#the ghost ship scribbles

[hmslusitania]

Ask meme! For TimKon, either 17. “Please stay.” or 34. “When did you know for sure?”

May I offer you: an angst with a happy ending? (who am I kidding; it's you, of course I can)

“When did you know?” Kon asks, staring out well past the horizon. Tim thinks that surely, he must see it, must be able to tell, he’s got fucking super vision of various sorts, but… But he sounds so dejected about it. Like he… like he hadn’t been able to tell. “For sure, I mean, when did you figure it out?”

“Um,” Tim says, and picks up a handful of sand on this very not-at-all real version of Kon’s favourite beach in Hawaii. “Last… night.”

Kon’s face burns bright red and Tim can’t really look at him anymore.

It all feels too real, even though this place isn’t anything of the sort.

And he’s pretty sure that includes Kon.

It had been a smart plan, Tim can tip his hat at the villain du jour for that, at least metaphorically. Trap Tim in a simulated reality, but instead of making it somewhere he knows inside and out, like Gotham, like Happy Harbour, they’d programmed him into a place he only knows in story and rumour. Tim wouldn’t really have any way of determining if there were differences between the real Hawaii the real Kon’s been talking about for as long as Tim’s known him, and this fake, simulation of it. And the programmers had done a pretty perfect job with Kon, too, except for the parts where he can’t tell that this whole place is a simulation, and the part where…

“My Kon, I mean the one who’s not a computer programme, because, like, he’s not mine, mine,” Tim starts. “He’s not… y’know. In love with me.”

Kon is silent for a minute, just staring out at the water and at the small waves lapping steadily higher up the beach while the sun rises. Tim would find this whole conversation a lot less excruciating if computer!Kon was wearing more than boxers with the House of El logo on the crotch, but, well, this simulation was designed to trap and torture him, so he’s not.

“I don’t feel like a computer simulation,” Kon says finally, and buries his toes in the sand like he’s making a point of feeling the sensations. “I remember — I remember meeting you when you were still Robin and I didn’t know who I was beyond Superman’s replacement, and I remember Bart, and Young Justice, and Cassie, and the Teen Titans, and dying and—”

“They probably built you off a brain scan of the real Kon,” Tim says. Tact and gentleness have never been his fortes but, fuck he tries this time.

“Right, and just, like, tweaked my memories so that I can remember being in love with you half that time, and the entire time I was lost in Gemworld, and—”

“Yeah, I guess they must’ve,” Tim says, even though it makes him want to puke. “This place is too… it’s too perfect. You’re too perfect.”

Kon scoffs, and makes a choked off noise that’s all too familiar after last night and Tim flushes with shame that he knows what Kon sounds like now. The thing is, it’s a very, very good simulation, and this isn’t knowledge Tim should have, because out in the real world, Kon doesn’t want to share that information with him.  It’s none of Tim’s business, no matter how desperately he wants it to be.

“Nice to know I’m apparently good enough in bed to convince you it’s all too good to be true,” Kon says, with forced bravado.

Tim swallows, because that assessment isn’t untrue, but it’s only part of the story. “Also I think my biometrics must’ve spiked high enough to temporarily overload the system, because a bird clipped through our room while we were, uh…”

“Oh,” Kon says, blushing even harder. “So, um, now that you know this is fake, does that mean you’re going to escape?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. He swallows. “I just have to crash the programme, make it generate something so insanely huge its processing power can’t keep up.”

“Oh, right, just that,” Kon says. He very gamely swallows, and because he’s built on a very convincing facsimile of Tim’s real Kon, he stands up and nods. “So what do you need me to do?”

**

Tim is not surprised when the explosion they trigger in the simulation tips him out of it’s destabilising pixelated mess into a sketchy futuristic lab. Spaceship? Probably spaceship by the black starfield outside the windows.

He is surprised when his own exit from the gel couch matrix situation is echoed by someone else in another matching chair thing behind him.

He grabs for any kind of weapon available and rounds the central structure, ready to strike, only to find himself face to face with—

“Kon?” he demands. “You’re here too?”

Kon defuses the heat vision that had been starting to build behind his eyes, and then just stares at Tim, blushing a violent red like the heat vision had dispersed through his cheeks.

“Of course he is here too,” an annoyed voice that gives major evil scientist vibes says over the PA. “The simulation traps work best when there are two parties within them to reinforce the shared folie à deux!”

“Sh-shared?” Kon asks.

“Both of us were in the same—” Tim starts, and he understands Kon’s blush better now because he can feel his own viciously taking over his face.

“You thought I was a simulation,” Kon says, floating out of his matrix plug in chair to loom over Tim even taller than he usually is.

“You’re in lo—” Tim starts, but their captor’s voice crackles over the PA system again.

“Yes, yes, teenaged angst. You may continue your argument once my assistants have placed you back in your simulation!”

“We’re twenty-one, actually,” Tim corrects. “And you can—”

He means to tell the disembodied voice exactly where he can expect Tim’s bo staff (as soon as he finds it in one of the cargo pods here in this space station situation they’ve got going on) but Kon cuts him off by pulling Tim’s face into his hands and kissing him.

No birds clip through the walls this time, and the sensation of Kon’s TTK sweeping over him, like it’s not enough to just be touching Tim with his hands, like he has to touch all of him at once, is one that Tim hadn’t been able to fully conjure up out of his imagination. It’s different enough that Tim actually forgets for a second that they’re imprisoned on a space station and have been under for god knows how long, and he seriously considers simply climbing Kon like a tree right then and there to get the actual physical details mapped out.

“I can’t believe you thought my love confession was a simulation,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s lips.

Tim hums and kisses him again. Really, actually kisses Kon. Who really, actually wants to kiss him, too. “I meant it when I said you’re too good to be true.”

“Good thing we’re in a really shitty situation we need to figure our way out of if we want to get back to earth so I can show you the real version of that beach,” Kon says. “Because that part feels pretty on par.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, and sighs. He can hear the distant thuds of whatever sorts of robocop automata their captor has coming towards them now, and this fight’s gonna kinda suck, he thinks. At least there will be one hell of a reward for making it through to the other side. “Ready to fight for our lives?”

“With you?” Kon asks, and can’t help himself but to pull Tim in for one more kiss. “Always.”

[natelia-aldelliz]

They got tired of getting pushed over the edge because the bed was made for one and not 3 big adult men, so they dismantled the frame and put two mattresses together on the ground.

So now instead of the one on the side falling, it's the one in the middle getting swallowed when the mattresses inevitably part. They're not that smart. But at least they don't hurt themselves by falling now.

[lumilasi]

So I initially had a very different idea for the extra member for this group - and I will still make that one too, once I figure out what look to go for - but I had an idea for my space crew's main story that goes beyond Stefan's situation, and also ties Nadiya into it better, giving her more personal stakes than just being the Captain.

Now she's not just helping her close friend with her goal, but she also has her own reasons for it. Also yes, Illya and Nadiya are twins. ALSO, I think I wanna give Nadi a cybernetic arm too now, that'd be cool - and serve a story purpose in relation to her brother...

IDK if he'd appear in the MW crossover bit of their story, I feel like it'd be a bit like dropping the final boss of a game to the beginning third of the story? At most, maybe Curly and Anya might sometimes see glimpses of him, as their minds would be more vulnerable and thus easier to access...

More info about Illya below:

Illya's skintone used to be the same as his sister's, and you can still see the healthier pink tone around his eyes.

He suffers from chronic babyface as his sister used to joke; despite being 34, he looks like he's in his early twenties; he was often initially mistaken for Ava's Intern by the patients at the ship for example.

He used to be the head medic for Nadiya's ship, but due to a major accident and a mental breakdown resulting from it, he was taken in for intensive care by a specialized organization.

It turned out this group was conducting unethical experiments and had clocked Illya as a prime candidate for their "Nexus" program; they essentially turned him into a reality bending cyborg against his will, and made his mental struggles much worse in the process......

He was rescued from the facility he was kept at by her sister's friend Ava Moreno a year after he was committed; this happened the same day he'd finally snapped from the trauma and mental strain, his unwanted powers going haywire and causing a lot of chaos and death.

This was the same place Stefan Wilk was kept as part of another project, and Illya in fact did meet him and even communicated with him a lot with his telepathic abilities, because he'd seen his sister's friend in his mind.

Illya was Cherry Yun's mentor figure, but she took over the medic duties fully once it became clear he's too unstable and dangerous to be taken back into his position. They could not get him the usual means of help either - like therapy - because his current state was just too volatile to even attempt it.

They'd need to find a way to first stabilize his powers as well as "return" his mind back to his body properly instead of being stuck in-between Nexus and "reality".Illya went to cryo willingly, realizing this fact.

However as his Nexus Alter wanders, he's begun to forget this and other details about himself, which has caused him to slowly grow bitter towards his former crew and sister.

Illya used to have similar personality to his twin sister Nadiya, being highly intelligent, clinical with tendency to bend the rules to his liking if he believed that benefited the end goal, being VERY good at his job and being very reliable friend/mentor.

However, unlike his sister, Illya was more neurotic, suffering from undiagnosed OCD that manifested most strongly with fear of "not knowing enough" and therefore having something horrible happen under his watch, causing him to study obsessively just about anything he was interested in, to the point he'd neglect his own wellbeing. (He did also have the more commonly known symptoms like level of germaphobia, obsessive need for order, etc)

While his body is in cryo, due to how his powers function, he is able to project himself into people's minds, or sometimes take over the ship systems, hence he's often called the "Ghost in the Ship" by the crew.

Nadiya's warning about eye-contact relates to the fact that this is how he gets into your head properly; the projection you may see is just bait, he sinks his claws much deeper via eye-contact.

This is due to the version of him existing outside his body, in the in-between dimension dubbed the Nexus, and he can manipulate things from there to an extend (though he's not as powerful in this ghostly form as he would be awake with his human-cyborg body)

The only member of the current crew that can't see him is Mara, being the newest member who never met him personally; he tends to ignore her for the most part and thus doesn't project himself into her mind. He might still prevent her from injuring herself occasionally by taking over some of the nearby systems or turning them off.

His ghostly version can still be dangerous and volatile, which is why Ava has told the crew to mostly ignore his presence if they notice it, because interaction with him could trigger a violent fit.

Of course this can backfire as Illya feels abandoned by the people ignoring him, so it is a matter of balancing act; they need to analyze what the ghostly entity's mood is, whether interacting or not interacting is the safer option.

The person he tends to be the calmest around is Cherry, his former apprentice. She is also the safest when talking with him, as she's not very likely to provoke an angry fit from him.

With Nadiya it is a hit-or-miss situation, as they were always close, but he was also envious of how calm and stable she was in comparison.

He likes to mess with Stefan's head a lot due to him being more susceptible for it, with what Ava theorizes is his warped, twisted way of trying to "help" him to gain more control over his condition by exposing him to it over and over. (This is not something Illya would do in his right mind, back when they were in the same facility his communication with Stefan was much kinder and level-headed)

He rarely appears to Matthew, as they didn't interact that much, and had primarily a professional relationship, where Nadiya considered Matt her friend.

[roseyjustice]

Selfshiptember Day 3 - Relaxing

Two god like babies deserve cuddles so Ezra gathers them up for chill time !

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[deadsetobsessions]

Writing Prompt… kind of? Definitely write more if you want but this was a cute little “fic starter” that popped into my mind.

——

Danny didn’t know the first thing about art. This is an important fact.

“Sam, why am I even here?”

“Suck it up, Casper.”

“The show or the school?” Danny privately thought Casper the Friendly Ghost was the best thing to have come around. It did wonders for improving relations between Amity and inhabitants of the Zone.

Sam smacked him on the arm. “You know which one. You’re just here to be the normie judge. You don’t need to know anything about art.”

“Everyone here is like an art acolyte or something, Sam! I’m an engineering newb in a room full of people with art PhDs!”

Sam rolled her eyes and checked her manicures. “If you call Fenton Works newb level, then the rest of the world would be Neanderthals. Seriously that’s why you’re here. The art’s gotta appeal to the untrained eyes too. I trust your judgement.”

Danny gave in. “Thanks, Sam. That means a lot.” He followed after Sam but after a moment, he whined, “But couldn’t you have taken Tucker? Dude’s got four untrained eyes!”

“He’s busy with his internship. And you were already in Gotham.”

They reach the exhibition, Sam and Danny being welcomed in. Sam’s parents, while not the richest of the rich, were known art connoisseurs and respected people in the communities that dotted around the world. On top of being the descendants of the man that invented the deli toothpick cellophane twirling device, that is. Sam was standing in their place today- begrudgingly- because they’d promised to pay for an entire month of Gotham architecture tours and a trip to Japan. After all, Sam had much of their knowledge too. If anyone could say anything about the Masons, it was that they were passionate in their chosen field. L

“The contestants are in the room next door. The judge panel is beginning.” The person at the door informed them. He gave them a slip of paper and a pen to mark their choices in each field. Danny breathed a sigh of relief and began wandering around.

After he wandered between the oil paintings- “oo, this one. Reason why… the vibes are nostalgic. I like it.”- and the various depictions of a specific ship, Danny was pulled to a stop by his core reaching out. He looked up and what he saw took his breath away.

It was just a photo.

But it felt like he was there, on that rooftop, crouched among the shadows and watching the early rays of muffled light hit the tops of his city. His core thrummed. It felt like protection. It felt like he was being fulfilled, like Danny was once more becoming Phantom and that he was watching over this city he’s beginning to understand.

Danny, almost fevered, scribbled down the name [A Robin’s Nest- by Tim Drake] as his number one choice to win the contest over all. And, at least, to win the first in the photography division.

——

“Oh, Ancients, are you okay?”

Danny had wandered around in the interim as the votes were tallied. He hadn’t been paying attention when he smacked into a little kid that could have been his little brother.

“Uhm. I’m good.”

Danny helped the kid up. “I’m Danny. I’m sorry I smacked into you. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yeah. I’m Timothy Drake. I’m good.”

Danny’s smile widened in shock. “Like the photographer? Oh, wow! I really loved that photo! It was amazing! It felt like I was up there with the vigilantes!”

As he spoke, Danny glanced around for the kid’s designated adults. Hm. That’s odd. Everyone and their parental figure was accounted for.

“Oh.” Timothy flushed. “Thanks! I hoped the judges liked it too.”

Danny smiled, a small secretive thing. “Oh, I’m sure they will. Will you tell me more about your photography?”

“Oh, if you want!”

——

[moongreenlight]

141 gossiping about Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley for roughly 3,000 words idk titles are hard

Price was the first to notice. Priding himself on being incredibly observant, especially when it came to his boys.

He noticed that whenever they had a break from trainings or meetings, he’d somehow always find the two of you in a room together. Never close enough to give him reason to say anything. You scribbling notes on a patient report at one table, Ghost at another, his chair angled just enough so that he could watch you from the corner of his eye.

Noticed the way Ghost’s hand rested on the small of your back for a heartbeat when you entered a doorway before him. Just a brush of his massive hand on you, quick enough to be mistaken for an accidental touch.

Noticed how Ghost’s eyes seemed to always flick to you from across the mess hall. Not often, but enough for Price to casually turn his head and see that same nurse Ghost seemed to have a preference for.

At first, Price thought he could help by being a wingman of sorts. When Ghost took damage on a mission, Price would escort him to medbay and watch as he dismissed nurse after nurse until you were finally available to treat him. Price lingered as long as he could before you inevitably waved him away, cheekily reminding him you always took good care of his team and that you’d have ‘Lieutenant Riley’ back in no time. The only thing he could catch was the way Ghost’s shoulders relaxed by a hair’s breadth when you drew the curtain shut behind you.

He tried again during a meeting with his boys. Suggesting they bring a medic on a mission with them. Said something about how it would be better to have the option of a patch-up readily available. Keep his team fighting fit in real time instead of having to wait until they came back to base. Price saw the way Ghost tensed slightly in his seat, the muscles in his jaw twitching under his balaclava.

The notion was quickly vetoed. Ghost grumbling something about not wanting to babysit any more than he already does. How it’s ultimately more paperwork he doesn’t want to have to deal with.

He tried once more, going to Ghost’s office one evening. Almost turning tail once he realized how ridiculous it was to be this insistent on figuring out if his Lieutenant had some boyish crush on the sweet nurse he always seemed to be lingering around. But ultimately decided that it was good practice to know more about his team personally. Better bonding meant better interaction on the field, right?

He asked Ghost to redo some paperwork. Add a ‘next of kin’ to his file in the event that something happened and they needed to alert someone. Ghost looked a little suspicious, shrugging off the request.

“Left it off for a reason, Captain.”

He said gruffly, waving a hand. Barely looking up from his desk.

Price pursed his lips, shifting his weight slightly.

“You sure, Simon? Haven’t got anyone that’d be interested to know what happened to you?”

Ghost rubbed the bridge of his nose, like the conversation was more trouble than it was worth, before shrugging once more. Finally looking up from his desk and leaning back slightly in his chair.

“You planning on shipping me off somewhere and not picking me back up?”

A small chuckle from Price. A shake of his head.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Cheers, then. Leave it off.”

This quelled Price’s curiosity for a while, unable to dream up any other reason to try and force Ghost to indulge him. It no doubt hurt his ego a bit, thinking about how his Lieutenant and one of his closest friends was so dead set on keeping his personal life so closely guarded. He’d push the feelings aside, chalk it up to being jaded by his work. Over-involved in the lives of Soap and Gaz. It was probably good for Simon to have something sacred.

Soap wasn’t as easily deterred once he caught on. Not as immediately perceptive as the others, but he knew Ghost well enough to know his tells.

It was after a long mission. Months long. Grueling, shitty, exhausting work. They got back in the early evening, mercifully spared from a debrief until the following day. Soap somehow ended up dragging Ghost to a dive bar a few blocks from base. Trying to sound persuasive when he mentioned that it was a Friday night and they deserved a few drinks and some female attention after all this time going without.

And they did get attention. Two good looking military men sitting at the bar were bound to. Soap knew that Ghost wasn’t one to play the field, but this was a bit frigid even for him. Ignoring girls who came up and tried to strike conversation. Rolling his eyes, or huffing a sigh like it was a chore to even dismiss them, drumming his fingers on the wall of his glass like he’s bored. It was baffling.

What was even more baffling was the way that Ghost’s knee bounced slightly against the stool. An infinitesimally small movement, but the way it caught Johnny’s eye made it seem like Ghost was all but jumping up and down. He looked almost anxious. Itching to get up and leave.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Ghost’s head jerked toward Johnny, cold eyes narrowing in a way that would have been terrifying years ago- before he’d gotten used to it.

“Come again?”

“Got somewhere to be, have you?”

He sounds almost indignant. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Ghost is stand-offish by nature, but this is a caliber he hasn’t yet encountered. Almost enough to be offensive. To make him question the quality of his company.

“Maybe I do. What’s it to you?”

Ghost grumbled, killing the contents of his glass with a final mouthful. Setting it back on the counter and moving to drum his fingers on the bar.

“Been out of the country for months and you expect me to believe you’ve got plans tonight?”

This earned a sigh, low enough to pass as a growl.

“You keeping my social calendar now, then?”

He stood, digging through his wallet for a moment before slapping some cash down on the table next to his empty glass. Not giving Johnny an opportunity to lodge any further complaints against him. Before he nodded his goodnight and slipped out of the bar. Mumbling something about needing to get back to his flat and check on some things.

Soap couldn’t get his mind around it. Ghost was elusive, sure, but again; something seemed off. He was calm, cool, and collected. Wouldn’t be caught dead manifesting his impatience physically. The fidgeting and twitching in his seat. The first place Soap’s mind went was maybe Ghost was dying? That’d be the only reasonable explanation for his behavior. But even then, it seemed a bit extreme.

The next day after the debrief, which was nearly as brutal as the deployment itself, Soap was still so in his head about Ghost’s behavior he almost didn’t notice the pretty nurse who seemed to be waiting for someone at the end of the hall. In fact, he was so stuck in his own mind, he only caught a fleeting glimpse of Ghost’s back rounding the corner with the nurse at his side. Hushed conversation disappearing with them. A softer, much more pleasant voice than Simon’s.

He debated whether or not to follow them, maybe answer the questions that’d been plaguing his mind. Ultimately, he decided in favor of it. Padding down the hall behind the duo who seemed to be headed back to Simon’s office. They weren’t walking closely enough to touch, but Soap immediately picked up on the tension between them. Like the distance was serving some sort of purpose.

Soap lingered in the hallway for a few minutes after the two disappeared into Ghost’s office, trying to sort the pieces of the puzzle he’d barely began collecting. He ultimately decided to go the route he was most comfortable with. Not one for sneaking about, he simply strode up to the office door and swung it open.

You were sat at one of the chairs in front of Simon’s desk, him standing with his arms folded over his chest next to you. Not compromising enough for Johnny’s taste, but he still put on a wide grin and nodded to you.

“Forget how to knock?”

Ghost’s voice was calm enough, but his eyes were shooting daggers straight through Johnny. You looked stiff as a board, chewing the inside of your lip through the tight smile you were giving him.

“Sorry, L.T. Needed to know if you’re still on for trainings this afternoon.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to Ghost, communicating something that he couldn’t quite decipher wordlessly before you began studying your nails in your lap.

Ghost cleared his throat, rolling his tongue in his cheek. Growling something obscene under his breath. The agitation rolling off of him in waves.

“No. Got another assignment.”

And with that, Soap was all but thrown from the office. Querying about this ‘new assignment’ the whole way. Simon crowding him to the door until he finally snapped it shut on his nose.

He heard later that day Ghost was seen in medbay with a toolkit swearing at an X-Ray machine that had been giving you trouble for a month. After that, Soap was on the two of you like a fly on shit. Never missing an opportunity to bring you up to Ghost or vise versa. Mock-innocently saying something to Ghost in passing at dinner about you. Asking if he fancied you. When he said no, Johnny shrugged and nodded. Saying he was glad because he had plans to ask you out the next time he was injured.

That comment landed Soap in the bay sooner than expected. Escorting him to a different nurse’s exam area and standing guard the entire time his black eye was being iced. Berating him for not being able to block a few punches when they had sparred after dinner.

And Gaz, sweet boy that he is, was always more emotionally in-tune. Observant about the little things. Able to pick up on queues Soap and Price may have missed over the years. He was keen as he was quiet, keeping all his little discoveries to himself. Over the years, he’d created a small arsenal of moments he wasn’t sure were significant enough to bring up. Things he could have talked himself into imagining if he thought about them hard enough. Not wanting to jump to conclusions about anything.

But he noticed the incredibly subtle tan line on Ghost’s left hand. Noticed the way he tapped his foot impatiently when the debrief after a long deployment ran long. Noticed the way you always seemed to be around the yard when they touched down after a mission. The way your shoulders dropped when you saw all four of them had returned home. Like you had just been relieved the duty of holding up the sky.

He didn’t immediately connect the dots. Initially thinking that you’d just taken a special liking to the task force. They were some of your most frequent visitors, after all. Price had all but claimed you as their own. Specially requesting that you were the only one to patch their wounds, claiming the other nurses couldn’t hold a flame to your skill.

He didn’t mind. Came to enjoy the little chats the two of you had when the curtains around the cot were drawn. The little kikis you had where you chatted about anything and everything. Complaining about your jobs, irritating patients, botched missions, the morsels of gossip from around base.

One day, after a particularly nasty skirmish on a mission, all four of the men had gnarly wounds. You looked a bit more tired than usual. A bit more on-edge. Your answers were a bit more flat than they usually were. So the first part of the assessment was left mostly silent spare for a few soft “thank you’s” on his part.

It was only when you were bandaging a wound on his thigh did he notice the shape of a ring on your left hand under your glove. A thin band that wrapped neatly around your finger.

“Didn’t know you were married, doc.”

It was a passing comment, more just to spare him the agony of trying to hide his soft groans of pain in the thick silence.

You hummed your acknowledgment, focused more on working sutures through his skin neatly than anything else.

“Lucky bloke. Hope he’s good to you.”

It wasn’t flirty or predatory, like so many of the soldiers could be. A genuine thought. He’d always thought you were sweet. Easy to chat with, always offering him a smile and a chirped greeting when the two of you passed in the hall. Thought you deserved someone to share in your kindness.

You smiled, brow still furrowed slightly in your focus while tying off the stitches.

“He does alright.”

You chuckled softly, straightening on your stool and rolling back just slightly so you could meet his eye.

“All these years and you never mentioned. I’m hurt.”

He words came with a practiced ease, slipping back into your usual playful chatter without missing a beat. Flashing a coy grin as he carefully flexed and relaxed his leg. Getting a feel for the newly patched wound.

You rolled the gloves off your hands and tossed them into the bin. Standing from your stool to scribble a few notes on his chart.

“Not something that ever came up.”

“Now it has. He have a name? How long you been together?”

You chuckled once more, looking over your shoulder at him with an arched brow. A little skeptical of his curiosity.

“A good while.”

He noticed the way you evaded his former question, like you’d done it before. It only fueled his curiosity.

“You worried I’ll know him? Or are you embarrassed? Not much of a looker?”

This earned an amused snort from you, turning away from the chart you’d been working on.

“Nothing wrong with wanting to keep my personal life personal, is there?”

You winked at him, pushing open the curtain that divided the small exam area from the rest of the bay.

He made a small sound of protest, making no move to stand from the cot just yet.

“Alright, forget it. Didn’t even want to know anyway.”

He sounded like a child being denied a sweet. Even playing up the act with a small pout on his mouth.

You tutted softly, conjuring up the best mock-sympathetic look you could before motioning for him to stand.

“We’ll talk later. Captain’ll have my hide if I keep you away a moment longer than is necessary.”

Another sound of protest, followed by a throaty groan as he finally pushed up off the bed. Unsure if he was being dramatic or if the aftermath of the mission had truly gotten to him that bad. Always a flare for the dramatics, him.

He muttered his thanks, cupping your shoulder in his hand as he trudged out. Making you promise to have a proper chat with him later.

He lingered in the bay, allowing himself a few moments peace before getting back to work. Just as he finally turned to leave, he saw Ghost moving stiffly- like he was trying to downplay a limp- toward your little exam area. Though for some reason, the scene looked a bit strange to him. He couldn’t help but peek in.

He caught the way you watched him lumber over with big, worried eyes. The way your nails dug into your palms until he was finally within arms reach. The way you quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention before your hands flew to his neck, fingers slipping expertly under the hem of his mask and yanking it up over his nose. Not rough or angry, but with the kind of urgency that suggested you may die if you didn’t see a sliver of his skin. Make absolutely certain he was truly there with you.

The most jarring part- Ghost actually allowing you to touch the mask. Allowing your little hands to breach his personal space. Hands that would have easily been dwarfed by his own, swallowed up and twisted or shoved away like he had seen happen so many times in sparring matches with prospect soldiers. But Ghost just let it happen.

It was a flurry of movement, so fast that Gaz was certain he could have blinked and missed it. Frozen watching the two of you from just behind another exam area. Feeling like he was intruding without even meaning to.

And then he saw the way Ghost’s big arms snaked around your waist, drawing you flush to his front. You leaning up onto your toes to bring your face closer to the Lieutenant’s. A fervid kiss. You flinging your arms around his neck. The way your shoulders shook. A small, choked sob that Gaz was all but certain he imagined. Drowned out for everyone else by the sounds of the bay.

He was almost shocked that the world continued to move after that. Shocked that something that seemed so monumental could happen tucked away into your barely private exam area. Shocked that your reunion hadn’t halted time and space for everyone else like it had for the two of you.

He felt dirty. Like he should go up and apologize for lingering and seeing what he saw. But he stayed rooted to the spot, finding it impossible to move.

Truly the most damning part was when he caught the quickest glimpse of your badge just before the curtain was tugged shut. The badge you kept carefully pinned to your uniform face-down for a reason he couldn’t fathom until now. Twisted free for just a moment and finally connecting the snippets of information he’d collected over the years.

(Y/N Riley)

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

Part 2

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Do you like my stuff? You can support me here!

[phefics]

unconventional

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: a tickle fight with billy and stu takes a turn when the boys realize how much they like hearing the reader beg. warnings: dubious consent, degrading names (slut), tickling word count: 1.6k

It’s an unconventional arrangement, dating two boys at once. You certainly hadn’t befriended Billy Loomis and Stu Macher with the intention of falling for either of them, let alone both.

But, shit happens, especially when your two best friends are attractive and fucking inseparable. Dating one of them would end up as a package deal, anyway. 

Kids at school couldn’t quite figure you out. One day, you’d be seen getting carried bridal-style by Stu, the next, you’d be holding hands with Billy. Some people thought you were a cheater, some thought you were a beard to hide a gay love affair.

None of you gave a shit what anyone thought.

Your parents weren’t home, and you had invited the boys over for a movie night. Stu had arrived first, because he lived closer, and although Billy got there only a few minutes later, he walked in on an interesting scene.

You had left the front door unlocked, and as he walked inside, he heard shrieking coming from the living room. He panicked for a moment, thinking Stu had broken the ‘Don’t Kill Y/N’ rule, but as he tiptoed into the room, all he found was Stu straddling your thighs, tickling you.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

You and Stu both jumped at his voice, so caught up in the moment that you had forgotten he was on his way.

“Billy, help!” you cried, still giggling like mad as Stu’s fingers slipped beneath your sweater, scribbling over the skin of your stomach.

“Help? Sure, I’ll help,” Billy said, giving Stu a smirk as he approached, kneeling down on the floor beside you.

He easily grabbed your flailing wrists and pulled your arms up, pinning them over your head.

“Can’t smack me anymore, hm?” Stu teased. “Thanks, Billy, I was startin’ to fear for my life there.”

“No problem. We couldn’t let that pretty face get bruised, could we?”

While you agreed that Stu had a pretty face, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in it as his fingers creeped higher, tickling your underarms with a newfound vigor, now that you were helpless to stop him.

Your laugh grew in volume, in intensity. “You fuckers,” you gasped out, kicking your legs wildly. “I’m gonna kill you both, cut it out!”

Billy let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over your ear. Stu, meanwhile, giggled along with you, clearly pleased with himself for starting this whole thing.

“You want us to stop?” Billy asked. “Cause it seems like you’re having fun…”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smiling like crazy,” Stu added. “Why would we stop makin’ you smile, baby?”

"Besides, we're certainly having fun."

You whined as his fingers slowed to a torturous, feather-light touch, just ghosting against your skin. “You guys suck,” you said, breathless.

Billy hummed. “Really? We suck? That’s not very nice, Y/N. Stu, I think we need to teach her some manners.”

“I agree.”

And with that, Stu’s hands began tickling you again, dancing over your entire torso, never lingering in one spot for too long. Billy adjusted his grip on your wrists so that he was only holding them with one hand, using the other to flutter over the side of your neck, making you scrunch up your shoulders uselessly.

This was awful. It was torture. But…There was something exciting about it, too. Being held down like this, helpless and pliant beneath their touches as they exploited your weak spots…Stu’s hands brushed against your chest as he went, and you weren’t wearing a bra, and you felt your nipples grow hard at the quick, barely-there contact.

“You gonna apologize to us?” Billy asked.

You shook your head. You had nothing to apologize for. They did suck, you were just telling the truth.

“Always so fuckin’ stubborn,” he sighed, before using his free hand to tickle your armpit, making you squeal.

“Maybe she’s not giving up because she likes it,” Stu said. “She’s such a slut, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns her on.”

If the tickling itself wasn’t hot, those words certainly were. You felt your pussy throb when you were called that, felt a thrill up your spine.

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “How about we make a new deal, Y/N? Stu’s gonna pull your pants down, and if you aren't wet right now, we’ll stop. But if you are, well…Maybe we’ll take the rest of your clothes off and keep going.”

The fingers stopped, finally giving you a chance to fully catch your breath. Your skin buzzed with the phantom sensation, your head spun from their teasing words. But most of all, you knew for a fact that you were wet, and your heart pounded in your chest at the realization.

Stu gave you a mischievous grin before getting off your legs and grabbing the waist of your sweatpants, yanking them down to your knees with no preamble, and cupping his fingers over your mound, pressing against your folds through your panties, feeling the obvious dampness that only made his grin grow larger, more devilish.

“You were right,” he said. “Little slut’s getting off on this.”

You opened your mouth and shut it again. What were you supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Attempt to elaborate that it wasn’t really the tickling, it was everything combined? Would that really save your dignity?

Billy laughed. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You let out a soft whimper as Stu’s fingers rubbed against your pussy, trying to buck your hips to gather more friction.

“So needy,” Stu muttered, almost to himself.

Billy released your wrists and made quick work of pulling your hoodie over your head, the cold air making goosebumps rise on your bare skin. Your nipples hardened even more, and you grew even more aroused as you were stripped.

Stu pulled your pants down the rest of the way, and your underwear, too, leaving you naked on the carpet and blushing like mad.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

You shook your head, squirming wildly as they caged you in between their bodies. “Please, I—”

They didn’t let you finish. If you really wanted them to stop, you knew what to say, and you hadn’t, so they had no reason for showing mercy.

Stu began squeezing up and down your thighs, occasionally scratching behind your knees as well, while Billy dug into your ribs.

The combined sensations made you burst into laughter, slightly hoarse with how loud you’d been the entire time. You thrashed, but they easily dodged your flying limbs and kept tickling.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Billy cooed.

“Fucking adorable,” Stu agreed.

You wailed as Stu ran his fingers over the sole of your foot, toes curling in an attempt to block the feeling, but it did nothing to provide any relief.

“Please,” you managed to say. “I can’t take it anymore, stop it!”

To your surprise, they did. Your begging usually only turned them on more, and you doubted they were truly going to stop.

Stu positioned himself between your thighs, pushing them apart so he could bring his face to your pussy, looking up at you with those sweet blue eyes.

Billy’s hands came to grab your breasts, and you moaned softly as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Stu licked at your entrance teasingly before beginning to eat you out, holding your hips and easily finding your clit with his tongue.

Your head lolled back into Billy’s lap, legs spreading even wider to give Stu better access to your aching clit.

All the rough-housing, the name-calling, the teasing had gotten you so worked up, and they were finally going to give you some relief.

Or, so you thought.

Slowly, Billy’s touch became light and ticklish again, blunt fingernails tracing along the curve of your tits, up to your collarbones, down to your sides. You squirmed and laughed softly, trying to ignore it and focus on the pleasure Stu’s tongue was bringing you, but that bastard had also begun to wiggle his fingers against your hips, all while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit, causing a mixture of moans and giggles to spill from your lips.

“So pretty,” Billy murmured. ���So sensitive, too. But you take it like the good girl you are, hm? You’ll take whatever we dish out, won’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you reply, your speech slightly slurred.

“You gonna cum for us like this? Fuckin’ helpless, fuckin’ adorable…”

You whined as Stu’s mouth brought you closer to climax, and Billy’s words were certainly helping. “Yes,” you said again. “Please, make me cum…”

You felt Stu chuckle against you, the heat of his breath making you twitch.

Their fingers were still tickling, in that maddening sort of itch that made you want to crawl out of your skin more than it made you want to laugh. It kept your entire nervous system alert, buzzing like electricity as you drew closer and closer to orgasm.

“That’s our girl,” Billy said. “Begging like a good slut. You can cum baby, cum for us.”

His words were all you needed to be pushed off the edge, legs shaking as you came with a cry of pleasure.

Stu popped up from between your thighs, all wild-eyed and adorable, like he was so proud to have given you that orgasm. His lips were shining with your wetness, and Billy leaned over you to kiss it off for him.

As your boyfriends kissed, you flopped back against the carpet, breathless and spent. Your skin still tingled and you felt high off of adrenaline.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, huh?” Stu said, gesturing at the sticky mess on your thighs.

You blushed. “My shower is not big enough for the three of us,” you said.

“But we could run you a bath,” Billy suggested. “And you could watch us have a little fun…You got us so fuckin’ hard.”

You could see both of their cocks straining in their pants, and grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

An unconventional relationship, an unconventional sex life…You couldn’t care less if it was strange. It was fucking perfect.

[asukiess]

i just wanna say thank you for filling the eminath tag. you're a blessing 😭😭😭

do you have any eminath or ml fic recs?

!!!!!!! thank you, that means so much 🩵 glad you and others have enjoyed!! it’s been really nice to see more traction in the tag.

always open to hearing more from people about eminath, or the women separately, too. 🫶💞 love talking about them 🥰

as for fic recs, let’s start with the Emilie ones…

thirteen by okayanna (anna-scribbles)

truly the quintessential thesis on the relationship between Emilie and Adrien and the ramifications of his childhood, as well as a truly thought provoking fleshing out of the ghost of a presence we know.

would that I could, I’d bookbind this fic, annotate it, and have it on my shelf. literally when am I not talking about thirteen.

Orbital Departure, Lose it in the Morning, Watership Down, all by bittersweetResilience

Three fics that play with unique concepts such as Adrien having twin telepathy and a soul bond with Félix, a trait shared once with Amélie and Emilie, and the family dynamics between these pairs of twins.

Could never say enough about the attention and detail Sunny brought to these characters at the time. I think about Orbital Departure all the time.

(just check out Sunny’s Emilie tag, is what I’m saying.)

What Real Human Beings Do by nemali

Amélie is the main character here, but boy 👏 do 👏 we 👏 see 👏 the beautiful scars Emilie has left on her sister. and how better to understand a character than their twin?

and for the eminath section…

in the mouth of the sun by telmes (archekoeln)

I remember reading this and being in awe. it was like reaching into the past (2020!) and finding someone who saw the same beauty in the ship and feeling so understood. love love LOVE their writing style (just READ that summary!! UGH!!!), and I need to do a dive into their other nathalie-centric fics.

On the same note, I just found their fic “you push me down” in my bookmarks too and literally teared up remembering it.

she doesn't need me, not like I need her by azalera

i love a good, sentimental story. it may seem simple, but there’s something about it that I just think about often.

I’ve been meaning to read their fic, “hello, emilie” as well!

bread and oranges by peachcitt

need to do a proper reread of this because I feel like I read it in a trance. 🫶 getting emotional all over again. AUGH

As for me—I have a Nathalie character analysis fic that I’m proud of, and quite like the eminath poetry I did. Maybe you’ll like “for the hope of it all”, too 🥰

[hmslusitania]

Putting both hands over my mouth, I can only hope nothing's gonna come out

“How unethical would it be to let him keep thinking we’re dating just to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with him?” The raised-eyebrow look Jon shoots Tim across the table is 100% Lois Lane. “On a scale from ‘this is completely hinged behaviour and not weird at all’ to ‘cloning him unsuccessfully ninety-nine times’?” Tim nods. “I don’t know,” Jon says. He thinks about it. “Probably like a four.” “So I probably shouldn’t do that,” Tim says. “Yeah, okay.” He reaches for his phone to start trying to undo the rumour Duke has inadvertently started, but Jon clears his throat. “On the other hand,” he says with an uncertain smile. “That would probably piss Damian off enough that he’d actually talk to me.”

OR

Tim and Jon pretend to date, mostly by accident, and no one is well about it. Because being in your early 20s is all about making the worst decisions of your life.

[now Complete]

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 11

MASTERLIST

By the time she touched down in Pensacola, all Delilah wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the month. This past week had been exhausting, both emotionally and physically, and as she climbed into the Uber she ordered, she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t get worse when she arrived home and had to lay eyes on Andre for the first time in a week.

Judging from the layers of guilt that had been padding in her belly since she boarded the plane, ‘worse’ seemed more inevitable than anything.

Walking into the trailer park home she didn’t realize she would miss so much, a voicemail appeared in her notifications. Seeing it was from Josh, she quickly shook her head and rid herself of any of the numerous X-rated visuals her brain could resurrect. Putting him on speaker, she dragged herself and her suitcase toward her bedroom, his low teasing voice bringing a smile to her face even though the memory of him swirled in her gut like a ship in the middle of a storm.

"Hey, baby. About to get on the plane back to ATL. I had the best time with you this week. Uhh…miss you already, girl. Miss everything bout’chu, and I mean everything…Anyway, call me. Yeet! Mwah."

Dude actually blew a kiss. So cute. 

Pushing open the door to her bedroom, her heart leapt into her throat, her eyes wide at the tableau before her. The bed she shared with Andre was perfectly made, something she wasn't sure it ever had been since they moved into the house together. The expensive white satin sheets they’d unwisely splurged on one random day years ago and never used since then, draped the bed. On her side of the bed, a single red rose lay on her pillow along with a piece of notebook paper, folded with her name on it.

With numb legs, Delilah managed to lower herself to the mattress and took the note slowly from its place. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper, which she realized he’d spritzed with his favorite cologne. To top it all off, one scan of his familiar scribble caused the tears to instantly fill her eyes.

My Dee-Dee girl,

You've been gone for six whole days and I think I went a little insane. I think this was the longest time we’ve ever been apart and it sucks ass. All week Khalid kept telling me that you’re all I talk about since you been gone and I didn't even realize it. I've missed you being home with me. I wondered if the tryout was everything you dreamed of and I really hope you had fun. I was gonna call you, but I didn't wanna mess up your flow. 

I know you’re home already and when I come back, we're gonna have a candid discussion about you probably getting called back by WWE. Something tells me you did and I can’t wait to hear all about it.

I love you.

Dre.

P.S. Did you see the video I sent you?

Reaching for her phone, she searched around for said video and her heart sank to discover he’d sent an email to her three nights ago. Her chest tightened further as she remembered exactly where she was – whom she was with – at that exact time. She tapped the video open and found Andre standing in front of the mirror in their bathroom. Then, he opened his mouth and began singing the first couple of lines from what she recognized as Justin Bieber’s ‘Ghost’, one of his favorite modern songs. 

As her fiancé’s melodic voice sounded around their bedroom, her arms dropped to her thighs helplessly with his note still in her hands. Her eyes looked to the ceiling and saw nothing thanks to the tears blurring her vision and spilling down her cheeks. This video, this letter, didn’t sound like the same old Andre. This was a repentant Andre. An Andre she didn’t expect at all. She had come home with metaphorical boxing gloves on, waiting to confront the guy who still couldn't understand why the woman he was marrying was pursuing such a wild, unattainable dream. She had come home ready to move on from him. She had almost convinced herself that it was his fault she had ended up in bed, multiple times, with another man.

That if I can't be close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

Sobs wracked Delilah’s body as she curled into the fetal position on the bed, her watery eyes resting on the video playing of Andre’s handsome face, his eyes closed as he sang his heart out to her. 

She fucked up. She fucked up so bad.

And the guilt was going to eat her alive.

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

Five hours after some much-needed sleep, Delilah stood at the kitchen counter picking at the bowl of chicken salad she had made for herself. She had been disappointed to wake up and realize that the unscrupulous decisions that she made in Orlando were not one bad dream. She had gone to the bathroom to freshen up and winced as she was instantly transported back to said bad decisions, her mind replaying the visual of herself bent over the sink, Josh pumping away behind her. Same reason she was standing by the counter and not sitting down, as the image of her back arched against the countertop with his face buried between her thighs materialized the second she laid eyes on the table. Ditto with the majority of the furniture around her house and the numerous positions she’d been twisted into on each one. Long story short, she would never look at any of them the same way again.

The front door swung open, causing Delilah's stomach to lurch once again. She wished she could run away, and that notion did not waver as Andre bumbled inside the house, his trusty backpack on his shoulder and a big relieved smile on his face. "My baby is back!" he exclaimed, slamming the door with his foot as he made his way over to her. When his arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, she fought the urge to throw up on his flannel shirt.

"You're home early," she feigned a smile, crossing her arms defensively as she took refuge behind the counter once again.

If he noticed her strange behavior, Andre didn't let on. "I worked a lot of overtime this week when you were gone," he shrugged, grabbing her fork and stabbing it into her bowl of salad as he lowered himself down to the stool next to her. Even with his mouth full, his lips curled into that goofy little boy smile that always made her heart melt, and not for the first time, Delilah felt the bile rise to her throat.

"So how was it?" he asked her.

The simplest of questions, yet he might as well have asked her about quantum physics. How on earth was she meant to tell him that it was the greatest week of her life without telling him that she had cheated on him? How was she meant to admit that she hadn’t given him much thought because she was with another man? Could she bring herself to break his heart like that?

"It was good." Her answer was flat and curt, her gaze studying the countertop like it was the most fascinating thing in that moment.

Andre just laughed, his face still alight from the triumphant return of his fiancee. "That's it? Just good?" he asked. "So modest. C’mere." He stood and held his hand out. When Delilah took the invitation, he led her away from the kitchen, over to the couch and gathered her into his arms when they sat down. "Tell me. I wanna hear all about it."

So many times she had hoped for this, him finally showing an interest in the life she was pursuing. But instead, this abrupt personality turn of his was rubbing her the wrong way. His happy-little-camper attitude was grating on her nerves, and the guilt bubbling inside her was the reason.

"Why?" she demanded, the question spilling out before she could think it through.

Slightly taken aback by the question, Andre pushed on. "Why? Cuz you're my girl. Cuz I know how much you want this and I'm anxious to hear how it all went down."

Oh, he went down, alright, Delilah thought angrily. She understood that most of the rage she was feeling was directed at herself, but she couldn't help but what the hell had gotten into this man sitting before her. It was as if he knew he was on the verge of losing her, and now he was pulling out all of his famed charm to reel her back in. "Oh really? You care now? What changed?" she asked coldly, pushing out of his arms and crossing hers defensively over her chest.

The wounded look in his eyes made her heart sink. "Baby, I've been an asshole about this. I admit it," he said softly, taking her hand once more. "But I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"Oh riiiiight, I see. You didn’t have your fuck buddy for one week and now you’re all up in your feelings!" Delilah argued. She knew that she sounded bitter and wounded, but she couldn't help it. The emotions of the past week were rushing over her at such a dizzying pace and she wasn't coping well at all, struggling to find her footing on this rollercoaster that her life had suddenly become.

Andre, meanwhile, had had enough of Delilah’s antagonism. "Dee, what the fuck is going on?" he struggled not to raise his voice, scooting back on the couch a few inches. "I thought you wanted me to be more supportive!"

Delilah jumped to her feet. "I want you to be supportive because you believe in me, Andre! Because you're proud of me. Not because you got lonely!" Sometimes she wondered if he understood her at all, if he had heard anything she had said over the last several months.

But Andre was tired of this already. He had just admitted to being wrong and yet she was still berating him. "I can't win with you," he threw his arms out, standing to regain some sense of equilibrium. "What the fuck happened out there?"

"Nothing!" she answered, a bit too quickly.

“Well something happened!” Flinging his arm to the side, Andre was in fight mode. "Just days ago, you were talking about how I didn’t care about you, and now that I’m putting in some effort, you want me to just back off and drop the whole thing? What kinda bipolar bullshit is that?" They had been here too many times, all over this house, outside this house, arguing about anything and everything, specifically on one increasingly annoying subject.

"I want you to actually mean it!" Delilah lashed out, no longer able to contain her emotions. The tears threatened to fall again as she pleaded with him, arms extended helplessly. "I want you to come to one of my matches. Dre. Just one. I want you to see what I do, see why it's so fucking important to me!"

"How many times have I told you, wrestling ain’t my thing," he dismissed. "You don't like all the things I like, but you don't see me cryin’ and beggin’ you to like ‘em."

Crying and begging. He couldn’t even see that his nonchalance had forced her to confide in someone else, and she’d ended up doing much more than that with him. Maybe if he knew, maybe if she told him what his apathy had done to their relationship, his mind would finally, finally change. But she refused to feel guilty for following her dreams. She refused to settle. "I don't need you to be a fan of wrestling!" she argued, "I don’t give a flyin' fuck if you don’t know any of the moves or any of the wrestlers’ names!"

"Then what is this abou-" Andre interrupted.

"For fuck’s sake, Andre! I want you to be a fan of me!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she kicked their wooden coffee table across the tiny room, “I want you to know my name! I need you to support me, to care about my wrestling, dammit!”

An awkward silence fell over the room, punctuated by the heart-wrenching sounds of her sobs as the love of his life’s words sank into his soul. For nearly a year, he had watched her morph into someone he no longer recognized, and not liking what he saw, he distanced himself, hoping it would be out of her system in due time. But now it was clear that this wasn’t going away, and it was breaking both their hearts as what they had – what he thought they had – was starting to collapse before his very eyes. 

"You wrote me some letter and sang a song. Big deal!" she continued through her tears. "You're doing everything but taking an actual interest in watching me find myself, because that’s exactly what I’m doing, Andre, and you can't handle it." She shrugged, even more emotionally exhausted than she was before she returned home. "You laugh, and you joke, and you tease me about it. You laugh at me with your friends. You laugh with my mother." Letting out a sardonic laugh, she shook her head, relaxed her shoulders and met his eyes. If she was going to be honest, she was going to have to be completely honest. 

"You have never believed, not one time, that I could do this. You wanted me to fail just so your life wouldn't have to change. But I didn’t fail! They liked me out there! They want us to move to Orlando in three months so I can start training at the Performance Center. That’s another step closer to NXT, and from there, I could make it to the main roster. I went out there and I left it all in the ring and for the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere and they agreed! The biggest wrestling company in the world wants me, Andre! It ain’t no dream no more and I’m sorry if that’s a problem for you."

Again, silence. Sniffling, she wiped her tears with her forearm and turned, walking toward the bedroom. She was done. And it had nothing to do with Josh, or with wrestling. She was just over it, and she was desperate to let off some steam because if she stayed this way she would most likely combust.

"Where are you going?" Andre asked, watching her change into her sneakers, which he noticed were brand new. Her suitcase was open and filled with more items than it had when she left. Things that, in real time, neither of them could quite afford. She wasn't lying. WWE were pulling out all the stops to bring her into their ranks.

Grabbing the keys to her motorcycle, Delilah responded, "To Tank’s gym. Need to work out." She was still a little tired, but she’d much rather be outside than stuck in this hellhole she was about to call her matrimonial home. She longed to talk to a certain someone but he was in faraway Atlanta and she really couldn’t keep running to him with her problems. Not anymore anyway. Not when he had become one of those problems.

Andre looked dumbfounded that she was leaving this unfinished. "We ain’t done talking, Delilah! You can’t just walk out on me!" 

With a bitter chuckle, she picked up her gym bag. "Damn right I can," she informed him, walking past him towards the bedroom exit. Just as she swung open the door, he grabbed her, his strong arm wrapped around her slender waist. Blushing as she glared hard at him, he cleared his throat. 

"A’ight. Gimme ten minutes to change. I'm coming with you," he said quietly, blushing harder when she raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I'm serious, baby. Let's take the truck. I wanna see you, see what you're all about."

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

THOUGHTS? Is Andre finally coming around?

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[wordy-little-witch]

Ghost Roger ships Shuggy and that’s why when Crocodile and Mihawk start to court the clown all hell breaks loose.

Okay it may be a bit more complicated than that, Roger is protective of his kids in a way, he feels a bit remorseful for not making feel Buggy important in live and he’s HELLA worried about how his sons parted ways. Of course even if there’s more to it than just “There were some misunderstandings” and he maybe won’t be able to make things completely right after dead, he still wishes those two would just TALK to each other. He probably told Buggy a lot of stuff after he first was able to contact him, but that doesn’t mean the grudge against Shanks (and Roger for that matter) is immediately gone.

So Roger really hopes those two make up and maybe kiss a little, he’s seen those obvious crushes those two had on each other for ages…. So when the two men who threatened his Bug suddenly start to get all flirty with him… well you can’t blame him for not being completely rational about it.

He can’t really do much besides be a nuisance, hiding things from them, throwing things off the table, one time he secretly put ketchup in Crocodiles coffee and he counts that as a massive victory, but he’s not full on Poltergeist level, he doesn’t have much power anymore. The only time he regains a significant amount of Strenght is when Buggy confronted him about this behavior, it truly was a scene to behold, Buggy, screaming into an empty room that Roger can’t decide who or who not he gets to trust and choose for himself, and Roger, not being able to communicate his own frustrations to Buggy and tell him he’s just worried but that Buggy also needs to stop being so damn stubborn, throwing things across the room and howling and causing a storm just with his intense emotions alone.

It’s only late at night when they both have calmed down that Roger makes his way back to Buggies room, now properly calmed and thinking somewhat rationally again. He doesn’t have much more energy than to scribble a “Sorry” with Buggys lipstick onto the mirror, but he knows his boy will get what he means.

Roger might get pleasantly surprised on several accounts tough, not only do Buggys new suitors actually care for him, despite their initial treatment of him, but Buggy may or may not also reconcile with Shanks after some gentler pushes and encouragement from his side…. And it may or may not turn out that Buggy has a lot of space for several people in his heart, who’d have thought? Atta boy! His little casanova….

Oh my goshhhh yeah this exactly (sorry it took so long to respond, was a lil busy)

Roger really would be like. The strangest mix if "you got this!!" And "not on my watch". He's got redneck girl dad vibes, like "don't mind me sitting on the porch making aggressive eye contact while I clean my gun and/or sword, kid, but yeah I know how to use them and use them well anyway be good to my kid or else haha no I'm serious-"

Ironically I feel like Roger would be pushing less for a Slowburn Romance for Shuggy and more a you can fix it and salvage smth and maybe it's different but you two are two sides of one coin guys come onnnn- type of deal. Like. The kisses would be nice (he'd win the bet and Rayleigh would owe him 500 berri) but also it just... it hurts to see his kids so hurt. It doesn't matter how the end result is configured so long as some of the pain is abated.

So when Buggy, his baby blue, his bright and bold and flashy little nugget, begins getting courted by the same men who unflinchingly harmed him?

When Roger has SEEN the things Buggy went through up to this point?

When Roger knows how easy it is for Buggy to fall into the arms of someone who means him harm, when he knows how Buggy clings to and almost searches for it?

Oh he's livid. He's frothing. He's not going to let that slide, not even remotely.

And so begins his Hijinks.

And so ignites Buggy's temper.

It goes on maybe a month, if that. Roger is petty and angry, but he's pacing it and being careful to make it impossible to trace to his kid. The few opportunities that leaves for him is very good motivation to go bigger each time. Croc's favored pen? Gone. Mihawk's wine glass? Different cabinet. Croc's ash tray? Flipped onto a document. Hawkeye's wine bottles? All corks are in some way damaged. He starts small and works his way up.

The ketchup in the coffee was his magnum opus - and that was Buggy's last straw.

He passes Alvida and informs her that it's a Code Pink. She nods and spreads the word. Nobody gets in his way as he beeline to his workshop and the adjacent sheds connected there.

It's arguably a hurricane by way of fury. Things are thrown and voices blow into uneven crescendos. Buggy begins to angry cry and Roger pulls at his own hair to fight the urge to wipe the tears away or crush the emotions out of his kid with his own arms. It's a hot mess, and it only gets worse when Roger hears Buggy say the one thing he didn't ever want to hear but suspected nonetheless.

"What's it matter if they hurt me? I deserve it-!"

He'll admit - he doesn't rightly recall what exactly it is that he does after that. The words echoed in his head, louder and louder until it was a battering ram in his skull. He doesn't remember much of that split second between hearing it and acting, but he found himself crushing his boy into his chest, one hand in blue curls, the other across a trembling back.

"Never," he swears, "you never deserve to be hurt, Blue. I'm so sorry you feel like that's true, but baby Bug, Red has told you-"

And that's the final straw for Buggy.

"Red?! Red's all you ever fucking think about!" And he shoves Roger away, mouth running faster than he can stop it, tears falling with the mess of his emotions as he rants and raves and leaves a captain, a father, hollow in shock.

Buggy pauses for a breath, and Roger reaches out, just to pull back at the swat to his hand.

"No," Buggy hiccups, "I just... I'm done. I'm fucking done. Go find someone else to bother. I'm through."

He leaves.

And Roger rages.

Hours later, finally calm and able to rationally think, he drifts to Buggy's room. He's shaking with exhaustion, but he grabs a lipstick - the cheap writing one, never Buggy's good lip color - and scrawls an apology onto the mirror. He floats over to Buggy's bedside, watches his kid sleep, tear tracks on his face and dried in his lashes. He aches.

He sits vigil there all the night, energy depleting until he's a bare whisp of a presence. He'll protect his kid how he can, but he won't step in the way.

It's only when Rouge offers to trade out that he deigns to rest.

Things go back to mostly normal afterwards.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When it turns out that Crocodile and Mihawk truly do care for and want to make Buggy happy, Roger is pleasantly surprised and very suspicious. He keeps it mostly to himself (and to Rouge, Ace and Eddie), but he is watching. He gets to witness the growth first hand - except some things second hand, because he may be a pirate, but he's also a father and some things are meant for a parent's eyes to never ever EVER see - but he does see it. He acknowledges it. And he gives his approval subtly.

So when things begin blooming outward, he's aware, somewhat, but mostly acting as but an observer. Though when those tendrils of Blue reaches out to Red.... well. He's Looking Heavily.

And then he's cheering aggressively because YES!! FINALLY!!!! RAYLEIGH OWES HIM SO MANY BERRI!!!!

And when blue and brown eyes cut towards him, Roger pauses, shrinks a little. By the Seas he forgot how weird his kids and their Haki was. He waves awkwardly.

".... Captain," Shanks says after a moment.

"Red...?"

"I am very happy to see you, believe me. But I also am very happy to have Buggy in my arm, so maybe go bother Lucky Roux or Yassop while I do unspeakable things to my Blue."

"Shanks," Buggy squawks angrily with a face as red as his nose, squirming in place.

Roger just laughs, gives a salute. "Aye, captains!"

He slips off through the walls to the symphony of his eldest laughing while baby blue complains loudly. There was a sudden thump, silence, then rustling. Roger, eyes wide, floated faster.

He'd always said Buggy would steal riches and hearts alike.

By Davy Jones, Ray owed him so much money.

[eleni-cherie]

agents at first sight ✨ || bts • ksj [ONE-SHOT]

"you're Squirtle?"

"you're Charmander?"

about two interpol agents falling at first sight, literally, thanks to a master thief on the run.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

[one-shot in 'the thieves collection' series - can be read independently!!]

»»»

— word count: 5.1k

— genre: interpol agent au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburning, mutual pining, strangers to lover s2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

the last shadow puppets - the element of surprise

solar - honey

frank sinatra - strangers in the night

keri hilson - i like

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS STORIES: "A THIEF'S ORIGIN" , "AMONG THIEVES" AND "A THIEF'S END".

this one-shot aims to give the backstory of how seokjin and yongsun met, as mentioned in the other parts of the series.

if you want the full context and also know what happens with with them afterwards, check out the other stories as well!

PROTAGONISTS:

KIM SEOKJIN AS HIMSELF; LEADER OF THE ROBBERY DEPARTMENT / "CHARMANDER"

KIM YONGSUN AS HERSELF; AGENT IN THE ORGANISED CRIME DEPARTMENT / "SQUIRTLE"

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER BTS STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

»»»

[set after the final chapter of the main story but before its epilogue]

Straits of Singapore, 30km off Singapore

"Sir, are you sure he'll show up tonight? It's been hours and still no sign from Park, Kim or Min."

Seokjin studied the piece of paper between his fingers. It was crinkled from having been stored in his jacket all evening.

A dry laugh left his lips then. "Don't worry, Blake," he said into the radio, "When Park Jimin says he's showing up, he will."

"Roger."

A muffled chuckle was heard beside him as he put the device down and he glanced at Hoseok resting his folded arms on the desk. "But only if you cracked his riddle correctly," his former team mate and friend pointed out with a raised brow, "I mean, you sure about time and place?"

"Pretty sure, yes. He sent that with a postmark from Singapore," the leader of the robbery department nodded and held the paper out for him. Hoseok grabbed it with curiosity, reading over the scribbled note with a hum.

'Meet me at the deck with no cards,

when the sun comes home.

Don't forget to wear a bow tie!

I'll bring the bow, not the arrows though.

See ya!'

"'Deck', 'bow' and the 'see', which is a homophone of 'sea' - it all hints to a ship. And this cruise ship with a bunch of loaded people is the only kind our thieves would be interested in."

"Yeah, I see - no pun intended," the leader of the organised crime department said and slid the note back, "And 'when the sun comes home' means when it's the closest to earth, which was today. Summer solstice."

"Exactly."

"Okay, fine," Hoseok sat back and let his eyes wander around the security room. Eventually adding with a sigh, "But I'm still bummed he had to pick the same time and place my team's got to perform an undercover operation at. Too many cooks spoil the broth, you know. There're so many other places or dates."

"You forget the CEO's wife owns this highly valuable black pearl. I bet everything I have that this is what they're after."

"Probably."

"The better question is, why does that mob boss you're after have to attend the same party."

"What do you think.." Hoseok propped his jaw on the palm of his hand, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. "He's acquaintance with Lee, that CEO."

A short laugh left Seokjin's lips and he averted his gaze from the security screens. "Of course, criminals and CEOs are not that different from each other after all."

His younger colleague showed his agreement with an amused chuckle when his radio transmitter beeped.

"Sunflora here, what do you have for me Squirtle?" he answered, causing Seokjin's brows to furrow.

'Squirtle' and 'Sunflora' were the names of Pokémons after all. So he gave Hoseok a wondering look which the latter only dismissed by waving his hand.

"Purugly is heading to the restrooms. S-should I follow?"

'Purugly'. Another Pokémon.

"No, but keep an eye on him nonetheless and wait in a good distance. If he doesn't come out in five, report."

"Understood."

He put the device back down, meeting Seokjin's questioning face. "So?"

"What?"

"You got Pokémon codenames? Never knew you were so into it."

Hoseok shook his head though. "Wasn't my idea," he explained with a laugh under his breath, "Squirtle is her favourite one and she claims she looks like it, that's why she always uses it. So I thought why not using these names for all of us? Makes the whole undercover thing a bit more fun."

"Huh, that's clever. I should do that, too, from now on." The older agent paused but only for dramatic effects as he added with a sigh, "Disappointed I didn't come up with that myself."

"Be my guest. Have you any in mind already?"

"Charmander, of course!" he exclaimed full of enthusiasm and picked his own radio device. "Blake, Jeon? From now on only call me 'Charmander' over the radio. Got it?"

Jungkook's chuckle was heard on the other line. He was rather amused than irritated, but even Skylar wasn't questioning her supervisor's quirks anymore. Both replying with: "Roger that, Charmander." 

"You really do with them whatever you want, huh?" Hoseok wondered with a laugh while scanning over the security screens from the ballroom where the birthday party happened. 

Considering they were on a cruise ship, it was impressive how grand it was. Opulent decorations like crystal chandeliers hanging above the heads of guests, adding to the ambiance of the ballroom. People dressed in their most expensive and fashionable gowns and suits while enjoying conversations and litres of flowing champagne and wine. 

Seokjin only shrugged with a smile. "The kids are alright and they're able to see a joke. But I do sometimes miss you and Namjoonie. Remember when we first started out together?"

Hoseok huffed out a laugh, reminiscing the past when the three of them started out in the robbery department together. "Don't remind me, I'm glad I don't have to deal with the shenanigans of these thieves anymore." He patted Seokjin's shoulder than. "But it was surely fun with you guys, I miss that, too."

He was about to add more when his transmitter beeped once again, interrupting his train of thoughts.

"Squirtle here, he hasn't come out yet."

With a groan, Hoseok's face hardened and he got closer to the screens. His eyes narrowing as he switched through the cameras. It always astonished and in some way also scared Seokjin how he could go from cheery to professional within a second.

"Squirtle, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sunflora."

"There hasn't been any records of him leaving through the other side of the corridor. Are you sure he hasn't returned to the party?"

"Positive. Is there a different way out?"

Seokjin's eyes widened at this and he grabbed the blueprint they'd got from security, eyes searching for any possible vents or openings. He gestured to Hoseok to pass him the radio over.

"Here's Charmander. According to -"

"Sorry, who's there?"

Remembering he'd literally only just come up with his new codename and had never directly spoken with this 'Squirtle' before, he laughed a little embarrassed to himself. "Sorry, agent Kim from the robbery department here," he spoke firmly, "The blueprint doesn't show any other means of escape, unless he decided to swim back to shore. So he must be still in there. Wait another five."

"Okay, got it."

"Is that Squirtle good?" he questioned his friend while sinking back into his seat, observing the monitors.

"She's my best agent actually," Hoseok answered truthfully, "You should've seen her shooting her way through and bending a whole gang boss to his knees. It was beautiful."

The older agent whistled lowly, quite impressed by the thought of that. Or at least how he imagined it. "Sounds like a feisty one."

"Depends. She's surely a lively person, but once you get to know her, she's an easy-going homebody. Similar to you."

A scoff passed Seokjin's lips, pretending being offended by his words. "So you wanna say I'm not unique?"

"Well, I wouldn't subscribe to that," Hoseok said with a teasing grin, "Both of you also get upset in the same hilarious way actually."

"Ouch, that hurts my pride you know."

The two shared a laugh when a sudden commotion on the monitors caught their attention. The guests seemed to be agitated and scattering around the area.

"Jeon, Blake, what's going on there?"

"The black pearl, it fell from Mrs Lee's brooch."

"There's multiple pearls on the floor now! It created a turmoil."

"I can imagine," Seokjin muttered before speaking louder into the radio, "Keep your eyes closely to the guests. Surely that's a distraction by Jimin and the like."

"Of course."

He stood up then, sliding on his black suit jacket. "I'm heading out for support. See, told you he'd show up."

"You need my help? I could tell my agents -"

"Nah, don't worry. I'm sure you guys have your hands full with this commotion, too."

"Sunflora?" Indeed, Hoseok's own agent tried getting in touch with him. And he gave Seokjin a thumbs up, wishing him good luck as he headed out, before grabbing his radio device then.

"Sunflora here."

"I spotted Purugly. He's rushing out with a group of people due to some uproar, I'm following him."

"Roger, Squirtle. Be careful in the chaos, it's a distraction from the thieves. The robbery team will handle it though. You focus on our guy."

"Got it."

»»»

Seokjin squeezed through the noisy and fidgety mass, people hunching and picking up any black pearls they could find - or at least the fake ones Jimin had spread around to cause this uproar.

It was impossible to draw his gun with so many civilians around, so he just continued with careful steps and sharp eyes. Soon spotting something that rose enough suspicion in him to follow it. A rather calm man was galantly making his way among the rambling crowd.

The main reason this man rose his suspicion was rather intuitive though. He recognised him being one of the bodyguards close to the Lee's, he'd stood beside them all evening. Of course his agents had already checked all stuff members for possible disguised criminals before boarding the ship, but they hadn't been observing them nonstop ever since. And this bodyguard now was clearl heading to the exit instead of being on the other side of the ballroom with his boss who was panicked and shouting at his men to find his wife's pearl.

With a confident smirk, he neared the man until he was close enough to grab him by the shoulder. "And I thought you'd never make your appearance, Park Jimin. You had me waiting for quite some time," he sighed in fake-annoyance.

The man visibly flinched at Seokjin's words, glancing over his shoulder then with a lopsided grin.

"Sorry, pops! Got a date with a pearl!"

He abruptly crouched, disappearing from his sight and Seokjin spotted him a few seconds later further away. He'd got rid of his disguise by now and promptly continued his way among the people. But Seokjin wouldn't let Jimin throw him off so easily.

He was close on his heels and Jimin could feel it. His eyes quickly scanning the area for any possible distraction when seeing the interpol agent almost having reached him again. But then he realised that he was literally in the middle of possible distractions and smirked as soon as he spotted a suitable one.

As he continued pushing threw the mass of people, he grabbed someone's wrist and abruptly tucked the person backwards. Right in front of Seokjin, blocking his way. It was a young woman with dyed dirty-blond hair and in the pushing and shoving, stumbled and fell against the agent's chest who caught her out of reflex.

"My apologies, miss, but -" Seokjin was about to politely shove her away when their eyes met. And any further words got stuck in his throat instead. 

He swallowed hard. She was the most mesmerizing woman he'd ever seen in his life. 

Full cheeks, cute nose, pillowy lips and soft brown eyes which were staring back at him intensely, placed so perfectly that it completely disarmed him and took his breath away.

For a moment he wasn't in the middle of the ballroom anymore, he was in the abyss of her wondering orbs.

The woman seemed just as stunned, her expression mirroring his.

However, soon he was washed back to the shore of reality and his memory returned, recalling his initial task of chasing after Jimin.

"S-sorry."

The woman's eyes turned into a dazed scowl, as if she herself had just snapped back into reality and wouldn't recognise the place she found herself in. She stepped back, at least as much as she could in the crowded space, his hands sliding off from the warm skin of her arms. And without a single word, she simply turned and disappeared back into the sea of people. Like a siren who had lured him into her world only to release him again after growing bored.

Someone in his work field and position shouldn't get that easily distracted and usually he didn't. But something in this mysterious woman completely enchanted him and it was more than unfortunate they had to meet under such circumstances.

Perhaps, in a different profession, in a different life, he could've met her differently. Could've spoken to her more.

By the look in her almond eyes, she might've felt the same sugar-rush shooting through her chest. But it didn't matter anyway, he wouldn't see her again. And he had to focus on more important things right now.

He began running through the now less dense becoming crowd, out of the ballroom. The double doors closed behind him with a dull sound, drowning out the jarring voices from inside. The corridor was long and he'd seen Jimin running towards it so it was his best shot right now. 

Eventually reaching outside the deck, he was met with the strong night wind of the open sea tousling his dark waves. It was sparsely lit, only a simple lamp every few metres illuminating the broad area. And there at its end, on the very edge, he found the masterthief standing and laughing as soon as he noticed Seokjin nearing him. As if he'd been waiting for him all along.

"Oh damn, didn't expect you back so soon. Really thought I made a good choice there, could swear she'd be your type."

The agent laughed under his breath, biting down his lip. It wasn't surprising to him anymore, knowing his opponent well enough in all those years to know his little mind games. So he chose to ignore his comment, not giving him the satisfaction of a retort. Although Jimin already knew the truth by the brief look that passed Seokjin's eyes.

"Hands up," the agent said instead with a confident smirk, now able to draw his gun, "Unless you wanna fall into the cold sea."

The thief, however, only met him with an unfazed glance. His arms slowly going up before one of his hands turned, revealing something between his fingers. And under the light of the full moon he could see it sparkling dark. The black pearl.

Seokjin could tell it was the real one.

"Hm, maybe I'll do just that. You know, return the pearl to its natural habitat on the way, too. Thanks for the great idea, pops!" His lips curled further into a beaming grin and before Seokjin could react, Jimin let himself fall backwards.

Perplexed, the agent rushed to the railing. The harsh wind hitting his face as he looked over it, making out the outlines of a motorboat in the darkness. Diverging from the ship and driving towards the coast. 

"Dammit." He sighed and hit the cold metal of the railing, letting it echo get swallowed by the waves. With a dragged sigh, he couldn't help but laugh shortly before pulling out his radio device.

"Jungkook, Skylar?"

Jungkook was faster to answer this time."Yes, sir?"

"Find a radio unit and alert coastguards and agents on the mainland to keep an eye on a motorboat coming from our direction."

"I assume it's about our thieves?"

"Correct, Jeon."

"Roger, I'm on my way."

Returning inside, he caught sight of security guards and staff members who had managed taking back control over the situation and calmed people down.

He came across one of the other agents of Hoseok's team and asked him where his supervisor was. The agent told him in the manager's office with their suspect and Seokjin thanked him before making his way there. As he passed by with hasty steps, walking to the other end where another door led to the offices and security room, he spotted the CEO and his distraught wife being questioned by Skylar in a corner.

Soon he reached a cherrywood door, giving it a few knocks and watching it open at the third knock, revealing his friend behind it. And Hoseok stepped out.

"Heard you got your man, that must be him I assume?" he motioned to the handcuffed guy at the armchair behind Hoseok's shoulders.

Hoseok grinned. "Yup, our 'Purugly' aka Mr San Shinjuk. Isn't that right?"

The criminal kept an desinterested and bored expression, unimpressed by his enthusiasm. "You got nothing on me anyway."

"I wouldn't call a wad of 100,000 won notes and exposing documents, nothing," Hoseok countered with a raised brow, making the man scoff and grow back quiet. Making Hoseok grin widen before joining Seokjin outside in the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"What happened with Park?"

Seokjin only let out a dry laugh. "Well, let's say at least you got your guy.."

Hoseok's eyes widened. "You mean he -"

"Yeah, yeah," Seokjin ran his fingers through his hair, "They got away again."

"Well, next time then."

"Of course next time!"

"I gotta say though. Thanks to the little panic he created, San couldn't complete his restroom deal," Hoseok chuckled.

The irony that his friend was thankful to his nemesis wasn't missed on him. "So that's what took him so long in there.."

"Exactly."

"But I surely won't thank Jimin," Seokjin huffed then, "Would only get into his already big head."

"Sir!"

The yell coming from the end of the corridor, cut their laughing off. The person audibly churned up as they came closer.

"Sir, I'm sorry I lost San. Someone pushed me and there was an idiot blocking my way. Otherwi-"

"Don't worry, Kim," Hoseok interrupted her with a reassuring smile, "You did a good job. We got him."

The woman sighed in relief and her tense shoulders relaxed. A weight seemingly being lifted from her shoulders. "I'm glad, I was worried we wasted our chance."

She was about to leave again when her eyes landed on the person beside her supervisor

Seokjin had turned around to see who Hoseok was talking to behind his back.

And both grew stiff.

There she was, the woman with the full cheeks and dazzling eyes. Her waves pushed to one side, cascading down her shoulder softly as silk. Their bright shade contrasting the black fabric of her tight dress. Now without endless people surrounding them, he had a clearer view on her, seeing it reached only half her thighs, leaving a handwidth of skin between its hem and her overknee boots who added height to her rather petite physique. And he noticed the grip of a 9mm peaking out from one of them.

He watched her burgundy lips part then in shock, unable to avert her eyes from him either.

"The idiot," she eventually breathed, causing the sudden tension to dissolve abrubtly. And Seokjin scoffed amused. "Excuse me?"

She dismissed his question and instead glanced at Hoseok behind him. Only earning a confused glance back. "You two know each other?"

"This is the idiot who blocked my way!"

"Hey, wait a sec, I didn't do it on purpose!" Seokjin quickly defended himself, "Jimin pushed you onto me, so if someone blocked anyone's way it was you blocking mine."

Flustered at the unknown to her details on the incident, she folded her arms and looked away. "That- that wasn't my intention," she mumbled then with a small embarrassed huff.

The taller man sighed and mimicked her in a less serious manner. "Neither mine."

"Well," Hoseok began then in an attempt to change topics, "Agent Kim, how about you let me introduce you to the other agent Kim then?"

She frowned, looking Seokjin up and down. "You're an agent?"

He ignored her judging glare and flashed her a charming smile instead. In a way, he found her even more intriguing now than before. "Nice to meet you. And you are?"

Hoseok nudged his arm as he stepped beside him. "She's the one you talked to earlier. Agent Kim Yongsun."

"You-" His eyes grew, facing her again with a stunned expression. "You're 'Squirtle'?"

Yongsun unintentionally backed off, equally astonished. "You are 'Charmander'?"

This was the guy who also used Pokémon codenames like her? No way.

»»»

"Hey."

Yongsun averted her gaze from the waves beneath her, the wind brushing rather harshly against her bare skin. The ship was heading back to the harbour, all guests having been gathered back inside until arrival and she used the short length of time to enjoy the city lights in the distance sparkling like watercolour on its dark surface.

"H-hey."

She straightened herself when seeing Seokjin approaching her on the deck. He emerged from under the sparsely lit canopy with a timid smile on his lips. His dark brown hair pushed back by now, his forehead peaking behind a few loose strands. His tall figure came to an halt beside her then and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket that was casually left unbuttoned. 

"I didn't think I'd find anyone here. You alright?"

"Yeah."

Oh, he did look like a deity – exuding the perfect balance of authority and charm.

Her breath hitched and she managed to give him a nod along with a hum through her folded lips. Focusing back at the crashing waves underneath. 

Truth was, she was uncertain of how to face him again after the previous hour and perhaps also tried avoiding him by staying out there. After all, she'd called a department leader an idiot. It didn't matter that she'd found out - after asking around her team mates - that he was actually a year, almost two, younger than her. In the agency, he remained a senior agent to her.

Sure, she hadn't been aware of who he was in that moment and he'd also seemed taking the whole story with humour. Yet, she couldn't help feeling awkward and mortified in his vicinity. She couldn't even look him straight in the eyes anymore. Even if it didn't cause her trouble at work, it still remained an embarrassing memory and she felt her face heat up.

"Sorry again for earlier," she mumbled while grabbing onto the metal pole of the railing, in search for the right approach, "For.. for blocking your way and.. and also calling you an idiot."

He hummed and contemplated for a moment by tapping his finger against his chin. "Hm, thinking about it now.. I should probably get compensation for personal suffering. That 'idiot' really hurt, you know," he deadpanned, earning a quiet gasp from Yongsun.

She faced him with wide eyes, ready to argue when instead she met his amused grin. He was only joking. She relaxed and tucked away some streaks of hair the wind had swept in front of her eyes.

"You totally should," she laughed softly then.

"You wouldn't mind paying me compensation?"

"Who says that I'd be the one paying?"

"You were the one making me suffer after all," he countered.

She could only laugh out at his teasing smirk. "But wasn't it all the thief's fault in the end?"

"Hey, he wasn't the one calling me an idiot," he countered with raised brows. The fake upsetness on his face made her laugh even more. It was a loud, squeaky laugh and her eyes disappeared.

He smiled. She was cute and not intimidating at all. Hoseok had been right.

The friendly banter had calmed her previous nervousness. It was easy to get along with him which shouldn't be surprising considering he was friends with Hoseok, one of the nicest persons she knew.

But she remained firm in her stance. Arms folding in front of her chest then. "He was the one pushing me to you, though, so it's his fault really," she said. An almost cartoonish grin on her painted lips.

Much to her surprise, however, Seokjin's demeanor visibly softened at this. Eyes flickering over her round face before settling back to the illuminated skyline of Singapore. "Ah, but I don't mind that part so I can't hold it against him."

Her brows furrowed, feeling like she'd lost the thread. "Why not? I thought it prevented you from catching him."

He simply shrugged his broad shoulders. "I got to meet you this way, didn't I? So it wasn't all too bad."

The night was rather brisk out there on the open sea and yet Yongsun felt like standing at 32°C in the midday sun.

He was most definitely flirting with her, even if it was in a smooth subtle way. And the worst part was that she didn't mind.

Still, she decided not to make a big deal over a hot flush because literally anyone, even furniture, would get butterflies with this guy.

His eyes left the lights in the distance then, a timid smile dancing on his lips. "Sorry, was that inappropriate?" he asked bashfully considering her silence, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She hadn't noticed how flustered she'd been and swallowed, clearing her throat when finding her composure again. "I'll let it slide," she said with as much nonchalance as she could fake in that moment, glancing briefly at him and noticing his blushing ears, "But only because we're in different departments and I won't have to fear favouritism."

"That's true. Although your teamlead is one of my best friends, so who knows.."

"Well, I'll trust that he won't do any."

He laughed lightly. "True, he wouldn't."

"You should be extra nice to the thief next time," she continued then, "You know, to thank him."

"Not that bad of an idea actually. I could crack less jokes when arresting him."

Propping her jaw on the palm of her hand, she glanced at him amused, the distant lights dancing in her eyes. And when she smiled in a way her teeth peeked a little through her lips, he could swear that he died, just a little bit, when she looked at him like that. Like he was the only man in the world. "You're a funny guy, aren't you?"

He breathed. "I try to at least."

Her gentle eyes wandered down to the sea again. The harbour shining clearer now as they drew closer. "You know," she spoke up, mischieviousness returning to her features, "I'm only apologising for the 'idiot', nothing more."

His brows knitted together. "Didn't you also apologise for blocking my way through?"

"Hm, I take it back since you said you didn't mind that."

Humming, he folded his hands and propped his elbows onto the railing. Neither one was a big deal for him and he'd found it rather funny how flustered she'd been once Hoseok had told her who he was. But he couldn't help it, he enjoyed teasing her over it.

"Mh, fair enough. I still forgive you for both though."

"Maybe I should've called you something worse then. Like douchebag or jerk," she mused with an arched brow only for her laugh to die down as soon as Seokjin leaned in. Narrowing the gap between them.

All of her pretend-confidence fell apart at the sudden proximity of their faces. Heaving a shaky breath, her eyes flickered to his plump lips which he noticed. And it took everything in him not to close the gap completely.

"You can call me whatever you like." His voice was deep and feathery, brushing over her flushed cheeks like a whisper only for her to hear. "But obviously not during work," he added with a laugh as he retreated, "That'd appear highly unprofessional. For both of us."

Taken aback, Yongsun watched him walking away, heading back inside without even giving her time to properly ponder over his words and their meaning.

"Wait!" She turned around abruptly. There was a lovely innocence in her round eyes. "What do you mean?"

Seokjin, however, only shrugged with an ambiguous smile. "Who knows." He opened the door then but before entering, he paused and faced her again. "You should also come inside. As beautiful as this dress is on you, it won't prevent you from catching a cold."

She frowned and looked down on her short dress. Only then she sensed the cool breeze surrounding them again. In all the time he'd been around she'd completely forgotten about the chillness out there.

"Uh, yeah. In a minute," she said, feeling her cheeks blushing over his, once again, subtle way of complimenting her.

He gave her a nod and disappeared through the door. Leaving Yongsun back on the dim-lit deck.

She couldn't quite figure out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or their association with the words he spoke.

Scrunching her nose, she folded her arms on the railing, letting the wind gently tousle her blond waves. It was a pity that she began shivering now considering the beautiful view. Perhaps she should indeed get back inside before catching a cold, despite the urge to clear her mind even more after that anew intense accounter with him.

And she wondered, was it alright flirting with him like that? He might not even be in her department, but he was still another agent. And a higher-ranked one, too. Then again, he had done most of the work, really. She'd simply played along.

Shaking her head, a dry laugh left her tinted lips. 

Either way, it wasn't like this would lead anywhere. They worked at different departments, on differents floors. Their paths most likely wouldn't cross again unless another joint operation happened.

And for some reason that realisation filled her with disappointment.

She wasn't usually the type of woman to feel easily attracted to men or even cared enough to give a second thought to them. But his kind eyes and enticing face did sparkle something in her. And the fact his male ego didn't seem hurt but rather took her earlier blunder with humour, was definitely a bonus point. Besides, he generally didn't seem to take himself too serious either. Both fatally opposite traits in most other men.

Yongsun was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't pay attention to the sound of the door opening again and someone stepping out. Only when fabric met her skin, wrapping around her shoulders and back, she realised she wasn't alone anymore and was ready to draw her gun when a soft laugh was heard.

"What a scaredy-cat," Seokjin teased and her eyes widened when seeing him standing there in nothing but his black button-up shirt. Her glance fell and she realised his suit jacket was drapped over her, instinctively grabbing its collar. She about to reject his offer, when meeting his warm smile.

"Thought it's better than nothing."

"T-thanks."

He gave her nod and turned around, returning to the door when he glanced at her over the shoulder. "You can return it next time we meet. I'll make sure it's soon, this is my favourite suit after all." And Yongsun's eyes widened when seeing a wink follow his words before he returned inside.

Stunned, her thoughts raced and tripped over each other.

They'd eventually meet again. Soon.

Her fingers unconsciously curled more, tightening their grip on the suit jacket.

She only hoped he was sincere. After all, she could tell he wasn't the kind of man a woman got a simple crush on. He was the kind of man you fell hard for, and the thought of that terrified her. She didn't want to fall hard for anyone at all, especially not a superior agent or someone who might not mean any of his words. 

But she had always been a curious cat. And Seokjin definitely triggered her curiosity.

With a small huff, she slid her arms into the jacket. It was still warm from his body and it made her shudder. Burying her hands deep into its pockets.

Great, she thought. 

Now she had a crush on her supervisor's best friend.

THE END

»»»

if you wanna know what happens to jin x yong, check out the other stories for more context and info!

💜check out the whole "thieves collection" series or my main bts masterlist for other members' stories in this universe or in general💜

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[roseyjustice]

I attempted a 3rd steel soul run and died in the city of tears so heres my s/i as i cope with all my almost 2-3 hrs of lost progress ;;

They’re a bee who may be part of the grimm troupe ! Hes a performer who specializes in theater and poetry ^^

[the-ellia-west]

INTRO POST!!1!!!!!1!

Hello! I'm Ellia! Welcome to my weird-ass writeblr blog! Here's some things to know about me:

I am an Aspiring author and Devoted Christian Woman. I live in the USA (CDT time zone) I am a minor, and the only other language I know is some very spotty spanish.

I mainly write Fantasy, and I'm working on four main projects (Listed Below)!

I like: Jesus, Bright Colors, People, Writing, Reading, Cats, Music, Warm Weather, Rain, Flowers, Dresses, and my Moots!

I Dislike: The texture of wool, Heavy Lifting, Baked Beans, Sin, Satan, Demons, and the Time Travel Trope

Hey! Pst! Before you continue! I have a side blog! Check out @jakkon-and-rose-topic if you want to read some stuff!

Tags:

Ellia Writes - Any talking or sharing of any aspect of any of my WIPs

Ellia's Construction Company - How I make stuff, tutorials, ect.

Ghost Party - Chatting and geeking out with my friends/Moots

Ellia answers - Answering questions

Ellia's Rambling - Me talking about stuff (a little too much)

Ellia's Haunted house - Any posts that I could slot into my story and character/world building. And my pile of creations (Including shitposts)

Ellia's mind palace - Stuff I'm adding to my mental Library :]

Ghost gardens - Aesthetic Pictures and stuff

Ghost scribbles - Art/Drawing Practice

My Wips:

TCOT - (The Cursed One's Throne) - TCOT is a low fantasy Novel Series I have been working on for 5 years, and I hope to publish in the next year, and the Main Wip I will work on and talk about on this blog (Tags: #elliatcot, #ellia tcot, #ellia's tcot, #the cursed one's throne)

J&R - (Placeholder Title) - High fantasy Adventure with Sass, spunk, and a heck of a lot of conflict (To be turned into a comic one day)

StF - (Steel and Feathers) - StF is a High Fantasy project about a Chosen one And stuff (Tags: #stf, #elliastf, #ellia'sstf, #ellia stf, #ellia stf)

Fallen - (That's the title) - A High Fantasy Romance between a Runaway Noble and a Disgraced (probably Criminal) (Tags: #elliafallen, #ellia'sfallen, #ellia fallen, #ellia's fallen, #rustpearl)

StF Short story Masterpost!

Alkain - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Raavas - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 3.5

Old Pinned post Copy-paste below (followed by my moots)

------------------------------------ Hey there! Hi! You! Tumblr user!

Are you a fan of epic fantasy? Want a story with romance, action, and sassy heroes and villains? How about some good old-fashioned ANGST?

If so, you're in luck! Get ready for the upcoming release of The Cursed One's Throne (TCOT for short), coming... well, eventually!

A story of trauma, war, recovery, trust, and love intertwined with curses, magic, sacrifice, and a few too little hours of sleep. Who needs a release date when you've got me, the very entertaining author, right?

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

Wtf is TCOT?

TCOT sneak Peek

Worldbuilding

Music

TCOT Ships

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