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sunshineistyping · 3 years ago

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The Angelic Lair

Use Me

This is a short three-part (roughly) series in which our reader meets a stripper and can't get enough of them!

I might make a few for various characters but for now, just Moon

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Pairings: Moondrop/Moon x GN!Reader

AU: Stripper AU

Human AU by default

Warnings for Series: Mature themes such as drinking, stripping, Mentions of sex of various kinds, prostitution

(it’s a stripper au but remember, just because someone is a stripper does not make them a prostitute. In this AU, some of them are both.)

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You’re not sure what had compelled you to come to Angelic Lair, perhaps the countless good reviews and recommendations? Was it that you knew one of the bouncers personally? You’re not completely satisfied with either answer. You're pretty sure that regardless of what little lie you came up with, you wouldn't be happy. The truth of the matter was rather simple. You had never been to a strip club and Angelic Lair was one of the best in the country. So why not take advantage of it's presence only an hour away? You weren't sure what you expected when you walked into the main lounge, but glowing golden signs and loud music weren’t on the list.

The room had dark wooden floors, black walls with various golden signage. As you looked around you saw the empty main stage, the two dance cages however were full. They didn't immediately catch your eye so you kept looking. The bars were white marble and stocked with various drinks, and dancers worked the ground floor amongst countless patrons. You assumed they were the dancers based on outfits alone, however, some could very well be scantily clad janitors. You shook your head and immediately made your way to one of the few empty stools at the rightmost bar. The seats themselves were also white, making the two bars pop against the darker room.

“Oh, hey, fresh meat.“ One of the two bartenders lock eyes with you. They make their way over while cleaning a mug, one hand holding a rag.

“O-Oh, you noticed. Yeah I've never been here before, do I really stick out that easily?”

“Not really, I just have a good eye for first-timers. The names Pann by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, uh, do you have any tips for enjoying this kind of scene?”

“Hm,” they pause for a moment and place the mug to the side. The rag being gently flicked over their shoulder in one loose toss.

“Id say just avoid spending your entire paycheck and watch out for Diva, she’ll tear all the money out of your wallet before you even know what hit ya.”

“Diva?”

“Oh yeah, she goes by Diva Wolf. See that girl over there? The one with split-colored hair?” You turn to where the bartender had looked. A tall girl with black and red hair sat flirting with a bunch of guys, drink in hand.

“Yeah?”

“Shes the meanest chick in the building aside from our boss. You really don't want to get on her bad side. That and spending all your money isn't good for you, so steer clear. She has her own little fan club so it's not like she needs the money anyway.”

“Youre not talking about Diva again, are you?”

“Ghost, you heard all that?” The second bartender's eyes were over to the both of you now.

“Course, now leave the newbie alone. We both know one of the hawks will scout them out soon enough.” They made their way to the other side of the bar. Despite this fact you listened in anyway.

“You think Sun will pick them up first?” You heard Ghost speaking over the loud music. They were far enough away that you really had to strain your ears to pick up anything they said.

“Doubt it, he’s working the VIP stage tonight. Maybe Mist?”

“Bunny never leaves his workroom this late, he’s probably with one of his regulars.”

“Venom? Actually, he’s with someone tonight right?”

“Yeah, him and Heaven got a duo show I think.” Your attention was quickly drawn to the stage as a few lights flickered on, music changing to something more slow and sensual. The air in the entire room changed, people growing closer to the main stage as a man with silver hair walked out. He was awfully pretty with his thick eyeliner and dark blue eyes. His top was of a deep metallic blue color that you could only describe as a crop top. A black corset and latex miniskirt clung to his form as well, both tight and intricately detailed. His platforms were rather large and laced up to about mid-thigh, the color was also black with what looked like silver wings on the back. He also had a thick silver choker with the word ‘Slut’ hanging from it.

You really couldn’t help yourself from staring, he was very much your type and had the same eye candy quality you had been looking for. You felt your cheeks warm as he stopped at the pole, eyes glancing around at his various admirers, and eventually, his eyes met yours. They had this siren-like pull and for a moment he eyed you up. He then winked as he carried on searching the crowd silently, his fingertips dancing against the cold metal as he walked in a slow circle. At last, he fully gripped the pole and swung his body around it with practiced ease. Only then did you tear your eyes away and back to the bar. You ordered a few shots and for a while, you just enjoyed the atmosphere, you’d take occasional glances up at the stage as well. You weren’t drunk just yet but you definitely felt slightly buzzed, the rooms heavy lighting and music helping to keep your energy alive.

“Hey there, I spotted you from the stage. You’re awfully cute so I definitely would’ve recognized you. You’re new here, right?” You turned, your gaze meeting the man who had once been on stage. You hadn’t expected his voice to sound so deep and seductive, his stare and his voice held an unspoken power to everyone who experienced it. There’s no way he didn’t know it. Now that you got a good look at him your heart fluttered even more, he had a deep blue eyeshadow on paired with a clear glittery gloss. It was simple but still made him shine. You’re sure the male strippers aren’t required to wear skirts or anything, perhaps this was just his preference? He looked hot regardless.

“Uh- yeah I am. How could you tell?”

“You’re got an innocence in your gaze not a lot of people in here have. It’s kind of like wearing your heart on your sleeve Darling.” He purred and slid into the seat beside you. You knew that flirting and trying to get private dances were a part of his job but fuck did he do it well. He’d barely talked and you were already considering buying his time out for an hour just to talk alone.

“I completely disagree, my gaze isn’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Oh really?” His eyes fell on yours once again as he gently leaned in. You hung off his every breath as though it would be his last. You have to keep reminding yourself that this is his job. He doesn’t care about anything else but your money.

“Really, I’m just good at seeming pure. Why would I come to this place if I was?” You shrugged and took the last of the shots you ordered. He watched with a lazy and sultry grin on his face, fuck he keeps getting hotter. He had sharp teeth like a vampire and it made your heart flutter wildly.

“Don’t know, why did you come here?”

“For fun.”

“Oh? Did my performance give you what you were looking for?”

“It did, you’re a lovely performer you know. I’m still not sure how you can dance in those things.” You glanced down at his platformers, they had to be at least four inches tall.

“You flatter me, you know there are better ways to...” He trailed off a bit, his manicured finger tracing the rim of your empty shot glass.

“Have fun. You know, aside from watching me dance with all these people around. In fact, why don’t you let me give you a private one.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“First ones free of charge?” He purred, hands on his thighs as he leaned closer. At this point you’re not sure if this was a business strategy or him actually flirting. You didn’t mind it either way, free is free. When it came to how hot this guy is? His ‘free’ may as well be paying you directly. You got more from the agreement of a dance and you both knew that.

“Alright, I’m down.” His grin widened as he slid off the stool. He extended a single hand that you grabbed without hesitation. You allowed him to lead you away from the main room to bring you upstairs to a set of doors. The more he held your hand the more your heart fluttered, it was a little cold but soft. He had no right to have skin this perfect when every other piece of him was just as good. Finally he reached a black door with the word ‘Moon’ written at the top. He opened it and gestured you inside, him following and flicking on the lights behind you. They were like fairy lights that glowed against the dark ceiling. Their was night sky-themed things like the glowing star patterns on the floor everywhere. There was a black canopy bed pushed against the back wall along with a velvety-looking blue chair. On the opposite side of the room was a small stage and a pole.

“What kind of dance would you like, I can give you anything your heart desires.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click. His grin suddenly felt more mischievous as he walked over, a heavy sway in his hips until he stood in front of you. He looked down at you with those same siren eyes as before. He was going to be the absolute death of you.

“Uh, well, what would you say to a simple conversation?”

“Hm, if that’s what you want. However I do have to let you know, I’ll do anything you ask. There’s no need to be so shy. You can ask for anything Sweetheart, any desire you have. I like to get a little messy anyway.” It’s his job, it’s his job. This is his job. He’s not attracted to you this is just a business strategy. Yet that heavy look in his eyes made you feel unsure. Is he just really good at his job or did he actually think you were attractive? Were you his type in the same way he was yours? Your cheeks grew red, eyes locking themselves to the ground. The man above you let out a little hum.

“You got something specific you want to do to me, huh? That’s alright. Just do me a favor, yeah?” You nodded in acknowledgement at his softer and less prodding tone. He wasn’t analyzing your reactions to look for weakness, he was allowing you to grow relaxed with him in your personal space. Your heart grew warm at the comforting tone he took, a single finger sliding under your chin as he tilted your face up to his.

“Let loose a little, alright? This is for your entertainment.” He got closer, his breath ghosting against the outer shell of your ear.

“Use me.”

Okay so maybe he was flirting.

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#fnaf x reader #security breach x reader #fnaf au #human au #moondrop x reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #sunkissedwritingstuff #mini series #x reader

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wattpadscapcons · 3 years ago

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Hello there? could you please write headcanons for pico and tankman (separately, please!) with an s/o who frequently disguises themself as human, but is actually this giant-lovecraftian-angel-thing with a buncha eyes?

im new here, may i go by angel anon? (if its already taken, how about &-anon?)

Heya Angel Anon! When I searched up "Lovecraftian Angel" the images depict it being either made up of wings with a single eye in the dead center, or as a set of intertwined rings with several eyes with a soul fire in the dead center. Both are equally terrifying.

Tankman John w/ Biblical Angel S/O

- He fell for the disguise but had a very uneasy feeling when around you

- He chopped that up to be just being nervous when he caught feels

- When you transformed in front of him (your last resort for escape) he was dead silent

- The entire field of enemy agents was thrown into a panic at the sight of you, causing a retreat on both sides

- He was one of the only ones left behind along with Steve and a few others, some with their guns drawn and aimed at you

- "What even are you?" "A messenger for God." "They're an angel, John." "What are your orders Captain?" "Stand down, go back to base."

- If he didn't believe in god before this, he does now, not that it changes much for his mission

- "He has forgiven you several times John." "What was my existence for Y/N?" "To lead, inspire, and create." "And the others?" "I cannot say." "....." "I know this may feel like betrayal on my part, I was going to tell you. Believe me I was going to." "I really don't know what you expect me to say Y/N." "How you feel?" "I feel....nothing. That power of yours seems to have an uncomfortably calming effect."

- Doesn't ask you to aid him in battle, but you do on occasion as a last resort to end wars

Pico w/ Biblical Angel S/O

- Knew you weren't human the first time you two met, he didn't know why though as you appeared to be a normal person

- That uneasy feeling you emit makes him feel off balance (metaphorically)

- "Y/N." "Yes dear?" "I know you aren't human." "How did you...?" "....So that feeling I have isn't just instincts kicking in." "It's the holy light." "You're an angel then?" "Precisely." "Show me your true form." "I don't think that's a good idea-" "Y/N, please just do it." "Fine, but don't blame me for the nightmares." "What are you talking-....."?"

- He wasn't exactly afraid of you. If anything, he was just in shock

- "That's what real angels look like?" "Your kind seems to like to depict us differently most days, I find it rather sad." "What I've been taught has been wrong." "Not true, we have our rings, wings, and our soul. You've been told that." "But we're told that those rings are golden and hover above an angel's head, and that-" "It's still true that we can be seen like that. You were not exactly lied to."

- Questions your powers all the time

- Asks about God, as well as questions his lack of faith

- "I know what you were wanting to ask Pico, and he has forgiven you for your bloodshed. You should feel no shame for being you." "Y/N..." "Really he spared you half of the trauma you would've had if my kind had not stepped in." "But, I never saw..." "We are invisible to those who don't need to see us." "I don't...I..." "You don't have to understand. Just know he loves you. As he does for your friends." "Y/N, why are you telling me this?" "I am a messenger, I delivered his message. And, because, you need to know you aren't a monster." "...…"

- If Nene finds out? Let's not think too much about that.

#friday night funkin pico #fnf pico #pico x reader #tankman steve #tankman john #tankman x reader #fnf tankman #fnf fandom #fnf headcanons #fnf #fnf x reader #fnf week 3 #fnf week 7 #anon ask

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years ago

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The Requiem dreams quietly (Don Giorno x g/n! Reader)

I wonder when my naming conventions will ever improve -cries- none the less, it was interesting to think about how GER would take to Giorno's s/o. Having such a beautiful ability and a consciousness independent from their user makes for an interesting scenario. Thank you for the request @jillchips, I hope I've done it justice, if not, feel free to come yell at me (not too loud pls, I'll cry ;v;)

TW: none really, there are just reader interactions with GER,

Word Count: 1.3k

Stand users are drawn to one another, being fated to eventually meet… and in your case, fall in love.

Your first encounter with the Don of Passione confirmed what you had already sensed, he was an extraordinary man with extraordinary abilities, the most intriguing of them being his stand ability. Fascinated by the golden being, you had the unfortunate experience of needing to be healed made infinitely better by encountering the life-giving wonder.

As much as you were fascinated by the young Don and his ability, so too, was he, by you. Giorno was transfixed by your stand ability, revealing their combat prowess to him early on. It wasn’t long before you and Giorno had made your feelings known to each other, falling flawlessly into step with each other’s routines, as if they had been crafted around each other to begin with.

With you both being stand users, it felt as though the pair of you were constantly navigating between two worlds, with the added pressure of neutralizing any threats to the peace that Giorno had painstakingly constructed through years of careful leadership. You believed in his dreams and protected his ideals and in you he found his sense of belonging and solace from an unkind world. Even though the events that led up to him taking over leadership of Passione have long since passed, they live vividly in the memories of those who were directly involved, and as a result of that combined with a few security breaches, Giorno has taken to always carrying the requiem arrow on his person, should the need arise for his sentient stand to make an appearance.

Of course, this has proven to be very useful in combat, with GER still being unmatched in their abilities, however, Giorno began to notice that they would materialize in his private moments while at home, or working quietly in his study, which was actually welcomed by the young don. He enjoyed having the presence of another being around him, and found it fascinating to be able to have some of the most meaningful conversations with them, turning his internal monologues into actual dialogue. One thing he did find strange though, was GER’s reaction to you. Under normal circumstances, the stand would meander about freely, interacting with the Pistols and Spice Girl, even managing to have significant exchanges with Purple Haze, and all their users, however, when it came to you, GER would always disappear as soon as they spotted you.

Never one to miss anything, you also found this odd, and made a mental note to speak to Giorno about it at some point. Today though, was one of the rare days that both you and Giorno were free, so you made the effort to wake up early and meet him at the villa, maximizing the time you could spend with each other. Greeted by the one you loved with a soft kiss to your temple, you felt happy, it was these simple moments that you had treasured.

“Boungiorno tesoro, I’ve missed you so much, come in, come in…” His eyes sparkled and his touch was gentle, making you realize all the reasons you had fallen in love with him in the first place. Following Giorno into the villa, you felt a gentle breeze waft passed you carrying with it the prettiest flowers and tiny butterflies that danced about your form, placing a smile on your face.

“Where are they Gio? I know this is GER’s doing, it’s so beautiful…”

“They were here just a minute ago… I’m sure they will show up in a moment. I’ve got some coffee brewing, you look like you stillneed to wake up,” teased Giorno, breaking into a laugh at your feigned disdain. Fingers intertwined, sprawled across the comfortable wicker couch on the balcony overlooking the ocean, you and Giorno cherished this time with each other, your experience being made that much more special by the small gestures directed towards you by golden stand. You found their brand of affection to be so pure, creating your favorite flora from random objects to send your way.

Despite the early start, the day had gone by all too quickly and before you knew it, you needed to leave, so you said your goodbyes and drove off in the fading sunlight, leaving Giorno alone with his thoughts as he settled in his study to handle some of his tasks. Lurking around the window, watching the driveway you just took your leave on, the sentient stand found the courage to discuss their concerns.

“Giorno…”

“Yes? What’s the matter?”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I behave the way I do around (y/n) …”

“It has crossed my mind, but I wanted you to bring it up first, continue,”

“I know how I must appear to other people… I’ve heard the analogies, I know how startling I am, so the last thing I want is for (y/n) to feel scared or upset by me… which is why I tend to leave as soon as they arrive,”

Giorno stared thoughtfully at GER, considering what he was just told. “It’s clear you care for them as I do, given the display you put on today, perhaps if you try to interact with them you’ll see they love you just as much,”

“How can you be certain though? That they would love me as they love you?”

“Well, you are part of me… I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” GER had considered what Giorno had to say, and resolved to try harder with you. Their opportunity had presented itself in a few short days when you were set to accompany Giorno to an event for the evening.

Arriving at the villa dressed to impress, you were let in by one of his helpers while he was still occupied in his study. Slowly meandering through the villa, you decided to wait for your partner in the sunroom, wanting to appreciate the beautiful sunset from the best vantage point. You see GER staring pensively out at the sunset when you arrive, not wanting to startle them, you announce your presence softly.

“Oh, hello (y/n) … you’re probably here for Giorno, I’ll go get him…”

“It’s okay, he knows I’m here…” you say as you walk towards the window to join them.

“I see…” the dialogue was awkward, but GER still boasted the same vocal qualities as Giorno. Still sensing their trepidation when they spoke to you, you decided to keep the conversation light, allowing them the time to feel more at ease in your presence.

“It’s a beautiful sunset… the sky painted in so many beautiful colors… look at who I’m talking to though; you have all those stunning colors on you.” Drawing your eyes away from the beautiful scene outside, your gaze falls to the figure beside you smiling ever so gently at you.

“Thank you, that was kind of you to mention. You look wonderful yourself,”

“Sorry to keep you waiting tesoro, I’m ready to leave now,” said Giorno as he walked into the room looking every bit the dapper Don that people have come to know and respect over the years. Turning around to meet him, you felt a light tug at your hand, holding you back- GER presented you with your favorite flower fashioned from a letter-opener they found lying on the table next to them.

“Here, take this… I think it matches quite well with you,” said the golden stand, gently pressing a kiss to your hand before leaving you with the exquisite blossom.

Watching the sweet interaction between you and his stand, Giorno was relieved that GER had finally found their voice with you, easing the internal conflict it caused within him as well. With another soft smile, GER had gone back to Giorno, the arrow that adorned their forehead dropping to the floor. Picking up the arrow, Giorno exhaled- a breath he didn’t realize he was holding- and extended an arm towards you.

“Shall we leave my love?” answering with a silent nod, you take hold of Giorno’s outstretched hand, still clutching the flower gifted to you and leave the villa, content with the knowledge that you were in fact loved by all facets of Giorno, just as you had loved every part of him.

#giorno giovanna x you #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x y/n #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno giovanna imagine #jjba giorno #jjba giorno giovanna #jojo x reader #jojo x you #jjba part5 #jjba vento aureo #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba fluff #jjba fanfic #gold experience requiem #jjba golden wind #don giorno #don giovanna #my writing

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hobipaint · 3 years ago

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Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office.

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance.

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning.

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight.

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung."

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them.

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N."

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now."

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you."

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung."

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-"

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?"

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged.

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear.

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of.

"It was me."

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?"

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold."

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?"

"Just said that."

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same.

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting.

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie."

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could."

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling."

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me."

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him?

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to.

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?"

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it."

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either."

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again.

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?"

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me."

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored."

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on.

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him.

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer."

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings."

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then."

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?"

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me."

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints.

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?"

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail."

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?"

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then."

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office.

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?"

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up.

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you."

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung. "The chief said he'll be here by eleven."

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?"

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?"

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes."

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated.

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue.

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men.

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung.

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright."

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?"

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes."

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused.

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago."

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get.

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it."

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming.

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?"

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun."

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung."

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night."

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone.

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew.

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them.

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight."

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that."

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything.

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked.

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class, the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then.

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal.

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that.

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then.

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that?

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom.

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore.

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do."

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit."

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?"

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you.

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges.

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?"

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change.

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-"

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no."

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no."

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please."

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man.

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away.

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you.

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks.

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget.

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only.

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated.

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people.

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you.

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more.

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you."

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him.

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing.

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision.

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone.

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good.

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go."

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you.

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well."

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me."

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well.

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please."

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief.

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now."

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way.

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face.

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir."

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?"

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years."

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well."

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out."

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside.

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be.

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now."

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly.

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief.

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen.

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window. "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop.

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep."

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?"

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it."

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning.

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough.

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be.

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail."

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it."

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free?

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself."

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now."

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did."

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears.

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured.

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this."

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too."

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn.

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation.

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free.

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support.

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please."

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear.

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best."

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room.

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?"

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her.

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out."

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly.

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?"

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?"

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman.

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you."

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours.

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments.

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there.

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you.

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder.

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well."

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae."

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive.

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day.

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now."

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much."

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies.

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?"

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?"

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?"

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over."

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine.

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead.

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought.

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Hi :) For prompts, do you see any situation where Wen Qing and Lan Xichen could genuinely fall in love with each other? Like, not just political marriage of convenience or whatever. Would it be a thing of being drawn in by their fellow older sibling-ness? Or maybe lxc's competence kink meshing well with wq noticing that he isn't as much of a vanilla peacemaker as his usual front suggests? I think it could be quite an interesting pair but I've never seen it done before, I'd love to see your take!

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Young Mistress Wen around.”

Lan Xichen smiled the way he’d been taught to smile, bowed the way he’d been taught to bow, and offered his arm the way he’d been taught.

The little girl in front of him did not seem especially impressed.

To be entirely honest, he thought he might like her just for that.

“So,” she said as they walked through the garden. “What did you do in a past life to deserve this?”

He sniggered, then tried to stop. Levity wasn’t disallowed, to be precise, but it wasn’t really encouraged, either.

“It’s bad for you to restrain laughter,” Wen Qing said. “Venting of emotions is a key part of maintaining a stable mind and a healthy body. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

“You’re seven.”

“Says the eight-year-old. And anyway, I’m going to be a doctor. I’ve already started reading books and taking lessons. Just you wait!”

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Mistress Wen around.”

“How’s the doctor thing coming?” he asked her as they walked along the pier by the river. “Still taking lessons?”

“Yes, of course,” Wen Qing said, and made a face. “I live in the Nightless City now, you know. Not just visiting sometimes – Sect Leader Wen insisted, saying it was a better place to develop my talent.”

She sounded wistful. Maybe even regretful.

“Sect Leader Wen probably wants you to be a good role model to his sons,” Lan Xichen said.

“You mean Greed and Malice?”

“Malice and Greed, I’d say,” Lan Xichen said. “Wen Xu is older, after all.”

“I thought your sect had rules about talking behind other people’s backs,” Wen Qing said, but she was smiling again, as he’d hoped.

“There’s an exception if it’s both true and helpful to know,” he said. “You have to be able to prepare yourself for dealing with people, after all. I think you’ll be a wonderful doctor.”

“I hope so,” she said, and looked a little downcast. “I can’t even heal my own little brother.”

“Neither can I,” Lan Xichen said, thinking of Lan Wangji’s grief – his silence and solemnity, so uncharacteristic for his age. He had never quite recovered from their mother’s death. “Maybe we’re just too young.”

“I’m going to grow up as fast as I can, then,” Wen Qing said. “Race you there?”

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Doctor Wen around.��

“Congratulations,” he said to her as they walked through the crowded streets. “I understand that your paper on the development of the golden core in early stages was extremely well received.”

“It was,” Wen Qing said, looking pleased. “It’s a difficult area of study, but I wanted the reception it would get – there aren’t that many women practicing as doctors, you know, so we have to try harder.”

“I would think the opposite would be true, with novelty acting as a draw..?”

“Novelty is novelty, but with doctors people want to feel reassured. They don’t want something new.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, browsing through the stalls in search of presents for their younger brothers. Lan Xichen occasionally wished he had Nie Huaisang as a younger sibling – so easy to shop for – and when he mentioned it to Wen Qing she laughed and agreed.

Sometimes, nothing more needed to be said.

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Show Lady Wen around.”

“I heard you’re going to be competing in the archery competition later,” she said as they walked along the edges of the competition grounds, a dirt path that twined through the foothills of a desolate mountain chasm.

“I am,” he said. “I’m still counted as part of the younger generation since my uncle is acting as sect leader.”

“But soon it will be you,” she said, and her gaze was fixed firmly in front of her, not looking at him at all.

It surprised him how much he missed it – her frankness, her cheer, her solemnity, her pleasant silence.

She reached out abruptly and he stopped, looking at her.

“You should hide some of your family’s books,” she said, still not looking at him. “Whatever you can, and quickly. Just in case.”

And then she started walking again, the same casual stroll, and it was as if she had never said anything at all.

Lan Xichen added bravery to the list of her qualities and followed.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said, thinking of the trouble it would cause with the Lan sect elders. Thinking of the trouble something like this – a warning – could cost her. “In the meantime, tell me about your planned course of study in Yiling. Are you focusing on any particular type of medicine this time?”

Wen Qing looked at him then, and her eyes were grateful.

“Actually,” she said, “I was thinking of designing my course around whatever illness were most prevalent in the region –”

“Xichen,” Lan Xichen’s uncle said. “Take charge of the prisoners.”

Lan Xichen very nearly handed off the work to Meng Yao – no, he was Jin Guangyao now, and he ought to remember that. He was tired after that final battle, after all the work they’d done, the losses they’d suffered, and he knew Jin Guangyao would do the work efficiently and well the way he always did. Anyway, the Jin sect was less damaged than they were, and could afford it, and Jin Guangyao wanted the opportunity to do something well to show his father his merits.

But then by happenstance he’d seen Wen Ning’s face in the crowd and realized that he couldn’t.

Jin Guangyao had been disappointed, but Lan Xichen had insisted, and as one of the heroes of the war Jin Guangshan couldn’t exactly refuse him. In the end, the Wen sect remnants came under the control of the Lan sect.

He set up the new village they would reside in himself – fenced in, but on good land, ready for growth – and soon enough other Wens came drifting out of the darkness to take shelter with their remaining kinsmen, just as he’d hoped.

“Any chance you can show me around?” Wen Qing asked, and Lan Xichen turned to face her with a widening smile. She looked tired and was too thin, the marks of the imprisonment that Jiang Cheng had reported on not yet faded, and yet he had never been happier to see her. “If you’re not too busy, Sect Leader.”

“Uncle,” Lan Xichen said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m going to show my wife around now.”

#mdzs #lan xichen #wen qing #my fic #my fics #short #venusdebotticelli

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the-void-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Super Villain AU

So @bloodlessheirbyjacques I'm in love with your Senator AU for Astrea 🤣 And I remembered I had this old thing that I'm not sure I've posted before 😅

Behold, a self-indulgent Ichor AU where Will and his friends are superheroes fighting Dante, Gazali's mortal enemy, but Dante falls for Will and slowly convinces him to the dark side 🤣 This is how their first meeting goes.

Dante could see him from clear across the room, his skin glowing like the bronze plating of his machines in the light of the chandeliers overhead. His hair didn’t seem to want to stay down, fraying and twisting like golden strands of ivy, framing a pair of sapphire eyes. Most intriguing of all was his outfit; a dark, flowing dress, much more sophisticated than the ladies on the dance floor. The other guests stared at him, but not at all politely. Dante waved his guards back and made his way to this beautiful stranger.

That was when Will saw him. A dark man with the most intensely golden eyes he had ever seen, like an eagle or crocodile. It wasn’t bad, not at all. The gold stood out brilliantly against his suit of black and dark purple. Truthfully, Will thought he was beautiful… If only they didn’t have to fight.

Will’s pulse quickened the closer Dante got to the group of disguised heroes. Gazali leaned down and hissed into his ear, the tip of his mask scratching Will’s cheek.

“We’ve drawn too much attention. We need to split up and find Briggs’ workshop before he—”

They both jumped as Dante slid between them. Gazali was ready to start fighting guards, hoping that Will wouldn’t have to use his powers… but Dante didn’t even turn in his direction. He was focused on Will, and Will alone.

“Excuse me,” he said, “is this fella bothering you?”

A chill ran up Will’s spine. He had never been so close to a supervillain. As dangerous as it was, though, Will recognized the opportunity he had been given.

“Yes,” he said.

Dante smirked and pushed Gazali away. “Don’t get mad at someone for having better taste than you, okay, tough guy?”

Gazali was at a loss for words. Before he could blow their cover, Frank took his hand and led him away. When Will looked back at Dante, he was holding out his own hand.

“May I?”

Will nodded, letting Dante lead him to the dance floor. He could feel the heat of Dante’s chest as they swayed closely together. The orchestra drowned out all the chatter in the room, almost as though they were the only dancers there. Dante smiled at Will in a way that felt both unnerving and flattering.

“Don’t worry about that guy,” Dante said. “Some people just don’t get it.”

“Right,” Will said, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

“If it means anything, you look incredible.”

For a man who unleashed his mechanical minions onto the town on a regular basis, he spoke like a prince. Will felt his face heat up as Dante chuckled.

“For real,” Dante said, “I wish I had half the guts that you do.”

Will managed to shrug. “Sometimes, you just have to dress how you feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

“I feel like… not wearing a suit.”

Dante laughed, and Will cursed his heart for fluttering so much. This was his team’s mortal enemy, and he had to stop his plans, no matter how charming he was.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“It’s Will.”

With a grin, Dante spun him around and pulled him back in time to the music.

“Dante. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His chest was pressed against Will’s back, and his breath felt hot. He leaned closely and whispered.

“You know, I’m really glad you showed up. I thought tonight would be so boring… but it was fun to see Gazali stumble like that, right?”

Will’s heart skipped. Of course, Dante knew. Anyone could recognize a man who was six-and-a-half feet tall. Gazali and Frank were probably walking into a trap right now. Will struggled out of their dance, ready to fight back, despite the damage he would cause, but Dante held him securely.

“Hey, easy now. I don’t plan on hurting you. Look—” He pulled a small remote from his coat and pressed a button. “Office-security just shut down. There’s no guards over there, so your friends can grab whatever they find. I don’t trust them to find much, anyway.”

Little pulses of power swelled in Will’s wrists. His body was begging him to start fighting, to go get the others and leave, but he knew the destruction that would bring. The city would never let him step outside again. Will felt like passing out, and against his better judgment, he let Dante pull him closer.

“Honey, you’re shaking like a leaf. I swear, you’re not in trouble.”

He led Will onto the balcony. The fresh air admittedly helped him a bit, and they were still within view of the party, so Will didn’t feel too isolated. Dante reclined against the stone railing.

“Better?”

Will nodded. “Thank you.”

Dante snickered. “How nice of you, thanking your enemy so casually.”

“Honestly, you’re the nicest person I’ve met all day.”

He hated himself for admitting that so easily, but the more he saw the sincerity in Dante’s eyes, the more he wanted to just unravel.

“What do you mean?” Dante asked.

Will sighed. “There’s a reason we haven’t met until today. My powers are too destructive. I’d kill everyone here… Doesn’t give people much reason to be nice to me.”

If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn that Dante was offended to hear that.

“Humans are conceited as all hell. They don’t see us as nothin’ but doormats. I’d do anything to give people like us a chance again.”

“Is that why most of your competitors are chased out of town by androids?”

Dante waved his arms outwards, as though to display his accomplishments. “It works, doesn’t it? Less people wanting to round us up and chuck us on an island.”

Will rested his head against the railing. “I won’t argue with that.”

“Really?”

“If they put all the Freaks on an island, I’ll be put in a boat just off the shore. There isn’t really a place for me, either way.”

“Well, you’ll always have a place here, if you want.”

He took Will’s hand, and the hero jumped a little. When they looked at each other, they didn’t see an enemy, just another person hurt by this cruel city. How relieving, Will thought, to finally find someone who understood, someone who didn’t push those feelings aside for the good of the people. Their cathartic moment was cut short when the music indoors rose in frightened pitch, followed by the building rumbling and the crash of a falling wall. Dante held Will steady.

“Stay here, I’ll check it out.”

When Dante went back inside, he wanted to laugh so badly. Gazali and Frank were holding on for dear life to a large machine moving wildly across the room like a vacuum cleaner… which is exactly what it was. All the time Dante had given them to find something, to make their game more interesting, and they stole a lumbering cleaning machine. The other guests fled downstairs, so Dante was free to tease his enemy as he pleased.

“Having fun up there?” he yelled, barely containing a sarcastic chuckle.

“Turn this thing off!” Gazali said.

“Hey, you ruined my wall. You figure it out.”

Frank opened the top of the machine’s “head,” grabbing a handful of wires and randomly cutting a few. That only managed to make the machine speed up. It moved towards Dante like a raging bull, and before he could duck out of the way, the machine jolted violently in place. The wheels were spinning enough to create a cloud of steam, but it didn’t move any further. The sound of strained breathing drew Dante’s attention to Will, at the end of the room, holding his arms out.

“Will—” Gazali’s voice was hushed, like he was speaking over a sleeping bear. “—be gentle.”

His powers were swelling in his wrists again, moving through his bones and veins like fire. It blurred his vision, making his arms falter, which made the machine inch a little closer. Gazali’s heart sank as Dante rushed towards Will, only to be confused when he grabbed the troubled hero’s face.

“Hey,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

“I can’t keep it there,” Will said through his teeth.

“Then let go, please.”

“It’ll get loose. We have to—”

He cried out in pain, and the sudden movement of his arms sent the machine and his friends into another wall. Will ran after them as the machine spun around the room. It hit him like a car, sending him into a table that collapsed under the sudden force. Frank cut one last wire, unaware of Dante pushing the off switch on his own remote, and the machine finally slowed and fell over, dropping him and Gazali to the floor. Gazali scrambled to his feet and picked up whatever parts he could.

“I’ll take this. You grab Will.”

He left as Frank went to get Will. He hesitated when he saw Dante picking Will up off the ground, trying to clean the oil, food, and metal parts from his dress.

“Are you okay?”

Will kept staring at the floor. “Why do you care?”

Before Dante could answer, Frank took Will’s hand and led him to the stairs. Dante was left alone in the destroyed ballroom with the response he hadn’t been able to give.

“You saved my life.”

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

The news had gone crazy, as expected. The machine was blamed for most of the destruction, but many citizens were calling for Will to be locked away, citing him as the reason things got worse. Will hadn’t left his dorm since that night, afraid to even look his fellow heroes in the eye. Gazali continued to watch countless news anchors insult his friend, until Alex came into the commons with a box.

“Is Will up?” he asked.

“Still in his room,” Gazali said.

Alex strolled down to the last room at the end of the long hall and knocked on the door.

“Package for you, boyo.”

When Alex was far enough away, Will reached his hand out of the doorway and snatched the package inside. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he read the sender’s name: It was Dante. If it made it through security, it couldn’t be a bomb or machine, but Will still opened the box cautiously. Inside was a crimson envelope, and a lovely black dress, softer than the one he had worn that night. He opened the envelope and read the letter inside.

"Sorry to ruin your dress, doll. I can’t imagine how much it cost. I also can’t imagine superheroes get paid enough to afford clothes like this." Will chuckled, feeling lighter the more he looked over Dante’s handwriting. "I hope this makes up for the damage, and that you aren't too scared to come see me again. i want to thank you properly for saving my life. Yours, DB."

Dante wanted to see him again. Will destroyed his party, and he still wanted to see him. It had to be a trap, clearly, and yet… Will had never been shown this kind of attention before. A large shadow startled Will from his thoughts.

“Is it a gift?” Gazali asked.

Will took a deep breath and gave him the letter to read. Gazali went through all the motions: shock, disgust… and then a distinct look of focus. He handed the card back slowly.

“My friend, I’m afraid you’ll have to come back out with us next time.”

Will pushed himself against his dresser. “No, not yet. They’re not ready, they’ll—”

“I hate to do this to you, truly, but we can’t pass up this opportunity. You’ve caught Briggs’ eye, we can use that. He won’t hurt you, we’ve seen that he won’t.”

He shuddered, angry tears filling his eyes. “So what, I’m your bargaining chip? I get to seduce your enemies while you go and save people?”

Gazali hung his head. “I know, it’s not ideal… but it’s the best chance we have of saving this city.”

“From what? A guy who wants people like us to live freely?”

Will froze at the darkness that flashed across Gazali’s face.

“He is not a liberator,” Gazali said. “He is dangerous, fool-hardy, quick to pull the trigger. Don’t let him fool you, Will.”

He sighed and left the room, and Will held the letter close to his chest. Dangerous… but kind and charming, someone who knew what the town needed, even if he was going about it differently. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to play along, to trade out the fear of fighting in public for nights with a guy who had gone out of his way to mail a box to the heroes’ headquarters just so he could apologize.

Honestly, Will liked the sound of it.

#writeblr #writing community #eternity au

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magpiewithacamera · 3 years ago

Text

"Where would I live, if I were a man of Golden Words...?"

Andy stayed at this house, on Bainbridge, on and off during the period that Malfunkshun was being formed. It was owned by a friend's grandmother at the time. It's for sale (or possibly sold) now. The basement of this house is where Malfunkshun was formed. It's a holy spot.

@fluttergirl and I went there in August.

First pic: the house as seen from the driveway. It's in a very peaceful neighborhood, we didn't see another car drive past while we were there. It sits on a property surrounded by high yew bushes and trees on all four sides. There are blackberries and hyacinth bushes all over the land.

Second pic: This is the front door. @fluttergirl, collector of skeleton keys and obituaries, noted that the doors still had their original locks, large keyholes. The steps were worn and a bit spongey but not unsafe. The porch wraps around 3 sides of the house. Easy to imagine Andy, Kevin and Regan Hagar sitting out here on a warm summer evening, or playing a game of touch football in the yard.

Third pic: The overgrown porch. This pic shows the long front of the house. I'm standing directly over the garage doors in the first pic to get this shot. The porch had a few holes, and several scary spots where the flooring did groan when walked on.

Fourth pic: Here's where it got HOLY. This is a small shed at the back of the property. Very overgrown with bushes, it would almost have been easy to miss, if Andy hadn't been walking with me that day. The door was hanging wide open, we didn't touch or change anything for any of these photos. It was maybe 15' X 12' feet, no bigger than an average size bedroom. On the sill of the door were three pennies. 3 pennies. One from 1972, one from 1976, one from 1980. I picked them up and went inside.

Fifth pic: There is surprisingly little graffiti or damage. The inside of the shed still has an old wood stove opposite the door. There was evidence of something being burned in there recently. But I was drawn to the small square windows, two of them, in the center of the photo. I knew I'd seen them before.

Sixth pic: a publicity shot of Andy, Malfunkshun days, taken about 1984. The bottom square window is very distinctly visible behind him, at about a 45 degree angle over his right shoulder. The corner wall beam is directly behind his head, and a few of the wood supports of the wall are to his left. This corner is where that photo was taken.

I was stunned. This was holy ground.

Photos seven and eight: Samples of Andy's distinctive handwriting. Note the letter 'e's throughout, and the number '2'. Both these are from his notes written c 1985.

Photo 9 (three times three, I thought it appropriate to not lead with this, tho it's the most important photo I think I've ever taken) Graffiti on the bare stud wall of the shed. "WE ARE HERE 2 LOVE"

Please compare letters.

MOST young men, 15, 16 years old, would take up pen to cheerfully tell the world to s*ck their dick, to draw crude cartoons of genitalia, to write something witty or crass or banal or shocking. And that's fine, that's how we are, when we're teens.

Andy, however, left this for us.

WE ARE HERE 2 LOVE.

All of us, here, him then, us now, maybe someday someone else who stands in a musty shed on Bainbridge and traces the letters with their fingers, he left it for ALL OF US.

WE ARE HERE 2 LOVE.

@fluttergirl took the last photo, my hand (unnecessarily) pointing it out. We were not 100% certain at the time it was Andy's writing. We are now.

There's a little regret that we didn't take the board. It is, after all, an abandoned shack that will possibly be sold to someone who's never even heard of Malfunkshun, doesn't care about who was there, 35 years ago.

But we were there, we got the shots, and we are bringing them to you. The board really doesn't matter. It was the medium he sent this love letter to us, and we're sending it on to everyone who needs to hear it.

'Words and music, my only tools...'

WE ARE HERE 2 LOVE.

What an amazing statement.

THIS, then, is our history.

Many thanks to @fluttergirl for being an amazing explorer with me!

#Andy wood #mother love bone #malfunkshun #bainbridge island #grunge history #the grunge tourist #grunge will never die #333 #WE ARE HERE 2 LOVE #words and music

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larkace · 3 years ago

Text

Robber Claws

hi guys! i've read a bunch of your fics and got inspired so i wrote a thing! enjoy ;) also, it's pretty long so...buckle up! love yall <3

The criminals lurk in the mist, invisible, but Sofiya Pavlichenkov knows they’re there.

She’s perched in the Lookout’s nest of her Warship in Fourth Harbour, pretending to read the documents her first mate, Kastor, has just handed to her. But her blue coat is flapping in the wind and her papers keep jostling and she’s being watched, all of which is rather uncomfortable.

Idly, Sofiya wonders what the criminals might want. A smuggling, perhaps? Out and away from stinking, crawling, loathsome Ketterdam?

Sofiya hates this city. His city. She misses Ravka, her homeland- the Little Palace.

I miss my bloody Kefta, Sofiya thinks darkly as another bought of wind spirals harshly through the Harbour. The blue coat she wears is a subtle nod to her Tidemaker status, but it’s a sad, thin piece of cloth compared to the grandeur of the Fabrikator-made Keftas. But Sofiya can’t wear her Kefta, not if she wants to blend in in Kerch- a lesson she learned long ago…

Old enemies, Sofiya. Old enemies, but not withered grudges.

Huffing out a sigh that would make Zoya Nazyalensky proud, Sofiya rises gracefully to her feet.

They’re coming. She can feel it; they’re making their way towards the ship. They don’t have to be rowdy to intimidate, that’s for sure - or to make a crowd of Merchants and Thieves part like the sea almost immediately.

Sofiya reaches up behind her head and loops her hand around a piece of knotted rope; takes a deep, steadying breath.

And she steps off the platform into the open air.

For a moment, she catches on the air as if a Squaller has caught her on a buffering breeze, but sure enough, gravity kicks in.

Sofiya welcomes the feeling of her stomach in her throat as the fall takes hold, zipping her past the sails. It's good preparation, anyway, for the three dark figures moving up the docks towards her.

As they near and Sofiya lands lightly on the deck, she confirms what she already knew: these were criminals. Her criminals.

The trio stops in front of her. They're all wearing black and gold - not a uniform exactly, but it’s a solid way to show your allegiance. None of their hands were visible, but if they were, Sofiya would find the Robber Claws emblem branded cleanly onto the backs of their knuckles. Their hoods are drawn up over their faces, but Sofiya can tell from their posture who she’s dealing with.

"Ah, Iseut," Sofiya says serenely, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The girl in the middle pulls down her hood, revealing shining blond hair, dark eyes, full lips. She doesn’t smile.

"Where have you been, Sofiya?" Iseut asks coolly.

"The Wandering Isle," Sofiya answers immediately, "I stopped at Os Kervo on my return to pick up some supplies. I'm only three days late, Is. Cut me some slack."

Iseut sighs, and suddenly looks less the badass, fake-waitress man-killer, and more the tired mother of a delinquent child. Sofiya feels a flicker of guilt.

She had stopped at Os Kervo for more than one reason. The "supplies" were crates upon crates of commandeered Fjerdan weapons and traps, intercepted by the First Army on their way to the Front Line. Sofiya had paid nothing to take them off the hands of the Ravkan soldiers, who honestly had no clue where to send them. What good were jerky Fjerdan guns to a sophisticated, well-oiled Second Army legion?

Sofiya could picture Zoya's face at the sight of the sad little weapons. Disgust and disdain, unshakable beauty - and perhaps just a little bit of pride that her friend had been the one to collect the Fjerdan cargo. Sofiya would work on selling it all later. She'd dump the Grisha traps in the ocean, though. Drown them like they deserved to be drowned.

"I am sorry, Iseut," Sofiya says, and her words aren’t mistruths.

"Don't apologise to me," Iseut says dismissively, "It’s your friends that were barely able to sleep the past few nights. You should talk to -"

"Destry," Sofiya's words mist the air like a fine rain, "I know."

One of the tall figures stood behind Iseut lowers her own hood. Lyra. Ly.

It made sense that the Robber Claws would send their best Bruisers to Fourth Harbour. Sofiya knew by the other Robber's posture that beneath the hood, she would find the face of Winter. But Winter wouldn't lower her hood in front of so many people, so Sofiya was content with what she could get.

"You really had Destry worried, Sof," Ly says, chastising.

"Destry can handle me being gone for weeks on end," Sofiya crosses her arms. She will not be guilt-tripped, "This job was half a week, and I was only a few days off schedule. I did tell Cherry that I'd be late." The words come out as a question.

None of them say anything.

Another flash of worry courses through Sofiya. Cherry Vlasova is a Heartrender, and one of Sofiya's closest friends. The message that Sofiya had forwarded was simple and concise: I'll be a few days late. Stopping at Os Kervo. Don't worry, no Fjerdans. Tell Destry -S.P

Had something happened to Cherry? She was an avid gossiper; her post box was always full of tip-offs (a useful source of information for the Robber Claws) but Sofiya was reliably informed that her letters were always placed on the top of the pile. Marked "URGENT."

"What happened? Is Cherry alright?" Sofiya demands.

Iseut holds up her palms, and they are callused and grease-marked. Sometimes Iseut is so well put together that Sofiya forgets she's a barmaid.

"Cherry is fine. But all our Grisha are shaken. Whilst you were away, there was an attack on the East Stave."

Sofiya's heart stops and restarts and stops again.

An attack. On the Grisha. And she wasn’t there to - to help, to defend-

"Destry," Sofiya breathes, "And Cherry - and Adali, Roza, Linnea, Yan, Anya- oh, Saints, was it the Fjerdans?"

There are many Grisha members of the Robber Claws. It was one of the reasons that Sofiya wanted to join them in the first place. If the Fjerdans had attacked -

"Everybody is fine," Ly says lowly, "We had Freya and May fixing people up as soon as we heard- and Lita, of course, but behind the scenes."

Freya and May- and even Lita, whose powers most of the gang didn't even know of. Grisha Healers. So people had been hurt.

"What. Happened." Sofiya growls, and Ly glares at her challengingly, fists clenching. The water beneath the decking froths and bubbles as Sofiya brings her own fists together, power surging pleasantly up her arms. If Ly wants a fight, she can have one.

"Calm down, both of you," Winter's smooth voice projects from under her hood. Despite the heavy fabric, her voice is clear and commanding. Sofiya takes a breath to compose herself.

"To answer your previous question: no. It wasn't the Fjerdans." Iseut says, "We don’t know what they were."

Sofiya's brow creases at the chime of fear in Iseut's voice. She's never seen the golden-haired barmaid afraid before.

It begins to rain softly, the pattering of droplets quiet against the wooden decking of the docks.

"We should go back to the Queen’s Head, Iseut," Ly suggests, referencing Iseut’s place of work. Iseut nods once, swiftly, and glances over Sofiya's shoulder at her warship.

"Do you need to...?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then."

"KASTOR! IM GOING FOR A ROUND OF DAY-DRINKING!" Sofiya yells over the shoulder of her rain-splattered coat. She hears Ly chuckle as Kastor's scruffy head pokes out from a window.

He nods at Sofiya when he spots her, and she waves, assenting. Kastor would keep everything safe whilst she was gone. It was their unspoken agreement, unchanging and unwavering since the day they'd become crewmates.

Sofiya turns back to Iseut, Ly and Winter.

"Let's be on our way," she says, and lets her fellow criminals lead the way along the Harbour, her warship disappearing into the mist behind her.

~~~~

The mid-day slump of customers meant that the Robber Claws had the Queen’s Head pub all to themselves.

Iseut- who did not own the pub, but had put more work into it than the real owners ever did- had immediately trekked behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

"Want anything?" She asks, directing the question directly at Sofiya despite the equal presence of Ly- and Winter (who had lowered her hood slightly now that she was back on familiar ground, with familiar faces.) Bruisers didn’t drink on the job. It slowed reflexes.

"The story," says Sofiya firmly, "It a joke about the day-drinking. What happened?"

Iseut pours herself another whiskey and the quartet take a seat at a shady little circular table in a quiet corner. The murmurs of other Robber Claws members is enough to shelter their conversation from the group- despite Sofiya being sure she was the only one unaware of what had transpired the days she’d been gone.

As Iseut begins her story, with Winter and Ly regularly interjecting with additions, Sofiya feels horror and fear clamp down on her heart like a Fjerdan Grisha trap.

Iseut’s alluring voice weaves a tale of Komedie Brute actors in bloody masks, rose-painted rubble from an impossible explosion, and worst of all: Grisha. Dead Grisha, killed by creatures with screeching metal wings.

“Only a few of our Grisha were hurt,” Iseut sips her drink solemnly, “We took your advice of keeping them anonymous and undercover. We have Erin and our other spies out searching for answers at the embassies. I’m sure you’re just as eager to find out about the winged creatures as we are.”

Sofiya nods, “I am. Thank you for filling me in, Is, really. And to you, Ly, Winter. I know you don’t like going to far from the West Stave.”

The last comment was directed purely at Winter. It’s not a lie. Winter runs a dojo for training Kerch’s women to protect themselves from Barrel bosses and scum alike; she didn’t want her clients finding out about her… Robber side. Being a criminal wasn’t the most unintimidating, friendly persona to have when speaking with vulnerable women.

Sofiya respected Winter and her clean profession. It was hard to be so kind in the Barrel. And men were rarely kind to women at all.

Sofiya knew that first hand.

Shoving away the memories- blue eyes, dark hair, gorgeous smile, charming words and sharper wounds- Sofiya stands in one fluid movement.

“I’m going to find Destry,” she says. Iseut stands, Ly and Winter falling back to flank her again, and smiles. She’s beautiful, that is undoubtful, but the attacks- the sleazy men at the Queen’s Head, the strain of the city- it’s all gotten to her. Sofiya can see it.

This city is poison, thinks Sofiya as Iseut takes her hand and shakes it. Poison and rot.

“Destry will be in her rooms,” Ly supplies, and Sofiya nods at her once.

Sofiya grins brightly, hoping it covers her own weariness, and recites, “Fair winds.”

“Bright stars,” chorus her friends. Sofiya waves over her shoulder as she slips out of the bar and down an alley. Above her, a storm brews in the clouds.

Perhaps the stars would be out that night. It didn’t matter. Nobody in Kerch saw the stars anymore.

~~~~

On her way to Destry’s apartments, Sofiya ran into more members of the Robber Claws.

Malcolm and Firefly, who lived together in shared housing in the Anvil, were shopping for new blacksmiths’ equipment. They each provided invaluable services to the Robber Claws, crafting flawless weapons second only to that of Fabrikators. They greeted her with a wink each. Sofiya moved on swiftly after trading them a Wandering Isle-crafted staff for twenty Kruge.

She picked up some baked goods on the way. She would need them. Destry- who had been her closest friend since she arrived in Kerch- was an Inferni. Fire-bringer; with an even fierier temperament. Rumour had it- and Sofiya knew the rumours were true- that Destry had been attending the University of Ketterdam when she’d heard a boy make a lude comment during an exam and lit the paper on fire with her mind. And that paper had been thrown. At the boy’s face. Ouch.

Sofiya had been nursing a whiskey in a tavern when she’d first heard the story recounted. She’d leapt up from her seat, slithered into an alley and held the recounter at knifepoint until he’d told her Destry’s name.

They’d become fast friends upon meeting. Sofiya had been in awe of someone so rebellious, so brave as to set fire to an exam paper, and Destry- well. Destry had laughed for hours when Sofiya had told her how she’d first come across her name.

But now, staring up at the ornate windows of Destry’s apartment, Sofiya feels unsure. She didn’t mean to worry her friend. Iseut had explained that her letter must have gotten lost during the riots. Sofiya cursed the post offices. So there was a deadly storm- your motto is still “We always deliver.”

Despite her trepidation, Sofiya’s feet were swift on the stairs. She had a key to the apartment, and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and slip inside without a sound, content to watch Destry whilst she worked; even if only for a moment.

Leaning against the wall, Sofiya’s brow creases as she surveys her friend. Destry’s hair is plaited carefully into two loops at the nape of her neck, hazel strands freeing themselves gently against her light brown skin. She’s stood facing away from Sofiya, arms circled in rings of fire. The shirt she wears is Fabrikator-made; the flames don’t take to the papery material.

Sofiya takes a step forward, and pointedly drops her bag of confectionary on the floor. It lands with an audible thump.

Destry whirls, the fire at her wrists whirling into an inferno ready to strike- until Destry sees who is at her door.

“Shouldn’t have hesitated, Des,” Sofiya said weakly, “I could have put a knife in your back.”

The shock on Destry’s face dissolves. Her face splinters down the middle. Licks of fire at her fingertips wilt into ash in a pile at her boot-clad feet.

“You would have put out the flames with your water, I’m sure,” Destry says, and then flies across the room towards Sofiya, wrapping her in a tight, smoke-smelling embrace.

Sofiya would normally pull back. “Don’t be too open with your heart, Des,” she’d say, “People use your loves against you here.” But Sofiya couldn’t bring herself to say those things. The weight of the week comes crashing down on her head like a tsunami.

Fjerdan traps on my boat, attacks on my gang, tensions in Ravka boiling over… where’s safe anymore, except here?

Destry pulls back slightly to scan Sofiya’s face. She has a smear of oil on her cheek. Destry’s eyes are filled with fire, burning like an ember beneath onyx waters.

“Where. Have. You. Been.”

“Destry-”

“Don’t you make excuses with me, Pavlichenkov,” Destry snarls, “You didn’t warn us you were late! I couldn’t sleep- neither could Cherry!”

“I-”

“We thought you’d been caught, Sofi,” Destry cries, “We thought the Fjerdans had got you! I thought you died.”

The word is ugly and big in the room, choking Sofiya’s response. Death. Dying. Dead. And by Fjerdan hands. It wasn’t so rare for travelling Grisha to be caught and sent to the pyres.

“I’m sorry,” Sofiya says, because it’s the only thing there is, “I wrote- I really did, don’t look at me like that- according to Lyra, there was a storm in the True Sea. The letter sunk with the ship.”

“You’re a Tidemaker,” Destry huffs.

“Yes, which means I manipulate water,” Sofiya says, “Not stop it from overturning ships with important letters on them. Destry, I’m sorry. I brought waffles.” She offers the last sentence like a defendant on trial with the Stadwatch; one final piece of evidence to prove her innocence.

Destry brightens immediately, “Well, in that case.”

The pair of them set to work, shoulders just brushing in the cramped kitchenette. Sofiya’s array of pasties are laid out over two plates, which they lay on their laps. Destry’s job for the Robber Claws is, in few words, that of the logician. Papers are scattered all over her apartment, covered in detailed blueprints and scale drawings of buildings all over Ketterdam, Fjerda and even- rarely- Shu Han. There were no drawings of Ravka.

If Iseut had ever commissioned a robbery in Ravka, Sofiya didn’t know about it. It would be…unwise to hit out at the Ravkans, with so many Grisha in the gang.

But Destry’s job was essential, so Sofiya couldn’t complain about the lack of trays to put their plates on. Such things were useless for such an incredible mind as Destry’s.

“So,” says Destry conversationally as she lights the fireplace with a casual flick of her wrist, “How were the Wandering Isles?”

Sofiya says nothing, massaging her temples lightly. Destry manages a laugh.

“Your silence is telling, Sofi,” she warns.

Sighing quietly, suddenly feeling very tired, Sofiya says, “It was crawling with our Fjerdan friends from the North. ‘Peaceful’ Fjerdans.”

Destry spins, and she is outlined with the fire. We’re opposites, Sofiya thinks. Fire and Water.

“You didn’t-” Destry begins, horrified.

Silently, solemnly, Sofiya raised her palms to face the ceiling. Destry reaches out.

Her gentle fingers trace the scars there. Deep and painful and barely healed, the scars run red against Sofiya’s pale flesh.

“Sofiya…” Destry breathes.

“It was the only way to push my power down,” Sofiya whispers. She’s rarely so emotive, but Destry is someone she trusts with everything. It was a weakness, some would say, but they were each powerful Grisha. They were Gods in a world of men. And they would not kneel “If I hadn’t, I would’ve been caught. It was a price to pay.”

Grisha shone like lighthouses around people. In Kerch, in Ketterdam, it was safer for them- especially ones loyal to a gang, as Destry and Sofiya were. But in the Wandering Isles; where Fjerdans passed through on their way to Novyi Zem, where gang affiliations mattered less than the colour of your eyes… Sofiya tells herself she had no choice.

“Sofiya, you’ve opened up old wounds here,” Destry says, tracing the marred skin of her palms again, “You need a healer. Freya, Lita, May-”

“Wouldn’t understand,” Sofiya finished, pulling her hands out of Destry’s and placing them carefully in her lap, obscuring them with her coat, “They’re healers, Des, not warriors- they’d go to Iseut.”

Iseut. Their unofficial leader, the founder, the lighthouse in raging seas. All of the Robber Claws seemed to be caught in her gravity. She was their sun. And Sofiya… well, Sofiya was the moon. Iseut would send her to a healer, one who would stop her travels. One who would commandeer her Warship, and Kastor… health of the mind was important to Iseut.

But Sofiya was not damaged, as they would tell her. She was not broken. Her mind was sound.

I did what I had to do, to survive.

But Destry can see through it all. Through the mask, through her eyes, right to her bones. Through to her lying, treacherous heart. We’re all broken in the end.

But.

Oh, Destry, Destry, please…

“I won’t tell her,” Destry promises, “But I’d like you to know that I think you should. Tell her, that is- Iseut. She might help.”

“She might ship me back to Ravka,” Sofiya grumbles, biting into a toasty croissant.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.”

“You never know.”

“She’ll want you to heal, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Sofiya rolls her eyes, “But these wounds are of the flesh. The scars on my heart will never heal, not in this life Perhaps there will be mercy in the next, even for my rotten soul.”

“You sound like you’re auditioning for the Komedie Brute,” Destry laughs.

“Mother, Father, pay the rent!” Sofiya crows.

“I can’t my dear, the money’s spent,” Destry choruses instinctively.

Sofiya wipes away an invisible tear, “Gorgeous! We’ll make an actress out of you, yet, Destry Clements.”

“Oh, you most certainly will not,” Destry huffs.

Their laughter fills the air, and Sofiya thinks that maybe there is hope for her rotten soul, after all.

~~~~

The man returns late from the pub wearing only one shoe.

A bottle drained halfway of mauve liquid dangles limply from his pale fingers. The veins in his foot are blue in the half-moon’s light.

He slurs a broken melody. She catches a few words as he passes below her on the street.

“Hmm… perish… light… air… fire… hell… hmmm…”

The man’s name is Danyl Harrop. And he is going to die tonight.

“Hmm… shadow… devil… rot… earth… sun… burn… lose….”

Harrop continues down the road, heedless of the mud on his bare foot. He'd be blackout drunk in the morning if he survived.

He wouldn’t.

Silent as a breeze, steps as soft as downy feathers, she leaps from the streetlight where she was perched.

She strikes.

She is ash and shadow. She is a storm of fire. She is vengeance.

She is death.

Harrop yelps as she pins him against the tree. His face is as white as the moon, with eyes like black craters.

“What’re you doi-” he slurs dazedly, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. He blubbers like a fish on land as he tries to shout for help.

“For King and Country,” says the girl. Stepping away from Harrop, she lets her power hold him against the tree, keeping his muscles upright. She surveys him like an artist would their unfinished masterpiece.

The girl whispers, “Sleep tight, Danyl.”

Flicking her wrist, she snaps his neck. He’s still alive, barely, so she latches on to what little of his mind there is left and strips it like an onion. For a man who is out so late, so drunk, on what the girl remembers as a work-day, he knows too much.

Secrets. They feed this girl, nourish her. There is a skip in her step as she turns away from Harrop; without her supporting his muscles, he collapses against the tree. She leaves his mind just as it goes dark.

There is no need to hide in the treetops upon her return to the city. It gleams just half a mile away, most of which is roiling seawater. As the girl wanders along the road back to Ketterdam, she finds Danyl Harrop’s shoe in a puddle of mud. The girl laughs at the sky. She flips a coin into the shoe, whispers a heartless prayer to her Saints, and moves on.

Back to Ketterdam. Back home.

~~~~

Ok, so that's that! I left it on a bit of a cliffhanger... I may have created a whole plot... so there might be some more coming soon!

all these excellent characters (save Sofiya, Danyl, Kastor and the girl at the end who kills Danyl- who has no name... yet *wink*) belong to the following:

Iseut is @littlegirldorothea's

Destry is @finnick-annie's (I may have made them besties👀👀)

Cherry is @brekkercookie's (they are ALSO besties👀👀 we have a trio omg)

Winter is @cressjacquine's

Lyra is @no-mourners-at-my-funeral's

Malcom is @blackpheonix’s

Firefly is @ask-shadowbon’s

Erin is @lightningboytytonjesper’s

Adali is @apple-bottom-jeansx’s

Roza is @vampire-rights’s

Linnea is @alonlyfangirl's

Yan is @lucentcorrigan’s

Anya is @queenlilith43’s

Freya is @smol-evil-gremlin’s

Lita is @the-whispers-of-moonlight’s

May is @saltyfortunes

and the "Fair winds, bright stars" motto as created by @spicy-tomato-sauce's

oh and the whole Grishaverse is the wonderful @lbardugo's <3

if I missed anyone or you want to tag anyone go ahead!

53 notes · View notes

shinsouskitten · 4 years ago

Note

Heyo! This is my first time requesting so I hope this isn't a bad request. So lately I've been watching these TikTok compilations of people getting naked infront of their bf/gf on YT and I just had this AMAZING idea. How would Shoto, Shinso, Kaminari, Bakugo, and Hawks react to their s/o doing that? (I also heard you're a Yagami Yato fan!!! Yay!)

Honestly I’ve been dying to do some tiktok pranks, but I didn’t know if anyone would actually enjoy them, so your request certainly isn’t a bad one. I kinda did a mix of the towel dropping trend and straight up stripping cause I wanted to do a bit of both so I hope that’s okay

And yeah, I’m a huge Yagami fan. I really want to get her patreon but I’m a broke bitch 😣

I’m so happy I was able to finish this in time to post it today

Anyway… Time to get naked!

All characters are aged up (except Hawks)

Warnings: suggestive themes, implied nudity (does it count as implied or is it just straight up nakedness?), Bakugou

---

❄️🔥 Shōto Todoroki:

The two of you sat on the sofa, your phones held in your hands as you navigated through app after app to find something to do. You saw a tiktok pop up on your page, of someone recording their partner’s reaction to the stripping, and Shōto’s current aimless scrolling made it the perfect situation.

You took your phone, resting it against a glass on the coffee table in front of you as nonchalantly as possible. You set the timer to record, turning off the volume so Shōto wouldn’t hear it, before beginning to take your shirt off.

When he didn’t turn you sighed, standing up to take off your pants to hopefully gauge a better reaction. This time he turned his head slightly, his eyes taking a quick glance over your body before returning to look at your face.

“Oh hi y/n.” He said, turning back to his phone.

“Shōto.” You whined, ending the recording on your phone. “You’re meant to react more.”

He turned to look at you again, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, baby.”

You sighed, placing your phone face down on the coffee table before flopping down on the sofa, your head falling in his lap as you stared up at him. He leant forward to put his phone next to yours, before twirling a hand in your hair softly.

“I’ve seen you naked before.” He said simply.

You rolled your eyes. He could say those kinds of things with such a monotone expression, but you still found yourself flushing each time he did so.

“Yeah but it was for tiktok.” You frowned.

Shōto smiled softly. “We can try again if you want.”

“Is this your way of saying you want me to strip for you?” You asked with a laugh.

“Perhaps.” He replied, and you felt yourself smiling as he stared down at you.

He might be a bit clueless, but he’s still cute.

---

💜 Hitoshi Shinsou:

Just one more game. That’s what he’d said two hours ago. You’d lost track of the amount of rounds he’d been playing, but by now your eyes were tired of the blue light illuminating your bedroom. You knew how difficult it was to convince Shinsou to go to sleep, but it was practically impossible when Kaminari messaged him asking to play some games online with him.

You would both be tired and grumpy in the morning, so you decided to try and convince Shinsou another way.

As he stared at the screen, you grabbed your phone from beside your bed, placing it in front of you as you called out to Shinsou. He turned for a moment, but his attention was quickly drawn back to the tv as Kaminari’s voice flooded the speakers.

“C’mon man I wanna win for once.”

Rolling your eyes, you decided to elevate your persuasion. You waited until the round he had been playing ended, pressing record as the next one began to load. Calling for him again, he turned, and you began to slowly peel your shirt (well, it was technically his shirt) up your body. When it passed your head you tossed it to the side.

Shinsou smiled, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes trailed up and down your torso, now naked before his eyes.

“Hey Kami.” He said, eyes never leaving yours. “You’re gonna have to play the next game on your own.”

“Is it y/n again? I wanted to wi-”

You chuckled as he ended the call, turning off his console before strolling to join you on your bed. You picked up your phone before he got to you, ending the recording and placing it back on your bedside table.

“Was that for Tiktok?” He asked.

You nodded silently.

“Of course it was.” He chuckled.

You pouted. “I was tired of you playing.”

“Well unfortunately I’ve got some more to play.”

You frowned, thinking he was going to return to his games again, until Shinsou leant closer, cupping your face with one hand while the other began to trail down your chest.

I guess there’s more than one way to get him to sleep.

---

⚡ Denki Kaminari:

To be honest, Denki’s probably done the exact same prank on you (Denki is a tiktoker change my mind).

You were determined to get him back. And Lady Luck had decided to shine on you today, because you had the perfect opportunity. He was playing a game, headphones blocking his ears from you as he spoke with the rest of the Bakusquad.

You tapped his shoulder to tell him you were going to take a quick shower. He turned to look at you for a moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, before his attention was pulled back to the game at Bakugou’s insistent yells of ‘pay attention you damn extra’.

After your shower, you wrapped your towel around your body loosely, one hand gripping the fabric while the other grabbed your phone to begin recording. You slipped back into the room, mildly annoyed when Denki didn’t even turn to greet you. You let your towel fall away, before tossing it across to land on Denki’s head.

He pulled the towel from his head and threw it to the ground, throwing you a quick frown before he turned back to the tv. Mere seconds after he faced the screen he turned to look at you again, eyes widening as he took in your naked figure with a bright smile.

You heard a yell from his headset, presuming it was Bakugou when the screen flashed game over in bright red letters.

“I gotta go.” Denki said into the mic.

You laughed, stopping the recording as he stood up to walk over to you.

“I was wondering when you’d get me back.” He smiled, his hands resting on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your head. “But you know, it’d be a shame to waste this opportunity.”

“Do you think about anything other than sex?” You chuckled.

“Of course.” He replied. “I think about you. But how can you blame me with this beautiful sight.”

You smiled, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around Denki’s shoulders.

“You’re not saying it’s a bad idea.” He said, raising an eyebrow at your silence. “That clearly means you think it’s a great one.”

You rolled your eyes, but leant forward to kiss him.

“It’s an okay idea.” You murmured against his lips.

You yelped as he pinched your hip, opening your mouth to scold him, but your words failed you as his hands began to trail to where you wanted them most.

“Just okay?” He asked.

You nodded, head falling against his neck as he continued to trail his fingers across your skin.

A great ending to a great prank.

---

💥 Katsuki Bakugou:

You sighed in your bed, blankets wrapped around you as you waited for your boyfriend to come home. He’d been swarmed with work recently, so you hadn’t seen as much of him as you would’ve liked.

When you heard the click of your door, you jumped up, racing through your apartment to see Bakugou taking off his shoes with a sour expression.

“Hey.” You smiled, walking over to drape your arms around his shoulders.

He grunted in response, brushing your arms off as he plopped down on the sofa. He lay his head back, eyes falling shut as he muttered something about stupid villains thinking they own the place.

As you watched him the idea came into your mind. You felt in your pockets for your phone, relieved to find it there. Careful not to disturb your boyfriend, you placed it so only Bakugou would be seen by the camera. As you pressed record, you cleared your throat, annoyed when he didn’t even react.

With a sigh you pulled your shirt over your head, throwing it across the room where it landed in Bakugou’s lap. His eyes shot open, noticing the clothing in front of him, before his head snapped to look at you.

“Oi dumbass what are you doing?!” He shouted, but you could see the blush spreading across his face.

“Something wrong?” You asked innocently.

Bakugou let out a low growl, before his gaze fell to the phone propped up next to you.

“Is this for tiktok?!” He screamed, leaping towards you to rip the phone away before you could stop him.

You pouted as he glared down at the screen, ending the recording and tossing your phone to the other end of the room.

“If you’ve broke that-” You began, but you were interrupted by a finger on your lips.

“You shouldn’t be worried about the phone.” Bakugou said, red eyes boring into yours.

Your mouth fell open in a silent ‘o’ as his hands slipped around your waist, letting out a scream as he threw you over his shoulder.

Suffice to say your phone wasn’t the only thing he broke that night.

---

🍗 Keigo Takami (Hawks):

There was something droning on in the background, some boring show you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. Instead, your attention was fixed on your boyfriend, who was laying back on your sofa, wings splayed out behind him as one arm sat curled around your waist.

Coming up with an idea, you excused yourself from his grip, and his head turned to look at you as you propped your phone up to face him.

He raised an eyebrow, his golden eyes following your every movement as you began to peel off each layer of your clothes. By the time you were in your underwear, Keigo had grown impatient, and he stood up, appearing next to you within seconds.

“Well hello there.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, holding up a finger to press pause on the scene as you retrieved your phone, checking that you hadn't been visible on the screen. When you were satisfied, you placed it down again, this time ensuring it wasn’t recording, before turning back to Keigo.

“You know if you were into recording stuff you could’ve just said so.” He said, his eyes still not leaving your body.

You laughed again, but leant forward to press a kiss to his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as he returned the affection. His hands trailed across your body, at one point stopping to pinch your hip. Keigo used your shock as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth, and his grip tightened on your waist.

You groaned as he pulled away, but your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hand slip in between your thighs.

Maybe you should prank him more often.

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