one is lying. Maybe it did work this time. This is their third round of IVF, after all, shouldn’t it have worked by now?  

What are they doing wrong?

What is Brooke doing wrong?

“Open up, B. What does it say?”

Vanessa’s fist banging on the door makes Brooke squeeze her eyes shut tight, because no, no, no, Vanessa’s going to be heartbroken because it’s happened again-

“Brooke.” Vanessa’s voice, again. Softer this time. “Can I come in?”

Brooke sniffles (she’s not crying, she’s not crying, when did she start crying?), reaching over from her cross legged position on the ground to unlock the door.

It didn’t work.

Again.

She’s not pregnant.

Again.

“Oh, baby.” Vanessa’s looking at Brooke and scooting onto the floor beside her and her arms are wrapping around her shoulders, squeezing her so tight and for a second the deep pressure is grounding, making everything okay, before their ugly reality rears its head again because the test is still in her hand. Staring up at her. Mocking her. Leering at her.

Brooke’s a failure.

Again.

“I’m sorry, Ness.” The words feel like lead in her mouth, because saying them makes it true - that this cycle of IVF failed. Like the last one, and the one before that. Because the injections, the supplements, the doctor’s visits were all in vain. They made no difference, in the end.

It didn’t work.

“Shhh.” Vanessa’s hand is gentle on her cheek, wiping the tear that’s threatening to fall. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Let’s make that clear.”

“But-”

“We’re doing everything right, baby, okay? It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault. It’s not either of our faults.” Vanessa’s other hand is running through her hair and a small part of Brooke wonders if she even deserves the comfort.

“But it should have happened by now, what if I’m doing something wrong, what if-”

“Brooke-”

“I can’t, I-”

“Shh.” Vanessa’s arms are around Brooke again, squeezing her tight and somehow it cuts through the fog of her thoughts, the beating of her heart that’s getting faster and faster along with the spiralling in her mind. Vanessa’s bringing Brooke back down, keeping the various pieces of her all together that are so prone to shattering from her thoughts and memories.

“We’ll try again. If you want. Or we don’t have to. But we don’t have to talk about it right now.” Vanessa’s whispers are warm in her ear, soft and reassuring and Brooke almost hates it. That Vanessa has to do this. Be the one to keep them from breaking.

Because that’s Brooke’s job.

“…And then the Secretary of Commerce’s office wants to set up a meeting about the tariffs on the lumber exports, we’ll need to do that before the bill goes in front of the legislature.” Blair’s voice squeaks as she speaks, her eyes flitting between Vanessa and the rest of her team.

“Thank you, St. Clair. Call them and set it up for late next week, maybe Friday in the a.m?” A’keria’s voice is all business as she rifles through her agenda. Vanessa’s glad that she’s got A’keria on as her Chief of Staff. Being in charge of overseeing the office’s day to day flow, she’s adept at keeping everyone in line, from the interns like Blair to Vanessa herself.

Vanessa has to admit, she’s more of a headache to A’keria than any of the interns.

A’keria dismisses the rest of the team, letting them leave the Oval Office before closing the door. “Question, while I work on your schedule. You still serious about this whole parental leave thing?”

Vanessa looks at A’keria as if she’s grown two heads. “Obviously. We’re about to have a baby. Do I look like I can focus on running a country?”

“You’re the President, Vanj. That’s your damn job description.”

“Hey, if the New Zealand Prime Minister took maternity leave when she had her kid way back when, so can I.” Vanessa shrugs, leaning back in her desk chair. “Break the glass ceiling here and all that.”

A’keria rubs at her temples. “Okay, so we’ll get the VP to step in as deputy, fine. You’ll still have to consult here and there during the leave, though, or this whole place will fall to shit.”

Vanessa waves a hand. “Everyone will survive. I’m gonna have more important things to focus on.

The thought makes her stomach do flips every single time.

A baby.

Her and Brooke are going to have a baby.

It’s now been eight months since they found out, since their world had flipped on its axis because it finally became real and now it’s happening, really happening.

Vanessa looks up at the clock. 7:35 p.m. She knows about Brooke’s tendencies to overwork herself, which normally she doesn’t want to interfere with. But the pregnancy has turned Vanessa into a mother hen, one that wants to hover around Brooke and make sure she’s safe and okay, even though she knows it’s probably annoying.

She dials Brooke’s number, waiting for it to ring.

“Hey, V.” Brooke’s voice is soft and Vanessa can almost hear the grin in it.

“Hey yourself.” Vanessa’s brow furrows at the rustling noises in the background of the call. “You still working?”

“Finishing up a meeting.”

Vanessa sighs. “Brooke-”

“I know, I know. We’re done, now.”

“Good.” Vanessa’s can hear how soft her own voice is, in relief more than anything else. “Wanna grab dinner together?”

“Just us?” Brooke’s question makes sense - they’re both used to working through meals a lot of the time, having lunchtime meetings or dinnertime conference calls with those in other timezones or others that they haven’t been able to reach during the day.

“Just us. I don’t have anything until nine, a conference call with the U.S Embassy in Japan.” Vanessa smiles. “Well, the three of us.”

“Yeah. The three of us.” Brooke’s voice is full of marvel. The fact that they’re going to have a baby is becoming more and more real as the months pass. As Brooke begins to show more and more, as every prenatal appointment passes and while confirming that their baby is healthy. But the fact that they’ll get to meet their child in a month and a half, the fact that they’ll go from being a duo to a trio-

It feels unbelievable.

Vanessa’s been through so much with Brooke. Experienced so many highs, so many lows. Experienced so much of what life has to offer, and experienced brushes with death, too.

Soon, they’re going to have a chance to add to their team.

Vanessa heads from the Oval Office over to their private wing of the White House, getting stopped along the way approximately four times to sign various papers and answer questions from harried members of staff. The answers roll off of her tongue like second nature, like she was born to do this.

At the beginning of her first term, Vanessa had felt way, way, over her head, as if she had jumped from a small pond to deep into the Atlantic ocean with no life jacket to keep her afloat. It had been a learning curve despite her many years in politics - learning how to stay on top of things, how to manage not only a bigger staff, but an entire country. The voices of her opponents on the campaign trail had begun to sink into her inner monologue, droning on about how she was too young, too inexperienced, too incapable of the job. They’d made her feel like she was faking it, like she wouldn’t be able to get through.

But Vanessa’s learned, over the years. And now, into her second term, she’s gotten more comfortable with using her natural confidence and abilities, because she knows what she’s doing.

There’s no way she could have gotten this job if she didn’t.

Brooke’s already taking out plates for the two of them when Vanessa reaches the dining room, and Vanessa has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss her, leaning over her belly.

“Baby was extra antsy during the meeting today.” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s hand and places it on her stomach, where a small bulge is protruding.

“His little feetsies!” Vanessa practically squeals when she feels it sticking out.

“Or her.” Brooke grins. “We don’t know that yet.”

“And we’re not finding out until they’re born, so may as well use any and all pronouns.” Vanessa presses a kiss to Brooke’s stomach. “Hi, baby. Been good for your mama all day?”

“Pressing on my bladder like mad.” Brooke huffs. “I had to pee practically every five minutes.”

Vanessa tries to hold back a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I’m glad that it’s you who’s carrying first.”

“Oh, just you wait.” Brooke tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to have a great time basking it when you have to go through all the pregnancy stuff.”

They grab their food from the trolley that’s been brought up from the White House kitchen. The fact that they don’t have to cook if they don’t want to would be a lot more enjoyable to Vanessa were the two of them not so incredibly busy with work. Though it’s moments like these that Vanessa appreciates not having to grocery shop or wash dishes or work away in the kitchen. She just gets to spend her downtime with Brooke.

“Wanna eat in the den?” Vanessa nudges Brooke’s side. “More comfy.”

“Yeah. My back has been killing me all day, I want to veg out a bit.” Brooke holds up a hand before Vanessa can even open her mouth in concern and say a word. “And yes, you can give me a back massage, and no, I won’t take an easy day tomorrow.”

“Brooke.” Vanessa huffs as they walk over to the den. “You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re-”

“I’m not, V.” Brooke falls down onto the couch with a sigh as she tries to get comfy, shuffling the cushions by her back. “I just want to be active for as long as possible, that’s all.”

Vanessa sticks another cushion behind Brooke for good measure. “Just take care of yourself, okay? You know yourself better than I do, but you also once accidentally cut your finger on a jar and said it was just like a papercut, and then it wouldn’t wouldn’t stop bleeding and then you needed stitches. Stitches!”

Brooke snorts at the memory. “Good times. That was funny. Still got the scar from that. The stitches didn’t even hurt.”

Vanessa’s about to huff, go off again because Brooke is too blasé about her own health sometimes and it worries her, it really does, when Brooke grabs her hand and kisses it. It’s a flimsy tactic, but never fails at making Vanessa absolutely melt.

“I know my limits, Nessa, ‘kay? I’ll be careful, you know that.”

Vanessa sighs. “I do.” It’s just that it makes her nervous, she wants Brooke to be okay, and wants the baby to be okay, and doesn’t want anything to go wrong.

She’s gotten too close to losing Brooke in the past. The sleepless nights Vanessa’s spent in a chair beside a hospital bed, fears that Brooke would never wake up.

Vanessa never wants to experience that ever again.

“Here, watch this.” Brooke puts her now empty plate on the table beside the couch, moving a hand to rub her belly. “I’ve learned exactly how to make him all mad. Discovered it today, during the meeting.”

“Mad?” Vanessa scoots closer, resting a hand on Brooke’s stomach. “And what happened to ‘we don’t know yet?’”

“I know, I know.” Brooke shrugs. “It’s fun to guess, though. Now, watch this. He reacts when I rub the side of my stomach, right here.”

Brooke presses her hand to her side, and Vanessa watches with wonder as her belly moves, their baby active and shifting around. She can’t help but reach out and put her hand beside Brooke’s, letting out a little whoop when she feels their baby kick.

“She’s so active! Or he. Or they. I love them so much already.” Vanessa can’t help the way that she’s already tearing up.

“And here I thought that I was the pregnant, hormonal one.” Brooke’s sniffling too, and Vanessa burrows herself into her side, her heart full and all of the possibilities of the world laid out in front of them.

She’d never thought in her wildest dreams that she would ever get so lucky.

Brooke’s therapist had told her not to bottle things up, stick them in the pretty boxes in her heart, never to be opened again because everything would eventually crumble. The pile of boxes. From all the bad thoughts and thorn laced memories that she didn’t want to think about.

“It’s okay to lean on your wife sometimes,” he had said, “Just like she leans on you.”

They’re in a fancy suite in Boston, because Vanessa is meeting with the state’s senator tomorrow and then has a media blitz day. But Brooke can’t sleep, even though they’re going to have to wake up at 6 a.m. so that Vanessa can look ‘media ready,’ as A’keria puts it.

Brooke tries to distract herself with the plan for tomorrow - how many cars they’re going to take, the way she’s going to distribute the agents for the myriad of events and locations. It normally calms her, soothes her; being a creature of preparedness and having the need for everything being under control. But tonight her stomach is cramping, the pain hollow in her abdomen a reminder of what they’re going through.

The cramping is normal, the doctor had told her. After implantation of the embryos.

But will a pregnancy take?

Will it work?

Or will it be like the last three cycles?

Brooke can’t help but think that maybe it has something to do with her.

She has half a mind to poke Vanessa, wake her from her slumber. Spill all the worries that are building up in her head and threatening to escape at any moment, unless they drive her insane first.

But Vanessa’s fast asleep, her mouth slightly parted as her waves frame her face and for a second she doesn’t even look like the President of the United States. She’s the woman that Brooke fell in love with in a cabin in the woods and nearly died for.

It baffles Brooke every day, the fact that Vanessa loves her. Is married to her. Despite everything, all that’s happened.

Everything that Brooke’s done in her life.

It’s not her, not anymore. But it used to be.

Brooke had murdered people in cold blood, murdered people for money. She had her own fucked up moral code that she used to guide herself in the direction of what was least societally reprehensible, but still.

Doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s extinguished lives. Ended bloodlines, shattered families. No matter if they belonged to douchebags or criminals or whomever. Brooke had still done it. Willingly.

Who is she now to even want to bring a life into this world?

The universe is probably laughing in her face right now, at her absolute audacity to even try again. They’re probably going to find out the same thing a fourth time.

Not pregnant.

It’s not like Brooke deserves to be, anyway, not after what she’s done.

In the past, Brooke had never been one to believe in karma. But the way that her and Vanessa keep trying and trying, the way that they keep seeing friends and coworkers and even people on fucking television announce that they’re pregnant feels like a huge cosmic joke. Like the universe wants to rub it in her face.

Fucked up real bad in the past? Well, she’s going to pay for it now, while bringing Vanessa down with her. Sweet, amazing Vanessa, who deserves better than this. Better than Brooke and all her karmic baggage.

Brooke doesn’t want to wake her. Maybe she’ll talk to her in the morning instead.

Brooke really, really needs watermelon.

Really needs it.

Desperately needs it.

She’d had insane cravings during her second trimester, constantly on the hunt in the White House kitchens for a certain type of ice cream, or her favourite dill pickles. The cravings had died down during the recent weeks, but now they’re back with a vengeance. At nearly nine months pregnant.

Brooke has to get work done for the diplomat visits to the White House over the next few weeks, review the security plans submitted by her agents that are waiting in her email before she officially has to go on leave, but all she can think about is watermelon.

A nice slice of watermelon. The kind that’s super sweet, super juicy, the kind that’s the best in the summer months when it’s hot outside.

She needs some watermelon.

BLH: I need your help.

VVM: What??? Ok coming to your office in 5.

BLH: No wait, just-

Vanessa’s flinging open the door before Brooke can even send her text. It’s convenient, really, that Brooke’s office is so close to the Oval Office. But Vanessa’s looking around the room wildly, looking at her for any signs of distress or pain, and Brooke suddenly feels guilty.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt? In pain? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Vanessa’s hand is brushing the hair away from her face, her eyes looking her up and down.

“No.” Brooke mumbles because now she’s almost embarrassed. Almost. “I just…”

“You just what?” Vanessa’s crouching beside her desk chair, eyebrows raised. “Spit it out, baby.”

“I want watermelon. I really really want some.” Brooke squeaks out the words, because one of her agents is standing in the doorway, and she’s truly never going to hear the end of the teasing if they catch any of their conversation.

“Watermelon?!” Vanessa’s voice echoes around the room and really, so much for keeping it on the down low. Brooke nearly facepalms. “I ran here in these high ass heels for watermelon?”

“Well, technically I didn’t make you run-”

“Watermelon. Watermelon?”

“In my defense, I really, really need some?” Brooke gives the most angelic smile that she can down to her wife, who’s crouched down on the floor and having a crisis.

“Watermelon.”

“Please?” Brooke pouts and she can see Vanessa’s resolve break, her features immediately melting as she stands back up to press a kiss to her lips.

“Okay, baby. I’ll head down to the kitchen and get you some watermelon.”

Brooke beams, because she really does love her wife. “Thank you.”

Sure, Brooke finds it hard to accept help sometimes. But her pregnancy brain is quite adept at overruling her rational side, something her therapist would be quite impressed with.

Brooke’s happy with the watermelon when Vanessa brings her some, using her stomach like a shelf and resting her bowl on top of it as she types. Her abdomen has been bothering her all day, cramping off and on, though she’s not too worried after their last prenatal visit. Her doctor had said that such cramps were normal towards the end of pregnancy.

Brooke knows to expect it. She’s not going to be a wuss that shows up at the hospital way too early, thinking that she’s having contractions.

Nah, Brooke’s fine. She’s going to keep working. She needs to finish sending these emails, anyway.

Brooke pushes against the armrests of her desk chair to stand up once she hits send on the last email, letting out a grunt as she does. The bathroom’s been calling her name all throughout the work, the baby once again pushing on her bladder with no signs of letting up. She’s ready to waddle over, go to the bathroom for the fourth time today when she feels a slight whoosh.

Her pants are wet.

Brooke lets out a groan, because has she really peed her pants? Does being nearly nine months pregnant make women incontinent?

How embarrassing.

Brooke looks down to assess the state of her clothes, and she’s definitely got a wet spot on her pants, along with one on her chair.

She’s about to grumble and attempt to deal with the mess, except she realizes that she still feels like she needs to pee. So maybe, she hasn’t just peed her pants?

But then…

It doesn’t make sense to Brooke. Her water can’t be broken. She’s still two weeks ahead of her actual due date.

But she’s definitely feeling some sort of leakage, and she still has to pee, and her abdomen is really, really starting to hurt.

“Brooke, baby, I can’t bring you more watermelon, the Chief of Security is in my office right now-”

“Ness, I think my water broke.” Brooke whispers into the phone at her desk, because there are still agents on the other side of her door, and she doesn’t want to cause a stir, really, because maybe it’s not that big of a deal if it’s happened so early-

“WHAT?” Vanessa’s voice blares through the phone and Brooke has to pull the receiver away from her ear, because Vanessa is loud.

“I think so, at least-”

“Forget this meeting, fuck it - whoops, sorry sir - my wife is in labour, I need to go, we can reschedule this, right? A’keria! Reschedule it! Brooke’s in labour!”

Brooke can practically hear Vanessa yelling as she gets closer and closer to her own office, heaving the door open and it’s a good thing Vanessa’s here now, because fuck.

The pains are definitely contractions now.

“Do we need to go? Should I tell one of the interns to call a car? Who should drive? Should I drive?” Vanessa’s pacing in front of her desk and Brooke wants to laugh, really, except she’s having to breathe a little bit harder through the pain.

Not that the pain is that bad. She’s okay, really.

“You’re not going to drive, babe. We’re-” Brooke takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she can feel another contraction start. “We’ll get someone to drive us.”

“Should I ask Kiki? No wait, I can’t ask Kiki, she said once that she’d failed her driving test in the past. What if she crashes now with us in the car? What if-”

“Ness. We have drivers. We have people employed here who are quite literally drivers.” Breathe, she’s going to breathe. The contraction’s ending.

Vanessa pauses. “Oh. Right. Wait, your baby bag, we haven’t packed one!” She spins on her heel, starting to pace again. “What do we do?”

“Get one of the interns to do it.” Brooke grimaces because damn, her abdomen hurts, and it’s still so early, and are they really about to have a baby?

Vanessa barks an order into her phone and comes around Brooke’s desk, pulling her close. Brooke leans her head against Vanessa’s stomach, who’s still standing and running her fingers through Brooke’s hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can do this. Stay calm.” Vanessa’s muttering under her breath and Brooke looks up at her with an amused smile.

“I am calm.” Brooke is. She’s trying to be, at least, because panicking isn’t going to help and she doesn’t want to start to spiral too early. Maybe she’s not even in labour yet and this is a false alarm.

“I was talking to myself.” Vanessa’s voice is sheepish and Brooke lets out a snort, because of course she was.

Brooke feels another wave of pain hit, stronger this time and lets out a whimper because it hurts, more so than before. Vanessa’s suddenly on the floor beside her, and Brooke can hear her talking (‘It’s okay, baby, you’re okay, you’re okay’) and tries her best to focus on her. Though the way she’s gripping the armrests of her chair is certainly going to make them break.

It feels like an eternity before the contraction passes, even though Brooke’s clock tells her that it’s only been forty five seconds.

“Hey. Hey. Kiki brought the driver. You ready?” Vanessa’s looking up at Brooke expectantly, as if she’s asked the easiest question in the world.

Ready? Are they ready for a baby? Will they be able to be parents? Will they be good parents?

Is Brooke ready to push out an entire baby?

“I am, with you.” It’s true. They can do this. Brooke’s been through so much with Vanessa, survived deadly past careers, wayward gunshots, federal campaigns. Protected her physically from the world while Vanessa kept her together on the inside.

Who’s to say they can’t do this too?

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

[fallinglntokillugon]

Rainy Wait Reward

[AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22375756]

A Sweet KilluGon One-shot by Falling lnto Pieces

Synopsis: On a rainy afternoon, Killua waits for Gon at the shoe lockers. When Gon finally shows up, what does Killua want? Part of my Japanese Schooldays AU!

Characters: Killua and Gon

Pairing: KilluaXGon, KilluGon

Genre/Mood: Boys’ love, Rainy Day, Junior High School, Japanese Schooldays AU, Fluffy

Rating: G+

So, I tried writing the next chapter for Erotic Exotic Pet, got three pages in, and had to scrap it. I tried again and got to the same exact road block, causing me to scrap it again. Today after school, I decided to write something small. I think it’s quite cute, and I can post the whole thing here on Tumblr because it’s safe~ Please leave comments and likes if you enjoy the Japanese Schooldays AU! (*Translation Notes at the end*)

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

“Killua, what are you still doing here?” Gon asked as he turned the corner to find his best friend leaning against the second-year shoe lockers.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the white-haired boy responded, slipping his smartphone into the pocket of his pants before straightening up. He rolled his shoulders, which were stiff after such a long wait. Killua pointed past the entryway and out the doors. “It’s raining today.”

“It is,” Gon confirmed the obvious, leaning down to take off his indoor shoes. He opened his locker and tossed his boots out onto the tiles.

“So I was hoping you’d be around to share your umbrella with me. Didn’t know it would be two hours after school ended though…”

“Did you forget yours?”

“What do you think, Baka?”

“I’m thinking you did,” Gon gave a small giggle, sitting on the wooden slats to pull his boots over the bottom of his pants to protect them from the rain. He watched his best friend hop over to where the Class 2-A lockers were, retrieving his sneakers.

“Oi, praise me.”

“Huh? Why should I do that?” the black-haired boy asked in a confused tone as he stood up and slung his book bag over his shoulder.

“I didn’t try using any of those over there,” Killua said, gesturing to where the umbrella stands were located at the end of each locker row. Even though almost all the students had gone home, there were quite a few umbrellas in each of the three stands. Sometimes people brought one on a rainy morning and stranded it there when the weather turned sunny in the afternoon. Most were the clear white ones bought at the convenience store a few blocks from the school, so no one could tell them apart at the end of the day. Those tended to be left behind just in case someone could figure out which one was specifically theirs and wanted it.*

Of course there were many students, mainly male, that would snatch and use umbrellas at random on rainy afternoons if they forgot their own. Some boys would even brag about never needing to buy one, since extras could always be found in the umbrella stands. But, that meant a girl or two were stuck fruitlessly searching for their missing umbrellas. Killua used to be one of those types of guys, as well as a flirt who would charm his fangirls into letting him borrow their umbrellas and run off with it. When he’d transferred to this school, he’d been chided for doing such things.

Gon, the main one to chew him out on the subject, smiled widely at his best friend. He gave a nod of approval and a thumbs up. “Good job for not stealing, Killua.”

“And I want a reward too.”

“You said you just wanted praise,” Gon puffed up his cheeks. His best friend could be so pushy for attention sometimes. He walked down the row to grab the green frog umbrella Grandma Abe had given him for his birthday two years prior. It was big and sturdy, with good grips on the handle. He took it out of the holder and unbuttoned the button. Before he could give it a shake, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders from behind.

“C'mon, give me something for having waited for you. Two hours, Gon. It was so humiliating to stand next to your locker like an idiot for that long,” Killua complained. Blowing a puff of warm air at one of Gon’s ears, he grinned like a cat when he noticed the tip turn pink.  

“I-I didn’t ask you to stay here and wait for me,” came a cute stutter as Gon furrowed his brows in embarrassment, “You… you didn’t even tell me during lunch that you didn’t have an umbrella, even though it was raining then.”

“I didn’t notice. Why would I look outside when I can watch you eat?”

“Because then I could have told you that I had a saitest* for math after school!” Of course, that was only one hour long. Gon had run into their science teacher after that, helping the man prep the items needed for tomorrow’s lab. Since there were five classes, it took them awhile to get everything in order. The black-haired boy suddenly felt a set of teeth nibble his ear. He let out a squeak of surprise.

“If you won’t give me anything, should I just take whatever I want?” Killua murmured, his grabby fingers creeping down the smaller boy’s uniform.

“Hey! Don’t do that!” Gon cried out, shaking out of the loosened grasp. He spun around, brandishing the umbrella like it was a blade. His visage was bright red, showing he wasn’t angry, just trying to protect himself. “I’ll give you a reward or whatever, okay? Don’t just touch me in weird places when we’re at school.”

“You don’t call them ‘weird places’ when we’re in private,” the Zoldyck teased, pressing his finger against the metal tip of the umbrella, flicking it aside, “even at school.”

“Well, then think about the security cameras!” Gon swung his childish weapon upwards, pointing towards the corners of the entry area. Indeed, there were three small black boxes that sent real-time footage to the Staff Room.

“That’s never stopped you before,” the white-haired boy answered calmly, slipping his backpack on before resting his hands behind his head, “and anyway, it’s not like they check them every moment.” To Killua’s surprise, his partner’s face became even more red and a bit of steam exited his ears. Such a flustered overload was absolutely precious, though he had no clue why that comment caused it.

“G-geez, Killua. I’m not… that much… of a pervert.”

“Pfft, you’re too honest for your own good.”

“Shut up. There’s nothing wrong with l-liking to feel good, right? You’re the one who always says that.”

“And I never thought you’d try to use it to justify how naughty you’ve become,” Killua chuckled, a seductive sparkle in his blue eyes. He gazed behind him at the cameras, flipped one off, and then started walking towards the school entrance. “Well, we should get going. It’s twenty minutes to your house, but I have to stop by a conbini* to buy some stuff Gotoh says we’re out of.”

“Don’t you want your reward or something?” Gon asked, following after the other boy.

“I was just kidding. You didn’t seem like you really wanted to give me anything anyway,” Killua replied with a shrug. He stopped at the double doors, turning back when he heard the umbrella pop open. “Hey, wait until we’re outside before you- mmf!” Under the cover of the frog umbrella, the younger boy’s words were cut off by a pair of soft lips upon his. He definitely had not expected, especially after that outburst, for the smaller boy to initiate such a sweet kiss. Then, Killua felt a tongue slide across his teeth. Truly surprised, he grabbed Gon by the shoulders and pushed him back. Body rigid and face blushing, he looked down to see his spiky-haired beloved try to hide a cheeky grin of victory.

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” Gon hummed, trying not to giggle as he bounced past his stunned partner and out of the building. Positioning the umbrella properly above his head, he spun around and held out an inviting hand, his chocolate brown eyes filled with affection. “Let’s go, Killua!"

(*Translation Notes*)

*In Japan, these plastic white umbrellas are everywhere. Some people put colorful paper tape on the handle to mark it as theirs, but for the most part, they all mix together and no one knows whose is whose. On top of that, Japanese honesty can keep some people from just grabbing one at random, which might end up causing problems for other people. On the other hand, at some places, there can be an unspoken system of "borrowing umbrellas" in which, as long as you return it the next day, rain or shine, you can take someone else's... and cause a chain of mutual stealing.

*Saitest = Retest, Make-up Test. In Japan, a saitest is usually after school. Since students have club activities, it shows them that they should do better in class so they don't have to miss the thing they care about. In this AU though, Killua is on the student council as a class rep and Gon is in the going home club.

*Conbini = A convenience store. Choosing from 7-Eleven, Family Mart, or Lawson, Killua probably likes Lawson while Gon likes 7-Eleven. The one near their school is probably a Family Mart.

[loveseungs]

irony p. ii

a/n: heck here it is i just love words dont i also note: tumblr is being BadTM and broke all links so if u want p 1 just pls search for it on my blog

↠ pairing: lee felix x reader ↠ word count: 13.07k ↠ warnings: female reader ↠ genre: fluff, angst, soulmate au  ↠ part: one, two ↠ summary: 

In a world where soulmates exist, love is still a gamble.

 --

Bus rides home were usually filled with white noise and thoughts about work. But there was something about the steady pitter-patter of the rain and the hazy blur of life around you that lead you to plug in your earphones and listen to music.

It was tormenting. The catchiest beats were also the saddest ones, making your heart swell up at every relatable lyric. It was as if Spotify was playing with the strings of your heart, plucking them like an instrument every time a song about heartbreak came into your queue.

You were stuck in a state of paradox. The more you tried to forget, the more you tried to erase him who was in your heart, the more you remembered. You hated him because you knew that you couldn’t truly bring yourself to hate him.

Timing never seemed to be right with the two of you. If only you’d discovered that he was your destiny a few years later, maybe everything would have worked out, but since you found out a little bit too early, the problem then became you being too late to tell him.

A full year had already passed, and it felt like time was stretched. Graduation seemed so long ago after the ball started rolling on your career life. Once you moved to Busan and getting a great albeit stressful job, so many things just seemed to have happened. You convinced yourself of the fact that this was life now, and if this was all you were going to get, you were going to make it as spectacular as possible. Moving on from the mess that was Lee Felix was dealt and done with, however, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t think about him every once in a while.

Twelve months ago, your arm was always covered in ink. The week you stopped talking to Felix, that’s when they started to appear. A thousand little messages written on your arm every single morning was what you had to wake up to. You’d seen your fair share of ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘I miss you’s, but you weren’t taking any of it. You knew that if you dared to reply once, even just once, you knew you’d just get hurt all over again—it was not something you were willing to risk, even if those annoying writings on your arm caused you to buy more long-sleeved shirts.

Gradually, their appearances lessened until the messages stopped altogether. Something about the absence of the all-too-familiar handwriting finally settled the fact that he was all but a memory that you were to leave in the past.

Occasionally, there were times that the memory of him would be jogged once again, like on this particular bus ride home. Truly, the blame was to be put on the meaningful lyrics and solemn melodies.

Chhhh. This was the part where you got off the bus and shook whatever bad vibes you were feeling out of your mind. This was not the time to feel sad. Not today, not today.

“Oh, you’re home already. How was work?” your grandma greeted from the kitchen, the sound of sizzling oil faintly echoing through the house.

“Shall I tell you over dinner?” You pursed your lips into a smile. “Or do you want to be spoiled? Just a hint, today was fantastic.”

“Well, if that doesn’t tickle my fancy. If you’re gonna start it off like that, sweetie, you might as well just tell me now,” she answered.

You entered the kitchen with a dramatic stride. You stopped for a second to pose, then you took a loud, deep breath. “Your grandkid made it, Nana. I, [L/N] [F/N], have been promoted to the Assistant Brand Manager of the department. Boss said I get a bonus on every third Friday of the month. Isn’t that something?”

“My, my. Won’t you treat your old woman out for dinner one of these days, since you’re now swimming in money? I’d love a steak, dear,” she smiled. “I’m only joking. I am so, so proud of you, darling! We need to celebrate! Come give me a hug!”

You wrapped your arms tightly around your grandmother. “Agh, I’m beyond elated! Shall we go somewhere special?”

“Would you care for some wine, perhaps? I’m cooking beef, so I think it would taste great. Set out the table outside, let’s enjoy the evening breeze. Let’s talk more about your promotion later. Who’s going to take your previous spot on the team?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Boss said there were some very promising newcomers, and I can only hope they’ll be a good addition and not a downfall to our team. Did you know that our department is one of the most productive ones? Ever since the PR department waged war on us, our productivity rate has doubled in number.”

“Why would you want to wage war on other departments? Mustn’t you work together for the better of the company?”

“Yes!” you replied. “It’s mostly to see who can boost the company’s sales better. We usually compete when we do our weekly reports to the boss. I think Boss secretly knows about the Marketing-PR war because he hasn’t said a word about any of our shenanigans, even if we blatantly express our friendly rivalry. There’s a small scoreboard in the conference room to tally which department did better that week, and it’s updated by the secretary. Boss didn’t order it to be put there, but he hasn’t said anything about it either.”

“It sounds wonderful. That’s quite a great way to promote efficiency in the company,” your grandmother commented, plating the dishes she had prepared for dinner.

“I know! Rumor has it that Boss is planning a company outing where all the departments will go on a head-to-head competition. I don’t know the details, but my co-worker said that she heard it from the janitor who heard it from the secretary,” you went on, “anyway, I’ll save more of the talk for later. Where do you keep the candles? I’ll put some outside as I set the tables.”

“In the left-most wooden drawer—no, not that one. Yes, that one. Glad to hear that work is good for you, honey. Makes me very glad.”

--

How could you stop a smile from making its way to your face? When you stepped into work the next day, you wore a grin like an expensive article of clothing.

“Somebody’s cheerful today,” your co-worker, Yugyeom mentioned, looking up from his desk. “what’s with the happy demeanor, [Y/N]?”

“Can’t I revel in the fact that I’ve finally been promoted?” you answered, taking a seat at your desk.

“Come on. There must be something else that’s up. Did you get a boyfriend? Meet a soulmate? Win the lotto? Your smile’s so bright, I think I’m going to go blind.” He rolled his eyes.

“No! Gross, I don’t have time for things like that,” you huffed. Leaning in, you whispered, “Listen. There’s a newcomer that’s going to be added to our team. Apparently, he’s from the Daejeon branch of the company, and he’s being transferred here to the Busan office because apparently, he did very well. Do you realize what this means for us? If we get another good employee, we’ll have one more person to help tackle PR on the scoreboard.”

“Damn, girl! Talk about competitive!”

“You know you’re excited, too.”

“Okay, fine. I am. Let’s teach this newcomer to help us in the quest to out-produce PR.”

“Morning, guys,” a familiar voice greeted. You and Yugyeom stood up to bow to your superior.

“Morning, Chan,” you greeted back.

“Woah, no ‘Sir’ for you, huh, [Y/N]?” Yugyeom snickered.

You hit him playfully. “I’ve known Chan since high-school. He’s the one who told me not to call him ‘Sir’. Anyway, is it true that the newcomer’s a good one? Gosh, I can’t wait. This is like fresh meat for us, you know? Do you know his name?”

“How do you know he’s a guy?” Yugyeom asked, raising a brow.

“Heard it from the janitor. Swear the janitor knows everything. Need info? I can get it for you. The janitor makes a pretty good friend,” you explained. “Anyway, like I asked, Chan. Do you have info on him?”

“Actually, [Y/N], I don’t. The Chief of Staff has yet to introduce me to him, which is kind of surprising. But to be fair, I’ve been out on business trips lately, so I’m not all too shocked,” Chan explained. “I hope this person is what make him out to be. Oh, speak of the devil.”

“Hello, all. Good morning. As you know, I’m Mr. Park, Chief of Staff, and I’m here to bring to you the latest addition to your team. As some of you may have heard, he is from our Daejeon branch and is a very capable man. I hope you will all take care of him.”

Chan took one glance at you to make sure you were doing alright, but all he saw was your jaw suspended in the open air, eyes wide.

You felt everything and nothing all at once.

“Everyone, this is Lee Felix, and he will be in charge of product marketing.”

--

You slammed the door to the office pantry behind you, Chan following inside. As you finished downing an entire cup of coffee, you sputtered, “How could this have happened? Chan! You’re like, the only person who knows what happened between Felix and I during high-school and college!”

“I swear, I didn’t know!” Chan defended, handing you a glass of water to calm you down. “I’m just as shocked as you are, alright? Drink this.”

“Is the world seriously against me?” you grumbled, burying your face in your hands. “Just as things have been looking up, he walks back into my life just like that! Here! In Busan! Where I purposely went so that I could get away from him!”

“Calm down, [Y/N]. Let’s sort this out. But you have to promise me that you won’t let your personal problems get in the way of professionality. I know you’re in shock, but let’s try not to let this get the best of you. Remember, PR’s been on the top of the leaderboard for two weeks straight, and we really need to step up our game,” the older boy spoke, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll try to fix this, yeah?”

“Dear goodness, I sure hope so,” you muttered, setting down the second empty paper cup as you looked at the office through the pantry blinds.

“I knew Felix had a job in marketing, but I didn’t know it was for our company, nevertheless did I expect him to end up here with us. I thought he got hired back in Seoul,” Chan commented, also watching the newcomer through the blinds.

“Right?” you sighed. “What on this good, green earth am I going to do know? I’m going to have to engage in conversation, you know?”

“Well, I suppose you can’t hide from him forever. After all, he… is your—”

“God, Chan. Don’t say it, please. Please don’t remind me,” you begged, shoulders going down in a slump.

Just like that, your joyful morning mood was dampened like the imminent grey clouds on a sunny June day, and now you were left with a situation you couldn’t run from.

--

A couple of days passed and you successfully avoided having to make any contact with Felix.

Surprisingly, things weren’t as bad as you had expected. You only had to do that obligatory bow when you greeted each other in the hallways, but that was it. You could not have it any other way.

“So… how’s stuff? You doing okay?” Chan asked one lunchbreak, grabbing his chopsticks from the lunch tray.

You gulped the rice in your mouth. “Could not be better. Can you believe it? One week went by without anything more than a couple of seconds of eye-contact and a bow.”

Yugyeom, who was sitting beside you, squinted his eyes. “Wait. Who are we talking about?”

“Uh,” you began, shooting a glance at Chan. “N-No one important, really. Just this person I met.”

“What, blind date outside of work?” he asked.

“No, I don’t have time for dates.”

Your co-worker gave you a goofy smile. “Aw, sucks for me, I just lost my shot.”

“Gross, Mr. Kim!” you laughed.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. Anyway, what’s your soulmate link?”

Great. The taboo question. It was cool, it was cool, you were chill, you were chill. “Oh, uh… why? What’s yours? Have you met your soulmate?”

“I’m a late bloomer, I guess. Lots of my friends have met their soulmates already, but my link says I’m still meeting my soulmate in… a couple of months. I’d show you the tattoo, but no one can see it anyway,” Yugyeom shared, taking a bite of his lunch. “How about you? I asked you first.”

“It’s a drawing link. Whatever’s drawn on my skin shows up on my soulmate’s or vice versa,” you said quietly, sipping your water. “But I’m not too hung up on the soulmate idea. Did you know that Chan’s real lucky? He scored a jackpot. Have you seen his girlfriend? She’s super nice. She and Chan are like the older siblings I never had.”

“Hey, but it was hard. You know, I had such a hard time with visual projects back in school before I met her. I had to keep asking my friends to tell me if my presentations looked good because really, I couldn’t tell. If I worked on them alone, they’d probably have the color scheme of ugly sweaters. So glad I can see color now, or else I probably would have a difficult time here in the company,” Chan chuckled at the thought. “By the way, she’s asking if you wanna come over some time for dinner. She misses hanging out with you, you know.”

“Oh for sure. How about this Saturday evening? I need to tell her about the recent news. Unnie’s gonna freak,” you asked Chan while you noted the schedule down on your phone.

“Hey, I thought you were gonna help me that evening with the project Boss assigned us?” Yugyeom piped up. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cancel!”

“Relax, Mr. Kim. Let’s do that over lunch. No need to worry,” you told him.

Just then, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and you turned around hastily, wiping your mouth.

Standing there with a hand at the back of his head was He-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named.

“Uh… Ms. [L/N]?”

‘Ooh, never thought I’d hear my last name roll off his tongue. Whatever, that’s to be expected,’ you thought.

“Sorry to bother you during lunch, but I need you to look over some paperwork that you submitted. Some of it wasn’t completed,” the freckled boy announced, handing you a folder.

You raised a brow. “Have I not? I could have sworn that I checked over these twice. I never submit incomplete paperwork.”

“A-Ah, is that so? But look here, there’s a blank space.”

You scanned the papers in your hands thoroughly. Glancing beside you, you inquired, “Mr. Kim, I thought this section of the paperwork was your job?”

Yugyeom took the folder from you. “What’s this? I didn’t send you the complete copy?”

“No?”

“Sorry, Mr. Lee. This was a fault on my part. It’s true, Ms. [L/N] never submits incomplete paperwork. I’ll have these files ready by 13:30, after lunch. Apologies for the inconvenience,” Yugyeom apologized, bowing.

Felix sported a polite smile. “Oh, it’s alright. I’m so sorry for the confusion, Miss [L/N]. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

Caw. Caw. Caw.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, Ms. [L/N], Mr. Kim, Sir Bang,” Felix bowed, dragging his legs towards the opposite direction.

When he was out of sight, you leaned in to whisper, “If that wasn’t the most awkward two minutes of my entire company experience! I was doing so well up until this moment. I told you it’s best if I don’t talk to him!”

“What’s up with you and Mr. Newbie? You two know each other?” Yugyeom pressed, letting his chin rest on his hand. “Oh my. Don’t tell me—he’s the guy you went on a blind date with!”

“Lower your volume!” you scolded. “And ew, no! I already told you, I don’t have time for blind dates.”

“So give me a good reason as to why you’re apparently avoiding him!”

Chan came to the rescue. “Oh, we all went to the same high-school. [Y/N] and Feli—Mr. Lee used to go to the same college. She’s just had some weird encounters with him, is all.”

You nodded as if to agree with your superior. “Yup. Although don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to let it affect my work. Professionalism is professionalism.”

“Oh, is that right? Mm, didn’t know that,” Yugyeom answered, “anyway, let’s head back to our department. Lunch break is ending and I gotta fix this paperwork.”

--

The conference room door closed slowly behind as you and Chan made your way out from the most recent meeting. People from PR gave you both a smirk before heading towards their department. You clutched your fists in frustration and bore holes into their backs while stomping to the opposite direction.

“Just because they’ve gotten a lead on the scoreboard makes them think they can act like that, huh,” you hissed, rolling your eyes. “I swear, I’m working overtime this week.”

Chan placed a hand on your shoulder and stopped you. “Calm down, it’s gonna be alright, okay? Besides, we should be happy that they’re doing good for the company. Don’t get me wrong, I hate their department with my guts, but it’s nice to see Boss smiling at the good reports. But here’s the catch. Next week, we’re having the company outing. I’ve yet to announce it to the department, so keep your mouth quiet. I received the e-mail this morning, and it’s going to be held in Jeju island. There’s going to be lots of activities. Boss thinks it’s a good investment to have a fun company outing to, quote unquote, ‘promote bonding in the workplace’.”

You gasped and pointed at Chan. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We get to totally mow down PR in competition?”

“The prize is yet to be announced, and yes. We’re going to kill it. Of course, that means everyone in the department has to double-time this week so that we can enjoy the outing without thinking of work. How’s the project I assigned you doing?” Chan questioned.

From behind you, a voice spoke. “Uh, sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear you two talking about the company outing. According to Secretary Bambam, each department is going to stay in separate guest houses. Do you need some help, Ms. [L/N]?” Yugyeom brought up, joining in on the conversation.

“Help? For what?” you asked, raising a brow.

Yugyeom put a hand to his mouth. “Don’t you have some kind of uncomfortable business with Mr. Lee, the newbie? I don’t know, I thought you’d be bothered.”

“Mr. Kim!” Chan boomed. “Don’t let [Y/N]’s personal matters affect how you interact with the people on our team. The least we need is division amongst ourselves. Where even did you get the information on the outing? You’re not supposed to know yet.”

“Why hide it? As I was making coffee in the staff room, Secretary Bambam offhandedly mentioned it to me,” Yugyeom answered, holding his clipboard.

“I’m sure it’s not going to be so bad,” you reassured the two boys, heading over to your desk. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Kim.”

--

“This is so bad,” you grumbled, throwing different articles of clothing on your bed. There were all sorts of knick-knacks flying around your tiny room, scattered any place a knick-knack could be.

Just then, the door to your room opened and your grandma stepped in, raising her hands in surprise. “Woah, woah, woah! What’s going on in here? Your room looks like a jungle of clothes! I said pack for your trip, not unleash the beast, sweetie.”

You let out an exasperated groan as you shut the door of your closet. “Sorry, grandma. I’m just a little stressed thinking about the trip.”

“Come sit,” the older woman insisted, patting the empty spot on your bed beside her. “Tell me what’s wrong. To think this trip is supposed to be a celebration for the numerous victories your company has been making these past few months.”

“It’s not the company, grandma,” you admitted, taking a seat beside her. “It’s…it’s just that I have to deal with being stuck in a house with someone I wish I didn’t need to be with.”

“Hmm? That’s strange, I always thought you to be one of the more amiable people at work. Are you not friends with everybody?”

You sucked in your breath and prepared for what was about to come. “There’s this one guy. His name is Lee Felix… and… he’s… my soulmate.”

“Oh my.”

Right then and there, you decided that you could no longer keep up the bubbling vexations you buried deep in your chest. From the moment you met him until the very moment those years of friendship ended, you told her everything, not sparing a single important detail. By the time you finished up your story, your face was puffy and your eyes were red. The nighttime breeze howled quietly in the background, enveloping you in a chill.

“A-And recently, I thought I was doing okay, but he decided to take another stride back into my life. I mean, it’s all good at work, but it’s been so hard to focus lately and I don’t know why. I know I’m over him, and I’ve resigned to not thinking about soulmates or finding love or whatever. But every time I see that damned face of his, things come flooding into my mind,” you sniffled, blowing your nose. Your grandma rubbed soothing circles on your back, listening to every word that you spoke. “It doesn’t help that PR is doing better than Marketing lately, and I can’t help but think that maybe I’m slacking off a bit or something.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Here, drink some water,” your grandma began, “if you’ll let me, may I share what I think about your situation?”

“Go ahead, grandma. I’m so sorry for crying.”

“Sweetie, no, don’t do that. It’s okay to cry. But you know, I think the reason why you’ve become so competitive at work, the reason you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, the reason why you hold anger in your heart towards Felix despite saying that you’ve moved on from him, even the reason why you always apologize for crying—all those reasons are the same. From what I’ve been hearing, I think you need to re-examine what’s really in there,” she explained, pointing at your left chest where your heart was. “Ever since Felix, you’ve blamed yourself for everything. Because you knew you got hurt, you sorta… how should I say this… resigned yourself into thinking ‘I’m never going to get hurt like that again’. You made that mistake, and you’ve been beating yourself over it for these past few years.”

“I-I have?”

“Honey, I have to tell you. It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay,” your grandma said, pulling you into a hug. “And honestly, I think the person who needs forgiveness most now isn’t Felix, but you. Forgive yourself, [Y/N]. It’s alright that you stumbled along the way.”

Your face crumpled. It was true. You felt so… so raw in front of your grandmother who saw right through you, who saw right through your heart. Everything somewhat fell into place, and you realized the reason you were hurting. And it felt good, to have finally admitted what you were hiding deep down for so long.

“So… what do I do now, grandma?” you asked, voice coming out as a choke. “What now?”

“It’s your choice if you want to, at the very least, tolerate him or let him go. Whatever you choose, know that I’m proud of you for taking those steps. Now go pack, it’s getting late and you’re supposed to meet up with the team early tomorrow. Please bring a jacket.”

“I will,” you replied, watching your grandmother get up and head out of your room. “Hey grandma?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

--

The sun was barely out, but you and your team were already outside the company building waiting for the van. The sounds of yawning and drowsy morning chatter filled the atmosphere.

Just before you left the house, your grandma left you some rice cakes on the table. A note saying ‘Eat well and enjoy <3’ came with it, helping you start your day off with a smile. As your team lined up to board the ferry, you bit into a rice cake, letting your teeth sink into the soft delicacy. Wow. It was beyond scrumptious.

The vicinity was getting a little bit warm as the sun began its ascent into the higher areas of the sky, causing you to remove the jacket you were wearing, As you tied the piece of clothing to your waist, you couldn’t help but notice a scribble on your left arm, just below your wrist.

‘Would you ever consider giving me one of your rice cakes? I’m so sorry, I saw you eating some and I haven’t had breakfast. It’s alright if you decide not to. I’ll wash off the ink with hand sanitizer.’

You jerked your head up, scanning the crowd for a certain someone. When your eyes landed on an all-too-familiar freckled boy, he reciprocated your stare with a sheepish smile.

You did a double-take. Should you forfeit your streak of barely having to interact with him or offer a rice cake to your hungry co-worker who would probably really need to eat something before leaving to engage in several tiring activities? Damn it, you knew he loved rice cakes.

Hesitantly, you shuffled over to Felix, who waved to you and bowed as you approached him. “Uh, good morning, Fe—Mr. Lee.”

“Hi, Miss [L/N]. Get my note?” the boy asked, pointing to your arm. Damn, you knew about his booming voice, but you’d forgotten just how deep his pitch was.

“The chicken scratch handwriting was quite hard to miss.”

“I’m sorry for using this particular means of communication. I just… I’m finding it a little difficult to talk to you, no offense.”

“None taken,” you answered, handing him a rice cake. “You’ll just really do anything for a rice cake, huh?”

In seconds, the poor rice cake was scarfed down. Felix wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“Like I’ll ever forget the reason half my lunch was always missing back in high-school,” you scoffed. “Here, you can have one more. I have more food in my bag anyway. Why’d you skip breakfast?”

‘Damn it, [Y/N]!’ you thought to yourself. ‘What the hell is up with you? I thought we agreed to just hand him a rice cake and leave?!’

“I live a bit far from here. I couldn’t miss the bus,” he answered, adjusting the neck pillow sitting comfortably on his shoulders. It was sort of endearing, how the neck pillow was themed to be a cute teddy bear design. Felix yawned. “And I didn’t sleep too well last night. Had to do some last-minute paperwork because somebody turned in their files late. Thank you so much, by the way. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

“You’re welcome. And oh, I can imagine how awful that is. Late paperwork, I mean. I feel bad for nagging our co-workers to send me files, but in the end, it gets the job done, you know,” you replied, straightening your back. “Anyway, if that will be all, I’m just gonna—”

“Wait, don’t go!” Felix sputtered, grabbing a hold of your arm. He quickly released it, ears turning red. “A-Ah, sorry. I just wanted to ask you something about PR.”

“PR? Huh. Go shoot,” you mused, and you could still feel the burning spot where Felix’s hand collided with your arm.

“What’s up with this thing I hear about a Marketing-PR war?”

As you opened your mouth to speak, Chan interrupted you with a tap. “Hey, [Y/N], I need to borrow a pen.”

You fished for your trusty gel pen from your backpack and handed it to Chan, who began to look around and tick off boxes on his clipboard. Taking a peek at the clipboard, you saw that he was just doing a headcount.

“That’s our leader-nim, huh?” you teased, playfully giving Chan a nudge. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll give your pen back later, I need it for a while. Go line up over there already, the van is leaving in ten minutes,” Chan answered, walking away.

Felix began to make his way to the spot that Chan had instructed you both to go to, and you followed right behind. As soon as he set his luggage down on the floor again, he turned to you. “So… Marketing-PR war?”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, remembering. “It’s kind of a long story, but I guess it’s important to know the origins of the great Marketing-PR battle. I can tell you about it on the way, but only if you’re truly ready to hear the origins.”

“I mean sure. We’re spending a lot of time in the van anyway, so we have plenty of time to kill.” Felix suggested. “I’m so glad Boss booked the high-speed car ferry. A trip that would usually take five hours is cut down to two.”

“Good, good, sure. I only have so much downloaded drama on my phone to kill time. So anyway, since we have a lot to cover, I better start. It begins when Sir Park Jinyoung—not the CEO, the head of PR—gets one of Marketing’s most competent workers, Choi Youngjae.”

--

“Thank everything we’re here,” Yugyeom breathed, grabbing his duffle bag from the trunk. “I thought we’d never make it.”

“On the bright side, Mr. Lee finally knows the deep, dark past of Marketing and PR,” Chan mentioned, helping Yugyeom get his bags.

“Yeah, um, after we got interrupted like, ten times.” You rolled your eyes. “I could have told the whole story in one hour, but you kept cutting in and getting side-tracked. Did Mr. Lee have to know about the Ramen Incident?”

“Okay, fine, whatever. Let’s go settle in the guest house. Boss wants us to meet in the conference hall at 1:00 sharp. He’s going to brief everyone on the activities,” Chan retorted.

“Boss is here?” Felix questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, he’s here to oversee the activities. Usually, he’d send the secretary, but since two entire departments are here, he came,” Yugyeom answered.

The four of you wheeled in your luggage into the cozy-looking cabin, which turned out to be more modern and restful that you’d expected. The inside was simple and minimalistic but sported a few home-esque touches. There were four bedrooms to be split between the team, but Chan had already assigned them. The girls would have the rooms upstairs while the guys would stay in the two downstairs. You were more than thankful to have a sensible roommate—her name was Jihyo and she was one of the more responsible ones on the marketing team.

“I’m relieved that we got here in one piece,” Jihyo commented, setting down her bags in the closet. “I’m surprised that Mr. Kim didn’t blow up the van.”

You chuckled. “Sometimes, I wonder how he’s even considered a grown man.”

“Right? Also, would you like some mosquito spray? I hear that it gets very bugsy outside,” she offered, holding up a bottle.

“How could I have scored such an awesome roomie? Thank you so much,” you grinned, spraying the product on your skin.

As soon as you both finished settling down, you made your way downstairs to meet the others. Once everyone was there, the Marketing team headed outside towards the conference hall, where your boss was waiting.

“Oh, nice. We made it first,” Chan mentioned, taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

You plopped down beside him. “Plus points to Marketing for being punctual.”

In a few seconds, a group of people started to pile into the venue one by one, and you recognized them as the terrible faces of PR. The engine of competitiveness was revving up as the minutes passed.

“Welcome to the long-awaited JYP company outing,” the one and only CEO boomed into the mic, “it’s nice to see that many of you were able to come.”

An applaud echoed throughout the hall.

“Anyhow, I’d not like to keep you here any longer. I’m sure that you are all famished by the travel and have not gotten the chance to eat a proper lunch yet. Worry not and let that be one of the driving forces for you all to give your best at the activities. The schedule is as follows: at 1:30 PM, the Relay Race will start. It will take around one to two hours, so I expect it to be over at around 3:00 PM. I will now announce the mechanics of the Race. Secretary Bambam, please flash the slides,” your Boss announced.

“Alright. You are now here,” he stated, pointing a laser at a spot on the screen. “Each team will go through a series of obstacles throughout the area. All these obstacles have been tailored to test your skills as employees, of course, as to not waste such a valuable opportunity to incorporate training and recreation. Some of these include creating a campaign for a product on the fly and trying to persuade me, who will act like a customer, to buy the said product. Each time you beat one obstacle better than the other team, you gain one point. Whoever gains the most points by the end of the Race gets quite the grand prize. At JYP, we don’t plan shabby company outings. At JYP, we allow our employees to have a chance at a fabulous prize, and this year, the winning department not only gets a delicious barbeque sponsored by our clients but also a bonus for next month’s paycheck.”

The entire hall erupted in cheer, everyone clearly enthused at the sound of the word ‘bonus’, which was just like an angelic choir.

“Right now, you all have a couple of minutes to plan out your strategies. Here are the list of ‘obstacles’ you will be facing, and I suggest you take time to assign your best people to the activities that they are most likely to do well at. At 1:30 sharp, Secretary Bambam will ring a bell and everyone should be off. Time starts now! Enjoy, everyone. See you at the finish line.”

You took one look at the screen in front and Chan was already motioning for your department to come and huddle.

“Alright, so for activity one, we need our most persuasive members. Ms. Park, Mr. Yang, I think you’d be most suited for that. Mr. Kim, I’m assigning you to face off in that dance battle,” Chan instructed.

“Are you kidding me?” Yugyeom shrieked. “Actually, you know what, sure. I’d rather do that than try to come up with a marketing scheme for Boss. Did you know I’ve won several awards for dancing in college? If I wasn’t in this company, I’d probably rocking the stag—”

“Not now! Anyway, Ms. Im, I’ll trust you to activity three. We all need to work together for activity four, then for the final activity—oh.”

Chan glanced at you, then glanced at Felix. You caught sight of that began to shake your head vigorously.

“Chan, whatever you’re thinking, NO.”

Your superior walked over to you and whispered, “[Y/N], we both know you and Felix can annihilate anyone in a three-legged race.”

“That was in high-school!” you defended, rubbing your palms together. “There’s no way—why is that activity even on the list?! Everyone knows the three-legged race is just so that people can poke fun at the contestants.”

“Think about PR winning that sweet, sweet bonus that we’re supposed to snag,” Chan tempted, etching a horrible image in your mind.

You did a double-take. “Fine, fine! But only because I hate PR’s guts more than I can humanely bear. Damn it.”

--

The score was currently tied, and it was down to the last obstacle: the dreaded three-legged race. ‘Of course this was how it was going to pan out,’ you thought to yourself, ‘because the universe hates me and loves to play with my life.’

While Yugyeom was busy bragging about his epic win at the dance show-off, you were bent down, tying a ribbon around your leg and Felix’s.

“Hey,” Felix began, clearing his throat. “Sorry you had to end up with me. I can tell you’re pretty bummed out.”

You whipped your head to him and your cheeks started to flush. “U-Uh, that isn’t it. It’s fine, really. Let’s just totally kill PR, alright?”

“You still got that three-legged race spirit in you?” he asked, stretching his arms. “Or has it withered away over the years?”

“I will never, ever give up my secret talent for three-legged races.”

“We’ll see about that. Wanna test it out? Let’s walk from here to there. No stumbling.”

You scoffed and nodded. In a few seconds, Felix found a way to snake his arms around your waist and a glare was quickly sent in his direction.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that this is the only way we can advance faster. Tried and tested, remember?” Felix piped up, adjusting his footing. “It’s how we beat that loser from Class B in high-school.”

“Alright already, let’s get this over with. Test from here to the water bottle?”

“Yup. One, two, three, go.”

Just like he said, the extra support from his grasp allowed for you both to move swiftly. It wasn’t long until you were able to reach the water bottle finish-line.

“See, told you.”

“Okay, contestants! Please make your way to the starting line now for the final battle, the tiebreaker!” Secretary Bambam announced over a microphone.

“How are you guys doing? You alright?” Chan’s voice came from behind you, causing you both to turn your heads in unison.

“Still got it, Sir Bang. The three-legged race has always been something me and Ms. [L/N] will always conquer with flying colors. Watch us win the department a bonus and a barbeque,” Felix grinned, giving Chan a thumbs-up.

“Can’t wait to see PR’s crushed faces. This is gonna be a breeze.” You saluted.

“Actually,” Chan started, leaning into a whisper. “You might wanna look over there. This is actually going to be quite close.”

Turning your head to the other side, you caught a glimpse of two familiar men. A gasp escaped your mouth.

“Wang and Tuan?!” you screamed, making Chan shoot you a look that said ‘shut-up’.

“What’s wrong with Wang and Tuan?” Felix questioned, head still turned in their direction.

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Um, yes, you heard me. It just had to be the damned Wang and Tuan! They’re notorious for being one of the company’s most athletic individuals. We might as well surrender now because Mr. Tuan used to be in the track team back in the day and Mr. Wang once tried to match the speed of a moving car.”

“Hey, I used to be in Taekwondo! I have legs, Ms. [L/N]. Legs for days,” Felix replied.

“It’s indeed going to be a tough one, but we don’t know how well Mr. Wang and Mr. Tuan can run as a duo. For all we know, they’re amazing solo runners but terrible once their legs are tied together,” Chan encouraged.

“Nope.” You pointed at the two men who were jogging together in place. “Look at that coordination.”

“Okay, I hate to do this, but I know spite is the greatest motivator for you, [Y/N],” Chan started, balling his hands into a fist. “Remember when you were stressing over late paperwork the other day and wanted chocolate milk but found out there were none left in the staff room?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Wang took the last one,” Chan stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, but he did. When I went over to PR to hand in some files, I saw him sipping the last carton of chocolate milk.”

“That piece of scum,” you seethed, grabbing on to Felix’s waist. “That’s it, Felix. We’re taking them down.”

“Oh, we’re on first-name basis now?” the freckled boy asked innocently, putting his arm on your waist as well.

“This is war,” you declared, “we’re partners now. And today, we’re going to wipe off the dregs of society from this earth.”

--

Crackle. Crackle. A wave of heat kissed your face as a puff of smoke danced with the air. And the smell of charcoal was absolutely disgusting, but it was the single sweet reminder that everybody needed and deserved.

“Are we ready?” Yugyeom whispered, hiding behind your back.

“Let’s get cooking.”

Within seconds, the entirety of the Marketing team was scrambling to grab a hold of a piece of barbeque, hungry employees bustling left and right. After winning the competition, food was screaming to be devoured. It was three in the afternoon and nobody’d eaten lunch yet.

“Wait!” Chan cleared his throat. “Do we have drinks? I would like to make a toast.”

“Uh…” Jihyo drawled, eyeing the vicinity. “We have paper cups, but no drinks. Seriously? Who plans a barbeque with no drinks?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll go to the store. I heard it’s not far from here,” you offered, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“I’ll go with you in a second,” Chan answered, grabbing a paper cup, “but before we eat, to [Y/N] and Felix! The ones who trampled over PR during the tiebreak! Raise a glass!”

A cheer erupted from everyone’s mouths as empty paper cups were raised in the air to honor the victory that belonged to the team.

“Oh, can I come with? There’s a couple of things I wanna buy, too,” Yugyeom asked, walking towards you.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll save you some barbeque,” Felix suggested, waving. “Congrats to us. Go get the team some refreshing stuff!”

The three of you made your way out of the area and onto the streets, searching for a nearby grocery or convenience store.

After what seemed like miles of walking, your feet finally brought you in front of a small grocery. You didn’t hesitate to walk right in and pick up a basket.

The humble store consisted of a few shelves with worn-out paint lined up neatly in rows and holding all kinds of snacks and delights. The gentle whirring coming from the back lead you to a clear refrigerator with different drinks, and pretty soon, the metal basket in your hands was filled with several bottles. These were piled onto the counter along with a couple bags of chips, courtesy a snacky Yugyeom.

“What?” he said when you started to eye him judgingly, throwing the chip bags on the cashier tabletop. “It’s for my midnight cravings and the trip back home.”

You rolled your eyes, handing the cashier your credit card in exchange for your purchases. After getting your card back, the three of you headed back outside. Chan stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, so from here, did we take a left turn or a right turn? Right, right?”

“Pretty sure it was a left turn, Chan.”

“What?! You two are crazy, we came from straight ahead! I saw that sign with the cute cats earlier.”

“Okay, Mr. Kim, we’re trusting you.”

“Just drop the honorifics already. It’s alright.”

A minute passed… then two… then five…

“This isn’t the way that we came from.”

“You know what? This is why we live in a technological world. Let me just Google Maps this,” Yugyeom scoffed, pulling out his phone. “Aaaaaand… it says my line was cut off because I forgot to pay the bill. Cool, cool. Chan?”

“I left my phone in the room earlier because I didn’t want it to be hurled around during the race,” Chan answered. “[Y/N], you?”

A trickle of sweat slipped down your forehead. “Phone’s been dead for over an hour. I used it to record Wang and Tuan’s devastated faces after the competition.”

“Um, excuse me,” Chan attempted, trying to ask an elderly lady for help. She waved him off, muttering something about dangerous strangers.

“Right, so we’re lost, no help, and completely foreign-looking streets. What could get worse?” Yugyeom mumbled all pessimistic.

The clouds rumbled above.

“Seriously?!” Chan breathed out, gesturing for you three to wait under the shade of the grocer’s storefront. “Situational irony? Isn’t this just fantastic?”

“Hold on,” you began, turning to the oldest of you three. “Chan, do you still have the pen I lent you earlier before you left? You said you needed to check attendance.”

“Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, I do,” he replied, fishing in his pocket for the said pen. “Here.”

You took it hastily, taking a deep breath before engaging in the one thing you had never thought you’d do in your lifetime. Flipping the cap open, you began to write down a couple of words on your arm.

“Hi, Felix. Please tell me when you see this. It’s really urgent. Chan, Yugyeom, and I are stranded in a grocery, phones dead. Could you come pick us up at XX Grocer with umbrellas?”

“What? How’s that supposed to help us? It’s not like the words will magically float off into cyberspace,” Yugyeom commented, confused.

Your cheeks began to feel warm. After casting a worried look to Chan, you shut your eyes and began to spill your secret.

“I-It’s…um… whatever I write on my arm will show up on Felix’s arm and vice versa,” you explained quietly, keeping your eyes fixated on your arms for any sign of response.

“Don’t tell me,” Yugyeom gasped, “he’s the one you’re soulmates with?!”

“She’s known since high-school,” Chan sighed, “but there are reasons as to why they’re not… you know. Together. [Y/N] doesn’t particularly like to talk about it.”

“No, it’s alright,” you waved it off, “I can tell you, just please don’t tell anyone. Um, actually, Felix and I used to be best friends, but some complicated things happened and we fought. After college, I went to Busan to try to start a new life, but in the end, I couldn’t escape him.”

“O-Oh, were you guys dating? Did he know you were here?” Yugyeom inquired, genuinely curious.

As the drops of rain started to pour around, you answered, “No, we never dated. And it’s all been purely coincidence. I didn’t know he was coming and neither did he. That’s why it was so difficult for us to interact when he first came.”

“Everything makes sense!” Yugyeom exclaimed, making an explosion gesture with his hands. “Wait, did he reply to your arm message?”

You looked down at you arm again and sure enough, the familiar chicken scratch writing appeared.

“I’ll be there in a bit. Stay dry! I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

“Okay, good. We’re saved.” Chan let out a breath of relief.

In fifteen minutes, Felix was shuffling across the street towards you three, an umbrella in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Why’d you guys go so far? There was literally a convenience store right beside the place we’re staying at,” Felix questioned, unzipping his bag. “Here’s an extra umbrella.”

“Sir Bang—Chan… can I speak with you for a bit on the way home? There’s a bit of concern with one of the Marketing members and I need to discuss it with you,” Yugyeom piped up, grabbing the umbrella from Felix’s hands. “If you don’t mind, I’ll share this with Chan. It’s a personal matter.”

Chan didn’t even get a chance to object before he was pulled away by a swift Yugyeom, who began to babble about his concerns. You and Felix watched them mosey away, chattering about whatever was to be chattered about.

“Uh, let’s go?” Felix cleared his throat, holding the umbrella. You stepped in and began to walk back to the company outing’s venue.

For a while, all that could be heard was just the pitter-patter of the rain as you trudged on in silence. The quietness was so suffocating, you swear you could hear the cawing of a crow muffled beneath the sounds of the rain.

“Hey… you’re getting wet,” the freckled boy mentioned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He dropped his hand quickly after, opening his mouth to speak. “Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable to be so near me, but I just don’t want you to get wet.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. Thank you for being so considerate. And for picking us up.”

“It’s no problem, although this?” he said, riding up his jacket sleeve to expose the scribbles on his arm. “A message saying that you were stranded wasn’t exactly what I hoped your first ever arm message to me would be. I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I really wished you might’ve saved it to notify me that you brought rice cakes to work or something.”

A giggle escaped your lips as the thought entered your mind. “Well, sorry that an emergency message isn’t as cool as rice cakes. But now that you’ve expressed your sentiments, maybe I will bring rice cakes and use our connection to notify you.”

“I can’t believe you thought of contacting me that way. Couldn’t you have texted?”

“Well, Chan’s phone was left behind, Yugyeom hasn’t payed his bills, and mine’s dead. And even if mine wasn’t dead, I don’t have your number.”

“Ouch, you deleted my number after moving?”

“…I uh… got a new phone?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding you. It’s alright, I totally get it.”

Just as you arrived at the entrance of the recreation center, you halted your steps and turned to Felix.

For the first time in a very, very long time, you found the strength to look him in the eyes. “Uh… wait. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He turned to you as well, matching your stare. Why were your legs feeling wobbly? Your palms were starting to sweat as well, and you cursed yourself for it. Speaking to Felix properly and serious was something you found extremely difficult to do, but you decided to stop acting like he was a disease you didn’t want to catch.

With a deep breath, you began, “So… it kinda felt nice to be able to talk to you again. You know, not about work. Just…normally. I guess, what I wanted to say was, uh, well, is it okay if we restart? Be friends, maybe? I really hate this discomfort between us, and I think it would be better, even for work, if we got along.”

Silence enveloped the air once again, leaving the both of you in the company of the rain and the passing cars. Thoughts of Felix lashing out and angrily speaking back to you flashed in your head; suddenly, you wanted to scurry off and never see his face again. What if he called you out on all the horrible things you’d done to him in the past? You braced yourself for anger, for rejection.

But instead, the boy in front of you broke into a grin. He even chuckled a little, reaching out his hand.

“Well, in that case,” he spoke, “hi. I’m Lee Felix, it’s nice to meet you. You can call me Felix.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “Hey, Felix. I’m [L/N] [Y/N], but feel free to just stick with [Y/N]. Friends?”

“Sure. Friends.”

--

Months after declaring the newfound restart, the budding flower of friendship began its ascent into full bloom. Often times, you asked your grandmother to make you some extra rice cakes to bring to work, that of which you shared with Felix. Sure enough, you kept your promise of notifying him through a small doodle of a rice cake on your wrist. You could have sworn you saw his eyes light up every time he noticed what was on his wrist. There were even nights that you two would stay behind to work on projects together, bringing snacks and drinks to keep you guys powered throughout the extra hours. Productivity rate in your team increased due to you and Felix’s hard work, and this did not go by unnoticed.

As he was passing by Felix’s desk, Chan couldn’t help but notice that Felix’s usually busy computer screen was shut off and that his freckled junior was staring intently at something in his hands. One look over his shoulder and Chan couldn’t help but smile.

He cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

The poor boy almost leaped out of his seat. Shoving the object behind his back, Felix responded, “What’s what?”

Chan motioned to Felix’s hands. “Whatever’s behind you.”

A trickle of sweat dripped down Felix’s clammy fingers. “Just a photo.”

“Ooh, can I see?” Chan pressed on, already knowing exactly what it is the boy held.

“N-No, hyung.”

“Come on. Don’t make me pull the superior card.”

“Fine!” Felix revealed the photo to the man in front of him, ears turning crimson. “Look, I found our graduation picture while rummaging through some of my old stuff, okay? It’s just got me thinking, like…I didn’t realize how much I missed [Y/N] over time. It seems like forever since we graduated high-school, and I still remember how it felt being her best friend. Sometimes, when I see her laugh with Yugyeom, I’m reminded of the times I used to be able to make her laugh like that. I don’t know, I sorta miss it, um, a lot.”

“Hold up, are you jealous of Yugyeom?” Chan raised a brow.

Felix hesitated, turning away. “Don’t phrase it like that, please.”

“Felix,” Chan started, breaking into a grin. “Do you like [Y/N]?”

“Is that so weird?” Felix huffed, burying his face in his arms. “I mean like, she’s my soulmate. But more than that, she’s a friend I really, really treasure. Like, I’ve been thinking about it and it would really suck if she wasn’t in my life. So I kinda came to the conclusion that okay, fine. When I talk to her, it’s not as much so to ask for rice cakes but to actually converse with her. And that I um, do like her. But honestly, between you and me?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a chance this whole ‘liking [Y/N]’ thing isn’t new news.”

--

Now Chan could only be relieved that his team members (namely you and Felix) were finally getting along well, but Yugyeom, on the other hand, would often sometimes send a wiggle of brows in your direction. Of course, this led you to throw crumpled balls of scratch paper at him, but deep down, you too were glad that the office became a more bearable workplace. You were more than thankful to have a good superior, good co-workers, and even a good boss.

On Tuesdays, you’d bring homemade lunch instead of buying from the office canteen. One fateful Tuesday noon, you stood up as soon as lunchbreak started and headed to the staff room to pick up your boxed lunch to heat it up in the microwave. On your way, you thought about handing some extra gimbap to Chan, Yugyeom, and Felix in gratefulness for being good to you. A smile made its way to your face as you entertained the thought, feeling appreciative and enthused that life had been looking up lately.

Just as you were about to open the door to the staff room, a familiar laugh rang in your eyes. Inside the room happened to be your freckled friend, smiling towards a female employee. You easily recognized her to be one of those PR scumbags, and once the realization hit that Felix was mingling with someone from that bloody department, your blood began to boil.

To make matters worse, you caught sight of him handing her what seemed to be a box—and that was all it took for you to storm into the staff room, take your lunch, and stomp outside in the direction of the canteen.

Once you got to your usual table, you plopped down in front of Yugyeom and hastily opened your lunch box.

“Woah there, tiger. What’s with the attitude?” Yugyeom asked, fiddling with his chopsticks. “Oh and by the way, Chan won’t be joining us. He’s in a meeting.”

“Felix is mingling with a girl from PR!” you huffed, stabbing a slice of gimbap and shoving it in your mouth. Between frustrated chews, you managed to sputter, “I’m so ticked off! He gave her a gift, or something!”

Yugyeom almost spit out his water. “What?! No way.”

“Yes way,” you nodded, wiping your mouth. “Saw them in the staff room being all friendly. I mean come on, ugh!”

“Hold on.” Yugyeom squinted his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

This time, it was your turn to almost spit out your water. “Excuse me? Yugyeom, you know how bad it is for someone to flirt with the enemy!”

“Yeah, but like, you sure you’re not just…I don’t know…pissed that Felix was flirting with someone who isn’t you?”

“The hell?” you hissed. “Felix does not flirt with me.”

Yugyeom sighed and rolled his eyes. “If that’s how you think, you are a lost cause, woman. When you write him notes or whatever on your wrist—which by the way, talk about cheesy!—his face lights up like a Christmas tree. And your banter as you do paperwork? Don’t get me started.”

“He gets excited because goodness knows Felix loves rice cakes more than anything. And office banter is nothing but what it is! What, I can’t argue about the better way to appeal to customers? What’s so romantic about different marketing topics? Seriously, do you know how un-sexy ‘Geographic Segmentation’ sounds? Anyway, I’m still upset that loverboy’s sucking up to PR. I mean, really?” you scoffed.

“Who’s sucking up to PR?” A deep voice came, startling you. When Felix took a seat next to you, you rolled your eyes and stood up. Petty, but absolutely necessary. You weren’t going to stand for anyone who mingled with PR. And just like that, you strut off towards your department, deciding that your table was the best place to eat lunch for now.

“I cannot even bear to see you guys sometimes,” Yugyeom exhaled, watching Felix try to comprehend what had just taken place in front of his eyes.

--

One entire week had passed since you started to act cold towards Felix, who had not a single clue what on earth was going on. Every time he tried to speak to you, you brushed it off with some lame excuse about having to think of the best way to brand the company’s latest product or that you were busy with paperwork.

“Chan, did I do something?” Felix questioned one Thursday, leaning on his superior’s desk. His face seemed to be clearly distraught by the furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Why? Did you do something?” Chan shot back, typing away at his laptop.

“I don’t know, man! [Y/N]’s been avoiding me like the plague. And she only does that if I do something wrong. Remember when I didn’t show up to our reunion in high-school? When you and the alumni hyungs wanted to hang at the amusement park but I didn’t go? Yeah, she wouldn’t talk to me because she was so upset,” Felix sighed, rubbing his temples. “This time, I don’t even know what’s up. And it sucks. I miss her rice cakes. It’s been a week.”

“Well, try to think of anything that you might’ve done to piss her off. Take her stapler? Send a late file?” Chan suggested, still not looking up from his screen.

“None of that! I swear, I blinked, and then she was mad. This is such bad timing because I want to ask her out for the holidays, and the break is starting soon. I don’t wanna end the year this way!” Felix whined, shoulders slumping.

“Thank me later,” Chan told him, raising his voice, “[Y/N]! Please come over here. There are some files to be looked over pronto!”

“Coming!” you replied, getting off your chair and walking to your superior’s table. But just as you came, he stood up and grabbed his clipboard.

“Actually, I have a meeting about now. But don’t worry, the file that needs to be looked over is—oh wow! Lee Felix.pdf is right here. Amazing. Love you both, see you at lunch!” With a grin, Chan sauntered off.

You folded your arms and tapped your shoes indignantly. “What, Felix?”

“I’m so sorry about Chan,” he apologized, rubbing his hands together. “But I do need to talk to you. Why have you been ignoring me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Felix. Maybe because someone was being all buddy-buddy last Wednesday with some girl from PR. I mean, are you even for real? How could you flirt with someone from PR?!”

“Wait… are you jealous?”

“Why does everybody automatically assume that I’m jealous?” you snapped. “The answer is no, you idiot! I’m angry because you were mingling with our rivals, our arch nemeses!”

When Felix remembers the events of last Wednesday, a laugh escapes his mouth. “W-What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I clearly saw you being all generous and handing one of the PR girls a gift in the staff room. I have eyes, you know!”

“[Y/N]… no…” Felix started, trying to stifle more laughter. “I wasn’t flirting with her. That girl’s a family friend and I had to return a book that my mom borrowed from her mom. She told me that just because we’re family friends didn’t mean that her department would go easy on us. And I told her, ‘of course’, because I’m loyal to Marketing—I’m loyal to our team. Besides, I already have someone else in mind that I’d like to flirt with.”

You were taken aback. Somewhere deep in the crevices of your heart was a wave of relief mixed with disappointment, but you waved it off and let a giant smirk rest on your lips. “Woah, woah, woah, Lee Felix! Who’s the special someone?”

“Like I’d tell you, cheesebrain.”

“You suck.”

“No, not really. Anyway, you’re going back to Seoul for the break, right?”

“Oh yeah, why?”

“Wanna meet up on the 26th? I’m going home, too,” Felix invited.

“Oh shoot, yeah, sure! I’ll be sure to mark my schedule. I’m free that day anyway. What time to what time?”

“Just keep it flexible. I’ll text you or you know,” Felix motioned to his arm, “maybe I’ll write.”

“Just text me, I might accidentally wash it off.”

“See you then!”

--

The cold winter air was not the only thing that greeted you once you arrived back in Seoul, no. As soon as you set foot into the familiar gates of your home, your parents and relatives showered you with tight squeezes, slobbery kisses, and all sorts of questions. Were you eating properly? Did you have time to go Christmas shopping? How was work? Did you meet your soulmate yet? Was Busan better than Seoul, or Seoul better than Busan?

As much as you wanted to entertain your family with tales of Busan, settling in after a long travel sounded too good to pass. Once you spent an ample amount of time with them, you headed upstairs to your room.

Ah, your room. Upon opening the door, you took a whiff of the comforting scent of your original room, familiarity embracing you like an old friend. You flopped down on the fluffed-up sheets and could not resist a grin.

It was good to be home.

In a few hours, the grandfather clock in the living room would chime, signaling the start of a new day and the beginning of Christmas itself. But for now, you wanted nothing more but to put your mind at rest, leaving all thoughts of work behind at the doorstep. It was just you, your bed, and the chilly winter weather.

But someone—no, rather something—came to join your cozy trio, and it was right there in bright blue ink on your left wrist.

“Hey there. Get home safely?”

With a smile, you grabbed the gel pen in your bag and started to jot down a response.

“I thought you preferred text.”

“My head hurts and I don’t want to use my phone. I’m just resting in my room and hiding from my sisters, who won’t stop asking me about you.”

“Oh, so you’ve discussed me?”

“[Y/N], you never answered my first question.”

“Righty-o, Sir Lee. I did, indeed, come home fine with Grandma. It was fun to bring her home. The family’s stoked we’ve come.”

“Can I have permission to erase lines with wet wipes every few messages? My arm gets crowded. Also, please use a water-based pen. It makes it easier to wipe off.”

“Just text, then.”

“I deleted your number, too.”

“What the hell, Felix?”

“I’m kidding! See you on Kakao!”

--

“So, do I wear this sweater or this blouse? Kinda think the blouse is cute, but the sweater’s practical since the weather’s begging to freeze my butt,” you spoke into your laptop, which displayed a video of Chan furrowing his eyebrows as he took a look at your choices.

“You’re worrying too much. Just go with the sweater, it doesn’t make you look any less cute,” Chan snickered, “it’s so fun to watch my little [Y/N] put so much effort into this.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Just shut up and help me, Chan! Skirt, jeans, or leggings?”

“Skirt? Why would you even suggest a skirt? Damn, girl, you’re asking for frostbite at this point. Go with the leggings and make sure to wear leg warmers. Bring a thick coat, too.”

“Okay, mom. But are you sure this doesn’t make me look like a Christmas tree? Maybe a CHRISmas tree!”

Chan rolled his eyes and sighed. “It won’t be cute if your teeth are chattering and your skin begs to be kept warm. Just dress warmly. Hey, hey, what’s with the sigh?”

“Wait. Yo, yo, I just realized something. It’s just going to be me and Felix I think tomorrow. I-Is that a date or something? What if it is?!”

“Calm down. Did he say if it was or not?”

“I don’t know! He just said he was going to spend the day with me!”

A 480p-quality simper sat on Chan’s lips on the screen. “Are you scared because it might be a date or because he might just be asking you out as a friend?”

“I’m not SCARED, Chan! You know what, that’s honestly the least of my concerns!” you answered indignantly. “What if he stands me up? Remember the amusement park fiasco?”

“Relax, [Y/N]. He will NOT stand you up. Have you seen the way he’s been lately? Felix has been overtiming a lot, he’s always punctual and/or early for meetings, and he makes sure to go to all the places he’s assigned to. Whenever he can’t make it, he always messages a day or two in advance. I think that says something.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right. Anyway, I’m going to wash up and go to sleep. Thank you so much for taking the time to video chat me. I’m going to go now, merry Christmas! Say hi to unnie for me, please. Love you, bye.”

“Bye, [Y/N]! Good luck. Text me the details of it all! Merry Christmas. Love you too!”

--

Was it irregular to be having hands this clammy, to be having palms this sweaty? Felix pressed two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. Okay, great. It was good to know that he was still alive.

‘Agh! This is going to kill me! Please, please, please come soon,’ Felix thought, checking his phone for a new notification. Just in case, he rolled up his padded jacket’s sleeve and checked his arm. Both were devoid of any sign from you.

As if on cue, the freckled boy felt a tap on his back and there you were, bundled up in a cozy outfit. Holy. Crap. He had to fight the urge to squeeze you in his arms.

“H-Hey, [Y/N]. Glad you could make it.” Felix cleared his throat, offering his arm for you to hold. “Um, shall we? Have you eaten lunch?”

“Yeah, I have. You?”

“Same. Anyway, is there anywhere you want to go to?” Felix asked, starting to walk.

You squinted your eyes in thought. “Hmm… I don’t have anything particular in mind.”

“Alright, so it’s 2:45 now. I was thinking that maybe you wanna go to the old arcade? We can spend some time there, then maybe go around the area. Look at a museum if you want.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

--

Laughter filled the air as you clutched your stomach, trying to stop yourself from giggling too much. At this point, you were borderline gasping for air with every guffaw. Felix was doing the same, and he had to hold onto your shoulder to keep himself from stumbling onto the concrete ground.

“I can’t believe you did that, Felix! We could have gotten kicked out of the museum, damn it!” you commented between laughs. “I’m so embarrassed by you now!”

“Not my fault that the little kid wanted to see me bust some dance moves. Yugyeom isn’t the only one in Marketing who can dance, you know,” Felix answered, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Whatever, you doofus. What’s next? It’s pretty dark already, so maybe dinner?” you asked, checking your watch.

Felix cleared his throat and his back started to stiffen. “Actually, I have a place in mind.”

You nodded and proceeded to hail a taxi from the waiting stand. Felix whispered something to the driver and you were off, silently sitting in the backseat.

“Where are we going?”

“Shhh, you’ll see,” was all Felix managed to reply before he looked out the window thoughtfully.

As soon as you arrived at the mystery place, Felix payed the cab driver and helped you get out. When you stepped out of the car, your eyes widened. You’d recognize this area anywhere.

For a little, silence was all that was shared between you two as you walked alongside the riverbank, the one place you knew had a special space for in your heart. Back then, this had been you and Felix’s favorite spot to go to after a tiring school day. And on one fateful December 26th, you were back, walking beside him once again.

The frigid wind left you to huddle a little closer than usual to Felix, who didn’t seem to mind. Gentle brushing of the hands led your fingers to intertwine with his, locking safely in his cozy yet sweaty palms; you could only hope he would not hear the erratic beating of your heart pounding against your ribcage with every passing second. This was happening, this was happening, this was happening—and oh dear, you didn’t dislike it.

A few minutes seemed like eternity with Lee Felix. But eternity wasn’t going to cut it for the scene that lay in front of you, the scene he had brought you to.

Sitting on the riverside was a small tent lit dimly by the soft glow of fairy lights, a sight you’d only managed to conjure up in your head once, long ago. But there it was, every bit of it as real as the warm feeling of Felix’s hands in yours.

Your lips parted. “F-Felix, is this…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, leading you to the small tent and helping you take a seat inside. “Uh, there’s some soju in that cooler and some gimbap over there if you want. And japchae. Chopsticks are here.”

“When did you have the time to even prepare this? I swear, you’ve been with me all day,” you questioned, reaching for the chopsticks as Felix cracked open the plastic container of gimbap.

He smiled. “Oh, I called for help from people I know who’d never pass up the chance to aid in this surprise.”

You gasped. “Let me guess. Hyunjin? Jisung? Seungmin, Jeongin?”

He gave you thumbs-up. “My boys.”

“Our boys,” you corrected, shoving a piece of kimbap in your mouth.

A few gimbaps and bites of japchae later, you found yourselves in silence once again, sipping soju from little paper cups.

“So…I think this is the part where I start talking,” Felix began, wiping his mouth. He directed his gaze right at your eyes.

“I hope you liked the little surprise, [Y/N]. Even though… technically… it wasn’t my idea, but yours. Actually, the reason I brought you here was because it’s finally time for me to give something to you, very, very long overdue,” he continued, “when we were in highschool, I didn’t expect us to become friends. Frankly, I though that I annoyed you every time I talked to you at the 4419 bus stop. Remember when we first had a proper conversation? Man, after that, the ball just speeded downhill. Before I knew it, we were an inseparable duo. [Y/N] and Felix. Felix and [Y/N]. Hell, I remember getting poked fun at for it, and people were teasing me that I liked you. Which… honestly, I’ve come to realize…was true. I admit, they were right. It’s actually kind of weird, I’ve only known since recently that I caught some real, big feelings for you back then.”

Here Felix paused to take a sip of water before he went on. “I haven’t forgotten the first time I found out my soulmate link. Blue ink, wrist, all-caps: ‘STUDY’. When I found out that a girl from our school had a similar link, I almost freaked out. But honestly? I only started to flirt with her to um—wow, this is embarrassing—make you jealous. Childish, right? And after a while, ironically, it backfired. ‘Cause I started to like her. Anyway, fast forward, college, right? We all know what happened… then what happened after graduation. I lost you. My soulmate, but most importantly, my best friend. It was the worst because I lost you, and I could have avoided that,” he sighed, “and so here we are. Somehow, life has given us a second chance, and I don’t want to screw this up. So [Y/N], I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry that I did so many stupid things in the past, I’m sorry that I was an awful best friend, I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder to keep you in my life. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“Felix,” you piped up suddenly, “Look, I’m sorry too. I think it’s a failure on both parts because really, maybe if I wasn’t so selfish, we could have avoided the whole fight. I didn’t know you were willing to wait for me until, you know, then. I’ve blamed myself a lot for that, but I’ve come to realize that you know what? It’s alright to make mistakes, and I forgive myself for doing that. And if I can forgive myself, I can forgive you. When we decided to restart our friendship, honestly, I was more than relieved to hear you were on board for it as well. So, can we agree to put all our mistakes in the past?”

“Yes. I’d love that. Man, thank you so much, [Y/N], for giving me another chance. I, too, forgive you for everything. And I’m so glad that you’re back in my life.”

“Aw, come here,” you grinned, opening your arms for a hug. Felix wrapped his arms around you tightly, and for a while, that’s how you two stayed.

“Wait, I’m actually not done,” Felix announced, pulling away. As he opened his mouth to speak, his hands started to shake a little bit.

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side, curious as to what the boy would say next.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t make any more mistakes in the future, but for what it’s worth, I’ve learned from the past. And if anything, anything, happens that causes me to stumble and hurt you, I’m willing to put up a fight to make it right. I can’t promise you that the future holds all flowers and sunshine, but if there’s one thing that I am absolutely, terribly sure of, it is that [Y/N]?”

“Mm?”

“I’m in love with you.”

All you could hear was the faint howling of the wind as you were rendered absolutely speechless. It took minutes to process the words Felix had just spoken, and when you managed to grasp the idea of it, all you could sputter out was, “Really?”

Felix nodded. “Yes. Really.”

“I’ve waited since third-year of highschool for you to say that,” you admitted, mustering all your strength not to smile. “So, can I…kiss you?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he answered, leaning in.

So, slowly, surely, you kissed him. You let the gentle caress of his lips speak for themselves as they locked with your own, causing your heart to beat fervently in your chest. It may have been short, chaste even, but one kiss was all it took for you to confirm the vehemence that had been lurking deep down in the crevices of your entire being.

“I’m sorry that this isn’t as grand as you’d hoped. I remember you told me that you wanted big sparks to fly when you met your soulmate,” Felix laughed nervously, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on top of yours.

You shook your head. “No, I’m glad that it’s you, and I’m glad that this is how it turned out.”

Perhaps if it had been another day in another place at another time, you’d say that loving Lee Felix was quite full of irony. But since you were here, at this specific moment on this specific day in this specific place at this specific time, you could truly and sincerely say that there was nothing ironic about it, that there was nothing paradoxical about loving Lee Felix.

There was only bliss. There was only certainty.

[chuckling-chemist]

It’s Bordello Chic

((One of the last pieces I’m directly posting onto my Tumblr, mostly because I already told myself I’d do something for Valentine’s Day before I decided to stop. Which I guess I’m not posting on Valentine’s Day, but figured I’d post it a week early because why not. If you like this, consider checking out my AO3 by the same name as my Tumblr, just minus the dashes. There’s at least one ficlet over there that’s not anywhere else, and more’s to come eventually.))

“I’m so glad you could come tonight, my darling. Red Quadrant Appreciation Day is just such an important holiday to those of us with loved ones. A reminder to spend time with those we care most about.”

Dontoc nodded as he listened to Careen talk. She had a point, somewhat. Today, sitting nicely at the end of spring, was Red Quadrant Appreciation Day. All across Sandyhorn, if not much of trollkind as a whole, took a break from their usual ultraviolence to spend time and money with their flush quadrant. Dontoc, in turn, took the whole day off to spend time with his own matesprit of a few sweeps now, Careen. It should be something he looked forward to. A joyous time to fill his spirit with the adoration of one of the trolls he should care the most about. One who so obviously spent plenty of time gussying up, perfecting each individual curl in her hair and ruffle to her skirt.

Of course, Red Quadrant Appreciation Day was more of a holiday Careen preferred. Dontoc didn’t hate it by any means, but Careen? Careen went wild for the holiday. Their first Red Quadrant Appreciation Day together had been celebrated with a ball at her hive where she announced their relationship to a crowd of highbloods and seadwellers he didn’t know. He didn’t remember much of that night, not much except Careen chastising his apparently unkempt appearance at the time and lack of desire to be mingling in the crowd. That, and the ridiculous level of heart iconography that overtook her hive at the time. It was hard for him not to focus on the gold heart necklace around her collar, or the fin cuffs embedded with tiny, heart-shaped rubies. Even her usual pink was replaced with a deep red dress with a sweetheart neckline, just for the day.

Then again, she matched their aesthetic of their chosen establishment for the night, a bordello/cafe hybrid by the name of The Gentletroll’s Den. The two of them sat in the cafe portion on a plush red couch in front of a window that happened to be the only thing stopping said couch from blending in with the red wall. The lighting wholly came from the dimly lit yellow lamps and chocolate scented candles that dotted end tables. Their own table wasn’t so much a dining table as it was a coffee table accented in gold and silver swirls along the edges. He only imagined the stages and private rooms the staff tried to brush over in the other half of the building looked more over-the-top.

The whole thing made Dontoc feel drab by comparison. He wore a tuxedo accented with a hibiscus corsage courtesy of Pallia and Aisral, and managed to get his hair to settle down just enough for tonight, but that’s all. Nothing special. At least Careen hadn’t complained too heavily yet. It was a shame he wasn’t here when he gave her the hibiscus flowers as a gift. She might have been to enamored to make her disappointment as obvious as she did.

“It really is just such a shame other trolls aren’t aware of just what a little find this place is. There’s absolutely no one here.” Careen sighed, shaking her head. “They just don’t know what they’re missing, truly.”

Dontoc hummed in acknowledgement. “It is only midnight. You wished to do an early lunch, remember? And considering this is a bordello, I cannot imagine them doing much business during traditional business hours.”

He watched as a deep scowl donned her face, only to melt away with a flippant laugh. “Oh, Dontoc! One of those trolls you live with must have drastically misinformed you. The Gentletroll’s Den isn’t one of those peasant-caste bordellos. Those are for trolls who can’t get quadrants for their scheduled pails.” She waved her hand airily, fins fluttering lightly as if there were a breeze in the room. “Oh no, this is bordello-chic. Completely different, darling, I assure you. I mean, would I really take my beloved quadrant to something like a bordello?”

“I ah….well….maybe? Perhaps?” He let out a short, awkward chuckle. “Let us be fair, Careen, you indicated interest in exploring the peculiarities of a more ah...well, let us call it an exciting relationship by giving me a romance novel focusing on the subject. I would not put it past you to do such as a way to introduce another element to our relationship.”

Careen sighed, rolling her eyes. “And what element could a true bordello possibly introduce that I wouldn’t just tell you immediately?”

Dontoc quirked an eyebrow. If he was being honest with himself, Careen hated him being with his own moirail, of all trolls. Her wishing to include a third party in their relationship seemed unlikely at best. However, he could see her wanting to come here and flirt with the staff to in some attempt to make him jealous. Not that he could express such. “Again Careen, you handed me a novel instead of requesting outright. I would like to believe that is indicative--”

“Of course not, darling. You’re being ridiculous. Granted, I do suppose your naivete is positively endearing.” She put a hand over her mouth and let out a high-pitched giggle.

“My….my naivete?”

Careen’s expression dropped for just a few seconds. “Well….yes,” she said finally. The grin that she plastered back on her face looked even more forced than before. “I realize it’s not that something many consider a positive trait, but I think it makes you adorable.”

“I was unaware my apparent lack of understanding was endearing,” he said dryly.

Careen scooted closer to him on the couch. “Oh, extremely. Yes, you mistaking this for your traditional bordello is an annoyance in the moment, but after? When I can inform you of where you were wrong, and the blank look on your face? It’s cute.”

Dontoc glanced around the dim room again. The server, a male jadeblood troll with curly horns in a tight dress shirt halfway buttoned down walked out of a light pink room to the side. Thumping music blasted from the open door for a few brief seconds as it swung. “Ah...uh-huh.” His fins shuddered. If this really wasn’t a bordello, they certainly spared no expense in tricking people. “Is that...is that a server?”

“Hm?” Careen turned away from Dontoc, following his gaze to the server. The jadeblood met their expression with a sly smirk that didn’t match the professional wave he gave them. And the way he walked toward them after getting their attention, it reminded Dontoc of the way the glamorous and proud seadwellers back home paraded around the city. Like that of a peacock, if peacocks had long hair that bounced with every step. “Oh yes. That’s our server. Didn’t you recognize him?”

He hadn’t. He initially doubted the cafe had a server at all, if their lack of drinks indicated anything. Or rather, he doubted this establishment would’ve had much in the way of wait staff. He was used to cafes with automatic checkouts, where at most overworked baristas took orders for highbloods so they wouldn’t have to wait in line. Then again, if they didn’t have a server, the hostess earlier wouldn’t have sat them in the cafe area. She would’ve kept them in the performance area, where presumably they’d at least have a bar for drinks. Or was that whole area closed off until later? He didn’t get a good look when they passed. Despite the music, they might just be practicing.

A hand thumped on the table. Dontoc’s thoughts scattered as he jumped to rapt attention in his seat, fins fluttering wildly even as he quickly realized it was just the server. “I am indeed,” he said smoothly. The troll’s smirk deepend as he threw a wink in Dontoc’s direction before turning toward Careen. It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes. “Anything I can get for the two of you tonight on the second most romantic of all nights?”

“Oh you know, I’d like to think a round of drinks for me and my beloved matesprit.” Careen wrapped her hand tightly around Dontoc’s wrist, resting her head on his arm. “Two glasses of red wine, specifically. Oh, and maybe some sandwiches? Something to prevent us from getting too drunk.”

“Of course, my beloved Heiress.” He flipped his long, curly black hair behind his shoulder and scribbled something down on a single sheet of paper. His thin, near transparent shirt clung to his chest as if it were wet. Did restaurants have safety codes? More importantly, did bordellos? He couldn’t imagine they had much aside from ideally preventing food contamination, if the way Pallia was about washing her hands was any indication, but he hadn’t ever thought about it until this moment.

The image of this place only getting cleaned once a perigee at best filled his brain and he grimaced. That couldn’t be sanitary.

The waiter leaned in a little further, just enough for it to start to hang on his shirt. “Anything else?”

“I think that’ll be all, yes.”

“I’ll leave you two to your night then.” With another flirtatious wink, he pushed himself up to walk away. Careen slumped against Dontoc’s arm with a sigh.

“They really did get every element of traditional bordellos correct here,” she said wistfully.

Dontoc hummed. “Do you venture to them frequently, Careen?” he asked lightly. “Or just this one?”

“Really, Dontoc?”

“...Yes?”

Careen pulled off of him fast enough he felt air push between them. “We moved past this.”

He glanced back at the swaying hips of the waiter, narrowing his eyes for the briefest second before he turned back into the raucous back room. Of all the things he wanted, the waiter catching him staring in annoyance was presently a hard pass. “About the...about the…?”

She crossed her arms with a huff. “The bordello thing. I already told you, it’s not a true bordello. I wouldn’t take you to one of those. They’re just very dedicated to a proper experience so we don’t have to go to an actual one.”

“With a waiter dressed in tight clothing to showcase his body who flirts with you?” he asked doubtfully.

“Like I said, it’s part of the experience. And he’s just so good, isn’t he? He looks right off of the cover of a novel, horns and all.” Careen’s fins fluttered. “So handsome.”

“And what about the performance room?”

“What about it? Don’t all cafes where you come from have rooms for landdweller to pretend like they have talent?” She shook her head and sighed again, more forlornly than wistful. “Look, I know you’ve decided to spend time around that tealblood, nor that I can stop you despite my dislike, and I know she’s convinced I’m a certain way without seeing eye to eye with me, but don’t let her cloud your thinkpan with her idiocy.” Her face brightened up as she hastily added, “Okay?”

He nodded, hands drumming on the table. The only way he could fidget right now without messing up his appearance. She was wrong. He knew she was wrong. Any cafe he’d ever been to in Sindaria were just that: little hole in the walls in the wholly oceanic part of the city that, as a whole, took up half the expanse of this room alone. And the one in the air breathing parts, for landdwellers? While they were undoubtedly touristy and ostentatious, he never went into one with a full performance area. A lone pianist maybe, but nothing else. As for Pallia, she was so perpetually disinterested in most strangers flirting with her -- something that, while rare, wasn’t unheard of when they went out --  he saw her taking as much joy from a bordello as him, and likely frequented them just as much. Less, in fact, since he technically had a plus one on her now. He doubted she’d heard of this place in any way. Not that she’d listen to any of that, but it was the truth.

Fortunately for him, he wouldn’t have to answer. The waiter returned promptly with two glasses of a deep red wine and placed them gently on the table in front of them. “I forgot to tell you two, we’ll be running discounts on all our shows for couples.” The troll paused to push his curly hair back with his fingers, shirt pulling somehow tighter still. Dontoc caught Careen’s fins twitch in interest at his movements. He only wondered how long it would take until the buttons snapped.

“If you’d like to partake, I’m sure we could work out a deal for the Heiress and her matesprit too.”

Careen giggled, curling a bit of hair around her finger like a schoolgirl. “Oh...we already made plans for tonight. A quiet night, just the two of us for once in our lives, you know?”

“I do indeed, my Heiress.”

“But,” she stopped to scoot closer to the edge of her seat, “maybe in the future, if my darling Dontoc is okay with it.”

Dontoc blanched. “I ah...erm, would rather--”

“Perfect! So on our next visit, but not tonight. Too busy tonight.”  

The waiter said something else to Careen, but Dontoc didn’t process it. Too much of his focus was wrapped up in that whole thing that just happened. A private show, well that was equal parts uninteresting and obvious. Was Careen trying to get him off their back, or was she being genuine? Probably the former, but considering everything, he wasn’t sure. She might think a private show is something completely nonsexual. That might surprise him less than just signing him up for a couple’s lap dance, or whatever they did here. And he couldn’t ask her about it, since she seemed incredibly convinced this wasn’t a bordello, but just some ridiculous cafe so dedicated to staying in-character it may as well be a FLARP. It certainly erased any doubts in his mind maybe she was right, but replaced it with equally concerning issues. Was that better? Worse? He had no idea. He’d have to ask Valeba.

Valeba. He chuckled under his breath. Now there’s someone who’d find the whole thing funny. He’d have to push through the rest of the night, just to relay it back to her whenever she got online. It was Red Quadrant Appreciation Day, after all. She’s likely safe at Ardeen’s hive, sleeping soundly.

“Dontoc? What are you laughing at?”

His face flushed in embarrassment. “Oh! Ah...apologies. I was just thinking about the ah... the debate we had earlier. That’s all.”

Careen raised an eyebrow. “And…?”

He let out a slow, steadying breath. Valeba’s voice rang in his head, reminding him it’s okay to pretend you’re wrong, to save your skin. So long as he knows the truth, and doesn’t forget it, that’s what’s important now. “You were right. This is simply uh...what was the term you used? I am afraid I lost all my thoughts right there.”

“Bordello-chic,” she said.

“It was simply bordello chic.” He leaned back in the couch. Valeba was going to riot over this when she heard. Pallia too, if he could work past the awkwardness of telling her about his and Careen’s romantic life. “My apologies.”

“Of course, darling.” She leaned back up against him, letting as much of her body scrunch up into his side as possible. “Happy Red Quadrant Appreciation Day to my favorite matesprit.”

He smiled at her. A forced smile, but he didn’t imagine she cared if there was much a difference at this point. She had her way, and would for the rest of the day. The rest, in turn, was likely inconsequential. “Happy Red Quadrant Appreciation Day indeed.”

[happy-meo]

Don’t Judge Sweet & Sour- Chapter 16: Awry Airport

Is there an expiration for dreams? And can anyone achieve them alone?

Summary: Lee Maia (OC) is the daughter of Big Bang's manager and has basically lived her life helping out behind the scenes of idols. She finally decides to defy her father's wishes and finds herself auditioning for Big Hit Entertainment. But through a series of events is instead, offered a deal; in order to debut, she has to last a full year as a manager, stylist, and coordi for genius producer Min Yoongi, infamous among the staff world as being particular and rude. Desperate and hard-headed, she accepts the challenge and finds herself in the midst of psychological warfare with Bangtan's talented rapper-producer. Meanwhile, Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae, knowledgeable on all things related to Big Bang, steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to help Maia through her hard times. Adding in the unique vibrant personalities of the rest of the Bangtan Boys and unexpected development of feelings, will Maia become the manager and friend the boys need? And will she survive the year and achieve her dream of debuting as an idol?

Yoongi x Lee Maia (OC) x Jungkook (ft. BTS members, Manager Sejin) Fluff, Angst

Read the full story on AFF (leading up to this chapter)

Links on AFF:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Links on Tumblr (full chapters weren’t put up until the later chapters): 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

A/N: This is one of my earlier fanfictions, but it’s one that I truly want to see to the end. So little by little, I want to piece together this story I had planned out about 2 years ago. I want to cross-post it fully on Tumblr and AFF for the subscribers and fans I have reading it on there so bear with me as I fix up the links to accommodate both :) <3 Enjoy!

      Maia fiddled nervously as she handed the other coordis her suitcase full of Yoongi's stage outfits. She knew airports were a venture from her first hand experience with Big Bang, but with BTS's rising fame and relatively large younger fan base, there were more incidents with them at airports than Big Bang ever had. Maia was well aware of this. And she would never underestimate the excitement and irrationality that often came with being starstruck and being so close to one's idols and role models.

       "We'll try to usher them in waves so the crowd doesn't get too crazy." The head officer explained.

       "I don't think that's a good idea..." Maia frowned.

       The officers looked at Maia with offense, and she pressed her lips together obediently.

       "So let's have them split up in pairs."

       "But there's 7 of us." Jimin stated.

       "One will be with a manager at the end then." the officer stated.

       Maia had a bad feeling about this from her past experiences, but who was she to question it? Maybe it had worked with other idol groups and she didn't know about it?

       The boys picked lots, and the pairs resulted in Jin and Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin, J-hope and Rapmon, and lastly, Taehyung.

       "The pairs won't be too far from each other. We'll still be able to see each other from a distance. The first pair is going to have the toughest time cause of the excitement--"

       "That's wrong." Maia thought.

       Jungkook and Yoongi observed her cautiously, sensing her discomfort.

       "--and the last pair won't be so bad."

       "That's wrong." She clenched her fist.

       "Manager Sejin, you take the first pair and little Manager, you take the last man." The head officer instructed.

       Everyone nodded and Maia looked disappointed, but prayed she was just over thinking the situation.

       "Will you be alright?" Sejin questioned.

       Maia chuckled and nodded, feigning confidence.

       "Remember she's the woman that singlehandedly beat up two grown muscular males at a bar." Yoongi snorted, earning a glare from her.

       "But nonsensical fans are a little bit...." Sejin frowned.

       "I'll be okay. I'll take good care of Tae." Maia smiled, trying hard to believe everything was going to truly go well.

       "Alright, we'll head out first then." Sejin nodded.

       Jungkook glanced back at Maia who waved at him encouragingly. He smiled slightly and hurriedly glued himself between Jin and Manager Sejin.

       "Don't hurt anyone." Yoongi smirked before he left with Jimin and a few other staff members.

       Maia scoffed and shook her head.

       After a few minutes, it was finally their turn.

       "Come on Mai-Mai!" Tae grinned and held his hand out.

       "Huh?" She looked at it.

       "Manager Sejin always holds my hand at the airport." Taehyung blinked at her innocently.

       "I--uhh well that's a bit..." she blushed.

       Taehyung chuckled and clasped his hand onto hers. "So we don't get separated, okay?"

       Maia smiled and nodded. They exhaled as they were ushered out by the last few officers. The first row of fans were calm and Maia felt herself relax. Taehyung had room to greet them and take a few letters, but soon, they heard commotion up ahead. Maia squeezed Taehyung's hand and pulled him a little closer as they saw that there was no longer a road, but instead a huge mob of bodies.

       "W-what is that?" Taehyung gasped.

       "That's what happens when some fans know you're the last one and want their last chance to touch and get close to you." Maia gritted her teeth.

       "What do we do?" He frowned worriedly.

       "Listen, Tae." Maia looked up at him seriously. "When I tell you to run, you keep running straight ahead okay? Hobi and the others should be at check-in already so they'll be waiting."

       "But what about you?"

       "If things get bad, I'll help make a clearing for you along with the officers, okay?" she smiled. "Got it? You'll run as fast as you can?"

       Taehyung frowned, knowing that if worst comes to worst, they would have to resort to that.

       "Let's go?" she asked and he nodded.

       "What's happening back there?" Manager Sejin asked worriedly.

       "The others are sure taking their time." Jimin checked his phone.

       Suddenly, RM and J-Hope, with the other staff members arrived, out of breath.

       "What happened?" Jin asked, concerned.

       "The fans...the railings weren't enough to hold them so they began to crowd around closely. We literally had to squeeze out of there." Hobi explained as he tried to regulate his breathing.

       "What about Maia and Tae?" Jungkook questioned frantically. "Did you see them?"

       "We really couldn't see anything when we were in the crowd. I don't know how it was behind us, but it was crazy." Namjoon breathed.

       "Please don't touch him!" Maia bellowed as she basically was blocking Taehyung's body from their hands. "Please have some respect!"

       "Shut up! You're touching him! Why can't we?" Some of the fans protested and continued their aggressiveness, while other fans were trying to pull them back and protect their idol.

       Taehyung shrunk, trying to dodge as much as he could, but they were simply too surrounded. Someone pulled at his jacket. He felt hands at his hips, his arms, on his shoulders. Maia did her best to shield him and he was grateful, but there was only so much her little body could cover. The officers were literally tackling down fans, bending their arms behind them to stop their madness.

       "This is why I said it wasn't a good idea to go in waves." Maia groaned, feeling like her insides were being crushed, and she was sure, people were pulling at her hair purposefully.

       Luckily, more officers joined the fray and a small space opened up.

       "Tae, go!" Maia commanded as she pressed her back against the crowd, joining the security guards in their blockade.

       Taehyung stared, horrified at the overwhelming scene in front of him. It shouldn't be like this. It looked straight out of a zombie movie. Their departure shouldn't be like this.

       "Go! Tae!" Maia cried out as she winced.

       Taehyung closed his eyes and ran as fast as he could. He didn't want to leave her; he wanted to help her. They were his fans after all, but this was all he could do. He continued to run forward, until he heard his name uttered with a familiar voice.

       "Taehyung!" Jin gasped.

       Tae burst into tears and sprinted to them.

       "What happened? Where's Maia?" Sejin asked.

       "She's still...she's still back there. She told me to run. She's holding them back until the other officers come. I'm sorry..." He wept, overwhelmed.

       "It's not your fault, Tae." Jimin embraced him comfortingly. "It's no one's fault."

       "I couldn't do anything. They're our fans, why should she...?" He felt frustrated.

       "Aish." Yoongi hissed and threw his stuff on the ground then zoomed away.

       "YOONGI!" Sejin bellowed. "Yoongi! What're you doing?"

       "The others should be here soon, Miss. Just hold on a little more." An officer mentioned as they struggled to keep the crowd from running towards the check-in gate.

       "Are you sure I can't just knock them out?" she chuckled, teasingly.

       The officer laughed at her humor. "I'm afraid as an officer I can't knock out an innocent citizen."

       "Guess not." Maia smiled as people continued to shove and hit them to get through.  

       "But as a citizen to another citizen, there are no rules." The officer grinned lightly.

       Maia cackled. "I'm afraid people I care about would get angry if I resorted to violence."

       "Guess we'll just have to hold on until the reinforcements come then."

       "Guess so." she grinned weakly.

       "Maia, you idiot!"

       Maia heard the familiar insult in the midst of the crowd, and she glanced up, surprised.

       "What're you doing, Yoongi?!" she cried. "Go back!"

       "Tch." Yoongi glared at her.

       Finally, a hoard of security guards arrived at the scene.

       "This isn't even in your job description. Come on." Yoongi reached out and grabbed her hand, roughly pulling her away from the crowd.

       Another officer hurriedly filled in her space.

       "Wh-" she protested but he held her hand tightly, irritated.

       "Huh? When did my body reach out and grab her hand?" he wondered, but his mouth opened to say something else, "Seriously! You're so reckless you know?! You could've just run WITH Tae. Was it really necessary to 'sacrifice' yourself like that? It's not your problem and it's not even your job!"

       "Why're you yelling at me? Keeping you guys safe IS my job!" she argued.

       "Not at the expense of your own safety!" he bickered.

       "My sacrifice would've been in vain since you came back! What would've happened to you, huh? If the officers didn't come when they did? We both would've gotten trampled! Didn't you think about that? And let go of my hand!" She tugged.

       Yoongi refused to release her and tightened his grip. "NO, I'm not letting you go."

       Maia's heart skipped a beat, and she furrowed her brows, mumbling. "People are going to think weird things."

       "You did it with Taehyung. I don't see a problem." he muttered, feeling himself warm. "Managers naturally have to do this with their idols."

       They both blushed.

       "So they don't get separated!" he cried out, trying to reason with himself, although he wasn't really sure why he was arguing about it in the first place.

       Maia smiled and tugged him towards her other side, switching hands to dodge a fan from touching either of them. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up as she initiated the hand hold this time, and proceeded to lead him. She laughed and looked back at him.

       "You're right. You'll probably get lost if I leave you alone." She grinned teasingly and pulled him forward.

       All he could do was stare at her as she zig-zagged through the crowd while making sure he avoided being grabbed. He smiled and squeezed her hand tightly, following closely behind her.

       "Maia!" Taehyung jumped and embraced her, encompassing her entirely. "I'm so sorry!"

       Yoongi crossed his arms and scowled as she naturally let go of his hand to hug Taehyung.

       "Tae...." Maia mumbled. "It's okay. You did well."

       "I'm sorry I left you alone. I'm sorry they were like that to you." Tae squeezed her.

       "Tae! I can't breafff!" Maia flapped her hands.

       He quickly let go, "Sorry! I was just so worried!"

       Maia smiled as the others gathered around her.

       Yoongi looked down at his hands. They were still tingling at sensation of her soft touch, strong yet gentle and reliable. He furrowed his brow. Why did his body run back to her instinctively? Why did his hand grab hers so easily and without much second thought? Why was he like this?

.

.

.

CHAPTER 17

[miraculousmultifan]

it’s a lovely morning in the castle, and you are a horrible magic goose

Author: miraculousmultifan

Fandom: Merlin

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Rating: T

Word Count: 11789

Summary: So there they were... Arthur cradling Merlin, a goose, while he trudged up the stairs to his chambers. Merlin gave an exasperated honk. How did he manage to continue getting into situations like these?

***

Inspired by this post on tumblr: “Concept: fairy tale where the wicked step-parent (who is of course also some sort of warlock) transforms the princess into a swan, as one does, but rather than running off to mope around in a lake and be beautifully tragic, the princess decides to stick around the palace and cause problems on purpose.”

Link: AO3

Merlin should’ve figured this sort of thing would happen. It had been a lovely morning. He had woken up early, grabbed Arthur’s still-warm breakfast, and marched up the stairs to wake up his prince. Arthur had even pretended not to notice Merlin stealing a sausage or two from his plate. So the day had been going great, which obviously meant that something had to go wrong.

He had rushed Arthur to the meeting with the king, his ward, and the council as quickly as possible, but before it could really begin, the doors to the throne room had swung open to reveal an old lady dressed in delicate robes holding a staff with a glowing orb at the top.

“Uther Pendragon, your crimes against magic will not be forgiven. You have punished innocents because of the hatred and bitterness that crowds your heart. You deserve to face the consequences of the decades of pain that you have caused my people. Arthur will be lost to you unless you can learn to accept magic and show your people love and compassion.” The sorceress had lifted her staff pointing the orb directly at Arthur, screaming the incantation.

“Arthur!”

Merlin had immediately pushed Arthur out of the way and felt the spell begin to take effect. He started to shrink while his bones shifted and ached. Across the room, the guards restrained the growling sorceress that was lunging towards Merlin. Arthur had quickly pushed himself up from the ground only to see a goose in Merlin’s place. He ran forward and scooped the goose into his arms. The goose had trembled before letting out a nervous honk and ducking his head into Arthur’s chest.

“Take this fool out of my sight. She will be burned on the pyre tomorrow morning. Arthur, you are dismissed. Take that goose out to the woods.” Uther had waved his hand, unimpressed with the swift turn of events that had just unfolded before his eyes.

“Father, forgive me, but this isn’t just some goose. This is Merlin. That witch turned my manservant into a goose. I’m not just going to leave him out in the forest to die!” Arthur had said, snuggling Goose-Merlin even closer to his chest.

“Fine,” Uther had scoffed, “I don’t care what you do with it. Just get it out of here.”

So there they were... Arthur cradling Merlin, a goose, while he trudged up the stairs to his chambers. Merlin gave an exasperated honk. How did he manage to continue getting into situations like these?

“I can’t believe I have to get a new manservant now. I don’t think I’ll be able to deal with George’s brass-polishing jokes for longer than a couple of days.” Arthur pushed open the door and walked over to his bed to set Merlin down onto his fluffy pillow. Merlin honked again, eyes bright, as he bumped his head against Arthur’s arm. Arthur took a seat on the bed next to Merlin and gave his head an affectionate pat.

“Of course, you would probably prefer being in a lake or pond now, huh? That will certainly be unpleasant for me because I’m not sure I’m ready to let you go yet. I guess I’m just holding out hope that you’re still in there. Somewhere…” Arthur said dejectedly, stroking Merlin’s head. Merlin’s tiny eyes widened as he comprehended Arthur’s words.

Merlin jumped from the pillow and flapped around until he was standing on Arthur’s lap. He stared into Arthur’s eyes, trying as hard as he could to convey to Arthur that he was right there, fully cognizant. He gave a confident and meaningful honk that he hoped Arthur could realize meant, “Of course I’m still here. I would never leave you. Don’t send me to some stupid lake, you prat!”

Arthur stared back, his eyes gradually widening until, “Merlin?! You’re truly in there? Well… I suppose I should stop petting you, then.” Merlin gave an indignant honk and nipped at the hand that Arthur was attempting to pull away. They really had to figure out a better way of communicating.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll keep petting you, you ungrateful idiot, but we are getting you to Gaius first thing in the morning. There has to be a better way for us to communicate…” Arthur trailed off, staring at the wall in thought. Merlin gazed up at him fondly for a second before tucking his head under his wings and cuddling into Arthur’s chest, relaxing beneath his soft touches.

Arthur eventually got up to get dressed for bed before slipping under his blankets to sleep. Merlin stood up from his spot on Arthur’s spare pillow to tuck himself against Arthur’s chest and let out a soft snuffle. Arthur smiled to himself, closing his eyes and resting a hand on Merlin’s back, ruffling his feathers the slightest bit.

***

The next morning, after dressing himself again, Arthur scooped a sleeping Merlin into his arms and headed straight to Gaius’s chambers.

“Gaius!” Arthur slammed the door to the physician’s chambers open.

Gaius huffed at his work table before turning to fix Arthur with an obviously fake smile. “Sire. How lovely to see you. Is there a reason for your unannounced visit and brutish forcefulness with my door?”

The tips of Arthur’s ears turned pink as he looked back to the door before he shook it off. The prince pressed on, pacing back and forth in front of Gaius, still clutching Merlin close to his chest. “This is an emergency! My father wants me to send him away, but if there’s any way to turn him back to my- er, back to Merlin, I can’t just leave him! He means a lot to me, although my father may resent it, so I could never abandon him in some lake,” Arthur spoke, gradually getting louder as he got more riled up.

“Sire… I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. Also, is that a goose you’re cradling?”

“I am not cradling him! I am simply holding him,” Arthur protested, louder than was really necessary. After hearing a grumpy snuffle from Merlin, he stopped, giving the soft, black feathers on his head a ruffle. “And be quiet, Gaius. You’re going to wake him up.”

“Of course, sire. I will lower my voice, my apologies. We wouldn’t want the goose you have adopted out of nowhere to be grumpy.”

“What do you mean the goose I adopted? This is Merlin.” Arthur rolled his eyes as if Gaius was being intentionally dense.

“Of course. Now, what was it you are really in here for, my lord?”

“Well, we can’t really communicate all that well, what with Merlin being a goose and all, so I was wondering if you had a potion or something that could help? Like a mind link or something?”

“You want me to help you create a mental link between yourself and… a goose?” Gaius was starting to become very exhausted listening to Arthur prattle on about this goose.

“For the last time, Gaius! This isn’t just some goose! It’s Merlin!” Arthur shouted, throwing up his free hand in exasperation. Merlin let out a bleary honk, lifting his head from Arthur’s shoulder. “Ah, Merlin! You’re finally awake. Do you mind explaining to Gaius what happened?”

Merlin flapped his wings for Arthur to let him down before waddling over to Gaius and honking at him.

“Yes… You seem to have trained your goose very well, sire.” Merlin rolled his eyes and honked obnoxiously before biting Gaius on his ankle. Gaius yelped and jumped up with surprising aerobatics considering his age.

Arthur covered his mouth, attempting to hide his snicker, before quickly turning it into a cough when Gaius gave him The Eyebrow. Gaius turned back around to Merlin and squinted.

“If you really are Merlin, which I’m not convinced you are, prove it to me. Do something only Merlin would do.” Gaius crossed his arms and sat back down at his work table, watching Merlin carefully. Merlin huffed and stared pointedly at him before letting his eyes turn to gold as he made burning heat crash over Gaius.

“Okay, okay! I believe you.”

“The eyes are what really gives him away, don’t you think?” Arthur remarked cluelessly before walking forward to scoop Merlin back into his arms. “Well, now that you’re convinced, do you mind making it so I can converse with my manservant again?” Merlin took the opportunity to nuzzle his face back into Arthur’s neck and go back to sleep.

“Forgive me, sire, but I don’t think I can make a temporary mind link between you and Merlin at this moment. I will have to look through my library to find anything I can. Perhaps you can take Merlin with you somewhere else until I can find a suitable solution.”

Arthur sighed, stroking Merlin’s neck absentmindedly. “Of course, Gaius. Thank you for helping us. I will leave you to your research.” Arthur moved to leave before stopping in the doorway. He turned back to Gaius slowly one last time. “Before I go… I can’t stop thinking about what that sorceress said to my father. ‘Arthur will be lost to you unless you can learn to accept magic and show your people love and compassion.’ Do you think that could be the key to changing him back? Getting my father to accept magic?”

Gaius looked thoughtfully at Arthur for a moment, taking in Arthur’s hesitant expression and hopeful eyes. “It is possible, sire.”

Arthur nodded sadly and sighed. “I guess Merlin will be a goose forever, then. We’re going to need that mind link.”

***

Arthur walked into his chambers and set Merlin carefully onto his pillow as he prepared for training. Without Merlin to help him, getting into his chainmail and armor was a lot harder than he remembered. Arthur considered calling for George to help him, but one glance to the sleeping goose on his pillow made him rethink that decision. He could afford to be a little late for a training session.

Although, according to Gwaine, apparently he could not.

“Oi, princess! Being late is so un-ladylike. What will all your suitors think? And to bring some random goose with you! For shame!”

“Come now, Gwaine,” Percival spoke up, “The goose is obviously his magical adventuring companion. Every princess has one nowadays.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I trust that if you don’t want another couple hours added onto training today, you will cool it a little bit.” He carefully lifted Merlin from where he had been resting his neck on Arthur’s shoulder to hold him in front of his chest and scruffed his feathers to wake him up. “Come on, Merlin. You can’t just sleep all day. You still have a job, you know. Becoming a goose does not excuse you from your chores.”

“Aww. We knew you were besotted, Arthur, but I didn’t think you would go as far as to name a goose after him. Does Merlin even know about this goose that you’re trying to replace him with?” Gwaine teased, elbowing Percival’s side with a wink.

Merlin blinked slowly and ruffled his feathers, giving a dazed honk. After looking around to see the training field, Merlin turned his head towards Arthur to glare at him. Arthur smirked. “Would you rather attempt to spar with the knights as a goose, or sit on the sidelines watching in case someone gets hurt?” Merlin honked again and stretched his neck forward to bite Arthur on the nose. “Ow! I’m still the prince you know. You can’t treat me like this.”

“No, no. Arthur’s right,” Lancelot cut in, interrupting Gwaine’s giggles, “That’s definitely Merlin. I heard rumors from Gwen that someone had been turned into a goose last night, and I can tell you without a doubt. That is Merlin.”

Merlin jumped out of Arthur’s hands and waddled over to Lancelot, flapping to be picked up. With a sheepish smile to Arthur, Lancelot picked Merlin up and cradled him to his chest. Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur and honked smugly. Arthur glowered at him before turning to his knights.

“Alright! Training begins. We are continuing mace work today, so grab your weapons. Lancelot, take Merlin to Gwen and explain the situation. I don’t want him being a nuisance while we’re trying to train.” Merlin huffed and tried to bite Arthur again, but Lancelot held him back before making his way into the castle. He would just have to settle for an affronted honk.

Arthur sighed to himself as he turned to grab a mace and shield for himself. He couldn’t help but be at least a little worried about his manservant. Sure, he’s safe with Lancelot, and Gwen will take good care of him, but Arthur knew Merlin always found a way to get himself into trouble, and becoming a goose would only increase the chance of that. Hopefully, Gwen could make him behave.

***

“Okay, so I know Lancelot wouldn’t lie to me and Merlin gets into so much mischief already, but I’m just not convinced. I think you’re just some regular goose.” Gwen looked down at the goose in her arms while she walked to Morgana’s chambers. “I’m not sure how you’d even prove it to me if you were Merlin.”

Merlin huffed and scowled at Gwen, about to give her a piece of his mind, but then he heard one of the visiting nobles discussing the events of the council meeting from the night before.

“Uther’s boy, Arthur, needs to learn his place. What use is having a goose as a manservant? If it were me, I would’ve put that thing out of its misery. Uther should have been harder on him. If my son ever showed that much care to a mere servant, I would execute the boy to make a point. Good rulers should never show compassion towards their lessers.” The grimy old man sneered, puffing out his chest.

The two visiting nobles were pompously criticizing Arthur’s actions, and Merlin knew that if Arthur heard, he would internalize it. It would make him more insecure. What right did they have to challenge the decisions of the crown prince? Merlin wouldn’t stand for it.

Gwen tried to stifle a shriek as Merlin flapped his wings, jumping out of her arms. Loud slapping sounds echoed through the hallway as Merlin’s little goose feet charged forward.

“Lord Marticus, do you hear that slapping sound? How curious…”

Merlin pounced, letting out a deafening battle honk as he planted his feet on the old man’s back and sunk his tiny goose teeth into his balding head. The man cried out and swatted his hands above his head, hoping to land a hit. Lord Marticus fled, screaming, leaving the stout noble behind.

“Where are you going? Lord Marticus, help me with the damned bird!”

“I’m sorry, Lord Geraldimum, but whatever you did to provoke it is your problem. You can deal with it yourself!” Lord Marticus called over his shoulder, still high-tailing it down the corridor.

Gwen stood, shocked, for another moment before grabbing Merlin and pulling him away. That settles it. Merlin has turned into a goose. “I am so sorry, Lord Geraldimum. My goose, uh, Eggbert, broke free from my grasp. This won’t happen again, sire. My deepest apologies,” Gwen said, hanging her head in deference.

“Right, yes… It won’t happen again,” Lord Geraldimum spoke slowly, brushing off his clothes and clutching the back of his head. “I should hope not! Keep your bird in line, young lady.”

Gwen nodded and scurried away with an affronted Merlin clutched tightly underneath her armpit. As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Gwen brought Merlin up to her face. “What were you thinking? If Lord Geraldimum* knew you were Prince Arthur’s manservant, and he complained, Uther would have you executed. You know he doesn’t think twice about these things. At least make trouble when Arthur is around to save you.” Merlin glared at her with his beady eyes. “N-not that you can’t save yourself! I’m sure you can, it’s just… Well, it’s just… Arthur has a lot more power than you. He’s probably the only person who could stop Uther from either executing or banishing you.” Merlin huffed and lowered his head to rest on Gwen’s shoulder.

She carried him up to Morgana’s room to get him away from any other trouble.

***

“Gwen, it is lovely to see you!” Morgana started, looking Gwen up and down before giving her a soft smile. “Where have you been all d-” She stopped when her eyes landed on Merlin, but continued on a moment later, her shock barely noticeable. “This is Merlin, isn’t it? Can I hold him?”

Merlin hopped down from Gwen’s arms and waddled over to Morgana, giving her a content honk.

“Still a sweetheart as a goose? I’m not surprised.” Morgana knelt to pick Merlin up, smiling.

“I don’t know, my lady. You should have seen him with Lord Geraldimum. One passing comment about Arthur was all it took for Merlin to rip him to shreds.” Gwen grinned, shooting Morgana a wink. Merlin honked, turning his head away from Gwen to look at the wall. “Oh, Merlin. Don’t be that way. We all know how much you care about him.”

“Honestly, I think it’s sweet. It’s only fair that we can poke fun at you every now and again. Especially now that you can’t say anything back!” Morgana smirked. Merlin squirmed in Morgana’s arms, trying desperately to wiggle to safety. Gwen giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Morgana’s eyes widened and she blushed. In her temporary distraction, Merlin achieved freedom.

“Ooh! I have an idea. Merlin, can we make you some accessories? What if we gave you a miniature neckerchief to wear? Arthur told me to keep you out of trouble, so I can hardly go about my chores now. Morgana and I are your babysitters until Arthur arrives…”

Merlin huffed and waddled to the center of Morgana’s room. He plopped down and tucked his head under his wing to take a nap while Morgana and Gwen sat on the floor around him, stitching and chatting.

A couple hours later, Arthur charged into the room.

“Is Merlin in here?” Arthur panted, his hand braced against the doorframe.

“Arthur, did you sprint up here? He is perfectly safe in our company you know.” Morgana smirked, turning back to her stitching.

Arthur ignored her comment, choosing to sit on the floor and pull Merlin onto his lap. Merlin fluffed his feathers slightly and took his head out from under his wings to lean against Arthur’s stomach. “You know, I think we all deserve a rest. Don’t stop your mindless gossip on my account.”

Morgana rolled her eyes playfully and shifted so that she was lying with her head in Gwen’s lap. “We were just discussing what other clothes to give Merlin. Gwen’s making him a tiny neckerchief. Do you have any ideas?”

Arthur looked down at Merlin sleeping soundly against his stomach. “Maybe a sweater or a jacket? Or some little boots? That would be cute…” Merlin snuffled and nuzzled his face into Arthur’s stomach. Arthur let out a very manly squeak, his face burning. When he looked up, Morgana was covering her mouth, her eyes sparkling with mirth while Gwen looked pointedly away, stifling her giggles. “Not a word of this to anyone,” Arthur sighed, defeated.

“How about I change the subject?” Gwen smiled. “Have you ever put on disguises and snuck around?”

Both Morgana and Arthur spoke at the same time. “Of course I have!” “Well, it’s not a very princely act, is it?” Arthur stared at his sister in shock while she just laughed.

“Seriously, Arthur? Never? You must lead a sad life on that high pedestal of yours,” Morgana said, reaching her hand out to pat Arthur’s ankle in mock seriousness.

“I’ll have you know, that I have snuck around! I just never wore a disguise. It’s not as if someone would stop the crown prince.” Arthur huffed and ceased his petting to cross his arms. Merlin snuffled and woke up. “Merlin was with me, of course. I think we were disobeying my father’s wishes…”

Merlin stretched out his wings before nuzzling Arthur’s arm and honking softly. Arthur picked him up and pulled him to his chest, resting his head against his heart.

“There’s a surprise,” Gwen laughed. “I think this time you’ll be better disguised. We wouldn’t want word getting to Uther about anything.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes while Merlin picked his head up to look at Gwen. “What do you mean this time?”

“Well, I’ve finished with Merlin’s neckerchief. We should at least show it off on a little stroll through the town!” Gwen paused for a moment. “Don’t you want to go out without having to always be aware of how you are being perceived?”

Arthur sighed. “When do we leave?”

***

Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, and Merlin moved their gathering into Arthur’s room to help him find a suitable disguise. Morgana and Gwen sat Arthur down on his bed with Merlin in his lap, before they started pulling out random clothes from his wardrobe.

“Hey, what are you doing? You can’t just go throwing my clothes around!” Arthur pouted, his eyebrows furrowed. Merlin honked in protest, flapping out of Arthur’s lap to pick up the clothes that were strewn across the floor and put them on Arthur’s bed.

Morgana ignores them, but Gwen throws a mildly sheepish look over her shoulder. With barely concealed giggles, Morgana spoke. “It’s no use. All of his clothes are too fancy. It’s like he’s never tried to be subtle in his life!”

“I’m right here! I can still hear you!”

Gwen nodded at Morgana with fake disappointment. “I suppose Merlin will just have to share some of his clothes with Arthur. It’s such a shame.”

Arthur felt his ears grow hot and he attempted to splutter out a response, flailing his arms around. “Wha- But Morgana! Gwen, there’s no way I’ll be able to fit! Merlin is much too skinny.” Merlin huffed and bit Arthur’s finger before honking at him. “What? It’s true!”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Merlin has some larger clothes that could fit you. If not, we could always find some way to fix them up.” Merlin jumped out of Arthur’s lap and flapped into Morgana’s arms. “Onwards!”

Morgana led the way, a considerable length in front of Arthur and Gwen. She snuck a quick look back at them for a moment before leaning into to whisper into Merlin’s ear. “When we get in, I’ll try to distract them. Do you think you can magic some of your clothes to fit Arthur?” Merlin gave an affirmative honk. “Great! We have to hurry, though. We don’t want Arthur or Gwen to see.”

By the time they arrived at Merlin’s room, Arthur and Gwen had been left in the dust. “Alright, make it quick. I’ll tell them to wait while you pick out your biggest clothes.”

Merlin nods and hops out of Morgana’s arms. His eyes glow gold while he levitates his most average clothes onto his bed, enlarging them as he went. If he was being honest, the idea of Arthur wearing his clothes made his tiny goose heart flip in his chest. A few moments later, Morgana walked back in with Gwen and Arthur in tow.

“Wow, Morgana, you really walk fast! Arthur and I could barely keep up.” Gwen laughed, moving to sit on the end of Merlin’s bed.

Morgana smiled, “Sorry, it’s in my nature.”

Arthur huffed and pushed past Morgana to pick up the clothes Merlin had laid out for him. “I seriously doubt this. I’m too muscular for his clothes.” Merlin honked loudly and waddled up to Arthur to bite his ankles. “Fine! I’ll put them on. You don’t have to bite me.”

After Arthur changed into the magically-enlarged clothes, he was embarrassed to see that they fit him perfectly. Morgana cackled while Gwen tried to hide a snicker by picking up Merlin and hiding her face in his feathers.

“Too muscular for his clothes, you said? It doesn’t seem that way to me,” Morgana teased, patting a red-faced Arthur on the back before sliding out the door. “To the town!” Gwen gave Arthur a small smile while Merlin honked smugly at him, then they both followed Morgana down the steps. Arthur huffed, muttering to himself while he tried to catch up.

Merlin didn’t think their disguises were all that good. Gwen looked fine, obviously; she was a commoner, so she already fit right into the bustle of the lower town. Morgana was more obvious, her clothes still being a bit too fancy, but it was clear that she had gone into the town disguised many times before. It’s always hard to take away that royal presence that came with being brought up by nobles.

But Arthur… Arthur was not as subtle as he assumed. For starters, he was only wearing Merlin’s clothes. Simply wearing different clothes would not stop the people of Camelot from recognizing their crown prince. It’s not like Merlin could do anything about it now, though, so he decided to just sit back and watch the people politely pretend not to notice the crown prince of Camelot and the King’s ward walking around the town with a commoner and a clothed goose.

Arthur seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself and the fact that he “hasn’t been recognized”. Gwen keeps stifling her giggles every time she looks back to see him smiling so brightly. Merlin nudges Gwen’s face with his head before looking back at Arthur. Gwen nods, and Merlin flaps down to waddle up to Arthur. Without hesitating, Arthur picked Merlin up and held him close to his chest.

“See, Merlin. I told you this would work. The commoners don’t suspect a thing,” Arthur whispered with a big grin on his face. Merlin snorted and pressed his head over Arthur’s heart.

They walked for a while, checking out the stores and looking through the wares of the merchants. Eventually, something had to happen, though; with Merlin and Arthur around, something always did.

A wolf whistle. “Hey there, lass. What’s a pretty thing like you doing out in the streets looking positively indecent?” A man called, slapping Morgana’s butt as he walked past. Morgana jolted and turned to glower at the man who only laughed, elbowing his buddies. Gwen was glaring and Arthur had tensed, but it was Merlin who made the first move.

Seeing red, Merlin jumped from Arthur’s arms and flapped his wings wildly, flying towards the group of men. With screeches and honks, Merlin attacked. It didn’t take long for the man’s laughs to turn to screams. His buddies all ran, leaving the man to whack at Merlin with very little accuracy.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Leave me alone…” The man wailed. Merlin was ruthless. He was fully content to leave this man with long-lasting bruises that would deter him from making another such comment again.

“That’s enough,” Morgana said calmly. Merlin immediately, albeit regretfully, detached his teeth from the man’s arm and waddled back to Arthur. She turned to the man slowly. “I assume you’ve learned your lesson. Now, leave us be.” With those words, the crowd that had begun to form dissipated, and the man was left whimpering on the pavement.

Arthur scooped Merlin up, and then the group was off on their adventure once again as if nothing had happened. After about 20 minutes of walking through the town, Gwen asked if she could take Merlin to look for herbs for Gaius and Audrey. Morgana agreed, telling Arthur that he would be joining her while she tried on clothes in a nearby shop.

Gwen took Merlin from Arthur’s arms and headed towards the merchant selling herbs while Morgana and Arthur headed in the opposite direction, playfully bickering. Once they were out of sight, Gwen leaned down to whisper to Merlin, “Okay, so I might have lied the tiniest bit. We really should pick up some herbs for Audrey, but I’m sure Gaius has plenty. I actually want you to help me pick out some jewelry for Morgana. I’ve been meaning to her a gift to show her how much I care about her for the longest time , but I’ve been too busy. Do you think you can help me out?” Merlin honks and leans into her. “Great! I mean, I assume that was a yes. I don’t really speak goose.”

“Welcome to my shop! I have a wide variety of jewelry made from various valuable gems and jewels. What catches your eye?” The shopkeeper said, eyeing Gwen as she looked for the perfect gift. The other lady in the shop seemed to double-take at Merlin but otherwise paid them no mind while she browsed.

“I’m just looking at the moment, thank you,” Gwen said politely before looking down at Merlin. “What do you think? Would Morgana like a necklace or earrings more? Or maybe a bracelet?” At the mention of Morgana, the shopkeeper visibly straightened before adopting a shifty look on his face. Merlin huffed at Gwen and looked towards a dark green pendant sitting on the table closest to them. It looked like it was made from a smoothed geode crystal with the chain made from black wire-like string woven together. It was held to the wire by knots surrounding the edges of the crystal.

The lady that had been browsing picked up a necklace very similar to the one Merlin had just nodded towards and walked to the shopkeeper to pay. The shopkeeper smiled at her. “That will be ten silver, miss.” The lady paid happily and left the store, sparing one last glance to Merlin. Geese must attract more attention than he had previously realized.

“Wow, Merlin! This necklace is beautiful. I’m sure the Lady Morgana will love it. Thank you.” Gwen smiled and walked over to the shopkeeper.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?” The shopkeeper said. Gwen smiled at him and placed the necklace on the counter.

“Just this please,” She replied, ruffling Merlin’s feathers affectionately.

“That’ll be fifty silver.” The shopkeeper grinned and held out his hand. Gwen’s smile fell.

“Fifty silver? But the other lady bought the same necklace, and she only paid ten!”

“Well, a friend of Morgana’s should have more than fifty silver at least. Being royalty and all…”

Gwen sighed. “It’s fine. Maybe I can make her something instead.” She started to turn away before Merlin hopped out of her arms and snatched the pendant off the table and waddled as fast as he could away. “Merlin! Come back! What are you doing?”

The shopkeeper stood shocked, but by the time he had come back to his senses, Gwen and Merlin were long gone.

***

Deciding that he was done adventuring for the day, Gwen took Merlin to Arthur chambers to wait until Morgana and Arthur returned. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Thank you for helping me with that shopkeeper.” Merlin honked softly.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to return, but as soon as he walked in, he flopped onto his bed face first. Merlin stood up from where he had curled onto Arthur’s pillow to sit on Arthur’s back.

“Ugh! Merlin, it was horrible! Morgana spent forever trying on dresses, and then it turned out she didn’t even plan on buying anything! She was only waiting until she could get a gift for Gwen. Why she needed me there, I will never know.” Merlin honked in surprise. Then, he nipped at Arthur’s back lightly and pushed him with his head. “Alright, alright. I’m moving. You’re so pushy.”

Arthur sat up, roughly pulling off his shirt with a little more difficulty than should be expected before flopping back down onto his bed and pulling the blankets over his shoulders. Merlin settled onto the pillow next to Arthur’s and they both fell fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Arthur managed to wake up before Merlin the next morning, and in that short time had come to the decision that a hunting trip with the knights was the best course of action they could take.

“Up and at ‘em! Come on, don’t make me pluck your feathers… I’ll do it; don’t think I won’t.” Arthur picked up Merlin and threw him up in the air over the bed. Merlin gave an offended honk in protest and chased Arthur around the room, honking and biting at his heels while Arthur laughed loudly and whacked pillows at him.

Eventually, through no fault of his own, Arthur was defeated, falling to the floor and relenting to the onslaught of bites at his ankles. “You have to promise me that we won’t start this again once I tell you the plan for today, okay?” Merlin nodded and moved to settle into Arthur’s lap. “We’re going hunting with the knights.”

Merlin stopped in the middle of making himself comfortable to make his best attempt at a glare. The idea was so revolting that he may have hissed just a little bit. Just a tiny itty bit. It’s just, Uther was all for Merlin being thrown to the woods to inevitably be killed for sport (whether by Arthur or otherwise), and Merlin, ever filled with treason, was not totally on board with the possibility of that happening for real. And also the other very real and very cute animals that they would also probably kill. So hunting was a no go.

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Plus, Gwen made you a little pouch thing so that you can still come on the hunts! She dropped it off this morning. Look, it’s even got little flowers on it. I know how much you like flowers…” Arthur stood up, scooping up Merlin with one arm before picking up the aforementioned pouch and showing it to Merlin.

Merlin huffed, which Arthur took as an affirmation, putting Merlin in the pouch, and then they were off, Arthur already dressed in his usual riding gear. The pouch was slung across Arthur’s chest like a satchel with Merlin positioned just above Arthur’s heart. Prime position for goose cuddles if Merlin was in the mood, and as much as it pained him, he was not.

They rode out into the forest, Gwaine cooing at Merlin while the other knights laughed. Little did they know, Merlin was hatching a plan. If he could stop the knights from killing any innocent animals, then they hunting trip would be a failure, and Merlin would get his revenge. He had assumed (one he had finally gotten used to being a goose) that Arthur wouldn’t be able to take him on hunting trips anymore. He had apparently underestimated how much Arthur loved hunting.

After a couple more minutes of riding, Arthur dismounted by a river and tied his horse to a tree. “This is where we will make camp after we’re done hunting. For now, let’s keep moving. We only have so much daylight, and I’d like to catch something today.”

The knights tried to be as quiet as possible, Arthur leading the way, but every time a deer or rabbit got close, Merlin honked as loud as he could. Every time, the animals fled and the knights missed their shots (whether from Merlin scaring them or the animals running, they never admitted).

Eventually, Arthur got fed up, but he didn’t want to send Merlin back to the camp in case someone else tried to shoot him, so they stopped hunting.

“Nice job, Merlin,” Gwaine said, “Now we can’t eat tonight.” Merlin wriggled in the pouch until Arthur freed him, and he waddled over to the river. The knights simply looked on in bewilderment as Merlin shot his head into the water. One by one, Merlin plucked fish out of the river and set them on the ground next to him.

After collecting enough fish for everyone to eat, Merlin waddled over to the fire that Lancelot had set up and settled down with a fish for himself trapped in his beak.

“Oh… So I guess we can eat… Thanks, Merls!” Gwaine laughed and grabbed a couple fish from the pile. “Now, who wants to help Leon cook us a stew?”

Arthur sat next to Merlin in front of the fire while Leon and Gwaine argued over who would make the stew.

“I guess you still don’t like hunting then, huh?” Merlin turned to give Arthur a look before huffing and turning back to his fish.

“I should’ve figured, but… well, I didn’t want to leave you back at the castle for the whole day. It’s much more fun having you here.” Arthur wasn’t really sure why he was so comfortable telling Merlin these things that he would normally keep locked away, but he figured that since Merlin didn’t look like himself, it was easier to detach the fact that it was Merlin under all those feathers.

Merlin huffed and stood up to move onto Arthur’s lap. It wasn’t often that Arthur would talk about his feelings so openly, so Merlin decided to forgive him. He leaned his head onto Arthur’s chest and continued eating his fish. Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s feathers and relaxed, taking in the soft night.

“Look, I’m just saying! After Merlin, you are probably the only one with any real cooking experience,” Gwaine said, poking Leon in the chest.

“Yeah, and you’re the most responsible out of all of us,” Elyan added. “If anyone can make fish stew while also not starting a forest fire, it would be you.”

“It’s alright, Leon. I’ll help you. I’m not against a little cooking, but you might have to do a lot of the work.” Lancelot said, slapping Leon on the back before starting to prep the fish.

“I just want to know why I am the only consideration! I’ll do it, but not because you guys are forcing me. I am doing this of my own accord.” Leon sighed, sitting down next to the pot to start cooking. The rest of the knights cackled, Gwaine elbowing Percival in the side and giving him a wink.

Arthur smiled while watching his knights banter. There really was nothing he liked more than hunting with his most trusted knights. It was at times like these that he really felt like he had friends (despite the fact that princes can’t actually have friends).

An hour passed with the knights chatting merrily and Arthur interrupting to make some jokes at Merlin’s expense. There were a couple bites and honks, but otherwise, Merlin couldn’t argue very well. He also never left the comfort of Arthur’s lap, so Arthur figured he couldn’t really be mad.

The next morning, they packed up camp and settled on their horses before starting the trek back to Camelot. Not surprisingly, they happened to be ambushed by a crew of bandits. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but Arthur and the knights still managed to be surprised.

Arthur took Merlin out of his pouch and set him on the ground. “Merlin, run!” Merlin looked back at him and honked angrily. “If you don’t run, then at least hide, you idiot!” Arthur yelled before unsheathing his sword and blocking a hit from the bandit in front of him. Merlin waddled off behind a tree quickly to strategize.

The knights had already assembled into a protective formation. They were on the defensive since the bandits had the advantage of surprise. Despite being distracted by watching Merlin in case he gets hurt, Arthur was still taking down multiple bandits at a time. There were more bandits then they had anticipated, though, so their formation got closer and closer as the bandits pushed them together.

Arthur snuck a look to where he had seen Merlin hide right as Merlin stepped out. His eyes glowed gold and several tree branches snapped above the bandits, knocking them out on their way down. Merlin had effectively incapacitated a little under half of the bandits without even a word (or honk, he supposed). Arthur stood, paralyzed, before pushing it to the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, one of the bandits took advantage of Arthur’s brief moment of weakness and slashed at his arm. Arthur took pride in being Camelot’s best warrior, so he managed to dodge most of the blow, but the bandit had the added benefit of. Arthur’s eyes flicked back to Merlin just in time to see Merlin let out a murderous honk with his eyes fixed on Arthur’s attacker.

In a flash, Merlin was charging forwards, his wings flapping menacingly. Arthur’s eyes widened as Merlin landed, teeth sinking into the back of the man’s neck. Merlin looked up and honked at Arthur with what looked to be a glare and a roll of his eyes. Arthur shook his head and turned back to the fight, his eyes occasionally (read: often) straying back to watch Merlin.

Arthur had never seen Merlin so vicious before, though, so you can’t blame him for being a bit more distracted than usual. He could just tell that Merlin was taking out more bandits than the rest of them combined . And he wasn’t even using magic for a lot of it! Arthur’s thoughts jolted for a second, but he pushed it all away again. It didn’t matter at the moment, after all. Once they returned to Camelot… Then Arthur could think about it.

It was clear that the bandits were starting to fear the merciless goose that was currently ripping at their own, so it was only inevitable that most of them would flee, screaming. They all stood there for a minute before Gwaine spoke up.

“Wow, Merlin. You really showed them, huh? No one messes with Arthur like that if you have anything to say about it.” He grinned and picked up Merlin to pinch his cheeks.

“How does it feel to have a goose as a protector, sire?” Elyan asked, slapping Arthur on the back as he after his horse that had fled from the fight.

“I can handle myself. I don’t need a protector, and I especially don’t need Merlin as a protector!” Arthur huffed, stalking off to find Llamrei before she wandered off too far. He doesn’t need a sorcerer to protect him. Merlin honked from where Gwaine was holding him and wriggled out of his arms to waddle over to Arthur. “What is it, Merlin?”

Merlin flapped his wings and honked at Arthur. He looked like he was pouting, but that’s ridiculous. Geese don’t pout. Arthur just looked down at him and furrowed his brows.

“He wants you to pick him up, sire,” Lancelot said, throwing him a wink. Merlin flapped his wings again, his eyes twinkling. Arthur sighed and picked him up, setting him gently in the pouch. Arthur watched Merlin lean back onto his chest and felt his heart clench painfully. He frowned and went back to looking for Llamrei, forcing all thoughts out of his mind yet again.

***

They arrived back at Camelot just in time for dinner, where Arthur relayed the encounter with the bandits to the king, leaving out any mentions of Merlin. It wasn’t that he wanted to lie to his father, it was just… Merlin didn’t know. With all Merlin has done for him, the least Arthur could do was talk to him before he made a decision. He could hardly do any of that with Merlin as a goose, though.

While they rode back, Arthur had stayed silent, trying to cope with this new information. He had shut down. Then he overheard Gwaine talking to Percival about going to the tavern together. Taking advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself, Arthur had ridden up next to his knights and interrupted their conversation.

“Ah, the tavern, you say? Would you mind taking Merlin with you?” Arthur had glanced down at Merlin, asleep in his pouch.

“I’m sure he’s been dying to hang out with someone other than me. We spent enough time together before this whole goose thing happened.”

Gwaine chuckled and said, “Are you really sure about that? He always wants you to pick him up instead of us most of the time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little more of your company…” Arthur had huffed and opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Percival cut in.

“If you’re positive, sire, it wouldn’t be any trouble for me and Gwaine to take Merlin with us. It might be fun. I know Gwaine will be excited to have a mischief buddy for once.” Percival smiled at Arthur before looking over at Gwaine and punching him in the shoulder playfully.

Arthur narrowed his eyebrows at Gwaine. “I suddenly feel less comfortable about putting him in your care, but you are complying with what I asked… Just don’t get Merlin into any real trouble. He can get into more than enough on his own.” Arthur sighed before pushing Llamrei to lead the way back to Camelot.

So Merlin was otherwise occupied for the rest of the evening, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts (of which there were more than expected). Firstly, sorcery. There was no doubt that Merlin had used magic against the bandits; Arthur had seen it with his own eyes! And sorcery was evil, wasn’t it? Therefore Merlin must be evil. Now another problem arose. Feelings. Arthur could admit that in the last couple of years, he had grown more than fond of his manservant. Some might even say besotted. He was probably being quite obvious about it if the knights were any indication.

It was hardly his fault though! He and Merlin had been through a lot together. With the amount of time they spent in each other’s company, you couldn’t blame Arthur for falling in love. And that’s what it was. Love. He’d never been comfortable with the idea of love. Princes aren’t supposed to fall in love. Princes are supposed to marry to strengthen alliances. Marry for the kingdom. Then Merlin crawled into his heart and claimed it. Arthur could say with confidence that he was in love. But where did that leave him?

It was safe to say that the shock of seeing Merlin do magic had finally worn off, but with it came the fear that his father had instilled in him. Are his feelings for Merlin stopping him from seeing the evil that’s corrupted him? Could Merlin have been playing the long game this whole time? No. That’s ridiculous. Merlin was nothing if not loving. Anyone who met him could tell you that.

Arthur thought back to every adventure he had with Merlin, and his heart clenched. Every time something felt off, he had brushed it off in fear of uncovering something he wouldn’t like. He couldn’t brush it off this time, and it killed him. Merlin saved him day after day and didn’t expect anything in return. He was content to stay at Arthur’s side without getting any recognition. Arthur could never, in good conscience, kill Merlin after all he had done for Camelot. All he had done for him. Especially not while he remained a goose.

So Arthur had a choice to make. Lie to protect the man he loved from dying by his father’s unyielding hand, or tell his father that Merlin is a sorcerer and by extension, betray Merlin’s trust and lead him to his death. There was no question about it. Arthur deserved to be a little selfish for once.

***

Gwaine set Merlin down in a chair before signaling for the barmaid. “So, what do you say, Merlin? Want anything to eat?” Merlin gave an affirmative honk and settled into the chair for a night of third-wheeling and mischief.

When the barmaid walked over, Gwaine sent Percival a wink before saying, “Two jugs of ale, please. Also, do you sell any pies?”

The barmaid nodded, writing down the order of ale. “Yes, sir. We’ve got meat pies.”

Gwaine grinned, clapping his hands together. “Wonderful! We’ll take two of your meat pies then.” He looked over the table at Merlin and then turned to Percival and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Percival went pink at the tips of his ears, but he smiled back at Gwaine, curious to see what Gwaine had planned. “Do you happen to have any vegetables?”

“Well, we have some vegetables in the back that we use to cook… We don’t have any cooked vegetable plates or anything like that.” The barmaid said, casting a glance at Merlin out of the corner of her eye.

Gwaine laughed, smiling impishly at Merlin. “No, no. They don’t need to be cooked. See, the vegetables are for my friend here. Is it possible for you to get a bowl of some peas and cut-up carrots in some water? I’m sure he would love that.” Merlin honked and glared at Gwaine.

The barmaid shook her head in astonishment before writing down the outlandish order. “Sure, I suppose I can do that. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I think that’s it.” Gwaine looked over at Percival for confirmation, and when he nodded, the barmaid walked away to grab their drinks. ���Soooo… Merlin. Tell us. What’s been going on with you?”

Percival slapped Gwaine lightly on the arm. “Come now, Gwaine. Don’t rile him up. It’s bad enough that he can’t banter with us like usual. You don’t have to taunt him about it too.” Merlin gave a short honk and nodded his head sharply in agreement. “That being said, Merlin. How do you feel without Arthur by your side? It’s gotta be kind of relaxing, right?”

Merlin sat silently for a few seconds before hanging his head and letting out a long, solemn honk.

“No, you’re right, Percival,” Gwaine said, shaking his head. “I think I can get the general idea, but this is no way to have a conversation.”

Percival laughed. “I guess we’ll have to do most of the talking tonight, huh?” He propped his head on his hand and gazed at Gwaine. “I think I could live with that.” Merlin gave an offended honk, but the knights just laughed.

A couple minutes later, the barmaid brought out their drinks along with Merlin’s bowl of vegetables, giving Merlin’s head a little pat before going back to grab the pies. Merlin watched Gwaine drain his mug of ale over and over again throughout the night (while Percival followed at a slower pace) before resolving to ignore them and eat his peas. Not being able to joke around with his friends anymore was really getting him down, so you couldn’t blame him for wallowing in his sorrows by eating a bowl of raw vegetables.

Unfortunately, when Merlin finally looked up from his unhappy munching, it was to mugs of booze being thrown across the tavern. By not paying attention to Gwaine and Percival, Merlin had found himself in the middle of a bar fight. It should have been expected at this point, but Merlin was nothing if not unrealistically optimistic.

“Don’t start throwing fists with me just because your companion is a crooked-nosed knave!” Some man yelled, spit flying out of his mouth with every word.

“Oh, you absolute gobermouch! You keep yer fat face out of our lives.” Gwaine threw his fist clumsily towards the man’s nose, but Percival caught his wrist just in time.

“Gwaine, it’s fine. I don’t want you to fight him. You could get hurt!” Percival pleaded, holding Gwaine by the shoulders and looking into his eyes.

“Yeah!” the nasty old coot taunted, “You’re a mandrake mymmerkin. I doubt you’d be able to land a hit!” Gwaine grit his teeth and tried to refrain from lashing out. Percival had no such reserves.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU UGLY LOUT!” Percival marched up to the old man, pointing a finger in his face. “Don’t you take a single step closer to him!”

Merlin jumped up from his seat at the table and charged at the drunk man. He dropped his mug of ale in surprise, spilling the contents onto Merlin’s back. Merlin launched himself into the air, flinging drops of ale everywhere, and bit at the man’s head.

“Yeah, get ‘im, Merls!” Gwaine slurred drunkenly, sloshing his mug around with one arm around Percival’s shoulders.

“Make it quick, Merlin,” said an infinitely less drunk Percival. “Arthur made us promise that we wouldn’t get you into any trouble.”

Merlin settled for a few more bites and a couple deep scratches across the man’s face before flapping over to the pair. Percival scooped Merlin into the arm not supporting Gwaine and attempted to get them back to the castle as quickly as possible. Obviously, it was much more difficult considering that Gwaine was plastered.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of the door to Arthur’s chambers. Percival took one look at Merlin (soaked to the bone in ale) and then at Gwaine (absolutely sloshed, as one would expect) and shivered. Arthur would not be happy. One of the guards standing to the side of Arthur’s door patted Percival on the back solemnly.

Percival raised his fist and knocked on the door.

“Enter!”

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Arthur looked up from his dinner and promptly frowned. Merlin wriggled out of Percival’s arms and waddled over to the prince. Arthur swiftly picked Merlin up and set him in his lap before realizing that his hands came away sticky.

“Right… What happened?” Arthur turned an unimpressed eyebrow to his knights, ignoring the goose that was snuggling into his lap. Percival opened his mouth to respond until Gwaine cut him off.

“Merls was third-wheeling our date!” Gwaine yelled, flopping his head onto Percival’s shoulder. “And then! And then this old man was being really mean.” He pouted with his eyes scrunched while Percival ran his finger’s through Gwaine’s hair. Both Arthur and Percival waited for him to continue until Gwaine let out a loud snore and burrowed his face deeper into Percival’s neck.

“I think,” Percival turned his attention back to the prince, “what Gwaine was trying to say, my lord, is that a bar-fight started. Gwaine was already well on his way towards alcohol poisoning, so Merlin took it upon himself to step in. I decided to bring us back as quickly as possible.”

Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his hair (and immediately regretting it when his hands got stuck for a moment). “I can’t fault either of you for this. I admit… I did expect something to happen. Thank you for taking Merlin with you anyway. You are dismissed.”

Percival nodded and picked Gwaine up bridal-style to carry him out of Arthur’s chambers.

***

As soon as the door shut behind his knights, Arthur looked down at Merlin. “You need a bath. You stink more than Gwaine’s old socks.” Merlin honked indignantly and nipped at Arthur’s arm. Arthur tucked Merlin under his arm and stuck his head out his chamber door to ask for a bath to be drawn.

“Okay, Merlin. We have to get that disgusting ale smell out of your feathers. Why do I ever let you hang out with Gwaine? Next time, I’m coming with you…” Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s feathers and poured water down his back gently.

Merlin gave an amused honk and looked over his shoulder to shoot Arthur a smirk. Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes in response.

“No, I would not! And if I did, it would be because you and Gwaine riled me up. There is no way I could start something on my own.” Arthur glared down at Merlin, scrubbing him with the soap a bit more forcefully than necessary.

Merlin’s eyes softened as he settled more comfortably into the bath. He honked again fondly, nudging Arthur’s arm with his head.

“Yes, I suppose it would be more fun with you there… Even if you would be the one getting me in trouble.” Arthur rinsed Merlin thoroughly one last time before picking him up out of the water and wrapping him in a towel. “So, Merlin… How would you feel about that mind link?”

Merlin looked up and honked confidently, looking Arthur in the eyes. Arthur nodded, patting Merlin’s head before making the trek down to Gaius’s chambers.

Raising his fist, Arthur knocked on the door before calling out, “Gaius! It’s Prince Arthur. I have Merlin with me.”

“Come in.”

Arthur pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He sat down at Gaius’s workbench, Merlin in his lap, and started explaining. “If it’s possible, I think we should do the mind link. Merlin and I can communicate well enough, but it’s not like I can hear exactly what he’s saying.” He stopped to cover the sides of Merlin’s head with his hands while Merlin honked, miffed. “Don’t tell Merlin I said this, but I kind of miss his witty remarks and taunts. It’s not the same with him like this.” Uncovering Merlin’s ears, Arthur ruffled his head feathers and smirked at him.

Gaius hid a tiny smile before turning seriously to Arthur. “I’ve told you before, sire. A mind link between you and Merlin would be permanent.” Gaius said this last word pointedly to Merlin, giving him a stare that left Arthur wondering. Did Gaius know? Is that why he was so against the idea?

“Gaius, I assure you that the idea doesn’t bother me too much. You never know, it might be nice to have Merlin babbling along in my head all day. That’s why I am making this his decision. If he doesn’t like the idea of a permanent mind link, then we will find another way to communicate.” Arthur stared Gaius in the eyes, trying to convey his thoughts through only a look. Then, he looked down at Merlin and gave him a small smile.

Merlin looked at Arthur fondly before waddling up to Gaius. He honked seriously and nudged Gaius’s hand with his head.

“Okay, Merlin. If you’re sure. Arthur, could you grab those plants from over there?” While Arthur left to grab the herbs, Gaius mumbled the mind link spell over two vials of water. Arthur handed him the herbs, and he crushed them with the mortar and pestle before stirring them into the water. “Done. You will both need to drink the entire vial, and it might take a while before it takes effect. I hope this helps.”

“Thank you, Gaius. We’ll come back if we need anything else.” Arthur scooped Merlin back under his arm, the vials clutched in his hands, as they returned to his chambers.

As soon as they walked through the door, he set Merlin on his pillow and helped him drink one of the potions. After taking the other one, Arthur walked around the room, silently cleaning up to stop his shaking hands. He almost didn’t want the potions to work if only to stop himself from exposing his heart in a moment of vulnerability.

Merlin watched Arthur from his place on the bed for a few minutes until suddenly, “Stop cleaning and pay attention to me, clotpole. If you can even call it ‘cleaning’. It’s more like… ‘picking-things-up-then-putting-them-somewhere-else’. Maybe we should get Gwen to teach you.”

Arthur whipped around to stare at a smirking Merlin before tentatively asking, “So… it worked?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Well, yes, I would imagine so considering we aren’t speaking out loud.”

Arthur sat down slowly on the edge of his bed and said, “Let’s get started then.” Merlin got up from his pillow and waddled over to the edge of the bed before plopping down next Arthur and leaning on his thigh. Keeping his eyes trained on the wall, Arthur spoke again, his voice deadpan and his face deliberately blank, “You’re a sorcerer.”

Merlin snapped his head up to look at Arthur. His face betrayed nothing, and he spared no glance towards Merlin’s reaction, but Merlin could tell that he was tense. From what, he couldn’t say. Starting to become frantic, Merlin stood up quickly and hopped off the bed.

Arthur hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch Merlin walk out of his chambers forever without so much as a goodbye.

Pacing the floor, Merlin was having an internal crisis. How much did Arthur really know? Is he trying to get Merlin to confess just so he can have him executed? When did he find out? Why hasn’t he said anything until now?

The slap, slap, slap of Merlin’s feet hadn’t gotten any more distant. In fact, it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere. Arthur looked up slowly, not sure what to expect. A goose pacing his floors really shouldn’t have been that surprising considering the last few days.

“What are you doing?” Arthur was starting to lose his carefully crafted mask, but he did his best to hold at least some air of authority.

Merlin turned sharply to face his prince. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m having a damn crisis, you prat!”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and pulled the mask back on. “Why on earth are you having a crisis? Surely you knew that you’re a sorcerer.”

Merlin huffed aggressively and went back to pacing. “Of course I knew! I’m having a crisis over you!”

“Me? Why over me?”

“How about you answer my questions first? How long have you known? Why haven’t you said anything? When’s my execution? Does Uther already know?” With every question, Merlin took another step closer to Arthur.

Arthur had told himself that Merlin would never hurt him, but he could admit that Merlin was beginning to scare him. Arthur was trying desperately to keep the mask up, but it was cracking.

With Arthur’s terrified face staring down at him, Merlin halted. “Are you really scared of me? After everything?”

Arthur stood up suddenly, eyes stinging, and took a step towards Merlin. “Why shouldn’t I be? You could kill me without breaking a sweat. I’ve seen you do it before!”

Merlin stood his ground. “Then kill me! Have me executed. Everyone knows that all sorcerers are evil, so I don’t deserve anything but the pyre.”

Arthur’s face crumpled, and he dropped to the ground. “Don’t you understand?” he sobbed, “I can’t!”

Merlin instinctively took a few steps forward after seeing his prince in pain before shaking his head and stopping abruptly. “What do you mean you can’t? I’m evil, aren’t I? It’s your duty.”

“Because I love you!” Arthur snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide, before sighing heavily. “I can’t kill you because I’m in love with you…” Arthur dropped his head onto his knees and took a shuddering breath. Ignoring Merlin’s stares, he tried to calm himself and half-heartedly plaster his mask back together. He opened his mouth, hoping to make a joke at Merlin’s expense and save himself the humiliation, but Merlin interrupted him.

“You… love me?” Merlin’s eyes had a hopeful glint as he took a few tentative steps forward.

Arthur leaned back, covering his face with his hands and groaned softly. “Unfortunately, yes. I do.”

Silence. The pause stretched on unbearably until Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same. I am your prince, and as such, I have power over you. I would never want you to feel obligated to return my feelings. I am not trying to force you into anything by confessing. You are my closest friend and I would never want to destroy our bond like this.”

Suddenly, Merlin was standing on Arthur’s knees, nosing at his fingers with his beak. Arthur slowly pulled his hands away from his eyes, staring back at Merlin cautiously. Merlin looked back at him fondly.

“When have I ever treated you like a prince?” Merlin snuggled into Arthur’s neck comfortingly. “You’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met. It is entirely my fault for falling in love with you.”

Arthur let out a wet chuckle and ran his hands through Merlin’s feathers, pressing him closer to his chest. “I can’t believe this is real. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Merlin nipped lightly at Arthur’s ear. “Just wait until I tell you about all the times I’ve saved your life. You’re going to wish you were dreaming.”

Moving onto the bed, the prince and his manservant argued over their adventures for the rest of the evening, cuddled close and content. Eventually, Merlin yawned, nuzzling into Arthur’s chest.

“Come on, you should get some sleep. You had an adventurous day today.” Arthur set Merlin next to his pillow and tucked him under the blankets before dressing himself for bed. As he lay down to sleep, he pressed a tender kiss to Merlin’s forehead. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

***

When Merlin awoke, it was to a firm body pressed against his back and a strong arm wrapped around his very naked and very human chest. He’s human again? But how? Did Arthur do something to change him back? After having a mild freak out, Merlin rolled over to face his prince.

There was a sudden snort before Arthur pressed his face further into his pillow. Merlin smiled and leaned in to press a quick kiss to Arthur’s nose before snuggling closer. He had gotten used to the continuous hugs and cuddles that he had gotten as a goose, and he certainly wasn’t going to give them up now. Besides, human cuddles had to be infinitely better than goose hugs. Arthur let out a content snore, his arm tightening around Merlin’s waist as he pulled him impossibly closer.

Merlin sighed happily and drifted back to sleep, safe in the arms of someone who loved him unconditionally. Safe in the arms of his soulmate.

Of course, he woke again a few hours later to a loud yelp before he was pulled off the bed in a tangle of blankets.

“Arthur!” Merlin whined, “I was so comfortable!”

“Yes well you’re also very naked, so you can’t blame me for having a bit of a panic,” Arthur said, his head falling back to the ground.

“Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me naked,” Merlin said, tilting his head to the side with a small smirk.

“What do you mean? Of course this is the first time I’ve seen you naked! I’m not a pervert!”

“Oh… Well, I’ve seen you naked many times, and I’m not a pervert,” Merlin says, grinning and nudging Arthur with his elbow. Arthur stared back at him, blinking slowly, lips pursed. Merlin pouted and flopped over Arthur’s chest.

“How did you turn human again, anyway?” Arthur asked, running his fingers through his hair and staring up at the ceiling. “Did you do some magic to turn back? It can’t be a coincidence that you turned back after we talked… I’ve known for about a day and you didn’t turn back then.”

Merlin hummed into Arthur’s chest. “Maybe it was all part of the curse. That old lady did do a bit of monologuing before she cast the spell…”

“Of course! Do you remember what she said? Wasn’t it ‘unless you accept magic and show love and compassion’ or something like that? Maybe since I showed you acceptance and confessed my feelings, it reversed the curse!” Arthur grinned down at Merlin looking pretty proud of himself for figuring it out.

Merlin snorted. “Yeah, Arthur, I know. I just didn’t expect it to be you. I figured I’d be stuck as a goose forever if it was Uther that had to accept magic.” He let out a comfortable sigh. “I’m glad it was you. Anyway, can we go back to bed now?”

“No, I don’t think so… I should really get to training, and you need to put some clothes on. Can’t have anyone walking in and seeing you like this, can we?” Arthur smirked, patting Merlin’s shoulder as he stood up.

Merlin grinned back at him from his place in the blankets, leaning on his elbow and winking. “Yeah, only you can see me like this, right?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red. His eyes darkened and his eyelids lidded before he shook his head quickly. “Stop trying to seduce me back to bed. I really need to get to training.” After looking around his room, he turned back to Merlin. “You should really clean this place up. It has gotten quite messy in your absence.”

Merlin huffed as he untangled himself from the blankets. His eyes turned gold for a moment before he was wearing some of Arthur’s clothes. He winked at Arthur’s blushing face and said, “I guess you should get going then, sire. I have a lot of work to do.”

Arthur walked over to the door but stopped before he opened it. “Can I have a kiss for luck?” He asked, giving Merlin his best puppy dog eyes.

“Come now, sire. We both know you don’t need any luck to train your knights,” Merlin said as he made Arthur’s bed. He turned to Arthur, and his resolve crumbled. “Oh, alright. I guess I can spare you a kiss.”

Merlin walked closer to Arthur and cupped his cheek. Smiling, Merlin leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to Arthur’s lips. Unwilling to let Merlin get away that easily, Arthur put his hand on Merlin’s hip and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Merlin moaned softly before pulling away with a wide grin.

“I think you have more than enough luck to best even Gwaine in training. Go show them why you’re Albion’s greatest knight.” Merlin pressed another quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek before pushing him out the door. “Have fun!”

While Arthur walked down to the armory, Merlin used his magic to clean up Arthur’s room, leaving the laundry for himself. Watching the knights train from the window, Merlin did his chores with a smile on his face. He was finally right where he belonged. He and Arthur were going to bring magic back to Albion, he was certain of it.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun at Arthur’s expense. He hadn’t become any less of a nuisance when he turned back, after all.

Using their new mind link, Merlin screamed, “Arthur, I’m getting naked in your bed!”

Merlin giggled to himself as Arthur stumbled in the middle of a swing, his eyes wide and his face bright red, leaving Gwaine open to hit him to the ground. As Gwaine helped him up, Arthur looked side to side before turning to see Merlin waving down at him cheekily from the window.

“MERLIN!”

[bikaelsons]

die easy

CHAPTER THREE ∙ put a fifth of rum in my hand

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Matt’s first ever decade dance in middle school was the 90s. He’d raided his dad’s old clothes, poked extra holes in a belt to keep the jeans up, and tried to participate.

Ty rarely bothered to participate—not until he and Caroline started dating, at least. Then he was on board. But Matt had always tried to pitch in, help out, and show up as much as possible. Part of succeeding at school with average grades was just in the showing up and being visible to staff, so he did his best.

Like he was now, ferrying boxes of feather boas around and watching faux champagne fountains be set up in the gym.

“What is this?” demanded Caroline, marching toward him with a stride that made her curls bounce. When they’d been kids, it had made her pig-tails swing around like they could help her take flight.

“It’s a decade dance,” he replied, not bothering to inject any excitement into his tone. “You made us all sign up, remember?”

“No.” She picked up a fistful of lavender-coloured feather boa. “This. The 20s. We’re doing the 70s.”

“Too flashy, people!” Rebekah’s chirpy voice had a visible effect on Caroline’s face, like someone had taken her nose and pinched it until she went bright red. “It’s supposed to be a speakeasy, not the world fair.” She spotted Caroline and made a beeline towards her. “Ah, good. You’re here. They need help setting up the tables, so … get to it.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded Caroline.

Matt ducked his head, focusing on doing anything other than getting involved. For now.

“Somebody has to be in charge.”

“Yeah, me,” said Caroline. “I’m the chair of the dance committee. The theme of the decade dance is the 1970s.”

“So you’d rather dress in tacky clothes with awful hair than be a classic flapper from the jazz age? Honestly, I don’t know what my brother sees in you.”

“Well, maybe he sees a challenge. See, unlike some other people, I don’t sleep with everyone I make eye contact with.”

Even Matt cringed at that one. Slut-shaming wasn’t Caroline’s style unless there was a point to it; telling Damon to grow a pair and stop screwing with Elena by … well, screwing other chicks, that was one thing. Acting like Rebekah was evil for sleeping with the Salvatores rather than for everything else she’d done? Even for what they were trying to achieve here, that was nasty.

“How about we do both decades?” Matt suggested.

“No,” they both chorused, barely glancing at him.

Well, at least they agreed on something.

“Go on, Matt, don’t be a coward,” said Rebekah. “You know you loved my 20s idea when I presented it to the group.”

Caroline whirled on him, eyes wide. “Traitor!”

“Bell-bottoms and disco?” Matt asked. Taking Rebekah’s side could only help their position. Caroline would forgive him, and she was less likely to kill him. That, and he needed Rebekah to talk to him today. “I don’t know, this just seemed cooler.”

“See?” Rebekah leaned in closer to Caroline. “This is just cooler.”

“Whatever!” exclaimed Caroline. “Have fun at your stupid dance.” She stormed out, curls bouncing once more.

Matt waited a minute or so, then followed her out, looking for all the world like a good dude wanting to make things up with a friend.

“Caroline!” he called, jogging after her on the front lawn. “Wait!” He caught up with her at her car, finding her grinning at him.

“Impressive,” she said, eyes shining. “You sold it.”

“And you bought yourself a day.”

“Thank you. Just … keep her occupied. And be careful.”

“You too,” he replied, stepping back so she could get in. “And, uh … tell him I said hi, okay?” It had been way too long since he last talked to Ty.

“I will,” she promised, ducking forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Matt watched her go, enjoying his final moments of freedom before heading back inside.

Rebekah had already decided on the red, white and black colour scheme. She’d drawn sketches of the set-up for the gym, giving clear instructions to all the volunteers. Even Caroline would’ve been jealous of her ability to run the show, and Caroline was the queen of doing just that.

Matt, for his part, mostly went where he was told. Hanging streamers, bead curtains (of all things), and dotting balloons here and there.

They took a break for lunch when the volunteers demanded it (Matt was pretty sure he heard one or two them mention the Geneva Convention, which meant Rebekah heard it too). Unsurprisingly, she was left alone on the front lawn as everyone else grouped off to chow down the pizza someone had ordered. Rebekah remained seated on the grass, smoothing her jeans primly as though she were wearing a gown instead. He guessed it was a big change from silk skirts to denim.

Matt piled pizza high on two paper plates and wedged two cans of soda under his arm, heading over slowly so as not to drop anything. She saw him, but it took her a moment longer to realise that he was headed for her, not just in her general direction.

“Oh, um,” she floundered, taking the cans from under his arm and setting them on the grass. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I don’t know what you like, so I got you one of everything.” He handed her her plate then settled next to her on the grass.

Rebekah eyed her pizza skeptically, picking at a slice of pepperoni. “Do I want to know what meat this is?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to answer. It tastes good, though.” He bit off a part of his own, groaning. “It’s really good, actually. I take it back. This is all for me.” He reached for her plate jokingly, and she pulled it away from.

“Absolutely not. Get your own disgusting mystery meat pizza.”

“Okay. But you have to actually eat it, or I’ll try and get it again.”

“So you’re blackmailing me into eating? How truly revolutionary this post-feminist world is.”

“I don’t know that it’s post anything, but yeah.” He gnawed on his crust, watching Rebekah’s delicate nibbling with an amused eye. “Things must be different here, huh? For women, I mean.”

“Yes and no. Women seem to have freed themselves from the base level of oppression—open ownership of them and their bodies, being practically sold for cattle, the works—but Stacey Coolidge still curls her hair every day because Bryce Smithton and his cronies rated her as the ugliest on the cheer squad, and Elise’s mother has bruises she thinks she hides under her baggy sweaters. It’s not gone, it’s just … quiet.”

“It must’ve been weird to watch stuff happen to human women like that. Did you ever do anything about it?”

“I eat rapists whenever I come across them.”

Matt paused, bite of pizza heavy and tasteless in his mouth. “That’s … probably not the worst thing you could be doing with immortality. I mean, it’s no due process, but it probably accomplishes more.”

“They don’t rape again, and their victims get to live their lives with the knowledge that those who hurt them are rotting in the ground.”

“And that there’s someone willing to defend them,” Matt reminded her.

“Mmm. It must be nice, that.”

Matt frowned. “You don’t think you have someone to defend you? Your family is made up of the most powerful people on that planet.”

“Unfortunately, yes, we are.” She must have caught his incredulous look, because she continued, “Once you bear the mantle of ‘most powerful’, a slew of people come knocking to disprove you. They covet the title, wish it for themselves, and seek your demise as a means of achieving that. Knowing this, my brothers have become … determined to maintain their status, whatever the cost to us as a family. The daggering is but one part of the price we pay for our role in the supernatural world.”

“How does daggering help you all stay powerful?” Matt would’ve thought that stabbing relatives was something more divisive than uniting.

“It helps Nik maintain the illusion of power. We as a family are the most powerful, but Nik is the most powerful among us. Being a hybrid, he doesn’t share our weakness for the daggers. Using them against us is a sweet torture he rather enjoys.”

And then Matt understood. It was nice for the women Rebekah had defended to know that there was someone to protect them; Rebekah couldn’t share that relief, as her own big brother, someone who should have defended her at all costs, was the one she needed defending from. All other evils she could face, but her brother’s anger was insurmountable.

“Does Elijah do anything about all of this?”

“What could he do? Elijah and I are equals in power, if not in our positions relative to Nik. He and Nik share a bond I do not, being close in age and temperament. Elijah hides it well, but Mikael’s rage runs through him just as Mother’s cunning does Nik. But there is nothing Elijah can do to stop Nik. Nothing but pray that he will redeem himself one day, and in that, we shall all be free of his influence for good.”

“I can’t imagine living like that.”

“You get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Rebekah set down her plate, holding her grease-slick hands palm up so as not to mark her clothing with them. “As your friends have made clear on many occasions, I deserve what I get.”

“No one deserves to live like that.”

“Not even Finn? He lived in a box more than he walked as a man, no more than a glorified paper weight for centuries. He deserved freedom, and life, and the woman he’d once loved, but you took that from him when you staked him in the heart.”

Matt had really been hoping that wouldn’t come up. It was stupid, he knew. “He was going after Elena. I had no choice.”

“It happens,” said Rebekah, tone light. “I’m under no illusion as to our position here. I know you sought to kill me, Matt. To kill all of us. And I know we deserve it. What I don’t know is why you support my proposals at dance committees and bring me food. What game are you playing?”

None, he wanted to say. He wanted it to be true so desperately. It just wasn’t.

Taking his silence for an answer, Rebekah scoffed. “Right. As I thought. Enjoy the rest of your food.”

She marched away, leaving her half-eaten pizza and unopened can behind her.

It hadn’t been easy, figuring out what to do with himself in this small town.

Elijah visited the cinema twice, finding it irritating but palatable both times. A local production of Othello had provided a pleasant way to pass the time; the young girl playing Emilia was particularly enlightened as to the play’s true intentions, in Elijah’s (rather learned) opinion.

He saw it three times. That was also the number of times it ran for.

He ran into Tam and her boys around the place. It was a small town, after all, and he lived only streets away from where she worked. He’d figured out that while the bourbon and whiskey was terrible, the vodka wasn’t half bad, nor were the old fashioneds (even though they contained the terrible whiskey).

Tam was practically a new person. Whoever said that money couldn’t buy happiness had never known the bite of hunger deep in a belly, nor the hard choices to make with small mouths to feed. There was a point where more money was irrelevant, but that was not a point Tam had ever experienced. For her, money was freedom, and a raise in pay went a long way.

For starters, the boys no longer huddled under the bar. She paid her neighbours’ teenaged daughter to watch them while she worked, and she worked hard. Elijah accepted that he could only find opportunities for snatches of conversation with her while she was behind the bar, though he often joined her for her break out in the alley where she smoked a cigarette (always her last one) and talked about her boys.

She never asked Elijah where he’d come from. Never asked him why he stayed. This was a good thing, given that he didn’t have an answer to either of those questions.

Matt shouldered his bag, flipping off the gym lights. He shut the door behind him, leaving it unlocked for the janitor he could hear vacuuming just a way down the hall.

Strolling out to the front lawn, Matt took in the front of the school, strewn with litter. Rebekah stood at the curb, facing the road with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Hey,” said Matt, walking toward her. She barely turned to acknowledge him as he continued, “Missed your bus?”

“Funny,” she said, tone acerbic. “Nik was supposed to pick me up. I suppose he forgot.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t afford a car.”

“I’ve had a dagger in my heart for the better part of a century. When do you imagine I’ve had time to learn to drive?”

“Good point. Want a ride home?”

She finally turned to face him. “You’d do that?”

“Well, I do know where you live.” And anything that put off going home to an empty house was a good idea in Matt’s books. “Come on. You can pick the music.”

As it turned out, Rebekah had no idea what music was currently popular, so Matt flipped on a random radio station and left it at that. A quick study, Rebekah learned how to change the station whenever a song came on that she didn’t like.

They rode mostly in silence, but it wasn’t companionable. Matt wanted to say something, to ask her questions about her life and her family and Elijah, but who was he to demand answers from her? Just a convenient human giving her a ride home.

“Your hand is better,” she noted. “I’m glad.”

“Uh, yeah. Vampire blood’s a miracle cure, apparently.”

“Not always. But in this case, yes. I’m glad. Sorry about Kol, again. He’s a bit of a …”

“An unrepentant bag of dicks?”

“What a charming turn of phrase,” she said sarcastically. “But yes.”

“It’s no problem. I get problematic families. My mom made out with Tyler once. It was weird.”

“I haven’t seen her around.”

“She’s off with her latest boyfriend, I imagine.”

“Not with you? Her son?”

“She’s never been the motherly type.”

“I can’t imagine. My mother’s a nightmare, but she still tries to take care of us in her own demented way. What possible reason could yours give for abandoning her child?”

“She’s pretending it’s because of Vicki, but she’s always been like this.”

“Vicki?”

By that point, Matt just assumed everyone knew about his sister. “Vicki was my older sister. She died.”

Rebekah went quiet. “I’m sorry. I’d say I can’t imagine, but unfortunately I can.”

Matt didn’t know if she was talking about Finn or Henrik. He didn’t bother to ask.

They reached her house in silence, Matt pulling up over the cobblestone driveway.

“Here we are,” he said, putting the car in park and turning to her. “Home sweet home.”

She gave him a dubious side-eye that would’ve made Caroline proud—if she didn’t hate Rebekah, that is.

“Okay, spill,” she said. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I drove you home,” he said as though it was obvious. Please, don’t pry. “You don’t have a car.”

“Not just that. I mean, helping me with the dance and standing up to Caroline … I don’t buy it.”

Abort, abort. “Buy what?”

“The whole gentlemanly thing after everything my family’s done to you. What are you up to?”

Manipulating you for my friends. Again. “It’s sad you can’t just get a ride home from school without thinking there’s some ulterior motive.” It was true—it was sad. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t right.

Rebekah stared him down for a moment, then looked away, sighing. “You’re right. I’m probably gonna organise the whole dance and then have to compel myself a date.”

“Let’s not get crazy.” Matt laughed. He knew of at least ten guys dying to ask Rebekah to the dance. “Goodbye, Rebekah.”

She returned his smile, hand on the door handle. “Goodbye, Matt. Thanks for the ride.”

He watched her in the rear view mirror as he drove away, standing all alone on the curb again, just as he’d found her.

Matt got a call from Elena mid-shift. He put up with the glare from his manager as he ducked out to take it.

“Hey. Is everything okay? Did you find out who sired the Salvatores’ line?”

“It’s Klaus,” said Elena. Matt couldn’t hear any relief in her tone, but he felt enough himself. As long as the Salvatores were linked too, Tyler was safe. “But that’s not why I called. Jer’s coming back, and he might need to stay with you guys for a bit.”

“What’s going on there? I thought he was—”

“Yeah, he was, but Kol’s been here stalking him, so we’re bringing him home instead. I don’t know if Kol will come after him again, or get any of his other siblings to do it—”

“And none of them have been invited into my house,” Matt finished for her. “Got it. I’ll set up the couch or something.”

“Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate it. Look, I’ve gotta go, but call me if you need anything, okay?”

He doubted she really meant that, but he said, “Yeah, thanks,” anyway, waiting for the click as she hung up.

Sighing, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed back in to finish his shift.

Matt pulled into his driveway, truck sputtering as he turned it off. The brakes were squealing again. He’d have to check them out in the morning before he headed to the school to help set up for the dance.

Heading inside, Matt switched on the TV just to have some noise in the house. He reheated the two remaining slices of week-old pizza a little too long, hoping the extra heat would kill the bacteria or something. He knew it wasn’t good to eat old food, but it wasn’t like he had much of anything else.

Falling onto the sofa, he found himself scrolling through his contacts to find Elijah again. He opened up their conversation, finding his last text sitting there.

Can we talk?

It looked kind of pathetic on its own without a reply. He knew Elijah had called him 10 seconds after he sent the text he’d agonised over for half an hour, but still. It looked kind of sad.

Setting his pizza aside, Matt wiped the hand he’d been using to eat on his jeans so he could hold the phone in both, tapping out a message.

Did you know Kol was spying on Jeremy?

He stared at the unsent message for far too long before deciding to suck it up and press send.

The phone rang 15 seconds later. He knew because he counted.

He answered the phone with, “You really don’t like texting, do you?”

“If I wish to convey something via text, I will compose a letter. Is Mr Gilbert unharmed?”

“Uh, I think so. Elena didn’t mention him being hurt, and he’s on his way back here, so I think he’s fine. Why would Kol spy on him anyway?”

“I imagine Kol was acting under Niklaus’ orders. If you’re given reason to believe that this behaviour will continue, I can return. Although I’d warn you that doing so may reveal our conversations, which would go far more poorly for you than it would for me.”

“Jer’s staying with me until we figure things out. None of you have been invited in here, so.”

“Ah, so it’s not just me,” said Elijah, something like humour colouring his tone. “Good to know. Please inform me if there is anything I can do to be of assistance. I’m perfectly happy to deal with them both, though these are symptoms of the greater disease that is this feud among you all.”

“You say that like you’ve had no role in it.” Matt winced. That was maybe not the best thing to say to a centuries old vampire.

“Excellent point, well made,” was all Elijah said of it. “And how are you, Matthew?”

Matt hesitated. “I, uh, I’m fine, I guess. Been busy setting up for the dance. Your sister’s helping, so it’s gone pretty well. Very efficiently.”

“Rebekah does know how to throw a party. Take care with her. She is somewhat volatile at the moment, especially with regards to Elena.”

“Literal backstabbing will do that to someone.”

Elijah’s chuckle crackled down the line. “Yes, it will. Thank you for seeing that.”

“Hey, I get it. I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive Elena for that either.” And the way Rebekah had looked, quipping about compelling herself date while that fear lurked behind her eyes … Matt knew that fear all too well. Being left out was never fun for whatever reason, be it blood feuds or a lack of money. “But she seems to enjoy setting up the dance, and I know a few of the students have been impressed, if a little fearful.”

“A common reaction to our family.”

Matt laughed outright. “Yeah, maybe. How are you, by the way?” It felt an odd thing to ask, but that was what people did, wasn’t it? Ask one another how they were?

“I am well. Enjoying the slower pace of my new locale. Living out of a motel isn’t ideal, but some vacancies have appeared in one of the finer establishments so I’m considering shifting myself a little.”

He made no note of where he was, only vague comments. Matt supposed that made sense. Why should Elijah trust him? “Sounds nice to be somewhere where no one knows you.”

“A fleeting pleasure, and one a person should be careful when partaking in. The longer you linger, the more they know you. To maintain a sense of mystery one must travel, and I do find that so dreary.”

“Car rides not your kind of thing?”

“I do not only ride in cars, Matthew. I can drive them as well. But yes, the open road isn’t nearly as freeing as the label suggests. The road itself is contained by borders.” Quiet crackled between them once more. “Tell me more about this dance. Black tie?”

Matt snorted. “Figures that you’d want to talk about the suits. No, it’s a decade dance. The '20s.”

“Ah, a truly magical decade made marginally less so by my father. Though I did enjoy the fashion.”

“I wouldn’t know. I still have to rent my outfit.” Hopefully somewhere nearby would have something left. He’d only gotten paid that night. “It’s tomorrow night, so that’s not ideal, but I’ll make it work.”

“I hope you do. The suits were fantastic. I knew a tailor in New York by the name of Farwell that made the finest suits. His great-niece tailors my suits to this day. I wouldn’t trust anyone but his family, truth be told.”

“I wasn’t aware that good tailoring was a genetic quality.”

“Oh, of course. Family businesses count on it.”

“Really? Because the Mayhew’s Bakery on Main Street got terrible after old Jeb died.”

“The exception that makes the rule, I assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Matt picked at his cold pizza. “I should probably get going. I have to get up early tomorrow morning if I’m going to get my jog in.”

“Exercise is important,” Elijah agreed. “It was nice speaking with you.”

“Uh, yeah. Me, too.” He cringed, because that really didn’t make any sense. “I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Matthew.”

The phone clicked as Elijah hung up.

Matt came back from his jog the next morning to find a '20s style suit straight out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel hanging on his porch. He didn’t question it.

He also didn’t question how Elijah knew the moment he’d reached it (and also assured himself that it wasn’t creepy, not really), because that was the same moment his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out to find a text message from Elijah himself.

It’s not a Farwell, but my assistant assures me that it is just as genuine. Enjoy your evening.

Matt replied with his thanks. He didn’t expect a response, and wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t receive one. He was too busy being floored by both the suit and the first text.

Matt hefted the container of ice, pouring it into the punch. The room was warm and the AC wasn’t working as well as it should have been, and warm punch was definitely on Caroline’s no-no list for dances.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” asked a familiar voice. Speak of the devil.

Grinning, Matt turned around to find Caroline standing there in a bright red flapper dress. “Yeah, I’m one of the good ones, I know,” he said. She returned his smile, but he knew the look in her eyes. “Why the compliments? What else do you want?”

“I know that you and Elena have been getting closer lately …” she began, somewhat leadingly.

He tried not to roll his eyes at her coy smile. “And your point is?”

“One way or the other, she’s pretty much spoken for,” she explained, her words slow. Did she think he was dumb?

“Elena’s my friend, Caroline,” he said, tone measuredly cheerful. “I’m just looking out for her.”

“And I’m just looking out for you, because sometimes the people that love her get caught in the crossfire.”

Matt sighed. Was this conversation really happening? He’d more than moved on from Elena—hell, he’d dated Caroline, hadn’t he?

Just as he was about to respond, he spotted Tyler over her shoulder. “What’s he doing here?” Klaus was still out to get him, and it was monumentally stupid of him to just show up like this.

From the look in Caroline’s eyes, she rather agreed, spinning away from him to give Tyler a piece of her mind.

Matt settled back against the drinks table. They didn’t have servers, mostly trusting the kids to be able to pour their own punch, but it was best that someone kept an eye on it. He’d be willing to bet anything that a good dozen of the guys there had flasks of some illicit variety shoved into their coat pockets.

It was a good place to observe from, he discovered. He watched Caroline and Tyler argue until she gave in, letting him literally sweep her off her feet. He watched Bonnie and Jamie, her date (who Matt made a note to introduce himself to later), dancing with abandon. She looked more joyful than he’d seen her in a while.

And he watched Elena and Stefan arrive, the former coaxing the latter into dancing—

And he saw the moment her smile fell as the crowd parted to reveal Damon, clad in leather and sticking out like a sore, scowling thumb. They left together, Jeremy trailing behind.

Matt wondered if he should follow too, but what good would he be? He didn’t even have a magic ring to bring him back to life. He was just plainly, painfully human. If they needed his help, they’d have asked for it. And they never asked for it.

Besides, they were probably just dealing with their love triangle drama, and Matt had no intention of getting involved in that.

Minutes later, Jeremy stormed back into the gym, Elena following closely behind. Matt considered following them, too, if only to lend emotional support to Jeremy. He’d been through a lot, and Matt had been trying to get him to open up while they stayed together, but to no avail.

Then Jeremy came sprinting back in, and Matt knew something was wrong. Jer grabbed the Salvatores and bolted out, and Matt pushed himself off from the wall and followed after them.

The air was cooler outside, hitting Matt’s face like a bucket of ice water. Thankfully, the suit was heavier than it looked and protected him from the elements well enough. He wondered, briefly, if Elijah had had the weather in mind when he made the request.

He forgot all about it when he saw what was happening. A circle of salt outside the school, and the Salvatores stopped right at the edge of it while Jeremy crossed over it with no hassle.

He may have been only human, but he paid attention when Bonnie talked. He knew that salt was a powerful binding agent.

“Where’s the witch?” Damon asked him as he approached.

“I think she went off with her date,” said Matt. “Do you think she can undo it?”

“I’m not asking for her just so she can evaluate its decorative qualities,” Damon snarked as he passed Matt, disappearing into the school.

With Bonnie trying to undo the spell, Matt stood watch at the boundary as humans trickled out one by one. Their hypothesis could only be considered confirmed: Every supernatural was trapped inside, but humans were free to pass as they pleased.

Giving up on what was obviously a fruitless endeavour, Matt jogged back inside, finding them all congregated in the history room while Bonnie chanted.

“People are walking right out of the dance, past the barrier,” he said, eyeing Klaus as he passed him.

“If Matt and I can leave, we can stop Esther ourselves,” said Jeremy. “We gotta find out where she is.”

Stefan sighed. “Suicide, Jeremy.”

Klaus blurred as he dove for Jamie, lifting him up by the throat. “Suicide would be disappointing me.” He looked at Bonnie. “Now work your magic, witch, or I’ll start killing people you fancy.”

Matt fisted his hands by his sides, desperate to jump in but knowing it would be futile.

“Let him go!” cried Bonnie.

“Not until you get us out of here.”

“Ah, don’t be stupid,” said Stefan, sauntering over to them. “Bonnie doesn’t give a damn about us. The only reason she’s helping right now is to save Caroline and Tyler. You start killing the people she cares about, she’ll tell us all to go to hell.”

Klaus glowered at him, dropping Jamie to the floor.

“I can’t do it,” said Bonnie. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe our best bet is to let Jer and I go,” said Matt. “Find out where Elena is, and we’ll take care of it.”

“So we’re trusting the busboy now, are we?” asked Damon.

Matt glared at him. “Do you have any better ideas? Thought not.”

“I need Gilbert blood to track Elena with,” said Bonnie. “And I’m also gonna need some space.”

Jeremy had packed Matt’s trunk full of Ric’s vampire hunting paraphernalia before they left. Matt had at first balked at the idea of carrying vervain grenades in his only vehicle, but it was a good call.

Jeremy’s phone pinged in his pocket. Pulling it out, he announced, “Bonnie says they’re at the old cemetery.”

Matt grabbed a rifle, tossing it at Jeremy. “I’ll drive.”

They parked down the road from the old cemetery. Jeremy foisted the rifle on Matt, who barely had any practice with the thing, and found a crossbow for himself.

Matt raised a skeptical brow at the sight of Jeremy running his hands over the crossbow almost reverently.

“What?” said Jeremy. “Bows and cross bows are where it’s at. I’m a guy that knows what he likes. ”

“And what you like is weird.” Matt tucked a few syringes of vervain (capped, of course) into his belt and slammed the trunk shut. The moon was bright enough to see by, so he didn’t bother pulling out his phone to use as a torch. “You’re crossbowsexual. Bowsexual for short.”

“Nope, that’s you.”

“It’s bisexual, dumbass.” Matt resisted the urge to elbow Jeremy as they made their way off the road and into the woods. It probably wasn’t a good idea to start play-fighting while holding lethal weapons.

They made quick work of the trek to the cemetery. Apparently witches’ main weakness was needing to use a million fucking candles in the dark, because an orange glow led them right to Esther’s hideout.

They stalked closer, Matt testing out the sight on his rifle. He’d shot before while hunting with Jeremy’s dad, and he’d had plenty of practice with supernatural shootings. He just didn’t know if he’d ever tried to shoot a witch before.

Years later, they’d still be arguing about who stepped on the stick. On his deathbed Matt would swear it was Jeremy’s clumsy ass.

Whoever it was, the result was the same. Esther came strolling out of the old Salvatore crypt, walking slowly as if she had all the time in the world.

Jeremy stepped toward her first, crossbow raised. Matt clicked off the safety, drawing her attention to him as well. “Don’t move,” he said, looking down the sight and trying to swallow down the bile rising in the back of his throat. This was Elijah’s mother. Rebekah’s mother. They’d loved her, once.

Whatever. She was trying to kill her own kids.

“Where’s Elena?” demanded Jeremy.

“Jeremy?” called Elena, running out of the crypt.

“Let her go,” Jeremy insisted, readjusting his grip.

Esther looked him up and down, eyes not betraying a hint of anxiety. “How foolish of you to risk your lives in defense of those who will kill you.” She looked back at Matt, staring him down with a knowing smirk. “But if that is your choice …” She raised her hands towards them.

In his hands, Matt’s gun began to shake. At first he thought it was him, his nerves, but then it turned of its own volition, pointing at Jeremy. And Jeremy’s crossbow was pointed at him.

“Matt,” said Jeremy, panicked. “Matt, drop the gun.”

“I can’t! I’m not controlling it.”

“Esther, stop it!” yelled Elena.

And she did, with a heavy gasp. Matt lowered the rifle, his arms still twitching from the spell.

Esther slid to the ground with a thud. Over her body stood Ric, bloody stake in hand. Not taking any chances, Matt aimed the rifle at the body, advancing toward her.

He knew she was dead even before he checked her pulse. Somehow, he just wanted to be sure.

What followed was a mess of “Are you all right?"s and "God, that was so close"s. Matt tried to offer his help, but there didn’t seem to be much he could do.

Accepting that he’d outgrown his usefulness for the time being, Matt lingered outside, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening inside the crypt.

Alaric wasn’t going to complete the transition. Matt didn’t have to spy on them to know.

After Jeremy and Ric started exchanging the phrase "man of the house”, Matt decided it was time to make himself scarce. He was just on his way back to the car when he came across Esther’s body again. Stabbed in the back as she’d been, her wound wasn’t even visible, and it was too dark to see her blood on the ground. She simply lay there, blank eyes staring up at the sky.

She had the same eyes as Elijah.

Matt bent down, closing her eyelids. He didn’t know what he’d want to happen if his mom had died after trying to kill him, but he knew he wouldn’t have wanted her body left out for the crows. But what to do with her? He couldn’t cart a dead body around town, and it wasn’t a good idea to have her end up in the coroner’s hands. He didn’t even know if the new coroner was up to speed with the protocol for supernatural deaths: When in doubt, animal attack.

Scooping up her body, Matt carried it just out of sight, covering it with some fallen branches. He found a stick shaped like an ’S’ and stuck it in the ground so it’d be easier to find later, then jogged back to the crypt.

Jeremy was silent in the truck on the way back, crossbow across his lap and fingers absently playing with his suspenders.

“Wanna go straight home?” Matt asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t know if I can be there just yet.”

Nodding in understanding, Matt made a left onto the main street, then ducked down a side road to park behind the Grill. “Let’s go make a toast,” he said, grabbing the keys out of the glove box. “Crossbow stays in the car.”

Neither of them laughed.

Matt called Elijah to tell him about Esther’s death. He figured the guy deserved that at least. He described the location of Esther’s body, Elijah said he’d inform Klaus (while leaving Matt’s name out of it), and the Original then bid farewell.

Matt let him go, pretending he didn’t hear the thickness in Elijah’s voice. He could afford him that dignity at least.

Three days later, everything had changed. Again.

Matt drove home with the taste of bad tequila in the back of his throat, sliding across his tongue with every exhalation of breath. He’d only had the one shot, just to celebrate with everyone, and had made his excuses soon after dropping the paint cans at Elena’s so she and Jeremy could re-do Jenna’s old room.

It was a time for new beginnings, apparently. Too bad all Matt could think of was the new problem.

Impatient, Matt pulled over at the side of the road and grabbed his cell phone from where he’d thrown it to on the passenger seat. He had Elijah on speed dial by that point, still filed under 'E’.

“Matthew,” Elijah greeted after two rings. “I hope this is a social call.”

“Not really.” Matt cursed silently; he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “You need to come back to town.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ric is a superhuman vampire hunter turned Original by your mother, and he’s … he’s gonna hunt you all down and kill you. The others already desiccated Klaus and they’re keeping his body safe because he’s their sire, but once Rebekah finds out what they did—”

“She’ll kill you all,” Elijah finished. “They have to release his body to me. It’s the only thing that will satisfy her.”

“So you’ll come back?”

“I’m needed, apparently.”

“Please, just, swear that you won’t hurt anyone. I’m trusting you not to make things worse.”

“I will try, Matthew,” said Elijah, voice strained. “But you must understand that my family is my top priority.”

“My best friend is sired to Klaus’ line. Right now, his safety is my top priority too.”

“Good. I’ll see if we can’t find a way through this for us all.”

Matt let out the breath he’d been holding for what felt like all day. “I don’t even know what to do about this all anymore. I want to keep Elena safe, but she’s stuck in the middle of all of this and I can’t see a way to fix it.”

“As long as Elena is in the presence of vampires she will be in danger. The only way to protect her would be for her to leave town, but that is unlikely to happen. If there’s a way to keep her out of the coming confrontation between my family and Alaric Saltzman, I recommend you take it for both her and yourself. Leave town.”

“She won’t go for that.”

“Convince her. I don’t want to see Elena injured either, believe it or not—”

“I do believe you, Elijah. It’s dumb, but I do. I just … I don’t know how to cope with all of this anymore.” He hoped Elijah couldn’t hear the tears in his voice. (Part of him hoped that he would.)

“Matthew, you are what, seventeen years old?”

“Eighteen.”

“A negligible difference; you are a child. You have no role in this fight, and the same goes for the rest of your friends. The Salvatores had no business installing themselves in your lives, and there is no shame in reeling from the mess your life has become.” The sound of shuffling, something clicking into place. A cupboard door slamming shut. “I have to take my leave of you for the moment, Matthew, but I’ll be in Mystic Falls by tomorrow if I can. Call me if you need anything further.”

“You’re already doing enough just by getting in the middle of all of this.”

“I was born in the middle of all of this. You have a chance to be free of it. Never forget that. Goodbye, Matthew.”

“Goodbye, Elijah.”

Elijah farewelled Tam at the bar just before closing, his things already packed in his car. She gave him her thanks, asked him to call if he was in town again, but otherwise left it be.

It had been nice, having a friend. Elijah would miss it.

Things had quickly reached the point where Matt woke early every morning, expecting a phone call telling him something was wrong. He was usually right.

He got the call from Jeremy at 6am telling him that Elena was in the hospital. Something about being stable, awake and talking. She’d hit her head in the kerfuffle the day before, but she was recovering well and could Matt please set up the house for her when she got back?

Biting back the anger at Elena getting hurt in a vampire showdown again, Matt did as requested. He let himself into the Gilbert house by the key under the ceramic duck out front and did a lap of the house to see what needed doing.

He sponged the blood off the floor in Jenna’s room, then scrubbed the half-dried paint from the floorboards. He opened every window upstairs and set up pedestal fans to try and air out the paint smell that had gathered thickly in the air.

His head was dizzy from the fumes by the time they arrived. Stefan set Elena on the sofa, Jeremy covered her in a blanket, and together the three men stared at her like she was about to collapse again.

Matt tried to convince her to leave; he really did. Stefan made snarky comments about free will and letting Elena make her own choices, and Matt was left pissed and knowing full well that when Stefan said “free will” he did so aware of the fact that Elena was so blinded by love for him that she’d leap into lakes of broken glass. And that was saying nothing of whatever was going on between her and Damon.

Elijah arriving was a relief like no other. Sure, everyone else tensed up and got ready to fight, but Matt could hardly disguise his relief.

The terms Elijah set were fairly simple, and Matt shared none of the others’ hesitation in accepting them. He kept quiet, though, knowing his place in this discussion.

They agreed. Of course they did; it was Elijah doing the bargaining. When Elijah left, it was without a glance at Matt, and he thanked god for that. There was no way he could deal with the others knowing about his and Elijah’s alliance of sorts.

That would only end one way.

Matt knew there was no excuse for it. He knew it was bad, and he should feel bad, but he didn’t have time to feel much of anything as he loaded Elena into the car.

He’d spiked her tea.

Ignoring the part of him that argued against what he’d done, Matt buckled her in and made sure she was settled before he closed the door as quietly as he could without waking her.

“It’s the right thing.”

He didn’t jump when Elijah’s voice drifted over to him. “If I need a vampire to reassure me that I’ve done the right thing, I probably haven’t.”

“I mean it,” said Elijah. “The Salvatores would never let her leave, and if you tried to convince her, she’d tell them.”

Matt turned to face him. “I don’t need you to lecture me. I know we’re all way past the good choices. Just … don’t. Please.”

Elijah seemed taken aback. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I was under the impression that you appreciated my counsel.”

“Not right now.”

“Noted,” Elijah said, jaw working. “Drive safely.” He whipped away before Matt could reply.

It was dark by the time Elena came to. She was understandably incensed, but somehow not surprised once she pushed past the confusion. He guessed that spoke to how she was treated by the vampires in her life.

Matt ignored the pang that came with comparing himself to them.

“I’m getting you out of town, Elena,” he said finally, hoping his tone left no room for argument. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

“I’m the doppelganger, Matt. There’s no getting me away from this. It’ll just follow me.”

“Elijah will take his siblings and leave. He’ll keep Klaus under Bonnie’s desiccation spell until you die, and he’ll make sure the location of any children you have stays hidden so Klaus can’t hound them for blood.” Just like he promised me he would. “You’ll be safe, Elena. It’ll be over. You just have to get through tonight, just until Klaus is returned to Elijah and we deal with the whole Alaric situation.”

Elena shook her head, staring out the window. She sniffed lightly, obviously hiding her tears.

“Elena,” said Matt, hand brushing her arm. “It’s what your mom would want you to do. We’re kids. This isn’t our fight, and it’s not fair that we got caught up in the middle of it. Let it go.”

“I can’t just—I can’t just let it go, Matt. I care about them.”

The Salvatores. “I know you do. But you need to care about yourself, Elena. They’re dead. They’ve lived longer than any human will. You’re still here, and you’re still alive, and you have the capacity to live this incredible, full life if you just let yourself—”

“A life with you, you mean?”

Well, that hurt. “Elena, I’m over you. I love you as a friend, as Jeremy’s sister, but that’s done. You and I, we didn’t work. I’m not some puppy trailing after you. I’m someone that loves you like family and wants you to have everything you deserve, everything that’s going to be taken away from you if you stay in that town. Please, Elena,” he said, tone pleading. “I’ll turn around if you say so, but please, just … consider it. Consider that maybe your life is worth at least as much as theirs.”

She was just about to respond when he got the call from Jeremy.

Alaric had killed Klaus.

“We have to go back,” said Elena, face pale. “Listen to me, Matt. If Klaus is the one that turned their bloodline then that means they’re all gonna die.”

He grit his teeth together, hands tight on the steering wheel. He’d been full of words only a minute ago, but now he had no idea how to tell her.

“We have to go back, Matt!”

“Elena,” he began. “Damon’s not with them. He’s a hundred miles out of town. I can keep driving to him … or I can turn around and go back to Stefan.”

He’d told her she had to choose. She knew she had to choose. Neither of them had thought the choice would come so soon.

Elijah stood in the woods, staring into the space where they’d all stood. Caroline and Stefan and the Gilbert boy. All gone to lick their wounds and say their goodbyes.

He hadn’t had the chance to do either. His brother was gone.

He felt her arrive more than heard it, whirling around to find Rebekah standing before him.

“Elijah?” she said, voice as small and innocent as it had been when she was a child.

He had missed her terribly.

“There was nothing I could do to stop it,” she confessed, tears running down her face.

He pulled her to him, no words left.

But it didn’t make any sense. Why were the others still alive? Niklaus had been certain he’d sired their line, and Elijah could think of no way any other of them had done so …

Perhaps Matthew had the answer.

“Go and pack what you can,” he told Rebekah, pressing a kiss to her tear-stained cheek. “I’ll meet you at the mansion once I’ve finished up some things. Alaric is still on the loose, and we have to move.”

She nodded, face drawn and wan. “Be careful.” She tugged him in for another hug, then sped away.

Dialling with shaking hands, Elijah put the phone to his ear.

Matt’s phone rang from the console between them. A glance at it told him it was Elijah.

“E?” asked Elena.

“It’s Elijah; we exchanged numbers when we made the deal. You can answer it.”

She did so, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. “What do you want, Elijah?”

“Elena,” Matt could hear Elijah’s voice clearly. Elena must’ve put him on speakerphone. “Where are you?”

“Just outside of town. Why?”

“The Salvatore brothers are still alive, yet Rebekah is certain that she saw Niklaus dead.” Matt didn’t think he was imagining the hitch in Elijah’s voice as he said the words. “Do you know anything about it?”

“No,” said Elena, tone turning hopeful. “I thought Klaus sired their line—”

“As did I.” A shuddering breath. “And you know nothing about it?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“My apologies for wasting your time.” Click.

Elena handed Matt’s phone back, pulling her own out. “I have to call Stefan,” she said, trying to turn it on. “I think it’s dead.”

“Here, use mine,” said Matt, handing his back to her. He watched her face carefully, looking for any sign of what she was feeling. Hope, but a confused sort, and Matt knew how she felt. If the brothers were still alive, maybe it was all a lie, maybe Ty was fine too—

Elena’s eyes widened as she looked up at the road. “Matt, look out!” she screamed.

He turned back to see a figure in the middle of the road, unmoving. He hit the brakes, swerving to miss them—

And dove off the bridge, right into the black water.

Matt woke on the riverbank, alone and choking.

Water, warm and sickly, streamed from his nose and mouth. He coughed the last of it up, whole body convulsing. He sat up when it was over, head spinning. A touch of his fingers to the source of the ache in his temple revealed a gash that covered his fingers in blood.

What the hell was going on?

Looking up, he could make out the outline of Wickery Bridge, lit by the few streetlights they’d installed during the rebuild. Part of the fence along the edge was busted—

He remembered now. They’d ploughed off the side, into the water.

Elena.

Struggling to his feet, Matt had just cleared his throat enough to call out for her when Stefan emerged from the river, water streaming off him and Elena in his arms.

She was still. Pale.

“Is she—” Matt choked again, throat sore.

Stefan didn’t answer, just dropped her onto the grass and began pumping her chest with his hands.

First those who lived nearby came, having heard the tires squealing on the road. They called the ambulance that took Elena away, Stefan still pumping her chest in a desperate attempt to find her heartbeat.

“You okay, son?” asked an older paramedic, steering Matt towards the back of their ambulance. “Let’s take a look at that head lac, shall we?”

Matt didn’t speak beyond answering their usual questions. What year is it. Who is the president. On a scale of 1-1o, how is the pain?

As they pulled him back into the ambulance, sitting him down and strapping him in, Matt looked out across the river.

He could’ve sworn he saw Elijah on the other side.

Elena was coming back, as it turned out. Meredith Fell had given her vampire blood without telling anyone. Matt had to wait until he was discharged to find out from Stefan, who was guarding the morgue like it was his job.

“Why did you save me?” asked Matt, voice still rough. His head pounded where they’d stitched it up, and he definitely didn’t have the money to fill the prescription for pain meds he needed.

“It was her choice,” said Stefan, as though he was talking about the sun rising in the east or the colour of the sky. “She chose you.”

They both knew it was the wrong choice.

Meredith dropped Matt home. His car was wrecked and Jeremy wasn’t leaving the hospital until Elena woke up, so his options were limited.

She barely spoke, just watched him go and left him with a caution to avoid deep water while his head was still spinning.

Like he was ever going near more than a teaspoon of water again.

He watched her drive off, limbs feeling like he was moving through water even still, all slow and clumsy. He’d made his way up half of the front steps before he heard the whoosh behind him. He knew who it was.

“Matthew.”

He didn’t stop, just trudged up the stairs and reached the door, realising that his key was at the bottom of the river, along with the spare he kept in the truck.

And the actual truck.

Pounding his fist on the door, Matt groaned. “I don’t s'pose you got high and mighty and made yourself a key?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Elijah, barely making a sound as he climbed the stairs and joined Matt. “But I can still open the door, if you want.”

Matt moved away wordlessly, watching Elijah shatter the lock and leave the door swinging. Matt all but fell inside, legs numb.

“I am truly sorry,” said Elijah, resting a forearm on the doorway. “Rebekah … you must know that I didn’t know what she was going to do. That she would go after Elena, and you in the process. Many things have happened tonight that I will regret for some time to come, but what happened to you … it was unnecessary, and I am sorry.”

Elijah waited only a moment, the silence stretching between them like rubber band that could snap any moment. But who would it hit?

“I’ll take no more of your time,” Elijah said, making to turn away.

“You can come in.”

Elijah froze, glancing back at Matt. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he couldn’t imagine it was a pretty sight. “You aren’t obligated to invite me into your home, Matthew. Especially not after tonight.”

“Not obligation,” Matt replied. “Choice. You can come in.”

Matt would never know—could never know—what went through Elijah’s head then. Whatever it was, it ended in him stepping over the threshold, hands fisted by his side. “Thank you for your trust.”

“What have I got to lose?” Matt shook his head at the pitying look Elijah sent his way. “I’m gonna go change. Make yourself comfortable.”

Elijah did as instructed, settling on the lumpy sofa after moving the blankets aside. It appeared that Jeremy Gilbert was staying here, or had been before today. Elijah guessed he’d want to be at his sister’s side during her transition.

Elena Gilbert, a vampire in transition. The Salvatores alive. According to Miss Forbes’s tears (that Elijah had spotted while spying on them at the hospital), Tyler Lockwood had passed. So why did Elijah feel like he didn’t have the whole story about Niklaus’s loss?

Perhaps it was the denial. Or, worse—hope.

Matt reappeared in fresh clothes, carrying a bottle in one hand. "Found some of my mom’s old Malibu rum,” he said by way of explanation. “I’d offer you bourbon, but I think this is the only booze in the whole house.”

“I’m more of a whiskey man,” said Elijah. “But rum will do nicely in whatever form.”

Matt found two glasses for them, half-filling them with the rum. “I’d mix it with something, but I don’t have anything,” he said, almost sheepish.

“I can take it,” Elijah promised, accepting the glass from him. He raised it in a mock-toast, watching Matt mirror his movements. “To making our own choices.”

“Whatever the fuck that means,” Matt finished.

They clinked glasses and downed their drinks, then sat in silence with nothing but the memory of the wretched day.

[stories-and-sails]

Spelling Test

Based on a Tumblr prompt that I have since lost track of: You are a witch working at McDonald’s. There is this one colleague you secretly hate so you cast a curse that slowly destroys the thing they love the most. Months pass and nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick.

I suppose it’s a stereotype, but I didn’t expect to run into that many Republicans working at the homeless shelter. I mean, I didn’t have any presuppositions about who would be actually staying in the homeless shelter. I carefully schooled myself away from assumptions about the clients. My colleagues, on the other hand…

He showed up in the middle of September, wearing a freshly pressed dress shirt and, of all things, a red tie.

“Are you lost?” I asked politely. 

He laughed. It showed a lot of very square white teeth. “No. At least, not physically. This is my first shift. Are you Gana?” Before I could respond to any of this, he continued. “Herb said that you’d be the best one to show me around, because nobody knows this place like you.” He winked, and I bristled. What exactly had Herb told this cut-out doll of a Yuppie about my history? 

“Yes,” I said, and before I got anything else out, he interrupted again. 

“Are you going to give me the tour?”

I did, and there were whole stretches when I was able to get out useful sentences like, “This is the staff bathroom,” or “Here is where we fill out incident paperwork,” but mostly I learned all about Daniel Bellview. I will summarize, because I do not wish to subject anyone to the same irritation I experienced in listening to his life story. 

Daniel had recently graduated from Dartmouth. He was taking a (third?) gap year from finding a real job. (I didn’t know you could call it a gap year after college, but it seemed like Daniel made the rules.)

His father was John Bellview, Congressional Nominee

His father thought that having a kid working at a homeless shelter would make him seem more sympathetic, especially given that one of the measures he supported would cut funding to social programs like Meals on Wheels

Daniel was more than happy to help with anything that would benefit the Grand Ole Party. And hey, he might learn something working here, right? Anything’s possible. 

In the kitchen that evening, as we oversaw the church group that served on Friday nights, I confided in a co-worker I actually liked, Angela. “He’s just so--Republican.”

She gave me a guarded look. “What is that supposed to mean, Gana?” 

Which is to say, of course, that she was secretly Republican this whole time, and I had to spend the next five minutes trying to try to make my words less offensive. Daniel’s presence in the shelter had already made me a terrible person. 

That night with my Sisters I was able to dump the whole story without any apologies, and they were righteously angry on my behalf. I could always count on them to see things my way. 

At the age of fifteen, after I got to know the homeless shelter downtown better than almost everybody, I found my family. They didn’t seem to think it was alarming that when I tried the spells from Harry Potter, they actually worked. Haile and Dora were clairvoyant, Amber could work magic the way I could, and Yajaira was simply very good at keeping us all organized and financially solvent. This was the most baffling kind of magic to me. 

Amber, predictably, offered to hex Daniel Bellview into a roach. (This sickened me a little bit, because she had a thriving colony of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches in her bedroom, and probably a quarter of them had started out as men who did something she perceived as unforgivable.) (Only two of them had done something that was truly horrible. That left five men-as-cockroaches in her room that had been irritating but not evil. They had been cockroaches for between one and five months, and I was starting to get antsy about whether she was ever going to return them to normal.) I passed on turning Daniel into a roach. 

Haile offered to read something of his, if I could get it home, and Yajaira just told me to eat my dinner and give it time, because I always needed time to warm up to people. 

Warm up to Daniel. Unlikely. 

Over the course of the next month, my teeth began to wear down from the pressure of clenching them all the time around my ever-present co-worker. Herb told me to be nice to him, because, “We need him to like us. And to think that the shelter is a good thing. He has a good relationship with his dad, and we can use all the help we can get.” 

But Daniel was not an easy person to be nice to. At least, not for me. The girls who worked in the front seemed to find him charming because he was a snappy dresser and backed his inane comments with a dentally-privileged smile. He was particularly cheerful (he would tell anyone who asked) because his father was doing so well in the polls, and there were only weeks left until election day.

But I tried to be nice to him, or at least helpful. “You know, you sound like an idiot when you ask kids where their dad is.”

He blinked. There was a moment of surprise before he recovered his Smarmy™ smile. “Okay. What am I supposed to say?”

“You can ask them if they’re here with anybody, or if there’s anybody they need to get in contact with. I know your dad is perfect, but a lot of the youngsters here don’t have both parents in their lives, or their here because their parents aren’t doing stellar at the whole parenting gig.”

“Wow,” he said. “Thank you. Herb was right, you really have a feel for this.” 

I scowled. It wasn’t like I was trying to hide my past from Daniel Bellview, or anybody else for that matter. From the glazed look on Daniel’s face half the time, I wasn’t sure he even saw the people who stayed here as people. I didn’t want that expression pointed my way.

But it was even worse to keep wondering what he knew. So. “I spent a lot of time here when I was growing up. Ages twelve to fourteen. I mean, it wasn’t home, but I was here more than anywhere else.” 

Okay, so he hadn’t known. He looked insultingly stunned. “You?”

Wow, it was the shortest sentence I’d ever heard him utter. And he was actually waiting for a response. I didn’t owe him anything, so I nodded and handed him a bucket of disinfectant water. “Hard surfaces,” I said. “Go.”

Amber was sympathetic in her usual way. “I know another spell you can try,” she smiled, “If you don’t want to turn him into a cockroach.”

“I’m listening,” I sighed. 

“Katastrepe agapate. It destroys what they love the most.” 

“That’s horrifying,” I answered immediately. I didn’t want to kill his dog, or sister, or the thing that he probably actually loved the most, himself. “That’s worse than roaches.”

“It doesn’t do death,” she promised, waving away my primary concern. “Usually. And you can put in a spellsafe so he can undo it if he stops being terrible. Besides, election day is only a few weeks away, and I have a guess about what he loves the most.”

I just didn’t want to take any chances. I mean, gods and stuff, if I harmed a pet I would never be able to live with myself. 

“Daniel,” I started casually. 

He already looked startled. “Daniel? I thought I was Bellview.”

Dammit. He was right, I had never addressed him by his first name. I tried to avoid names all together with him. “What would you say you love the most?”

“Wh-what makes you ask?” 

“Just, you know, conversing with my co-worker. Trying to get to know you better.” So convincing, Gana. 

He maneuvered a smile back into place. “Other than my own reflection?” He laughed like he was making a joke about himself, or maybe a joke about the way I thought of him. “Probably, the values that make our country so amazing. Virtue. Independence. Innovation. Things like that.” 

I was sure that a spell couldn’t harm Virtue, and besides, that sounded like code for “my dad being a senator.”

“What about you, Gana?”

“Huh?”

“What do you love most?” 

He had gotten slightly better at waiting for me to answer things, but this took an exceptionally long time for me to answer. “I think--I think it might be this place,” I finally said. 

He nodded. “I can see it.”

With three weeks to go until elections, I cast the spell with Amber over a toothbrush that Daniel kept in the staff room. “Katastrepe Agapate.” The silly spellsafe I put over it was that, of course, if he wanted to protect the thing he loved, it was going to have to be Twue Wuv’s Kiss. If things started going bad for a pet or secret sister or something, it should be easy for him to undo. And if it really was his reflection, it should be pretty amusing. 

Over the next weeks I waited for the scandalous news to hit and the GOPs poll numbers to crash, but instead:

Congressional Nominee John Bellview climbed several points in the poll after doing a special appearance at my very own place of employment and making A Very Generous Donation.

Several Democratic candidates fell into traps of their own making and dropped in the polls.

I wondered if Daniel was secretly just a terrible Democrat, and my spell had backfired.

Daniel and I fixed five showers and a toilet that had been out of service for over a month. I asked him how he knew plumbing, and he reminded me that this was his third “gap year.” I told him that he couldn't indefinitely call his life a gap year, and he said that it made his father feel better about him not embarking on his eventual journey toward a doctor/lawyer/CEO.

Daniel also asked 35% fewer stupid questions, like he actually heard me when I told him he was being stupid.

Daniel thought I was starting a game by asking him what he loved best, and so every shift together, he would have a new question, like “If you were a constellation, which one would you be?” and “If you could speak any five languages, which ones would you choose?” Some of the questions were more serious, like “What is your biggest regret?” He always listened to my actual answers, which was at first more than I expected of him, but I started to get used to the listening and the honesty. 

 He did not cease to be irritating, but I started to understand when he was being ironic and when he was simply being stupid. There were measures of both.

I almost wished I hadn’t done the spell.

Especially since I could figure out what it was affecting. He gave no hint that anything was wrong away from work, and everything at work was fine. 

The stress and guilt of possibly destroying something I couldn’t even identify was making me miserable. Clumps of my hair started coming out in my brush.

I took this final problem to Yajaira, who combed her fingers through my hair and came away with more fine strands of hair than I wanted to part with. “Maybe you should take some time off work, Gana. Either you’re not eating right, or you’re stressed out.”

She was right. I was stressed. I stayed home from work for the first time in a year and helped Yajaira with the quiet magic of bulk-cooking vegetarian meals and storing them in the freezer. In the middle of stirring a pot of soup and chanting, “Double, double, toil and trouble,” to double the recipe without having to increase the ingredients, the periphery of my vision went dark, and my knees buckled. I was left on the ground, clenching the wooden spoon.

“Dios,” Yajaira cried, dropping to my side with half an onion still in her left hand. “Gana, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“I’m just tired,” I whispered. “I was trying to do magic, and I haven’t been sleeping well.” Maybe the agapate spell was taking a little bit of my magic at all times, and that was causing my exhaustion. 

“Doctor.” Yajaira responded firmly. 

“Please not for this, Yajaira. Can’t Dora just take a look at me and see what’s wrong?”

Yajaira seemed annoyed by this and called Dora to come home from school to take a look at me. (Dora was a fifth grade teacher. Being a fifth grade teacher sounded exhausting, but being a psychic fifth grade teacher seemed like actual hell. Dora seemed to enjoy it.) 

I napped on the couch like a sick kid. In some corner of my mind, I could remember being five and six and having a place where people had given me a warm water bottle to hold when I had a fever and putting orange juice on a tray by me as quickly as I could drink it. I could also remember being dead on my feet from some flu I’d caught on the street and dragging myself to the shelter, where they found a room to quarantine me and flu medicine that I could never pay for and didn’t have to. It was funny how the state of being sick made me feel like I could reach out and touch those other sick versions of me throughout my own history. 

Amber arrived home just a few minutes before Dora and force fed me the soup I’d been making, but when Dora got home, she brushed Amber out of the way and started inspecting me. “It’s good you let me take a look at her first, Jai. This is a spell.”

My eyes snapped open, winced, and closed again. “What kind of spell? Who could--” I’d met some others like me in the past couple of years, but it wasn’t like we had a rival gang of witches living on the East side. I couldn’t see why anyone would target me.

“Gana, I don’t understand. It’s you. The spell is from you.”

Gods or something dammit. 

It took a lot of explaining and answering uncomfortable questions, which I could only do between bouts of fortifying soup and closing my eyes to rest. “Amber, are you sure this spell doesn’t cause death?”

She looked horrified. She’d taken off her giant glasses and was cleaning them on the edge of her cardigan rather than meet anyone’s eye. “I told you it’s usually not a death curse. You did use a spellsafe, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I sighed. And what an easy, convenient spellsafe I’d chosen. “A kiss.”

At this, Amber shoved her glasses back on her face and stopped looking miserable, and Yajaira sighed, “Is that all? Somebody go get the boy.”

I struggle to sit up. “No, no, no. Definitely not him, here.” 

Dora looked at her watch. “It’s still the middle of your shift. If I drive you in, do you think you can take care of it?”

I felt sick. It was difficult to know if the feeling came from dreading the conversation that would have to occur or if it was the superbly stupid spell. “I blame you, Amber,” I shouted as Dora bundled me out the door. 

If I thought it was awkward explaining the situation to my sisters, it was nothing compared to facing Daniel. Could I have lied about the situation? Probably. I did not love lying to people, and I just did not have the emotional and mental capacity to do this right now. 

“Wow,” he greeted. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” I returned. “You are terrible. Mostly. Will you kiss me?”

That got a look out of him that I hadn’t seen before. His eyes went round and bulgy, and he choked out, “What?”

“This is going to take forever to explain, but I do...spells? I do spells. And stuff. And I did a spell on you to destroy whatever you loved the most. Which I specifically asked you about, by the way, and you lied. I thought we were being honest with each other. So now I’m very ill, and look terrible, as you mentioned previously, and in order to fix it I need a kiss from you.”

“Oh,” he said, “That’s embarrassing.”

“Yes,” I said, “But I’d rather deal with it than continue to pass out in the kitchen.” 

“I meant for me,” he corrected, that now-familiar mockery of a smile on his face. “You know I always think of myself first. I didn’t plan for you to find out like this.”

“How would you possibly have planned for me to find out like this?” I snapped. 

“Point. But also the reason I wasn’t honest with you when you asked me about the object of my affections. It seemed like an inopportune moment to spring my feelings on you.” He shrugged. I had never seen him look uncomfortable in this particular way. 

“It seems you don’t have to worry about it, because I’ll find a far less opportune way of finding out.”

His laugh sounded tin, and then looked around to make sure we were alone in the room. “You know this is also a terrible thing to do?” 

“Oh, yes. I could probably have this conversation a lot better if I wasn’t on the brink of collapse, but I’m very sorry and feel like an idiot and promise not to let my irritation get the best of me in the workplace. I feel very bad about it and not solely because it’s nearly killing me.”

“It certainly communicates where I stand,” he laughed without any joy behind it, and then leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. 

I’d watched his lips as they smirked and schmoozed and I had never once imagined them pressed against mine, and at the moment that seemed like a terrible oversight. I made a soft, happy noise against him, and it startled him into tugging away. 

I instantly felt much better, although it was still impossible to tell if I was relieved that the conversation was over, or if the curse was broken, or if it had just been a really nice kiss. 

He whistled and turned away to find something to do with his hands. “Hope that helped, colleague of mine. Now I need to go--I don’t know--drink something strong.”

“You’re still on shift,” I pointed out. “And I am too, I guess, since I’m no longer sick.”

Having found nothing else to do with his hands, he just looked at them. They were not clenched, but they kept making tight little motions at each other. “I can ask to be transferred to another shift. I’m not ready to leave yet, but you don’t have to see me.”

“I don’t have to see you?” I frowned. “You’re the one who should never want to see me again. Like you said, that was pretty terrible. I’m sorry.”

“And also like I said, that gives me a pretty clear answer regarding how you feel. As if you’d ever left any real room for doubt. A little bit of distance would probably be good for your health.”

I don’t know why it caused such a pang of regret to hear him say this, but I felt an undeniable urge to make it better. “Having you around was pretty good for my health today.”

There was a sad little cousin of a smirk on his face. “There’s that, at least.”

“I think you should hang around a little longer. It takes me a notoriously long time to warm up to people. Give me a chance.” 

He looked at me closely. “Are you sure? You’re not still fevered? I’ve heard my kisses can be intoxicating.”

What a dumbass. “I’m sure.”

[mystery-moose]

FIC NOTES: A Promise Kept

I told myself I would try and talk more about writing on here, and darn it I’m holding myself to that. I’ll try and keep this short, because I’m on mobile and can’t readmore because tumblr mobile is a vaguely application-shaped piece of garbage.

I’m a big fan of the MurderQuest™ in TAZ. It’s one of my favorite character moments for everyone involved, but especially Taako. In fact, it was probably the moment that cemented the relationship between Taako and Magnus, as brothers, as genuinely important to me. Because he’s nominally this completely self-interested character, but when the time comes for Magnus to give up something truly important, Taako is there for him, ready to take on his quest for him. Merle, too, of course (and one day I’ll probably write a MurderQuest where Merle does it, because I don’t think anyone else ever has) but it’s always been more striking to me for Taako to offer to kill this dude for Magnus, despite never having met him or been wronged by him at all.

(And this after saying that forgetting this man, this person who took everything from him, was a gift in and of itself! That wasn’t a tack I expected anyone to take in the moment, but it made sense – it’s a sacrifice, objectively, for Magnus to never be able to avenge Steven and Julia, but it’s also a sort of… unburdening, to be able to forget and move on.)

That being said, I’ve seen and read a ton of great takes on this. I even reference some in the story itself, with the bet between Merle and Taako, or Taako’s insistence that this is something he has to do alone. The latter being goodnicepeople’s influence, as best as I can trace it. Their fandom for MurderQuest is very strong.

(I wish I could remember the name of the fic or the person who wrote it, but the one with the bet was, for a long time, my favorite of the MurderQuest fics – it was almost entirely aftermath, with maybe two paragraphs devoted to Taako scaring off Kalen’s guards before blasting him, then spending the majority of the fic standing in the middle of a deserted road, looting Kalen’s jewelry and bragging to Merle over the stone. Classic.)

But as much as I personally enjoy it, I never felt as though I had anything unique to bring to the table. That is, until late one night my sleep-deprived insomniac ass thought of the disguise. I immediately sat down and banged out most of the thing in less than two hours, and then went and passed out. It’s a wonder it’s as coherent as it is, but I’m really pretty happy with it!

The fic itself is pretty simple – I knew it had to be from Taako’s POV, because I’m comfortable there and it let me get as dark as I wanted, and I knew I wanted to commit to the tension of who exactly he was going to murder, without being too cute about it. I also knew I wanted to have Taako be pretty cold about it, pretty clinical, but not outright sociopathic – he takes a brief moment of pleasure in the act, but then simply settles back into “grim placidity.” It’s a duty he’s performing, a favor, and he’s simply making absolutely sure it’s done. Taako’s a bit of a bully, but he’s not a monster. He doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain, but he is very much an eye-for-an-eye type, and enjoys some retribution from time to time (likely because of how he grew up, though I’m uncertain if Lup is the same way).

The best part of writing the story, honestly, was figuring out precisely how Taako would go about doing it. At first, I was going through spell lists, conniving some sequence of actions for the Perfect Hit… and then I realized Taako’s not that good. He’s clever, but not that clever. So, instead of sneaking around and Blinking past the fence and Levitating to the top floor and turning Invisible and dodging the mansion’s staff like this was Fantasy Hitman, he just brute forces his way through with a minimum of effort.

And because of that approach, and because of the disguise, it leaves an opening for consequences down the road; maybe someone saw Magnus at the mansion, maybe the gnome maid goes to the fantasy cops, maybe there was a guard he missed or a butler or a groundskeeper or something. Then Magnus gets fingered for the murder, and Taako has to do his best to bail him out, with help from Angus of course.

But in all honesty, I don’t think I’ll write that. Not unless I get a real bee in my bonnet. In every MurderQuest fic, part of the satisfaction is that they get away clean, and I don’t want to compromise that, especially since I try to keep everything I write in a loose sort of canon with each other. But I also like leaving doors open, just in case.

Hey, remember when I said I’d try to keep this short? Haha, me too. Funny joke, huh.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Grimoire of Zero 9 | Royal Tutor 10 | Kado 9 | Tsukigakirei 9 | Boku no Hero Academia 24

Grimoire of Zero 9

“You genius ball of fluff!” – LOL. He’s fluffy, but not a ball of fluff.

I always thought the clothes man was weird, but not this level of weird.

“…Dawn Tower.”

“Fair trials” are never fair when done by people. After all, people have bias.

This blue night sky…I saw it before in Hataraku Maousama. This is by Studio White Fox, right? You can tell why.

Royal Tutor 10

Note for later: this.

Wut??? I didn’t see that twist about the cousin coming. That was a fact with not much payoff though, because while the staff milked it for a gag, the colour schemes of the characters mean it was a deus ex machina of a gag – not completely believable.

Why does this feel like they’re playing endgame cards too early??? Maybe it’s so that the storyline can focus on Heine and only Heine, but I worry about this anime only ending (see link above if you still don’t know about it) not working.

“Unfortunately, I have no girlfriend.” – LOL, ouch Bruno. Self deprecation is hard to pull off sometimes…

“I’m the super hot prince of charisma!” – LOL, Licht. No you’re not. That’s the king’s job (for me).

Er, dudes? You’ve been sitting on this plot point for almost an entire season. You should have noticed this already.

What the actual flap. Because Royal Tutor is so much like Kuroshitsuji, you never expect more stereotypical anime things like sentai teams to be parodied, but that just pulled it off so well. Plus, I’ve seen a shot of Leo dressed like this making the rounds on Tumblr, so I knew he was going to dress like Yato.

Go! Pick up all the items, Yato-dressed-Leo!

It’s literally a Pandora’s box. (Or maybe a Heine’s box, to make a lame pun on Heinz.)

Cleaning fanservice stills. Well, never thought I’d say that.

LOL, Kai’s sleeping on the job.

I kind of had the suspicion the “criminal in the palace” was Heine ever since the article was introduced, but I still went “oh no!” anyway.

Kado 9

Please don’t let Shunina be evil. Pleasedon’tletShuninabeevil-oh hi. You’re still here? You’re still bothering with Kado? Thanks for snapping me out of my mantra there.

“The world continues to accelerate.” – What powerful words…breathtaking stuff.

Please don’t get Shunina drunk, Shindo. On another note, they appear to have shredded squid as a snack.

I never noticed this until now, but Shindo has yaoi hands.

Interesting to note that Indians and Africans appeared in that cutscene. This is a truly international work, even if the action’s in Japan.

For some reason, when Shindo goes, “What are your thoughts?” I’m reminded of this post by Scott from Mechanical Anime Reviews. I used almost the exact same words in talking about the show itself, coincidence or not. Speaking of which, I may get that article out someday so look forward to it.

What’s the third object, Shunina?!

I’m not sure what a signifiant (sic) is.

At least the spinning effect wasn’t something seizure-inducing (like Pokémon’s Porygon ep)…was it?

Back to “science I don’t quite understand” – here’s the law of conservation of angular momentum. Never learnt it myself, so Shindo’s intelligence is already a league beyond my own.

Even Hanamori’s in on Tsukai’s tsundere-ness, LOL. Wait – where was Tsukai’s mother?

“I love him too.” – I thought the biggest ship base in the Kado fandom was Shindo x Shunina, so now the Shindo x Hanamori fans just got some major bait.

B-But Hanamori, don’t take advantage of Natsume’s drunkkenness! Even if it’s just asking her how she feels on Shindo, can you please keep it to when she can (not drunkenly) admit her feelings?

So Tsukai isn’t with anyone. *hollers into the void* Tsukai shippers, you can take her now!

Uh-oh. So zaShunina’s speaking in the language I understand – computer terms – but that face he’s making looks like this anisotropic being’s gone mad, and I don’t like the look of that.

I thought Mifune would introduce a philosophical element to this. He did, just not in a way I predicted (which is good).

Sericulture = the cultivation of silkworms to make silk, apparently.

The “thread” reminds me of Akutagawa’s “The Spider’s Thread”.

(Trigger warning for death in this next comment) Shindo, lying on the ground…that’s either exhaustion or death. I’m scared to think Nanomis-hein can revert death.

The more Shunina smiles, the more creepy he gets…and simultaneously, the more I become enraptured by this show. It’s strange.

It seems as if Shunina is expressing regret for the first time. I don’t like his sullen face, I’d rather a creepy face I could love than a sad face I can’t love. Besides, this mysterious black figure was in the end-of-ep preview last time, I bet he’s another universe’s Shindo.

Well, my guess was right and…ovibvrnvlk! Saraka?! What in flip-flap are you doing? T-This isn’t a superhero show! W-Wh-What? That’s one killer end-of-ep hook! Does this mean Saraka is a Sailor Moon of the anisotropic?! (My brain just got bent in so many directions, I think I’m seeing the anisotropic…but man, I still want more Kado…)

This ED sketch of Tsukai is new, it seems. The shots of everyone else are familiar to anyone who’s visited Kado’s official website and seen the character descriptions though.

It’s an apostrophe. I thought that was a typo, but it’s there in the titlecard! Also, I worry about bleeding Shindo and how this may become a shonen fighter (despite “shonen fighter” being my style of expertise, writing-wise)…

Update: Apparently Shunina’s “too many belts” outfit is inspired by a king in the storybook the child from ep 2 is reading. Also, random thoughts, but Tabiuta is anime’s equivalent to the Big Bang Theory opening. (brought to you by Reddit)

Update 2: The turtle apparently appeared in ep 7, although I don’t think I noticed it. (brought to you by ANN)

Tsukigakirei 9

The Wind Rises. Isn’t that a Ghibli movie? Yeah…it is, but it’s also a story by Tatsuo Hori, apparently, from which the movie is partially based. The Setting Sun is a Dazai work, by the way.

No OP, huh? They’re dead serious about getting their plot over and done with, which is good.

You can see Kaze Tachinu (The Wind Rises) and Ningen Shikkaku (No Longer Human) on Kotarou’s shelf, alongside Pandora’s Box (Dazai), The Restaurant of Many Orders (Miyazawa), some work by an Arishima Tatsuo (although the book is credited to Arima Tatsuo in the show), Kokoro (Souseki) and Goodbye (Dazai). The one with the blue spine I presume is The Setting Sun/Pandora’s Box (Dazai) – I remember trying to spin a poem for Bungou Stray Dogs’s Dazai using the title of The Setting Sun as inspiration.

Frumpy man on Kotarou’s magazine kinda looks like what the actual Dazai is shown to be like in photos. I thought for a second the LNs were Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, but like Grimoire of Zero and Re: Zero, they only bear partially simlar titles.

I’m hollering! As much as I know how much LNs can be good, you know how the anime community sees LNs and that’s why I’m laughing so much.

I had a character called Daisuke once (he was the uncle and consultant for Tetsuya in Ro.Te.O, as well as being Katsuo’s dad), so I was startled to see this older brother figure is also called Daisuke.

It’s such a strange reversal – Kado became a shonen battler, losing the faith of most of the people who still watch it (not me, though!) and Tsukigakirei actually got good. It’s an almost sad change. Tsukigakirei also almost lost its bad CGI, which is good too.

Ike, LOL. I think that company’s shown up previously.

Dokidoki is a heartbeat onomatopoeia, so it’s not quite OMG.

Aw, Chinatsu. Please don’t make me all sour inside again. I already had that when I saw people jump ship on Kado.

I wrote on similar experiences for One Wish They Never Wanted, so to see Akane weeping over the end of one period of schooling is something I know well.

So hayashi isn’t rice in this case? It’s that dance from the OP?!

Huh, that’s interesting. My parents gave me the exact same talk for the experiences I wrote on for One Wish They Never Wanted (hence there’s a similar scene between Takuma and his father), so suddenly…Tsukigakirei has become a Kado replacement (although I still don’t love any characters in Tsukigakirei as much as I do Shunina, haha). Strange thing is, I thought I’d never go where I’d want to go and…I went where I wanted to go. *tries not to cry* Dangit, Tsukigakirei. You’re so good at bringing feels right now…it was good to wait 6 eps for the good stuff.

I only read the back half of the ED convo and it doesn’t make much sense without context…

Boku no Hero Academia 24

I read the ep synopsis…and when it says “Todoroki vs Bakugo” as the next ep title, you know Iida’s gonna lose.

Interesting how everyone loses interest in competitiors that lose. it’s kinda like those rankings people do for anime episodes per week, which I admit I enjoy watching quite a bit, but this almost makes me feel guilty for ranking anime (which is a weird sentiment to have, I know, I know).

Well, there’s something new. I guess it’s only natural for All Might to be Quirkless beforehand, that’s how this show works.

Physics 101: When an unstoppable force hits an immovable object…[fill in the blanks].

I see. The best offence is a good defence and vice versa, which is why the two are so evenly matched.

The girls are wearing summer uniform shirts in the ED now. Were they like this last time? I don’t remember.