Nice let go of Lin Ling’s face and pulled his phone out. Instantly Lin Ling saw several current news articles and videos covering the scene and Nice saving him. Countless comments were underneath praising Nice as well as Lin Ling for trying to save the kids himself. Some comments were even focusing on an image of Nice holding Lin Ling in the air, Nice’s face thankfully obscured so no one could see his demonic side. The camera’s focus was on Lin Ling tightly clinging to Nice. All of those comments were calling their meeting cute, borderline swooning at the thought that perhaps something else would bloom from their meeting.
“W-What the hell?” Lin Ling’s face turned pink. “This has to be a prank.”
“Afraid not. Many of my fans and the public alike think our meeting is rather adorable. A hero saving a citizen who’s a rather cute young man? People were bound to take the story and run it in a romantic direction.”
Instead of saving Moon, Nice saves Lin Ling and begins to fake date him. (Oh, and Nice is also a demon. Not that anyone would believe Lin Ling if he told them.)
~
Hello everyone! I finally finished this chapter and story! I hope you all like it! I had a blast writing this AU! Definitely an idea (or concept) I’d revisit in the future either to continue this AU or give a new different spin. Either way, please let me know if you enjoyed this story!! I always appreciate it!
And feel free to like and reblog this post! Take care!!!
Guess who's finally back with an update to my multi-chaptered Mikey x OC romance fic? Yes, me, and yes this update is very sorely overdue. I hope I still have some readers looking forward to this though.
Fair warning, I'm dropping a few bombs in this chapter. Please heed the tags. TW for character getting drugged, Narcan being used and a quick description of gang violence.
Taglist: (Please ask if you'd like me to add you!)
It has been so long since the team has had even half a second to breathe to themselves, let alone take a break. That’s the thing about fighting a relentless empire of space Nazis – there is ten thousand years worth of shit to fix. They are seven people. Breaks are a pipe dream if not a total fantasy.
But they are, quite simply, seven people. Seven people who cannot function every second of every day with no time to step back, gather themselves. Whether or not they have time for a break is irrelevant; they either schedule one or one will be scheduled for them. So they do, reasoning one single day at the beach would be well worth the sand that would be invariably tracked into the castle, to remain for eternity.
Of course Allura and Coran had been ready to go immediately, having all their clothes and belongings on the castle, but the rest of the team hadn’t thought to pack a swimsuit when they went to check out the weird vives Keith felt int he desert. And there’s a kind of unspoken rule about many things in the castle, as haunted as it is – no one really wants to dig through rooms with old ghosts to find something that might fit them. It feels wrong.
Luckily for everyone, Lance’s needle-threading abilities aren’t limited to flying. He’s pretty good with his hands, too, and after securing some material from Coran, he gets right on it.
For Pidge, he creates what is vocally convinced is the ugliest set of swim shorts to ever see the light of day. He’d been inspired the very second he saw the neon yellow fabric with patches of barf green-brown, littered with pictures of weblums posed in such ways that could only be described as grotesque. He complains the entire time that simply looking at the fabric makes him physically ill, but Pidge is ecstatic. She doesn’t even mind when Lance refuses to continue working with the material, instead making her a swim tee out of plain black.
Hunk, much more used to being Lance’s model, is happy with a pair of orange trunks that match his headband exactly. Shiro gets a pair in his favourite colour – a dusky pink – and bites back tears, because he is the dweebiest most emotional dork of all time. (Lance was originally going to do the same for Keith; make him a pair in his regular emo colours. Maybe even something that matched his nerdy go-go boots, as abhorrent as the swim-shorts and boots combo would be. But at the last minute he was struck with the divine urge to be a dick, and decided instead to make Keith a pair of plain maroon shorts, and then embroidered ‘dorkass’ into the waistband of the shorts with the same colour. He finds great joy in knowing that Keith will be wearing around a pair of shorts calling him a dorkass. He looks forward to telling him, after Keith wears them for a couple hours and has to live with it.)
On the day they finally get to go, the excitement in the air is palpable.
“Do you have to wear those shorts?” Allura asks for what is probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes.
Pidge sniffs obnoxiously. “Lance poured his heart and soul into making me these wonderful shorts and all you’ve done is shit on them. I should tell him you have no appreciation for his art.”
“It might improve them if I actually defecate on those abominations,” Allura mutters darkly. She glares at them as if they are specifically responsible for Zarkon himself.
Tired of listening to the same argument for fifteen minutes, Keith groans loudly. “For fuck’s sake, we’ve been waiting here for, like, two hours! How long does it take Lance to throw on a pair of shorts and get –”
“Throw on a pair of shorts?! Mullet, please. We are going to a public beach . I am looking like a babe or I am not going.”
Six heads swivel to the source of the sound, revealing Lance in all his glory.
Clearly, Lance has taken the creative opportunity to treat himself. Instead of just making a pair of trunks and throwing on a t-shirt, like everyone else (except for, of course, Allura, who looks absolutely ethereal in an elegant white one-pieces that matches her hair, and a sheer sparkly cover-up that reminds everyone that she is, in fact, royalty), he has taken the time to craft himself a calf-length yellow sundress. He has also somehow fashioned himself what absolutely must be be universe’s largest floppy sunhat, and –
“Are those mom sandals?” Hunk asks, aghast. “Jesus Christ, Lance.”
Pidge bursts out laughing. “If by babe you mean MILF,” she chokes out, because she has zero shame.
Shiro goes scarlet.
“Pidge!” he scolds. “You don’t just call people MILFs!”
“What’s a ‘milf’? Allura asks, frowning curiously.
“I swear to God if any of you tell her what MILF means – “
Shiro doesn’t have to worry about the rest of the paladins corrupting Allura’s brain (not that his efforts will matter, because she and Hunk have an agreement, as the resident gossips – any and all garnered information will be shared at a later date to be analysed and recorded) because they’re all laughing to hard to get any words out. Except for Lance, of course, who does his very best to appear offended but can’t quite manage.
At least being called a MILF is still kind of a compliment, no matter how teasingly Pidge had meant it. And he can concede to the point that he has seen his sister in law wear a nearly identical outfit, now that he’s thinking about it, and she’s actually a mom, so. Pidge may have a point.
“Whatever,” Lance says rolling his eyes. He bites his lip to tamp down his smile, shaking his head at the paladins, then lights up. “Wait, if I look like a MILF, I’ll attract all the DILFs! Score!”
Pidge, Hunk, and Keith sober up immediately, laughter disappearing from their faces at the thought of Lance’s flirting. Shiro sighs.
“How come you always ruin all my good jokes?” Pidge whines.
Lance smirks at her. “Not my fault I’m funnier than you are.”
“You are not – ”
“Are too!”
Coran, sensing an impending argument and possible wrestling match, speaks up. “Perhaps we should make our way to the beach while there’s still sunshine, hm?”
Everyone makes various noises of agreement, making their way to the exit. Hunk shifts the pail and shovel he has in his hands. Keith adjusts his utlity belt, which looks absolutely ridiculous paired with his swimsuit – not that he cares. Shiro takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
God. He cannot wait to sit under the sun and sleep the whole time, leader duties be damned. Someone else can watch the troublemakers that are is teammates. Hopefully no one would drown, because Shiro is not monitoring that shit. He is tired. He needs a break. He is going to nap for six straight hours, and no one is going to stop him. The entire Empire could descend with every single ship they have and Shiro will simply say no. Not happening.
“Not a single fucking one of you is leaving this castle until I watch you put on sunscreen.”
The pure conviction in Lance’s voice makes everyone pause and turn to look at him. After a moment, Pidge breaks the tension with a dry laugh.
“Alright, Mom, sure,” she says sarcastically. She sticks her tongue out at him before turning back around.
Lance wastes no time entertaining her scathing wit. He pulls out a bottle of SPF 80 from what appears to be actual thin air, waving it emphatically at the paladins.
“Since all of you refuse to care for yourselves,” he says, pausing to look pointedly at each of them in turn, “I suppose it will fall onto me.” He gestures in front of him. “In line, children, hold out your hands. You must put it on your face and ears and neck and any exposed skin. No exceptions.”
No one moves. Lance claps his hands sharply, startling them.
“Chop chop! Form a line!”
The paladins just blink at him, gobsmacked.
Keith speaks up first. “Where did you even get a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic? We’ve been in space for a whole-ass year!”
“Yeah, and why are you only being anal about it now?” Pidge adds.
Lance glares at them, hands on his hips. “I am responsible about my health, and had a bottle in my backpack when we were abducted.”
Four pairs of eyes roll in tandem. Lance insists on saying they were ‘abducted by aliens’ when they left in Blue, because he’s extra, as if it wasn’t him who boarded Blue first. As if he did not see the glowing blue wormhole and immediately suggest they go through it. ‘Abducted by aliens’ yeah right – he boarded their ship and asked them to take him to their leader, more like it.
It’s a pointless argument to convince him otherwise, though. The paladins have tried dozens of times to no avail.
“Anyway,” Lance continues. “I used the fabricator to make more bottles when we first got here, along with shampoo and conditioner and stuff, all of which I delivered to your rooms. I have been under the impression that you have been dutifully using your protection from actual skin cancer like rational people, but it has recently come to my attention –” he looks pointedly at Pidge, who had been burned so badly on the last planet that the skin on her face peeled off in one go like one of Lance’s face masks, a comparison he did not find nearly as funny and thought-provoking as she did – “that the four of you cannot be trusted to apply protection like grown-ups, and so you will be treated like my niece and nephew, who are the only ones in my family who still complain about, once again, actual protection from literal cancer. So.” He looks at all of them individually, eyebrows raised and jaw set. “Again: line up, children.”
The paladins begrudgingly form a line, sensing from Lance’s tone that although he’s making jokes and speaking lightly, he’s one-hundred percent serious. He shakes his head and tuts at them every time he squeezes a dollop of white goop onto each of their hands.
Allura and Coran, recovering from their shock, exchange horrified looks.
“Human skin has not yet evolved protection from radiation?”
“And you complain about the only protection you have?”
“I’ll remind you that humans are only two hundred thousand years old,” Lance says to the Alteans. “So no, we haven’t really evolved superpowers yet. As for Allura’s point – ” he raises an eyebrow at the other humans, who are finally beginning to look slightly chastised – “some people are just plan stubborn.”
“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point, mother, we are wearing the sun protection,” Pidge says impatiently. “Can we go to the beach now?”
Lance nods. “As soon as I grab some water and snacks.”
“And you complain about the only protection you have?”
This time, it’s Keith who groans. “Come on, Lance, I’m sure there’s water and shit on the beach, and I don’t want to wait the billion years you’re foing to take to pack or whatever. Can we please just go.”
Lances raises a judgmental eyebrow again, and picks up a bag no one had seen from a few feet down the hall.
‘Bag’, frankly, may not be the right word for it. It is approximately the size of Pidge, it’s so massive.
“What do you even have in there?” Pidge asks incredulously.
“I think you can actually fit the Green Lion in that bag,” he agrees observationally.
“We’re literally only going to be gone for, like, ten hours,” Keith adds.
Shiro only sighs. Every moment of nonsense is one less minute of his tropical nap – minutes he mourns deeply.
Despite the complaining, Lances haughty eyebrow does not lower. “I notice that none of you have a bag.”
“...So?”
“What are you planning on drying off with? Sand? Especially you, Shiro – aren’t you napping? As for all the alleged water and snacks on the beach, Keith, I don’t see you packing any GAC. And you’re the most accident prone person I’ve ever met, Pidge, did you bother to bring a first aid kit?” He pauses, looking at Hunk’s shovel. “You nailed it, Hunk. No criticism for you.”
Hunk beams. Lance smiles back, then turns a very knowing and prim expression to the rest of the paladins.
The ensuing silence has Lance dripping smugness.
“That’s what I thought. None of you dorks ever plan ahead, yeesh. You’re welcome. Now, come on – we’re losing sunlight! Let’s go!”
“I can’t do this, Gil. I can’t open this door. What it it’s too late? What if we came all this way only to find it was all for naught, because she... she..." A story in which Gilbert's health remains perfectly fine, but that's not enough to bring Anne peace. Alternate ending to AotI. Shirbert.
fanfiction.net / AO3
Chapter 1
A Love Letter
Rusty purred longingly, trying to get his young Mistress’s attention. Anne smiled gently at the sound and reached out to caress the determined feline and yet, her sight remained fixed on the book she held in her other hand,
It was clear that even Rusty didn’t have enough charm to make her abandon Lord Tennyson’s fine work.
“Really, Anne, I never imagined you’d be one to spoil a cat,” Stella scolded her gently. “You used to barely tolerate these animals, and even then you only approved of the clean, well-mannered ones. And here you are, letting the least mannered cat of all lie on Miss Patty’s lovely sofa and encouraging his stay!”
Anne barely looked up at her.
“We let the Sarah-cat and Thomas sleep on the finest of our cushions, darling,” she protested softly. “It wouldn’t be fair to treat Rusty differently. And his manners have improved immensely since we took him in, don’t you think?”
“Well, there wasn’t much to improve to start with.” Stella grimaced. “He had no manners at all – he could only go up from there.”
“I say the important part is that he decided to improve at all. I know what it’s like to be judged for the improper behaviour when there has been no one to teach you anything about it in the first place. I can only marvel at my own initial indifference and lack of understanding towards this unlucky fellow.”
“Oh, enough of this cat talk!” Phil interrupted impatiently then. “You better tell us about this book you’re reading, Queen Anne. You look as if you’ve been wanting to laugh for the past quarter and I am dying to find out why. I’d love to borrow that volume later, too; I could certainly use a good laugh right now.”
“You could always use a good laugh, Phil, no matter what your mood currently is,” Anne retorted cleverly. “And don’t make it sound as if you had any reasons to feel miserable.”
“Tease all you like, Anne, it won’t change a thing. I may be the one getting married next month, but that certainly doesn’t make me any less nervous, no matter how happy I am. I keep having these awful nightmares about Jo changing his mind and leaving me, or about my family suddenly deciding to oppose to the marriage and consequently ruining everything I have hoped for – right when I finally started to believe that I could pass for a respectable wife, even for a minister.”
“Dearest Phil, you know theses nightmares have nothing to do with your future,” Anne protested gently, suppressing a laugh caused by both Philippa’s words and the sight of Stella, mercilessly rolling her eyes at them. “You know Jonas loves you too much to ever give up on you, and even if your family decided to interfere with your happiness in any way – which I am sure they will not – you would not pay it much mind anyway.”
Phil sighed deeply as she sunk on the closest chair. “You are perfectly right, Queen Anne, as you usually are. You know, sometimes I wish I had your wisdom; but then I realise that Jo might not want me so much if I were and I immediately regret making any silly wishes. Anyway, you have not answered my question about your reading: what is it?”
Anne allowed herself a small chuckle this time.
“Something you would not find very amusing, I’m afraid,” she explained softly, her eyes returning to the pages in question. “I’ve been skimming through Lancelot and Elaine, stopping only when I came across the parts dearest to me.”
“And that’s what made you glow so much?” Stella joined the conversation once more. “Why, Anne, I’ve always known you had a rather queer taste in literature, but I would never assume you’d find such tragic poem comical.”
“It’s not so much the poem itself as the memory it brings. I remember discussing it at school in Avonlea, weeping and sighing over poor Elaine’s fate with my friends. I was the most emotional, of course, but the girls were not far behind me.”
Stella nodded with a little more understanding. “I can see how that’s amusing now, although I’d still expect a smile rather than a laughter as a natural reaction to it.”
“That’s because you haven’t heard the best part yet!” Anne responded with a sly smile and began recounting their unfortunate attempt to enact the aforementioned poem on the bright waters of Barry’s Pond. By the time Anne came to the infamous scene of the leaking boat, all three had been shaking with laughter, tears of joy glimmering in more than one pair of eyes.
“Really, Anne!” Phil exclaimed in what was supposed to be a stern tone but couldn’t be due to the cheerful trembling of her voice. “We have lived here together for nearly three years, have known each other for four and for all this time you have not thought it appropriate to treat us with a story like this! Why, I am sure you would have spared me at least one miserable night if you had.”
“She hath kept the good wine until now,” Stella answered, trying as she might to sound as serious and composed as the paraphrase required, and failing spectacularly. “I am only surprised she didn’t wait for Priss to come back – the poor girl will be devastated when she learns how much fun she has missed.”
“There is no need to worry about that,” Anne hastened to explain. “Priscilla had known the whole story long before we even arrived to Redmond and I can assure you that her reaction was every bit as fierce as yours.”
Stella pressed her hand against her chest and sighed with emphasis. “Oh, now I see! Priss gets to know everything in advance while we have to beg! Now, Anne, I am positively wounded!”
“And you two are getting off topic again!” Phil intervened again, this time throwing her arms high in the air for a better effect. “Truly, how you can focus on such nonsense when the great finale is still ahead of us is beyond me.”
“You were the one who started it!” Anne contradicted her with another short laugh.
“I beg your pardon, but my comment was fully justified and in some ways it still referred directly to the story you had told. But enough of this! How did you get off that bridge, Anne?”
The auburn-haired girl chuckled again, a little nervously this time, as she lowered her eyes and fixed them on the text once more.
“That is the part in which my pride suffers most,” she said quietly, forcing a light, careless tone that suddenly felt so inappropriate. “You see, I didn’t really mind climbing that pole – of course, it was uncomfortable and comical, and very different from the romantic scene I had envisioned; but at least there was no one there to see me. And all I needed to do was to hold onto that pole until Mr Barry came to help me out in my distress. He would laugh, of course, but I couldn’t care much for it – he had been an eye-witness to my antics too many times already. Unfortunately, my rescue came from a different party entirely.”
Anne expected her friends to interrupt her with more witty remarks; however, they made none.
“There was...” she picked up hesitantly. “There was a boy in our class, who went rowing on Barry’s Pond that day. He saw me and came closer, offering to take me to the shore in his flat.”
“How romantic,” Stella mused teasingly at that.
“Oh, hardly!” Anne protested vigorously, as if she had been fourteen again, listening to Diana’s most ridiculous comments. “I have never thought of my classmates in terms of romance, but it wouldn’t have been half so bad – half so humiliating – had it been any other boy than the one that came. Dear me, how I hated him then! I had been angry with him before, but it was nothing compared to what I felt on that moment under the bridge.”
“And is there any chance we might know the poor chivalrous knight?” Phil asked, wriggling her eyebrows meaningfully. “Could it be Charles and his big, bulging eyes?”
Anne’s own big eyes widened in surprise at her friend’s abrupt assumption.
“No, not at all!” she denied firmly. “I have never hated Charlie, although I have never been particularly fond of him, either. In fact, I think I’ve always cared too little for him to hold any such strong feelings towards him.”
“Poor Charlie,” Stella remarked with an absolute lack of sympathy. “But if not him, then who?”
“The same boy I had ignored for the three years prior and continued to do so for another two, both at school and at Queen’s – and whom, I believe, you have got to know quite well during our stay here.”
Stella was close to choking on her astonishment. “You mean...”
“Gilbert Blythe, yes,” Anne admitted with a small smile. “And I truly wished it had been anyone but him back then.”
“Not so fast, my dear,” Phil exclaimed now. “I know you and Gilbert have not always been friends – it’s certainly hard to call you friends now – but you can’t tell me you used to hate him!”
“Oh, but I did! Or at least, I wholeheartedly believed so.”
“The same Gilbert who is always so kind and considerate, no matter how little he likes the company he’s in?”
“No, the one who had pulled my braid and called me ‘Carrots’ on our very first day of school.” Anne countered cleverly, her smile widening at the sight of shock that had reflected on her friend’s faces almost immediately. “Well, I suppose you didn’t expect to hear that about him.”
“And that’s why you weren’t friends for so long?” Stella asked with disbelief.
Anne nodded, regaining some of her temporarily lost composure. “We were sworn enemies at the time – at least I was. Gilbert tried to apologise and make things right, but my eleven year old self wouldn’t hear of it; and then I suppose I kept thinking of him in that way because my rise and sense of dignity demanded it. Not to mention, I’ve always had that bit of a competitive strike, and since Gilbert soon turned out to be the only real rival, beating him in class became another matter of honour to me.”
“And you didn’t make your peace that day by the pond?” Phil asked again.
“No,” Anne responded, with a little bit of melancholy – sentiment – embarrassment ringing in her voice. “It was the last time my pettiness made itself known and consequently robbed us both of two years of friendship. He went furious – as furious as someone of Gilbert’s personality can be, anyway – snapped and walked away. He had been a rival before, but he had never seemed to care much about it… But after that encounter he became just as ruthless as I had been from the start.”
“In that case, I suppose your fiery arguments here at Redmond were not even half as bad as we all thought,” Phil muttered under her breath. “It must have been nothing compared to what you two had done at school.”
Anne smiled more sincerely now. “Oh, you should have seen us then. Poor Miss Stacy barely managed to answer our overly grown hunger for knowledge, not to mention that we must have been a terrible distraction from other students, who undoubtedly needed her attention much more than we did. In the end she would just give us more to read, if only to make us stay quiet for a moment at least.”
It was Phil’s turn to nod. “You two really have a history.”
“That we do,” Anne agreed a little wistfully. She brightened up the next moment, however. “But, as one of my dearest friends often says, enough of this! The story was meant to cheer you up, not to make us go down some cold, hostile memory lane. We still have a whole afternoon ahead of us, and I’m not going to waste it in any way. We only have a few short days before we leave Patty’s Place for good, and I am determined to make the most of it – and you don’t even try to talk yourselves out of it!”
“And what would you have us do, Queen Anne?” Stella asked a little sceptically, for which she received a frown from Phil. Seeing the exchange, Anne could hardly do more than laugh wholeheartedly at them.
“I have no idea, my dearest Kindred Spirits!” she cried out with eagerness that didn’t match her words nor the atmosphere from mere moments earlier and yet, her voice resonated with sincerity that could not have been denied. “We can dance and we can sing, or we can leave the house and set off on a journey, if only it doesn’t take us too far away from this most beloved place. I once said that I had two homes – Green Gables and Patty’s Place – and I can’t tell you how happy I am that my feelings towards that matter have not changed at all. It is reassuring to know that one can truly love more than just one place so much.”
“I suppose it must be so, or no one would ever find happiness after they married – save for the people who stayed in their own houses and those who never loved their homes in the first place,” Stella concluded.
Anne nodded in agreement with her words. “It is very true, but let’s not forget those who must leave their homes for reasons other than marriage. Oh, Phil, please don’t give me that look, even if I have deserved it. I know you are still angry with me for what happened yesterday, but I promise you, it has nothing to do with what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?” Phil asked calmly, refraining from a more blatant comment that was springing to her lips.
“I meant us. Four college girls, thrown into a new life, away from their families, their neighbours, away from the people and places they care for so much. It could have been such miserable four years, full of stress and loneliness, with homesickness threatening to take over us any minute – and instead they were four years of great friendships, and three of them have been spent here. I’m not sure if I could have born to go through the many challenges Redmond had in store, had it not been for the sense of safety this place has given me.”
“Oh, and here I thought it was our unconditional love and support that had pushed you through!” Stella exclaimed, her hand once again flying to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “Now, you have really hurt my feelings, Anne. Excruciatingly!”
Anne laughed wholeheartedly at her friend’s words, basking in the joy this wonderful comradeship could give.
“Tease all you like -” she said with confidence. “you will not succeed in ruining my good spirits. The day is just too lovely for any sort of pettiness; you can say whatever you want and I won’t take offence. I’m in a forgiving mood – I feel you that if the worst of my enemies came to visit me today, I could not hold grudge against them.”
“Poor Gilbert!” Phil cried out then. “If only he had known that day would come, he might have waited for it, instead of trying to make peace with you over some pond only minutes after he had so unnecessarily rescued you!”
Anne did not find the comment worthy of her answer and decided to resort to violence instead. In one swift motion she grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at Phil, hitting her right in her smiling face; the latter squeaked in shock but caught the missile in perfect reflex and threw it back at her aggressor without hesitation.
That was the setting in which Priscilla found them in.
“I leave you alone for an hour and you turn into children we used to teach!” she exclaimed in the tone of a perplexed matron, as if she had been at least a decade older than her frivolous friends. “Truly, Anne, what would the board of Avonlea school think if they saw what their favourite schoolmarm does when left unsupervised?”
“I have never been their favourite, so how would I know?” Anne answered her question laughingly, catching the cushion that had once again flown in her direction; however, she refrained from tossing it back. Priscilla raised her gaze to the ceiling, most probably asking the Good Lord to give her patience necessary for dealing with the force her companions undoubtedly were.
“They should take away your B. A.s for behaving like this,” she muttered under her breath as she shrugged off her coat and took off her hat. “I’m not surprised to see Anne or Phil act like that, but you, Stella? Why, I believed you to be the sensible one at least.”
“Don’t lump me together with them,” Stella opposed. “These two won’t listen to anyone and certainly not me.”
“They better do listen to me, though, because I have some great news that should interest them. I’ve been to the post office and there was at least half a dozen letters addressed to us.”
“And I bet half of those are for Phil,” Anne commented teasingly, standing up and approaching Priscilla, ready to take some of the many packages the other girl had brought with her. “Let me take these, Priss, as I’m sure none of those letters are for me. After all, I never receive any letters on Monday.”
“How can you be so sure?” Priscilla asked suggestively. “What if I told you that it’s your turn to receive Phil’s usual, ridiculous share?”
Anne shook her head vigorously. “Impossible! The only letters I am waiting for are the ones from Green Gables and those always arrive on Wednesday, and sum up the whole previous week, together with Mrs Lynde’s great commentary on the minister’s latest sermon.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that one of these letters really has you name written on it – and the handwriting does look to me as if it was Mrs Lynde’s, indeed.”
“It can’t be,” Anne repeated; but the treacherous smile was beginning to blossom on her joyful countenance and not a minute passed before she had whipped the envelope from Priscilla’s hand and pressed in to her chest, barely deigning the item with a glance.
“This truly is the most wonderful of days!” she said excitedly. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, you bring this! Dear Priss, you really are a herald of good news!”
And with that she ran towards the sofa and sank on it once more, impatient to learn the contents of the letter that had already gladdened her so much.
“My, my, Anne!” Phil remarked with a dry smile and a slight rise of her eyebrows. “Judging from your excitement, one could think it is a love letter you are holding; if I didn’t know any better, I would swear it was Roy Gardner who had written to you again.”
“Oh, but it as a love letter, and it’s the most beautiful one – better than any suitor could ever send!” Anne protested firmly, glancing from over the letter with her bright eyes. “No one has ever loved me more dearly than those who lived at Green Gables and I doubt anyone ever could. Green Gables letters always are the most affectionate ones; even if sometimes I am the only one who can feel and see it hidden between the lines.”
“Even if those lines are written by Mrs Rachel Lynde?” Priss asked.
Anne nodded eagerly.
“Even if,” she confirmed resolutely. “Mrs Lynde is a dear soul and a true Kindred Spirit, even if our first encounter seemed to prove the opposite; besides, it never is just Mrs Lynde that writes, although she addresses the envelopes to spare Marilla the trouble. Oh, I can’t wait to read about all the scrapes Davy has got himself in since the last time! I did not expect this letter to come for the next two days and now I can’t imagine delaying it for another minute!”
The three friends gifted her with the same bemused look before chuckling cheerfully.
“Well, in that case I suggest you go to your room at once, Miss Anne,” Phil advised with feign seriousness. “Otherwise you’ll just keep talking to us and we’ll never get to learn what this precious letters is really about.”
“I am not going anywhere.” Anne protested for the last time. “I will sit here for the whole time and share all of the best parts with you immediately. Oh, what a feast this is going to be!”
Post CW: It’s a straight-forward plan. All Tony has to do is mess with the time storage, destroy an unspeakable Evil that has already defeated them once and keep everyone alive. Whilst in the body of his ten year old self and relying on incomplete memories. Sounds simple, right? Of course then SHIELD goes and declares him a super villain.
Featuring tiny!Tony, protective!Winter Soldier and lots of broken laws. Why be good when the bad guys are so much more adorable?
I’ve finally done it and posted the first chapter of a longer story!!! If you’re interested, you’re welcome to read under the cut--or just go read it on AO3. This chapter was betaed by the talented @folklejend, thank you again for your help!!
Updates will be every Sunday.
Chapter 1: Reset
“ Nothing can be undone, only ever erased.”
.Earth.
Estimated chance of success: 21.83 %
Tony stares at the data on the screen with the closest thing to trepidation he’s still capable of.
“Not the worst odds I’ve gone up against,” he announces to the room at large, sarcasm sharpening the words into a weapon too twisted to be wielded against anyone but himself. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
No one answers.
Tony knocks back a vial filled with something worse than poison before he has to remember why that is.
* * * * *
“The procedure is unreliable. There is no telling how much of your knowledge will stay with you—or when it will manifest itself.”
“I know the risks.”
“I am not convinced you truly understand them, though.”
* * * * *
.New York.
Tony hits the ground hard enough to punch the air from his lungs, and for a long moment, it’s all too much.
The world is a bright clutter of swirling colours that hurt when he looks at them for too long. Beneath his fingers the floor is solid, hard but uneven, and scrapes his fingers when he rubs them over it in an attempt to hold on to something.
His every breath is a painful wheeze by this point, the air heavy with smoke, smells he can’t identify, and a weird sort of crackling electricity. Coughing, he forces his body into an upright position, thin arms shaking so hard he abstractly wonders whether he’ll hit the floor with enough force to break his nose this time, should they give out under him.
This first clear—if somewhat befuddled—thought is like a shot of ice water in that it shocks Tony’s system into full awareness again. He brushes the unhelpful tears away with a shaky hand, stares around what must have been a normal if unfamiliar café at one point.
The scene looks eerily reminiscent of the old black and white pictures from the war his father had shown him once. Overturned tables and chairs, shards of glass, abandoned plates and trampled food. People on the ground, same as Tony, some crying, some yelling, some not moving at all.
Someone stumbles into him, almost knocking him back to the ground again, and it’s then that he registers the noise. Screams. Breaking glass. Splintering wood. Hurried footsteps. Something crashes, loudly, and when Tony turns around, he sees what looks like a very odd car, smashed through a huge glass front. Out on the street, there are people everywhere, some running for cover, others in uniforms and protective gear fighting—each other?
It’s weird, all of it. A bit like a movie he’d watched a long time ago and forgotten the ending of, except Tony doesn’t forget endings. He’s good at memorising stuff, even Howard has said so.
“Take cover!” a gruff voice bellows somewhere above him and Tony doesn’t think, just reacts.
He dives, throwing his body sideways with all his strength. Rolls over his left shoulder to absorb the impact. Hits the ground in a graceless tumble all the same. There is a dull ache spreading in his shoulder, but Tony doesn’t pay it any mind. He’s too focused on crawling on all fours without cutting his palms and knees open, determined to reach an overturned table further in the back, when the world around him explodes in sharp needles and glimmering diamonds.
The window, Tony notes detachedly, hands curled around his head in a instinctive attempt to protect his face. His heart is hammering against his ribcage hard enough to break bones.
Cover.
Tony clenches his hands into fists. Presses his bony elbows against the ground. Pushes his body forward.
He needs to find cover. Now.
“Over there!” The voice is barely audible over the sound of rushing blood in Tony’s ears. “It’s Stark!”
Three men, all heavily-armed, are running towards him. He doesn’t recognise them, but two wear masks obscuring their features, so that doesn’t mean much. Of course, masks don’t usually mean anything good either. Tony is on all fours before he knows it, scrambling towards that stupid table as fast as he can, but then something gets a hold of his left foot. One harsh pull, and Tony is flat on the ground, groaning.
Again.
Gasping, he rolls onto his back to find a gun pointed at his chest. It’s a very big gun. Attached to a very big, masked man. Tony freezes.
“What are you waiting for?” the only unmasked one yells over the sound of a distant explosion that makes the ground vibrate faintly. “Shoot already!”
“The target doesn’t match the mission parameters,” the man with the gun replies.
Tony blinks up at the guy towering over him. He’s wearing black goggles that make it hard to tell whether he’s even looking at Tony, never mind reading his expression.
His partner gapes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” The man yells, face rapidly turning an interesting shade of red. “That’s Stark, right in front of you! I don’t care what version of him it is. Just pull the trigger, for fuck’s sake!”
It’s not something he usually does, but in this instant Tony will be the first to admit he’s got no clue what’s going on. Normally when he wakes up with a gun pointed at his head, it’s because people want something from him, from his father—not because they want to kill him. Usually he also doesn’t wake up in the midst of a battleground.
“The target doesn’t match the mission parameters,” Goggle-Guy replies in a monotonous voice that wouldn’t be out of place on a robot.
Maybe that’s what Goggle-Guy is. Maybe this is all a dream and Howard is right, Tony really reads too many science fiction books. The thought makes Tony giggle even though it isn’t all that funny, and once he starts, he can’t seem to stop. Not even with three armed men staring down at him incredulously.
Suddenly Goggle-Guy twists his upper body and, in a movement so fast it blurs before Tony’s eyes, he catches a car door that’s sailing through the already-destroyed glass windows. He catches a car door. Single-handedly. And throws it back outside like it’s a frisbee.
Tony stares, open-mouthed. “Woah,” he mutters, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. Then, “The force is strong within you, my friend,” because there is never not time for a Star Wars quote.
The reactions are immediate, if somewhat unexpected. The silent third man, who hasn’t even twitched in the face of Goggle-Guy’s impossible accomplishment, chokes. Goggle-Guy’s head snaps around, and this time Tony knows the man is looking at him, can almost feel the burn of the scarily-focused gaze on his skin.
It’s the unmasked man who breaks the tense atmosphere with a snarl. “I’ve had it with this bullshit!”
For a moment Goggle-Guy doesn’t react at all, but when he does, he’s not speaking English, he’s speaking Russian.
Whatever it is Goggle-Guy says, it doesn’t please Free-Face. “Are you for real?” he yells, outraged. “You know what, I’m sick of this! If you can’t get the job done, I’ll fucking do it myself!”
Free-Face reaches inside his ripped jacket and it takes Tony an unforgivable second to realise what the man is reaching for. And what the job is. Or, more precisely, who.
“Don’t!” the third one yells in an unexpectedly high voice, making a motion as though to reach out and grab Free-Face’s arm, but thinking better of it half-way through.
It’s too late anyway. Free-Face raises his weapon and Tony doesn’t even have the time to close his eyes before the first shot goes off, followed by a second and a third in close succession. They are harsh sounds that cut through the air like knives and grind against his already sensitive ears.
An agonising second passes before Tony’s brain catches up with the proceedings. He doesn’t hurt. Even the ache in his shoulder is dulled by the adrenaline flooding his system. Staring at his bloody hands, covered in cuts and small shards of glass, Tony is very glad for that.
He is also very confused. Surely he should notice getting shot, at least a little? But instead of solving the riddle, it seems like his mind is stuck on the “getting shot” part, unable to process the information and equally unable to move on.
Shock, Tony acknowledges on some level. I must be going into shock.
Followed by a dry, Thanks, brain. This does not help.
It takes Free-Face crumpling to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut for Tony to figure out that he hasn’t been shot. It’s Free-Face who’s been shot by Goggle-Guy.
Tony isn’t sure what to do with that information, except numbly watch the third man back away from Goggle-Guy with raised palms. He should be running himself right now, but he simply can’t muster up the brainpower to make a decision, never mind will his body into taking off.
When Goggle-Guy turns back to face him, Tony doesn’t have the energy to be afraid. He is tired, wrung out, and in pain. All he wants is for everything to stop, for the world that feels too bright and messy on his raw senses to make sense again.
“Just get me out of here,” Tony pleads plaintively.
To his genuine surprise, Goggle-Guy jerks his head once in acknowledgement and does as asked.
In the rubble they leave behind, a black figure slowly gets to their feet and stares after the departing man and his tiny companion, baffled.
“This is so not good,” they declare.
With a shake of their head, the figure turns on their heels and disappears without a trace into the chaos of the orchestrated villain attack.
pairing: yoonjin
multi-chaptered
ABO/mpreg/unplanned pregnancy
Omega!Jin, Alpha!Yoongi
Summary: Of all the bullshit Kim Seokjin could handle, he sure as hell didn’t know if he could handle this.
hi guys! i’m so sorry for the delay. i’ve rewritten this chapter a couple of times because i was either unsatisfied or it was just all over the place. however, i’m pretty happy with this one. the song that came on shuffle was this! enjoy reading and have a happy 2017!
the next day, it was hard not to pretend last night didn't happen. breakfast was so awkward. hoseok tried to lighten up the mood of his friends but his efforts were put into waste. well, at least seokjin gave him a light-hearted smile. yoongi kept staring at y/n causing her to shift uncomfortably on her seat.
"you're making her feel uncomfortable, yoongi. stop it." jin told yoongi through his telepathic ability. yoongi tore his gaze from y/n and looked at his hyung who was giving him a stern look.
"ready to leave for school, y/n?" taehyung asked once he finished his breakfast. he grabbed his blazer that was hanging on his chair and put it on.
"yeah, i'll just grab something upstairs." y/n replied to which taehyung nodded at. y/n excused herself, standing up from her seat and leaving the kitchen/dining area. the heels of her shoes clicked against the wooden floor, the sound echoing throughout the quiet dormitory.
when y/n disappeared from sight, jimin was the first one to speak. "do you think she remembers what happened last night?"
"i don't think she does." namjoon replied while nodding his head.
"is that a good thing or a bad thing?" hoseok asked, drinking his orange juice.
"i'm not so sure yet," namjoon said, leaning against his chair. "what do you think, yoon-," he turned towards yoongi but his seat was empty. "where's hyung?" their leader asked.
"sometimes, i think he teleports and just doesn't tell us." taehyung said, chuckling to himself.
you entered yoongi's bedroom in mild panic. okay, you were really in panic. the necklace, the one that you only had to remember your mother by, was missing. you didn't realize it until you searched for your phone in your bag and you didn't notice anything shiny in your bag's front pocket. you were thinking of the places you were in during the early hours of the morning - yoongi's bed, yoongi's shower.
"of course," you told yourself as you rushed inside the bathroom, opening the lights. "come on, please be here." you muttered under your breath as you searched for the piece of jewelry.
you went over to the sink, searched under it but found nothing. "fuck," you breathed out, feeling your heartbeat increase. "fuck, fuck, please, be here." you stood up, opened the medicine cabinet but found none. you noticed, however, a bottle of Ambien. "ambien?" you said, curiosity filling your system in.
"what the hell are you doing?" an angry voice caused you to shut the medicine cabinet quickly. you turned to the door and saw yoongi, eyes shooting daggers at you.
"i-i didn't mean to, i-i was-," you tried explaining but he walked towards you and you found yourself backing away. yoongi wasn't that taller than you, maybe a good 4 inches? but he was definitely intimidating and scary right now. "i'm sorry!" you squeaked when you felt your back pressed up against the cold glass of the shower cubicle.
"looking for this?" he asked, voice low and slow. you looked at his raised hand and your face broke into a smile when your necklace was hanging from his hand.
"you found it! thank you so much, yoongi!" you exclaimed, about to grab it from his hand but he moved it away from you.
"you think it's that easy? i caught you snooping around places you shouldn't even be touching in the first place," yoongi lectured, scoffing at you. "and you think apologizing will do?"
"well, it's what you do when you wrong people," you said, an edge to your voice. yoongi raised an eyebrow, a sudden change in demeanor. "i'm sorry, yoongi. i really am. i shouldn't have been snooping around your medicine cabinet but i was trying to find my necklace - it's very special to me because a very important person gave it to me. can i please have it back now?"
yoongi stared at you for a while and you looked at your shoes to distract yourself from his gaze. all of a sudden, you felt something cold against your neck and you looked up, eyes wide and filled with curiosity and saw yoongi placing the necklace around your neck. "w-what are you doing?"
"putting the necklace on you, what do you think?" yoongi answered, stepping back from you and placed his hands in his pockets.
your hand absent-mindedly made its way to the piece of jewelry around your neck. it was the first time you ever wore it and it felt... good. in a way, you found yourself at ease with the necklace close to you.
"boyfriend?" yoongi asked.
"huh?"
"did your boyfriend give that to you?"
you shook your head. "it's my mom's. i'm not sure if taehyung had told you guys or if i had and just don't remember but i grew up in an orphanage. my mom, she died giving birth to me and i don't know who my father is. this is the only thing i have to remind me that i did have a family."
yoongi was silent for a moment, lips pursed together. "it looks good on you." he said and walked away. he stopped once he was out of the bathroom, "don't tell anyone about what you saw in there." and then he was gone.
you sat down on one of the benches of the gym, your hands on your hips as you watched jimin play volleyball with other students. he had invited you to play with them but you kindly refused, telling the silver-haired boy that you didn't know how to play. which was a lie, of course. you did know how to play. you weren't exactly the best but you knew how the sport works.
the reason why you kindly (let us makes an emphasis on that) rejected jimin's offer was because you wanted to have some time for yourself. you remembered what happened last night - well everything until you fainted. you weren't sure why you did, however. you made a mental note to ask one of them later. you pushed the thought aside and the scenario with yoongi in the bathroom replayed in your mind. why was he so angry about you finding his sleeping pill? okay, maybe he was angrier that i snooped around his private belongings, you thought as you mentally slap yourself. of course yoongi would be mad, you would too. but there was more to it than him being mad - it was as if you had found out a secret of him and he was... scared, for lack of better words. well, there isn't something wrong about having insomnia, you said to yourself. god, you felt so stupid right now; you were talking to yourself while the rest of your classmates play volleyball.
suddenly, you felt a presence beside you. tilting your head to the side, you saw a familiar boy, oh sehun.
"you look like you're in deep thought," he remarked. "wanna share it?"
you shook your head no. "its fine, sehun. its nothing major anyways." you replied with a kind smile.
he nodded, lips pursed. he didn't say anything else, his gaze focused on the game which jimin's team was winning. sehun was wearing the school's boy's uniform; not the gym uniform. he also had his book bag sitting on his lap. his neck tie was loose, the top button of his uniform undone. he was breathing heavily, too, as if he had just ran a marathon. his hair was beautifully messed up. from your point of view, his high cheekbones, pointed noise and jawline made him seem like god himself made oh sehun. he was truly god-like and you might have felt a little jealous.
"enjoying the view?" sehun's teasing voice caused you to blush crazily.
fucking great, y/n, now you're officially a creep.
"well, my former teacher told me to appreciate the beauty in everything; you're beautiful, oh sehun." the words escaped your lips before you even knew it. your eyes widened, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hands in embarrassment.
sehun just chuckled in response. "you're something else, y/n." he said.
"mr. oh sehun, don't you have any class to attend?" the booming voice of your gym teacher, professor kim, made both you and sehun to turn to your head at her. "and miss y/l/n, i know you're new here and all but i'd appreciate it if you come here with the rest of the class."
nodding your head furiously, you stood up from your seat and started walking down to be with the rest of the class. a hand, however, stopped you. "i'll see you tonight." sehun said before swinging his book bag on his shoulder and started leaving the gym.
you didn't have time to process what the hell just happened with oh sehun because professor kim had already blown her whistle and started calling out names for the practical test, volleyball.
"what did he say?" jimin asked. you heard your name right after jimin's name was called out. you were in the same team.
"i-," you started but you were cut off by professor kim telling everyone to pick the first six players and write down the positions.
you sighed as your appointed team captain, wendy, put you in the first six with jimin. "can you play, y/n?" she asked.
"yeah, i know." you replied and jimin nudged your side.
"thought you said you couldn't?" he asked as wendy rushed to professor kim to hand out our first six.
you just shrugged at the pouting jimin.
"miss y/l/n!" you heard your name being called while you were on your way to the boys' table. it was lunch time already. you had originally wanted to spend it at the garden once more but jeongguk was already waiting outside your classroom by the time your class finished.
you turned around and saw your theater professor approaching you. he had a wide smile on his face and you felt yourself smiling back at him. he had a very infectious smile. "hi professor." you said, bowing lightly at him.
"y/n, have you signed up for the play?" he asked, straight to the point.
"uh, no, professor. i don't have any plans to." you replied.
"really? but you've been part of many plays back at your old school, won best actress too." professor yoo said, looking through something on the folder on his hands. "see? why don't you give it a try?" he said, showing you your student record.
"professor yoo, i've never been part-," you started but professor yoo was called by professor kim, telling him there was a faculty meeting.
"i'll be expecting you on friday, y/n." he handed you a leaflet and left to attend the meeting.
huh? that was all you could think of before you continued your way to the boys' table. you sat down beside hoseok, placing your tray on the table and the leaflet beside it. you noticed that jin was nowhere to be seen. "where's jin?"
"he won't be able to join us for a while. he's busy with apprenticeship." namjoon replied.
you nodded and started eating your lasagna. through your peripheral vision, you saw hoseok grab the leaflet and your eyes widened. "no!" you said, reaching for the leaflet while you chew your food. hoseok stood up and went over to namjoon, sitting in between him and yoongi. the rest of the boys huddled around him and you groaned.
"romeo and juliet?" namjoon read out.
"are you gonna audition for it, y/n?" taehyung asked with a smirk on his face.
"i'm not," you said and coincidentally, your eyes met sehun's from across the room. he was seated with a group of unfamiliar people. well, some were unfamiliar. you recognized byun baekhyun, a kid from math class and park chanyeol, a kid from chemistry. he gave you a coy smile and tore his gaze away from you.
"you didn't tell us you were into theater! jin hyung would be very happy." jimin said, causing you to turn your attention back to them.
"i don't even know..." you trailed off quietly. the boys started reciting the lines, hoseok as juliet and taehyung as romeo. jimin and a forced yoongi played juliet's and parents while namjoon played a doble cara of romeo's parents jeongguk laughed at his hyungs.
this is just amazing.
you didn't even realize that you fell asleep the moment you got back from school. you were awoken by jin, telling you something about mails. you mumbled something even you yourself didn't understand but jin laughed it off and told you to wake up because you were gonna help him with dinner. so, with a groan, you sat up from your (technically it was yoongi's bed), stretched your arms out and noticed two boxes sitting on the edge of the bed. you crawled over to it and saw a letter on top of the boxes.
you took the letter in your hand and a huge smile broke onto your face when you noticed the familiar handwriting of the woman who raised you - lily. with so much excitement, you opened the envelope and fished out the letter. you unfolded it and started reading.
y/n,
i hope you're doing well. don't worry too much about us, okay? we're doing fine, as well. you just focus on your studies and making friends. did you make any yet? honey, i know how terrifying make even just one friend but i hope you'll find it in yourself to create memories with someone, platonically or romantically. we miss you, all of us do. it's not the same without you here. miko misses you, especially. but don't fret, i told him we'll visit you once everyone's not so busy with their schedule.
honey, please eat well and remember that even though you might not have the answers to your questions about your parents in the end, you always have us - your family and we love you.
love,
everyone
you smiled, putting the letter closer to your heart. you made a mental note to write one later and send it tomorrow. you were really thankful that even though no one had adopted you, you still had a family with lily and the kids like miko back at the orphanage.
you placed the letter on your side and opened the first box. you opened it and gasped. it was a pair of silver stilettos. it wasn't the strappy kind of stilettos - it was simple with ankle straps. did they send this to me? and for what? you asked yourself. finally, you opened the other box. this one was larger than the first and there was a sticky note on the center. you picked the paper up and read it.
i told you i'll see you tonight. don't worry, i'm not gonna take you somewhere where your screams wouldn't be heard. i hope you like the dress and the shoes - not really sure what your size it so i based it on my intuition.
i'll pick you up at 7.
oh sehun
"what the fuck?" you muttered under your breath after you finished reading the note. you brought back your gaze on the box and your eyes widened. versace. "what the hell?" you opened the box and it revealed a silver silked clothing. you grabbed the thin straps of the dress and as you stood up, the dress revealed itself to be reaching the floor.
"y/n! jin hyung's loo- what's that?" the door to yoongi's room opened and you saw taehyung with hoseok standing at the doorway.
"um, i'm not sure..." you trailed off, laying the dress on the bed. "what were you saying?"
"y/n, were those your mail?" hoseok asked as they approached you.
"yes." you replied and saw taehyung picking up sehun's note. "tae, no!" you exclaimed as you tried grabbing the sticky note from his hand but he raised it higher while putting his large hand on top of your head. you never hated your height this much.
"oh sehun? you're going on a date with oh sehun?" taehyun asked, handing you back the note. "i didn't know you two were close."
"we aren't, this is really out of the blue. i don't even know, ugh." you groaned, running your hands through your hair in frustration.
"well, y/n, you might want to get ready, it's already 5:30." hoseok said, patting your head.
"yeah, we'll just tell the others you're preparing for your date." taehyung said as he motioned hoseok to leave the room.
"it is not a date!" you exclaimed as they made their way out. once they shut the door, you let out an exasperated sigh.
just what the hell are you thinking, oh sehun?
"she's what?!" jin practically screamed as taehyung announced to everyone y/n's date to everyone. his eyes were wide, one hand holding a spatula while the other was gripping the pan tightly.
namjoon and jeongguk stopped their tutoring session and raised their heads up to taehyung. namjoon slowly tilted his head to see their maknae with a solemn expression. jimin opened and closed his mouth but no words formed. yoongi, on the other hand, shrugged his shoulder.
"let's just be thankful it's not woo jiho or any of his members." yoongi said nonchalantly.
"i mean, i knew this would happen but it's so soon? and oh sehun? really? since when did they start hanging out?" jin asked, going back to cooking.
"y/n's seemed shocked, though, like she wasn't expecting this to happen, too." hoseok pointed out.
"at gym, they were talking. sehun said something to her before she went over to the rest of the class. this must be what he said." jimin said, running his fingers through his hair.
"maybe this is what headmaster lim's telling us," yoongi started and everyone turned their attention to him. he sat up straight. "it's just a theory, well, a guess, a hunch - whatever, the point is maybe she's sent here to, i don't know, spy on us or something? rule number three of the decalogue: protect the secrets of your brothers. you get what i mean? suddenly, oh sehun, part of one of the oldest societies beside ours and one of the most powerful, too, becomes interested in her. i think it's more than just a coincidence."
"or he just really likes her." taehyung said, exaggerating or.
"bullshit," yoongi replied. "oh sehun never picks random people to go on a date with - he tried her, remember? because she's powerful, she's one of a kind. y/n... there is something about her. what? i don't know but i intend to find out."
"you're blowing this way out of proportion, yoongi," seokjin said, shaking his head. "she may remind us of her but she isn't her. she's normal. she's human. she's not like us."
