#I truly have never been so swept up in a performance before

[tragedy-of-commons]

HI GWEN POOKIE CONGRATS ON 200 IM SO PROUD OF U !!! U DESERVE IT SM <33

can i req “who did this to you” + xiao + romantic

teehee 🫶

"Who did this to you?"

Xiao trembles with an energy he knows all too well. It's wispy and dark and miasmic, keening at the idea of tearing whoever or whatever roughed you up like this to shreds.

Despite your swollen eye and bruised knuckles, you only smile at him in response, not an iota of dejection swaying your form. It's one of the things about you that intrigues him, loathe as he is to admit it - you're never seen without a performance of bared teeth or stretched lips.

But even if you're unaffected, that doesn't change that you're hurt, that you've been threatened by some unknown force, and Xiao wasn't there to protect you--

"Well, hello to you too," you swallow, sensing his unease and repressed rage. "Um, nothing like that happened, promise! One of my friends is visiting in the area, and we decided to spar. Like old times."

Adeptus Xiao knows what sparring is, and he knows what injuries (maybe not mortal...) sustained from those lessons look like. He's fairly certain, despite you being his only human companion, that you're not supposed to be limping.

He can't touch you right now, as much as his impure heart flooded with sin yearns for it. Before he ever trusts himself to comfort you, he'll sit on his hands and remain still for centuries.

"This friend," he almost chews the syllables, "I require a name."

You purse your lips, looking out towards the melting skyline. "That's not how this works. He isn't a threat, okay? These are superficial wounds. Sometimes it just gets intense... if he'd gone easy on me, it'd ruin the whole point of the fight."

His eye twitches, and the voices recede, if only for a moment.

You are never without merit, despite how others may dismiss you. Xiao does know what it's like to be caught up in the throes of combat. Plus, you've tried to reason with him about 'how he gets'. Normally, being told off by a mortal would earn them his silent ire, but even he can't deny he feels like a scolded dog.

...but you are important to him, so he'll let it slide like he always does.

"If he truly wounds you," Xiao starts, considerate, "I need to know."

Blessed with your grin once more, you take a step closer. He's not scared of you, per se, but the Adeptus' hackles start to raise instinctually. What if he hasn't calmed down enough yet? Should he play it safe and go about his duties, if only to make sure none of his penance unjustly latches itself onto you?

Should he run the tip of his spear through every menace to Liyue, soaked in viscera, wracked with the phantoms of your injuries?

"Xiao," you whisper. "Listen to me."

No. He won't do that, because you're right here, and you are alive.

"I'll make sure to call you if that ever happens. I'm safe," he hears a bird cawing somewhere as you take ahold of his ring finger. Of course, it's devoid of any wedding band - customs such as that are below and of no use to him - but the gentle grip of your hand is close enough.

It's a silent promise; one that Xiao needn't repeat, but he will anyway.

You're fine - you're not to be taken from him. In order for you to trust him with your mundane secrets and joyous laughter, he needs to trust you to fight your own battles.

He only nods solemnly, recovering at his own pace. "Did you... achieve victory?"

Letting go of him, in a headache-inducing, booming voice, you boast, "Did you think I could show my face around here if I didn't?! These marks are nothing! You should've seen what he looked like after I wiped the floor with him! Honestly, all of my old pals have gone soft--"

Xiao is once again swept up in the whirlwind that is you. Curbing his overprotective instincts, your relationship is something he holds sacred. For as long as he's able, he wishes to relish in the dynamic, even if he's undeserving of it.

(...and perhaps also because he's a little concerned you may 'wipe the floor with him' too.)

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: i hope you enjoy where i took this, ray! i know it's a bit shorter than average ^^" but i did enjoy writing xiao in this setting. your support means everything to me! silly yaksha. barely proofed since i'm sleepy...

event post here

[virginbutstillahoe]

i have literally never seen a performance like that in my life. zero hyperbole matthew macfadyen should be absolutely proud of his accomplishment tonight. unbelievable and truly impeccable, i remain in awe.

[lovelettersfromluna]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Sweet Little Lies *ੈ✩‧₊˚

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Being on tour with someone you’ve been ignoring for two months is hard…but doable

an: AHHHHHH!!! I am so excited to finally give you guys the second part of The Perfect Girl! I can confidently say that the vibe of this one has been so much fun to write and think about ideas for, and it makes me so happy that you’ve been enjoying it! This one is pretty short, im sorry but! the next part will be longer, fluffier and much smuttier hehe. Anyways, I hope you guys like this part too. 🖤 (Also yes I know I posted this before the poll was up but y'all saw how it was going im sorry I am an impatient woman)

Warnings: 18+!!! Eventual smut, Ellie is selfish point blank period, reader is extremely sad, some making out but doesn't lead to much, ANGST!!!!, this one is pretty short so not many warnings hehe. let me know if I missed anything pleaseeee.

Part 1 can be read here!

The rest of the tour was…rough.

After the night at the club, the silent treatment that you had for Ellie had gone from simply ignoring her, to pretending like she didn’t even exist.

Shows were awkward, practice was awkward, being in a fucking band with her was awkward. Not to mention the very noticeable divide that it put between you and the other members.

The entire situation made it hard to talk to anyone. It made you feel extremely isolated, because you had convinced yourself that no one could possibly understand, especially not the other two men in your band, so you barely spoke to anyone.

In return of that, the other members found it hard to talk to Ellie. Because ever since you had pulled away, things were just no longer the same.

The late nights hanging out in someone’s hotel room stopped, partying after shows were done without you, and the only times anyone truly ever saw you was when you had to perform. When you were done, you’d quietly go back to your hotel room to sulk.

The tour ended that way, with you silently pulling all of your things from the back of the tour bus once you had returned home and catching a cab back to your apartment in the city, going against the tradition that you all had done every time when coming back home, which was going to your favorite local bar and trying to out drink each other before stumbling home in the cold.

So now, you were home, still ignoring everyone.

It was hard for you. Because the girl you’ve looked up to for so long, wanted for so long, had said such mean things about you. And you weren’t an idiot, because never for a second did you ever think that Ellie could ever want you the way that you wanted her, even when you were wrapped up in her arms at night, or when she whispered stupid jokes in your ear whenever you were sad, her lips ghosting over your skin, you never once thought that you could have her. Because you weren’t a kid with a great big imagination, with hopes and dreams that you’d one day be swept off of your feet by her.

You knew deep down that it would never work out, and you were okay with that. You had long accepted that your love was unrequited, and as much as it hurt you to see her date girls she’d only known for a few weeks, and fuck countless groupies every night, you never let it get to you.

But hearing her say what she said, hearing those words fall from her pretty lips….it was like something was eating you from the inside out, and the love that you had for Ellie couldn’t outweigh the pain that she brought you.

And you couldn’t fucking do it anymore.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The decision you had made didn’t come without heartache. You cried, you screamed, you threw things, ruining your room entirely, your rage and sadness burned you so deeply, because in all of this you still blamed yourself, and not her.

It had been almost a month since you got back from tour, and you could count on your hands how many times you left your apartment. Dylan and Charlie came by the visit a few times, and their apologetic smiles somehow pissed you off even further, because it made you feel small and frail, like you’d never be able to come back from this on your own.

You appreciated them, and you enjoyed the times they were around because it gave you an out from thinking about Ellie.

But all good things would come to an end.

That’s how you found yourself at Dylan’s apartment. He was shocked when you showed up, having not seen you outside of your apartment in who knows how long.

He knew that whatever it was you were there for, was serious.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ellie felt like she was seeing red.

She slammed the door to her car once she arrived at your apartment building, her nostrils flaring as she breathed hard. She couldn’t even stop for a moment to think about what she was doing, or if you’d even be home.

But after her phone call with Dylan, she didn’t care. She needed to see you.

After tour had ended, she had found her way to your place a few times. The first time she had a bouquet of red roses gripped between her hand, which after 10 minutes of standing outside your door, she took home and threw in the trash. The second time she came by with a box of cookies from your favorite bakery, which she ended up angrily shoving into Charlie’s chest when she came back home and he was at her apartment waiting for her to teach him a new guitar riff. The third time she simply slipped a hand written note under your door about how sorry she was, which you had promptly ripped up once you saw the small ‘from: Ellie :’)’ written on the front.

That was the last time she had showed up, figuring that you’d come around whenever you had cooled down from the entire situation. What she didn’t expect though, was for it to go on for months after tour had ended.

But she was done, she was over this and she was over you ignoring her.

She knocked on your door loudly, staring knuckles banging on the wood of your front door, making you frown as the loud noise echoed throughout your apartment. You sighed, opening the door harshly.

“I told you I didn’t want one of your fucking pamphlets! If you don’t leave I’m calling the fucking-“ your words were cut off, eyes going wide as you looked up and caught eye of Ellie.

A very angry Ellie.

You sighed tiredly, already trying to close the door on her. “Go home Ellie…” you mumbled out. But her palm was pressing against your door and stopping you from closing it on her.

“You’re quitting the fucking band?” Her voice is harsh, and her words make you freeze as you stop pushing your door closed.

You figured word would’ve gotten out sooner or later…you just preferred later rather than sooner.

You let out a sigh, one of your hands coming up to tuck a strand of your hair back before you give her a half shrug. “I told Dylan not to tell you until the end of the month..” you mumble out, your eyes staring at your sock clad feet.

The second you confirm it, you’re confirming Ellie’s greatest nightmare, and she’s pushing past you and walking into your apartment before you can even tell her that you don’t want her in that, and that she needed to leave.

There’s no use in fighting her, because she’s already there and she’s clearly very pissed off, so you simply close your door behind you and lock it. You figure that if this is the last conversation you’ll have with Ellie, it might as well be this one.

Ellie is pacing back and forth in your small living room, hands in her hips as she tries to get a grip of everything that she’s learned within the past few hours. She wants it to be a lie, she wanted to come to your apartment and have you tell her it was all a prank, and she’d finally hear that pretty laugh of yours when you too made up and cuddled on your couch.

But you weren’t, you weren’t giving Ellie any of that and it made her feel even more pissed off.

“Ellie…” you mumbled softly, reaching out and trying to grab her arm gently, trying to calm the girl down so you could explain.

Ellie pulled her arm away the second you tried reaching out for her. The soft tone of yours was all she had wanted for the last three months, hearing the way you’d soothe her when she became too consumed in her feelings.

But Ellie felt betrayed, she felt like she was being left behind, like you were throwing her away and leaving her like everyone else did.

You were abandoning her.

“No! Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t talk to me for three months and the first thing I hear about you doesn’t even come directly from you? You didn’t even have the fucking decency to sit us down and tell all of us…you told Dylan and you had him deliver your message to us like he’s your fucking bitch” she spat.

You knew she was mad, you knew she’d come to your apartment in a rage when she found out. You had prepared for it, you prepared for all the nasty things Ellie would say to you.

But you didn’t expect any of this..

You inhaled deeply, trying your best not to let her words affect you.

“Look, Ellie…I just…it took me a long time to figure out what I needed to do to feel better. I don’t…it just isn’t working for me anymore-“ she cut you off, her hurtful words coming back with a vengeance.

“Bull fucking shit.” She spits out, and her tone is enough to make you flinch. Her words are cutting into you just like they had that night in her hotel room, and you’re trying to find something in you to not lose your fucking mind right now.

“You’re leaving because of me, because of something I said. You’re…you’re leaving behind something fucking amazing because I hurt your feelings. I don’t know how many times I have to say it! But I’m fucking sorry! Okay? I feel awful for what I said and I wish I could take it back but I can’t, and I’m sorry, but you’re being weak for leaving because of it” she yells out.

And everything stops….because all you can hear from anything shes just said…

Is that you, are weak.

And it’s like some sort of fucking phenomenon or something, because you suddenly feel like you’re being transported to that night, and you’re standing behind a wall, listening to Ellie laugh about how…how fucking unwanted you are.

And you don’t hold back anymore. You’re done holding back.

“Yes Ellie, are you even listening to yourself right now? Have you for one fucking second not been a selfish asshole to think about how any of this has affected me?” Your voice is tired, and it sounds like you’ve been internally fighting with yourself to keep these words inside.

“You hurt me Ellie! If you’re so sorry you said those things, then why did you fucking say them? Is it so hard to just say you don’t see me that way? To be a sensible human fucking being and not trying to dig me into a deeper hole than you already fucking have?” Your voice is growing louder and louder, and you’re slowly closing the space between the both of you as you shout at her.

When you’re right in front of her, your chest almost pressed against hers, your voice is quiet, and it almost sounds like you’re whispering to her for a moment.

“I never once believed that you could ever want me…but saying the things that you said about me, and then sabotaging me whenever I’m trying to live my fucking life…I can’t do it anymore Ellie…I can’t be around you anymore..”

Ellie almost fucking whimpers, because the tone of your voice is nearly enough to bring her to tears.

You aren’t even fighting anymore, you’re just tired. You’re practically begging her to let you go because she’s just held you in her hands for too long, never giving you the chance to grow and become something more than what you are.

Ellie feels it, just by the look in your eyes, she can feel that this will be the last chance she has to tell you, to come clean and stop lying to herself and to you.

Shes being given one last chance, so she knows she can’t mess it up.

“I’m in love with you.” She deadpans.

You roll your eyes, walking away from the girl. You had no time for games, and that surely meant Ellie falsely confessing her love for you just to keep you in the band.

You nodded your head towards your door as you watched her. “Nice try Ellie. I’m sure you’ll be able to charm some other girl enough to replace me as lead singer by the end of the month. It’s time for you to go” you sigh out.

And Ellie is practically whining as she makes her way over to you, towering over you as she pleads.

“I…I’m not lying…fuck id never lie about this. Leave the band if you want, I don’t care, I just…” she grabs your hand, bringing it up to lay over her heart as she sighs “I need you to know how sorry I am..and how I feel about you…” she sighs out.

Your eyebrows were furrowed as you looked down at your hand pressed against her chest, rolling your eyes as you used the placement to push her away from you.

“Ellie, cut it out. Seriously. I heard what you said about me, I heard all of it. Im not your type, remember? I look like a kicked puppy everytime you’re with another girl” you sighed out as you pushed past her, walking off into your living room before plopping onto the couch with a loud huff.

Ellie was groaning softly, hearing her own words being relayed to her in your voice made her heart break even more than it had before. She followed behind you, sitting on the couch and reaching for you.

“I..I didn’t mean any of that! I panicked!” her words catch your attention, but she groans when she sees the unamused look you’re giving her.

“I swear…just…” She tried, pleading for just a bit of your time before she was getting on her knees in front of you, pushing your legs apart so that her body was pressed against the edge of the couch, and you had no choice but to look at her.

“I’m an idiot, okay? The last thing I wanted was for Charlie and Dylan to tease me about having a massive fucking crush on you…I just…you’re too good for me, I’m not…I know that you deserve better than me…but I can’t help the way I feel about you. It eats away at me at night and it makes it hard to sleep and it doesn’t stop unless you’re around” She rambled, her eyebrows knitted together as she spoke.

Her closeness made your cheeks burn red, and you tried to keep your face down because you knew the longer you’d look into her eyes, the easier it would be for her to make you fold. You frowned as you shook your head, and before you could even speak, she was already talking.

“Please…please I’m so sorry baby…it’s killing me…not being with you is fucking killing me. I’ll leave the band, I’ll pack up and you can find a new guitarist to take my place just..” her words died down, and her fingers were placed gently under your chin to force you to look at her, and you almost lost your breath because..

Ellie was crying.

And not only was Ellie crying, but Ellie was crying for you.

Her green eyes were rimmed red, and her eyelashes were clumping together, and your insides twisted because all you wanted to do was to hold her, pull her into your chest and tell her that it was okay, that you were okay, and that you could be together.

But you couldn’t. Not after what she did.

“Ellie I…I can’t…” you mumbled softly. You opened your mouth to explain further, but you found that you couldn’t speak.

Because Ellie’s like were pressed firmly against yours.

Her long fingers were cupping either side of your face, keeping you close as her lips moved against yours. You gasped softly, trying to break away from her, but she used it as an opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, and from that point on, you melted into her completely.

You moaned softly, and Ellie was already pushing you back to lay against the couch, her body hovering over yours as she kissed you so deeply, so passionately, you could feel all of the love she had for you seeping into your mouth.

It felt amazing, having you pressed up against her, whining into her mouth and breathlessly begging for more. It was like every dream Ellie had ever had of you was finally coming true…

But she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that came with it.

If this is what Ellie had always wanted, why was it that she felt like she was doing something wrong? Why did it loom over her like a dark cloud, soaking into her core and making her feel terrible about doing this to you…distracting you from everything she’s done with sweet kisses and breathy moans.

She wanted it…god she wanted it more than anything

But this wasn’t right.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she gripped your waist, moaning softly as she pulled away from you. You frown in confusion, staring up at her and searching for what might be wrong, what you had done to make her stop.

“What? What is it Els?” And Ellie swears she’s never heard something so sweet, the nickname you had for her like the sweetest melody she’d ever heard.

She sighed, gently pulling away from you as she shook her head. “This isn’t right…” she mumbled softly. She sits down across from you, her legs spread with her elbows resting on her knees, hunched over a bit.

You frown as you watch her, sitting up and adjusting your tank top, suddenly feeling extremely exposed underneath the girls presence. “Do you…not want me?” You mumble softly. Ellie’s eyes are nearly bulging out of her head as she quickly turns to you, grabbing your face and pulling you close as she shakes her head quickly.

“No! God no I….you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of angel…it’s just…” she sighs, her voice raspy before she starts again. “This isn’t how this is supposed to go…you’re worth so much more than what I’ve given to you…I’ve been mean, and selfish and...And I come here expecting you to just forgive me and...and give yourself to me and...it isn't right.." She sighs out. You pout softly as you listen to her, and you are suddenly remembering all of the things that Ellie said, and you can't help but agree that the wounds are still fresh.

She notices how deep in thought you are, and she uses her strong hands to grip your thighs and pull you so you're straddling her lap. She licks her lips, her hands toying with the plush skin of your thighs as you both stay there for a moment, before she breaks the silence.

"Im not going to convince you that you need to stay in the band...if you really want to leave, thats your decision..but..." She sighs softly.

"Let me prove to you that you're what I want...give me one chance to do this the right way, and I promise princess...you won't regret it.." Her voice is raspy, and it reminds you of all the times she would talk to you while you both laid in bed together and you couldn't sleep. It reminds you of all the times Ellie called you on the phone in the middle night, too high and too needy, just so she could hear your voice.

And it reminds you of how in love you are with Ellie Williams..

Your hands slowly go to rest on her shoulders, your fingers toying with the ends of her hair at the nape of her neck, and you can swear you can see the girl visibly glow the second you give her a nod. In an instant, she's pulling you closer and pressing kisses to your neck, in spots that she knows you're extremely ticklish at. You nudge her gently to stop before you both settle down.

"Thank you angel...I promise...I'll do right by you.." She mumbles softly, her pretty green eyes staring at your plush lips before she leans in, pressing the softest, most gentle kiss to them, almost as if she were afraid she'd break you all over again.

[teecupangel]

The whole Desmond/Vega situation with Altair in EoAhas made me think of a time travel au where Altair keeps having romcom meet-cutes with people but literally all of them are Desmond in disguise

So Altair is going from having very few crushes in his lifetime to having multiple at once (unaware that they're all actually the same person) while Desmond is stuck wishing he had a computer to make a spreadsheet about which identity knows what about Altair so he doesn't let something slip that Altair told a different identity or info he got from the animus/bleeds

Oh my god.

This is so cute.

I think Altaïr would know it’s Desmond sooner or later, which would make Desmond’s spreadsheet quite a lost cause at that point but…

If it starts with Altaïr being a child, we can prolong the meet cute situations XD

So, in this one, it starts of with Altaïr as a child getting lost while he was joining his father in some kind of safe mission.

His first love was a child who saw him and helped him get back to the bureau, wearing clothes that were a bit too big for him.

The child’s hand was warm and he would squeeze Altaïr’s hand while he held it whenever he says “It’s going to be alright.”

And Altaïr didn’t understand why but he believed him.

Altaïr’s second love was a girl whose face he didn’t even see. Clad from head to toe in black robes with a niqab covering her face. All he could see was her eyes, clear light brown eyes that seemed to shimmer during the day.

This time, Altaïr wasn’t lost. He had just been taking a walk while waiting for his father to finish his mission. He saw her steal a piece of pomegranate from one of the stalls in the marketplace and tried to catch her.

Instead, he ended up sitting on the edge of one of the buildings as they shared the pomegranate, listening to her talk about how the merchant had been an ass who bullied other poorer merchants.

It was Adha who told him that what he felt wasn’t love but infatuation. Maybe even greed. He fell in love easily for people he will never see again. Altaïr hated her immediately, shouting at his father that he would never marry a girl like her. Adha scoffed and told her own father that she didn’t want to marry a boy who would fall in love so easily. Altaïr stormed off after his father tried to pretend he wasn’t taking Adha’s side. He bumped into him. His third love. Or the next target of his infatuation. No. That was Adha talking, not him.

He was a young boy, wearing a dark brown shemagh that covered half of his face. Altaïr’s eyes were enchanted by his eyes that reminded him of honey. The boy asked him if he was alright and Altaïr didn’t really want to talk about it. So… the boy gave him a piece of bread and told him to cheer up. His eyes wrinkled in a way that let Altaïr know he was smiling behind that shemagh.

And just like that, the boy was gone. Leaving Altaïr with a piece of bread that was still warm to the touch.

His fourth love was a street urchin who looked like a wet rodent. He had been out of Masyaf with the other recruits to observe the older Assassins perform their tasks in a busy city. The Assassin that had been assigned to him was a kind man with an easy smile. Abbas thought he was nice. Malik was as polite as ever.

And Altaïr was bored.

And it was because he wasn’t truly paying attention that he was swept by the crowd before the Assassin or the two other recruits with him could notice.

He was on his way to the bureau when he heard a crash. A child no older than he was had crashed onto a nearby stall that had been selling wine.

He quickly ran and shouted at Altaïr to run as well, just as the guards were catching up to him. Altaïr ran even though he shouldn’t have.

He wasn’t part of whatever was happening.

But his body moved on its own.

Once they were on the other side of the city, the child began to laugh. He didn’t ask why Altaïr agreed to run. He didn’t ask how Altaïr was able to keep up with him as they traversed the city, using their surrounding to gain the upper hand over the large armored men chasing after them.

“Here.” Altaïr caught whatever the child had thrown at him before he even realized what it was, “Take that as my apology for getting you mixed up in all these.”

Altaïr opened his hand.

It was a necklace of some kind with a small yellow gem.

“It matches your eyes.” The child said and Altaïr wished he would take off the fabric around his face so Altaïr could see his face.

Could see his smile.

“Take care on your way back, Altaïr.” The boy waved before he jumped off the window.

And Altaïr tried to remember when he had told him his name.

[lostmyremembrall]

📖 Hi! I love your writing you are really really talented. If you don't mind I would love to request numer 12 and I was really curious how would Tom react seeing reader really hurt for the first time - like you know it's the first time he comes to see her play and something bad happens. But of course i would love to read everything you write! Congrats on 1K!!!!!!

📖𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 24/7

A/N: Yesssss! I love this idea! Thank you for the request! The 1K Celebration is now closed, so thank you so much for your patience!

The crowd erupted into an excited roar as you stood on your hand on the broom, and swung in 360 to catch the quaffle in your other hand. With agility only comparable to that of a feline, you landed on your broom, navigating it with the twists of your body.

There was perhaps a single person in the entire Quidditch field who did not cheer for you. Tom Riddle stood crossed-face, his arms crossed in irritation as he narrowed his eyes up at you.

“Show off,” he mumbled against the wind and the zealous of his housemates.

One would say, you were truly in your element as you rode the wind, as if you commanded the wind god Boreas himself. The wind swept through your hair. The sunlight’s only purpose to shed light for you to bask in your glory. Your eyes shimmered in excitement, and your lips smirked triumphantly as you tossed the quaffle into the goalpost with elegance. Tom had to admit, you were magnificent.

You were driving him absolutely insane as you precariously balanced yourself on the stick. His grips were tightening on his robe. His eyes anxiously following your every movement.

The same eyes saw the terror in your eyes, when a bludger rammed into you, and you no longer felt the stable broom underneath your feet. All colour drained from Tom’s face as he stood there amidst the cheering crowd, the only one to notice what had happened.

It was all a slow motion. Tom heard himself whisper a muggle curse word instead of the wizardry ones that he had trained himself to do. Before he realised, he was scrambling to his feet, pushing everyone else out of his way to reach you.

He pointed his shaky wand up to the air and murmured a spell.

You were in a more horrible state than he’d expected. You’d lost consciousness from the pain by the time you were carried into the Hospital Wing. Your cheeks had grown pale, so unlike the solar divinity that you were. The only sign of your life was the puffs of shallow breath as your chest rose and fell.

Tom followed the stretcher, his eyes trained on you. It was obvious from the asymmetrical concave of your torso that you had broken a rib. Tom wondered if the bone may have punctured an organ, causing you to bleed out and lose all colour of vigour that you held. Or perhaps you had gone into a shock from the pain. If it had punctured your liver…

Tom felt his head grow lighthearted at the thought. You being a Quidditch player was not good for his heart.

Tom resisted the urge to swat away the hands of the nurse. She was being too rough. She was being too slow. The complaints were ready to pour out lest he bit down on his lips.

Tom was finally able to breathe when the nurse announced that you had not sustained any grave injury; the bludger having hit you from a miraculous angle. She performed a simple bone-mending charm and left you to rest.

It had been hours of him sitting by your bedside, well past curfew. Frankly, he did not care he was breaking curfew. If not now, he wasn’t sure when to exploit the Head Boy privileges. Your teammates had come and gone, informing him of the result of the match. Tom, again, resisted the urge to throw your broomstick at them and bark at them that the match was the least of his concern. And that he would have never cared for quidditch if not for you.

By the time you awoke, Tom’s eyes were twitching – whether from exhaustion or irritation, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps both. All he knew was that the moment you awoke, he was going to make you promise to never play quidditch again.

But, it never went like that. Not with you. Tom should have known.

You stretched your arms, smiling. And you opened your eyes as if you had awoken from the most pleasant nap.

“Oh, hi Tom,” you smiled dazedly up at him, unaware of his alarmed state as he jolted up at your stirring. “Where am I?” you rubbed your still groggy eyes.

Tom took one long breath before he spoke again, careful not to agitate you. “You are in the Hospital Wing,” he explained calmly. “You fell off your broom,” he said darkly, not caring to mention that he practically saved your life with an ‘Arresto Momentum’.

“Shame,” you shrugged, a display of nonchalance at such a traumatising moment to  Tom’s disbelief. “Did you enjoy the match?”

Tom blinked his eyes rapidly. “Did I enjoy the match?” he repeated vehemently at your ignorance. “Did I. Enjoy the match?!”

He felt his hands shaking, not being able to hold himself together anymore. “I was worried sick that you might die! I was going half mad, pacing back and forth in front of your bed, wondering when you’ll awake! The things you put me through just to be with you!”

Tom turned his enraged eyes to you once more. “So if you’re asking, did I enjoy the match? No, Y/N. I don’t think so.”

You merely giggled softly at his outrage, as if to suggest he was the one being ridiculous. “Only five people die from Quidditch per year, Tom.”

Tom dared to wonder how you came to a conclusion that that statistics warranted the word ‘only’.

Tom dragged his feet back to the bedside and slumped down on the chair, rubbing his cheeks.

Your voice sounded a bit more timid this time, sensing that you’d made him upset. “Do you know who won?” you still asked.

Tom only groaned, wondering if this was how it felt to be your mother.

Still, he peeked his annoyed eyes through his fingers at you. “230 to 180. You would have won had it not been for the opposing seeker,” he recited the information that the captain had babbled about. It was no longer surprising to him that he retained the most useless facts even when he was trying to draw them out.

“Rats,” you swore under your breath, punching your fist into the cover.

Tom stared as the rosy red returned to your cheeks in a fit of irritation. Against his will, he felt the corner of his lips curl into a smirk at the sight. He parted his lips, but thought against it. As always, you had somehow managed to convince him that maybe he wanted to continue seeing your passion in Quidditch.

Even if it meant his life will be shortened at every match, perhaps it was worth seeing your smile, excitement, and frustration.

Tom shook his head, trying to hide his smirk in the shadow of the night. “You’ve driven your boyfriend mad with worry, and all you could do is pout about the match.”

Tom raised his eyes when he felt your hand wrap around his.

“Come on,” you flashed a smile – the same smile that Tom could never say no to. “You loved seeing me up there.”

Tom’s eyes remained cool and indifferent. “I will say,” still, Tom turned his hand to lace his fingers with yours. 

“You were in your element,” he admitted, knowing he won’t live past 40.

[gabessquishytum]

Perhaps Hob spots him lurking and encourages him to join in and Dream is like "You know I no longer have the capacity to dance" and Hob is like "But you can still be an astronaut. I'll make sure you float, I promise."

This was like a tennis ball for my hyperactive dog brain.

When they get home that night (Dream is not sure when he has started to see Hob's apartment above the inn as home and he refuses to acknowledge it) Hob practically drags Dream to the living room before shoving the coffee table to the side and putting on some music.

Dream might not be able to dance like he used to, but he can definitely still dance and Hob is gonna prove it.

It has been a long time since dancing made Dream happy. Truly happy. But dancing around the living room with his lover (in what is the most graceless, arithmetic, and uncoordinated dance of both of their lives) actually makes him laugh and he has not loved dancing so much since he was a kid.

Hob is very smug about it.

- 🍃

Gotta complete today's ballet au theme with this!! It's too cute!!

Dream isn't used to people wanting him to be happy. He's kind of hesitant to believe that Hob doesn't want to laugh at him or use his weakness against him. He just wants to see Dream smile and do the thing that he obviously still loves.

The music is something gentle, something that Dream secretly loves. He doesn't know how Hob found out but it makes his heart flutter. Hob offers his hand like they're at some fancy ball and Dream laughs as he accepts, moving his hands to rest on Hob’s shoulders. He feels a little silly - he used to be the foremost ballet dancer of his generation and now he's stumbling around in his socks in a tiny living room. But more than the silliness he's overwhelmed by love. Love for dance, for life, for Hob. Things he thought were totally out of his reach.

At one point Hob dips him and they gaze into each other's eyes. Dream suddenly feels an emotion he thought he'd never feel again - that rush he used to get when he performed a role in a ballet and got swept up in the feeling of it all. It's a silly little dance to a silly song in Hob’s living room, but suddenly it has all the epic romance of Tchaikovsky or Prokofiev.

And he thinks that he could probably dance with Hob forever.

[ask-serendipity-sky]

Jk's DAZED Interview

"Jung Kook holds the instinctual and the intangible in high regard: the former is what guides his present, but his future is cradled by the latter, at least in terms of how he sees himself as an artist. But more on that later, because Jung Kook – who recently turned 26 and has been very, very famous for a decade – is thinking about who he is at this very moment. “I think I’m the type of person who is honest with their emotions,” he says. “I change quickly. I have to do the things I want to do right now.”

He was quiet then, too, though he emanated a fidgety restlessness, mentally and physically. He still has an inner itch that he can’t quite seem to scratch but it’s tempered by a new boldness and self-assuredness that he feels was missing before, traits he’s long embodied on stage yet didn’t follow him into everyday life. “When I go on stage, my wandering thoughts and feelings die down,” he says, and he’s always performed so much that the gap between his worlds didn’t seem all that vast.

“Ever since I changed my perspective, I’ve found more positive traits within myself. Rather than dwelling on missed opportunities and blaming myself for being lazy, thinking, ‘Why couldn’t I do it when I was capable?’, I accept who I truly am and focus on what I can do. There’s more to gain from doing things at my own pace. And if I want to stay in bed or watch TV all day, why not spend a day like that?”

Jung Kook debuted aged 15, and although pop culture is generally unkind to its child stars, he grew up under the watchful eyes of his bandmates who pulled him into line when needed. He is attentive, unfailingly polite, curious and wields a mischievous humour.

When recording “Seven” with writers/producers Andrew Watt and Cirkut, he was eager to do well with a genre he’d never tried before, visibly nervous at the mic and, just as evidently, chuffed when they showered him with praise.

“I want to do as many genres as possible to test myself on what kind of music I can do with my voice,” he says. The success of his debut solo single, he adds, has no bearing on what his upcoming music sounds like. “When I hear the music and it’s good, I just proceed with it regardless of the genre. It feels really good to hear people say, ‘Oh, he can pull off any genre,’ so it’d be really fun to surprise people.”

“I live thinking ‘The main character of my life is no one but me.’ No matter what environment I’m placed in, no matter who’s around me, to safeguard myself without being swept away, having the mindset that I can hold control of myself. I live trying not to forget it.”

Jung Kook, the youngest member of BTS, knows his original bunny-ish, baby-of-the-group image still prevails. “You really like that about me,” he said to fans while in London, during one of his now-frequent livestreams. “Pretend that people like that. And I only follow that. What is something that I can change? Myself, it’s my life. I need to change. I need to tell people who love me, ‘I am like this.’ I’m not forcing anyone. I always look for something new. I want to make that new thing fun. And I want to be accepted by Army at the same time.” He also addressed those questioning why he felt the need for an explicit version of “Seven”, in which the line “And that’s why night after night, I’ll be lovin’ you right” becomes “And that’s why night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right”. “If you felt [it] like that,” he said, “there’s nothing I can do... And if you think about it, how old am I?”

In recent years he has taken up boxing, pierced his eyebrow and lip, and added more hardware to his ears. He’s grown out his hair, and got heavily inked. “I like extreme things,” he says with a laugh. “People always tell me I look round and soft. I want this sharp, powerful image.” His debut single, Jung Kook says, “wasn’t [me] trying to break away from my image”. In his eyes, the evolution has already occurred, making “Seven” a direct reflection of who he is now. And so he was steadfast and frank during that pivotal livestream. “It was important for me to show how much I’ve grown as a solo artist through taking on new challenges,” Jung Kook explains, “rather than staying in my comfort zone or settling for the things that I was used to. I wanted to fully explain that to my fans.”

In Jung Kook’s mind, then and now, ‘more’ translates as “becoming a better and cooler singer”, he says intently. “To me, I’m not that singer I imagined myself [to be], that specific image that I had of a singer, that’s why I’m aiming higher.”

The Jung Kook of 2023 is OK with the not quite knowing-ness of that. He tries to live in the present and keep things simple, even if that’s easier said than done. “It’s impossible to not think at all,” he sighs. “You know when you think of something and it just goes on and on, down this deep rabbit hole? That can lead to positive conclusions but, for me, sometimes it led to negative ones. But now that I’ve gained some self-confidence, I’m more able to exclude those unnecessary thoughts.” In teaching himself how to quieten down his brain, he finds himself “worrying [less] about things that haven’t happened yet or thinking, ‘What if I don’t meet my own expectations?’”

But, with the power of hindsight, Jung Kook, who is working on more music with an eye towards a debut solo album, knows how far he’s come. “I trusted my gut [with my debut single] and thought, ‘Will I be able to reach the audience, and a lot of them?’ And I sort of proved that I could.” And rather than being that ambiguous grey hexagon, Jung Kook – who smiles, the widest smile his face is capable of – says, “I’d be white, and I can colour it in whatever colour I like.”"

My impressions

This interview is a confirmation to the discourse we've been having lately.

Jk lives his life in phases. He changes quickly according to his vibes on the situation and let's himself be guided by things that he cannot see.

At this point, he is revealing what he had kept from fans. Things that he already did but weren't public. I suspect it's because of where he is in life at the moment (BTS hiatus, solo career, about to enlist, just turned 26).

Perhaps, his vibes told him it's time.

Jk's words seem contradictory but a person isn't just one truth. We all have many.

And for years, Jk has been squished into a box with labels and cute nicknames. We've only seen one side of him constantly because that's what we were shown.

In the interview, they describe him as introverted but then he comes out without a shirt for the photoshoot. He wants to be extreme but he also has that one pose in the photos that scream "zero hetero here". We read about him wanting to be sharp while he just did a cute jump at the airport. I guess Jk hasn't realized that he can be all those things at the same time. I think he will realize it with time.

What stands out to me is that he wants to break free from these labels and image that the fans have of him, but he's the one labeling himself new things. Maybe he does it to get his point across? Or maybe he think that by reiterating these new things he's shown us, we will let go of the old things? In this fandom?....hmmm.

Although Jk is very much a person who enjoys being a softie, he is also someone extreme and free who wishes to do as he pleases...because everyone should he allowed to do so. Without policing.

He says there isn't a big difference between the Jk on stage and Jk off stage, which is why he was comfortable with Seven. Not because he is the het macho guy, but because he is bolder and more confident. That song is more upbeat, sex oriented, and energetic than anything he's done in the past. So all those people thinking he just said he is straight...read carefully.

I find it amusing how this article comes out just right after everyone made such a big deal out of him smoking because he states "I am like this (at this moment)." He wants to be accepted by army being "like this" but there is no way that will happen because this is a fandom that believes they have ownership of the members and have become some sort of morality police and parent entity.

I'm sure he knows of the things that were said during the smoking pictures and Seven.

Jk was harshly critiqued for saying he wanted to be better and cooler a while back and many wondered if Seven (Scooter) had gotten to his head. But I think this article shows that he's just aiming higher...like any artist does. He still comes across as someone humble and genuine. Although, he was still genuine during those other interviews where he said he wanted to be the "one and only".

It's all about your perception of his words.

Overall, I think that Jk is still searching for his true self, as one does during that age. But based on this interview, which is probably one of the better interviews he's had, old Jk is still there...but now, we have new side of him to observe. With time, we will see if this is truly what he wants or he will move on to something else.

[scandalouslamb]

re: last one

hi abyssal! i'm back like a lying liar because that was not the last of me yapping about allegory of the cave. anyway, about this bit-

It will not remember that often times he was the man standing beside me at parties, unsure and searching for the right opening, or the slight nod he gave me as he left, having found an in to a conversation. I have never written down how much that nod means to me. I could never write it down properly. 

-do you have any more felix & florus thoughts? what their dynamic was like (since they don't seem to be friends exactly but also seem to be more than acquaintances)?

Yay! No, I love answering questions! You're always welcome! I guess this goes without saying, but this is obviously all my headcanon. Thanks for the ask! Also this got longer than I expected!

All the mentors (for the most part) are at the minimum some form of school friends or at least friendly acquaintances (Felix-Livia and Coriolanus-Livia being the notable exceptions I can think of off the top of my head. Urban Canville is probably disliked by many of the others as well). I think that there's some affection between all of them from just growing up in the same circles and as these are top performing Academy students, likely seeing each other in the same honors classes and functions.

Working off that baseline, I don't think the Friend family is quite on the same level in terms of influence and wealth as the Ravinstills, Heavensbees, or the more prestigious families of the Academy.

Felix is more comfortable interacting with people whose families are closer to his in status or with people who seem more honest with their intentions/emotions. Florus doesn't really fall into either category in my mind (Florus trying to fit in would not put him in the latter). (I think lowkey a thing I have going on with Felix is that before he comes into his own the idea of who he should be as a Ravinstill gets in the way of him making personal connections, so this continues to be an extension of that in a way.)

When Felix and Florus could have become closer (during the Academy), I think they were preoccupied with their own internal issues which are both kind of similar. They both felt kind of overlooked in their families (in Felix's case, this is a result of miscommunication while in Florus' case, this is more actually the case). They aren't really thinking too hard about that other guy who has similar interests to them. Felix enjoyed history, although I think he fell into the traps of getting swept up into narratives rather than peeling back the curtain of how these historical narratives are formed like Florus would. To be fair, I think Florus fell into that trap when he was younger too. Unfortunately, at worst, they might have felt that their interests were too similar. There might have tried to avoid each other because of that (self-conscious about being replaced).

Still, I think that they probably would have gotten on well if they had interacted more/gave themselves a chance to become closer, and I think Florus would recognize that in the later years. In hindsight, he says that they could have been friends, maybe even good friends, and I think it compounds the guilt he has due to his indirect involvement with Felix's death.

In the end, their small kind of nod of kinship at parties, to me, was meant to amplify that idea that small things cause ripples, like Florus giving the list that eventually led to Myrtilus Carnes killing Felix but in kind of an opposite way? Like Florus' action has a describable impact. Felix's nod means a lot to Florus (some form of comfort. "you are not alone") but it isn't really something you can explain. (it's a small gesture that means a lot personally but to an outsider is just... nothing). Again, the things that history cannot truly capture in my opinion (the personal).

(if you look closely, my brain getting inexplicably scrambled by Felix Ravinstill makes it's way into my characterization of Felix's relationship with others... Sometimes, a near-stranger impacts you a lot, and you just have to deal with that. The amount of times that Felix is important primarily through a love and importance assigned to him by another person... Haha. Wonder what's up with that?)

[tavyliasin]

Upon The Devil's Stage - Raphael Romance Event

My second entry into the Make Raphael Romanceable event by @dmagedgoods because I felt like the first wasn't quite romantic enough. This one could follow on as a sequel, or stand on its own as a little one shot~

--- Raphael has returned to sweep Tav off their feet, wondering if they can truly dance to the steps he has set before them. Tav has long waited for this chance, the unspoken promise, drawn to the warmth of the Cambion's flame. --- Click here to read on AO3 1860 Words

Pairing: Raphael x Gender Neutral Tav SPICE Rating: 0/5, we're only here for the romance again~ Content Warnings: None Spoilers: End game and post game spoilers alluded to though not the focus. Canon Compliance: Ah, if only~ This can be the canon of your post-game dreams, if you wish!

Paired Song Whisper by Burn the Ballroom "His favorite days were the mornings She came with confessions of cardinal sin A beast in the business of selling forgiveness Dead eyes on a treacherous grin Yet he laps up the vice like a wolf in the night He's the left hand of God on the stage And with one hand he offers salvation to lovers The other, it taketh awaySo give me your fire, give me your fear Give me your faith when love gives you tears Give me your heart, give me your fate Give me your hand when love gives you hate Give me your prayers up on your feet And I'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats So give me your sins, give me your lies But whisper your love, and I'll whisper mine."

--- Full Fic Below The Cut! ---

Upon The Devil's Stage

Poetry. That’s what he was, a song written in lyrics designed to enthral whilst the music of his rhyme captured Tav’s heart and soul.

Thief. Though he would never admit to such a word being applied to himself, he stole the stage he walked upon, took the spotlight and outshone even that.

Playwrite.

The script he wrote became a performance all were drawn to, characters populating his world, a whole cast of little mice rushing through the maze and hoping to find the promised prize at the centre.

Raphael.

A Devil in name and nature, and yet he was also far more than the abject evil of old fairy tales written to warn Tav away from the temptation - temptation which evidently they had not been warned clearly enough about as they let him lead them in a waltz of his own composition. He called himself a saviour, once, and perhaps it would amuse him to see the daydreams in Tav’s head of the devil as the knight in shining armour, the prince coming to sweep them off their feet.

And yet…no romance novel printed on cheap parchment could compare to the image of the cambion dressed in his finest silks, hair swept back between horns that curved wickedly above like a crown without jewels. Raphael was purple prose brought to life on reality’s page, a vivid violet swirl of perfect cursive script spelling out the poise and grace he wove into every word and motion. 

It didn’t take a contract to have Tav accepting the hand offered to them, to follow him onto the dancefloor that appeared around them as the reality of the mundane melted away. Perhaps the ease in which he transported them both across planes without so much as a question first should have been a concern, but their only worry now was putting a foot astray in the devil’s dance. 

—

Raphael smiled. His favourite client, his Little Mouse, and they were radiant in the glow of his glory. A simple spell had transformed their dreary armour into fine silks that far better matched their status at his side - the soon-to-be Archduke of the Hells could not allow appearances to slide, even without any audience.

How he loved the way they hesitated for half a second before placing their small hand within his own, the way he could hear their heart stop for just a moment as his claws closed around their fingers. Such a fragile mortal soul, and yet Raphael could not deny that they had impressed him. He had told them once, that he had grown fond of them in his own way, and not one syllable of that had been a lie.

—

“Where’s the orchestra?” Tav finally found their voice in the genuine confusion at how there was now a swirl of beautiful music wrapping around them, as they gazed up towards the Cambion’s stern features as if looking for their answer in the charming wrinkles that decorated his face so beautifu- 

“The invisible choir sing when they are bidden, Little Mouse.” He spoke with a slight smile in the edge of his voice, the implication of a hundred lost souls just out of sight and at his command… It was not helping slow the rate of Tav’s racing heart. Raphael held such power so easily, so casually… His words were law, and his laws were as immutable as the Devil’s own capricious charms. “Do you not like the melody? It can be changed in but a moment if-” “No, no! It’s wonderful, really.” Tav almost bit their own tongue to punish it when they realised they had interrupted him mid-sentence. “I- Sorry I didn’t mean to…” Their voice lost all power under the burning gaze of the cambion above them, though to their surprise his expression creased into a smile within a moment. 

“Music, Mouse, was made to be danced to.” Raphael pulled them closer, one hand still entwined with theirs, his other wrapping easily around their waist. It was difficult to reach his shoulder when he was in this form, so Tav had to settle for gripping the sleeve that barely hid the strength beneath.

The musicians, still unseen, rose to a crescendo with a swell of strings as the devil began to lead their dance. 

Masterful feet wove a path around the ballroom, sweeping Tav between the shadows of a hundred fellow dancers who had neglected to attend the grandiose event made for two. No dream that had drifted through their sleepless nights could compare to the reality of the warmth of his hand on the curve of their back, no waking reverie of romance could match up to the almost weightless sensation of their waltz. Nothing could have prepared Tav for the moment he leaned over, taking the balance of their weight on his arm as he dipped them low, leaving his lips just a hair’s breadth from their own. 

Before they could catch their breath, or gather their senses enough to steal the kiss they had long dreamed of, the devil smirked and lifted them back to their feet. Their mind was spinning in the same manner as their body did while the dance continued, each move a push and pull that brought them tantalisingly close only to create distance once more. 

The heat of the cambion’s body, the grace of his movements, the danger of being so close to the power and devilish charm he possessed… Tav felt like they were dancing in the heart of a fire, and they had not one care if they were to burn to ash right there and then. 

—

Raphael savoured each moment like a delicacy. Watching the breath catch in Tav’s throat, seeing their pulse quicken almost imperceptibly through the exposed part of their neck, noticing how their lips almost wanted to chase him every time he pulled away. 

He had often spoken to them of how he preferred clients to be desperate, to be left with no option, no thought beyond turning to him and begging for his aid. This was…not the same, not quite. He did not want them broken and bowed with their knees in the dirt, he wanted…not an equal, but something close. Someone who could challenge him. Someone who would desire everything he was and everything he could be, but one who would not be afraid to chase it. 

And thus, Raphael had set the lanceboard pieces upon the table, making each move and daring Tav to take what they wanted. Were he to be the one to show his desire for them openly? That would not do, the balance of power would shift. He had perhaps gone far further than he might have liked in creating this moment, in calling them his favourite client, in revealing his fondness for them more than once… But that was the limit of his grace in showing them he was receptive to an advance. They had to be the one to want him, and he was to be the one to so generously allow them to be close. 

“You dance well, Little Mouse.” A simple compliment, earning him a smile and the blush that spread across their cheeks - of course, it helped that his whisper was directed into their ear, lips almost brushing the ever reddening tip.

“I could say the same of you, Raphael.”  Ah, there it was. A little more confidence, that edge of bravery returning, driven by the desire he was stoking within them so carefully. He allowed one more soft breath across their ear - a gentle bellows to grow the flames within them - before he pulled away again. 

This time, however, Tav was faster.

—

The tension was infuriating. Tav couldn’t tell if Raphael was merely teasing them, or waiting for them to make the first move. Either way, if they didn’t do something about it soon, they were certain it would leave them with nothing but a lifetime of regret when the music reached its final cadence. 

The depth of his voice, the heat of the air that carried it, the scent of his perfume so close to them… When the cambion tried to move away this time, their hand found a grip on his horns instead, holding him a few inches from their face as he embraced them in a dancer’s dip in his arms. 

“Not this time. Wait.” They had meant it as a request, but desperation turned the words to more of a command.

“Issuing orders? To me?” Raphael’s eyebrows raised, a slight smile toying at the edge of his lips. “My, my, Little Mouse. We have become so very brave in the face of the cat. Perhaps I should drop you right here upon the floor.” 

“You don’t want to do that.” Tav continued, emboldened in the knowledge he could have fully pulled away at any moment…yet he allowed them to hold him here. They even softened their grip to caress his horns, smooth, sharp, dangerous and regal… Everything that they admired in him.

“Oh? And what is it that I want from a mere mortal such as yourself?” His voice was subtly lower now, the spaces between his words saying far more than the sound. 

“I don’t know,” Tav admitted, their hand drifting from his natural crown to the side of his cheek, “but I know what I want. And I’m tired of waiting for it.” They threw caution into the depths of the inferno and stole his lips in a kiss, savouring the heat of his touch and the scent of cherry that was almost intoxicating as he softened, yielding - in so much as a devil would ever yield to a mortal - and returning their affection with his own. The cat might have set the trap, but as long as they still got the reward they had yearned for, the mouse did not care that the cambion’s claws were firmly embedded in their soul. They had danced to his tune, waltzed right onto the board of his game willing to sacrifice every piece they had if he were to ask.

—

Devil. The name that most would give the man with a crown of horns, eyes like living fire, and a burning desire to rule all the hells. And what would that make Tav, now? Willing to take his hand, to follow him into the depths of Avernus and beyond just to be at his side… Ally. No, more than that. This was no brokered deal of warring nations, nor a mere friendship between neighbours. Their goals had aligned, in such a way as they might. Partners, perhaps… Putting a name to the lack of space between their lips felt like a fool’s errand. Saviour. The title he gave himself when they first met had proven true, in its own way. Appearing when he wished to, giving them not what they wanted but only what they needed to prove themselves. To be worthy of him. “Raphael.” His name tasted all the sweeter whispered into his kiss, the last seal of a fate they would choose a thousand times without a second thought as he swept them away into the night.  

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- --- Would you dance with the devil? What song might you pick for his invisible orchestra to play for you as he whisks you around the ballroom? Thank you for joining me with these little event pieces, it's always fun to write some Raphael content~ He's truly fascinating and captivating as a character, we were blessed by some wonderful writing and performances in the game, with the stunning art and animation to match.

[summerwritesfics]

🌎Love I’d Never Hurt You

Pairing: Shang Tsung/Kuai Liang Length: 5261 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Serial Killer/Detective AU, Detective!Kuai Liang, Serial Killer!Shang Tsung, Detective!Bi-Han, Murder, Graphic Description of Corpses, Stalking, Death Threats, Minor Character Death, Gun Violence, Obsession, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Blood And Gore, Bombs (Except Not Really), Pinned Down, Abduction (Sorta I guess lmao even Kuai doesn’t know for sure if that’s what’s happening to him), NSFK (Not Safe For Kuai), Shang Tsung Is Very Creepy (Honestly he came out way creepier than I was intending)

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: NGL I debated posting this or not, but honestly don’t think it’s any darker than some other stuff I’ve posted so 🤷🏻 Like upon re-reading Shang Tsung did come out way creepier than I originally intended, but I mean… he’s a serial killer so it kinda works. Also tfw you dislike the police irl but love crime fiction. :’( I think the truly shocking thing about this fic is that I wrote a detective fic without Detective Hanzo Hasashi making an appearance, like tf. Title is from “The Horror Of Our Love” by Ludo.

Kuai was almost thankful to be called out of the office.

Granted, he was going to investigate a suspected homicide, and that should not have been something he was eager to attend. He felt even worse that such a thing was definitely a welcome distraction from whatever the hell was going on with Bi-Han right now.

The case Bi-Han was currently working on had seemed to consume his very being. Every waking hour was spent obsessing over a mysterious serial killer. The murders were almost clinical, like whoever was committing the acts was performing experimental medical procedures. Things like organ transplants, but twisted, like trying to move the heart to where the stomach should be and vice versa. There were usually drugs in the victim's system that didn’t correlate to any known drug used in medicine. It was very strange and so far there had been very few clues to attach even a solid suspect or two to the case.

And Bi-Han was completely losing his mind over it.

“Brother, maybe you should take a break,” Kuai had tried to gently suggest. He’d flinched at the murderous glare Bi-Han had shot his way. “Clearing your mind may help you look at this at a different angle, and you do have other cases you haven’t even touched since-“ 

“I don’t give a shit about the other cases,” Bi-Han hissed, slamming his hands on his desk. “I care about this case, and catching this fucking bastard!” 

“But Brother-“ 

“No!” Bi-han swept his hands across his desk, sending everything on it flying off onto the floor in a loud clatter. If anyone else in the station heard it, they didn’t come to intervene. “This case is the only one that matters. And if you can’t understand why, then you can get the fuck out of my office.” 

“Bi-Han-“ 

“Get the fuck out!” 

Kuai realised he was fighting a losing battle, and left the office with his head hung low. 

It was after that he had been requested to go and attend the site of the suspected homicide, and he’d practically jumped at the chance. Honestly anything to get away from his brother for a little while. He hoped maybe when he was done and returned to the office, Bi-Han would have calmed down a bit, realised Kuai was right and they could go out for dinner or something. Kuai was kind of craving sushi at this point, and quite frankly big brother owed him a big apology for the way he treated him.

He spotted a police car pulled up outside an abandoned warehouse. This was his destination, however, it was strange that neither of the attending officers were outside waiting for him. He hit the breaks and parked up, before quickly jumping out. This area was extremely cut off from the rest of the city. Combined with the eerie silence he was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his radio, clicking the button, “This is Detective Kuai Liang Song, currently on case 759. Could I request some back up? The initial police presence has not come to brief me, and I am currently in a very isolated spot. I believe it would be unwise of me to enter the building alone.”

There was a moment of silence, before a voice on the other end replied with “Sorry Detective, the majority of officers are attending a major incident on the other side of the city at this time. It could be hours before we can get someone to your location.”

“Major incident? How come I was not informed of this?” Usually something like that would have been alerted to all emergency services.

“I can’t say I know, the alert was sent out on all police radios.”

“Is there absolutely no one free?” He tried, slowly walking towards the door of the warehouse. He peered inside, but could see nothing.

“No, unfortunately all units are busy.” Dammit. Just his luck. It still seemed strange though, usually even when there was a major incident, a few officers were kept back to deal with smaller emergencies.

He looked around, the trees and foliage surrounding the warehouse were thick, so much so he couldn’t even see the city. He could, however, make out thick plumes of smoke just above the trees. It did look like it was quite a distance from where he was. At least it seemed the incident was somewhat real, although he wasn’t completely convinced this wasn’t someone hijacking the line to prank him.

“So, what do you recommend? That I stand down until I can receive back up?” He wasn’t completely defenceless. He had a gun, but he still felt it’d be preferable to have others who could raise the alarm depending on what he found inside.

“Are you sure the team already there just hasn't heard you turn up?” The voice asked. “Maybe you should go inside and look for them?”

“I-“ That was wrong. That advice was all wrong. No one at control would ever suggest he go in there alone. That bad feeling was getting worse. “I see. I will keep you informed of my progress.”

He slipped his radio back onto his belt, but stepped away from the entrance to the warehouse. As he did, he slipped his phone out of his pocket, only to curse when he found he had no signal here.

Instead of dwelling on that, he made his way over to the police car. Now he was looking, he could see the tires had all been slashed. Shit, I was right to be on high alert. He reached for the door handle, surprised to find the car unlocked. Another bad sign. He climbed into the driver's seat, hoping maybe to use that radio instead. Only he could see the cable to it had been cut.

“Shit.”

The sound of gunshots rang out and he instinctively ducked behind the dashboard. It went on for several seconds, before coming to a halt. He stayed hidden for as long as he could, before gingerly sticking his head out. Whoever had been shooting didn’t start again, and Kuai realised the police car seemed to be completely unscathed. That’s when he looked over to his own car.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He scrambled out the police car, walking over to his own. It was littered with bullet holes, most specifically in his tires. The shots weren’t trying to kill him, just take away any method of escape he had aside from on foot.

“I recommend you come inside now, Detective,” the radio suddenly sparked into life again. “I would advise against running. I’d really rather not harm you, if possible, but I will shoot your legs if you force me to.”

Kuai plucked the radio from his belt, turning to glare at the warehouse. He couldn’t even see where this person could be.

“Who the fuck are you?” He growled eyes darting around the building hoping he’d spot a shadow or something.

“You’re going to have to come inside if you really want to know,” the voice chuckled, “then we can be introduced properly.” Kuai didn’t dare move, not until he figured out how to proceed. “I’d suggest you don’t keep me waiting, Detective. Like I said, I would really rather not hurt you.”

Kuai didn’t exactly know what choice he had at this point. He slipped his radio back onto his belt, replacing it with his gun instead. He swallowed, taking a deep breath before slowly pushing forward towards the warehouse’s entrance.

Inside was dark and dingy, and every shadow on the wall had Kuai jumping at the slightest movement and sound, even when it was something he had caused. As he entered what looked like it had once been the main storage area, he couldn’t help but think how empty it looked. That meant the two humanoid figures sitting on chairs stood out a mile.

This is a trap. It was so obvious, and yet Kuai, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, still went towards them. He held the gun up. It was clearly the two officers who’d come in before him, but they looked lifeless. He hoped to god they were just unconscious.

“Hello?” He chanced, but got no reply. “Can you hear me?”

Still no reply. Even so, he pushed on, rounding to stand in front of the officers.

Only to find their guts spilling out of their abdomens and onto the floor.

He wretched, stumbling backwards, desperately turning his face to look away from the sight in front of him. It was never easy to find dead bodies, especially in such a brutalised state as this. The officers weren’t people he was particularly close to, but they were still people he’d worked with on a nearly daily basis.

“Ah, hello there Detective.”

Kuai spun on the spot from where the voice had come from. It was the same one that had been on the radio. Standing behind him, was a man with long hair wearing a suit and his hands behind his back. Kuai didn’t take much notice of any further details though, as he aimed his gun at the stranger.

“Now, Kuai Liang, is there really any need for that?” The man asked, laughing slightly as he did and tilting his head. “And after I put in all this effort to get you here.”

“What?” That made it sound like this had all been deliberate. A coordinated effort to get Kuai, specifically, here. But Kuai had never seen this man before, and he didn’t have any current cases that felt like they fit these methods. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Shang Tsung,” the man replied, taking a few steps forward but pausing when Kuai straightened his aim slightly. “I am the one your dear elder brother is looking for.”

“You…” He didn’t finish the sentence, letting what had been said sink in instead. This man was claiming to be the serial killer of Bi-Han’s case. But… Who would just admit that? Especially to a detective? Kuai tried to steady his hands, realising they had started to shake. “If that is true, then you’ll be coming with me.”

Shang Tsung chuckled, finally moving his hands from behind his back. Revealing he was holding something. Kuai prepared to shoot, until he realised it wasn’t a gun. It was a strange silver cylinder. Kuai’s eyes flicked between the item and Shang Tsung, looking for an explanation.

“Please. Put the gun down, Kuai Liang.” Shang Tsung held up the cylinder as if to let Kuai get a good look at it. “This is a trigger to a bomb that is set up inside your brothers office.” Kuai’s mouth went dry as his eyes widened. “Put the gun down, and I won’t have to press it.”

“You’re bluffing,” Kuai hissed, squeezing the trigger of his gun. Really he wasn’t as good a shot as his brother, and wasn’t entirely sure he could shoot before Shang Tsung could press the button.

“Is that really something you're willing to risk?” That was unfair. If there really was a bomb in Bi-Han’s office, then it wouldn’t just take out his brother, but a lot of other people who had nothing to do with this case and even those with nothing to do with the police. And Kuai had no way to warn anyone.

Reluctantly, he took his finger away from the trigger, slowly bending over to put the gun on the floor.

“Kick it away,” Shang Tsung ordered, and as much as he didn’t want to, Kuai did as he was told. The gun went skidding across the floor, far out of his reach. Shang Tsung was positively glowing at this turn of events. “Good boy.”

Kuai stayed stock-still, even as Shang Tsung began to approach him. He wasn’t even sure he was actually breathing, all he could feel was his heart beating so hard in his chest it felt like it was trying to break through his ribcage. He blinked and then he found himself looking directly into the other man's eyes. Looking to his side, he saw Shang Tsung was still holding the trigger, thumb dancing over the button.

“Don’t,” Kuai begged in a whisper, feeling sick at the twisted grin that came over Shang Tsung’s face. He pressed his finger down on the button. “No!”

Jerking into action, he grabbed Shang Tsung’s wrist with one hand, the other practically wrestling the trigger from his hand. Despite it having already been pushed, it felt the only thing he could do at this point.

Except… 

When he took hold of it, he realised that despite how it looked, the trigger wasn’t metal. It was plastic. He could also feel that it was hollow inside. The more he looked at it, the more he realised it looked like some sort of fidget toy. His gaze slowly trailed up to Shang Tsung, who looked far too pleased with himself.

“It seems you were correct,” he gleefully exclaimed, “I was bluffing after all.”

The hairs on the back of Kuai’s neck stood on end. He attempted to dive forward, towards where his gun still lay on the floor, but Shang Tsung quickly grabbed him. In one swift motion, Kuai felt something knock into the back of his legs, causing him to fall backwards. Thankfully, he managed to avoid slamming his head on the floor, but then he felt a pressure on his abdomen as Shang Tsung got on top of him, pinning him down. He threw a fist, only for Shang Tsung to easily catch his wrists, and push them above his head. The floor next to him was wet, liquid soaking into his shirt, and as the metallic smell hit him, Kuai came to the horrific realisation he was lying in the officer's blood.

“Stop struggling,” Shang Tsung softly whispered, making sure he gripped both of Kuai’s wrists with one hand, while the other trailed along Kuai’s jawline. “I already said, I do not want to hurt you.”

“That’d be a lot more believable if I wasn’t lying next to the corpses of my colleagues,” Kuai hissed, squirming slightly and hoping he could knock Shang Tsung off him. Unfortunately that did not happen, and Kuai was slowly beginning to run out of steam with which to struggle.

“They were just meaningless fodder, Kuai Liang.” It was sick how someone could talk so callously about human life. “Not like you.” Kuai finally stopped trying to fight. He’d just end up wearing himself out. His head fell back slightly, and Shang Tsung lent forward, making sure he was still in Kuai’s field of view. “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Kuai sobbed, trying so desperately to keep his composure. “Why are you doing this?”

“I need to talk with you, and I figured a written invite would go unanswered.” Shang Tsung’s fingers still gently laced Kuai’s face. A softness that directly clashed with the otherwise brutality of the man's actions. “I’ve been watching you for some time now.”

“What?” Kuai’s stomach twisted, his gaze fixed on Shang Tsung’s face. He looked so indifferent, like he didn’t realise or care how much that statement terrified Kuai Liang.

“Well, it started with me watching your brother, he is the detective on my case, after all, it would be stupid of me to not keep an eye on what he’s doing.” Shang Tsung’s hand reached behind Kuai’s head, undoing the tie that kept his hair up in a bun. “But I couldn’t help but find myself captivated by you.” His fingers ran through Kuai’s hair, causing Kuai to shudder under him. “My interest in him is professional. My interest in you is personal.”

“Please.” Kuai had no idea where this was going, he had no idea what he was pleading for. He just knew that he wasn’t sure he was going to make it out of this situation alive.

“Unfortunately, my fascination with the pair of you hasn’t gone unnoticed by my higher ups.” Shang Tsung kept playing with Kuai��s hair, sighing wistfully to himself as he did. “They believe my obsession with you both is impacting my work.”

“Your work?” Kuai questioned, finally noticing the quiver in his own voice. “Are you an assassin?”

Shang Tsung burst out laughing, “oh no, my dear, not an assassin. I’m a scientist. Everything I do is in the pursuit of science.”

Killing people for science? It sounded so fucking bizarre to Kuai. Then again, it would explain the strangeness of the deaths, the almost experimental nature of them. His victims were his guinea pigs.

“Regardless, they are not happy with the way my attention has been diverted.” He finally let Kuai’s hair fall between his fingers, watching in fascination. “They have decided it would be in their best interests to eliminate you both. That’s why I lured you here today. I wish to save you and your brother from their wrath, Kuai Liang.”

“Why should I believe you?” Kuai asked, flinching slightly when Shang Tsung’s fingertips once more trailed his face, specifically following the edges of the scar that ran across his eye. “You haven’t exactly given me much reason to trust your word.”

“I understand your hesitation.” To Kuai’s surprise, Shang Tsung actually released his wrists. As Shang Tsung pulled back, still sitting on Kuai’s lower abdomen, Kuai used his now free arms to prop himself up slightly. Shang Tsung’s hand disappeared into his pocket, and Kuai flinched slightly, expecting a weapon of some kind. Instead he pulled out a phone. “Here is a video of them discussing their plans to bring about your demise.”

Shang Tsung twisted the phone so Kuai could see the screen. The image looked like it was from the security camera of an office somewhere. There were three men standing inside, including Shang Tsung himself. A finger tapped the screen, and the video began to play.

“You are getting far too attached to those detectives, Shang Tsung,” one of the men said, the largest actually, towering above the others. “Your little obsession is getting in the way of your work.” He began to pace back and forth. “The elder one, I understand why you would keep an eye on, but the younger one is irrelevant to your work.”

“My surveillance on Kuai Liang is purely for personal reasons,” the Shang Tsung on the video replied. It looked like he was about to open his mouth to add something but the large man snapped back.

“I do not want to hear about your fucked up wet dreams about that brat,” the man spat, slamming his fist down on a nearby desk. “You are spending too much time on them, if you do not start to produce more results for me, I may be forced to take drastic action.” The man tilted his head. “Do you understand?”

“Clear as day,” Shang Tsung replied, bowing at the man slightly. The man just pointed to the door, and Shang Tsung sauntered out.

“You know he’s not going to stop, right?” The other man chimed up as soon as Shang Tsung was out of earshot.

“I am fully aware.” The tall man walked around the desk taking a seat. “Reiko, I have a job for you.”

“Am I to assume you wish me to make a visit to the dear detectives?” Reiko asked, and even on the zoomed out footage, Kuai could see the sadistic grin at the mere idea.

“The only way Shang Tsung is going to learn where his priorities should be is by taking away the things that distract him.” The man lent forward on the desk, linking his fingers in front of him. “As the younger one is clearly his favourite, make sure to do something extra special with him. Just to make the point clear.”

“I could decapitate him and present his preserved head as a birthday gift.” Both men burst out into laughter at that, but Kuai couldn’t help the high pitched whine that came from the back of his throat.

The video ended there, with Shang Tsung replacing the phone back into his pocket. Once more, his hand reached over to Kuai’s face to cradle it.

“You see.” He stroked Kuai’s face, and Kuai hated that he almost lent into it. “I just want to keep you and your brother safe.”

“Why?” Kuai asked, changing his position slightly, his arms starting to ache slightly from the weight of keeping himself up. “I mean. I understand why you want to save me, you have some… weird crush on me. But why Bi-Han? He’s trying to catch and stop you, wouldn’t it be more advantageous for him to be out of the picture?”

“Hm, well I’m a little hurt you think my crush on you is weird.” Shang Tsung pouted, his other hand now slowly caressing Kuai’s side. “But to answer your question, I rather enjoy the chase.” He gave a sloppy smile. “Killing really isn’t fun when there isn’t someone on your tail trying to stop you.”

So he enjoys the thrill, go figure. Shang Tsung could claim his kills were in the name of science all he liked, but at the end of the day, he was like anyone else who killed people for their own sick enjoyment. Kuai wasn’t sure if he should feel honoured or disturbed that he was apparently worthy of being more than just an experiment.

“So why lure me here and not Bi-Han?” Really, how the fuck Kuai got involved in any of this was questionable. Bi-Han had requested Kuai’s assistance a few times, but he had very little to do with the case. “If you’ve really been watching us, you’d know Bi-Han will do anything to catch you. If you’d have called him here, he’d have come running.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that. The problem is, as you said, he would do anything to catch me.” Shang Tsung sighed and rolled his eyes. “He’d have shot me the second I attempted the bomb trick on him, let alone giving me a chance to explain my intentions.” He looked Kuai up and down. “From my observations however, he does at least seem to listen to you most of the time. It seemed most logical to get you on my side first and then attempt to contact your brother.”

Well. He supposed that was true. Kuai had lost count of how many times he was called away from something he was working on to go and try to calm Bi-Han down when his temper got the best of him. It was a joke around the station that Kuai Liang was Bi-Han’s morality pet, the only thing preventing him from becoming a serial killer himself. Kuai didn’t find that joke particularly funny however, given how uncomfortably close to the truth it was.

“So… What exactly do you suggest?” He was cautious to do anything with this man, but at the very least, it seemed Shang Tsung was genuine in his word that he did not wish to harm Kuai. Given the situation, he could have easily killed Kuai if he really wanted to by now.

“Call your brother, ask him to meet us at another location…” Shang Tsung trailed off as his eyes drifted over to the corpses beside them. “Somewhere other than here, anyway. I think we should let someone else clean this mess up.”

He’s talking like I had involvement in that. He glanced down, the one side of his suit was practically stained red from the blood that had seeped through it.

“I don’t have any signal here,” Kuai quietly informed him, hoping to god Shang Tsung wouldn’t get mad that he’d tried to call for help before coming in here.

“Well, we’ll be leaving this location anyway. You can just ring as soon as your signal returns.” Right. Kuai’s gut twisted, he should have realised that he would not be leaving this place alone. 

Finally however, Shang Tsung stood up and off him, and Kuai rolled onto his side, having not realised how uncomfortable it had been. Shang Tsung walked over to where Kuai’s gun lay discarded on the floor, bending over to pick it up.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep hold of this, rather than returning it to you,” Shang Tsung said as he slipped the gun into his pocket. “Not that I don’t trust you or anything darling, but I think I’ve had my fill of seeing you pointing a gun at my face for one day.”

Kuai didn’t reply to that. What could he even say? He’d have much preferred to have the gun, even if he didn’t really intend to use it on Shang Tsung.

Thankfully Shang Tsung took his silence as agreement, as he walked over and held his hand out. Kuai reached for it, feeling the other man haul him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, not realising how dizzy the adrenaline had made him. He was surprised when Shang Tsung snaked an arm around his waist and let him lean his weight against him.

It also seemed this position allowed Shang Tsung the benefit of leading Kuai exactly where he wanted them to go. It wasn’t long before they were going through a backdoor in the warehouse. Back outside, Kuai saw another car parked behind the building, having been hidden from sight when he’d pulled in. Dammit, I should have looked around the outside more thoroughly. 

Disappointment in himself aside, Shang Tsung unlocked the doors, opening one and guiding Kuai to sit down in the front passenger seat. The door slammed behind him, and Kuai looked up in time to see Shang Tsung make his way around the front. Seconds later he was getting in the driver's seat, and starting the ignition.

“Keep an eye on your signal,” he instructed as he began to back out into the pathway. “As soon as you get some, tell me, and I’ll pull over.”

Kuai nodded, reaching into his pocket and keeping an intent eye on his phone. Really, focusing on that was at least grounding. If he didn’t, he had a feeling he’d be zoning out from how mentally exhausted he felt. Was he being abducted right now? He’d gone pretty willingly, yet at the same time somewhat by force. What was even happening to him right now?

He looked up briefly to find they were just joining the main road again. Glancing down he saw his signal go from nothing up to 3 bars. Typical. 

“I have signal.”

Shang Tsung made an affirmative sound, pulling the car up on the side of the road.

“There are some abandoned storage units on the other side of town, down by the river, ask him to meet us there alone by 6pm.” Shang Tsung turned on his seat as if to keep a close eye on what Kuai was doing. “Feel free to mention me, I’m sure it’ll get his attention.” Kuai sighed, because yes, that would get Bi-Han’s attention. “Oh, and put it on speaker. I want to hear his reaction.”

Kuai just sighed, pulling up Bi-Han’s contact info, hitting both the buttons to call and for it to be on speaker phone. The phone rang out. Come on Bi-Han, please answer. 

The phone clicked to life and Bi-Han’s voice called out clear as day, “what?”

“We need to talk,” Kuai started, staring straight ahead so he didn’t have to acknowledge the way Shang Tsung watched him.

“We’ve been over this. I am not giving up on this case,” Bi-Han growled on the other side. Kuai closed his eyes and grimaced. He couldn’t believe his brother was still holding onto that.

“It’s the case we need to talk about. I have a lead for you,” he said quickly, hoping it’d stop his brother going on another tirade.

There was a moment of silence, before Bi-Han questioned “what kind of lead?”

“Someone who wants to talk to you,” Kuai replied. He didn’t want to outright say he was in a car with a serial killer. Bi-Han would go completely off the rails if he did.

“What? Like a witness?” Bi-Han sounded so confused and Kuai knew that he had to tell him.

Kuai finally looked across at Shang Tsung, expression as smug as ever. But there was something else there now, a strange possessiveness in his dark eyes. Kuai had the feeling that even when everything was over, that Shang Tsung wasn’t going to just let him walk away from all this. As if to emphasise the point, Shang Tsung reached his hand forward again, wiping away a tear rolling down Kuai’s cheek, and then tucking a strand of Kuai’s hair behind his ear.

“I found your killer,” Kuai whispered, hating how wrecked his voice sounded.

“Kuai Liang,” Bi-han growled, the alarm clear in his voice. “Kuai Liang, where are you right now?”

“He hasn’t hurt me,” Kuai assured him, although was that true? Kuai ached in various places and he was sure there were some bruises forming on various parts of his body from the struggle.

“Where are you?” Bi-Han asked again, and Kuai could hear him shuffling in the background, no doubt grabbing his coat and anything else he’d need to come to Kuai’s rescue.

“He wants to meet you,” Kuai continued, once again resisting the urge to lean into Shang Tsung’s hand as he stroked him. “There’s some abandoned storage units down by the river. He wants you there by 6pm, but don’t bring anyone else.”

“Can he hear me right now?” Bi-Han was breathing heavily, and all Kuai could do was make an affirmative sound. “Listen here, you son of a bitch, if you so much as lay a finger on my brother-“

“He’s already told you that I have not hurt him,” Shang Tsung interrupted, eyes never leaving Kuai, giving an enamoured sigh as he continued to gently pat him. Kuai finally gave in, nuzzling into the hand. “I’m trying to save both of you, it’d be counter productive for me to harm either of you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kuai heard someone in the background asking Bi-Han what he was doing, but given there was no reply it seemed Bi-Han was laser focused on getting to the storage units.

“I’ll explain everything when we meet,” Shang Tsung calmly replied. “Like I said, I have not hurt your brother, and I would rather not if I can avoid it. Just focus on getting to the location.”

“I’m okay Bi-Han,” Kuai reaffirmed, although he’d probably sound a little more convincing if he didn’t have tears in his eyes. “We’ll explain everything when we meet you.” He smiled slightly at the phone, adding a quick “I love you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love you too.” Bi-Han sounded miserable, but in the background Kuai could hear the sound of an engine starting. “I’ll be there, just, stay safe.”

“You too.”

And with that Bi-Han put the phone down.

Before Kuai could do anything, Shang Tsung snatched the phone from Kuai’s hand. He opened his door, carelessly throwing the phone out, before slamming it shut again. If Kuai was to guess, it was to avoid him getting anyone else involved.

“Now,” Shang Tsung sighed, reaching to turn the key, “let’s go meet big brother, shall we?”

Kuai lent back in the seat, closing his eyes and hoping to god that this was all just a bad dream.

[lucigoo]

If I sing it loud and clear, will you finally hear?

#259 - House of Cards, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Pairing -Geralt/Jaskier

Warnings - None

Words - 1005

Summary - Jaskier has a new song and is as subtle as a drunken Lambert.

If Geralt doesnt see Jaskier's feelings for him now, well theres no hope for him.

Ao3 link here

Geralt walked back into the tavern as Jaskier was finishing off another embellished song about a hunt he hadn’t even been on. Typical Bard, he thought with a sigh as he grabbed a plate of food and two tankards of ale.

Geralt sat in the corner waiting for Jaskier to finally notice him. He figured it would be a while, what with how he was prancing around and having fun.

His raunchier songs fell into ballads, followed by a few of the sappier romantic songs Jaskier loved.

Geralt appreciated them because they were some of the only songs Jaskier hadn’t written about him.

He was listening with half an ear whilst Jaskier finished “her sweet kiss,” when he saw Jaskier spot him.

The smile on Jaskier’s face at just seeing Geralt did something funny to the Witcher’s insides. Something he still couldn’t explain but refused to look into, terrified of what he would find the cause to be.

Before he could contemplate it any more, Jaskier smiled down at his audience. “And tonight, tonight, ladies and gentlemen, a new song debut for you all.”

Geralt noticed Jaskier slowly strumming a new style of song on his lute as he jumped from table to table before stopping a few tables away from him.

“May I present my newest song, My House of Cards,” he called to his audience before he sang.

I don’t want to be your friend

I just want to be your lover

No matter how it ends

No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards

And I’ll do mine

Forget about your house of cards

And I’ll do mine

Fall off the table

And get swept under

Denial, denial

The infrastructure will collapse

From magical spikes

Throw your crowns in the bowl

Kiss your husband goodnight

Forget about your house of cards

And I’ll do mine

Forget about your house of cards

And I’ll do mine

Fall off the table

And get swept under

Denial, denial

Denial, denial

(Your ears should be burning)

Denial, denial

(Your ears should be burning)

Jaskier slowly walked atop the tables as he softly sang before he made it back Geralt’s way.

Geralt watched as Jaskier looked him in the eyes before softly crooning to him directly.

I don’t want to be your friend

I just want to be your lover

No matter how it ends

No matter how it starts

Geralt sat there paralysed for a few moments as Jaskier sent him a sad little grin before he vaulted back off the table and started singing “Toss a coin” as his final song for the night.

Geralt made his way up to their shared room, mulling over Jaskier’s behaviour and his latest song as he did so.

Geralt was not a stupid man, but with his dampened emotions, it meant he wasn’t so clear on others unless they were loud.

Anger, lust, hatred. They were all loud, vibrant emotions that Geralt could smell easily.

Jaskier smelt of honeysuckle and sunshine, though. He had always smelt like that, or at least since after the whole elf affair all those years ago.

For such an unsubtle man, his emotions, bar happiness, weren’t clear to Geralt at all. He was clever with his words and loved so much about life that he rarely didn’t smell of joy, which had always confused Geralt, who rarely felt joy, let alone never smelt like it.

It always spiked when he and Geralt found one another again, but he had assumed that was just because they were friends, even if Geralt rarely admitted it.

He would now, though. To himself at least. Jaskier was his best friend, the only one outside of his brothers and Vessimer he truly trusted, and yes, that included Yennifer.

Geralt sat there silently, contemplating his own emotions when Jaskier stumbled through the door to their shared room, a little tipsy and high on another phenomenal performance.

“Geralt, you're awake,” Jaskier exclaimed happily, getting ready for bed after he had set his lute down carefully.

“I always wait for you to get back unless you tell me not to Jask,” Geralt said quietly.

“You do. You do indeed, Dear heart. Aren’t I lucky?” Jaskier asked with a smile as he settled behind Geralt on the bed.

Geralt listened to Jaskier settling down before he toed his own boots off and sat against the headboard beside where he lay. “Jask ...” he said before trailing off.

“Yes, love?” Jaskier replied, already half asleep.

“Do you?” Geralt found himself asking quickly.

“Do I what, Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he sat up, hearing something nervous in the witcher’s voice.

“I mean, what if ...” Geralt trailed off again.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked again as he placed his lute calloused hand against Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt wasn’t sure what to say or how to say what he actually wanted to, so instead he grabbed Jaskier’s hand and slowly raised it to his lips, giving Jaskier all the time in the world to pull away.

Jaskier didn’t and Geralt was suddenly filled with a burst of adrenaline as his lips kissed the soft skin on the back of Jaskier’s hand.

“I think ... I know. I love you,” Geralt rushed out.

Jaskier let out a happy, tinkling laugh and Geralt swore he could see the scent of Jaskier’s happiness in the air around them; it had spiked that thickly.

“Oh, I know Dear heart. I have known for years. I love you too Geralt,” Jaskier returned as he kissed Geralt’s cheek and pulled them down to rest side by side.

“I like the new song,” Geralt said, slightly bewildered but happy by Jaskier’s response, regardless.

“It was written for you, love. Most of them are, after all,” Jaskier said with a soft laugh as he settled over Geralt’s chest.

Geralt meditated until morning, unwilling to sleep, when Jaskier’s ear was pressed against his heart. The heart that Jaskier had owned for longer than Geralt would ever have known if the other man he hadn’t pointed it out.

[purplesigebert]

WIP: Wednesday #3: DW Crossover

Alrighty so, since my brain wouldn't settle on what it wanted to write, you guys get two different scenes this week!

Caroline looked around the theatre, torn between people watching and watching the play.  It was Love’s Labour's Lost, not one of her favourites, and so she chose to watch the crowd in the stands instead.  It had been a while since they had been to the sixteenth century and Caroline was enjoying herself.  She glanced at Martha and smiled at the other girl’s happiness, this trip was well deserved after the adventure at the Royal Hope hospital, Judoon upon the Moon indeed. 

The Doctor was another story, the grief of losing Rose was still hanging over him in a way that Caroline had never seen before.  She wondered if he was sleeping, never mind that he always mentioned his “superior Time Lord biology.”  Caroline thought that he was avoiding sleep because he didn’t want to have any nightmares.

As her eyes swept over the crowd, she was arrested by the sight of a man with shining golden hair, standing in one of the upper boxes. Even from her position in the pit, he was clearly a noble. He wore a royal blue doublet and had stubble covering his sharp cheekbones.  Beside him was a girl a little older than Caroline, blonde haired and richly dressed.  There were some facial similarities between the two, cousins perhaps, or maybe siblings.  Either way, Caroline was content to ogle the man that looked to be in his early to mid twenties.  Martha, noticing where Caroline’s attention had wandered off to, elbowed her in the ribs.  When the blonde groaned and turned to look at her, the medical student shook her head, “He’s too old for you.”

“I was just looking, Martha!”

“I know we just met but I can already tell that you are the type of person who looks before they leap.”

Caroline laughed at the memory that emerged at those words, well she wasn’t wrong there.

When she turned back, the two nobles weren’t there anymore, and Caroline was confused.  How was that possible? She shook her head, turning back to the performance, which had just ended. Martha was fascinated at the validity of the play and said that it was worth putting up with the smell of around 3000 people crammed closely together in one building, before the invention of air-conditioning. Truly, the amount of people packed together in the height of summer, never mind that it was evening, was not the best idea. She could feel her back being drenched in sweat under her cotton t-shirt. How was Martha even withstanding the heat in her leather jacket?

**

The party was bigger this year. There were more people, more food, more of a spectacle. The atmosphere in the room was smothering, almost like the whole castle was holding its breath in anticipation. She couldn’t see the guest of honour anywhere.

However, she could see the girl waiting in the corner of the hall, one of the many besotted vampires and humans, Trevor, hovering around her, a moth drawn to a vibrant flame.  Caroline shook her head unsurprised, but still fascinated by the phenomenon.  Katerina was the third Petrova doppelganger that she had met, and the allure never faded.  It was like she was an olive-skinned, brown haired, brown eyes, Veela, a siren on land. Although, by definition, the doppelgangers were identical, there were subtle differences between them.  Elena always held herself tightly, braced constantly against emerging threats. Katerina was more relaxed, proving that ignorance is indeed bliss. Katherine was snarky, graceful, and funny.

Anyways, back to poor Trevor, she knew how his story ended, and because of the laws of time-travel, his fate was sealed. A fixed point in time. Elijah, sorry, the Lord Elijah, she rolled her eyes, was making his way through the crowd and Trevor’s heartbeat increased.

He never should have reached out to the Original family. Too bad this birthday party was twenty years in the making. He never stood a chance; Caroline wondered how long would it take for Rory to talk to her again when he found out what was going to happen on April 6th?

[witchthewriter]

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘸𝘰.

Personalised story for @leniabranch Pairing: Otto Hightower x Reader (Lenia) Word count: 1198

  The palms of your hands had started to sweat as soon as you awoke that morning. One of the Seven had blessed the people of King’s Landing with clear skies, not an inkling of a storm in sight. But some small part of you was hoping for rain. For something to happen so the performance was cancelled, or merely delayed. You had never been this nervous about a routine. Even though you weren’t afraid of people’s attention, you had never performed in front of people so influential.

It was so large in fact, that the stage had been erected outside, underneath the night sky. The layout was created so as soon as one walked outside, pyres of fire were burning bright, guiding guests to the stage.

   You sat at your vanity table, your eyes watching those from below. From your room, you had a birds’ eye view and could see figures scurrying around. In front of you, an array of small pots and vials sat waiting for your fingers. There were brushes near the mirror, all wiped clean after every use. Your tools were important to your craft, they were apart of it. The act of putting them on put you in a different mentality. And yet, even after putting on your makeup, there was still a buzz inside you.

You got up from your seat, went over to the window,  and watched the men hoist, pull and guide timber to create your stage. Your stage. Because no matter how hard your other family members’ tried, you would still be the highlight of the performance.

In an instant, your father, Lord Kormiel, burst through your door.

   “Lenia!” He boomed, his thick arms widening.

Your father was of average height, but wide and stocky. With broad shoulders and a thick beard, he was somewhat of an enigma. His voice was deep and emanated the accent of your homeland. It comforted you every time you heard it.

  “Hello, papa,” you replied as you ran over to him. He swept you up in his arms and lifted you off your feet, twirling you around.

  “How’s my star performer?”

Your smile faltered, the anxiety showing on your face. There was no way that you could pretend to be fine in front of your papa. He knew you too well.

   “Lenia, my love,” he sighed, cupping your cheek and frowning.

“No, I’m fine! Truly-“ you cut yourself off and looked into his brown eyes.

     “I will be there, your mother is playing the violin, and Sanah will be in the crowd too. You’re not alone.” Some days it was difficult to remember that. That you weren’t alone, that all your problems could be shared, that you didn’t have to feel them weigh heavily on your shoulders.

You bowed your head.

  “I love you papa,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, and nuzzling your head into his chest.

                                                       ✶✶✶

 You felt the crowd’s energy from your position on the stage. It was electric, their excitement seemed to swirl around you, like moths to light. Taking in a deep breath, you relaxed your shoulders and waited.  

  Offstage, your father nodded to the musicians, who were also Branches, and the slow uprise of violins sounded.

It was instinctual. The movements, the counts, the way your arms moved with graceful ease. Even now you could pick your mother out from the group of instruments. You had heard her play ever since you were born, even before then. Her melody was ingrained in your very being.

   Your leg swept across the stage floor and your arms followed suit. You twirled and twirled until you reached the edge of the stage. The audience gasped, thinking you were going to fall, but your father gave the builders direct instructions. The audience couldn’t see from their seats, but there was red paint outlined across the edge.

  And you saw the line, and the rose that laid atop it. Within moments you picked it up and brandished it in the air. You twirled around and stopped. With both hands clasped around its stem, your breathed in the scent. The melody started to change. It wasn’t obvious, and only the performers could notice since each of you had perfected the routine.

The slow transformation of the music reflected your movements. They became quicker, sharper. The dance was all symbolism. And only those who truly paid attention would see it. The maiden, yourself, is innocent and cautious in the beginning of the dance. She is unsure of her body, of her desires, but she is graceful, nonetheless. And the turning point, is the smell of the rose. It signifies a woman coming into her own self; she’s blooming. Sanah liked to think that that moment was a woman’s first period, and the after was womanhood thrust upon her.

Even so, every time you performed, the crowd was amazed. Some would say astonished, as your dance was not known in many lands.

The crescendo was building, like a pounding in your blood, you began twirling on the spot. Over and over again you spun, and the crowd began to gasp as flower petals rained down onto the stage.

                                                            ✶✶✶

 The Hand of the King watched in wonder as Lenia Branch danced. She was a sight. Like a star from the night sky personified, she was dazzling, not only him but the whole crowd. Otto had never seen anything like it, the movements of the dance were otherworldly. They were a mix of discipline and quick motions, accompanied by elegance and grace.

It had been difficult enough to focus on his duties since the interaction underneath the apple tree. His feelings about love had changed. But was it love? Or merely an attraction of the flesh. One that would only be for a short while?

Whatever it was, Otto Hightower had decided.

   He wanted you.

         You had gotten so lost in the music that you did not remember getting into your finishing position. But now you knelt with your hands cupping the rose, arms outstretched. In the silence, you tried to hide your panting. Because you knew what you wanted to do next. Going against the plan, you looked into the crowd to find the face that you had not been able to stop thinking about.

    There he was, eyes wide and an obvious smile on his lips.

Mischief glinted in your eyes as you took a few steps toward. Everyone was quiet, not knowing if the performance had finished. There were a few random claps throughout the crowd, but as you stood at the edge of the stage, people did not continue.

 You hoped for good aim, but as the Hand of the King, Otto was in the front row. With a meticulous look on your face, and a beating heart that quickened with each second, you tossed the rose to Otto and bowed your head slightly.

It was well that he had a beard because Otto Hightower blushed.

You curtsied to the King and then to the rest of the crowd.

There was an uproar of applause, and the cheering was defeaning. You had won the heart’s of all those in King’s Landing.

[parkerflix]

wc: 0.6k

a/n: the style of this chapter as if it’s a move script thought it was fitting since it’s a tv interview and very dialogue heavy.

and now an exclusive interview here on starstruck tv with choi yeonjun about his latest singles & the mystery girl! (crowd cheers)

[STELLA]: hello and welcome back to the studio yeonjun!

[YEONJUN] : thank you for having me here stella! it’s an honor to be here (laughs)

[S]: as you can see the studio audience is so excited to see you and talk about this project that you’ve been working on. why don’t you explain what the concept is behind “strawberry lipstick” ?

[Y]: well it’s a much more different concept than anything i’ve done it the past. the song is very more rock and guitar heavy and i feel like it was just time to do something completely different than before. i think the concept was how relationships can be easily exploited when with someone who has ill intentions, and how the person in the relationship can’t see that.

[S]: and the phrase strawberry lipstick? it seems to be an innuendo for something else… (crowd laughs)

[Y]: i can neither confirm nor deny that!

[S]: so let’s switch and talk about the other song released “lie to me”. tell me about that song and that process.

[Y]: lie to me was one of the last songs to be made, and it took a while to truly articulate the words i wanted. i had some amazing friends help me along with the process. the song is about when love just doesn’t line up. when maybe you were two people who were in love once but circumstances or people changed that. it’s very much a heartbreak song, but i feel like it has something melancholy about it. one person can see the other is happier and doing better, while the other is still stuck in love. i mean we’ve all had that feeling , unreciprocated love, sometimes wanting to be lied to just to spare us from the truth. it was a very difficult song to write but i love how it came out.

[S]: and it’s a very good song. i was wondering, in the song is there a specific line that you like the most?

[Y]: hm… well when you put me on the spot (he smiles and covers his laugh with his hand) i think the lines “i wish we never met because you’re too hard to forget” is my favorite lyric. it just shows how powerful heartbreak can be, and even sometimes you wish that you had never the person to be able to just cope and endure the pain.

[S]: those are some very meaningful words. does this have any correlation to the mystery girl that’s been going around social media?

[Y]: (awkwardly laughs) well to be truthful, i think i’ve met her a few times? she might be a fan or something i’m not really sure.

[S]: oh come on yeonjun, fans spotted you guys at the mall recently together as well as fighting outside of supernova. are you sure you don’t know who she is?

[Y]: oh is she the fan i met at the mall? i meet fans everywhere but i didn’t know that it was her. we probably just shopped at the same stores. honestly i meet so many lovely fans that it’s hard to keep track. and as for supernova, i think i spooked her by accident and it was just a conversation of me scaring her accidentally. i think she wanted to be alone outside and seeing someone else there scared her. her reaction was a valid one. (he half smiles, crossing his feet together)

[S]: so you’re saying that the rumors are not true? you don’t know yn?

[Y]: sorry stella, the rumors aren’t true. we might have similar friends and had run ins but i don’t know her. i hope that everyone can respect her privacy though and the privacy of everyone that was swept up in that whole rumor.

[S]: well you heard it here first, and up next, yeonjun will be performing his newest songs! stay tuned after the break!

(the camera man calls cut and stella thanks yeonjun for the interview)

027

previous | masterlist | next

a/n: pls lmk what u think of this format! ok bye

taglist: open! send an ask!

(insert divider here bc tumblr won’t let me format)

taglist!: @gothmingguk @simplystraykids @pikachuwithadalek @envy-brr @jimblekook1 @minasbadweather @taesputnik @planethyuka @hannahdinse8 @90s-belladonna @ye0njunch01 @taejinxkoya @meiiiwa @catecita @kingkaithekiwi @13isacoolnumber @hoshi4k @hobistigma @jiminaaaahhhh @nycol-ie @bettyschwallocksyee @nshitae @bngchhris @daisyhwa @fool4yjn @lokideadontheinside @pixyseeun @salty-satan @97bbies @etherealcherrie @jisungsquirrelhabits @jaemsluvr @soobsdior @jeonkoookiee @00-baejin-05 @pineapple-hoseok @mintay @lovesoo @berrychyuu @poutypeachyprincess @meowtella @ahnneyong @vantezza @junniesavidreader @letmeal0ne @aj-1154 @ibunnygyu @mellowhumandonkeyprune @mochisnlix @jaiuneamesolitaiire @soobana @hey-i-really-miss-you @jaycheoluwu @multi4lifer @tulips4u @jejenono-ren @navsnct @squiishymeow @marksluvs @stroberrylite @butterflx @socialcastawayreject @summery-bat @viscoolreal @whosayeonjunie @7suno @nomniki @angelictomione @lunaflvms @blaaiissee

[cui-nisi]

Swimmin’ In Sinners (yg x hs) ||+18||

{one-shot +3 parts}

•Notes•

Pairing: Criminal Yoongi x Police Officer Hoseok

Genre: eventual smut, teasing, bickering, slight fluff

Summary: In the 1930s with the Prohibition Act in full effect, Min Yoongi, the owner of a local speakeasy settled in the heart of New York is barely able to make ends meet. But when the appearance of a mysterious and alluring police officer comes to shut down his bar, will Yoongi have to face the federal consequences of his actions, or will this sinner be able to swim in his desires?

Part 1 word count: 1,762

A/N: enjoy! No warnings apply to this!

Parts: one, two, three

-`ღ´- ~~~~~~~ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~ -`ღ´-

Act One

The new decade brought in by the 1930s and ruled by Herbert Hoover for the second term was one of innovation. Clothing was changing: girls' waists were cinched and men’s hats were getting bigger and Hollywood had become a staple in the media and global influence. But for most, the 1930s was a time for rolling up their sleeves and getting to work after the ramifications of the market crash affected almost every household.

But for Min Yoongi, the 1930s meant a bad omen for his speakeasy. Even before prohibition, Yoongi had enough to worry about with the feds breathing down his alley and getting enough supplies to keep the business afloat. But once prohibition was passed everything was raised “to all hell.”

“Ah, but we’re doing alright, ain’t we?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as he counted the money he made for the night. The dim lights did little to help him but his eyes had become accustomed to the stuffy dark atmosphere and still easily counted the bills stuffed in his hand. “If being $20 short is ‘alright’ to you then, yeah. We’re doing just fine, Taehyung.”

“Relax, will you? We’ll make it up.” Taehyung answered from the barstool in front of Yoongi. A bright glimmer shot across his almond-shaped eyes as his voice perked up in anticipation, “how’s about I go up on stage again? The crowd loved it last time and I’ve been rehearsing.”

A small smirk graced Yoongi’s lips at the thought of a hopeful Taehyung bouncing onto the stage to sing one of his favorite jazz songs. “As much I’d love for you to showcase your talent, I need you behind the bar.”

Taehyung’s smile didn’t diminish as he quipped readily, “Jungkook can handle it! I’ve been teaching him-”

“-Not with my supplies I hope.”

“Of course not, he’s been practicing at my place. He’s a pretty quick learner, Yoongi. I’m sure if you gave him a chance he could be more than a busboy!”

The urgency in Taehyung’s usually relaxed tone caught Yoongi’s eye as he put the cash he made into a white envelope. He rested his gaze upon the younger man in front of him, he was dashing with his chestnut swept-back hair and pink tongue darting out to lick his lips in anticipation.

“You’re really gunning for Jungkook, aren’t ya?”

Taehyung nodded vehemently, causing Yoongi to sigh. Even with it being the 1930s Taehyung had been upfront about his sexuality ever since the two had met and Yoongi was fine with it, being gay never affected Taehyung’s performance as a bartender and so he didn't make a big fuss over it. What did irritate Yoongi, was when Taehyung’s weekly crushes would distract him from his priorities and this week’s crush on the newly hired fresh-faced busboy from Missouri was beginning to rear its ugly head.

Yoongi always joked about Taehyung’s naive heart, who would always claim he had found the love of his life only to get bored and move on. Yoongi figured it would take a few more years for Taehyung to truly understand what love was, so for now, Yoongi let him carry on with his antics. But ever since Jungkook flashed his youthful smile Taehyung had been completely driven to have Yoongi promote him to a higher position. And unfortunately, Taehyung was a great persuader and a damn good bartender. At least good enough for Yoongi to trust him.

“You’re sure he can handle it?”

Taehyung nodded again, the smile on his lips widening as Yoongi hung his head to face the glossed wooden bar counter before lifting it to face his friend.

“One night. If he screws it up he’s back on dish duty, Taehyung.”

The younger man practically leaped out of his seat as he clamored over the counter to enwrap Yoongi into a tight hug before darting out of the room to presumably tell his crush the good news, leaving Yoongi alone to shake his head and finish cleaning the bar on his own.

As the man grabbed a dirty white rag from under the counter and began wiping down the countertops, memories of past lovers floated through his head. When he was young, ambitious, and free of crime (well most crime) Yoongi dabbled in the dating scene, leaving hearts behind and having his abandoned as well. Youth is a time for exploration, a blank canvas ready for the strokes of colorful paint to define it and that’s exactly what Yoongi did.

He couldn’t say he was mad at Taehyung for wanting to do the same (even if it was more impassioned) as when the nights were cold and Yoongi’s bed seemed especially empty, he couldn’t help but picture someone there to assuage his desires and put his neglected body at ease and send him down a river of nirvana.

Yoongi huffed a despondent puff of air as he finished up his daily routine of cleaning up the speakeasy before heading up to his apartment above the bar to sleep in a bed made much too large for one person.

❦ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❦

“Face it, Jung. Chief’s gonna fire ya.”

Jung Hoseok, who had barely any time to himself, was now dealing with the foolishness of his colleague who interrupted the one break the man had gotten all day.

With a tired sigh, Hoseok put his turkey sandwich down before gazing to look at his friend who sat across from him at his desk. A look of disheartened sadness was painted across his striking face.

“What’re you going on about now, Namjoon?”

“It’s not me you should be worried about. It’s the Chief.” Namjoon gestured over his shoulder to the Chief’s office whose blinds obstructed the view inside. “Told me to send you to his office after your break.”

Hoseok sighed as a small smile graced his lips, “well if he called me my break must be over then. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I hope not!” Hoseok heard his friend call back to him as he made his way to the office.

He was sure Namjoon was just being dramatic as usual but figured coming in with a cautious and formal attitude would be a great start to a potential firing. As if the job market wasn’t already scarce, finding another would be damn near impossible with the economy the country was hassled in right now.

As Hoseok made his way to the door he went over all the possible things he may have done wrong. Was it when he screwed up that parking ticket? Or when he was scolded for being late (on account of Namjoon’s car breaking down), or for forgetting his badge when on patrol?

Soon the door to the office swung open after Hoseok knocked gently on it to be greeted by his Chief, a small smile plastered on his face.

“Jung, come in, have a seat. There are some things I need to discuss with you.” Hoseok did as he was told while the older man sat across from him at his desk that was adorned in family photos and awards. The smell of jet black coffee permeated the night air as the Chief continued talking, “you’ve been doing good the past few weeks, Jung. You’re a great officer.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“With all this mess going on with the economy people seemed to have lost their doggone minds.” The Chief commented, disbelief clear in his tone as he shook his head.

“Times are hard, sir.”

The man nodded, “yes, they are. Especially with this prohibition act. It seems coffee just isn’t the best substitute for the good stuff, you see?” He flashed a smile as a faint laugh escaped his mustache-covered lips.

Hoseok replied with a polite laugh of his own, but a life without alcohol sure as hell wasn’t a laughing matter when you spend all day filing paperwork and chasing criminals only to come home with nothing to take the stress off.

The Chief sighed as a sad smile graced his lips before he looked at Hoseok. A glimmer of something indiscernible in his eye, a sign that he was now getting down to business. “I didn’t call you in here just to bump gums with you but to actually assign you to something. Goes along with the prohibition actually.”

Hoseok nodded and leaned in slightly in his chair as the older man pulled out a manila folder from his desk and handed it over to Hoseok, “the federal government wants to crack down on speakeasies. Apparently, they’ve been popping up all over the country but especially in the apple. And as the NYPD, we gotta uphold the government's wishes.”

Hoseok tentatively listened until his eyes snagged onto something in the folder before he glanced up at the older man, “uh Chief? It says here that we’re-”

“-On a payroll? Yeah, we’ve been protecting some of the speakeasies, under the radar of course. They supply alcohol to some important people, Jung. But with the government breathing down our backs we’re going to have to close a few of them. We’ll take down some of the bigger names to set an example and leave a few of them to survive under our watch.”

Hoseok wasn’t paid to preach his morals, he was paid to do a job. So even with the corruption of the system that prided itself on justice, Hoseok simply nodded as the Chief began running down a list of extra information included in the folder before sending him away.

“So… when’s your last day?” Namjoon asked once Hoseok settled himself back into his seat and picked his sandwich up nonchalantly.

“You’re such a crumb, Namjoon. I should’ve known better than to trust a clown like you.” Hoseok chuckled before taking a glorious bite of his sandwich.

“What? Whaddya mean? I heard that-”

“You heard nothing so stop telling a story. I wasn’t fired.”

“You weren’t?”

Hoseok shook his head as a confused Namjoon slowly descended into his chair, a mix of happiness and confusion written over his face.

“So if he didn’t call you to fire you, what did he want?”

Hoseok offered his friend a small smirk and lift of his eyebrows before swallowing a bite of his food, “he gave me an assignment.”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow as he leaned forward cautiously as if distrusting his friend's sudden smile, “what assignment?”

Hoseok flashed a full smile before leaning his head back on his chair and declaring with a light tone, “we, my friend, are going to take down New York’s biggest speakeasies.”

[booptunes]

McFly Live at Doncaster Racecourse: Review

August 13th. We’re all made up, ready for a day of basking in the 30° heat and gazing at the pretty ponies while the crowd bets on who will run the fastest. Forty quid to be course-side, having the best view of the thoroughbreds as they’re marched down to the paddock. Every horse passing has me gasping “oh look at that one!” “I want a horse”, but believe it or not, the horses aren’t the main event. Not for me.  

For me, course side is also front row for McFly! Live at Doncaster Racecourse.  

McFly, for me, were the band that started it all. I was three years old, hearing 5 Colours in her Hair and I was swept off my feet. It was love at first listen. The first concert I attended was the Radio: Active Tour 2008 at Sheffield Arena. When I was 12, I started learning the bass to be like Dougie Poynter, who was also my first crush. I buy their books; I watch their DVDs. What I’m trying to say, there may be some bias within this review.  

When it comes to live music, I don’t like outdoor venues. Part of the experience is how the sound bounces of the walls – the volume, the vibrations. It’s so easy to get swept up in the moment when it’s all around the room. Outdoor venues take that away. The sound does travel out, lost in the air.  

The day wasn’t a loss though! 

McFly came on at 5pm, naturally the crowd started to gather and push. I’d been waiting five hours in the sun on top of my nineteen years as a fan to see them front row, and had begun to stand my ground. Entering to the YMCA, McFly took their places, before “technical glitch” sound effects and the beginning of Red, one of their so-called “lost songs” written in 2011 but released in 2019 after the band’s hiatus. One of the weaker lost songs, but one they tend to open with. They then played One for the Radio and Lies, before the band finally talked to the audience. A few minutes of gags and giggles, then a delayed PSA about safety in the sun. I’d already burned, down my chest and my arms – red with little strawberry shapes from the pattern in my dress.  

Seven times I’ve seen McFly, they’re never short on banter or showmanship. To my surprise, they performed Transylvania - a hidden treasure from their 2006 album Motion in the Ocean. Out of all the times I’ve seen them, I’d only heard it live once before, yet it’s one of the fans’ favourites.  

Songs to look forward to while seeing McFly are Shine a Light and 5 Colours in her Hair. Always played towards the end of the set – and rightly so. During Shine a Light the boys slow the tempo, lead it out – you’re able to really feel the music and get swept up in the moment. The repetition of ‘shine a light on her’ and the opportunity to just jump and dance, hands up in the air, feeling free as a bird. 

5 Colours in her Hair is a perfect moment to let yourself go and just dance. Their debut single is a high-energy, party anthem from the noughties. It’s truly a ‘finish on a high’ rock song. Fast, fun and frisky.  

Unfortunately, I’d got the PSA on staying safe in the sun too late. I’d tried to be brave, to rough it out. I succeeded through Shine A Light and All About You... but I’d been sat in the sun since half twelve. It was almost half six. I had heat exhaustion and was about to be sick, so I had to leave. Gutting!  

I must stress that this is no reflection of McFly’s performance or music.   

It would’ve been the greatest experience, had I stayed in the shade. 9/10.