#ALSO I’ve been very nice not to mention your mom giving me the stink eye every time we pass each other

[fabricated-misslieness]

Daniel Le Domas x gender neutral reader

Yo I hate Alex that motherfucker but also I think it’d be easier if Daniel killed Tony in the forest and then ran away with Grace, but I guess it’d be safe to bet that others left for the forest when the car got flipped.

Also for some reason my gifs aren’t workin

Requested: No

Word Count: 2847

Warnings: suggested use of drugs because Emilie exists, mentions of hypothetical violence, some angst i think, mentions of a gun in a world war themed board game

Normal AU where Le Domas are a ‘normal’ rich family, still weird, but no deal with the devil.

Servants, lavish parties, gourmet food, expensive alcohol, this was the life you might be inheriting. You say ‘might’ because you’re not married, nor are you getting married. 

Your partner, Daniel Le Domas, was born to a rich family, so he was entitled to all these privileges, not that he seemed quite fond of them. Deep down you knew he was, but he for sure didn’t make it clear.

“Don’t worry,” Speak of the devil. He reassures you, squeezing your hand as you walk down the halls to the music room. A music room, for god’s sake! Not speakers, not a radio, but their butler playing the piano. At least they didn’t have a ballroom, that would just be way extra. “We’re a normal family, I promise.”

“Normal?” You raise an eyebrow, gesturing to a nearby seemingly ancient, though you exaggerated that, portrait of a newlywed couple. “All the portraits I’ve seen so far are newlywed couples.” 

“That’s normal for rich families.”

“Haha.” You say sarcastically. “But seriously, you can’t even paint them in normal clothes? Not even family pictures of one of your many vacations?”

“First of all, who said we even had vacations?” You assumed they did, seeing as they were wealthy. Doesn’t the average rich person go on vacation twice a year? Whatever, who were you to assume? Though the thought of it is still a little peculiar, so you decide to question it.

“You don’t? No little tour over Europe? No visiting the seven wonders in the span of a week?” You go on and on, suggesting outlandish places.

Daniel nudges your side playfully to get you to stop. “No, haven’t even toured the US.”

You laugh, nudging him back. “You’re no fun, for a board game family.” You pluck a nearby board game from it’s shelf, Yankee Bayonet. Initially, you’d been attracted because of the gun on the box. It's world war one or two themed. “Well, can’t blame you. Don’t know how this would seem fun. What’s it even about?” You put the box back on display before Daniel can scold you for touching it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There’s so many games, and I’ve barely played a quarter of them. That one, however,” he points at a box further down the hallway, “that one I play-tested as a kid. It’s somewhat fun.”

“Somewhat.”

As you near the end of the hallway, your eyes land on a portrait of Charity. You stop, which makes Daniel stop too. For a second, he’s confused, until he looks up at the portrait. Immediately, he turns to survey you. Among every emotion dancing in your eyes, he catches disturbance, nervousness, and most importantly, a splash of disgust. “Charity.” You say a little bitterly.

“Charity.” He repeats. “That’s where our painting used to be.” He cups your cheek and pulls you to look at him, putting his other hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You shake your head, putting one hand on his hip and the other on the hand resting on your cheek. “It’s nothing. If I’m going to be with you, I’m going to have to face your family.” Daniel smiles, giving you a quick peck on the nose. He’s glad you’re so willing to get to know them, especially with how much he’s down-talked them, to put it lightly. “The only thing that confuses me is why this is still here. She’s your ex-wife.”

“They took a liking to her.” The both of you grimace. “She was just as crazy as them. Honestly, I don’t see what they see in her. But,” He takes your hand and presses a kiss on it. “I won’t let her bother you. If you want, I’ll even flaunt our relationship more than I would’ve.”

You shake your head, turning towards the next corridor. “No need. I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words, “I’ll be fine.”

You were not fine, in fact, you were a fish out of water. Standing next to the family, you felt severely underdressed, even when you’d gone out your way to wear something fancy. Though that wasn’t the biggest problem. They were all very distinct, but they fit into the family. Of course, they were family, but it made you feel like an outcast.

“(y/n),” Becky greets you with a smile. You offer her a hand, but she gives you a hug instead. You barely manage to reciprocate it. “I’m delighted that you came for a visit."

You give her the best smile you can, hoping she doesn’t notice it’s fake. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” You’d really thought that meeting the family would go smooth, honestly though, how could you? These were rich people, your lifestyle, mannerisms, nothing was even remotely similar to theirs.

“Oh, thank you.” She hands you a glass of champagne which you gingerly take, just to be polite. “I hope you can bring my son back to his old self. He’s never been the same since the divorce!” Before she can take you off towards a couch somewhere, Daniel stops her. He’d excused himself for some whiskey when you made it to the entrance and promised he’d make it quick.

“Mom.” He scolds lightly. He takes the drink from your hands and leaves it on a servant’s tray, knowing you’re not one for fancy champagne.

“Daniel.” Her face lights up. She gives him a quick hug, which you notice Daniel is a bit uncomfortable in. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She teases.

Daniel nods rather stiffly, moving to your side and taking your hand almost immediately. “Been busy.” The whole family knows that ‘busy’ meant being with you, yet he covers up for it anyway.

“I know, I know. They’re a nice catch, by the way.” Becky pats you on the shoulder, a gesture both you and Daniel seem to dislike. “Well, I better not keep you for any longer. I’m sure the rest of the family is eager to meet you.” For some reason, you highly doubt that. 

Becky leaves you for another glass of champagne. Daniel turns to you once she’s gone. “You okay?” He holds your hands in his in the hopes it’ll comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He can tell you’re lying, you’re not hiding it very well. He gives you a knowing look, pushing you to tell the truth. “Alright, I’m not okay. Charity and your aunt have been eyeing me up since we arrived, your dad looks way older than your mom, Emily and Finch seem too happy to be real, your nephews are creepy, and Alex and Grace both look like they want to leave. That’s not reassuring, now is it?” Your ever rising tone makes Daniel squeeze your hands to stop you.

“Honey, they’re harmless.” He knows that’s an awful way of reassuring someone, but he knows that no matter what he says, you’ll still be doubtful.

You frown, letting out a sigh through your nose. “I know they’re harmless, but..” You bite your lip, trying to find a way to sugar coat your words. “Charity looks like she wants to kill me and your aunt looks like she could skin me alive without even blinking.”

“Look,” He brings his hands to cup your cheeks. “there’s nothing to worry about. From now on, I won’t leave your side. And if I need a refill, I’ll bring you with me. I love you.”

You sigh again, closing your eyes. In the end, you nod, opening them back up to look at him. “I love you too.”

“Good,” He brings you in for a chaste kiss. “Let’s go fuck them, like mom says.”

"She really says that?"

Daniel was right, they were harmless. Well, you hadn’t talked to Charity, but at least you’d talked to the second person giving you a serial killer look, aunt Helene.

Turns out the stink eye was her resting face and that her husband had died tragically. It was the main reason she looked so miserable. She was most likely merely reminiscing about her husband while looking at you two, the newest couple in love. If anything, it made you feel bad for her.

"I'm pretty sure I saw her take a pill like a shot in the hallway." You side glance Emilie as Daniel pulls you off to the side. You were just done talking to her, and somehow, even with all that parental stress, her smile was genuine. She was happy and extremely friendly. Well, so was her husband, but even he had a bit of awkwardness in him. "She's not suffering from anything, is she?"

Daniel shrugs, "Not that I know of."

He sits the both of you down on a loveseat out of earshot from the rest. "Now, we only have to wait until dinner." You nod. "But I have something to tell you. When somebody marries into the family, they have to play a game. It's just tradition. Play the game and you're part of the family, but win it, and you'll gain respect. Might as well get some practice in, right?"

"Did you just propose to me?" You mean it as a joke, but Daniel shrugs and reaches into his pocket. It's a wonder how people aren't looking over right now, well, apart from Charity.

"This is a claddagh ring. It's been sitting in my pocket for ages." He says as he pulls it out of the box. The majority of the ring is normal, but in the middle is a heart with a crown on it. "But, it's up to you how you want to wear it."

"So is this a proposal or..?"

He gives you a quick rundown on the meanings. On the right hand crown pointing towards the fingerprints is single and looking, towards the wrist is taken, on the left ring finger crown pointing towards the fingertips is engaged, and pointing to the wrist is married. Obviously, you're not married or single, so that leaves taken or engaged; and he's giving you that decision.

"You want me to choose?"

Daniel looks like he's regretting his spontaneous and presumably drunken decision. But with a swig of his drink, he smiles again. "Yes. I mean, we've talked about marriage and all but I wasn't sure if you'd be ready. I'm still not sure, but now that you know about it, you might as well wear it."

You admire the ring as you weigh your options. Daniel takes your free hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, especially your ring finger.

Engagement is the brightest thing in your heart and mind, despite that, it still finds doubts. Your in-laws, they were weird. But they didn't have anything to hide, they were harmless. On the plus side, you loved Daniel.

That was the final push. You grab Daniel's left hand, sliding the ring down his ring finger with the crown pointing to the fingertips.

Daniel's left hand curls around your right, the metal feels cold against your skin, despite all your fiddling. You look up at him, seeing his brows furrowed with confusion. You speak up before he can, "I might as well be proposing to you, if you're giving me the decision."

Daniel laughs, giving you a kiss followed by an eskimo kiss. He isn't usually one for eskimo kisses, but you figure it's happiness. "Okay, but I'll buy you one."

"Deal." You give him a final kiss before pulling him off the seat. "What should we play?"

"Well, first we have to go to the game room."

"The game room?"

You were hoping the game room was the room with the double doors painted with the name 'Le Domas', seeing as they were a board game family, but apparently not. "It's reserved for family, so technically you're not allowed in. But, we have a game room for parties." Daniel explains on the way. Rich people and their special rooms…

Once inside, Becky plucks a family board game from the shelf, no doubt a Le Baile product. Before you can join them at the couch, however, Charity pulls you off to the side.

Daniel follows, putting his arm around your shoulder protectively. Charity glares at him for a second before turning back to you, it was clear she wanted you alone. "Care for a game of chess?"

"Usually, we play more traditional games, stuff that would be here during my great-great-grandfather's time. He founded the company but the family tradition comes from before most of the games they've created." He whispers quickly into your ear. Due to the quickness, you almost fail to comprehend his words, but luckily you understand them.

"Alright." You agree to the game. Charity leads you over to the chess table, where conveniently, the chess board is already set out.

Daniel pulls a chair from seemingly out of nowhere, setting it down to your side, much to Charity's distaste.

"I got chess when I married in." Somehow she manages to avoid bitterness in her tone. "You should go first."

God, you barely knew the basics.

"So tell me about yourself." Charity speaks up.

You give her a quick rundown, which hopefully doesn't reveal any information that she could use to her advantage. "Interesting." She takes your bishop. "From what I've heard Daniel say, I expected the worst." 

Daniel narrows his eyes at her as a warning, though Charity doesn't see. Her eyes are glued to the board.

"I don't know why he'd leave me for you."

"Charity." Daniel warns her.

Charity holds her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm only speaking my mind. But I'll stop now."

She does stop for the remainder of the game, nevertheless there's no doubt in your mind that she has a lot more to say. She beats you quite easily, though she seemed disappointed when the reward was not getting to remarry your new fiancé. It's either that or you'd read her wrong.

"You have much to practice." Becky remarks, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. "But, you'll get there." She smiles.

You smile back, standing up from your chair. Daniel does so too, almost protectively. He stares ahead towards Charity. The two seem to be having a glaring contest. You decide to ignore them, "I don't know about that."

"Oh, sure you will." Her eyes trail towards your hands when you intertwine them.

"I didn't see that there before. Claddagh ring, left ring finger pointing up." She continues to stare, a little disrespectfully. She notices this before it becomes moderately disrespectful. "You're engaged." Her smile widens.

Her words catch everyone's attention. Almost immediately, Emilie runs over with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Congrats!" She exclaims, reaching out to hold your hand but stopping when she sees it connected to Daniel's. "I can't wait to have you in the family!"

"Thanks."

"They're not normal." You remark as you sit next to Daniel on the bed. The family had insisted that you stay the night, and while that was quite sweet of them, you really wanted to get out of there. They were no longer creepy or ominous, but you want a break. You weren't feeling as social as you did when you came in.

"Can't judge what normal is when they're the only family I've met." Daniel brings the blanket over your legs. "Sorry, anyway."

You shrug, planting a kiss on his forehead. "It's alright. Though that proposal was a little spontaneous."

At the mention of the proposal, Daniel shifts his ring around on his finger. "I was drunk, still am. At least I got it out of my chest. Who knows how long I'd keep it in my pocket otherwise."

"Knowing you, it'd be months, maybe a year."

"Hey!" Daniel whines, nonetheless, it's followed up by a laugh.

You can't help but give him a kiss again, this time on his temple. Daniel moves closer afterwards, pulling you into a proper kiss on the lips.

"Did you like them?" He asks when you pull apart.

You shake your head side to side in a more or less motion. "Mostly. Charity is Charity, you know. Your dad seemed to only focus on the engagement, I think I saw Emilie snort something, I don't know what to feel. Well, your mom is nice, maybe a little too nice. She hopes that I make you behave like you, but I wouldn't know how that is."

"So that's what she was talking to you about." He bites his lip for a second. "Well, don't worry. I believe I behave the way 'I used to' around anybody that isn't them, apart from Alex and Grace."

"Reassuring." You say sarcastically, laying down.

"Seriously? Can't tell the difference?" He lays down, cupping your cheek and allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

"Honestly, yeah. It's a little concerning." You nuzzle into his hand.

"Well, don't be. We'll be back home in no time. After breakfast, though, they're going to insist on that." You groan at the thought. Daniel simply laughs in reply, turning off the lamp.

"Goodnight, sweet dreams. Love ya."

"Love you too."

#daniel le domas x reader #ready or not fanfiction #craving fic #daniel le domas x gender neutral reader #fluff

[quicksilversquared]

More than a Match

Felix Graham de Vanily is back in Paris for the summer, determined to make amends with his cousin. While standing in for Adrien at a photoshoot, he has to deal with a most disagreeable character by the name of Lila.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. There can only be one winner here, and Felix is not about to lose.

links in the reblog

Felix Graham de Vanily was more than a little apprehensive about returning to Paris for his mom's summer movie shoot, and for good reason.

The last time that he was in the city, he had caused no small amount of chaos. He had threatened his relationship with Adrien over a (in retrospect) petty, poorly-considered attempt at revenge- how badly their friendship had been damaged really remained to be seen- and gotten off on the wrong foot with all of Adrien's friends, which could make finding people to hang out with more than a little difficult. During that same revenge attempt, he had truly behaved poorly towards one of the city's superheroes, and he would have to try to apologize for it if he could get close to the superheroes again without endangering his life. On top of that, he had palmed his uncle's ring, which- well, was it really stealing when Mr. Agreste had gotten them through less-than-honest means in the first place?- with the full expectation that it would be at least a year before he and his mom returned to Paris, so his uncle might have simmered down by then.

It hadn't been anywhere near a full year yet. His uncle would no doubt still be furious about the retrieval of the ring, and so Felix had to be very careful with it.

Right now, that meant wearing the ring on a strong chain around his neck, hidden under his shirt. If he was going to be spending more than the odd minute here or there in the Agreste mansion, he and his mom might end up looking into getting a safe box for them to lock the ring up in, so that his uncle wouldn't steal it back.

"Don't let on that you're nervous," his mom coached as their train pulled into the Paris stop. "Be confident, don't react to questions about the rings. With a little luck, perhaps your uncle will assume that he misplaced it. Emilie always said that he would mess with his ring when he was designing and she was worried that he'd end up taking it off and misplacing it for good. He's already called me once demanding the ring back and I told him that we didn't have it and maybe he had just lost it."

Which meant that Felix could just act bored about the accusation instead of being surprised. That was useful information.

"I also got us an apartment that's a bit further outside of the city center," his mom continued after a moment. "Both to stay out of the way of the majority of the akuma attacks, and to give us some space from your uncle. We're near a subway line, though, so it'll be easy enough to go and visit."

Felix nodded. His mom had already mentioned that, and he knew that there was a third reason, too: apartments of a decent size close to the city center were expensive. Their family might be wealthy, but (largely due to his father's influence, Felix suspected) they still had never be people to throw money around without due consideration first. "But Uncle Gabriel won't bother to come out and bug us?"

"Of course not. When was the last time that he left that house of his? And if he does- well, I have no problems with kicking up a legal stink. Gabriel would do well to remember that the only reason he has connections to the Mayor's family is because of Emilie and I, so he has no advantage there." Amelie sniffed. "Not that he'll bother to remember that. If anyone asks him, I'm sure he would say that he worked himself up from nothing and made all of his connections himself with his superior bargaining skills."

"Ah, yes, the scowling and yelling and refusing to meet in person is very persuasive, I had forgotten."

Amelie laughed. "Yes, exactly. Emilie was the one who handled more of the PR and meetings with investors, really. If Gabriel had been trying to do it himself, he would have failed miserably." She shrugged, turning back to him with a large smile. "Don't let your uncle ruin your summer, Felix. He roars and rages a lot, but he's always been all bark and no bite."

Felix nodded, taking a steadying breath as the train came to a complete stop and they got up, reaching for their bags. "Right. Of course."

Somehow, he got the impression that that would be easier said than done.

  Really, it- it wasn't as terrible as Felix had thought. The summer had started out slowly- he had seen Adrien at dinner shortly after arriving in Paris, and then Felix had spent a week and a half entertaining himself while his mom started filming on the movie and his cousin finished up his school year.

It wasn't bad, really. He found a small bookstore that was cool and quiet, and he settled down there in a corner to read. It was nice and it was peaceful.

Alas, it was not to last. His mom expected that he would go hang out with Adrien, and so... Felix did. The first three times that he went over, the two of them simply hung out in Adrien's room for part of the day and played some of the video games that Adrien had around. His cousin seemed on high alert at first- Felix certainly noticed fewer things lying around his room, and there were several things with locks on them that hadn't had locks before- but willing enough to try again. By day three, their conversations were far more relaxed, and Adrien spent nearly an hour telling Felix about all of his friends. He wasn't bragging about having them, Felix could tell, but was just genuinely happy to have them and wanted to share that with him.

...unfortunately, Felix knew that it was more likely than not that a large number of Adrien's friends would not be very thrilled to meet him. He had not made a particularly good first impression, to say the least, and they- unlike Adrien- had not had any other interactions with him to go by. Felix didn't resent them for their judgement of him (after all, he rather deserved it, he could admit that much) but it would make meeting them a bit awkward, particularly if Adrien hadn't had a chance to mention how things were going now first.

Or if Felix hadn't done anything obvious to make amends for his earlier behavior. Thankfully, an opportunity to both put off the inevitable meeting and to make things up to Adrien properly practically fell in his lap after Nathalie scheduled a photoshoot right when Adrien was hoping to get together with his friends.

Or, rather, when Adrien had put a meet-up with his friends on his schedule and Nathalie deleted it last-minute to replace it with yet another photoshoot, because apparently she didn't know the meaning of fun. Or being nice, or kindness, or not being a terrible human being, really.

"Are- are you sure that you want to model, Felix? It's not exactly the most fun thing in the world."

Felix nodded resolutely, glancing towards his cousin's door and hoping that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "You want to be with your friends, and I would like to make a good impression this time around before meeting them anyway. It's no big deal. I can sit and make clothes look good for an hour or two."

At last, Adrien nodded in agreement. "I- okay, if you're sure. I'll text you the time and location, so you have it, and-"

"Won't your bodyguard be expecting to drive you there?"

Adrien paused. "...oh. Oh, yeah."

Felix tried not to sigh. Oh, yes was right. Clearly logistics weren't his cousin's strongest point.

"Well, I can ask him to bring me there early, so that I can have some time to relax in the park!" Adrien said after a moment's thought. "And then we can meet and swap outfits there- or I'll bring an extra, actually, it'll be less hassle. It'll be harder for me to get to Marinette's place from there, but I'll manage it. There's a bus line nearby that'll get me close enough."

"Your father actually lets you out enough for you to know how to take the bus?" Felix inquired, unable to help feeling a little incredulous. His cousin hadn't been allowed to walk to his collège, which was only a few mere blocks away, so he had assumed that his uncle had required use of the chauffeured car for all of his other travel. "Count me impressed."

A quick grin flashed across Adrien's face. "He doesn't let me out, exactly. I tend to sneak out. And then, of course, I need to know how to get where I'm going fast, or else I'll get picked up by the Gorilla right away before I have a proper chance of escape."

...that was just sad.

"Anyway, I should probably coach you if we're actually going to do this. You know, give you some pointers and all. Uh." Adrien twisted his ring around, glancing up at the ceiling as though that was going to help him any. "Um."

Felix rolled his eyes. "I hardly think that I'll need extensive coaching to be able to sit in front of a camera and pose."

"Yes, but-"

"Will I need to know several dozen poses to do in rapid-fire succession? I've heard that some models do that."

Adrien sighed. "No, Simon prefers to take more organic shots. I've been learning the fast poses on my own, in case I ever get a photographer who needs that or if I end up branching out and start modeling for catalogues instead of just ads, but Father prefers Simon's artistic vision. So he'll tell you what he wants in general, then give tweaks. Like, there's some moving my head around, maybe, but..." He trailed off, shrugging.

Well. If Felix actually needed any advice to pass off as Adrien during the photoshoot, he was pretty certain that he would be more or less out of luck. With advice like that, it would be a wonder if he wasn't left completely unprepared when he arrived.

"I've not had, like, professional training as a model or anything," Adrien added after a moment. "It's all been informal, which is maybe a bit unusual considering what father's like the rest of the time, but maybe it's good for publicity somehow or something." He shrugged, looking remarkably unbothered by the prospect of his father basing his decision on how to treat Adrien during photoshoots on what would sell best. "So just listen to Simon and don't forget to look towards the camera unless he tells you otherwise, and don't be too stiff but don't slouch, either, and-"

Felix tried not to sigh.

  "If- if Lila's there, just- ugh. Just don't agree to anything she says, and- well, she still tries to lie to me all the time, even though I know better than to trust anything she says. She loves manipulating people, so..."

Adrien's comment about his sometimes-coworker- probably the most intriguing and useful part of his "advice" for the photoshoot once he actually managed to think of something to say- ran through Felix's head as he arrived at the site for the photoshoot, a lovely little park in a less busy part of the city. This Lila character sounded like trouble, and he wasn't much interested in trouble. Or in being manipulated, for that matter.

How very fortunate, then, that Felix had more than a little experience with manipulation. He would be able to spot any attempts coming from a mile away. From what Felix could gather, this Lila person was a sloppy manipulator at best, relying on flashy stories and crocodile tears to keep her influence. They were things that would perhaps work in the short term but would wear off and become ineffective in the long run, particularly once people started picking up on inconsistencies. Eventually, things would backfire on her, and then she would be left alone and hated.

Felix preferred more subtle manipulation, and (unless he was not thinking clearly) only when a situation warranted it. A little nudge here and there to increase the odds of things going his way was rather different than Lila's graceless shoves to make everything go her way, to get the kind of popularity that Lila clearly wanted. His technique was sustainable- after all, infrequent manipulations were less likely to be picked up on- while hers was not.

His cousin hadn't really said much about Lila other than to mention that she might be there and to not fall for her lies, but Felix already disliked her.

"Felix! You got here all right, good!"

Felix pushed away his thoughts and smiled as Adrien ran up. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, presumably with an identical outfit to the one that he was wearing. "Yes, I've had sufficient down time to figure out the system. It wasn't hard to puzzle out."

"Oh, great." Adrien glanced around, clearly making sure that he wasn't being followed, and then passed his bag off to Felix after pulling a smaller bag out from inside of it. "I have an identical outfit in here. Are you good, or...?"

"I'll be fine," Felix assured him. "Go on, go hang out with your friends." He paused and considered Adrien. "Ah, are you going to wear a disguise or something? You know, in case anyone takes pictures of you and posts them?"

Adrien nodded, pulling- surprise, surprise- a baseball hat and a large pair of sunglasses out of his bag. "Yeah, this will work fine! There's plenty of guys in France with blond hair, so as long as my hair isn't visible and they can't see all of my face..."

Felix hoped, for Adrien's sake, that that actually somehow worked and he didn't run into any of his more fanatical fans. Maybe the most basic of disguises would work against most of the population, but there were a few weirdos who probably prided themselves on being able to identify his cousin with the smallest of clues.

"Anyway, hopefully it'll work," Adrien finished after a moment's pause. He glanced back at Felix. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Positive. Go."

Adrien went. Felix watched him for a minute, then made a beeline for the public restrooms building that he had seen earlier. He hated the idea of changing in it, truth be told, but he hardly had a choice.

...well, maybe he could have coordinated outfits with Adrien yesterday and only had to fiddle with his hairstyle at the park instead, but hindsight was 20/20.

Despite Felix's worries, the bathrooms weren't bad at all. He changed quickly and did a fast brushing of his hair into Adrien's hairstyle- it was a little difficult to account for the difference in their hair length in a few places, but he managed it well enough- before leaving the restroom and tracking down the plaza where the photoshoot would be taking place. It was a fairly basic set-up, honestly- a small trailer with the outfits to be worn in it, an equally small tent for changing, a couple chairs for touch-ups to makeup and hair with a screen nearby to block the wind. A few things for lighting and the photography equipment were scattered around, but otherwise it was incredibly minimal.

He had to wonder what normal shoots- ones that weren't solely for the boss's son- looked like. Surely not everything that Gabriel did was so low-budget.

"Ah, Adrien, you're on time- early, even!" A man with a camera hanging around his neck- Simon, Felix assumed- appeared behind him, clapping him on the shoulder and making Felix startle. He chuckled. "That's a nice change from the past couple shoots, hmm?"

Felix only nodded, not sure what to say. In all honesty, he hadn't been expecting the photoshoot's staff to be talking to him much, other than to issue directions for the shoot itself. If he had known that they were likely to be chatty, he would have asked Adrien more questions.

Thankfully, Simon seemed willing enough to move on, immediately turning to the job at hand. The first outfit that "Adrien" was supposed to wear was already in the tent, so if he could just go ahead and change so that they could get started...

Felix was more than willing to comply. The sooner they started, then maybe the sooner they would finish. And while Felix didn't exactly have anything else that he wanted to do- hanging out at his cousin's house while Adrien wasn't there didn't sound like fun, nor was he particularly interested in crashing Adrien's friends' get-together- it was hot outside and changing into a dozen different outfits in quick succession and getting poked and prodded at wasn't Felix's idea of a good time.

Three outfits in, and Felix noticed a girl lingering around the edges of the photoshoot area. She wasn't getting shooed off by security, which meant that it was incredibly likely that she was meant to be there. And sure enough, a minute later, the girl headed into the second half of the changing tent.

That must be the Lila that Adrien had warned him about. Felix had rather hoped that he would get lucky and not have to deal with the liar, but apparently luck wasn't on his side today.

Or was it? Felix gave that a minute's thought. He had been a bit bored thus far, and doing a bit of manipulative sparring might be just the thing to spice up his afternoon. Little Miss Terror wouldn't be expecting it- after all, Felix didn't doubt that Adrien's approach to Lila was rather on the tepid side- and it might be amusing to throw her off her game. Going too far might alert her to the fact that he wasn't actually Adrien, though, and she might tattle, so that added another level of complexity, another thing to think about.

He was so busy trying to figure out how strong he would want to come off that he completely missed Lila snaking up behind him until thin arms slid around him in an entirely unexpected (and unwelcome) hug.

"Adrien! I'm so happy that we get to work together again!" Lila cooed, leaning forward to try to press a kiss to Felix's cheek. She missed when he dodged, just enough to get out of her path but not so far that it would look obvious. Lila pouted, but didn't make more of a fuss. "Aren't you?"

"Mmhmm," Felix murmured noncommittally, disengaging himself from Lila's groping hold smoothly to step away and move into the next pose that Simon had wanted. Lila was forced to back off for the remainder of Felix's solo shots, and then he could escape into the tent to change while she did a few solo shots of her own.

And then came the duo shots, aka the absolute longest forty-five minutes of Felix's life.

(Well. Okay, maybe there had been some other instances when time had stretched out far longer, but as far as normal everyday situations went- well, then this ranked waaay up there.)

Things had gone smoothly when Felix was on his own. Despite never having done photoshoots before- or at least clothing photoshoots, he had posed for a few family portraits over the year- he had gotten the hang of it right away. He followed Simon's instructions with little need for further correction, and the photographer had been beaming.

With Lila added to the mix, though? All of that was completely shot. She was completely unprofessional, and quite handsy to boot. Felix managed to get away from her hands most of the time, dodging where he could and stepping smoothly away to make it look natural, but it was absolutely aggravating.

Thankfully, he got a bit of a reprieve when he loudly complained that she had wrinkled the sleeve of the light coat that he was modeling with her vice grip on his arm and she got scolded.

Unfortunately, that reprieve only lasted for five minutes before she was right back at it. She didn't hold on nearly as tight as before when he had longer sleeves on, sure, but other than that there was no real change. If anything, she was brushing her hands over his shoulders and arms more often than before.

Needless to say, by the time the last picture of the last set of clothes had been snapped, Felix was more than eager to be done, change back to his- well, Adrien's- normal clothes, and be rid of the Italian pest for good.

But Lila clearly had other ideas.

"Oh, I think we could pose for a few more minutes, don't you, Adrien?" Lila purred, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Felix could see where her fake eyelashes were starting to come detached. Clearly she had no idea how to apply them correctly, considering that they had been crooked to start with. "Maybe some, ah, closer poses? Oh! I know! Summer romance always sells, right?"

Felix raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Slick, she was not. Her attempts at manipulation couldn't be any more heavy-handed. Or more distasteful. "I'll pass on that, thanks."

Lila's pout grew. "You don't want to? I think it would be fun! I thought that we were friends." The last word was bitten out with a bit of an edge to it, an unspoken threat. Felix had no idea what it was meant to be.

Forget his cousin coaching him about modeling, clearly Felix had needed more insider info on how to interact with Adrien's friends and classmates.

"It is far too hot outside to be close to anyone," Felix countered tartly, refusing to let himself pause in the conversation. "We have a number of photos already. I see no need to risk heat stroke for more. Additionally, this is a clothes company, not a manufacturer of cheap romance novels, and there was nothing about summer romance in the shoot briefings."

Lila's eyes narrowed. Felix refused to back down.

"Adrien is right," Simon said, glancing over his notes. "And if the shoot goes much longer, we'll go into overtime, and Mr. Agreste hates that. It costs the company money, you know. So we're done for the day. Thank you for your work."

Felix murmured a quick thank-you in return. Lila looked as though she had maybe swallowed a lemon. Before she could recover and come up with a new ploy, Felix turned and strode off to the changing tent to switch back into Adrien's normal outfit as fast as he could.

He made sure to keep a suspicious eye out for any unusual ripples in the fabric of the tent. Felix didn't trust Lila to not try to sneak a peek of him changing. She seemed to have a complete lack of respect for normal boundaries and more than a slight fixation on him (or, rather, his cousin), so Felix wouldn't put it past her to try to look or even snap a picture.

A picture would probably be the more appealing option to Lila, if he was reading her right. Properly hidden so that no one else would discover that she had it, it would make valuable blackmail to get Adrien to play along with her little games.

One final change later, Felix exited the tent to see Lila talking with Nathalie. From the look of it, she had been the one to approach Nathalie rather than the other way around- after all, Nathalie had been standing in the same spot for most of the shoot- and she seemed to be trying to persuade Nathalie of something. And- odder yet- Nathalie actually seemed to be listening.

Felix frowned at that. Nathalie actually listening to someone who wasn't her boss? That was unusual, not to mention incredibly suspicious- and so was the entire inclusion of Lila in the Gabriel photoshoots, honestly. Why would Nathalie- and by natural extension, Mr. Agreste- want to bother working with someone like Lila? She was hardly a talented model. Even though she had had more experience with photoshoots than Felix had, and it was Felix's first time modeling to boot, she had needed more direction (and redirection) than he had. She rarely did exactly as the photographer asked, particularly with several shots alongside "Adrien". She preferred making her poses more flirty and having her hands on "Adrien" whenever she could, even arguing with the photographer about the poses he wanted. Lila was hardly any great beauty, either, and her atrocious hairstyle wasn't doing her any favors. And she was hardly rich or famous to start with, despite what she reportedly liked claiming.

Surely Mr. Agreste and Nathalie wouldn't fall for her lies. Maybe they weren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they had enough experience to navigate what his father had always referred to as shark-infested waters of the business world. They should be able to pick up on the lies and manipulation without a problem.

...so why was she here? What was Mr. Agreste getting out of their arrangement? Besides higher bills from photoshoot staff because of Lila holding things up, of course.

Felix didn't like this. Not at all.

Nathalie finally nodded, making a note on her tablet, and then she and Lila parted ways. Felix glanced away at once- he didn't want to appear to be inviting her over, after all, he had already had more than enough of her for the day- but he could see her making a beeline for him regardless. Felix deliberately stepped away, headed for Adrien's bodyguard. He would very much prefer to go back to the house now, but Lila was faster.

Faster, and had very sharp nails.

"Surely you weren't about to run off without saying good-bye?" Lila crooned, her voice so sickly sweet that it nearly made Felix gag. "How rude."

"If you put holes in this shirt with your nails, my father will hear about it," Felix warned her instead of replying with a cutting comment about how hypocritical it was of her to call anyone rude. Lila only scoffed and tightened her hold, ignoring his words just as he had ignored hers.

"I feel like you're forgetting about our arrangement, Adrien." Lila's voice had dropped to a hiss. "Or do you want everyone to turn on Marinette, hmm? Think about it."

She didn't give him a chance to respond before giving his arm another painful squeeze and flouncing away, trailing her fingers across his chest as she went. It was probably just as well that she left, really, because Felix really wasn't sure what to say about that.

What kind of arrangement his cousin had with that wretched girl, Felix didn't know, but he didn't doubt that it was neither a good one nor a smart one. Considering that it apparently involved threats against one of Adrien's friends- the friend Adrien had gushed about the most over the past couple of days, coincidentally- there really was no way that it could be a good arrangement.

He brought it up with his mom that night, bringing up the fact that Adrien had thought to warn him about Lila and her lies, but he hadn't mentioned the harassment- the sexual harassment, really, considering the fact that Lila had tried to kiss him and rub her hands all over his chest- that was clearly normal for her interactions with him. That seemed like a rather important thing to mention, and the fact that he hadn't...

"Adrien's probably been raised not to raise a fuss," his mom said once she was done ranting and raving about shameless harlots and the adults who enabled them. "Or- you mentioned some sort of deal. Adrien might have decided the best way to protect his other friend was by just tolerating this monster, because no one's taught him better."

Felix blinked. He had heard his mom criticize her sister before, but not since her disappearance. It was a bit strange to hear, honestly, no matter how the indirect the criticism was, but he wasn't going to point it out.

"Emilie wouldn't want someone harassing Adrien," Amelie said after a minute of angry muttering under her breath. "I'm sure she would have taught him about exceptions to the whole politeness rule after he started attending school and running into less savory people. And she would want me to step in now." Her fingers started tapping against the table, an angry staccato as she thought. After a couple minutes, she spun to face Felix with an eager clap of her hands.

Felix, who was more than used to this sort of behavior by now and who had resumed eating his dinner while she thought, merely raised an eyebrow and set his fork back down on his plate neatly.

"You said that Adrien has regular photoshoots with this girl, correct?" Amelie asked eagerly. Felix nodded at once, raising an eyebrow at how hopeful his mom sounded.

"Yeah. And he mentioned that the start of his summers always has a higher concentration of photoshoots, to make up for not having them during exams and studying. That's why I offered to go for him today, because he's been kept so busy that he's not been able to see his friends. And because he had scheduled something with his friends, and then Nathalie just knocked it off of his schedule to put the photoshoot there instead and that didn't seem fair."

Amelie muttered something uncomplimentary about that, too, then her determined expression returned. "Well, that works in our favor. Tell Adrien that you'll do his next photoshoot, too- if you're willing to, of course," she added hastily. "And then I want you to tell this girl no. Tell her to back off. Enforce your boundaries- which I know you're good at doing."

Felix hesitated. He could see where his mom was going with her plan and why it would make more sense for him to be the one to confront Lila instead of Adrien, but- well, another Lila-filled photoshoot really wasn't that appealing.

But it sounded like he wouldn't have to deal with Lila's nonsense this time and could cut it off like he normally would, abrupt and sharp. He could see her downfall in person, see her expression go from overconfident to uncertain to crushed.

Maybe it was a bit petty and vindictive of him, but... well, Felix was a bit petty and vindictive, so what.

So he nodded. "I can do that."

Amelie lit up, clearly excited. "If I'm reading this girl right from what you've said, your no will mean next to nothing to her and she'll persist. To press charges and win, we'll probably need audio- and I can set you up with something that can hide under your clothes without showing."

Felix couldn't help the grin that flashed across his face. "Very nice."

"If my schedule allows, I'll be there too," his mom added. "As close by as I can be, so I can step in as needed. If Nathalie thinks that she'll be telling Adrien- you- to simply endure the harassment, she has another think coming."

"I like that," Felix said at once. "I mean, I don't like the idea of having to tolerate any more of Lila's company, but I can do it."

"Fantastic." Amelie leaned forward, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Now, as for the rest of the plan..."

  Convincing Adrien to let Felix take over for his next photoshoot was easier said than done, particularly after Felix told him about the brief face-off that he and Lila had had after the photoshoot. Adrien wanted to step in and work to smooth things over before Lila could lash out at Marinette in retribution, but Felix pointed out that Lila wouldn't be able to lash out at Marinette if Felix carried out the photoshoot like his mom wanted him to. She would be completely and thoroughly discredited, and if she turned into an akuma for it- well, so what? Better her than Marinette, surely, or Adrien.

Adrien hadn't considered that, obviously. After another moment's consideration, and the reassurance that it was Amelie's plan and not Felix's, he had given in and sent a screenshot of his photoshoot schedule to Felix so that he could show his mom and they could plan. Thankfully the next photoshoot wasn't too far out, so Adrien might not have to deal with keeping Lila happy in the meantime so that she wouldn't try to smear Marinette's reputation.

(Apparently Marinette was the only one of Adrien's friends who had been told about Felix's stepping in for a photoshoot thus far, and the only one told about Felix's plan to knock Lila back. He hadn't seen her again in person, but from what Adrien told him, Marinette had already forgiven Felix for the fiasco he had caused during his previous time in Paris.)

(Marinette was also the person that Adrien was going to be spending his time with while Felix was doing the photoshoot. Apparently most of his other friends were going to be busy, but Marinette wasn't, and she had been plenty happy to spend some time with Adrien.

Adrien had been pleasantly surprised by that, since he had been sure that she would be busy, too, but Felix hadn't been. After all, Marinette was in love with Adrien, wasn't she? Of course she would make time to spend with Adrien, that shouldn't have been a surprise.

Or had she not confessed to Adrien again in the months since Felix was last in Paris? He would have thought that she would have.)

"Remember to turn the recorder on," Amelie reminded him as they pulled up near the school, where Adrien was finishing up with a fencing lesson. He and Adrien were hoping to make the swap earlier than they had the previous time, since the photoshoot was pretty much right after Adrien's fencing lesson got out and it would be hard for them to swap without risking someone noticing. "And be very clear vocally about your objections, so that the recorder will pick them all up."

"Will we be able to use the recordings, do you think?" Felix asked, a thought occurring to him last-minute. "Or is it against the law here? I think it's fine back at home, but…"

"I'll deal with it if there's any legal issues," Amelie assured him. "I have connections, and I'm not afraid to use them."

That didn't quite answer Felix's question, but he supposed that it was as good of an answer as any. With one last check to make sure that he looked like Adrien and had everything he needed, Felix hopped out of the car and slipped into the school, making his way to the locker rooms. The fencers were finishing up their last matches, so it was easy enough for Felix to head to the bathrooms and text Adrien to make sure that he would know to come into the bathrooms, too. They wouldn't see each other face-to-face before the photoshoot- after all, Adrien's teammates might question how he had somehow doubled himself if they ran into the two of them in the bathroom- but it would make the trade much easier.

It wasn't long at all before Felix heard someone else enter the bathroom. He straightened in his stall, listening closely and keeping an eye on his phone. That could be Adrien, but it could just as easily be one of his teammates.

Luck was on his side. His phone buzzed, and a message lit up the screen.

Adrien: In the bathroom. Left my fencing bag on the chair near the door- you can take it so that the Gorilla doesn't wonder where I left it.

Felix nodded and shot back a quick message.

Right. See you later.

After another pause, Felix stepped out of his stall, heading for the sinks and washing his hands before claiming the fencing bag that was sitting on the somewhat out-of-place chair near the door. One glance- or rather, one whiff- inside assured him that it was Adrien's bag, and so Felix slung it over his shoulder before heading out into the locker rooms. A few good-byes to Adrien's teammates later and Felix was in Adrien's car, being whisked efficiently away by his bodyguard to the photoshoot.

Trade-off: smooth as butter.

Now that he had been to a photoshoot once, there was far less hesitation in Felix's step as he headed into the small tent to change, then out to hair and make-up for a touch-up. He had to wonder why Mr. Agreste would schedule a photoshoot for right after fencing in the first place as the stylists teased his hair to perfection. Surely the real Adrien's hair would be sweaty and messy after fencing and it would have made more sense for him to have some time for a shower first?

Maybe this was a one-off thing, just happening because they were trying to catch up on photoshoots after exams and they also had to work around Lila's schedule. If she even had one, that was. Something made Felix guess that Lila simply spent a lot of time holed up in her room, scheming and plotting. Maybe she pretended that she had a packed schedule in front of her friends, but in reality...

Well, one had to be really uninteresting to go to the same amount of effort that Lila was to get attention, and that generally suggested a lack of real activities to do.

Just like the previous time, the photoshoot started with individual shots. Felix went through the motions, posing and adjusting his expression as requested. It all went very smoothly...

...and then Lila showed up.

While Lila did her first individual shoot and Felix changed into his next outfit, he pulled the recorder that his mom had given him out. It was small and discreet, easy enough to hide until his shirt or in a pocket without creating any lumps. He got it set up to start recording, then headed outside, resigned to at least a few minutes of dealing with Lila and her grabby hands.

And as expected, Lila started clinging to him the second that Felix got back outside.

"Positions, please!" Simon called. "I want you back to back, but not quite touching, just next to each other-"

"Don't you think that we should be closer, though?" Lila asked immediately, wrapping her hands around Felix's bicep. "We could play a couple!"

"Not for these outfits," Simon told her. "Backs to each other, please-"

"Oh, but I think-"

"I think my sleeve is getting wrinkled," Felix commented, trying to step away from Lila. "And if you don't let go, you're going to bruise my arm."

Lila scowled and finally released him. Felix readjusted his shirt- there were no wrinkles, of course, the lovely light fabric that the shirt was made out of wasn't the type to get creased up by a minute's clinging- and then slid easily into position.

"Good, Adrien, perfect!" Simon called. "Lila- no, not like that, I want your arms crossed- if you stand like that, it looks like you're trying to cop a feel, and no one wants that."

...Felix wasn't even surprised.

The next few shots went the same way. Lila was clingy, but not as incredibly forward as she had been at the end of the previous shoot. Maybe getting her off required several reprimands and comments about how she was messing up his outfit, but she did get off. Eventually.

And then they changed outfits again, and Simon consulted his shot sheet. His eyebrows raised, and then he glanced between Felix and Lila. "The top suggested theme for these outfits is, ah, summer romance."

Felix blinked. That... was not what he was expecting. It sounded like something that Lila would have suggested, not something that Adrien's stick-in-the-mud father or his secretary would come up with.

And then it hit him like a brick. He would bet anything that this was what Lila had been talking to Nathalie about at the previous photoshoot. She had been the one pushing and pushing for a 'Summer Romance" theme for an excuse to get close to him in the previous shoot, and now she had gotten it.

"Oh, that's lovely, isn't it, Adrien?" Lila trilled. She attached herself to his arm, plastering herself against his side. "There's so much to work with there! Hugs, kisses- we'll be so cute together!"

"I'm not comfortable with that," Felix said at once, looking to Simon. "You said that was a suggested theme. Would it be possible to go with another theme?"

Simon nodded, referencing his sheet. "Yes, of course. One of the other suggestions was-"

"Oh, I think we should at least try it!" Lila insisted. Her grip got tighter, and her nails dug in. "Here, let's just start now and not overthink it!"

With that, she bounced up on her toes and tried to press a kiss to Felix's cheek, aiming for close to his mouth. Felix leaned back as fast as he could, dodging her completely in one quick movement.

Maybe he had complained about taking gymnastics as a child, but sometimes it really did come in handy. Perhaps he should consider picking it back up again.

"I'm not comfortable with that," Felix told her clearly, ignoring Lila's scowl and the way her nails dug in even deeper. "And since I said no, we're not doing it."

"Well, I want to!" Lila insisted. "Come on, Adrien! We're friends, aren't we?"

There was that edge again. This time, Felix knew what it meant: by the time the photoshoot ended, she was probably going to start her attacks on Marinette's character. It was an attempt to bring Adrien back under her control.

Too bad she was dealing with Felix, not Adrien.

"That doesn't mean that I'm comfortable doing romantic shots," Felix said firmly. "Particularly if you're going to try to spring unwanted kisses on me. Now kindly let go of my arm. Your nails are digging in."

A scowl flashed across Lila's face before she pasted on her happy face again. "How can you know that you aren't comfortable with it until you've tried it? At least a few shots-"

"Remove your fingers from my arm or I will remove them for you."

Lila's grip only got tighter. "Stop complaining, I'm hardly-"

Felix didn't let her finish. Before she could break any more skin, he grabbed two of her fingers and bent them back sharply. They gave with a (satisfying, Felix had to admit) crack, and Lila snatched her hands back with a cry.

"My fingers!"

"I told you to let go," Felix told her tartly, stepping away and rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal the dents and cuts from Lila's nails. "Simon, would you mind snapping a picture of this? I have a photo from when she did this during the last photoshoot, but this is far worse."

Simon nodded at once, getting in close and snapping photos from all angles. Across the way, Nathalie finally noticed the commotion and hustled over, glancing between Felix and the sobbing Lila.

For once, Felix was willing to bet that the tears weren't fake.

"He broke my fingers!" Lila sobbed, clutching her hand close to her chest. "Adrien, I can't believe that you would be so mean-"

"Nathalie, I think you should look at this," Simon told Nathalie, pulling her over next to Felix. "Adrien has commented numerous times during photoshoots that Lila is holding on to his arm too hard. He asked her to let go several times in a row before he pulled her off, and- well, I can't blame him, she's drawn blood."

Nathalie's lips pressed together in a thin line as she inspected the injury, and then she pulled out her phone. "I'm going to call Lila's mom, and then I'll call Mr. Agreste. I think it's safe to say that Lila will be fired. This is unacceptable."

Felix could barely hide his smile.

  Twelve minutes later, Mrs. Rossi rushed into the park, her wide eyes locking onto the still-sobbing Lila almost immediately. She rushed to her daughter's side at once, kneeling down beside her.

"Mio caro, what happened?" Mrs. Rossi asked, reaching for her daughter. "Ms. Sancoeur said that you got your fingers broken!"

"What happened is that Lila learned the consequences of sexual harassment," Felix cut in coolly before Lila could speak up, and Mrs. Rossi's head swung to the side, her eyes wide. "Some of the consequences, at least. I will be pressing charges, and she'll be lucky if I'm the only one."

"Se- sexual harassment?" Mrs. Rossi exclaimed, glancing between him and Lila. "Surely that's an exaggeration, Nathalie, how on earth would Lila do anything that could be considered sexual harassment to her boyfriend during a photoshoot? Surely this was just an overreaction to a lover's spat-"

"I was not aware that your daughter was dating anyone, least of all me," Felix told her, since- well, it was true. After all, Adrien wouldn't touch someone like Lila with a ten-foot pole. "Frankly, considering how often Lila lies, I'm surprised that you believed her at all. No one wants to be dating a liar, particularly a social-climbing liar with no respect for personal space."

Mrs. Rossi reeled back. "A- a liar? No, Lila's a sweet girl!"

"They're just trying to frame me, Mommy!" Lila sniffled, and Felix rolled his eyes. Of course she would pull out the mummy card now. "Adrien just a-attacked me out of nowhere, we were just modeling-"

Felix snorted. He had abandoned his Adrien act for good now, and from the looks he was getting from Nathalie, she had caught on to the switch. He held up his injured arm, deciding to ignore Lila completely. She clearly wasn't going to admit that she was in the wrong, so entertaining her at all was a lost cause. "A 'sweet girl', hmm? She's given both me and my cousin bruises from clinging so hard, and now she's broken my skin. And she's been threatening to destroy the reputation of one of my cousin's classmates, all because she's a petty brat who hasn't been properly contained."

Mrs. Rossi shook her head, her eyes wide as she took in the injuries. "No, that doesn't sound like her at all! Why- why would she want to destroy anyone's reputation, that makes no sense!"

"Because I haven't-"

"Because Marinette called her out on her lies," Felix told Mrs. Rossi tartly, raising his voice over Lila's whine. "The lies about knowing all sorts of famous people personally, because she 'saved their cat' or was personally helping them with songwriting or was running a million charities, or the lies about going on a- what was it, a three-month trip out of Paris during the school year, when she was actually here the entire time?"

Mrs. Rossi slumped on the ground. "No, no, I can't- I can't believe this-"

Lila shuffled closer to her mom, still clutching her hand to her chest as she made another effort to squirm out of the situation. "They're lying, mama, don't listen to them-"

"Well, you had better start believing it!" Amelie snapped, appearing out of the nearby trees and striding up to the group. She waved her phone. "I have pictures of your little hussy of a daughter trying to force a kiss on my son, and we have evidence of her refusing to let go of my son's arm. You should be ashamed, really! I don't know how I would be able to show my face in public if my son acted the same way that your daughter has! Lying and manipulation and sexual harassment and threats for months and months and months on end, and what have you done to stop it? Nothing, by the sounds of it!"

"I didn't know-" Mrs. Rossi started, but Amelie cut her off with a scoff.

"You didn't know? Oh, excuse me for not being very impressed there. I've been busy as anything quite often with my projects and modeling and films and charity and events, but you had better bet that I made the time to check in with Felix's teachers! If I didn't have the time to go in before or after school, I emailed them. I made sure that I met his friends. I knew the instant that he started acting out, and I could talk to him about it. Have you done any of that?"

"No, but-"

"And this whole business with Lila being 'out of the country' for months! How did you miss that she wasn't going to school?" Amelie demanded.

Mrs. Rossi flinched. "I- she said that the school was closed because of akuma attacks-"

"For three months? That's not even a good lie! Do you live under a rock? Sometimes the akuma attacks drag on for a bit, but it's just hours, not- not even days! All you would need to do to disprove her ridiculous lies would be to turn on a TV! Or do a Google search, that only takes seconds!"

"I-" Mrs. Rossi swallowed hard, and her voice got quiet, nearly inaudible. "I was busy at a new job, and I- I thought that I could trust her."

"Clearly not!"

"In any case, Lila is fired as a Gabriel model, and we will be plenty transparent with the media as to why should they ask," Nathalie told Mrs. Rossi, consulting her tablet. "Adrien has confirmed that he's been grabbed at just like Felix, and that is unacceptable. Mr. Agreste expects that his son be able to work without being sexually harassed by other models."

Mrs. Rossi only nodded, all of the fight drained out of her. Lila whipped her head back and forth between her mom and the rest of the group, panic starting to spread across her features.

"Mama, you don't believe them, do you-"

"Quiet, Lila," Mrs. Rossi snapped. "I've heard enough. I've seen the evidence. I know that you're lying now."

Lila's face screwed up, and then she suddenly lunged to her feet, right at Felix. "How dare you! I had everything going my way, and you've screwed it up! When- when I get akumatized, you'll regret this, Adrien!"

Felix stepped neatly out of the way, extending one foot just enough to send Lila sprawling back to the ground with a wail of pain but not enough that it would be obvious that it was completely on purpose. "Boo-hoo, cry me a river. Also still not Adrien. Try his stunt double instead."

Lila only sobbed on the ground, clutching at her fingers. Her mom hauled her up, looking completely ashamed as she hustled her daughter away.

"Well, I think that's the end of this photoshoot," Nathalie said as soon as the duo was out of sight. She sighed, massaging her forehead in clear exasperation. "Felix, can I ask that next time, Adrien actually shows up like he's supposed to?"

Felix raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? It's not like anyone will be able to tell the difference."

"Gabriel would be most unhappy-"

"Gabriel is unhappy about most things most of the time, so I don't see how it makes any difference," Amelie told her tartly. She looped her arm through Felix's. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think that Felix and I have a lawsuit to go file. Good-bye."

As it turned out, Gabriel didn't even have to tell the press why its newest model had been abruptly dropped. An Adrien fan had been hidden nearby and watching the shoot, and had taken video of the entire Lila downfall. It had been uploaded at once, and spread across the internet by other fans.

Fortunately, it meant that- at least in Paris- no one would ever believe Lila Rossi again. The outrage over everything that she had done- and especially the attempt at a forced kiss and the clinging to Felix hard enough to break his skin- was enough that Felix was pretty sure that no one would even try to be her friend out of pity. There was no way that any of Adrien's classmates would miss the news, either, which was really what they were most interested in.

Unfortunately, Adrien's fans were over the moon at the idea of an Adrien stunt double, because it meant that there were two of them.

...and unfortunately for some particularly avid and over-eager fans, Amelie Graham de Vanily was none too thrilled about her son and her nephew getting chased around Paris and was still riding high on the success of her lawsuit against Lila. One dinner with the Bourgeois family later and it was officially against the law in Paris to chase after teen celebrities and to form what amounted to search mobs, and there was going to be further investigation and adjustment as needed to prevent other future harassment. Also- and on a completely unrelated topic- Audrey Bourgeois would be in charge of the wardrobe department on the next Graham Films production.

And as for Felix... well, all of a sudden, Adrien's friends all became a lot more receptive to the idea of inviting him to their get-togethers. Some were still a little wary of him, but that didn't bother Felix at all. After all, Felix was used to people regarding him with some trepidation at home, and he was hardly going to make himself comfortable by acting all warm and cuddly. But several of Adrien's friends were fine with that, or perhaps they just were accepting because they knew that it would make Adrien happy.

Felix didn't suppose that it really mattered either way. He wasn't trying to form lifelong friendships in Paris, just trying to enjoy his summer as well as he could. And with Lila firmly out of the picture- she had been shipped back to Italy to attend boarding school, mostly to keep her away from akumas- and with outwardly friendly company...

Well, the summer was looking bright.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #adrien agreste #felix graham de vanily #the gremlin child returns

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Mother's day

It was mother's day in Chaldea and like with many other holidays things got just a bit more lively then normal. Most servants weren't able to properly celebrate, being either children without their mothers or mothers without their children but some made do.

Jack insisted on a gift for master, even tho he wasn't a fan of the "mama" label. Raikou expected gifts from her children aswell, Kintoki was willing tho he found it a bit embarrassing, but Rex never saw her as a mother so he didn't bother at first, only giving in to prevent her from crying.

But an interesting question was raised.

Rex: mi corazon, do you think your mother will expect something for mother's day?

Quetz: I don't see why she would! It wasn't really a thing back in our day and she's not likely to gain any of that info so I think I'm fine.

*knock knock*

Rex: quién es?

BB: it's the amazing BB!

Quetz: qué quieres?

BB: got a message for ya Quetzy!

Quetz opens the door, seeing the chaotic AI holding what looks to be cloth.

Rex: a message in cloth?

Quetz: lemme see

BB hands it to her, the cloth had many characters on it. It looked to be the characters used by the aztecs back in the day.

Quetz: ...aye...

BB: don't like what you read?

Quetz: as soon as I mention it!

Rex: ...is it from your mom?

Quetz: ...no, it's from Coyolxauhqui, but she says mamá is expecting mother's day gifts now!

BB: wow! Isn't that interesting?

Quetz: how'd she send this to you BB?

BB: not sure! Popped into one of my tentacles and I could tell it had to be for you, since no one else can read those characters!

Rex: hey I'm trying!

Quetz: *sigh* what in Xibalba do I even get her?!

Rex: ...some food? Maize?

Quetz: she has plenty of that!

BB: my you two have seem to have found yourselves in a pickle! At least you're trying tho! None of my dear children even consider getting me anything!

Rex: gee! I wonder why!?

BB gave him a stink eye before continuing.

BB: anyways! I'd love to stay, but I've got chaos to sew! Seeya!

And with that the AI leaves

Quetz: aye... what could I even get her?

Rex: hmmm... maybe some modern chocolate or something? I can only think of food at the moment...

Quetz: you need some food then.

The two left for the cafeteria to eat and brainstorm.

Rex: what does your mom like?

Quetz: ...sacrifices...

Rex: mmmm! Anything else?

Quetz: she's a very violent woman mi amor... most things she'd like aren't much of an option.

Rex: well fuck!

As the two go on, Ehecatl comes running in, accidentally bumping into Rex.

Rex: woah there!

Quetz: ehe? Are you ok?

Ehe, nervously: m-m-m-m-ma-ma-ma

Rex: ehe! Speak clearly!

Ehe, clears her throat: Coatlicue is here!!

Quetz and Rex: Que!?

Then a rumbling is felt, turning the corner of the hall came a large being.

The being was tall, and vaguely humaneque in appearance. Instead of a human head, there were two huge snakes, a skirt made of snakes adorned her lower body, her hands and feet had huge claws to rip apart flesh, the only thing covering her chest was a large necklace with human hearts and hands going along it, with a human skull at the center.

Coatlicue: H̸̡̧̡̺̩̗̬͉͈̖͔̲̠̣̼̠̗̪͎͛̀͌̋͊̊͛̈̓̈́̏͝o̸̧̨̨̢̧̥̣̥͕̩̺̦̲̼̜̳̮͇̫͑̀̃̃̾̑̄̅͌̍̏̈̊̒̐́͘̚ͅl̴̺̬̗̻̫͖̜̪̲͓̲͕̒̃̓̈̈͗́̂̽̆͜͜͜͝ą̷̛̫͍͔̹͕͙̤̺̣̜̎͂̇̓͋͆͗͌̀́̒̃́͑̕̕͠ ̴̯̩̩̥̪͚͎̤͆̀̈́̎̽̐͛͆̀͑͗͊̄͗͐͘̕̕͠ͅm̷̧̡̛͉̼̫̳̜̮̰̱̬̯̿͋͋̉͊͑̌͑̑͂͜i̸̩̒̇͆̎͗̍̀̀̇͂̋͂͘͝j̵̛͎͕̱̣͍͉̯̤̙̪̹̪̫̤̞̜̀̽̽̽̎͂̎͂̏̕͜ͅą̷͙̖̦̫̯͈̖̙̱̟̩͍̯̪̳͔̦͈͈̼̄͑̓͒

While Ehecatl clung onto Rex in fear, both Rex and Quetz were just annoyed. They were already used to seeing nightmarish beings ever since coming here, so this wasn't new.

Quetz: mamá, can you not with that look?

Coatlicue: ...? *sigh*

Then the large being transformed into a much more normal human appearance. An older looking woman, with a much more normal looking outfit, tho you could see a resemblance to what she looked like before. Snake motif on her skirt, and much simpler necklace with a small decorative skull, and what looked to be stitches on her neck.

Quetz: mamá, what are you doing here?

Coatlicue: what, I can't visit my daughter and her husband every once in a while?

Quetz: not without warning.

Coatlicue: well, ever since I heard about this mother's day thing I wanted to feel appreciated! And I thought it'd be nice to spend the day with you since I don't see you often anymore.

Quetz: mamá that's nice but you need to tell us ahead of time, you scared dear Ehe here.

Coatlicue: she shouldn't be scared! She's seen me plenty of times!

Quetz: no she hasn't. She mostly stayed in my place in the heavens, and rarely left.

Rex: so... is she just gonna stay for the day?

Quetz: looks like it.

Coatlicue: it's nice to see you again Rex!

Rex: good to see you too Mrs. Coatlicue...

Coatlicue, to Quetz: has he been treating you well?

Quetz: of course! I've never been happier then with him!

Coatlicue: that's so good to hear! It's good that even if it took so long you managed to be happy with marriage!

After some time the group was in the cafeteria.

Coatlicue: wow, is it always so lively?

Quetz: not really. Things got more hectic with mother's day.

Coatlicue: are there many other mothers here?

Quetz: si! Tho most are without the children they had.

Coatlicue: how unfortunate! Can your husband not summon them?

Rex: it's not that simple...

Quetz: there's very little control in it all...

Coatlicue: he seemed to be able to summon you with plenty of ease.

Quetz: I'm the exception mamá.

Coatlicue: well that's unfortunate. Speaking of mothers, do you plan on becoming one any time soon Mija?

The question caused Ehecatl spit out her dirnk.

Ehe: *cough cough* isn't it a bit soon to talk about that!?

Quetz: actually we were thinking it over.

Ehe: Que!?

Rex: you need to relax.

Quetz: Ehe, you shouldn't be so surprised. I've talked to you about the idea in the past.

Ehe: it's still so soon! Have you even been married a year yet?!

Rex: no... but we don't plan to actually do anything just yet. Just talking.

Coatlicue: I'd love to see what precious children you two make!

Quetz: ehehehe, let's table this topic for now.

Ehe: yes! Please!

Coatlicue: so what have you been up to since we last saw each other?

Quetz: well... some interesting things have happened since...

Rex: she got to be Santa for Christmas.

Coatlicue: really?! Didn't the people of Mexico try that back in the 30's?

Quetz: si... didn't work out...

Coatlicue: but did it work out better this time?

Quetz: better is... debatable...

Rex: I think you were great mi corazon! If I could I'd have you be Santa every year!

Quetz, blushing: ehehehe, mi amor...

Ehe: the outfit leaves much to be desired tho...

Coatlicue: what's wrong with it?

Quetz: well... I misheard the whole Santa thing and thought they said Samba so...

Coatlicue: seriously!? Mija how do you make that kind of mistake?

Quetz: she wasn't clear! And besides they're basically the same since both bring happiness to others!

Rex: yeah! Mistake or no, she was the best Santa!

Quetz then proceeded to hug Rex, happy with all the support he showed.

Quetz: gracias mi amor!

Rex: anything for you!

Coatlicue: aside from that... anything else of note?

Quetz: ...well I also got to be a superhero.

Coatlicue: ...que?

Rex: well... a superhero is basically someone with extraordinary powers and uses them to protect others!

Coatlicue: hmmm... then weren't you already one mija?

Quetz: well superheros also usually have a bombastic costume to go along with it!

Ehe: wasn't it also your swimsuit?

Quetz: kinda, I had a normal red one but at the same time I also had the costume on me!

Coatlicue: you've been dressing up interesting outfits lately huh?

Quetz: si... things get very interesting in Chaldea.

Rex: whenever we're not dealing with a lostbelt it's usually something far more ludicrous then normal.

Coatlicue: no wonder some of these servants look so ridiculous... I just thought that's how it was outside of Central America.

Rex: ...sometimes that's still the case.

Quetz: it does take some getting used to... but I've been here so long nothing phases me anymore.

Ehe: how anyone can get used to this is beyond me.

Rex: it's all about how long you've spent here...

After some time Coatlicue got to look into Rex and Quetz's room, despite protests from Quetz.

Coatlicue: good size... nice and clean... but a little bare...

Coatlicue: I didn't expect you to be so relaxed in your room mija.

Rex: we don't do a whole lot here... just cuddle and lay in bed together.

Coatlicue: that's good at least, I'm happy your husband's been able to accommodate for you here.

Quetz: well I have other rooms for fun and such. A gym, a rec room, and so on.

Rex: Quetz is my sun and I'd do anything for her happiness!

Quetz: ehehehehe! Mi amor, you're making me blush!

The two embraced again as they talked.

After more time spent with Coatlicue, it was eventually time for her to go.

Coatlicue: I had a really good time mija! I'm so proud of the relationship you've found yourself in!

Quetz: gracias mamá!

And then she went back to the heavens, leaving the couple once again.

Rex: she's surprisingly nice all things considered...

Quetz: it's because you're such a good husband to me mi amor!

Rex: thanks...

The two finished up with a nice kiss, before going back to their room.

A/N: since it's mother's day, it felt appropriate to make a story featuring Quetz's mom! Sorry if the ending felt rushed, kinda lost ideas towards the end.

Tags

@hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @renmeo @kazmetic @grievouslyxorvia @has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #rexcoatl #mastersona #rex #ehecatl #coatlicue

[rauvlyna]

Han Jisung - Crushes

pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

theme: fluff - platonic relationship

warnings: none (except for the fact that it literally leads to nowhere)

a/n: i also wrote this 2 year ago and it’s a tad (or maybe more than just a tad) cringy. i didn’t really know how to end this so it’s kinda just a blurb. anyways, have fun, drink water, take your meds, eat healthy, exercise and smile!!!!

What a lovely day it is today.

Saturday, no classes and no projects to do. No one to tell me when to get off this cozy bed on a rainy day. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, ready for sleep to engulf me again.

However, someone just had to ruin the moment by ringing the doorbell. I didn’t put an effort to get up, expecting mom or maybe my sister to open the door.

After a few seconds it stopped. Maybe it was just a delivery or something. Mom have been spending all her free time online shopping for who knows what. Trying to close my eyes, the doorbell rang again, this time it was ringing like a madman. Whoever is outside must have been in a rush.

In my peripheral vision I saw my phone light up. Grabbing it, I was surprised by the number of messages showing up one after the other.

HANdyman: Y/N open the door, you peasant.

HANdyman: I’m freezing my butt off outside your house.

HANdyman: Can’t you freaking hear me practically murdering your doorbell?

HANdyman: Are you still sleeping??

HANdyman: I’m guessing it’s a yes.

HANdyman: You lazy bum, open the door and let me in.

Shoot! I forgot that we have that art project to work on.

I quickly jumped out of bed, almost slipping from the blankets sprawled out on the floor. I didn’t even bother to go to the bathroom to check if I looked even just half decent. Instead I bolted down the stairs, almost missing a step as I slide towards the door.

Hastily opening the door, I was met by a shivering Jisung and a pool of water beneath his shoes.

>.>.>.>.>.>.<.<.<.<.<.<.<

“So you mean you forgot about the project?”

“Before you go all Hulk on me, keep in mind that we just had an entire week having all-nighters filled with finishing other projects. Besides, I didn’t exactly forget, it just slipped out of my mind?”

It was true, since the exams were only two weeks away the teachers are rushing us with projects. Instead of replying he just sighed.

“Sorry about your clothes by the way.” I said glancing at my shirt and pants he was wearing.

After letting Jisung in, I found out that everyone was not home. Mom left a note that she would be out for the whole day because of some event that she had to attend and my sisters went with her.

“It’s fine. It’s a good thing that you have big clothes, or else I’d be wearing your dad’s shirt. We both know that I’d probably look like a dwarf wearing his”, he chuckled at the thought.

“Do you want to do the project now? I’ll just take my art supplies from my bedroom. Well, technically it’s my sister’s but yeah.”

“Sure. I also brought mine, just in case.”

“I need to change out of my pajamas. And brush my teeth.”

“Yeah, you do. Your breath stinks.”

“You should be thankful I saved your ass from freezing before even thinking about my hygiene, brat.”

>.>.>.>.>.>.>.<.<.<.<.<.<.<

“Why did I even pick Art as an elective?”, I said lying on the couch upside down regretting my life choices.

“Because you wanted to stalk that ‘cute’ guy, what was his name again? Hanjin? Kenji?”, Jisung said while putting air quotes on the word cute and obviously struggling to remember the name.

“First of all his name is Hyunjin”, I pointed out.

“Eh, close enough”, Jisung mumbled. Turning back to his work.

“Second, it wasn’t totally because of him. I admit, I had a stupid crush on him in sophomore year, but I already grew out of it. It was more to the fact that Ms. Jeong is really nice and gives high grades.” I finished talking and sat up to continue on working on our movie poster.

“Fair enough.”

Ms. Jeong made us do a project by partner where we were each assigned a book title to make a movie poster. But not the typical computer-edited movie poster, instead we were told to make it a hand-painted one. Me and Jisung picked The Castle in the Attic.

There was a moment of silence.

“Hey.”

I look up slightly to meet his gaze.

“Yeah?”

“When did you start liking that Hyunjin guy?”

He propped up his arm and leaned his head on it, curiosity written all over his face.

I sighed and pulled myself up to a sitting position.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe it was when Felix introduced me to him because they were in the same dance crew. At first I thought he was arrogant, because of his undeniably good looking face. Plus, the fact that he’s a great dancer. But surprisingly, he was very down to earth.”

“Why did you ask?” By now I returned to painting the castle.

“I was just curious. Do you still like him?”

“No, not anymore. I mean we’re still friends and all but I realized I was just a hormonal teenager back then.”

“What’s with the questions though? You were never one to talk to me about things like this.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, whatever. By the way, how’s your college applications?”

I adjusted my position on the floor since my back was starting to hurt. I peeked at Jisung who had an unreadable look on his face. Taking my free hand and waving it in front of his face, he was snapped out of his reverie.

Jisung cleared his throat. “I got a letter from one of the universities I applied.”

“Well, what did it say?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“I wasn’t accepted.”

“You sent an application to a couple more universities, right?”

He nodded and I approached him and patted his shoulders.

“Yeah, but I’m worried that I might get rejected by all the others I applied to.” His eyes welled up with tears.  

“Are you kidding?” He met my eyes with a confused expression. I sighed and rolled my eyes at him.

“You’re literally one of the top students in our school. You have lots of extracurricular and the fact that you’re one of the editors of our school paper just means that you’re one heck of a hardworking student.” I paused to look at his expression which was a mix of surprise and gratitude? I lightly slapped his thigh, “It’s just one rejection, that doesn’t mean that you’re not good. Who knows? Maybe you’re not destined to be in that school.” He chuckled at the mention of  the word‘destined’.

“Are you trying to be like a motivational speaker right now?” He said while trying to wipe the unshed tears.

I shushed him and pressed a finger to his lips and his eyes widened at my actions.

“I’ve been practicing.” I said, removing my finger from his lips and scooting back to my previous position. I picked up the paint brush and went back to painting.

“For what?”

“You know how Jeongin is a bit lousy when it comes to girls?” I asked him and he hummed in response. “He’s been asking me for advice and I think he holds onto them too much.”

“Poor kid. He’s just a bundle of hormones as of now. Why did he even think that you’ll be able to help him?”

I scowled at him, “Excuse me, I can be helpful when I need to be.”

Jisung shook his head, “I meant that you can’t even handle your own crushes.” He paused, “You know that time when you had a crush on Seungmin? You used to hide every time you see his face. There was even that one time when you went to our room and when you saw him you instantly hid behind my back.”

My shocked face made him laugh. “Oh God. Don’t remind me of that. That was so fu-“ I cleared my throat, “freaking embarassing. I cringe so hard and just want to repeatedly slam my head on the wall whenever I remember that.”

Jisung laughed so hard that he almost messed up the part he was working on. “Yeah, that was pretty embarassing man. But why are you holding back on cursing?” He said when he finally got a hold of himself.

I looked at him in incredulity. “I told you about this before, I’m not gonna use the F word until I turn 20. I swear you’re only bringing it up because you want to embarrass me.”

He snorted loudly. “It is pretty funny though, like we both know you use that word on your head a lot so why not say it out loud.”

“I don’t know really. I think it’s because people normally see me as the girl who doesn’t seem to curse. Even some of our friends think that I’m naïve and innocent.”

“If only they knew.” Jisung scoffed which I rolled my eyes at him but he didn’t notice it as my head was ducked.

#kpop scenarios #kpop #kpop boys #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids x reader #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #han jisung #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung oneshot #han jisung scenario #han jisung blurb #this is kinda cringy #lol

[hazbin-omens]

Sanders Sides - Hogwarts AU (Part 1)

I’ve wanted to do one of these for a really long time, and it turned out to be way longer than I expected it to be (sorry for posting late, I’m just really lazy). ENJOY!!

Patton

Because he was born to wizard dad and muggle mom, Patton had been anxiously waiting for an owl to arrive at his house when he turned eleven.

He squealed for 10 minutes when it did.

Was proper HYPER while shopping in Diagon Alley, to the point where he almost got lost.

Twice.

Took him almost 14 whole seconds to fall absolutely in love with a beautiful snowy owl, which he (very proudly) named ‘Sparky’.

Despite being totally elated to go, the departure was tough (many tears were shed, both by his parents and himself)

He finds a compartment, which already hosts a bespectacled boy (like himself), same age as Patton.

He knocks on the glass twice, and waves when the boy looks up from his book to him.

Patton slides the door open with a smile. “Hi! I’m Patton”, he says, “Can I sit with you?”

“Yes, you may”, the boy replied, gesturing to the seat across from where he sat.

“What’s your name?”

“Logan Carnell”.

Patton eagerly extends his hand for Logan to shake (’Maybe he’ll be my first friend!’ he thinks)

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,“ Logan says.

“You talk funny, I like it,” Patton giggles.

The door opens again to reveal two boys, one with a good portion of his face scarred, the other slouched behind him.

“This is ideal”, the first one says and drapes himself next to Logan, while the other one doesn’t move from the doorway. “Uhh, Dee, maybe we should ask first or-”. “Oh it’s ok, plenty of space!” Patton smiles, and the boy replies with a small grin of his own and sits next to Patton

Before he could introduce himself to the new comers, the door opens again and four boys scramble in frantically and close the door behind them.

“Remus, what were you thinking?” one says.

“I wasn’t!” the other one (Remus?) snickers

“Excuse me?” Logan says and the two identical boys look like they just realized they were not alone. The other two boys looked just as confused, though Patton could tell they had nothing to do with whatever happened

The (now) eight boys find a way to sit comfortably in the compartment, and upon hearing their story, Patton gasps, “You blew stink bombs in the sixth years’ carriage?!”

“Not just ANY sixth years. They were Ravenclaws! And everyone knows how prissy they get” Remus brags

Everyone laughs except Logan, who closes his book to say “Actually, Ravenclaws are not all irritant. Not what I’ve read.”

Patton tilts his head, “Do you have relatives who were in Ravenclaw, then?”

“Not exactly, I’m adopted. My parents do not possess any magical attributes either. They are, in simpler words, Muggles.  But I am positive I shall be sorted in Ravenclaw”. Patton liked his confidence.

“I propose a small game”, one of the twins says, “Let us all introduce ourselves and tell which houses we want to go to, and why.”

Patton thought that was excellent! “Oh yes!” he exclaimed, “I’ll go first?”. With no sign of disagreement from anyone, he smiled and put a hand on his chest.

“Hi everyone! I’m Patton Whitlock and I want to be sorted in Hufflepuff because their common rooms are the nearest to the kitchen and I like my midnight snacks!”

Logan

Seeing an owl fly through the sky with a letter was an uncommon occurrence in Surrey. It was also the highlight of Logan’s eleventh birthday

Luckily, they had nice next door neighbours who saw the owl, and ended up confessing that they weren’t as ‘normal’ as Logan thought

It came to the neighbours having to take out their wands out to prove that magic exists, as Logan kept insisting that ‘it doesn’t make sense’

(A simple transfiguration spells were what changed his mind)

Diagon Alley was exciting yet scary for both Logan and his dads, but they ended up having fun

The trip to Ollivanders’ was…interesting – even if his Papa’s coat had to catch fire before a wand chose him

He almost ended up RAIDING ‘Flourish & Blott’s’ as he insisted he had to learn EVERYTHING  there is about the Wizarding World before he left for Hogwarts

“Loganberry, you’ll be doing that your new school!”

“But Dad, I want to be prepared!”

“Listen-“

“Papa, please tell him how it would be better for me”

(‘Papa was always easier to convince than Dad anyway’, he thought)

“Honey, maybe we can get him a few of the books he mentioned?”

(‘YES’)

“Oh alright, but only a few”

They ended up buying 14 thick books, which Logan was doing his best to hold them, with his parents trailing behind, proud of their little genius

Leaving was difficult, and he knew he would miss his dads terribly  

But it also meant he’d be exploring a whole new world all by himself, and he was excited

But that didn’t stop him from hugging his Dad and Papa

“I promise I’ll write to you”

“Ok, honey”

“Every week”

“Ok, honey”

Luckily he finds a empty compartment and quickly gets in before some group comes around. He sets down himself in the window and takes out his book from his satchel

Just as he was beginning to truly get engrossed in a particular passage  about Centaurs, he heard a knock on the door and a friendly looking boy waving through the glass

He allowed the boy, Patton, to join him as he seemed rather nice and did not expect him to be a disturbance. However he did seem hard to understand at first, and overly eager

“You talk funny”, he said

Logan did not realize he had made a joke. Had he?

Before he could question, two more boys joined the pair, then four became eight and Logan decided to give up trying to read altogether

Honestly, how can eight people even fit?

“Not just any six years. They were Ravenclaws!”. Logan had perked up at that. From what he had learnt so far, he had come to the conclusion that Ravenclaw was the best house that best suited him. He fit all the criteria, his intelligence being his biggest arsenal

“And everyone knows how prissy they get”

Yeah. No. What?

“Actually Ravenclaws are not all that irritant”, he counter-argued “Not from what I’ve read”

When Patton questioned about his blood line and lineage, he got defensive. He had heard enough questions and slurs about his fathers in his old school, and like before, was ready to defend them in front of Patton

However, he was mildly surprised when no rude comment followed

“But I am positive I shall be sorted in Ravenclaw”, he said hoping he didn’t start far from the conversation at hand.

When Patton smiled at his comment, be decided that this fellow visually impaired boy shall be a good friend if given the chance

“I propose a small game”, one of the boys said, who sat next to his twin brother. Logan had decided that they were going to be a handful the moment that barged into the compartment and told about their prank

Patton began ‘the game’, his answer was the most innocent one anyone could’ve given

Patton looked at him next, gesturing at him to continue

“Oh right. Greetings, everyone . I am Logan Carnell and I shall be sorted in Ravenclaw for I believe that I possess the intellect required for anyone to belong to that particular house”

Virgil

Virgil wasn’t exactly disappointed when a letter addressed to him reached his family’s doorstep, but he wasn’t jumping with joy either

Mainly because he knew what would follow.

“My son! Another Slytherin in our family shall only bring more honour!’

Luckily his cousin was a little more understanding

Kind of

"Dee, what if I’m not in Slytherin??”

“Where else would be? Everyone in our family was. Pureblood, Slytherin and Proud”, he said cynically, “I know I am”

“You FIT the criteria Damien!! The qualifications or whatever…” his shoulders slumped as he sat cross-legged on his four poster bed, “I just don’t think I do”.

“You’ll be fine, Vee”

On the day they reached Platform 9 ¾, leaving wasn’t all that hard for him, especially since Damien was with him.

Despite being of the same age, Damien always looked out for Virgil, and in turn Virgil found much needed comfort in his cousin.

Still, the fear of the consequences that may befall him should he not be sorted in Slytherin had him on edge

As Damien led their way through the narrow corridors of the train, they decided to ask if they could settle in the cabin with the two bespectacled boys

Well, Virgil decided; Damien just got in and sat beside the boy clutching a huge book

However, they seemed friendly enough. Especially the bright, blue eyed, bouncy one

Everything seemed fine

Until the additional four boys shuffled in hastily into the compartment, disrupted their little peace

Sensing his discomfort, Damien put a reassuring (and protective) hand on Virgil’s knee, and gave the boys his most scrutinizing gaze, but they were too busy bickering about a 'stink bombs’ to notice and perish under it.

Soon, however, the group fell into a comfortable conversation

One of the boys in the glasses says something about Ravenclaws not being 'prissy’, which got him thinking about his Slytherin problem

He was too busy having an internal existential crisis, he didn’t realize there were six pairs of eyes looking expectantly at him and Damien

Suddenly, the cool September air felt that much warmer

Before he could jump out the open window of the moving train, however, Damien spoke :

“I am Damien Ethel and I’m pretty sure I’ll be in Slytherin, and I have no objections whatsoever, because they have the best common room”

Virgil thinks he heard someone mumble something suspiciously sounding like 'Falsehood’, but before he could think any further, one of the twins spoke

“But isn’t that where all the bad and wicked wizards and witches go?”

That got Virgil defensive, for some reason. “They’re not ALL evil, ummm…”

“Roman”, the twin pointed at himself.

“Right, Roman”, Virgil continued, “Not every one who was evil was in Slytherin. Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor, look how that turned out”. Virgil decided to stop there, as everyone staring at him again overwhelmed him.

Roman, however, spoke again, “Well then, which house do you want to be in?”

Virgil couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say

“I don’t know”,he said after a beat, “I was hoping the Hat might make it easier?”

Thankfully, noone pressed on, only nodded

Patton was the one who broke the short silence with his cheery voice, “Well, what’s your name?”

Virgil didn’t realize he forgot to mention

“Oh umm… Virgil… Virgil Fawns”

Roman

Ever since he could remember, Roman had always been a big believer of fairy tales. His favourite past time as a toddler was when he wore his little cape and demanded to be called ‘Prince’ by his parents, who played along (except his twin brother, who just kicked him in the shins and ran away cackling).

Due to his firm faith in the existence of Kings, dragon witches and magic, the letters did not shock him. The only question he had was ‘ HOW is REMUS a wizard?!’

That is, until the Headmistress herself showed up and insisted that she spoke with the boys and then the family as a whole.

(It took Ms. McGonagall twenty minutes to convince Roman that all witches aren’t evil and that there would be no need for him to bring his Sword of Righteousness along with him)

Turns out, magical blood had been passed down from their mothers side, who herself had no idea about it.

A week later, the boys found themselves gawking at the eccentric landscape of Diagon Alley.

Their parents had never seen them so quiet and still, a reaction that lasted for about two minutes.

Next thing they know, each adult is running after an over excited eleven year old

Roman rushes to a window display of a shiny broomstick, which reminded him of the old, evil witches in his books. But something told him that this was something else, something …fun.

“Ro, it says here that first years can’t have their own broomsticks”

That was Roman’s first heartbreak.

Next stop was Madam Malkin’s, where Roman and Remus had to purchase their robes from. As Roman looked around the shop, he saw four different patches, out of which a certain red coloured one stood out for him. The moment he saw the golden lion embroidered on it, he decided that he wants this crest. Fit for a prince.

“Can i get that one, please?” he asked the nice lady attending them.

“Dear, those are for Gryffindors”, she said, and proceeded to explain the houses in the school and how he’ll be sorted by a Hat (a Hat???)

“What if i want to be in Gryffinkdor”

“Gryffindor, darling”, she smiled as she folded a simple and plain Hogwarts robe for Roman

“Yeah that”

“Well, you’d have to be very brave and honourable, every Gryffindor i knew was so daring”, she laughed, “but then again, they were also very - OH DEAR, NO!”

She caught Remus’ hand, which was holding several sewing pins and was dangerously close to his mouth

As his parents apologized for their son (‘We’re so sorry for that, he’s just not afraid of anything!’), Roman pouted at the interruption and shift in attention given. But he felt like he had heard enough.

Which is why, he would not stop talking about Gryffindor and the gorgeous red robes and the lion aboard the train (which was boarded after a very teary manly farewell) to the two other boys in their cabin, Remy and Emile.

“We get it, you want to be sorted in Gryffindor”, Remy said, rolling his eyes

“No, I WILL be sorted there”, Roman puffed his chest, “for it is 'where the brave and- EEK-”

His monologues was cut short by Remus sticking a wet finger in Roman’s ear canal

“Wait, how do we tell you apart?” Emile asked the bickering twins

“Well I have green eyes, like the weird goo that grows on a goblin’s knees, and Roman’s are red like … well blood obviously !” Remus giggled

Emile regretted his question immediately

Just when Roman thought he couldn’t get any angrier at his brother, he heard a loud BOOM sound outside their compartment followed by various screams. However, it was Remus’s laughter which shocked Roman the most

“What did you do?!”

“Oh nothing, just planted a few stink bombs in the Ravenclaw carriage that explodes when someone says 'Apple Cider Jelly’”

Despite his brain going 'who would say apple cider jelly?’ he instead asked “Where did you get them?!”

“I made em myself !”

“Cool…” Remy smirked

“Who, in Merlin’s musty fingernails, is Remus C.?!” Someone said

“You wrote your name on the bombs??”

That’s how they found themselves hiding sharing a cabin with four other boys (and Remus, to his dismay)

“And everyone knows how prissy they get” Remus said and Roman rolls eyes (no you don’t. You didn’t even know Ravenclaw was a thing a few weeks ago)

And then two of them started talking houses and Roman took the opportunity

“I propose a small game!”

He liked Logan’s confidence, even if he spoke big words ('Nerd’ he thought 'Definitely Ravenclaw’)

Patton seemed like the sweetest and warmest of them all ('Hufflepuff, no doubt’, he calculated implicitly)

Damien seemed intimidating, but fun to be around nonetheless. However he clearly answered 'Slytherin’ which made Roman wary

Virgil Fawns, however, intrigued him. All dark and brooding, but confused? That didn’t add up. Roman decided he would be in Slytherin because 'look at that hoodie, I mean, c'mon’

“Well Remy? What about you?” Roman said as he pushed the game forward

“I’m Remy Abberton and I don’t care where I end up”

Roman heard Virgil snicker lightly and smiled himself

“Emile?”

“Hi!” he said, and stood up enthusiastically. “I’m Emile Forrest and I really wanna be in Ravenclaw, because blue’s my favourite colour, and it reminds me of Stitch”

Logan, Roman and Remus where the only ones who nodded in recognition

“Well I-”

“I’m Remus and I’m going in Slytherin because people say I’m scary and because my eyes are green” Remus spoke, interrupting Roman again

“You cannot possibly predict your house upon traits like those, Remus”

“Thank you, nerd” Roman continued, “As I was saying, I am Roman Cicero and I’m going to be in Gryffindor because-”

“That’s where dwell the brave and true, girl, we KNOW, please shut up”, Remy exclaimed

Before Roman could respond with a sarcastic remark, the compartment door opened and a sixth year stood wearing a badge that said 'Prefect’

“Hey, better change into your robes, we’ll be reaching shortly" 

Taglist:

@god-im-bored @salmonisforthebagel @melonlord527 @anxiousshadowling @anni-cat-flower @kaz-brekkers-gloves @lasilhouetteinbianco @rainboots-are-for-snobs @bihighandgivinghighfives @nadja-chamack16 @only-gay-in-theory

#my headcanons #sanders sides hogwarts au #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts deceit #ts remy #ts emile #familial anxceit #eventual prinxiety #eventual logicality #eventual dukeceit #or remceit #whatever you like #eventual remile #prinxiety #logicality #dukeceit #remceit #remile #roman x virgil #logan x patton #deceit x remus #remy x emile

[elisaphoenix13]

Stealing Him Away

If Tony actually thought about it, it started with Thor...and really someone had to be looking to see it. The first time the god of thunder visited the Tower years after Ultron, he had Peter's full attention. The Spiderling followed him around with eyes full of adoration and asked so many questions, Tony was afraid he would succeed in annoying the god. Except Thor was surprisingly patient with Peter, and seemed to enjoy the attention.

It only earned an eye twitch though.

Then Peter was hanging out with Scott, Clint, and Sam. Whether it was taking over the family living room and playing video games for hours on end, or actually going outside and tossing a football around as obnoxiously as they possibly could. Tony was convinced that Clint threw the football at one of the windows on purpose just to get a rise out of the genius. Sometimes Peter would sneak up behind Sam when Scott was nearby and smack the back of his head, and then practically phase out of existence before he turned around. That always started a wrestling match between Falcon and Ant-man while Hawkeye and Spiderman watched from the sidelines.

All that earned a grumble.

Then things started to get more obvious when the teen spent time with Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. Granted, their idea of hanging out was usually training, but occasionally if Peter was miraculously feeling calm, he would sit with Steve and watch the captain sketch. He would help Bucky bake if the soldier found himself in the kitchen, or he would lay his head in Natasha's lap and they would quietly read their separate books.

That got a glare.

That was when Tony realized that Stephen Strange was jealous...and addicted to cuddling with Peter. The cub was straying from the den and Mama Bear was not having it. He was sure in Stephen's mind, the only person he would share the Spider-Baby with was Tony himself (and actually Rhodey on occasion), and that the Avengers were overstepping their bounds.

Stark didn't know if it was endearing or worrying.

When Peter hung out with Wanda and Vision, Stephen bristled. The Scarlet Witch would show the teen her powers whenever he asked and Strange would be on edge. Those times didn't last very long because Levi would suddenly drag a very surprised Peter away until he was safely within arms reach of one of his parents. Tony didn't totally blame him. While he trusted Wanda, she still made him a little nervous after the whole screwing with his mind thing. She did apologize for it and the engineer had accepted it and forgiven her, but the memory was still there.

Stephen was otherwise calm about Peter's time with the Avengers. They were a team after all, and it was important they built a friendship and trust.

Then Loki came and that was the straw that broke the sorcerer's back.

Stephen stepped into Mama Bear Mode the moment Thor came to the tower with the god of mischief, and Tony knew that if Loki so much as harmed a single hair on Peter's head or made him sniffle, there would be hell to pay.

It wasn't even noon and Tony needed a drink.

"Man of Iron! I've brought my brother!"

Peter looks up so quickly that the others were afraid he gave himself whiplash. "Loki?"

Tony and Stephen tense as the boy abandons his homework at the kitchen table and bounds right up to the trickster. Loki stares with disinterest as Peter looks at him curiously, and the expression wavers just a bit at the teen's next words.

"Can you shapeshift?"

"I...what?"

Tony almost laughed at the confused expression on Loki's face but instead leaned toward Stephen. "Calm down. The Peter Effect is working and I don't want another power outage."

"How can you be so calm?" Stephen hisses.

"Because Stephanie...I trust Point Break. If he's bringing the god of mischief here, then he believes that he can be trusted." Stephen growls in response and Tony grins. "Have I mentioned how attractive you are when Mama Bear comes out to play?"

Stephen rubs his face. "I can't believe you."

"Look. Be protective. I don't care. Just put it on the back burner. If Loki tries something then you can protect your cub."

That got the man's attention and he turns on his heel to look at Tony directly. "Natasha has you saying it too?!"

"She's right. It's cute...and to be clear, everyone but you and Peter are calling him that. You two need to get with program."

"What program? There is no program!"

"Says the guy that responds to Mama Bear. I thought denial was just a river in Egypt."

Stephen steals Tony's mug when he pours himself some coffee, and ignores the man's protest as he walks to the kitchen table and sits in Peter's abandoned seat. He lazily glances through the teen's physics homework while also keeping an eye on said cub and their new visitor. By some miracle, Peter had convinced the god to play chess and Loki actually seemed to be enjoying himself. The Peter Effect was in full swing. Even the god of mischief couldn't resist the teen.

Loki looks up from his play. "Will he be glaring at me all day?"

Peter looks up at him then follows his gaze to find Stephen giving the shapeshifter the stink eye. "Mom!"

Loki watches with interest when Stephen's glare immediately softens to something fond when he turns his attention to Peter.

"Yes Spiderling?"

"You're being the annoying overprotective parent!" Loki and Tony notice the shattering effect Peter's words have on the sorcerer, but the teen completely misses it. "You're worse than Dad and his baby protocols!"

Peter turns back to the chess game, completely unaware of the heart-break he just caused and Tony watches as Stephen calmly stands from his seat. The doctor's face was completely devoid of emotion as he left his full mug of coffee on the table with Peter's homework and left the kitchen appearing to be unaffected.

It was an outright lie.

Tony opens his mouth but Loki holds up a finger to stop him. The engineer closes his jaw with a snap, not necessarily to obey the god but because he was curious. He obviously saw the effect Peter had on Stephen and had something to say about it. He would humor Loki for now.

"You call him your mother?" Loki asks the teen quietly.

Peter blushes. "Yeah. It was an accident at first but he didn't seem to mind and then it turned into a running joke..."

"But he is important to you?"

Peter studies the board after Loki moves one of his pawns. "Of course. Mr.Stark and Dr.Strange are really all I have left. They took me in when my last remaining relative died."

Loki hums as if in thought. "So your way of thanking them is telling your mother that he's being overprotective and annoying?" Peter freezes and doe-like brown eyes flash up to meet green. "He has good reason to be wary."

"But...you're being nice."

"...and he was being careful."

Peter looks down into his lap and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Do you think he hates me now?"

Tony groans and rubs his forehead. This kid had some serious parental insecurities. "Stephen will never hate you bud. I'm pretty sure if you massacred half of Manhattan, he would help you hide the bodies."

Peter's eyes widen when he looks back at his father. "That's a little terrifying."

"He has also sat back while you spent time with the rest of the team and made friends with a psychotic god." Tony smirks when Loki rolls his eyes. "Mama Bear has been wanting to cuddle his cub."

Peter wrinkles his nose at the term but looks back to Loki. "Can we finish our game later?"

"Of course. Family is more important."

Peter nods and runs off to find Stephen and Tony raises an eyebrow at the god studying the board game. He never thought Loki would be the type to take a page out of a parenting book and kindly reprimand a teenager. If it were a couple of years ago, it would have sent him for a loop, but it wasn't. It was really like any other Saturday afternoon.

That was kind of a depressing thought. Weird was a regular part of his life now.

"Thank you."

"I don't think Peter meant it."

Tony sighs. "No. He didn't."

____________________

Peter found Stephen sitting in his parents room, and at first thought the man was meditating until he quietly called for him and got no response. That only meant he was in astral form and off somewhere or another.

Probably as far from Peter as he could get.

"I'm sorry." Peter sits on the ground in front of the projecting sorcerer and slowly lays his head on one of his crossed knees. "I didn't mean what I said."

He laid there with no sign of response from the elder for over an hour, with only his mind to keep him company. His thoughts quickly derailed from 'I hope he forgives me' to 'Dad was wrong. Stephen hates me and probably knows I'm here and is waiting for me to leave.' A single tear escapes from his eyes at the thought and he stifles a sob.

"Please don't hate me." Peter whispers.

The boy startles when a hand gently brushes his hair away from his forehead, followed by a fond huff.

"Never Spiderling."

Peter sits up and stares at blue eyes before throwing his arms around Stephen's neck. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"

"I'll forgive you...on one condition."

"Anything."

"I get my cub time."

Peter laughs and Stephen resists the urge to smack his own face.

Shit.

He said it out loud.

#tony stark #mama bear stephen strange #peter parker #loki #ironstrange #supremefamily

[prorevenge]

25 year reign of terror, a cane, and me sweet sweet revenge

We human will learn many lessons, in our lifetimes. Look both ways when you cross the street. Hot things will burn you. Don't pass out with your shoes on. But of all the things we learn, in our lifetimes, one stands out to me the most; it's the one's closest to you that will most likely stab you in the back.

This is something that I had to learn to hard way.

I've been in therapy for almost three years because of this horse shit, it really fucked me up. This is going to be a long and sad one, just be warned.

Some background

I grew up in a house with my mom, grandmother (GM), and my great-aunt G (AG); near the North Carolina/Virginia borader. My gm is the youngest of three sisters. AG is the middle child and great-aunt E (AE) is the oldest. I love both of my great-aunts, but my grandma is the scum of the earth.

I was her own personal punching bag from the age of 8 till 13. It only stopped because words like CPS and jail were being thrown around, by my doctor. No 13 year old should have the blood pressure of a 40 year old.

Now, you maybe thinking, why didn't my mom and great-aunt put a stop to the abuse. Mom was under Grandma's full control. She had some kind of dirt on my great-aunt. Enough to keep her quiet.

Too make things worse, I was bullied in school from 4th grade till my freshman year. By then I was tired of it all and tried to put a end to all of it. I failed seeing that you are reading this story, but sometimes I wish I didn't. (Story for another day)

Now on to the story.

Junior year meant thinking about your future, Junior prom, and all that BS. For me it meant that I was one year closer to blowing that popsicle stand. The one good memory I have my class rings.

I was told by my great-aunts, that I could order any kind if ring I wanted and they would pay for it. The ring I wanted was pretty standard, with one exception; I wanted my birthstone, a sapphire. As promised, I got what I wanted and it cost a pretty penny. The thing was my grandma wanted it. In her mind I didn't deserve something so nice. Trust me, she tried everything to get it and failed.

Graduation comes along and as soon as it's done, I high tail it to Virginia. I got a job and worked towards my personal goal, backpacking through Europe. (More on this later)

Two years later, my best friends younger sister was graduating high school and I was invited. After the ugliness of my freshman year, they became my second family. I worked in the families cafe and attended the oldest sister and my best friends graduations.

For the sake of the story os is older sister, bf is best friend, and ys is youngest sister.

The offer to stay with them was put forward to me, but I declined as I wanted to spend sometime with my little brother. "This was a big mistake." I was about to head out to ys's graduation party, when I have this conversation with my grandma.

GM: where do you think your going?

Me: I'm going to ys's graduation party. (By this time I had started wearing my class ring on a chain around my neck.)

GM: you aren't going anywhere with that.(pointing to my ring) We paid to much money for it, so you can lost it.

Me: YOU didn't pay anything for this ring. AG and AE paid for this ring.

GM: you aren't leaving this house till you give it here. (Head extended)

Me: oh yeah, you and what army? (As I turn to the door, I see mom blocking my way out.

Mom: hand it over and you can go.

Now the yelling and screaming starts. AG was also on the way out to do something, I don't remember what, but she puts a end to the fight quickly.

AG: ALL OF YOU SHUT UP! Give me the ring and I'll put it somewhere safe, if it means we can go about our business.

Smiling, I hand her my ring and wait for to put it up; so we can leave. Grandma following and yelling at her, all the way to her room. All is said and done; we head to our cars and go on our marry ways. I don't come back except to take my brother to lunch a few days later.

On the day I was to head back to Virginia, AG discovers my ring is missing. she thinks she may have moved it, but isn't completely sure. She tells me "when I find it I'll send it by CJ (her son my cousin). I agree to the terms and head back to Virginia.

A month has passed and still no ring. AG is extremely upset and I tell her, "don't worry, it'll turn up". It turned up, alright. A friend had ran into my mom in a pawn shop, with the ring. He calls me and here is the convo, as best as I can remember.

Friend: hey

Me: hey, it's been a while. How are you doing?

Friend: I'm good. By some chance, did you ask your mom to pawn your class ring.

Me: WHAT!

Friend: I'll take that as a no. Saw her at ABC pawn on main, yesterday. Just thought I'd ask.

Me: That bitch is so Dead! Thanks for the info. I owe you big.

After hanging up, with my friend. I was on the phone with AG and AE. I was told that they will handle Mom and Grandma. They were going to order me another ring, but I didn't want one. I wanted payback, but was told not to do anything I would regret and let it go. AE put some money in my account and I dropped it, for now

Flash forward a year.

The bullshit of my ring has passed and I'm about to apply for my passport. Now, I hope you remember me mentioning my bank account. My mom set it up for me, when I was young. Saving money for a rainy day and child support payments. I continued to use it after I moved away. Her name was still on the account, but it was never a issue.

On one of my phone calls to my brother,. I mentioned my Europe trip. He told Mom, not knowing any better. Which brought on the next round of horse shit. It was this round that literally broke me emotionally and mentally broke me.

I had recently opened a new bank account for the trip. I was going to withdraw the money and transfer it to my new account. I hope that you can see were I'm going with this. When I go to do this, i find out that it's all gone. Close to $25,000 gone and I flip my shit.

I call the bank to find out what the fuck is going on. They tell me that I withdrew it.

CS: Sir you withdraw the money a week ago.

Me: No I didn't. I have withdrawn from my account in months.

CS: It says here you withdrew the money from 123 Adams St bfe, North Carolina.

Me: Wait what, I haven't been to bfe in nearly a year. Son of a bitch. (Hang up on customer service and called home.)

AG: hey sweetie, how are you.

Me: PUT MOM ON THE PHONE NOW!

AG: what's wrong, sweetie?

Me: PUT MOM ON THE FUCKING PHONE NOW!!!

She puts down the phone and in the background i can, just barely her "I'm not letting him blow my hard earned money on some foolish trip." (I should add that my paychecks had been going into this account for years. Entitled bitch) By the time AG comes back to the phone I'm in tears and in no state to talk.

After I got off the phone, I was a complete mess. My roommate comes home to find me curled into a ball, crying. I must have worried her, cause she was trying to console me. The why me? I wish I was never born and I wished I was dead; started.

It was finally official, those cold hearted bitches finally broke me. The crying didn't stop and I was worrying my friends and colleagues. Then I stopped eating. Three later my best friend was there and their was no knocking me out of it. It was off to the hospital I go.

A month later Im released and my best friend is staying with me, for a bit. I was over crying, past pissed, and my rage was coming forth. I was long past getting even. I wanted my due revenge. Didn't care how long it would take, someone was going to pay.

I eventually return to work, a changed man. I was starting over when it came to my trip. Lawyers were suggested, but the law was not going to do. I wanted 10lbs of flesh.

Two years had to pass, before I saw my chance. I hadn't talked to those two people, in two years at that point. Things had gotten worse, back home for AG.

Grandma was acting like her shit didn't stink, literally. She was now sitting in the living room pissing and shitting, where ever she sat. The house reaked of shit and piss. She was being a bitch to AG and AG's friends stopped coming by. By this point, even Mom had enough of her and something had to be done.

I come home from work one night and who do I see sitting in my living room; my roommate, CJ, AG, my girlfriend, and mom. Soon as I see mom, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" and walked out.

My girlfriend,at the time(let call her R) follows.

R: honey, I think you should hear them out.

Me: AG and CJ yes but that bitch gotta go.

R: my name

Me: NO

R: they are going to put your grandmother in a home.

Me: She belongs at the bottom of a six foot hole.

She seemed quite shocked I would say such a thing.

R: hear them out for me, please.

I agree and I'm told of what was going on. A agreement is reached and I will help move the old witch.

Two weeks later R and myself are driving down I95 to bfe. We take our time, as I feel a disturbance in the force. A shitstorm is brewing. After stopping for lunch, we arrive around 2pm. We just arrived in the eyes of the storm.

They had dropped the bomb on grandma and she isn't happy. We can hear her in the car. That's how loud the was screaming. It is then that my sweet revenge, comes to me.

I grab my phone and call non emergency. I informed them of the situation and say I'm worried about my grandmas health and safety, a car is on the way.

Here is the thing about the town we lived in. If the police are called; it's either going to be the county sheriff or the highway patrol that comes, depends on who is closest.

I knew I had very little time, so I tell R to stay outside and wait for the police. I walk in and see the witch; keeping everyone at a distance by swinging her cane.

I'm laughing at this point. She's got everyone scared of her. Guess what, I'm not scared. I noticed that highway patrol has arrived. (Gotta do this quick) I walk up to her and tell her like it is.

Me: Look, you waste of space. The way I see it, you have two choices. You can go to the home peacefully or I can drag your ass out back and put you down like old yeller.

She chooses option three. Highway patrol and R walk in as the handle of the cane pops me below my left eye. I take the hit and feel the blood running down my face.

It's on bitch. Grab the cane and say "your turn bitch", but before I can swing; someone grabs hold of the cane. Trooper sternly looks me in the eyes and says "Go outside before you are in cuffs too"

I turn to go,but not before I get the last word.

Me: Krama's a bitch and it looks like she finally caught up to you. Enjoy your time in jail, I Know I will.

She had hit me for the last time and I got to watch her ride away in the back of a squad car. I had finally gotten my revenge and all it took was taking a cane to the face, in front of a cop.

Afterward

I had to get stitches. She got me good, one last time. Left a scar, as well. I dropped the charges on the condition that she get some mental help, go to the nursing home and never speak to me again.

Mom and I are back on non speaking terms. Bitch brought a new fucking car with my money, so I put a cider block through her windshield after I found out. She wanted me to replace the windshield.

Me: why don't you just use the money that you stole from me, to replace it.

That is how I put a end to a 25 year reign of terror. Hope that you enjoyed my little tale of revenge. Like mentioned in the beginning grammar isn't my strong suit, please be kind. Oh and I will post some pics of Grandma's handly work.

Peace, love, and rock and roll.

(source) story by (/u/prettyfly4adazedguy)

#prorevenge #by /u/prettyfly4adazedguy #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[missorgana]

stiles stilinski's guide to not losing your best friend

pairing: scott mccall & stiles stilinski, isaac lahey/scott mccall (teen wolf) + background relationships

rating: teen and up

word count: 7614

summary: Isaac seems to be spending more time with Scott recently. Like, 'Scott and Stiles' amount of time. And Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't a little, tiny bit frustrated about it.

(my longass contribution to a dead fandom, but i’ve had this idea sitting in my drafts for too long so. any mistakes found are my own and hope someone enjoys this mess ajgsj)

read on ao3

Stiles has known Scott his whole life.

Or well, not literally. He’s known him since around the beginning of third grade. Technically.

But it feels like Scott’s always been there.

He’s one of the few constants in Stiles’ life, really, besides his father of course. Scott’s the brother he’s always wanted.

And it’s a sort of unspoken thing between them that they consider the other’s parent family as well.

Melissa has talked through issues Stiles had several times - and has also insisted he call her by her first name - and Stiles has lost count of all the times his father caught them together in some kind of trouble. He still loves them both, though, Stiles knows.

Scott’s father was an alcoholic asshole who left him and his mom not long after pushing Scott down the stairs, knocking him unconscious. Stiles’s mother died in the hospital, with a young Stiles as the only witness, due to his father’s late sheriff work.

That’s another unspoken thing between them. Stiles kind of likes it that way.

Usually, when one is upset, or having a bad day, or anything, they’ll crawl through the other’s window and play video games until they both fall asleep, no questions asked. Cuddled up together, in most scenarios.

It’s not like they can’t talk about it. They have before.

But mostly, talking about things are reserved for their parents, unless it’s only between the two of them, obviously. And they’re both comfortable with that.

Because Scott knows Stiles would, literally, die for him, and he knows Scott would do exactly the same for him. They only mention it in dire situations, though.

These dire situations, however, seem to be happening more often lately, ever since the whole ‘Scott was bitten by a werewolf and oh turns out he’s also a True Alpha’ thing came around.

It’s taking some time to get used to. Stiles isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to it, if he’s completely honest.

But him and Scott are still partners in crime, as they always have been, and it’s comforting that one thing hasn’t changed, at least.

It seems like there’s still time for that to change as well, though.

At least that’s how Stiles feels in this moment, standing with Scott in front of his locker, talking about God knows what.

Because they’re not alone. Isaac Lahey, the newest addition to the McCall pack, as they call it, is standing alongside them.

Well, not the newest. That would be Malia and Kira.

Stiles doesn’t have a problem with them, though. He likes them. A lot, actually.

But Isaac is a different story. Besides being overall unbearable to be around, with his seemingly permanent stink-eye look and apparent dislike of Stiles in general, he also seems to be spending more time with Scott recently. Like, ‘Scott and Stiles’ amount of time.

Stiles knows that Scott’s allowed to have other friends than himself, of course he is. They both have plenty of other friends, Allison and Lydia to name a few.

Scott maybe has a few more than him, but that’s not the point.

The point is that wherever Scott is, Isaac seems to be there as well. Like, right now, for instance. And Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little, tiny bit frustrated about it

“What about you, Stiles?”

That mention of his name shakes Stiles out of his own head.

“Sorry- what?”

Scott smiles at that, chuckles shortly. “Dude, have you heard anything we’ve said?” There’s zero judgment in his tone, though.

“Uh, not really, no. Sorry.” Stiles says, scratching his neck awkwardly. He really needs to stop doing that.

Isaac gives him a weird look and rolls his eyes. Whatever. It’s not like Stiles wants to hear anything he has to say.

He feels bad about Scott, though.

“It’s fine, man” says Scott, “We were talking about the English assignment for this morning. You finished it?”

Stiles’ eyes widen at that.

“I haven- Shit. I totally forgot about it.”

“Me too!” Scott says, while shutting his locker closed. He chuckles a bit again before continuing, “Isaac’s finished it though. You can have a copy of his, like I got.”

Stiles almost wants to laugh. There’s no way Isaac, who hates his guts, is willing to give him a copy of his assignment. He simply nods, though, not bothering to look his way.

“Sure” says Stiles, before adjusting his bag, “I have to go now. Biology.”

“Really? You still have 10 min-”

“Just, uh. Have to talk to someone. It’s urgent. See you in English!”

He wanders off before Scott has time to ask any more questions. This looks to be another long day.

...

Somehow, in the midst of all this supernatural teenage mess, Stiles and Scott managed to form a friendship with Lydia Martin and Allison Argent.

Scott has had a rough couple of months, after his breakup with Allison, but they seem to have established a fairly good, platonic relationship now, despite it all.

Stiles isn’t that close to Allison, to be completely honest. He likes her though.

And he likes Lydia, but that’s not news to anyone. His 10 year ‘win Lydia Martin’s affection’ plan has progressed a lot faster than he’s planned. She actually talks to him now. Like, on a regular basis.

After all the changes with Scott, and Allison turning out to be a hunter, it wasn’t really much of a surprise that Lydia was part of the whole supernatural club as well.

Stiles seems to be the only human left in Beacon Hills at this point.

A part of this friendship the four have established includes meeting in front of Scott’s locker and going to lunch together.

It’s not anything they planned, it just kind of happened. It’s really nice.

But now, Stiles and the girls have been waiting for over 15 minutes with no sign of Scott. Lydia glances at her phone for what seems like the 30th time, and fixes Stiles with an expectant look.

“Didn’t you have English with him?” she asks.

Stiles shrugs, then nods. “Yeah, said he had to talk to the teacher. I didn’t think he’d take this long.

He looks around in hope of spotting Scott, but he had no such luck.

Allison tilts her head to the side but says nothing. Lydia purses her lips for a moment.

“Let’s just go,” she says, “He’s probably in the bathroom or something, he’ll know where we are.”

And in less than a second she’s gone. Allison shrugs and follows along.

Stiles waits around a moment longer, but eventually lets out a sigh and goes in the same direction, to their usual table.

Lydia’s the smartest person he knows, she’s probably right.

Turns out however, for once, she’s not.

Because at their pack table sits Scott, apparently laughing at something Malia said. With Isaac right next to him. Jesus Christ.

Scott’s saved him a seat across from him, though, as he always does.

Allison and Lydia’s already seated, so he simply follows suit, preparing himself to casually question Scott about why he didn’t meet up with them.

Lydia is one step ahead of him, though. She always is.

She raises her eyebrow when Scott curses himself, already starting to apologise. “I’m so sorry, really, I completely forgot.”

He shakes his head at himself, and Stiles just can’t stay mad at him.

So he shrugs, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, shooting Scott a reassuring smile, “It’s not a big deal, man.”

He’s kind of lying to himself though, because Stiles is pissed. At Isaac fucking Lahey. Who’s apparently making a point of not sparing him a single glance. Asshole.

“I won’t let it happen again, guys. Promise.” Scott tells them, looking like it’s the biggest regret in his life, ever.

Allison just gives him a pat on the shoulder and resumes her conversation with Lydia.

Stiles smiles at him again and kicks his leg softly, because that’s just the kind of thing they do, and devotes his attention to the chocolate pudding on the tray in front of him.

But he doesn’t miss Isaac leaning into Scott’s side, clearly whispering something in his ear.

It’s probably werewolf business. Whatever. No big deal.

...

Stiles is not a very patient person, he now realises. Far from it.

Which is why he decides to catch Allison in between classes three days later, fairly upset after his zombie film marathon with Scott the night before. And Isaac, of fucking course.

“Hey, Allison!” he says, shooting her a smile, although he’s sure it turns out more awkward than he intended.

She looks taken aback for a second. And he gets why.

Despite the four of them practically being attached by the hip at this point, Stiles actually can’t remember the last time he had a conversation with her alone. It’s strange.

Allison seems to recover quickly, though. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

She nods as a silent response, closing her locker and leaning against it.

“Don’t you think Scott is hanging out with Isaac a lot recently?” he asks, but quickly tries to elaborate, “Like, I mean, more than with us.”

Allison flicks her eyes to the ground, then back to him, and purses her lips. This seems to be a mannerism she’s taken off Lydia.

“I guess.” she ultimately replies, shrugging, “They live together, so I expected that.”

And Stiles can’t really argue with that. Dammit.

“You’re right. I just- I don’t know.” he says, flailing his arms helplessly. “I guess I feel overlooked? I don’t think Scott would do that intentionally, but Isaac doesn’t like me. Yet he apparently insists on always being around him, even when I’m there.”

He mutters the last part but Allison must have heard him, because she furrows her brows with an understanding, slightly sad look.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” she says, and he can tell it’s genuine. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sure Isaac doesn’t have a problem with you, though. He doesn’t open up right away, you know. It takes a while to earn his trust.”

And, okay, now Stiles just feels like an asshole. An insensitive asshole. He’s doing real well.

“Yeah, I- sorry. That was not great of me.” he says, and lets out a sigh. “But could you- maybe, talk to him about this?”

Allison widens her eyes a bit, and pushes herself off the locker, standing up straight.

“Why me?”

“Because, you know. You and him. You’re a thing.”

It takes a beat before her demeanor changes once again. Stiles can’t decide if she looks pissed or not.

“I’m not dating Isaac.” she says simply.

And Stiles doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Because that’s exactly what he thought was going on. They seem so close.

But now he feels like an idiot. Again.

“Oh. You’re not?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “Listen, I can tell this bothers you. Talk to Scott about it, okay? You’re the most important person in his life, everyone knows that.”

And Stiles can’t do much else than nod, defeated.

“I’m going to be late, Jesus. I’ll see you in Chemistry, right? Just think about it.” she says, and brushes past him without waiting for a reply.

Allison’s right, he has to admit that. He should talk to Scott. Tomorrow.

...

Stiles’ plan for today was to talk with Scott at lunch. But he kind of, sort of bailed on that.

He got another chance in Chemistry, but that didn’t work out either.

Allison’s eyes were on him the entire class, he could just feel it, but he managed to avoid her and slip out at the end. Not his proudest moment.

But now, Scott and him are at lacrosse practice. He figures third time’s the charm, right?

Except Isaac’s there, too.

And it’s not like coach ever goes easy on him. They do have obligatory water breaks, though, and this was when he would finally do it.

But Scott, Isaac and Kira are sitting on the bleachers, and she’s apparently telling them what her and Malia are doing for a group project.

Stiles isn’t sure if he should join them.

He can’t really talk to Scott about this with Isaac in earshot.

But Scott spots him standing awkwardly a few feet away and waves him over.

“What were you doing over there, man? Have you heard what Kira and Malia are planning for their Biology project?”

Stiles shakes his head, and Kira smiles excitedly, filling him in on what he’s missed. She’s got this look in her eyes that she always has when Malia is the subject of a conversation.

Sometimes, Stiles wonders if either of them will ever get the courage to ask the other out.

On an actual date. Not those days where Malia will use homework as an excuse to stare at Kira, and then use about an hour telling him about how helpful and pretty she is.

Anyway, he really should be listening to what Kira’s saying right now, and let this stupid thing go, but he can’t.

What does Isaac have to offer that he doesn’t?

He’s known Scott for, what? Six months? Less?

Stiles’ known Scott for almost ten years.

Does Isaac know he had a dog when he was younger? Does he know that Scott and said dog was attacked by a rapid pitbull, and his dog was deceased? Does he know Scott had asthma, before getting bitten?

Who was there to help and comfort Scott through his first wolf-out, and who stayed up at the library till closing time to research and help his friend understand his new powers?

Because it definitely wasn’t Isaac, that’s for fucking sure.

Suddenly, Kira has disappeared from Stiles’ line of vision. And when he looks around Isaac is nowhere to see, either.

Scott is giving him this look, and he knows exactly what it means.

It means he’s worried about him.

“Dude, are you doing okay?” he asks, hesitantly. Neither of them really know what to say in these types of situations, but Stiles appreciates it, he really does.

“Yeah, man. I’m peachy, Scotty.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, and Scott furrows his brows.

“Okay… are you sure? I mean- I don’t mean to pry. But you tend to get stuck in your own head sometimes. You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

God, Scott is so genuine. He cares so much.

This should be giving him the courage to talk it out, but instead, it just sends Stiles on a guilt trip. For fuck’s sake.

“I’m sure, seriously. I’m fine. Just haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately.” he says, figuring one, tiny white lie won’t hurt much, “Nothing else to it.”

Scott doesn’t look all that satisfied with the reply, but he cuts the conversation there, and showcases his signature smile.

“If you’re sure, then that’s good enough for me. Come on, coach’ll probably kill us if we take any longer.”

He puts his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, patting his back and pulling him back to the field.

So much for that plan.

...

A while ago, Scott decided that they should do ‘pack hangouts’ on Friday nights. This idea was met with a mixture of excitement, hesitance and resistance.

But they’ve all developed a fondness for this event, despite it taking around 40 minutes of bickering before they know where to go every evening. It’s nice having some sort of structure, amidst protecting Beacon Hills from all the supernatural weirdness.

Tonight, they decide to go to the local bowling alley.

During the summer time it’s practically abandoned, with the exception of a senior bowling club. Not the most pumped up crowd in Stiles’ opinion, but him and his friends quickly make up for it.

All competitive events they plan automatically place the boys versus the girls, cause that’s usually what works best for them.

Stiles can admit he’s not the most skilled player. It’s fine. Scott and Isaac and their werewolf agility make up for that. The girls are better than them, though, and they all know it.

At the moment, the girls are ahead with eight points.

It’s Lydia’s turn when Scott suggests getting another round of drinks, and everyone eagerly throw remarks at him to order.

“Yes, Malia, I’m pretty sure they don’t have anything with deer in it.” he says, chuckling fondly at her disappointed frown. “I’ll figure something out. Isaac, you want anything?”

Isaac’s attention is on Scott immediately.

“Well, I don’t know if- you know what, I’ll go with you.” he replies, already standing up from his seat.

Stiles can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. But it goes unnoticed by the two, who walk off, and he huffs, crossing his arms.

He probably looks like a pissy five year old, at least judging from Allison’s face. Whatever.

Kira pockets her phone and sits right next to Stiles.

He notices her observing him from the corner of his eye. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, something he’s noticed she does right before bringing up stuff. Usually pack problems.

“Hey, Stiles?” she finally says. He turns his head to look at her.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been acting... weird all week.”

Stiles widens his eyes slightly. It’s really no secret how observant she is. She always seems to have an idea of what people are thinking about.

It still surprises him though, cause he hasn’t really talked to her this week, except today.

He clears his throat, “Uh, no, nothing’s wrong. What do you mean?”

“It seemed like you were in your own world at practice today. Does that make sense?” she says, looking slightly embarrassed. “You just didn’t react when we talked.”

Shit. Now Stiles feels really, really embarrassed.

“I-I’m sorry, Kira, I just- I didn’t mean to ignore you. I mean you’re right.” he eventually gets out, with a sigh.

She frowns a bit, but he could tell it was out of confusion.

“Something’s going on? Did I do something?”

“No! Oh, God, no. Definitely not. You didn’t do anything.”

A strange, tense silence settles between them for just a second.

“Who did something, then?” she finally asks.

Stiles tries to think of something to say. Something other than the truth, something that doesn’t sound completely pathetic.

Fuck it.

“Something’s just weird with Scott.” he says, not sure how to explain it, “And Isaac. They just got close really fast. And that’s okay, totally, I just feel like they seem… ‘Scott and Stiles’ close, you know?”

Kira furrows her brows, and Stiles cringes. That didn’t sound possessive at all.

“I guess it’s more a problem with Isaac, really, I mean. He’s been rude to me from day one, but I’m worried he’s trying to replace me, to be an upgraded, werewolf best friend or something.” he says, not really wanting to look her in the eyes.

“I don’t want to lose Scott.”

And Kira’s face softens, not that it was hard before. She’s showing this worried demeanor now.

“I’m sorry. That was totally not my business to ask about that. Dammit, I’m an idiot.”

She seems ready to curse herself, or to just leave the conversation, so Stiles intervenes.

“You’re not! I swear. I guess I should say thank you,” he says, and continues despite the confusion appearing on her face once more, “For worrying about me."

She smiles hesitantly, shyly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“No problem. I mean, we’re friends. I always worry about all of you.”

He smiles back to her, as reassurance, because a weird sense of calm has now dawned upon him.

Somehow, he manages to keep a hold of it, despite Kira standing up to have her turn, and Scott returning with their drinks, and with Isaac of course, who apparently said something so funny he’s struggling to grasp his breath.

Stiles pretends not to care about it.

That is, until Malia suddenly turns to him, saying, “Do you want me to beat him up? I can do that.”

And he can’t do much else than slump down in his seat, rubbing his face, shaking his head. He appreciates the sentiment, though.

...

Stiles is more than fed up from this weekend.

Him and Scott had planned a paintball match Saturday, followed by food and video games till an ungodly hour of the night. Stiles was beyond excited.

Until Isaac turned up, to both Scott and his surprise, it seemed. And invited himself along to join them.

And of course Scott wasn’t bothered by it, cause he’s possibly the nicest person ever on this stupid earth. Stiles would appreciate that, if it wasn’t for Isaac being a complete asshole.

Somewhere along the way, Isaac had to talk to Scott in private. Stiles still has no idea why, but he couldn’t care less, honestly. He’s just pissed.

Which is why he walks straight up to Isaac once he spots him at the drinking fountain that Monday morning.

“Lahey!” He doesn’t even bother hiding the fact that he’s upset.

A couple of freshmen stare at them surprisedly, but Stiles keeps his attention on Isaac. Who’s now rolling his eyes.

“What do you want, Stiles?” he asks.

“I want to know what your problem is.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“My problem? Well, my father abused me and locked me in a freezer for the most of my childhood, and-”

Stiles cuts him off. “That-that’s not what I mean.”

They stare at each other pointedly for a second, before Stiles continues, “Look, I’m sorry. I sound like an asshole, that’s not what I want. Nobody deserves that shit. But I don’t understand what I did for you to hate me so much.”

Isaac scoffs, but stays silent.

“Besides, I’d appreciate it if you find your own best friend, and not try to steal mine, alright?” Stiles says finally. It kind of feels like a weight lifting off his chest.

Isaac looks at him incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Don’t bother denying it. You follow Scott around like a lost puppy. It’s clear to anyone that you’re trying to take my place”

And the motherfucker starts laughing. Like, full on laughing, like he just told the funniest joke in the whole fucking world.

Stiles' sure everyone in the hall is staring at them by now.

“I’m not trying to take your place.” Isaac says finally, still chuckling. “Trust me.”

Something about his tone is different, but Stiles can’t really figure out what. Still, he scoffs, because he has a hard time seeing what other explanation there could be.

“Why should I believe you?”

Isaac just shrugs, something resembling a smirk plastered on his face. And then he walks right past Stiles without a word.

Well, that didn’t exactly go the way he wanted it to.

...

Stiles manages to text Scott in History that same day.

Mr. Westover had made the decision to split up the two of them to opposite ends of the room a couple of months ago - probably for good reason.

His sarcastic commentary wasn’t really appreciated by anyone other than Scott.

This means Stiles is now seated in the back row, which isn’t too bad, because he is practically unsupervised while the teacher is at the blackboard.

u wanna go for milkshakes after class?

He watches the back of Scott’s head moving, notices his phone under the table, subtly looking and managing to not get caught.

Stiles’s phone vibrates in his hand.

yeah! have to go to work after tho! walk me there?

He chuckles silently at Scott’s overuse of exclamation points. Anything can excite him. It’s one of those quirks Stiles makes fun of him for, but he actually doesn’t mind at all.

of course man

Scott replies with about a dozen emojis. Stiles didn’t expect any less.

And now, he has somehow made it through History without falling asleep, and he’s walking alongside Scott, each with a milkshake in hand.

He scoffs at Scott’s mango-orange weirdness, much more content with his own Oreo monstrosity.

“Dude, do you know how much sugar’s in that?” he had asked Stiles, but not in a judgmental way, cause he was laughing. Stiles just stuck his tongue out at him, and asked the girl behind the counter for extra whipped cream.

Stiles is now thinking about his conversations with Allison and Kira for the millionth time. But mostly about the one with Isaac.

He had told him to back off and Isaac’s reaction was unexpected, while also being totally expected.

Stiles really has nothing against him as a person. Hell, in the beginning he thought they could be friends. He wanted to help Isaac.

His father was a sadistic child abuser, and most likely a murderer, too.

No one deserves someone like that in their life, Stiles absolutely meant it when he told Isaac that. He can’t say he knows, or understands, what he went through, but he can listen. Stiles’ dad has said he’s a good listener.

But Isaac clearly has something against his meer existence.

Oh, fuck this. Scott is right here, why waste time thinking about Isaac? He should just tell Scott how he feels. It can’t be that hard.

So he sucks in a breath, kicks some pebble on the ground, before finally opening his mouth, “Scotty?”

He keeps his eyes on the ground.

“Yeah?”

Scott’s turning his head to look at him, he can’t see it but he knows.

“I’ve been thinking… Um, I mean, there’s something on my mind. It’s been there for a while, I guess.” He decides to look up now, and sees Scott’s face, showcasing a small, reassuring smile.

His nod tells Stiles to keep going.

“You know Isaac doesn’t like me. Like at all. Which isn’t really the point, but it kind of is- ugh, okay. What I’m trying to say is you guys are hanging out a lot. And it makes me feel kind of…” he pauses, cause he doesn’t really know how to describe this, to be honest. But he does anyway. “Replaced.”

And Scott is silent for a beat. It seems like he’s processing what he’s just been told.

Then he’s frowning, but there’s a sadness to it.

“Shit. I-uh, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, dude.” he says, and then looks like he immediately regrets those words. “That didn’t come out right. I just- you feel replaced? I would never, you- you know that, right?”

And Stiles nods, because he knows, and Scott is so sincere, he can just sense it.

He just can’t help doubting himself.

Scott stops abruptly, and sort of gribs Stiles’ forearm, without much pressure. He could probably easily free himself and keep going, if Scott doesn’t put his werewolf strength into use.

But he feels like he’s been avoiding this for too long. Or that’s what Allison's telling him.

Stiles has never experienced anything else than honesty and loyalty from Scott, so, he asks himself, why would it be any different now?

Well, there’s been small, petty fights and lies in the past. They only lasted in a span of 24 hours, though.

“Let me explain, okay? I know that- I mean, Isaac hasn’t been really… forthcoming with you. I don’t think he dislikes you, though? He knows you’re my family, man, he wouldn’t-”

For some reason, Stiles feels the need to interrupt.

“You know what? Everyone’s been telling me that, but I don’t really believe it. I told myself I was only mad at him, but I’m kind of mad at you, too. He was an asshole this weekend and you just let him.” he says, and he stomps his foot.

He’s a fucking five year old, he knows.

If Lydia was here, she would probably roll her eyes at him, and make that “Ugh.” sound she does when she’s disappointed in someone.

“W-what, I, Stiles, I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t know he was coming. I swear.” Scott replies, rapidly moving his hands while explaining, “I mean, I told him I was hanging out with you. I didn’t invite him, though.”

“See, Scotty, that’s the problem, okay? He’s trying to be your best friend. You two had a private talk, even, when we were going home Saturday. He fucking lives with you, does he need to follow you everywhere else, too?” Stiles exclaims.

He cringes at himself a bit. That came out too harsh.

Scott’s eyes widen, like he’s had some sort of sudden revelation, and he rapidly replies, “There-there’s no way he would do that. Let me tell you what we talked about, okay? We were kind of waiting to tell you till the right time, but fuck, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head what seems like a million times, and starts again before Stiles can get a chance to answer.

“Isaac’s not trying to replace you, okay? And he could never replace you if he tried, man. I’m with you till the end, werewolves, druids, all that shit be damned.”

Maybe Stiles should let him explain. They both consider himself the brains of this duo, and Lydia’s complimented his solutions, as well.

But honestly, he’s tired. He can’t see what kind of explanation would make sense of this.

So he just rolls his eyes, and looks at his watch.

“Whatever. I don’t really wanna hear it. You’re gonna be late for work, anyway.” he says, pulling on his backpack straps.

Scott tells him to wait, but he just goes home. Don’t cry about this, dammit.

...

Stiles is stubborn.

He knows this about himself, because everyone he knows has told him so at least once. And he definitely knows he’s being stubborn right now.

Stiles has been avoiding Scott since their conversation Monday. He would call it a fight if it wasn’t so one-sided.

At the end of that night, he had received something around 30 texts from Scott.

Stiles please call me man

just let me explain okay

stiles????

dude im so sorry

i dont know what to do

call me

Did every one of those texts fill Stiles’ gut with regret? Yeah, yeah they did.

Nevertheless, he managed to somehow ignore the continued buzzing all through dinner, despite his dad’s slightly concerned looks.

For the last three days, he’s ignored Scott’s attempts to talk to him at school. The texts stopped when Wednesday came around. But Stiles knows him well enough to know that he doesn’t give up that easily.

Which is why Stiles didn’t have lunch with the pack for those three days, as well.

He got a couple of texts from Kira as well, and Lydia, and as much as he didn’t want to ignore the girls, his plan was pretty much as always.

Avoiding the problem till it solves itself.

Allison has also been giving him some rather unsettling glances in class. He pretended not to notice.

What finally made him give up his pride was his dad confronting him.

He could tell that his dad didn’t want to pry, but he still questioned why Scott hadn’t been around.

Which is why Stiles is now letting himself into the McCall house.

Him and Scott convinced their parents to give them spare keys to each other’s houses when they were 12. At that point, half of Stiles’ clothes had ended up in Scott’s wardrobe, anyway, and the other way around.

Stiles knows he could’ve just talked with him at school, but he feels safer here. It’s practically his second home.

And maybe he’ll feel a little less ridiculous without the potential risk of their fellow teenagers eavesdropping.

Once he enters, the house is quiet.

He figures Melissa is still at work, which isn’t really a surprise. Both of their parents have rather unconventional working schedules.

Stiles shuts the door behind him and automatically makes his way to Scott’s room.

They got off school about an hour ago, so Scott’s most likely still doing homework, or playing video games.

He always tells Stiles of pack business first. Well, they actually have a pack group text now, or whatever, but still. If something was going on he would know, regardless of the awkwardness he’s created for himself.

Stiles is used to go in his room without knocking, whether it be through the door or the window, and this is what he almost does now.

Almost.

Because standing meer inches from the bedroom, he hears a very familiar voice. And it’s not Scott’s.

It’s just his fucking luck. Isaac’s here.

The door is open, just ever so slightly, and for some reason, Stiles decides to peek through the tiny gap between it and the wall.

From his limited view, he can see the back of Scott’s head.

He can’t see Isaac, but he would never mistake his voice, with his apparent personal mission to annoy Stiles as much as he can on a daily basis.

Is this eavesdropping? Probably.

This might be illegal. Stiles doesn’t really know.

He’ll have to ask his dad later.

Anyway, apologising to Scott seems less appealing with Isaac present. Should he walk in anyway? Maybe he would interrupt another weird, private conversation between them. Maybe he should just go home.

But Stiles lingers, despite reason telling him not to

“I think he’s avoiding me. He hasn’t replied to my texts or called. I mean, it seems like he’s avoiding me? Ugh, I don’t know.” Scott’s voice sounds like confusion, frustration, desperation, all in one.

A couple of thumps sound that Stiles can’t really place.

“Stiles not talking to you, what a tragedy.”

Isaac really is an asshole. No redeeming qualities, whatsoever. What does Scott even see in him?

“Isaac.” Scott almost sounds like a scolding parent. He sighs, “Come on, don’t be like that. You know he’s my family.”

Stiles can’t help the smile creeping up on his face.

He really can’t stay mad at Scott and his stupid, good self. God dammit.

“Yeah, yeah- I’m sorry. Really. I know.” Isaac’s voice resonates, and it sounds weirdly genuine. “He’ll come around. He’s very possessive of you, so.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Yeah, Isaac, put all the blame on him. That’s just great.

A moment passes before Scott replies, “Possessive?”

“He accused me of ‘stealing his best friend’.”

“I figured, I mean, he said that to me, too.” Scott says, huffs a bit before carrying on, “I wanted to explain it to him. He wasn’t like this with Allison.”

This statement causes Stiles to furrow his brows. What does Allison have to do with this?

In this moment, Isaac steps into his line of view.

He makes a movement that looks a lot like shrugging.

“Allison didn’t attack him, so,” Isaac was quiet for a moment, seemingly choosing his word carefully. “I get it. But also, he’s pretty oblivious.”

The conversation continues to weird Stiles out, because Isaac sounds genuine, but if that wasn’t enough, his voice sounds almost remorseful. Like it’s filled with regret.

Huh. Isaac never apologized, or anything similar to that, after what went down.

That also plays a vital part in why Stiles hates his guts. Or it did.

He hasn’t really been thinking about that for a long time.

Isaac seats himself on the arm of the small couch, where Scott is sitting in front of the tv.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I showed up at your hangout this weekend.” he says, “I didn’t really wanna tell you over the phone.”

Stiles figures this is about their private conversation. What in the world could be so important that Isaac couldn’t wait, what, two days till they returned to school?

“It’s okay, hey, don’t apologise. I’m, like, thrilled you told me.” Scott replies, a chuckle sounding under his breath. “I- Stiles wasn’t happy about it, and I get it. You should probably talk to him. We both should.”

“Well,” Isaac starts out, a beat of silence, “Yeah, I promise. We’ll talk to him. He can’t stay mad at you forever, okay? But can we please not talk about this anymore?”

Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

Scott makes a sound like a huff, then chuckles, then looks down and up again, “What do you suggest we do, then?”

“Come on.” Isaac replies, but he moves down in the couch next to Scott.

Then Scott moves his head close to Isaac's.

And then they’re kissing.

Oh.

Oh.

Stiles is stuck in his spot, mouth hanging open. It happened so suddenly that he doesn’t know how to react now.

That might actually make sense.

Or strike that, it does make sense.

Now standing here just feels plain wrong. He should leave.

That’s what he does.

He moves from the bedroom door down the hallway, down the stairs, half running out the door, praying he’s not too loud.

And now he doesn’t know what to do with himself, or this revelation, so he heads home.

Maybe he should just go to bed.

Yeah, he’s seen enough today, he should be sleeping on that.

He’ll talk to Scott after the weekend.

...

"I don't want to fuck you."

The sentence came out of Stiles' mouth before he could really think too much of it. And that sparked a rather awkward silence.

Perhaps this is not the best thing to tell Scott after ignoring him for a whole week.

Especially while Isaac and Allison are around as well.

But this is not the stupidest thing Stiles has done in his life, believe it or not. Scott knows this, he's sure.

And now said boy is looking at him with a startled, confused gaze.

Allison is looking rather uncomfortable.

Isaac's brows are deeply furrowed, showcasing a weird, sour expression on his face that is disturbingly similar to Derek.

Stiles starts chewing on his bottom lip.

He looks to Scott expectantly for a reply, but truthfully, he doesn't really know what he's hoping for.

Scott seems to be over the initial shock, though.

"Alright?" he simply says, sounding hesitant. "Uh...thank you?"

Stiles sighs a tiny bit in relief.

Gives Scott a nod.

But he doesn't really know what to say now

Stiles does notice Allison silently exiting the conversation, disappearing around the nearest corner.

"Stiles, what... What do you mean, exactly?" Scott asks him.

"Uhm, I mean what I said. I don't want to fuck you. Just want you to know that."

Scott scoffs, and chuckles a bit.

"Okay. I don't want to fuck you either, Stiles." He looks to Isaac for a second, perhaps for a way out of the situation as well.

Isaac just shrugs.

"Dude," Scott starts once more, "You're freaking me out, man. Been freaking me out since last week. I meant it when I apologised, you know that right?"

Stiles nods with slight defeat. Of course he does, you dork.

"Where's this coming from?"

"Well," Stiles begins, not really sure how to say this without mentioning his totally not cool eavesdropping on their private moment. "It's come to my attention that you and Isaac are, you know."

He follows this with some helpless hand movements, which receive a weirded out look from Isaac.

"I didn't know you guys were dating, and I feel dumb for not figuring it out, okay? But also I'm sort of hurt that you didn't tell me cause you're my brother, man! I was scared that I wasn't a good enough best friend anymore and you were ditching me for him, and also I have to say I don't know what you see in that douche, and-"

It all came out of Stiles' mouth in a massive, too quick to comprehend blur, until Scott stopped him before his own brain could, gribbing his shoulder slightly.

"Stiles!"

Scott looks at him with his stupid puppy dog eyes. He's an asshole.

"What are you talking about?" He says, scoffing like he's in disbelief. "Why would I think you're not good enough?"

"Cause, you know."

Scott looks confused, still, and Stiles sighs. "Your werewolf thing."

This makes the other boy frown.

"Dude, my wolf thing doesn't change anything. We talked about this a long time ago, remember?"

Stiles doesn't know what else to do than sigh, flail his limbs a bit, and open his mouth once more.

"That was before you and Isaac got all friendly."

He hopes that doesn't sound too judgmental, or sour.

Scott turns back to see the red haired boy roll his eyes, and he chuckles. "You two are impossible, you know that?"

He continues despite Stiles' frowning, "You're my best friend, man, werewolf or not. You know me better than anyone. Don't you ever think you're not good enough, alright? And I'm so sorry that I ever made you feel like you're not good enough. I don't ever want you to feel that way."

Scott gives him a reassuring smile, and Stiles cannot help giving in and smiling back, as usual. Damn him.

"Also," Scott adds, "We're, uh, pretty new."

He shakes his head at himself, and looks to Isaac, presumably for a better way to explain whatever he's trying to say.

"Our 'thing' is new. Like, just became official. How do you even know about it, anyway?" Isaac asks, with his permanently sharp look.

Well, at least he's not looking at Stiles like he's a wandering plague as he usually does, so that's something.

"Uhm," Stiles starts, not really sure how to say it, "I, kind, sort of, saw you kiss?"

Isaac scrunches up his face.

"I mean, ugh, I went to your house to talk and then you were there, and i didn't really wanna go in and interrupt, and, yeah."

Scott laughs brightly. "You're so weird sometimes."

Stiles knows he means it fondly, he can tell.

"Truth is, we haven't really told anyone yet. I don't wanna make it a big deal." Scott shrugs, "I just really like Isaac."

This makes the taller boy duck his head, displaying something Stiles cannot make himself believe is a shy smile.

This week's brought plenty of surprises, that much is true.

"I didn't even know you were into boys." Stiles says, but it sounds stupid, and he frowns at himself, "Nothing's wrong with that! I mean, you've only been with girls before, you know."

"Yeah, I mean, I've actually known I'm bi for a while now" Scott replies, makes a face Stiles can't really interpret, "I wanted to come out to you, to everyone. My mom knows, but that's about it up till this point."

Stiles doesn't really know what to think of this.

Doesn't Scott trust him?

He hates that thought immediately though, cause it's not up to him to decide who Scott comes out to, and when. It’s personal.

"I just, ugh, I think... the reason why I hesitated about telling you was because I thought it would make things weird."

Stiles finds himself frowning. He blinks a couple of times.

Maybe this looks way too dramatic, but he doesn't care.

"How in the world would it make things weird?"

Scott shrugs. "I mean, awkward? I don't know man."

Stiles shakes his head at him. "I'd never think you would hit on me, or whatever, if that's what you think. I wouldn't blame ya, though."

The other boy playfully punches his shoulder, laughing again.

"That is what I mean. And I would never hit on you! We're brothers, that just seems wrong to me." he says, then adds, "And I love you, I really do, but you're not really my type."

Stiles puts a hand on his chest in false offense, gasping, "Excuse me? I'm everyone's type."

Isaac scoffs behind them.

It's probably going to sound a bit mean, he's aware, but Stiles had sort of forgotten he was still present. Oh well.

"Definitely not mine." the red haired boy tells him.

Stiles makes an effort to send him the best stink-eye he can muster.

"Isaac," Scott says with an expectant look, "Don't you have something to tell Stiles?"

The taller boy sighs dramatically, but when he turns to Stiles he has a genuine look in his eyes, "I'm sorry."

Stiles lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

"I know I can be mean, alright? It's kind of my thing, I guess, sarcasm and all." Isaac elaborates.

"Guess we have more in common than I thought." Stiles replies with a huff.

And the taller boy smiles, a little bit. Tiny smile, bit like a smirk, but he doesn't seem offended.

"Maybe." he says. "I don't hate you or anything. I haven't really been a people person up till now. I'm trying to, though."

And Stiles smiles at that, and nods, hoping his understanding is conveyed through the simple gesture.

"You're not that bad, Lahey. You're alright. But you know, if you ever hurt Scott, you're in deep shit man. Break his heart, I'll-

"Alright!" Scott stops him with a hand on his upper arm, chuckle and wide eyes. “He would never. And besides, I know how to take care of myself.”

More chuckles sound from the three of them, Isaac nods and chimes in, albeit not as loud, “I would never.”

Stiles nods, satisfied with his answer. For now.

“Okay, so,” he says, slightly eager to change the subject. This whole ordeal feels awkward to him. He’s just glad it hasn’t screwed up everything.

“We’re still going to the movies Friday, right?”

Scott gives him the huge signature smile, of course, before he replies, “Definitely! The girls are looking forward to it as well.”

“Good. Please try to keep it in your pants, alright?”

This earned him an Isaac Lahey stink-eye, and a (slightly) shocked laugh on Scott’s part.

Some things never change.

#scisaac #teen wolf #scott x isaac #twedit #teen wolf fanfiction #eloquencenet #fandomaestheticgang #sabrinasfamily #userneville #meghansfamily #rebeccasfamily #hogwartsfamily #my writing #teen wolf writing #fanfiction #m/m fanfiction #fluff #humor #angst (sort of) #best friends #getting together #stiles being melodramatic and oblivious and a lil jealous #canon divergence #reannasfam #sophiesfamily #queernet #lutkasfamily #myedit #stiles stilinski #lennon tries to write

[jimlingss]

Head Over Heels to Hell

➜ Words: 27.5k

➜ Genres: 80% Fluff, 20% Angst, Childhood friends To Enemies To Lovers!AU (it’s a roller coaster), Reverse Soulmate!AU, Historical!AU (kind of)

➜ Summary: Some people are destined to never have a soulmate. You are one of the few. Instead, you have something much different - a parasite set out to destroy and ruin your life no matter where you run to.

➜ Warnings: Mention of death and a shit ton of other things - I promise it's not too angsty but still tread carefully. Implied smut & slight historical inaccuracies.

➜ Notes: My god, I wrote this back in April. But honestly, I’m so fucking proud of it. This is probably my most favourite Hoseok story I’ve written up to date. Dare I say, it might even be masterpiece level. Anyways, I’ve been super excited to share this. Enjoy!

Cr.

Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several, fated to fall in love with their other half or a fragment of themselves. Whether it be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence by your side that makes a home a true home - each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and the void feeling that lingered while they travelled through life on their own disappears.

 You, however, are not so fortunate of an individual.

 “A few folks in the world don’t have a soulmate.” The old woman sighs while looking out from her porch. You sip on your juice box, swaying from side to side on your toes next to the rocking chair. “I can see it in your eyes, dear. A bachelorette. You’ll be alone for your entire life and the next to come.”

 You quirk your head to one side. “What’s a bachelorette?”

 You can’t comprehend what your grandmother is saying. She’s using such complicated words that your dad hasn’t taught you yet but you aren’t very concerned with it either. Any second now, your mom will emerge from the kitchen with ants on a log and you’ve made sure you finished your breakfast this morning to be able to eat them. Also, your mom says your grandmother is old and her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, whatever that meant.

 Did that mean she was crazy? If she’s crazy then that’s not good. But maybe crazy is fun and exciting. Oh! That little doggy that wanders around the yard is also fun and exciting. Speaking of which, where is it?

 “It means you won’t be able to experience love.”

 Your grandmother snaps your attention momentarily back into focus. You peel your eyes away from the verdant green lawn to the wrinkles surrounding her experience yet tired eyes. “At least, you can experience it but nowhere near the amount that soulmates would feel. Instead of a soulmate, you have something much different, Y/N.”

 “What is it?”

 For once, the sorrow and pity laced in her features has melted off. The old lady smiles at you and pets your head lightly. “You’ll find out someday.”

 Without fully understanding the weight of her words, there will come a day when you look back and regret not taking heed of the warning.

Fate decides to begin smiling down at you at four years old.

 Barely able to walk on your own two feet without wobbling, your mother sends you off to preschool with a bright knapsack and brand-new shoes. You aren’t aghast to be without her but more so, bewildered that there are so many miniature humans like you in the confines of such a small space. “Y/N?”

 Your name being called has you flopping your head to the ceiling where a young lady with an apron tied around her waist is grinning. “You’re Y/N, right? Welcome to our little Buttercup Daycare!” The teacher squats down to meet your height. “We’re just having a little playtime now before all the kids get here and we do some crafts together. Is there something you’d like to play with?”

 It’s then that you confirm you quite like this lady. She’s very nice and pretty.

 Your tiny arm raises, finger moving from your fist to point at the pink princess castle in the corner. She smiles and ushers you over. “Great choice! Do you like princesses?” You nod at her question, and she hums, watching as you open the door and study the plastic building. “You know, Emily really likes to play with princesses too! She would be a great friend. I should go get her.”

 No. No. No. You don’t want a friend. You want to play with the teacher- “Oh…”

 Before you were able to turn around and voice your opinion, the lady has disappeared in the sea of children. You whip your head around, standing on the tips of your toes to catch sight of her but the struggle is fruitless.

 Suddenly, it hits you hard. Your mother is gone. Your father is at work. The teacher is nowhere in sight and all these rambunctious strangers are scaring you. They’re shouting, screaming, running, giggling - it’s sheer madness.

 With the blind courage of a four-year old, you bravely step into the crowd, yelping when a stranger bumps into you, whimpering when a block is thrown at your foot, crying softly as someone steps on your shoes. It’s no wonder that you get pushed aside so easily when even a gust of wind could knock you off your feet. But this time, it isn’t a mere nudge.

 Like a swift current, a stream of children running indoors when they’re not supposed to, accidentally collides into your little body, shoving you aside and you're pushed to the ground. A shock ripples throughout your frame, knees bruised, palms met with the rough carpet. You’re absolutely stunned, unable to grasp what just happened but in the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, you break out into horrific and heart wrenching sobs.

 “Owie…”

 “Stop crying.” In the midst of the chaos, you rub your eyes with your little fists, lifting your chin to meet the tall shadow looming over you. The stranger wears no smile, oddly familiar in a way you can’t understand and his cold gaze doesn’t make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were falling like raindrops. “Only babies cry. You’re not a baby.”

 The boy should be the same age as you. Should because no child should have such a fixated stare and serious expression. There are only a few inklings that show his youth, the pitch black hair that looks more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction, the low height and stature that may be smaller than your own body and the navy green overalls splattered with colours that are not supposed to belong there.

 “Stand up.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment, letting the remaining salt water drip down your cheeks and then your arm reaches out.

 Your hand clasps his and the boy lifts you off your feet.

 “My name is Y/N.” You smile at him happily, giggling when he tries to shake off your grip but fails to do so. You fear if you’ll let him go, your new friend will disappear into the pandemonium. “What’s your name?”

 “Hoseok.” He sighs when he realizes that you’re going to stick around him now. But he decides you both might as well do something together. “You wanna paint?”

 You loll your head, following his finger that’s pointed to the round table with the green stools and brushes laying on the watercolour sets. Hoseok patiently waits for your answer and you give another toothy smile, letting your dress twirl when you look at him again. “Okay!”

 Four-years old is when you meet Jung Hoseok at preschool and you become stuck to his side like gum, declaring him as your best friend while discovering his enjoyment for painting; how he marks up white printer paper until it’s drenched in vivid hues, scribbling with brushes until all the brush hairs has fallen off. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, you’re his greatest friend!

 “Paint me! Paint me!”

 “No.” He ignores your crestfallen expression. “Don’t wanna.”

 It’s too difficult to hold back the sadness and you can’t help but cry, “Why?”

 The boy huffs out, turning away from you until you face his backside. “Cause I said so.”

 It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Hoseok would paint you if he could. But there’s not really a colour in the watercolour set that could be used to show how brightly your eyes shine.

 Plus, he knows he’s not that good. It would be mean to make you ugly. Especially when you’re far from it in reality.

 //

 Fate’s smile never ceases its smile. Even when years pass and you’re slowly getting a better grip on yourself, it seems like life has always shown you a better side of itself. Well...for the most part at least...

 “Y/N, why are you disrupting class again?” The teacher at the front slaps down her whiteboard marker on the metal ledge, exhaling and giving you a hardened glare. “Do we need to have another chat outside?”

 You wince from the sharp tone, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the class of thirty students have turned around to stare at you. “I’m sorry.” You sink lower in your desk seat. “I-I can’t find my writing journal. I think someone stole it…”

 The teacher scoffs. “Well does it look like we’re writing, right now? We’re doing social studies, so please, sit up straight and open your textbook to page one hundred seventy-four. Now. Please.”

 Everyone turns back to the notes on the board and you downcast your head, trying your best to pay attention but to no avail. To the side, a friend offers some consolation through a warm smile, though before she can lean over and whisper to you, the teacher gives the both of you the stink eye. The old woman’s voice drones on and on about the geography of the world, explaining a worksheet and what shade to use when colouring the countries in.

 As an eight-year old, third grade was the worst.

 Not only was the teacher mean to you, the classes were boring and you didn’t have that many friends. Most of the girls didn’t like you very much since you didn’t like to play with dolls anymore and you weren’t that interested in discussing crushes or soulmates. You liked to write but they thought that was boring. Friends or no friends, it was fine by you. But it was still kind of lonely.

 “I still can’t find my journal.”

 The teacher, sitting at her desk, looks up at you with her reading spectacles perched on the tip of her nose. “Well that’s what happens when you’re too irresponsible with your belongings, Y/N. You should learn how to be more organized.”

 “But I left it inside my desk in the corner like always!” While defending yourself, your voice moves up a pitch, and she seems to get annoyed from the sound. “It’s not fair! I think someone took it!”

 “Don’t be ridiculous! The door’s always locked.” She sighs, exhausted from having to reason with an illogical child. “Stop blaming other people for your mistakes, Y/N. If it’s lost, then it’s lost because of you. You’ll just have to re-do all the assignments and entries I gave.”

 “But-”

 “I don’t tolerate any back talk. Now go outside like you’re supposed to. The bell doesn’t ring for another twenty minutes.” The woman doesn’t offer any more chances as she turns back to her stack of papers, thirty booklets full of worksheets that were handed in and had to be marked by the end of the week.

 You open your mouth to retort but a staggering breath leaves instead. Your shoulders droop with defeat and you force yourself to drag your feet out of the classroom, frame quivering with sobs threatening to break through your throat. The hallway grows blurry in your vision, clouded with tears but you clench your fist, nails digging into your skin, repressing the urge to cry.

 “Y/N?”

 You slowly turn around at the familiar voice and quickly, you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Hey, Hoseok. What’s up?”

 “Nothin’. Are you okay?” He steps forward, meeting you halfway and you meekly nod.

 “Ms. Choi is a mean witch so it’s whatever.”

 Hoseok laughs and you find your lips upturning at the sound.

 One of the biggest reasons third grade completely sucks is because Hoseok isn’t your best friend anymore. Actually, he hadn’t really been your friend since two years ago when you entered first grade. It seemed like in your school, girls hung out with girls and the boys would do their own thing. As much as you disliked it, you couldn’t do much when your friends pulled you away to the other side of the playground where the park benches were and Hoseok was off at the field playing soccer with his other classmates.

 You can’t actually remember the last time you talked to Hoseok. Anytime when you did, whether it be during class or outside, your peers would ask you if you liked him or if you’re dating or if he’s your soulmate. You don’t even know what any of that means.

 (Also, there’s the whole rumour that you can catch germs from boys but you don’t think that’s right).

 “Did you find your journal?”

 “No.” You whimper, downcasting your head at the reminder and afraid that you’ll really begin to start crying. It would be so humiliating to do it in front of him - you’d never return to school again. “I think it’s lost.”

 “It isn’t.” He smiles and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both his arms and thrusting it out in front of you. A gasp spills from your lips and your doe eyes dilate from the recognizable bright green cover. “I found it in the lost and found.”

 You grasp at the notebook, taking it into your hands, feeling the metal coil beneath your fingertips and the wrinkled pages full of erasing, scribbling and doodles. “Thank you.” You choke out words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you. I-I thought it was gone forever. I thought it was stolen.”

 “By Seokjin, right?” He smiles when you nod. “Yeah, I think he stole my pencil too. I lent him a sharper once and it was gone by the end of the day. No one believes us when we tattle on him.”

 “You’re the best, Hobi!” It’s a nickname that you haven’t said in a while, and he’s about to mumble something back but you smother him in a tight hug. Hoseok pretends he’s being choked to death, making hacking sounds and muttering your name but you don’t let up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “Yeah, sure.” He uses all his strength to rip your arms away from his neck, prying it off in a hurried pace before someone else sees. His breath steadies and he glares at you. But you remain smiling at him, and he scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “I hope it’s okay but I read some of it.”

 “What?” Your eyes enlarge. “You did?!”

 “Yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s actually not bad but you suck at spelling.” You smile sheepishly at him, acknowledging your bad marks in every spelling pop quiz. “I could fix it for you if you want me to.”

 “Nah, it’s okay.” You don’t want to bother him anymore than you already have. It’s already made you happy enough to have your journal back and to hear that your writing is pretty good; technically he said ‘not bad’ but you’re taking it is a compliment. “Thanks though.”

 The boy in his green plain shirt and trousers is beginning to say something but a hall monitor strides down the hall and whips his head over at the sight of you. “Hey! Aren’t you kids supposed to be outside for recess?!”

 You and Hoseok exchange a startled look before you both book it out the doors together.

 //

 At twelve, fate begins to show its ugly side. Technically not as much as your ugly side.

 It’s painful to admit but you look like the ‘before’ shot of those cosmetic surgery advertisements - bad skin, pimpled face, gawky glasses, braces, awkwardly cut hair, limbs too long — the whole nine yards and more.

 It also doesn’t help that you feel like everyone else looks like they came straight out of a magazine, blown out hair, flawless features, a perfect smile and trendy clothing. So, it’s probably not all in your mind that people are staring and talking behind your back when you walk to your locker or to go to class. Why did puberty have to fuck you up so badly?

 “What are you talking about?” Your friend rests against the washroom counter. “You’re so pretty Y/N. You just don’t see it.”

 The reflection in the mirror says otherwise.

 You look over at her with an unimpressed expression. A lump lodges in your throat when you detect pity in her gaze but you ignore it. “Thanks but I feel really horrible. My skin is itchy and I feel bloated and this is probably too TMI, but my bowel movements haven’t been great.”

 “You’re fineeee.” She emphasizes, flicking a piece of dirt from under her nails. “Trust me when I say it’s a lot worse in your head. No one cares, you know. They’re all too concerned about themselves anyways. But it’ll get better, Y/N. Chin up.”

 “...Thanks.”

 It’s not like you wanted all these insecurities. It just happened to knock on your door, barge inside without a warning and now you constantly feel bad about yourself no matter where you go. The world would be a lot better if it were socially acceptable to wear a plastic bag over your head.

 “I better get back to Mr. Jeon’s math class before he freaks out and sends someone to go look for me.” She checks her phone once and then pats you on the back, standing back on both feet. “See you at lunch, Y/N.”

 “Yeah, see ya.”

 The moment your friend walks out the washroom door, you look back at the silver mirror with a long sigh. No matter what you do, how much foundation or concealer you pack onto your face, it doesn’t help anything. You can either look like a peasant girl or a clown - you’re not sure what’s worse.

 You reach deep into your hoodie pocket, a sleek surface meeting your fingertips and you hesitantly pull the small object out. It’s a lipstick that you smuggled from your mother’s makeup bag this morning. The pink bullet is soft and pretty in hue but you’re aware the moment it meets your mouth, it’ll look like a child trying to play dress-up.

 “All or nothing.”

 You murmur to yourself using some encouraging clichés and then, your hand lifts to dab on the colour. With the lightest touch and your pinky smearing the product, you pop your lips, taking a step back to look at yourself. And wow.

 For once, you don’t feel like a roach emerging from the back of a dumpster.

 You throw open the door, strutting down the hall. Despite no one being around, you feel like a glorious supermodel and the paparazzi are hidden in the corner, your idol waiting with a bouquet of red roses at the end of the aisle, an epic soundtrack playing to each of your steps. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is all you needed to be rich and pretty. Maybe he’ll finally look at y-

 “Y/N?”

 You whirl yourself around, heart stuttering inside your chest. “H-hey Hoseok. What are you doing?”

 The teenager is in a green sweatshirt, baggy jeans and breaking school rules by wearing a snapback hat indoors. He puts down his phone, stuffing the device and his earphones into his pocket and shrugs. “Bathroom.”

 You smile, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re not skipping class, are you?”

 “Nah.” His hands dig around his clothing and he hums. “Do you have some change I can borrow? I need to buy something at the vending machine and I think I forgot my wallet at home.”

 “Oh, no problem.” You reach into your own pocket before taking out the tiny pink pouch that your aunt gave to you for your birthday. It takes a second until you take out a five dollar bill, lifting it up and into his palm. Your fingertips accidentally brush against his skin and you withdraw your limb like the movement burns you. Hoseok gives you a strange look but dismisses it.

 “I-I don’t have change, just this but you can keep it. You don’t have to pay it back to me.”

 The boy appears stunned and he furrows his brows. “Are you sure?”

 “Yeah.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s stare was becoming too intense anyways. “It’s fine.”

 “Are you going back to class?” he asks and you nod. “We can go together then.”

 “Don’t you need to use the washroom?”

 “It’s fine. I’ll walk you back.”

 “O-okay then.” It’s terribly awkward and you loathe yourself on having such inept social skills. If it were anyone else, they’d probably be able to find another topic of conversation and switch over smoothly, destroying the tense silence but alas, you are only a twelve-year old who has no such natural talent. “How are you? We haven’t talked in a while. What kind of classes do you have?”

 The subject that you do bring up makes you cringe inside.

 Who even wants to talk about school in their free time?!

 Hoseok seems to get an inkling of your inner turmoil since he rips his eyes away from the profile of your face to the end of the corridor, smiling to himself discreetly. “Y/N, we literally have the same classes together. We see each other everyday.”

 “Right.” You recoil, cheeks becoming warm with embarrassment. “Well, we might see each other, but we don’t really talk. You’re always sitting in the back of the classroom.”

 “And you’re sitting in the front.” The adolescent beside you laughs. “Who knew Y/N would one day become the smartest student?”

 “I-I’m not. Plus, I’m sure you get better grades than I do.” It was true, anytime the teacher asked you to hand back tests or quizzes, you snuck a peek at the grade marked in the corner of the page and for every single one, he either got a hundred or close to it. Most of your peers didn’t know but you did. “You’re the smarter one here, I suck at math and science and-.....Hoseok? Is there something wrong?”

 His eyes are fixated on your mouth. “No. You just have a little of pink right there.”

 He points to your cupid’s bow and you reach up, flustered and perplexed that he noticed the makeup you put on. You wonder if it’s bad or if it makes you even uglier than before. “Where?”

 “Almost. To the left a bit.”

 “Here?”

 “To the right. Up. No. Go down a bit. Here, let me do it.” Hoseok pulls you in with a gentle hand on your shoulder and his thumb on his other hand raises to your lips, rubbing away the colour. The touch is feather-light but from the mere proximity, you’re absolutely stunned at what’s happening. Your eyes enlarge, heartbeat pounding in your ears and your mouth fills with cotton.

 Whether he’s actually dense, or he knows the effect you get from him, he doesn’t make any comments. After a moment, Hoseok pulls away. “There. It looks pretty nice, by the way.”

 “T-thanks.” The pair of you walk the rest of the way in silence. It’s only when you’ve reached the classroom door that you notice he’s a few meters behind you, lingering and glancing at the ceiling. “Are you not coming in?”

 He hitches his thumb to the other end. “I have to grab something at my locker so you should go in first.”

 “Okay.” You watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the boy takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him. Since when did he become so tall? You’re not sure but all you know is that there’s a feeling inside your chest, depriving from an unknown source and you inhale a breath, taking the leap of courage.

 “Wait. Hoseok.”

 He turns. “Hmm?”

 Perhaps it is destiny that has given you the bravery that you’ve lacked for so many years.

 “I’m sorry for not talking to you more. Sometimes it’s difficult since you’re friends with those guys and I’m-”

 You have no one. You’re not pretty. You can’t socialize well. You’re literally the most boring person on this planet. And you harbour a huge fat crush that inhibits you from making any interaction towards him.

 “We’re both in different circles.” Hoseok finishes your sentence and you laugh stiffly. That too. Yet, despite your self-consciousness and metal self-deprecation, he laughs happily and it alleviates the mood. “No, I get that. Don’t worry about it.”

 “I just think we should talk more. I kind of...miss….you…” You’re mumbling at this point, volume becoming quieter and quieter until it’s a squeak. You don’t even know what the hell you’re saying and your face is on fire. It doesn't help that Hoseok's gazing at you so intently without speaking a single word.

 “...that’s all.” To save yourself from further embarrassment, you quickly turn to the door, hand grabbing the door, ready to twist your wrist and enter inside.

 Except, you never get the chance.

 “Wait. Y/N.” Your old childhood friend has his hand wrapped around your wrist and if steam wasn’t leaving your ears before, now it is. “I lied.”

 “What?”

 “I didn’t forget my wallet. I don’t even need to buy anything in the vending machine.” He diverts his eyes, avoiding your stare and frown of confusion. “The rest of class made a mess, and then they ditched to go to the cafeteria. If you go back, you’ll get in trouble for sure.”

 Even with the delayed response from your end, you can only manage one single syllable. “What?”

 “I’m sorry for lying.” After his stupid classmates had ran wild, throwing paint all over the walls, flipping over tables and desks when the substitute teacher had walked out of the room, they all grabbed their bags and spirited away. The first person Hoseok thought about was you.

 You had left to go to the washroom, unaware of what was unfolding and instead of leaving with his friends, he wandered around till he found you. A sick, twisted part of him was curious to see how stupid and gullible you are - he wasn’t disappointed either. You believed him so easily, he didn’t even need to try. But what Hoseok failed to calculate was his own guilt and his weakness.

 You.

 “You can hate me if you want to, that doesn’t matter.” He reaches to grab the five dollar bill, and he slaps it back into your hands. “And you can snitch to the principal but don’t go back in.”

 “Hoseok.” A smile slips on your lips and you become sheepish. “I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. Just...I could never hate you. You’re still my friend.” Hoseok’s fingers still wrapped around yours, preventing you from entering the horrific classroom and the dollar bill in your other hand proves it so. “So, let’s go?”

 Your friend smiles, releasing his grip and grateful that you don’t want to kick his ass. “Last one to the vending machines has to buy!”

 A gasp sounds from your mouth when he takes off running and you laugh, shouting after him and probably disturbing all the other classes going on. “Hey! That’s so not fair!”

 //

 The class drones on and on. It’s absolutely unbearable. Heads are bobbing up and down, trying to stay awake while some have given up all together, sleeping on their desks with their heads rested in their folded arms. The teacher doesn’t seem to care, continuing with her lesson as it was planned.

 “Soulmates are a very peculiar phenomenon in our modern society today and many scientists have yet to discover the reason as to why since it isn’t very biologically efficient. It doesn’t seem like genetics or family history play a huge part, sometimes soulmates are outright opposites while other times they are very similar to each other. It may just be a psychological occurrence.”

 “All they have been able to conclude thus far is when soulmates meet, both parties experience a euphoria of emotions, each of them enhanced and the effects are very similar to some type of drugs out there. The love and passion are like none other. Typically, there are two types of soulmates that people can have. One, there is literally only one person that is your soulmate. Two, there are several people living in the world that could be your soulmate. It differs with each individual and again, no one knows the answer yet. Perhaps someday we'll know.”

 The only person actually listening is some guy at the front of the class. He raises his hand and the teacher calls upon him. “What about people who don’t have either?”

 “Ah...yes...those folks are...rare and far in between.” The teacher wears a melancholic expression, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with the topic. “People without soulmates can find companionship, but they most likely end up alone, in this life and the next and the next….”

 She concludes with- “it’s unfortunate.”

 Your forehead nearly smacks against the wooden surface of the desk as you’re lulled to sleep but your neck snaps back before you can hurt yourself. Fuck. You rub your eyes, screaming inside your head out of pure boredom. Then, an idea flickers inside your brain and you lean over to your friend sitting beside you in the other row.

 “Hey, I’ll make a bet with you.” At your voice, she perks her head up, eyes sparkling in interest. “Bet Mr. Min won’t visit Ms. Kang today. Five bucks, what do you think?”

 She smirks. “You’re on.”

 Lo and behold, the familiar blonde headed teacher sticks his head through the door, thankfully interrupting class and cracking a few jokes while shocking sleeping students awake with his cheerful voice. As Ms. Kang flirts with the chemistry teacher, your friend giggles while you pull out a crisp bill, handing it to her.

 “Okay, you win this time.” You sulk, looking back into your barren pocket.

 “I’ll bet you one more time.” Your friend grins, starting to have fun since class began. “If Mr. Min doesn’t stay for more than ten minutes, I’ll give you your five dollars back and an additional ten. But if he does stay for over ten minutes, I get ten bucks from you.”

 You contemplate the options, weighing each reward and consequence. It sounded appealing, not only would you get your money back but even more? Plus, Ms. Kang was actually teaching a full lesson today and there was a test tomorrow. Surely, he would leave, so she could continue addressing the class. You smirk at your newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 In the next twelve minutes, you hand over more money.

 Your friend laughs her head off, clutching onto your stomach and you can only sigh from your multiple defeats. Another classmate turns around and asks what the two of you are up to.

 “We’re making bets.” Your friend wipes away the tears that have welled up. “Y/N keeps losing.”

 “Ooh count me in.”

 Someone else who was eavesdropping swivels around. “Me too.”

 The teacher is still chatting away with Mr. Min at the front of the classroom with a group of students while the rest of you wait in boredom. There’s nothing like an entertaining game with monetary prizes to liven up an atmosphere. “Who wants to bet that she’ll forget to hand out homework?”

 “Let’s bet to see if this paper airplane can go outside the window and into the classroom across from us.”

 “Bet that I can’t sneak out without anyone else noticing.”

 By the end of the hour and by the time the lunch bell has rung, your wallet is completely empty and everyone else has left to go eat. As you collect your belongings, stuffing markers and pens back into the pencil case, grabbing your notebooks and slinging your backpack around one shoulder, you can only hope that time will move quicker.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Oh, hey Hobi.” You smile, watching him grab his water bottle that he accidentally left near his chair at the back. “I’m fucking broke, that’s what.”

 He opens the door and you both walk out together. “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you’re always losing. Your gambling skills suck.”

 You exhale, having too many regrets and fearing what your dad will say when you ask him for a second allowance this week. The money from your summer part-time job was gone as well and all you can think of doing is sobbing on your knees, pleading about your penniless lifestyle. “I thought I could win my money back.”

 “Never go to a casino, you idiot.” Hoseok stops by his locker and throws his biology textbook inside. He closes it and walks diagonally down the hall to your own locker where you grab your gym bag for your next class after the bell. “You’d end up wasting your life savings away and you’d be living under a bridge.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?”

 He laughs and swings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you two accompany each other in synchronized steps. It’s a familiar gesture and you’re no longer flustered from being in a close proximity from Hoseok. The infatuation that plagued you during your preteen years has long disappeared.

 High School was a whole nother game, people dating more seriously and futures on the horizon. You couldn’t be very bothered to crush over an old friend when you were more preoccupied with getting into the university you wanted.

 “Why are you glaring at me?”

 “I’m not.”

 At this age, you thought Hoseok would reach his own ugly phase. Puberty tended to affect boys in later years but even at sixteen, the bastard is still decent looking. While you grew more into your skin, learnt to become comfortable in your body and appreciate your flaws for what they are, you expected him to go through a similar thing that you did back then. Yet, never in a day of his life did Hoseok have awkward limbs or bad skin or an awful haircut. Rather, his rounded cheeks were becoming chiseled, his jawline sharper and his hair gelled into a neat fashion.

 And for you, rather than admiring his handsome looks, you’re goddamn jealous of his genetics and beautiful face. Why did fate have to be such an unfair bitch?

 “You spent your lunch money, didn’t you?”

 On cue, your stomach grumbles and you give him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

 “Cause you don’t have any control.” Hoseok reaches over, pinching your cheek and you slap his hand away, cringing at the thought of his dirty fingers clogging your pores and giving you acne. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

 You halt on your toes. He turns around.

 “Wait. Really?!”

 The boy smiles, his grin loosely resembling a heart shape. His eyes crinkle slightly and a bubbling laughter spills from his mouth. “Yeah, but you owe me big time.”

 “When don’t I?” You smile, catching up to him and giving him a good old noogie. “You’re the best.”

 His smile becomes sheepish, and he gazes at you for a long moment, savouring in your touch and presence. “I know.”

 There was something strange about you. From the moment he had met you a decade ago and held out his hand, he always felt a tugging feeling in his chest, as if you were familiar, and he knew you from somewhere else, from somewhere far away. But you weren’t his soulmate.

 Such a thing was impossible for Jung Hoseok.

 //

 The world revolves around the concept of soulmates.

 You didn’t realize it until you became much older and you stepped out from the small schools that you went to, the same classes and circle of friends that shuffled together from one year to the next. College was a time when your world expanded ten folds, where you couldn’t recognize three quarters of your classmates, where campus made you lost every single day.

 It also opened to your eyes to the obsession that people had with soulmates; how some folks were absolute consumed with it, going out to bars to talk to strangers, testing to see if they were a kindred soul, having date after date, entering camps and exclusive clubs to seek out their match, downloading special apps on phones to search for their true love.

 One of the few questions that you were asked quite frequently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’

 Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told their own stories of how they accidentally ran into the person they were meant to be with, and they knew instantly at that second. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you.

 That’s how fate is supposed to work.

 Except it worked much differently for you- “I’m never going to find my soulmate, am I?”

 “What?” Your dad puts down his spoon, startled and taken back. The dinner table is silenced. “Who told you that?”

 “Some people just take a bit of time.” Your mom smiles to soothe your nonsensical worries. “I know it took me years to run into your dad.”

 You sigh, recalling the memory like it's imprinted to the back of your hand. “Grandma told me I'd be single for my entire life and the next.”

 “Dear…your grandmother was very ill before she died. She just didn't know what she was saying. Don't let it get to you.”

 “She told me that a long time before she passed away.” You look at your parents for an extended moment, holding your breath in your lungs. You're an adult now and you have a right to know the truth. “You guys know it, right? Can you please not lie to me?”

 “Don't give up hope, you hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding for any retorts or comments. “I don't care what the doctors, nurses and psychologists say or even what your grandma told you. You’ll meet the one.”

 She says it with such certainty, like she's declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You've heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you've even seen it with your own eyes. It's supposed to be a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught. The universe is supposed to shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder; happiness will become euphoria and love will become a deepening and familiar companion.

 The gaping hole that individuals never knew existed will be filled. They will no longer walk alone. They'll feel whole. It's everything that Hollywood movies show except it's real. It's perfect. It's a rose-coloured world.

 And all you can do is roll your eyes each and every time you hear it.

 Some people are born without soulmates. There’s no rhyme or reason. It has nothing to do with the way you were brought up, the environment factors or your genetic material. Like some people are innately extroverted or introverted. There’s nothing you can do about it and that thought hurts you even more.

 Your world isn’t rose but a green-coloured world.

 “Wait! Wait for me! Please!”

 Despite your arm waving in the air, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, the bus pulls away from the curb, signalling into the lane. “Fuck!” Your arm tightens around the strap of your bag and you pick up your speed, racing with all your might. “Stop!”

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes, each step splattering puddles onto your pants. But it doesn’t matter that you’re being drenched as if you stepped into the shower. You’re late for class.

 If you miss this bus then you’re done for.

 “I’m here! I’m here!”

 Right where you’re mere meters from the bus’ door, your foot juts out for another leap but you miscalculate your environment and your front toes collide onto the metal pole bus sign.

 “OW! FUCKING SHIT!”

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your dirtied shoe. The passersby with their umbrellas or under the bus shelter don’t bat a single eyelash and you are alone, under the rain, putting pressure on your wound. It feels like you’ve just broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your sock. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, the bus merges and drives off, disappearing in the distant fog.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the crying sky, knocking your head back and letting your stubbed toes pulsate and throb inside your shoe.

 You don’t have an umbrella. Your phone is dead. There’s no way you can contact an Uber. Thus, all you can do is limp your way to school in the pouring storm, looking at the roads every so often for a taxi. Fortunately, fate isn’t such a nasty bitch when you catch a yellow vehicle driving down the street. Unfortunately, the taxi doesn’t see you in time and it drives past, too close to the gutter.

 The sewer water splashes like an ocean wave crashing on the shore and if you weren’t drenched before, now you’re soaking wet, drowning in rainwater and sewage.

 “Y/N?”

 A familiar and warm presence appears behind you. Their umbrella drapes over your head, shielding you away from the cold droplets and it patters on the green canopy instead. Instead of bursting into tears like you felt you should, a smile graces your lips. You’ve never been more thankful to have this person around and in your life.

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 “Are you alright?”

 “I’ve been having the shittiest day, Hobi. Literally the worst.” You turn around with a massive pout, sulking at your situation and cringing at how your textbooks and laptop in your bag are probably wet as well. “But what are you doing here?”

 He hitches his thumb to the black car parked by the curb. “I was driving past and I thought I saw you. I stopped to make sure. Aren’t you going to be late for class though? Get in my car, I can drive you to school.”

 “A-are you sure? I mean, I’m soaking right now and I can just keep walking-”

 “It’s fine, Y/N.” He grins, patting your head to placate your worries, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder to support you to the toasty vehicle. His other hand is holding the handle of the umbrella, and he tilts it to cover you completely, letting the rain drizzle on his left side. Your old friend doesn’t seem that concerned about getting drenched and momentarily, the pain in your foot has alleviated. “I have class anyways. We’re going to the same place.”

 Before getting into the car, you shift your head to gaze into his softened, brown irises.

 Regardless of what troubles you face, the struggles that present itself, Jung Hoseok is always around the corner. He’s your truest friend, the one who has stood by you for the longest time and the man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies. Maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Thank you.”

 He grins and you’ve sincerely never felt more gratitude.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 Sure, it might’ve been predictable to everyone else since all the cliché romance books and movies always depict childhood friends becoming lovers, unrequited loves and harboured crushes becoming reciprocated, happily ever afters emerging from the horizons. You just never knew it was going to happen to you.

 You might’ve been massively infatuated with Hoseok years ago but you thought you grew out of that phase. At the end of the day, he’s a good friend; someone who watched you pick your nose in preschool, when you shit yourself in kindergarten because you couldn’t control your bowels yet, the time he witnessed when you called your teacher ‘mom’. He’s been through it all, thick and thin, disgusting and all the rancid memories. Your family knows his, mothers that have become friends themselves and fathers buddies. Hoseok was supposed to be a brother to you.

 But lo and behold, you had to catch feelings.

 Fate was a cunning asshole.

 “Sorry for getting your car all wet. I was sitting in class dripping everywhere.” You wring out a bundle of your hair, the damp strands clinging to your neck in an uncomfortable fashion.

 Hoseok, from across the table, wriggles his brows up and down. “Oh, I don’t mind if you’re wet at all.”

 “Shut up.” You roll your eyes, playfully scoffing at the innuendo. Brushing it off, you set aside your laptop to look at your friend. “Thanks though. I think I would’ve been screwed if I had to walk.”

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the day again!” He gives a blazing smile, pretending to be a superhero as he does the superman pose. You laugh, and he lowers his fist, expression melting into a warmer smile. “But is your foot okay? You were limping.”

 You’re surprised that he noticed but you nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

 The library is deathly quiet on a Friday at nine o’ clock. There are only a few people sitting around and assistants shelving books. At twenty-one, it isn’t uncommon for your peers to be out at a frat house or crashing a venue around campus, getting wasted and grinding up on each other, maybe meeting ‘the one’ out on the dance floor or at the bar. Hoseok has especially made a name for himself in the years at college, dating around and being the life of the party.

 It’s not necessarily a bad thing but you’ve felt slightly alienated from him since you weren’t big on the whole partying thing. You’d much prefer to curl up on a couch, binging on Netflix and chewing on snacks in the comfort of your own home.

 “Why are you here? Weren’t you invited to any parties?”

 “Nah, I don’t feel like it. Why would I want to go to one when you’re sitting right here.” His greasy remark has you huffing out tiredly, and he giggles. “Plus, who would drive you home?”

 “I can take public transit, you know. It runs until twelve.” You don’t want to be a burden to Hoseok or make him babysit you like a little sister or a pet. If he’s here for the wrong reasons, it would hurt even more than if you were alone. “And aren’t you seeing Yoonji right now? You should probably be out with her instead of me.”

 “No, I’m not seeing her.” He resists the urge to pull on your puffed out cheeks. Hoseok leans his chin in his propped up hand, savouring your sulking expression. “I’m single actually, have been for a long time now. And also, if I hear that you got murdered on your way home or if you slipped on some water and broke a hip, my mom would never be able to forgive me. She’ll burn my entire manga collection and probably run me over with her car.”

 “Of course your mom would.” You stick out your tongue, intentionally ignoring what he said about not dating anyone. “She loves me a lot more than she loves you.”

 “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” The man lazily flips through his textbook, barely skimming the pages and not reading correctly like how he should be. “Hey, Y/N.”

 “Hmm?”

 “Have you been seeing anyone?”

 Your head perks up from the document on your laptop and you give the most unimpressed expression, arousing laughter from the male. “Do you think I have? No one can love me - I’m unlovable.”

 That and you don’t have a soulmate.

 “That’s not true. I love you.”

 What. No. Wait. He probably means it in a brotherly-friendship kind of way.

 “Righttttt...” You bob your head up and down, narrowing your eyes and forcing yourself to dispel away all your delusional thoughts. “Well, I love you too.”

 “Okay, great.” He looks up from his textbook. “We should go on a date then.”

 “.....” There’s a pause. He waits patiently with a smile. You stare at him. “What?!”

 “It’s really convenient.” He quirks his head to the side, mischief glimmering in his orbs. “I love you, you love me. It works out. So, we should go on a date...unless you don’t want to.”

 “....I-I do but where is this coming from, Hoseok?” You lower your pitch, leaning closer as if someone from the ten tables over could hear. The situation unravelling before you is so sudden that you fail to wrap your brain around it.

 “What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” The male gives you a look. “Hasn’t it been obvious? I’ve liked you for years! And wow, I can’t believe you’re making me expose myself to you when you haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

 He throws his arms over his chest, appearing vandalized but you’re in no mood for jokes.

 “B-but...but…” All those signs that you convinced yourself weren’t signs are actually signs?

 The endeared gazes, the overly affectionate physical contact, the lingering touches, the smiles and late night texts were all indications. Your mind is reeling from memories for the past decade, wondering if this or that was evidence for his hidden feelings. It feels surreal, like a dream.

 You fear if you wake up from it, reality and fate will be much crueler.

 “You don’t need to feel pressured, Y/N.” Hoseok stares down at his textbook, avoiding your eyes and becoming embarrassed about finally declaring his feelings openly to you. His voice is quiet but you can hear each word, carrying a weight that bears sincerity in each syllable.

 “You can say no if you want to, and we can go back to being friends. I just...I never knew if the feelings were mutual and the timing was always off. I tried to date other people but it...didn’t work out.”

 He takes a deep breath, put on the spot and pressured not to mess up. You’re an important person in his life and the last thing he wants is to scare you off forever.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 It’s the first thing that crosses your mind, a concern that is unbearable and one you can’t erase away. What’s the point of creating something more if he’ll meet his soulmate later on. You’ll be left in the dust, alone, forced to face the memories of ‘what happened but could never last’.

 But Jung Hoseok, being the person that he is, always manages to make your anxieties disappear.

 “You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

 It’s too simple of an answer. Yet, like the fool that you are, you trust in him. “Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

 A grin spreads across his face, one that swells his cheeks and heart. “Right now.”

 You flinch when he suddenly slaps his textbook closed and you follow along, packing away your laptop and pens. Luckily, no one was really around to be angry over the disturbances the pair of you were making. “Right now?”

 Hoseok smiles. “Last one out the library has to pay.”

 Fate is too kind - and you realize so when you become aware that you were never alone.

 “You’re on.”

 //

 Each person born is destined for one or perhaps several. They’re fated to fall in love with their other half, a kindred spirit or soul, or a fragment of themselves. The love could be a whirlwind of romance rendezvous, a heated passion pressed between sheets or a comforting presence that makes home a true home. Each individual has a chance to make their heart feel full, their soul fulfilled and any loneliness is dispelled away.

 You have Jung Hoseok.

 He’s a friend and companion, a partner that you cherish. While one date becomes two and three and five until you’ve lost count, all you know is that soulmate or not, you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your days with him.

 “That movie was really good, like did you see the part where he came out of the space shuttle to confront her on the planet Neptune? Like wow, I thought he was going to die for sure but he risked his life for her. And then-”

 “Hoseok.” You stop in the parking lot of the theaters, twisting on your ankle to look at him.

 A sweet smile is still on his mouth, and he quirks his head to the side. “Yes?”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 The boy’s taken back and he laughs. “Where did that come from?”

 “I was thinking about it the whole day today.” You play with the hem of your sweater, diverting your attention elsewhere while you murmur softly, “We’ve been on so many dates, but we haven’t really done anything aside from holding hands…..”

 Albeit it was strange to date such a good friend, you still longed to get closer to him.

 Hoseok throws back his head like he’s in pain, and he whines. “I was going to kiss you later before you left but you beat me to it.” He pouts in defeat and then steps closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms with a softened smile. “Of course you can kiss me, Y/N. You don’t really need to ask.”

 Your eyes flutter shut and his close. Together, you move closer inch by inch until you can feel his lips on yours. A smile moves across your face, and he presses harder, tilting his head while you throw your arms around his neck. It’s nice but kind of awkward. The movement is foreign to you, though the pleasant tingles melt any tension in your muscles.

 Hoseok deepens the kiss, making a muffled sound leave your throat, and he savours your taste on his tongue. But suddenly, one moment you feel pleasure and the next, your head begins to throb.

 You don’t pull away, too addicted to his kiss. Then, there’s a burst of electricity.

 The flare rushes to your fingertips, heart stuttering, breath choking you. Underneath your eyelids, the universe halts and then begins to revolve again, faster, louder until it’s deafening and shining in such bright hues that it’s blinding. The happiness that rings through your bones becomes euphoria and love slaps you across the cheek.

 Maybe this is what people described when they meet your soulmate. But no. It’s much different from that.

 You are not so fortunate of an individual.

 An onslaught of memories, versions of yourself across centuries, comes barging through the door in screams. They shout and screech, begging to know as to what the hell you’re doing. The thumping of your head becomes white noise. You pull away from Hoseok like he burns you.

 The boy is as startled as you are, eyes wide, staggering back until he collapses on the concrete ground.

 “I-I remember…”

 You stare at him in sheer horror. “Fuck you.”

 Fate has never once smiled at you, it was cackling. Fate was never kind either, it was absolutely vicious. And instead of a soulmate, you have something much different. Jung Hoseok is a parasite that transcends time, destined to run each path that you take. He is an enemy.

 You’ve finally woken up from the dream.

[16th Century]

 A gentle knock on the door wakes you from your slumber.

 You sit up amidst the silk sheets and the hinges of the massive wooden door creaks. A servant maid peeks her head through the gap and the light from the hallway sheds into the darkened room. “Good morning, your royal highness.”

 “Is there a cause for your disturbance?”

 The tone of your voice rings above the high ceilings and the girl noticeably winces. She keeps her head downcasted. “Yo-your highness, the artisan has arrived.”

 “Is that so?” You hum a thoughtful note before snapping back at her, “then what are you waiting for? Help me prepare.”

 Immediately she enters and draws the heavy curtains away from the window. Sunshine meets your eyes and you find a smile emerging on your lips. She guides you off the bed, helping you splash your face with a cloth, combing your hair back and pinning it up with green ribbons and ropes of pearls. The lace corset is tied tightly around your abdomen, restricting your breathing but you endure it as you study the dress in the mirror. It’s a rather simple dress, a natural waistline and floor length, flowy sleeves and skirt, the jade fabric decorated with golden colours.

 “I think this is perfect, don’t you?”

 You twirl in front a few times and the maid smiles. “Yes, your highness. You look marvelous.”

 Upon being satisfied with her response, you address your servant one last time. “Do not utter a word to the king that I am meeting the painter, understood? If he asks of my presence, tell him I am in the study quarters.”

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The gardens are far away, across towers and courtyards, but you make it there in less than five minutes while hitching your clothing up by the fistful, running in the most unsophisticated manner that would surely cause scoldings from your mother. Yet, you continue on your way nevertheless.

 It’s only a strong gust of wind and an accidental misstep causes you to stumble. You are pushed to the ground, colliding onto the verdant grass, a shock rippling through your body. Immediately, you are shamed. Your knees are bruised, your gown soiled and palms stained with dirt. In the delayed second, as pain shoots up your bones, your bottom lip trembles, threatening to break out into sobs.

 “Do not cry, your highness.”

 You lift your chin and a tall shadow looms over you. The man wears no smile, an emerald circular cloak draped over his shoulders and an embroidered shirt underneath. His gaze is not cold but intense, yet, it does not make you waver or scared. Instead, your eyes follow his command, halting the tears that were to fall like raindrops.

 “Only infants shed such heart wrenching tears.” A soft smile appears across his lips, a fixated stare on your flushing visage but the serious man is the same age as you. His pitch black hair is more like a ruffled cloud, strands poking out in every direction and some paint has splattered on the skin of his cheek. “And I fear it would ruin your beauty.”

 He holds his hand out to you, palm facing upwards. You sniffle for a moment and then your arm reaches out, fingers clasping his and the male lifts you off your feet. The touch is soothing and light, causing your heart to soar inside your chest.

 “Don’t be foolish. I’ve never shed tears before you, understood?”

 You dust off your dress and he grins.

 “Yes, your highness.”

 The man tries to loosen his grip on your hand but fails to do so when you grasp at him tighter, lacing your fingers through his and not allowing him to let go. A snort of air leaves his nose, and he accepts the new position, guiding you deeper into the royal gardens with bushes of foreign flowers and tall trees lining the cobblestone paths, the scent of florals wafting through the air.

 Farther into the quaint and private place, a canvas is set around vivid oil paints and brushes. He has begun to recreate the image of the blooming orchards and you study the artwork that has yet to be completed.

 “My father has commissioned you as the royal painter but why have you not painted me?”

 Your dress twirls when you look at him again. Jung Hoseok, the man who creates another world with brilliant hues, passionately brushing strokes along the canvas, has been by your side for months and here he is once more, smiling at you.

“I cannot, your highness.” He lowers his head. “I fear that there is no paint I could use that would show how brightly your eyes shine.”

 You spin around to face the bushes, cheeks flaming with each praise. “Please, you flatter me too much, painter.”

 “Ah, but my words are too true, your highness.” He paces around and you lock your gaze upon his. “My skills would be no match to the reality of your beauty.”

 You sigh, longing to have the man closer. Each second and minute that passes feels too short.

 “Painter, I fear my lonely soul enjoys your companionship too much. It’s a shame that you were not born of a royal lineage. My father would never allow such a partnership. He would rather let this kingdom crumble than to give my hand to a commoner.”

“I understand your woes too clearly, your highness.” He takes three delicate strides to meet you in the middle of the grassy area, chest pressed upon chest and his fingers lightly skimming over your blooming cheeks. If anyone from the court were to catch you in such a position, the painter’s life would be at risk, but he seems to pay no mind to such thing.

 “And although I hunger to clutch your hand to my chest, embrace your being, declare you as mine and taste those lips with my own, we are but star crossed lovers.” He exhales, sorrow dripping from his honeyed eyes. “Fate is not so kind to folk like us.”

 You turn away from him in despair, staring up at the cerulean sky and wondering if the Heavens could ever grant you mercy in the name of love. “Eventually, I will be wedded off to somewhere far. The thought makes my heart ache in agony.”

 Your voice breaks and you plead with him. “Painter, would it be so shameful for me to ask you for a single kiss?”

 “Of course not, your highness.” He caresses your face and you melt within the touch. Your eyes shut and he leans in closer. “It is my duty to fulfill your wishes.”

 The kiss is the gentlest of touches, lips pressed upon lips, a bittersweet taste that cannot be savoured, a salty hint caused by your teardrop, the deepest of yearnings and aches for more.

 Why must fate be so cruel?

 //

 It is of the midnight hour when the maid comes barging into your room unwarranted without even a single knock. It startles you to the point where you spring up from your silk bed sheets, gasping and ready to reprimand her but the maid’s wheezes and the distant shouting stops you from doing so.

 You climb out of your bed, taking a robe and covering up your sleeping attire. “What is the matter with you? Speak!”

 “R-rebels have stormed the castle,” she weeps, grabbing onto your arm and falling to the ground, kneeling on the floor, crying and sobbing with all her might.

 The shock is delayed. “Pardon?!”

 The young girl shakes her head, trying to regain composure amidst the mournful grieving. “T-they have captured your m-mother a-and your father has been executed.” You stagger backwards, and she crawls to you, gripping the hem of your dress. “Run, princess.”

 She screams- “Run before they catch you!”

 There’s not a single thing in your hands but your life as you flee the castle walls. The rebels are shouting together, holding torches and capturing any royal member as they scour each room and rip apart all the walls. The knights have fallen, advisors and servants alike being severed of their heads. Blood pours down the courtyard and a couple of paces away from the forest, a misstep causes you to collide against the cobblestone, a cry befalling of your mouth, skin scraped and blood trickling from the wounds.

 A tall shadow looms over you. You lift your chin. The man wears no smile. His gaze is cold.

 You smile, sighing of relief and thankful that the painter is here with you. Perhaps, you can flee together and finally live the life that you’ve always wanted. Except, he does not lift out his hand to pick you off your feet, he bends his knees, squatting down and quirking his head as he stares at you.

 “H-hoseok, what is going on?” You begin to waver from the sharp intensity of his eyes. Any trace of warmth has disappeared, and he seems more amused that you have fallen than worried. “P-Please tell me. I’m s-so scared.”

 Tears seep down your cheeks like raindrops. He doesn’t tell you to stop crying.

 Hoseok smirks. The corner of his lip tugs in a menacing way and his fingers reach out to hold your chin. He leans in, placing a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, and then he parts, admiring the confused expression marring your visage. “Oh princess, you are too innocent for your own good.”

 Your voice does not come out strong but weak. “E-explain yourself.”

 “All of this couldn’t have succeeded without your efforts.” He gestures behind him to the castle, your precious home, that was now being set on fire. Screams of the maids and dukes ricochets to your ears, and he doesn’t allow you to cover them up or cower away.

 Hoseok forces you to watch the scorching flames.

 “Not only did you advocate me to the king and allowed me into the castle but you fell in love with me as well and offered yourself fully. Such a foolish yet endearing character.” He shoves you away and stands, dusting his hands off and watching you pathetically cry.

 “And you were right. Your father would’ve been so shameful to have a daughter like you who helped overthrow the kingdom. Too bad he’s already dead.”

 You can’t wrap your mind around it. All of this is too absurd. Surely, it must be a dream. Hoseok would never treat you this way. He would never betray your trust. You love him.

 “W-what?”

 “Do you still not understand?” He looks over to the symbol sewn on his clothing, the green mark of the rebels. Your stomach turns and vomit threatens to crawl up your throat. You claw at your skin, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

 “Y-you...you liar.” You spit at him, each heavy syllable oozing of venom. “You wretched bastard.”

 Hoseok tips his head back and chuckles. “There is no use in sprouting such vulgarities, Y/N. A revolutionary is needed for the people. They are suffering in ways you will never know. Your ignorance is too great. Life isn’t generous outside of your castle of silks.”

 The betrayal is too much for your heart to bear.

 No amount of rage or sadness, fury or anguish could display the turmoil sewn into your soul, the heartbreak that shatters inside your chest. Jung Hoseok hovers above your small frame. He stares down at you. “But because you demonstrated such benevolence to me and made my job so simple, I will give you ten seconds. Run or the rebels will slaughter you without mercy.”

 Your fragile body hauls itself upwards and despite the screams of your bones, the faintness in your head that swirls the world around, you falter down the hill, racing into the forest. You abandon your people, your family and home, the love that you held onto. You will never forget.

 And you will never forgive.

 Jung Hoseok laughs and gazes at your form. It reminds him of a little sheep running away from a pack of wolves. He muses that it was truly a shame; a shame that you weren’t part of the rebels and merely destined to be star-crossed lovers with him.

 For the rest of your life, you live in the dirty alleyways as a peasant, scraping after other’s leftovers, bugs crawling in your hair and biting your skin, teeth rotting and clothes tattered up. You sob until you can no longer afford to expel water from your body and the short days of your life consists of recalling your warm family and the beautiful life you once had.

 When you die, the last thing you think about is Jung Hoseok and your undying wrath.

[17th Century]

 “Where is my notebook?”

 You’re scouring in the tiny room, searching among the stacks of parchment, quills and bottles of blackened ink, tugging up your wrinkled olive dress. You pull up the smooth narrow sleeves, wincing at the troublesome lace cuffs and you tug on the strings of the small bodice for more breathing space. As you scour your belongings, the bun that was tied to the back of your head begins to loosen and clusters of curls framing your face tickles your nose. The sweat at your forehead slicks down your face and your appearance becomes disheveled in your franticness.

 “My notebook….notebook.” You gasp underneath your breath, standing straight again. “Was it stolen?!”

 There’s a knock and a short laugh. “Did you lose something again?”

 A man in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and a navy coat stands at the doorway, hands held behind his back as he watches you fumble about. “Yes, it’s going to be the end of me, Hoseok, if I can’t find it.”

 “Well, lucky for you-” He takes a few steps forward and reveals what’s hidden behind his back, unbending both arms and presenting it out in front of you. Another gasp spills from your lips and your eyes widen from the familiar leather bound notebook. “-I found it.”

 You grasp at the pages, taking it into your hands and feeling the wrinkled pages full of scribbles and doodles made in ink. You choke out the words of gratitude, grinning so widely that your cheeks might burst and your eyes well up with happiness. “Thank you.”

 “Thank you. I-I thought it was lost forever.”

 The man opens his mouth to reply but you smother him in a tight embrace. Hoseok wheezes, making coughing sounds from the pressure of your arms, and he even mutters your name after a minute but you don’t let go of him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

 “You’re very welcome, Y/N.” He gently moves your arms from his back. “But you should let go of me.”

 If someone were to see, surely rumours would spread like wildfire. Folks in the village were already whispering of how he came and went inside your abode for hours on end and until the sun went down; a gesture such as an embrace would certainly be scandalous and soil your name.

 You comply, loosening your grip, and he slides away from you with a rather striking smile. “You ought to be more organized, Y/N. At this rate, you’d lose your head and I’d have to go looking for it.”

 A grin sneaks up your mouth. “That’s why I have you.”

 The man exhales, continuing on the other subject as you move away. “I hope you do not mind but on my way here, I’ve read the latest entries.”

 “And?” You settle yourself down in the wooden chair facing the windows, preparing a new bottle of ink to begin the next story. “What did you think?”

 “As usual, there was nothing amiss, quite good actually. Just, your spelling was horrible, Y/N.”

 “I know I’m rubbish at spelling.” You mutter underneath your breath, preoccupied with scribbling something down. After a moment, you sheepishly smile at him. “But that’s why I’m paying you to be my editor. If I were good at it, I wouldn’t need you.”

 “Oh, don't be ridiculous.” He jests in a playful tone, “you will always need me. What would you do if I was not around to remind you to eat once in a while and bathe? You'd be sitting in your own filth and rotting away in this home.”

 The two of you laugh together, admitting that he is not at all false.

 You were withdrawn, living on the secluded outskirts of the town. Not many folks desired to be acquainted with you since men frequently belittled your skills and women would rather discuss child rearing and gossip about the marriages taking place. You preferred to write and most considered that a bore and not an occupation at all. You like to beg to differ but that didn't mean you were free from loneliness.

 It was Hoseok that provided companionship, filling in the positions of what friends would. With his presence by your side, you no longer cared about the rude folks who would mutter behind your back. He is the reason you keep striving forward.

 “Speaking of which, I haven't seen you in a week’s time. What have you been working on as of late?”

 “It's a new story and a strange one but I cannot find it in me to shake it off.” Your eyes are blazing like sunlight. He considers the passion ignited within you is a very peculiar yet attractive trait of yours. “It's something I call ‘soulmates’.”

 His brows furrow. “What is that?”

 “It’s a kindred spirit in which upon meeting, there is a spark of..uh...lighting.” Your hands whip in grand gestures and you pace around the room in equal strides. “The primary character just knows that they will end up with that person and together, they will lead their lives until the next and next one. A person can have one soulmate or several, each a part of themselves that makes them whole. It is a kind of true love, an authentic companionship, a mate that matches your soul if you will.”

 “Perhaps I shall call the story ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.” You whirl back around to face your editor. “What do you think?”

 The man hums. “I think you don’t have enough sleep and your head is up in the clouds again.”

 You sigh, stomping your foot once. “Must you kid around? I am sincerely ecstatic about the idea.”

 “I am only teasing you.” He smiles in a soft manner. “I think the idea is brilliant. If it is you who comes up with it, it always is.”

 “I know.” Your cheeks heat from his compliments and you inhale a lungful. “It’s a shame that not many people will hear about it. What did they say at the printing press?”

 Hoseok grimaces, hesitating on the subject and hoping that you wouldn’t have asked. But you urge him to go on and tell him that your feelings will be spared.

 “Seokjin won’t allow you. He doesn’t believe a woman has anything worthy to say.”

 “Of course. It’s always the same issue.” You’re defeated and at a loss of what to utter. “I know my writing isn’t horrible, especially with your help, dare I say it’s quite good. But in the world we live in, no one wants to hear what a woman would say, much less what a woman would write.”

 Hoseok gazes upon the profile of your visage. The efforts of your labour are evident in the way darkened circles mark the underside of your eye, the natural flush that kisses upon your nose. You are tired and it hurts him to see you this way. “Do you want people to read your work?”

 “Yes, more than anything.” You look outside the window, lost in a trance of a land that would offer a lady like you more opportunities. It’s a silly thought but a prevalent one. “I never cared for recognition or fame. I just want my work to be out there in the world.”

 There is a silence that hangs heavily in the air.

 “Y/N.”

 “Don’t feel the need to comfort me. I am aware that there is no use in contemplating such ridiculousness. My time is better spent putting my active imagination to better use.” You meekly smile, grabbing a new sheet of parchment. A thought brushes across your mind that perhaps if you wedded to someone of importance, your tales can be spread into different civilizations.

 But you have no interest in letting someone take your hand in marriage. Most men would rather you bear children for them than write all day in a room. You’d be better off remaining on your lonesome. But perhaps Hoseok would want to...no...such a foolish thought.

 You have an inkling that you will remain unmarried for the rest of your days.

 The end of your quill is dipped in black ink, preparing to begin another story and you scowl at Hoseok who remains impassive, staring at you at such an intense fixation. “Get back to work before I shake my spear through you!”

 He jumps like his trousers are on fire. “Yes, madam.”

 And the man laughs at your glare.

 //

 A few weeks have passed since Hoseok has bid you farewell, being excused from his duties to travel to his ill mother in another village. You were awaiting for his return but you’re finally drawn out of your home by the excessive noise at the town square.

 “What is going on?”

 A chubby lady with a rounded womb, ready to burst with a new child, chuckles happily and takes your hand. “Your editor, Y/N. Who knew he would be such a literary scholar?”

 “P-pardon me?”

 A new declaration is posted on the wooden board and everyone swarms, despite most being illiterate. The lady who caught wind of news repeats it to you. “Jung Hoseok has been commissioned by the state as the official writer. His play titled as ‘A Midsummer Night's’ Dream caught the eye of the Minister and now he’s published his work under the name of Shakespeare.”

 “E-....excuse me?!”

 You feel faint.

 “Oh, it’s so wonderful, Y/N.” The woman is ignorant to your bubbling wrath. “You should really give his work a try!”

 “That...bastard!” A handful of village folk turn around in shock at your curse and even the lady is taken back, letting go of you and gasping at your barbaric demeanor. But you pay no mind.

 You are too enraged of the lies, the deception, the deceit. Upon racing back home, you discover copies of your work all stolen, ripped away from your hands and name, forged and ransacked.

 And cursing out his name, damning him to the deepest parts of hell, does nothing to sedate the madness of resentments. You will loathe the name of Jung Hoseok until the day you die.

 //

Years later, when Hoseok returns, he receives news from the villagers. Not long after he had left, you suffered under a violent illness and died. He weeps alone as he reads your last written work, ink bled on old pages, a story of enemies and vengeance.

[18th Century]

 The hot sun beams down and sweat slicks down your forehead, coating your skin in a sticky sheen and mixing with the grime on your cheek, the dust clinging to your hair. You are weak from hunger but it’s a familiar feeling that strangely reminds you that you are alive.

 After working since dawn, you take a moment’s rest, blunt sickle in your hand, eyes bleary from the continuous labour. But what catches your sight is the lady of the house walking on the stone path, viewing all the workers and peasants wading through the endless fields.

 “She’s so beautiful.” You sigh in a dreamy manner, following her graceful figure glide by, her cream coloured silk hat matching with the gorgeous gown. Lady Jungha has always been a beauty since birth, powdered skin and rosy cheeks. She is an exquisite phantom, a fictitious being that’s pulled out straight from books. “If only I could look like her.”

 “Why are you so concerned with nonsense beauty?” Your friend stands straight, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Hurry up and focus plowing the wheat fields or else we’ll have nothing to eat!”

 You downcast your head, griping a few words before exhaustion envelops your frame and you keep quiet, concentrating on your duties of a farmer.

 It’s only until the sun is beginning to dip across the horizon that you’re free from the grueling labour. Every part of your body aches as the day before and you only get a single loaf of bread to chew on, cowering beside your friend with a tiny fire that provides warmth inside the brick shack.

 “Y/N, could you fetch a pail of water?” Your friend rinses her face, shuddering from the coldness of the liquid. “We’re all out.”

 “Must it be me?” You sit up from your straw mat, peeking out the window and watching how the sun has fully disappeared. There is no doubt that in ten minutes time, the sky will be black and the moon will rise.

 “I beg of you.” She falls to the ground, suffering from a fever that’s been persisting for the past days. When you pleaded to the lord of the house to let her rest, he didn’t allow such a thing. Your heart only cries when you watch her in this much agony. “I’m not feeling well.”

 “If you must.” You nod, tucking a tattered blanket over her body. “I’ll be back soon.”

 The metal pail clanks as you rush down the dirt path to the well. You try to make it as fast as you can before it becomes completely dark and the nipping chills might lead you to sickness as well.

 But on your way there, with your head facing the dirt, on pure coincidence and on accident, you bump into the body of another person. “I’m so sorry-”

 “Um, pardon me.” He speaks in a sweet voice and you’re drawn upwards, looking the man in his eyes. His natural dark hair is parted to the side with a dab of hair wax, wearing a moss coloured suit; a silk cravat, coat and waistcoat to match. His breech, stockings and shoes are dignified, crisp clothes that show his wealth. “I apologize to interrupt you on your way but may I ask what household is this?”

 You glance over to the grand home towering high in the sky. “Why, this is the Jeon Household. Jeon Jungkook is the lord of the manor and of the land. Who may you be?”

 The man grins. “My name is Jung Hoseok, a traveller scholar.”

 “A scholar?” You smile, easing into the discourse. “That is rather impressive.”

 “Yes, well, I’ve retired to become a tutor and I’ve just arrived in this part of the country yesterday.” Hoseok takes a moment to admire the endless fields of the countryside and the peacefulness that lasts for acres upon acres. “I am afraid I lost my way.”

 You lift one hand to gesture to the path. “The road to the small village is this way and when you arrive at the riverside, leave to the right. There should be an inn there where you can stay at.”

 “Thank you.” He dips his head and before you can bid farewell, he steps forward. “Would it be unmannerly for me to ask you of your name?”

 There’s a second of hesitation, one where you lower yourself, facing the ground. It is shameful for someone like you to be speaking to someone like him, dashing looks and of higher status. You wish it were different but by your battered attire, you cannot lie. “I am L/N Y/N, a lowly servant and farmer to the Jeon Household.”

 However, the man is undeterred by your status and your soft whispers.

 “You are quite the beauty, Lady Y/N, if you do allow me to say. And...a bit familiar.” He gazes at you with a slight frown and finally rips away his eyes once you’ve blushed. Hoseok clears his throat in several harsh coughs. “Thank you for helping me this fine evening.”

 That night, you are unable to catch a single wink of sleep. Your mind is consumed by one single man.

 //

 The sun is falling once more. The wheat fields are tangling with each other, dancing to the warm breeze of the evening, birds chirping their songs before sundown. The fresh scent of the ground follows with the dirtied clothing on your body and you tear off your apron, neckerchief and white linen cap.

 “Where are you going?” Your friend watches you, chewing on her stale bread and bemused by your franticness. “Are you not going to eat?”

 “I will be back soon enough.” You re-lace your stays to hug your frame tighter, dusting off the deep emerald fabric of your petticoat. It’s a shame that you cannot afford a powdered wig or powder for your skin but you make do with what you have, pinching your cheeks for a rosy complexion, brushing your hair to the back of your head and decorating it with a few flowers you had pulled from the side of the path.

 “Why are you trying so hard to look beautiful? You are aware that no one pays no mind, especially to us peasants? They’re all too concerned about themselves to look at us.”

 You know that your friend does not lie.

 No matter what you do, the reflection in the mirror mocks your efforts. Your skin is itchy and of a sickly colour, burnt from being in the sun, the foul stench of labouring in the fields all day follows even after bathing, fingernails blackened from the dirt, the lack of food make your cheeks hollow and bones frail. A pitying gaze from your friend causes you to look away.

 There’s nothing you can do, no amount of colour, pinching or flowers could make you look anything more than ugly. You can either look like the peasant girl that you were born to be or a pathetic court jester - you’re not sure which is worse.

 Yet, you hold your head up high.

 “You don’t understand. I-I’ve met someone.”

 Your friend lowers her bread and stares. “You met someone?”

 “Last night and I can’t help but feel like,” a hopeless sigh spills from your lips, “like he may be my soulmate.”

 Such a concept as soulmates is something that came from a famous book that you heard about once. The writer was a marvelous one, plays and street performances coming from the story and even to this day, countless philosophers are debating the idea that each person may belong to another or select few, created by the so-called ‘fate’.

 “Oh, Y/N. You are too naive.”

 You smile at her. “Believe in what I say, I have a good feeling about this man.”

 Before she is able to ask more questions, you have already left. As fortune may have it, tracing the steps of yesterday, a familiar man stands near the path, admiring the beauty of the endless fields. He turns around at the sound of your huffs and smiles.

 “Is this a coincidence or done on purpose?” He waits patiently for an answer and recognizing how you are flustered by the question, he grins. “I do hope it is the latter for I was also hoping to see you again.”

 Your cheeks flush and a smile holds itself on your face. “Your desire is mutual.”

 The dusk light fills the sky and you pace alongside him, strolling together aimlessly without a place in mind. Simply, you are enjoying his company. “Have you always worked here?”

 “Yes, my parents were also servants for the Jeon Household. It was in my place to continue their duties.” You study the side of his face, chiseled jaw, sharp nose and all, before realizing the rudeness of your actions. “And you? Were you always a traveling scholar?”

 “Ah no, well, I am a tutor now.” He chooses each word carefully and his utterance of the words are gentle. “I am in search of a suitable job. Do you know if there is anyone in the Jeon Household in need of a tutor?”

 “Well, the lord of the house is very educated already.” You’ve always known that lord Jeon has been kind to you and your parents. There were many stories that surrounded him. “He is old and unfortunately a widow. He does have one daughter, however. The lady of the household, Jungah. She’s only nineteen years of age and very beautiful.”

 “Oh.” Hoseok stops to feel the breeze kiss upon his cheeks. It cards through his locks and you watch while in an enamoured state. “Is the lady of the household betrothed?”

 “Not that I know of. Perhaps the lady will need a tutor. I-...” You lower your head, trying to remember your place in the world as a lowly servant. “I could arrange a meeting for you if you wish.”

 “That would be splendid, Y/N. Thank you.” He beams like the sunshine itself and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. But upon realizing that it reveals more of your imperfect complexion, you downcast your head. Hoseok’s gaze was becoming too intense as well. He muses, “You really would be more suited to a bustling town.”

 “A town?”

 “The world has changed, Y/N!” He throws open his arms as if he welcomes the entire universe inside of them. “It’s developed. Such things as working for a lord of the land and barely having enough to eat, people are no longer living in such ways. More and more are leaving the countryside to work at these factories. You can buy food, a warm house, anything you want.”

 He faces you. “It’s wonderful, really. You wouldn’t believe it. You have to see it with your own eyes, Y/N.”

 You smile at his riveting energy but your expression turns to sorrow. “I can’t just leave. They own me here.”

 “I can help you.” Hoseok declares to the rising moon. “I can help you get away from this farm.”

 You gasp, stepping forward. “R-really?”

 “Yes, I have a friend who sells cattle. All you must do is lay on the barrow and let yourself be taken to the border. It’s never been more possible.” His eyes twinkle, brighter than the stars setting above your heads. “All my friend needs in order to agree is ten golden coins.”

 “T-ten?” You reach for your pocket that is weightless. They don’t give you earnings for your work - the food is already the pay. “All I have is four.”

 The man hums in contemplation. “Well, you can give me the four now and when you come up with the other six, I’ll let him know.” You scour your dress to reach inside the pocket, collecting your entire wealth into your hands. “It’s for a better life, Y/N. I want you to be happy.”

 “Thank you.” Your fingers brush against the skin of his palm, letting the golden coins drop into his hand and a strange emotion tugs inside your chest.

 After bidding farewell with the tutor, you watch his backside disappear slowly, counting each step the man takes that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 //

 Eventually, in three days time, you catch the gracious lady on her morning walk, and she finds interest in the man you describe. Hoseok expresses his gratitude as another meeting is arranged for him to address the lord of the house and it doesn't take long for him to be hired as the official tutor for Lady Jungha.

 You find that the pair of them, Hoseok and Lady Jungha, have taken a liking to each other, often smiling and glancing while strolling at dawn. But your friend insists that your mind is merely running wild again and such a relationship would be scandalous to the Jeon name. For reasons you are too shy to admit, you hope it is true.

 Each evening, you stroll together with Hoseok, mindlessly speaking and letting time trickle away without a notice. You see him frequently, especially since he now lives on the land as well. And the feelings within your being are only festering day by day.

 Except, one night, you cannot sleep well.

 “Where are you going?”

 Your friend lifts her head as you shuffle on outwear, brushing back your hair and leaving it unkempt. “I’ll be back soon. I need to make sure of something.”

 Today, as you waited on the same path, Hoseok never showed up.

 As improper and rude as it may be, you sneak into the manor like a shadow, slipping through the familiar corridors and hallways, past empty rooms and studies. Surely, if you were to be caught, you would be punished; perhaps days of food taken away from you or you would be forced to work the entire field during the night. But you cannot shake off the worry that plagues your mind.

 It’s not like Jung Hoseok breaks his word. He is a man of dignity and respect-

 “Hhmpph...mmp-h…” A muffled whine causes you to halt and you turn to the lady’s room, the door slightly parted and enough for you to peek inside. “Wait...w-wait.”

 There are two shadows on the bed and you narrow your eyes, barely able to see with the moonlight coming through the glass windows. But you recognize the voice immediately. “What’s the matter?”

 “M-my father,” Lady Jungha pants a breath, laid down beneath the man, “if he finds out about us, I’m scared of what he would do to you.”

 “My lady, are you not aware I would readily endanger my own well-being for you?” He places a kiss on her lips, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the quiet room. Your heart drops. “Your beauty is unadulterated, the most magnificent in the land. You are but a fragile flower and your mind of absolute brilliance. Never have I had such a student. No one compares to you.”

 He strips of his shirt, allowing the fabric to flutter to the ground. His large, coarse hands slink up the lady’s legs, pushing up her silk nightgown until it pools high above her chest. He removes her undergarments and you spin around, back hitting against the wall, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and breaking the skin.

 “Let me reward you. Let me take care of you.” His voice is soft and sweet, dripping of luscious honey and you fear that you will spew the little contents in your stomach out. “You don’t need to be afraid.”

 There are more groans and whines, kisses pressed and skin slapping on skin. The vulgarities and lewd sounds sends a warm wash over your body and you swallow hard, finding it difficult to walk away. “Okay, take me, Hoseok.” The young lady giggles quietly. “I allow you to defile my innocence.”

 Your hand covers your mouth to hide the breaking sob and you run as saltwater clouds the surroundings.

 “Is there something the matter?” Your friend shifts over the straw mat, shaken from her slumber and your sudden appearance.

 “I’m well. Thank you.” You face the dirtied wall, holding your palm to your lips, weeping into your hands until the exhaustion of your labour from the day has taken hold of your mind.

 //

 The sunlight does not seem bright anymore.

 The hard work and plowing of the fields offers a sense of odd fulfillment. The repetitive motions and slick sweat sticking to your face brings you down from the clouds to the ground. You remember who you are: a lowly servant who will never be anything more.

 “I believe I will take the hand of Lady Jungha in the days to come.” Hoseok tells you one evening as you both have stopped to stare out at the endless countryside. You’ve learnt to find sorrow within these walks now.

 “Is that so?” You offer a kind smile, sincerely ecstatic for the man. Despite his mere status, he is a good match for the lady of the house. They are both of beauty and dashing looks.

 “If it were not for you and your efforts, I would not be standing here today.” Hoseok grins, hands behind his back and spine tall. “One day, when I become the lord of the land, I will set you free.”

 You bow your head. “Then it would be my absolute honour, Lord Hoseok.”

 The man grins at the new title and your heart aches as you watch him stride away, increasing the distance and disappearing away from you.

 True to his word, in a month, he has taken Lady Jungha’s hand. It happens too quickly for you to fully understand, the wedding coming and going within a blink, and you simply focus on working the fields, having enough to eat after each day, working hard to obtain six more coins.

 In due time, the strolls with the man diminish until there is nothing left. Yet, what surprises you is the sudden illness of Lord Jungkook and his succumb to the mysterious disease. It is overnight that Jung Hoseok becomes the main land owner and master of the household.

 “Wake up! Wake up, peasants!” Horrific metal is rattled on metal, shocking you out of slumber and you awake, rubbing at bleary eyes. Your friend is in a similar state of confusion, exchanging a glance at you before she gets up, grabbing a cloak to cover her nightgown.

 “How dare you intrude into a lady’s quarters?” You gasp at the men who barge and kick down all the doors of the little huts. The stranger simply laughs at your scoldings and roughly grabs your arm, hauling you outside against your will and throwing you to the dirt. You yelp and your friend comes rushing to your aid, covering you with your own cloak.

 “Take all their belongings!” The men shout and the other servants are torn away from each other, children, women and men alike. “Rip down everything!”

You watch as they scour your tiny room for the little things that you have, a pot of water and straw mat, perhaps a stack of wheat in the corner. You stagger to your feet and a familiar figure stands by the side of the road, gazing out at the wide countryside.

 “Lord Hoseok, I plead with you to tell me what is happening.” Behind him, your friends and their families are screaming, homes torn apart and fires flickering your shadows on the ground. “Why are you treating these poor servants this way?”

 “Oh, Y/N.” There is something strange about the man. His kindness and benevolence has long left his soul and his smile frightens you. “I am selling the land.”

 “Selling the land?! What-?” You are befuddled and baffled. “Does Lady Jungha know about this?!”

 The corner of his mouth lifts, and he locks his eyes with yours. “The lady is bedridden in grief from her father’s death. She cannot sleep or eat and is no longer a wife to me. I have plans to send her to an asylum to get better.”

 “P-pardon me? T-that cannot be true!” You shake your head until it rattles and you can’t see straight. “That must be false! I have to see her for myself-”

 Hoseok clutches your wrist in his hand. “You will do no such thing.”

 A sick, twisted part of him was once curious to see how foolish and easily persuaded you are. He isn’t disappointed. You believe him so easily that he does not need to put forth effort. It nearly spoils the fun and amusement for him to trick you. You almost awaken a sense of guilt within him. Almost.

 It strikes you like a slap and your eyes widen. “You are not a scholar nor a tutor are you?”

 “And you realize so too late.” He lets go, applauding for the little wit you have left. “I lied.”

 Your stomach churns. You feel sick. “Who are you?”

 “A swindler who was once a peasant like you.” His gaze softens a mere tad. “I never once harboured feelings for the lady of the house, I was only trying to gain wealth. You can hate me if you want to, that does not matter.”

 “You are the truest demon that I have met,” you spit out in rage, “and hell has opened its doors for you.”

 He leans his head to one side, chuckling and laughing at the sudden insults. “Are you really so naive, Y/N? Are you not tired of licking the shoes of people who are of higher status? But I must say, if it were not for you, my scheme would have never succeeded. And for that, I thank you.”

 Hoseok reaches into his pocket, taking a single coin, one that you had given him, and he slaps it back into your hands, closing your palm so you can keep it safe.

 You shake with wrath, your entire frame rattling and knees threatening to buckle to the dirt. With the little strength you have left, you throw the coin as far as you can into the fields. Hoseok chuckles again and you prepare to launch over, maul his face with your dirtied fingernails. But his men grab your arms too soon, restraining your limbs and forcing you to kneel.

 “I-I hate you! I spite you! Damn you, Jung Hoseok! Damn you!”

 “What do you want me to do with this girl?”

 “Take her and sell her for the best price.” Hoseok waves his hand, dismissing his men and bidding you a final farewell. “She is rather valuable.”

 You’re thrown into a wooden cage, trapped and hanging onto the bars as the horse drags you elsewhere. You scream and shout but the man does not spare a single glance. You watch his backside disappear slowly, cursing each stride he takes that increases the distance and leaves you farther away from him.

[19th Century]

 “Are you looking for something?” A rounded woman emerges from the back of her market stand, sweeping your frame up and down to guess the wealth you have.

 You’re in a fitted linen shirt and dark green woolen skirt, belt wrapped around the natural waist of the simple ensemble and bonnet decorating your pinned up chignon hair. You look like a well-off peasant, not a customer who could pay for much, but it is a fairly good front since you’re actually penniless.

 “No, I’m just looking for now.” You smile softly and the woman huffs out in annoyance, spinning around to address some other folks who have gathered on the other side. As her back is turned, your fingertips run against the selection of green flower brooches, the gems sparkling in the sunlight.

 You slip one into your sleeve and walk away.

 The women wandering about the market are adorning full, bell-shaped skirt dresses, petticoats with frilled hems, hair in tight curls framing their face and maybe a long time ago, you would be envious of such beautiful clothing but it does not concern you anymore. There’s much more important business to attend to.

 The bustle of the crowded streets and children running at your feet is suffocating and you make a left at the alleyway, sliding the brooch from out your pocket and attaching it on the woolen shawl draped on your shoulders. It looks much better this way. You’re ready.

 Another left, another right, going deeper and deeper into the dirty alleyways that run with rats and of the poor pleading for money - eventually, you make it to the pine painted door, a dingy and discreet place in the corner that already smells of tobacco from the outside.

 You kick down the door. The chaos inside stops.

 “Men!” You smirk at their confused expressions. “Your real competition is here.”

 As a woman, it may be ungenteel to hike up your dress, put your boot on the table and shoot dice while hollering and screaming with the opposite sex but why should you feel ashamed when you are dominating and winning all bets?

 “I’ll bet one more time.” Your opponent, Min Yoongi, slaps down a hefty sack of golden coins. The others cheer, the entire room having all gathered around your table and watching the dark horse snaring victory after victory. “If the dice makes it even, I get my earnings back but if it makes it odd, I will give you the rest of this.”

 You contemplate the choice, weighing the reward and consequences. It sounds appealing, especially when everyone is howling for you to take the deal. In the end, you smirk at the newfound confidence. “You’re on.”

 The dice is thrown. Each person holds their breath.

 In the next twelve minutes, you’ve completely ransacked the place dry of their money. And you laugh your head off, clutching onto your stomach and cackling while the others can only sigh at their humiliating, multiple defeats.

 “Where did a woman like you learn how to gamble?” Yoongi sips from his glass of rum, eyes studying you carefully.

 “Ah.” You smile at him. “But there is your mistake. Woman or man, ‘tis true they are different but not so much. You would be a fool not to look at me as your equal opponent.”

 You’ve seen things that others would faint at; held a gun within your hands, fired shots into the sky, sailed seas with pirates until you found a home here. Yoongi grins. “A fool I am indeed.”

 “Hey!” A piercing interruption at the back causes all heads to turn. The bulky man watching from earlier is holding the dice within his hands, frown decorating his ugly face and rotting teeth. “This dice is fake! It’s not ours!”

 At once, all necks crane towards you.

 They stare. The large men, brawny arms and thighs, bruises lining their skin, red fists and faces becoming scarlet begin to take slow steps forward. Yoongi has his eyes widened, mouth drawing open. You sheepishly smile. And…

 You make a run for it.

 “Get back here!” They dive over wooden tables and stools, tripping and falling, glasses of rum and cigars abandoned, thrown onto the ground. By then, you’ve already yanked open the door, being chased down the alleyway. “She’s a swindler!”

 “A cheat!”

 The horde of men races after you but are no match for your agile legs and speed. You even laugh to further mock them, dashing through the dark alleyways, past the poor and rats, clutters of rubbish and dirtied children. It’s like a peasant parade, a grand crowd following after in shouts and screams and you are their gracious leader.

 “I prefer con artist!”

 You make it to the main street again, knocking over stands and throwing over tables to slow down the angry men. Women scream, men exhale in surprise, children darting away from your form. They trip and stumble, pushing their way through the mass of people. “Give back our money!”

 “Sorry but no thanks!” You hold up a heavy sack of coins above your head with a tinkling laugh, shaking the coins inside to further taunt them. “I need this more than you!”

 The police squadron has noticed the ruckus in the area and has begun running after the ruffians, blowing their whistles and commanding them to stop. You hope they catch the criminals so that you may be spared but if they’re caught, you would be too. People like you are never caught.

 The whistles are blown. “In the name of the royal family, halt immediately criminals!”

 The men continue to run after you. “Kill her!”

 “That’s a bit severe, is it not?!” You’re out of breath, painting and heaving for air.

 You know you won’t last long now. Hence, there’s no other choice but to turn the corner into another street and immediately, in the empty area, you place yourself into another narrow alleyway. “Where did that whore go?!”

 You gasp in offense, muttering quietly, “I am not a whore.”

 The incoherent grumblings quickly turns into a scream when someone suddenly seizes you, their hand yanking your arm but the sound is muffled as a palm is clasped over your mouth and you’re pressed against someone’s firm chest. You pull away from the stranger.

 He smirks. “Caught you.”

 You shove his fingers off of your body, snatching the collar of his fine coat and hauling the man deeper into the shadowed depths of the alleyway. “Jung Hoseok-” You push him to the wall. “-What are you doing here?! How?!”

 The man looks off to the other end that is lit by the sunlight, the unsuspecting thugs rushing past and officers following their tails. “I see you haven’t shaken off your gambling habits.” The son of the loan shark corners you with his larger body. “You still owe my family many loans.”

 “Damn you.” Your teeth grit. “Fine, be as it may, take me to your debtors’ prison.”

 “Good. It would be best if you follow me-”

 In an instant, your shoes have twisted upon the gravel and your heel meets the dirt as you lob your body to the left, ready to take down the alley for yet another chase. But you fail to consider Jung Hoseok’s own agile skills, and he grabs your waist before you’re able to dash.

 “Must you always run?”

 The hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear and you scowl, curses to be spewed on your tongue, but he spins you around and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 You scream. “Put me down, bastard! I am a lady!”

 “You aren’t.” He rudely smacks your ass, sending a jolt up your spine and you’re silenced in bafflement. The man makes his way on the opposite road of the chaos, into a quieter place with fewer folks wandering about. “And if you do not follow me, I will throw you to those rancid men. Would you like that better?”

 “I despise you.”

 Hoseok smiles, satisfied to see your more compliant behaviour. You decide that you’ll allow him to continue carrying you this way. You’re tired anyhow, legs sore from the race and at the end of the day, he is wasting away his own energy by hauling you there.

 “You shouldn’t keep making bets with people if you choose to con them. One day, you’ll be beaten to death.”

 You scoff loudly. “I am going to win in order to pay all my debts back, foolish man.”

 “Gambling never works, haven’t you learnt? You’d end up wasting your entire life savings away and living by the city’s sewers.”

 “Isn’t that where we’re all heading anyway?” You rest your hand on your cheek, propping your elbow on his broad backside. There are people staring at you, couples cowering away in disdain. You wonder if they’re soulmates.

 Soulmates - the idea that a kindred soul has been fixed for each individual are not only in stories anymore but in real lives. Folks have supposedly begin recognizing an odd burst when they meet their other half. It’s a ridiculous phenomenon. You couldn’t care less about soulmates. What matters is wealth.

 Wealth would help you, free you, give you a better tomorrow. You’ve lived this entire life alone and it is no doubt that for the rest of it, you will continue to be by yourself. There is no one trustworthy - it took you too long of a time to learn that.

 “I’m not naive anymore.”

 “Good.” He laughs, finally setting you down on the property, swinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close as he guides you inside the building, down the familiar halls. You shove his limb off with an ugly scowl, and he smiles. You accompany each other in synchronized steps, the surroundings too familiar for your liking.

 Jung Hoseok is a man with short, black, tousled hair. He wears a double-breasted frock coat and long trousers, a luxurious attire considering the family he comes from. You hate it even more that he is a rather dapper young fellow.

 “This is for your own benefit, Y/N. You don’t even have any money for food. At least if you stay at this place, I can bring you some bread to eat and you have warm shelter.”

 You step inside the cell, and he locks the door with a brass key.

 “This place is cold and horrid,” you cry out. “There are rats and fleas everywhere! You think I could stay here?! You’d be leaving me to die!”

 He smiles at you through the gaps of the metal bars. The stone floorings and walls barricade you in. “I will bring you a blanket and you can make do.”

 You spit with all the fury and rage festered in your soul, “Do not act like you care for me!”

 “Don’t mistake my pity for generosity then.”

 “Damn you, Jung Hoseok.” You grip the cold bars that trap you, screaming after his retreating form. “I loathe you with every last breath in my body!”

 He turns from a little way, figure engulfed in the darkness of the hall. “If it helps, I share my own hatred for you. You make my job a lot harder than need be.” A small smile holds on his face and you see it all too well. “Just sit down and begin separating the strands of rope in the basket. Enough of it and in a few years, you might be released.”

 You curse him to hell and back.

 //

 The sunlight coming from the barred window is always hot in the hour of twelve. You’ve noticed this before a ways back but thought nothing much of it. Today, it makes all the difference.

 You’ve collected the leaves and grass from the corners of the cell, cringing and sobbing out when you accidentally brushed your hand in rat feces, a dead rat and maggots eating at the decaying flesh. But alas, after wiping your fingers on your tattered clothing, you continued on your quest.

 It took a while to break the wooden basket and carve out something decent but you managed with the little fork Hoseok gave you to eat. It’s all thanks to him that you can do this.

 “Come on now.” You murmur, rubbing the two wooden sticks against each other on top of the pile of grass, leaves and rope. There’s a puff of smoke and sweat builds at your forehead as you work your arms back and forth. “I beg of you…”

 The sunlight helps to ignite the tiny flame and a smirk spreads into your cheeks.

 You nurse the fire as quietly and quickly as you can, throwing the bundles and bundles of rope that was prepared for you to separate into the light. As the fire crackles, meeting the height of your waist, you take the stool, standing on top of it and you throw yourself over the tiny ledge.

 Using the motion, you kick the bars of the window loose and you throw your legs out. The height of the drop is survivable. But before you can make your escape, pattering footsteps echo through the hall. “Y/N?!”

 Hoseok stands back from your cell in dreaded horror. “Bloody hell, you started a fire?!”

 “A good distraction, eh?” You smirk at his glare. It was always within the con rule book to create distractions and delay the enemy. “I suppose this would be a good time to bid you adieu.”

 He calls your name over and over again, gripping the iron bars that separate the two of you.

 “You know no matter where you go, I will find you?!”

 “Aww, if you were not an enemy, that would almost sound romantic.” You give him a flying kiss, lips smacking against your palm and gestured out to him. He frowns and you give a wink, a cheerful giggle as well. “Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

 “Y/N!”

 And you slip out the window, right out of his grasps, running as fast as you can.

[20th Century]

 Even as the threat of war breathes down your neck, threatening to grab hold of your lungs and smother you in all its horror, soulmates still run rampant through the streets, slaughtering each sliver of hope you have left, strangling the happy life that you want so desperately.

 “You haven't found…” Your friend leans close as if sharing a secret. “...‘the one’?”

 The world revolved around the idea of soulmates. It hit civilization like a ship’s cannon, sudden and full of impact. Now, it was all girls could giggle about and boys could fantasize. Folks would be absolutely consumed with it, parents pairing their children and friends’ together and hoping for that burst of electricity that could only be shared between kindred souls.

 One of the questions you were asked insistently was: ‘have you found the one yet?’. Your answer didn’t matter as much as the pitying expressions, the words of consolation of ‘you’ll find one soon’ and how people told you their own story. They always said that no matter where you went, where you’d go off to, your soulmate would end up finding you. That’s how the scientists and teachers, old philosophers and stories, the newspapers said it.

 That’s how fate is.

 “What if I just don’t have a soulmate?”

 You exhale a breath towards the sky and your friend looks at you in astonishment. “Who told you that? Plus, no scientist has said such thing yet. Everyone has a soulmate! Some people just take a bit of time, Y/N. You’ll find someone soon, I just know it.”

 She says it with such certainty, as if declaring the sun will rise again. “And when you do, you’ll know instantly.”

 You’ve heard it a million times before, the way your friends have described it, you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Yet, your own faith and hope are dwindled.

 “Isn’t there more to life than finding your soulmate, getting married and having children?”

 You’re not sure where this is all coming from but perhaps it is the resentments of your universe, how your parents have constantly shoved the ideas of romance and matrimony down your throat since you were a child. When you look around, women are glowing from pregnancies or branded with a ring on their finger.

 “What if I want to go to university instead?”

 “Are you ill?” She nibbles on her bread. “Why are you speaking such nonsense? Y/N, this is the Great Depression and I know your own family is well off but people don’t even have enough to eat.” Your friend shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness of your words. “School...and for women? What kind of place would ever accept that?”

 You don’t respond. She sighs.

 “Y/N, don’t you want happiness and to feel loved? We don’t have many choices other than those things. So, keep your chin up and don’t give up on the idea of soulmates just yet.”

 It’s a rose-coloured world. Everyone sees the universe in blazing shades, laughing and grinning even at such a poor time. They see the glass as half-full, each failure an opportunity to learn, pouring of optimism. They beam with love and happiness, holding hands and sharing kisses.

 Yet, you don’t feel like you are flushing with rose. You are green. A monster of envy.

 //

 The heavy rain beats down on top of your head, rattling the inside of your skull. The surroundings have turned into a shade of grey, vision clouded with water droplets clinging onto your lashes. Each step you take splatters puddles onto your house dress, a kelly-coloured, floral, cotton hand-me-down from your mother.

 You’re drenched from head to toe, squealing before taking shelter under a closed flower shop.

 You don’t notice the person who you’re caught in the rain with, the individual that was already there and lifting their hand out to catch the droplets, staring up at the clouds and considering how much longer the storm will take. “Looks like it won’t stop anytime soon, eh?”

 Your body jumps in shock but soon eases from the warm and familiar presence beside you.

 “Jung H-Hoseok.” You blink at him, managing a slight smile out of politeness. “What a surprise.”

 The man is a notorious playboy, someone you’ve seen sucking face in alleyways with other girls, feeling them up right in public, especially Yoonji from three houses down your parents’. Your own mother has told you to stay away from men like him. They’re nothing but trouble.

 “Are you alright?” He gives a sly grin, taking a step closer to you and his body radiates the heat your own skin craves. If someone were to see now, they’d immediately become suspicious and in this small town with gossip being the main activity, your mother would know about it instantly.

 Luckily, no one’s around and the streets are empty.

 “I’m perfectly fine, just soaked from the rain.”

 Hoseok smirks. He’s a cunning fellow, a known looker too. His white shirt is rolled to his sleeves, veins popping from his forearm and you know that any lady in this town would be swooning to be in this position but you don’t dare look at him. You focus on the street.

 “It’s been awhile since we chatted, Y/N.”

 “Well, I’d rather not.”

 “Why?” He tips his head to the side, staring at you with the utmost concentration that you nearly begin to break a sweat.

 You finally look at him, twisting on your ankle to frown. “Would Min Yoonji like it if she knew you were trying to flirt with me right now?”

 “Darling, no one ever said anything about flirting.” He’s amused and that makes you angrier. “But if you want me to, then I can.”

 “You. Are. Ridiculous.”

 “And you are beautiful.”

 “You!” Your mouth has filled with cotton, cheeks heating up by the second and it would be an understatement to say that you’re flustered. How is it that he can get under your skin so quickly and break down your barriers; you’ll never know the answer. “Ugh!”

 “Have I stolen those words out of your pretty lips? Or should I kiss ‘em to make sure they’re okay?”

 You scoff, crossing your arms as if it’s for extra protection. “Now I know why my mother told me to stay from the likes of you!”

 “Why?” His grin spreads into his cheeks, and he leans down to meet your eyes. “Because I make you excited, because I’m dangerous, and she’d rather have you settle down with someone plain and boring like that idiot down the street, Taehyung? Kid doesn’t even know what sex is.”

 You narrow your eyes, spitting out the syllables like it’s your only arsenal left against his suave attacks, “because you toy with women’s hearts and throw them after you’re done.”

 “I would never throw you away.” He answers without missing a beat, leaning against the glass window and studying your frame carefully. “I’ve always liked you, you know. You’re different from the rest of ‘em.”

 “H-How so?” Your interest is piqued, and he realizes it, cockily smirking yet again.

 “You’re not a simple one. You’re a challenge and I like that.”

 There’s a familiar feeling about the man and it puts you on edge. Though you must admit, it is exhilarating to be speaking to him and simply considering all the scandalous acts you could do together in secret. “So once I become easy, you’ll be done with me?”

 “Never.” He shakes his head. “You might know me as a heartbreaker but Y/N, sweetheart, I’m a changed man.”

 Your brow lifts. “Oh?”

 Hoseok sighs with exhaustion. “The war is coming. Everyone says it ain’t, but we all know it’s coming. Before I’m drafted to go out to the field and die, I’d like to open my heart once and love someone completely.” He stares at you once more. “And if it’s you, I think I can do it.”

 You’re filled with bafflement again. “I...you…”

 “At least give me a chance, Y/N.” The rain pitter patters against the green awning of the florist’s shop, the scent of the fresh earth fills your senses and you feel overwhelmed with a sense of peace. More so, Hoseok’s pleading twitches your fingers and melts the barrier around your vulnerable heart. “Let me take you out on a date. What do you say?”

 It’s the first thing you think of. You whisper it in a gentle voice.

 “What about your soulmate?”

 “That’s not a problem.” He smiles, looking out at the street that still pours. “Don’t have one, never will. I’m a free soul.”

 “Huh.” You giggle, having never heard such a thing aside from it coming out of your own mouth. “Soulmate-less people do exist after all, don’t they?”

 “They sure do. And once people figure it out, there’s gonna be nothing but pity for folks like me.”

 He can already feel your skin on his, a simple brush of the shoulders but it leaves him aching. Hoseok wonders what those lips taste like, sweet or of crisp citrus, how soft your mouth would feel on his, what it would be like to swallow your pants and make you the happiest woman on this damn forsaken planet.

 “You mean folk like us.” You bring him out from his daydream, and he realizes that it’s better to be in reality since you’re here by his side, in the flesh and beautifully smiling. “I don’t have a soulmate either. I can tell. It’s something in me that says so.”

 “Yeah…” He gazes at you, amazed at how true your words are. He really hasn’t met anyone like you, who knew him better than he did, who felt the things that he did, someone to share sadness with. “I’ve never met anyone where I’ve felt a burst of electricity. For all I know, my world has always been bright colours and all that sort.”

 “Hmm…” You look at him, locking your eyes into his fixed stare. “You know, you feel real familiar, Jung Hoseok. Maybe we’ve met before this life.”

 The man grins. “That’s the kind of line I used to use when I was trying to flirt with somebody.”

 You nudge him, brushing your shoulder against his again. “Maybe I am trying to flirt.”

 “Can I kiss you?”

 “Yes, you may.”

 His lips touch yours until he caresses the back of your neck, holding you close until your chest is pressed against his and his frame shelters you. Candy - he grins when he finally figures out the sweet taste, and he chases the flavour of your velvet lips until a gentle whine leaves your throat.

 Although there is no burst of electricity, your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t get caught, all you know is that you’re happy. And this is enough for you.

 //

 Falling in love with Hoseok is a complete accident.

 You don’t mean to be head over heels for the man, certainly don’t mean for him to take your heart and kiss you senseless until your limbs feel of butter. When your parents scold your ears off, you resolve to break the relationship but somehow, you run back into his arms like a fool. He takes you and comforts you like a man has never done before. You don’t mean to smile so brightly when he calls you beautiful. You don’t mean to be so weak that you feel marrying him wouldn’t be so bad. You don’t mean any of these things but Hoseok was always a cunning one.

 Maybe it is a mistake but the best one you’ve ever made.

“This is my old babe.” Hoseok slaps her trunk lightly. “Someone threw ‘er away and I told my pop I’d fix her up and I did it. I gotta admit, I love her to death.”

 “More than me?’

 “Maybe.” He teases and chuckles when you roll your eyes. There’s nothing special, at least not in your eyes, but when you lay a finger, your boyfriend inhales sharply. “Careful now. This is a Cadillac Sixty Special.”

 You give him an unimpressed expression, hands on your hips and head quirked to one side. “I’m starting to really believe you love a car more than me.”

 “I’m just joking, babe.” Hoseok leans over and plants a soft kiss on your mouth. Before you can pout, he opens the backseat door and ushers you inside. “For m’lady.”

 You get in, and he follows soon after, shutting it and the pair of you stare out the empty road.

 There’s a long pause. “This it?”

 “What do you mean?” He gasps. “This is the best view you could get! This car’s the best!”

 You sigh again and Hoseok laughs, leaning over and draping his arm over you, pulling you close and you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m just kidding around. I know a view that’s much better than this.”

 “And what’s that?” To answer your question, his other hand begins to skim on your thigh, fingertips tracing your skin, getting higher and higher and shifting your cotton dress up until your underwear peeks out. You grab his wrist, looking around and whispering in hushes, “What are you thinking?! We’re out in broad daylight in your parent’s driveway!”

 “No one’s around, honey. C’mon…” He noses at your hair and it’s not like you don’t want this. You do very much, perhaps more than him but you’re also afraid of what would happen if Mrs. Kim, the next door neighbor, decides to walk her little puppy and faints when she sees what’s going on.

 Finally, after some contemplation, you grab Hoseok’s face, pressing your mouth against his until he smiles into the kiss. “You better make this worth my while, Jung.”

 His pupils are blown out, lips swollen and ready to devour you in the backseat of his used car. “Oh, I will.”

 At the very least, he cares about you enough to be okay with staining the leather.

 Regardless of what troubles you face - your parents’ disapproval, the looming presence of the war, your own worries and anxieties about the relationship - Jung Hoseok is constantly around the corner. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. The man makes your heart sing soothing lullabies and maybe you’ll never have a soulmate but at least you have him.

 “Jung Hoseok here to save the beautiful m’lady.”

 There’s a blazing smile written across his features and you laugh, causing him to melt into a warmer smile. He jogs up to you, draping a coat over your shoulders to defend you against the slight nipping breeze. The pair of you are taking a walk around his neighborhood, an odd pastime but one you insisted on.

 “Are you okay?”

 You secure the warm fabric over your exposed skin, savouring his scent that is lingering on each stitch of the wool fabric. “I’m fine. Why?”

 Hoseok wiggles his brows in a suggestive manner. “Because you were limping the other day.”

 You scoff. “And that was because of who?”

 Your boyfriend giggles sweetly, draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close into his chest. You ease from the gesture, the nervousness temporarily rolling off your shoulders. As the both of you pass a minty coloured mailbox, you finally break the silence.

 “Hey, have you been getting your mail lately?”

 “Every Sunday as usual. Why?” He is amused at the strange question, turning to look at you but already having an inkling on what the whole gist is about. “Are you worried about the war?”

 You hide your face, diverting your eyes and your voice is soft, barely on the edge of breaking. “You know they already told Namjoon and Jimin? Those two are leaving next week, packing all their bags, saying goodbye to their loved ones and family members and...and-”

 “Hey. Hey now. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” He gently boinks your head with his, smiling and placing a kiss on the crown. “They’re older than I am and my brother hasn’t even been called yet. There’s no way they’ll call me first. Plus if I did go, I’d have Namjoon and Jimin and my brother to look out for me.”

 “But what if-”

 “No what if’s. Don’t wanna hear it.” He sulks with a pout, letting go of you and instead, catching your hand within his. He holds it tight, lacing your fingers together and you smile at him sadly.

 “Are you scared?”

 “Nope.” He punctuates the syllable and shakes his head. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m not afraid.”

 You squeeze his hand. “It’s okay if you are. I would be.”

 “Why are you suddenly asking me all these questions?” He stops in front of his house, holding you close and staring at your expression. “What’s going on in that little pretty head of yours that has you worrying so much?”

 Hoseok knows you too well at this point. Your cheeks flush and you stare at the ground. “There is something. And, I’m scared of what you’re gonna say when you know.”

 “Scared of what I'm gonna say?” He laughs and kisses your cheek. “Darling, there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. Don’t you know that I’m fearless?”

 You lift your brow in an incredulous manner. “Really?”

 “Except for spiders, I don’t fight things that’s got more than six legs,” he teases and then becomes serious, “but enough of the jokes, what’s wrong?”

 “I...we’re….” You hesitate, stuttering and an absolute mess. Maybe it’s foolish but you trust this man with all your heart and you love him so. Hence, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself before the storm comes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

 “What.”

 “I’m pregnant?” You nervously laugh, swinging your held hands and staring at your shoes. “I don’t know how long it’s been but I haven’t been feeling well lately and I haven’t had my...cycle in a while. All the signs, I got them.”

 “Oh wow.” He exhales a lungful, looking off into the distance without an expression. Hoseok is in a state of disbelief, unable to wrap his mind around it, and he repeats you a few times, “We’re gonna have a baby. A baby.”

 “Yep…” You study him carefully, having not expected much but the lack of communication was no less than being put on a tightrope, holding your breath and on the brink of anticipation. “What do you think?”

 “That’s….I’m….I’m going to go...for a bit..”

 “What?!” Out of all the possible reactions, this had to hurt the most - there was no reaction. “You’re leaving?!”

 “I just have to.” He begins to back away, getting to his vehicle that’s parked at the side. “I gotta get some air. See you.”

 “Wait!” You run after him, shouting with all your might as he gets into his little precious car. “Jung Hoseok!” He ignores you completely, putting the keys into the ignition and starting the engine while you bang on the window. “Hoseok! We’re going to talk about this!”

 Despite your fist pounding against the window, heaving breaths shouting through the sky, he pulls away from the curb and goes into reverse. “Hoseok- Fuck! OW FUCKING SHIT!”

 As he was backing up, he mercilessly runs over your foot.

 Pain shoots up your spine and you’re forced to stumble, crouching over and clutching onto your squashed, dirty shoe. You attempt to rip your limb away from under the rubber tire but the force is too much. It feels like you’ve broken your foot or a toenail was ripped off, that it’s bleeding in your tattered nylon sock. It swells and screams. To top off the agony, like a cherry thrown on top of a sundae, he finally drives his car off, freeing your extremity, disappearing in the distant fog and abandoning you on the side of the road.

 “Are you kidding me?!” You sob out to the sky, knocking your head back and letting your broken foot pulsate and throb inside your poor sandal. “HOSEOK!”

 //

 You should’ve known better.

 At the first sign of commitment, he had ran for the hills and was never seen again. You were lied to. You were betrayed. It didn’t matter if you loved him until your heart ached and it didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You should’ve listened - to others and to your own instinct. The familiar feeling about the man that put you on edge was a warning.

 Jung Hoseok is never there when you truly need him.

 When you knock on his door, his mother tells you he is not there. When you hear that he has been sent a letter, he is not there. When you wait for a final goodbye, he is not there. When you search for him desperately at the train station before he is sent to the war, he is not there.

 When your foot heals, he is not there.

When you lose the baby, he is not there.

When you cry until it hurts, he is not there.

 When you find out that he has died in the midst of the battlefield, he is truly gone forever.

 “I’m sorry.”

 His comrade lowers his head, hat held in his hand, teardrops dripping on your front doorstep. “W-we couldn’t even get his dog tags. He’s gone, Y/N. Hoseok is dead.”

Jung Hoseok never comes back.

 He never gets to face your wrath, your revenge, your anger or heartbreak. He could never marry you if he wanted to, hold you in his arms and apologize a thousand times, try again to raise a child and to kiss your lips on days when you’re tired. He is not there to grow old with you.

 And you have never been angrier.

 “Who said you could leave, Jung Hoseok?!”

 You screech it to the sobbing sky, embracing the cold and harsh rain drilling on your skull. It drenches you, anchoring you to the ground and you ignore the dirt that splashes against your black dress, walking further and further out to the field.

 “You were supposed to go down on your knees and beg for my fucking forgiveness!” You shriek until your throat is raw, crying it out until you’re not sure what is teardrops or raindrops. It aches everywhere and he isn’t here. He isn’t here. Hoseok isn’t here anymore. “You were supposed to cry when you found out the baby’s gone! Bastard. You are a fucking bastard! You know that?!”

 No matter where you go, Hoseok is always able to find you. But why does he never show up when you need him the most?

 “You threw me away! You left me alone like everyone said you would! I resent you!” Your voice gives out, a mere whimper that no one can hear against the thundering sky. “I resent being in love with you. You were supposed to stay with me, goddammit!”

 The rain is ugly. It reminds you of the day you kissed him.

 “When I meet you again, I swear I’ll never forget the things you’ve done to me. All of it.” You’re not done with Hoseok, far from it. You still have to grab him by the collar, curse and scream and swear at him until he apologizes. You never got to kiss him one last time, embrace him, stare at his face until it’s imprinted into your mind. You didn’t get to say goodbye yet.

 Although the rain can’t, the Heavens can hear the oath you vow.

 “I’ll never forget you,” you breathe, “or so help me god!”

[Present Day]

 You live in fear.

 Regardless of where you are, you’re constantly on edge. You look over your shoulder, running from one city to another, frightened when you catch a tall figure with tousled black hair. It’s been years since you’ve been like this but it seems like you’re still suffering without him around.

 “So, we’re just going to trim half an inch of your hair.”

 You smile in the mirror as the hairdresser positions her silver scissors. “Yes, please.”

 But as you catch a person entering the salon, chiseled jaw and sharp nose, dark locks and great height, you flinch and cower. The lady screams, “hold still!”.

 Though, it’s too late.

 Your head ends up with a horrendous bob haircut. And it wasn’t who you thought it was either. The man was a stranger.

 On another particular day, while making it to your work and gripping an umbrella over your head as it drizzles, across the road and past the fog, you catch a familiar person. Of course as any sane individual would, you scream and try to book it the other way. Unfortunately, your heel ends up getting caught in the cracks of the sidewalk and you collide with a random pedestrian, twisting your ankle in the process as you face-plant.

 Once again, the person you saw was a stranger.

 “Have you found your soulmate yet, Y/N?”

 Your colleague quirks her head to the side, fingers laced together with her husband’s. You down your glass of wine, ordering another from the bar and you look her dead in her eyes.

 “Don’t have one.”

 She doesn’t ask anymore questions.

 If you knew what your grandmother had told you all those years ago, if you knew even before this life and all the others, you would’ve stayed the fuck away from any name of Jung Hoseok.

 You don’t have a soulmate. Far from it. But no longer are you dripping in envy, a green monster to the love surrounding the universe. You’re just trying to survive.

 You don’t have a soulmate, though, you’re not completely free either...no...you have something much, much different and much worse. You have a destructive parasite, destined to ruin each path that you take and cause you sadness, pain, anger. You have something that is guaranteed to lie to you, betray your trust, to hurt you in ways where you’re unable to stand back up again.

 Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy.

 //

 “Why couldn’t anyone else go?” You grumble incoherently underneath your breath, eyes shut tight and head leaning against the cold window. “Dammit, dammit.”

 “Welcome aboard on flight W560 and thank you for flying on our airlines today. Please make sure your belt is on when the plane takes off and prepares to land. There will be a light above-”

 The white noise and engine whirling in the back adds to your thumping headache and anxiousness. You try to drown out the noise, ears ringing and motion sickness teasing you as the airplane begins to roll on the taxiway to the runway. At the very least, you were in business class and there were relatively nice seats, a lot of legroom as well. Luckily, you’re also able to miss the long-winded instructions and the entire takeoff when you fall asleep for about an hour.

 It’s only when your shoulder brushes with the stranger beside you that you’re gently coaxed to consciousness. It’s warm. You can’t remember the last time you had such a nice nap. And your lids flutter, slowly opening your eyes. You meet someone beside you and your lips fall. Your heart stops.

 You scream.

 “Shush!” Hoseok reaches over to clamp a hand over your mouth but you flinch. A flash of hurt crosses his features, and he withdraws his hands, pressing his finger to his own mouth to signal you to be quiet instead. “Stop it, Y/N!”

 You continue to scream, startling and scaring all the surrounding passengers. You cower away from Hoseok, drawing your limbs together and nearly falling out of your seat like you’re afraid his touch will burn you. From the close proximity, you feel suffocated. You are smothered.

 For years, you’ve been running. Ever since you knew about the past, you’ve avoided him like the plague. It must be a consequence from fate now that you’re literally boxed in a long rectangle in the sky. But if he’s here...that means something horrible is bound to happen.

 Oh god...you’re going to die, aren’t you?

 “The plane’s gonna fall!”

 You shout in hysterics, crying so hard that you can’t see straight. The flight attendants have gathered in the commotion, trying to understand what’s happened and the reason for the sudden distressed outburst. “We’re going to crash and burn! It’s going to fall!”

 The people around gasp, murmuring and panicking from your proclamation of the aircraft plunging into the ocean below.

 The attendants rush to pacify you. “We need you to remain calm. Take a deep breath.”

 “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You shake uncontrollably, hugging your own body and weeping to the point where your chest hurts. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! Please!”

 “The plane won’t fall, Miss L/N.” A flight attendant calls your name once they’ve learnt it and someone kneels in front of you. “There’s just a little bit of turbulence which is caused by strong winds. You’re going to be perfectly fine! We’re going to land in a half an hour! Would you like to walk to the front and take a breather?”

 The comforting voices of the attendant and the others in the background calming the passengers around drown out of your ears. You’re still weeping, for all the centuries, all the lives you lived, for fear and hatred, for pain and sadness. Because Jung Hoseok is here.

 He’s finally here when you don’t want him to be.

 “I-I…”

 You want to switch seats. You want to get away from the man beside you. You want an escape.

 But you also know that as long as he’s on this aircraft, the possibility of it tumbling downwards to crash and burn are all the same. It doesn’t matter how close he is to you or the distance down to the millimeter. As long as he is around, you’re not safe.

 “Y/N.” It’s a soft and sweet voice, an intimate timbre that rattles inside your skull and pulls you away from your blinded fit. The tears in your eyes fall, no longer clouding the surroundings. The pace of your heart thumps to a regular rhythm, breath steadying with each rise and fall of your chest.

 Your eyes have locked with his. Hoseok gazes at you, having lost the details of your features from his memory and restoring all the changes that have happened over the lost years of your lives together. The man seems to hesitate before he lifts his hand, putting it on top of yours.

 This time, you don’t flinch.

 His thumb runs along your skin. “We’re going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen. I swear to you. So, please, trust in me this one time.”

 There’s a pause.

 The flight attendant takes a sigh of relief when you’re no longer ballistic. They look between you and the man, recognizing that the pair of you must’ve had some kind of prior relationship. And they decide to stand back, somewhere nearby in case you need assistance but enough to give you space to relax.

 “W-Why are you here?”

 “I’m going on a business trip.” He tries to explain himself, looking down at his lap. It’s been too long since you’ve last spoken to one another. “I work at an insurance company now.”

 You snort. He looks up and you provide the explanation before he can ask. “That’s ironic considering you ran over my foot.”

 Hoseok’s eyes widen. “I did?”

 It makes you sick. You don’t want to think about the past.

 Your head leans against the window and you cross your arms, looking out at the white clouds instead of his face. There’s a chance you might punch him in the jaw and you’d certainly be detained if you did such a thing. “You just happened to sit next to me?”

 “It was a coincidence.” His voice moves up a pitch in defense. “I swear, I didn’t plan this out. I don’t even know that you were going to be on this flight. You can check my ticket! I’m supposed to sit here! When I got here, I saw you asleep, so I just sat down.”

 Of course, it was a coincidence. Fate is such a bitch.

 Hoseok inhales a deep breath. “Y/N, I don’t even know what you’ve been doing for the past few years.”

 “Good.” You mirthlessly smile and it doesn’t reach your dead eyes. “If there’s one thing I’m doing right, it’s not letting you know where the hell I am and not knowing where the hell you are. I need you to stay away from me. As far as fucking possible.”

 “I want to talk.”

 “I don’t.”

 The last time you saw Hoseok was at the parking lot of the theaters back in university. The last time was when you kissed him, remembered and left running. In the midst, he was stunned, hand reaching out to your retreating form and pain struck in his chest and on his face.

 You had begun to run since then and it’s been nearly a decade. True to the doctor’s diagnosis and your own grandmother’s words, you didn’t have a soulmate. Everyone around you had gotten married or became engaged to their kindred spirit while you wandered the planet alone.

 But you didn’t care. As long as you were away from him, you didn’t want anything else.

 “I still love y-”

 “Be...be quiet.” It physically pains you to speak to Hoseok. “I beg of you. Before I get another anxiety attack, I need you to stop and pretend that you’re invisible. Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t breathe.”

 You shut your eyes tight, unable to see his expression. “But I need you to listen to me.”

 “I don’t want to listen, alright?!” You’ve been traumatized, the grief clinging onto each of your bones and you feel tears well up in your eyes again. Each time you look at Hoseok, the faces of your previous self shows and you recall history; the smother flames engulfing your home, illness plaguing you as the quill trembles in your hand, standing naked on a stage while a man sells you to a crowd, being beaten to a pulp and running….running...running.

 And the most painful of all memories: being abandoned after knowing love.

 “I’m scared of you. You scare me shitless. Every single time I’ve met you, you messed me up somehow so please!”

 Fortunately for you, Hoseok complies with your wishes. For the rest of the flight, you don’t hear a single peep out of his mouth and once the plane has landed, you hurl yourself out as fast as possible.

 You never once look behind.

 //

 “When are you going back to work?”

 Your mother asks as she sets breakfast down at the table and your father discards the newspaper. Maybe it was taking it one step too far but now that you knew Hoseok was living somewhere in the city, you couldn’t risk going back. If you encountered him once, chances were high that he would keep coming back and back into your life.

 You couldn’t return. At least not until you figured where to run off to next.

 “Not sure yet. I saved a lot of vacation days up so maybe I’ll stick around for two weeks.”

 Presently, you were hidden in the secluded outskirts of your grandmother’s old house. Technically, it’s your parents’ since they moved into the quiet and quaint place for their retirement years. It’s a home for you too and it’s been a long time since you’ve visited.

 “Well alright then.” Your mother seems appeased by the answer and you dig into the toast. She hesitates, exchanging a look with your father and you can recall why you haven’t been back in so long. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”

 “Nope.”

 “Y/N, sweetie, are you even trying to look?”

 “No.” By being as clear-cut and simple, you hope they won’t ask anymore. “I’d rather not.”

 “But how will you ever find them?”

 You fill your mouth up before pointing your fork to the pair of them, narrowing your eyes. “Didn’t you say that if they’re my soulmate, I’ll meet them anyway?”

 Your father nods in agreeance. “But it doesn’t help to look for ‘em, y’know. Makes the process faster.”

 Your mother hums and you can already tell the gears inside her head are beginning to turn. She considers everyone that she knows, friends of relatives, children of friends, anyone who you might know. “What about that boy that you were friends with during preschool? He went to the same schools as you all the way to college too, right? What was his name?”

 Before you can stop her, she says it. “Jung Hoseok!”

 You choke on your orange juice, coughing and heaving. Your mother’s eyes are twinkling, and she grins with your father. “That would make sense, huh? Together since you were children?! And I spoke to his mother a month back. He hasn’t met anyone either, right? Maybe you two are soulmates.”

 “That’s impossible.”

 Literally — Hoseok is the opposite of your soulmate. If your parents knew that he was your enemy, destined to cause you suffering and chaos, they’d never mention him again. Maybe they’d voodoo him and throw salt all over their doorstep too. But you can’t break the news and cause them heartache. You can’t bear to say it and let them know that their only child not only will end up alone in this life and the next, but they have someone out in the world that will cause them endless pain.

 “Plus,” you add, “don’t soulmates recognize each other upon meeting?”

 Your mother’s brow furrows, realizing that you’re right but your father taps his chin, not ready to give up on the idea. “I’ve been reading lately and the T.V. says there’s a lot of things that go into soulmates so who knows, maybe it’s just a late blooming relationship.”

 You hold back a laugh. “I seriously doubt it.”

 “Don’t give up hope, L/N Y/N. You hear me?” Your mother lectures, tone becoming stern and unyielding. “You’ll meet the one someday. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. You always do and there’s nothing you can do to run away from it!”

 Christ...you can only hope she’s wrong.

 //

 The field was verdant in hue, the mint walls of your bedroom and soft beryl flowers haunted you. Green was the colour of your envy, of the luck that you didn’t have, of your greed for love and companionship. But it was also the shade of the serene nature that surrounded you, the symbol of healing and of hope. Hope that would certainly hurt you in the end.

 More importantly, the colour reminded you of him. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it.

 “Y/N! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother’s call has you stumbling down the stairs in confusion. There wasn’t anyone that you knew around these parts and- “It’s been so long! We were actually talking about you earlier. Oh, speaking of which, you haven’t met your soulmate yet, right, Hoseok?”

 You freeze. Your mother moves aside. The man is standing in front of your doorway with a sheepish smile, one that conveys too many apologies at once.

 He’s a hundred years too late.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “I just thought we should talk.”

 “Now, Y/N.” Your mother butts in. “Be nice to our guest! It’s been so long since I’ve seen him as well. Hoseok, dear, would you like to go in for a drink of coffee or tea? You can stay for as long as you’d like-”

 “No.” You stride past her, grabbing onto his sleeve and dragging him away. “We’re talking outside.”

 It hurts. It pains you beyond belief. You never thought you had to face him again. Yet, here you are. No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you. And it drives you crazy in the worst ways.

 “How did you even find me here?”

 You’re tapping your foot, arms crossed, completely unimpressed with his presence. On the other hand, Hoseok is meekly smiling at you, taking in the quiet surroundings of the field. It reminds him of an era that was long ago where it was more tranquil, and he was by your side, taking aimless strolls to waste the evening away.

 “You took me here in the first grade and then again in ninth and twelve. You might not remember but we grew up together.” He watches you carefully. “In this life. Not the other ones. In this one, we were friends long before anything else happened.”

 “Used to be.” You correct. “We used to be friends.”

 There’s a silence.

 “Why are you even here, Hoseok?” You break the summer birds’ song, interrupting the sun’s fall from the horizon. “Is it to apologize so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want to try to move on? Well guess what, you’re too late. You’re lifetimes and lifetimes too late.”

 He takes a moment to decide his words. “I hate that you’re afraid of me.”

 You laugh without an inch of happiness. “I think it’s for good reason, don’t you?”

 “I still care about you. I love you, Y/N.”

 You spin on your heel, having absolutely none of it. It takes all the strength in your muscles to begin to walk away from him. Hoseok inhales a breath and for once, the roles are reversed.

 He watches your backside disappear slowly, counting each step you take that increases the distance and leaves him farther away from you.

 He takes the leap of courage before you’re gone.

 “In the sixteenth century,” he screams and you stop, “I didn’t betray you because I wanted to. It was the plan from the start. The people were suffering and the kingdom needed to be overthrown. The painter...I...still loved you very much.”

 The bandage around the wound is ripped straight off. It hasn't healed. It stings.

 “When you wrote all those books in the seventeenth, I just wanted to help you and get your work out there in the world. I...I came back and I didn’t know you had d-...d...died.”

 Hoseok almost begins to cry. His nails sink into his clothing. His head drops to the floor. It hits you like a bullet train - you weren’t the only one who was tortured.

 You turn around to face him.

 “In the eighteenth, I was a fucking douchebag, I know. But I had suffered so much as a peasant. I wanted a better life for myself. It...It wasn’t my intention to make you suffer too.”

 You call his name, and he ignores you, continuing onwards.

 “The nineteenth.” Hoseok smiles past saltwater eyes. “It was better for you not to gamble. I would have fed you, given you a warm home, and I was going to release you after a year. And maybe, maybe you would have stayed if I asked you to.”

 You step closer to the boy and you wait for the reasons of the years that hurt you the most.

 “In the twentieth — I’m sorry.”

 Jung Hoseok, like all you had hoped for, collapses onto his knees. He faces the dirt, tears dripping like raindrops. “I was a coward. I was too afraid of everything.”

 Your shadow looms over him. He grabs onto the hem of your sweater, anchoring him down to the ground, and he begs for your forgiveness. It’s pathetic, the way he sobs but you don’t feel a single morsel of satisfaction like you thought you would. It aches. Everywhere.

 “You didn’t say goodbye to me.”

 “I’m so sorry.”

 Your arms stay by your side and you look down at him.

 “I lost the baby.”

 Hoseok cries harder. “I’m sorry.”

 “I waited for you.”

 He continues to apologize, each one full of sincerity and anguish. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were supposed to stay with me.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 Your hand lifts. You hold Hoseok close to you, carding your fingers through the familiar black locks. It’s been the same pigment for all the centuries you’ve known each other for.

 “Every single day, I waited for you to come back and you never did.”

 His tears stain the fabric of your clothes. “I’m sorry.”

 “You were never there when I needed you the most.”

 He stands himself back up onto wobbling legs, on a face drenched with tears, with a heart weak and overwhelmed. “B-but I’m here now.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and you linger in the close proximity, yearning to be closer yet keeping the distance.

 “I’m scared that the longer I spend with you, the worse the outcome will be in the end.”

 “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t apologize. This time, it isn’t his fault. “I just...I can’t leave you. I can’t do it. In all the lives we’ve shared together, I’ve loved you in each one. But I never fought hard enough. I never fought hard enough for you.”

 “That doesn’t change the fact that you scare me.” You lock your eyes with him. “I’m scared of what will happen later on, if you’ll end up causing me more grief, if I somehow die in a tragic death and never live peacefully or happily. How many more times do we have to keep living like that before we learn that it’s better to stay apart?”

 “But it’s not up for fate to decide for me!” He shouts it with resentments of the past, of the hand of destiny and his own choices that have led you to become so petrified of him and to be so broken. “I don’t fucking care about destiny or about soulmates or whatever the hell we are! Enemies?! I don’t care!”

 You scream back, “How can you not care?!”

 “Fate doesn’t control me.” He’s out of breath and your eyes widen. “And as long as I’m breathing, I’ll make sure I’ll continue to atone for my mistakes. I’ll make sure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

“How can you be so sure?” You ask him, pleading for an answer, gazing into his eyes. “How can you be so sure of yourself? Of us?” 

“Because I love you. I love you,” Hoseok repeats. “And maybe that’s not enough. Maybe it’s not enough to beat whatever’s been predetermined for us. Maybe it’s not enough to restore your trust in me. But I love you. And I can’t walk away from us. I’ll try as many times as I need to. I will fight for as many centuries as I need to. All I know is that I want to be with you....in this life and the next.”

“You’re stupid.” You shake your head. “You’re stupid for believing that we can beat fate but maybe I’m more stupid...for always fucking believing in you.”

 One moment you’re shouting at each other and the next you’re tearfully laughing.

 Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe you’ll end up suffering again and again, back on the endless loop of hardships and heartbreak. Maybe it’s dumb of you to think that you can beat fate at its own game. You’ve been hurt enough times. How much more can you handle and how many more times will it take for you to learn? Jung Hoseok is your destined enemy after all.

 But maybe he’s right.

 Maybe you have more control of your life than you thought. Maybe it isn’t up to destiny or some unseen source. At the end, your existence wouldn’t be worth anything if you keep on running away. A peaceful life but an unhappy one isn’t what you want.

 You love Hoseok. In this life. In the last ones. You always have.

 All you need is a leap of courage and to fight hard for what you want.

 “Then let’s fight together.” You wrap your arms around him, staring at him until it’s imprinted into your mind, embracing his body and kissing his lips once - fulfilling all your wishes from the previous life. “You can make my life as much of a hell as you want. Just don’t leave.”

 “I won’t.” He pulls you close, arms around your shoulders and holding you tightly. Hoseok breathes in your familiar scent, crying and endlessly grateful for your existence. He does all the things he should’ve done. And he keeps you close.

 You giggle, melting into the hug. “I still love you.”

 Although your love is not a burst of electricity, where the heart stops and the breath gets caught - the universe doesn’t suddenly shine in brighter hues, becoming vibrant and louder - this love is yours.

 “I love you too.”

 It is yours. A constant work in progress, a construction of hard effort and bruised hands, of tired and relentless struggle but it’s one that you fight for. And it’s one that you know, you’ll be proud of in the end.

 “Now stop crying and come inside.” You tease him, stroking his hair and patting his back. “I think my mom and dad are watching from the window.” He nods and sniffles and you laugh.

 This man was once a painter and editor, a swindler and a loan shark, a soldier as well. But now, the boy is your old friend and someone you cherish with every part of your being.

 Instead of looking behind, you focus on the horizon and your fingers lace together with his. “Stay with me for a while?”

 Hoseok grins. “Always.”

 No matter where you go, he’s always able to find you.

 And now he’s here when you need the most.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #hoseok scenario #'insert more tags that the popular kids use these days' #FINALLY I GET TO SHARE THIS STORY #IT'S BEEN SITTING IN MY FILES FOR TOO LONG #/SLAMS DESK/ #im excited

[buri-art]

we stan Please Save my Earth!! I always get so happy when i find a fan lol anyways did you read the sequel? i wanted to, like so so much because i've heard good thing about it but the change in the art turn me off, it is so bad?????

Yaaaaay, always good to find PSME fans! : D (This is primarily an Akatsuki no Yona blog, though.) I did read the sequel (Boku wo Tsutsumu Tsuki no Hikari, which takes place 15 years later) and although it has wonky art, I did enjoy it. I’m also four volumes into the sequel to the sequel, Boku wa Chikyuu to Utau, which takes place another 4 years later. My feelings toward both are a little complicated, so I’ll discuss Boku-Tsuki first (and I’ll also answer your other questions behind the cut, since this will get long!): 

I love PSME so much that OF COURSE I love having more of it and seeing what the characters are doing when they’re older (though I’m sad that characters like Rin’s mom and Boon never made appearances! Tamura himself only had one scene, haha). It’s a very different story at first, which a fun focus on the children of a few of the old characters (plus some other kids they meet). I liked the kids’ relationships and perspectives a lot, with the PSME lore as background. I was hit and miss with how the old cast wound up, and it inevitably has colored how I look back at them in the original. However, I found the last arc (which spanned a few volumes) pretty… I don’t know. The phrase that comes to mind is a Chinese idiom, “pulling up sprouts to make them grow faster”, which means “spoiling by excessive enthusiasm”. It started to feel like Rin, Alice, Mokuren, and Shion were getting strangled by excessive drama/development. It’s like their characters were no longer allowed room to breathe. And it was during this arc that Hiwatari noticed that it was started to become a different story, which was why she abruptly asked her editor if she could conclude the series and start a new one under a different title. That makes sense, because Boku-Uta takes those changes a lot further. With this one, I feel it’s really overindulging in extra background development, which takes away from the mystique of the original.It’s also…. just weird. Like, Hiwatari writes weird stuff,  that’s why she’s so beloved because her stories are so unique. ^_^ I’ve read a lot (but not all) of her other works, and I loooooved stuff like Global Garden because–although the art style was wonky–I’ve never read anything quite like it. Well, except for PSME–it’s funny how it uses so many similar themes but plays them in such a different way. 

But with Boku-Uta, it’s like her publishers just stepped out of her way and said “you know what, you have such a fanbase that people will buy it no matter what you write, so go ahead, add more magic cats.” 

So, like, I really want to like this one too, but I find it difficult to. I do really like the continued developments of the younger generation which Boku-Tsuki focused on, but other than that, I find it difficult to enjoy. I read Volume 4 around 2am in an airport and just felt angry by the time I finished because some of the new plot twists just felt so stupid. XDSo, in conclusion, yes, Boku-Tsuki has a lot of merits, but it’s going to change your experience of PSME, which is why I can understand why a lot of PSME fans didn’t like it or choose not to read it. Boku-Uta is a natural progression from the ending of that one, so if you choose to read Boku-Tsuki, keep that in mind. But hey, I AM such a big Hiwatari fan that I know I’m going to buy every volume of Boku-Uta anyway. Maybe it’ll redeem itself in my eyes, it still has some interesting elements keeping me going. Okay, on to your other PSME Ask: “sorry, i just found this tumblr so i’m going to ask a lot of PSME questions lol: favorite characters and why?“I love this question. : D Ironically I was just talking with a friend about this the other day since she’s borrowing the manga from me, and I didn’t really know how to answer it. As stated before, my perceptions of the characters has been affected by reading Boku-Tsuki.So like… just because they get the best development, how can I NOT love the Rin-Alice-Shion-Mokuren quatrad?? I keep going back and forth over the years between who of those four is my favorite. While reading the manga for the first time while I was a teen I think I usually leaned more toward Rin and Alice, but now maybe it’s Shion and Mokuren?? I don’t know XDDDAs for OTHER characters, though, part of what I love about it is that there are so many good supporting characters, especially beyond the basic seven kids and their past lives. So here are a few that come to mind to write some thoughts on: Haruhiko: I haaaaaaaated him with a passion as I was reading the manga because he was so whiny and helpless, UNTIL I got to the volume when he confessed everything to Alice, Jinpachi, and Issei, and it was like a switch was flipped and he became one of my favorites because of how much courage he had. You know how he really lightens up and gets comfortable talking with Alice later on? That’s the sort of person he remains in the sequel, which has made me like him even more. He’s mature and mostly at peace with his past, but not totally, and he can recognize that about himself without it taking over. But he’s not totally mature either—you know that scene when he fakes having heart trouble and then gets Alice to stop? And how he makes that “What did you think I was going to do? I’m not Shion!” joke right afterward? That’s the sort of nasty side of his personality that I love too. Looking back at the start of the series now, I see that he was courageous and understanding all along, he just had an extremely weighty situation to deal with. Mikuro: I can never see him the same way again after the sequel (in which he’s a major character). XDD It’s clear that he’s always been a pet OC of Hiwatari’s, but the cool, hard-boiled original character designs for him are nothing like the adult he’s become. He tries so hard to play it cool, but the guy’s a helpless dweeb sometimes. I always found it exciting to learn more about his EPIA life. An extra one-shot (Things Accidently Left Behind, I think it’s called?) gives a lot more backstory for him and introduces more of the EPIA characters, who I enjoy. (Fun fact: Remember his friend Tomoko who was briefly mentioned? She winds up marrying his brother Hokuto. XD Mikuro winds up in a complicated relationship with an American psychic named Pamela, whom I also really like, she’s a hoot.)Mode: I loved her as soon as I met her (and although I’m okay with how she was used in the final arc of the sequel, I sort of wish she could have been left as-is too). She was, through and through, such a good friend, but I like her sense of responsibility as a caretaker too. Lazlo: How can I not love Lazlo!!? The sob story gets played up a little TOO much and I think it was effective as-is in the original (like, we didn’t need to know that he and Kyaa got into the car accident while bringing home a toy for Shion to try to make him smile). In fact, it was Lazlo who made me realize that I have interest in being a foster mother someday. Rin’s Mom: She’s got such a rough job, seriously. She had a break-down, which I don’t blame her for, but I love the courage and understanding she shows after that. She’s the mom who Shion always deserved. Hajime: Always a favorite. XD But I also love that he’s not a huge influence on the story either, his mission has always been to support and take care of Alice, even if that means being critical of her decisions. There are a few extra chapters in Boku-Tsuki discussing Rin & Alice’s early parenting years, and they’re told from Hajime’s POV (he wasn’t exactly happy with the shocking situation), which I really enjoy. Daisuke/Hiiragi: He’s not as big a favorite now (because in some ways he and Jinpachi grew into lame adults XD), but I always liked him and found it funny how despite being the leader, he basically has no influence and is the least important of the seven. XDD It was liking him in a sort of feeling bad for him kind of way. The Lians: Part of what’s so cool about PSME is the development of the Homeworld, and I thought the role of the Lians fleshed out that world really well. Seeing Shion’s different relationships with them (they’re all doing their best, but the older one clearly has more of a way with him) was a nice touch. Plus, I just like and respect nuns in the first place, so that influences my view of them.

Tamura:  When I first read/watched it, I didn’t like him much because I thought he was too nosy and I just wanted to focus on the younger cast; the yakuza subplot was a turn-off at first. But looking back on it, Tamura is a such a great and unexpected driver of the plot for a shoujo manga. Nowadays if I rewatch or reread it, you’ll even hear me squeal about seeing Takeshi again. XDDIssei & Sakura: They are such a stinking cute, girly married couple in the sequel, and now it’s hard to ever see them the same way as in the original when I could just appreciate how their deep friendship took shape. If anything I didn’t want them to get married because that felt trite and like a Pair-the-Spares trope and it made it seem like that was the only possible result of a deep friendship between a girl and formal-girl-now-guy-on-purpose-due-to-failed-romance. BUT!! Boku-Uta does provide a nice insight on that, which I appreciate, and which explains why the other three are singletons (being from the Homeworld, they have a different wavelength from regular earthlings, which is why they harmonize well together (as do Rin and Alice), whereas Daisuke, Jinpachi, and Haruhiko can’t find partners to be in the same harmony with). But to back up a bit, Issei’s subplots was one of my favorites in the original. That scene when he “releases” Enju’s soul to go out and love deeply again was so sweet. : DSo like, I pretty much like EVERYONE due to deep attachment for the series, though my thoughts and feelings change over the years. These are just the thoughts coming to mind at the moment. XD

#Please Save My Earth

[bestfluteninja]

quotes from marching band, 2k17

these are actual things that people in my marching band said during the 2017 season. prepare yourself. (if you want context just shoot me an ask and i’ll try to provide it)

“I like your dad hat”

“Fuck you!” “You would”

“I hate him so much”

“Does anyone have lotion?”

“I need a new oboe reed cause mine is shit”

“I forgot sunscreen”

“Happy June camp!” “How is it happy?” “I’m trying to be positive here”

“Mr. H took his Tide bottle away”

“There’s a big shiny object in the sky. It’s the sun. It does this thing called shining”

“I’m gonna get a rotisserie chicken tattooed on my forehead”

“Dis line tho”

“And remember, I don’t care”

“He was just sitting on the toilet, pants down, phone out, playing Clash of Clans or something”

“Why are you sitting outside?” “Because if I wanted to be around people, I’d be inside”

“Just finished a drug deal”

[after chucking a phone across the parking lot into the grass] “The screen isn’t cracked but the case is!”

“Stop spraying people with sunscreen”

“SPF sun-resistant”

“Your pants are not ripping apart, it’s okay”

“It’s been in my bra and it’s still warm”

“He got a penny stuck in his trumpet”

“Let’s do me”

“Aww yeah, sun cancer”

“Right in the stomach

“I’m the best noodle”

“I use a pencil sharpener”

“Why is my binder always backwards and upside down”

“Someone just died”

“We’re so good at circles”

“Okay, guys, this circle is turning into a triangle”

“I’m turning into a meme”

“She forgot her instrument at first”

“I ran into a Little Cesar’s building”

“Nothing ever happens in marching band, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened” [there was a small lake in the indoor room where woodwinds were supposed to practice]

“My heart actually started beating, and I thought no”

“I found myself being nice and it just didn’t sit with me”

“I want to eat but my stomach’s rejecting it”

“A tree fell on my house again”

“If you want a good comeback, you have to be creative, you sea dolphin”

“I’ll bottle flip a tree onto your house”

“Being high is better than being asleep”

“I like having my earbuds in and not paying attention while I walk across the street”

“I cried this morning”

“He doesn’t look like a Logan, he looks like a Bob”

“I can’t carry everything and your everything else”

“I’m gonna tondo this foot straight up your ass”

“She’s literally a noodle:

“You can hate me all you want, I don’t care:

“School starts in three weeks–” *various screaming pterodactyl noises* “–and I won’t mention that again”

“People who run across the road are extra” “I don’t care if you think I’m extra, I don’t wanna get run over”

“That is where the drum line is. Never go there.”

“I’m not a white k-pop fan that only listens to BTS. Well, I am, but I listen to other bands too”

“I thought the baritone girl was you”

“I hate this, I hate being here, it makes me hate myself” “Then why are you here?” “To get gym credits”

“Come see how done your boyfriend is”

“There’s a catastrophe over there”

“People swat at sweat bees and then they miss and just hit you”

“You only have one reed?”

“I like diabetes-sweet coffee”

“I like coffee as bitter as I am”

“Don’t ‘yeah’ me, fucking fix it”

“I watched the first episode, and there was a bunch of naked people, and I was like ‘nope’“

“Instrument catches on fire? Keep your feet in time”

“Can I go up for thirds yet?”

“Put your damn chicken nuggets down”

“They were standing on the sideline catcalling me and I missed a step off and once we got off the field I went ‘motherfuckers’“

“I will not have you spreading rumors that I’m selling drugs to the students”

“Don’t forget your necks”

“You suck!” “For a dollar”

“It’s like Cards Against Humanity, but it’s visuals against saxophones”

“Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right–” “Left!” “WRONG”

“I have my own shady not-drugs”

“That’s blood”

“Look at this sweat fucking bee” “That’s a regular bee” [pokes it with drumstick]

“Mom! Face forward when you’re on the bus” “Then I can’t see what you’re up to”

“THE STUDENT SECTION CHEERED!”

“It doesn’t give you energy, it just loads you with caffeine”

“When you leaned down, I could see your boobs” “Were they nice boobs?” “Yeah” “Then that’s all that matters”

“Am I embarrassing you?” “Little bit”

“Oh are we playing the school song? Thanks for telling me”

“That is a lot of birds on there, that’s concerning”

“I forgot my flute”

“Look at our school, going over the curb”

“Let’s go smash the liquid banana”

“Can I have a hand hug?”

“Do you have a hair tie around your phone?” “I do. I also have ten dollars I found on the bus”

“Marching band is the only form of slavery still legal in the United States”

“I somehow accumulated three water bottles” “You’re gonna pee clear”

“When do I not want chik-fil-a?”

“I constantly have to pee”

“I have three water bottles” “I’m proud of you”

“How do you think you did?” “Better than first place”

“Which came first, calculus or physics?”

“Y’all stink worse than the guard bus”

“Close your eyes and it’ll seem dark”

“There’s tired, and then there’s band competition tired”

“I just went through puberty, second time around”

“I need to blow my nose and pet my dog”

“Can I braid your leg hair?”

“I generally don’t like to tell my boyfriend I’m cheating on him”

“There’s a Starbucks nearby”

“Why do I relate so much to the small child?” “Which one?” “The one who’s screaming”

“Avon just marches in a block and the judges are like ‘amazing, first place’“

“I don’t care if you die” “I’ve never seen this side of the flutes before” “I promise we’re all friends in the flute section”

“I’m gonna eat my own asshole” “Can I have half?”

“There is nothing productive going on over there”

“Why does God hate me?”

“I’m allergic to the prescribed crap”

“Are you eating a doughnut?” [takes another bite of doughnut] “No”

“I hate this band”

“Did we lose the other bus again?”

“They definitely wouldn’t notice a 220 pound man jumping out a window”

“If you don’t know who Frank Sinatra is, just leave”

“A bee just landed on my nose”

“We set the standard really low”

“I love you, band moms. You feed us so well”

“McDonald’s is where it’s aaaaaat”

“Why is this part of my body sweating?”

“I’m gonna hoard my food”

“See, the show choir moms just don’t care”

“I’m not a fork”

“It’s three o’clock? I thought it was like six”

“Well if you look at my phone it’s seven thirty a.m. yesterday”

“I just hate the flutes”

“I wonder if I could walk through the drive-through”

“Your voice is lower, like you’re trying to be seductive”

“Oh, you mean on Snapchat, I thought you meant like tracking”

“I have one percent oh no mayday mayday”

“You almost just died” “But it would have been spectacular”

“That’s not flying, that’s falling very fast. With style”

“I love birds–no, I hate birds”

“What’s on your bucket list?”

“I don’t pay attention to non-human menstrual cycles”

“Rifle butts are cute”

“Oh my god a bass drum”

“Do you like my snuggie?”

“It looks like Christmas and a highlighter had a baby”

“I will eat anything that’s edible”

“I thought it was ‘fluti’ like ‘cacti’“

“He makes a better Elsa than Elsa”

“It fits everywhere but the boobs”

“I have chik-fil-a in my pocket”

“You want a present? I found it in the ceiling”

“The hell-word”

“Why wouldn’t I want a donut?”

“Afraid of diabetes? Have you seen what I eat?”

“I just really love food today”

“Don’t break physics”

“I would suck someone’s dick for twenty dollars”

“Activate your thighs”

“I have pep in my step, man”

[hobbling dangerously fast on crutches] “I’m a trained medical professional!”

“If you don’t feel like you’re attacking your neighbor, you’re doing it wrong”

“Why are y’all having orgies on the stairs?”

“Why do we have two trash bags?” “One for the people, one for the stuff”

[singing] “We are family, even though you’re whiter than me”

“Make it iCarly. Throw the bagel at the wall”

“Get a room, you two”

“Who wants drugs?”

“He’s like a white Catholic man at a rave”

“Come hither, children, into the house of pee”

“I have just been mcflashed”

“Why?” “Meme”

“What in precipiatation”

“We can all be flat together”

“Wrong plus wrong equals less wrong”

“There may or may not be a hip thrust”

“The moon is an illusion”

“It’s hte one where we sit in the middle of the floor and they announce all our failures”

“Make the voices in your heat be a metronome”

“I forgot how to write the letter 9″

“The size of this mushroom is ungodly”

“The sun has not risen yet we should not be here”

“Nap time corner!”

“Will nut for heat”

“I am scientifically burning up”

“Please never make that noise again. You sounded like a hawk jumping off a bridge”

“There is no dying permitted in my section”

“A bird pooped on my shoulder!”

“It’s not about the size, it’s how you use it”

“Is your mom coming?” “Unfortunately”

“I’m a pretty pink princess”

“Your mom gave me extra candy on Halloween”

“Boy do I love men in tights”

“I’m not giving this boy ten dollars for a Gatorade”

“You got your charger, right? So if I watch Netflix I can use it?”

“I have to turn it up just a little so it doesn’t have a seizure”

“Get Spotify premium so there aren’t ads!” “It’s YouTube, calm down”

“I think I have that exact same bra on right now”

“They have kettle corn!!!”

“One, two, three, NUT”

“I didn’t know hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Midstates is a pity competition, like, oh, you didn’t make state? Have midstates” “Yeah, but I wanna win the pity competition”

“Do not have sexual intercourse in the next ten minutes, please”

“The golf cart people took her”

“I have what the cool kids call–” [does cartwheel and comes up with finger guns] “–depression”

“I shaved my ankle last night” “Not the rest of your leg?” “No, just my ankle”

“All that makes me feel is emotional distress”

“I never knew hair could have personality until I saw your hair flips”

“Is that orgy kid?”

“Flutes and clarinets, I am sensing a distinct lack of Christmas spirit when we sing jingle bells”

“Why aren’t you wearing a black shirt? This is marching band, we have to look like ninjas”

“Someone’s skipping school, oh no”

“Santa!! Can you follow me on Instagram?” “I want his autograph”

“I play saxophone, I’m not used to reading in the stratosphere”

#quotes from marching band #marching band 2k17 #hannah talks #mine #hannah does life

[robininthelabyrinth]

Countless Roads - Chapter 1

Fic: Countless Roads - Chapter 1 - Ao3

Fandom: Flash, Legends Pairing: Gen, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, others

Summary: Due to a family curse (which some call a gift), Leonard Snart has more life than he knows what to do with – and that gives him the ability to see, speak to, and even share with the various ghosts that are always surrounding him.

Sure, said curse also means he’s going to die sooner rather than later, just like his mother, but in the meantime Len has no intention of letting superheroes, time travelers, a surprisingly charming pyromaniac, and a lot of ghosts get in the way of him having a nice, successful career as a professional thief.

A/N: Have an extra-long first chapter to get us properly started. All comments welcome and appreciated!

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

"You stay the hell away from him!" the voice roars.

Len shakes and shudders and curls up in a ball on the floor.

Juvie is worse than he could have imagined – oh, the kids themselves are bad enough, pushy and mean and some of them are old enough for the look in their eyes to be more than standard schoolyard aggression, but it's only Len's first day; they're going to wait until the guards lose interest in him before trying anything.

The ghosts don't wait at all.

It's a bad place, a centering ground, land that stinks of sadness and anger and sucks in ghosts like a whirlpool. Human misery is the only company these ghosts have –

– at least, until Len arrives.

The unquiet dead gather their forces as he gets checked in, watch him, teeming with anticipation, in the yard, and then come for him right after dinner.

His own ghosts, bought in coin – pieces of future years – spent before he came, try their best to protect him, but he underestimated the number of unquiet dead lingering here. He underestimated the number of murderer's victims, children and adults, the number of suicides, the number of unlucky daredevils, the number of accidental deaths –

And then Mick – though Len doesn't know his name, not yet – rips them off of Len, one leech at a time, and puts himself between them and Len's shaking, spasming body.

"Hurts," Len rasps, unable to say more.

"Don't worry," the other boy says, glaring. He's big, for a teenager; a promise of height and breadth in the future. "I won't let them near."

"Gimme a hand up?" Len asks.

The boy shakes his head, and that's when Len realizes.

"You're dead too, ain't you," he says, flat as a stone.

"I've been here the longest," the boy responds, shrugging. "Since before they built the place."

Len sighs and climbs to his feet. He'd so hoped, seeing the boy’s strength, that he'd finally met another of his kind, but no; the boy's just another apparition. Barely that, even; he has a very strong presence, probably due to his age, but he’s not even a poltergeist on his own merits.

"Thanks," he tells him anyway, because apparition or not, the boy did just save his life.

"Don't mention it," the kid says.

The funny thing is, he really seems to mean it. No favors requested, no suggestions that Len repay him, nothing.

If anything, the guy seems to avoid Len whenever possible – which isn't much, because he comes rushing in whenever the unquiet ghosts float too close.

"Why are you helping me?" Len asks him.

"Don't like bullies," the kid says shortly. "Never did."

Then he retreats again, dashing away every time Len comes anywhere near him.

"Don't you want something?" Len asks. "Something you want to do?"

"Nah," the kid replies. "I'm good."

"You're a ghost. You gotta want something."

"Not from you, you little punk."

The curiosity is starting to get to Len. Finally, he gives up on trying to figure out the kid's angle and takes a different approach.

"What's your name?" he asks.

The kid-ghost blinks, then narrows his eyes at him warily. "What's it to you, necromancer?"

Len makes a face. "I ain't a necromancer," he protests. "I can't raise dead or command ‘em or nothing; I just make 'em closer to real, s'all. Life-sharing. Totally different."

“Uh-huh. And what about summoning ‘em and making ‘em possess people or something?”

“No, that’s mediums. I ain’t never even met one of those, but I hear they’re creepy. I just…share, s’all.”

"Why you want my name, then?" the kid asks, still suspicious.

"'cause I'm getting tired of calling you kid-ghost," Len replies, exasperated. "And right now I don't got anything to shout if I need your attention."

"You've always got my attention," the kid grumbles. "My ma says you give someone your name, you give 'em power over you."

Len rolls his eyes. "Well, my name is Leonard Snart, but sometimes when my mom got mad she’d use the full on Leonard Jacob Snart birth certificate business. Now you know, so don't misuse it. And nice to meet you."

The kid finally cracks an involuntary grin. It changes his whole tough face, making it go bright and delighted, smashing that tough guy image with glee. "Oh what the heck," he says. "I'm Mick. That's Michael Christopher Sebastian Rory, actually, but everybody called me Mick."

"Nice to meetcha, Mick," Len says. "I'd offer to shake, but...well…" He wiggles his fingers. Magic, life-giving fingers.

Mick sniggers.

Maybe there is something to what Mick's ma said about names, because after that they're inseparable. Best friends from different eras, friends like neither of them ever had before. Maybe they’d have been best friends in this life, if only Mick wasn’t dead, but Len will take friendship with a ghost over nothing.

The other kids think Len's crazy, talking to himself, and ostracize him, relegating him to the outcast table with the quiet dangerous ones like Jumping Jimmy and Shrieking Sam and Cuckoo Charlie. (Len gets dubbed Lunatic Leo, which, ugh. He’s going to find a better nickname if it kills him.)

But really, Len doesn't mind where he sits, so long as he's got Mick.

Sitting at the crazy outcast table is kinda funny, actually; Mick's a pretty good judge of people, Len's found, and his invisible commentary over people's heads is hilarious.

"He's just got no volume control and a spoiled temper," Mick says of Sam. "Nothing to worry about."

"Ma said people like him just had a devil in 'em keeping them from sitting still," he says of Jimmy. "It ain't no problem, long as they keep busy."

"And Charlie?" Len asks, amused.

Mick considers this. "I think he's gonna grow up to eat people. Stay away."

Len snorts, but does.

Mick’s damn useful in a fight, which Len does inevitably get into, shouting advice (mostly “duck” and “hit him in the face”), and Mick likes watching fights, too. But most of all, Mick likes fighting the unquiet ghosts himself; in particular, he's got a real hatred of a group of white supremacists that got themselves stabbed in a gang fight back when the juvie was a real prison. They hate Len, which makes sense what with him being Jewish and all, but they still want his life, and that just pisses them off more, which means more fights for Mick.

"You like punching Nazis, huh?" Len teases.

"Hell yes," Mick says. "They're bad stuff, through and through."

"Regular Captain America you are."

"Who?"

“What d’you mean, who? Captain America! From the comic books!”

“I’m dead,” Mick points out. “I don’t keep up on popular culture.”

“No way,” Len says stubbornly. “Captain America’s been around forever. I’m pretty sure he was drawn punching Hitler in the face on his very first cover.”

“Say, that’s not bad,” Mick says, grinning a bit. “Punched him in the face, you say?”

“Didn’t you read comics?”

“Sure I did,” Mick says, crossing his arms. “Joe Palooka, Dick Tracey, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers – the whole lot of ‘em.”

“What the hell are those?”

“You don’t know those?”

“I think I’ve heard of Buck Rodgers – he a spaceman or something?”

“Yeah, him and Flash Gordon, both of ‘em. Dick Tracey’s a sleuth, and Joe Palooka’s a boxer.”

“Don’t you got any crime fighters? Like in costumes? Superheroes?”

Mick wrinkles his nose when he frowns in thought. “Uh, I mean, I guess maybe the Phantom? It was brand new; real cool stuff, fighting pirates and stuff. They called him the Ghost Who Walks. Real sweet.”

“Brand new,” Len says, shaking his head. “When did you die again? The dark ages?”

“Eh, may as well have been,” Mick says. “We all thought the world was ending.”

“Every generation thinks the world’s ending.”

“Nah, not like ours,” Mick says. “Between the Depression and – what was it they were calling the black blizzards, the Dust Bowl? Anyway, between those two, it was real bad.”

“Wait,” Len says. “When exactly did you die?”

“Late 1936.”

“Shit. You are old.”

“Told ya,” Mick says smugly.

“Was there even a juvie here?”

Mick rolls his eyes. “No,” he says. “The juvie’s only a decade or two old. Before that it was a prison. Before that, it was a particularly badly run farm.”

“…your farm?”

“Well, yes.”

“You were a farmer?! Working the fields, calling in the cows, all that sort of thing?”

“I died first,” Mick reminds Len.

“But still – you’re so old.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no – it’s just – I’m gonna get you all the comics,” Len says, and does, even if it means spending some of his hard-earned money – all the juvie kids get pennies for every hour they work in addition to the required school time – and that of others (mostly the rich kids who get some from their parents in the mail) on some of the old reprints, the ones that go real cheap nowadays and are kinda corny by modern standards. But it's worth it.

Mick loves comics.

He can’t move the pages himself – not unless Len gives him some life, which Mick steadfastly refuses to accept – but Len can flip them nice and slow, letting Mick have time to read each page, and sometimes when Mick’s eyes keep crossing the letters too much to make it fun, Len reads them aloud to him, sound effects and all.

“Man, the library says Snow White hadn’t even come out in 1936,” Len marvels. “You know that? Snow White, man. That’s like the first ever Disney.”

“No, it ain’t,” Mick objects. “Disney’s the one with the shorts, ain’t it? Steamboat Willy. Silly Symphonies. Three Little Pigs.”

“Mick,” Len says solemnly. “You break my heart.”

“I sometimes watch that Disney stuff when they’re on the rec room TV,” Mick says, pouting. “I ain’t totally uncultured. S’just hard to remember stuff from after you’re dead, s’all.”

“You’re running out of life,” Len says, because he’s heard of it happening before. “Ghosts stick around because of what happened during their life, and they only remember what happened afterwards if they’ve got enough left over for it – you sure I can’t give you some?”

“No, Lenny,” Mick says, long-suffering.

Len sulks, and introduces Mick to Alice in Wonderland the next time the rec room’s free.

Probably a tactical error, since Mick shouts, “Off with their heads!” the next fifteen times he dukes it out with the unquiet dead, but hey, it’s funny.

--

“How’d you die?” Len asks one day, when he’s only got two weeks left to go in juvie, studying a deck of cards he’d lifted from a fellow student.

“Why do you want to know?” Mick asks, suddenly guarded.

“’cause I’m a nosy bastard,” Len says, since he can’t explain why he actually wants to know, which is that he wants to give Mick a gift. The dead carry on them what died when they died – clothing, stuff in their pockets, that sort of stuff. But Len’s found that if stuff ‘dies’ the same way a ghost does, he can hand it to the ghost and they can keep it.

He hopes it’s not something too weird. He doesn’t want to have to hang a deck of cards, or electrocute it, or have it get run over by a herd of chickens or something.

…that last one would be hilarious, though.

Mick grunts.

“Please?” Len says, which is rare enough that Mick gives him a suspicious look. “Not like I’m gonna tell anyone.”

Mick stays silent a few minutes longer, and then, abruptly, he gets up.

Len blinks up at him.

“Fire,” Mick says. “I died in a fire.” And then he disappears.

Len scowls in the direction of Mick’s ghostly self. He didn’t feel any passing-on-ness, or whatever you call it when a ghost kicks the bucket for good, so Mick’s just gone somewhere else to sulk because heaven forbid Len tries to learn some personal info about the guy beyond what type of breakfast he prefers (answer: corn mush with milk, or yesterday’s bread crusts – ick!).

On the other hand, it did give Len a bit of an opportunity.

Fire, huh?

Sounds like an unpleasant way to die, but at least it makes giving Mick stuff easier. Lifting a lighter from the guard that likes to smoke is easy enough, and finding a nice shady corner on top of lots of concrete to minimize excess burning is even easier.

Now he just needs Mick.

“Mick?” he asks the air.

No reply.

“Mick, you still sulking?”

Nothing.

“Mick, I could be being attacked right now. I’m not, but I could be.”

Zip.

Len contemplates pretending to die, but that seems a bit melodramatic.

“Hey! Mickey Mouse!”

Still nothing.

Hmm, and Len was sure that that would get him a punch in the face…

Mick couldn’t be gone, could he?

Len swallows. He really hopes Mick’s not gone. He knows that's wrong - you're supposed to hope that ghosts move on, not want them to stay - but he doesn't. He doesn't want Mick to go.

“Hey, Lunatic!” Tommy, one of the more annoying juvie kids, shouts. “Lost your imaginary friend?”

Len grits his teeth.

“Bet he left you ‘cause you were wasting his time,” Tommy taunts. “Poor kooky kid, what’ll he do all on his own?”

It’s just close enough to Len’s real fears that Len ends up punching Tommy in the face.

And then, as expected, spending the next ten minutes getting punched back by Tommy and his friends. And kicked. And –

Okay, the guards really should be intervening. Any time now.

“Hey, hold him down,” Evan Richards says. Evan Richards, never just Evan; he’s the sort of kid that would be – should be – exiled to the crazy person table, but he’s rich and his parents send him loads of treats, so he’s not. He’s got a big old grin on his face that Len doesn’t trust a jot.

“Why?” Tommy says skeptically. “He’s not getting up on his own anytime soon.”

Probably not true – Len’s a stubborn bastard – but closer than he’d like to admit.

Evan Richards’s grin widens. “I’ve always wanted to see what one of these does,” he says, and pulls out a little Swiss army contraption, used mostly for clipping or filing nails, that he’s sharpened well past any reasonable amount.

He’d probably call it a knife, Evan Richards would, but to people like Len, it’s called a shiv.

Shit.

“Mick!” Len screams, because he doesn’t trust the guards but Mick’s always come to help him before – if he’s still here.

The returning bellow of rage is the finest sound Len’s ever heard, right up there with Lisa’s first word (‘up’, as it happens; nothing but the best for his demanding little darling).

But Mick’s a ghost, barely even an apparition, and though he charges the fuckers that are holding Len down, he can’t do anything, just passes straight through, causing no more than a slight chill and a shudder.

“Mick, please,” Len says, struggling and kicking and keeping Richards back, just long enough, just long enough to get a hand free and reach out –

“God, he’s nuts,” Tommy laughs, and the others laughs with him. “Go for it – waste the cuckoo – no one’ll care –”

Mick reaches out and takes Len’s hand in his, and Len pushes, hard, with all the spare life he’s got in him.

Mick yowls, and Len can feel it too, like a zap from touching a live wire or a burst of static electricity, but then Mick’s there and all the kids are turning to look, shouting in surprise and demanding to know where the hell Mick came from and then Mick puts his fist into Evan Richards’ smirking face.

Three black eyes and a hell of a lot of bruises later, the gang breaks up and flees.

“Thanks,” Len pants. He’s pretty damn sore, and it’s only gonna get worse, but he has to find out if Mick’s okay – Mick, who didn’t want the extra power – the extra life –

“Holy crap,” Mick says, staring down at his hands. “I felt that. They felt that. That was – Len?”

“You angry at me?” Len asks. He’s feeling weirdly dizzy, the way you get if you haven’t eaten for three days and then you go sprinting from the cops. Everything hurts, but distantly, like he can’t really feel it.

“Angry – no, it’s not – Len, you’re looking real pale, you feeling okay?”

“Peachy,” Len says, and passes out.

When he wakes up, he’s in a bed in the nurse’s station, and Mick’s scowling at him from the next bed over.

Len’s got an IV.

Why’s he got an IV?

“Mick, why’ve I got an IV?” he asks.

Mick’s eye twitches.

“Uh,” Len says. “Mick?”

“That’s your first question?!” Mick roars.

“…yes?” Len says helplessly. “What, should I’ve started with ‘how are you’?”

Mick looks like he's considering strangling Len.

"I'm sorry," Len offers. Might as well get that out, if Mick’s already mad.

"What?" Mick says, annoyance disappearing into confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For, you know," Len says, shrugging. "Prying. And sharing my life when you've been real clear you didn't want me to be sharing with you."

Mick stares at him for a long moment. "Len," he says eventually. "It ain't – you don't think it's your fault that I ain't taking bits of your life, do you?"

Well, when Mick says it in that incredulous tone, it sounds kinda dumb.

Len focuses on picking at the band-aid over the IV entry point on the inside of his elbow instead of replying, even though he knows that only reveals his guilt.

"Lenny, stop that," Mick says. "You need the IV."

"You never did say what it was for," Len says.

"It's to keep you alive, you nimrod. You nearly shoved all the life you had left up my goddamn arm."

"If Richards got me with the shiv, I wouldn't've had any life left to give," Len points out, but yeah, he distinctly remembers overdoing it in his panic. "S'that why I pass out like that?"

"That's why you swooned like a leading lady," Mick confirms.

Len glares. "Passed out, Mick."

"Whatever. Len – It ain't that I don't like you, or your life, or even having some of it myself, 'cause lemme tell you, being practically solid's been pretty awesome so far – "

"You're practically solid?" Len interrupts. "I ain't never done that before – "

"Lenny. Lemme finish. This is important."

Len shuts up.

"Anyway," Mick says. "What I mean to say is – I mean – oh, damnit. Len, I don't deserve any of your life."

"You just saved my life," Len says, unable to keep quiet. "Just as you've been doing this past month – "

"I started the fire!" Mick shouts. "I'm a firebug, and I knew it was bone dry, and I started that fire anyways, and that’s why everybody died! It was all my fault! I don't deserve nothing!"

"Oh," Len says blankly.

"Yeah," Mick says savagely, wiping at his face to clean up what they'd both pretend weren't tears when this was over. "So that's why."

Len nods. He's not sure what to say. He doesn't think anything will help a wound so deep that Mick became a ghost over it.

"I've heard of it before," he offers eventually. "Pyromania, it's called."

"What's that?"

"It's – " Len tries to remember. "It's a thing that happens to people, some chemical goes wrong in their brain, and then they start needing to light fires. Like an anxiety thing – can't calm down until there's a fire."

Mick frowns. “There’s a word for it?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “People that can’t help themselves around fires. It’s a medical thing.”

Mick looks stunned.

“What, thought it was just you?” Len jokes, except the look on Mick’s face kinda says that he did. “No, Mick, it ain’t you, if I’m right. It’s a – it’s a thing that happens sometimes, and no one’s to blame, you know. Sometimes people’s brains break, just like any bone, and you need medicine or something like that for it.”

“I still lit the fire,” Mick says, but he seems a little less burdened. “After they told me not to and everything. And even if I didn’t have a choice, I still should’ve warned ‘em about it.”

“That’s on you,” Len says, because people who say it’s not your fault when it is just make you feel worse. “But the fire thing, that ain’t –”

“How are you boys doing?” the nurse says, sweeping in.

“Fine,” Len says automatically, before realizing what she’d said.

He turns to stare at Mick. “Boys?” he mouths at him. What was with the plural?

“Told you I was near solid,” Mick mutters. “Hi, ma’am,” he says to the nurse.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Rory? You were having quite a fit out there.”

“Much better, ma’am.”

“We’ve alerted the police about your being here,” she continues briskly. “Since your name isn’t on the list.”

Len’s eyes go real wide at that.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mick says tranquilly.

“And you, Mr. Snart, how are you feeling?”

“Uh,” Len says. “Okay?”

“Do you need more medicine?”

“Yes,” Len says, because the answer is always yes. Even if you don’t actually need it, you can always sell it.

Also, he’s kinda sore. All over. Everywhere.

Actually, it hurts a lot. Fuzzy and distant, like he’s got good drugs going on, but still not good.

“Is anything gonna happen to the kids what did it?” Mick asks. “Evan Richards and Tommy and the rest of ‘em?”

The nurse looks slightly uncomfortable. “They’ll be punished,” she says, but Len can tell she means that they’ll be slapped on the wrist, at most. Maybe a bit of time in detention instead of out on the school yard.

Well, good enough for Len. He never did trust anyone to give out punishment on his behalf; he’ll figure out a way to pay them back himself later on.

That’s not what’s important right now.

Len waits until the nurse checks them both over and leaves.

“Mick,” he hisses. "They can see you!"

“Told you!”

“What are we gonna do? Your name’s not gonna be on any records! Not any they’re gonna check, anyway!”

“Don’t worry,” Mick says. “It’s fine. It’s fading away already, since you gave it to me all in one shot – look, I’m practically able to go through the bed again. Another day - another couple of hours - and I’ll be back to being invisible if I wanna be.”

“If you wanna be? You’ll still be a full-powered manifestation?”

“You gave me a lot of life, Lenny,” Mick says disapprovingly.

Len shrugs, then brightens and checks his pockets. Good, they didn’t take the cards, or the lighter. “Here,” he says, holding them out. “Burn this.”

Mick stares at him.

“What?”

“I tell you I’m a pyro- a pyro-many – that I’m a firebug, and you gimme something to burn?”

“You died in a fire,” Len says reasonably. “If you burn the cards, you’ll be able to carry ‘em with you as a ghost, even once all the life’s gone.”

Mick’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Really. They gotta die with you, or something. Same way you died. Anyways, if you’re a pyromaniac, you’ll enjoy watching them burn, too.”

“That’s what you wanted me to come ‘round for, wasn’t it?” Mick asks, looking guilty.

“It’s fine,” Len says, pushing the cards and lighter into Mick’s hands. “Really – say, how much life I give you, anyway?”

“Why?” Mick asks, pulling the cards and lighter close and cradling them.

“Well – and you don’t gotta do this if you don’t wanna, but – how bound would you say you are to this place?”

Mick blinks.

“I want you to come home with me,” Len clarifies.

Mick’s eyes go wide.

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic #deadfic

[stuckinthekookiejar]

Late Night Whispers

Jungkook Family Scenario

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Jungkook comes home and decides to have a little conversation with a certain little someone

Word Count: 1581

Another day of work had come and gone and Jungkook found himself arriving back to the comfort of home. With fatigued limbs and a body drenched with sweat, he was ready for a nice warm shower and a night’s worth of sleep all with the added bonus of cuddling with you and the newest upcoming addition to the family, Mini McCree. 

...If it was up to you, you wouldn’t have named your fetus Mini McCree but Jungkook was just so insistent and you couldn’t resist the use of his rare aegyo, so you gave in. 

Mini McCree it was. 

It was half past eight and he expected you to probably be in bed reading or in the kitchen looking for food trying to appease your frequent cravings. He fumbled with the knob, quickly punching in the passcode, then opened the door wide open and rushed in happy to finally be home,

Jungkook slipped his shoes off and placed his bag in the usual spot by the entrance, “Jagiya! I’m ba...” 

As he walked into the living room, he adjusted the rounded spectacles that sat on his nose and softly gasped at the sight before him. To him, it was breathtaking. You were asleep on the couch laying on your side softly snoring. The rays of the moonlight gracefully framed your face and your hair cascaded down the side of your cheek falling in such a whimsical manner. The blankets that were covering you before seemed to have slipped and were now half way off your body and on the floor leaving your clothed belly exposed. 

In a few large strides, Jungkook was already at your side. He debated whether or not to wake you being as the sofa probably wasn’t the best place to have an eight-month pregnant woman sleep. But he decided to let you remain for at least a few moments just so that he could admire the beautiful scene in front of him....that and he was absolutely petrified of you when you get disturbed during your slumber. 

A small smile crept up the edges of his lips as he took a seat on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table. Carefully, he brushed away the strands of hair that fell in front of your face and instantaneously started to hum some random lullaby. Humming to you was a habit that Jungkook grew after you kept asking him to sing you to sleep, but nowadays he his sweet lullabies wasn't really meant just for you. They were meant for the little one in your womb too.

Jungkook moved his hand away from your hair and placed it ever so cautiously on the protruding dome that was currently your abdomen,

“Hey, there little fella.” He scooted over a bit so that he was now eye level with your stomach, “How’s my Mini McCree doing? Are you comfy in there?” 

His hand glided over your womb waiting for any type of response. A small pout quickly formed on Jungkook’s face after seconds of feeling nothing. Ever since Mini McCree started to stir around and kick inside of your belly, Jungkook had never been present. And whenever Jungkook was there, your baby wouldn’t move in the slightest. You’d always talk about the way your baby was so active and how many times he’d kick around in your tummy, and it always got Jungkook a little jealous. It was as if he wasn’t too fond of his father...and he wasn’t even born yet.

Jungkook could tell that Mini McCree was already a true Mama’s boy.

Softly, Jungkook began to whisper to his child once again, “I know you’re in there. Don’t you wanna kick around for me or something? Pretty please?”

To no surprise, nothing happened, and Jungkook quickly admitted defeat knowing that all his attempts in trying to witness his unborn baby move would be futile, 

“You’re really not gonna move for me, are you? Well fine then, you little twerp. But just so you know, once you come out, you better be ready for all the tickle attacks.” 

You let out a small grunt that startled Jungkook. With wary eyes, he looked to you to see if he had accidentally woken you up, but he was glad to see that you were still fast asleep. Good thing you were quite the deep sleeper.

He brought up a finger to his mouth and whispered, “Looks like we’ll have to talk more quietly or else we’ll wake Mama up. You don’t know it yet, but she gets really scary when she’s grumpy...trust me.” 

Suddenly a small bump on the side of your stomach poked out for only a sliver of a second. Jungkook’s eyes widened with awe and he was even more startled than when you had grunted just a few moments before. Mini McCree had moved...in front of Jungkook! His eyes lit up and a wide smile took hold on his face. It was something he’d been waiting for for months to witness. He almost couldn’t believe it.

“M-McCree...y-you moved....you moved!” Again, you stirred in your sleep as Jungkook excitedly shouted. Quickly he reverted to his hushed whispers, “You finally moved for me... Is it because I mention your Mama?”

Another small lump formed somewhere else on your stomach. It was in the shape of a small foot and Jungkook could have sworn he could even make out the teensy little toes,

“You really are a Mama’s boy, are you? Well, that’s a good thing since I could practically talk about her all day. You know, when I first saw your mom, it was so amazing... Although, nothing really spectacular happened. It was at a normal fansign a long time ago and I meet many fans, but something about your mom...as I said nothing spectacular happened, but she was spectacular...and still is. You should’ve seen how smoooooth I was. She handed me her album, and you know what I did?” He moved his head closer, “I wrote my Kakao in it. Yup, I’m reeeeal smooth, aren’t I? Although, when the managers found out about it, they really did freak out...and I almost got my phone taken away....but in the end, it was all worth it because look at me now. I’m here with you and your Mama.”  

Just like that, a burst of kicks emerged and the small child within you seemed to break out in a stir,

“Woah, woah there little fella,” Jungkook placed his palm over the re-emerging bumps on your stomach, “Calm down. You’re gonna wake up your mom, and weren’t you listening to me before? I’m telling you, she really gets scary. Even scarier than your Uncle Yoongi, and I didn’t even know that was possible until I met your Mama. One time she was taking a nap on this very couch, but I didn’t know so I started to vacuum in the other room... I guess it was loud enough to wake her, and she came in stomping with fumes practically coming out of her ears! You should’ve seen her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her fists were clenched so tightly that she could’ve shattered a rock with her grip... I’ve never seen a person so livid before... Not only that, but she confiscated the vacuum too! My vacuum! She told me...”

“You already sucked up half of the fruit fly population.” 

Jungkook felt his heart stop as the sound of your stone cold, raspy sleep voice made way to his ear drums,

“J-J-Jagiya...ha...haha....ha...I-I’m home.....” 

You shifted into a sitting position letting the blanket completely fall to the floor, you couldn’t care less anyway. Your slumber had been disrupted. Your gaze was so sharp that he felt it shooting straight through his soul. Amongst his hyungs, he was the one who went to the gym the most, but even then he was still terrified of half-asleep Y/N. He braced himself for the onslaught of annoyed yells and banters, and you were ready to give them, but your little one began to stir once again in your womb,

“See, McCree....I told you Mama’s scary...”

“Ya,” You nudged Jungkook’s shoulder with your fist, “Don’t lie to the baby.” 

“I wasn’t lying... I was...” Your intimidating stare caused Jungkook to hesitate with his words, “...I was just...uh...” 

All of your annoyance and irritation seemed to melt away as soon as you saw how flustered he had become. You had always found it adorable, and you especially loved the reaction you’d get when you pecked him on the cheek when he least expected it. Just like right now,

You got up and started to make your way to the refrigerator walking right past your shook boyfriend, “You’re lucky you’re cute, but you also stink. Go wash up, then join us in the kitchen.” 

“Kitchen? Aren’t you going to bed? It’s getting late.”

“Well, Mini McCree and I are craving some Double Fudge Brownie Volcano ice cream. And I believe you were still busy telling the little one about how spectacular I am.” 

Jungkook’s face grew red and his jaw dropped, “Y-You heard that?”

Rarely did you ever get the chance to tease Jungkook, so you weren’t going to ever pass up any opportunity. You walked up to him, ice cream tub and spoon in hand, 

“You do realize you suck ass at whispering, right?” Smugly, you smiled as you shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and Mini McCree continued to stir around, cheering his Mama on.  

Gif not mine, creds to the owner

#requested #bts #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts jungkook fluff #bts jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts fluff scenarios #bts fluff scenario #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #beyond the scene #kpop fluff #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #fluff

[jessikahathaway]

Owner - Part III

Jungkook looked at you with a funny sort of grimace on his face.

 “Why do I need training, I know what dating is,” he said indignantly. You gave him a soft smile, but looked at him directly.

 “My mother will destroy you before you even walk up to say hello, we need to make sure she has nothing to complain about,” you said. Jungkook gave a sour expression. But, put his hands up in compliance You nodded and walked up to him, looking at his dirty clothing. You turned up your nose at the way he smelled. “You seriously need a bath. How can you stand to smell like that?” you announced, holding you hand to your nose dramatically. Jungkook scoofed and looked at you with prideful eyes.

 “It’s my natural musk, the ladies go crazy for it,” he said with his chest puffed out. It was your turn to scoff now.

 “If your natural musk smells like that you’ll be lucky to get me in the same room as you,” you said. Jungkook’s eyes darkened.

 “I love a challenge babe,” he said. Without warning you pulled a water bottle off the counter and sprayed him swuare in the face. Jungkook yelped and sputtered in response to your attack. A smile spread across your face as you watched him flail. “What the fuck!?” he asked after the initial shock of the situation had worn off.

 “Anytime you make a mistake or do something my mother wouldn’t like, you get sprayed,” you said with a happy smile on your face.

 “You’re a freakin’ sadist!” he exclaimed wiping at his face with displeasure.

 “Shall we start? Or does that bench look more appealing now?” you teased. Jungkook shook his head and sat down at the table. “First things first,” you started, sitting down as well. “You need to know everything about me,” you stated. Jungkook nodded in agreement before setting his hands down on the table.

 “Like what?” he asked.

 “You need to know my favorite things, like food, tv shows colors,” you started bringing out a notebook with your likes and dislikes scribbled down. Jungkook eyed the book like it was his enemy, but remained silent otherwise. “My favorite color is the same blue as the lake near my childhood home,” you started.

 “That’s oddly specific. Sure you aren’t trying to sabotage me?” he questioned.

 “You catch on fast, but, that is my favorite color,” you confirmed. Jungkook sighed and put his feet up on the chair next to him. You quickly lifted the spray bottle and nailed him right in the shoulder. Jungkook jumped and his feet landed directly on the floor. A triumphant grin crept across your face.

 “What did I do? I didn’t even say anything that time!” he yelled in frustration.

 “Don’t put your feet on the furniture, it’s rude,” you chastised without lifting your eyes from the book in front of you. Jungkook huffed and pulled at his damp shirt, exasperated by your idea of ‘training’.

 “This is horseshit.”

 Another spray.

 “Really?” he asked, his fringe now damp from all the moisture in his hair.

 “Swearing is rude in the presence of a lady,” you said, again, without looking up.

 “Maybe that bench wasn’t so bad…”

 You couldn’t help the soft giggle that fell from your lips. He kept his feet off the furniture as you continued down your list. He was a fast learner; you’d give him that. He listened as you went throughout your booklet and kept the information flowing. However, you wouldn’t miss those snide remarks and soft comments that he tried to keep to himself.

 Spray.

 “Come on! I definitely didn’t say anything that time!” he shouted. You shrugged and kept your eyes trained downwards.

 “Warning shot,” you said.

 “Warning shots aren’t supposed to hit the person you’re warning,” he complained.

 “Must’ve missed that part,” you announced. “Now, onto medical knowledge,” you said, grabbing some pills and what not and placing them before Jungkook. He eyed them with curiosity.

 “Why do I need to know your medical background?” he said in a whining tone. “Can’t we be done with training for today?”

 “Incase an emergency happens and my mom is around It’s look good for you to swoop in and save the day. Plus, if you’re living with me for three months, I think you have a right to know. What if something happens and I need your help?” you said, giving him a glance. Jungkook nodded, acknowledging your statement. You gathered up your medical records and handed them over. “I’m known to work myself sick, if you notice any of these symptoms, please get me to a hospital,” you said. Jungkook, surprisingly, took his time and read through the signs and causes carefully. “Also,” you remembered. “I’m sure we won’t encounter this, but might as well mention it anyways. I am deathly allergic to mangos.”

 Jungkook snorted.

 “What did the poor tropical fruit ever do to you?” he said. “Do you have any Benadryl or anything like that on hand just in case?”

 You shook your head. “I’ve kept it away from myself for years. So I don’t see the need,” you reasoned. Jungkook nodded and looked at the rest of your medications. He blushed when he came across birth control, but he quickly moved on.

 “Can you make me copies of theses?” he asked in such an innocent tone it made your heart jump slightly. You quickly regained control of your emotions with a clear of your throat.

 “Sure, I’ll do it at work on Monday,” you said, taking the papers back from him. Jungkook stretched, making his back make a grotesque popping sound. You cringed slightly, but forged ahead. So, anything I should know about you? Any oddly specific allergies?” Jungkook leaned forwards on the table. There was an intense gaze in his eyes and you briefly felt your heart rate increase.

 “I really don’t like spinach, haven’t ever since I was young,” he started. “No allergies I can think of. Not going to die if you feed me anything. I like going on walks. And, as clichéd as it sounds, I fucking hate cats. So please, keep them as far away from me as possible.” You were rushing to write these things down. Although, Jungkook kept prattling on. “There’s one medical thing, I guess if you could call it medical. Hybrids have these things called heat cycles. Once every three to four years we have roughly around a week where we’re incredibly horny. Just so you know, since I’m male, they happen more frequently. About every two years, and I didn’t go into heat last year…”

 You flushed at the statement. “So what does that mean?” you asked, playing coy. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to join in your game.

 “It means exactly what I hid in between the lines for you to find. However, since you want to play innocent, I’ll bite. It means that at one point this year I’ll have to leave and have a massive fuckfest. Either that or you could help me out,” he said, raising his eyebrows comically. You reached for the spray bottle and Jungkook lifted his hands in defeat. “Sorry, never mind. But anyways, I can generally feel when I’m about to go into heat so, I’ll be sure to give you a heads up.”

 You nodded and made a note in your book. “So what are things you do like? Besides walks?” you asked, readying your pen. Jungkook thought for a moment.

 “Well, I like meat. Any kind really. Watching movies, generally actions flicks. But under the right persuasion I’ll watch just about anything.” Jungkook continued naming all sorts of random things. Sometimes making you laugh, other times earning him yet another spritz. Although, you had to admit, he was very funny.

 Finally, Jungkook’s plethora of information came to an end. You nodded at the notebook, covered in your scrawl, You stood up, Jungkook followed suit.

 “Come on,” you said, heading towards the bathroom. Jungkook trotted after you, curiosity burned him as he followed you.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, peaking his head in the bathroom door.

 “Drawing you a bath, you stink,” you said, grabbing your bubble bath and throwing it in the tub. Jungkook eyed you.

 “Is this code for something?” he asked, walking inside the room.

 “I wish I had brought that spray bottle with me,” you breathed. Not waiting for you to leave or anything of the like, he began to strip. You shrieked and covered your eyes before turning your back to the man.

 Once you heard the splashing of water, you risked the glance. Jungkook was inside, his head almost fully submerged in the warm water. Thankfully there were so many bubbles, your eyes were safe from any surprises.

 “Ah! This feels amazing! The last time I had a bubble bath had to have been when I was a pup!”

 You watched as he enjoyed the water. You grabbed some of your favorite male scents that you had collected over the years. Jungkook saw you approaching and he looked at the bottles in your hands with interest.

 “What are those for?” he asked.

 “To make you smell nice so you don’t offend anyone when we go shopping later,” you said grabbing the shampoo and pouring a decent amount into your hand before lathering it and applying it to his head. Jungkook turned and your nearly got soap in his eye from the fast movement.

 “What are you doing?” I can do it myself,” he said, giving you an odd look. You flushed and awkwardly stood up.

 “Sorry, it’s a habit… Mom used to want me to wash her hair while she relaxed,” you said, heading towards the door. Jungkook seemed unfazed, however, while you tried to keep your composure.

 “Why are you leaving?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. You froze just before the threshold to your freedom. Your turned slowly and directed your gaze at his head.

 “Because you’re in the tub?” you said, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

 “That doesn’t mean you have to leave,” he said, send you a little wink. You shot him a glare that you hoped didn’t look ridiculous before getting ready to storm out. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized how wet the floor was before you had started to move faster.

 “Y/N, slow down!” Jungkook shouted. But the warning didn’t slow your fall. A sickening ‘smack’ resonated throughout the room before you slowly faded into blackness…

  “Y/N! Y/N! Hey, can you hear me?” Jungkook’s worried voice filled your ears. Your head hurt and it was hard to see straight.

 “Ow…” you groaned, placing your hand on your head. Jungkook exhaled in relief at the sound of you speaking.

 “Christ, didn’t anyone ever teach you not to run on a wet floor? You scared the shit outta me!” he said, pulling you into an awkwardly damp hug. It didn’t register in your mind quite yet that he was naked.

 “Sorry,” you said, unable to really father your thoughts.

 “I’m just glad you aren’t dead!” he said.

 Suddenly, you heard the door in your apartment opening.

 “Y/N! I’m here early! I thought we could go to that little café around the corner for some tea and you can tell me all about your boyfriend before I meet him,” your mother’s shrill voice sounded from the hall. You glanced at Jungkook’s state of undress and quickly averted your eyes. Jungkook’s eyes widened and both of you look at the other and whispered…

 “Fuck…”

#owner #Jungkook #Jungkookie #jeon jungkook #Jungkook smut #BTS smut #BTS jungkook smut #bts jeon jungkook #Jungkook hybrid au #Jungkook!au #Smut #Future smut #BTS #Bangtan Sonyeondan #Bangtan

[nickireadstfc]

The Raven King, Chapter 9 – Spooky Scary Bonding Times Send Shivers Down Your Spine

In which the monsters go costume shopping, Neil forces everyone to have Fun Squad Hangs, we learn Things™ about Matt and I start to realize Andrew cares about 24601% more than he’s trying to show.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

Finally, the much needed breather chapter is here – it’s Halloween!

Our monster squad takes this as an opportunity to go hang out at everyone’s favourite Fun Drugs Party joint, commonly known as Eden’s Twilight. Before they can go, though, Nicky makes me relate to him yet again by doing something I’ve been doing for years – pressuring all my friends into Halloween costumes.

(And carnival, and cosplay, in my case.)

           “You wouldn’t trust me to pick out your costume, would you? I’d probably make you a French maid or something.”

Except you’ve kind of picked out outfits for him in the past, for y’all’s club adventures, and you always picked clothes you thought he looked super hot in?

So basically, what this is trying to tell us is that Nicky has a drag kink.

Nice.

           An animatronics raven flapped its wings and cawed at Neil as he approached. He pushed it to the back of the shelf and moved a glittery Styrofoam skull in front of it.

Bahahaha. This is such a tiny detail, but I love it.

You can never escape the ravens, Neil. N E V E R.

           “People don’t really wear these, do they?” Neil asked and (…) pulled the next one off the rack. It was a milk carton with a cutout for the wearer’s face and a bold “Have you seen me?” printed beneath it.

           “Oh, that’s perfect, Neil,” Andrew said. Neil sent him a dirty look.

PLEASE TELL ME THERE IS FANART OF THIS. I am in tears.

And next: Neil, my boy, my dude, my son – does this.

           “We should invite the others to come with us,” Neil said.

FUCK. YEAH.

Neil starting to bring the team together!!! Everyone slowly bonding and becoming friends!!!!!! It’s the fuck happening!!!!!

I am so, so beyond here for this, have I mentioned that already?

           “We need them,” Neil said, keeping his eyes on Andrew. “Talent alone won’t get us to semifinals. (…) You have to stop breaking this team in half.”

YOU TELL EM, MA BOY.

           “I’m not asking you to be their friend,” Neil said. “I’m asking you to give an inch.”

           “Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile,” Aaron said.

           “You really think they’re strong enough to take a mile from Andrew? You think he’d let them?”

My dude has a point.

My dude has all the points, in fact.

GET YOUR ASSES TOGETHER EVERYONE, ALRIGHT.

Nicky, however, raises the fair argument of how they treated Matt last year, yet when Neil asks how exactly they treated Matt last year, Andrew tells him to ask the dude in question – and also agrees to let the rest of the Foxes join their Halloween extravaganza, which surprises everyone so much it ends the conversation.

Well. Best to tell Dan and the squad the good news immediately, no?

           Dan stepped out into the hall with [Neil] and pulled the door closed behind her. (…) “We’ve got a visitor. He came by a little while ago looking for Andrew.

          (…) This is Officer Higgins of the Oakland PD.”

Weeeeeeell shit. I knew that dubios phonecall thing was going to come around again.

           Neil heard the doorknob creak in warning as Andrew twisted it further than it was meant to go. It was a startling giveaway considering Andrew’s wide smile and the breezy tone of his voice.

           “Oh, I must be imagining things. Pig Higgins, you are a very, very long way from home.”

I knew it. That whole affair stinks. Andrew is not nearly as cool and chill about this whole situation as he pretends to be.

What is happening, I’m so intrigued by this.

           “We were looking at the wrong person, weren’t we? (…) The other kids won’t speak up. They don’t trust me that much. You’re all I’ve got.”

           That got Andrew’s attention. “Kids? Kids, plural. You only mentioned one last time, Pig. How many has she had?”

She? We were talking about one of his foster fathers last time – but Higgins said they looked in the wrong place.

A foster mother, then? And a fair amount of child abuse, as it seems. Once a-fucking-gain.

           “How many kids, Pig?”

           “Six, since you,” Higgins said.

Six instances of child abuse, then, probably seven including Andrew.

Hell to the fucking no. Andrew, you stubborn shit, help those kids.

Also, apparently the foster mom’s name is Drake. Probably a family name. Will keep that in mind.

After that conversation, Higgins leaves again before we can get any more interesting information. Ughhhh. Why must there be suspense, I need to know now.

           “Why are the police looking for you?”

           Andrew tilted his body towards her and smiled into her face. “I’m in no trouble, oh captain my captain.”

Alright, first he references Les Misérables and now Dead Poets’ Society – Andrew, stop being a goddamn nerd. <3

Neil then goes to do what he came to do in the first place, which is informing the squad of their incredibly luck of getting to hang out with the monsters on Halloween.

It goes about as expected – meaning, everyone’s mind as blown.

           “How the hell did you talk Andrew into this?” Dan asked, staring at Neil.

           “I asked,” Neil said.

Genius. Amazing. How has nobody had this idea before.

           “He implied you were the harder party to convince,” Neil said.

Oh, yeah.

MATT BACKSTORY TIME, BABES.

Let me sum this up for you. Matt’s dad – asshole extraordinaire – got him into drugs, as he wanted his son to fit in with the rich kid party scene in New York. Matt tried getting clean, but was a wreck when he arrived at PSU, hiding from any party people who might tempt him again by camping out on the girls’ couch – which, might I add, is an adorable picture, no matter how angsty.

Andrew ‘King of Unorthodox Helping Methods’ Minyard saw how fucked up Matt was and promptly gave him speedballs INSERT WIKIPEDIA HERE, which are about one of the most fucked-up drugs you can have (it’s cocaine and heroin together and it kills people on the regular. Fun!). But plot twist! Turns out Andrew had done everything with Mommy Boyd’s permission and his plan succeeded in bringing Matt into rehab and back into a normal life.

I have………… so many questions. Also, respect for Andrew. Also, what the fuck??

Also, MATT MY SON LET ME PROTECT YOU WHAT THE HELL. <333

           “I don’t know if they’ve talked to you about Aaron’s history, but you understand Andrew’s, don’t you? He’s not allowed to fight his addiction. Watching Matt struggle was very hard on them both.” (…)

          Andrew said they’d picked up the [cracker dust] habit for Aaron’s sake. (…) Chances were cracker dust was a paltry substitute. Watch Matt crumble under temptation would have wrecked hell on Aaron’s own sobriety.

          Neil was starting to rethink how apathetic Andrew was about Aaron’s life.

Are you telling me Andrew got them all into cracker dust just to protect Aaron while he worked on getting Matt clean?

And you’re telling me Andrew doesn’t care about anyone or anything?

Bull-fucking-shit.

Andrew, you seriously have so many problems and you are so problematic like 80% of the time but dude – I love you.

           “What’d you guys get [for costumes], so we don’t double up on anything?”

           “I’ll ask. I’m hoping Nicky was joking,” Neil said, getting to his feet. (…)

           It turned out Nicky wasn’t joking, but at least a zombie cowboy was better than a milk carton or a cow.

NEIL THE ZOMBIE COWBOY.

Again, please tell me there is fanart of this. I NEED IT.

And before you know it – it’s Fun Bonding Party time!

Apparently, ‘party’ means a few hours of the most awkward social interaction ever – Aaron refusing to talk to anyone except his family, Andrew being annoyingly energetic and rude, and Nicky trying to make up for his asshole cousins by talking So Damn Much – but you know, it’s a start.

           Kevin shifted in his seat enough to pull his hand in his pocket. The rattle of pills against plastic was so soft Neil might not have noticed it if not for Andrew’s reaction. (…)

           “Don’t make me hurt you,” Andrew said. “I don’t want blood in my ice cream.”

Ah yes, thanks, I had momentarily forgotten how EXTRA Andrew is.

Kevin also finally solves the question of why he has Andrew’s pills when Andrew off his meds – it ensures Andrew won’t take them in the first flash of withdrawal. Alright. I would have expected some bigger explanation for some reason? Idk. Maybe there’s more here, maybe I’m just seeing things.

Onwards to more fun things – Betsy makes a surprise reappearance via text!

           “Just Bee!” Andrew said. “Bee being stupid. Bee being, ha. Look.”

           Andrew tossed Nicky his phone. Nicky took one look at the screen, laughed, and reached across Aaron to show Neil the phone. (…) It was a grainy picture of Betsy Dobson wearing a bee costume.

What level of PRECIOUS. I love this woman.

It turns out Andrew and Betsy are texting BFFs, which is something I absolutely did not see coming.

Apparently, Andrew likes her considerably more than Neil does.

           “Andrew goes through shrinks like he’s trying to break a world record only he knows about. She’s his eighth one at least.”

           “Thirteenth,” Andrew said. “She made sure to ask me if I was superstitious.”

Uhmmm precious.

           “Some insane number. But when Andrew waltzed ut of her office at the end of his first session with her she was right on his heels and completely unfazed. Pretty impressive, right?”

           “No,” Neil said.

           Nicky sighed. “Eat your ice cream, jerk.”

Eat your ice cream and learn to start appreciating Bee Dobson for the gift to Foxkind that she is, jerk.

Time for a change in scenery – from Fun Ice Cream Times to Fun Club Times!

Seriously, this club does not get any less suspicious to me. I resent every time they go there. That first night has me pretty much scarred for life and I wasn’t even the one who was drugged and kiss-raped. How Neil is so ‘meh’ about going there again all the time is beyond me.

Then again, ‘meh’ just about describes Neil’s attitude towards most things that aren’t Exy or survival. So there’s that.

When they arrive, Dan – understandably – raises the question of whether or not it’s safe to let Andrew be clean for a night, to which Nicky has to say some things.

           “Trust me, you’d know if he was clean. It’s, uh… (…) it’s unmistakable. You’ll see next summer whether you want to or not. He’s off his program in May and should finish rehab by the time we start June practices.”

This is the point where I wonder how long the AFTG books will stretch, time-wise. The first book started in May and ended in August, the second started in August and we’re now – halfway through the book – in November. If we keep up this pace, TRK should be finished around January/February and TKM should end just in June – meaning we will see Andrew off his meds probably?

HECK YES.

10 bucks says Andrew has to come off them for some reason earlier anyways. Don’t ask why. It just feels like it should happen, for suspense reasons or something.

And once everyone is settled in the club, most of them go dancing, having fun, doing normal people stuff – except for our favourite antisocial ‘Help I don’t know how to human’ dudes, who once more engage in an unexpected heart-to-heart.

           “I’ve never been in a position where I could get to know people,” [Neil said.] “I know I have to let them in if we’re going to make it through the season, but it’d be easier if they were just names and faces. How have you stayed disconnected for so long?”

           “They’re not interesting enough to keep my attention.”

Yeah, hi, this is Nicki speaking, is FUCKING BULLSHIT there, I’d like to call them?

Seriously. As if.

           “What about Renee?”

           “What about her?”

           “She’s not interesting?”

           “She’s useful.”

           “That’s it?”

           “You expected a different answer?”

Is Neil trying to slowly find out whether Andrew like-likes Renee or not because that may be a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Also, “she’s useful” for fuck’s sake, stop blowing holes in my platonic goalie BFFs ship.

           “Yes? No? It should be – it is – irrelevant, but…” (…)

           “Sometimes you’re interesting enough to keep around. Other times you’re so astoundingly stupid I can barely stand the sight of you.”

I’m interpreting that statement as either:

1) I’m gay, you fuckwit (most likely)

2) I’m interested in you, you fuckwit (probably not likely at this point in the story, not yet)

3) I’m ace and could really give less fucks about this whole dating shit, you fuckwit (an enjoyable headcanon, but unlikely as we know that Andreil is #endgame)

           Neil scowled at him. “Forget it. I’ll ask Renee.”

           “You’ll have to stop avoiding her first.”

Yes, please do.  Preferably immediately, next chapter, get on it, chop chop.

I need more Renee content always.

           [Neil] went alone to the railing overlooking the dance floor. (…) He had to trust that they were all there, safe and having fun. He was content to watch and imagine.

           Lonely, too, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Except for, y’know……… Making friends…….. Having them teach you healthy social relationships…….. A wild concept, I know, but just consider it………….

Deep sigh.

If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing, please consider buying me a coffee! Thank you so much <3

#nicki reads tfc #tfc #trk #aftg #the raven king #the foxhole court #all for the game #nora sakavic #I'm a day late because I was busy yesterday wheeeee! soz #//hurls chapter @ you and leaves in a swoosh of cape

[welcometophu]

Extra: Packing Up

And this is the second of the two paired minis. So now you know why Alaric was at the junkyard and needed the minivan (someday Trish’s truck will make an appearance, but frankly, the parking at PHU isn’t ready for Trish’s full set of vehicles, so for the moment, her bright orange Harley will suffice). This also takes place in the future, at the end of the school year.

I though it would make a nice end cap, to let the boys part, when the story began with them moving in.

Packing Up

The room is both too messy and too neat. The boxes bother Alaric, the way they’re piled up, closed and impersonal as if Rory’s already moved out. “How the fuck have we accumulated this much shit over the year?” Alaric mutters as he nudges a box out of the way so he can get in the door.

“Ritual things, textbooks, one entire box of notebooks—some of which I’m thinking about throwing in a bonfire,” Rory admits. “I can wait until you visit for that one, if you want.”

“Is it going to be a ritual?” There’s something very ritualistic about the idea, and Alaric’s not sure if it might inspire accidental magic. The way the year’s gone, he figures you never know.

“Normal bonfire,” Rory promises. “Just very, very large, since both Dad and Thorne will be involved, and they both have a fire affinity. Plus there will probably be fire flipping.”

“Fire flipping?”

“Long standing tradition and courtship ritual,” Rory says, which doesn’t clear anything up in Alaric’s mind. “Dad tried to impress Dad, back when Dad was still dating Mom, so it confused the hell out of Dad. It’s a convoluted story anyway; don’t let Dad corner you and start telling it.” He glances over at where Alaric’s things have been packed down into the two duffles and plastic bin that he arrived with, plus a new backpack, and a few boxes. “You look like you’re ready to go.”

“Mostly.” Alaric looks down at his hands, checks for the dirt that’s still under his fingernails. “I have some stuff in Dax’s van that needs to go into my father’s truck.”

Rory straightens up, pushes on his back to work out the kinks. “Is this the kind of stuff that’s going to piss off your father and have him screaming about Mages stinking or something?”

Alaric licks his lips, then grins. “It’s the kind of stuff that means Trish is visiting for a week before she goes back to Tennessee. We went out to the junkyard today and we’ve got just about everything we need to put together a custom bike. We already ordered everything else; it’ll get there in a week, so Trish has time to go up to Vermont for that two day song-writing thing she’s doing in Burlington. We’re using my cousin’s garage, talked to him earlier this week to make sure he’s good with it.”

“Did you talk to Theobald?” Rory’s eyebrows are high, and Alaric catches trepidation in his scent.

“I mentioned it to my mother,” he admits. “She’s not happy about the bike, but she’s looking forward to meeting Trish. She’s actually heard her music.”

“That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“Wasn’t what I expected her to say, either,” Alaric says dryly. He’s never heard his mother sound so pleased to meet someone. Even when Alaric mentioned as an aside that Trish is Emergent, his mother brushed it off as unimportant.

Alaric’s pretty damned sure it won’t be unimportant in his father’s eyes, but that’s an issue he can deal with later. When Trish is at the house, and his mother is there to smooth things over.

“So you’re going to build a bike.” Rory sinks down to sit on his mattress. Both beds have been pulled down to normal height, the raised lofts removed from the room. The second desk and chair are back, making the space seem tiny after all the room they had all year.

Alaric settles in next to him; Rory relaxes against him. “I like Trish’s,” he admits. “She said she could teach me, like her uncles taught her. Between her and my cousin, I should be set. I’ll take you out for a ride when you visit.” At Rory’s dubious look, Alaric huffs. “Is that at the idea of my bike, or visiting in general?”

“Both. Theobald hates me,” Rory points out.

Alaric’s pretty sure hate isn’t a strong enough word, even after everything that’s happened. He also doesn’t care; it’s his home too.

The door pushes open, banging off the boxes. “Hey, Ric, did I hear you’re building a bike? You’re taking me out on it.” Thorne turns in place, stops when he spots the packed instruments. “I’ve got the van downstairs. You guys want to give me a hand packing everything into it?”

Alaric waits for directions, carrying the keyboard when told to. As he helps them fit everything into the back of the van, it finally hits him.

It’s over.

He pulls back, looks over at Rory. “Hey.”

Rory stops immediately, blinks at him. “You can visit next year.”

Alaric huffs, because of course Rory knows what he’s thinking. “Yeah. And you can too, if you need to.”

Rory’s gaze narrows. “Wouldn’t that be awkward, considering—”

Alaric cuts through the air with his hand, ends with a shrug. “Chris gets it.”

“It’s not the end of the world.” Thorne slips between them, manages to somehow get an arm around their shoulders despite the height difference, tugging them both down to his level. “I know neither of you is good with people, or with goodbyes, but this is all going to be okay. There will be visits—isn’t Ric going to Gram’s for something like two weeks?”

“It’s better than your family—aside from the two of you—coming to my place,” Alaric says dryly.

“We’re hitting the road in two days,” Rory reminds him. 

“And you won’t have time to think about anything but summer festivals and music. And you,” Thorne bumps Alaric, “you had better be at every festival within driving distance. Right?”

“Both me and Chris,” Alaric promises.

“So it’ll all be fine.” Thorne kisses Rory’s temple, then Alaric’s. 

Alaric agrees; he knows it’ll be fine. But at the same time, it seems like they just got here. Like the year just started, and now here they are and life’s turned upside down, and they’ve got three months before they come back again. And everything will be different then, a whole new year to get used to.

But he did get some good things out of this year. 

Rory hip checks him, nudges him toward the dorm. “Let’s go get the next round. Yeah?”

It’s not an end, just a pause on this life. He’s not going home for good, he’ll get to come back. Alaric bumps him back. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

#phu extra #extra #alaric herne #Rory Everett #Thorne Baker