#speaking of you plucking your eyebrows i wanted to try waxing my face for the first time but i’m so scared 😭

[1004tyun-archive]

hi my crystal gem 🥺🥺🩷 i don’t have much to talk about yet, all i can say is i hope my love is sleeping well~ 🥺🩷

i absolutely had to use these because taehyun is so baby and cute there…~ besides the pancakes immediately reminded me of you 🥺🩷 my mommy is such a wifey material~ 🥺🥺🩷 besides, the colors are as soft as the teddy bears on your moodboards 🥺🩷

i had lots of good sweets for my treat day hehe, i think cookies and cream is my favorite of the bunch we got actually 🤭🩷 which is great because it always reminds me of you mommy~

i’ll probably just shower and pluck my eyebrows before playing games and wait for you to wake up mommy :3 🩷🩷

mommy 🥺🥺🩷 i hope you always feel good with me, that’s what matters to me the most 🥺🩷 i want to be with you all the time and i wanna become a better version of myself with you 🥺😚🩷 i love you so so much 🥺🥺🩷 my beautiful and sweet girlfriend 😚🩷 i hope you sleep well my love~

hello my sweet girl~ 🥺🥺🩵🩵 i ended up sleeping so well thanks to you :3

DJSHSJ THIS MOODBOARD JS SO CUTE 😭😭😭😭 babie taehyunie and pancakes my heart is gonna explode 🥺🥺🥹🩵 i wanna make pancakes for you my love~ you seem like you’d really enjoy chocolate chip pancakes and i’m a total pro at making those 😌 i love my teddy bear moodboards bc you’re soft and cute like a teddy bear 🥺🥺🥺

yesss you have no idea how happy that makes me cookies and cream ended up being your favorite~ 🥺🥺🥺 my favorite ended up being your favorite!! 🥹🥹🩵 that’s so wonderful~ i tried the tiramisu ice cream i bouge yesterday and it was sooo good i didn’t expect to like the coffee ice cream part of it so much but it was sooo good, strong but not too strong~ everything tiramisu reminds me of my baby so i can’t help but get things like that whenever i see them

of course baby that goes without saying 🥺🥺 i always feel good with you 🥺🩵 i want to be with you and around you all the time you really do motivate me to become a better person 🥺 i want to be the best for you~ i love you so so much my dazzling rose, my soft beautiful girlfriend 🥺🥺🩵🩵

[ampleappleamble]

—

She closed her eyes to pray. Opened them. Closed them, tried to pray again. Stopped.

This isn't right, she thought.

It wasn't as though Axa had been expecting exactly the same sort of religious services as she'd grown up with in Ixamitl– especially not from followers of Wael– but sitting in a library and trying to pray felt akin to going to the clothier's to eat dinner, or having a bath in the bakery.

The Waelite priests back home tended to wander from town to town, either alone on foot or in small groups driving ramshackle wagons, setting out their begging bowls and preaching the mysteries of the Eyeless Face by day, taking drugs and sleeping in trees or on rooftops by night. Their services were subsequently quite sporadic, their sermons spontaneous and abstruse, sometimes downright nonsensical, sometimes shockingly revelatory. They'd had a knack for showing up when the community was in direst need of their unique guidance– and for absconding quickly and quietly after inevitably pressing their luck too far and pissing off the locals.

"Ah! The exhilarating, carefree life of the vagabond," Vaargys had stated one evening, regarding the other priests with reverence as they'd trundled off in their brightly-painted wagons. "I almost envy them." He'd wrapped his arm around her, then, and she'd leaned into him, smiling. Promising in her heart that he'd never have to live that kind of life again. 

She remembered the night she'd kicked him out, the light from her burning books illuminating his back as he'd vanished into the darkness.

"Watcher."

Pallegina's voice startled the orlan out of her reverie, and she looked up to see the paladin standing over her, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She had seemed... uncomfortable ever since they'd stepped foot into the Hall of Revealed Mysteries, although she hadn't said anything, and Axa was secretly relieved that she wasn't the only one feeling out of place.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I think, perhaps, it is time we started our work for the day." The woman's golden eyes darted to and fro, narrowing as they alighted on the huge painted Eye of Wael dominating the far wall. "As much as I appreciate a well-stocked library, I have always felt somewhat ill at ease in temples. And no amount of reading– or praying– will fulfill our tasks for us."

Axa cocked an eyebrow at the other woman, her lips twitching into a grin. "A Godlike who doesn't care much for temples? Sounds familiar."

"Is that so?" Pallegina cast the little woman a piercing glare, feathers ruffling. "In what way, exactly?"

The redhead looked down at her feet, swinging her legs back and forth, still smiling wryly. "My little brother Tico is a Godlike. Touched by Hylea, actually, same as you. He also didn't like temples much. 'Institutions of kith,' he called them, always trying to tell him what he was, who he was, what he was meant to do with his life. And our mother was little better." The smile had slowly tightened as she'd spoken, and now her mouth was a taut, straight line.

Pallegina blinked at her, a bit taken aback. This was not where she had been expecting this conversation to go. "I see," she murmured.

Axa could feel the other woman's discomfort, feel the mood getting awkward, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from continuing anyway. "Mama always wanted a large family, having never had one of her own at all growing up as a slave in Readceras, but after Tico's birth, the midwife told her she couldn't have any more. She never outwardly blamed him, but it wasn't difficult to tell that she was bitter about it, and she absolutely took it out on him. She used to guilt him into giving her his feathers so she could craft special religious totems, commissions for wealthy clients, to keep the family afloat after Papa disappeared. Tico felt so bad for her, he could never quite muster the strength to refuse. As far as I know, he's still letting her pluck him bald."

The straight line of her lips had morphed into a full-on scowl, now, her little hands balled into fists. "No matter where he went or what he did, he always seemed to be caught between being perceived as either an object of worship or an object of scorn... but always an object. Never a person."

"Ac. It is always that way, for us." Pallegina spoke softly, gravely, a faraway look in her keen eyes. "Being different in the way that we are means always second-guessing every kind gesture or word of praise, always looking over our shoulders and watching our own backs. No matter who we keep company with. Your brother and I have that in common, it seems. He has my sympathies."

Axa sighed, running a shaky hand through her thick hair. "Thank you. I– Sorry, I– I didn't mean to unload my family history on you. I guess I just had the past on my mind. I was actually thinking of Vaargys just before we started talking..."

The paladin cocked her head inquisitively. "Who?"

Axa remembered, suddenly, that she hadn't yet met Pallegina when she'd told the story of her tumultuous, doomed courtship, and she laughed at her own foolishness. "He's... a long story," she chuckled. "I'll tell you later, if Kana doesn't beat me to it. And after I've had a few drinks first, ideally."

An amused smirk popped up on Pallegina's face. "You may not be Godlike, Watcher, but you are certainly strange in your own way. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, of course."

The orlan glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, fidgeting in her seat. "Speaking of strange things that are hard to talk about– I hope it isn't rude of me to ask, but I couldn't help but notice that you don't exactly... look like him. Like Tico, I mean." She peeked at the paladin's face again, saw more curiosity than hostility, pressed on. "I mean, beyond just the obvious differences. His feathers are a different color, which is to be expected as far as I'm aware, but the amount of feathers on his body, the shape of his nose and brow, even the skin on his hands and feet– he's quite a lot... birdier than you appear to be."

Pallegina scoffed, quickly jerking her head to one side to gaze at the temple's exit. "There is a reason for that," she muttered after a long pause. "And it is none of your business. However, you are not the first to notice the discrepancies between myself and other Avian Godlikes. Suffice it to say I had a certain... benefactor in my youth, a practitioner of animancy who assisted me through some difficult formative years." The soldier's face softened, suddenly, just for a moment, and then hardened as she fixed her gaze on Axa again, looking away from the main door as a new visitor gently pushed it open. "That is all I will say on the matter."

"An animancer, huh." Axa slid off of her pew, contemplating Pallegina's words as she stretched her back and rolled her shoulders. "...Think the ones at Brackenbury Sanitarium can help Aloth?"

The taller woman snorted derisively. "If he should ever gather the nerve to actually commit to going there and meeting with one, possibly, yes." The man who had just entered the temple seemed to be heading straight for her and the Watcher, so she kept her eye on him, but saw no need to acknowledge him just yet. "And if they happen to hail from the Republics, all the better."

"He'll come around," Axa sighed. "It's not always so easy to bare your soul to a stranger, literally or figuratively. Although, listening to me you'd think–"

"State your business, quickly." Axa snapped to attention at the sound of Pallegina's sharp, commanding voice, surprised to only now notice the messenger standing before them. Where did he come from?

"Erh– begging your pardon, Lady Knight, but I've a message for your cohort," the man stammered under her cool, confident presence. He regained some of his professional stature as he turned to face the orlan, wax-sealed missive in hand. "You are Axa Mala?"

"I am," she replied. Around the hall, scholars and priests looked up from their books or paused their whispered conversations, hoping to learn what they could of this new development. Aloth and Sagani alerted Edér and Kana, and quickly and quietly the little group gathered around Axa, ready to leave.

"A message for you, madam," the courier stated. "Chancellor Warrin requests your presence at the Ducal Palace this day, to discuss Erl Bademar's ruling on the rightful ownership of Caed Nua."

"I see," the little woman sighed. "I suppose it was about time I got to work today anyway."

—

[honeymoonjin]

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 namjoon x reader ~ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 18k 

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 fluff, thriller ~ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 crime!au, detective!reader, candle shop owner!knj

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 with a serial killer on the loose that uses artisan scented candles as inspiration for murders, now is not the time to be falling in love with the man who made them.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 non-explicit descriptions of murders. one incident of injury, and mentions of blood. cursing. while this involves a serial killer and the causes of death are mentioned, there’s no scenes involving actual murders taking place, or crime scenes. extremely long discussions of scented candles because i can’t help myself. make-out scene but no smut.

𝘈/𝘕 dedicated to the darling @mind-of-a-hardstan​. it’s been a pleasure being your secret santa, and from the bottom of my heart i hope you enjoy <3 thank you to my dedicated team of supporters: my beta reader @honey-boyyoongi​, my partner in crime @hobisgorgeousass​, my resident namjoon stan @jamaisjoons​ and finally the first person to read it in all its entirety and my amazing friend @but-kimnamjoonpersona​. you’re all magnificent and i love you.

Kim Namjoon looks guilty.

That much is immediately clear to you, but it’s not the type of guilt from someone who’s done something wrong. More so, it’s the type of guilt you hold for something out of control, the empathy you feel for others. You can see that it tears him up inside that someone this evil and twisted has drawn inspiration from his store.

The police force didn’t know it was a serial killer. At least, not at first. At the beginning, the murders were so far apart that nobody ever thought to connect them. Almost seasonal, there was one in April, another in late August, one in September and, most recently, the middle of November, last weekend.

You were the one who initially noticed something strange. Perhaps it was your bad habit of lumping all your unsolved cases into one pile of failure, but the more you thought about them together, the more you realised something was odd about them.

In each location, there was a single candle, sometimes melted down to the base, sometimes still burning, and the different causes of death seemed to relate pretty directly to the scent or name of the candle.

And all those candles came from one store. Moni’s Candle Shop, the boutique store that exclusively sold handmade candles. The store owned by one Kim Namjoon.

“It’s so awful that all of these are connected, I… I don’t understand why my candles have anything to do with this.”

You smile softly, though your eyes are dancing around the store. “Nobody blames you, Mister Kim. All serial killers like to have a calling card. At the end of the day, they want credit and attention for their crimes, they want to show off what they’ve done. Deep down, they want to get caught, and it’s my job to use these candles as my path to the killer. To make him face justice for what he’s done.”

Namjoon tips his head, dark locks shifting across his brow. “You’re referring to the serial killer as a he. Do you have a suspect?”

Your eyes dart back to him, ducking your head with a rueful smile. “Force of habit, I’m afraid. Statistically, it probably is a male due to the brutality of the murders, though we’re definitely not ruling out a female yet. We...still don’t have any leads, really.” We have jack shit, you think to yourself, no fucking clue. Coughing lightly to clear your throat, you scratch at your collarbone where the freshly cut lanyard of your ID rests. “If you have any in stock, I’d love to get a closer look at those candles, Mister Kim. The ones from the scenes have been taken into the forensics lab for re-inspection so I’m unable to get my hands on them.”

He seems mildly surprised, eyebrows lifting behind thick black frames. “Oh! Of course,” he sits up and sucks in his stomach to wiggle around the edge of the desk, only pausing once he reaches the doorway to the store floor. “Wait. I don’t actually know what scents they were. I think they might have told me, but I don’t recall…”

You nod shortly and lean back in your chair to free your front jeans pocket, reaching in for your small notepad, flicking a few pages back. Standing up, you join him. “Ah, let’s see… Spring Day, Blue Side, Autumn Outside the Post Office, and Winter Bear. Are they still in stock?”

He hums in consideration, ducking through the low doorway to peruse the aisles. It’s a narrow store, narrow but relatively deep, with two long aisles running down the centre, rows upon rows of candles on every available surface. Towards the front, there are small, tiered tables with layers of gift boxes, and he beelines towards them, sifting through. “Now,” he murmurs under his breath, “those are seasonal candles, so our best bet would be…. Here!” He draws out a squarish cream box with gold detailing. Behind a layer of clear plastic are four mini glass candles, and he lifts up a leg to balance the box on as he delicately pulls off the sticky round tab at one end, pulling out the sleeve inside. “The Four Seasons gift box. I don’t know if your killer used the full size or gift size candles, but these are all I have left. We have a full range every season, and on holidays too, but these are the big sellers so I put them together for our combo deals.” He passes them over to you, using the back of a finger to push his glasses back up his nose. “He has good taste; they’re great candles.”

You glance at him sharply. “He murdered four people. That we know of.”

He cringes at himself. “Sorry, I… I just meant I, uh, I recommend these a lot, sell them a lot. If he bought them off me, I wouldn’t be able to pick him apart in a crowd. It’s hard to keep crack of faces, especially before special holidays. That’s all.”

You drop your gaze to the cardboard sleeve, heavy with the four glass jars. “This is only three of them,” you reply. “Spring Day, Blue Side, the autumn one… this has Serendipity as the winter scent.”

He pouts in surprise. “Oh! Sorry about that. Serendipity is a nice one too. Smells like Christmas cookies.”

“I need Winter Bear,” you remind firmly, though not unkindly. You see the faraway look in his eyes, like he’s recalling the scent, smelling it in his mind, and you understand just how much this craft means to him.

“Of course,” he laughs sheepishly, “come with me. You’re in luck; we only just last week released our full winter range. It’s to the front.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse, mind whirring as you follow him. “So that means our guy must have been in here recently.”

Namjoon stops short, almost causing you to walk into his back. He continues after a shocked pause. “That’s a really good point, I didn’t think of that.” He sends you a dazzling smile, eyes soft. “You’re really good.”

You try to stay professional and neutral, but you can’t help the smile that breaks across your face with a breathy laugh. “Thank you. But maybe save the praise until after I got the guy. You got security cameras?”

“Oh, of course, can’t be too careful!” He deftly plucks a full-size, heavy hulk of a jar from the main display, holding it in his wide palms. His smile freezes, falters, falls. “Well, that is, uh… I have a camera in the office out back and a camera over the front door. So we could pull the records and see everyone that’s come of left, but we wouldn’t be able to see what they got inside the bag.”

You suppress the bubbling of irritation in your chest with a strained smile. “Can’t be too careful,” you repeat with a sour undertone of sarcasm lacing your voice.

He looks put out for a moment, staring silently down at the large glass jar, a milk chocolate-shade of wax poured inside with a thin layer of christmassy red on top. His thumb swipes slowly over the paper label pasted across the front, and shakes his head like he’s breaking a fog. Smiling again, his eyes crinkle warmly behind his glasses. “Winter Bear,” he announces, “here; smell it.”

You wait patiently for him to open the lid, tugging against the friction of the rubber seal, before he holds the wide opening up to your face. You raise an eyebrow, and delicately edge your nose closer to take a sniff. Immediately, your mouth drops open and your eyes widen.

The smell comes in stages, every sniff a brand new experience. First is a hit of cocoa, rich and lush, with a slight complexity that you can’t put your finger on. The smell warms, richens, and finally as you exhale the final hit of tartness lights your senses. You have the sudden urge to reach out and grab his hand as he begins to pull away, the want to hold it closer so you could inhale further, but he lowers his hand and presses the glass lid back into place. Your nostrils flare when they return to the vague honeyed scent of the store, which seems still comforting but so dull compared to that candle.

“That’s incredible,” you admit, “what is that, chocolate and raspberry?”

“Cranberry,” he corrects, a fingertip dragging along the outside of the thick glass, outlining the red layer on the surface. “It’s chocolate, brown sugar, a bit of spiced vanilla, and then that cranberry to round it out a bit, something to cut through the richer scents.”

“And you make these yourself?” you question, eyeing up the sleeve of four smaller jars you were still holding, wondering at what point would be a good time to open them.

He cracks a crooked smile, a dimple poking out of one cheek. “I certainly do! If you’d like to, sometime I could show you my little workshop where I make all these.”

You return the smile, although your eyebrows are knitted in confusion as you turn to look around the store. “I thought it was just the store floor and your office in this building.”

“It is,” he clarifies, delicately removing one of the candles from the box you’re holding, looking over the label as he speaks. “My workshop is at my house. I live about twenty minutes outside of town, a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Seemed a shame to use all that space just on me, so I repurposed some rooms so that I could store more ingredients and melt more wax at a time.”

“Ah,” you say lamely as he cracks open the Blue Side candle, lifting it to his own nose. Your eyes, slightly lidded, stare deeply at the bright ocean blue candle wax. You squint at the label, though it’s behind his tanned fingers and you can’t get a good read. You wait, almost in a trance, for him to stop sniffing and offer it to you.

When he sees you staring, he laughs quietly, a soft puff of air in the otherwise-silent room, and hands it over. Instead of taking it, you rest your hand on his lightly and pull it closer, leaning in. This one’s refreshing, like a summer day on some island, fruity, floral and bright. Your fingers tighten around his unconsciously as your eyes flutter shut for just a moment, inhaling deeply. He coughs, interrupting your refreshing sniff of the candle, and you remove your hand from his hastily, standing back upright with a light pink stain high on your cheeks.

“What scents are in there? It’s very, um, light,” you stutter, cursing the divine scents for scrambling your thoughts.

Namjoon corks it up again and takes the sleeve off of you to replace it. “Some aloe vera and lily of the valley, but mainly its lotus blossom and melon. You like it?”

That’s an understatement. “How do you even come up with these combinations?” Without giving him a chance to answer, you reach out and pop out the spring fragrance, pressing the open jar right up to your nose as he speaks.

His eyes dance at your enthusiasm, and his tongue slips out the corner of his mouth to swipe across and wet his lips. “Half of it is experimenting,” he shrugs, waiting patiently for you to finish huffing Spring Day.

You reluctantly pause your sniffing to look up at him. “And the other half?”

“Trawling through the entire Yankee Candle website.”

You snort, hand jerking in surprise and causing the lip of the glass to bang against your top teeth, pinching your lip painfully. You squeak and pull it away frantically, pushing the little glass lid back on like it’s personally offended you, handing it to Namjoon to put away.

The owner sends you a bemused smirk and returns it to its rightful place in front of the summer fragrance. “I know they smell good enough to eat, but you’re not actually supposed to,” he jibes. “Spring Day is especially delicious though, I must admit. Peach, white tea, freesia and some rosewood for that darker note baseline.”

You nurse your sore lip with your tongue, hoping it doesn’t look too flirty. Or perhaps secretly hoping it does. “I might as well complete the set, then,” you remark, dropping eye contact to take a try of the autumn scent.

“This one’s a heavier scent,” he explains, “Autumn Outside the Post Office is all about those fall fruits and trees. Pomegranate, maple leaf, some juniper berry and orange blossom. This was one of the first seasonal scents I attempted, a good four-ish years ago when I opened, and it’s still going strong.”

A weird, invisible curtain falls, or a coin drops, or a string is cut. Whatever it is, that heady entrancement in the scents vanishes the moment you put that last one back. You feel your face muscles drooping, eyes turning gloomy. “Did the DI tell you what actually happened to those people?”

Namjoon doesn’t need to ask what you mean by ‘those people’. His smile falls, and he sets the sleeve of four candles down on the winter display, pushing aside some white, candy-stripe, and festive red candles to the side as he does so. Morosely, he shakes his head. “All I know is that my candles were found near the scenes. Does the guy just, I don’t know, have a sensitive nose?”

Your eyes are distant, unseeing. You shake your head. “The-” Your voice fails you; unsteady. No matter how many years you have been in this line of work, the sheer grimness of it all never left you. “The murders were very clearly inspired by the scents. That last one, Autumn Outside the Post Office?” You take a deep breath, reaching into your satchel, pulling out a manila folder with several glossy photographs. Handing them over, you watch the disgust, shock, and misery play out on his face. “A postal worker. Clocked out forty minutes before he should’ve. Poor timing, I guess. He was knocked out via a blow to the head with some unclear blunt weapon, probably metal, and maple leaves were shoved down his throat. He suffocated to death just metres away from the staff exit out back.”

The candle shop owner’s voice is soft, almost inaudible. “Oh my god.”

You barrel forth. “That was the third one. The very first murder was originally written off as an accident. A banker who often spent his work breaks in the peach orchard down the street from his workplace was poisoned by the cyanide found in peach stones. One of his colleagues noted it was odd that he didn’t come back to his office after lunch even though he left a candle burning on his desk.”

“Spring Day,” he murmurs, flicking over to the following photo.

“Spring Day,” you confirm. “The next wasn’t for another three months. A lifeguard drowned in the community pool after hours-”

“The lifeguard drowned?”

“He had been let go from his job for arriving to multiple shifts under the influence of alcohol, and that night when he went to collect his belongings after closing, he fell in the pool and drowned. Reports showed a slow-acting tranquilizers in his system. That same drug was found in his apartment, injected into the cut up melons and pineapple slices in his fridge. He must’ve eaten before he left or something, cameras showed him stumbling around too close to the edge of the pool when he got to work, and… well. Authorities were alerted when a smoke alarm went off in the early hours of the morning. A candle from your store was found burning next to a small fire that had been lit inside a metal trash can.”

“Jesus. All three had my candles there?”

“All four,” you correct, “I noticed the connection after the fourth murder.” He’s reached the bottom of the pile of photographs now, his face washed out. Maybe you shouldn’t have shown him, but he needed to know that there were real consequences at play here. You see a flash of red in the picture just below the one he’s currently looking at, and hastily take the stack back off him. There were some things he shouldn’t have to see. “The Winter Bear candle. We’ve managed to keep the gory details from the public, but I’m sure you’ve heard about the head of Gingco Corporate.”

“The business mogul? I thought she passed away at home?”

“She was found slashed up in the bear enclosure at the zoo just outside the main town centre.”

He narrows his brows, black frames slipping down his nose again. “Wasn’t Gingco buying that zoo? It was all over the news.”

“They wanted to demolish it and build a mall, yes. It seems our killer didn’t like that so much. She died from bleeding out. Multiple cuts, in rows to look like bear claws although forensics tell us it was actually a switchblade. Dropped in the bear enclosure post-mortem.”

Namjoon wavers on his feet slightly. “And the candle?”

“On one of the picnic tables facing the enclosure. Burnt down to the wick, so it had been there for a while. Longer than she had been dead, actually. That’s when I started to think it was premeditated. That’s when I began to connect the dots.”

He lets out a shuddering exhale, hand on his sternum, rubbing in a self-soothing pattern. “I don’t understand what my candles have to do with any of this. I just give them interesting names, I don’t…”

“This isn’t your fault, Mister Kim,” you assure, slipping the manila folder back in your bag. “It’s good news, actually. It means that all we need to do is keep an eye on your customers and see if any suspicion people frequent the store. Which is where I come in. My higher-ups suspect the killer might get spooked if you install security cameras inside the store, so we want to avoid chasing him or her away from our one lead. I’ve offered to pose as an employee to keep an eye on things myself.”

“Y- what? I usually work here alone…”

“And now you won’t be.” You reach out your right hand for a handshake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Mister Kim. I’m confident that we’ll catch this son of a bitch in no time.”

His eyebrows lift at your curse word, but he finds himself nodding instinctively. “Okay, yeah, I can- we can do that. I just need to make you a name tag. Let’s go to my office.”

“This is gonna be easy,” you promise, bottom lip resting on the edge of a takeaway paper cup, inhaling the steam that rises through the thinning layer of foam. “You have so few customers that statistically the next one is probably the murderer.”

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be suffering the same boredom as you. “Oh, it’s not that bad! It’s always slow on a Thursday morning.”

“It’s been slow every morning.”

“Well.” Namjoon sips at his water, eyebrow twitching. “It’s not slow in the afternoons.”

You place your cup down with a thud. “You close in the afternoons.”

He stares at you blankly. “...yes, but that’s just because I’m so busy back home in the workshop making more candles. Anyway, we get more customers on the weekend, just wait and see.”

You can’t keep a stern face, softening at the way his eyes glimmer behind thick glasses. “You still haven’t shown me your workshop.”

“Seems a little forward to already be asking my beautiful coworker to come home with me.”

Blushing, you shake your head and pull up a hand to cover the cheek closest to him. “Very funny,” you deflect, “I bet you just don’t want any girl cooties in your mancave.”

He lets out a loud peal of laughter, one that’s harmonised with the jingle of the overhead doorbell as a customer enters, slipping in and cutting Namjoon short. You curse the timing, wishing you could hear that joyful sound again.

“Hi there, you need any help today, or just browsing?”

Instead of replying, the elder lady simply nods at him and shuffles slowly down the room, going to the ‘florals’ section on the left wall, birdlike posture hunched under several layered cardigans.

Namjoon lets out a breathy laugh. “That’s old Mrs. Chin, she wouldn’t hear a gun if it was shot beside her ear.” His face falls, furrowing his brows. “Poor choice of metaphor. She’s deaf as a bat; anyway, she always comes in to buy a new set of tealights each week.”

“Tealights?” you question in a considering tone, finger lazily running up and down the metal hoops of your spiral bound notepad.

He spots this, and gently rests his palm over your hand, halting your absentminded movement. “If anything tells you she’s not a suspect, it shouldn’t be the tealights, it should be the fact that she’s in her nineties.”

You scoff at yourself, staring at the way his hand dwarfs yours, your wrist peeking out past his thumb. “Case closed!” you announce, putting on a TV-news producer voice. “The Wickerman has been taken into custody, and you won’t believe who it is!”

He chuckles warmly, eyes crinkling, and squeezes your hand once before removing it. As Mrs. Chin comes up with a set of six frangipani and gardenia tealights (Jamais Vu, the eggshell-white packaging says), Namjoon rings it through, chatting away to her like they’re old friends, like she can hear him. Even as she fails to hear what he’s saying, she beams, thanking him profusely as she accepts a receipt and her purchase with slightly shaky, age spotted hands.

She turns, slowly making her way down towards the exit. You reluctantly take your hand off the table, the top of it cold after being let go. “You’re really good with people, you know?”

He shrugs. “She’s a very kind person. Treats me like a grandson even though she sees me once a week at most.” Once she leaves, the door jingling again behind her, Namjoon checks the time. “Just about 1pm; that’s us done for the day. Do you mind getting the door? I’ll go take the cash till out back.”

As you stand to go lock the door and switch the hanging sign to CLOSED like you’d done every day this week with Namjoon, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist.

He looks up at you, still sitting. His eyes search your face, hand tightening on you subconsciously. “Today,” he says softly, reverentially.

You furrow your brows. “Today...?”

He swallows. “Come over to my house. I can show you the workshop. I’m in the last stages of planning a new scent, and I want you to try it.”

You fight the urge to pull back your arm slightly, just enough to that his fingers slip between yours instead of on your wrist. You smile softly and nod. “Today.”

Instead of driving your car behind him, you end up taking him in your passenger seat, him pointing out directions at the last second as every last detail of his surroundings distracted him. As it turned out, he didn’t have a licence, and would simply bike back and forth most days, hiring a moving truck to transport candles to the store once weekly.

It worked out well, the two of you enjoying amiable silence for the most part, the drive only about twenty minutes up a slight incline, becoming gravel roads in the last couple of minutes, winding around sectioned farmland and wind turbine plants, before pulling up a long driveway, wheels crunching the loose stone and coming to a stop in front of a rustic but sturdy-looking farmhouse, complete with a swing seat on the porch, and sills of yellow and pink flowers underneath the windows.

“This way,” he guides the moment you turn the key to switch the car off. Following him as he hops out and scuffles energetically down the side of the house, you hastily lock your car and race to catch up.

Instead of the front door, he takes you to the back, unlocking it with an old-fashioned heavy iron key. It’s equally cosy inside as it looks from the driveway, though the carpet is worn thin and the light he switches on is a little wan. As he takes you down through a small laundry and into what you expect to be a garage, you marvel as he shows you inside.

Clearly all his money has gone into his business. While the rest of the house is homely and humble, his workshop looks like a romanticist version of a mad scientist’s lab. Custom-made shelves that reach the wall display mason jars of every type of ground spice, flower, essential oil and concentrate that you could imagine. From vibrant red freeze-dried raspberry to warm brown nutmeg to the deep purple of pressed violet petals, he had it all. Two full walls were taken up this way; a third was for boxes of finished product, as well as stacks of the empty glasses he poured them in, bundles and bundles of wicks in wooden cases, and rolls of black paper stickers, ready to be stamped with the newest creation.

Directly beside the doorway you came in was a desk teeming with papers and plans, above which a corkboard is hammered into the wall, countless scraps of paper and scrawled phone numbers and dates. It’s chaos, but beautiful chaos.

“Wow…” you breathe, unable to put into words just how magical it is. Even the smell is like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not overpowering, but certainly full-bodied, it’s based in the rich, slightly caramel scent of soy and beeswax, but every sniff, every inhale, is a different shade made up from all the components. Some moments it’s fruity, from a tiny leftover beaker on his desk that has dried wax caked onto a glass stirrer and a delicate wafting of sweet lemon and the tartness of raspberries. As he leads you towards a wide bench of scattered bowls, measuring cups and portable stovetops, you uncover lighter floral scents, heady wood tones, and sensual spices, a harmony that’s addictive the longer you smell it.

“I apologise for the mess,” you hear his soft voice cut in, his hands filling your vision as they group together tools and open mason jars in some semblance of tidiness. “I don’t usually have guests.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, still overcome with the entrancing nature of the room. “It’s amazing, honestly. Which one of these is the one you said you were almost finished with?”

His face lights up, pulling his glasses off and resting them on a spare spot on the bench, blinking as his eyes adjust. He reaches for a somewhat smaller bowl, about as tall as a coffee mug and a little wider, and wiggles it back and forth in his hand with a flick of his wrist, disturbing the viscous, deep purple syrup inside. “Here,” he offers up, “tell me what you think.”

Taking a hold of the glass bowl but preventing yourself from sniffing at it just yet, you gesture at his face. “Ditching the glasses?”

“Hm?” He pats his face dumbly for a moment before his eyes glimmer in recognition. You can see them a lot better without the frames’ obstruction, and you want to melt at the rich brown of them, slightly slanted but widened with enthusiasm as his cheeks pinken. “Oh! No, I just… I read on the internet that if you take away one of your senses the others get better. So I thought- I thought maybe if I couldn’t see so well, I’d be able to smell better. It’s stupid, really, but I think it’s helped so far. I’ve always been a little prone to placebo, maybe.”

You grin. “It’s cute.” He laughs shyly, ducking his head to rub at his heated cheeks. You take mercy on him (and give in to your own temptation), bringing the glass mixing bowl to your nose and breathing in deeply, stopping short when the relaxing, nostalgic scent of lavender fills your nose. Not just lavender, though. There’s plenty of comforting notes that you can’t quite put your finger on, ones that give complexity to this concoction. You hold it with both hands, sniffing audibly. “Namjoon, this is incredible!”

The conversation moving back to something he’s confident discussing, he looks back up at you with a broad smile. “Isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get a lavender scent ever since I opened, and I just couldn’t find the right balance. Everything was too sickly sweet, or smelt like soap or my grandparents’ house. But just in the last couple of days, I was struck with inspiration. Instead of going for more florals or light scents, I used ylang ylang oil and tonka absolute to darken and round out the smell. Makes it less like hospital disinfectant and more like comfort. You like it?”

You smile softly, voice bouncing weirdly as you keep your face directed towards the purple syrup. “Mm, comfort. That’s totally it. It reminds me of like, in the holidays when you have nothing to do so you have a bubble bath at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and it just feels like life is peaceful and perfect and you have all the time in the world.” You let out a deep breath. “What are you gonna call it?”

He has an unreadable look in his eyes. The tiniest quirk to his lips, the softest smile. “4 O’clock,” he answers.

The friendly, dimpled customer-service smile stays on Namjoon’s face long after the door jingles, the group of high school girls tittering away down the street. While he’s distracted tidying up the supplies for gift-wrapping, you let your eyes wander over him shamelessly.

Most of the time, when you spoke to him or thought about him, he was this soft, gentle man with a goofy smile and glimmering eyes. And while that was true, it was only in moments like these that you realised just how large he was. His tender demeanour often had you forgetting his tall frame, broad shoulders and strong hands. It was a juxtaposition that endeared you to know end; the corded body that rested under unassuming sweater vests and plain trousers. But at the same time, all that strength was channeled into his craft; the ease at which he’d lift crates of glass candles wasn’t lost on you, but he’d just sheepishly smile and say you get used to it.

Surely he didn’t have the thickest chest you’ve ever seen just by stocking a candle shop? There was so much you still didn’t know about him, and while your job was focussing on the serial killer, not your temporary coworker, you can’t help that weird bothered feeling in your chest.

Your eyes wander around the inside of the checkout desk. It’s organised chaos, with printed receipts mixed with fresh rolls mixed with notepaper on one end, haphazard piles of business cards and loyalty cards in the middle tucked behind the cash register, and three drawers filled with samples, returns, and stationery to the right.

Hearing him come back and place two fresh cups of tea on the countertop, you reach out to pluck a business card from the top pile. It’s classic off-white with warm bronze lettering embossed on it. You note with humour at the long list of roles between Namjoon’s name and contact details. Owner, creator, manufacturer, manager, storeperson. On the flip side is the friendly, manuscript letting, same as the sign above the door. Moni’s Candle Shop.

“What is Moni?” you question absentmindedly, only half-aware you’re speaking aloud.

“Moni,” Namjoon murmurs from behind you, correcting your pronunciation on the first vowel. “It’s nothing.”

You turn to him with a doubtful smile, eyes teasing. “Oh, come on, it’s your entire brand! It can’t be nothing.”

“Yes, it can,” he defends with a pout, blowing away the steam that emanates from his cup. “Just like FILA is a random word.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “FILA is an acronym. It’s like, the name of the company in French or something.”

He sets his tea down delicately, without having taken a single sip. “Yeah, well, maybe Moni is an acronym.”

“What does it stand for then?”

He turns up his nose petulantly. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You raise your eyebrows dubiously. “Because you don’t have one.”

“I do,” he counters, eyes darting upwards. “It stands for...Mmmmany Objects N-need...Interest.”

You can’t hold your unimpressed stare for more than a few seconds, breaking into a bout of laughter, reaching out to punch him lightly on the arm. “You’re such a dork,” you make out, though your grin certainly removes any bite from your words.

He lets you shove him, smiling down at you fondly. Your laughter slowly fades as he waits for you to finish, eyes crinkling and dimples showing.

“What?” you murmur, cursing how quiet your voice has become, a strange fluttering in your chest making your breath weak.

Namjoon rubs the base of his neck self-consciously. “Moni was my childhood dog. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so he really meant a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, Namjoon…” Now that you think about it, even though he’s charming and charismatic to his customers, you’d never seen or even heard him mention any friends or family. Plus he was the only worker in the whole business, if the impressive resume on his business card was anything to go by.

He laughs, eyes shining. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a charity case,” he teases warmly. “I’m happy. I’m happy now.”

You curse your overactive heart for reading too much into his words. This is a job. Stay professional. Forcing a stabilising breath into your lungs, you nod. “That’s good.”

His smile turns strained, but you only see it for a moment before his attention is caught by the jingling of a bell, a middle-aged gentleman in a business suit, rushing towards the counter even as he loudly chatters away on his phone.

“I’m happy now too,” you admit softly, letting your words be swallowed up. Namjoon’s eyes dart to you with an unreadable look, but he turns back. You don’t think he heard you.

After three days of working beside Kim Namjoon, he names a candle after you. After a week and a half, you begin to realise you have a crush on him.

After two weeks and one day, there’s a fifth murder.

It twists your heart, to see the red and blue flashing lights flooding the windows to Moni’s Candle Shop, illuminating Namjoon’s face and reflecting off his glasses as he squints and holds up a hand to protect his eyes.

You’re the first to get out of the car, rushing over. The sign is twisted to CLOSED as Namjoon exits; with a coat on and a shoulder bag, he looks like he was on his way out. Good timing, you suppose.

He’s too frazzled to greet you, hair already disheveled from running his hands through it nervously. “What’s going on, Y/n?”

“Silver Spoon,” you rush out, “who bought Silver Spoon?”

“Huh?”

You sigh and push past him, opening the front door and cringing at the ring of the overhead bell, once for you and a second time as he follows closely behind. “There’s been another one,” you explain bitterly, “I need you to write down a list of all the customers you can remember that bought Silver Spoon.”

Namjoon lets out a shuddering breath. “God, okay, um…” You watch impatiently as he searches behind the desk for a scrap of paper, settling on the back of a receipt as he scribbles, eyes lifting skywards every time he has to try and think.

“Is there anyone that you remember that’s bought the other candles too?”

“I- I don’t know, just let me write th-”

“Well, think, Namjoon, people are getting murdered!” You’re too heated to pay attention to the crack in your voice, though he pauses and looks up with furrowed brows.

He hands over the receipt with eyes, dark with hurt. “You think I don’t know that? You were the one that was here this whole time to try and find the guy. So tell me, Y/n; did you notice anyone strange buying Silver Spoon?”

Your eyes prickle. Maybe that’s why your blood is boiling now, as you stare at the shop owner across from you. No, you didn’t. You were too busy enjoying your time with him, too busy marveling at the warmth he exuded with his customers and his craft, too busy falling for him. You swallow the rising lump of self-hatred at the back of your throat. “Thank you for the names, Mister Kim. I’ll be in touch.”

His face changes, wounded puppy-like eyes replaced with concern in a fraction of a second. “Y/n, are you-?”

“Have a nice day.” You’re out of the door and back in your car before tears of frustration slip down your cheeks.

Namjoon fidgets in the corner of your vision. It would irritate you, only you’re determined to ignore him completely as much as possible for the sake of your job. You keep your head low, focussed on your work, trying to find links between the locations, the motives, the choice of candles, anything.

“So, you won’t even look at me now? All because I couldn’t write down all the names.”

You exhale, staying silent for a moment as you finish your scrawl, refusing to look up even as you reply. “I’m not looking at you because I’m trying to do my job.”

“You were doing your job earlier. You looked at me then.”

You feel your spine stiffen. “And then somebody got stabbed to death by a tree branch.”

He baulks, visibly flinching even out of the corner of your eye. “Cypress or birch?”

You sit up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s your fucking question? Silver birch. It was a snapped-off branch of silver birch. She was found in the forest about 20 k north of here.”

“She?”

You throw your pen down and sit back in your chair. “Im Jee-hwa,” you spit out. “I trust you to keep your mouth shout because the Im family certainly don’t want it getting out, but she was the fifth victim.”

Namjoon frowns. “The chaebol? Last I heard, she was in jail.”

You shrug. “Last night, she got bailed out by her father and spent the night at their family residence. According to various witnesses of relatives and staff, she left before ten in the morning and was discovered less than two hours later by a hiker. Stabbed to death with a broken off branch - no prints, of course - and a silver spoon lodged in her throat, deep enough to damage her vocal chords.”

Namjoon’s hand rises up to his neck, wincing in sympathetic ache. “God, and she was only in her early twenties.”

“Twenty-two,” you specify glumly. “God, the poor girl. Who knew being in jail for tax evasion wasn’t the worst part of her week?” You lean forward, rubbing your face tiredly. “Nobody apart from the residence staff, some of the Im Corporation partners and Im’s family knew about her release the night before. Silver lining is that we can narrow our suspect down to that pool of individuals. Bad news is that her mother estimates it at around eighty to one hundred people because of the likelihood of the news spreading amongst more of the Im Corporation’s workers overnight. Miss Jee-hwa was quite the hot topic, it seems.”

“Jesus.” Namjoon pauses for a bit, like he doesn’t know what to say. “Still, I don’t see why this means you need to ignore me completely. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”

You turn your head again, breaking away from his hopeful eyes. Even just seeing his hand resting on the table beside yours, fingers flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, makes your heart tug in ways you just can’t afford to indulge in. “We’re going to have to create a promotion. Something irresistible that inspires all the customers coming through that door to sign up their name and contact details.”

His voice is lost. “Y/n?”

“While I try and find the connection, and the tech team start pulling background checks on everyone at the house and the Corporation headquarters that night, we’re going to keep track officially of every single person who purchases a candle. Hopefully we can track somebody down before another incident, but if not… There’s no way we won’t be able to find our guy if we compare your list, the people that knew about Jee-hwa, and the customers from now on. There’s no way,” you reiterate, unsure whether it’s you or him you’re trying to convince.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Namjoon agrees. “I usually run a Christmas competition anyway. I’ll whip up a sign-up sheet. Let’s hope they use their real na… Y/n?”

The use of your name brings you back, and you turn to him, eyes wide. “Tax evasion,” you profess in a hush.

“Sorry?”

“Tax evasion. Im Jee-hwa had all the money in the world, and she was still selfish. Our killer put a silver spoon her throat, just like that old insult about rich people born with a silver spoon on their tongues. Yes, it’s like the candle, but it’s some sort of… of sick irony that relates to the victim.”

His eyes are wide, brows poking over the top of his thick frames. “He’s playing god.”

“He’s playing the judge and jury,” you correct. “Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”

Namjoon hunches over your shoulder as you begin to flip through the pages of your file, going through the details of the previous murders. “Do the others fit?”

You squint. “Some. The drunk lifeguard being drowned, for instance. But I bet if we went digging in their personal lives a little more, we’d find links. The candles aren’t just the method, they’re the motive. Give me a second, I need to call my superior and get the investigators on this."

"O-Okay, I'll sort out the Christmas stuff," Namjoon hurries out, standing as you do.

You're already dialling when his hand comes into your line of vision, gently wrapping around your forearm and squeezing reassuringly.

"We'll get him, Y/n," Namjoon promises, "you're an amazing detective."

You soften, flicking him an appreciative smile as you raise the phone to your ear, but your heart sinks. Maybe that's not enough.

Things return to the way they are, for a while. With every name you write down, every candle you sell (far more than the previous weeks as Christmas grows nearer day by day), and every suspect your investigation team crosses off the list, you loosen up, feeling more positive.

Nothing stops the dread you feel checking your phone every morning, and there's nothing better than the overwhelming relief you feel when there hasn't been news. It's illogical, you know; if there was another murder, your superiors wouldn't hesitate to wake you. Part of the gig. But still, it was nice to clear your notifications and breathe easy for a few moments.

Namjoon was doing good on his end of the deal, persuading all the customers to sign up for the Christmas prize pack, no matter how reluctant, and you siphoned photocopies off to the investigators, adding to the backlog more background checks to run and alibis to clear.

"God," you groan, stretching out your limbs with a guttural noise that morphs into a wide yawn. "So busy yesterday, and suddenly it's dead quiet. How can it be this slow on a Saturday?"

"It's a Sunday."

"Is it?" You consult your phone with another groan. "Fuck, I'm reaching the drop-off point."

"The what?"

You let out a tired smile at Namjoon's comical look of confusion. "The drop-off point," you repeat. "It's something my friends and I came up with in school. Apparently, most cases go cold right when the police or detectives or whoever get compliant and lazy, thinking they have a perfect net placed out. They're convinced that they'll catch the sucker, so they sit back and wait, only for a hole to form right under their noses and the suspect to get away. That's the drop-off point. Aren't you bored?"

"Hm?"

"Bored. We think, 'oh, we just need to keep writing down names and we'll get 'em.' But maybe we're so focussed on writing names that we're missing something really obvious that we'll regret for years to come. Don't you think?"

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, letting it sink in for a moment. "I think you're worrying yourself over nothing. This whole time our first major in was that the person is a customer. They can't have bought all the candles at once; not only would I probably remember someone coming in and ordering five or so specific candles, but some of the later candles weren't even released when the first murder happened. So we know for a fact they're coming back to get candles multiple times. And nobody has left here with a candle without writing their full name and contact details down, so we're fine. You're fine."

You stare at Namjoon for a few moments, eyes roaming over his face. The dimple that's emerged with his soft smile, the warmth of his eyes and the earnestness in his expression. Your heart aches at the sight, mouth filling with a million things you wish you could say to him. "Thank you," you settle on. "I needed that."

His smile widens, and his mouth opens to reply, but instead of his caramel voice, you're greeted with the metallic buzz of your phone vibrating on the desk.

"Fuck," you interrupt, snatching it off the counter and feeling your good mood sour with dread at the ID. You answer it with a worried frown, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Please don't tell me there's been another," you ask of your superior.

The line is silent for a moment. "We need you down here, Y/n. Bring any names you have so far. The gap between has shortened yet again; he's getting impatient. Or addicted. Desperate, perhaps, if he thinks we're onto him. Either way, you better have something. I'll see you at the station."

Your stomach turns when the line goes dead.

Namjoon's hand rests on your shoulder, but you have to shake it off to stand and reach for your coat. He takes it back, flexing it awkwardly. "There's been another," he says, more of a statement than a question.

"The drop-off point," you confirm bitterly, "he's slipped through the net yet again. I was careful this time; not a single person that seemed out of place, or with odd behavior. Nothing."

"Hey," Namjoon soothes, eyebrows knitting in worry as a customer enters, a young child in a school uniform and backpack, preventing him from saying any details. "It's okay. You have the names now, it's time to compare them and like you said last week, there's no way we won't be able to narrow it down. You've got this."

A headache forming between your temples, you grab the clipboard of Christmas prize signups, and leave out the back, glancing behind you at Namjoon's tensed form as he puts on a smile for the young customer.

"It's him, it's fucking him, I know it," you rush out as you hustle down the corridor, your boss pacing to keep up.

"Are you one hundred percent certain?" Kim Seokjin, the man you'd been reporting to on this case, halts you with an arm across your chest. "We haven't finished going through the other suspects. There could be others that match better. We don't even know that he knew all of the victims."

"It's him," you promise, eyes bright with conviction. "Cha Giho. In-house chef at the Im residence. So he knew Jee-hwa was out. And he frequented the shop, I sent Namjoon a text of his ID photo and Namjoon recognised him as a regular."

Seokjin's face twists in disapproval. "Jesus Christ, Y/n, you can't do that, it's private information. Besides; you said you remember speaking with him. You didn't get any serial killer vibes?"

"I didn't speak with him; Namjoon did. I was just with him at the desk. He wanted Namjoon to recommend a candle for a forest getaway, Jin, it's fucking him!"

Seokjin sighs out slowly, eyes closing for a moment to maintain composure. "Okay. I'll go with your gut on this one, Y/n, but only because I trust you. We'll go to his place tonight and take him in for questioning on suspicion of multiple murders. If you're wrong on this, Y/n-"

"I'm not wrong," you promise, "I'm not." Your face softens, staring up at the man that you had developed a close working relationship with over the past few years. The man you had begun to see as a personal hero, or an older brother. "Jin. Thank you for trusting me on this. Keep me posted."

"Of course." He pulls you into a brief but tight hug, pressing a kiss to your hairline, and pulling you back by your shoulders to hold you at arm's length, staring intensely. "Now listen to me. You go home and you stay home. Lock the doors, bolt them, everything. On the odd chance that he's not at home or that he finds out we've singled him out, I don't want him to freak out and go against his own sick brand of justice and seek out revenge instead. The last thing we want is a dangerous man like him becoming spontaneous. Understood?"

You nod. "Understood."

He doesn't let go. "And don't be stupid and go track down Mister Candlestick Maker either. We've given him a call to lock up and go home, he's safe. Please; be selfish for me and stay home and stay safe."

You pout playfully for a moment, but sober up when his expression doesn't changes. "You too, Jin. Send the SWAT team. I need you alive to bother me."

He scoffs, but his eyes twinkle with fondness, and maybe a little teary sentiment. "Okay, kid, off you go, I have a suspect to detain."

"Aye aye, Captain."

"What are you doing here?" "Being stupid," you answer through the crack in the door, "now let me in."

Namjoon sighs, shutting the door to remove the chain and opens it back up again, ushering you inside with a cautious look outside after you. Closing it securely behind him, he turns to you. "Why are you here?"

You push past him, grabbing his woolly sweater by the sleeve to pull him after you. "I saw you burn yourself with your own candle wax last week because you wanted to read the label on the base right after you poured it. There's a serial killer on the loose, I don't trust you to keep yourself safe." "Thanks," he says flatly as you sit him down on his plushy couch, standing beside, knees almost touching his. "To be fair, there's been a serial killer on the loose this whole time."

"All going well, he gets detained and know we found him out. All going poorly, he manages to evade the authorities and goes on the run, knowing we found him out. I don't like those odds."

"Don't you have faith in your own colleagues?"

You whirl around with a glare, arms crossed tightly. "Aren't I allowed to be scared for you?" you ask in a small yet biting voice, hating the way it trembles. "Can't you just let me take care of you? Keep you safe?"

He nods slowly. "Sit down," he instructs gently. He waits until you do as he says. "Now," he begins, "what's really bothering you? There's something else going on here and both you and I know it."

You purse your lips, tucking your legs up, resting your chin on your knees and wrapping your arm around them. "Crystal Snow."

"Sorry?"

"I never told you," you answer, though deep inside you know full well this isn't what he meant, "I never told you what candle the last murder was based off. It was Crystal Snow."

He clears his throat lightly, eyes dull as you dodge his true question. "That's Christmas release candle just like Silver Spoon. Another woody one, too. Pine needles, fir, white musk, rosemary and cedar. Hard to get it totally white with those ingredients, but... That's beside the point. Was it in a forest again? I know we have pine trees in the area."

You shake your head numbly, only just noticing the warm fireplace to the left of the couch when it crackles. Somehow, you hadn't felt any of its warmth since arriving. "Father of two young children. Found by the older one that morning when he went outside to play in the snow. His father was buried in it, frozen. His head and shoulders were stuffed into a kennel."

"A kennel?"

"It's from their dog. Wife says it wasn't used anymore. The victim used to always make the dog sleep outside in the kennel, but it wasn't properly insulated. Just got back from the vets after getting pneumonia last week."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "At least we've got him now, Y/n. It's over." He stands up suddenly, and you look up at him. "Do you want a cup of tea or something?" he offers. "Now that you're here, I'd rather you not go back outside, so we might as well get comfortable."

You try to push your worries from your mind, simply giving him a soft smile. "Tea sounds nice, thank you."

As you listen to him tinker away in the kitchen, you shuffle further across the couch in the direction of the fireplace, occupying the space he left warm. There's a window to the left, and you rub your forearms through the fabric of your long-sleeved top, looking outside as flakes of snow pile against the sill, partially blocking your view of the white abyss beyond, vaguely hilly like the terrain of Namjoon's backyard. If nothing else, it's much more peaceful here than at your place. More quiet.

You straighten up suddenly, a shiver running up your spine. Too quiet.

You jump up, rushing into the kitchen and feeling dread shock your system like a splash of cold water when it's empty. Surely he didn't leave a door unlocked... "Namjoon?"

"Yeah?"

You jump at the voice behind you. "Fuck, Namjoon, where were you?"

He stands in a now-open doorway, one hand behind his back as the other grips the doorknob. "In the workshop," he answers, jerking his chin back to gesture the room itself behind him, adjoining to the kitchen.

You sag in relief, but frown a little. "I don't remember coming through the kitchen last time."

"Two entrances," he explains. "This actually used to be a walk-in pantry but I knocked down the doors so there was some extra space." He shakes his head as if he's clearing it, then coughs lightly, eyes focussing in on yours intensely. "Y/n, I have something I want to give you-"

"A heart attack," you interrupt, smacking his chest. "Seriously, Namjoon, you disappeared and I thought something had happened!"

He smiles widely, and you fight to stop from instinctively returning it. "You really do, huh?"

Your face crumples in confusion. "I do what?"

"Care for me," he finishes in a touched voice, brown eyes soft like butter. "I...I thought so for a while, but I never..." He clears his throat again, and whips his hand out from behind his back so quickly you jump, brandishing a glass jar. "Here," he declares, "I made this for you."

You look down in wonder, seeing a familiar shade of purple fill the glass. "Namjoon..."

"4 O'Clock. The lavender candle. Years, and I couldn't perfect it. And then you came along and I found myself thinking about you every minute of every day and it just... it just came to me thanks to you. Everything just makes sense now. I finally mixed the scent with the wax, and I want you to have the first one."

You let him place it in your hands, and you look down at it, stunned. Your thumb runs over the paper sticker, pressed with a stamp. Just three lines, in varyingly sized font.

"So?" Namjoon takes a deep breath, eyes brimming with emotion, with affection and hope. "I kept telling myself I was being delusional, or just convincing myself and seeing what wasn't really there, but after today... You really care for me. And I care for you too, so much, Y/n. I've totally fallen for you."

You swallow thickly, delicately setting the unlit candle down on the kitchen counter beside you.

Namjoon's face falls, his whole body deflates, brows knitted in confusion. "Y/n?"

You can't bear to hear the hurt in his voice. "Namjoon..." you breathe, chanting it like a prayer. Perhaps in some ways, it is. A plea for salvation. Namjoon. "I came to you for my work. And... now that we know who it is, I'm going to have to leave tomorrow now that my work is done. For the integrity of the case, I have to remain professional. Whatever my feelings are-" you break off, heart breaking at the way he looks up in renewed hope. "Whatever my feelings may be, I can't act on them."

Namjoon nods slowly, trying to keep his face neutral as he looks down at the candle sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench, but also at the way your hand hovers, fingers resting on the edge like they can't bear to leave it completely. Finally, he lifts his eyes to your face, searching for an emotional vulnerability that you can't help but imagine is clear to see.

Silently, with only the blanketed hush of the snow outside to surround you in this moment, Namjoon takes one step forward, so that you would have to crane your neck to keep his gaze. So that your bodies almost touch. So that he can rest his palms on your cheeks, cupping them gently and tipping your face up to meet his. "Then please," he begs, voice barely more than a low whisper, "let me act on mine."

The lightest gasp leaves your lips before he bends down and kisses the sound away, warm and sweet and desperate, cradling you like he's scared you'll turn to dust beneath his fingers if he's not perfectly gentle. A murmur comes from his throat, something you think may be your name, and a wall inside you breaks, a cord snaps.

Reaching up, you wrap one hand around his wrist and the other in the fabric of his collar, pulling at it to deepen the kiss, and he melts, taking short steps forward as you shuffle back, until the small of your back presses against the kitchen counter and you arch over it a little with the deepness of his kisses, growing more fevered after receiving a positive response.

You shouldn't be doing this. But god, it feels too good to stop, your heart beating so fast that you feel it where your chests press together, senses going haywire until you feel drunk on him, like the only oxygen in the world is inside Kim Namjoon's mouth, the swipe of his tongue against your lower lip like a burst of euphoria, a gasp of fresh air that saves you from drowning.

One of his hands slips back further, winding into your hair and cupping the back of your head, and you tremble as he presses you so fully against him, even his leg slipping between your thighs so that not a single millimeter of space keeps you apart.

His skin is so hot where it touches yours that you feel on fire, and you have the sudden urge to rip off your top so that you can bare yourself to him, even simple layers of fabric too much separation to handle.

He pulls away reluctantly to pant, lips pink and swollen, pupils blown wide, and you follow suit to catch your breath.

"Y/n," he finally makes out through gasps, thumb rubbing mindlessly at your cheekbone, "if you're going to regret this in the morning, please stop. I can't- you can't give me everything only to take it away again. I'm willing to wait. Until they arrest Cha Giho, until they convict him, until you hand in your final report, I don't care, I'll wait for you. When we do this it can't be a mistake." He stares at you earnestly, openly, hopelessly.

Your eyes widen, taking in his words. "Namjoon, I... Are you sure? I promise I want you, but... if they call you up as a witness and we've been sleeping together, it could totally invali-"

"I know, I know, it's okay," he reassures. "I understand." He gives you a fond smile. "Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me."

You nod, a strange blend of relief and regret mingling inside you. "Thank you, Namjoon. I'm sorry."

He lets you stay entangled like this for a few more bittersweet moments, before gently slipping his hand out of your hair and letting his other fall from your face, stepping away. "Don't apologise, there's no need. Now; I think we've both had enough excitement for one night. I might skip the tea and get straight to bed."

You stand up straight again on slightly shaky legs. "I can take the couch."

"You could," he jibes with a grin, "or you could just sleep in the spare bedroom."

You laugh, poking his rumpled sweater. "What a gentleman."

He shrugs with a warm smile, turning to lead the way. "And just because we aren't sharing the same bed," he calls out over his shoulder, "doesn't mean you can leave without saying goodbye."

"I would never," you promise.

The call comes in the early hours of the morning. Enough for you to be unceremoniously ripped from unconsciousness, the deepest sleep you ever remember having. You’ve purposely set your boss’ ringtone to be the most annoying, whiny preset tune you could find so that it would wake you when needed, and you regret that decision now as the sharp blue light causes you to wince.

“What is it?” you croak, forgoing pleasantries.

“Can you contact Kim Namjoon? He’s not answering his phone.”

You frown, mind feeling two steps behind as you struggle to process his words. “Answering his pho- What’s going on, Jin?”

“He left a note,” your boss explains. “At his house, Cha Giho left a note. I need to speak with Mister Kim.”

You sit up like a bolt. “He what? It’s him, then, it’s definitely him? What did it say?”

Jin lets out a little breath of forced patience. “Can you pass on a message to Mister Kim?”

The Mister Kim that was currently sleeping just down the hall. “I could probably work something out,” you answer. “What did the note say, Jin? Is Namjoon in danger?”

“Namjoon,” Jin repeats blankly. He goes silent for a moment. “...You didn’t go straight home when I asked, did you?”

You huff, jaw tensing. “Now’s not the time, okay? If Cha Giho is still out there, then I need to know what he said in that note, Jin. We don’t need another body.”

Even through the phone connection, you hear the reluctant clicking of his tongue. Jin clears his throat and begins to read. “‘All these months I had hoped you would recognise me. You were always happy to recommend me a candle every time but yet you never asked me my name or how I was doing. I’m sick of taking justice out on them, treating your word like God. I want this to end tonight. I’m going to take my justice out on you.’ That’s it, that’s all he wrote. So wake up Mister Kim or don’t, but whatever you do, make sure the house is safe and that you two stay there. Got it?”

“Of course,” you reply, but your mind is already whirring, getting up and tugging on your shoes with one hand. “Listen, Jin, I’ve gotta go, I want to wake up Namjoon so he knows what’s going on. Better to stay alert and aware. Thanks for the call.” You hang up before he can respond, and break into a hasty jog the moment the call ends.

You didn’t know if Cha knew where Namjoon lived. You didn’t know how or when or where he was planning to strike. But you knew the one thing that could tell you.

You write a note for Namjoon in rushed but legible handwriting, instructing him to stay inside and stay safe, that you just needed to visit the store quickly to check up on something. After making sure all the curtains in the house were drawn, the windows were firmly shut and the doors locked, you leave, the front door clicking and locking with a finality that steels you.

You drive in tense silence, eyes flitting all over the road in front of you, at the milky pools of yellow your headlights cast onto the gravel. Part of you is expecting the middle-aged man to be crouched behind a bush with an old-timey revolver, or screaming down the road with a bloody butcher knife. Years you’ve been working this job, and still these fantasies have a tendency to overtake you. The entire drive, only a few cars go past you, none looking particularly unusual.

You realise your mistake the moment you pull up across the road from the silent row of stores that house Moni’s Candle Shop. You also know it’s too late to go back.

Each one of those stores are dead quiet, totally black. In a town this small, there weren’t even any neon lights that would illuminate the streets all night. You can barely see by the wan glow of the streetlamps, few and far between, but even if they weren’t there, your eyes would be drawn to Moni’s anyway.

Easily visible through the glass of the door, sitting on the front display, is a single candle with a warm flickering flame.

You flick your engine off, and slump backwards in your seat, kicking out with a cry of frustration. He wasn’t going to Namjoon. He was going to let Namjoon come to him.

And now that you’re here - and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s watching out - even if you turn around and leave, there’s nothing to say he won’t follow you back.

Not for the first time in your career, directly disobeying and lying to your boss hadn’t worked out as well as you had intended. You had thought that checking out the list of customers’ names and their purchases would aid you, that perhaps if you looked up the latest candle Cha Giho had bought that somehow you could predict what move he’d make, but it seems it’s too late for that.

You stay like that, in your car in the dark, for about twenty minutes, trying to figure out a game plan. You didn’t fancy calling your boss and having him chew you out and suspend you, but at the same time it wasn’t like you could wake Namjoon and get him to bike all the way down at four in the morning. If Cha saw police sirens, he’d definitely split and then you’d be no better off. And the longer you waited, doing nothing, the more vulnerable you were, just a sitting duck in your car.

With a steeling breath, you throw open the car door, stumbling out into the frosty air, cursing as a cutting breeze saps the heat from your body. As you cross the road, you keep an ear out, ducking your head to send a text to Jin anyway, just a GPS location marker, immediately putting your phone on Do Not Disturb afterwards. As much as he knew how to bite your head off when you fucked up, you’d rather be on his grumpy side than six feet under. You were reckless, not stupid.

The front door is unlocked. It shouldn’t be, but you suppose Cha was courteous enough to make the way easy enough. The bell jingling is noisy enough to make you jump, and you warily hold up your arm in a protective stance, eyeing the shadows.

Luckily, you aren’t immediately assaulted by an attacker, and the door closes behind you, still unlocked. The moment you take a breath, a rich scent fills your nose; caramelised with a warm spice to it. Even as you need to stay alert, it begins to relax your tense muscles. As you breathe it in, you take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the dim inside of the store. Orange plays across your eyes from the warm flame of the candle, but it doesn’t reach far, and you can’t see very deep in the store. There’s no one immediately in your vicinity, but that doesn’t mean Cha isn’t somewhere in the store.

“Come out,” you call, relying on your experience in the field to keep your voice stable. “I know you’re there. Let’s do this the easy way; we already have your written confession, so you might as well cooperate with me now.”

You wait for a moment, but you can’t hear anything, not even a rustle of fabric or a breath. He was going to do this the hard way.

Sighing, you move forward with cautious steps, approaching the display table that houses the candle on one of its upper tiers, right at easy arm’s reach. Taking care not to disturb the melted wax inside, you lift it, trying to make out the paper label. With light coming from within, its shadowed in black, and you huff, reaching in your pocket to pull out your phone, using the light to see.

You suck in a breath. So he had planned on killing Namjoon here, then.

“Very funny,” you announce flatly, “Magic Shop, huh? Did you pick this one yourself?”

Still, the room stays silent, and you frown. Normally by now the killer would have either grown defensive, smug, or aggressive. You weren’t prepared for the total lack of response. A niggling thread of doubt begins to knot itself inside your chest. You glance down at the candle one more time. The wax itself is a glossy tan, but almost the entire top third, if not half, is molten, tipping around the sides. This candle has been burning for hours.

With the cold splash of realization running down your spine, you slam the candle back on the display table, cursing when the wax spills out, pouring over your hand. You recoil like you’ve been stung, rubbing at the burning over your knuckles, an angry red welt already rising on the skin.

Doing your best to ignore it, you turn your phone flashlight to the rest of the store, forcing yourself to investigate the whole interior just to confirm Cha isn’t still there, or hasn’t left anything behind. Even though your heart is screaming at you to leave, you dutifully look in every human-sized nook and cranny, taking just enough time to confirm what you already know.

Cha isn’t here.

Magic Shop was never Moni’s, it was Namjoon’s workshop.

And you’d left Namjoon alone there.

It’s a good thing it’s the middle of the night and there aren’t many cars around. You floored it like never before, very nearly careening off the road on several turns on the windy road back to Namjoon’s house, and you just about crashed into his house with the speed at which you approached it, not even bothering to fully turn off your car as you rush to the front door, banging on it wildly.

As you whack your fists against the solid door, numb to the sharp pain of your burned skin impacting on it, you scream Namjoon’s name, loud enough for your throat to go raw. After a minute with no reply, you push back tears and begin to run around the perimeter, swearing in terrified frustration as all the windows and doors are as securely shut as when you’d left them.

Cha was long gone when you arrived at Moni’s Candle Shop; there was no way you had beat him here, no way he wasn’t already inside. Barely aware of the tears blurring your vision, you reach into your pocket for your phone, shakily dialing the one person you knew would pick up without delay.

“Jin,” you sob out the second the other line picks up, cringing at the loud noises of police sirens that floods his end, “I was wrong, he’s not at the store, he’s here, he’s-”

“Y/n, where the fuck are you?”

You freeze your frantic pacing around the back of Namjoon’s house at the harrowed tone in your boss’ voice. Even as you threw around the f-word like crazy at work, Jin had never once sworn, not at you, not at anyone. “I’m- I’m at Namjoon’s house, Jin, I just got back here after-”

“You went to the store right after I told you to stay put, you reckless fucking girl, do you have any idea how terrified I was when I got here and couldn’t find you anywhere?”

“Got here? You went to the shop?”

The piercing noise of sirens fades away slowly, like Seokjin’s walking further away, and you can hear him puffing into the phone, shallow breaths. “Of course I went to the shop, Y/n, because I knew how stupid you can be and I was fucking right! You’re just lucky you didn’t get hurt.”

Your eyes widen. “No! Jin, no, Cha hasn’t disappeared completely, he’s here, at Namjoon’s house, I know it! I’m stuck outside, Namjoon isn’t responding, I’m-” you break off, voice cracking violently as a sob bubbles to the surface. You let fresh tears run hot tracks down your face. “God, what if he’s dead already, Jin? I can’t-”

“We’re going to come down there, Y/n, I’ve already sent out the rest of the squad cars that stayed at the station, they should get there first. Just stay safe, okay? This isn’t what you want to hear but if Cha and Namjoon are both in there, then he’s probably already dead, Y/n. You know that, it’s what your training tells you, so it would be foolish of you to break in without backup…” He trails off with a sigh. “But you’re not going to listen to any of this. I don’t know why I bother.”

You hiccup, using the light of the moon to try and spot some rocks that would be of use in breaking a window. “I can’t wait outside, Jin. I can’t.”

Jin goes silent for a moment, the only sound a muted thud of a car door opening and then closing again. “...The profiling team have kept researching Cha. The pulled medical history shows he had surgery on his right knee in March of this year.”

You use your other arm to chuck a heavy rock at one of the back bedroom windows, ducking and turning away to protect your face from any stray shards. You hear Jin sigh at the noise. “Thank you, Jin. I’ll keep it in mind. I have to go.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, kid,” Jin jokes, but his voice falls flat, unconvincing. “Please don’t,” he adds weakly, the line going dead right after.

You straighten back up, shaking off the few pieces of glass that had landed on your back and in your hair, and take off your coat, hissing at the cold air as you lay it over the jagged edges of the smashed window.

Climbing in is easy enough, and you emerge in an unfamiliar room, one that, even just by the pale glow of the moon, is visibly lived in. Namjoon’s bedroom.

Giving an apologetic wince as you crunch over the broken glass littered all over his carpet, you quickly pick up the nearest thing you could possibly use as a weapon, which happens to be a massive hardback book on his nightstand, an intricate and heavy edition of The Odyssey. Even as your heart races enough to bang against your ribs, you spare a fond smile at the man’s reading choices, holding the hulking thing in front of you like a barricade.

It feels strange, slinking down the carpeted hallway towards the kitchen. Every second of silence you’re expecting to be filled by a guttural scream or a thud of impact or a gunshot. Every shadow seems to shift and move, more dark in the house than light to see by. It feels like wading through shark infested waters with nothing but a pair of floaties as protection.

You pause, just for a moment, when you enter the kitchen, squinting at the light pooling out of a crack in the door to the workshop. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, fireworks bursting behind your eyelids in vibrant yellows and neon pinks, split seconds of colour with every blink. Once you think you can see without wincing, you take a quiet breath, tiptoeing closer and closer, cringing at the barely audible tap-squeak of your boots on the linoleum floor.

When you gingerly peek around the corner, into the room, you have to clap a hand over your mouth to prevent your gasp from being heard.

The first thing you see is Namjoon.

Arms and torso bound to a chair with the thick industrial packing tape he used for his online orders, Namjoon has his eyes squeezed shut, not in pain but in fear, and his glasses are askew, one lens cracked. He’s rendered mute with more tape, but the edges are lifting from where his tears have slipped between.

That’s not what causes a dark bolt of fear to run through you, though.

Namjoon’s drenched. Absolutely soaked through his clothes, his dark blonde hair sopping. His nose flares at the stench, and you can smell it from here.

Lighter fluid.

For his final masterpiece, Cha had drawn inspiration not from the ingredients, but from the candle itself. You jerk as a wave of bile rises in your throat, managing to swallow it down.

You crane your head more, looking through the tiny gap to make sure Cha isn’t already lighting a match. You spy his silhouette browsing the shelves of ingredients, a few steps away from Namjoon. His hands are empty, and that’s enough for you.

You kick in the door, receiving a gratifying jump from Cha as he whirls around with widened eyes, before they lower again into a lazy grin. You glare at him, eyes darting over to Namjoon, calculating if you’d have enough time to run to him without Cha intercepting. With a tense jaw, you remain in the doorway.

The serial killer laughs, an off-kilter, grating noise. He’s quite handsome, dark hair and sculpted face, but there’s an unsettling gleam in his eyes that revolts you. “I’ve been expecting you,” he announces in a sing-song voice. “Though you took so long. Namjoon and I have been growing bored, quite frankly.”

You let your eyes return to Namjoon, who shakes like a leaf, chest rising and falling in little pants, unable to get enough air through his nose. Rage wells inside you at the sight, but deeper than that, true fear. You almost feel like falling to your knees in tears, begging to exchange your life for his. Anything to get him out of the hot seat, quite literally.

“It’s over, Cha,” you say instead, “the cops are on their way, it’s only a matter of time before they storm the place. Even if you somehow slip away, every police station in the country has a picture of your face on their Wanted board. Every airport, train station and bus terminal won’t let you through. And in the morning, the Wickerman’s true identity will be blasted all over the news. No matter what you do, it’s over. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

His face curls up angrily at this, marring his fine features. “Rash decisions? Tell me, Detective, has there been anything I’ve done so far that has struck you as a rash decision? You wound me.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the irritation at his blase behavior welling inside you with no outlet. Keep him talking, you think to yourself. If he won’t give up, just distract him long enough for backup to arrive. “Well, I can only imagine this whole crackpot scheme of yours was borne from a rash decision. Scented candles? It’s a joke.”

He recoils visibly, eye twitching. “It’s inspired,” he spits back venomously, “something nobody appreciates these days. It’s not your average pointless slasher, it’s hard work and it’s art and it’s for the greater good. Those people I killed, all of them, were monsters.”

“They were only human,” you disagree firmly, “just like you.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes wavering. “I’m not human. I’m a god.”

“I thought Namjoon was the god,” you retort drily, forcing yourself to ignore Namjoon’s brows furrowing in confusion. “Or was that note of yours bullshit too?”

“You read it?” Cha blinks suddenly, nose flaring as he collects himself. “I was wrong. I thought I was acting on his behalf, fulfilling the prophecy of each candle. Carrying out justice. Killing bad people.” Cha turns to where Namjoon’s sitting with a glare. “He recommended every single one of those candles to me personally. They meant something.”

A strange, wounded gurgle sounds from behind the tape over Namjoon’s lips. It sounds like a denial. Or maybe an apology.

“He recommended them because they smelt good, Giho,” you explain through gritted teeth. “But those murders? The children without a father now? The zoo that has to close down because of its shot reputation? That is all on you.”

The skinny man buries his face in his hands for a moment, roughly rubbing at his eyes with a confused moan. “No, I- I was doing it for the betterment of society, these people were leeches, they were abusers, they were lazy, they were selfish.”

“And you’re a murderer,” you reply simply. “Who’s worse off?”

That seems to shut him up. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he takes a shuddering breath and turns to the shelf of ingredients, keeping you in his peripheral, but focusing on the rows and rows of jarred powders and liquids and other items.

You slowly edge closer to Namjoon, aware that Cha is much closer than you, and you can’t imagine you’d be able to get to him in time without Cha freaking out and pulling out a lighter or a match. There’s a bulge in his pants pocket that gives you pause.

“It’s over,” Cha mumbles slowly, picking up a half-empty jar of ground nutmeg, watching the layers shift as he turned it. “Only, it’s not. Not yet. Not quite over.”

He holds the jar in one large palm, but you spy his other hand sinking lower, slowly like he doesn’t want you to notice. With a rising heart rate, you turn your head to Namjoon, widening your eyes at him to catch his attention. Knee, you mouth, as widely as you dare. Cha doesn’t catch it, too busy trying to be subtle himself.

Namjoon’s eyes frown at you behind cracked glasses, before he straightens up slightly in realization. His eyes flick over to Cha’s legs, and back at you, raising his brows in question. Your head lifts in the tiniest nod. Then, you tap your right leg twice. Namjoon breathes in deeply through his nostrils, hands flexing on the arms of the chair.

Not wasting another moment, as Cha’s fingers begin to dip below the edge of his pocket, you rush forward, quickly enough to get his attention but slowly enough that he easily overtakes you, lifting out his hand again to hold them both up in front of you defensively.

Your eyes dart behind him, to Namjoon. He’s still too far away for Namjoon to be able to kick out and reach him, so you take a bold step forward, internally cheering when Cha frowns and reflexively backs up in response.

“There’s no need for this nonsense,” you declare, barely aware of what you’re saying, your mouth on autopilot as you take a step closer. “I don’t want to take you down with force, but I will if it comes to that. Resisting will get you nowhere.” You step forward again.

Cha keeps shuffling backwards, eyeing you with a warning in his eyes. “I’m going to prison anyway, then,” he reasons, “it’s only right that my work is completed before I do.” His hand lowers again, and your heart races, body bringing you two steps forward in quick succession without thought.

The man stumbles back in shock, recoiling like you had jumped him, but frowns when his clear footsteps change sound, a tiny wet slap echoing in the workshop instead. He looks down dumbly, to where the excessive puddle of lighter fluid has splashed up his pant legs and soaked his shoes.

His eyes widen, and he looks up again at you in something akin to betrayal.

You wish you could signal to Namjoon that now was the time, but for some reason Namjoon’s foot ekes forward gingerly, like he’s testing out if he could reach. Instead, you keep your focus on the murderer. “Now you see, Giho? If you set the fire, you burn too.”

A second after it comes out of your mouth, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

His face curls up in a snarl, and he shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out not a lighter or a box of matches, but a switchblade. You gasp and jump back reflexively at the glint of the blade, but he raises it with a growl, bringing it down faster than you can move out of his range for.

A line of fire runs across your forearm as you throw it up to defend you, and you let out a cry through gritted teeth at the deep cut. Cha lifts the dripping blade to charge at you again, but suddenly his hand goes lax and his mouth opens with a pained howl, sinking suddenly to the floor as his knee gives out from underneath him.

Once he hits the puddle of lighter fluid, sending drops all over your clothes, you look past his writhing body to Namjoon, whose leg is still held out in front of him, panting with worried eyes.

Frantically, you pick up the dropped knife, slippery in your grasp from your own blood, and you rush to Namjoon’s chair, slicing through the thick layers of tape, keeping one eye behind you at the man sobbing on the floor in agony, yelling intelligible insults and guttural curses.

The moment his hands are free, Namjoon rips away the tape over his mouth with a pained hiss, massaging the stinging skin. “Y/n, you-”

“Not now,” you interrupt brusquely, finally freeing him from the chair and grabbing his hand, tugging him away as fast as you can go.

Once the two of you leave into the kitchen, you shut the door to the workshop, dashing into the dining room to find a chair to slot under the doorknob, jamming it closed. In less than a minute, you’re out of the house and collapsing onto the frozen grass, cradling your injured arm and doing your best to maintain pressure on it, Namjoon ripping off his shirt and tearing it at the seams to form rough strips, which he binds and ties around the wound, apologising breathlessly when you scrunch up your face at the pain.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry, I have to, you’re bleeding so much, oh Jesus…”

Perhaps it’s the blood loss or the adrenaline that’s making you a little loopy, but you giggle hopelessly at the frightened look on his face.

Namjoon, with lips looking raw from the ripped tape, huffs down at you. “This is serious, Y/n, you could die, don’t laugh at me when I’m helping you!”

This strikes you as even funnier in your hazy mindset, and you keep giggling, hiccuping on dried tears, shivering violently under his gentle touch as the cold air wraps around you more tightly than the bandages on your arm.

“God, I… That was fucking wild in there, I can’t even...process it right now. But I- Are you with me? Y/n?”

You smile dopily at Namjoon, nodding. The rest of the scenery around him is swirling and your stomach lurches with a sickening voracity, but it’s okay when you look deep into his kind eyes and his open face. It’s okay when you have Namjoon beside you, because no matter how cold you are, your heart is burning like a furnace when you look at him and feel him.

He lets out a slow exhale, sitting down beside you with a strong palm on your back to stabilise your wobbling. “I’ve never been that scared in my life, I really thought I was going to die. And when I did, all I could think of was how much I hoped you’d still be okay. Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to have you stay safe, to keep you safe. That guy pulled a knife on you, Y/n, he stabbed you, and all I could think of was how I wished it was me instead who got hurt. I don’t ever want to see you get hurt, I don’t think my heart can take it again. I- When I was in there, and he was waiting for you, and all I could smell was gasoline… I thought I was going to die, and it gave me a certain type of clarity, I guess. I could think clearly for the first time in a long time. And all I could think about was you. I’m in love with you, Y/n, hopelessly in love with you, and I know I said I’d wait until the case was fully closed and done with, and I will, of course I will, but I just couldn’t wait that long to tell you how deep my feelings go, I- God, am I even making sense right now? It must be the adrenaline, I feel- Y/n?”

You lean forward unsteadily, balancing yourself with a hand on his knee. He stares at you with wide eyes, caught off-guard by your sudden movement. Your grin has disappeared, replaced by a look of wonder. “Case closed,” you announce warmly.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“Case closed,” you repeat insistently, “just for now, case closed. So quick; kiss me before I pass out again.”

A smile tugs at his lips, and with no further persuasion needed, he dips his head forward, joining your lips in a tender kiss, foul-tasting from the lighter fluid but still so sweet. You feel yourself melt into him, pressing your upper body against him, and your eyes slip closed so that all of your other senses come to life with Namjoon, only Namjoon, everything Namjoon.

His hand rises to cup your face softly, and you grip his forearm like it’s an anchor, his lips moving against yours like the tides; constant fluidity with a calm power just beneath the surface, and you’re lost to it, caught in his riptide with no hope or desire to ever get out.

Colours swim behind your eyes, and your arm begins to go numb, fingers falling slack and dropping off his forearm. As an enveloping nothingness creeps into the corners of your mind, slowly pulling you from Namjoon, the last thing you’re aware of is the worried call of your name, before you fall into that black ocean.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Jin glances up at you with a start as you drop the heavy manila folder on his desk. His widened eyes drop to it, the fresh red ink stamped across the top, a thick rubber band holding countless slips of paper, photographs, typewritten transcripts and photocopies, all the written evidence and reporting of the case.

Your boss straightens up, like in the presence of someone important. “This it?” he questions simply, though his tone belies the significance of the item on his desk. You give a short nod, tamping down the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “And the online report?”

“Submitted,” you answer, unable to control the smug warmth in your voice.

Jin pats the top of the thick file fondly, eyes darting back up to you. “The families?”

“Notified,” you respond dutifully, though something keeps you slightly fidgety, absentmindedly massaging your forearm, feeling the raised line of the scar you were left with.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man swaying side to side on his office chair. His face softens, a tender smile emerging. “And young Mister Kim?”

Your hand goes still as you break his knowing gaze. “I- Well, I figured it would be best if I did a courtesy visit, just to, you know, talk it through properl-”

“It’s okay,” Jin cuts in, “I’m not going to lecture you. I really appreciate that you put this case first and kept...that on standby, but your obligation is over. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s a good one.”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “Is that your way of giving me permission, Kim Seokjin?”

A light blush tints the tips of his ears red as he splutters defensively. “God, no,” he scoffs, “if it were up to me, you’d stay pure and innocent forever.”

He breaks off to send you a salacious wink to let you know he’s joking around, and you laugh, turning to leave. Your hand rests on the doorknob of his office door before he speaks up again. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you reply without looking, opening the door and letting yourself hover half-inside, half-out.

Jin’s voice is warm, full of tender fondness that could only be cultivated by years of working side by side. “You’re my best girl, you know that?”

You flick him one last grin. “Right back atcha.”

He beams happily, and you’re already out of the office before you hear the offended cry of him processing your words.

Namjoon’s front door is open when you pull up, gravel crunching below your feet. Your first instinct is alarm, especially considering what went down the last time you were here, but it doesn't seem like anything ominous.

In fact, as you approach, you realise it's quite the opposite. A rich smell wafts out the open door, somewhat familiar yet unique scent that you can't quite put your finger on. You take a step inside, calling out his name, but recoil when, instead of the glossy wood of the entryway, your shoe lands on something soft and springy. You look down, eyes widening in bewilderment at the sight that greets you.

Piled at the front door and winding down and around the hallway are countless fresh rose petals, the same dusky pink shade that you recognise from his flower garden outside. Did he have someone over?

You call his name out again, but instead of a response, you strain your ear to hear a faint melodic hum, a honeyed tune that invites you in.

Leaving your coat and shoes at the door, you follow the trail of petals, careful not to step on any more. You find yourself smiling as you notice some of them with rips and tears at the base, others squished or bent, like he was in a hurry when deflowering the rose bushes.

Both the enticing smell and the dreamy humming crescendo the further along you follow the path of rose petals. They're leading you towards the workshop, through the living room and kitchen, but part of you knew that the moment you walked in the door. It was the heart and soul of the house, and it didn't surprise you that he was in there.

In fact, as your socked feet slip slightly on the smooth tiles of the kitchen, you pinpoint one of the delicate fragrances that fill the air. It's the scent of roses.

"Namjoon?" This time, as you call his name a third time, you open the door to the workshop further, and step inside, eyes searching. Although it's a strange mirror of the last time you were here, your heart is beating out of your chest for a different reason.

When you see him, it's like you're falling in love for the first time, though you've long since accepted over that long two months apart that you had been totally head over heels with him for a lot longer. But still, your heart swells, and you can't help but beam warmly at the sight that greets you.

Namjoon's so entirely engrossed in what he's doing that you don't think he even heard you, still lost in his own melody, something you begin to recall is from a romance movie or a ballet, classical and moving.

His tall figure is bent over the central island bench, using a massive tub with a spout to pour a dusky pink wax into several glass jars, the long, uncut wicks held upright with little metal rods that lie across the top of the jar. His biceps strain under his messy green t-shirt, and the hulking tub is almost the size of his torso, yet his hands don't shake the slightest, and he manages to fill each jar to the same height, about a couple centimetres below the rim, without pouring any over those metal rods. He works quickly, but even if it took him an hour you're convinced you would've happily stood there in awed silence the whole time, unwilling to disturb him.

His hummed tune stops, and he pours a single sample candle in focussed silence, before picking up a new train of notes, a composition you recognise as a Chopin tune, Nocturne-something, but a much lower version, coming from the resonance of his throat. As you watch him closely, his eyebrows move with the music, knitting together and lifting on the higher notes, a subconscious smile tugging at his closed mouth.

As he reaches the end of the rows of empty glasses, the molten wax in the tub running low, he loses track of the rhythm, diverting into his own stream of haphazard runs and melodies, something that's even more endearing to you. Fuck, you're smitten.

Finally, as he puts down the heavy tub on the concrete floor with a sigh, rolling his shoulders back and wiggling his fingers to relax the muscles, you clear your throat loudly, making him jump in his spot and whirl around, eyes widening at your presence.

"Y/n? You got here fast!"

Your smile falters, replaced by a look of confusion. "I... what?"

Namjoon seems to realise belatedly what he said, wincing at himself with a sheepish laugh. "Uh, maybe I got a call from a certain someone...saying to expect you..."

Jin. You nod. "Figures." But then, a thought strikes you, and you glance back the way you came, at the path of rose petals that leads away behind you like the tail of a comet. "So this is all for me?"

Namjoon's eyes are bright, no glasses to obstruct them. You tamp down a grin at the fond memory of his theory about not wearing his glasses while in the workshop, that his sense of smell was better with poor vision. It is so clear to you that every atom in him, every moment and every thought, was filled with nothing but love for his craft.

You want that love yourself, even just a fraction of it. To see if his hands would take as much care with you as with the production of those candles. To know if the sounds that left his throat then would be as melodic as his absent-minded humming.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to return your mind to the present moment, where Namjoon's tender gaze is on you, eyes searching your face with an open vulnerability.

"Of course it's all for you," he says simply, and the casual intimacy of his comment runs shivers down your spine. "It's done, isn't it?" he questions. "It's over."

Your eyes crinkle with the warmth of your smile. You nod, not trusting your voice.

"Come here," he instructs gently, tilting his head down at the slowly cooling candles. As you approach the bench, he darts away, returning with a paper sticker stuck to his pointer finger. Picking a candle at random, he holds it level so as not to disrupt the wax, and wraps the sticker around the side of the glass, ensuring the corners are flat and snug against the curve. "Here, smell this. It's what I've been working on while the store was closed for the trial."

You're sure to handle the glass jar with as much care as he does when he gives it to you. You couldn't deny the hours you had spent at your desk, or in court, wondering what Namjoon was doing. Your higher-ups, the men Jin reported to, had deemed it necessary to temporarily shut down Moni's Candle Shop over the period of the trial, knowing the unsavoury publicity it might receive, and while increased footfall and news coverage proved them right, you knew it must have bothered Namjoon immensely to be separated from it for so long. It seemed at least he had been productive.

Without reading the label, you lift the opening to your nose, recoiling slightly when the overpowering scent hits your nostrils.

Namjoon laughs, placing a warm hand over your much smaller one, pressing down so that your face was at a safe enough distance from the candle. "Wax smells a lot stronger when heated," he explains with a laugh in his tone, "so maybe don't dip your nose in it."

You flick him a dry look, though you can't keep serious for longer than a moment, too focussed on the heavy weight in your hands. Sniffing, more delicately this time, your eyes slip shut in bliss as you breathe in the enveloping scent. Just one inhale eases your muscles, relaxes your brow, and brings a soft smile to your face.

The first thing you recognise is that perfumed sweetness of the rose, but it's deepened with hints of something incredibly familiar, something you just can't put your finger on, even as it makes your heart swell in your chest.

"What is that?" you question with a confused lilt to your voice, tentatively raising it higher inch by inch in the hopes that you'll finally get it.

Namjoon's eyes glitter; like he's forgotten until now, his hand suddenly shifts from resting on top of yours to cupped below, as he pulls your hand further away from your face, stretching your arm out and up. "Read the label," he replies instead, turning the glass jar around within your grasp, until the paper faces you. You feel his eyes on you as your expression changes with the carefully handwritten words.

"Namjoon..." you breathe, feeling yourself tear up a little, overwhelmed with the emotions that flooded your senses.

His fingers cover the corners, but you can still easily make out what it says.

He’s pulling the candle out of your hand gently, placing it back on the counter top, but you don’t look away from his face for a second. He’s avoiding your gaze like he’s shy, fiddling with a patch of dried wax on the hem of his shirt, but he looks up in surprise when you take a large step forward, enough for his hands to be trapped between you. He wiggles them out, where they awkwardly hover at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He looks so unsure of himself, yet his eyes are so earnest, that it melts you.

“Namjoon,” you repeat softly, “can I ask you a question too?”

He blinks once, taken off-guard. He nods silently, a tense, jerky movement.

A warm smile breaks across your face as you look up at him, at the man you’ve irrevocably fallen in love with. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but it doesn’t matter when you stand so close. “Will you kiss me?”

There’s a single moment that separates the two of you. A single moment where all the tension floods from his body. Where his mouth drops slightly open and his eyebrows lift in surprise. Where an involuntary sigh of relief leaves his parted lips.

And then those lips are on yours, and you’re apart no longer.

Namjoon kisses you like you’re more delicate than the glass of those jars, like you’re more precious than all the ingredients that line his shelves, like you mean the world to him, and it takes your breath away.

He kisses slow, every sliver of contact cherished and savoured, your face cupped between his palms, thumbs rubbing soothingly at your cheekbones as he tips your face up higher towards him, so he can breathe you in. With languid yet fevered movements, Namjoon deepens the kiss until your nerves are on fire, his body heat against you only adding to the blaze, the occasional slip of tongue sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You feel alive, more now than you have for years, and his scent and his taste and the murmur in his throat are the anchors that tie you to him, to this feeling.

Desperate to be closer, you reach up and fist handfuls of his shirt in your hands, the fabric warmed by his body, and tug him more securely against you. He reflexively drops a hand from your face to wrap his arm around your back, and tilts his head to the side slightly to intensify the kiss even further, raw need quickening the pace even as his lips stay soft and sensual against yours.

When he eventually pulls away to take a breath, the two of you are panting, and you can see his eyes are blown wide with desire, nothing but a narrow ring of rich brown around his dilated pupils.

You heart leaps at the way he keeps you pressed to him, cupping your face with a tender smile playing at his lips. “Yes,” you announce warmly.

His head tilts to the side. “Yes…? Yes what?”

Your grin stretches. “It’s the answer to your question.” You gesture with a tip of your chin to the slowly-solidifying candles. “Yes, I’ll be yours. So; will you be mine too?”

You think you could stay in this moment forever; snug in his warm embrace, lips still tingling from where he’s kissed you, cheek hot where his large palm rests. From the way he looks down at you, you imagine he feels quite the same.

“Oh, my love,” he assures softly, “I’ve been yours all along.”

[halfgclden]

NEW MOON

Date: March 13th, 2021

tw: haruspicy (animal sacrifice), speeches

The man dropping out of the tree next to her was almost enough to startle Cleo back into her body.

“Don’t scr-”

His instruction was cut off by her screaming, and her hand darted out towards his crotch. He was too quick for her, though, and grabbed her wrist before it made contact. She snatched it back, cradling it to her chest as he sneered at her, flipping his goggles up.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, huh?”

It was when he moved the goggles from his face that Cleo recognized the man as the one who hung around Reno and one of Len’s weird friends, but that recognition did little for her in her current state. Her lips curled back as she hissed at him, which only made him laugh.

“What are you doing, little maenad? And where’s your pack?” Will looked up and around, but the light of the stars wasn’t enough for him to see with the new moon. He looked back down at Cleo, eyebrows raised. “Night creature. Do you count as nocturnal? Think I can control you as I do them?”

Cleo kept her teeth bared. “You can’t control me. I have power you wouldn’t understand. You’re lucky you didn’t stumble upon my Bacchanal; we’d rip you limb from limb.”

This reply just made Will laugh again. He didn’t doubt that the threat was real, but he was pretture sure that he could hold himself against the small, half-lucid person in front of him.

“I believe you’d try.”

Cleo scrunched her nose up and finally backed away from Will, moving into the clearing on her hands and knees so that she could scoop up dirt into the jar she had with her. Will flipped his night vision goggles back down so that he could watch her for a moment. He knew better than to take the power she’d mentioned with a grain of salt, but he was positive that he knew more about it than she— or anyone at this camp— did.

“This place,” Will began out loud, despite not knowing if Cleo could retain anything in her state. Sometimes, it was nice to hear himself speak. “Is where potential goes to die. They really have you believing that this is a safe haven when they’ve just gathered you up in one place. They’ve lifted the borders before; their great deluge, and gave you the town as their covenant that they would never do it again. And you all, the survivors, believe them.”

Cleo had looked up from her task and was watching with unfocused eyes.

“I don’t think that they’ll do it again, not yet. They’ve hit the jackpot. A city full of worshipers, they even provide places to make your sacrifices more conveniently. Do you all understand that you are being treated as farm animals? What do you think would happen if you decided not to put your food scraps in those pretty little compost bins they’ve given you? Another flood? Then, all the good little halfbloods that sacrifice correctly can be the new wave, and they can be grateful that the gods spared them, have given them a new town with pretty statues and colourful parks all built on a foundation of death and lies.

“They’re entrepreneurs, I’ll give them that. It makes me sick.” And as Will finished his speech, he summoned a misshapen package, roughly wrapped in brown paper and twine. He moved into the clearing but kept his distance from the other person, and unwrapped the package to reveal a freshly plucked chicken. He knelt down as he laid out the paper on the ground, summoned forth an ornate knife from his ring, and, once done, examined the chicken for omens.

“Haruspicy,” Cleo murmured, not resting on the balls of her feet as she watched with morbid curiosity. “Gross.”

“Ritual,” Will replied, his lip quirking upwards as he carefully picked through the remains, apparently gleaning information from it. When he was satisfied, he wrapped everything back in its wax paper, tied the twine, and made everything disappear. “Come to Logan’s if you want chicken soup, maenad. I think we’ll have enough to spare.” 

He laughed, and it was unclear if he was joking or not. He moved closer to Cleo now. “How much of this will you remember?”

“Everything.”

“Hm.” He twisted his ring and produced a light bulb, crushed it, and leaned forward to leave the pile of glass in Cleo’s lap. “Hope you retained some of it.”

She blinked in confusion and looked down, then swept the glass up into the jar with her dirt. She looked up, opened her mouth to ask a question, and frowned when she found that she was alone.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #191

“i got a baseball bat beside my bed to fight off what’s inside my head.”

Museum date or aquarium date? I suppose aquarium. Have you ever been a part of a protest or a march? No. Do you play any video games? Yes. Did you ever have an emo or scene phase? Yes. Name a subject you know a lot about. Meerkats. How would you describe your style? Too-Poor-To-Dress-Goth-So-Wears-Band-Merch-And-Graphic-Tees-Instead. What’s something most people love that you hate? Coffee. Who knows the most about you? Sara. Applesauce or pudding? Pudding. If you could create ANY mix-up or mythical animal and have it be brought to life, what would it be? I think I've mentioned a meerkat with butterfly wings before? Or bird wings? Describe a moment that is a prominent memory, but didn’t have a strong impact on your life. Uhhhh there's a lot. One random one would be learning to ride my bike. If there was one problem/issue you could wipe off the face of the earth, what would it be? Ohhhhhhhhhh god, there's so much. Maybe poverty? Do you think everyone in our lives serves a purpose, or are some people just there? In the story of your own life, no, not everyone. How do you feel about getting your picture taken? I hate it. Most embarrassing poster you’ve ever owned? Never owned one I was embarrassed by. When was the last time you were in a public setting and a stranger annoyed you? I'm not sure. Strangest pet peeve? Probably how much I hate people going in/out the wrong door. If you could make a guest appearance in ANY show, which one would you choose? Uhhhh Supernatural, maybe? Who do you think is the most underrated comedian? I don't know enough comedians for this, nevermind less successful ones. Do you always make eye contact with people when you’re speaking to them? No; this is something I'm super awkward about. I don't know how long "normal" eye contact is, so I think it's very easy to notice how, when talking to you, my eyes will suddenly wander. Could you see yourself having a child with the last person you kissed? We physically can't. We both don't want kids, anyway. Who is your favorite person to have random conversations with? SARA. When you were small, did you ever ask where babies came from? If you did, do you remember what your parents told you? I think I did, but I don't remember. What’s the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? That I was/am "absolutely beautiful" and deserve "everything in the world." Who did you have your first kiss with? How did you meet that person? Jason. We "met" via Facebook because I accepted his friend request because I thought he was a different Jason lmao. Apparently he saw me in the hall and knew he had to talk to me so somehow found out my name. Which. I still want to know how. I've come to find how creepy our origin story is lol. Have you felt butterflies in your stomach today? No. Did anyone/anything get on your nerves today? No. Think of the person you fell the hardest for. What first attracted you? I don't know which I fell hardest for, honestly... because one was to an unhealthy degree, but my bond with Sara is healthy. I know I'm closer with her than I was Jason, but I guess by definition I still "fell hardest" for him? In that case, I thought he was really unique, even odd, which I appreciated. Has anyone recently found out something you didn’t want them to know? I got to where I told my therapist about the RP hobby, per Mom's and Sara's recommendations. I'm trying to work towards not being so secretive and embarrassed by what I love, so I very slowly got it out to her as practice and as a trust exercise. Is there something you currently want, that you can’t have? HA, there's a lot. A drawing tablet, for one. Who was the last person to make you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable? LAAAAAAAAAAAAAWL. Probably the last person I had a social interaction with that wasn't my mother. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favorite character in it? Buddy (Elf). What color is your couch? Tan. What are you known for? Probably as the unsuccessful, antisocial, lazy 23-year-old that still depends on her mother. Has anyone ever threatened you? Yes. Have you ever been scammed? I don't think so? Are you making sure you’re using your full potential? Boy, I try, but I know I don't. If you have a partner, have you ever had to sleep in separate beds? If you don’t, how would you feel if a future partner wanted separate beds? We're long-distance so like. It'd be a bummer, but that's it; I understand wanting comfort, and even I know sleeping on your own is comfier. I'm just a cuddler and would sacrifice comfiness for the sake of physical closeness. What is something you are skeptical about? People’s intentions. <<<<<< This. Is there a murder case you find absolutely fascinating? I'm sure there's some I've forgotten. What is an unusual item somebody you know owns? Ummmm. OH HA Sara keeps the complete/"good" sheds of the snakes in her room. What’s the oldest TV-show you like? When was it made? I Love Lucy, 1951. If you have a job, do you prefer morning shifts or evening shifts? N/A, but I know I'd prefer morning. Do you have a mug with your name/initials on it? No. Have you ever designed your own mug? No. Is there a game that you excel in? A number. Have you ever been in a row boat? No. What are you most confident about? Most insecure about? Ummm... probably photography, I guess? I'm most insecure about "odd" interests and hobbies. When are you most likely to say something you don’t mean? When I'm angry. When was the last time that you saw fire? I'm not sure. Probably while lighting a match to burn some incense. Do you like wearing sunglasses? Why or why not? No. I don't like my vision being dimmed. What do you think in general of girls with short hair? Rock it. How about guys with long hair? Usually attractive to me. Have you ever seen somebody get shot? No. Would you ever try one of those DNA kits? Totally. With films in languages you do not speak, do you prefer a dub or subtitles? It depends if the voiceovers are convincing or not. Generally, I like those because subtitles distract me. Which cuisine do you like the least? That I've tried, Japanese. Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? YEAH. LOOOOOTS. Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? Yes, except Bentley. Who are your favorite songwriters? Otep Shamaya probs tops the list. What are your favorite one-hit wonders? YO "My Own Worst Enemy" by Lit is a BOP. Have you ever seen anybody naked by accident? Maybe? Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about a celebrity? ... lol yes. Have you ever changed your clothes in the car? Yeah. About how quickly does your hair grow? UGH, fast. Because I have it short now, it's overgrown in like, two months. It looks awful where it is now, but I should be getting it cut this month. Do you have to/choose to shave anything unusual? Fuck "have to." No one has to shave anything if they don't want to. But anyway, I suppose you can consider above my lip "unusual." Much to my annoyance, I have dark body hair so develop the dreaded "ladystache" if I leave it alone for too long. Do you groom (wax, pluck, or thread) your eyebrows? No. If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? N/A Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? Yes, but for a bit of change. Fucking stupid. Did you have to take showers after gym before going to your next class? No. Were you in any extracurricular activities or clubs in high school? I was in the art and honors club, but we didn't do after-school activities. Have you ever picked up and kept a rock because it caught your eye? I think. Have you ever laughed at a scene (TV/film) that wasn’t meant to be funny? Ha, I'm sure. Have you seen any Hannibal movies other than The Silence of the Lambs? I haven't even seen that, but I want to. I know it's a classic and have heard great about it from horror fans. Have you read any of the Hannibal novels? No. Do you like any indie movies? Probably. What part of a man’s body do you find most attractive? I'm suuuuch a sucker for prominent shoulder blades/moderately muscular backs. What part of a woman’s body do you find most attractive? I'm weak for hips. Do you think guys look good in makeup? YO most I see doing it fucking rock that shit. I deeply respect guys who embrace their more feminine traits. Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? No. Do you like bread crust on pizza or do you prefer it cut off? Mmmmm love it. Have you ever driven while drunk/intoxicated? No, absolutely never would. What’s the worst/hardest drug you’ve taken? N/A What is the worst/hardest drug you’ve been offered, but declined to partake in? Nothing. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for trying it? I was just curious about how it tasted and knew a bit wouldn't hurt me. Do you think you could ever have an abortion if you expectantly turned pregnant? The only way that could currently happen is if I was raped, and I don't know what I'd do. I lean towards carrying it would probably be legit traumatizing to me so yes, but I suppose I'd have to be in that situation (knock the fuck on wood) to truly know. What is the weirdest ailment a pet of yours/your family’s has sustained? Ummm. The weirdest... probably the intestine thing that killed Cato. I can't remember precisely, but I believe it was some type of infection that completely clogged him. Maybe even a disease. If you were far from home and needed to sleep for the night, would you choose to rent a crappy hotel room for $60 or sleep in your car for free? In the car. Is there a situation you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? Maybe? Have you ever been in a relationship that was going great, and then suddenly something weird happened and you just KNEW it was going to be over soon? That happened with Jason. I had this odd feeling something was off for a little while. He was quieter and seemed somewhat depressed, which was totally unlike him. I even asked him quite a bit if something was wrong, but he always reassured me he was fine. Which of the guys you’ve been interested in hurt you the most? lul we knooooow. Do you know anyone who is engaged? Yes. Do you know anybody who is pregnant? Yes. I'm going to one's baby shower next month! What is your relationship status on Facebook? Taken. Would you be able to name everyone you’ve kissed? Yeah. Last person you watched a movie with? Sara, her dad, and I think her mom and one brother was with us? Who has the power to break you? I honestly hope no one anymore, at least not entirely. But Sara comes the closest. Favorite “little kid” movie? TLK. What are you listening to? WoW's Grizzly Hills music. :') Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? Sara. Or Mom. It depends on the subject. Do you find smoking unattractive? Very. I think it says something about how much you care for your health. Have you ever just laid down outside and stared at the stars? Yup. Has anyone ever asked you if you were bipolar? I don't believe so. What was the last thing you looked up on Google? Types of rat cancer for that pet ailment question. We don't know with certainty, but that's likely what killed Tezzeret, brain or eye cancer or something like that. Do you lose interest in someone quickly? If you do something stupid, ha, bye. I can lose interest very fast but also slowly. Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone? Yes. Does your password have to do with a boy/girl? No. Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry? Yes. Think back to last year. Who did you like? Sara. How did you meet the last male you called? He's my dad so like- Ever been kissed on the leg? Maybe? What was the last thing you ate? Ham, cheese, and mustard on wheat bread. If you HAD to kiss someone right now, who would it be? Sara. Who was the last person you rode in the car with? Mom. Name some things you love about winter? NOT HOT AS FUCK, snow, frost, gingerbread, chocolate-covered peanuts, I can walk outside without worrying about ticks, my birthday, hot chocolate, looking at Christmas lights/decorations, nice tree designs, Christmas itself... I just love winter. Last person to hear you cry? Probably Mom. How do you feel about your relationship status? I love it. Only thing that could make me happier is if we weren't long-distance. Is it possible to be JUST friends with someone you wanna be with? I dunno. Have you ever been given roses? Yes. Would you ever sky dive? I don't think so. Where was the last place you fell asleep other than your own bed? Sara's bed. If you dated someone that someone else liked, would you rub it in their face? Uh no, I'm an adult. Have you received a text message that made you cry? Yes. What do you think of your country’s education system? If you could change it, what would you do? WOULD YOU LIKE AN ESSAY????????????? I'd change a fucking load of things. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? No. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I'm not in a place to really answer this; I'm not knowledgeable of almost any celebs' lives. Think back to the last time you got really angry. Do you think your anger was justified, or did you act in an over the top way? It was fucking justified. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Probably one for the environment as far as volunteer work. We're absolutely annihilating our one and only home, and if we don't collectively get our shit together as a species, we're gone. I think both are equally important. Do you have any allergies? If not, what do you think the worst thing to be allergic to would be? Pollen. I think the worst of the ones I know would be any deathly-allergic food, especially those that there are traces of in many foods. What do you think of the term plus-sized in modeling? It is it empowering or demeaning? It's demeaning in its name. Just use "modeling" as the term. "Plus size" just makes it sound as if you're not a "perfect" model. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? Mmm, depends on my mood, honestly. Do you think you are ready to be on your own (have your own home, job, etc.)? No. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Totally. Do you sleep in a bra? I feel very sorry for anyone who does. Has your ex ever gone out with someone close to you? No. Can you suggest someone funny on YouTube? Personally find Game Grumps or Shane Dawson the funniest people on there. Sprite or Mtn. Dew? I hate Sprite, so. Has anyone close to you ever been suicidal? Yes. What is the 10th picture in your phone/camera of? A picture of Roman as a kitten. :') Are you friends with someone who’s autistic? My niece is, if she counts. Has anyone ever walked in on you having sex? No. Have you ever had a Bic Mac? No. I don't like lettuce on burgers. What’s your favorite part about the holidays? Seeing how excited my niece and nephew are. How old is your television? Idk exact years, but we had it before the divorce, so it's been a while. Would you ever dye your hair an unnatural color? BITCH I always want my hair an unnatural color. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yes. If you’re reading a book, what page are you currently on? N/A How many online accounts do you have? Or have you lost count? I've definitely lost count. Have you ever been to a convention? (comic, YouTube, etc.) A reptile one. Have you ever done a first aid course? No. Has anyone ever compared you to someone you don’t like? No, I don't think so. Do elevators freak you out? Yes. How do you find new music to listen to when you want it? YouTube recommendations or Spotify. What is the biggest difference between you and your best friend? OUR FEELINGS TOWARDS MEDICATION. YOU NEED IT SOMETIMES BABE. What is something most people are turned on by but you’re not? Penises in general. I'm still bi, but seeing a dick is just. Ugh they're just hideous to me okay. Is there anything you wish you had done with a current/previous significant other? No. Well, I'm curious how actually deep sex would feel, so I guess I kinda wish Jason and I went that far, especially now that I'll probably never have actual intercourse again, but. Oh well. What are the top three qualities that draw you to a new person? Charismatic, caring, and respectful. What job would you be terrible at and what job would you be good at? Anything dealing with customers; exposing animals to healthy human contact. Do you think that forgiveness is mandatory to move on from something? I think so, to fully move on. Name three things you would buy if you had the money to buy them? A PS4, drawing tablet, totally new and better camera. If you could have a video of one event in your life, what would the video be? Sara's reaction to seeing me in her room on her birthday. Her face was the most priceless thing ever. What did you think was cool when you were younger? Light-up shoes lmao. Who do you wish you could back into contact with and why did you stop in the first place? Megan. She lied about just about everything in her life for pity. When I finally called her out, she was so upset with herself that she like, fell off the face of the earth. Have you ever had a dream of stabbing someone? No, but rather Dad trying to stab me. What’s the most bizarre Horror movie you’ve ever seen? Idk off the top of my head. Would you ever take a Lie Detector test for your significant other? No, but only because I find them as bullshit. Especially as someone with anxiety, I'd be so scared of something showing as a "lie" to remain calm. Plus, a question may just prompt a memory or thought in you that shows up on the test or whatever but isn't related to lying, stuff like that. Ever had a forbidden love or lover? No. Do you like canopy beds? YES. I WANT ONE. If you could summon any animal to come to your rescue, what animal would it be and why? Ummm maybe a bear? They're tanks and super dangerous with their claws, teeth, and muscles.

[discyours]

Depressed passing guide

I see a lot of passing guides around, and they’re great, but they usually assume you have 100% of your energy to put into passing. For those of us who have like 24 other mental illnesses that make gender dysphoria take the backseat, that’s not always realistic. So here’s some shit I’ve noticed can help you pass that doesn’t take much effort. I’m pre-t FTM so most of these tips will mainly be applicable if you are too.  Ps, you’re not required to pass in order to be “”valid””. Most of us want to and it can be important to stay safe, but remember you’re doing this for you, not the rest of the world.  General : Most pre-t guys will naturally look closest to 12-15 years old if they do pass. I know most of us hate not being treated our age but embracing this will make passing 100x easier. Match your mannerisms to those of teenage boys, and when looking for clothes/hairstyles try to match your perceived age rather than your actual age.  Clothing:  General rule for all clothes: don’t underestimate the kids’ section, and shop online if you can’t find your size. If both of those fail you, you can try to order internationally. Asian men have much smaller frames so clothes from China work great, just be careful not to order from dodgy sites. Tailors are also a good option if you can afford them.  Never get your jeans in the women’s section. They’ll be cut to accentuate your hips 99% of the time. If you can find men’s or boys’ jeans that fit your hips, straight leg is best. If you can’t, don’t sweat it you have other options. 

Sweatpants/joggers are great. They’ll go past your hips without issue because of the elastic, and if you don’t already pass nobody will look at you weird for going into the mens section to buy what’s widely recognised as very fucking comfortable clothing. Get a pair that’s looser on top and tighter on the bottom if you can, it keeps you from looking like a total slob. Stick to dark colours as they’ll slim down your hips.  For t-shirts, get something slim fit/athletic fit, and get it as close to your size as possible. Aside from your chest, your arms are the most obvious sign you’re not cis on your upper half. Getting shirts with tighter arm holes will give the illusion that you’re muscly, or at least not a total string bean. Once again, stick to dark colours. Large colour differences between your top and bottom half will draw a line across your body, making you look shorter. Graphic tees are a hit or miss. They can help conceal your chest and they fit the teenage boy look, but since they’re unisex they could end up making you look like a tomboy.    Avoid flannel, it’s associated with butch lesbians and could make people think you are one too.

Hoodies are a lifesaver. They’re easy to layer with (especially the zip-up kind) which will help conceal your chest. Rolling up the sleeves to your elbows makes them hug your arms tightly, making them look more muscular. Putting up the hood will make you look masculine, or at least hide feminine features somewhat. If you’re too small for men’s jackets, layering a zip-up hoodie with a (faux) leather jacket will look masculine and mimic the style a lot of men’s jackets have.  Binding: 

First of all, if you’re going to bind, be as safe as possible (there’s always risks, keep that in mind). 8 hours a day MAXIMUM (and maximum does not mean that that’s an allowance you need to use up every day), take it off as often as possible, and don’t ever sleep or exercise in your binder. Listen to your body, take a break when it hurts. Don’t bind with ace bandages or tape, just generally avoid homemade binders. And for the love of god, don’t get a cheap amazon/aliexpress/wish/ebay binder. If you bind unsafely, you can break your ribs, permanently deform your rib cage/collarbones, damage your soft tissues (which seriously reduces your chances of getting good top surgery results), permanently reduce your lung capacity, and just generally damage your body so much that you will never be able to bind again. Don’t be stupid.  Gc2b and underworks are the most popular and safest binder brands. Generally speaking, gc2b is better for smaller chests and underworks is better for larger chests.  There are two main styles of binders, tri-top and full tank. Tri-top does everything you need, full tank binders just add more (non-compressive) fabric to the bottom. Tri-top tends to be more comfortable as there’s no extra fabric to bunch up, but if you want your binder to be subtle if you have to change in front of people/are wearing a tight shirt, getting something that looks like a tank top is your best bet.  Gc2b binders are available in a range of colours, while underworks offers black, white and beige binders. I decided to get a binder that matched my skin colour since I could only afford one and I didn’t want it to show through any clothing. I HIGHLY regret it. Cis men do not wear skin coloured garments under their shirts. If your collar slips up in the slightest, there’s an obvious sign that you’re trans. Cis men DO wear undershirts though, so get a binder that’s the same colour as an undershirt (usually white but black works too).  Some trans men use kt tape to bind, and transtape is a product made specifically to improve upon kt tape binding. Mind you, putting tape on your skin is very fucking bad for it and you will likely get blisters, as well as risk losing skin elasticity (something that’s important to retain if you want top surgery). Only do this as a last resort if you’re in a situation where regular binders are even more unsafe or would out you, such as while traveling. Look up how to apply it properly first and remove it VERY carefully.  Hair: If you want long hair that’s your choice, and some trans men do pass with long hair. But keep in mind even square-jawed cis men will get misgendered from the back if they have long hair. If you’re not okay with regularly getting she’d, keep it short until you’re on t for a while. 

If you have yet to get your hair cut short, a barber may refuse to cut you. Some of them really do only work with men/boys and if you don’t pass, you’ll be turned away. Just go to a unisex salon, if you don’t want to out yourself then find a picture of a woman with a masculine haircut. Show them that, then get them to make it even more masculine (ask for your sideburns or “the bits on the side” squared, it makes a world of difference). You’ll be able to go to a barber for your next haircut after that.  Resist the urge to get a buzzcut. It’s very low maintenance but it makes your face shape extremely apparent, you will look feminine.  Get your hair as short as you can stand on the sides and leave some length on top. If you get the sides really short, you should only have to brave your social anxiety every two months orso to get a new cut. Style the top upwards with some product (wax, gel, whatever). Your face will look less round if you do this.  To avoid talking to your barber and possibly outing yourself, just find a picture of the haircut you want and show it to them. I’ve found barbers are far less chatty than people at unisex salons so you’ll probably be okay just not speaking.  Wash your hair as little as possible. Don’t let it get greasy, but allow it to build up some texture. Cis men’s hair is a lot rougher and less silky than cis women’s, so you want to mimic that. Throw your conditioner in the trash.  For body hair, leave it alone as much as possible. Don’t touch your eyebrows, either. Let them get bushy, don’t pluck any stray hairs. You can fill in your eyebrows to make them look thicker but I’d recommend against using makeup in any form as a trans man, it’s hard to make it look subtle and people will instantly think you’re a woman if they notice you’re wearing it.  You can shave your face if you want to, but it’s honestly a waste of time. Your skin will look softer without the peach fuzz, which is the opposite of what you want to achieve. Hair doesn’t grow back thicker after you shave it, so don’t bother doing it for that reason. Body composition: Dysphoria TW for mention of biological sex.  A lot of guides make a major point of this. Work out 5 days a week, eat as little as possible, get your body fat percentage down. One of the most popular guides there is for FTMs even suggests you get down below 20% body fat, acknowledging that that’d be an unacceptable advice for cis women but going on to say it’s okay because we aren’t cis women.  My advice on this is to do your best to shut THAT advice out. Our bodies are (unfortunately) female, they play by female rules. The notion that we can (and should!) starve and exercise our way into a male body is harmful and wrong. Having a female looking body isn’t a personal failure or a sign that you’re not working hard enough, it’s an unavoidable consequence of BEING physically female.  Building muscle helps. Lower bodyfat helps. If you’re overweight and can manage to go on a diet, go for it. If you can start working out, go for it! Just don’t sweat it if you can’t for whatever reason. I promise it’s still possible to pass.  Mannerisms

Sit with your legs open. Manspread a little. You want to be sitting in a way that would get old ladies tutting if a lady in a dress did it, but don’t go so far that you’re doing the splits.  If you want to cross your legs, do it with your ankle on your leg. Crossing your legs too tightly will crush the dick you want people to think you have.  Walk with your legs slightly apart, and try not to sway your hips. Visualise having something between your legs that you’re trying not to crush (because cis men do).  Put your hands in your pockets as much as possible. Standing with your hands in your pockets basically draws a straight line down your body, minimising the appearance of your hips. It also makes you look like a bored teenager so it’s perfect.  Don’t smile too much, especially not in pictures. If you do smile, smirk. Try to look cocky.  Cis men have stronger brow bones and eyebrows closer to their eyes. You can mimic this by frowning mildly.  There are tons of voice training techniques you can look up to get your voice to go deeper, but to be honest it’s a lot of effort. You need to actually put force behind your voice to get it to come from your chest, and god knows I’m too depressed to do that 90% of the time. I’m fond of the “never fucking speak to anyone” technique and it works out just fine.  Confidence is absolutely the most important part. If you’re showing that you’re sure of yourself and act like you being a man is the most natural, obvious thing ever, people are unlikely to doubt you. If they do doubt you, just laugh it off. Act like the notion of you being anything but male is ridiculous. I don’t even do all the things in this guide. I’m very short with wide hips and a very high pitched voice, but confidence is what consistently gets me to pass. If you’re not confident, fake it till you make it.  Feel free to add!

[mackinmacki]

The #1 Idol

Rating: K

Word Count: 3004

Summary: During her second year, Nico celebrates her birthday alone. Well, almost.

Pairing: NozoNico

Notes: Happy birthday, Nico!

Links: (FFN) | (AO3)

July 22nd was just a normal day. That's what she told herself to get out of bed and drag herself over to her closet. It wasn't fair that there was school that day. Her birthday should be a national holiday. At least that's what she thought. She had to remind herself of the truth, though: the school only knew it was her birthday through her records. They didn't care what day it was. Nobody outside her immediate family did.

That thought almost defeated her. Some days it did. Not the thought that nobody cared about her birthday specifically, but that nobody cared about her in general. She'd pretend she was sick, and would get to spend the day with her adoring siblings while her mom went to work. At least her brother and sisters cared about her. They treated her like a bigshot idol, which she admittedly hadn't dissuaded. And she may have been the reason for those thoughts in the first place. It made her feel good, though. They didn't need to know that her idol dreams were destroyed the moment her fellow idolmates had walked out the door of the clubroom and never returned. Second year was really kicking her butt.

Standing in her closet, she strongly considered getting right back into bed and sleeping the morning away. It was her birthday, after all. If no one else was going to care about it, at least she could treat herself to not going to school. It'd be a present to herself. She knew that she probably couldn't miss any more school, though. The illness excuses were probably wearing thin on the principal. Sighing, she stripped off her nightwear and changed into her school uniform.

She sat at the kitchen table and forced herself to eat breakfast, though she wasn't all that hungry. There wasn't much for her to eat anyway. She needed to go grocery shopping, though the family finances always were a constraint. At least not feeling very hungry worked in her favor when it came to lacking money. She made herself eat a banana, then slung her bag over her shoulder and left the house. Nobody was up yet to wish her a happy birthday. She could handle it, though. At this point, she was used to going an entire school day without anyone bringing it up.

School wasn't even interesting that day. Nobody talked to her, and the lessons weren't able to pierce the veil of her dour mood. Not that her classes were interesting in the first place, but today they dragged on an especially long time. At one point she even dropped her head against her desk and had to stifle a groan. This was the worst. It was so frustrating. If she had to be sad, why couldn't she be sad at home? At least she could use her phone without having to hide it under her desk.

Lunchtime came and Nico sat outside on a bench underneath the shade of a tree. Alone, as usual. Other people would walk by, but none of them bothered to look her way. Not that she cared. She didn't need their pity. Everything was going just fine, thank you very much.

In her lunch, she had tucked away something special just for herself: a cupcake she'd splurged on at a dessert shop a couple days ago. She'd put it in a tupperware container, though some of the frosting had come off on the inside of the lid. Opening it up, she grabbed a candle she'd stowed away in her bag and put it in the middle of the cupcake. Holding it in her hands, it looked like the saddest one girl party imaginable.

"Happy birthday to me." She sighed and imitated blowing out the candle. Of course, she wouldn't be allowed to bring matches to school, so she'd have to make due with her imagination. Staring at the cupcake, sitting there all by herself, she almost didn't feel like eating it at all. Keyword: almost. It was too good of a sweet to lose all of her appetite over. She plucked the candle out and idly sucked the frosting off of it. It only sort of tasted like wax.

"Does that taste good?" Nico nearly swallowed the candle, spitting it out onto the grass as she turned to look at whoever was speaking to her. A teasing but gentle smile greeted her. "Oh, don't choke on it, Nico."

"Nozomi! What are you doing here?" She didn't really know Nozomi all that well. They had classes together, but that was the only place where they really spoke. Even then, it wasn't like they chatted frequently. Nozomi was the one who initiated most of the conversations, with Nico sometimes feeling like she was being forced into speaking. Maybe Nozomi was just trying to be friendly, but it could come across as a little overbearing. Honestly, she felt that Nozomi tried too hard to befriend other people, with her card tricks and all. They were both social outcasts in their own ways, but she didn't feel like she needed to do a song and dance for other people to get them to like her. That wasn't her style. She didn't care one bit. Not at all...

"Well, I wanted to come wish you a happy birthday!" She smiled shyly, waiting to see if Nico would invite her to sit with her. Nico just stared at her at first, the cupcake in her hand temporarily forgotten. She didn't expect that anyone would bother to know when her birthday was, not even Nozomi. Even if Nozomi had tried to be friendly with her before, she wouldn't have expected this. Why did she know it? Narrowing her eyes, she stared at Nozomi's face, trying to determine what she was trying to gain. After what had happened with her other so-called friends, she didn't trust anyone to want anything with some sort of strings attached.

"Well, uh... Thanks, I guess." She kept staring, though she started to feel sorry for Nozomi just standing there and squirming a bit. "You wanna sit down or something? Jeez..." Nozomi smiled in relief, sitting down next to Nico and placing her bag on her lap.

"I got you something. Um, it isn't much, but I hope you like it!" She pulled out a CD from her bag and presented it to Nico, smiling hopefully. "I know you like idols a lot, so I burned you this CD of some idol music." Quirking an eyebrow, Nico glanced down at the CD. It was a blank white disk in a plain jewel case. Scrawled on the CD in sharpie were the words '#1 Idol in the Universe!' She had no idea what idol Nozomi had downloaded for this, but either she thought very highly of their music, or this singer thought very highly of themselves.

"Thanks." She took the CD with her free hand, continuing to stare at it. She'd never gotten a present before from someone she wasn't related to. It didn't even seem like a 'give in order to get' kind of present, since it seemed like a cheap gift. Not that she was denigrating it or anything. Hell, she knew more than most about having to make due when it came to purchases. Her mind may have been a bit scrambled from the sudden friendliness. She'd never really understood why Nozomi wanted to talk to her, especially not this year. Nobody else did.

Laying the CD in her lap, she finished unwrapping her cupcake and started to eat it, occasionally glancing over at Nozomi. She was watching her eat, and though she tried to hide it, Nico could tell that she was disappointed. Maybe she expected more than just a curt 'thanks' for a response, or that they'd actually have a conversation instead of Nico just eating in front of it. It made her feel a bit guilty. Just a bit, though.

"Uh, so..." Ugh, this was stupid. She wasn't good at small talk. When she had something to say, she just came out and said it. Big and bombastic was her style, not elevator talk. "Really, thanks. I, uh, I appreciate the gift. Really. But how did you know it was my birthday? I don't remember mentioning it to you." One could say 'Well, if you want people to know your birthday, you have to tell them,' but Nico was tired of telling people and getting lip service in return. It didn't mean anything.

"Oh, uh... Well..." Nozomi laughed sheepishly, tugging on her right sleeve. "I... may have asked Elicchi to look up your file for me." Ah. Well, that made sense. If there was anything that made less sense than Nozomi being friendly with her, it was Nozomi being friends with Eli. That was actually school-wide gossip for a time, though it had died down somewhat in recent weeks. Not completely, though. It still seemed wild to believe Nozomi, weird as she was, would be friends with arguably the hottest - yet coldest - girl in the whole school. Nobody before had seemed to be able to break through that wall of ice she had around her, even with an industrial strength icepick. It was a weird union, but apparently they were good enough friends to look through private school files together.

"Looking up students' files, eh? Didn't know the student council did such things. Or maybe the others don't know. Bet that'd hurt the Mad Russian's chance at getting to be president, wouldn't it?" She noticed the flash of fear go through Nozomi's eyes, her demeanor changing instantly. Why did she feel bad when she was just needling her? "Come on, I'm joking. I'm not gonna snitch on you, jeez. It's not that big a deal anyway. Don't turn on the waterworks or anything."

"I wasn't going to cry!" Nozomi folded her arms and pouted. "I didn't want you to know I was getting you something, so I had to surprise you." She was back to smiling, like she'd flipped back on her happy switch. That was fast. "You'll listen to it when you get home, right? I think you'll really like it."

"Yeah, sure. I can do that." She would. Probably. She could at least listen to the first track and just pretend she listened to the whole thing. At least to avoid hurting Nozomi's feelings. Hell, maybe she could listen to the whole thing. It wouldn't kill her, probably. Besides, it couldn't be more than eighty minutes. She had that to spare. It wasn't like she was going out to live it up for her birthday. "Who's this 'number one' idol anyway?"

"Oh, you'll know who they are when you listen. It's an up-and-comer, but I think they're going to become very big in the idol world! I'm sure an idol savant like you will know even currently underground idols." Well, she wasn't wrong. Nico did pride herself on knowing the ins and out of the idol world, along with all of the singers and groups that were within it. She was trying not to think about it, though. After the dissolution of her idol group, she'd tried to ween herself off of her dreams. Sure, she'd put on a good face for her siblings, but she knew the truth: she wasn't going to make it. She couldn't really get mad at Nozomi, though. It wasn't like her file had any info on her dreams being crushed. At least, she didn't think it did.

"Yeah, you're right. I am the foremost idol expert at this school, after all." It came off her tongue so easily, even if it stung a bit. Doing her best to shrug it off, she finished off her cupcake and left the trash by her side. All this talking was going to keep her from getting some food in her stomach before the bell rang. Before she could open up her bento box, Nozomi swiped a finger right by her lips. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You had frosting on your face." Nozomi smiled and stuck her finger in her mouth, licking off the frosting. "Ooh, that's good. Store-bought, though." How could she even tell that? Better question: why was she wiping frosting off of her face? Nico heated up at the sudden close contact, which she tried to hide by focusing on her food. But focusing on her food made her notice something else: the lack of food Nozomi was holding.

"Where's your food, anyway? You not gonna eat or something?"

"I already ate." Nico side-eyed her suspiciously. She said it without missing a beat, but for some reason Nico didn't believe her. There was just something that made her feel like Nozomi was hiding her lack of food for whatever reason. Rolling her eyes, she shifted her bento box so that it was on her right leg, closer to Nozomi.

"Have a bit, alright? And don't argue. The birthday girl is always right." Nozomi stared at her, surprised. Then she smiled and took some food without any resistance. They engaged in some small talk while they ate lunch together, most of it involving Nozomi trying to dispel Nico's preconceived notations about Eli. For once, time seemed to fly by, and the bell rang before either of them were ready for it to.

"I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, Nico!" Nozomi stood up, then stopped herself, realizing that she'd spoken based on an assumption. "I mean, if... you want to eat lunch together." She smiled shyly, but Nico was able to see through it again. Why would she want to sit with her when she assumedly spent her lunch time sitting with Eli?. Maybe it was just pity, or Nozomi again trying too hard to make friends. ... Ahh, what the heck? It's not like she hated eating with Nozomi or anything.

"Yeah yeah, I never said I didn't. You're gonna have to come to my bench, though. I ain't movin' for no one." That seemed to perk Nozomi up instantly. She smiled widely and nodded eagerly. Then the two of them walked back into the school, chatting idly as they returned to class.

Nozomi was the only person at school to wish her a happy birthday, but it was one more than she expected. It was better at home, where her siblings rushed her with cheers of 'Happy birthday!'. They had made her a card, something that she cherished every year. There wasn't many presents, but it wasn't something she expected. She just appreciated that she had her family there to celebrate her day with.

It was when she was alone in her room that she remembered the CD Nozomi gave her. Pulling it out of her bag, she figured she might as well listen to it while doing the negligible amount of homework she had to do that night. Not that they should even give out homework on what should a national holiday, but she'd just have to take that up with the student council.

She put the CD into her computer, pulling out her homework while it loaded. To her surprise, there were only three songs on the disk, and there was no information on any of them. That was strange. What exactly was Nozomi up to? Well, at least she could figure out who the hell this 'number one' idol was, anyway. She double clicked the first song and waited for it to play.

Stranger still, there wasn't even any music to accompany the song. All that was there was someone singing. It was... familiar, though. Nozomi had been right: she knew who this idol was. It was on the tip of her tongue... As she tried to think about who it was, she started to sing along with the song. It only took several lines for her to realize what she was doing, her eyes widening with the realization that she did know who the singer was. It was herself.

Her homework laid on her desk unfinished as she sat and stared at her screen, flabbergasted. That was clearly her singing, but she'd never recorded herself doing that. At least, not when this had to have been recorded. She recognized the lyrics from a song she'd written for her idol group the previous year, which meant it had to be either from last year or... or maybe when she'd been singing to herself in the clubroom. Still, it hadn't been recorded!

So that meant that... Nozomi recorded it? Had she been stalking her for all this time? That was a high grade on the creep factor for recording her without her knowledge. But... it was also kinda sweet, if something could be both creepy and sweet. For however long it had been, Nozomi had been listening to her singing. She must've been silently supporting her in the background for all this time. With what she knew about Nozomi, it wasn't really much of a surprise. She definitely had some weird things she did when it came to being friendly, but it did seem to all be with good intentions.

Leaning back in her chair, she listened to herself singing - not in a self-centered way this time - and thought about what Nozomi had written on the disk. "Number one idol, huh?" She laughed softly, smiling at the thought. Well, at least one person that wasn't related to her thought she was a good idol. Maybe there was hope. If there was one person in the shadows enjoying what she did, then perhaps there were others. They were just too shy to come forward and tell her. So... she would need to get them to open up herself.

"Oh Nozomi, I'm really gonna have to teach you about properly socializing," she said to herself, ignoring her own lack of friends in the school. "I'll have to thank her for the gift tomorrow, though. This... This will not be the end! Super idol Nico Nico Nii shall rise again!"

[manmodeactivate]

Ultimate passing tips list for pre-t transguys (and some other tips too)

If you want to look like your average joe cis guy this list is for you, you dont have to try and look cis to be valid this is just for people that want to pass in public consistently. This is info I’ve gathered over the years and stuff I’ve learnt myself too so i thought i’d put them in one place. 

This stuff works for me, i pass all the time basically even if i am perceived as a younger guy that’s fine by me.

its pretty lengthy so the topics are facial hair, hair, jaw, voice, height, hips, packing, binding, swimming, working out, foods, body language, clothes and bathrooms.

•FACIAL HAIR: shave your peach fuzz coz guys don’t have peach fuzz or…

you can make it pass for male facial hair by growing it as much as you can as a moustache and shaving the rest. You could even leave a lil at the sideburns. Once you’ve done that grab a makeup powder a bit darker than your skin tone and lightly brush on the areas with hair to darken it and tada you have facial hair. You could dye it if you have some pretty good fuzz ive done that and it works a treat the video’s here. If you go for something darker than light brown you will have to wash your face a few times to get the skin stain off.

I’ve also heard coconut oil is good for facial hair growth. If you want to give that a try get a bit and slather it on wear you want the hair and massage it in for like 5 mins and leave it or sleep with it on. 

Coconut oil is a good moisturiser and can act as a shaving ‘cream’ and aftershave too. 

Also shaving to make hair grow thicker and darker is bs. When the hair starts growing back because its been cut not pluck the end of that hair follicle is flat not pointed making it appear darker and thicker.

You can ghost in the areas where facial hair would be with makeup too but it may look less natural. 

And keep eyebrows more natural just focus on the middle. You can darken them the same as your facial hair as men have darker, thicker eyebrows generally.  

•HAIR: going tight on the sides can make your head look more square therefore more masculine. 

 Also keep it messy, women generally have smooth, brushed through looking hair. Get some clay or wax or whatever works for your hair type and texture and rub it in your hands till there’s no clumps. Then work it into ALL of your hair, just go crazy. Also side parting rather than something closer to the middle for short hair looks more masculine and less i want to speak to the manager.

 Also square off that sideburny bit don’t keep it pointy. 

Body hair is good to keep too coz most guys have a crap ton of it (leg hair, armpit hair) 

•JAW: you can clench your jaw to make it more rigid and square (people keep adding not to do this for too long which is true but like common sense guys). 

Also chewing gum more often to make you jaw muscles stronger can improve your jawline.

Try out contouring if you want to (I understand if you don’t) 

•VOICE: I’ve seen some exercises online like humming as low as you can for 30 seconds a few times a day; stretching your neck; stretching your neck while humming; singing male parts in songs; speaking more slowly and controlled; speaking from your chest or abdomen. One or a combination or these might work for you just give them a try. 

•HEIGHT: there are short cis guys so don’t worry too much.

You can wear shoes with thick heels or wear inserts. I’m not sure about any other height tips as i don’t worry about my height.

•HIPS: if you have a lot of weight around your hips that isn’t bone wear mid or high rise jeans and put them over that area with a belt on so you can cinch down the fat a lil bit. This could be dangerous so don’t do it too often or too tight.

Losing some weight can help but when it comes to bone it ain’t moving.

Ty turner said boardshorts are good too because of the wide waistband so give that a try in the summer too.

•PACKING: honestly packing isn’t a passing thing most people don’t pay attention to it but you can if you want to.

A sock in your briefs or boxers is good enough but there are packers and stps (stand to pee devices) you can buy too.

Tight briefs, a harness or a diy harness is best for packing.

To make a diy harness use a waistband from some underwear and either put a hole in them for the shaft to go through or you can attach a o ring or something similar to the waistband which will last longer.

If you have just a packer like the mr limpy or pierre you can use pouches like the joey which ensure you dont lose your dick down your leg.

If you have a freetom i made a harness out of womens underwear and it works really well. Just chop a hole in the front a few inches below the waistband and tada!! 

To use an STP you just whip it out do a lil bit of a squat and put it underneath you, legs a bit spread so you dont squash the stp, point it mostly down and go. Depending on the stp this can vary and you may also have to control your flow.

I also did a review of 2 freetoms, pierre and the joey packing pouch that you can watch by clicking here. 

•BINDING: DO NOT USE ACE BANDAGES OR WRAP ANYTHING ALL THE WAY AROUND YOUR BODY. Its extremely dangerous and you could break ribs and puncture organs.

Only bind with binders from trusted brands. A few that are well known are gc2b, underworks and flavnts bareskin binder. Ive used the gc2b binder and i can definitely recommend it it is extremely comfortable and the material is great.

To avoid the moob when you put on your binder put your hand under the bottom and push them either to the side or down. If you have a smaller chest you could go up but just fiddle around till it looks the best you can get it (Yes some positions are healthier than others if it causes pain don’t do it that way obviously).

You can try kt tape but only use in small amounts. From over your nipple to your armpit with only a few pieces. This method can effect skin elasticity and cause irritation. Do not use more tape than what was just recommended as you don’t want to constrict yourself.

Also sports bras are good if you can’t buy a binder or it isn’t safe to. Wear one backwards or wear two (one forwards and one backwards) if wearing one normally doesn’t do the trick.

Layers and thick jumpers and jackets can hide your chest too.

Do not buy cheap ones on ebay.

Only bind up to 8 hours and try not to exceed that. If you have to bind for longer take regular breaks but 10 hours is the absolute max.

Don’t sleep in one either as you breath differently when you sleep and you need some time to breath if you wear it everyday.

Don’t buy one smaller than your size this can can serious problems. Your size will work very well and getting a smaller size doesn’t mean it will flatten you more. Most guys have pecs anyway so a lil bump is okay.

•SWIMMING: again boardshorts with a wide waistband are great but also rashies (bather material t-shirts basically) are good too. 

If you wear a sports bra (fowards or backwards. Probably don’t try wearing two as that would be constricting) or a bareskin binder you can wear an over sized rashie over the top to hide some curves (when it isnt clinging to your body) and also hide the binder or sports bra. 

A wetsuit with a rashie also works well. 

No one will question you wearing a rashie but if they do just say its to protect from uv rays. 

You can also try binding with kt tape/sports tape with a rashie. 

•WORKING OUT: strength/weight training your upper body can help make your shoulders look bigger and more masculine. Doing exercises regularly (a few times a week) for muscles like the triceps, biceps, chest and lats is a good start (i say a good start, you should also work out other body parts to ensure balance but the focus is on people just starting or people that dont do gym often and want a more masculine appearance).

Have lots of protein to help build muscle (exercise at the same time, just protein won’t do anything).

Also shedding some weight can help with curves as well as help get rid of a baby face.

Working out also boosts testosterone.

•FOODS: there are natural testosterone boosting and estrogen blocking foods you can try. These are some i found but there are others. They probably won’t do much but you can try them out if you want.

Some boosters are tuna, egg yolks, oysters, shellfish, garlic, coconut, beef and beans.

Some estrogen blockers are kale, cauliflower, broccoli, mushrooms, whole grains, pomegranates, grapes, olive oil, spinach, onions and citrus.

•BODY LANGUAGE: be confident. This is very important. 

Shoulders back, chest out. 

Walk with a slightly wider stance (coz most guys have some junk down there ya know so just imagine that or buy a packer to help with that) and also sitting down with your legs slightly apart (coz again junk down there). 

Try not to talk with your hands too much but if you do, do it less with your wrists and maybe more slowly and with your whole arm. 

Hands in pockets is also a masculine mannerism.

•CLOTHES: wear masculine (or androgynous) clothes that are a lil oversized. T-shirts that are wider in the torso and longer are best. Tops with a standard neck opening are better than wide neck openings too as it makes your neck look thicker. 

Rolling up sleeves is a good idea too coz if you have a big shirt the sleeves are going to look a bit funky. Sleeves that are fitted on your arms and show your mid upper arm give the illusion of bigger arms therefore more muscular arms. To tighten them and shorten them just roll them up a few times. This won’t look weird or suspicious either coz it’s a trend that’s happening anyway. 

Patterns, dark clothes and layers are good for hiding your chest and curves too. 

Muscle tank tops are good in general so wear them. 

In terms of accessories a watch is great and maybe a leather or wood bead bracelet or a plain ring. Keep it minimal. 

•BATHROOM: in and out just do what you’ve gotta do. Don’t look around and chat or whatever. 

Keep your head down if you’re worried you don’t pass enough. 

[nanalikessurveys]

Are you one of those lucky people to own a walk-in closet? No, i’m so unfortunate haha Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? Not really lol Do you use Google? Yes, everyday Would you like to go swimming right now? No, not right now Can you play electric guitar? I can’t

Do you have an HDTV? I’m not sure lol, it’s just a TV to me When was the last time you drank something through a straw? I have no idea, i usually don’t use a straw Have you ever tried to teach yourself a different language? Not really How long was your last phone call? About 2 mins which is long for me haha

Do you need to repaint your nails? I don’t have them painted and i don’t feel like doing it now Has there ever been a horoscope that came true for you? I don’t read horoscopes Are you a fan of industrial metal? No, i don’t like metal music Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? Yeah sometimes

Do you have a wall calendar? I don’t 

Have you ever taken the pictures from a calendar and used them as posters? Nope Can you handle the cold? Better than the heat for sure, i love cold weather Have you ever been to Canada? No Do you believe in superstitions? Not really When was the last time you took a taxi somewhere? When i went to the vet with my cat, i don’t own a car i don’t feel comfortable going to the bus with my cat lol Would you ever join the army, airforce or navy? I wouldn’t How old is the person you last kissed? 25 Is there a friend that you can always rely on to get you out of a jam? I hope so :( What was the most embarassing thing you’ve had to buy? I still get a bit embarrassed buying pads. and also underwear when there’s a guy cashier LOL i’m so stupid Have you ever tried to balance the light switch between off and on? Haha yep Do you believe in ghosts / supernatural occurences? No, i never had any experience with them luckily Have you ever mistaken a person’s gender? I’m sure but they never knew about it What was the most expensive thing you’ve broken? My phone Has anyone texted you yet today? Yes Did you stay calm during the whole swine flu scare? I think i did, but i remember getting the shots in school and being scared af Is there a light on in the room you’re currently in? Yes Are your feet touching the floor? My left foot is Have you ever been in a car accident? No, luckily Do you usually make back-up plans? Yep Can you focus well in high-stress situations? NO, definitely no Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? They’re pretty long and i love them, if they were darker i would never wear mascara again Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? I don’t listen to music when i’m angry Are you one of those people who keep their feelings bottled up? Yeah Is one of your friends extremely odd but you love them regardless? She’s weird in the nicest way possible Is there anyone you dread going into public with? No Are you a victim of writing run-on sentences? I have no idea what that means Graffiti: an art or an act of vandalism? There’s amazing ones and then the stupid ones lol. like there’s factor area near my neighborhood with AMAZING looking graffitis on the walls, they looks so nice Do you buy things online? Sometimes, i did order bunch of underwear couple days ago lol Are you easily frightened? I’m afraid of lot of things but i don’t get jumpy? like jumpscares are lame hahah Do you have a favorite model? Gigi and Bella Hadid are gorgeous. Also Gaspard Ulliel is the definition of perfect tbh Have you ever watched Titanic? Yep What’s your current facebook display picture of? I’m not on facebook, seriously every survey assumes i am lol How about your IM display picture? It’s of me Is there anyone whose hair you envy? My therapist’s lmao, she has long, blonde and silky hair Would you act in a movie if it offered a role? No, i was like 7 years old when i attended this movie camp where we made bunch of short movies and then we watched them in the end of the camp and I CRINGED SO FUCKING HARD AT MYSELF LMAO like i was so bad and i haven’t gotten any better since then Does speaking in front of people make you nervous? YES, school presentations are the worst. literally everytime in grade school i had one there was this one motherfucker who just had to yell something about me having to speak up Can you read in a moving vehicle or does it make you sick? I don’t read in vehicles because of that reason Have you ever dated someone who was extremely shy? Not really, i wouldn’t have called him shy Or have you dated someone who took things too fast? Mmm yes Does the idea of driving 220 mph sound exciting to you? Nope Everyone has a weakness, what’s yours? Good dancers, lol Do you or anyone you know have an account on Deviantart? I don’t and i don’t think anyone i know has one Thoughts on the Dunkin Donut commercial that says “America runs on Dunkin’”? I don’t know that commercial Do you bother buying movies on DVD anymore or do you just download them? I buy movies on DVD still, yes Do you listen to Daughtry? No Do you get your eyebrows waxed? No, i pluck them

How do you take your coffee? With milk If you have a dog, what breed is it? I don’t Have you found someone who makes you unconditionally happy? I guess so Do you have a friend who always seems to be dying their hair? She has dyed her hair in the past couple times, but now she just has her natural color Would you swap names with a friend? Sure, but i’m happy with mine Do you plan on going to university? I don’t think so Guys who wear muscle shirts, yes or no? I had to google this and i got two different kinds of results, so i have no idea which muscle shirt are you talking about. anyway you can wear whatever you want pretty much Are you a fan of Carrie Underwood? I know about her but not any of her songs, so no Do you make playlists on iTunes? I don’t use iTunes Have you ever forgotten someone’s birthday? My friend’s birthday this year and i felt SO FUCKING BAD Are you scared of being left behind? Yes Do you remember your last dream? No. i never do Do you know someone who is an obsessed Star Wars fan? No one obsessed 

Is politics something you don’t care about? I don’t care about it that much, no What’s a movie/tvshow/book/series that is way overrated? I can’t think of any Do you think Barbie presents an unhealthy image to young girls? It’s not a realistic looking doll but does it really have to, it’s just a toy Is there a pet that you desperately want? Not anymore, i have two lovely cats Would you ever get your bellybutton pierced? I already did Are you musically talented? No Have you ever shot a gun? No Do you have a friend that always changes their mind last second? No Are you not afraid to voice your opinion? Yep, that’s me Are you one of those people who are always pushing their limits? Not really lol Is there a word that you will always find humorous? A lot of finnish words

Do you frown upon immature people? Idk Have you ever slipped on ice and hurt yourself? I have slipped many times but never hurt myself badly Do you try to have an intimidating impression? I guess, try is the key word tho Living in the big city or chilling in the country? City No one seems to obey the legal drinking age, do they? Haha no Do you like your country’s flag? Yeah i like the color combination. other than that it’s kinda meh Have you ever made a totally amazing snow fort? Not an amazing one Do you use Bounty Paper Towels? I don’t know them, are they like coconut scented lmao Are you the one usually behind the camera or the one in the picture? Behind If you get married, will you have a traditional wedding? Sure Do you feel you’re slowly losing one of your friends? Tbh it kinda feels like that now If you draw, what’s one thing you always have trouble with? Just everything Is there someone you know moving away any time soon? Probably my sister, but she’s not so sure yet Allergic to anything? Penicillin How many cars have you owned? Zero What are you going to do after this? Going to brush my teeth and wash my face and go to bed