#he hasnt even spoken a word yet. okay he said like Three Words but still

[todayisafridaynight]

amazing what obsession can do to the brain. Fym i recognized will yun lee’s face frame one even tho ive only ever known him as the eng voice for masato

[mother-snake]

self-destruction pt.1

(welcome to a new series! this will be angsty... but thats to be accepted by now...) tags: @idkanameatall warnings: self-hurt, crying, tears. general angst thrown out the window words:4646 next: n/a

-janus wakes up to a voice in his head he hasnt heard since the day he was created. things can only go down hill from there, cant they?-

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Nothing had been okay for a while. And no one had realised how much it had been affecting a certain side. the split… Virgil leaving… Remus leaving…

And now he was alone. Something he wished he never was. it had hurt to wake up each morning and make breakfast, only to call on Remus to remember that he was gone. he didn’t know how long he cried when the deep green door wasn’t in its place. The three dark sides had promised each other that no one would be left behind… yet… here he was.

Alone, cold and done. The lines on his arms showing the pain that seemed to break over the surface. maybe that’s why it hadn’t been such a surprise when he woke up late one day, a heavy weight draping over him.

He had laid there for a while before standing up to at least make himself look presentable despite the fact no one was there… old habits die hard.

And when he looked into the mirror. He had been surprised. His once shiny brown hair was duller, grey streaks mixed in, making him look like he had aged years over night. even his scales had matched his grey hair, just darker… his eye was still yellow. Just duller.

He stared at his reflection curiously. Reaching up and running his had along his scales. He flinched as he felt how cold they were. Not warm like they used to be. But now ice cold.

Then he froze in place. A small voice. One he had not heard since the day he was created. But it had stuck with him. And it spoke something that sent a shiver down his back.

“I’m sorry self-destruction,”

And just like that…it was gone.

Had that really been what had happened… had his core shifted? Become something new? this… wasn’t like a split. He would have known if there was one present. Anyone would have.

A weak smile grew on his face. he truly had changed. There was no way the others could trust him when he looked even more like a villain.

he looked around his room. Nothing had changed much to his confusion. Everything was still bright yellow and pitch black.

His eyes landed on his hat. He walked over and picked it up. he brought it up to his chest and held it tight. it was a gift. From the one person who hadn’t deliberately left him. The one gift he had ever gotten… and it had been from Romulus.

He placed it back on his vanity. It was time to retire the hat… things were changing. And maybe it was time to start from fresh. Completely.

“just listen to me!” he jumped at the voice that screamed in his head with such agony. this… was Logan’s voice? What?

He felt himself sinking down before he knew what was happening. Drawn like a moth to a flame. His mind reeling from the sudden noise and overwhelming sensation of sadness that had swept over him.

--

When he arrived. he had been rather surprised. He was in Logan’s room. The walls covered in graphs and papers. It was bigger than his room. Almost double.

His eyes landed on a figure hunched over at a desk. The light sound of tears made his heart ache. But… that was it. he didn’t seem to care as much as he used to. Maybe it was the lack of feeling in his chest.

“Logan?” he said. the logical side seemed to tense at the spoken word. “Logan, are you alright?” Janus said as he made his way over, trying to avoid knocking over the several towers of books.

--

Logan took a breath and looked over to where the deceitful side was. he blinked and rubbed his eyes… what the… what had happened?

He wasn’t sure what to focus on really.

His hair, scales, eye or the thin lines on his arms that were scabbed and fading. “Janus… what happened to you?” he said as he stared at the other. “that’s not why I’m here,” Janus stated coldly, sending a shiver up Logan’s spine, “I want to know if you’re alright.”

“I… I am fine Janus, I assure you?” “really then?” he said as his lips twitched up, “so you’re not bothered by the fact the others wont listen to you then?”

Logan froze as he turned back to his computer. “what?” his head snapped over to look at the other.

“you’re being ignored by everyone… and its causing you stress. But instead of facing it, you’re over working yourself,” Janus stated. “why do you care deceit,” he spat back. “one, that’s not my title… two because I care. If Thomas’s logic burned himself out due to over working, things could get bad. That and despite the fact you say you have no emotions; there you were not just five minuets ago crying due to the others not listening and messing up the schedule.”

Logan was at a loss for words. He glared at the snake. “falsehood,” he said as he stood up, “im logic. Emotions don’t matter to me. they only get in the way. if this is an attempt to make me join the dark side, I suggest you leave.” he glared at the other. Anger boiling in his chest.

“go talk to the others,” Janus muttered as he cast his eyes away, “tell them that they are making you work over time. That’s all I want to say.”

The small smile was replaced with a blank stare. And he was gone just as quickly as he had come. leaving a puzzled Logan in place. Wondering one thing. what had he meant by deceit no longer being his title…

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

 Janus sunk to his knees when he arrived back in his room. Silent gasps filled the air as tears poured from his eyes. he thought that maybe Logan would be able to see past all he had done. Think logically about why he was there in the first place.

He guessed wrong. And the words that had fallen out of Logan’s mouth were like knives to his soul. He would be telling the truth when he said that it had taken so much energy not to break down at his words then and there.

Why had it hurt so much? was it because after several weeks of being alone, that was the first thing anyone had said to him? or was it because of his new core… he didn’t know. But he just wanted to stop crying.

 it had taken half an hour before he stopped crying. He moved himself off the floor and onto his bed. he laid sprawled out, weakly holding onto the blanket under him. Burying into the fluff and warmth.

Little to no energy left. The lack of sleep from the previous night getting to him, making it hard to keep his eyes open. soon he caved in, grasping onto the sleep.

--

Logan had been concerned, the more he thought about what Janus had said. and it was slowly getting to him. “Logan? Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Ah. He was just staring at his toast. Had he been so caught up in thought? “after breakfast I would like to talk to you all, if that’s alright. But I will have something to do first,” he sighed, slumping his shoulders. “of course! But may I ask why you’d like to talk to us dear nerd?” roman asked. “it’s about the schedule. With everything that keeps coming up I’m constantly trying to fix it. and at the minuet I don’t know how Thomas is going to get everything done,” “so you need help cutting some things out?” Virgil said as he took a sip from a purple cup. “basically… yes.” “no problem specks,” Virgil said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“anyways, where will you be going?” “ah… I will be visiting Janus later,” roman and Virgil froze at his words. “why?” roman said with a raised eyebrow. “he… was the one to bring up the fact I was burning myself out. I said some harsh things. I also have a question to ask him.”

The other four sides looked between each other with confusion and worry.

 He was outside Janus’s door sooner than he would have liked. But he was okay with that. Patton had sent him away with a box of cookies for the snake. Worried about him as they hadn’t spoken since the Lilly-Patton incident. he unconsciously rubbed his neck.

He sent three sharp knocks on the door. But much to his surprise, the movement had pushed the door open, the deceitful side must not have closed the door properly.

He nudged it open just enough to peek inside. A sharp pain filled his heart as he saw Janus sprawled on the bed that sat in the furthest corner of the room. another thing he realised was just how cold it was. like an icy blanket that covered the entire room.

He entered cautiously, placing the tub of cookies down by Janus’s hat. he looked over to the sleeping side with worry. He had never seen him looking so peaceful. It was kind of worrying truthfully.

He summoned a blanket and draped it over Janus, hoping it would keep him warm for now. he reached into his pocket. A small sorry letter he had written in case Janus wasn’t in. but sleeping was also another reason he hadn’t thought about.

He placed it at the end of the bed. Hoping the other would find it when he woke up. and if he didn’t, that wouldn’t stop him from apologising in person. he knew when he was wrong about something. And he knew he was wrong to say the things he had.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

He had been surprised when he was slowly waking up. something warm was covering him like the worlds best hug. He would be lying if he said he didn’t pull it further over himself.

But as he slowly woke up, he cracked his eyes open and almost broke. He stared at the blanket that was covering himself only to see the deep blue colour. Logan had been here?

He sat up quickly, scanning his room quickly to see if the side was there. Not to his surprise… he wasn’t there. his alarm clock told him he had been asleep for a while. Lunch rolling around the corner soon.

He pulled the blue blanket over his shoulders and tied the ends like a cape. He forgot how cold he was for a couple seconds.

He looked over to his hat, a small plastic box sitting next to it. a small part of him thought he was asleep. There was no way that a light side would willingly come over… right?

He picked up the container and opened it up. chocolate chip cookies stared back at him. yes… he was definitely still asleep. There was no other way this was happening. Yeah… he would wake up in a couple seconds and he would be alone once again. None of this would be here.

He sighed and reached into the box, pulling out a cookie. a tiny smile formed on his face. he knew Logan couldn’t cook. So, there was a high chance that it was Patton’s or romans cooking.

He placed it back into the box and closed it over. But he held the container in his hands a little longer before placing it down.

Any warmth that had filled him before seemed to dull down as he realised that despite everything. He was still alone. For all he knew they were doing this to keep him away for a while longer…

“why can’t I do anything right!” the voice yelled in his mind. this one he could tell was Patton’s.

He sighed. Today was going to be a long day. He could already tell. he snapped his fingers and changed out of his pyjamas and into something else.

Black dress pants and a yellow button up. his caplet draped over his shoulders. Logan’s blanket still tied around himself like a cape.

And soon he found himself sinking down.

Let's say we up and left this town, And turned our future upside down. We'll make pretend that you and me, Lived ever after happily.

Janus arrived in the light side’s kitchen. Patton stood staring at the wall. he let out a cough, grabbing Patton attention almost immediately. “oh! Hello Jan- “he cut himself off as he looked at the snake with shock, “you…seem to have changed quite a bit there,”

Janus simply rolled his eyes, not as bothered as he felt he should have been by morality’s words. “anyways… I came to ask if you were okay,” he moved himself over to Patton's side.

“I’m… I’m okay kiddo,” Patton said, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Janus returned the smile with a blank look on his face,” that’s a lie. Isn’t it?” he sighed. “I don’t know what you mean?” “you’re bottling it up. you feel like you keep hurting those around you with everything you do,” Janus felt like such a hypocrite, “and you feel like you’re driving them away in the process. Am I wrong?”

Patton felt tears pricking his eyes as he looked at Janus. “what do I do?” he said, “I don’t want to lose them…”

Janus stayed silent. His face scrunched up in thought. His fingers rapped over the counter. “I don’t know truthfully… but maybe you should just confront it head on. Don’t skirt around the issue…” don’t do what I did, that’s what he meant.

Patton looked at him with a sad smile. “would you like to join us for lunch Janus?” he said as he rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the tears that messed with his vision. “as much as I’d love to, I know roman and Virgil wouldn’t want me there,” he said sadly. Patton could feel the small amounts of sadness coming from him. But it was blocked off by something else. As if it was being hidden by something else. Whatever it was, he couldn’t sense it. “well, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us.”

Janus gave a weak smile in Patton's direction and turned to leave but froze as he saw who was standing at the door.

Virgil glared at him but he could see the confusion in his eyes. “why are you here deceit,” he growled. “one, that’s not my title any more. And two… Patton simply needed some assistance. I was happy to help,” he said, keeping his eyes of the anxious side.

“excuse me?” Virgil said startled, “what the hell do you mean deceit isn’t your title anymore?” Janus shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the other. “you can call me self-destruction from now on,” he said coldly, glancing up an connecting his eyes with the purple of Virgil’s.

Neither side knew what to say at what the now self-destruction side had said. This was new. sure, there had been splits… but never a full core change… “Janus…” Patton said as he took a step closer. “don’t,” Janus said, holding a hand up. Patton stopped walking towards Janus. His concern for the side growing even more.

Virgil didn’t know what to do, he just stood there dumbfounded. This was the last thing he had been expecting. Okay sure, he had been startled when he saw Janus’s new look. but this… his title shifting to something new. something like that? he didn’t know what to do. And he didn’t like not knowing things…

“how long,” Virgil said as he stared at the snake. “only this morning… no one else knows,” Janus said.

They shifted uncomfortably for a couple more seconds. “well… if you don’t mind, I think it would be best if I left for now,” Janus said, making his way over to the door Virgil had been blocking.

“no,” the anxious side said, “we don’t know what you can do now. How do we know if you wont effect Thomas,” he said staring at Janus. “please, you didn’t care about me before, why change that now?”

Virgil felt his chest tighten at the words spoken by Janus. “as much as I hate to say it… Virge has a point. With a new title… you will have to learn new things about yourself. And having people around might help,” he said carefully, trying to block out the words Janus had previously spoken.

“just let me go,” he muttered, swaying as he stood as still as possible. “Janus are you- Janus!” Patton yelled as he caught the side who had toppled over.

Janus was unconscious before he heard Patton yell his name.

Virgil was by their sides in seconds. Panic spreading through his veins. “Janus… Janus,” he said as he shook the snake, hoping to wake him up. “he’s like ice!” Patton said as he jerked his hand away from his head.

“get the others and tell them that Janus will be staying with us for a while,” Patton said as he picked Janus up bridal style. Trying his best not to shiver under the coldness of the others skin.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Virgil gave a sharp nod before bolting out the room and making his way to the bedroom hallway. the first door he came to was Logan’s. he pounded on the door, hoping it would startle Logan out of his work. he heard shuffling on the other side before his door creaked open. Logan looked at Virgil rather surprised.

“get your ass down stairs,” Virgil said before shooting of to the twins shared room and pounding on the door in a hurry.

The door opened on its own and he flung the door open irritably. “get your asses down stairs, now,” he said as he looked at the twins who seemed startled by his sudden appearance, most likely thinking he was Patton.

But non the less they both stood up and made their way down the stairs after Virgil and a rather confused Logan. the three of them got closer to the living room. The sound of shuffling and Virgil pacing was all they could hear until they reached the room.

Patton was draping a blanket over something on the couch as Virgil moved something, placing a pillow underneath. and as the three of them got closer. They stopped moving.

“Janus,” Logan said before making his way over to the other two sides. he knelt down next to the unconscious side, “what happened?” he asked looking at the moral side. “we don’t know, we were talking and he started to sway before falling unconscious. I managed to catch him before he hit the ground, but he’s so cold. Almost like ice,” Patton muttered.

Logan reached his hand and placed it gently on the sides head. Patton was correct. He was cold as ice. “keep him wrapped up in the blankets,” he said before turning to the twins, “can one of you come with me to Janus’s room? I need to check something out from earlier,” he said as he stood up. “oh, and Virgil. Go into my room and get the medical box from under the bathroom sink. His arms need to be covered,”

Virgil stared at Logan, “what do you mean by that specks,” he whispered. even Remus who was normally loud and yelling, his eyes glazed over at his words, “he said he stopped…” he whispered horrified.

“ill come with you then dear nerd, we shall be back soon,” he said as he sunk out with Logan not too far behind.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

 Logan and roman appeared in Janus’s room. The first thing roman did was curse under his breath at how cold it was. “no wonder he was so cold specks… his rooms colder than the artic!” “but why…” Logan said as he began to look around.

The room was much smaller than his own. But it was much more cluttered. A wall of trophies Thomas had won sat high and on display. musical posters and photographs hung the walls. a bookshelf sat facing Janus’s bed. Filled to the brim with books on philosophers and snakes.

Then his eyes landed on something. A small leather-bound book that looked far older than anything on the book case. “roman,” he said, causing the side to look up from his position, looking in a small wooden box. he made his way over as Logan removed the book. it didn’t take too long for him to realise what he was holding. “looks like a diary,” he muttered.

What had caught roman was the symbol printed into the front. One he hadn’t seen in on much. but knew all to well. “why does he have Romulus’s diary?” he said to himself, but it didn’t go unheard by the other in the room.

“no… its Janus’s,” he said as he flicked through the pages, “each one was signed of by Janus. Not Romulus- wait look here,” he said.

The hand writing and use of pen had changed from black to a multi coloured one. Red and green ink swirling on the page. he read over what was written.

They re read what was written. Guilt seemed to flood into them as the read it over and over again. had Romulus and Janus been that close that… oh god… a sick feeling laid planted in romans chest. he didn’t know much about the person he had split from. But he knew that Janus had always played a part in his past. He thought that maybe he had been the cause of the split.

Not that Romulus split on purpose in hopes to better balance out the mind scape for everyone’s sake. Maybe… he would discuss his plan with his twin later. “we should keep looking. And if we don’t find anything… we can put it down to his core shifting and messing with his room,” Logan said; he only getting a nod in response.

Ohhhh... And since we know that dreams are dead, And life turns plan’s up on their head, I will plan to be a bum, So I just might become someone.

Janus needed to stop falling asleep. He was going to mess with his sleep schedule. he noticed three things as he began to wake up for the third time that day. one, he was warm. Not Logan’s blanket, just keeping out the cold. This was full on Patton hug level of warmth. second was the smell of cookies that hung in the air. It was comforting to some extent. Only he knew he hadn’t done any cooking in a long time. third was that he was lying on something soft. His bed had always been stiff and hard. This, he was able to melt into like putty.

He didn’t want to move. He was perfectly fine being here for the rest of eternity. but he was curious as to where he was. so despite his body complaining against waking up, he tried his best to crack his eyes open. A bright light filled his vision, causing him to et out a small hiss of pain.

Then noise filled his ears, the sounds of people shouting and moving filled his head as he finally got his eyes open. he didn’t expect to see all the light sides surrounding him.

“Janus! Are you alright?” Patton asked. he didn’t know what to do. His mind ran at several miles an hour, a light panic setting into his chest as he realised how close they were to him.

Virgil seemed to know the look on Janus’s face, “everyone back away, you’re crowding him. He’s already starting to panic,” he said as he shuffled away slightly.

The others followed suit as they realised Janus was indeed internally panicking. they waited a couple minutes before Patton turned to Logan who gave him a quick nod. He stood up and made his way out of the room. “sorry,” Janus muttered as he bowed his head down. “it’s alright Jannie,” Remus said as he smiled at Janus.

He looked around the room once again. Still confused as to why they weren’t being hostile as before… “what happened?” he asked as he looked at them. Virgil shifted uncomfortably, grabbing Janus’s attention, “you fell unconscious after I confronted you in the kitchen. Patton caught you before you hit the ground,” he said, keeping his eyes away from Janus.

The room fell quiet. But it wasn’t bad… it felt calm. “well, should I put a movie on in the mean time?” roman asked everyone. “I have no quarry with that,” Logan said as he adjusted his glasses. “same here princy,” Virgil said. “sure thing bitch,” Remus said punching his twins arm getting a wince in response.

Janus nodded, moving his hand to rub his arm before looking down, realising he wasn’t touching his coarse skin. Once again, he felt himself freeze in place. They had seen them…

Well he was fucked. “Janus- “he looked up from his arms and towards roman. “is there anything you’d like to watch?” Janus didn’t respond, he only looked at roman before casting his eyes back to his wrists.

It was at that moment Patton entered the room with a bowl of soup. He gave it over to the grey scaled side with a smile. “you missed lunch and dinners still a while away, I thought you might get hungry,” he said cheerfully.

He held the bowl staring at it for a couple seconds. The soup seemed to ripple for a couple seconds. And it was then that he realised he had begun to cry. a pair of hands moved the bowl from him and someone wrapped him up in a hug. That only seemed to make him cry harder despite the fact he had clung onto the person.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccupped as tears continued to pour. he tried to stop crying, but the tears continued to pour despite his best efforts. “it’s okay Janus, you’ve been too strong for a long time, its our turn to return the favour,” Virgil whispered into his ear. another several sets of arms wrapped around him to the best of their abilities.

She asked me, "Son, when I grow old, Will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, Will you take care of me?"

Things were far from fine. That was for sure. But in that moment… he knew why he was crying and it wasn’t from sadness or loneliness or the never-ending coldness that laid over his heart that slowly seemed to be filling up with something warm.

The tears were from the overwhelming love he felt the others giving him despite all he had done. the warm looks given his way. he didn’t deserve them. But it felt so nice.

I will make you queen of everything you see, I'll put you on the map, I'll cure you of disease.

He himself was by no means going to be okay for a long time… but this?

This was a start.

[joontier]

“One-Love”| CH. 3 - Wealth in Volumes

–> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game.

–> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader

–> Rating: NC17

–> Genre/warnings:  FLUFF ASDFASJLDKF; a day in the life of a rich ass family basically; your cliché teenage crush feels; swearing; y/n forgetting her own period sksksk; Hobi being a slight perv; suggestive language; 

–> Words: 6.7k

–> A/N: good lord this hasnt been proofread bUT MY IMPATIENT ASS COULDNT WAIT; dunno how i managed to poop out 6.7k but here ya go i guess

“One-Love” Masterlist

Chapter 3: Wealth in Volumes

A sigh escapes your lips when there’s nearly no space left from the condensation that has formed on the container lid from all the patterns you’ve drawn for the past few minutes. Hoseok has never been this late before and neither did he miss a day at school. First period is starting soon and you’re starting to worry if something came up.

Hoseok arrives exactly two minutes before first period. The boy looks disheveled with unkempt hair and the top button of his uniform left open to complete the look. Hiro Yamada lets out a loud whistle the moment Hoseok steps in class. “Damn Hobi, never knew you were the kind to take quickies this early in the morning!” The boys snicker at Hiro’s comment while the girls vocally express their disgust towards the crudeness of it all.

“Seems like a tempting idea, whatcha think, _______?” Nadia whispers from behind, chortling louder when you miss at your attempt to smother her with your book. Hoseok seems disinterested by Hiro’s remark, but his lips curve into a small smile as he replies, “Jealous?” as Jimin and the others lose it at Hoseok’s response.

The daily classroom chaos continues, only ceasing when Ms. Chamber enters the room and greets the class a good morning. She’s a substitute teacher that will temporarily take over your Business & Management subject while your actual teacher, Mr. Santiago, is on his sick leave. It’s eerily quiet when she steps in, but your class is usually like this with relatively new teachers.

“Mock research paper.”

Three words is all it takes before a collective groan erupts from the class, complaints and protests, easily drowning out Ms. Chamber’s gentle voice. She taps a whiteboard marker against her desk. “Hey! I know, I know…” she sighs, resting against the table. “Try to think of it this way, you’d have additional reference for your papers next year, plus you have three months to accomplish this.”

The rest of the class continues to groan in objection. “On the bright side, I’ll let you work with partners. Go and take your pick.” Exhales of relief are heard throughout the room. Turning around to face Nadia, you wriggle your eyebrows suggestively. No spoken words are needed to express your intentions of choosing her as partner. She declines though, much to your surprise. You raise an eyebrow when Nadia nods her head toward Hoseok who’s sitting quietly beside you. Then she points to the Tupperware on your lap. You sigh. “Besides, I’m sick of your useless ass! I’m not flanking this subject because of you.” “Hey!” you cry indignantly at the accusation. She shrugs you off, giving you a double thumbs up before standing from her seat to approach someone else.

‘It’s now or never’, you think, contemplating on how to approach your seatmate. Without much thought put into planning, you place the container on his desk. He looks at you with wide eyes then onto the Tupperware in front of him. “Be my partner?” His eyes turn into small crescent moons at your proposal. Before he tries to look at what’s inside the container, your hand stops him.

“But before anything else, I didn’t get to say thank you for yesterday…”

“Yesterday?”

“Yeah, for your cheering and all… I don’t think I would’ve survived the game if it weren’t for your support. It really helped me. A lot.”

“______. Listen to me. You survived and won because you’re you, okay? You are a smart player. And besides, like I said, if it were easy, I would’ve done it instead.” He snorts, those tiny dimples above his mouth peeking out to say hi.

“Now what do we have here?” he asks, trying to look through the condensation on the lid. “It’s bibimbap. I’ve heard once that it was your favorite. So I made it for you this morning… It’s probably gone cold now and I know you don’t like eating food that’s gone cold so I can just take this back if…” your hands are slowly creeping up the container, and this time it’s he who stops you.

“______ it’s fine. You really didn’t have to but I truly appreciate this. Thanks.”

;

“Wow.”

No other word comes out of your mouth but the monosyllabic expression. You probably should’ve been used to it at this point, after staying long enough at Thames. The subtle normality of everything for them that is extreme to you is something that will most likely take some time to get used to. The expensive cars, the more extravagant hobbies…hell, the tuition fee alone was enough to make your knees turn to jelly.

You and Hoseok both agreed to start the paper as early as possible so here you were on a Saturday morning, trying to figure out the maze that is Hoseok’s residential village. To your luck, Hoseok suggested that you come over to his house to talk over your assignment, else he would’ve lost himself in the mess at your home.  

“Which street was it again? Your father asks, diverting your attention from the mansions lined up along the street. “Uh, it was Harrison I think…” you recall, grabbing your phone to check the address. “I’ve been here a few times before for Hobi’s training but the clubhouse was just a block away from the village’s entrance. Now, I’m not even sure if we’re still in the same country.” Your lips press into a firm line at your father’s lame attempt at a joke, but you also had a hunch that you had driven yourselves out of the village, or worse – straight to another one.

Your father rolls down his window to see the street signs clearer, also on the lookout for potential help. Driving over to the side, your dad puts the blinkers on as he tries to assess the directions that Hoseok had previously given you. “I’m pretty sure we followed it,” he mumbles, taking another glance outside the car’s window.

Before you offer to try calling Hoseok, a van behind you honks and stops beside your car. When they roll their window down, you instantly recognize the pair, Tita and Adit who both work for Hoseok’s family. “Sir Hoseok told us you were nearby. We figured we might see you on our way home.” Tita says, waving at you while Adit tells your dad to tail them.

A street and a relieved sigh from your father later, your dad finally drops you off in front of the house and a black steel gate slides open at your arrival, revealing a contemporary wonder of a mansion. “Remember to always be on your best behavior. I’m sure the Jungs are nice and all, but don’t take advantage of it. Please don’t touch anything, god knows what sort of eccentric antique they might’ve spent their money on. And no funny business!” He repeats your mother’s endless reminders that by the time he finishes, you’re already standing outside the car, fingers tapping against the car door impatiently. “Yes dad, I knowww-“ His eyes squint at you, “Fine, but don’t come home crying when you’ve accidentally broken something worth more than our lives combined. You’re selling your own kidneys, kid.”

With a curt wave, he rolls the window back up and drives away. Tita waits by the gate to walk you to the front door. Suspicions confirmed, this house spoke wealth in volumes. She chuckles at you as you take your time with every step, pebbles crunching underneath your weight while your eyes marvel the alluring abode. Waiting for you by the threshold, she beckons you over with a wave. “Sir Hobi has been waiting for you all morning.”

You quicken your steps, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She must’ve thought it strange to have you gawking all over the place. You’ve gone to Nadia’s place a few times, but there really wasn’t anything to compare since she lived at an apartment, albeit a luxurious one, it was still different having an actual house and property. Considerably, foreigners didn’t exactly have rights to own residential property in the country which is why it came as a surprise to you that Hoseok lives in this elite village, more so when you realize he resides in an actual estate.

The mansion is beautiful beyond description. With the interior looking like an actualization of a designer’s 3D floor plan, your eyes take a good sweeping look at the place while Tita asks you to take a seat as she calls for Hoseok. You wonder how lovely it is to come home to this every day. It’s spacious enough to practice a floor exercise yet somehow it feels homey with the serenity that comes with the place, despite being situated at the heart of the city. You notice a perfectly mowed courtyard outside the glass walls and the glistening water of the swimming pool at the far edge.

A lady carrying a glass of water and something else wrapped in a plastic bag. Placing the glass on the table, she kneels to where your feet are rested and unwraps the bag. She pulls out a pair of disposable slippers, slips them on your feet and takes your shoes away before you could get a word out.

“_______!” Hoseok calls from above before scurrying down, his own slippers flicking against the staircase noisily. His arms reach out for a hug but pulls them back just as fast, realizing it would’ve been too awkward this early in your friendship (that he secretly hopes will blossom into something more). You don’t put much thought into it, waving at him in greeting instead. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” You give him a nod in reply.

“Oh…you should eat breakfast again then!” You decline his offer, assuring him that you just had a heavy breakfast. Okay, you may or may not have grabbed a single sandwich off someone else’s plate on your way out, after spending too much time trying to look presentable. Hoseok won’t have any of your protests, so he drags you to the kitchen by the hand, “Hobi!” There’s a slight chill that runs through you when his skin touches yours, his slender fingers enveloping your short ones.

Hoseok leads you to the dining room where there’s enough food prepared for a family of ten. He checks each container then back at you, inspecting your features like he’s morphed into Gordon Ramsay. Hoseok is still holding your hand by the time he brings you to the kitchen and quite frankly you don’t want him to stop.

Another lady in the identical scrub suit greets him as you both enter, her lips forming a small smile when she sees your hands together. Her eyes meet yours when she asks Hoseok if he needed anything. “Just wanted to see what ______ wanted to eat.” Your head shakes to say ‘no’ but Hoseok sees this as the complete opposite. “She’s just shy.” You send her an apologetic smile when he drags you once more around the marble countertop to face a four-door fridge that towers the both of you easily.

This damn thing is a whole supermarket! The stored food could make up the whole color wheel. He points out five different cheeses, fruits cut into bits and stowed away in containers, multiple bottles of water, milk, and juice. Hoseok even lets you inside their pantry, where stacks of food and beverages make up at least seven full shelves inside. To Hoseok it seems like he’s just offering you food, but to you it feels like he’s taking you to the grocery.

The curious voice at the back of your head is telling you to give in to the temptation but your mother’s voice appears out of nowhere, her voice ringing in your ears – “They’re nice, but don’t abuse their generosity.” Your stomach grumbles, voicing its opinion so you settle on a compromise. “Um, there already seems to be plenty of food at the table and unless they’re for someone else…” “Are you sure? Mom felt homesick so she cooked all of those this morning. Although I doubt you’re familiar with Korean food – they can be a bit spicy. I know you don’t like spicy food.”

Your heart warms at the thought of him remembering the little things but then you recall how his mother made all those just because she felt homesick – your mom won’t even cook two dishes for dinner and Mrs. Jung is out here cooking a whole feast for no one in particular just because she wants to lift her spirits. “I don’t like spicy food but it doesn’t mean I can’t handle it,” you start “and I’m sure you mom’s cooking is lovely.”

“Breakfast it is then.”

You agree on Mrs. Jung’s specialty – her kimchi fried rice while Hoseok asks the lady for bibimbap. She nods curtly, returning to the kitchen to reheat the food. When the lady serves Hoseok the steaming bowl of his favorite dish, Hoseok consequently whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell them, but I like yours better.” He follows that with a roguish wink. You blink owlishly in return, unsure whether your cheeks are burning because of the steam from the bowl in front of you or because of Hoseok’s comment.

The lady serves Hoseok a steaming bowl of bibimbap, to which Hoseok consequently whispers in your ear, “Don’t worry I like yours better.”

;

Hoseok tiredly rubs at his eyes, deeming he’s done enough schoolwork for the day, taking a turn on his swivel chair. When you check the time displayed on the upper right corner of your laptop, it’s been three hours since breakfast with Hoseok. And, surprisingly, the amount of schoolwork you’ve done is twice as much as you achieve when you’re partnered with Nadia. You’ll have to rub this in her face on Monday.

Hoseok’s habits had prevailed over your cramming and you’re glad that time had passed in productivity. Then again, you had been too shy to open up about other topics when he’s right beside you, typing away furiously the whole time. When you take a glance on his screen, it seems like he’s already written a whole page while you’re stuck with a paragraph that screams disappointment.

“_______, you okay?” You hadn’t realized you’ve been staring at your paragraph of shame for so long.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Closing your laptop quickly before he gets a peek, you move your own chair away from his desk, stretching out your limbs. Suddenly, you feel an all-too-familiar ache in your lower abdomen and you panic, checking the mini calendar on Hoseok’s desk. Damn, how could you not have realized it’s the last week of the month? And on top of all that, you had to be in another person’s house of all days, wearing a bloody dress! (pun may or may not have been intended)

“Um, can I use your toilet for a minute?”

He looks your way and nods. You panic a little bit when his eyes never leave yours, ensuing a staring contest between the both of you. A beat passes and he shrugs at you, returning his attention to his phone.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding in your breath when he door finally clicks behind you. Twirling in your dress, you search for any stain. There’s a small one, perhaps a few inches long, the red taint an obvious contrast against your yellow dress.

Grabbing a roll of tissue nearby, you place a few sheets under the water until it’s wet enough. Hastily, you rub it against the stain until the tissue tears into pieces. You repeat the process, jumping in victory when the stain starts discoloring. You even squeeze a dollop of liquid soap on your dress in the hopes of making the stain go away.

All your efforts prove to be in vain when the stain doesn’t lighten any further than the very visible brownish spot at the back of your dress.

Your hands are turning red from all the scrubbing and your chest is heaving with painful, ragged breaths that come forth. The tissue breaks apart for the nth time now and you try to grab more sheets but your eyes are already blurry, wet, fat tears coating your cheeks.

God, you’re so fucking stupid. How could you not have foreseen something that happens to you on a monthly basis?! All the tell-tale signs were there: abdominal pains, ache, sensitivity… you feel yourself sliding down the wall in embarrassment, an unwanted loud sob escaping your lips.

You hear footsteps padding along the wooden floor of Hoseok’s bedroom. No, please. “________?” You don’t answer. You don’t want to answer. Another sob escapes your lips. “_______, I’m coming in, okay?”

Hoseok instantly crouches down when he sees you sitting on the floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You still don’t answer; instead, you look away as you fiddle with your fingers. “You know you can tell me anything right?” He adjusts his legs, now fully seated on the floor. You both stay there in silence, before Hoseok pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, he can’t see your face like this, what could’ve possibly made you so upset, so he just holds you there, his other hand blindly reaching your face to wipe at your cheeks.

Figuring there’s no other way out of this, you gather up your courage. “I-I am on my period…” Your voice is small, yet it reaches Hoseok’s hearing perfectly clear. He still doesn’t get what’s possibly made you cry while on your period. Some girls tend to be more emotional than usual, perhaps, head tilted to the side as he recalls his lessons on human anatomy.

You can practically feel the clogs in Hoseok’s head so you give him a little more detail. “On my back, there’s…something. And I don’t have any extra clothes – gosh, this is beyond embarrassing. You must think I’m gross” Hoseok finally catches on, body stiff at the realization. It wasn’t like he was disgusted (because that would be totally immature) but it was more of lack of knowledge on how to approach situations like these.

He asks if it’s okay for him to call Tita so you can tell her what you need but not before reminding you that such natural process of life was nothing to be ashamed of. “Besides, better late than pregnant, right?” He scurries away afterwards, informing you that he’s going to be picking a nice outfit for you because you’re both going out to meet his mother for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants.

;

You both decide to sit on a nearby bench as you wait. There’s room for at least four people yet Hoseok decides to sit right beside you, your thighs touching, the proximity not lost on you. Surprisingly enough, you don’t feel any awkwardness lingering around, instead, you feel more secured with him beside you like this. Both basking in comfortable silence, save the buzz of the people walking around, Hoseok notices an elderly couple stand close by and he stands abruptly, offering the seat to them. The old lady gushes over him and praises how courteous the young man was. Hoseok stands by your side and looks around the area while the same lady closes the distance between you two. “He’s a keeper,” she whispers, sending a wink your way. Opening your mouth to clarify that you two are just friends, a loud ring from Hoseok’s pocket startles you.

“Hi mom! Yeah, we just arrived…she’s here beside me…what? Okay hang on…” He pulls the phone away from his ear as he presses on the speaker button on the screen. “You’re on speaker now, mom.”

“Oh, hi! _________, sweetie are you there?”

“Hello Mrs. Jung!”

“Great. Um, I’m really sorry about this darling but I really really need to finish this meeting. Hopefully it’ll end in less than an hour though, I hope you don’t mind. I really wanted to take you kids out to lunch today, but if you’re really hungry you can go ahead…I’ve already made reservations at Samwon under Hobi’s name…”

Your eyes widen at her proposal, head shaking vigorously to say no. Surely, it’d be rude to not wait for the person offering you a free meal right? “I really don’t mind waiting Mrs. Jung. Besides, we’ve had plenty of your lovely kimchi fried rice this morning so…”

“Ah, it’s really nothing love, well, at least, if you compare it to my brother’s restaurant. But anyways, I have to get back to the meeting now. How ‘bout I’ll have Hobi treat you to some ice cream or froyo or a something to snack on while you wait, alright?”

“You really don’t have to Mrs. Jung!” Your protests fall into deaf ears.

“Oh shush, darling. Don’t worry about it! And please, call me Auntie from now on, alright?”

“O-okay auntie.” You’re unable to control the slight tremble in your voice from the pet names she’s used and on making her call you auntie. You’re even surprised that she even apologized for not being able to make it on time. Hoseok ends the call soon afterwards. “Come on, I’ll treat you to my favorite frozen yogurt.”

There’s a sudden increase of mall-goers so Hoseok’s hand reaches out to grab yours, another wave of electricity shoots up your arm. Jesus. You’re pretty sure you’re old enough to not lose him in a crowd like this, so all this hand holding isn’t exactly necessary. Not that you were complaining though. You just hope, this time, you’re reading the signs right. The last time this happened, you ended up heartbroken and friendless, and you weren’t willing to go through the same pain again – not with Hoseok who’s genuinely nice and smart, and all the good things you can think of.

You cling onto his hand nonetheless, the crowd increasing because of lunch time. On the bright side, with your heartrate rapidly increasing, you get to miss out on cardio.

Arriving at a small outlet with ‘Sour Sally’ written on top of the shop, Hoseok pulls out a chair for you to sit on while he ponders on the menu plastered on the wall. What in god’s name have you done in your past life for him to torture your poor heart like this. You gaze at Hoseok, he seems unperturbed by his actions while you on the other hand… you internally applaud yourself for maintaining such calm demeanor but in reality, there’s a raging turmoil of emotions inside your head.

Following where his eyes are glued at on the wall, you try to distract yourself from the dangers of a brooding crush. God, you can’t possibly like like him because he opened the door for you, or pull out a chair for you, right? Were you really this…deprived? Just thinking about it gives you a headache. But then again, Hoseok is everything every woman could ever ask for. He’s polite, funny, courteous, smart, and he absolutely adores his family. Admittedly, he’s fucking wealthy too on top of all that but you don’t stick around him because of his money. Then again, it’s the 21st century and life isn’t getting any easier. In case you have a family in the future, it would be nice to know you’re children will be secured for quite some time. Wait, why are you thinking about families in the first place??

You barely notice Hoseok waving a hand in front of you. “Hello? Earth to ______?” he chuckles, his brackets shining under the lighting. “Oh yeah sorry!” you squeak. “You’ve been spacing out since morning, you sure you’re okay?” He bends forward a little, your faces merely inches away from each other. “You know you can talk to me right?” Searching for any doubt in your eyes, he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

Fucking hell.

Does he even realize what he’s doing to you?! Your cheeks are practically on fire right now. You’re falling way too deep at an alarming pace. “You know you can talk to me right?” His words echo in your presently empty brain now, unable to think about anything rational. How are you supposed to talk to him when it’s him you want to talk about?

“Do you want anything from the menu? I’d personally recommend my own usual, but I’m really not sure about your froyo preferences…”

“Um don’t they have anything smaller than these?” you ask, pointing to the cups display for size references. “Nope, none really. I guess we can share if you don’t mind, I’ll just get one of the bigger sizes…”

“Good enough for me.”

“You have any particular flavor or topping in mind?”

“I really haven’t been to this place. So I guess I’ll have what you have.” You reach for your purse, grabbing cash amounting to half of the frozen yogurt. “What are you doing?” Hoseok points to the bills you’re holding. “Um, paying for my half?” The boy in front of you shakes his head in refusal, pushing the money towards you.

“It’s on me, _______. No more arguments. Consider this a da-“ Hoseok chokes on his own saliva purposefully, unableto finish his sentence. “A-a day in your cycle right? Don’t girls usually eat ice cream when its that time of the month? I mean this isn’t exactly ice cream, but it’s still frozen right? Ha ha ha. Okay, I’ll just place an order now.” He turns around abruptly, feet quickly moving towards the counter.

Rendered speechless, you just nod in reply. Seconds after he left, you’re still nodding thinking about what just transpired moments ago. He couldn’t have meant it as a date, did he? He did point out about Aunt Flo making a visit today. Perhaps, he meant dare? Who knows if he had been dared to treat someone out? You know you’re blindly grasping at straws here so you just try to divert your attention, and of course, you fail miserably at that as well.

Hoseok takes his wallet from his back pocket and hands a black card to the register. With a few nods, the staff swipes the card through the payment terminal and hands it back to Hoseok. ‘Sugar daddy Hoseok. What a fucking sight.’ Your shoulder devil whispers, drawling out every syllable like her final words. She has your shoulder angel in a headlock, arms flapping around attempting to remove the vice-like grip on her neck.

Thankfully, you manage to get ahold of yourself before Hoseok returns with a large cup with two spoons on either side. “This is the best froyo ever!!” He exclaims, buzzing with excitement. You oblige when he tells you to take the first scoop. You’ve only had the dessert once before this and after that incident, you were totally unwilling to have it for a second time. The first froyo you had was so bad which pretty much clouded over any positive review the dessert had.

Surprisingly enough, Sour Sally’s wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, it looked unappealing at first with the amount of toppings Hoseok included but you reckon it wasn’t so bad after all, plus it looked like a healthier option than ice cream. Hoseok chuckles at your sudden interest and takes his phone out, pretending to respond to someone’s message but he quickly presses on the camera button, snapping a photo of you enjoying the frozen dessert.

He smiles when he goes over the photo, saving it as his home wallpaper.

;

Once you finish the final scoop of the yogurt, Hoseok asks if you can both visit a store he’s been meaning to drop by. There’s really nothing else you wanted to do anyways so you say ‘yes’, resulting to Hoseok excitedly clapping as you exit Sour Sally’s.

You both walk towards the opposite end of the mall, the area prominently less crowded than where you came from. You don’t wonder why. You just passed by Gucci, Versace, and Louis Vuitton on your way and now you’re greeted by Hermes, Alexander McQueen, and Balenciaga when you rounded the corner. You’re not even surprised at this point. In fact, when he told you that he wanted to shop for new shoes, you had already expected this was where you were heading when he made you wear a full Chanel two-piece ensemble that his sister “barely” wears.

Hoseok makes a beeline to Balenciaga. Of course - the boy was basically its brand ambassador. When you enter, some of the staff greet him by his name. “Mr. Hoseok, welcome back!” They astonishingly greet you with the same level of enthusiasm with Hoseok. You figure it’s probably courtesy of Hoseok’s fashion choices. He tells you to look around while he approaches someone who looks like the store manager.

The manager and Hoseok already seem to share the same brainwave and without talking, the former leads to Hoseok to a corner where the sneakers are displayed. Realizing you were probably looked awkward, standing stiffly by a display, you let your feet move you around, stopping to look at a few hung clothes.

While carding through the clothes, you discreetly check the price tags, your stomach dropping every time. 1,500 dollars for a bloody jacket?! They had gold sewn into the denim perhaps? Or diamond - encrusted collars? A girl’s voice startles you from your supposedly ‘discreet’ inspection. “Can I help you with anything, miss?”

“Oh, I’m just looking. It’s my friend who’s doing the shopping.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not sure if I should be doing this, but you seem so nice and approachable compared to the other girls that usually visit our shop… I really like your outfit and I think you and Mr. Hoseok look really cute together,” she squeaks before walking away to tidy a few displays. When she meets your eyes again, you send her a small smile and you see a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

You hear Hoseok call you over, colossal shoes occupying both his hands. “Which colorway should I pick?” You do a double take at the pairs he’s holding up. They honestly looked like a stack of pancakes that toppled over. Undoubtedly, they definitely looked striking, like a rebellious fashion statement. He holds up his left hands, clutching onto a brown pair with shades of blue and red and his other hand holding another with hues of green and white.

Choosing the one on his left hand, Hoseok nods in agreement mumbling something about how great minds think alike. He tells the manager to get him one in his size. The manager complies and, in the meantime, Hoseok brings you to a display near the one you were checking out earlier. He asks you to help him pick out an outfit to go with the shoes. It doesn’t take much for Hoseok to decide on choosing the clothes. You tell him your honest opinion that he would literally look good in anything, resulting in a rosy-cheeked Hoseok heading to the register to check out his items.

Soon after Hoseok collects his purchases, his phone dings, so he puts down the three bags before fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Mom says she’ll be there in five. Shall we?”

Three floors and a long walk back to another of the mall’s annexes later, you finally arrive at Samwon Garden. “Hi. We have a reservation under Hoseok Jung.” The maître d goes over the list, brows soon furrowing in confusion. “I’m really sorry Sir, but the table reserved for you had been given to another customer an hour ago. We only allow an extra of fifteen minutes when your name gets called. If you’d like, I can write your name on the list again, but that would probably take another thirty minutes before you get seated.”

“Oh, really? I guess…”

“Mr. Hoseok!” A man in a suit approaches you with hurried steps. “Mr. Hoseok,” he repeats with a breathy laugh. “I truly apologize for that. Please come with me, your private room is ready.” The man lets you take a few steps forward as he momentarily stays with the maître d. “That’s not how you treat the nephew of the owner of this restaurant, unless you want to lose your job today.” He whispers harshly, and your eyes widen. You’re unsure if Hoseok heard that but he seems too preoccupied with the other staff that welcome him to the restaurant.

The manager rushes forward after scolding the maître d. He offers to carry Hoseok’s shopping bags and leads you two to a secluded area. “Your food is already being prepared Sir,” he bows, setting the bags down and pulling out the chairs. “Is there anything I can get you miss?”

“A glass of water would be nice, please.” “Of course, Ma’am. Would you please excuse me.”

Hoseok’s mother arrive a few minutes later. Once again, she apologizes for making you wait. The three of you don’t waste any more time, going straight to eating. “I love your outfit, dearie,” Mrs. Jung compliments, flipping the searing meat on the grill. “Um Hobi actually made me wear this.” Confused, she looks at her son for an explanation. “She uhh…Her um…she had to change, lady problems…” Her mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization, thankfully picking up quickly. “Are you okay sweetheart? Do you take painkillers? They have great ice cream here; I’ll have it served for dessert later.”

She bombards you with questions that you don’t get the chance to answer all of them. You assure her though that you’re fine, that Hoseok has helped you plenty earlier this morning. She beams at her son, even teasing him that he’ll be the best boyfriend any girl could ever wish for. Hoseok turns crimson at his mom’s teasing, stealing the slice of meat she’s been cooking as revenge.

The three of you continue eating and sharing stories like that for almost an hour. For the most part, she’s mainly told you of Hoseok’s most embarrassing moments, sharing at least ten years’ worth of blackmail content. Hoseok, who’s sat beside you the whole time continues to crumble in his seat with every story. Your stomach was aching so much, both from laughing and eating. After the ice cream dessert Mrs. Jung promised you, she calls for the bill. Trying to stop your eyes from bulging out of their sockets, you look away from the receipt – 400 dollars staring back at you in big, bold numbers on the narrow sheet of paper. You wanted to cry.

Mrs. Jung says she doesn’t intend to stay any longer for she has another meeting to attend to today so she leaves you both with a kiss on the cheek and a reminder to drive back home safely. “Shit, I think I ate too much!” Hoseok sighs, rubbing at his tummy and letting out a loud burp in the process. Both of you stare at each other for a second before bursting into peals of laughter.

Yours seem to die down far longer than Hoseok’s and he takes the time to truly take youin today. He was nervous for the most part, that he had to admit. He tossed and turned in his bed last night, seemingly unable to sleep when the thought of you coming over has preoccupied his mind. He’s even tried drinking two glasses of warm milk, read a chapter from his history book, and in complete desperation, he’s even counted sheep, literally. It doesn’t help either that he woke up incredibly early today, only acquiring three hours of sleep the previous night.

He’s cleaned his room when he came home from practice yesterday and he’s cleaned it again this morning, not that his room needed cleaning anyways. He also asked his mom if she could help him cook breakfast this morning to which she happily agreed. So, the whole ‘homesick’ thing was only half a lie. Well, it was because she was homesick that she made way too much, but the idea was initially Hoseok’s.

He wasn’t supposed to drag you to breakfast that morning but the treacherous grumble of your stomach told him you were still hungry so he held your hand and showed you around the kitchen, asking you what kind of breakfast you’d prefer. Hoseok particularly enjoyed having your hand in his and he knew he was talking too much earlier that day but he had to divert his attention to prevent his hand from trembling.

When he heard you sniffle in the toilet earlier, he panicked; worried that something might have happened to you out of the blue. You wouldn’t take your eyes off the floor from embarrassment and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around yours. It wrenched his heart to see you sob like that, so he just kept you close until you finally told him your dilemma.  

He totally understood that it was a natural occurrence for girls and even reassured you that it was totally nothing to be embarrassed about. He didn’t ask you for any word after that, immediately sending one of their house helpers to help you out. He didn’t have the guts to go through his sister’s toiletries so he left that dilemma with someone who could handle the situation better aka Tita. He did pick out an outfit for you to wear though, going through endless hangers of Dawon’s clothes.

Picking something comfortable and warm, he pulls out this Chanel turquoise wool tweed two-piece and a white top to go under the blazer. ‘This’ll probably look cute on her,’ he thinks, carrying the set to Dawon’s beloved vanity mirror and spraying an adequate amount of her Estee Lauder perfume all over the clothes. When he grabbed the ensemble, he was thinking something along the lines of a fluffy-cute-girlfriend style going on but when you came out of the bathroom, he found it impossible to take his eyes off you.

Turns out, the white top he gave you was a crop top, the garment exposing a little bit of your midriff. And those shorts! Jesus! He’d taken a mental note to spoil you with Chanel if…when you become his. He’s already seen you in shorts during practice before but he really didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty of it all. Your skin contrasts beautifully against the bluish-green wool, and it’s hem is enough to display your toned thighs and calves in all its glory. Years of tennis had definitely done you well.

He turns away, internally scolding himself for his behavior. He feels sick for having perved on you like that, pushing away all the indecent thoughts before they consume him whole.

His heart was soaring the whole time you sat next to him inside the car, the whole scene making him giddy. You were quiet at first, Hoseok being able to steal glances during red lights. Moments later, when Celine Dion came in the radio you were belting out the lyrics to “My Heart Will Go On” with notes he’s never heard before. The boy even pulled over just to capture this iconic moment with his phone, not long before you goad him to join you as you both scream like lunatics inside the vehicle. His voice teacher will be disappointed, surely, but it all worth it just to see you this happy.

Hoseok knew he was falling in deep. Being with you just felt…right. Even with you doing the most mundane of tasks, he found you incredibly endearing. It was driving him close to madness. He wanted to ask you to be his, to make him the happiest guy on earth, for the rest of his life. Most times it felt like he was crazy for thinking about this while you both still had a life ahead of you - that it was too serious to think about for a teenager, but then he ponders on his cousin’s wise words. “What’s the point of being in a relationship if it’s not going to end in a wedding?”

“What are you thinking about Hobi?” you question, putting him out of his thoughts.

It was your turn to ask him this time as you can’t tell why been staring at you for the past minute. “Nothing,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “Ah! Which reminds me, wanna check out the new laser tag place they opened last week?” You’re unsure about this, after having eaten like a starved caveman, but with Hobi looking at you with a pout, you can’t say no.

“Come on,” you give in. “We gotta burn everything we ate for lunch!”

[tessxomarie]

Saving You - Part I

*Hi everyone! First, I need to shoutout @hellosupernaturaldoctor​  for giving me advice and the confidence to even attempt this. This is my very first time writing any fan-fiction and the first time I’ve decided to post any of my writing some place other than a word doc. I’ve had this idea for this story since mid-season of the Mayans, and after the finale I put all my thoughts into a story. It starts off slow, but I promise what I have in store next will be worth it! PS, Any feedback is appreciated! - This story takes place a few months after the season one finale. Ez is now a newly patched in member, Alvarez is still working for Galindo; things have been quiet as of late, well for the most part.*

It’s a Friday afternoon, I’m just getting off of work. It’s hot as fuck outside – guess that’s the price you pay when you live in the desert. I lazily gather my purse from the backroom, before I step foot outside, I redo my hair. What was once a cute pony tail this morning has turned into a mangled mess. As my luck would have it, my hair tie snaps as soon as I go to wrap it around a third time. “Fuck.” I mumble to myself. I always wear an extra hair tie on my wrist, but I cannot have a naked wrist. “Fine, a mangled mane I will have. It’s fine, it’s fine.” I whisper to myself. If I don’t leave here now, I will lose all sanity I have left. Man, what a shit show day today has been, this heat must be getting to the kids. Two broken wrists, a broken arm, a no helmet incident and a random summer cold. I didn’t get puked or shit on, and no kid attempted to kick or hit, so I call today’s shit show a success. Just as I’m about to leave, one of my co-workers stops me, “Leah, good work today. You kept that broken arm kid really calm. Keep it up.” Elena tells me with a smile. “Thanks, Elena. I’m just doing my job, but I always welcome feedback, so thanks again.” I say to her as I head out the back door. It’s 4:30pm, I’ve been on the clock since 6am, one would think I deserve to simply go home and use my complex’s pool – oh one can dream. But nope, I’m still on the clock but I guess you could call this gig more of an always “on-call” service.

I pull up in my old school blacked out Jeep Grand Cherokee about twenty minutes after I leave the clinic to the Romeo Brothers Scrapyard, also known as the headquarters for the Mayans MC.  

Chucky greets me, per usual. “Greetings Nurse Aleeah.” He says to me with a big smile and a salute. I let out a giggle as I always do whenever someone says my full name…I rarely ever go by it, but around here, I hear it more than I have in years. But Chucky, oh Chucky– how does one describe a chronic masturbator who has a good heart and is part of the biker world without truly being a biker? I guess I just did, didn’t I? “Hey Chucky, how are you?” I ask as I park and exit my Jeep. “I am well, swell actually. I have no complaints today.” Chucky answers with a big smile. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” I say as I give his arm a friendly squeeze. “The boys need your assistance, I don’t know details but clearly someone got messed up hence why you are here.” Chucky explains in typical Chucky fashion.I roll my eyes as I stand in front of the clubhouse. “It’s always something with these boys, huh?” I rhetorically ask. Chucky nods his head and heads back to the office. I walk up the steps and take a deep breath before I enter the clubhouse. This club is like a box of chocolates, you never know what the fuck you’re going to get so it’s best you just grin and bear it. Is it just a cut from a broken beer bottle? Did a fight break out and there is blood everywhere? A bullet wound? A stabbing wound? A rat bite? Like I said, you just never know. I open the doors and pray today is nothing major. “Have no fear, your favorite RN is here.” I announce as I enter the clubhouse and strike a pose in the doorway.  “Umm, isn’t it RN BSN?” Riz corrects as he stands and greets me. “Have I told you that you’re my favorite?” I reply with a playful wink and smile, it does make me truly happy that these guys acknowledge and are proud of my accomplishments. “Hola Aleeah.” Riz says to me while we greet with a warm hug, per usual. “Hey, I spy my favorite nurse!” Gilly shouts from across the room. Creeper, Hank and Taza also wave from the card table. “Greetings gentlemen, you all seem to be in one piece.” I say as I mosey around the few tables between me and the guys. “Although that pleases me, who is the one who called up 1-800-Rescue Nurse?” I sarcastically spit, which receives some laughs from the guys. “They’re in church.” Hank points towards the door. “They? Plural?” I ask looking at Riz, and he nods to confirm. “Jesus Christ.” I say palming my face. “Lee Baby!” Coco shouts from exiting church and walking over to me with open arms. “Ah, Coco Loco.” I reply with a smile and we hug. “How are you doing, Coco?” I ask after we break our embrace. “A lot better than your next two victims.” He replies, him not making much eye contact and that just gives it away – I know automatically who my victims are. “You gotta be kidding me? They got into it again?!” All Coco does is nod and look down at the floor. “How bad?” I ask. “What do you mean? How bad do they look? Or how bad is it between them?” Coco asks me. I shake my head with disgrace. I angrily take my steps towards church and I aggressively open the door. “Damn, she is pissed.” I hear Creeper’s echo as I close the door, as soon I enter the room. Looking at the table, I see them. One is at one end, the other one on the opposite end. I drop my nurse’s bag on the table and cross my arms. “You two have some damn nerve - getting into it again. Jesus. You’re fucking brothers, you are blood – blood don’t do this shit.” I yell with anger and confusion. Silence fills the air as the guys look at each other and up at me. Bishop then looks over to me and quirks an eyebrow and half smile. “Excuse my poor manners, Bish. Your boys tend to make me lose all sanity I have left at the end of a work week.” I tell him as I walk over and give him a warm embrace. “Oh Leah, you’re fine. I know this shit has been out of control recently.” Bishop pauses and looks over to the guys. He takes a deep breath. “I’ll let you handle them now. I’ll be outside if you need a referee.” Bishop exits and I just stand there, crossed arms again. Both boys refuse to look me in the eye, but instead stare each other down. “Are you just going to stand there?” Angel seethes. I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Give me one good reason as to why I should fix the both of you up? Huh? Because as I see it, this is the fourth time this month…THIS MONTH!  Angel, please, humor me and explain to me why the fuck I should tend to your wounds yet again? Maybe if I let you both be, you’ll learn these fights aren’t worth it.” I take a deep breath myself, and I run my hand through my tangled hair, which I then end up putting up in a pony tail right after, I’ll just have to remember to find another hair tie to wear on my wrist later.   “Alright, I’m sorry I went off. You two, you two just frustrate me.” I say holding my hands up mimicking a surrender. I take another breath and look between the boys. My gaze is drawn to EZ, probably because he’s the easier one out of the two. “Okay, EZ, I see that nasty cut on your cheek, oh and your hand – good going big brother.” I say as I look over to Angel. He looks away the moment I look his way. “Shocker, EZ gets to be first yet again.” Angel chirps. “Seriously?” I snap. “I’m over here fucking bleeding, I could be dying but all you and anyone ever cares about is Ezekiel.”   “Shut it Angel, just shut it, please.” I beg. I start to tend to EZ’s war wounds; some cuts, a nasty one on his cheek – I’m guessing Angel’s rings got the best of him this time around. EZ, he doesn’t say much this time I’m here. I know that he feels the same way as me – he’s tired of this back and forth shit with his brother. “EZ, no more. It’s one thing when you all call me to take a bullet out, or to give a rabies shot, but this shit – playground fights, I’m done.” I explain as I place the last bandage strip to his cheek. EZ doesn’t make eye contact, and his jaw is clenched. His knees shaking. “I know, Lee. I’m sorry you’re doing this again.” EZ tells me as he finally meets my eyes for the first time. EZ, he’s easy to read. He wears his emotions in his eyes, his eyes right now are filled with pain and sadness. This whole feud with Angel, it’s taken a toll on everyone in this club. It’s been almost eight months of this fuckery. “Remove the bandage Sunday night, it needs about 48 hours to heal. If you feel the need to remove it beforehand, clean it thoroughly. Have some of your favorite tequila tonight, and you will be good.” I tell EZ as I throw away the things I used to care for him. “Thanks, Lee.” He says as he kisses me on the cheek and walks somberly out of church. My heart aches for EZ, because the pain – physical and emotional is all over his face and body. Angel hasn’t taken his eyes off of the wall nor has he spoken. I slide my bag down the table as I slowly make my way towards him. Rubber gloves are on, and I grab his face. “Let’s see your damage.” I say, like a dog would when a human goes to check their mouth for something, Angel gives me a little tension as I touch his face. Again, no eye contact. A look of annoyance screams from his expression. I see a nasty cut on the side of his head, by his eye – a sensitive area which bleeds more than most. A black eye is also forming. “Jesus Christ, Angel.” I say examining the cut a little further. “This has to stop. I’m begging. I cannot deal with looking at you two like this, because my fear is that one day, I’m going to be too late to help any of you.” “What if it is?” He spews. I scoff, “No more.” Is all I manage to say. I take out an alcohol swab to clean out his cut. “This is going to sting, on the count of three – one, two, three.” I say as I then put the swab against the cut. A loud hiss comes from Angel and an instant reaction of mine is to grab his face and blow lightly at the cut, helping the sting not be so painful. Angel’s eyes then lock with mine, a look of shock and confusion fill his brown eyes. Angel and I, we’ve had a very interesting relationship since I first came to Santo Padre. He gave me an attitude and I gave it right back – he seemed more pissed off when I talked back than just walking away, and the more I talked back, the more tension built up between us. We started out on the wrong foot, and that’s how we have remained. He lets me care for him, depending on the time of day. Sometimes he lets his girlfriend, well I think she’s his girlfriend, Adelita, clean him up. Today, for whatever reason, he stuck around the clubhouse. I continue to blow on his wound, and I wince back in pain for him because I know it had to sting like a bitch. “Uhh, sorry. It’s a habit of mine, when I treat the kids, I have to do this; they hate it too, so that technique helps them...” I ramble and look away because I sense a bit of embarrassment, as I’ve never been “nice” to Angel. I look and reach back at the table to grab what I need next, just as I turn to face Angel again, I notice a very small smile on his face. “What?” I question, because seeing him smile legit concerns me. “It’s nothing, Leah.” He says monotone and lets me continue working on him. A few more minutes go by, and I determine that he doesn’t need any stitches, just a little butterfly work on one of his eyebrows. “Okay, that’s all. No stitches today, that cut on the side of your face, it’s a sensitive area that bleeds more than most. Your eyebrow cut, it’s an awkward cut – it’s ugly but not ugly enough for stitches. My only request is when you clean it out, could you please use both water and soap?” I emphasize. I know how these guys operate. They either use a dirty rag or tap water to clean themselves up. I turn to clean up my stuff and Angel lets out a minor laugh, which catches me off guard. I look at him and quirk an inquisitive look. Angel stands up, he turns behind his chair and lightly pounds his fist to the back of it. “You sounded just like my ma.” He tells me, in the softest voice I have ever heard Angel speak in. I offer him a small smile as I already know what that history is. Angel leaves church, and per usual no other words are spoken, no thank you’s, nothing. I stay behind a few more moments and collect my thoughts and belongings. I hear the door open, at first I’m startled but relieved it’s just Bishop. “How we doin’, sweetheart?” He asks. I let out a very deep sigh and my facial expression tells my feelings of this whole ordeal. Bishop can’t help but laugh, “I know, Lee. I know.” He tells me as he pulls me in for a hug. “I just need to go home and lay in bed and watch a trashy romcom.” I exclaim as I grab my bag. “I think you’ve deserved that, but before you go – you have a visitor.” He tells me. A look of a deer in the head-lights flashes across my face, who the hell could be visiting me? “Just come with me.” Bishop motions for me to take his hand and follow him. Nerves take over, with the Club, you never know what can happen. As I exit the room, I see the guys scattered all over the clubhouse yet all eyes are on me. “Your visitor is the biggest pain in my ass, so make it quick.” Bishop says, but I catch his playfulness I his voice and I look to the bar and I see who Bishop is talking about – Marcus Alvarez.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

chapter 11.5 -- okay, 12, it’s chapter 12, fine, fine. I should stop trying to predict how long my chapters will be. I’m always wrong. the Fae AU keeps escaping all my predictions. it’s fine. it’s cool. 

[Beginning] [Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

It is not, as Apollo expects, the worst road trip he has ever been a part of. Trucy likes to sing along to the radio – she has a surprisingly good voice – which stops Clay from starting up his usual road trip tradition of bellowing out “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and seeing how much he can get through before someone slaps him. Trucy claimed shotgun, as “the woman with the magic map”, meaning Apollo is shunted to the back with Ema, who upends her bag on the floor to pull from it a jumbo-sized pack of Snackoos and offer a handful to him.

“None for us?” Clay asks, pouting in the rearview mirror.

“Backseat privileges,” Ema replies.

Trucy cranks the radio up as a familiar guitar riff begins.

If it’s extortion, it works; she and Clay have not finished the first verse, Trucy’s almost-operatic interpretation running up against Clay’s off-key warbling, before Ema is shoving the Snackoos up between their seats, offering a trade of chocolates for an end to the car-vibrating force of Guilty Love.

“Not a fan?” Clay asks.

Ema groans. So does Trucy. “Don’t get me started,” Ema says.

“Yeah, please don’t,” Trucy adds.

“He’s a pretentious fuckin’ diva who—”

Trucy begins yelling out the chorus to the song over the second verse emitting from the radio.

They are all still arguing – Ema berating Clay’s taste in music while Trucy moves into an attempt to sing My Boyfriend is the Prosecution’s Witness to the tune of Guilty Love and Apollo tries to turn the volatile atmosphere anywhere else – when the song ends. Trucy shushes everyone, violently, smacking Clay on the arm and then flailing back at Ema, and turns up the radio. A DJ is in the middle of saying something.

“—announced today on their social media. While fans are disappointed, no one can say that the break-up comes as a surprise, after the sentencing of guitarist Daryan Crescend for murder in July, and the three months of, ahem, radio silence that’s followed. And earlier this week, leader singer Klavier Gavin’s brother was indicted on a second count of murder – I can’t say I blame him for maybe wanting to duck out of the spotlight. Gavin’s brother was previously charged in April, for—”

Trucy changes the channel. A commercial for a local furniture outlet doesn’t help break the awkward spell fallen over them. “Yeah,” she says, after a full minute, during which time they discover their new channel is a country music channel. “No real surprise.”

“Brother and bandmate,” Clay says quietly. “Hell of a year.”

“Hell of a six months,” Apollo says. And he was there for all of it – he was there for more of it than Klavier ever was. Klavier wasn’t there in April, not when Kristoph fell, not when any of them could have had any idea what was ahead. How much magic would surround them.

“If my older sister had been convicted of murder, I was gonna crawl into the dirt and die,” Ema says, “so I’m with the fop on that one, actually.”

There is a worrying lack of hypotheticals in the second half of Ema’s scenario. No “would have”s. Like she was where Klavier is, but the trial had a different outcome, and the frozen expression on her face, her eyes gone blank, she looks like she has caught up with her own words. Said too much. Apollo doesn’t know much about her as a person, her life before failing the forensics exam, how it was that she knew Mr Wright, but he can sympathize with that fear of having given away too much, turned the conversation down a path that should stay blocked off.

“You have a sister?” Trucy asks, turning around in her seat. “You seemed kinda ‘only-child’ to me.’ “Yeah,” Ema says quietly. “Older sister. Her name’s Lana. We don’t… talk much.”

Apollo doesn’t know why the name feels like it strikes something in his brain, the way Ema’s did when she first introduced herself.

“Oh.” Trucy visibly wilts. “Sorry.”

Ema shrugs, slumping back against her seat, her arms folded. “It happens,” she says. Her eyes are glazed over, settled in Clay’s direction. Her mouth quirks in the beginnings of a smile. “She took me to the Space Museum once, not long after it first opened.” The wistful smile has grown a little larger. “Back when I didn’t know what kind of scientist I wanted to be, so I wanted to go everywhere, and she was like ‘Ema I’m not taking you to the fucking tar pits again, how about space?’, and—” She shakes her head. “Sorry. Your jacket got me thinking. Do you work there or something?”

And that is the question that Clay most likes to be asked, that or literally anything else ever about space, and that is the end of any of them getting a word in edgewise – but while Apollo’s heard it all before, Trucy has questions galore, and Ema sits forward, slowly losing the pretense of not being enraptured.

-

They have driven for over two hours by the time Trucy directs them to pull of the highway at an exit that tells them there is nothing for them that way but another 38 miles until Kurain Village. “Is that where the Fair Folk live?” Ema asks dryly, in her voice none of the nervousness that people tend to have. Apollo hasn’t spoken much with her about magic, doesn’t know what she thinks – but, well, she knows Phoenix. That’s clue enough that caution comes secondary.

“Not really,” Trucy says. “They just named it that. It’s part of our world. Sometimes some of the fae do show up and hang around, I think – Maya tried to convince Daddy to move out here, once, apparently, but he wouldn’t leave the office.”

“Who’s Maya?” Apollo asks. Sometimes he realizes how little he knows about Phoenix’s personal life, too.

“Daddy’s friend. She’s – wait, stop! Here! Turn down this road here!”

“This is not a road,” Clay says, hunching over the steering wheel. “This is some dirt, off the road, not even in the shape of a dirt road.”

The car groans as Clay turns it off of the asphalt into the dirt. Trucy pops open the door and stands, holding herself between the door and the car roof and turning her face to the sky and the no-longer-distant mountains looming above them. She says something, muffled, and points into the trees. “We’re close,” she says, ducking back inside the car. “Let’s park and go – we’re close.”

“Park right here?” Clay asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Barely anyone comes this way,” Trucy says. “Like, one bus, except I’m not even sure if this is on its route. It’s fine.”

“I’m more worried that this is some sort of sacred ground that we’re stomping on,” Clay says, but he turns the key and then smacks his head against the top of the wheel. “How much are we going to regret just walking out there?”

“Probably we won’t,” Trucy says. She flings the door open and jumps out, stretching her arms up into the air. “C’mon already!”

“So what are we doing now?” Ema asks, crumpling the Snackoos bag back into her bag and tumbling forth from the car like a liquid spilled. “Just walking into the woods until we find treasure or a bear?”

“We do have a map.” Trucy waves it at her. “But yes. That’s what we’re doing.” She lowers the page halfway to her side and then stops, tilting her head back. “I’ve been here before,” she says. “Grandpappy and I – sometime – sometime after my mom died.” She takes a few slow steps toward the treeline, her movements uneven, as in a daze. “It was just the two of us. And we came here, and we buried—” She spins around, eyes wide, looking at all and none of them. “We buried his grimoire.”

Without another word of warning, she dashes into the woods, sending them scrambling to catch up to her. It’s colder here than in the city, though Apollo didn’t think they went up too far in elevation. Leaves thickly coat the ground; do they hide rings of flowers beneath them or do those in their magic break through? They finally reach Trucy when she, focused on her map, walks straight into a tree and takes some time to properly reorient herself.

“Do you know why here, of all places?” Apollo asks. “Is it because of the mountains, and he was…?”

He stops. Does Trucy know what her grandfather was? Phoenix didn’t say. Of course he didn’t.

“He said this is where he landed,” Trucy replies, crunching a leaf beneath her foot. “He said he fell, and this is where he landed.”

“Was he—” Clay’s sense, that question that they all know they shouldn’t ask, that question that Apollo has asked again and again anyway, wars against curiosity, against more than wanting to know – needing to know, to understand what is Trucy’s family. “Was he, erm, one of – Them?”

He can’t even bring himself to offer up one of the epithets. This close to the mountains, Apollo isn’t sure that he could bring himself to speak of them plainly like he has learned to.

“Yeah,” Trucy says. “But I’m human. Don’t worry.” She flashes a grin, one of her usual grins, but it is tempered by the speed with which is vanishes from her face again, replaced by a frown of concentration. “I think we must be close, but not quite yet.”

“Hey, Trucy?” Ema asks. She pushes a branch out of the way and it snaps back to nearly strike Clay in the face. “Not to pry, but – if your grandfather was one of the Fair Folk, are you the changeling, or was it your mother?”

Trucy stops.

“Wait,” Ema says. “Not a changeling – that’s the fae child. The human kid, the one swapped out. Is there a word for that?”

“I don’t think so,” Trucy says. She hops over a log. “I don’t think there’s a name for people like that.”

She doesn’t answer the first question. Maybe she doesn’t know, either.

“When you say you buried it,” Apollo says, aware that there is nothing subtle about this lifeline he is throwing to pull her away from questions best left avoided (am I a child stolen away, raised by the fae? Did they take me from the life I should have had?), “have we come all this way to be foiled for want of a shovel?”

“Oh fuck,” Trucy says.

“Hey!” Ema barks, her sharp rebuke the manifestation of that urge Apollo feels to scold her for that. “Language, young missy!” She folds her arms across her chest, her glare a fond one. “Where did you learn that?”

“My daddy’s a card shark,” Trucy says, countering Ema with a smug grin of her own.

“I thought he was a piano player,” Clay says.

“Only because you’ve never heard him play,” Trucy replies. “Easy mistake to make.”

“Considering it was all magic that hid the map,” Ema says, with nary a pause to acclimate everyone to the idea of throwing the conversation back past that latest sharp turn, “wouldn’t it be magic to hide it again, logically speaking?”

“Where’s the logic here?” Clay asks. Ema snaps a twig off a bush and flicks it at him. “And I mean, if it’s just covered up with some illusion, couldn’t anyone stumble into it?”

“Maybe it takes the map, too,” Apollo says. “Or maybe only a Gramarye can unveil it.”

He steps up onto a tree stump, like the extra five inches can grant him some kind of special insight or a better view in the forest of brown. Then he is falling, the wood rot giving way beneath his foot, a sharp jolt running up his leg from the twist of his foot. “Shit!”

Trucy winces. “Ouch. Poor Polly. I—”

“Apollo,” Ema says, very seriously, but somewhat muffled by her hand over her mouth. “Move. Move right now.”

“What?” He sits up, dislodging his foot from the stump, and looks about himself. The forest floor of dead leaves has cleared, as though by a strong, concentrated wind, revealing browned dead grass encased by a perfect circle of blue flowers. “Oh. Oh shit.”

Without an ounce of grace, still on his hands and knees, he scrambles and rolls his way out of the faery ring. “So according to the map,” Trucy says, and above his head Apollo hears the flutter of the paper, “I think we found it.”

“Only a Gramarye, huh,” Clay says dryly.

“That was only supposition!”

“So who’s gonna stick their hand in a rotten tree stump?” Ema asks, producing a flashlight from her bag and shining the beam down into it. “I volunteer Trucy, because she’s wearing gloves, and is our Gramarye.”

Trucy kicks up the leaves on her approach, searching for hints of another ring around the stump, more than just Apollo’s that sits adjacent to it. “If I get bit by a squirrel and get rabies and die, it’s your fault,” she says, kneeling down next to the stump and brushing her hair back to peer down into it.

“Statistically, your chance of getting rabies from a squirrel is negligible,” Ema says. “That shouldn’t be your worry.”

“What should I worry about, then?” Trucy asks. “Can you bring the light a little closer?”

“Bats, racoons, foxes, feral cats and dogs, and right now, probably non-rabies Fair Folk curses, since we’re fucking around by a ring.”

“I’m still concerned about bears,” Clay says.

“I’m not,” Ema says. “I’ve already got my plan, which is to trip you into its path.”

“General ‘you’, or me, specifically?”

“You specifically. Nothing personal, though. I just know Trucy and Apollo better than you.”

“This is way heavier than I thought,” Trucy says, falling off-balance and dropping something dark and rectangular. “Oof! Okay. Okay. We got it!” She lifts it up onto her knees, a thick book with a black cover and a character emblazoned in flowing purple script on it. “I knew I remembered this.” Her voice is quieter as she opens the book and flips through the rough-edged pages. “Grandpappy’s grimoire.” She closes the cover again, reverently, and keeps it balanced on her legs as she turns back to the stump. “Light again, please. I thought I saw something else.” Trucy has her head nearly in the hole, which can’t help her with her light situation, and she sits back and plunges her hand in again. “Yep! This is a – a funny-looking magatama?”

She holds it up, the blue stone sparkling in the flashlight beam, but also seemingly with its own interior glow, and Apollo gasps.

Three sets of eyes turn to him.

“That’s a mitamah,” he says, and to his own ears he sounds like he’s choking, but he feels like he’s choking too, and maybe the others don’t notice but he doubts it. “That’s someone’s soul.”

Trucy drops it into the leaves.

“What?” Clay looks suspicious – Trucy looks horrified. “How do you know?”

(“There’s no reason to give away your soul,” Dhurke told them, sternly, the sternest he ever got. “Never.” And then they tried to argue, to come up with reasons, because of course they did, and he hugged them both close. “You’ll make great lawyers someday, always looking for reasons and other ways, but this one – promise me. Nahyuta. Apollo.” He prodded each of them in the chest. “Don’t let someone else get their hands on your soul.”)

“The tail of it is different.” Apollo picks it up, brushing off the dirt and leaf particles that cling to it, and points to the longer, squiggling protrusion that extends from the loop. It doesn’t fully connect like a magatama, either, more like a hook than a circle.

It feels warm in his hand, humming through his fingers and up into his ears. It reminds him of the office – familiar, but disturbing, because there is no reason that it should feel so familiar and comforting.

“Could it be your grandfather’s?” Ema asks.

“Wouldn’t that mean he’s still alive?” Clay asks. “Is that possible?”

“It couldn’t be,” Apollo says. If he stares at the mitamah he thinks he can see flecks of gold within the blue, like stars on a constellation chart. “The Fair Folk don’t have souls like we do. They can’t sell them or manifest them like this.”

“Is that why they want human souls?” Ema asks.

“How do you know?” Clay repeats.

Apollo’s heart has stoppered up his throat.

“It makes them stronger,” Trucy says softly. “When they buy names, or souls, it makes their magic stronger. But this – this can’t be that.” She hugs the grimoire up to her chest. “It can’t just be that.”

“Should we just… put it back?” Ema asks. “Someone’s probably looking for it, right?”

“It’s been seven years and no one has come before us,” Apollo says. The humming isn’t as steady now, seems more like a song, and familiar, damned familiar. “No, we can’t just leave her here.”

In the silence, even the song seems to stop. “What?” Apollo asks. Their three sets of eyes are on him again, even more piercing, Trucy’s wide and Clay’s narrowed and Ema’s narrowing too.

“‘Her’?” Ema repeats. “Why ‘her’?”

“I…” Apollo swallows his heart. “I don’t know, but I… I know?”

“I don’t think you should be holding that in your bare hands,” Clay says.

But the alternative seems to be dropping her in the dirt again, and Apollo’s fingers curl tighter around the stone. He can’t do that, either. Trucy unties her scarf from around her neck and silently passes it to him, letting him wrap the stone up in the red fabric and then cradle it close again. The song thrumming in his ears ceases. “I guess we should take it to Mr Wright and ask him if he knows what to do,” Ema says. “He’ll know what to do with it. Her?”

Trucy’s gaze is unfocused, her head slowly drifting away from the horizon back toward the stump. “Trucy?” Apollo asks. “Are you okay?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” she says. “Just buy up someone’s soul all for himself. He wouldn’t. There had to be some other reason. It wasn’t just power, there had to be a good reason.”

(“There’s no reason,” Dhurke said. “Never.”)

“He gave me magic, as a gift,” Trucy says. “He was a good man.” She looks up at Apollo, blinking her blue eyes furiously. “Wasn’t he?”

-

It takes them another forty-five minutes to stumble out of the woods and find Clay’s car again. Ema makes everyone nervous talking about the odds of them stumbling across a body decomposing in the undergrowth – “I have zero desire to ever get caught up in one of your murder investigations,” Clay says, picking up a branch from the bushes and brandishing it like a baseball bat – and bears. The two of them are at least doing a good job of filling the silence left by Trucy, uncomfortably quiet, walking in a trace. Apollo tugs her by the arm out of the way of trees. He could put the mitamah in his pocket but hasn’t, has kept it held close to his chest.

The story that Phoenix spun of the Gramaryes is gnawing at him. A woman, on the bad end of a deal with Magnifi – Apollo doesn’t want to think about the possibility.

(Trucy must be thinking about the possibility, mustn’t she?)

She crawls into the back seat of the car, depositing the grimoire in the middle, and Ema makes a mad dash for the front seat, leaving Apollo to sit on the other side of the grimoire, separated by it from Trucy. The only time she speaks is to call Phoenix and ask him if he is at the office – he is, because she directs Clay to go back to the office.

It is a long, quiet ride home, some subdued conversation between Ema and Clay about their fields of science rising over the country music still on the radio. Trucy taps Apollo’s hand and beckons him to hand her the mitamah. She takes off one of her gloves and weighs it in her hand with an ever-deepening frown until she wraps it back up and passes it back to Apollo.

Ema shouts “Yellow car!” and hits Clay on the shoulder. He hits her back and tells her that she needs to specify no punch-backs next time.

-

Phoenix is sitting on the floor leaning against the couch with two notebooks and a stack of papers spread out in front of him, the coffee table shoved to the side, a pencil in his mouth and another tucked behind his ear, when they stagger into the office. Apollo is mediating an argument about the merits of Eldoon’s for a late lunch – Ema does not want to brave it, while Clay wants nothing more than to do so. Phoenix does not look up.

“Hey, Daddy,” Trucy says wearily.

His head snaps up, dislodging the pencil behind his ear. “What’s wrong?”

“You always complain about your back hurting, and now look what you’re doing.” Trucy’s words sound forced through a smile. Phoenix’s frown deepens. He watches Trucy walk past him to deposit the grimoire on his desk.

“We went looking into the envelope you gave her the other day,” Apollo says. “The real last page.”

Phoenix doesn’t look back from Trucy right away. “A full expedition team, huh?” he asks, raising one eyebrow as he looks over Ema and Clay. “Who’s this?”

“Er, oh, yeah. I’m Clay Terran. Apollo’s roommate.” Clay points with his thumb at Apollo, even though they all know there is only one Apollo that they know. “You’re Mr Wright, yeah?” He doesn’t do a good job of feigning enthusiasm.

“I know that look,” Phoenix says, standing with a wince and an audible crack of some of his joints. “That’s the ‘I’ve heard about you and it’s nothing good’ look.” He lets Clay splutter for a full two seconds before he grins crookedly and adds, “That’s fair.” Almost immediately, his expression flattens out to something stern and almost entirely foreign. “Trucy,” he calls. “What’s wrong?”

“We found my grandfather’s grimoire,” she says, sitting on the desk and holding it up, only for it to slip from her hands and crash to the floor. “And Polly has the other thing that was with it.”

Apollo unwraps the mitamah.

Has he ever seen Phoenix surprised? The man spent seven years an unbeaten poker player, and this past half-year absolutely inscrutable to Apollo’s eyes. There is nothing controlled in his reaction; his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide, turning blue immediately and staying blue, horror apparent in how they linger on the mitamah. “Oh,” he breathes. “That is – yeah.”

He reaches forward with trembling hands and scoops up the scarf spread across Apollo’s hands. He holds it cradled close, too, his free hand cupped beneath the one holding it, prepared to catch the stone should it slip, but still not having touched it with bare skin. “So,” he says. “The ‘source’ of Magnifi’s magic – that grimoire, and this soul.”

“But,” Trucy says, “that…” She stops. She chews on the inside of her cheek. Mr Hat, the wisp, is visible, bobbing frenetically around her shoulders. “It’s…” Her shoulders slump. “Do you know what to do with that, Daddy? Is there a way to know what person a soul belongs to?”

“Not from looking only at the mitamah,” Phoenix answers. His eyes still hollow blue when he turns them back to Trucy. “I am not particularly familiar with mitamahs, honestly, but I’ll look into it and see what I can do to get it back to her.” He takes the stone in one hand and offers Trucy her scarf back. “If the fae who has possession of a soul is still alive, they can just give it back – not that many are willing to, mind – but since he’s dead – well.” He shakes his head. “Thank you, though. For helping Trucy, and bringing this back.”

It’s a firm end to the conversation, not that Apollo knows what more to ask about a soul. Ema, though, is frowning, her arms crossed, her mouth twisting like she is puzzling out something. “We were gonna go get noodles at Eldoon’s,” Apollo says. “If – if you wanted to come, Trucy.”

“Oh!” She looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected to be addressed. “Um.” Her heels bounce against the desk. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

Her hands, curled around the edge of the desk, shine red. Apollo doesn’t even need that to know she’s lying.

-

“We all agree she’s not okay, right?” Clay asks.

They were silent for a block down from the office, Ema not even complaining about losing the Eldoon’s battle. (Apollo was prepared to tell her that she didn’t have to come, but she had attached herself to them without a cursory protest.)

“Definitely not,” Ema says. “I guess she doesn’t want to believe that her grandfather was the double-dealing type of Folk – which, I’ve read the case file on his death, I’d believe that about him in a hot second. There’s nothing worse than a blackmailer like that. Also.” She plants herself firmly in the sidewalk. Apollo and Clay both bump into her. “None of us referred to the mitamah as ‘she’ or ‘her’, right? Like you were, Apollo.”

“None of us but Trucy even talked about it,” Apollo says. Clay nods. “Why?”

“Because Mr Wright did.” Ema’s forehead creases. “He said he would ‘get it back to her’. He wasn’t even touching it, was he?” Apollo shrugs. Ema shrugs too. “He knows something. More than he said.”

“He always does,” Apollo says.

They reach Eldoon’s, and Ema says that it’s weird to see the stand without a corpse attached. The look that Clay gives her makes her and Apollo both laugh. Once they have their noodles, they walk another few blocks to People Park and find a bench not far from where the noodle-stand crime scene once stood. Apollo has learned to be grateful for the mouthfuls of broth that taste of so much salt to sting. It feels a little more like safety, like salt across a doorway.

He starts to say what he’s thinking, that Trucy might be worried that the mitamah is her mother’s, or at least he is, but the words die on his tongue, shriveled by the salt. He doesn’t feel right to tell Clay and Ema about Trucy’s mother’s death, when he has no idea if Trucy knows or not. Phoenix has made him the guardian of family secrets that aren’t his and something about that feels wrong. Maybe necessary in some way, to understand the case, to understand what happened with Kristoph, but still wrong.

Instead, he helps Ema explain to Clay her earlier comments about Magnifi and blackmail. You can’t refuse, and we both know the reason why – Trucy can’t know he did that. She seemed to idolize him. What a hard way to fall.

He’ll text her tomorrow, Apollo decides. Check in, see how she’s doing.

(There’s probably someone else he should check in with, too, the events of this week all considered.)

[cauldronoflove]

Ok so this is really obscure, but I've had this idea for a while now, and I'd love to see you work with it? Headcanons for a time travel AU in which Peter Parker is messing with Stark Tech and gets sent back to the 1940s? He could work with Peggy Carter in the SSR to solve the case and pretend to be her little brother. Plus in 2017 Tony and Steve working together to get him back. If you think it's weird or want to skip it no worries! If not, then thank you so much, I love your headcanons!!

i love this concept so much you dont even know?? but also okay i realized abt halfway through these 2.5k+ words that this wasnt exactly what you asked for and i feel kinda bad about that but i hope you still like it all the same!! also i wanna say thank you for thinking of me for this prompt im super flattered????

- peter wasnt technically supposed to be in the 4th basement of stark tower

- technically he was on his lunch break and was supposed to be using said time to both eat and work on his spanish homework

- but he'd heard these whispers from a couple of the older interns about some of the old stuff that mr. stark had thrown down there because he never had time to finish them and peter had an idea

- see, he's been wanting to move up a bit, have mr. stark trust him a little more, and what's better then maybe taking one of his old designs and making it better and making it work

- so thats why he's in the fourth basement of stark tower, trying to remember if he's had his tetanus shot because some of this stuff is seriously Old

- and then he stumbles onto this little pyramid shaped....doohickey

- its the only thing in 4 floors of Things that doesnt have a label or a file or a crude drawing taped to the front of it so now peter is Officially Curious

- he kinda fiddles with it for a few minutes until his phone beeps with his 'hey pete youre gonna be super late getting back to work again' alarm and he about drops this thing on the floor because like everyday the alarm scares him to death

- but because hes clumsy and because hes pete he actually does drop it and everything goes black

- but everything's fine because he wakes right back up and he's pretty sure that he electrocuted himself but thats happened dozens of times so he picks himself up and brushes himself off and realizes that he may have been out longer than he thought because theres fewer boxes in the room than before and geez his head hurts

- "are you quite alright?"

- oh god he mustve hit his head harder than he thought because that looks like

- "m-miss carter, no sorry, ma'am? oh, oh god i'm so sorry that was so rude, agent? agent ma'am?"

- "this is howard's fault isnt it"

- "howard? as in....oh god oh god"

- "do you know where you are?"

- peter parker loved a lot of things and one of those things was museums and one of those museums in particular had an exhibit on a certain mr. rogers and adjacent to that exhibit was a small plaque about the woman standing in front of him and oh god he was going to hyperventilate and throw up in front of a literal legend and hero at the same time

- "remind me to kill him later. right now lets get you something warm to drink, yes? maybe some new clothes, youre looking a little singed"

- flash forward half an hour and he's sitting in front of the agent carter sipping at some terribly bitter coffee while she pursed and unpursed her lips a few times

- (annnnd time skip back to present day)

- friday: mr stark theres a woman downstairs beating on the door asking for youtony, 47 names going through his head: ...go on

- enter may parker, in her pjs, fire in her eyes, carrying on the legacy of brunette women ready to end a stark's life

- "it is ten o'clock on a school night, i've talked to ned, i've talked to mj and liz, i've talked to every corner sub shop owner, i even had a nice long chat with pepper, yet no one could tell me anything so you better have answers as to where my nephew is anthony"

- and in that moment, tony stark's life flashed before his eyes

- "hey, friday, where is the kid?"

- "peter's vitals havent been detected since 1:32pm on floor D"

- tony: fu-

- (back to pete and peggy)

- so he's quickly caught her up on the gist of whats going on (aka he told her he's from 2017 ny and hed really just like to go home) and she's taking it surprisingly well, all nodding and hmm-ing and cursing howard stark under her breath, kinda how may is when tony does like.. anything

- but now shes leading him through their super secret base and he's trying not to stare because, has he mentioned, hes literally standing next to peggy carter

- "right, well, here's your cot. if you need anything, dugan can help you. he's that one, there, with the cigar. you get some rest and i'll find howard and see if we cant get your...issue squared away. oh, and whatever you do, dont accept anything dernier tries to give you, you've already blown up once today, i dont think you can afford another"

- present day

- tony's been working through the night, a marginally-more-than-slightly disgruntled may beside him, and an even-more-than-marginally-more-than-slightly peeved happy beside her

- ("how do you lose a teenage boy, tony" happy moans to his phone when he wakes up and sees all the missed calls and texts he has)

- good news: it only took like 2 1/2 hours and three shots of espresson for tony to figure out what happened to peter

- bad news: it wasnt even a Tony Stark Exclusive Design, it was a Howard Stark One-Time Use That Was Actually A Malfunction Design, he'd had several more coffees that werent even close to being strong enough, and he had a growing black eye from the punch may landed before happy could pull her away and calm her down (maybe that last part should be in the good news column)

- "so he's just stuck in the 40s alone, then" may surmises, rubbing at the tension headache in her temples

- tony doesnt respond because at this point he needs his other eye for miracle working and depth perception

- "well, probably not alone," happy begins. "i catalogued everything in that level, and that stuff came from one of howard's london facilities, so it was probably calibrated for that time, so he's probably with-"

- tony: "hap, please dont finish that sentence"

- may: "1940s london. so he's with steve, then, safe. with captain america. okay, i can handle that."

- tony: "no, ah, a little later than capsicle, probably"

- may: "so not safe with captain america"

- happy: "safe with agent carter, more likely"

- pete and peggy

- good news: pete made it through the night without being blown up by the howling commandoes

- bad news: once howard was finally located and sobered up, he explained that he hadnt built that particular device yet, so peter was kinda stuck

- peter wasnt coping well

- "i have a spanish test tomorrow! and a trig test on friday! and i'm supposed to hang out with ned on saturday, and then may's gonna kill me when i dont show up for sunday dinner, and shes gonna kill me in general because i never checked in because holy shit i never checked in!"

- howard: peggy he's crying what do i do

- peggy: do i have to do everything myself

- she advances on peter and takes his chin in her hand, locking eyes with him: peter, you know who i am, dont you?

- he nods as best as he can

- "then you must know that i'm going to do everything in my power and then some to get you back home, dont you?"

- "yes ma'am"

- "good. go take a walk while i talk to howard, and if anyone asks, youre my american brother in for a short visit." and then she pats him on the cheek and his soul kinda ascends then and there because agent carter just patted him on the cheek AND gave him permission to tell people he's her brother

- so he goes to take his walk but the thing is when he gets anxious, he likes to fiddle with the loose legos he keeps under his bed, building and rebuilding tiny structures to help ease his nerves

- needless to say, he's an Absolute Nervous Wreck while he waits for some kind of something from peggy or howard and there arent any legos to keep him busy

- so he kind of takes that walk right on down to the lab and starts poking around because even if he is a certified nervous wreck he's also thr most inquisitive little shit that ever did walk the earth

- peggy finds him two hours later with a pair of loose fitting goggles on his forehead, his sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and some . substance on his hands

- "please dont tell me youre somehow howard's long lost son too," she says, taking his appearance in

- he shakes his head as the beakers in front of him emit a puff of green smoke directly into his already scrunched up face "no ma'am; it's just that mr. stark kinda has me on desk duty and never lets me get my hands dirty so i like to take every oppurtunity i can get"

- she nods, "good, because howard needs you to describe what you remember of the device, and then you and i are going to begin the slog through the logistics of it all"

- "ooooookay"

- which is how peter parker ends up sitting across from peggy carter, the both of them scribbling extremely advanced mathematics onto yellowing sheets of paper as howard stark tinkered with some spare parts he had lying around as he tried to construct a crude rendering of the device

- peggy mostly doesnt talk, actually, she hasnt spoken since explaining that shed picked her math skills up on an assignment shed once had where she learned she actually loved numbers and then howard had been letting her do calculations for him in her free time

- peter was too impressed to respond bc from what he gathered she'd only been on that mission for six months and she didnt have much free time which meant she'd had to pick it all up FAST

- anyway, they got at that for hours, until peter cant keep his eyes open and even howard is dwindling; peggy waves them both off to bed but stays and keeps scribbling away

- they repeat that routine for 3 days

- on the 5th night, after she waves them off, peter goes to his cot and he tosses and turns for hours, listening to the commandoes play poker and crack jokes, but he cant sleep

- finally he gets up and just starts walking, anywhere his feet take him

- coincidentally, his feet take him past what he quickly realizes is peggy's room

- "peter why are you still up? is everything all right?" she asks, pulling off these big hulking glasses that made him incredibly homesick because she reminds him so much of may in that moment, big glasses on, hunched over a book in her lap, hair pulled back out of her face

- and he apologizes, but she Knows something's terribly wrong, so she gets up and ushers him away from her doorway, and leads him down a hall or two and then theyre standing in an open space, and she's looking at him like shes trying to solve one of her equations

- "do you know how to throw a punch, peter"

- " whatever youre thinking i dont think its a good idea we dont have any gear and i dont want to get hurt-"

- she shakes her head and asks again, and he finally answers with a kinda

- "'kinda' will get you hurt; watch me" and she begins to demonstrate a few slow punches and he follows her movements and tries to copy them but hes a little sloppy but its ok because she corrects him and finally theyre just standing beside one another counting out punches when she asks "whats on your mind"

- and he doesnt even hesitate he just lets loose everything, how much he misses may and how terrible he feels that he cant get in touch with her, how much he misses ned and mj and liz, how much he misses his fire escape and the deli on the corner and the buildings and then he's crying again, but she gracefully doesnt point it out

- once he's done spitting out everything thats bothering him she gets this kind of sad smile and says, "you remind me of a man i knew. he cared so much about his friends, sometimes to the point of not even worrying about himself, whuch meant he was always in some sort of trouble, as you can imagine. but he always found his way out of a problem, even if he was the one who created it." she laughs slightly then. "i guess what i'm getting at is even if i cant get you back home, even if howard cant, i believe that youll figure it out."

- "are you comparing me to captain anerica right now because i'm already crying and i dont think i can take much more" he says through sniffles, his arms slack by his sides now

- she smiles and nods, keeping her stance, and peter feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this amazing woman who immediately helped him without much of a pause and who's made sure he was okay for the past 5 days and who's up at god knows what time showing him how to throw a punch and being his borderline therapist and he just wants to give her something in return

- "im not sure if im supposed to do this, because for all i know it could tear a hole in the fabric of time and space but i really want to show you this," he begins, pulling his wallet put of his pocket.

- he flicks the little photo holders out and theres may, and theres ned and mj and liz, and theres that cat he found that one time, and theres him and tony, and there, at the bottom, is the time he officially met steve after the whole fight thing and all

- "this was taken a couple months ago; well, a couple months for me, it's decades from now, but here," and he holds out his wallet for her to see and she looks over the photo curiously before she understands and a tear slips down her cheek and she smiles the most grand smile

- "thank you, peter" and she passes the wallet back and puts her hand on his shoulder and says "i promise i'll have you home in time for sunday dinner"

- and she does