#so it’s a green screen! (only colour that didn’t blend in with at least one person)

[plaguedoctoraeneas]

It’s Community week! And I combined it with yesterday’s prompt of colour palettes! From left to right we have @finisnihil ‘s Nix Pelagic, @ormacritis ‘s Montague Chamaris and @twigthetoast ‘s Verena Mnesic! They’re the very special guys that have to put up with Niran, something I am sorry for every day.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Words: 4,104 Warnings: Pets/Cats, Intense Hyperfocus + Dissociation causing things to be missed, Tight Enclosed Spaces, Insults (Playful), Hero Complex being set off, (non-POV) Panic attack, Food Characters: Roman, Virgil, Thomas, Patton Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family

Playlist - Chapter 36

    After excusing himself from dinner and cleaning off his plates for the dishwasher, Roman hastily made his way back to the laptop to start a new canvas. He had to draw the fuzzy mercats underwater. He didn’t catch what anyone had said while leaving the table other than when he received permission to leave… or really any of the conversation between Patton and Thomas, but it was probably adult stuff. Virgil signed nothing, so the conversation likely didn’t involve them, at least.

   Roman saved and closed the old file, opening up a new large canvas and flooding it with various shades of blue and green in watercolour right away, focusing fully on creating the scene that had been filling his head throughout dinner. He had no clue if he even had the skill to pull it off, but he had infinite undos and art program tools to help him, so maybe he could get close.

   Lita had joined him on the couch, curled up next to him as he had his feet on the couch to hold the laptop at drawing level, hunched over the screen and focused in on the canvas. He didn’t feel like he could think about anything else. Roman normally would have turned on music or something to draw so that he wouldn’t just sit in silence, but pulling himself away from the mercat art felt impossible. He’d used computer art programs in the past, but they never had as many options as this one. It made him feel like he can create something awesome.

   The sounds of dishes and chatter didn’t really register with him other than passively hearing them while he looked up reference photos for marine plants to help populate the background, copying the ones he thought would blend well with others and make new underwater flora for the mercats to stalk. One sneaking through the seagrass and hunting a cricket-fish seemed really adorable, too. He had so many ideas for this that he wasn’t sure he could keep up with them all.

   The pen didn’t make any sound against the screen as he worked, which amplified the unnatural feeling. It seemed like it took more effort to do what he could with normal art supplies, but finding out how to get there was so interesting, it was hard to be frustrated while being focused fully on the art. Roman stopped thinking about all reality. He wasn’t even aware of his hand, only noticing the intersection of where the pen and laptop screen met and the colours that bloomed there.

   Something touched Roman, and he automatically shrugged it off and went back to drawing. There was a change in colours behind the tablet, but it seemed familiar enough to not worry about, so populating the world with plants was still more important. Then a hand with black nail polish pushed down the laptop and flicked Roman in the nose.

   “Virgil, seriously?” Thomas asked, and Roman shook his head a few times, blinking moisture back in his eyes. Virgil just shrugged back at Thomas and flicked Roman in the nose again. Roman scrunched his face up and rubbed his nose, trying to get rid of the horrid crawling feeling spreading across his face.

   From the indignant expression, Virgil most likely signed, ‘See!’

   “What’s up?” Roman asked, looking around to see where he was. It registered as somewhere he knew, but he couldn’t really place where. He blinked and cinched his face tight once more before releasing and shaking off.

   “Are you okay, Roman?” Patton asked with that awful concern dripping from his words.

   “Yeah, why?” Roman took a deep breath, and it almost felt foreign. There was a sudden well of panic that he stopped breathing until he realized how stupid that was, since he was still alive and all, letting it out slowly. “Fine, right, what’s going on?” Roman asked again, saving the canvas he was working on.

   There was a brief pause of Patton looking over Roman with a tight smile before he responded. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for a while, and you weren’t responding at all,” Patton asked, stepping a little closer to Roman.

   “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Thomas asked as well. Virgil rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back and lolling his head.

   “I’m feeling like I want to draw. I’m fine. What do you need?” Roman asked shortly, not appreciating being coddled like this.

   “Remember how we talked about going to the cat café?” Patton covered his mouth with one hand, holding the other arm. What is with them?

   “Not really. When are we going?” Roman followed up, glancing at the clock on the laptop to see the time. He saw the numbers and didn’t know what they meant, though. The hour was in the double digits, and the date seemed wrong.

   “Now, ideally,” Thomas said, looking amused at Roman with a little smirk.

   “Oh, okay…” Roman trailed off slightly, closing up the laptop and putting it beside him on the couch.

   “You can take the laptop if you want to keep drawing while we’re there. Just make sure you keep a hand on it while we’re out. It will take a bit to get to on a bike,” Thomas told him, looking like he was holding back a much bigger smile. He liked the Sanders, but damn, could they be weird sometimes.

   “You’re sure?” Roman asked hopefully, putting his hand back on the laptop. “Wait, I don’t have a bike as far as I know,” he pointed out, even more confused. Fuck, his brain was in a fog, and he was not functioning, but he was very aware of his hand on the laptop.

   “We told you that you’ll both have to ride in the tow-behind.” Patton’s eyebrows stayed locked in deep concern, and Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder comfortingly.

   “He doesn’t remember, but that’s fine as long as he still wants to go.” Thomas smiled at Patton, slightly shaking his head. Virgil huffed loudly, tapping his foot. “Come on, Virgil seems impatient,” Thomas said, pushing Patton out the door. Oh, there would be live models at the cat café for the mercats. Roman got off the couch in a hurry, sliding the laptop pen back in place and holding it close to himself. Virgil smiled briefly and nudged him with his shoulder, and followed Thomas and Patton out the door.

   Thomas waited for Roman to pass to lock up behind them, and Patton was wheeling out a bike with a large tent-like attachment hooked to the back. Roman got closer to look at it, and Patton pulled out the bottom pad that was caked in dog fur to replace it with a new one, then motioned with a smile to the open pod.

   “You’re serious,” Roman said flatly, and Thomas chuckled, putting his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

   “It’s the safest way, but one of you can stand on the back pegs of my bike the whole way, if Lita’s journey submarine is too tight a fit for you two,” Thomas suggested reassuringly.

   “It’s fine with me, but…” Roman looked over at Virgil, who just shrugged and climbed into the pod, scooting to the side and patting the pad. “I guess Virgil’s cool with it,” Roman commented mildly and climbed into the pod as well. A wide rubbery-looking mesh made up windows between the supports, so it wasn’t exactly claustrophobic, but Roman and Virgil sat close enough to each other that they were touching. Roman was so used to Virgil needing a wide berth that it was weird.

   “Great!” Patton enthused, zipping up the tent and moving towards the bikes. “Roman, let us know if either of you need us to stop or do anything else, all right?” Patton asked, leaning down to talk into the pod.

   “Sure,” Roman said, still feeling like this was completely surreal. Virgil didn’t act like this, right?

   Virgil nudged Roman, and he looked up to see Virgil signing ‘You’re a cranberry fuck nut’ at him, and Roman just raised his eyebrow at that. ‘Eat bees and die’ came soon after. Okay, that made sense. He was being over-dramatic again.

   ‘Shut your face, pickle-tits,’ Roman signed back with a smirk.

   “Boys,” Thomas said flatly, his hands on his hips outside the tent. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but as usual I am questioning the tone it’s taking,” he looked at them with his lips pressed into a flat line.

   “We’re simply exercising our creativity,” Roman said, finger-spelling out ‘tacky sea slug.’

   ‘Snooty snot licker,’ Virgil signed back, then stuck out his tongue, wriggling his head from side to side.

   “Virgil.” Thomas sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Never mind, as long as it’s good natured,” he changed his mind and pivoted away with a flourish, walking into the garage and pulling out another bike while Patton mounted the one with the trailer on it. Virgil made a breathy snickering noise and leaned against the tent, pulling out his phone.

   Roman took that as a good enough sign that he could go back to drawing, so he flipped the laptop open and converted it to a tablet, returning to drawing out the underwater flora. The bikes took off soon after, and Roman adjusted a few times to draw more comfortably while maintaining Virgil’s space.

   Even after finding a comfortable spot, the bike kept bumping about, so it was hard to draw while getting jostled. Focusing while moving around so much was also a struggle, and he felt a little trapped with the tent flap closed, so Roman sighed and closed up the laptop again, holding on to it with both hands against his chest while he watched the streets pass. He was still thinking about ideas, though, wondering about different applications of the tools. Roman was pretty certain he could make the ribbon tool spin plants underwater for him. He was not paying attention in the least as to why they were going to a cat café, but if Virgil wanted to go, Roman wouldn’t stop them by wanting to hang back to draw either way.

   Glancing over at Virgil, it was clear he was nervous. Virgil balled up tightly and scrolled on his phone, gripping his legs to his chest, buried with his hood up in the oversized hoodie as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Patton and Thomas were chatting about what to order at the café, so they must have been before. Roman felt the edge of the laptop with one hand and reached into his pocket for the fidget with the gears stashed in there, feeling it between his fingers to find the right angle and push the cogs quietly in his pocket.

   The further they got into town, the heavier the traffic on the road next to them got. If Roman had to guess, that’s why Virgil’s foot was now tapping so hard he could feel it in his whole body. Wanting to go somewhere that required passing a lot of cars with Virgil’s phobia seemed odd, but Roman could understand feeling cooped up or just wanting to see cats. Or maybe Virgil wanted something from the menu. Who knows. But Roman couldn’t help but monitor Virgil. He was getting increasingly agitated and Roman had to help somehow. Maybe Roman should ride on the pegs on the way back so that Virgil can spread out. Or maybe he wanted Roman nearby? It was impossible to tell with Virgil. Roman knew basically nothing about him.

   Roman regretted not asking how long the ride would take, getting increasingly restless. Maybe he had time to pull out his phone, too. Roman laid the laptop on his thighs and fished out his phone, still spinning the cogs as he fought the phone open. Roman huffed and put down his phone to pull the glove tighter with his teeth to be able to use the touch screen, and the press registered this time for him to enter his passcode and look up some underwater ruins for inspiration.

   There was a tire screech nearby that made Roman jump, looking up at the car that must have been going too fast for the stop sign. Roman sighed and looked back at his phone, scanning the ruins. The pod was shaking, and Roman leaned over to see what they were biking over, but it was the same urban streets as before, so he looked around for what else was wrong. Virgil’s face was pale, and his forehead was sweating, his hand still positioned like he was holding his phone, but it had fallen out. Oh, shit. The car that was bad at braking. Fuck, does Virgil want him to get Patton and Thomas, or does he want to deal with this himself?

   Virgil didn’t respond when Roman signed at him, even after tapping Virgil’s knee to get him to look. He was still staring straight ahead and breathing hard, coming in as little as shudders rather than deep breaths. Roman put his hand flat on Virgil’s knee and squeezed slightly, and Virgil’s eyes shot to it, then Roman in short order.

   ‘Do you want them?’ Roman signed quickly, and Virgil shook his head, pulling in his knees tight to his chest. Roman’s phone went off with an alert, and Roman grunted, pulling up his phone to see what was so damn important. It was just his breathing alarm, so he turned off the notification and threw it to the side. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s face and the discarded phone as he hyperventilated while Roman tried to figure out what to do.

   “It’s just my breathing alarm,” Roman mumbled, racking his brain with how to help Virgil. He couldn’t just let him stay like this. Oh. Breathing. “Oh, uh, shoot. Got to do my breathing. You know. Deep breaths as slow as you can. So annoying. Anyway,” Roman was aware how not-subtle he was, but as long as nobody else noticed but Virgil. Virgil just stared at him. Okay, time to be even less subtle.

   “In,” Roman started and took in a deep breath. Virgil lagged, but started soon after him. Thank fuck. “Hold,” he instructed, keeping a hand on Virgil since Virgil hadn’t shoved him off yet, and if he was panicking, he’d love to have something to focus on himself. “Out,” he said, slowly breathing out at the same time. Roman started over with instructing him, but in ASL this time, still performing each exaggerated breath as an example. For once, his minimum length of the exercise didn’t seem like a bad thing. He vaguely remembered Patton calming him down from hyperventilating like this, so it probably wasn’t counter-productive at least, but he had no idea if this would help at all.

   Virgil followed, which was almost as surprising as him letting Roman be so close to him. But the shaking slowed down to a shuddering halt under Roman’s hand, and Virgil’s eyes went from dinner plates back to only a little wider than the normal tired expression, so it must have been doing something. Roman ignored timing the exercise at all, just going to keep at it until Virgil is no longer as stiff as a statue.

   He did eventually sag against the tent, nodding his head, which Roman understood as meaning to stop guiding him. ‘You good?’ Roman signed, letting go of Virgil’s knee as well. Virgil nodded slowly and continued to breathe deep on his own, though there were still a few shudders.

   Virgil looked at Roman oddly before signing, ‘no smoke?’

   Roman blinked a few times and sniffed at the air, smelling nothing but tarmac, spent rubber, car exhaust, and a hint of fast food oil. ‘No,’ he signed back and Virgil nodded again, sighing heavily, slumping against the tent to lie down, feet pushing against the tent door in an uncomfortable position. Virgil was too tall for this thing. Roman shifted Virgil to his side by his hoodie, letting Virgil bend his legs into where Roman was sitting, and Roman tucked his feet behind Virgil’s knees to give him a little more room. Virgil didn’t move from the floor, just adjusting his hood and closing his eyes.

   Confirmation that he was okay would have been nice, but whatever. Virgil was breathing better, and that’s what was important. Roman put on some Lo-Fi to help mask the sound of traffic, though it wouldn’t drown out the peal of tires. It just felt better than doing nothing. Roman sighed and leaned his head back on the tent wall, looking up at the arch. He hoped the cat café would be worth it for Virgil. Roman wasn’t exactly going to brave the choking factory tour for fancy chocolate at the end.

   But then again, cars were kind of more unavoidable than the smell of whiskey and hands around your throat. Virgil had it rough. Roman glanced out the side of the tent, seeing a shopping center glide past. It was still bright out, so they must have eaten dinner early today to make sure they weren’t out too late. The Sanders put a lot of forethought into things. They were considerate people, which left a bittersweet feeling in his heart. They pulled into a small strip center and parked their bikes on the rack on the sidewalk.

   Neither Roman nor Virgil bothered moving until Patton came around to unzip the tent, exclaiming, “We’re here!” Roman lifted his legs up for Virgil to get out of the tent first. Virgil rubbed his face with his hoodie sleeves and rolled to get up, adjusting his hoodie as he got out. He stretched while Roman crawled out of the opening, holding on to the laptop carefully and making sure his phone was situated tightly in his pocket. He swept the tent to make sure he had everything and grabbed Virgil’s phone, passing it off to Virgil silently. “It’s nice to see—” Thomas put his hand on Patton’s shoulder and shook his head with exasperation, cutting Patton off. Virgil and Roman both looked at Thomas in confusion, along with Patton, but Patton seemed to trust whatever that was and zipped the tent closed.

   “Let’s get a table.” Thomas smiled brightly and headed into the café covered in garish cutesy decorations. Roman grimaced, wondering how they got boys to come in here normally. Roman had nothing against the design, but he wouldn’t want to get photographed next to it. Virgil tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket and hunched over, following Thomas in while Roman looked at the exterior. He swallowed and headed in, followed closely behind by Patton.

   The café smelled amazing. The smell of hot chocolate and baked goods smacked him in the face as soon as he entered. They decorated it with lots of pastels, soft spots for the cats to recline, and a very complex-looking series of cat-platforms up the walls. The café was very casual with bench-seats at the tables and a self-service counter. Roman wondered how the cat hair from the ten-odd cats he spotted in the small café wasn’t an issue, but maybe that was just something you had to accept as a patron here.

   Thomas walked up to the counter and smiled at the person behind it. “Give us a sec. Get two things each, boys. Roman, don’t look at the prices and just order what you actually want to eat. We came all the way out here, so let’s enjoy it the best we can, yeah?” Thomas said pointedly, and Roman huffed, crossing his arms over the laptop as he rolled his eyes. Thomas really up and called out Roman in front of the person at the register?

   Virgil looked up at the menu quickly and signed at Roman ‘Dark hot chocolate and chai cheesecake,’ without hesitation. Geez. Maybe he’d been here before. That was a few seconds, tops. Thomas looked at Roman expectantly. Fuck, making choices is garbage. Roman scanned the menu as fast as he could. The hot chocolate was the only thing that wasn’t a smoothie and didn’t have coffee, so at least that was a given. There were way too many choices of desserts, though.

   “Two dark hot chocolates and two chai cheesecakes,” Roman said, just opting to follow what Virgil chose instead of making them wait any longer. He wouldn’t enjoy himself if he panicked about the menu, that’s for sure. Suck on that, Thomas. Virgil headed over to a table and Roman followed, not wanting to hear the total when they finished ordering. Roman didn’t like dark chocolate so much he’d order a mug of it, but maybe with the cheesecake it would balance out the bitterness. He didn’t care as much about eating food he didn’t like as much as others did, so it wasn’t as big a deal to Roman as Thomas made it out to be if he got something he only kind of liked.

   A white cat and a tabby cat came up to them as Roman sat down on the bench next to Virgil, the tabby cat hopping up on the bench across from them and the white cat going under the table to rub against their legs. Virgil smiled and leaned down to put his hand out for the cat to sniff, petting the cat after it greeted him. Roman watched the tabby with interest as it stared back. Maybe Roman failed the vibecheck, because it hopped up on a shelf on the wall, climbing up high with lithe movements. It was exactly what Roman was looking for, though. Roman flipped open the laptop to sketch the escaping cat on a fresh canvas.

   Virgil snickered, turning to the side and focusing on the cats while Roman sketched the tabby. He moved on to sketch a black cat partially falling off a shelf while lazing, then the white cat when Virgil got up to play with it with one of the provided toys. The jumping around was perfect, so quick gesture sketches of the cat were exactly what Roman was looking for to impart that weightless feeling to the mercats. When Virgil returned, Roman picked a few gestures to fill out to put in the underwater scene, wondering how best to paint the cat fur.

   “Hey, buddy, don’t let your hot chocolate get cold,” Patton said, rapping a knuckle on the table. Everyone had already taken their seats and had partially eaten their desserts, with Roman's untouched in front of him. He sheepishly and saved the canvas to hold in his lap while he ate his treats. The hot chocolate was leaking onto the saucer with soft whipped cream and adorable half-melted cat-shaped marshmallows. That must be why Virgil got the dark. All the sugar on top would make the milk chocolate too sweet.

    Roman picked up the mug and leaned over the table to stay over the saucer a bit to take a drink, dribbling a little on his chin and cleaning up with the fabric napkin under the cheesecake plate. Virgil smirked and made a show of taking a cleaner sip, and Roman rolled his eyes, going for a bigger drink this time. It was definitely the homemade kind from real chocolate and not any packet mix. The cocoa was the perfect temperature right now, and if you let it cool too much, the thick stuff will settle in at the bottom of the mug somewhat, and he didn’t want chocolate sludge.

   The cheesecake was more spiced than sweet, but it was really delicious with the hot chocolate. Virgil once again absolutely knew what he was doing with unexpected flavour pairings. ‘Good taste, Virgil,’ Roman signed at Virgil, who just shrugged in response and kept eating. Thomas looked at him oddly, but he wouldn’t up and admit out-loud that he just ordered what Virgil did just so he didn’t have to make a choice.

   Virgil looked much calmer already, even kind of happy. It was hard to see the little smile, but he watched the cats along the wall while he sipped at the hot chocolate. Thomas and Patton talked animatedly about their favourite cats (a black and white one yawned, causing a lot of cooing). With images of underwater cat scenes floating through his head and desserts in his mouth, and Virgil smiling genuinely next to him even though just moments ago he was freaking out… Roman couldn’t help but wonder if maybe braving the choking factory tour might be more worth it than he assumed it to be. At least… the concept of it, anyway.

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 07

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.5k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, swearing.

♤ A/N: Surprise! I'm really sorry it took me this long, but I finally found the time and drive to write again :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

06 07

"What do you mean this hybrid doesn't exist?"

Her eyes are wavering with an unspoken fear, perhaps caused by the bitterness my questions holds. I'm not happy, and she knows.

“It’s just, the chance that a dangerous breed such as the tiger hybrid would escape our system is basically zero..” The gaze she held on the computer screen unsurely moves my way. My expression must've instilled another layer of anxiety to the already existing one, as her mouth abruptly stops moving and her pupils dilate.

“Go on, explain.” The tone of my voice softens a bit as I notice her visible discomfort worsening. Even if there is no way that I’ll get any information from this place regarding Taehyung and his owner, I would still like to know why they’re both not showing up here.

Eun-ji takes a few deep breaths to stabilize her voice. As she does her posture slowly relaxes just a little and her eyes lose some of the nervousness they held before. “Because the first ‘successful’ tiger hybrid ran rampant after killing their creator, anyone who still breeds or creates them is being watched very closely by us, as well as by some other institutions.”

Perhaps it’s my lack of reaction that causes her to trail off at the end. Though I’m not judging her or her story, unlike she may think. To encourage her to continue, I give her a nod, tilting my head to show interest.

“The regular citizen isn’t even allowed to have one, needing special training to handle them. It’s like that for most hybrids that find their origins in wild animals. Creating tiger hybrids obviously requires a lot of knowledge when it comes to playing with genes and breeding them…. Well there are only three organization that are authorized to do so. All the resulting hybrids are registered and chipped.”

The explanation, which turns out to be a lengthy one, gets broken by a shuddering breath leaving her lips. She composes herself, clinging on to the little confidence she has left in her line of work to speak about the rest of her clarification.

“Of course people have tried to do it themselves, but those d.i.y operations have always ended in disappointment. If not taken proper care of, with substances only a board certified hybrid doctor can provide you, the pregnancy will fail. These are no easy practices they are dealing with.”

After the girls’ last words I give myself some time to think, letting a silence full of tension fill the room. It must be obvious that my mind is somewhere else at the moment, as the other girl in the room does her best to stay quiet. I don’t need much time however, my thoughts having quickly rearranged themselves as they were trained to do.

“So what you’re saying is, since tiger hybrids are hard to ‘create’, if you will, there are only a few people who actually manage to bring them to life. And so those few people are kept under close watch, as are the hybrids they successfully wake, am I correct?”

Eun-ji nods affirmatively, clearly happy that I seem to understand the situation. “So there is absolutely no way that someone without authorization has had a decent attempt at either genetically merging a human together with a tiger or getting a tiger hybrid pregnancy to be successful?”

Perhaps there might be a bit of scepticism in the question I asked, as her attitude immediately changes into a defensive one. “There is not! Whatever hybrid you’re searching for either gave you a false identity or is not a tiger hybrid at all, which would seem rather unlikely. I told you they get chipped right? Why not go look into that.”

“He doesn’t have one. We already had a hospital take a look at him, they didn’t find anything. ” The statement seems to shock her, the gears in her head instantly turning as to find an answer to this riddle. She however can’t seem to get one.

“They can be removed, can they not? They’re just under the skin. If someone decided to just cut it out they could. Terrifying, but plausible. Either that or one of your faithful authorized employees has been leaking information to outsiders.”

This is where Eun-ji seems to give up. Her shoulders sagging and a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “There would still be the problem of the missing equipment, test subjects, practice… How would you even get hold of fertilized human eggs to play around with? But I guess that wouldn’t be totally impossible. As for cutting it out… There would be a noticeable scar. The implants are always put in the same place, it wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

I make a mental note stating to ask Taehyung about all of this when I get back. If anyone knows how he got onto this world it would be him. “Is there a possibility that you could have someone look into it?” The girl nods in defeat, paying more attention to the ground than to anything else. “I’ll see if I can get someone on the case. I’ll have them contact you if we know anything.”

After those words she turns around in her chair, facing the monitor that had already put itself into sleep, and turns it off. Taking a notepad out of the drawer to her left, she quickly writes something down with the pen from her breast pocket. “I’ll get on it right away. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”

I shake my head. “No It’s okay, I’ll find my way back. Thank you for cooperating.” Eun-ji gives me a small smile, followed by a bow and walks out of the room taking the note with her, presumably immediately keeping herself busy with the extra work. Not wanting to waste any time I copy her, walking myself back into the direction we came from. Turns out it proves quite easy to find the exit by myself.

It’s already far past dinnertime when I make it back to the office. Not many of my colleagues have remained in their seats, most of them opting for a nice meal with their families. The few that have stayed behind are mostly known to live alone, quite like myself.

I quietly knock on my supervisor’s door, but when no response emerges from within the room, I can safely deduce that she too has already returned home. “I’ll have to write her a report about today later..” I mutter to myself, before stepping away from the door and instead heading to the cells at the back.

Technically the arrest period had already ended for Taehyung, as the law wouldn’t allow us to keep him locked up for any longer without any charges being held against him. His cell however technically was never locked and so even now, he is free to go wherever he wants. Though it didn’t change the fact that he still has no place to go to.

“Good evening. Had anything to eat yet?” He just chose to stay here and we accepted it. “Oh, hello! Yes, that tall handsome bulky man gave me something earlier, I can’t remember his name. He said something about it ‘being the best shit in town’.”

I slightly giggle at his quote, knowing immediately who it belongs to. “That definitely sounds like something Namjoon would say. What did he give you?”

Taehyung looks a lot better than he did yesterday. The stress of the interrogation seems to have completely worn off, instead traded for the sweet bouncy personality he used to show around me.

“Umm it was something in the shape of a circle and it had meat all over it… Oh! I think he called it a pizza? It was delicious!”

“You’ve never had pizza before?” The words leave my mouth before I actually get the chance to process them, causing me to instantly regret ever even opening my mouth. These days are stressful enough for him as they are, he doesn’t need a painful reminder of the life he never got to live on top of that.

The question doesn’t seem to hit him as hard as I though it would though. In fact, his demeanour doesn’t seem to change at all. Although sadly, it doesn’t make his next words any less painful. “Nope! When I first got adopted all they would feed me was wet cat food. It wasn’t great, but at least I got my three meals a day. The foster family I stayed at after my first owners mysteriously disappeared didn’t actually have the money to even take proper care of themselves, so at that time all I would get was whatever was left of their dinner that day, if there was even any left. It was mostly just greens. The lack of meat made me real sick at the time.”

He pauses talking for a second to look up at my face through the metal bars. The content look on his face quickly changes to one of worry once he catches my eyes. It’s no mystery why, I know I look at him pitifully. Even if he may not wish for my concern, I am only human. I can perfectly hide it when I need to, but this is not one of those cases.

“There it is again, that sad look on your face…” He sits up straight on the side of his bed to fully observe me, a tilt of his head giving him away. I send a sad chuckle his way as I reach for the door of his enclosure, inviting myself into the small space with him. He doesn’t object.

“Is it that obvious?” It was meant more as a way to lighten the mood, not as an actual question that needs answering. He still does however, giving me a simple slow nod. “You don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“Someone has to. You deserve at least that much.”

There’s a chair neatly placed under a small desk in the room. It used to be quite lively, with all kinds of bright colours blending into each other. It was a little positive additive into the dark grey room, but after all the anger that has been acted out on it, it no longer has that same shine.

I pull the chair out to place myself upon it, straddling the seat while I rest my arms on top of the back rest. Facing the tiger I use my arms as a pillow to lean my head on, making myself comfortable on the creaking furniture.

“Say, Taehyung, do you remember anything from when and where you were formed?”

He seems slightly taken aback at first, though quickly regains his composure. He also doesn’t immediately answer, first taking some time to think before coming back to me. “I was born a hybrid to two purebred tiger hybrids. They did their best trying to care for me in the little time we got to spend together, but seeing as it happened on a breeding farm getting to spend time with my parents wasn’t the plan. I got sold off pretty quickly, as soon as I learned to hold my first few full conversations.”

“Do you… Would you happen to know what happened to the farm? To your parents?” I fail to hide my apprehensiveness, needing too much space to form a careful approach. This shouldn’t feel like an interrogation to him, I never even announced one. There is little reason for him to answer me, the vital information from his side has already been given anyway. Nonetheless, even though I probably shouldn’t be doing this right now, I can’t just miss this opportunity.

“I heard my adoptive family talking about how the place was burnt down a while later. Most likely the police had caught a hold of it and they had to delete their left behind evidence. Both building and hybrids.”

Despite talking about the death of his parents, he seems to tell the story with relative ease. Probably not having much connection with the far past, his brain too young to truly hold on to the memory of them.

“They were successful too, as the case got dropped faster than lightning. It wasn’t long before the general public forgot about it too, believing it was just another misunderstanding. Besides, hybrid lives weren’t as important anyway.”

The amount of rights hybrids had when they were first created back in the day were close to zero, only strictly being seen as objects to show off whatever possible wealth one may have had. For a while there was even a popular theory going around that hybrids didn’t actually have the ability to feel any kind of emotion or pain. The genetic puzzle wouldn’t allow for it, as it had been tampered with to an extreme extent. This only built on the carelessness shown towards them, slowly chipping away at their sanity.

Although the rumours were wrong, they came from a place of truth. Facial expressions were rare for hybrids, as was the ability to speak. Most of them couldn’t even keep up with regular humans, exhaustion quickly taking over the little anger they could show. Scientists hadn’t yet quite figured out how to perfectly combine the pieces of genetic code and so hybrids were more like living dolls in the eyes of evil humans. Having no voice to object and barely any means to actually hurt anyone, it wasn’t much of a surprise the selfish nature in humans came to rise.

Luckily, or depending on how you look at it, sadly, these first generation hybrids were never able to reproduce. The doll like hybrid features eventually died out with the rise of the newly perfected pieces and the theory was debunked by a group of scientist who actually did care about the hybrids’ wellbeing. Those hybrids had lived through countless punishments, and every single one of them had hurt. A lot.

Right now hybrids in a lot of ways are superior to the rest of us. Having the combined senses of both animal and human alike, society has reluctantly given up on trying to contain them. They are still to be bought and owned, but no longer to be treated like dirt. The smartest of hybrids have even already gotten complete freedom to do as the please, no longer having to be bound to a human to roam freely. However, those unable to pass the close to impossible tests aren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Taehyung gives me a reassuring wave of his hand, effectively trying to lighten the mood, along with a sad smile. It wouldn’t take a trained professional to know he still longs for his parent’s presence, even if he may do well hiding it.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

That doesn’t make the situation more okay, but I hold my remarks back. For now, that might just be for the best.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @the8luvr @deathkat657 @elenaramos1 @namjoonies-dimple

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Playing House (Suga x Jeong-sun) & (J-Hope x Nana)

Contains: Fluff. Soft smut. Bickering. Double date. Mentions of V x Cassandra.

Set a week after ‘An Overnight Stay’ for Suga and Jeong-sun, and a few months after ‘Home Again’ for J-Hope and Nana. Jeong-sun invites Hoseok and Nana over for dinner, determined to prove herself in the kitchen. 

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Rated content below the cut

PART ONE 

Yoongi looked up from his laptop, the movement from behind the cooker catching his eye as Jeong-sun held out a tupperware container. The mushy food-stuff inside was indiscernible at his distance. 

“Does this look like 12 ounces?” She directed the question at him but glanced at the contents from the corner of her eye with a wary, mistrustful look. Yoongi thought it likely she was baffled by the unfamiliar scent of the blended mixture of exotic vegetables, uncertain as to whether it would make a tasty, or at the very least edible, meal. 

“There are scales in the cupboard.” He easily shrugged, looking back down at the spreadsheet on the screen with a sense of haste. He had been working on the document for most of the afternoon before a spontaneous phone call had called him away. A quick glance at the time in the bottom hand corner alerted him to the fact he only had a few more hours before the final calculations had to be submitted. While the thought had been at the back of his mind for the past few weeks, he had lost track of the deadline; usually accustomed to such matters being dealt with behind the scenes by the various accountants who worked for the company. He knew he was still within the terms of his contract that he and the other members had signed several years before, but the fact he had not produced anything new for BigHit since enlisting played on his mind. It felt right that he should finally take responsibility for his own finances. 

He heard her sigh, along with the heavy sound of a knife being dropped on the chopping board. “I tried them. It only shows Metric units. The recipe’s in Imperial.” She complained, eyeing the illuminated screen on her phone which she had set to the website in question. The various pictures which accompanied the text promised a colourful end result which, frustratingly, bore little resemblance to the mixture resting at the bottom of the saucepan. 

He scoffed, lips twisting. “Who uses Imperial?”

“Whoever wrote the recipe.” She quickly retorted. He could practically sense the eye-roll in her reply and couldn't help distracting himself once more by taking a glance in her direction, looking up just in time to see her dump the contents of the tupperware into the saucepan to join the assortment of vegetables she had peeled and cut earlier in the afternoon.

“It’ll do…” She murmured, making him snicker as he minimised the grids and numbers on screen to open up a web browser, his mind already drawn from the task at hand by another, nagging question. 

Jeong-sun bent beneath the counter to search through the assortment of herbs and spices on the rack below. 

“Liberia…” He said suddenly and she looked up, peering above the table.

“What?” She asked with a frown.

He read out loud. “Liberia uses the Imperial system. And the US.” Scrolling across the webpage, he pressed his fingers tightly to his lips. “Myanmar too...” He finished, satisfied. 

She smirked sarcastically. “That’s good to know.” He watched her dip down once more and continued to read, engrossed in the fact file he had come across. 

“Are there many vegans in Liberia?” Her voice was slightly muffled as she peered deeper into the cupboard, swinging the rotating holder lightly and scanning the peeled labels on the glass containers.

“I’m not sure.” He mumbled. 

The loud, grating sound of jars being rearranged filled the kitchen as she rummaged through the cabinet. “You were on the phone a while…” She called, raising her voice to be heard above the clattering of glass. “Is everything okay?” 

He sensed little more than mild curiosity in her tone, knowing she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the long conversation in the hallway shortly before, but unable to help it. He had left the kitchen door open, unaware when he answered the phone that he would be gone so long. “Jungkook called.” He murmured vacantly, eyes narrowing behind his spectacles as he scrolled down the page, reading rapidly. “Taehyung got in touch…”

“How is he?” Jeong-sun popped up her head, a jar of paprika clutched successfully in her hand. 

“Still in service.” Yoongi replied a little detachedly. “He’s going to be a father.” 

His casual, indifferent tone helped mask the meaning of his words and it took a moment for them to take hold and Jeong-sun poured the paprika into the pan for a few moments before she realised what he had said. 

“Oh?” She tried to read Yoongi’s expression from behind the laptop in order to gage his feelings about this piece of news but instead found nothing but his eyes scanning the screen. “Is it -” She paused, wondering how to phrase it delicately. While Yoongi had known the younger man for years, he spoke of his friend’s personal life very little. Regardless of this, a memory flashed through her mind. “The mother...is she the woman from the play?” 

“Cassandra.” He confirmed. 

“With the boobs?”

Their eyes met and he let out a breathy laugh, a smile breaking on his lips. “That’s her.” He nodded. Having not thought of that night in years, her words brought it back to him in perfect detail. The other boys had been distracted by the spectacle on stage as the actress shrugged off her robe but he recalled not being surprised. A part of him expected no less from the woman who had stolen Taehyung’s heart; with her exotic, tragic-stricken name and musical accent. 

“Oh.” Jeong-sun repeated, unsure what to say; not knowing either person enough to form an opinion. “Good for them I guess.” 

Yoongi gazed at her, his expression softening at her casual, awkward shrug. He realised his initial reaction to Jungkook spilling the news had been quite cynical, wondering whether the younger man was ready for it; if it wasn’t an act of carelessness on his part. The fact of the pregnancy being accidental hung in the air as the maknae spoke frantically down the line, along with the recollection told by Hoseok months before that the couple had broken up before Taehyung’s enlistment. 

The whole situation felt like a disaster waiting to happen, and while he hid this belief from Jungkook, he had needed to take a moment after hanging up the phone to collect his thoughts. Looking at Jeong-sun now, he suddenly felt a pang of guilt at having judged the situation too harshly; he didn’t know what kind of parents Taehyung and Cassandra would make, and either way he realised, it was none of his business. He mused for a moment, eyes flicking downwards in a sheepish smile. “Yeah, good for them.” He agreed softly. 

Jeong-sun had already turned to the back wall, reaching for a long, slender plastic bottle set back on the top shelf and, with a huff, stood on her tiptoes to retrieve it, her fingertips skimming the bottle a few times uselessly before she finally caught hold of its slender neck. “Is olive oil vegan?” She blew a stray strand of hair from her face noisily and peered at the green-hued liquid. “The recipe said rapeseed, but I couldn’t find any…”

“I think so.” He muttered, watching her measure a couple of spoonfuls and adding it to the ingredients. Her face was a little flushed and he couldn’t help but chime in. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You sound it…” He quipped.

“I’m sure I can cook a …” Bending over the counter, she squinted at her phone screen. “Vegan Jam...ba...laya…” She read the title slowly, struggling with the syllables. “...With okra and creole seasoning, just fine by myself thank you.” Straightening up, her hands moved to the curves of her hips in a defiant stance. 

“I’m sure you can…I don’t mind helping.” He pressed softly. 

She picked up a wooden spoon to stir the mixture. “I offered to cook for them.” She argued lightly. “I’m just borrowing your apartment. My oven broke.”

“Again?”

She sighed. “The fuse blew. I just haven’t gotten around to replacing the wiring.”

“You should get a switchboard.”

She glanced at him, unimpressed. “You try asking my landlord...How do you turn this ring on…”

“Top right.”

“Thanks…” Twisting the dial, she leaned casually against the countertop, waiting for the electric hob to heat up to temperature. “When did they go vegan?” She asked, a soft expression playing on her features as she watched him read. He seemed preoccupied when he spoke.

“I think it’s a new year’s resolution thing. It was his idea.”

Tapping the cooker lightly, she felt along the ring. “This isn’t working…” 

“Maybe we should go vegan…” He suddenly teased. 

“Fuck off.” She scoffed, matching his smile as he took off his glasses and folded them neatly on the table beside him; both falling into a comfortable silence. Realising he wasn’t going to reply, Jeong-sun busied herself, scooping up the used utensils and placing them on the shelves in the dishwasher. 

Eventually he spoke. “They have the second largest shipping industry in the world…”

“Who?” She spun around, voice curious.

“Liberia.” Leaning forward, he began to recite. “Accounting for eleven percent of ships worldwide.”

Jeong-sun raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you doing your tax returns?”

“I might need you to look them over.” He admitted a little guiltily, eyes following as she plodded over to the cooker.

“That’s optimistic of you.” She said dryly, lips curling. 

“You’re better with money than I am.” He said sincerely, glancing down to once again open the Excel spreadsheet. His eyebrows furrowed as he went back over the numbers, concentration not long fixed before a loud cry broke his trail of thought. 

“Ah! Fuck!”

His stomach churned unpleasantly and he was on his feet before he had time to think. It was immediately obvious what had happened and he reached for her hand carefully, inspecting the burn. “Put it under the cold tap…” He murmured, guiding her easily towards the sink and turning on the faucet. “I meant to tell you the hob heats up quickly…” 

“I just caught the edge..” She protested, sensing the hurt in his voice and twisting her palm to reassure him the damage wasn’t bad. The pink-coloured streak stood out against her otherwise pale skin; the cold stream turning her other digits white as he held her wrist steady. Both fell quiet as they waited for the burn to cool, a shared memory lingering silently between them as they remembered their roles being reversed; her guiding his hand under the tap carefully as a trickle of claret ran between their palms. 

“I guess I’m not so good at this whole ‘playing house’ thing.” She admitted with a sigh, cheeks stained pink as she cast a sly glance towards the offending hob. “I’d make a terrible wife.”

He twisted the faucet, chest aching at her words and he gently released her from his grasp. “I don’t expect you to ‘play house’.” He said quietly.

Their eyes met and she edged closer, touching his forearm delicately as she whispered. “I know you don’t.” Her gaze dropped to her covered feet, self-conscious as she toyed with what she was trying to say. “After it being just us for so long…” She trailed off.

“It’s strange for me too.” He confessed softly, eyes drawn to where her hands met his skin and watching her move along his arms, comforted by his solid presence. 

Worrying he would misunderstand, she backtracked. “Not in a bad way…”

“No.” He agreed. “Just new.” 

She continued to caress him delicately, the pads of her fingers trailing along the grooves and tendons in his wrists. 

“You know he’s going to talk your ear off…” He eventually murmured, casually changing the topic.

“Hoseok?” Her face perked up.

“He really likes you.” Yoongi confessed with a smile, making her grin in reply as he looked down at her hand. “Do you want it wrapping?”

Flipping it over, she shook her head. “It’s not that bad...I’m just wondering if I should quickly go home and get changed.”

“Why?” His eyes flickered briefly over her body, noting the tight, figure-hugging fit of her jeans and the hint of cleavage beneath the frill of her organza shirt. While not particularly dressy, he didn’t see anything wrong with what she was wearing and sensed she was trying to distract herself. “You look fine…” 

Bridging the gap between them, he captured her lips, tilting his head slowly as she sank into the kiss, clearly relieved by his gesture. Although they kissed when she arrived, the space of several hours suddenly felt like an eternity; their separate activities in the kitchen seemed a waste of time when they could have spent it like this; pressed together; their bodies flush and lips entwined. She felt his tongue move against hers and sighed gently into his mouth, feeling breathless as he slid his hands down her hips to the round flesh of her backside which he squeezed beneath his digits, kneading her flesh through the denim before spanking her once, lightly, on the right cheek in a surprising move which made her moan against him, the space between her thighs growing warm and tingly. It wasn’t enough, and she cursed the fact they would have to part soon, their bodies inevitably separating in order to finish the meal she was preparing and, much later, that she would have to return home and go to work. As though sensing her thoughts he slowly pulled away, pecking her in a final, lingering kiss; knowing that their guests would be arriving shortly. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather look over my tax returns than cook?” He uttered, mouth soft against her lips.  

She closed her eyes briefly in reply, his offer undeniably tempting but not completely masking the nagging feeling that she should be the one to cook. “I promised…” She protested unconvincingly. 

“I won’t tell.” He whispered, a small grin tugging at his lips. 

With a relieved sigh she gave in, unable to stop herself from drawing him into another sinking kiss. “I love you.”

***

The murmur of voices caught their attention before they even heard the doorbell ring; the owners clearly trying to keep quiet on the front stoop in order not to disturb the neighbours but failing massively. Yoongi looked up from the bubbling saucepan and lowered the heat to simmer as he met Jeong-sun’s gaze with a shared grin. She clicked the send icon on the screen, finishing the final piece of paperwork and closing the laptop with a soft clink. It had been years since she had solved calculations any more complex than her own household bills, and the feeling was strangely satisfying, as well as the knowledge that her admittedly rather dry expertise with numbers was finally coming in useful to someone other than herself. 

“That’ll be them.” He joked, setting down the wooden spoon and joining her side as she led the way to the front door. The scent which filled the apartment could not quite be described as appetizing, but he had followed the recipe closely, only substituting what he could not find in his cupboards with similar ingredients. 

Jeong-sun stepped aside to allow Yoongi to reach for the door handle, and the volume of Hoseok’s greeting made her jump in surprise. 

“Hyung!” The open door shielded the younger man from view, but the sight of her boyfriend being pulled from the hallway into a presumably a tight embrace made her smile. A second later, she lept back once more, letting out a little squeal of shock as a slender, mottled-patterned Greyhound shot through the open doorway, his blue lead trailing uselessly behind as he raced down the hall, towards the empty guest room. 

“Seulgi...no!” 

Jeong-sun heard Nana cry after the dog moments before the tall, angular woman came into view, rushing blindly past Jeong-sun in an effort to recapture the lead which had evidently slipped from her grasp. 

“There he goes…” Hoseok murmured good-humouredly, whistling under his breath and stepping into the hall. He soon noted the woman’s presence. “Hi Jeong-sun!” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her before she had time to process what was happening. 

Yoongi followed the brown and grey shape with just as much confusion as his girlfriend, watching as Nana managed to corner him at the end of the corridor and bent down to pick up his lead, her beaded dress skimming the floor with a jingling sound before she straightened up and slipped it from his neck.

“I hope you don’t mind…” The older woman fussed, breathlessly gesturing to the extra guest as she led the dog back towards the group. Her chest was stained pink above the straight bust of her strappy dress; a long 20s style number in Morrocan blue which came to the tops of her bare ankles. “I should have called before...it just happened at the last minute…”

“Her neighbour was taken to the hospital, and someone needed to look after the dog.” Hoseok explained, a little more eloquently. 

A worried frown played on Nana’s face as she turned to Jeong-sun. “I hope you’re not allergic.”

“It’s fine.” She waved, still getting over her initial startle but realising that the dog had once more disappeared from view. “Where’s he gone…” She murmured a little anxiously. 

Hoseok seemed preoccupied with something perched on the floor outside and returned a moment later clutching a heavy-looking plant pot. “We brought you this.” He held the object at arm’s length while Jeong-sun and Nana looked around nervously. “I hope you like orchids.”

Taking the pot from his hands, Yoongi smirked. “I keep killing them.” He muttered dryly. 

Nana faced the other woman and her spiraled hair bounced energetically against her shoulders. “I think he’s in the bathroom.” 

Jeong-sun sauntered after her as she lept down the hall, murmuring under her breath. “As long as he doesn’t drink the toilet water...” Seeing that Nana had once more secured the Greyhound with its tattered looking leesh, she turned towards the kitchen, a little flustered as she switched off the hob and looked around the space. “Yoongi?” She called. “Do you have a bowl the dog can use…?” 

“Under the sink.” He instructed from the hallway and she bent down, rummaging noisily through the various cleaning products and spare pans before she found a small steel bowl towards the back. 

“Got it!” She shouted, giving it a quick rinse under the tap before filling it with fresh water and placing it carefully by the doorway. The dog sprinted into the room at the sound, sensing refreshment, and quickly lapped at the liquid, followed by Nana who brushed a ringlet flusteredly from her perspiring forehead. She glanced apologetically at the other woman, noticing that she did not seem as keen on animals as herself and Hoseok, but relieved to see she did not appear angry at having an additional visitor. Jeong-sun wandered past to find Yoongi in the hall, unsurprised to see Hoseok conversing with him eagerly by the open doorway as though they had not seen each other in months. 

“Did you finally meet him?” The younger man, seemingly unaware of the woman’s presence spoke in the hushed tones of someone trying to keep a secret but too excited to whisper. Yoongi nodded but his back was turned, obscuring his expression. 

“How was it?” Hoseok asked eagerly, though his grin quickly faded when he spotted Jeong-sun by the kitchen and realised he had been caught out. Yoongi followed his friend’s gaze, meeting her eye across the hall and giving a tiny, knowing smile, telling her all she needed to know. 

PART TWO

“Woo…” Hoseok let out a long breath of air as he reclined back in his hair, chest and stomach puffed out as he stretched. Nana eyed his empty plate as she reluctantly put down her cutlery, too full to finish the hearty helping in front of her. 

Seulgi, who at the start of the meal had been banished into the hall, had somehow found his way back into the room and while his temporary owners had initially protested, was soon forgotten as a third bottle of wine was opened. Yoongi stroked his ears soothingly from under the table, picking at the plate of store-bought ciabattas which accompanied their main course without much appetite and occasionally, when the others weren’t looking, dropping the crusts onto the floor where the dog snatched them up eagerly. 

“That was really good Jeong-sun…” Nana proclaimed as she chewed her final mouthful, making a point of rubbing her stomach. 

Her boyfriend leaned forward, echoing the sentiment. “Really good!” He beamed, an empty plate a sign of sincerity. 

“I really couldn’t eat another bite…” Nana continued, reaching for her glass of red to clear her throat. 

“Not another bite.” Hoseok agreed cheerfully, seeming to forget in his apparent tipsiness that he had already finished his serving. His cheeks were rosy, forehead perspiring a little under the warm kitchen bulb, and he reached for the wine bottle to pour another drink for himself.

Jeong-sun bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh as her eyes moved from the woman to the man beside her, their almost-innocent lack of self-awareness enviable. 

“They’re right...it’s really good Jeong-sun…” Yoongi murmured, his expression straight but eyes swimming playfully. “How long did it take you?” 

A toothy grin crept onto her lips and, with the other pair preoccupied, she reached under the table to slap his wrist lightly, chest filling with warmth as he matched her flirtatious smirk. “Shut up…” She whispered, heart thudding madly as she felt his long, slender fingers wrap around her own; their bodies still for a moment as a shared, static sensation played between them.

“You know, he’s probably going to have to come and live with us…” Hoseok sighed, suddenly breaking the silence. Jeong-sun and Yoongi instinctively moved apart to look across the table, seeing at once the younger man was addressing his girlfriend who appeared about ready to fall asleep. Her curls were dangling a little listlessly across her bare shoulders, the thin, flimsy straps of her dress having slipped from place. 

“Who?” She yawned; the drink having clearly gone to her head. 

“Seulgi.” He replied, matter of factly. Nana glanced beneath tired, droopy eyelids. 

“He’s not our dog…” She feebly protested, unable to help noticing the way the man beside her had sat up energetically as an idea clearly played through his mind. 

“He could be…”

Jeong-sun watched this exchange with a mixture of amusement and awkwardness, the conversation having taken an peculiar turn which looked to be heading into a half-hearted argument. 

“Don’t be silly…” Nana sighed, bending her arms at the below to finger her shoulders, adjusting the straps which she belatedly realised had come askew. 

Hoseok laughed lightly, his cheer not dampened by the mild insult. “Why not?” He asked, clearly not seeing any flaw in his plan. “Your neighbour might not be able to walk when she comes out of the hospital...it’s not the first time she has fallen over...we’d be doing her a favour.”

“Oh Hoseok!” She exclaimed with a loud huff, hands banging on the table. “What a horrible thing to say!”

“I’m just being realistic…” He quibbled. “She’s really old!... And Greyhounds need a lot of exercise…”

Despite their melodramatic tones, Jeong-sun couldn’t help but shift in her chair, looking to Yoongi for guidance on how to react, but surprised to see him sipping his glass casually, unphased by the rising volume of the couple opposite. She realised the spectacle was not new to him and felt a pang of shock when she remembered how long he had been familiar with them and their antics; that while Nana was a near-stranger to her, Yoongi had known her for years during their time apart. The revelation was odd; sitting beside him now, it felt strange that over three years had passed where they had not been in each other’s lives. She found herself reaching for the bottle of red, pouring herself the third glass of the evening.

“And what will you do when you have to go back to work?” Nana challenged, breaking Jeong-sun’s trail of thought. 

“Ohhh…” Hoseok uttered, vocalising his thoughts out loud. “That’s a while yet…”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath Nana…” Yoongi chirped in, not unkindly. 

The older woman looked at him, disappointed in his casual taking of Hoseok’s side. “Do you agree with this Jeong-sun?” She challenged, eyes darting in her direction with an exasperated smile playing on her lips. 

The other woman shrugged, unable to help her lips from curling at the corner. “If you don’t take him...it looks like Yoongi will…” 

Half-way through the dinner she had felt the dog brush her thigh, his tall but slender body almost bumping the underside of the table as he squeezed himself between her and Yoongi, clearly comforted by their presence, before finally settling down and falling into a light sleep. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out which of them he liked the most. 

“See?” Hoseok held out his palm, gesturing to Jeong-sun before turning to his girlfriend. 

Nana sighed slowly, clearly giving up. “We’ll talk about it later…”

A short and relieved silence fell over the room; the first proper moment of calm of the evening, and Yoongi got to his feet, carefully pulling back the chair to allow Seulgi to escape. 

“We’d better get going soon...it’s a school night.” Nana murmured, wiping her eyes and smudging her eyeliner in the process. 

“It’s okay, we’ll be off to bed soon.” Yoongi agreed quietly as he began to collect the plates, piling them neatly in the centre of the table. 

Hoseok and Nana moved back, giving him room as they followed the dog into the hallway; happy to see that even he had grown tired in all the excitement of the evening and had begun to plod along lethargically. 

Hoseok suddenly turned back to the other couple from the doorway, grinning as though he had only just remembered. “We have some big news…”

“Oh?” Yoongi’s interested, but calm tone told Jeong-sun that whatever the other man was about to reveal, it probably wasn’t as earth shattering as the description implied. 

Nana nodded from beside him as she reached down to slip the loosely fitted leash around the dog’s long, slender neck. “We’re moving in together.” She said, her matching smile signalling the argument from before was already forgotten. 

“When?” 

“At the end of the school year...once Nana had sorted her belongings…”

“I need to figure out what I might need to keep...for the year group coming up.” She explained gingerly, already thinking of the mammoth task it would be to sort the trash from the treasure and knowing she would be unable to let go of as much as she should. 

“That’s great.” Jeong-sun joined them as they headed towards the front door, bringing her palm to her mouth to stifle a long, drawn-out yawn. 

“It looks like you’re ready for bed too!” Hoseok smiled, hand skimming Seulgi’s fur fondly as the group clustered at the end of the hall. 

“Long day…” She murmured in reply. 

“I’ll bet!” He waved goodbye as they spilled into the night, the cold evening air filtering through the doorway and into the apartment. 

“Thanks again for the meal Jeong-sun.” Nana smiled. 

“It was better than a restaurant!” Hoseok retorted as they took off down the street, clearly meaning to cut across the park in order to get home. The dog, rejuvenated at the prospect of an extra walk, bounded happily in front of them. The trio seemed perfectly matched; their long, spindly limbs breaking ground quickly as they disappeared around a corner. 

Yoongi closed the door behind himself and turned to face Jeong-sun who was rubbing her hands quickly together to warm against the draft which had crept in. Her cheeks were rosy beneath a light layer of foundation, eyes gleaming with mirth as she leaned casually against the wall and tucked her hands behind her back.

“They really liked your cooking…” She simpered, enjoying the silence which followed and the comfortable tension which rested in the air as he attached the safety chain, his movements slow and deliberate as it rattled into place. When he looked back, she was already walking into the living room, ignoring the mess on the dining table in favour of heading towards the couch in the far corner. He followed wordlessly, watching her slump heavily against the cushions to lay outstretched across the length. He stayed where he was at the foot of the chair, waiting for her to speak; to tell him what she wanted. While it had been nice to have guests, he suspected that like him, she had been waiting for them to leave. The memory of the heated kiss shared in the kitchen burned in his mind throughout the meal, leaving him restless and fervent. 

“Take them off…” She murmured, not needing to elaborate as he inched forward and reached for the waist of her tightly fitted jeans. The buckle unclasped easily, dragging her hips upwards as he clutched the fabric and worked them down her legs. She was utterly still, limbs heavier than usual in her drained state, but he handled her body with ease, slipping the jeans across her knees and around her feet as she watched him carefully. Discarding them on the floor, he moved his right hand to the fleshy part of her lower calf which he rubbed tenderly, admiring her body below him as she rested her socked feet against the armrest to allow better access to her soft flesh. “These too…” She lightly fingered the burgundy trim of her panties, running along the tight band which rested across her pelvic bone, before they too were moved away, digging his knuckles gently into her flesh as he hooked them beneath the elastic, drawing them down. Under other circumstances she might have felt a moment of coyness as she was exposed, his standing position allowing full view of her lower body, but instead found herself unable to pull her eyes from him; the look on his face as his dark eyes shifted across her said it all, and she parted her mouth weakly. 

“I’m too tired to fuck…” She admitted breathlessly, feeling regretful. 

A shy grin crept onto his lips and he inched forward, smoothing his palm along her bare thigh and up her torso as he nestled between her thighs which she gladly parted for him, covering her body with his own. “Me too…” He smiled easily; breath warm and gentle against her skin before kissing her with open lips. She met his mouth zealously as he ran his fingertips through her hair, brushing her cheek softly before pulling away. Her lips were parted; full and red, and she took his hand in hers, slipping it slowly between her thighs. 

He was still for a moment but her expression encouraged him, and he stroked through her folds with two digits, brushing his moist fingertips over her swelling clitoris. She moaned softly, guiding for a moment before allowing him to take over, his thumb running over the coarse curls of her pubic hair as he slowly caressed her, trapping the hooded skin above her clit gently between two fingers and teasing her sensually while he watched her expression tenderly. She closed her eyes, moistening her dried lips with her tongue, and his heart thudded in response. Moving closer, he trailed his lips along her cheeks and nose, welcoming her warm, shallow breath against him. 

“Does this feel good?” He whispered against the corner of her mouth, listening to her sigh in response.

“Yes…” He felt her eyes open against him and he pulled away to look at her. “I love you…” She murmured, voice cracking. 

His mouth trembled in reply, only stilling when she arched her back to kiss it closed as she welcomed the weight of his body; embracing him, pulling him closer. He touched his cool cheek to hers, eventually slowing against her when he sensed from her quieting moans that she was too tired to reach her high. 

Reaching around his back, her fingertips splayed across his covered shoulder blades, holding him soothingly. He felt her lips against his temple and knew she was wanting to speak; to let go of the tension she had been holding onto all evening since he had roamed his hands across her body in the kitchen, prior to Hoseok’s arrival. Stoking a damp strand of hair away from her forehead, he moved onto his side to rest against the back-cushions of the sofa.

“What is it?” He whispered, meeting her gaze; smoothing her cheekbone tenderly with his thumb. 

She was silent for a long time; her chest feeling as though it might burst as he waited patiently, appreciating her features; how beautiful she was.

“I could be with you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough…” She murmured, eyebrows furrowed as the words took hold, affecting them both. He felt her confession in every limb; his heart seeming to simultaneously swell and sink as he realised that he too felt that way. 

He blinked, eyes stinging as his mouth opened silently, trying to find the right words but failing. Instead, he nodded, fingertips quivering against her cheek. He thought she might be able to feel his heartbeat in them. 

“I know…”

Jeong-sun was silent, unable to talk; there was nothing stronger she could answer in reply. Instead, she reached for his hand, taking it gently in hers and placing it flat against her chest, under the trim of her shirt to rest between her breasts. She closed her eyes slowly and nestled into him, palm trapped between their bodies and pressing into his own. Finally, her heartbeat slowed against his digits as she drifted into sleep, her light snores comforting against his collar. He watched her for a while, knowing he would awake aching in the morning from having foregone the softness of his bed but not giving it a second thought. As he pressed his lips gently to her hair, wrapping one arm gently around her, he was careful not to disturb her slumber. 

***

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[miraculous786]

Gotham’s Own Ladybug > Two

Masterlist

The moon's light showered Gotham in an ethereal glow, a dark silhouette of the buildings visible if you looked. Stars dotted the black sky, accompanying the shimmering crescent situated in it.

Robin leaped across another rooftop, his cape flowing elegantly behind his figure. The only noises in the night were his muted footsteps, and the conversation in his earpiece.

"Any crimes in your area?" Red Robin asked, as Damian somersaulted again after making impact with the cement beneath him.

"None in mine," Jason replied, as Nightwing answered "None that I've seen," shortly after.

"Robin, what about you?" Tim questioned when he hadn't said anything.

Damian stopped moving for a few seconds, panting lightly on a roof. "Haven't been able to find any."

Red Hood let out an audible sigh of relief, as he breathed, "Wow! One night without any problems? That's a first!"

"You're telling me. I expected at least a mugging or bank robbery, but nothing? Huh," Richard mused, "Guess that means we can go back to the manor now."

As if he had just jinxed it, the boys heard the gruff voice of Batman inform, "I think I just spotted Harley and Ivy nearby."

"Are they committing a crime?"

"No, Nightwing. They're actually walking out of a grocery store-" their eyebrows rose, "-with items in bags. Pretty sure they've payed for it too."

There was an awkward silence, soon broken by Tim suggesting, "Guess that means we can do one last check before heading off home. Wanna do it together?"

The brothers collectively agreed, and soon they met up at a particular gargoyle situated nearby Wayne Enterprises. Robin and Red Hood surveyed the left, while Nightwing and Red Robin searched the right.

It was when they had just believed that everything was safe that a buzzing noise echoed in their ears. All boys looked around in confusion, before Damian reached for the phone hidden in his utility belt.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked, noticing how his adopted sons had gone silent through his earpiece. Instead of an answer, Robin shot his grappling hook onto a roof, latching it onto the edge.

As he let himself up, he shot a quick glare at the trio, and muttered, "I need to silence my earpiece."

Before they could argue, Robin leaped across several more roofs, and answered the phone mid-leap.

"Dami?" a feminine voice asked, making Damian relax against a brick wall.

"Hey, how's it going? Are you okay?" he quizzed, scenarios already rushing through his head that had made her call him at this hour.

There was a slight scuffling on the other end, until she replied, "Oh! No, I just wanted to know what your favourite colours were!"

His brows shot up, though it was hard to tell beneath his domino mask. "...What?"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Marinette fumbled, "Did I wake you up? Are you in the middle of something important?"

"No, no. Don't worry Angel," he assured, "Why do you want to know my favourite colours?"

There was more shuffling from where she was, before Marinette replied, "Well, remember how I told you I really like sewing? I decided that I wanted to make you something, and I want to know what fabric colour to use."

The corner of Damian's lips twitched upward, as he informed, "Probably red, green and yellow are my favourites. Though I prefer dark shades of green and red."

A faint scribbling noise could be heard, but was soon covered up by Marinette saying, "Thank you! Now I can find them in this store!"

Damian snuck a glance at the corner of his phone screen, noting how it was quite late in the evening. "Wait, what store are you in?"

"Umm...Lucky's. Why, exactly?" Marinette asked, confused as to why he wanted to know.

"Just to see where the fabric will be from."

Thankfully, she seemed to take it as a suitable answer, and said, "I'm going to go look for the materials I need. Talk to you tomorrow?"

He sighed, and parted with, "Bye, Angel."

After she cut him off, he placed the phone back into his belt, and prepared his ear for the onslaught of incoming questions. As soon as he unsilenced his earpiece, several male voices began overlapping each other simultaneously.

"-emon Spawn has a girlfriend?!"

"Brat, who the heck is Angel?"

"I'm so proud of you, Baby Bird!" Robin managed to make out Dick saying, "You managed to make yourself a friend!"

"You act like I don't have any friends," he muttered, causing the brothers to go quiet at his presence.

"Demon Spawn! Did you seriously do something to make that girl be your friend?"

"No, I didn't!" he denied, "She was a new student at school today, and I had to act as her tour guide."

Robin didn't finish explaining, as he used his grappling hook to swing in the direction of Lucky's. Red Hood unfortunately spotted Damian in the corner of his eye, and followed closely behind.

When Damian arrived at the fabric shop, a young female strolled out of the entrance, bags of fabric in her hands. Her hair was easily recognisable to be in pigtails, and the nearby streetlamps caused her locks to appear a dark navy.

A male voice rang out in Damian's ear. "So, Demon Spawn. I'm guessing that's your girlfriend."

A blush obscured by his costume began to crawl it's way up his neck, but before he could be teased, Red Robin said, "Where is she going?"

The males simultaneously turned their heads to where Marinette was walking, and just managed to catch her turn into an alleyway. They all leaped onto the rooftop to the side of it, and saw her peering about her surroundings.

Thankfully, she didn't look up, leaving the quartet unseen from her vision. "You said she was a new student, right?" Nightwing asked, "She wouldn't by any chance be new to Gotham too?"

"She's French," Robin replied, "And she's from Paris, I'm pretty sure. Explains why she isn't concerned about going outside this late."

Marinette glanced down at her purse, a new one her aunts had purchased after moving in with them in Gotham. She felt Tikki push against her thigh, a signal that the kwami was ready to transfer her magic to Marinette.

Just as she was about to say the transformation phrase, footsteps from behind made her swivel her head backwards, where she saw a man adorning a balaclava.

Immediately, the grip on her bags tightened, as the older man said, "What are you doing out this late, young lady?"

The nickname 'lady' caused memories to flash before her eyes, but she decided to focus on how the man inched forward slowly, a pocketknife in his left hand. She dropped her bags onto the ground, softly so as to not damage the material inside.

The man seemed confused, yet carried on slinking forward. Narrowing her eyes, she charged forward, kicking him in the gut and causing the knife to clatter to the ground. She hit it with her foot, making it slide further away from the criminal.

Grabbing the man's arm, she turned around, and pulled him over her shoulder, his back making impact with the solid ground.

She ran to the shopping bags, and looked back at the man, seeing him stand back up with an angry expression. Taking a step back, her eyes darted around the environment, searching for any way to escape.

However, a sharp object soon sailed past Marinette's head, in the direction of the criminal in front of her. Catching the moonlight reflecting off of it, she made it out to be another knife.

The quartet on the roof could only watch in utter confusion as the infamous Cat Woman was visible in the shadows where the knife had come from. From the precision of the aim, cat ears, and costume that blended in with the night, they all recognised who she was, apart from the French teenager below.

"Chat Noir?" a female asked in horror, "Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici? Comment m'as-tu trouvé?"

[butterbeeryuta]

chapter 1: flaxseed muffins and first times

We never really uncovered what happens after death, haven’t we? Some say that we go to heaven or hell, and possibly purgatory. Others say that we live again in another life form. Other sources also believed that the souls of our body are taken to the underworld, or as most of us know, House of Hades. Nonetheless, none of these are true. Well, maybe one of them is somewhat accurate. Ladies and gentlemen, believe it or not, only hell exists. Nobody lived a peaceful and pure life, hence why ‘heaven’ cannot be real— or that was at least written on the pamphlet I received a few hours ago. There are different types of hells; for example, Hell 34 only consists of English men who wore a blue polo shirt to play golf, while Hell 3 only have people who died heroically, making their country proud. As for me, yes I, I am going to Hell 127— the hell for people who had embarrassing deaths.

Here I am, in a fucking aeroplane, with 7 men and 5 women around me. I do not remember how I died, I really don’t. The lady with purple horns, who I assume is the flight attendant, distributed a pamphlet to every one of us, and it had everything written down. Not going to lie though, reading ‘you are dead and you are on your way to hell’ was something I was not expecting, nor did I want to hear. Then again, that is what life is in a way— you will face challenges and events that to do not appeal to you. Or I guess it would be more appropriate to say afterlife since I died with embarrassment.

‘Vaginas and Dicks, for your safety, not that it really matters since you all are practically dead, follow our goddamn instructions. Wear that safety belt, or something will happen to you— I personally do not know what happens since nobody has ever done it— and for now, please wear the green headphones in front of you, and a clip of your death will be displayed on your shitty screens. Enjoy devils.’ The purple woman said enthusiastically with the brightest smile, her red lips outlining the yellow tint of her teeth. Eagerly wanting to know why my death was considered ‘embarrassing,’ I grabbed the earphones, quickly placing them on my head. The small black screen in front of me suddenly lightened up; different splashes of colour decorating the plain rectangle. The different colours blended with another to form some sort of sphere, which only was shaped into you, soon followed by the background. I was in the restaurant with my little cousin, Seomin, eating the flaxseeds muffin I ordered as an attempt to be healthy for once in my life. Quite ironic that I’m now dead. Nonetheless, I was chewing on my muffin while Seomin was talking about how Mulan is the best Disney princess film ever—which she is not wrong—and I, being the best older cousin in this fucked up world— was not giving a damn. I was confused at this point since nothing happened. It got me wondering, did I die on the spot when I wasn’t listening to Seomin, or did my parents pray for Daddy Satan to come and collect me?

I let the video play, but I had to take a look at other people’s reaction to their death… honestly, some were quite hilarious. One pretty girl had her fingers on her scalp, mouth wide agape as she watches herself die to a point it was embarrassing. One rather young man with caramel-brown hair was trying his best to hold in his laughter as his joy-filled eyes was watching himself… die. Gosh, that sounded really wrong to say.

‘OH MY GOD HELP ___________ IS CHOKING! SOMEONE HELP MY COUSIN!’

Excuse me?

With no hesitation, my eyes turned back to the device the moment I heard my name tore out of Seomin’s throat, and I looked fucking ugly and in need of help; my eyes were wide open, my limbs were pathetically waving around, and I was making the world’s most unattractive noises which will surely act as a cockblock. Oh god, this cannot be the way how I died. One middle-aged man ran up to dying me, wrapped his arms around my chest as he kept pushing hard. Meanwhile, his nasty ass teenage son was just filming me choke to death. Literally. How nice of you kid. Although the video was still playing, it was way too damn obvious. I fucking choked on a healthy ass muffin, and died. How embarrassing is that? My parents called me a disappointment when I came home with a 84% on my Biology test, what more will they say when they find out that I didn’t know how to chew my food?

‘Oh damn, that’s how you died? You choked on a muffin? That’s both sad and embarrassing man’ a man’s voice beside me says, causing me to jump slightly from the sudden noise. I face turned towards him, and the sneeky-ass bitch was looking at my screen. This man was watching my death. What the fuck dude?

‘Excuse me, but who are you? This is quite a private moment don’t you think?’ I sharply asked, disliking that fact that this guy shamelessly watched me choke on a muffin. He just giggled in response, very similar to a child’s giggle. Did it warm my heart a bit? Yeah, maybe a little. But there was no way I was going to admit that. If he saw me dying in embarrassment, then so shall I.

‘Sorry, sorry. You were constantly shaking your head while watching so I thought yours was going to be quality conten— YO WOMAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’

‘I’M GOING TO WATCH HOW YOU DIE CAUSE YOU SAW MINE CREEP!’ I screamed back as I took his earphones, trying my best to click on the play button. This would have been so much easier if this man’s strong hands were not stopping me from seeing the truth behind his body giving up on him. Without thinking, which is how I usually work anyway, I gathered all of my strength, pushing the doe-eyed man down, successfully hitting the play button. Ignoring the groan from the guy beside me, he was in a circle with a bunch of his guy friends, or probably his orgy mates who knows, and black-haired boy looked very lost.

‘Mark, truth or dare?’

‘Uhh, truth I guess?’ Mark, who is apparently the guy next to me pouting, replies unsurely as he bit his lower lip.

‘In detail, tell us how your first time went,’ one of the boys in the video asks, which only made alive Mark go pale. It wasn’t just a normal type of pale, he was PALE pale. Then it hit me like the way my mother hits me in the back of my head with a slipper. The bitch literally died of embarrassment. Slowly pulling the headphones off, Mark was still pouting as he played with his fingers. Now that I think about it, this guy is pretty adorable… adorably stupid.

‘Are you going to make fun of me now or?’ He asks softly, avoiding eye contact. Though now that I think about it, we never really made eye contact.

‘Not really. For fuck’s sake I choked on a goddamn flaxseeds muffin—‘

‘Oh my, you died from being healthy?’ Mark laughs, which to my surprise, had me smiling at his rather contagious laugh. Shamelessly nodding at his words, I then asked him a question I’ve been meaning to ask since seeing that video.

‘Tell me, how is it even possible to die like that?’ I asked as I crossed my arms. His bright smile instantly dropped; his facial expression alone could tell that he had no answer to your question. Feeling kind of bad for the kid, I told him to let it go, which for some reason, made him somewhat relieved. Believe or not though, I ended up talking to Mark for the whole plane ride. He was born and raised in Canada, and studied mechanical engineering… until he became friends with drug dealers and got high on a weekly basis. I also found out that his laugh is the funniest thing about the cute guy. As for my side, I ended up telling him about how I was an art teacher at an international school in Australia. But of course, I ended up making the art pieces for the students once they paid me. Now that I think about, maybe there is a reason to why I am destined to go to hell. Nonetheless, I made a friend on my way to Hell 127, how fucked up yet cool is that.

‘Alright pussies and cocks, we will shortly arrive to your destination: Hell 127.’

a/n: that’s chapter 1 everyone! mark and __________ already got to know each other, but this is just the beginning of one chaotic fluffy story ya’ll. if you’re interested in this fic, let me know that you want to be added to the taglist <3

taglist: @ta3ilmoon​ @lelenoir​ @murasakillmepls​

back to materlist?

[absintheum]

day 1 - brioni

ohSundown left the shore warm. You were always awake to watch the last rays of natural light, as the day approached it’s end and the night blended into it. You remember reading lines of a poem describing the moments of shift between the light and dark, but you can’t recall the exact words. Something about the rose-tinted fingers of the aurora and the tentacles of darkness holding gently onto the metaphorical hand. You never understood what the point of that poem was.

The moments in which you were alone on the shore were getting fewer and farther, between your self-imposed seclusion in your secondary hive and the quicksand pits that were beginning to engulf all of the shoreline of the island you called your first home. That and your sleeping habits’ change due to natural aging. Quicksand, you had learned, was one of life’s few certainties among taxes, death and the feeling of existential dread felt as you looked into the horizon at dusk, from a wave riding board placed strategically, so it would float on the may- or not yet- be quicksand. There was something cathartic about it. You couldn’t place it, nor name it, but there was a feeling worming its way inside of your pusher. It was a mixed feeling, which left notes of bitterness in your mouth and sweetness in your throat. You could never tell if it was positive or not.

After the sun had sunk below the line of ocean you called horizon, you got up, not bothering to brush off your wetsuited dress the sand that would be soon washed away by the saltwater. You had been clever in your youth: no matter the quicksand season and moment of cycle, you had installed a few paths of low-density wave riding boards. You had 8 sweeps of experience in not being dead via the sand; you were the unsinkable. The occasional piece of no troll’s treasure that would wash ashore couldn’t say the same.

Some, you had rescued out of curiosity and sparks of environmental awareness, while some were already so buried in that you couldn’t be bothered to dig them up. The quicksand giveth, the quicksand gaveth. That was the law of quicksand.

The sea floor was no exception: the conditions in the place you decided to construct your primary hive was just so perfect that in the correct season, the underwater floor itself could be dangerous (if the many sea lusii, including your own, weren’t already making the area a bit too cozy). Said season wasn’t due to kick in for a quarter at least, to your estimate. You’d take the smidgeon of added safety to dive in, swimming to the depths that allowed your favourite anemones to grow. The dive was always your favourite part of the day, it freshened up your mind and reminded you that you were alive, in one way. It was peaceful, to soak underwater and to allow your gills to breathe. To allow your fins to expand and contract to aid in your movements.

Your webbed hands had grown calloused from picking them- it stang, but you’d endure it. Compared to your medousoid lusus’, it was the gentle touch of a quadrantmate. The anemones you picked were more than what you’d have gotten last time, they filled the space in your arms as the gentle sting spread from your fingers and palms to the skin of your forearms. You sucked it up, the air of the night would be cooling enough. In two hours’ time, your skin would be good as new. In a way, it was similar to the practice of urchincupunture: eventually, you’d develop a resistance to the toxin and your skin would stay tense and smooth. You couldn’t eat the sea urchins needles, however.

Once the amount satisfied you and the sting became uncomfortable, you sprang upwards, to the surface. The shore had cooled down significantly, and so had the air. Your sore and slightly flushed skin felt relief, where it could. You ran on the boards and back inside, there was still work to be done before you could take a breather: anemones don’t milk themselves yet. You wish that was a saying, but you seemed to be the only user, despite the attempts to lure your friends into using it.

As you deposited the bounty of the dusk onto the table in the sliving room, you shook your arms, as if movement would soothe the dull ache (it didn’t, but it felt as if it was right to do so). You recounted the amount on your fingers and in your head and attempted to open your shelltop and almost jolted in a sudden wave of pain. How you managed to forget each time, it was above you.

You tried opening your shelltop again, using your teeth as leverage and your chin to guide the cruisor across the screen and open a flashing notification on a text box, and your voice to text before you even tried to think about typing.

--- hibisquisiteNatterer [HN] is bubbling to cnidarialClone [CC] ---

HN: v^v^ heeeeeyyyyyy bubble boo ^v^v HN: v^v^ are you awake yet? you should be, but in case you’re not ^v^v HN: v^v^ i miss you so much! the pile isn’t the same without you!! but!!! there is a new friend waiting for you!!!!! CC: ŒŒ== i’m awakŒ plŒnty and swanky CC: ŒŒ== i miss you tŒrribly too! just rŒsist thŒ wŒŒk, i’ll bŒ back soonŒr than a fresh bottlŒ of anŒmonŒ milk HN: v^v^ one entire week!! one week is too long!!! its an entire perigree’s time!!!!!! HN: v^v^ also i swear.. you... and your obscure figures of speech…… HN: v^v^ pale for you…. nonetheless…. but you do rip a shred of my soul when you mention it… CC: ŒŒ== i’ll sŒŒ to it pŒrsonally to throw it into a dronŒdustry standardizŒd papŒrwork shrŒddŒr whŒn i get thŒrŒ

You are a girl of simple pleasures. You love to torment your pale girlfriend with insufferable phrases nobody will use and she loves to call you “bubble boo”. You cannot deprive each other of this and you’re living for it.

HN: v^v^ sigh!!!!!!!!!!! ^v^v HN: v^v^ one week is an acceptable wait….. afterall…… HN: v^v^ ….. bubble boo…… HN: v^v^ >;D

What, are you supposed not to swoon?

CC: ŒŒ== palŒ for you too <> CC: ŒŒ== but i supposŒ that you’ll think again, for thŒrŒ is a dad hold on i’m ta- shit no dŒlŒtŒ dŒvlŒtŒ CC: ŒŒ== fuck nO WAIT CC: ŒŒ== SHIT HN: v^v^ are you on s2ht???????????? ^v^v CC: ONŒ MOMŒNT PLEASŒ

You disable the speech to text, again, with your chin. Your dad is awake and wants to be fed and you have to cut the chit-chat short. It was a good coincidence, however: your secret surprise of a gift can keep it’s title for another day. As the window is closed, you sigh. Dad knows it’s the day you leave again, this time for almost a perigree. He’d come with you, when you were younger, but you were well past the age of needing a chaperone to your love visits. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to enjoy the freedom of what is left of their fun years before the lacrosse bat of being hurled into space swung you into space.

At least feeding time was fun.

Your dad hunted for itself when it wanted to, but you also enjoyed looking from the glass walls of the uppest lower floor as the feeding brine was poured into his designated block  from a specifically designed pipe, and the thousands of tiny little crustacean were consumed. It made his mostly translucent body gain a faintly coloured tint between the violet of your blood and the purple of the caste below it. In a spark of childish genius, juvenile you had decided that the quickest way to make way to the lower floors of your primary home into the airlock of your submarine secondary one was going to be a slide, spiraling downwards. It was a bad decision and sometimes you’d bring a book to read until motion sickness kicked in. The stairs were added in a second moment, as you matured a sense for interior design and a taste for not being hurled face-first into the steel walls of a submarine. That last part was solved with padding the area of presumed landing.

Landing face-first into plush and pillow is way more pleasant.

Remembering you left the key item for the event upstairs isn’t. Begrudgingly climbing up enough sets of stairs to give you quads for days wasn’t either.

A second slide gave you time to contemplate that maybe you should have rethought the design of this slide entirely and not have taken it a second time. A second thump that accompanied your arrival at the plush landing station confirmed your thoughts.  A look at the clutched anemones confirms they are still intact, and relief  accompanies that. Their sting has subsided, finally they can be refined as your recipe intends. Your submarine is fully equipped and furnished, ready to leave at the snap of your fingers. You’re ready to depart and from the windows of the piloting chamber, the dark depths look into you. You look up and back into the dark night waters. You can barely make out the speck that is supposed to be the green moon. You flip the autopilot switch on and let the whirring of machinery soothe the loneliness.

[tales-unique]

THIEF  II

         DATE          NOV 19TH, 2042

         TIME          AM 10:27:04                          :05                         ��:06…

Chapter 2

“Zen! Zen, I can’t find my boots! Do you know where I put them last night?” “Yes, Veronica, you left them in the doorway and I detected a ninety-eight per cent chance that you would injure yourself if they remained there.” “Well, where did you put them?” “I have put them in your closet.”

“Of course you did.” Veronica let out a deep sigh as she stepped around the android to return to her bedroom, which now looked as though it had been ransacked in her attempt to find her boots, opening her closet to find her boots sitting directly in the center of the bottom half; exactly where Zen always put them. Quickly grabbing them and tugging them onto her feet while still attempting to move about, she almost tumbled back into the living room with the effort. Veronica was rushing since she was already late, at least by her standards, to meet Hank and Connor to deliver her lead. Having slept through both alarms she’d set herself and the gentle rousing from Zen, Veronica was thankful that her small but modest home was all on one floor. Once she had finally gotten her boots on she strode to the door, grabbing her leather jacket from the small coat rack beside it, and turned to look at Zen over her shoulder. Zen, an old service android, stood a few meters away in the open arch that connected the living room to the small kitchen area, hands folded in front of her. Always a soft smile on her still very much artificial face, the android did all that was remotely possible to serve Veronica as thanks for the time and effort she was putting into her. So far Veronica had replaced the vital components Zen had needed, the latest being a replacement optical unit. It had taken her some time to scrounge up a replacement and she was lucky enough to obtain one that was the same colour, a startling shade of emerald green. “Please be careful, Veronica,” Zen spoke out, voice holding a metallic, artificial twang to it. Although in basic working order, Zen’s vocal unit was second hand and had taken some damage which meant the sound was somewhat distorted. “Do return home safely,” the words, though hollow for she was in no way deviant, still warmed Veronica, and she gave a nod. “Yes, mom,” she chided with a small giggle, waving lightly as she left her home. Upon doing so she mentally noted that she would need to come up with another plan to earn the extra cash needed to fully repair Zen, for the majority of her small income went to maintaining a roof over their heads and food on the table. Perhaps working with an esteemed officer and his technologically advanced android would put her on the straight and narrow and allow her to break free of dead-end, repetitive jobs and stealing. She could only dream. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans, the same ones she had worn for the last day or so to be precise, she set off at a brisk stride to the police headquarters. It was a miracle that Zen had already taken her shirt from the previous night to be washed otherwise she would have worn that as well. Instead she sported a royal blue T-shirt, the only shirt she could find that wasn’t drying or already dirty when she awoke. As she walked she kicked along a stone to entertain herself, humming a light tune. Although Veronica knew how to drive her small two-door car had been the first to go when things grew difficult for the young woman financially; she had a sturdy pair of legs, which were free, so why not use those instead? By the time Veronica arrived at her destination she felt her chest burn faintly with each breath and her legs ached from having walked so briskly in order to save time. Pushing some rebellious strands of hair from her face, Veronica willed her flushed face to calm itself as she approached the front desk, now manned by a blend of androids and humans, informing one of them of her arrival. Once given clearance to proceed Veronica hurried inside, gaze searching for either Hank or Connor, and smiled when she spotted the android sitting straight at his desk. As she approached she took a peek at his terminal screen, noticing he was adding to the report on the android they were trying to track down. There had been much commotion in the area where the murder had occurred and thus word was spreading. This had resulted in much speculation, speculation that Veronica had waded through in order to get the information they needed. Or at least what she thought they would need. It somewhat scared her to know how close she, and the couple whose home she had been in, had been to a killer. Giving a small cough she announced her presence to Connor, coming to stand at the edge of his desk as his gaze turned to her. “Good morning Miss Vorne,” he once again gave her a smile, shifting his swivel chair effortlessly to view her head on. “Morning Connor, sorry I’m so late! I would have been here earlier but I overslept,” she remarked in embarrassment, smoothing down her hair with a small laugh. “No Hank?” She questioned, eyes briefly flicking to the unoccupied desk opposite him, his own eyes following suit. “Lieutenant Anderson may still be nursing a hangover. He was out late drinking at Jimmy’s Bar last night, so I said I would continue with the investigation report until he felt like coming into work again.” There was an element of sarcasm to his words that warmed Veronica to the idea that he may not be as intimidating as she had first anticipated. It had been a blind panic that had made her crack so easily, one where she knew she couldn’t have fooled him no matter how hard she may have tried. However now she saw him in a different, more positive, perspective and that made him a little less threatening. With a nod she shifted to tug Hank’s swivel chair closer to her, settling in it with a small breath before turning to face him in an extravagant manner that would make James Bond proud. “Well, I’ll just have to tell you what I know instead then, Mr Detective,” she purred, her gaze sparkling with mirth and delight. The action caused Connor’s brow to raise upwards curiously, soon drawing in closer in anticipation to listen to what she had to say. Once she was certain that she had his full attention, Veronica then began to speak. It had taken her time but she had finally located her old acquaintance, a man named James Dawes, and managed to convince him to tell her what he knew, if anything at all, about the android. It transpired that, through an associate of James’ from his Red Ice smuggling days, Derek Jackson, the android had been given the details of the victim. She was also given a vague theory of why he was at the couples home too; he simply needed cash to escape the murder he'd committed. When asked why the android wanted the information in the first place Veronica was told that he simply had issues with the victim and had paid enough to grant silence, but clearly not enough to maintain it if asked. Something that worked in their favour, Veronica noted almost smugly, settling back in the chair. Connor simply watched her as she recounted the information, giving the occasional nod or hum to assure her that he was still listening. While he was taking in the information she was giving him he was also observing Veronica herself. The way that she spoke and the actions and gestures that accompanied it made her an amusing speaker and it intrigued him how her tone changed with the subject, as was so common with humans. Of course androids could emulate this, efficiently so with deviancy, however there was nothing quite like watching a human articulate a point. Veronica seemed to catch this as her voice suddenly faltered, words stumbling over themselves, as her brow creased. “I-is there something on my face?” She questioned before her eyes looked over herself, a hand smoothing her hair nervously, “you were staring at me with this weird look on your face!” Veronica laughed, but it was anxious and unsure, and Connor was quick to ease the oncoming distress. “No! No, not at all!” He stammered, hands rising up in defense. He was almost alarmingly aware that they were situated in the middle of the room, and even though there were only a couple of other officers about there was the ever-present fear they would turn to stare at them. “I was simply…” His own voice wilted as he felt an uncomfortable restriction on his vocal unit. Hesitance was one of the things Connor had been experiencing the most of when it came to his deviancy, and it seemed to become even worse when engaging her. Did he react this way or that way? Should he frown or laugh at that? There were so many human nuances and social intricacies that had become open to him that it made his cybernetic mind spin. “I was simply admiring your expressiveness while speaking, is all,” Connor finished, more confidently this time, straightening himself. He watched as her eyebrows raised up and a small dusting of red stained her cheeks. Her hands slowly lowered to settle in her lap and she cleared her throat, glancing about herself to see if anyone had caught his compliment or her reaction to it— thankfully, no one had. “Um, thanks, that’s—” Veronica began, eyes suddenly interested in looking at anything but him, clearly uncertain on how to take such an odd compliment. “That’s nice of you to say,” she replied after some consideration, a warm smile coming to her lips. She still seemed embarrassed, but grateful, so Connor didn’t push her on the matter. Instead, he brought them back to the topic at hand and they conversed back and forth for a while before Connor had collated the information and came up with a plan. Obviously he would present it to Hank before doing anything, as this was his case, but felt rather positive that he would go along with it. In fact, Connor felt such a sense of accomplishment that as he notified Hank that he had forwarded the information to his terminal he felt a desire to celebrate. After all, they were closer to finding the android culprit and with steps now put in place he wanted to show Veronica the value of her information. “Miss Vorne,” he called her in such a sprightly tone that her attention snapped to him with an expression of alarm, her eyebrows raised. Noticing this he quickly raised a hand again, as though it would mediate the situation, having been overzealous in his excitement. “I’m sorry, I simply wanted to ask, that is if you would feel comfortable with it, with me that is—” he swallowed and felt flustered from the way she smiled as though to pity him for his inability to channel his feelings into words. Veronica even had the audacity than to lean forward slightly, a giddy smile upon her lips, which only served to unsettle him further. “What I mean to ask is,” Connor continued, voice firm with feigned confidence as he composed himself, “would you like to go for coffee with me?” It was a simple request and Connor noticed how Veronica’s cheeks became flushed and her smile melted into something more bashful. Even though there was much progress in the way of android-human relations there had yet to be an open, romantic relationship, or even the implication of one, between the two, or at least as far as Veronica was concerned. Despite this Veronica accepted his proposal, eyes sparkling with adoration as they both rose to leave, Veronica allowing him to lead. She’d never been asked out on a date like this before, not that she was considering this a date at all since it was just coffee, and to see him so awkward when navigating his newly acquired emotions had influenced her to accept, even though she was still somewhat wary. Although Veronica had always found androids to be the epitome of perfection there had always been a sense of a fear that she’d associated with them. It was no hidden secret that androids were so much more more capable that humans, strong and faster and more intelligent by far, and this often filled her with unease. It was this sense of unease that had helped panic her when Connor was first left alone with her in the interrogation room. Once she became aware that he wasn’t a threat to her Veronica found him somewhat easy to open up to. His actions and mannerisms were inexperienced in many respects when it came to human behaviours and this made him easier to be around. Veronica also found the strange desire to guide him, which when thought back on she found ridiculous since he was most likely the one to guide her. There was also the most obvious factor that had influenced her decisions; his appearance. Veronica wasn’t so modest that she’d deny her feelings if she found someone attractive, be they male or female or otherwise, and this was the case with Connor. True to form Cyberlife had created an impressive male specimen in him, and yet she didn’t find him too perfect as she did with other models. He had small imperfections, like the little freckles here and there on his face, and so much more, all purposely added to make him more appealing to humans, which complimented his dorkiness when conducting himself emotionally that just seemed to work for her.

The café that Connor escorted Veronica too was, to say the least, very beautiful. It was located about fifteen or so minute from the police station and with it being a mild day the pair had decided to walk there. Veronica took a chance to peek in the window when they came to it, noting how cosy and warm the inside looked, and how the décor was homely and inviting. Connor, offering only the best of manners, opened the door for her and as he did so she remarked with glee the tiny, adorable bell that chimed with the action. An amazed, opened-mouthed smile came to her lips as she stepped inside, being met immediately with warmth and the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. Her eyes sparkled as she turned to Connor, taking his hand and leading him to a free booth with old leather seats and an assortment of small cushions. The android simply followed her wherever she led him, a smile on his own face at how awed she was. It would never cease to amaze him how humans had the uncanny ability to find beauty and wonder in the most mundane and ordinary of things. He observed the way she looked about the room when they settled into the booth opposite one another, taking in every detail and smiling even wider, a small giggle of disbelief coming from her at such a sweet, enchanting little place. “This place is incredible,” she commented, eyes looking to him, and for a moment he was spellbound by her. His LED flickered between yellow and blue and he remained quiet with a look of awe on his face. The dusky lighting from the overhead lamp cast soft light over her, illuminating her features and making her seem to glow. When he noticed how her brow creased slightly he realized that, once again, he had been staring and quickly cleared his throat, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, yes, I was hoping you’d like it,” he replied, LED now a steady yellow as he considered what he was going to say, “I noticed it a couple of days ago and it reminded me of you,” he explained, a soft smile upon his lips. The comment, and indeed the action, were innocent and came from a place of kindness and respect for her. At his reasoning, Veronica felt her cheeks flush and her eyes widen slightly. To have him bring her to such a nice place when they barely knew each other was one thing, but to know that he had thought of her, been reminded of her when he found it, meant more to her than she could have ever thought possible. “That’s—” She mumbled, swallowing slightly, “that’s really sweet of you, Connor. No one’s ever been so nice to me before, not off their own back anyway.” Veronica’s voice was quiet, laced with fondness towards him, as she spoke. Her expression softened as she regarded him at that moment and Connor felt himself swell with contentment at her compliment. “Well,” Connor began, leaning forward with an alluring smile, “I’ll just have to continue to be nice to you, off my own back, then won’t I?” He stated with warm conviction, even going so far as to give her a cheeky wink before sitting up straight again. Judging from the way her cheeks grew even more flushed with colour Connor concluded that he was making a very good impression and felt this to be important given the nature of their first meeting. Though once again, she shied away from his affection but Connor was determined to bring her around to it, to make her believe that she deserved it and should have it from others. After Veronica had ordered a latte, courtesy of Connor, the pair chatted at length about varying topics, all in the pursuit of knowing one another better. From birthdays and star signs to the rise and fall if Cyberlife and the android rebellion Veronica found him engaging to speak to and began to enjoy his company more and more. “Really ? You dumped him in the bath and turned the shower on?” Veronica questioned in disbelief, soon letting out a laugh as she pulled one of the cushions that had been in the booth closer to her. It had a beautiful embroidered image of a stag on it that she found rather enchanting. “Wow Connor, I didn’t think you could be so cruel,” came her teasing remark, watching his reaction closely. “Oh? Am I really the cruel one? He was the one who used to keep calling me a piece of plastic,” Connor feigned surprise and hurt at her comments, a hand coming to lay over his artificial heart dramatically, making them both laugh. To a casual observer they would appear to be two friends, perhaps even something more than that, just chatting away and enjoying themselves on a crisp November day. There were moments where Veronica would forget that Connor was an android and would be startled by the circle of colour at his temple, her brow creasing in thought. “Connor,” Veronica began, watching as his eyebrows lifted upwards slightly as a sign that she had his attention, “why don’t you get rid of your LED?” The question was more personal than she could have imagined, though he voiced no feelings of annoyance or offence, as a look of contemplation cross his face. “I— I don’t really know, Miss Vorne, it’s a part of me, I suppose,” he replied quietly. “Please, call me Veronica,” she insisted, smiling warmly to him, “we’re partners now, right Connor?” Veronica suggested lightly, wanting him to feel more comfortable with her, just as he was doing with her. “Yes, Veronica,” he mused, enjoying the way her name sounded on his tongue, “we are partners, and maybe even friends?” The way he posed the question reminded her of school children branching out for the first time and once again she felt warmth for him. With a nod, she accepted his olive branch of friendship and they continued to talk until Connors LED quickly spun an alarming shade of yellow, his brows knitted together before he spoke out. “There’s a hostage situation in progress and the suspect is believed to be the android we’re after, Lieutenant Anderson is already on his way to the scene, I suggest we join him,” Connor stated and without a word Veronica finished the last of her latte and exited the booth with Connor close by her.

Arriving at the scene Veronica felt a sense of stagnant dread hanging heavily in the air, despite the bustling activity going on about them. Her eyes looked over the large, derelict warehouse that was at the center of the commotion, squinting slightly to combat against the flashing blue and red lights from the police cars. To know that someone was being held against their will inside, staring death in the face, sent a shiver down her spine. It was Connor that broke her from this reverie, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he gently urged her to come with him, for her safety, as he went over to where Hank was stood with another officer, planning the best approach. When he spotted Connor and Veronica he turned to them, outlining the details. With Connor being the negotiator Hank was eager to have him on-board, however when it came to Veronica, who stood awkwardly on the fringe of the conversation, he hesitated. She knew exactly what his hesitancy meant and instinctively she stiffened up, eyeing them both. “Look, kid,” Hank began hesitantly, and immediately Veronica shook her head, cutting him off. “I know what you’re going to say Hank, I can’t go in there because this is a police matter. Well, you’ll be happy to know that I have no intention of going inside that warehouse, okay?” Veronica stated firmly, catching Connor’s gaze for a moment before turning her head downwards. Hank and Connor also shared a look before Hank held up his hands and let out a sigh before turning back to the work at hand. Connor took the few moments that he was granted before entering the warehouse to see Veronica, coming to her side where she now stood by a police car off to the side of the scene. He could see the worry she felt from the way chewed on her lip unconsciously while staring up at the warehouse. He called her name gently so as not to alarm her, but she still jolted slightly before giving a relieved sigh. It was then that she frowned, her brow creased with concern, before speaking. “Do you really have to go in there?” Veronica asked, voice taut with tension. “It’s dangerous, I don’t— I’m just worried you’ll be hurt,” she sighed in frustration, turning her head off to the side. It humbled him to know that even in a short amount of time she had come to value his life, indicating that she was a compassionate, empathetic person and he was determined to make sure he did his best not to cause her unnecessary pain with his actions. “I have to go in there, to save the hostage,” Connor rationalized, his hand coming to gently rest upon her forearm. When she finally looked up at him again he gave her a soft smile, wanting so vividly to see her smile at him again like she had been when they were in the café together. “Everything will be alright, Veronica,” he continued, his mouth falling open slightly when her hand came to lay over the top of his own. He felt the warmth of her skin at first, still potent despite the chill in the air, and then the smoothness of her fingers as they encircled his own and squeezed slightly in a reassuring way. Whether it was to ease her own concern or bolster his confidence Connor welcomed the contact all the same, but all too quickly he had to sever it to do his job. With the repeated promise that all would be well he left Veronica and entered the warehouse, disappearing into its depths.

Once inside Connor immediately initiated a scan, utilizing his specialized skill set and programming as a top of the line prototype detective android to gather as much information about the situation as he could. As he proceeded slowly to where the android held the hostage captive he learnt the androids name from a ripped name badge tossed on the floor, Jason, and that he was a LM100 model from a sample of Thirium found on the floor, no doubt from a wound inflicted when he evaded the officers. From the bloodied drag marks sporadically leading further into the warehouse Connor deduced that the hostage had suffered some form of injury, which would need to be treated soon if they were to survive. Continuing his pace Connor could hear the whimpering and pleading of a woman, Irene Miller as she was later identified as, which made him more resolute in confronting her kidnapper with as much information as possible. He surveyed the walls and the floor, the small bits of evidence, as he slowly and quietly made his way through the main room of the warehouse. Formally a storage room, the large expanse now stood hollow and empty save for the two individuals at its center. Connor was careful upon his approach, being sure to raise his hands and announce himself clearly. “Hello Jason,” he called out, able to see perfectly in the low light of the room. He could see his hostage and her kidnapper clearly now, as was the distress upon Irene’s face. She struggled against him with more vigour when she heard his voice, tears cascading down her face. “My name is Connor,” he continued warily, noting how the android tightened his grasp on his hostage, halting her feeble attempts to get free. “Stay back! Don’t get too close, or I’ll kill her!” Jason snapped, pressing the barrel of the gun closer to her head. It was now clear to Connor where the blood had come from as he spotted the bullet graze to the woman’s leg, her leggings frayed and ripped from where she had been dragged harshly across the ground. Connor complied, remaining where he stood to assess the situation; it was one he had encountered before. The android was clearly in a state of distress, close to shutting down even, and Connor knew he would need to diffuse the tension before he could even attempt to get Irene to safety, which would be more difficult than first thought, he expected. “Alright,” he spoke out, voice clear and understanding, “I just want to talk, to try and help you,” Connor’s LED swirled yellow briefly as he watched Jason’s harsh gaze falter, his eyebrows furrowing and his hold on Irene slackened slightly. His stress level was slowing lowering, but was still nowhere near the optimal level needed to ensure success. A momentary thought came to him about to the officers outside, Hank and Veronica who were no doubt anxiously awaiting confirmation that the situation had been resolved. He tried not to let it cloud his judgement, continuing ahead with his task with clinical precision. Edging closer, Connor continued to talk Jason down, all the while aware of Irene and how her life hinged on his every word. He took a similar approach as he had when he faced down Daniel all those years ago, a tried and tested method that he calculated would achieve the desired outcome. It took time, though it probably felt even longer, but soon Connor had gotten Jason to the point where he was willing to comply, and then something Connor hadn’t anticipated occurred; human spontaneity. Despite having coaxed the situation into something he had control over by bringing Jason into a more relaxed, trusting state, Connor hadn’t accounted for Irene. While he had been so focused on Jason, Irene had been waiting for the right moment to try and break free, and she saw that moment when Connor had successfully subdued Jason’s mood enough that his grip on her was breakable. In what seemed like slow motion she pushed herself free of his grasp, reaching out for Connor. He saw her lips move but her words were indistinguishable even to his exceptional auditory processors as the sound of a gunshot echoed in the room. It was almost deafening and Connor cringed faintly as he rushed forward, catching Irene as she fell forward from the momentum, lowering her to the ground while he fell to his knees. Briefly he could see Jason stood there with the gun raised, a steely look in his eyes. He should have anticipated that the android wouldn’t hesitate to kill another human; what was one more to him, after all? However Jason hadn’t anticipated the S.W.A.T team that had been following Connor’s every move, nor did he anticipate the well placed shot to his head until it was too late and he too fell to the floor with a dull thud. As the S.W.A.T team swarmed onto the scene Conor held onto Irene’s body, blood splatter adorning his own from where she had been shot. Another clean shot to the head, precise and surgical in its accuracy. Even though she was dead instantly Connor still looked over her face; her glossy eyes still held the remnants of tears in them and he noticed how her skin was still warm as he wiped a trickle of blood from her chin. He stayed that way for a moment until a member of the S.W.A.T team came over to him and gently coaxed him into releasing Irene from his grasp. Connor couldn’t fathom having failed to save Irene’s life, the lasting image of her being shot in the head right in front of him haunted the android in that moment as he stared wide eyed at his hands, which were stained red with her blood. His mind was in turmoil and he registered a multitude of feelings coursing through him, and it was for the first time in his life that he felt hatred for his deviancy for allowing him to feel. Hank and Veronica were next on the scene after hearing the commotion. The grizzled detective, though used to seeing dead bodies, still felt a pang of sadness and anger at such a waste of life when he found Irene. He frowned and shook his head before making his way over to where Connor was still slumped on his knees on the ground. Veronica gave a more dramatic reaction upon entering, understandable given that she had never seen a real dead body before. She clutched her hands to her mouth with a gasp as she stared before hurrying after Hank towards Connor, worry clouding her eyes. She wasted no time in getting to her knees before him, brow furrowed with concern at the startled look upon the androids face. He was so scared, so lost, and Veronica felt her heart ache for him. She briefly glanced up to Hank, who had put a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder, before she looked back to the android with a shaky breath. “Connor?” She spoke gently, eyes searching his face worried as his gaze turned to her, almost on the verge of tears. Veronica didn’t realise how profoundly she would be affected by the prospect of an android crying until that moment, but she forced it down so she could focus on helping him. “Come on, get up,” she coaxed him lightly, with Hank’s help, to get to his feet, standing in the way of his gaze so he wouldn’t see Irene’s body being put into the black body bag to be taken away. Once she was covered Hank escorted both Connor and Veronica from the scene and back outside. Only when Hank was sure that both were settled, at least as much as they could be given the circumstances, did he leave to finish up his work at the crime scene. There was a frenzy of activity now that situation had come to its climax, but Veronica watched it only in passing as she stood with Connor leaning against the hood of Hank’s car. The world seemed, in that moment, to be moving in slow motion and it was the first time in her life that she felt so disconnected from it all. Turning her head she looked to Connor, who looked equally as disconnected, no doubt in turmoil over what happened, and it caused her to frown. “I’m sorry, Connor,” Veronica murmured softly, unsure of what else she could say to him in that moment. When she was met with silence she looked back to the scene before her, watching the officers and S.W.A.T agents file in and out as they carried out their own orders, like bees working in a hive. She turned her gaze away when she saw Irene’s body being brought out in the body bag, feeling cold and empty as it passed by them towards a transport van. Taking in a deep breath she looked to Connor again, who still stood in a daze, and gripped his upper arm to get his attention. When he glanced at her Veronica felt her heart break at how vulnerable he looked; somber and disheartened. It was difficult to hide how she felt and decided that words wouldn’t work in such a situation, at least not yet. For the longest time they remained that way, simply watching from behind invisible glass at the scene passing before them. Veronica chewed at her lip while Connor simply stood with his hands hanging at his sides until, finally, Veronica spoke out again. Her voice was hoarse from such stern silence on her part, but Connor had barely registered what she had said anyway. It was only when he felt the hand on his arm grip his sleeve, tugging lightly at the fabric, that he actually turned and looked at her; focused on her face, her lips, as she spoke. “Connor? Did you hear me?” She questioned, brows furrowed, the frown she sported deepening when he shook his head, apologizing. “I said we should probably...I don’t know, get out of here?” She hesitated slightly, gnawing at her lip, still unsure of how to help. He was silent for a moment, considering the options that they both had; he would be needed back at the station to give his account of the whole thing, but the prospect of that made him grimace and thus it was quickly decided for him what he would do. “I don’t know where we can go,” he murmured, looking to Veronica with that same lost look on his face. “Don’t worry,” she smiled softly, but it was a ghost of a smile, “I know a place we can go.”

[plutoismydaddy]

A falling star

Namjoon x reader Grim reaper/ death au

Namjoon was her distraction, her distraction from all the pain and the lies of the world and Soojin was his doll, a precious doll he would keep safe in any way possible.

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Soojin leaned onto the railing as her eyes trailed up towards the sky, it was dark and empty apart from a few glittering dots shining with pride. Her eyes jumped from one star to the other, intrigued by the shapes and patterns created as the small dots danced together like a happy shining couple. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, the sudden darkness seemingly heightening her other senses. She just now noticed how quiet it was apart from the winds hissing in her ears and biting against her body. Soojin pulled her olive green jacket closer, and with another sigh, she opened her eyes, but nothing had changed. She was still standing on the old, rusty and grey bridge on the outskirts of the town. Far away in the distance, the buildings competed for who got closer to the sky, and below her crashed the water against the structure of the bridge like a 1000 man army. Soojin leaned forward to get a better view, it was beautiful in an eerie way, this wasn’t an unfamiliar place to Soojin. She would always come here to clear her mind, but she never came at this hour. When the sun had dropped under the horizon and the moon as the only company.

The water was usually light blue or a greenish-blue. This time the pool was pitch black, captivated by the beauty she leaned forward more to get a better view. Hair falling in front of her face, she smiled as she noticed her dark locks blending into the darkness under her. Soojin’s eyes flickered back towards the water, it looked just like the sky above her but lacking the small bright pearls making it a dark void, a dark hole that seemed to suck her in. She had to rip her eyes away from the water, if she didn’t she would probably be standing there for hours. 

Small, soft drops of water stroked her face. Soojin peered up, the once clear sky was now obscured by little fluffy grey clouds. A pair of arms circled around her shoulders, and a rested against her body Soojin felt Namjoons warm chest against her back. She looked down onto her worn boots and leaned more onto the cold railing, pushing onto the man behind her. It wasn’t that bad right now, the sound of the rain dancing across the surface of the bridge, the cold wind kissing her cheeks and the deepwater clashing under her. No, for once she felt eased. She stood there like a statue, a small smile tugging on her lips she basked in the calm like a cat sunbathing in the warm spring sun. But as if soaked in freezing water, a sudden high pitched ding rang out into the air pulling her back into reality. She felt Namjoon's arms twitch slightly seemingly startled by the sound as well. The sound was almost insulting, and it took her a second to realize what it was. She had gotten a message.

The now-familiar sound filled her chest with thick and heavy anxiety that was threatening to suffocate her, with the almost mechanical movements she pulled her phone out. A small voice chimed in from the back of her mind to be careful and not drop the phone, but she simply ignored it. The screen lit up once more. It took Soojin a second to get used to the bright light, she squinted down onto the screen and was greeted by the picture of Fred Astaire smiling back up. The top of his head was obscured by a white icon with a short word written in slim black letters, MOM. The screen faded into black, and in the dark reflection she could see her emotionless and stoic face staring back at her. 

She wasn’t expecting much when opening the messenger app but she still felt disappointed, nothing had changed. “Where are you?”, “Why aren't you answering”. Soojin felt her eye twitch with irritation. “Soojin.” Namjoon breathed beside her ear, concern laced in his gruff voice, but she just ignored the man. Shaking her head slightly, she reached to put her phone in her pocket again, but her actions were interrupted as she felt the device vibrate in her hand. “I can see that you read my messages”, “Do you think I'm an idiot”. Here we go again Soojin thought as once again her phone vibrated “Why do you always do this to me?”, “Im your mother, but you tret me like dirt”. “Why Soojin, why?”, “Everything I do is for you”, “Don’t ignore me Soojin”. There was a pause from her mother’s rant, but soon a new message bubble popped up. “If youre going to ignore me then stay out there on the streets, but don’t come crawling back to me later”, “ungrateful bitch", Soojin’s face remained emotionless, but she felt a lump form in her throat. She did her best to swallow it away. Nothing had changed. 

This was her daily routine, but somehow it still hurt. Her mother seemed convinced that Soojin was the reason for everything wrong in her life. Everything from her father leaving, to the internet being slow, and despite the multiple attempts by Soojin and the family counsellor to make her stop, nothing had changed. She knew her mother was guilt-tripping her, trying to gaslight her into thinking this too or at least feel bad and unfortunately it worked most times. She felt her eyes burn and the lump returning as the memories raced through her mind, she bit her lip rubbing the back of her hand against her eyelids. She wasn’t going to cry, not this time.  

Soojin’s fingers had become stiff from the cold wind, and she struggled to press the power button on the side of the phone before she put the device back in her pocket with a sigh. Her hand lingered in the pocket the silky inside, feeling wonderful against her cold fingers. “How long are you going to let her treat you like this?” his voice seemed distant as he buried his face into her neck, fingers tracing circles into her sides. Soojin didn’t know how to answer. Her eyes had remained aimlessly, staring at her shoes, hands raking through his soft locks before she looked up, her eyes growing big. The once black and ominous sky was now painted in strokes of pink, orange and light blue. How long had she been standing there? In the distance, the buildings still stood tall but now with more windows were lit up. People had started to wake up and go to work. As much as she wanted to stand there and gawk more at the beautiful sky, she knew it was time to go. What would people say if they saw her? They would probably call the cops and say they saw a troll.

A laugh jumped from her lips at the thought, the head resting against her skin jumping along her shoulders. The sky was so mesmerizing Soojin had to take a last look before she stood from the railing she was leaning against. Namjoon’s arms fell from her shoulders to her waist. She gazed up at his face, which was coated in the sun’s honey rays. A small smile spread over his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Mom will probably be furious, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips again as she leaned forward, Namjoon mirroring her action his smile growing and arms tightening around her. Or she’ll probably not care, she thought. Soojin closed the remaining space as their lips connected, a bitter taste seemed to seep from Namjoon’s mouth into hers, painting the inside of her mouth. Soojin’s eyes cracked open slightly, she watched as the man’s face lost its colour and softness as his eyes sunk into his skull until only two vacant holes remained. Namjoon’s delicate hands went from softly cradling her face into pointy fingers that slightly dug into her flesh. The plush lips under hers slowly faded, leaving only a hard and ruff surface as a black hood crept from behind his head and engulfed all light. She peered into the two voids that imitated the sea, raging under them, she stroked her cold fingers against his temple. A hallow scrap sounded from under her fingernails. Closing her eyes smiling, Soojin wrapped her arms around his sharp neckbones and took a small step backwards off the bridge and towards the crashing waves below.

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

Thank you for reading (*•♡•)

 // Mini Pluto

(The picture is made by me)

[ominouslyqueer]

Grail had never been as proud as she was when the Council had named her captain of her own ship, making her the youngest captain in the history of the fleet with a mere ten moons under her belt. The pride had mingled with the shock in her core, but was quickly replaced with sharp joy. She didn't mind that it was a simple transport ship, utterly dwarfed by the warships next to it. It was hers, and she would finally be able to contribute to the war that had begun shortly after her emergence from the nesting hive.

No one could quite remember how the war had begun, though her people blamed the humans and the coarse words their species was known for finally causing the fragile peace treaty to snap. Humans had been at odds with countless species since their introduction to the intergalactic community, with the Hundrel people as one of the few exceptions, though that peace clearly didn't last, the thousands of dead speaking to that point.

As the captain of a tiny transport ship, Grail didn't waste time on forming opinions on who started what and who was worse in the casualties. The war had raged for this long, and it showed no signs of stopping. She had a job to do and she would do it.

Her crew had just finished loading the newest shipment human prisoners into the ship, and she was grateful that this lot seemed to be docile, their silence heavy but welcome as her hands navigated the controls. They would be taken to the next galaxy, where they would be kept until they were traded or executed depending on their crimes.

The engine humming warmly, she hands the controls off to her crew, retreating to her quarters to begin her record of the transport. As she passes the containment unit, a few of her eyes catch the gaze of an older human, his weathered face hidden under a dirty beard of matted grey hair. He grins with yellow teeth as he notices her stare, and she flinches, though her teachings remind her that many humans meant no harm by the action. She hurries away, ignoring the concerned glance of her first officer.

The humans had always been more bark than bite. This run would be no different.

---

Kidd's grin is sharp as the alien captain retreats, her many legs moving as quickly as she could without running. Smiling was handy in times like these, friendly to allies and a warning to foes since most other species in the universe hadn't gotten the hang of it. Not much else he could do to the bastards while he was stuck here.

He looks around the hull, taking in the haggard faces of the men and women around him. His crew were tough, but they had been hit with enough force that they couldn't run, and surrounded with enough enemy ships that fighting was a suicide mission. He didn't doubt that his people would die should he ask it, but there were better ways to die than being obliterated the moment they fired a single shot. No, they would live, and if he had his way they would fight another day.

His bones groan as he eases himself down the wall, joints stiff with disuse from the containment cells they had been before. His first mate rushes to help, ignoring his attempts to wave her off in favour of supporting his descent. Hela had always been a worrier, tough as she was. He nods in thanks, silently cursing his age that always seemed to catch him at the worst moments. Here at least he is level with the bottom of the windows, where a gap in the sheet metal gives him a view to the outside.

He had always loved the stars, his mam laughing at the irony of him being one of the few babes still born on Earth, though he jumped on the first ship he saw when he was old enough. He could remember staring up at the sky, trying to count every one he saw, a habit he had yet to break, though now his counting served a much different purpose.

Now he notes each star that passes by the hull, waiting until his count reaches over a hundred, enough to know they were out of range of the base they had left. They had reached no mans land, with no space station or planet close enough to be directly communicated with without at least a several minute delay.

He waits a for a beat, then another, before he starts to sing.

The first words are more air than sound, pushed through chapped lips into the hull, yet they pierce the silence almost deafeningly. His crew go tense, ready as always for a fight but Hela shakes her head, glancing at the guards that stand at the door. Still, it doesn't stop the grins that come to each face as familiar words ring out.

The king and his men

Stole the queen from her bed

And bound her to her bones

The seas be ours

And by the powers

Where we will, we'll roam

With each line his voice grows stronger, the words ringing off the metal walls. The guards shift, clearly put off by this sudden change from the silence before. Their unease worsens as Hela continues, her voice far lovelier than his but no less charged with the anger that fills their chests.

Yo, ho, all together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The chorus repeats, this time with more people joining in, and the man can't help but laugh as one guard rushes out, no doubt to let the alien captain know of their actions.

As the song swells with each new verse, he sits back to wait for what came next, his relaxed pose leaving no indication of the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins.

---

"I don't see why you felt the need to inform me the prisoners have begun singing, Grit. Prisoners do many strange things, singing is almost normal."

Grail pinched the bridge of her nose, a trait she seemed to share with the humans. Her log had been quick to finish, and she had planned to rest now that the difficult part of the voyage was over, only for her crew member to interrupt her first slumber in weeks. His fingers twist together as he averts his gaze, face flushing green but not backing down.

"Captain, it's not so much that they are singing, but what they're singing. I've never heard a song such as this one, yet each human in the hull knows the words by heart. The style doesn't fit any human music I've been exposed to either."

She sighs, but follows him out of her quarters. Her room had the thickest walls in the ship, and it is only once she is in the hallway to the main hull that she first hears the voices. They are indeed singing, the sound rough with untrained voices yet ringing with emotions she can't quite understand. Metallic clangs join the voices, in time with the words and making the song more ominous in turn.

Reaching the hull, she sees they're stomping in time, heavy boots loud against the floors of the ship. Still their voices ring louder, and she can't stop the shiver that runs through her as she is met with a blend of grins and glares from the group, her arrival doing nothing to change the swell of music greeting her.

Some men have died

And some are alive

And others sail on the sea

-With the keys to the cage

And the Devil to pay

We lay to Fiddler's Green

Once more the chorus strikes, now each human seeming to try to deafen them with the volume. One figure catches her eyes, the man from before who had grinned at her.

He sits at the edge of the group, almost lounging against the wall. She would have missed him completely were it not for the hunger in his gaze, as well as the way the group seemed to gravitate around him, both protecting and energized by his presence. He stares at her, and it is enough to push her back to the control room, muttering to Grit to ignore the obvious attempt to put them on edge (as she ignores the fact that it's working).

She scans the controls and screens in an attempt to distract herself from the raging swell behind her. Her attention is captured by a tiny blip on their security screen, barely visible but enough to send a frisson of fear down her spine. She curses softly as her fingers race across the keyboard, searching for the source of the blip.

"Captain?"

Her first mate, Ilso looks concerned, moreso when Grail lets out a soft screech of expletives, a bad habit picked up from some of the nastier human prisoners she had hauled. She turns, stifling the urge to run her hands through her hair.

"Our communication shields were breached, someone is listening to everything we're saying on this ship." Facing the screens again, she tries to push the offending force out of the system but it holds strong.

Ilso chuckles, the sound high and nervous.

"Well I don't know what they hope to hear over this racket. Though I suppose they might this tune..."

His words strike at them both, eyes widening as they turn towards the hull, where the group is somehow still getting louder. She gestures towards the room frantically.

"Get them to shut up, do whatever you have to, I'll try and shut it down here."

He nods and rushes out, gesturing to the guards to follow him into the room. She can't hear what he's yelling over the song but she ignores it for the moment, turning back to the monitors to try and rebuild their defenses. Her fingers can't seem to move fast enough, each wall falling to whatever is attacking them, her codes becoming sloppy and rushed as she desperately tries to keep them out.

Her blood freezes as the navigation system shows a ship appearing next to them, the whir of lightspeed slowing down enough to send her panic rushing through her. Another appears on the other side. The ships are small, but any relief over that is quickly dashed as more keep appearing. They're fully surrounded by the time she breaks out of her panic enough to bring up visuals.

The first thing she notices is how each ship seems almost shoddy in some way, repaired with scraps and peeling paint that seem at odds with the powerful guns they're equipped with. Each is different, the only similarity being the symbol each has painted somewhere, a grinning skull on a black background that rings faintly of a lesson on human history she had mostly forgotten, times of violence and wars on oceans more vast than any on Hundrel.

She's shaken from such memories as the final ship appears, a fleet leader as big as any Hundrel warship, clearly human but also bearing the skull of the group. A few figures hang out of the airlocks, clutching ropes as their skin glitters with the portable containment fields that her people were known for. The large hanger doors lining the sides of the fleet leader slowly open, and she realizes that her ship has been caught in a tractor beam, the fleet leader slowly pulling them in.

She tries the controls, but it's futile, and so she rushes to warn the others. The singing still hasn't stopped, and as she enters the hull she sees that Ilso has been overtaken by some of the humans, the other guards held off by the blade braced against Ilso's throat by the woman closest to the grinning man. Ilso's eyes are panicked as they meet hers, and she is caught in the haze of fear that had been buzzing at the edges of her mind since the start of the fiasco.

"Captain?" Grit hides his panic well, but she can still catch the edge to his voice. "What's happening?!"

"We're caught. Hostiles, don't know their identities other than possibly human. They've been listening since we left the base's range."

She has to shout over the humans, and her words only make them cheer louder. Now the man with the yellow teeth joins in, his voice somehow ringing through all the others.

The bell has been raised from its watery grave

Do you hear its sepulchral tone?

A call to all, pay heed to the squall

And turn your sail toward home!

They're nearly thrown by the sudden stop, her ship screeching against the floor of what must be the hangar. She can barely hear the rumble of the hangar doors closing, the song now seeming to echo louder indoors. Through the window of the control room, she catches a glimpse of the heavy metal doors crashing closed, the sight cementing the shivers she can no longer suppress.

Her eyes swing to the doors of her own ship as the squeal of tearing metal rings out, far too close for comfort. For a transport ship, the presence of prisoners meant they were reinforced specifically for cases of attempted prison breaks, though those were in regard to attacks in the vacuum of space.

Here, they stood no chance to the continuous assault, and with a wicked screech they crumple and fall away. The instant they do, she realizes that the sound of the group didn't increase because of their own voices, but because outside the ship there seemed to be hundreds more joining in, creating an unending wave of sound that rang through the cavernous room.

Yo, ho, haul together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The humans rush out of the ship, several stopping to grab her and her crew to haul them along as they finish the song with the beings outside, their cheers leaving the room ringing with noise even as they taper off. She can indeed see hundreds filling the rooms, swarming around ships and piles of supplies as they rush to greet the escaped prisoners.

It's mostly humans, but she's shocked to see members of all species from countless planets and factions intermingling, most dirty and thin but still smiling wide. She gasps as she catches sight of some Huldren people, seeming perfectly at ease around the humans they spoke with, exchanging jokes and stories with none of the issues the Council complained of.

She tries to take in as much as she can, but quickly she is passed off to some other humans, who smile widely as she and her crew are dragged out of the hanger. Fear sticks to her skin as they're dumped in cells that are completely dark when the doors close. Huddling closely to her crew, they wait for what will come, the remnants of the music still ringing in their ears.

---

"Kidd! You old bastard, I thought you were dead!"

Kidd turns at the familiar voice, leaning heavily on Hela as he presses a hand to the cut on his leg the alien had gotten before Hela had stepped in. He grins at the figure running towards him, finally relaxing at the sight of his old friend.

"Edward, you should know by now I'm fucking hard to kill."

The other man rolls his eyes, either at his words or the use of his first name, but doesn't hesitate to pull the man into a warm hug, clapping his back firmly before pulling away.

"You should just be glad we were listening for your message. Not terribly subtle, but then our folk rarely are." His gaze finds the wound on Will's leg, eyes turning dark as he takes in the sluggish bleeding. "I don't suppose you'll be wanting them that got you that cut to be dealt with?"

He shakes his head, leaning back on Hela as she wraps her arm around him.

"Nah, this was a desperate act of a desperate man, when they found out what we were up to. They were just doing their job the best they could. Same deal as always, some time in the hole then if they want they can join one of our crews or be dropped off at the nearest planet. They seem decent enough, unlike some people I could think of."

Edward nods, willing as always to listen to the older man. Kidd could remember when he first picked up the scrawny stowaway, teaching him how to not get killed as best he could, and Edward still took his advice more often than not, even as his crew grew beyond anything Kidd ever managed.

The three walk down the hall, Edward leading them to the med ward where a few of the gentler folk took care of any injuries, which kept their hands pretty full in this profession. Kidd looks around, admiring the size of the ship.

"So where'd you pick this beauty up? Nearly gave me a heart attack to be found in it til I heard the voices." Edward laughs, looking proud as he glances out of the window, where the rest of the ships can be seen.

"Stole her right from under the noses of the Admiral off the edge of the Milky Way. Close enough to home to make me uneasy but so worth the effort. Plus it's always fun to piss off the army, human or otherwise, makes life exciting."

"Can't argue with that, even if I'm not as spry as I used to be." There's objections from the other two at his words, but he waves them off as best he can. "Oh hush, it's no insult to have managed to live this long. I'm more insulted by the pitiful excuse of a beard you have."

Hela laughs at Edward's spluttering, hands coming up as though to protect the thin black fuzz covering his lower face.

"I only just started this, you son of a bitch, someday it'll be even longer than yours."

Kidd agrees with a vague noise, distracted by their arrival to the med bay, as he is immediately rushed by several of the crew tasked with first aid. His leg is wrapped tight and he's then ushered to a room in the guest quarters near Edward's rooms. Hela orders him to rest and he is left alone, finally able to fully relax for the first time in weeks.

He sits near the windows, looking out at the expanse of ships and space that seem to stretch endlessly. He can still hear the cheering of the crowds beneath him, the celebrations sure to last until the morrow, when he would be better fit to join in.

He settles in, hoping to plan for the day ahead, but his exhaustion hits hard after holding off for so long and he drifts into a restless sleep, mind filled with visions of violent seas that churn beneath him, and voices ringing in time to the crashing waves.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me

[character-scrolls]

Miscellaneous Headcanons: Jinx - TSM (Soften Edition)

Enjoy some cute headcanons of some of my Jinx beans <3

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - No doubt about it, Jinx would have a book review channel and it would be as cute as heck.

- An incredibly fluffy and sweet vibe, she'd have a large bookcase in her background with cute fairy lights draped over it, maybe some miniture cactus plants sat on some of the shelves.

- Probably uses some soft music box as the background music or something that relates to the book she's reviewing that week.

- Jinx would mostly be a solo reviewer but she might occasionally bring on someone for a collab

- She has gotten some god awful book suggestions, some she does reviews and some she'll outright refuse to do

- Her channel would probably be something like Bookworm or The BookWorm

- One of her videos showcases a mini tour of all the books she's gotten over the years, she's slowly running out of floor space.

What kinda blog would they run? - PASTEL.COLOURS.FOR.DAAAAYS.

- Jinx's blog is dedicated to all things literature from fiction to non-fiction

- She could talk for hours and hours about her favourite authors and the books she's read that week

- Jinx takes photos of her reading space which is normally a comfy chair with a little side table with her current book and a cup of fancy tea steaming next to it and her reading glasses resting on top of her book.

- Though in reality it probably ends up with her sitting up in bed until god knows what time whilst spouting the false promise of 'yes this is the last chapter I'm going to read I swear' wheather that's a book or a really good fanfiction on her ipad that's upto you.

- Jinx's posting shedule would be at least twice a week, depending

- Would for sure have a side blog for fanfiction

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Jinx would be a cute little ghostie for Halloween

- She's not one for being scary so cute is the next best thing

- Jinx would do her best to hand make the costume, it wouldn't be the neatest but hey ghost aren't meant to be

- The costume consists of a white robe with oversized sleeves covering her hands with a lacy hood over the top and short chains would be attached around her ankles

Who would they cosplay as?

- Jinx would for sure cosplay someone like Yuna from Final Fantasy X or Howl from Howls Moving Castle  

- She would try and get a high quality costume, trying to get the most accurate looking one

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - A gooey chocolate chip cookie, because she's a soft that is all

What type of tea would they be? -A cinnamon blend tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - A sweet red wine

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - For sure, a spellcaster deck probably based around the Silent Magician

- Not just for the obvious reason...also by how it's played

- Not seeing her with any other type

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Possibly Fairy? I'm not entirely sure because they're a number of pokemon I see her having in her team, I have considered like psychic for another option?

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

- Maybe a sheep? a cute little purple sheep

- Has the cutest cottage aesthetic going on

- Will gift you many, many, many books

Aesthetic: leather bound books, ink stained parchment, burning candle light, dark blues, pastel pinks and purples, empty potion vials, soft touches, sweet smelling purfumes, crytals, the glittering particles of magic, grubby bandages

Extra headcanon:

- The fiction she read throughout her years helped her discover her bisexuality, she had read so many books with different heros and their romantic endevours that it had a profound a effect on her. At first she didn't understand why she liked boys but also girls??? fiction helped her to finally understand that it was perfectly normal to feel like this.

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

Ruben - Jinx: TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - This boy. THIS BOY. His channel would be a disaster , but a wonderful one..he's trying

- Ruben would do a lot of dumb but harmless challenges, but it would radiate pure chaotic energy

- He's a gremlin with too much time on their hands lets be real here

- Ruben would do a lot of collabs, which are even more diasterous than his solo videos depending which poor soul he asked

- he edits like it's going out of fashion, jumpcuts galore and dumbass sounds effects for days.

- He has a sizable following

- He would for sure drag his boyfriend in for a video...for a price

What kinda blog would they run? - Like this Youtube channel, it's chaotic but is slightly more structured

- Being a avid comic reader, his blog is centred around comic books

- Will have full-on arguements with other people about which character is strongest/best/weakest etc

- "Now you listen here you litle shit, YOU DON'T-"

- His blog is fairly simple in terms of colour scheme, possibly using themes available to him

- Has an inconsistant posting shedule

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Probably a skeleton, surprisingly good at face painting

- He'd use face/body paint for his neck area and hands

- Contacts maybe?

Who would they cosplay as?

- Would for sure cosplay as Beast Boy from Teen Titans, feel like that would be the type of character he'd go for

- Maybe with full-on body paint too?

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - Ruben would be like one of those giant biscuits with the chunks of m&ms baked into it

What type of tea would they be? - Iced lemon tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - Apple Cider

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? -Elemental Hero deck maybe?

- His love of super heros would play a part in why he chose it

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Possibly flying?

- Has for sure named one of his pokemon Jeremy

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

-Possibly a squrriel

-Has a mis-matched house because who hell is interior decorating

Aesthetic: Fireworks lighting up the nights sky, scrapped knees, wide grins,bare feet,messy hair constantly running fingers through it,dark greens, off white,loud laughter, dumb jokes.

Extra headcanon:

- Ruben is known for being the town menace, however, when he was younger especially, the elder folk would leave out baked goodies for him to pick up during his escapes. Sometimes they'd even let him hide out near their house if it was safe enough to do so. Now that he's older, they don't let him get away so much anymore but will occasionally leave out a place of treats.

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

Lamina - Jinx: TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - Lamina's channel would be dedicated to fitness and her vast collection of swords

- She'll do exercise challenges and inbetween she'd show off her latest custom order swords

- Lamina has an intense energy on screen but will give legitmate advice on health and exercise

- She'll only really soften up if she talks about her girlfriend or her swords, getting equally giddy over both

- Her shedule is regular and she has quite a big following

- Swords will always be present in her backgrounds

What kinda blog would they run? - Her blog would focus on her swords and she'd go into detail about their history and origin

- She takes beautiful pictures of them from every angle imaginable

- Lighting is everything, it's gotta hit the blade juuust right

- She poses them with occassionally, doesn't admit it but she enjoys it

- Her colour scheme would be muted and her theme would be minimal

- Lamina tends to post whenever she has a new sword delievered

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Lamina is not usually one to get dressed up, would probably take some persausion

- She'd want it to be low effect, nothing too complicated

- If she had to pick, possibly an apocolyptic survior, no it's not an excuse to show off her cool swords shUT Up

Who would they cosplay as?

- Possibly Erza Scarlet from Fairy Tail

-Because did I mention swords? because she likes s

-Not sure which armor she'd go for

-Possibly would commission someone to make it

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - A simple shortbread biscuit

What type of tea would they be? - Green macha tea

What type of alcohol would they be? - Straight whisky

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - Warrior deck or Amazoness deck?

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Fighting type, feel like it fits her

What Animal Crossing animal would they be?

- Wolf possibly? or a bear

- Home filled with work-out equipment

- Grumpy personality?

Aesthetic: Early mornings, sore knuckles, stern looks, hidden softness, sword clashes, the smell of burning, loyal bonds, dark purples and blues,brusied skin and busted lips, quiet nights beneath the stars.

Extra headcanon:

- (tiny spoilers??) After Solus left most of her men dead, Lamina felt geniuely hurt. Her loyalty and trust in Solus was strong. She wouldn't admit but she did shed a few tears when she was alone before completely shutting herself off from her remaining men. They weren't like him, in fact, they were among the ones who mocked her and they only trusted her out of fear. She felt she'd lost her only real connection. Thankfully, she was able to open up again and she couldn't be happier. -------------------------------------------

Katia-Jinx:TSM

Social Media:

What kind of Youtube channel would they run? - Katia would have a fashion channel, she'd showcase the unsual dresses she'd buy and possibly make

- There's always a WIP of a dress on a manniquien in the background of her videos

- She'll sometimes do time lapses of dress

- Katia will occasionally post tutorials on the dresses she makes and leaves materials and such in the description  

- She'd talk about the best materials to use to sew with

- Her sewing machine is covered in cute stickers and has become staple in her background

- She keeps a list of themes to explore in a notebook

- Her following is large but not overwhelming

What kinda blog would they run? - A fashion blog

- She'd post lookbooks each with a different theme

- Her colour scheme would be soft galaxy, maybe blue and purple

- Katia loves to talk about the history of fashion and tries to re-create the clothing from different points in history

- Her blog is clean and orginaised to a T. Everything is put into categories

- Katia posts weekly and does at least one lookbook per week

Dressing Up:

What would they be for Halloween? - Katia would be a wailing victorian bride

- With her skills in dress making her costume would be sublime

- She'd go ham on her costume, adding every single detail she can think of to make it look better

- Kinda erie how accurate it would be

Who would they cosplay as? - BOTW!Zelda or Twlight Princess!Zelda

- Again, costume making is her jam! the entire thing would be made from scratch minus a few things like the wig

- She loves the outfits Zelda wears in the games and would study the hell out of them to get the design right

Food:

What type of biscuit would they be? - Simple lemon biscuit

What type of tea would they be? - Earl Grey

What type of alcohol would they be? - Vodka

Games:

What kind of Yu-Gi-Oh! Deck do you they have? - Harpy Lady deck

- She just thinks they're neat

- And she enjoys the play style

What kind of Pokemon Team do they have? - Ghost type

What Animal Crossing animal would they be? - Rabbit

- Her house would be cosy and hidden away within the trees

- Shy personality type

Aesthetic: Silver necklaces, heavy veils, masquerade masks, silk dresses, corset ties, anxious thoughts, strained smiles, secret encounters, fights for freedom, golds, silver, sparkling jewels, touch starved.

Extra headcanon:

- Katia was not always an anxious mess, that only occurred later in life due to the pressure her parents placed on her. As a child, she was playful and witty, she was rebellous and would always find ways to esape her escorting guards. These days the only way she can 'escape' are when she's in her own quaters.

[inahazzze]

Wayfaring Stranger

⭐ Please enjoy this fluffy meet cute one shot featuring AU poet dad!Harry and a bisexual singer OFC! It’s roughly 7.7k words. ⭐

***A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while and I’m really proud of it so I would super appreciate any likes/reblogs/asks/feedback about it!! Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think :) x ***

Sav’s eyes are mostly shut against the blinding sun when she slows to a stop to catch a breath with her hands on her knees. After 45 straight minutes of running, the sound of her own heartbeat has started to compete with the electronic rock pumping through her headphones. She makes sure that she’s out of anyone’s way on the sidewalk and leans against a boarded in shop front to relieve her aching legs. She drinks deeply from her water bottle and holds one finger against her wrist in concentration. After a minute, she starts counting under her breath so that she doesn’t keep losing track of what she’s up to. Sav can usually complete this routine on autopilot, but this morning she can’t stop thinking about the text she received from Erin about two hours ago. Which is saying something that it’s taking up all her brainpower, as she hasn’t even read the text yet. She could only see the first line, which was enough to lead her brain to comprise every possible follow up to I’ve been thinking about sending this text for days. Sav wasn’t even meant to go for a run this morning, but it seemed like a better idea than walking circles around her apartment until she had to leave for the afternoon shift at work. Who texts their ex at 8am on a Friday morning?

It’s already been two hours since the text came in, so Sav decides to get it over with and finally read it before she chickens out. She pulls her phone out from her bra, cleans the screen against her leggings, and reluctantly opens the message.

I’ve been thinking about sending this text for days. I’m sorry for what I did. And for everything I said. I miss you.

It feels like her heart has been ripped out again. Right when she feels like she’s finally starting to move on and heal, Erin has to go and do this. All she can do is stare at the screen and try not to cry. Erin was the one who broke up with her two months ago and now she thinks she can just text and Sav will come running?

It’s at this point that Sav realises that there’s a man sitting only about a metre away, watching her with a slightly concerned expression. He’s wearing a grey newsboy cap and a striped white button up that’s undone to the length of a hanging cross necklace. Countless tattoos peek out from his pushed-up sleeves and his hands are adorned with large silver rings that reflect the sunlight. The man is leaning back against his chair, one hand around his phone and the other wrapped around a steaming cup of black coffee. Sav hadn’t even realised that she’d stopped next to a bustling cafe.

“Can I help you?” She asks him, only realising that she sounds a bit aggressive after she’s spoken. She hadn’t even registered that he was there, so she’s just a bit taken aback to notice that someone had been watching her.

When he smiles at her, it’s genuine and kind. “Are you alright?” He asks.

Sav immediately feels bad that she snapped at him and took her frustration about Erin out on this stranger.

“Yeah, um. Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Don’t sound too convinced, if ‘m honest,” he says.

Sav doesn’t know what to say back, so she just looks back down at her phone as if it will give her any answers on what to do. She’s thinking about what to respond to Erin when she hears the man speak again.

“Are you Aussie?”

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I get it, I’m just a random guy on the street.”

“No, it’s all good. I’m just… I’m having a shit morning,” she says.

“I only ask ‘cause my daughter’s Aussie. Well, technically.”

“Oh,” Sav says with eyebrows raised. She didn’t think he looked old enough to have any children. “What do you mean technically?”

“Her mum’s Aussie. And she lives with her mum, so she’s been picking up all sorts of things from her.” Sav doesn’t miss that he casually slips in a comment about his daughter’s mother living separately to him. “She’s only visited Australia twice, but already fancies herself a real Aussie Sheila,” he says, badly mimicking a Crocodile Dundee sounding accent for the slang term.

Sav laughs and loosens up a bit, feeling slightly better about talking to this stranger. He’s nice, and their casual friendly chat is taking her mind off of Erin – even if only just a little. He seems harmless, and isn’t asking her anything inappropriate or invasive like men on the street usually do when they try to talk to her.

“I’m sure your daughter is a real Sheila if she sounds like… that.”

“Hey!” he says, drawing out the word. “Are you saying that my incredible impression of a very standard Australian accent isn’t a realistic one?”

“No, you’re right, it’s absolutely perfect.”

“That it is,” he says, clearly trying to keep a straight face. The subtle beginnings of dimples begin to peek out the sides of his mouth from under his blushing cheeks. You smile lightly and let your tense shoulders relax a little more.

“Um… do you wanna talk about it?” He asks after a moment in a slow drawl.

Sav hesitates a moment, unsure of whether she should open up to this virtual stranger. It usually takes her a while to trust people but for some reason she finds herself answering him honestly. Gesturing at her phone, Sav releases an unnecessarily dramatic shrug. “It’s just my ex, s’all.”

“Ah,” he nods in understanding. “Recent break-up?”

“Yeah, but I’m okay,” Sav says, unsure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. He waits patiently as she gathers her thoughts. “Been a few months. This morning she texted me out of nowhere.”

“Tough one, that,” he says with sincerity. Sav’s relieved that he didn’t make a comment or seem to react in any way to the she pronoun that she let slip. London’s a progressive city, but she always tries to be careful just in case. Sometimes people make a big deal about it and start to ask invasive questions, and other times people will very clearly show their surprise or disgust or arousal. The fact that he didn’t do any of those things makes her immediately more comfortable around him.

Sav is shocked out of her thoughts when a nearby bus honks at a passing car. She meets his eyes dead on, and notices how light they are. In overcast London, most people’s eyes look a standard brown until you really look. Today is sunny enough to show off how his are tinted a mossy green, like a dull blade of grass after a really hot day. She finds herself wondering how the colour changes based on the light. She wants to see him again solely to know if the green in his eyes will become brighter, or softer, or bluer.

“Did you want a coffee?” He asks, and she notices how smooth and soothing his northern accent is.

“Oh, I…” Sav looks down at her watch to see if she even has time before work to sit and have a coffee with him. She hadn’t realised how long she’d been running and it’s later than she meant to be out for. She’s considering saying yes, even if she’ll be forced to rush into work a bit late. He’s nice, cute and funny, and maybe this is exactly what Sav needs. But on the other hand, he is a complete stranger that she met on the street. He seems completely harmless and even told her about his daughter, but she can’t help but feel weird because she doesn’t know him. They’ve only had a short conversation, after all. And to top it all off, Sav is now more confused than ever since Erin’s text this morning, so she just wants to be alone to process and think. On a better day, she might have agreed.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, by the way,” he cuts in to her thoughts.

“I do, I just really ought to be getting home,” she says with her best attempt at a genuine smile. She tries to convey her thoughts to him but he breaks their eye contact.

“No worries, have a wonderful day, then,” he says with a finality that Sav doesn’t like. His voice isn’t cold, but it’s definitely more distant and polite than a minute before.

“You too,” Sav says as she starts to walk away.

“Wait,” she hears and spins around. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, right. It’s Sav.” She hadn’t even realised that they hadn’t introduced themselves.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sav. I’m Harry.” His warm smile returns for the briefest moment.

“Have a good one, Harry.”

Even though a part of her regrets rejecting his offer of coffee, Sav leaves feeling like her Friday morning has already drastically improved.

~

TWO WEEKS LATER

The Thursday afternoon set at the Barwon Lounge Club is never the most exciting one, but Sav still feels grateful that there are a handful of people here to listen to her music. She often prefers days like this to the busier weekend shows, even though she doesn’t get as many tips, because at least some people listen to her when it’s not so busy. It’s not that she blames people for talking over her - they came here to eat, drink and have music in the background. They didn’t come here specifically to see her. She accepted that a long time ago and considers it a part of the job. At least she can still do what she loves, unlike her bartending job where she pours beer for grumpy old men for hours.

It’s just Sav and her guitar on the tiny stage in the corner of the dining room, playing to a large open space filled with tables and couches. She plays Thursdays to Sundays, doing an alternating set of all the slow, low-key songs she knows. Her boss likes to remind her regularly how it’s most important that she blend into the background. She’s not there to entertain, but to fill silence.

She’s almost halfway through her standard set when she’s pulled out of her trance. Her eyes go wide in surprise when she sees Harry enter from across the room. Harry, who she’d met almost two weeks ago and has thought about countless times since. She doesn’t normally talk to strangers on the street and she definitely doesn’t usually think about them after their interaction. There was just something about him - he stuck in her head like a catchy song on the radio.

She’s frozen in place, forgetting to immediately transition to the next song. A few people eating lunch look over towards her, because nothing is as noticeable as absolute silence. When Harry meets Sav’s eyes, he breaks out into a wide smile. He’s wearing loose blue jeans and a black t-shirt, with his hair held back in the same newsboy cap she’d seen him wear on the day they met. He moves closer towards the stage to find a table to sit at, and once he’s closer Sav can see that he’s not alone. He’s holding the hand of a young girl, maybe four or five years old, with beautiful dark olive skin and rich chocolate curls atop her head. She’s hiding behind a chair that’s taller than her and looking up at her father with a furrowed brow, communicating something to him. He sighs and smiles at her, bending down on his knees to speak softly to her face-to-face. Sav can’t hear what he’s saying but notices the child nodding her head before pushing her curls into her father’s chest. Harry wraps his arms tightly around his daughter and peppers her with multiple quick kisses to her cheek.

At this point, Sav’s boss peeks his head around the corner and raises his eyebrows at her. She knows that he’ll tell her off if she doesn’t restart soon, so she gathers herself with a deep breath and tries not to think about Harry now being here. She clears her throat and spontaneously decides to play a song that she wasn’t planning on doing today. Eva Cassidy’s Wayfaring Stranger is one of her favourites, plus it’s one of her most polished songs vocally. It wasn’t necessarily for Harry, but it was a little bit because of him. When she sang the song in a set last week, she was thinking about him as her wayfaring stranger, who she’d probably never see again. In a city as big as London, it didn’t seem all that likely. The lyrics of the song aren’t at all reminiscent of their first run-in a few weeks ago, but for some reason the song is now connected to him. It was a passing thought that has been growing in her mind like a vine since.

As she gets into the song, Sav closes her eyes and forgets she has an audience. That often happens when she sings her favourite songs; the ones she knows like the back of her hand and doesn’t need to think about while singing them. It takes her somewhere that she can’t explain, and the music flows through her as if it’s yearning to be heard of its own accord. When she sings, she goes to a place that she can’t get to while doing anything else. It’s a place somewhere outside of herself – somewhere peaceful and powerful all at the same time. When she sings, she feels free and like the truest version of herself.

As the song comes to a close, she slowly opens her eyes to a smattering of applause that brings her back into the real world. The most enthusiastic applause is coming from Harry and his daughter, which makes her smile. It’s the most applause she’s gotten by far today, and it makes all the difference in the world. Sav’s boss peeks his head back into her view and holds up one outstretched hand at her to signal that she has a 5 minute-break now. She usually gets one roughly halfway through her set so that she can go to the bathroom, or get some fresh air. Sav nods at her boss as she places her guitar into its stand and reaches for her water bottle with the other hand.

Glancing back up, she notices that Harry’s staring at her with a focused intensity. Even as his daughter bounces up and down in her seat and tugs at his sleeve, he’s watching Sav with a look she didn’t see when they first met. The look is strangely intimate and vulnerable, and she feels like in this moment he can see straight through her. See everything that she is, has been, and wants to be. She doesn’t know what look she’s giving back to him, but she knows that she certainly wouldn’t say no if he asked her to have coffee with him again.

Harry gets up from his seat and holds his daughter’s hand securely as he helps her jump out of the chair like it’s a game. They start walking towards Sav, leaving their things at the table because it’s that kind of venue.

“That was amazing!” The young girl says enthusiastically, drawing out the word amazing for as long as she can hold her breath.

Sav smiles widely at the bouncing child. “Thank you very much young lady. What’s your name?”

She pokes Harry’s leg incessantly. “Daddy, she sounds like Mummy.”

“That’s right, sweets. She’s Australian too,” he says to her in a gentle voice.

“Ooh!” She says while jumping up and down. “What’s your favourite animal?”

Sav giggles a little and Harry emits something in between a sigh and a laugh. “Love, the nice woman asked you what your name is, will you tell her?”

“I’m Asha,” she sounds out proudly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Asha, I’m Sav. And my favourite animal is definitely dogs.”

Harry shows off his dimples when she responds to his daughter with ease. She clearly knows how to speak to children without talking down to them, and this fact warms Harry’s heart even more than her singing did.

“I love dogs.” Asha beams. “My favourite animals are elephants.” She says the word like ewephants, and Sav has to restrain herself from vocalising how cute the gorgeous girl in front of her is.

“I bet they’re like this big,” Asha continues, stretching her arms to her sides as far as they’ll go and throwing her head back.

Harry and Sav chuckle and share a quick look of adoration for the child.

“Would you believe that they’re even bigger than that!” He says to her, eliciting a gasp.

“Even bigger than-“ She nudges Harry’s arms up until he plays along and stretches his arms out to his sides too. “-That?” He nods seriously and she drops her jaw open in dramatic shock. They all giggle, and Sav is reminded of why she loves children.

“By the way, Asha’s right.” Harry says after a moment. “That was really incredible, Sav.”

“You remember my name,” she reflexively voices her first thought.

“Course I do,” he says with a furrowed brow. She likes how he displays his emotions clearly on his face. “Couldn’t forget you,” he says a little softer.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Asha says with a masterful pout.

“I’m gonna go order now for you, sweets. Chicken fingers?” He asks her with raised eyebrows, clearly unsurprised by the animated response he gets from his daughter.

“I need to go finish my set anyway,” Sav tells him, shifting a bit to pick up her guitar.

“I’ll see you again after, yeah?” He says. She nods, and he takes Asha back to their table.

For the rest of her set, Sav has to force herself to not keep staring at Harry. He’s also trying to avoid looking over at her too much, but is grateful that he can always hear her voice even if he can’t watch her. He cuts up his daughter’s food and asks her about this morning’s lessons at school, but has one ear trained on Sav’s music all the while. He’s entranced by her voice, even just her presence, and wants to take up this opportunity to make sure that he gets to see her again.

At the end of her set, she slowly packs up her things and thinks about whether she should go over to speak to Harry again or see if he comes to her. Luckily, he waves her over before she loses her nerve and heads home.

“Again, that was amazing,” he says as soon as she walks up. He stands and takes a step away from the table, where Asha is engrossed in colouring an ocean landscape with crayons.

“Thanks,” she says, not knowing what else to say.

“Did you- um. Did you want to grab coffee?” Harry asks.

“Now?”

“No, uh. I’ve got Asha today, so it’ll have to be another time. What are you doing tomorrow? Oh wait- you didn’t even say yes yet, did you-”

“I’d love to get coffee with you, Harry,” Sav cuts into his anxious rambling with a smile. “I’ve got another set here tomorrow though, then I bartend afterwards, so I can’t in the day.” His face begins to drop until she quickly clarifies what she was insinuating. “But I’m not working the night shift.”

She’s rewarded with the brightest smile he’s shown her yet. “Can I- I know we don’t really know each other, but I’d love for that to change. Can I make you dinner?”

A smile creeps on to Sav’s face. “It’s a date.”

Harry heaves an audible sigh of relief and puts his hands into his pockets. “It’s supposed to be a nice evening tomorrow night, so how do you feel about a picnic in the park?” He looks down and blushes. “I’d really like to cook for you.”

“That sounds really lovely,” She replies softly, silently relieved that he doesn’t want to take her to a fancy restaurant. She never feels like she belongs in really upscale places and always manages to embarrass herself somehow.

“It’s a date,” he repeats her phrasing with a broad grin. She can’t believe this is happening. She’s not just going on a date – she’s going on one with a man she’s been thinking about for weeks but thought she’d never see again.

They agree to meet at a park nearby at 6pm the next evening, and Harry gives her his phone number in case she’s running late from work or has any issues finding him. He then needs to take Asha home for a nap, so he gives her one last bright smile before saying goodbye and leaving.

Sav makes her way to the bathroom to hide from her boss and jumps up and down with giddy, childlike joy at what just happened. She’s going on a date with a cute boy and she couldn’t be happier. She knows that there’s no guarantee for how it will go, but something inside of her says that it will go well. She just has a good feeling about it. And about him.

She sits down on the closed toilet seat, thinking about how long it’s been since she’s been on a date. That’s when she remembers that she never responded to Erin’s text from two weeks ago. She kept putting it off but never knew what to say, so she just said nothing.

Sav takes out her phone and decides that seeing Harry again was a sign. She texts Erin one last time, and it feels so good.

I’m moving on, Erin. And so should you.

~

There’s a larger audience for Sav’s set the next day, but it feels like something’s missing without Harry in the audience. After she saw him again yesterday, he became all she could think about. She felt a bit silly about it as she’d only met him twice, but truthfully she was just relieved that she was no longer thinking about Erin. She replayed all their interactions, thought about his smile and his kind eyes, and how he looked at her when he watched her sing. She thought about his gorgeous daughter and how he looked like such a good dad even though he must’ve had her at a fairly young age. She thought about how he remembered her name and said that he could never forget her, and how excited he looked when she agreed to go out with him.

It’s lucky that Sav knows the music of her set so well, because she’s so distracted thinking about the date that she’s mostly running on autopilot. Her brain is so jam-packed with thoughts about tonight’s date that she almost misses Harry in the back of the room, watching her set.

“How long have you been here?” She asks when she’s finished and able to approach him.

“Not that long. Didn’t know when you started so I thought I’d try a bit earlier than I was here yesterday.”

She’s absolutely dumbfounded that he’s standing before her. “You came back.”

“I did.” He’s blushing a little. “I wanted to hear you sing again.”

“Oh,” she lets out in a heavy breath. “That’s… no one’s ever done something like that before.”

“Really?” She thinks he might be sarcastic at first, but he’s genuinely surprised. “Your voice is… it blew me away. Plus, I like you,” he says, his cheeks reddening even more.

He’s laying it on thick and Sav doesn’t know how to react. No one has ever been this forthcoming and complimentary to her before. She opens her mouth to respond but can’t think of a single thing to say.

“I hope this is okay- me coming back. It’s only just occurring to me that it might look a little creepy,” he says, holding his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb.

“No, it’s not creepy,” she says quickly to ease his mind. Her mind is still spinning that he just said plus, I like you. He added it on so casually. “Um. Tonight- do you still want to…?”

“Yeah, course I still want to go out with you tonight, that very much has not changed – uh, has it for you?” A dash of panic flickers over his previously confident expression.

“I still want to,” she assures him.

“Plus, I realised that I forgot to ask you – do you have any allergies or food preferences?” He says, slightly startled when Sav laughs at him instead of responding.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, that’s just – you’re really thoughtful. It’s a good laugh, I promise.” He smiles sheepishly, and the expression shows off just how much his daughter looks like him. “I’m vegetarian, actually. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s great, I’m glad I checked!” His enthusiasm also mirrors his daughter’s, even though he’s obviously a fully-grown man. “Alright then!” He claps his hands a little too loudly, and a few patrons look at them. Sav pretends that she doesn’t see her boss watching them from behind the bar.

“I should really be getting back to work.” She says, unsure of how to say goodbye when they’re meeting again in a few hours.

“Course, just – should I pick you up? Want to be a perfect gentleman,” he says with a cheeky smirk and a comical gesture as if he’s tipping his hat at her. “But we can meet there if you’d rather.”

Sav blinks up at him in disbelief. He’s really thought of everything, and impressed her more than she thought a man could at this point in her life, and the date hasn’t even started yet.

“Meeting there is good,” she manages to say. “Six still fine?” That gives her enough time to get ready after work and still enjoy a few good hours of sunlight with Harry in the park. She’s more excited than she’s been for something in a long time, and her ex is out of her mind completely for the first time since their split. It couldn’t be better.

“Perfect.”

~

Even though Sav had thought about it all day, she hadn’t managed to decide on what to wear to the date by the time she got back to her apartment. She didn’t have time to dawdle, but still managed to try on eight outfits before settling on skinny jeans and a flowery blouse. She wanted to strike a delicate balance between casual and dressed up to look good on her first date in a while. Even though Harry’s already seen her today, Sav feels pressure to leave a positive first impression tonight.

She doesn’t live too far from the park they’d arranged to meet at, so she decides to walk the half hour to ease her nerves. Fingers dancing in her pockets to let out some anxious energy, her mind fills with every possible scenario of how the date might go. She’s excited but worried that she’ll somehow ruin it or do something to scare Harry away. It’s a good thing she arrives when she does, because her worries start to spiral and lead her to the assumption that the date’s going to go wrong for one reason or another. She enters the park a few minutes early to find Harry standing next to a small fountain in the centre of the green. He’s doing something on his phone but puts it away as soon as he sees her.

“You look beautiful,” He says with a genuine smile once she’s within hearing distance. She mumbles a thank you and stumbles over her words until she tells him that he looks nice as well. She has a feeling that he’d look nice no matter what he wore, but finds him particularly attractive tonight. He’s changed his outfit from earlier today too, and is now wearing tight-fitted black trousers with a slightly unbuttoned silken white blouse. The shirt is a bit see-through, so she can tell that he’s inked much more than she thought. She hadn’t previously noticed what look like two birds on his chest, and all she wants to do is brush his silken shirt aside so that she can properly admire them. A small tuft of chest hair peeks out at her from between a few parted buttons, and she has to tear her mind away from thinking too much about what he’d look like without any buttons done up.

“Great, shall we find somewhere to sit then?” He asks, reaching down to pick up a picnic basket and blanket that Sav hadn’t noticed. As he leans down, she’s suddenly extremely grateful to whoever perfectly tailored his trousers. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, and desperately wills her mind and body to behave.

“Over by that tree looks nice, don’t you think?” He suggests and begins to lead them through the park. He sets up the blanket in an unoccupied shaded area and offers her the first choice of seating.

“I cut up some fruit and made some vegetarian quiche for us,” he says. “Hope that’s alright.”

She raises her eyebrows, already impressed by the effort he’s put into their evening. “Quiche? Damn, sounds fancy.”

“What, have you never had it before?” He’s clearly shocked.

“Should I have?”

“Well I guess there’s a first time for everything,” bringing out the smirk she’d seen glimpses of before. Harry serves her a piece of quiche on a plastic plate and leaves a small platter of fruit in between for them to pick at. She takes a bite, only a little self-conscious that he’s watching her intently.

“So?”

“It’s… terrible. Inedible. I think I’m getting food poisoning, actually.”

His face drops for only the slightest moment before he rolls his eyes and bites his bottom lip with a smile. He tries to act annoyed but Sav can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. “Very funny.”

“I think you might have to take me to the hospital, now that I think of it.” Sav presses both arms across her stomach in a dramatic gesture and almost loses her composure in the process.

“Oh, stop it,” he laughs, trying to swat at her folded arms as she pulls away giggling.

When their laugher dies down, she takes another bite of the quiche and reassures him. “Being serious, though? It’s delicious. Thank you for making it, it’s really sweet of you.”

Harry looks down at his lap and blushes, clearly pleased that his effort has paid off with both banter and a genuine compliment. As they eat, Sav asks Harry about Asha and mentions how sweet and well mannered she was yesterday. He brightens up immediately at the sound of her name and Sav feels her heart flutter in her chest. He tells her about how his daughter is joyous, funny, loveable, cheeky and thoughtful.

He tells her a story about one time that Asha broke out into Man, I Feel Like A Woman at the top of her lungs in a supermarket even though she didn’t know any words beside the title line. This somehow morphs into Harry telling her another story about how Asha believed she could speak Italian by merely putting on an imitation of the accent when they travelled to Italy for a holiday last summer.

“Sounds like you already have plenty of material to embarrass her with when she’s older,” Sav says, grinning ear to ear.

“Gotta collect ‘em early, I hear,” he says. “To blackmail her as a teenager.” They both devolve into a fit of giggles and exchange blushing smiles back at the other. A few moments of comfortable silence pass with mouths full of watermelon and berries before Harry speaks with a completely different tone of voice.

“You know…” He’s a little hesitant and takes his time. “Sometimes I think that Asha’s the one true love of my life.” Sav just about melts.

Before long, their natural rapport eases her completely into Harry’s company. She unconsciously leans against the scratchy picnic blanket with one wrist and gives Harry her full, undivided attention. He asks her about how she started working at the Barwon Lounge Club, and compliments her again on her voice and guitar skills. She doesn’t know how to react to the repeated compliment and instead changes the subject to ask how he found himself in her workplace with his daughter on a weekday afternoon.

“So, were you stalking me or something?” Sav playfully asks, trying her hand at initiating some light flirtation.

He laughs but answers seriously. “Just a happy accident, m’afraid.”

“Happy indeed,” Sav says, looking down at her empty plate. She thinks about how this is going so much better than she’d even let herself hope.

“She’s usually in reception at that time on a Thursday, but I had to take her for a dentist appointment next door. And then she was suddenly hungry, and I wanted to hear where the beautiful voice was coming from.”

She wants to tell him off again for his sneaky compliment but lets it slide because she’s secretly enjoying it. Then she realises that he’d mentioned a word she’s unfamiliar with. “Sorry, what’s reception?”

“Oh, it’s like kindergarten, or kindy I think it’s called in Australia, right?”

“Course, I should’a guessed that.” She says. “Yeah, it’s kindy. We basically call everything a shortened nickname of the actual word.”

“Yeah, I’ve certainly noticed that. Asha likes to pick up some of them that her mum says, like ‘footy’ instead of football, and she’s started asking for a ‘biccy’ when she wants a biscuit.”

Sav laughs. “Now that’s someone who speaks my language.”

“It’s pretty cute, I’ll admit,” he says with a grin.

“I’ve been in London long enough that I should really know all the lingo by now, but I keep finding that I obviously know nothing.”

“How long’ve you been here?” He asks.

“Two years. Was living in Scotland for a few years before that, though.”

He whistles in response as if he’s impressed. “I love a worldly woman,” he says, and somehow makes it sound sweet instead of weird or creepy.

They spend the next hour talking about the places they’ve lived and travelled, and all of the places that they want to go to next. Sav tells Harry about how she hiked through Spain and stayed in strangers’ homes each night before continuing on. Harry tells her about the time that he got drunk in France and woke up in Belgium. They talk about how much they both love Japan and how they’d both love to do a coast-to-coast road trip of the US. They each manage to eat two pieces of quiche and a sizable amount of fruit while they chat. He’s so enamoured by her presence that he almost misses her pre-emptively, even though the date hasn’t ended.

“Wait,” Sav says suddenly. “I don’t even know what you do, how have I not asked you that yet?”

“Oh, well, I’m a writer.”

“What kind?” She’s not surprised – he seems like the type.

“I write poetry,” he says with a blush. “’And I teach at a college a few days a week.” Sav is about to respond when he continues. “’Ve got a few poetry collections out.”

“Harry!” She says, lightly hitting the side of his arm. “That’s amazing!” His cheeks redden even more but she can tell that he’s pleased by her reaction. “Would you… could you read some of your poems to me?”

He thinks on this request for a moment before coming up with an idea. “I will if you’ll sing to me again.”

“What? Now?” She’s sure it’s a joke, but he looks deadly serious.

“One sec, I’ll be right back.” Harry pushes himself up hurriedly, running back towards the street and leaving Sav confused and unsure of what to do or think. What’s he up to?

A few minutes later, he comes back in sight with a large case slung over his shoulder. He sits down and opens it to remove an old wooden acoustic guitar. There are a few handwritten notes and stickers along the body, including a haphazardly stuck-on rainbow and the words Black Lives Matter.

“Where did that come from?” Sav asks, taken aback. He only smirks at her, placing the guitar in his lap and making sure it’s in tune.

“Would it make you feel better if I sang with you?”

“You can sing?”

“I… yeah.”

Sav agrees only because she wants to hear what his voice sounds like. “You’ve got a deal.” She reaches out for his hand to shake on it, mostly as an excuse to touch him. He’s very warm to the touch, and his skin is soft as butter. Only his fingertips are rough against her skin, and their hands feel instantly comfortable and right together.

He clears his throat and regretfully draws his hand away from hers and instead towards the resting guitar. “Can we do a Fleetwood Mac song?” He asks, already knowing that she’s familiar as he’d heard her play three of their songs during her set at work. He thinks on it for a moment and she waits patiently. “Do you know the lyrics to Gold Dust Woman?”

“Course I do,” she says. “Who do you think I am?” He chuckles and holds his hands up in front of him as if to plead his innocence. She takes a sip from her water bottle and is suddenly nervous. It was one thing when she was doing her job and on a stage – it was only a small stage, but still. This is intimate and personal.

Harry begins to play, and Sav quickly looks around them to check that there’s no one too close by. There are two or three lingering passers-by who may be able to hear but none of them seem to care about Harry’s playing. One has headphones in and the other two are distracted on their phones. It’s nerve-wracking to unexpectedly sing in a public park, on a first date no less, but Sav also finds it kind of exhilarating.

She misses her initial cue because she’s so nervous, so Harry loops the intro chords until she’s ready. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the pleasantly hypnotising lyrics and music. Harry lets her get comfortable in the song and joins for the harmony in the chorus. And Sav isn’t ready.

His voice is like soft leather, or dark chocolate melting on your tongue. It’s like the feeling of someone’s hands playing with your hair, right at the moment when it sends tingles down your spine. It’s like dripping silver, or a feather on skin, or a fresh breath of wintry air after a long summer.

She stutters to a stop in shock but he continues, and she’s grateful because all she wants to do is listen to him endlessly. She can see his hesitation and his reddened ears, so she jumps back into the song as soon as she can gather herself together. She leaves him to tackle the second verse alone as she sung the first, and she’s entranced by how beautiful it is. She’s truly enamoured with his voice and this date and… him.

When they finish, they share a long look before Sav suddenly speaks. “Um, excuse me?”

“What?” He’s surprised by her slightly aggressive tone after what just happened.

“You were complimenting my voice when you can sing like that?”

“Well thanks, but I’m nowhere near as good as you-“

“You’re delusional then.” She puts on an exaggerated pout. “You’re next-level good. I bet you’re one of those people that’s just naturally great at everything.” She picks up her water bottle again and hides behind it by taking a long sip.

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head. “I’m not good at asking you out for another date.” Sav almost chokes on the water. “I’ve been meaning to for a little while and haven’t had the guts.”

She’s now fighting a huge smile, not wanting to give away just how much she wants to squeal in delight at the shameless flirting.

“Smooth,” she says, trying to play it as cool as she can. “But you haven’t held up your part of the bargain yet.” He scrunches up his eyebrows before remembering that he agreed to read some of his poetry in exchange for the song.

“I better get to it then,” he says with a smirk and rummages through his backpack. He pulls out a very worn brown leather notebook, held closed by two long strings that have been wrapped loosely around the book and tucked into itself. It’s covered in what Sav assumes is his own doodling and graffiti – it doesn’t look like the kind drawn by a young child Asha’s age. The words one and only are scribbled carelessly along most of the spine.

Harry takes a minute to decide which poem to share with Sav. He eventually decides on one and she curls her knees into her body, getting comfortable to give Harry her full attention as he reads. He takes a deep breath and slips right back into the gossamer tone of his singing voice to read his poetry.

“This one’s called Woman,” he mumbles, and then begins.

I’m selfish, I know. but I don’t ever want to see

you with him.

I’m selfish, I know. I told you but I know

you’ll never listen.

I hope you can see the shape that I’m in, while he’s touching

your skin.

he’s right where I should-        (where I should be)

but you’re making me bleed. woman

I’m tempted, you know. apologies

are never going to fix this.

I’m empty, I know.

promises are broken like the stitches

I hope you can see the shape I’ve been in. while he’s touching

your skin

this thing upon me, it howls

like a beast.

you flower you feast. woman

When he finishes, something new and palpable hangs between them. It’s not that anything has changed – but an unspoken bond settles into place between them. They’ve shared parts of each other that are unreachable through mere conversation and rarely exchanged on a first date. Either could comfortably say that it’s the best first date they’ve ever had, and possibly would ever have.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Sav whispers. It seems appropriate to only whisper after that. She looks into his light green eyes, trying to convey to him how his poem made her feel. How she can’t quite put it into words but she can put it into feelings. He stares back at her just as intensely, sensing her warmth and gratitude and understanding.

“So would you like to go on a second date with me, then?” Harry says, resting his palm on the picnic blanket close to her knee. He leans his body forward and she unconsciously mirrors him.

“I’d like that,” Sav breathes out. She’s staring at his lips, and wondering how they’re naturally almost the colour of raspberries. She’s slowly leaning towards him with quickening breath, unable to stop the magnetising pull of her body to his. He’s leaning into her too, and moves his hand even closer until he brushes her knee with the back of his thumb. Her whole body erupts in tingles at the unexpected touch – and she’s certain that her goosebumps are visible – but she doesn’t dare look away from him. Harry licks his lips under her gaze and they’re left parted and slightly glistening. She’s now close enough to see every line, pore, and stubble hair on his face, and she wishes she could study him from this distance for hours. Maybe she’ll get to one day, but for now, there’s only one thing on her mind.  

The moment their mouths meet, they seem to melt into each other entirely. She’s immediately overwhelmed with how he tastes sweet like watermelon along with something musky and deep that she can’t describe. He can’t believe how soft she feels against his lips, like he’s brushing up against pure silk. He moves his hand up to rest against her cheek, and caresses his pinky finger against the sensitive underside of her jawbone. She lets out a light moan at the feeling, widening her lips to allow Harry to deepen the kiss. She feels entirely lost in her senses and the feeling of him everywhere.

Their tongues touch and set both Sav and Harry’s skin alight. They both forget where they are and become utterly lost in one another. He’s dizzy with her scent of jasmine and taste of berries, and wishes he could bottle it up and take it with him everywhere. He’s never felt so worked up from just a kiss, no less a first kiss – not to mention they’re in public. It’s like he can feel every nerve ending screaming out for her.

She’s so desperate to feel him as close as can be that she finds herself cupping his cheeks as well, pressing her mouth into him passionately. It’s definitely too lewd for a public park, but neither of them care anymore. She can feel the hard muscles of his jaw flex under her palms and her back arches a bit at the thought of everywhere she wants him to kiss her. She starts emitting light moans that only he can hear, and she can feel the vibration of a growl wanting to form in the back of his throat.

Eventually, they break apart to come up for air, but still remain almost touching. They’re both breathless and eyeing the other with heavy lids that suggest their arousal. Harry takes in her state and is pleased that she’s just as worked up as him.

He smirks, showing off his dimples. “Can the second date be now?”

[katzuyas]

read on ao3

"This one looks nice," Phichit says from where he's sprawled over Chris' back and looking over his shoulder at the intricate picture of a sea glass vase Chris has pulled up on his laptop.

"It's green," Chris replies as if that explains everything, and skips to the next one.

"So what? It's perfect! Go back," Phichit tells him and Chris' finger hits the back button with a click. The green vase is full screen again and Phichit gives a content hum. "Look at it. So pretty."

"They have nothing green in their flat, though. It's going to stand out too much," Chris says and skips back a few times to a blue vase they saw earlier. "Now, this one? That's perfect. And it matches Victor's eyes."

"But that will just blend in and become invisible," Phichit argues. "It's better to have some pop of colour to keep the life exciting, don't you think?"

He pokes Chris' cheek with a finger.

Trophée de France has just come to an end with a gold around Chris' neck and a bronze on Phichit, and they have found themselves locked in Chris' hotel room two hours before the banquet, desperately searching for a housewarming present for their best friends who are throwing a party in about a week – a day after the Rostelecom Cup. Time is of the essence, but as far as presents go it's obligatory that best friends need to give the best ones – that's just common sense.

It's also the source of their dilemma.

"Their apartment is in shades of white, light blue and gray," Chris insists, turning his head to Phichit. "It'd be just as bad as wanting to give them a red one. It'll clash with everything, and Victor will put it in the basement, and we'll have wasted the money and effort on it."

"Are you insinuating I have no sense of style?" Phichit asks. He lifts off Chris' back and looks down at him through narrowed eyes. "That I can't pick a gift both useful and pretty for my best friend's housewarming party?"

"You said it, not me," Chris says as he turns back to the screen. It's not really an disagreement against what Phichit has said, which has Phichit's dark eyes only darken more in the anger that begins to simmer in his veins. "But look, Yuuri's favourite colour is blue, isn't it? It'd be nicer to get it in blue."

"Just because he likes blue doesn't mean he wants to have everything in blue. Oh my god, are you a child?" Phichit gives an annoyed huff. He gets off the bed, walks around it and takes his bag of toiletries out of his suitcase just to have something to do with the nasty energy suddenly coursing through his body. "There is such a thing as knowing when too much is too much, you know. Going matchy matchy isn't always a good thing."

"So, according to you, a green vase in a predominantly gray, white and blue-toned space isn't too much?"

Chris lifts an eyebrow at Phichit, ridiculously calm and collected, as if he knows he is right and he's only waiting for Phichit to blow up. It only serves to have Phichit's jaw clench to hold back a snarky response. He doesn't want to argue, he doesn't want to–

"Darling, we really need to talk about your taste," Chris adds, and that is the last straw.

Phichit rears his head fast and hard, like a horse that's about to trample up a body into a bloody mess.

"Yeah, we clearly do, because I'm dating you," he spits. "What would I know about taste?"

Chris looks stricken for one precious second, during which Phichit bathes in momentary triumph. The feeling goes away as soon as Chris' face darkens, though. He sits up on the bed with a scowl that means business, and for a brief second Phichit regrets his words. But as soon as Chris opens his mouth again, all thoughts of regret fly out of Phichit's head.

"Are we resorting to insults now?" Chris asks, poised calm that is a front and a lie, and they both know it.

"You started it," Phichit bites back.

"I started it?" Chris asks, incredulous. "You called me a child!"

"And you said I have no sense of style!" Phichit points out, jabbing a finger in Chris' general direction. "Or taste! How is that not starting it?"

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it," Chris defends. "Don't put meaning behind my words that I didn't put there myself."

"Well, that's how I heard it," Phichit says and it comes out far more aggressive than he means.

Chris' mouth sets in a firm line and Phichit can clearly see the moment his teeth bite down on the words he wants to speak, because a muscle jumps in Chris' jaw in a manner that is oddly endearing, and doubly as hot. The air around them gets warmer, but it isn't just warmth – it's passion, and fire, and heat of attraction that Phichit can't deny he feels when he looks at Chris' stone-hard anger.

"Just because you think you heard me say something, doesn't mean I actually said it," Chris says then, voice dripping deadly quiet.

He's one of those people who go cold in their rage instead of becoming the centre of the solar flare outbursts, like Phichit himself is prone to. And it shows. It shows, because the calm on Chris' face awakens something in Phichit, brings his blood to a boil.

"I don't think I heard you, I did hear you. Because you said it! Don't deny it now!"

"Well I didn't mean it how you understood it, then," Chris presses once again. "And you'd know it, if you only thought about it before speaking."

There's a thrum in Phichit's veins, a buzz under his skin. He needs to move, spend this weird energy in a healthy way, or he'll do something he's going to regret. Like punch a wall and wear a cast for the unforeseeable future, or worse – kick the bed and sprain his toes or ankle or both, and fuck up his skating for the next weeks, which were crucial if he wanted to get to the Grand Prix Final.

Without thinking much more, he snaps into action and walks away from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Chris scrambles off the bed to follow him and Phichit turns only to tell him that he can't be here anymore if he wants to be whole and keep skating, but all words freeze on his tongue when he meets Chris' gaze.

Green isn't usually a very cold colour, but when Phichit looks into Chris' eyes then, it might as well be. He looks... he looks...

Phichit takes a breath, but the words slip out of his mouth before he can even think about it.

"Fuck, you look so hot when I'm angry at you."

Chris doesn't look surprised at it at all, which makes Phichit think he must have been thinking something similar, but he can't really focus on Chris' motivations anymore. The way Chris' curls sweep across his forehead... his arms uncross from his chest showing off his strong shoulders and biceps... his jaw muscles move when he forcibly unclenches his teeth... Phichit's mind is in the gutter and falls, falls hard to the very bottom of it without any chance of salvation.

Chris walks up to him with quick decisive steps and grabs the back of Phichit's head none too gently to bring his face up. His eyes are still glazed with ice and it is a thrill that Phichit never expected to feel.

"We're going to talk about this later," Chris says in a tone that allows for no arguments.

Phichit doesn't reply, not that would if he could, the lexicon of his vocabulary narrows down to 'fuck', 'he's hot', 'ah shit', and 'I want him' and it's all that seems to be running through his mind then and there. With his tongue tied, he can't say much, but words (or the lack thereof) have never stopped Phichit Chulanont from doing what he wanted, and so he does it once more – he lifts onto the tips of his toes and presses his mouth hard against Chris', who doesn't need to be invited twice and drags him back to the bed.

There's nothing gentle about it: they tear the clothes off each other, pull on collars and waistbands, bite into skin where the lips miss. Phichit hears his shirt rip somewhere along the hem when Chris tugs on it to pull him into another kiss, but he can't care. His own finger catches in a zipper of Chris' jeans and he gives a little hiss that Chris swallows with his mouth firmly pressed to Phichit's.

They're tired from skating, yes, a burn of overworked muscles is a constant reminder with every single move they make, but the heat that crawls over their skin is more pressing, more insistent, and when they give into it, it's not difficult to forget about the other aches of their body and give into one – the ache of being joined into one.

On all fours, Phichit pants into the sheets while Chris' teeth mark the back of his neck and down his shoulders. The heavy press of the erection that is so close to being in him, but still not there is driving him mad.

"Fuck me already," Phichit nearly growls. He needs it. The release, the outlet for the energy that has built up in his body.

He bucks against Chris and the dark growl he gets in return sets him on fire all over again. Chris's arm slides around his hips and the thick girth rubs between his ass cheeks, but it's only more of the same teasing.

"Chris–" Phichit warns, but his voice is gone with a gasp when Chris' hand grips his length and squeezes.

Stars burst along Phichit's vision, but the heavy heat that pulses between his legs keeps him from drifting into space. He's grounded by the steady jerking of Chris' wrist, yet it's not enough. He bites his lip, groaning in frustration at the back of his throat.

"Fuck me," he grits out. He tries to buck into Chris' dick again, but Chris' free hand bites into his hip so hard, Phichit is sure it'll bruise. Good. "Chris, you fucking cocktease, if you don't fuck me this instant I'm getting dressed and leaving, and you can die of blueballs for all I care."

He throws a glare over his shoulder, but it helps him none. Chris looks down at him with a dark look in his eyes that are no less cold than they were before.

"At least they'd be blue, not green," he says.

Phichit forgets to breathe when he registers that Christophe Giacometti is talking about a fucking vase while his dick is rubbing against Phichit's balls, and he gives an angry snarl. He shifts with the intension of getting up, but Chris' big hand pushes between his shoulder blades and Phichit lands with his face in the sheets instead. He glares up at Chris, who braces his hand next to Phichit's head after tangling his fingers in his hair. The pull of it hurts Phichit's neck, but he says nothing about it, because Chris thrusts his hips and his dick slips between Phichit's thighs.

It's a little raw, a bit uncomfortable, since there is nothing to lessen the friction of skin on skin, but it's still feels good. Too good to consider the consequences.

"Squeeze your legs, damnit," Chris pants above him, and Phichit follows the order – not because he was told to, but because Chris' cold mask breaks when he clenches his thighs around his dick. "Merde..."

Merde is right, Phichit thinks while Chris' dick rubs against his balls with each thrust. Chris' other hand that stilled on Phichit's own dick before now tightens again and the warmth and pressure feel heavenly along with the hard ramming of Chris' hips. Phichit's close to release, he can feel the telling warmth that grows in his abdomen, but Chris' groans grow in volume too, so he's sure he isn't far off himself.

It's now or never, he thinks, when a brilliant idea comes to his mind.

"Whoever comes first loses," he challenges between moans.

Chris' eyes glean over for a brief second, and then he bites: "Fine."

With even more vigour, Chris rams into Phichit while his hand begins to work his dick once more, and it feels like too much, too soon, like he's going to lose for sure, but Phichit clenches his teeth and his ass, and the muscles in highs thighs bunch up into a hardness that makes Chris mewl. He bows over Phichit and comes with a cry that he muffles by biting into Phichit's shoulder.

Phichit yelps, but it rolls into a moan when Chris' hand unconsciously squeezes his dick, and it sends him over the edge as well.

They slump together afterwards, spent and panting, but they refuse to look at each other. Sex between them was never awkward, not even when they were drunk enough to fumble with zippers and miss kisses by a mile. Now, however, it's more than awkward; it's tense and heavy and Phichit hates it.

"Let's take the blue one," he says finally when the quiet begins to chill his skin enough to shiver.

Chris huffs out a breath, which sounds like it contains the remainder of his resistance.

"No, it's fine," Chris says. "I lost, so we'll get the green one."

Phichit turns to look at him, but Chris is avoiding his gaze. He's facing the ceiling while his chest heaves heavy breaths, still. The fight drains out of Phichit's bones along with the last warmth of the orgasm, and he sighs before sitting up on one elbow. He gently reaches for Chris' cheek

"I'm sorry I said all of that," he says. "I just... I wanted the green one because it reminded me of your eyes."

Said eyes widen now, and then return to normal, yet not fully: they're softer now, warmer, and Phichit feels a bit silly about not admitting to it before everything went out of control.

"You should've told me that sooner," Chris says back.

Phichit only gives him a sheepish smile. He doesn't get to apologize again, because it's Chris' turn, apparently.

"I'm sorry, too," Chris says. He takes Phichit's hand and kisses the centre of his palm. "I shouldn't have said all of that either. You have fabulous taste and I never meant to insult it."

Phichit narrows his eyes at him. "Are you saying that now because I complimented your eyes or do you really mean it?"

The little smile that curls at the corner of Chris' mouth is both adorable and teasing, and Phichit slaps a hand over it with a groan.

"You're awful," he complains.

"Mmmphm," Chris says into his palm and Phichit tentatively pulls back his hand to allow him to repeat himself: "I love you, too."

Phichit slams his hand back down before he fluidly rolls off the bed. With his back to Chris he can hide his blush, but he can't hide the happy beating of his heart from himself. It doesn't matter, though. Not because Chris doesn't care, but because a kiss is pressed to the small of Phichit's back and Chris' arms wrap around his waist from behind. Warm breath in the dip of his spine makes Phichit shiver.

"We're going to be late to the banquet if we don't shower right now," Phichit says.

Chris nuzzles his cheek against the bare expanse of Phichit's back. His stubble is a little scratchy against Phichit's skin, but it doesn't feel bad. It doesn't feel bad at all. Actually, it feels rather nice...

Phichit takes a deep breath and steps out of Chris' arms.

"Shower. Now," Phichit says. He's by the bathroom door when he realizes Chris has not moved from the bed and he looks back. "You coming? Or should I find something else pretty and green to occupy myself with in there?"

Chris clicks away on the laptop for a second longer and then stands up and strolls over with a grace of someone who knows he's hot and the confidence of a guy who just got laid and was going to get some again soon. Phichit almost snorts.

He does snort when Chris stops next to him and cocks a hip out with an added eyebrow wiggle that makes it utterly impossible to stay serious.

"Ordered the vase," Chris says. "You can't expect a gold medallist working for free like that, so... what do I get for my hard work?"

"A face full of ass," Phichit replies, turns back and slaps a hand on his bare ass before he saunters into the bathroom.

He catches the gobsmacked look on Chris' face in the mirror right as it turns into delight, and he can't help his own laughter: they truly are a pair of dummies.

(Chris gets the promised face full of ass later that night when he eats Phichit out so devoutly that Phichit swears they need to argue more often, because if that is the treatment he gets out of it, then he's more than happy to suffer through a few minutes of being upset.)

(For that Chris makes him come two more times and by the time they falls asleep Phichit isn't so sure anymore.)

(Next morning he wakes up to Chris' mouth around his dick, milking him dry, and he's sure again... but then he realizes that truly, with Chris nothing ever is certain and that's what he loves about him the most: the uncertainty, the excitement and the adventure.)

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Jungkook accidentally catches RM’s girlfriend naked on webcam

Contains: Humour. Accidental smut. 

This fanfiction can be enjoyed on its own or as part of our headcanon universe. This is set around seven months after Jungkook meets his second girlfriend, Young-soon. Find out more about our headcanon plot here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below cut

The screen stayed black despite him turning the switch off and on again at the wall. He shook his head, trying the power button again to no avail. He had been playing an online game of League of Legends for the past three hours, about to swarm the enemy tower when the laptop screen had flashed, once, before fading to black. He unplugged the power cord and pushed it back in, half expecting the machine to spring back to life. Knowing he should stop and eat something, or at least take a shower, he started to pace around the room. He knew he should stop but was so close to exploring the turret of the enemy tower! Eventually, with a sigh, he opened his bedroom door and entered the hallway. He had heard Namjoon, Jimin, Jin and Taehyung leave the shared house earlier on in the afternoon to go to the cinema. They had invited him but he had been late to rise, spending all the previous evening glued to his laptop, playing the game. He had heard Yoongi in the kitchen earlier; clattering pans as he cooked for himself and talking to someone on his phone. There had been a lot of laughter on his part and there was a lingering smell of Bulgogi in the air, so he was likely still home.

Cautiously, Jungkook opened the studio door and crept his head around the frame, half-expecting Yoongi to be sat at the desk on the far side wall, headphones blaring as his fingers pressed down on the electronic keyboard. The room was, to his relief, empty. His eyes scanned the space and found what he was looking for almost immediately. Closing the door softly behind him, he walked over to the small wooden desk, adjacent to the door. His bare feet barely made a sound against the soft carpet as he sat at the chair and opened the lid to the black laptop in front of him. The fact it was left in the studio told Jungkook that the laptop belonged to Namjoon. Yoongi was always careful to take his laptop to his room with him and Hoseok had been using a tablet recently. He knew that the game was downloaded on Namjoon’s machine; he had installed it himself the week before when he accidently left his laptop at Donghyuk’s house, much to Namjoon’s protests that it would slow the machine down. Jungkook had argued; his girlfriend, Young-soon, had left the day before to visit relatives in China and the two week long vacation without her seemed both ill-timed and pointless. The new game seemed like the perfect solution to stop himself from going too stir-crazy without her.

He turned on the machine and spread his fingers over the keyboard; hovering as the screen asked for a password. He clicked his tongue, thinking. After a few seconds he started typing. G-A-L-I-L-E-O. He pressed enter and, to his luck, the screen began to load. It took longer than anticipated; the icons on the desktop slowly appeared one at a time; bright against the plain, dark background. Jungkook sighed loudly as a pop-up box appeared in the centre of the screen, alerting him that the PC needed to run an anti-virus program. He was sure, without actually knowing for certain, that it had been Yoongi and Hoseok’s idea to infect Namjoon’s PC with viruses, the whole thing a deliberately hilarious joke intent on winding up the leader. Jungkook had certainly learned Namjoon’s peculiarly obscure password from Hoseok on one occasion when he used the laptop to check his emails. He just hoped that nothing in his inbox revealed his bank details.

He clicked the red X in the corner of the pop-up and the white box disappeared, leaving him a clear image of the desktop. He searched the icons quickly, looking for the tell-tale bronze L which would take him to the game. His hand paused on the touch mouse as a sound began to ring out through the laptop’s small speakers, a little muffled by the wooden desk. He froze, suddenly worried that the PC was infected with another virus. His shoulders relaxed after a few seconds, after his initial shock, when he realised that it was just the alert to tell him that someone was calling him on Skype.  A moment later, a little delayed by the slow speed of the internet, another box popped up on the screen, informing him that Ji-eun wanted to chat.

His first thought, as always whenever he saw the name, was that IU was calling. He felt his heart thud, a little unpleasantly in his chest. A closer look at the small avatar icon showed him that it was just Namjoon’s girlfriend who shared the same name. The picture showed her on against the gold and blue backdrop of a tropical beach, her long black hair glistening in the sunlight; a pair of sunglasses perched on her small nose. Automatically, he clicked on the green Answer button. There was a delay before the annoying beeping stopped and the black desktop screen was replaced with the heavily pixilated image of a tall girl against a plain white backdrop. It took a few seconds for the little squares to blend, showing him the recognisable profile of Ji-eun standing in what was presumably her bedroom. He could see her large bed behind her; the covers and pillows crisp, clean white to match the plain, whitewashed walls. The first thing he noticed was that her hair, usually long and impeccably straight, was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, making her look younger. The second was that she was only wearing a long, white shirt which buttoned up the centre. He vaguely wondered if it was Namjoon’s. It would fit him.

 She smiled as she came into focus and Jungkook found himself smiling back automatically. She was pretty, he realised for perhaps the first time. He had only met her a handful of times, a couple of occasions Namjoon had brought her around to the house and, on one memorable occasion, he had seen her get incredibly drunk at a boat party. He knew that she was a successful legal solicitor, one of the youngest in the city, and her usual look, consisting of well-tailored suits and impossibly high heels, made her look incredibly intimidating. Now she seemed relaxed and, strangely vulnerable. She took a step back from her camera, presumably a webcam, to perch on the edge of her bed. She waved softly.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming in clear through the speaker. The picture pixelated again, momentarily, before righting itself.

“Hi.” Jungkook replied easily. Her expression didn’t change.

“Is your camera still not working?” She asked.

Jungkook shook his shoulders and touched his thumb to the small circle at the top of the laptop. “I don’t know. If you can’t see me, I guess not.”

Her grin remained fixed on her face and it took Jungkook a few moments to realise that she could neither hear nor see him. He looked around the screen to see if the webcam icon had been selected. He found it and clicked it, hoping it would work. The icon didn’t change and her smile didn’t falter on the other side of the screen. She took a step closer, standing up from the bed.

“Maybe you’re kidding me.” She smiled, her voice full of humour. “Maybe your camera isn’t really broken and you just want to do things without me seeing.” She was now standing directly in front of the camera, her upper body to her thighs in view.

Jungkook realised, a little belatedly, that she thought she was talking to Namjoon. He searched the screen once more and found what he was looking for. Leaning forward, he started to type in the little message box at the bottom of the screen: “This is Jungkoo….”

He stopped and looked up as a flash of white caught his eye on screen. In the seconds it had taken him to find the box and start typing, Ji-eun had moved her long, slim fingers to the centre of her chest and had begun to swiftly undo the row of buttons along the centre of the fabric. Jungkook’s eyes widened as a bare strip of skin was exposed from her uncovered neck to her bellybutton, a creamy line the colour of condensed milk. He froze his hands above the keyboard as she eased the fabric away from her flesh, revealing her bare breasts. His gaze dropped automatically from her soft, beaming face, to the soft, round mounds on her chest. Her breasts were both perky and a little bigger than he had expected. Her nipples were the colour of coffee with cream. He didn’t notice his mouth drop, both in shock and, if he was honest with himself, arousal.

Her mouth curled upwards in a grin as she took a step backwards, revealing the V shape of her white boxer-briefs. Before his brain had fully registered what was happening, she bent down and removed the fabric in one smooth motion. Jungkook’s eyes widened even further as they dropped to her impeccably neat line of brown pubic hair, visible just above her labia. He could feel his heart beginning to speed in his chest and his cheeks turning red as she slowly turned around on the spot, revealing the soft curves of her backside.

“I know you missed this last week…” She said in a low, sexy voice. “I’m sorry we got interrupted at the restaurant. I’ll turn my phone off next time, in case my boss tries to call…” Her words rang out through the small studio which was, thankfully, soundproof. The meaning was lost on Jungkook. His gaze remained fixed on the screen as she leaned over the bed and, slowly, began to crawl onto the sheets on all fours. Once she was comfortable, she spread her thighs, revealing the space between her arse cheeks. Even from this distance, Jungkook could see the soft pink of her inner lips, the glisten of her labia, and the small, pretty mound of her clit. He licked his lips subconsciously as she moaned through the speakers, a little showily as she reached behind with one hand and used the other to balance her slender body on the bed. She spread apart her backside and moved her hips sensually.

“Don’t you want to kiss my pussy?” She asked, her voice a low murmur. Jungkook blinked. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he switched the web call off? His thoughts, which seemed to have been placed on mute for the past forty seconds, suddenly caught up with him and he found himself shaking his head, almost violently. Just what did he think he was doing? This was Namjoon’s girlfriend, someone he was too scared to talk to if she was invited to dinner. Furthermore, he had never even looked at her in a vaguely romantic light, never mind wished to see her in this compromising position. He had his own girlfriend, someone he treasured with all his heart, who would be returning to him in three more days. He quickly reached for the round, red button at the bottom of the screen with the touch mouse which terminated the web call. The image took a second to disappear; the girl’s body becoming distorted in a series of pink and cream squares before vanishing all together. The background once more turned to black; a few colourful icons were dotted around the screen. Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief. He suddenly didn’t want to play the web game anymore. Slowly, and incredibly sheepishly, he shut down the PC and closed the laptop lid gently. He left the room quietly and headed down the corridor to his own bedroom, being careful not to alert Yoongi or Hoseok, who may or may not have been home, to his presence.

 *

Jungkook spent the following day in Incheon with Jimin. They decided to go shopping for a new mobile phone after Jimin’s was mysteriously broken during a trip to Gangnam with his girlfriend, Angel. The trip was a fortunate escape for the pair. Ji-eun had telephoned Namjoon that morning, wishing to know whether his laptop had broken. Namjoon, who had returned early in the evening from his trip, replied that no, it wasn’t and why was she asking. She had explained that she had been worried when he hadn’t called her back on Skype, and that she had to watch a porno to get off. Namjoon frowned, not quite understanding, but knowing not to pursue the subject with her further that evening. He had confronted Yoongi first. Both he and Hoseok had been sat in the small home studio, meters away from his infected laptop. He had stormed in the room and asked whether he had been using his laptop recently. Yoongi shook his head slowly, a look of confusion fixed on his face. Hoseok had looked equally baffled and, flicking his eyes from his best friend’s to the leader, had questioned why he had been asking. The twin looks of confusion and, beneath that, hurt on their face at having being accused of something without really understanding what made Namjoon blush. Perhaps it was just a virus which had caused his laptop to malfunction.  Heaven knew, his machine was infected with every bug under the sun. He shook his head, half-muttering an apology as he skulked out of the room.

***

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[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Imagine being in a relationship with: Jesse

Late nights led to morning headaches. You didn’t always mean to stay up so late; sometimes you got with Jesse in the middle of the night, sometimes the music’s beat ran through your veins like adrenaline, sometimes you found something too fun to wait till morning, sometimes you just wanted to be young and stupid and in love. Whatever happened, a causal check of the time turned up a worrying AM, and you two crashed back to bed, tangled up and muttering insults and sweet nothings. Your morning alarm always went off too soon.

Grumbling and using elbows and knees and kisses to get your sprawled-out boyfriend to move. Sleep deprivation buzzing in your brain like TV static. You’d brush a kiss to his neck and drag yourself out of bed.

The apartment was such a weird blend of all the time he had missed. Glow-in-the-dark star sticks above the bed, a faded green constellation you were still charting out. Led Zeppelin posters given their own personal wall of fame. Speakers, sleek and new-age. Records and CDs and a stray iPod stacked in the corner. An antique painting easel that looked like it belonged in a grandmother’s house. Yellow plastic plates and Polaroid pictures and colourful fridge magnets arranged into equally colourful words. You stubbed your toe on at least three different generations every time you got up for a glass of water.

Orange juice splashed into cups. Pause to rearrange the fridge magnets into a new message. Breakfast that he would show up half-way through making, wrap his arms around you and drop a kiss to your neck before going to work on the hot drinks. A snort of laughter as he saw the magnets and re-made them into his own message. You would swat at his butt as you went to reply, leaving him to take over breakfast before it was ruined. He always ate as quickly as possible while keeping his manners intact; once he told you it was because he thought his mother might rise from the grave and kill him if he was impolite.

School or work or errands. Jesse’s art class every Tuesday. Returning to Hell all too often for both of your tastes: Dante always liked to have his ‘soldiers’ accounted for, in his defense for good reason, hellhounds are a... lively bunch. He wanted to know how much damage had been done and how many lawsuits had popped up. Jesse was normally trusted to be out of sight longer than most, more responsible than most. He hated his two lives overlapping, hated exposing you to that, and yet it still happened. The notes in a strange script that made your eyes itch and burn when you tried to read it. Glowing eyes flickering in the shadows of the room. Creeping unease stained the walls. But the instances were few and far between, and there was always an explanation for it; he never kept anything from you, which dampened the fear. And uou couldn’t bring yourself to mind it, not when he took your hand like all he wanted was to hold it, not when he made you smile on the days when you felt like the sunshine had turned grey. 

You brought life to his sketchbooks; a flash of your smile, your favourite shirt, your hand in his, your hair at its messiest, the colour of your eyes, everything copied lovingly down to the last detail. He had always turned to art to pour out all his sadness and frustration and anger. It was only when he met you that he found it just as hard to contain his happiness from spilling out onto the pages. Sometimes he copied your texts as well, grinning to himself at the inside jokes you two fired at each other while you were apart. Sticking photos on other pages, only the best; the ones where you both looked as undignified and silly as possible, at all the wrong angles.

Dancing in socks to music all too loud, the kind of beats you could feel in your bones. Date nights spent on the city, eating from a different place every time with varying success. Playing video games and using any and all tactics to win. A paint war that left rainbow splatters over the floor and a smudge of blue on the edge of the TV screen. Cooking food, burning it when you inevitably got distracted. Making out on the counter-tops, in the hidden corners of shops, behind the cans in the supermarket, in the darkness between streetlights, quick and cheeky or deep and passionate, unable to keep your hands off each other for long.

There were nights when you woke up to your boyfriend thrashing violently, gasping for air. There were nights when you couldn’t convince him to come near the bed again. There was the stumbling words and tension that greeted you whenever you asked about his past. There were arguments, over therapy, over commitment and fears and hopes.

But there was also the way his body seemed to be shaped for yours, the softest kisses on the weekend mornings, the single dimple of his that always showed itself more around you, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he held you close like you were the most precious thing in the world. And that was more than enough.

[angellightwood-bane-blog]

What Lurks In The Dark // Alec Lightwood X OC

Disclaimer - Chapter One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

 Chapter Eight - Magnus Bane

Breeanna's Dress and Shoes including the laced up sides

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Isabelle jumped up from her place at the table and took over from Hodge. After a few quick taps on the screen she pulled up an invitation.

"A Downworld rave, nice, Izzy," Jace praised.

"And where'd you get that?" Alec asked sceptically.

"During my surveillance of the Downworlders. From what I hear, Magnus likes to party," Isabelle said with a knowing smile.

"He'll never go for it. Not with Valentine trying to kill him."

"Of course, he will," Jace butted in,

"He'll blend in - hide in plain sight."

"I don't know, it's seems-” Isabelle interrupted Clary,

"Trust me, if Magnus is coming out of hiding, he's going to one of the biggest parties of the year."

"Never underestimate Magnus' hedonism," Hodge added,

"Or his greed. Come with me." He walked over to a rune on the floor and traced it with his stele, removing the tile and revealing a necklace. Isabelle gasped at the exquisite pendant,

"A four-karat, unheated Burmese ruby," He explained,

"And this necklace has special meaning to Magnus Bane as it was a gift from him to his then lover, Camille Belcourt."

"What, Camille and Magnus were lovers?" Clary asked.

"Warlock gets around," Jace smirked. Hodge nodded,

"Magnus bought it in 1857 for the price of his London townhouse. Now, the jewel is enchanted by a spell that alerts the wearer to the presence of demons. Magnus has longed to reunite with this necklace. Offer it to him. He might just take the bait." Jace started to leave.

"I'll send Magnus a fire message to arrange the meeting. We have to get to Magnus before Valentine does."

Isabelle took my hand and Clary’s and led us back to her bedroom.

"Now what will you two be wearing to the Downworlder party tonight?" I shrugged, and Clary looked down at her green tank top and jeans,

"I don't know. I was just thinking about wearing this." Isabelle snorted,

"I don't think so. No Downworlder would be caught dead in that. Plus, it's a party, not a poetry slam."

"Izzy neither of us have any party clothes," I said. She considered what I said then replied,

"So, you'll have to wear mine, hmm?" She dug around in her closet for a minute then,

"Ah! Clary," She held out a small black number.

"Okay, that dress is way too tight," Clary shook her head.

"It's stretchy," Isabelle reasoned.

"Put it on."

"Ugh, fine." Clary walked behind the divider before Isabelle handed her some matching heels,

"Try these." After giving the shoes to Clary, she returned to her closet and Isabelle produced an outfit for me too. I raised an eyebrow at the short strapless, black dress with laced up sides, but took it wordlessly, knowing the struggle was futile. Isabelle place a pair of black knee-high boots just on the edge of the divider for me.

After Clary came out, looking ridiculous in Isabelle's little black dress, I ducked behind the divider and slipped into my own party attire. As I walked out I declared,

"Okay, there is no way I'm wearing these heels, I would like my boots bac-" I stopped when I found no Clary and instead Alec, whose eyes grew wide as he took in my appearance. His eyes raked my smooth tanned legs before flickering to my barely covered chest for a split second. He cleared his throat and turned back to Isabelle, visibly not wanting to look away.

"Jace said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, you never know what to wear to these parties either." Alec looked down at the shirt he had on as if asking ‘what was wrong with it’ looking back to his little sister, who shook her head in a not a ‘chance are you wearing that’ way. She tossed him a denim shirt and looked at him expectantly. He glanced at me briefly, rolling his eyes at his sister. I laughed before he stripped his shirt off, replacing it with the one Isabelle gave him. It was my turn to trail my gaze down his chest, as my mouth felt dry. Isabelle smirked at the pair of us and the three of us walked to the training room, the shoe argument long forgotten.

Alec started inspecting his arrows straight away.

"Alec, we're going to a Downworlders rave, you should be a little more excited," Isabelle pouted at his blatant lack of enthusiasm.

"It's a mission, not a party," He reminded her.

"Yeah, whatever. Before Bre and Clary got here, every day was the same. Go on a mission. Kill demons. Go on a mission. Kill demons. At least now things are interesting," she pointed out.

"Interesting? Valentine is alive and actively seeking the Cup. He threatens our entire world. On top of that, we're gonna end up overpaying some warlock who may or may not have information we need. So, no, Izzy I don't find it interesting," Alec snapped. I went to stand next to him, and placed my hand over his, which laid flat on the cold table. I felt the tension in his muscles fade underneath my touch. I ran my thumb over his fingers gently. Isabelle turned around and looked at her brother with a raised eyebrow,

"Feel better now?"

"No, I don't." He looked down at the table, at our hands, then back up to Isabelle,

"Okay, maybe a little."

"You can't keep bottling things up, Alec," She told him,

"It's only a matter of time before they explode - and not the fun kind of explode." Alec looked down at me and took hold of the hand that was on his,

"All right let’s go." We'd started walking away, hand in hand, when he turned and looked pointedly over his shoulder at his sister and added,

"And we're not going for the music."

He pulled me to one side, letting Isabelle walk on past us and quietly asked,

"I don't suppose there's even a small chance you'll listen to me if I asked you to stay behind tonight?"

"Not likely, I mean I'm already dressed" I said with a small smile. Alec shook his head, raking his eyes over me once more,

"No, didn't think so, just please be careful." I feigned shock but grinned,

"I always am." He laughed, and we caught up with the others, heading for the party.

"Alec and Izzy, secure the perimeter," Jace said once we arrived, and the siblings headed off.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Last time we were here, this place was crawling with vampires," Clary looked around.

"You guys have been here before?" I asked. Jace nodded, then assured Clary,

"Relax, all Downworlders hang out here. We just came on vampire night." Alec and Isabelle came up behind us,

"All clear."

"Do you think red's my colour?" Isabelle asked, looking down at Magnus' necklace, resting on her chest.

"Iz, with a body like yours, everything's your colour," Clary laughed.

"Good point. Damn, I make this necklace look so good," Isabelle touched it with a pout.

"Will you take it off? I'm certain Magnus Bane doesn't want drool on his ruby when we make the exchange," Alec rolled his eyes at his sister's antics.

"You know, I wouldn't be so sure. Most men like it when I admire their jewels." Jace covered up his laugh with a cough and I looked away, so my grin was unnoticed.

"Can you just give it to Jace?" Alec sighed. Jace reached around Clary and took the necklace from Isabelle just before we were let in.

It seemed the entire Downworld had turned up for this party and I wasn't so sure that we would find Magnus as easily as we'd hoped. Jace grabbed my wrist so he wouldn't lose me in the crowd and placed a hand on Clary's back, guiding her forwards. Alec and Isabelle spread out behind us and I soon lost sight of them.

"Magnus." Jace's voice directed my attention to none other than Magnus Bane, walking towards us. The air around him shimmered as he walked. It was almost like I could see his magic.

"Clary Fairchild," He greeted and Jace stepped aside so I was in view,

"And Breeanna, my, my, you've grown into beautiful young women." He dragged is eyes over my dress. Clary stepped up to him and tried to look intimidating,

"Magnus Bane. So, you're the one who stole my memories." Magnus frowned,

"At your mother's request," He corrected.

"She knew the risk." He turned to Jace,

"Show me the jewellery, Shadowhunter." Jace dangled the necklace from his hand and Magnus reached for it, but Jace jerked his hand back,

"Give the girls back their memories, and you get the jewellery." Magnus shook his head,

"I have to confirm its authenticity." Jace reluctantly handed it over and Magnus inspected it, murmuring,

"Amor verus numquam moritur - true love cannot die. Oh, how I've missed this jewel."

"Now, it's your turn to pay up," Clary demanded.

"I wish I could retrieve your memories, but I no longer have them," he replied airily.

"What? Where are they?" Clary asked with wide eyes. Magnus looked hesitant,

"I fed them to a memory demon for safekeeping. I'm afraid Breeanna's are gone forever, the demon that held hers was killed."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Jace questioned through gritted teeth.

"To protect Breeanna, Clary and the Cup. If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture their memories out of me. Just like he tortured Dot," Magnus turned his eyes downwards at the last part and my heart skipped a beat, fear washing over me. I took a hasty step forward,

"Tortured? Wait, is Dot okay?" Magnus looked like he would rather not be the one delivering the news to us, but he relented and spoke,

"You don't know? Dot is dead."

"What? How do you know?" Clary asked, teary eyed. Magnus sighed,

"I can't feel her magic anymore. Valentine killed her because she would not betray your mother. Girls come with me. My lair can offer you protection no Shadowhunter ever could."

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you. Help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to!" She protested.

"Valentine isn't just hunting Warlocks, he's hunting you, too, and every moment we're outside my lair's protection, is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us." He turned around and opened a portal before offering Clary and I each a hand,

"Come with me. I won't offer again."

"Magnus, we really appreciate your offer," I shot a look at Clary that kept her quiet as she opened her mouth to argue again,

"But I'm not sure we can, only because if we come with you, we can't find the cup, meaning Valentine could get to it." The warlock nodded, seeing my point, and offered me a smile.

"Look out!" I heard Isabelle shout. An arrow soared past us, straight into the chest of an approaching man. Alec ran down the stairs towards us, and examined the man, now dead on the floor as Magnus jumped through his portal and disappeared, leaving a golden cufflink in Clary's hand. She looked at me, confused but I shrugged.

"The area's secure," Isabelle informed us,

"Looks like he was the only assassin."

"He has a Circle rune on the base of his neck," Alec said, running a finger over it. Jace cursed,

"They found us. It's not safe here. Bre, Clary, we have to go." I took hold of Clary's hand and guided in her dazed state out a service door, following the others.

Alec and Jace were arguing again once we got outside.

"We're no closer to getting the Mortal Cup, and we've lost the Institute's necklace," Alec was saying. Clary brushed me off, so I let her stand by herself,

"I don't care about your damn jewellery. I'm sorry you're gonna look bad in front of your bosses, okay? But my mother is still missing and my last chance at finding her just disappeared into thin air."

"Clary-" I tried, but she rounded on me next.

"Why are you on their side?" She demanded.

"Because I can see where they're coming from! This isn't just about us anymore Clary! Why can't you understand that it won't matter if find mum if Valentine gets the Mortal Cup? We have to help them in order for them to help us. If Valentine gets the cup, we're all doomed and I'm sick and tired of you being so self-centred, she’s not only your mother she’s mine as well, so get your head out of your ass and let Alec do his job." I snap, seeing in her eyes that my trying to reason with her wasn't getting through. So, she changed tack, completely ignoring my rant,

"And Magnus? Magnus will never come out of hiding again while Valentine is still after him. We're never gonna find him and I will never get my memories back." She threw the cufflink to the floor but Jace caught it.

"You give up way too easy," He said, before walking a few steps away. He pulled out his stele and traced a rune on his hand.

"What is he doing?" Clary sounded exasperated. Alec, equally frustrated, replied,

"He's tracking Magnus. Be quiet and keep your distance."

"The button belonged to Magnus. Jace can pinpoint the location using that." Isabelle added. Jace shook his head and turned back to us,

"The signal isn't strong enough. Magnus must be blocking the track. Let's do this, Alec." Alec walked over and obediently held out his hand. Jace placed the button in it and then clasped their hands together.

"Do what?" Clary asked.

"Parabatai tracking," I said, more in realisation than anything else.

"Of course, they are," Clary said sarcastically. Jace and Alec held eye contact and remained silent.

"When parabatais track, their power grows stronger. Jace and Alec are gonna track Magnus together," Isabelle explained. Suddenly Jace let go of Alec's hand with a triumphant grin.

"Got him."

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Hope you enjoy my Lovelies.

-Angel