#walked through an entire city full of brown people and claimed none of them are pretty

[afrophunk]

"Bulma's Blasian!" I don't recall claiming her racist White ass

Yamcha on the other hand-

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée���s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

[bikerjongho]

thaumaturge | ateez ot8

genre: supernatural, fantasy, action, horror

characters: occult!ateez ot8

description: Eight evil and magically supernatural beings have their fair share of fun and violence as they travel through a witchy black market.

word count: 6.6k

warnings: swearing, murder, violence, decapitation, death

author’s note: thanks to ateez’s new song the real, this was created. this is genuinely one my favorite pieces that I’ve ever written, so I hope you all enjoy, even if it’s a bit a lot... dark. extra kudos if you can figure out why hongjoong has a flute...

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han

The airy noise of a flute from far off in the distance met the ears of people in the black market. The sound whispered around suspicious potions, illegal trinkets, and unsavory objects, giving the market a blanketing noise that masked the chattering of the merchants and customers. Although it was nothing more than a musical note, the noise was unknowingly synonymous with trouble and evil.

The flute belonged to Hongjoong, a man with frightening amounts of power and evil in his systems. The flute not only announced his arrival before his physical appearance, but it also announced his seven other teammates that were equally as dangerous and versed in unconstrained destruction as him.

On the outskirts of the black market, a small and dirty child played with a pile of rocks in front of his mother's tent. His mother, a woman greased with sweat and exhaustion, shuffled around her tent of potions and gathered what she could of food. She pulled out a small piece of chicken from a bag at her feet and carefully cut it into two unequally sized pieces.

She hastily shoved the smaller piece onto a graying plate near her before placing the larger one onto another plate and pushing it towards her son. But the son was still too busy with rocks to be bothered with eating, so the woman began placing more onto her son's plate - bits of lettuce that were more than a few days old and lumpy potatoes that looked undercooked, overcooked, and expired all at once. The meat was good enough and the potatoes were fine, but the withering lettuce was more than enough for Seonghwa.

Being the only folioric, a controller of plants and vegetation, on a team of mostly corpics made Seonghwa's power unique and highly valuable. While the others made blood boil and toes curl, Seonghwa had the proprietary job of dealing with plants, and more importantly, the poisons and trouble he could cause with them.

Magical black markets were incredibly engaging and amusing to him, so he enjoyed whenever his team made a detour through one. Seonghwa had studied and mulled over the existence plants and toxins for ages. He knew every potion that had plants in it and had even created his own. He was the root that connected botany and humanity. So, strolling through a black market that had false plant advertising, horribly made potions that even a beginner folioric could make to perfection, and toxins that were wildly inappropriate for their listed job, he couldn't help but chuckle at their inferiority. They were pathetic.

He was dressed like he was a regular customer at the black market, something that Hongjoong had strictly enforced whenever they wanted to cause a little bit of fun trouble. "The best place to hide is in plain sight," he'd always say. So, Seonghwa wore a green robe that went down to his knees. The end of the sleeves were embroidered with gold and black thread. A simple brown belt was tied around his midsection, and he wore black pants underneath the robe. His black buckled boots hugged and climbed up his legs.

This entire green ensemble was meant to show off his knowledge and abilities in botany, though in crowds like these, he doubted anyone would notice or realize the significance behind the clothing. Yet, the confidence the clothing gave him because on-goers did ogle the fine fabrics was more than enough to satisfy his hubris. It wasn't unusual to see someone of higher wealth in a slum-like market such as this one. In fact, it was usually good to see someone of that caliber - it meant there was likely something sold that was of worth, hidden between the utter filth that most sold. But Seonghwa wasn't there for buying.

Seonghwa shifted and narrowly avoided a dust cloud from a grimy child playing with rocks on the ground. There were numerous amounts of children like that around the black market. Families stricken with poverty had nowhere to turn except for illegal business, and even then money was tight and squandered. Seonghwa glanced at the boy's mother who ran her stand of sub-par potions, filling a plate of greens and meat for her son. He frowned at the lettuce.

Lettuce was one of the first plants he had to deal with at botany school - back when he was still enrolled and still had a cent of good in his blood. The professors would purposely let the lettuce wilt in the greenhouses and it was up to Seonghwa and the other foliorics to restore them. The memory made him cringe. The school, in his opinion, had suppressed his great powers and used them solely for mundane tasks. He had found it deeply insulting and was still insulted by it today. He had left the school and learned on his own how to harness his plant abilities to the fullest. In school, it had been a challenge to revive the lettuce that the teachers set out in the greenhouse. Now, he could be yards away and completely change the chemical biology of the lettuce with a lazy wave of his hand.

Seonghwa flicked his hand, and the lettuce winked at him.

"Lunch," the mother said to her son and pulled him to his feet, picking the rocks out of his hands and throwing them to the ground. She tried her best to dust him off and wash his hands with water, but most of the grime wouldn't come off. Seonghwa walked away as the mother handed the plate to her son, who began eating like he had never seen food before.

Seonghwa put his hands in his pockets. A glimmer of a smirk appeared on his face when he heard the child thud to the ground behind him, and the mother's subsequent scream.

Wooyoung trailed in behind Seonghwa, but the two acted like they didn't know each other, not sparing any glances or gestures at each other. He slid by the child that Seonghwa had killed while the mother's broken sobs rattled his eardrums. This team of evils, the eight of them, were journeying to a different city to buy rare botanical and medical supplies, the reason why they were cutting through this market.

"Instead of going around, we can cut though this black market," Hongjoong had announced only hours before and was met with joyous hoots and hollers. "Black market" was synonymous with fun - it allowed for the boys to cause behind the scenes trouble to people that they didn't care about or would ever meet again. Jongho had called it a warm-up for their powers and was met with agreement and laughter.

Wooyoung went in a different direction than Seonghwa, who was still strolling through stands of botany and stacks of medical potions. While Seonghwa was a folioric, Wooyoung was a corpic. Corpics, the broad term used to describe people that could manipulate the human body, were by far the most common variety of occult people. No one was truly sure why - but it showed in the fact that six out of eight members of the team were of this variety. Further categorized, Wooyoung, and also Hongjoong, Jongho, Mingi, and San, were spirabics, a subset of corpics that specifically dealt with living human bodies and feelings.

Wooyoung dealt with bones. Bending, breaking, and general manipulation of bones was his talent that had been bestowed to him at birth. Similar to Seonghwa, Wooyoung had been taught at school how to use his power for good, such as repairing fractured bones, but had quickly lost interest and dropped out when he realized his true potential.

Though, dropped out wasn't the correct word. This occult school did everything in their power to keep students from dropping out - they knew the merit and the sheer responsibility of the powers their students had. Using it for unrestrained evil was their worst fear. Wooyoung had deserted the school after two months of enrollment and then broke the spines of the teachers and guards that had gone to retrieve him when they realized he had deserted.

Wooyoung took a different route than Seonghwa not just because they wanted to be separated, but also because he was bored to death with plants. The area he strolled by was far more interesting - a small woman with a tight face manned a stand that claimed to sell human hearts and organs. On the stand next to her, full fingers, hands, and skeletons were on display like jewelry would be in a jewelry store.

He stared at the skeletons with his hands behind his back. He was aware of the stares because like Seonghwa, he was dressed in fine fabrics - blue instead of green - but he elected to ignore them. The stares also could have been for his peculiar interest in the skeletons.

"They're real," the shopkeeper told him flatly, and Wooyoung had to keep a straight face. None of the bones were real.

"They're gorgeous," he said, and then realized how odd that sounded. "For bones, I mean. You keep them cleaned and polished." But Wooyoung knew well that real bones could never be as white as the ones in front of him. He showed off a smile and nodded his head.

"Have a nice day," he said, and as the shopkeeper turned away, Wooyoung clenched his hand and snapped the shopkeeper's tibia. He strolled away with a smile as the man howled with pain, and the customers that were eyeing Wooyoung's clothes dove like hungry piranhas to steal the worthless and fake bones off of the stand. There wasn't any real reason why Wooyoung had broken his bone - it was just a fun activity to do in a market of strangers that had no impact on his life.

The flautist and San entered the black market as a pair soon after. Hongjoong, dressed in a shade of blue similar to Wooyoung's and flute strapped onto his side, strode by the mess of a mother Seonghwa had made and what was left of the bone stand. "I see they've done their job," Hongjoong yawned to his dark-haired friend. San grinned.

"No bones about it," he said, and Hongjoong gave him a look that could cut steel. San was dressed similarly to Hongjoong - a darker blue color, but the same fitted robe and high black boots. Hongjoong and San, like Wooyoung, were spirabics. Many thought that Hongjoong's flute that never left his side was a part of his magical ensemble, but that wasn't the truth. Hongjoong could raise levels of pain so that a paper cut felt like a heart attack. Sometimes his flute was a part of his sorcery - blowing a high note next to someone's ear and raising the pain was fun - but in truth, the flute was an elegant accessory given to him by his mentor before he passed away years ago.

San, in his smoldering and smirking glory, manipulated blood inside of humans. He could make blood clot or stop flowing or flow out of a body like a raging waterfall. He could make it boil like he was preparing a delicious vat of spaghetti. In many ways, he was one of Hongjoong's most coveted teammates, not only for his incredible power, but because of how useful he was when partnered with Hongjoong. So when San proposed the idea of working together to spread trouble throughout the market, Hongjoong couldn't refuse his offer.

"Who should we do?" San asked, hands behind his back and eyes flickering around the market and its sellers. San had been one of the first to accept Hongjoong's offer of making a team, and was therefore one of the most experienced and capable of their group. But he was also one of the most angry and dastardly ones. Hongjoong had seen the full extent of what San could do with years of being around him. Hongjoong knew better than to make him upset and laughed at those that did.

Hongjoong also eyed up some of their potential victims. Many of the sellers looked the same - sunken eyes, old and dirty clothing, and even dirtier intentions hidden in their hands and goods - but one stood out to him. Hongjoong nodded his head to a man that was a few stands down from where they were. "Him."

The man was considerably a different variety than most other sellers in the market. Besides wearing clothing that was close to the pricing of Hongjoong's and San's outfits, he sold considerable botany that even Seonghwa would look at and fine jewelry that both of them knew better than to touch. He was a gem in the midst of trash, and Hongjoong knew nothing would make him happier than to knock him down a few pegs.

San smiled at Hongjoong's choice. "A rich boy," he said, quirking his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I don't like how he carries himself, thinking that he's better than everyone else in this market," Hongjoong said flatly, eyeing him with suspicion. "He reminds me of me."

San chuckled. "Then, let's not hold back." He sauntered over to the seller with alluring eyes and struck up a conversation. Hongjoong couldn't hear exactly of what words were being exchanged, but it was clearly an engaging talk with how the seller's stance turned from tense and alert to relaxed and easy-going. He must have thought San was going to rob him as he approached. He should have been more wise. San was a vampire of the worst kind.

"The king just simply cannot have all of this stuff lying around," the merchant was laughing to San while Hongjoong slid up next to him. "Oh? A friend of yours?" He asked, looking at Hongjoong up and down.

"A friend indeed," Hongjoong said to him. He struggled to read San's face, because now it had changed. San had been engaged in the conversation, Hongjoong could tell even from far away, but now his demeanor had fallen. There was a hint of rage hidden behind his eyes, and Hongjoong knew exactly why.

San had once been a healer of sorts for a royal family. Almost every member, from the queen to her youngest son, were anemic, and it was up to San to regulate their blood at all times. But he quarreled with the king frequently, who thought San was doing a less-than-ideal job at helping his family with their condition. It wasn't until the youngest son died because of his anemia did the king react violently to San and threatened to fire him. But San had reacted back equally as violent - stopping blood flow to his heart and giving the king a heart attack as they fought in the throne room. The palace had revived him with another spirabic, but the damage was done and San's reputation was ruined. San fled the castle before the king could awaken and accuse him of an attempted assassination.

Hongjoong knew of his backstory and had spared no time in recruiting him. After all, the news of a defective royal spirabic spread like fire, and the flames had interested him.

But standing with this merchant, he had to applaud San for his restraint to not blow the head off of the royal merchant. Perhaps the prospect of blowing it off later with Hongjoong is what kept him only simmering. It was another mystery as to how the merchant didn't even recognize San. Hongjoong decided to not complain about the luck they had.

"Ah, the blessed kingdom?" San said, putting on a shining smile that Hongjoong almost believed. "Why must the king go here to sell things? Is he not content with the riches he has?" The merchant was shocked at San's boldness, but San's laugh that came after was so hearty that he joined in.

"I'm not sure why he wants to sell these trinkets here," the merchant said. "But it's what His Highness requests, so I oblige." San nodded his head and gave a soft smile. Hongjoong wasn't sure what rage or anger he had boiling his blood, but he was sure that San was done with being nice to a royal family kiss-ass. He gave a look to San, who was glad to reciprocate it.

Hongjoong shoved the merchant's table forward. All of the contents on the table shuddered and remained on the table, but the table hit the merchant's leg. "Oops," Hongjoong shrugged while the merchant furrowed his brow and rubbed his leg. "You're okay, right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," the merchant said, ruffled, and Hongjoong clenched his fist from inside his pocket. He could immediately see the pain rise like an enormous wave behind the merchant's eyes. He cringed with pain but still managed to stand. It wasn't in Hongjoong's interest to make him scream - he gave that privilege and right to San.

And San was more than ready. San's hand moved and the merchant furrowed his eyebrows even more. "Is everything okay?" San asked with a smile as the merchant's eyes began to twitch. He looked back and forth between Hongjoong and San like they had something to do with his pain, but ultimately focused back to his leg. Hongjoong wasn't sure what San had done, but it seemed slow and painful.

"Not really," the merchant said, wincing. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said before limping into his stand's back area. San flicked his hand again and the merchant whimpered from behind the stand's back curtain. Almost immediately, a band of small children rushed in front of them and stole the rare plants off of the merchant's now vacant table.

"What did you do?" Hongjoong asked as he helped put the botany into the children's bags.

"I cut off blood flow in his left leg only," San said simply. His mouth quirked upward. "Or you could say, I blocked an artery. If he's fast enough, he might be able to have surgery to fix it. If he doesn't..."

"Death," Hongjoong finished, and San could only nod.

"Or amputation. I'm not sure how good the court spirabics are anymore. I don't care, either way." San gave a smile and waved for Hongjoong to follow him further into the market, his anger now behind him. A third party was hurt, and only half of the team was present in the market.

Another blue-robed man strolled into the market, but he was flanked by a man in grey. Mingi and Yeosang were the next of their group to enter the black market. Yeosang, the one clothed in grey, was a corpic like many of the others on their team. But he wasn't a spirabic, he was a cerebric, a special classification for corpics that dealt with the mind rather than the body. He could manipulate and damage the minds of anyone so long as he touched them. Yeosang's eyes, which had anything but mindlessness in them, flickered back and forth at different merchants in the black market like he was sizing up his victims.

Mingi, the taller and blue-robed one, was a spirabic. But in many ways, he was closer to Yeosang's power than any of the other spirabics in his team. Mingi could manipulate feelings and spike hormones on a switch. And while he didn't directly deal with the mind, he could still make anyone lose their mind if he added enough adrenaline to their body.

But while the two of them had powers that were very similar, they had drastically different backgrounds. Yeosang was a rarer breed of occult that was classified as dangerous by most schools that taught occult students. Hence, he was barred from most schools and didn't bother trying to convince them otherwise. There wasn't a good bone in his body and fellow occultists had made sure of that.

While Mingi, like many of the other spirabics on the team, had tried occult school. Mingi had learned how to lower adrenaline and calm anxiety. He had been the cure for marital problems and the savior for depression. But he had quickly learned it was infinitely more rewarding to cause pain and chaos rather than healing.

"This place is a dump," Yeosang scoffed as they weaved through the endless paths of the market. "Truly, people have lost their minds even without our help. Their products are shit."

"Less of a market and more of a dump," Mingi replied and walked by a little girl standing near a stand. She burst into tears. Yeosang was mildly amused.

Just as Yeosang was about to glance at a stand's contents, a running customer rammed into Yeosang's shoulder without warning. Neither Mingi nor Yeosang seemed too worried - in fact, a smile grew on Yeosang's face. He turned around stared at the customer while he kept running.

Almost immediately, the man stopped running and began screaming, hopping and clutching his feet like he had stepped on a thousand spikes barefoot. "Lava!" He howled before diving directly into a nearby stand, and Yeosang had to bite his lip to not burst into laughter as the stand's owner began yelling and swearing at the man who was saving himself from lava.

"Don't bump into me, next time," Yeosang murmured under his breath as a group of young men started a fist fight as Mingi strolled by them. Mingi held up his hands by his face and circled around the fight like he was surprised by this sudden confrontation.

"I'll say it again, this has got to be one of the most disgusting markets I've ever walked in," Mingi muttered when he and Yeosang were clear of the fight he had evoked. "But I guess that makes things more fun."

Yeosang nodded, side-stepping a man who was moaning for medical help and clutching his ankle. "Who should we really have fun with?"

The two surveyed the crowd of people around them, from dirty merchants to buyers with large inheritances to families with six children. There was a large variety to pick from, and Mingi was going to suggest doing a usual mind warp of a random merchant when Yeosang nudged him and nodded towards a young girl standing by a stand, paying no attention to the objects sold at the stand.

Her focus was only on the boy selling the items at the stand. Any blind person could see that she was madly in love. With how her body was only moments away from turning into a pile of mush and her eyes were physically in the shape of hearts, Yeosang and Mingi almost felt pity for her - the guy that she was in love with gave her no attention. His attention switched from a small amount of cash in his hands to the strange purple and green bottles on the table in front of him, like the girl wasn't even there.

"Playing matchmaker, are we?" Yeosang smirked at Mingi.

"Perhaps at first," Mingi murmured, walking closer to them so he could see his handiwork more clearly. "But you'll make sure that's not the end result." He pulled his hand from his pocket and waved it, a gesture seemingly innocent and regular.

The boy dropped the money in his hands and looked at the girl with a new appreciation, and the girl was startled by the sudden interest. Yeosang had to stifle a laugh as he nudged by the boy and got his own magic to work.

"... you're so beautiful," the guy was saying like he and the girl were alone in the market. "Truly a sight. Forgive my forwardness, but I have a small sum of money. Could I go to dinner with you and spend it all?"

The girl was a frantic and blushing mess. "Of course," she hummed, grabbing his hands and holding them close to her chest.

"They're gonna kiss," Mingi said and hastily put on a pair of sunglasses.

"And those sunglasses will save your sight?" Yeosang murmured as the two lovers locked lips right in front of them. Mingi's eyes weren't visible anymore, but his mouth was in a prominent frown. Public affection was apparently the price to pay for evil deeds.

"What exactly did you do?" Mingi muttered again, only seeing his own magic working. "We're playing Cupid rather than mind-fucking magicians."

"Watch," Yeosang said, and Mingi closed his mouth.

The new couple was now enwrapped in each other's arms like they were puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. The boy stroked the girl's hair while he stared at her face and a few passerbys gagged and swooned.

"I love you," he said, not wasting his time in the relationship. The girl sighed and began pulling her hair tie out of her ponytail.

"Yeosang," Mingi hissed. "I do not want to watch a few teenagers rail-"

But he was cut off by a shriek from the girl. She was clutching the boy's small necklace around his neck with rage in her eyes. Yeosang glimmered.

"You have someone already," she growled and shook the necklace in front of the boy's face. It was just a normal necklace and the boy was sputtering out of genuine confusion. And it was a normal necklace. But Yeosang had made the girl think that there was a couple ring strung onto the chain.

"You're a genius," Mingi said, he himself not entirely sure of what exactly Yeosang had done. He flicked his hand again.

"You asshole!" The girl screamed, flames in her eyes. Mingi raised his eyebrows and admired his handiwork of adrenaline. She yanked the boy's necklace backward so that the chain clung tightly to the boy's neck. "You fucking cunt," she bellowed and pulled the chain as hard as she could. Mingi saw an opportunity and took it. He wasted no time to flick his hand again and the boy's head came off of his shoulders with a superhuman yank of the necklace from the girl.

Shocked bystanders began rushing towards the girl and pulling her away as she began to stomp on his decapitated head and scream swears at his corpse. Some were holding her back and others were trying to soothe her, but Mingi wasn't sure that was possible anymore. He smiled.

"Nice job," Yeosang and Mingi murmured to each other, amused at the scene they had created. Mingi had taken off his sunglasses. This was infinitely more entertaining to pay attention to.

"It'll go into the books," Yeosang said casually and began to walk away from the scene. The girl's yelling and screaming was a noise to behold. He was sure Hongjoong would want to know about it once they were all through the market.

"Decapitated by Cupid's machete," Mingi said, and followed him away from the lovestruck wreckage and further into the black market's depths.

The final pair of occults from the team entered the market. Again, there was another member with a blue robe and big eyes that showed his youth. They sparkled with a child-like glamor, but the glamor was of malice rather than wonder. The tall one beside him was in all black.

Jongho was a spirabic like most of the rest of the team and was their newest recruit. Only two months ago he had been at school and had genuinely enjoyed school, unlike the rest of them that had attempted academia. His power was something Hongjoong had never seen, so he had made it his priority to claim Jongho for his own when he first heard about his power and potential. When part of the team had arrived to meet him disguised as scouters for a more specialized school for talented spirabics, he was lowering the heart rate of a sleeping patient in the school's infirmary.

He had greeted them with bright eyes and a smile that could melt anyone. "You're the recruitment school, are you not?" He said politely, his dark hair fluttering as he nodded his head in greeting.

"Jongho, have you ever killed anyone?" Hongjoong said without preamble. The rest of the spirabics that were with Hongjoong - Mingi, Wooyoung, and San - shuffled in surprise to hear how upfront he was.

Jongho's eyes widened like he had been slapped in the face. "No!" He cried, putting a hand over his mouth. But Hongjoong watched as his eyes began to flicker around the infirmary. They were the only ones there. Incrementally, his body began to lose tension and he stepped backward to feel the consciousness of the sleeping patient.

"No," he had repeated, his eyes darkening. "But I want to."

And now Jongho had killed dozens already as a new member of the team with his power of manipulating bodily vitals. Lowering heart rate for restful sleep had turned into stopping hearts. Healing lungs had turned into snatching the air from them for a quick death. Even when Jongho had just joined their team to make them eight, Yunho had still seen bits of humanity in his eyes. It had made his eyes bright and gave illumination to their group of darkness and treachery. There was no light in them as he twitched his fingers and a nearby merchant was dead before he hit the floor.

"Nice," Yunho murmured.

"He had a bad heart anyway," Jongho said idly, shoving one hand in his long coat pocket and slipping a silver chain from the dead man's stand into another pocket.

Yunho reveled in the sight of dead bodies. His interest in them was not only because he relished in killing, but because he himself was a manipulator of the dead. Being a mortuumic, Yunho was even more rare than Yeosang's brand of corpic. He was also much more feared and despised by other occults of any kind. He had been an obvious choice for Hongjoong's team - no school wanted a boy that could animate their dead loved ones like a mad puppeteer. Hongjoong had looked in his general direction and Yunho was more than happy to be of use and join him.

"I know what we can do," Jongho muttered to Yunho as they slithered through the packed crowds. "I know what would be fun." He nodded to what Yunho thought was the dirtiest and most disheveled homeless man he'd ever seen in his life.

"Him?" Yunho said, raising his eyebrows. The usual plan when Jongho and Yunho were together was to murder and then reanimate a person. They had done it a few times already with success, such as robbing a villager's shop with his deceased brother's body a month back. Yunho didn't need to wonder if that was their plan for this homeless man - it was a given. But he was shocked when Jongho quickened his pace towards the homeless man and knelt down before him in a kind gesture.

"You're probably hungry," he said in a soft voice that was unlike him and took out a piece of bread from his pockets. He held it out to the homeless man and gave him a sweet look. The man's face broke into a smile so large that it cracked the dry skin around his mouth - he had not smiled in a long time. His graying hands stole the bread from Jongho's hands and he was eating it not even a second later. Yunho was surprised to see that the bread wasn't laced with poison and he hadn't dropped dead immediately.

"Why?" The homeless man croaked after he had finished his meal, looking at Jongho with wide eyes. "You are a man of silk and wealth. Are you a God come to aid me?"

Jongho's eyes shimmered, and Yunho wasn't sure with what. "Yes," he said softly, then pulled out the silver chain he had stolen only minutes ago. "Take this, sir. I only wish to see you happy for the rest of your life."

The man burst into tears as his calloused fingers rubbed the fine chains. He couldn't speak, but his body shaking with sobs and how he held the chain was telling of how much he appreciated the gesture. Jongho stood up and dusted off his blue robe, the man sobbing at his feet like he was Jesus. And he almost did look like him; in that moment, his soft and regal eyes reflected the good deed he had just done and his robe yielded a commanding yet gentle presence that did make him seem kingly. But Yunho knew better than to think that this was all Jongho had planned. Yet, he was still confused by his teammate's actions.

Yunho opened his mouth to ask Jongho what his plan was exactly when the sobbing suddenly stopped. Yunho's eyes darted to Jongho's hands immediately and saw they were in a fist shape. The homeless man was writhing on the ground, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst from his body. Then he was motionless, his eyes devoid of the light that had been brought into them by Jongho's kindness. Jongho's eyes glimmered again, then he locked eyes with Yunho, a smirk dancing across his lips.

"Now, I pass the torch to you," he said softly.

And it now clicked as to why Jongho had done what he had done. Yunho had a fear that even during those first few seconds of the homeless man's death, someone in the busy market would have noticed. But Jongho had turned the focus to himself by being a samaritan for the man, and unless closely inspected, it appeared that the man was too happy over his recent fortune to be able to stand up. His delirious smile was still etched onto his face, commanded by Jongho's statement that he would be happy for the rest of his life.

But it was now Yunho's turn to show off. While Jongho could manipulate the living, Yunho commanded the dead. His eyes flickered with rapture and he lifted his hands in a gesture he had done a thousand times. He acknowledged the presence of the man's still heart, and then, carefully, let it beat.

It was a soft and slow beat, not a rhythm that any human could live by. But it was enough to flood bits of pink to his cheeks, hands, and neck to make him appear a little more alive. Yunho felt the man's legs, arms, and chest, then willed him to rise in a flourish of necromancy. The man stood, his smile now relaxed and natural. He swung his newly acquired silver chain in his hands and gave a wild grin to Jongho like he had just said a humorous joke.

Yunho wasted no more time on showing off his talent of necromancy. He flicked his arms and the homeless man took off running through the market with that joyous grin on his face that Jongho had given him, attracting attention from everyone who passed him. "Stole it!" He proclaimed, lassoing the chain around his head. Yunho whirled his finger and the man did a flying leap before snagging a bottled glass potion from a nearby table and nearly running over a toddler toddling in the street. The salesman shrieked, and soon the homeless man was being chased by multiple shopkeepers as he kept stealing trinkets and trophies off of stands and tables.

Jongho watched the entire spectacle with a bored expression. "Cheer up," Yunho whispered to him and flicked his arm. The man did a pirouette. "I haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

The scene of the homeless man running gleefully with an armful of black market treasures while a stampede of angry shoplifters on his heels was a sight to behold. A shopkeeper was approaching him rapidly though, so Yunho decreased the homeless man's speed so that he could catch up.

"You thieving fuck," the shopkeeper growled before grabbing a hold of the man's shirt collar. On cue, Yunho dropped his hands and the homeless man dropped to the ground with them, dead as he was when Jongho had first halted his heart.

The shock on the shopkeeper's face was indescribable. "He's dead," he cried, but his voice was swallowed up by the squabbling shopkeepers that had raced close behind him, now circling the dead man to reclaim their belongings. It didn't seem to matter that their thief was a corpse on the ground, not when there were still living customers to be served.

Yunho grinned with pleasure. Jongho nodded to him. "Nice," he said, giving a small clap. "What a scene. A true spectacle. I would have paid money to see that."

"Then what a treat that it was free," Yunho smirked. He straightened himself and yawned. "And now, we can get ourselves out of here."

Yunho and Jongho walked out of the black market and found Hongjoong first, San mulling around behind him with a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. "We had a fun time," Yunho shared, and Jongho nodded his head in agreement.

"I was called a God by a homeless man," Jongho bragged. "Before I killed him, of course."

"We also had our fair share of fun," Hongjoong grinned and looked at San. "We met a royal merchant. San gave him some painful blood clots."

"Sounds absolutely riveting," Yunho smiled.

Seonghwa came up from behind them with a smug look plastered across his face. "I mostly strolled around, but I killed a boy with lettuce," he said casually.

Wooyoung was carving intricate patterns into a suspiciously shiny bone using his fingers. "And I broke someone's leg."

Yeosang and Mingi emerged from the market, smiling like they had just won the lottery. "And we decapitated a guy," Mingi said with cheer, giving a thumbs up to his team.

The eight of them looked at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter, Seonghwa holding onto his stomach and Wooyoung bent over while he howled.

"That was fun," Wooyoung exclaimed. "The most fun at a black market that I've ever had."

"If only causing trouble was ever that easy or entertaining," Yeosang mused. "It's hard to conceal what you're doing to someone out in the open. The crowds made it so easy to go unnoticed."

The eight of them chatted about their experience in the market, from the nonexistent cleanliness to the terrible and fake items being sold. Seonghwa was ready to go onto a long tangent about the utter disrespect he witnessed for many different types of plants when Hongjoong held up his hand and silenced him.

"I must remind you all that our journey isn't over just yet," he said, his eyes hovering over all of them with a look that only leaders possessed. "We're not yet in possession of our medical supplies."

"Or the botany," Seonghwa reminded him.

"Or the botany," Hongjoong added. "And it may sell fast. Therefore, we cannot waste any more time on trivial talks. At least, not just standing here." His hands went to the flute on his side and he slid it out of its case. "You all go forward. I will be right there."

The others knew what Hongjoong was going to do. They parted from him, and Hongjoong put the flute to his lips. He then blew, and a soft, airy note rose out of the instrument, not unlike the one he had played when they had first arrived on the other side of the market. The note was the team's farewell to the market. But it was also a haunting reminder that they would be back at the market on their return trip, obsessed with the science of pain like moths to a flame.

[uvobreakmylegs]

On Golden Wings

Anonymous requested a Kurapika x reader story where Kurapika has a mythical element.

Kurapika is technically a seraph in this, but I added some elements of a griffin because I thought it was fun and Kurapika is extra so it fits

(sorry about the bad title it was the best I could come up with)

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, threats of torture, implied death

Feathers.

Everywhere you looked, you could find golden-brown feathers strewn about the city. In the streets, sticking out of bushes, stuck within whatever cracks they could find or drifting across the pavement as the wind pushed them along. Even some children would pick them up and use them as accessories.

When they first began to appear people had noticed them quickly – they were hardly small, some that you had seen were longer than the entire length of your hand. Questions about them came just as fast, on where they had come from and what kind of bird this was, to be losing so many feathers at such a seemingly rapid pace. The local zoo and bird sanctuary claimed to know nothing, and no one of the upper class within the city admitted to having some sort of exotic pet that had escaped. And if all of those parties were telling the truth, it only meant that it was wild. And once again taking in the size, it was extremely likely that it was a bird of prey.

The fears began then. That there was a monster bird stalking the city, ready to maim and kill whatever it came across. Despite the fact that there was no evidence of any actual danger, once those ideas were planted fear was quick to make the majority of the public lose their minds. For a few weeks, at least. Once enough time had passed and there were no reports of anyone turning up dead, the public's sights shifted to a new fear to worry over, and the feathers that covered the city were accepted as a new norm with only a small handful of people still trying to find the feathers' origins.

You fell within the former category, content to accept that the feathers were there to stay and since it wasn't actually affecting anyone negatively, it wasn't anything to worry about. The feathers could get annoying, yes, but it was a nuisance that was easily taken care of so you could get on with your day.

Whether it was just an abnormally large bird or something that fell under the category of a magical beast, you had no desire to kick that particular hornet's nest just to sate your own curiosity. There were things in this world that were beyond your comprehension. You were happy to accept that fact and content to continue living your life not worrying about such things.

The feathers stayed, and you continued as normal.

Or at least, you would have had it not been for a chance encounter one night.

It was a late Sunday evening when your work shift finally ended. It had been a hectic, exhausting day as usual and you wanted nothing more than to return home and pass out on your bed.

The walk back towards your apartment was quiet, with virtually no one else on the street and only a few cars passing you by every once in a while. Though you usually did your best to keep yourself calm, there was always a part of your brain that worried about being out alone so late at night. Women getting snatched up and murdered was something you frequently saw in the murder documentaries you occasionally watched, and as much as you told yourself that it could never happen, it didn't hurt to keep your guard up, subtly glancing around the area every so often to make sure no would-be murderer was following you.

Checking around again, you sighed to yourself when you confirmed that there was in fact no one tailing you. Adjusting the grip you held on the paper bag holding the donut you'd grabbed before you left your work, you told yourself that at least there was no one there to see you acting like a paranoid idiot.

But even you were caught off-guard when you heard a commotion coming from the alleyway a few feet ahead of you, followed by a stray cat who ran out and down the street at full speed. You stood still for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything else would come out. Nothing did, but you could hear movement from within the alley. Along with.... Breathing? It was most likely a person, then, and who knew what they were doing in there.

Common sense told you that you should probably go to the other side of the street before going past the alley, or maybe even to turn around and find an alternate route home. As much as an inconvenience it was, you would have done just that had you not seen the flurry of feathers that came rushing out of the alley, followed by what sounded like the flapping of wings.

…. That didn't seem normal. Granted, none of this seemed very normal, but the sounds and things you saw coming from that alley were decidedly strange.

Maybe the thing that's been leaving those feathers was in there.

The thought popped into your head, and once it had, you had a hard time getting your legs to take you away from the area.

You didn't care what sort of creature was hanging around the city. That was what you had told yourself. So why were you slowly moving forward, straining your neck to try and get a glance at whatever was in that alley? You didn't care, and you weren't going to actually do anything with that information.

But just getting a quick glance at it wouldn't hurt, right?

You took a few small steps forward, and finally, you could see into that alley.

A young blonde man, most likely in his early twenties and wearing all white, stood before you, a hand holding a trash bin lid as he was very obviously rooting through the garbage. But those things weren't even what was most significant about him.

It was the four large wings that protruded from his back.

Even as he held them tightly to himself, the wings still brushed against the walls and ground of the alley, the natural grime of the ally dirtying the golden-brown feathers. There was also a tail that swayed from side to side, resembling that of a lion and of a similar color to that of the wings. And to top it off, you noticed that on his bare feet and his hands were long sharpened nails. Or perhaps they were claws. Either way they looked deadly, and you inhaled sharply when you noticed him freeze.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder to glare at you with sharp gray eyes.

The two of you stood there for some time, neither of you taking your eyes off of the other even when he turned to face you fully, tossing the metal lid to the ground with a clatter. His chest puffed up and his wings extended as he stood at his full height. It was a show of force, you realized. He saw you as a threat and was trying to scare you away by intimidating you.

Common sense was back, telling you that you had gotten what you had come for and that you should retreat while he still gave you the chance. He hadn't attacked you, so it was safe to assume he would leave you alone if you left now.

But even as you thought that, another look over his figure made you reconsider. His white clothes were muddied, covered in dirt and what looked like blood. The fabric was ripped in several places as well, the wounds that were beneath partially visible. On a closer inspection, his wings weren't faring much better: there were several spaces that were empty where feathers were clearly supposed to be, and quite a few of the ones that remained looked scruffy and unkempt. Like he had gotten into a fight with something and had lost. Then there was the fact that you had caught him literally digging through the trash. Taking another glance at the trash bin, you saw the remnants of rotting food sitting at the top.

He must be hungry.

The man continued to glare at you, and then tensed when you held out the paper bag that you had been holding.

“Do you want this?” you asked, offering it to him.

His eyes narrowed further, and he looked at the bag and then back to you.

“What is it?” he asked.

Relieved that he could understand you, you answered “a donut. Food.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to hold the bag out to him, his guard not letting down in the slightest. He was clearly trying to assess if you were plotting something and if this was some sort of trap. You tried not to be offended. You had never heard of people with wings before, but if you had, you were certain that the general public would have treated them as being some sort of magical beast to be gawked at or hunted. Based off of his actions, he must have good reason not to trust you, and you couldn't blame him for that.

“Toss it over to me,” he finally said.

You did as he told you, throwing the bag over which he caught with one hand.

He carefully opened the top, peering inside while his figure relaxed slightly. Once he had determined that there was nothing wrong with the bag, he tentatively reached inside to grab what would have been your late-night snack, letting the bag fall to the ground as he inspected the donut, turning it over and sniffing at it. It was the first time you had seen someone give such an accusatory look towards a simple donut.

He looked back at you briefly before taking a small bite, carefully chewing before he swallowed. You saw the tension in him dissipate further, and he took a few more bites as he leaned back against the alley wall, satisfied that you hadn't done anything to tamper with the food. He would periodically glance over at you as you smiled to yourself, happy that he seemed to like it.

“Can I come closer?” you asked.

He paused in between bites, once again looking you over.

“.... Not too close,” he finally answered.

Delighted, you took a few steps forward, stopping when he ordered you to stop with a swish of his tail.

“You're a strange one,” he commented as he continued to eat, “why did you do this?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to help.”

“But why?”

“You were hungry.”

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer as his eyes narrowed at you once again, but he chose to continue eating instead of questioning you further. Within moments, the donut was gone, and he was licking the last remnants of it off of his fingers.

“That was hardly filling,” he said, “but your kindness is appreciated.”

Lifting off of the wall, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped, glancing back at you.

“What is it?”

“Can I help you with anything else? Is there anything you need?”

“What else could I need from you?”

“Maybe some bandages? You're hurt, aren't you?” you pressed.

One of his hands instinctively went to his stomach that had one of the many wounds on his body, covering it as he bit his lip. He turned away and began to walk again.

“If I decide that I require your assistance again, I will come to you,” he called out, “but do not count on such a thing happening.”

“... Okay,” you answered, feeling a bit dejected.

“Could you at least tell me your name?”

He ignored your question as he reached the other end of the alley, his wings spreading out and lifting him up with such a force that the backdraft he created caused the paper bag on the ground to fly up and hit you squarely in the face.

Despite what he had said you saw him the next day, peering at you through the thick foliage of a local park. He vanished the instant the two of you made eye contact, his golden head popping back down beneath the leaves.

He must have been confident that he would get your attention and not alert anyone else that was around, you mused.

Or he was just that desperate.

Taking it as an invitation, you made your way into the the thick bit of forest within the park, quickly coming upon a small clearing where he stood, arms crossed as he waited for you.

“Am I right in thinking that you wanted to see me?” you asked, grinning as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, sighing, “I'm trusting that you didn't tell anybody about our meeting last night?”

“Who would I even tell? No one would believe me.”

“And you intend on keeping my existence a secret?”

“Again, no one would buy it.”

“Very well,” he responded. His gaze shifted to the ground next to him in an almost bashful way.

“Is that offer to help still on the table?”

He couldn't look at you, and he was clearly embarrassed that he needed to ask.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

“I have nothing of value, and will not be able to compensate you in any way. Is that still acceptable?”

“I don't care about anything like that. Just tell me what you need,” you insisted.

“As long as you're certain,” he said, his wings lowering in defeat as he let out another small sigh.

“You were correct last night; bandages would be very useful. It's also been a while since I had a proper meal, so if you could bring me some more food, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just that for now.”

Nodding at him, you hurried out of the park and to the nearest grocery store. One quick trip later and you had returned, holding a bag full of bandages, medical supplies and food that you hoped he would like.

He hummed as he looked through it, picking out the bandages and ripping the packaging open. He glanced over to you a few times as he did so, looking more embarrassed every time he looked away.

“... Do you want me to leave?” you asked.

“If that is alright with you,” he mumbled, “I don't wish to be rude after you've done me a favor, but the majority of my interactions with your kind have been largely.... Unpleasant. I would feel more comfortable if-”

“It's alright. I get it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief.

You made your way to the 'entrance' of the clearing, then stopped.

“Can I ask you one thing, though?”

He looked nervous again, but nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked, smiling at him.

“..... Kurapika.”

“So what do you normally eat?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

“Before I came here I largely ate the animals that I could hunt down,” Kurapika answered, “but the majority of the animals in this city are domesticated, and I couldn't bring myself to hunt any of them.”

“Why?”

He glanced away, a slight pout on his face.

“Just thinking about killing someone's pet for food made me feel badly, even if I was desperate enough for that.”

Kurapika sat across from you in the clearing, taking bites out of the lunch you had brought him for the day. He had forbidden you from visiting him more than once per day, in the event that your behavior would stick out as being suspicious to anyone that was trying to hunt him. So you went once every day under the guise of eating lunch in the park, secretly taking him a big meal that could get him through until the next day.

You wanted to ask about his life before he had become a fugitive, but you knew that would only cut your visit short. Any question that was even vaguely related to where he had come from and how he had ended up in this situation would result in him clamming up. It was clearly something that still caused him immense amounts of pain, and you didn't want to add to it. So you did your best to steer your conversations to more mundane subjects that you hoped wouldn't upset him. It had taken a lot of effort and convincing him that you were on his side and that all you wanted was to help him, and you didn't want to ruin that by asking intrusive questions.

His wings were in slightly better shape (after he reluctantly allowed you to help him clean them) though a lot of them were still growing back in.

“How long did you say your molting period lasts again?”

“About two months,” said Kurapika, “I believe it's been a little over a month since I started, so it should be over soon. Then I'll be able to leave this area.”

“Do you think the people who hurt you will follow after?”

“Most likely. But when my molting has ended they won't have a trail of my feathers to hunt me down again,” he said.

“I really do have to thank you,” he continued, “you helping me like this means I don't need to go out and risk getting caught.”

“Happy to help,” you said, grinning.

“I think I'll be sad when you leave, though.”

“I can't remain here,” he said, finishing up the last of his meal.

“I know. But I'll miss being able to talk to you. I really like you.”

Kurapika paused, looking over you carefully before snapping his head away, another blush on his face.

“We barely know each other. Ridiculous.”

You just smiled in response.

Although he stopped mentioning it out loud, he was continually perplexed by your willingness to help him. There were many times during your visits with him that he would watch you carefully, or even watch the woods that surrounded the two of you as if anticipating an ambush. While he trusted you enough at this point to believe that you had no intentions of harming him, he didn't trust that you wouldn't be followed, and he emphasized to be on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious.

You weren't sure what exactly counted as suspicious until you happened across the two magic beast hunters.

Walking by a crowded plaza, it seemed quieter than was expected. Everyone there was speaking in hushed whispers and seemed nervous about something. The air around the plaza made you pause, and you looked around the area to see what exactly was causing people to behave in this way.

Then you saw the hunters, armed to the teeth with an array of gnarly looking weapons accosting some old man. One of them was tall with a stocky build, looking smug while his partner, a smaller scruffy-looking man with far more knives than was reasonable did the talking. You frequently saw the old man make an attempt to leave but the hunters wouldn't let him, the bigger one going as far as to grab him by the shoulder to keep him in place while the other continued to speak to him, waving one of Kurapika's feathers in his face.

Oh shit.

You wanted to just run out of there and get away from them as fast as you could, but that would have gotten their attention. It would be less suspicious if you followed the example of the others you saw in the plaza and quietly left. Surely they wouldn't notice you among the dozens of others hoping to leave without attracting their attention.

It was easier to breathe when you had made it to the side streets, and when you saw Kurapika that day you told him everything. When you had described them to him, his hand went back to the healing wound on his stomach.

“Those were the ones who attacked me. You're certain they didn't see you?” he asked.

“I'm sure of it. There were too many other people around for them to have noticed me.”

“Alright. But if you ever see them again, don't come that day. Right now I'm still too weak to fight them, so if they found me it'd be over.”

You nodded. He wasn't back to 100% yet, but he had been doing much better since you had begun to help him. Even so, you didn't want to let him go without food for a day, but it was better that he go hungry for a bit instead of being captured.

There was a tense air that stayed over the next few days, and you noticed a change in Kurapika. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and you asked if he hadn't been sleeping well. Instead of actually answering your question he told you not to worry about it.

That only made you worry more.

This particular day you had asked him if he was doing okay, and he said that he was fine, brushing away your concerns, his annoyance evident.

But not five minutes later he fell over.

Directly onto you.

It was almost panic-inducing when it happened, and the first thought that went through your mind was that he had literally dropped dead. But after a moment you could see that he was still breathing. Given the dark circles that were under his eyes, Kurapika seemed to have passed out due to sheer exhaustion.

'You can't stay with him. You have work in an hour,' you thought to yourself.

So why were you adjusting him so his head could rest comfortably on your lap?

He'd probably be mad at you if you stayed with him while he was completely vulnerable. If there was one thing you learned during your time with him, he hated to appear to be weak in front of others.

But the thought of just leaving him passed out on the forest floor left a bad taste in your mouth.

After a few minutes, you called your work to say that you were sick and couldn't come in. As expected, your manager was upset and berated you over the phone. At least that call only lasted a few minutes. The money you would lose today would hurt a little bit, especially with all of the spending you'd been doing on Kurapika, but when you looked back down at his sleeping form, you were confident that you'd made the right choice.

Kurapika slept soundly on your lap, his wings and tail twitching from time to time. You laid a hand on his head, slowly stroking his blonde hair. Your touch was light, and yet you heard him let out a soft sigh and saw his body relax further. How long had it been since he had received a kind touch from anyone? Likely just as long as the last time anyone had shown him any kindness. Your thoughts went again to the questions he wouldn't answer: what had happened to his friends and family? How had he ended up like this?

You thought of those questions, and yet you could make a pretty good guess as to the answers. He had been alone on the streets digging through the trash for food, covered in wounds and dirt, carrying no money and being chased by hunters. If his life was in danger like that, then it was clear that his loved ones weren't alive anymore.

Time passed, and the sun dipped lower into the sky while Kurapika continued to sleep. You let him stay as he was, even when it was becoming uncomfortable for you as your legs began to fall asleep.

There wasn't a lot you could do for him, and while it hurt to admit it, what you were able to do for him wouldn't be much in the long run. But even if it helped in even the slightest, you wanted to do whatever you could.

It was nearing evening when he finally stirred, his wings fluttering slightly as he blearily opened his eyes. He seemed to take a little bit to fully awaken and realize the situation, his eyes widening in surprise and looking up at you.

You were expecting him to become upset. To shoot up and ask what you were doing, or to just turn away from you and tell you to leave.

But instead he stayed as he was, head on your lap as he continued to look up at you.

The silence was becoming awkward for you, and you cleared your throat before explaining “sorry. You fell asleep and, uh, I didn't feel good just leaving you.”

He stared at you, unblinking.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” Kurapika finally said.

“You just fell over,” you explained, laughing a bit as you continued, “fell over right onto me, actually.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah! No, I'm fine.”

“That's good,” he said.

Kurapika pushed himself up, switching to a sitting position in front of you. He glanced about the clearing and noted how late it was.

“Isn't it too late for you to be here? Didn't you have work?” he asked.

“It's fine. I called in.”

“Won't that be an issue?”

“Ah, well. My coworkers won't be happy with me, and I'll probably get bullied a bit by the manager tomorrow,” you explained, but you tried to change your tune when you noticed how his face fell.

“It's fine, though! It's not the end of the world because I called in one day of work.”

He didn't look convinced, but he seemed to concede as he sighed at you (just how often had he sighed at you at this point?).

“Shouldn't you head back to your home? In case someone goes there to check up on you?”

“There isn't going to be anybody coming to check on me,” you assured him.

“You should still head back; you've been out here too long,” he insisted.

“Okay. But, uh,” you began, scratching the back of your head, “could I wait a little bit? My legs are still asleep.”

“That's fine.”

The both of you stayed where you were, sitting in the clearing while you waited for the feeling to return to your legs and feet. Kurapika was still staring at you, a thoughtful look on his face. Just as you had been surprised earlier that he hadn't immediately retreated from you when he'd woken up, it was unusual that he stayed this close to you. He hadn't made any move to back away. It was a stark contrast to how things had been when you had first met.

“You don't have to keep an eye on me, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just mean, you don't have to wait on me until I leave. If you've got other things to do, you don't have to keep your attention on me. As soon as my legs feel better I'll be out of here.”

You weren't sure what other things he might need to do without you there, but you didn't want to assume that there was nothing. With the way he was staring at you, it felt as though you were inconveniencing him in some way.

“It's fine,” he said. You hummed an affirmative, and the silence fell back over you.

When you felt like you were able to safely walk again, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

… This was new. Kurapika had never talked about anyone other than the beast hunters that were trying to track him down.

“In what way?” you asked.

“Going out of your way to look out for me. Taking care of me, even at your own expense,” he added wistfully. There was a distant look in his eyes as he appeared to recall his memories of this person.

“Were they.... Like you?” you asked, unsure if that was the best way to phrase the question.

“Yes. His name was Pairo, and he was part of our clan,” said Kurapika, “he died with the rest of them when a group of murderers found our home.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I can't imagine what you've been through.”

He hummed noncommittally, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Are they the one who're chasing you?” you asked.

Kurapika let out a harsh breath that resembled a laugh.

“If they were I wouldn't be talking to you,” he said, “they didn't seem to care that one of us happened to not be there. At this point, I wonder if they even remember about my people and what they did to them. No, the ones who are after me are petty bottom-feeders. Apparently they want to sell me off as being an exotic pet.”

“They're... Hunting you for that? But then why did they hurt you?” you asked, looking at his bandaged wounds.

“Doesn't seem like they're that good at taking something alive. I suppose I'm lucky that they're not trying to kill me,” he scoffed, “if I'm having such trouble with rabble like them, it's only a testament to how weak I really am, and how much stronger I'll need to become if I want revenge for Pairo and the others.”

You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't respond. There was nothing you could say to offer him any sort of comfort, and any sort of encouragement or guarantees that things would be fine would be insulting.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

He didn't answer you.

You stood up on slightly shaking legs, giving him a short goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow. He nodded in response.

The next day he was gone.

The clearing was virtually empty with no signs that he had been there other than the feathers that you had grown so accustomed to. It was the first time since you started this that he was gone when you went to visit, and your first thought was that he needed to leave to take care of something....... In the middle of the day. While trying to lay low.

Yeah, maybe not.

Your next assumption was that he had been discovered and taken away. But surely there would be some evidence of a struggle, right? And there was nothing that indicated that Kurapika had left unwillingly. Then the next thought was that he had found a new hiding place. Maybe those hunters had come a bit too close for his liking and he felt like he needed to find someplace safer, and he just didn't have a way to find you and tell you where it was yet.

That last scenario somehow seemed less likely than the other two, and you were forced to reconcile with the idea that he had left.

It wasn't too unexpected. He'd been getting better, and his molting was almost finished so he'd be able to fly about safely.

You had just hoped that he would've told you so you could have given him a proper farewell.

Maybe what had happened the day before had upset him more than you had realized. That hadn't been your intention, but who knew what it had looked like to him.

But he had opened up to you a bit more, hadn't he?

It was confusing and you didn't understand, but the longer you stood in that empty clearing, you accepted that he was gone, and your chances of seeing him again were likely nothing.

You tried to be happy for him. It was a good thing that he was able to finally leave the area. Hopefully he could get to someplace safer, maybe not need to worry about those people hunting him down, or at least get far enough away that they would have a hard time finding him again.

But even then, you couldn't help but feel sad that he really was gone.

You set the bag of food meant to be his lunch in the middle, just in case he did come back and needed something. It seemed unlikely, but you felt better leaving it for him. As you weaved back through the trees that surrounded the space, you picked up one of his errant feathers that had been caught in a branch, running your fingers over it. A small memento; something to remember him by. It was the most you could ask for, and you told yourself to be happy that you were able to help the way you did.

With you being so caught up in these thoughts, you didn't notice one of the hunters from earlier standing at the edge of the park, or the way he watched you as you left.

It was another Sunday night after work: your feet hurt from standing too much, your back and arms hurt from the overwork, and if you needed to hear one more complaint from an entitled customer you'd probably stab your own ears just to get away from those shrill voices. The one consolation you had was that you weren't working the closing shift and didn't need to worry about taking care of customers while simultaneously trying to close up for the night. Once the end of your shift came around, all you needed to do was run to the break room, gather your things and escape.

One day you'd get a better job, you told yourself. Something that you actually enjoyed and wouldn't cause you ungodly amounts of stress. You just needed to figure out what that could be.

Your thoughts went back to Kurapika as you walked the familiar path back to your home. It wasn't all that long that he had been around, really, and yet the idea of not seeing him again felt strange to you.

You pulled out the feather that you stowed away in your bag, looking it over again. With how busy you had been throughout your shift, you had managed to take your thoughts away from him, but now that things were more quiet, he was all you could think about.

It wasn't too late yet, with some people walking along the same walkway as you, but that didn't stop the car that suddenly pulled up next to you.

Or the man who opened the door and pulled you inside.

The amount of force he had used to grab you almost broke your arm, and all you could do was scream as you were shoved against the seat as the man who had grabbed you yelled at the other to drive while he shut the door behind you, keeping his forearm on your throat to the point that you could hardly breathe.

A knife in your face and him yelling at you to “shut the fuck up” made you silent, and your fingers latched onto the seat beneath you, your nails tearing holes into the worn fabric.

The car sped along, almost hitting several other vehicles and pedestrians in the process. Doing your best to calm down, you realized that the men who had grabbed you were the hunters you had been avoiding; the bigger one in the driver's seat while the smaller one waved one of his knives around, nicking your face a few times when the car lurched him from side to side.

It finally stopped on an empty embankment by a river. The water that rushed through the canal was almost black and it was impossible to see to the bottom.

'They're going to kill me,' you thought. 'They're going to kill me and then dump my body in the water.'

Your heart was beating in your ears when the smaller hunter began speaking.

“Let's make this quick, okay? A lotta people saw our little stunt and the police'll probably be here soon,” he said.

“We really need to know where that bird boy went. Tell us everything you know, and you'll be able to get home safely. If not-”

He grabbed one of your hands and held it up to your face.

“- I'm gonna to cut off your fingers one by one 'til you talk, and then they'll need to fish your body out of the river when we're done with you. If you're smart, you'll pick the first option.”

You sat there in shock as this man spoke so matter-of-factly about brutally torturing and murdering you while the man behind him sat there grinning.

There was a lump in your throat, and you couldn't make any sort of sound.

“Listen you stupid bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer, “I'm not gonna lose any sleep over killing you. His life is valuable; yours isn't. So tell me where the fuck he is or-”

You spat in his face. There was barely any saliva with how dry your mouth was, but you managed it.

One of his blood veins popped and his lip quivered.

“That was the worst thing you coulda done, you stupid little bitch.”

He barked at the other man to come back and hold you down while his hand went back to your throat, mercilessly choking you to keep you in place. The other man was already stepping out of the car, and with what little you could see, you could tell he seemed excited about the prospect of torturing you.

You tried to pull the knife man's hand off of your throat as he waited for his partner to walk around the car.

And he waited.

And waited.

Black spots were beginning to appear at the edge of your vision when he finally loosened his grip, leaning forward over you to look for his partner through the car windows.

A loud crash from the front of the car startled you both. His hand left your throat completely, and while he turned his gaze to the front, you lurched to the side, desperately grabbing at the door handle.

He noticed your escape attempt with a sharp cry, and you felt something slice down your back as you opened the door and stumbled out.

There weren't any thoughts running through your head as you ran; you were going off of a pure primal instinct and a desire to get out of there and survive.

Noises sounded from behind you: the sound of something flapping and a scream. But you could barely acknowledge them, your eyes only focused on the lights on the road next to the embankment.

You could feel blood running down your back as you ran but you didn't stop. Even when you had put several blocks between you and that car you didn't stop. You needed to get to safety, and that could only be found with other people.

A figure dropped down from the sky in front of you and you ran right into them. They wrapped their arms around you and you screamed, bashing your fists against their chest while you struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Calm down,” a familiar voice said.

You stopped, slowly looking back up to see who was holding you.

In your adrenaline-fueled haze, you managed to not notice the wings the person hand.

“Kurapika-!”

You sobbed into his chest, your hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt while he soothed you. His hand ran down your back and you winced, the skin still tender from where you had been slashed.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“Th-those two-!”

“I took care of them. Now hold onto me.”

Kurapika picked you up bridal-style, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted off the ground as his wings pulled him up, and within moments you were in the sky, miles above the buildings that littered the ground. The air was chillier up here, and as he flew, the wind stung your back-wound, making you bury your face into his neck.

You could vaguely make out him apologizing to you, and something about promising to fix you up. The wind made it hard to hear it, though.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he touched down on top of a large building, carefully lowering you to the ground while continuing to hold you, his wings folding over you to barricade you from the wind.

He ran his hand down your back, careful to avoid the cut while you took in huge gulps of air as you tried to calm down.

Half an hour passed before you could properly form a sentence. You pulled away from him slightly, your tears mostly dry now. There were a lot of questions running around in your mind, and you didn't know where to start.

“I thought you left,” you whispered.

“I did. But I got a bad feeling, so I came back. I'm so glad I did,” he said, a hand trailing down your cheek, “it would have been devastating if I found out that those two had killed you.”

For the first time, you noticed that his hands were covered in blood, but you didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I- thank you.”

He didn't say anything for some time, and the two of you sat there on that roof. There was still pain coming from you back and you were about to ask that he take you somewhere to get that fixed when he spoke.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I can't stay here, and therefore I can't be around to protect you,” he explained, “if those men told anyone else about you, your life is still in danger.

“I was wrong when I left you like that, because for the first time in a long time, I finally have someone who I can't bare to lose. It'll be hard, but I want to rebuild my clan together with you. Once I get my revenge, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So please, say you'll come with me.”

Kurapika held you tightly against him, his tail wrapping around your ankle.

“Please, let me have this little bit of selfishness,” he breathed.

“..... Okay.”

He tilted your head up to meet your lips in a kiss, and you found yourself pushing up into it, closing your eyes while his wings remained caged around you.

[jyunshiim]

Daisies & Clementine’s  *✬★*’☽* ✬ ⤷Han X Reader

Genre → fluff | friends to lovers | childhood friends to lovers |

Contains → fluff 

Listen to →  playlist I was inspired by

Word count → 7K (7749) 

TW → none

Summary: You and Jisung have been childhood companions for many years. Growing up was a breeze for you both, sharing a lot and being there for each other when each other were in need. Jisung asked you one day if you were allowed to spend a month holiday on Jeju Island with him and his family. A simple holiday, yet held great value.

The saying goes, that there is one person in the world that is meant for you: a soulmate. Although some soulmates aren’t so easy to find, hidden in the depths of the shadows of your life almost hidden until the last moments of your life. Unfortunately, it does happen but what is more common are soulmates that don’t even know it yet. Only until you feel like you’ve lost them or that they might not return what you have for them until something ever so specific happens.

***

The stars were glittering in the ebony abyss above you and your best friend Jisung. Jisung had always been your friend ever since that one time in school where you were mocked for not understanding a mathematics question and he helped you and became your tutor ever since. You weren’t the best with number and often struggled with understanding mathematical concepts but Jisung was there for you and took his precious time to study with you, day in day out. Without fail, his warm grin always consoled you as if he was indirectly telling you “it’s okay, I’m here for you”. You knew he’d be your home and your comfort even if you both went your separate ways and found love one day. You were both 16 at the time when he used to tutor you and by the time you both turned 18 and were making crucial life choices, you made choices you were 100% sure with. You didn’t want to leave Jisung behind and going to the same local university in your city was the only thing you could do to stay with him. Your parents didn’t like the idea of you pursuing a career in arts, particularly anything to do with literature and writing. It was deemed ‘useless’ in their eyes, so lacklustre of you. They were certain you weren’t getting anywhere with a degree in literature, but you loved writing; it was your form of expression. Jisung supported it all the way through. He chose to do music composition and production which he was outstanding at. You vividly remember during your summer break he wrote a song about the pair of you going to the convenience store and made it sound so mesmeric. Your best friend Jisung. What would you do without a friend like him?

***

The biting cold making icicles at the tip your fingertips, the tip of your nose as crimson as sweet cranberries, your knee bouncing up and down trying to warm you up. “what’s taking him so long?” you say to yourself as you stand up although during that moment, you see a chestnut brown-haired boy bolting down the streets, his fleece long jacket flailing in the polar winds, the hood of his hoodie falling off his head. Your face lights up – as always- when you saw his panicked face bolting through crowds of people who too were shopping. It was so endearing how he ran, a half jog half run. You laugh to yourself gripping the heat packs in your pocket until he arrived in front of you his hands, knuckles tinted light carmine, resting on your shoulders panting for breath.

“where were you?” your hands searching your pockets for the heat packs you had and holding it against his face, Jisung sniffling because of the cold weather. “I-I was trying…trying to buy something and the-” he struggles to speak as he holds his chest. “hey Jisung stop talking, let’s get you warm,” you hold his hand, a heat pack between your palm and his; fingers interlocking to keep it in place. It made him feel warm inside and out, a smile appearing on his face as he looked down, his brown wavy hair flopping down. The café had a homely feel, ever so reminiscent. You never knew why; possibly the rustic feel to it the lower ceilings and roof supports with warm fairy lights coiled around them. The counter was made out of a light wood, oak perhaps. You weren’t too keen on identifying trees. “You sit here okay, and I’ll be back with our drinks okay Han?” only you were allowed to call him by his surname although he claimed it as his nickname. He nodded, smiled sweetly and sat cosied up in an arm chair. “Do you want me to hold your bag for you?” he grabbed your arm before you left and you turned around. “oh yeah sure! That’d be great thank you,” you take your bag off your shoulder and he grabs the bag into hands and places it in his lap.

Jisung loved bitter coffee paired with a sweet dessert. The pure happiness he would endure simply from a strawberry cheesecake and any type of Americano coffee, hot or cold. It was different to you; you loved sweet drinks and savory-ish snacks (although a cheesecake was always so delightful when you were with Jisung). Jisung’s eye would sparkle, like he was holding the entire universe, whenever he saw something, he loved. Damn you for being so blind, his love for cheesecake was godly. Jisung warmed up, the condensation on the window making it fog up so he drew a smiley face. He was happy. You walk over with your tray and he immediately got up to take the tray out of your hands and place it down himself. “you never disappoint me,” he gasps at the creamy cake and the piping hot coffee. “I’m your best friend I will never forget until the day I die!” you pledge to him before sitting down giggling at his endearing reaction to such a simple food. You tear a bit of your croissant and place it in your mouth letting the subtle sweetness and savoury enthral you. The combination with your caramel macchiato, the combination of flavours combining and comforting you. Jisung introduced you to the caramel macchiato and croissant combination and ever since you got that every single time. “how are you feeling now Han?” you ask him, whilst leaning on your hand and tilting your head at him. He gazes into your eyes and smiles endearingly, “a lot better now, I was trying to get your birthday present, and I got held up! I am sorry about that,” he apologises. “what! You didn’t have to what the hell!” you lean over the table and slap his shoulder gently. “hey it is MY duty to take care of you until someone decides to sweep you off your feet,” he tuts, “they better treat your right!” he warns you for your future relationships. You nod and agree with what he says, “well my bestie Hannie will be there for me and likewise I will be there for you too!” you rub a tiny spec of cheesecake from the corner of his mouth, “a child, that’s what you are,” you joke with him.

You were disrupted by a strong gust of wind that collided with the glass where Jisung drew his smiley face and droplets of rain appears dragging down the window. The pattering of the raindrops where almost rhythmic, like the universe was performing for you. In fact, you loved the rain a lot that you wished to have your first kiss in the rain – it was cliché and cheesy – but Jisung always listened to your dreams and desires and what you wished for. The rain was comforting, like the clouds were telling you it was okay to be sad and to cry now and then. You were full of content in this given moment; a warm coffee between your palms, the icicles melting off and the colour in your frostbitten hands appearing. “do you want to try some?” Jisung scoops a spoonful of cheesecake and hovers over the table holding it in front of you. It was endearing, he always shared everything he had and of course you did the same. “of course?” you take the spoon from him and taste the cheesecake. The sweetness infiltrating your system as soon as it touched your tastebuds. “wow this place does really good cheesecakes, perhaps I’ll have to come here more often!” you smile at him. The bellicose rain thrashed against the window now, the winds were stronger, but you had to leave to get home although you needed to take a 30-minute bus journey back home and the weather was abysmal! “you are in no way going home in this weather!” Jisung tutted, “luckily, I do live literally around the corner,” he was definitely inviting you over, he was very clingy! “I can just go home; the bus comes in like-” you check your phone. 45 minutes. “never mind I will gladly take your considerate offer,” you laugh. “ah these buses aren’t the best now are they, let’s go now before there are too many people on the streets!” he stands up fixing his little jacket and handing back your bag. “unless you want me to hold it,” he offers. He was so selfless and sweet. “you’re not my boyfriend so why would you! It’s okay, I can take it back,” you play around.

***

You thank the baristas before Jisung pushes the glass door open for you and lets you go first. “I don’t have a hood!” you squeal before putting your hands above your head but Jisung was on his feet to the rescue, holding out his jacket and covering you with it. “let’s run to the convenience store alright! In 3, 2, 1-” you clutched onto his jacket covering you and bolted with his laughing at the playful noises he made before sheltering at the convenience store. You looked around the store for a few things to snack on. “I’ll pay so get whatever you like since you paid for my coffee,” he holds the basket. “shut up, you bought me a birthday present when I didn’t want you to!” you tut at him, “god what am I gonna do with you?” you scoff jokily. You see a pile of Clementine’s which you had to get because you loved them so much and it reminded you of the summers you used to drink fresh orange juice with Jisung near the river. You put them in the basket and Jisung looked confused; “oranges?” he looks at you with confusion. “I just really like oranges Jisung,” you smile. He took a mental note of that. After grabbing a few snacks, it was still raining, and he did the same thing again sheltering you with his own jacket and running to his house which was a minute or two away.

The door to his home creaked open, and the warmth hitting your face as quick as a train on tracks. The waft of freshly cooked rice drifts past your nose and it reminds you of all the times you and Jisung got stuck in the rain, just like this very occasion, and his mother made warm rice with a savoury soup. Jisung takes your jacket and takes it to his room to hang it up and comes back to the kitchen. “it’s raining bad so is it okay if-” Jisung gets cut off by his parents, “of course she can! Any time and if she needs to stay, we can accommodate her too!” His mother adored you, it was endearing. After your quick dinner with his parents, which his parents were more than happy to provide for you, you sat in Jisung’s bedroom. His room was as neat as it could be. When walking in, his bed was in the far-left corner pointing towards the large window, to the right of his room was his mic, computer and music equipment and next to that was his shelf with various different items like trophies and frames as well as the daisy chain he made for you. He also has his TV attached to the corner of his wall.

“oi why did you keep the daisy chain?” you asked him as he turned around, his hand on the remote to turn on the small TV in his room. “it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He gives a playful smile before jumping onto his bed and leaning against the headboard. “I never took you for such a sappy sentimental person,” you nudge him. “you learn something new every day,” he smiles before turning something on to keep you occupied. This was just comfort. Just you and your best friend of many years, spending quality time together. Your head lay on his dog plushie – which you gifted him so he would stop complaining he was lonely –your locks sprawling over it. Jisung glances over to you entranced by your own thoughts, a whole world inside your mind – he was intrigued as to what you were thinking. “hey, what are you thinking?” he sits up leaning down so he was in front of your face. It only came to your realisation he was laying next to you, face to face to get your attention. You sit up. “oh umm-“ you think fast, “the oranges!” you point at his desk at the clementine’s sat perfectly in the punnet it was in. You and Jisung spent an hour or so watching a show and talking about university and how you want to travel the world. He listened to you attentively to every word you said before his parents knocked and said that the rain storm had stopped and they can take you home. So shortly after, you gathered your belongings and Jisung followed you and his parents to the car. You forgot one thing, your hair tie that had a little rabbit charm on it; you had it ever since you were little and you forgot it at his house, at least it was Jisung though. Since then something changed in the air. A shift. Although only time will tell and expose what changed.

***

6:35 am your alarm blared through your bedroom, your head tucked under your grey and white sheets trying to accumulate warmth since you had to manually turn the heating on. You groaned tiresomely, your arm extending to find your phone, knocking it off the bedside table. You wanted to cuss it out because morning where NOT your forte. You sit up and grab your robe and draped it over your body and go to the bathroom to freshen up before getting ready for university. Jisung woke up at 8 because the campus was so near but you had to commute. You took your time doing your makeup and getting dressed, grabbing your bag and putting your notebook, laptop, stationary and your pouch in. You grab a jacket and your umbrella before promptly leaving at 7:57 am to catch the 8am bus to get to school. You managed to get to campus just before your lecture allowing you some time to get coffee to wake up a bit however… that plan did not seem very doable since the queue was incredibly long, so you gave up and went to the library to sit in your usual seat and wait for the lecture.

“hey!” you hear a whisper, and you ignore it thinking it was for someone else before you feel someone breathing on the back of your neck. Your instinct would be to slap the person but as you turn around with a fearful expression, you realise it’s Jisung with his starry eyes giving you that smile. “I got here early and got you your favourite,” he points at the seat you both sit at which was hidden behind a bookshelf. It was a large table where no one really sat since students preferred to work in groups. University life was different to high school. You had other friends which was nice; Sana did Biochem, so it was hard to get a hold of her, Chan was a sports and exercise student, and Seungmin studied nutrition. Jisung also had some friends from high school like Changbin who was doing the same course as you – literature- although he focused on the poetry section more, and Hyunjin who studied business and management. You did meet them often but of course you were closer to Jisung.

You saw the packaged croissant and the coffee on the table, and you thanked Jisung. He took his time to actually get you coffee before your lecture. “you have a couple minutes, at least you can drink it during the class!” he pats your shoulder. “don’t you have a lecture at 11am?” you ask him since that’s when yours finish. He nods. “I’ll be done by 2-ish? We can go and grab some lunch if you want?” he suggests. “how about we meet with Sana, Chan, Seungmin and Changbin for lunch?” you counter-suggest – if that is a word!-

“is Hyunjin busy?” Jisung asks a little confused. “Oh no he WAS the one who asked the other day and I replied to him now.” You smile so Jisung goes along with whatever you wanted to do.

You open your notebook to take some notes for your class and you see Changbin walking in and he sees you. Changbin was intimidating, at first glance, although he was sensitive and kind when you talk to him and get to know him better. “hey, I’m not late right?” he asks getting out his Ipad to take notes. You shake your head; “have you got your anthology yet?” Changbin asked you. You shake your head, you forgot about the anthology. “well that’s good because I saved you one,” he hands you the book of poetry. You were relieved, your degree relied on this book. “oh my god thank you!” You show your gratitude. “anything for a friend of Jisung’s and mine,” he smiles before turning back to face the front as the lecturer walks in and begins.

After class and meeting with your other friends for lunch, you all met at an Italian restaurant which was incredibly popular. It had been a while since you had a meal with all of them since classes took over your lives. “hey isn’t your birthday tomorrow?” Sana asks, her sweet smile brightening up the entire room. “Yeah it is wh-” but before you could say anything, she hands you a tiny pink bag. “I might have time so I got your gift today!” Sana was such an amazing friend. You thank her and open the bag and the small box inside to reveal an teddy keyring with your initials engraved on a small silver plaque looking keyring. “omg this is so cute thank you so much!”

“Now, open my one,” Jisung holds a blue bag with silver ribbon on the front. “now?” you ask him. “well yeah you opened Sana’s one?” so you opened the bag and it was in a slightly larger box; once you opened it a small gasp left your mouth and at that exact moment the food arrived. “what great timing I’m so hungry!” Changbin went in for the food and everyone else followed, conversing with each other and catching up, but you were still trying to process what he bought you. A silver necklace with a daisy charm and both of your initials on the back. “I’ll always be here for you, you know how that daisy chain is so sentimental to me, I hope this is too.” He leans in and quietly speaks. You were lost for words. You tried to splutter out a thank you, but he knew how thankful you were from your mere reaction.

The evening went as planned; you and your friends hung out after so long, work was intense but having a cheat day like this was indeed liberating. Jisung taps your shoulder gently as you wave Sana goodbye under a dimmed streetlight and the obscure night sky. It was hazy tonight; the cool fog making it hard to see anything ahead of you. Jisung stood next to you and you turned to him once Sana left. “are you thinking what I’m thinking Han?” you give a playful smile and rock back and forth on your tiptoes, “coffee and cake?” he asks as if he didn’t know that was your thing with him. “Of course!” you put your hands on his back and push him in the direction you wanted to go in; “over there!” you point. It was a night café situated along a remote street that was diverted away from main traffic. A large white sign lit up the dark street which directed you and Jisung to a well-lit night café that had a couple people inside enjoying their night with their friends or significant other. There were outdoor seats which weren’t occupied because of the drop in temperature but it would be nice to come here more often since the location was incredible. Jisung pushes the door open and lets you in first, following you and looking around for somewhere to sit. A circular table with two chairs in the farthest corner which was surrounded by bookshelves but renowned authors; Jisung chose to sit there and asked you to go and reserve that seat. “What are you doing?” your voice conveying disarray. “it’s on me tonight,” his smile appeared. That smile. Your heart did that thing again though you shook it off. It was nothing right? You sat yourself down, putting your purse on the table along with your phone; the books were intriguing you, there were many of them ranging from sonnets and poems to crime and mystery literature. You knew you weren’t much of a reader, but one did capture your attention. It was by an author called Ivan Turgenev, the book was called ‘First love and other stories’ – people writing about love was something you wish you could’ve done but you don’t know how love feels? The cover of the book was rough a cerise fabric-like texture, the title written in a gold on the spine of the book. Jisung comes over unexpectedly and leans over your shoulder eyeing at the hardback you seized. “what’s that? Love stories?” he pouts as you turn around in a panic, Jisung grabbing the book out of your hand, his fingertips grazing against your hand. If you had your Apple watch on right now, your heart rate would’ve been way too obvious. “O-Oh I was looking at the book shelf, they have so many well-known books and authors an-” your flustered ramble was interrupted by Jisung; “you want to read love stories, that’s understandable… it’s a good book I would recommend it,” he hands the book gently and points at the tray with the coffee cups filled to the top, the two cheesecake slices; one orange and the other strawberry. You gasp at the orange cheesecake – “oh my god they exist!” you sat down at the table, tucking the chair in. The aroma of the roasted coffee beans was intense although it made you feel comfort. You glance up at Jisung as he picks up the silver form and digs into the tip of the cheesecake, allowing there to be enough strawberry syrup and cheesecake. He holds it up to his mouth and notices you looking at him – with the most stupid look on your face, painted with adoration – so he held it out for you. “here, try it before I do,” his expressions were soft and gentle. “huh? Why, it’s yours?” you try to refuse. It didn’t work. “because-” he thinks for a second, “sharing is caring.” He fondly beams. You couldn’t deny it but he held the fork and you endured such sweetness swirling around, dancing on your tastebuds, the bitterness of your coffee counteracting with the dessert; it was utterly perfect. “nice?” he asks. “of course, as always!”

You didn’t realise at the time, but it was an analogy that you didn’t realise. The bitterness occurring in your life being stabilised by someone so sweet, attentive and ever so cherishing. It made sense.

You took a forkful of your orange cheesecake although it didn’t cater to your taste. “are you alright, do you not like it?” Jisung asks you. You shake your head, “ it tastes too artificial..” you hold the remaining cake on your fork and place it on the plate. It was disappointing, yes but Jisung swapped the ceramic plates with his. “here have mine, I’ll have this!” he takes whatever remained on the fork and takes a bigger chunk. You know what they say about sharing drinks, does it apply to forks? “O-oh thank you Han,” you smile softly, you couldn’t help but feel so warm inside. After spending some time at the café it was time to go home although Jisung insisted he would take you home safely first before he goes home. “no no, I can go myself,” you asserted. Jisung tutted and rolled his eyes playfully as he always does. “Why?” you ask waiting for a valid response. “Because it’ll take you even longer to get home!” you raise your voice a little louder but not too loud to bring attention. “well.. I’ve stayed over before..” he reminded you. Ah yes.. he did didn’t he. Your parents were okay with Jisung and already mentioned that if you dated him, it’d be best. God why did they think like that?  “I’m joking, I’ll get a taxi and we can go together,” he thought. You nod agreeing with him.

A couple weeks pass and you were on call to Jisung whilst studying. It was really late, around 2am but your Film project wasn’t going to do itself. He kept company since he just never slept. “want me to come over to study with you?” he asks. You were shocked at the offer. “at 2am? Are you crazy!” your voice becomes a little harsh as you tried to stay quiet. “maybe we should look for campus accommodation or an apartment we can split the rent for!” he suggests. It wasn’t a horrible idea, there would be some leeway for you to do whatever you like. “I’ll see for next semester; we can get looking though!” although you didn’t realise, he meant move in together. You and Jisung met up later that day at the university library, your laptop with all your editing software open, editing your short film that you filmed of him. It was about how you romanticised life and how everything was symbolic for something; Jisung pointed at himself. “what do I symbolise,” he asks tilting his head taking in the moving image. You pause, what if your feelings have changed? You lied. “you’re my best friend of course,” you smile through the pain knowing he will never feel the same. His cheeks flare a rosy hue. Even such words made him happy. “hey,” he enquires, “are you free August 1st?” you think for a moment. “That’s a couple months away but I should be, I can make sure nothing happens that day, why?” You seemed so confused. “My family and I are going to Jeju for a visit and I was wondering if you wanted to come as well?”

Oh.

“That would be nice, I haven’t been there yet either,” you let out a quiet laughter. “please, it would be so nice to have you there too!” he leans into you a little and laying his head on the table and smiling. Stop smiling like that – you think. “maybe I’ll consider it if you weren’t acting like a child,” your nervousness was seeping through. “a child? Isn’t that just my ecstatic personality hm?”

You scoff and continue focusing on your editing, a deep feeling of resent brewing within – why did you film Jisung AND fall for him? Wasn’t falling in love with your best friend a crime in any friendship? You took a deep breath; if you ignore it, it will be fine.

You stare at your oyster-white ceiling, covered in plastic leaf vines along the ends of your room the window open ajar enough to let in the gelid night breeze in, gliding onto your begs making you quiver. You didn’t want to shut it, you were too consumed by sundry thoughts about him; the way your heart thumped out of your chest, it paining you to see his boxy smile or when he would run up to you and embraced his arms around you tenderly full of compassion. He cared so much for you but you felt like you were too late to return any of it. Feelings are the way they are; ruthless in nature, eradicating almost every bit of rational though you possessed. You groaned feeling ever so dishevelled. You hand on your chest and a stone in your throat; you found it hard to accept you liked him – a lot more than just ‘like’, that word was too ineffective. Jisung’s pure demeanour flashes in and out of your head; when his hand touched yours when you held that one book at the night café, the way he let you have his jacket as a shelter, the way he kept the shrivelled-up daisy chain on his shelf; it was the way he did everything for you. Jisung played the guitar for you nearly every time you asked and sung for you even though he wasn’t confident in his vocals. But you didn’t want to bring your hopes up and embarrass yourself. That’s when it happened – the butterflies intruded and that’s when you knew your monotonous routine of life was demolished. With that being said, your eyes began to heavy, shutting slightly before your eyes fully closed. Dreamland is where you were transported to you…

Your trip to Dreamland gave you all the answers you needed.

It was a Saturday and you waited outside of a café waiting for Jisung. It was warmer, much warmer. You remembered that one winter’s evening when you and Jisung were caught in a storm in the exact place. You switch your phone on to see the time, the photo of you and Jisung gleaming back at you. It was a cute photo; Jisung slyly ate some of your ice cream getting a little bit on the tip of his nose and you laughing at him and wiping it off with your thumb. Your other friends really liked capturing you two, they said you were soulmates which you ignored because you didn’t believe in soulmates. Emphasis on didn’t – times change and so do people.

“Hey!” Jisung startled you, nearly dropping your phone. “you alright there,” he chuckled at you. “Not funny!” you couldn’t help but smile. “you seem to be in a good mood!” he smiles with his teeth, draping his arm around you, clutching his fist to respect you. “so what do you want to do today?” he asks you.

“why do you keep asking me?” you pout slightly. “why not?” Jisung pushes his hair back, his chestnut locks resting back into its natural position.

“We should go to a café then get matching bracelets because YOU promised we’d get matching ones and then maybe at sun set, go to Namsan Tower?” you suggest. “Did you plan this last night when I told you to go to sleep?”

You didn’t, you saw it in your dream.

“l-lets just go!” you grab his arm and take him inside the café to get a cool drink to quench your thirst.

His eyes attentively scanned the menu, looking at all the cold drinks he could get. “what are you getting,” he asked. “hmm I really feel like having the grapefruit one!” you point at the menu, “what are you getting?” you ask Jisung, “which one sounds nice?” he asks again.

You can the menu again; “blueberry tea sounds really tasty!” you say. He nods that same look of compassion; he was enthralled by you yet you didn’t even know.

***

She was beautiful. The way she looked up at me and smiled; her fierce attitude to everything made me want to scream, toss and turn in my bed; she made the butterflies in my stomach go wild. I was foolish for falling for her – my best friend – but what can I do if whenever I see her, the tempestuous storm within me is appeased at her presence. She makes me feel at home. Her amicable nature, so captivating. The face she made when she was displeased was endearing even if she thought it was hideous, to me she was like a gem that was waiting to be found and I’m glad to have found her first. I was devoted to her; there won’t be another who makes me feel the way she does. She’s my first love. And I am willing for her to be my last if nothing is returned. Her happiness is all that matters to me…

***

Sipping your drinks in the sunlight was refreshing. You both got your bracelets to match; inexpensive yet it meant the whole world to you – and him.  “there are some benches over there!” you point, grabbing his spare hand without a second though and running towards it. The sun began to wane and the stars began to emerge; simultaneously, the sky bled into an inky black allowing the stars to glow and gleam brightly. It was like how Jisung endured everything for you to let you shine. Like in school, how he would quite literally get hurt to keep you safe. You owed him a lot. “isn’t the moon really pretty tonight?” you point at the lustrous pearly orb that reigned the void sheathing the earth. “yeah, she’s really pretty tonight,” Jisung speaks softly. You didn’t realise how Jisung said ‘she’; he gazed at you, infatuated by none other than you. His fingers twitched to intertwine between your fingers, to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek. He waited for the right time.

A few months went by until it was the day of the trip Jisung planned to go on with his family. You stand in the centre of your bedroom with a small suitcase since it was for two weeks; you packed your necessities and your chargers, some hair ties and your book. You zipped up your suitcase and grabbed your other bag to throw in your pouch, phone, airpods and whatever else you needed easy access to. Jisung walks into your room with a knock; “hey your mum let me in, ready for me to take your stuff?”

And from there, everything began to unfold.

The journey there was peaceful considering the fact you always fell asleep at least 15 minutes into any car journey. Your head resting against the car window, although Jisung noticed that it wasn’t very relaxing when your head kept bumping against the car; he moved to the middle and gently moved your head to rest onto his shoulder his arm around you, so you were comfortable. He could feel his heart explode 50 fireworks every time he looked at you. He was spellbound by you.

***

Your Island holiday started off with a tour of Jisung’s holiday home; a pretty looking home with sliding doors and traditional architecture. “This is my room, and I think my parents are allowing you your own room which is the guest room,” he opened the door to the guest room and you were rapt but the view it had of the ocean. You dropped your bags and ran to the large windows and swung then open; the sound of the birds and the swashing of the sea infused your system. It felt refreshing. “It’s really pretty isn’t it, I love coming here,” he leaned against the window sill. Especially with you. He thought. “well, I’ll let you get comfortable and perhaps we can go exploring a little bit or we might have something to eat.. I don’t know but get comfy!” he says before shutting the door and leaving you alone with the ocean and your busy mind to unwind.

The saxe blue ocean pushed up against the bisque grains of sand, pulling back and leaving behind a platinum foamy residue. You thought of you and Jisung holding hands and walking down the beach at sunset like every couple does. The air felt lighter so you inhaled deeply and tried to let go of everything you had on your mind. You heard a knock at the door; it was Jisung’s mother. “are you hungry?” she smiled with immense amount of love and gentleness in her eyes. “of course! I’ll come now!” you close the windows and grab your phone as his mother smiled at you. Family meals with his family felt so natural although today Jisung was a lot more reserved as usual. Usually he would say something stupid or be extroverted. “You okay?” you whisper across the table. “h-huh, OH yeah I am, I’m tired that’s all.”

It wasn’t like him but you knew it wasn’t you that was the reason.

After dinner, you followed him back to the bedrooms; “Jisung,” you utter “Hm?” he turns around, the pair of you face to face now. “Do you want to watch the stars with me?” you ask nervously but you saw the way his brows raise from a furrow and the corner of his lips raise. “Of course I would, I’ll go change and come to you alright?” you nod your head and do the same thing. As you close the door you exhale. You don’t know why you were so nervous. But soon enough, he knocked and asked permission to come in. You both sat on the bed and gazed at the twinkling stars outside; “sometimes I wish I could be a star,” you begin. “Why is that?” Jisung asks looking down at you laying your head near thigh; “they’re so carefree and pretty and I-”

“but so are you?” he defends. “what?” you get up and look at him, your hair covering the sides of your face. He tucks your hair behind your ear; “you mean more than you think, to someone out there you just don’t know yet.. The way we’re looking at stars right now someone must’ve saw you the same way and wished they saw you again.. because it’s hard to find ONE special star amongst many,” Jisung was extremely poetic today.

“Han-” you were interrupted again. “the moon is out again, look!” he points as you lay back down this time on his thigh as he shifted it closer to where you were laying. It felt natural. His hand hesitated to touch your hair, to play with your locks but he found the courage to. You felt your soul levitate but luckily he couldn’t see your face.

***

The sun beamed into your room, the light material curtains flailing in the ocean breeze; Jisung wasn’t in the room. You were resting on a pillow with a blanket over you, it seems like he left later when you fell asleep again. The aroma of breakfast began to waft through the gap of the door to which you thought it would be a good idea to get up and get ready. You opened the door and yelped as you saw Jisung smiling ear to ear at your door. “Good morning sleepy head-” as he grabbed your hand. “w-wow where are we going!” you yelped. “breakfast but at a special place!” he says. “bye we’ll be back!” Jisung waves to his parents. You make your way down paths until you reached a little shop – a coffee shop. “I loved this place and I always wanted to bring you here!” he opens the door and the strong scent of bread and other patisserie struck you. “this is where my love for cheesecake came from!” he smiles. He seemed very happy.

You panicked internally. Did..you kiss! That thought didn’t feel right !!

***

Jisung toured you around. He showed you places he used to love as a child and things that made him happy – even happier that he could share it with you – from the rocks near the sea, to the bakery. He showed you where he carved his name on a tree on the way back to the family home. “maybe I should carve yours too!” he looks for a sharp stone and gets right to it. You watch him be so happy and acted out to yourself how you would confess to him. maybe you shouldn’t right? Soon after, you both slowly walked home but Jisung stopped again. “hey look!” he points at this tree. “what about it?” you ask until you looked up to see bright orange oranges hanging from verdant leaves. “oh my! I want one!” you say trying to grab out until Jisung stands extremely close behind you leaning over to twist one off. “Thanks-” you say although he begins peeling the skin off himself with a smile of endearment painted across his face. “I can do it myself!” you try to grab it off him. “aaaa-” he says holding a piece to your mouth with your accept, his thumb grazing against your bottom lip. “oh it’s really tasty!” you say. “open wide,” he jokes as he holds another one. “I’m not a baby!” you whine. “yeah you are,” he laughs running forward. “come and get me!”

This was the Jisung you knew and loved.

He grabbed your hand once you caught up to him, his fingers intentionally interlocking fingers and smirking at you playfully before running back to the house. You had so much fun. More than you usually do and you felt closer to Jisung. The exchanging of looks and playfully flirty remarks is all that you would remember from today. Especially, his thumb grazing your bottom lip; his soft gaze was still intense; it still made you feel nervous.

Being with Jisung was homely. His genial personality making you fall for him further. That night, you sat in the bed of the guest room, the owls hooting outside and trees rustling as the oceans began to sound turbulent. You were a little frightened and you debated going to Jisung. “screw it!” you thought. You knock at his door and hope he isn’t asleep. There wasn’t an answer so you turned around to go back into your room until your hear the handle lower and open. “you okay?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned. You gulped at the way he presented himself, his hair messy and eyes weary. “I didn’t mean to disturb you I-I’m just a bit scared…” you mumbled. “scared?” he repeated. “yeah! Don’t repeat it I feel STUPID!”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds out his hand; “I’m watching a show right now if you want to join me?” he offers. You take his hand and he closes the door behind him. He climbs into bed and leans against his headboard. “your space awaits,” he says in a deep voice mocking the character in the show making you smile. You slide under his sheets and against the headboard too although it felt abnormal. “you can lean on me if you want to, I don’t mind..” he says. “are you sure?” you ask gulping. He nods with great certainty. So you did what he said. You lowered yourself so your head was at his chest, leaning into him and unexpectedly he pulled you in closer.

The moment became incredibly intimate. His heart was beating fast, you could hear it thump out of his chest. You felt your pulse quicken too. This wasn’t normal at all. You were okay with intimacy but this moment felt … different.

“are you okay?” he asks, his voice slightly husky, his fingers gently skimming the side of your arm. You stay still, debating to confess or to just lean in and get it done and over with. No. He wouldn’t do that. You sit up, his arm moving away from you; you face him and take a deep breath. “what’s wro-” he gets cut off by your confession.

“ I love you Jisung..” you blurt out closing your eyes hoping he’d say something – even if it was the opposite of what you were expecting. Although whilst your eyes were closed there was silence which was shattered by Jisung’s laugh. He lay his hand on yours, his other hand just below your jaw: “open your eyes for me,” he begins, your eyes slowly peering at him. It was like someone burst a colour bomb in the room; he was radiating indigo, pink and orange – he was happy. Although words were not exchanged, actions were.

Actions speak louder than words

His arm placed itself around your waist pulling you in closer to him as you kneeled on his bed. He closed his eyes and leaned closer to your lips, a paroxysm of emotions and feelings being exchanged between two lovers. The pure infatuation between you and him felt like true love, everything felt like two puzzle pieces attaching to create a piece of art that longed to be complete. The large boulder that sat on your chest had gone, you felt like a feather floating through the gates of heaven. The sweet exchange between you and Jisung, his hands ever so gently holding you; he loved you this whole time but waited for you. You lay next to him, his eyes so effervescent and glossy, his fingers caress the side of your cheek. “I love you more than you would ever have expected me to…” he confesses lowly “ I was waiting for you,”

I was waiting for you.

Everything felt so complete with your heart and Jisung’s heart merged into one. Daisies, clementine’s, and August 1st. You wished for nothing more and nor did he. Even in another life, you would always be his first love

First love. Something so pure and magnificent, something that changed the repetitive customs of life; something that gave variety and prosperity to existence. Even when seasons change, Clementines and Daisies will be what bound you with your first love; Jisung was your first love and transpires to be your last. 

Everything was falling into place and had been since whenever he grew feelings for you. The way you sandwiched his cheeks with heat packs, or the way you held his hand with one heat pack. Not to forget the way he would always buy your second choice so you didn’t have any regrets. The way Jisung’s gentle touches made a pit in your stomach fall everytime like the one time at the night cafe when you were looking at the books. Not to forget the way his thumb grazed your lips...  Everything was just right.

***

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, April 5

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Meghan Markle's secret psych analysis

Page 2: Heather Locklear has put on a lot of weight since she got out of rehab last fall -- she looks to be carrying 170 pounds on her five-foot-five frame and she looks to have gained 35 pounds

Page 3: Miranda Lambert has taken another swipe at ex Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani by dissing their upcoming nuptials -- Miranda has been urging mutual friends to skip the wedding and she's got everyone in Nashville and beyond all riled up and either you're Team Miranda or you're Team Blake, and if you're with him you can forget about being friends with her and she's forcing people to choose sides and she'll have no qualms cutting off anyone who attends Blake's wedding

Page 4: Alex Rodriguez struck out with fiancee Jennifer Lopez after she discovered his hot-and-heavy direct messages to a long string of women -- their four-year romance went foul after Southern Charm's Madison LeCroy publicly admitted she'd been in touch with A-Rod and Jennifer found out he'd reached out to other beauties through social media and Jennifer had had enough

* Concerned mom Jennifer Garner is struggling to cement her relationship with daughter Violet now that the 15-year-old is barreling through the turbulent teens -- Jennifer said the heartbreak is just that she's growing up at all and it's heartbreaking for the mom and for the teenager, needing to have that kind of severing of this baby-mama tie

Page 5: Chris Brown's spacey social media posts about aliens have close pals concerned about the R&B crooner, including his once-battered ex Rihanna -- Chris is obsessed with conspiracy theories and all things supernatural

Page 6: Disgraced Felicity Huffman is fuming about scuffling for plum parts while rumors swirl fellow felon Lori Loughlin has already been invited back into her old TV series and Felicity can't understand why she is being forced to go through the whole audition process while Lori seems to be welcomed back with open arms -- though she hates to do it, Felicity feels the only way she can get attention is to do a tell-all interview about her humiliating part in the scandal -- Felicity has scored a part in the ABC pilot Sacramento River Cats, though there is no guarantee the project will make it onto the air, but insiders and fans of the hit Hallmark series When Calls the Heart have all been filling the internet with talk of Lori's rumored return -- Felicity believes the only way to get public sympathy is to spill her guts, even though all she wants is put the scandal far behind her

Page 8: Stressed Tonight Show host Jimmy Fallon has been packing on the pounds as his talk show continues to battle with Stephen Colbert's Late Show and Jimmy Kimmel Live in the late-night ratings and Jimmy has been partying and pigging out to find any comfort he can as Tonight continues to trail the field in total viewers and Jimmy is over 200 pounds for the first time in his life and it's because he's overindulging to compensate for the show's struggles and Jimmy and the gym do not mix even though he had a full fitness center installed at his New York apartment years ago

* Debilitated diva Liza Minnelli's 75th birthday party turned into a disaster when her frail physical condition alarmed friends -- celebrity pals also joined a virtual bash for the legend, even though Liza insisted she didn't want a big fuss and Liza's manager threw the small dinner party on her birthday and about eight people, including Joan Collins, attended in person and several other friends, including Barbra Streisand, recorded video messages and performances for Liza but before the party, Liza was in such bad shape she told friends that she didn't want to participate or be seen on camera -- in the end, Liza, who's undergone multiple surgeries and struggled with substance abuse for years, agreed to join the gathering at the L.A. home of her longtime protege Michael Feinstein and Liza sang but she didn't look well and her voice is shot to pieces and she was propped up in a chair and barely moved from it because she can't walk well anymore and during a live chat during the party the hashtag #FreeLiza started to pop up and not everyone meant it as a joke and there's a feeling certain people have taken over her life and longtime friends have been frozen out and they fear she'll never appear in public again and they won't see her again before she dies -- when friends saw the videos the next day they were upset and very worried, saying Liza really appears to have declined

Page 9: Angelina Jolie has fired a shocking new salvo against ex Brad Pitt over custody of their five youngest children and her latest court documents allege domestic violence and even worse, some of the nearly dozen papers Angie just filed offer up a few of the kids to testify against their dad and Angie is now claiming she can offer proof and authority of domestic violence but Brad's lawyers are expected to respond with a vehement denial -- with the newest court filings, all of which are sealed, Angie is determined to get full custody of the kids and Angelina has fought tooth and nail to get what she wants in this divorce and when it comes to her kids she won't back down

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Farrah Abraham in a bikini, 50 Cent chased away his thirst with a drink at an Atlanta eatery, Natasha Lyonne of Russian Doll was on her game while playing chess on the NYC set, Selma Blair met up with a pal in Studio City, Reggie Bush showed he's still in fine form during a Mexican vacay

Page 11: Gwyneth Paltrow isn't above using a little goop to smooth out the age lines -- the lifestyle guru recently admitted to resorting to a teeny drop of Xeomin, which claims to be a uniquely purified choice for frown lines, to help her look less pissed off but she also admitted her history with fillers hasn't always been happy and she had a midlife crisis when she turned 40 and she went to see this doctor and it was a disaster and she was bruised and her forehead was completely frozen and she didn't look like herself at all -- she also admitted she believes there is still a lot of shame around surgery or injectables or fillers and it's like admitting a vulnerability -- she said she thinks aging is hard and when you see your face start to change, you don't necessarily feel your most beautiful, externally, but the irony is it's that time in your life when you actually really like yourself and love yourself

* Wendy Williams' handpicked hunk Mike Esterman has better buckle up because the daytime diva has already mapped out their future, and he's in for a wild ride -- Wendy boasted she chose her Maryland-based beau after receiving hundreds of submissions to her Date Wendy segment, but she's aiming to renovate the contractor and it's all about image, stylists and bodyguards for Wendy right now and she's already got a reality show in the works for them, a TV crew and photographers trailing them everywhere and his-and-her makeovers too -- she's gone from zero to 60 with this guy in a matter of days

Page 12: Straight Shuter gossip column -- Miley Cyrus is going country after her last two albums tanked -- Miley offended her core audience with her outrageous behavior and punk sound and she's signed with a new record label and the plan is to reintroduce her to the country audience that loved her dad, Billy Ray Cyrus, and once loved her -- Miley's behavior has overshadowed her talent for years and her new team will guide Miley back to her roots in the world of country and finding the right sound should be easy but can Miley find the right behavior

* Gayle King owes her glow on CBS This Morning to a new makeup artist and after being tended to by a fill-in makeup artist and told she looked better than ever, Gayle quietly dismissed her longtime makeup man but there's an unspoken code of ethics in the pro makeup world that if you're asked to replace a longtime client's makeup person, the appropriate answer is no

* The Sex and the City reboot isn't all cosmos and roses -- Sarah Jessica Parker was the show's executive producer, giving her much more power than her co-stars, but Cynthia Nixon and Kristin Davis will also executive produce the reboot and there's already tension -- sharing power is hard for anyone who's been the boss for years and it isn't one big happy family

* Rachel Brosnahan gets some puppy love on the set of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (picture)

Page 13: The knives are out for self-appointed queen bee of The Talk Sharon Osbourne after she was exposed as TV's meanest host -- the salty motormouth has been accused of a barrage of racist and anti-gay zingers, forcing the gabfest to go on hiatus while CBS investigates the claims -- former host Leah Remini claimed Sharon would frequently refer to then-co-host Julie Chen, who is Chinese American, as 'wonton' and 'slanty eyes' and Sharon also reportedly referred to her out lesbian co-host Sara Gilbert as 'p--sy licker' and 'fish eater' -- in a tweet, Holly Robinson Peete implied Sharon's racist comments led to her leaving the show -- Sharon also chased Marie Osmond on the show last fall and tried to take it over after Julie Chen quit in 2018 -- Sharon has denied all claims against her -- Sharon's big personality is central to The Talk, but some of these allegations, although none have yet been proven, are the kind of remarks that could be career-ending

Page 14: Crime

Page 16: Demi Lovato's shocking admission that she continues to puff pot and swill booze after multiple rehab stints and a near-fatal drug overdose has pals and addiction experts convinced the singer is courting disaster -- she dropped the bombshell in a recent interview and claimed indulging in those vices has helped her fend off more serious addictions and the chronic depression that has dogged her entire life -- Demi came very close to dying three years ago after she overdosed on opioids and it triggered three stokes and a heart attack, and a lot of people were terrified she would never recover and her friends are convinced she's put herself right back on the same self-destructive path -- Demi claimed she was sexually assaulted by her dealer on the day of her almost-fatal OD and when her assistant found her unconscious and surrounded by vomit following the wild binge, she was naked and she was blue and she was left for dead and she had unknowingly taken heroin that was laced with the powerful drug fentanyl

Page 17: Devastated Lisa Marie Presley is finding comfort in the arms of her first husband, Danny Keough, after their son Benjamin Keough's suicide -- Danny has given her a shoulder to cry on and he's the only one who can understand the despair she feels after losing Benjamin -- Lisa Marie has been inconsolable since Benjamin died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound and she's moved in with Danny in Woodland Hills, California and she's also struggled with substance abuse and the stress of an ongoing divorce battle from fourth husband Michael Lockwood -- although her marriage to Danny ended in 1994, he's remained close to the family, working as a driver and handyman for their actress daughter, Riley Keough and Riley couldn't be happier that her dad has been so helpful to her mother and it's taking a full team to keep Lisa Marie together and Danny was definitely proven he's still on her team

* The sudden death of Bobby Brown Jr. remains shrouded in mystery as the 28-year-old's autopsy report was placed on a security hold following a request from the LAPD -- the namesake son of Bobby Brown and his ex-girlfriend Kim Ward lived with his famous father in Encino, California, where the singer found him responsive -- Bobby Jr. has been doing drugs with pals and insiders suspected he was deliberately dosed with a fatal cocktail of booze, cocaine and painkillers

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Tina Turner is using a new documentary about her life as a final farewell to fans after the R&B icon was rocked by a string of physical and mental health woes including the crippling effects of a 2013 stroke -- the eye-opening documentary Tina is a love letter to her millions of supporters and the punctuation mark to a life defined by startling professional success and heartbreaking personal catastrophes -- Tina admitted she's had an abusive life but at a certain stage forgiveness takes over -- in the documentary Tina confessed she suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and has frightening flashbacks of being savagely beaten throughout her hellish 16-year marriage to the late Ike Turner and Tina's current husband, German music producer Erwin Bach, even compared his spouse to a shell-shocked soldier -- more recently, Tina has been battered by health crises after suffering a stroke in 2013 and being diagnosed with intestinal cancer three years later, mere months before her kidneys failed and Erwin donated one of his own to save her life -- Tina knows the end is near and this film is truly her last encore

Page 20: Match Game -- a round up of male and female celebs who look astonishingly similar, despite their opposite genders -- Sophie Turner and Boy George, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber, Timothee Chalamet and Natalia Dyer, Tom Cruise and Tig Notaro

Page 21: Melissa McCarthy and Ricky Gervais, Eva Marcille and Terrence Howard, Bret Michaels and Fergie, Josh Hartnett and Clea DuVall

Page 22: Katy Perry sparked rumors she had finally taken the plunge with longtime love Orlando Bloom after she was seen sporting a suspicious gold band on her left ring finger while vacationing in Hawaii

* Scott Disick has confessed baby mama Kourtney Kardashian is the reason his relationships fail -- the reality TV slacker revealed his now ex-girlfriend Sofia Richie felt neglected because he spent more time with Kourtney and their three kids, saying it's definitely not easy that they see each other, work together and are friends but he's always been clear that his priority has been his kids and he even put it out there that taking care of Kourtney is one of his priorities

Page 26: Reality star fixer-uppers Jonathan and Drew Scott are sweating bullets over a lawsuit filed against their Property Brothers show by unhappy clients and the stress over the scandal is wreaking havoc with their personal lives -- Las Vegas couple Mindy and Paul King filed suit against Cineflix, the company that producers Property Brothers, and Villa Construction, a local contracting company, alleging they did a shoddy job repairing their home after the couple forked over $193,000 for renovations -- though the twin brothers aren't named in the lawsuit, they were concerned it could smear their reputations and upset their ladyloves -- Jonathan is close to marriage with actress Zooey Deschanel and Drew is wed to Linda Phan, who is the creative director for their company, Scott Brothers Entertainment -- they're both mortified by these allegations and they don't know what to tell Zooey and Linda, other than they will be cleared when the truth comes out but they're terrified that the bad press could derail the show -- Paul and Mindy answered a 2018 casting call and said they were assured all the work would be HGTV quality but Paul said that the place looks good from afar, but it's far from good and the Kings griped to the Nevada State Contractors Board, citing more than 90 complaints with the work ranging from unmatched baseboards to potential hazards -- as the case plays out, the brothers have been rattled by the controversy and they are stressed that this very public case is calling their work into question and there's a fear more people will come forward with similar charges

Page 28: Cover Story -- a top-secret psychological profile of Prince Harry's wife Meghan Markle paints the former actress as a mentally unstable ticking time bomb who couldn't cope with playing second fiddle to senior royals -- the explosive evaluation unmasks Meghan as a pathological liar and bipolar narcissist with histrionic personality disorder but the jaw-dropping findings about Meghan, who's pregnant with a sister for son Archie, don't surprise palace sources as Meghan's tears, tantrums and extreme mood swings had staffers terrified what she could do or say next and she was consumed with ambition and jealousy -- she married Harry expecting to be the royal superstar, but instead learned she'd always be second to his brother Prince William's wife, Duchess Kate and Meghan couldn't stand that she and Harry would always be in their shadow and wanted to destroy her in-laws but no one expected her to lob a nuclear grenade into her husband's family in a no-holds-barred TV special

Page 32: Health Watch

Page 34: Cara Delevingne confessed she used to be disgusted by same-sex relationships and was suicidal before coming to terms with her sexuality -- the model, who has dated actresses Michelle Rodriguez and Ashley Benson and singer St. Vincent, said she was trapped in a dark place and afraid before she publicly admitted to liking members of the same sex -- she said she grew up in an old-fashioned household and she didn't know anyone who was gay and she didn't know that was a thing and growing up she wasn't knowledgeable of the fact she was homophobic and she continued that the idea of being with same-sex partners, she was disgusted by that, in herself -- Cara, who identifies as pansexual, explained her sexual orientation is constantly changing and added she was so unhappy and she wasn't following her truth, that whole thing of having to fit into the box, she's an androgynous person

* Don McLean wants his decades-younger girlfriend to have the wedding of her dreams and he's set aside $1 million for the big day -- the American Pie singer has been dating model Paris Dylan for five years after an ugly divorce from second wife Patrisha Shnier -- Paris is totally unconcerned by the enormous age gap between the 75-year-old singer and 27-year-old model and wants to spend the rest of their lives together -- Don's going all out making sure she has the wedding that's fit for a princess and he's spending an absolute fortune, giving Paris the best of the best in terms of the venue and the food and the one-of-a-kind dress and Don's given her carte blanche to plan it however she wants, and people are expecting a seriously over-the-top affair

Page 36: Singer Andra Day turned to method acting to play jazz icon Billie Holiday, and it's paid off with an Oscar nomination -- Andra revealed she dropped 39 pounds and took up drinking and smoking to prep for the title role in the biopic The United States vs. Billie Holiday -- Andra doesn't recommend smoking and drinking, but she did it because she was just desperate for her first role -- Andra, famed for writing and performing the song Rise Up, also sings in the movie as Holiday, and changed her singing voice to reflect the music legend's pain

* Hollywood Hookups -- MTV reality stars Jenna Compono and Zach Nichols secretly tied the knot and their first child is due in August, Larsa Pippen is dating Myles Kronman, Ashley Jacobs and Mike Appel engaged

Page 38: Cindy Crawford said posing for Playboy was a snap compared to acting in movies -- Cindy said she really regrets starring in the 1995 bomb Fair Game, where she played a lawyer fighting a former KGB spy -- she said she never wanted to be an actor, but a producer begged her and he kept upping the price until she thought she'd be an idiot to say no, but she should have said no, or prepared herself better -- the experience taught her she's very comfortable in front of a camera, but only when she's being herself

* Former American Idol judge Randy Jackson is half the man he used to be and he couldn't be happier about it -- Randy has dropped a whopping 130 pounds to head off potentially deadly effects of his type 2 diabetes and did it in the healthiest ways -- he wrote in his book Body with Soul, it's a curse to be saddled with a disease that's life-threatening, but it's a blessing to get that huge wake-up call -- Randy admitted to crushing the scale at 358 pounds before getting gastric bypass in 2003 but now exercises and eats right and he's ditched sugar and gluten and he wants to be an example for other obese folks and show them they can get healthy and stay that way

Page 40: Tom Brady did an end run around fuming wife Gisele Bundchen by signing a four-year contract extension with his new Tampa Bay Buccaneers team after winning the Super Bowl -- the 43-year-old quarterback promised Gisele he would hang up his cleats after the upcoming season since winning last year's championship but changed his mind after snagging his record seventh NFL title with the Bucs -- Gisele is both angry and astonished because they had spoken about him finally settling down to be a full-time father and husband, but he can't stop chasing glory on the field and Gisele was stunned by his decision to re-up for another four years while the two were discussing expanding their brood and they had planned to have another child after buying their dream house on Indian Creek Island in Miami and they were even drawing plans for a nursery, and now that Tom's done a complete turnaround, everything is up in the air; it's caused some serious tension in their marriage

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Grammy Awards -- Billie Eilish, Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa, Noah Cyrus, Lizzo, Taylor Swift

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Gilded Cage {1}

Lu Xin Lee x OFC Phoenix Argent AU

Warning: Cursing, Blood, Violence, Plot

Words: 1.9k

Summary: Phoenix has been different her entire life. Not just because her father is rich and she has a lovely big house. Phoenix has a secret about her--a secret that can either make her very powerful or very dead. Because of this secret, she’s lived her life in a gilded cage. When she breaks free, that action creates a dangerous and destructive chain of events that soon have Phoenix wondering if she was better off in this cage. That is until a man who moves and kills like the devil but looks like an angel steps in, showing her that sometimes we have to claim our freedom, no matter the consequences.

Note: Surprise!!!!! Okay, we have some Lu Xin Lee from Wu Assassins action. I’m not in love with the cover, so it may change if this continues. Please tell me what you guys think. Should I continue? 

As always, thank you so much for reading! 

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

 You picked up the speed that you ran. You had no idea where you were going, but you knew one thing—you had to keep going no matter what. Glancing behind you, the coast was clear, but just because it was clear didn’t mean you were home free. You’d grown up differently than everyone else. There were some things that were ingrained in you, some things that you used even to this day.

 A loud clatter snapped you out of your thoughts and brought your head to spin on a swivel to look behind you. Still empty. When you looked back in front of you, two black SUVs were pulling up. They were trying to box you in. Looking around you, you tried to come up with a plan, a way out. There was an alley on your left, and it was the alley you were going to take. Changing your direction, you ran into the alley. Using your quick thinking, you pushed one of the dumpsters to the entryway of the alley, hoping it would slow them down. You knew it wouldn’t stop them.

 When you were halfway down the alley, you heard them trying to push the dumpster aside. They argued loudly over who should do what until you heard the screeching sound of it moving.

 “Fuck!”

 That was when you picked up the speed. You were exhausted. You’d been running for the last eight blocks. Damn San Francisco for having endless hills. The downward slopes weren’t bad, but uphill was a bitch. Once you reached the end of the alley, you turned right to find a brick wall.

 “Shit!”

 Turning around, you were met with another brick wall. Trapped. Panic set in and with it your fears. You couldn’t let them catch you. It would not end well. Spinning around, you tried to come up with a plan--anything that would help you see another day. You were surrounded by brick. You had nowhere to go.

 “You can’t run anymore, Y/N!”

 They were getting closer, and you were a fucking sitting duck. If they caught you, you knew how it would end. They’d bring you to him.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Think Y/N, think!”

 Your panic was increasing as their voices drew near. That was when you looked up and saw a fire escape ladder.

 “Ha.”

 You backed up and ran to the wall and used it as leverage to bounce off of it to leap into the air and grab the bottom bar of the ladder. You’d almost missed it. Now you were stuck dangling with barely anything else to give. Upper body strength was always your weakness.

 “Get up, get up!”

 Finding the hidden strength inside of you, you gave it everything you got and pulled yourself up. It was excruciating and took way longer than it should have. Once you could pull yourself up enough to get your foot on the bar, you hugged the cold rusty metal and gasped for air.

 “I should have paid closer attention,” you whispered to yourself.

 You wanted to stop. You were too tired to keep going, but you had to. The alternative was too dangerous. Placing one foot over the other again and again, you climbed the rusted ladder until you got to the first landing. That was when they rounded into the dead-end. You laid on your back as flat as you could get and held your breath so as not to make a peep. You could hear them looking around below you, questioning where you went.

 Several minutes passed with them scratching their heads and blaming each other.

 “I told you we should have shot her and have been done with it.”

 “Shut up. He wants her alive. She’s no good dead.”

 I bet he wants me alive, you thought. Why would he want anything else?

 “Let’s double back; that was her hotel. She’ll probably go back there.”

Slowly they trickled out of the alley, but you didn’t move until you were certain their cars had pulled off. Almost fifteen minutes later, you peeped out onto the sidewalk and surveyed the street. There was no sign of them. Turning onto the sidewalk, you flipped your hood onto your head and quickly walked on. You couldn’t go back to your hotel. That meant you had to find somewhere to lay low tonight so you could get out of town at first light.

An hour later, you found yourself sitting inside an Asian restaurant enjoying a meal you were overdue to have. The flavors melded well together, and if it was possible, the restaurant's décor seemed to fit the food you were eating. You loved the wooden elements of the partitions that divided the tables, and even the bamboo plants were strewn around. The feel of the restaurant was classy yet comfortable. You felt like this could have been a place where you would have spent a lot of your time.

 An uproar of laughter caught your attention. Looking back, you saw a group of people laughing together. They looked close like they’d been friends for a long time. The beautiful woman with long brown hair slapped one of the guys upside their head, which had the rest of them laughing at his misfortune before teasing him in another language. Was it Thai? Mandarin maybe?

 “If things had been different,” you whispered to yourself before finishing the sake in front of you. It was your third one.

 With you not being able to use your credit cards because they were easily traceable, you were now down to a few thousand dollars. If you had another day like today, you knew that reserve would dwindle quickly. Groaning, you rubbed the back of your neck, trying to figure out your next move. This city wasn’t familiar to you. You’d only planned on finding Ari so he could help you out of your little problem. Unfortunately, Ari was out of town, and it meant you were now stranded. Either you wait for him to come back, or you made a way for yourself. You hadn’t expected that they’d find you. You’d been so careful.

 “Everyone, we’ll be closing in fifteen minutes. Thank you for your service, and I hope you come again.”

 That was your queue. You took out a fifty and placed it on the table, and gathered your things ready to go. Before you walked out the front door, you bounced someone.

 “Excuse me,” he rushed out. You didn’t bother responding; instead, you nodded and walked outside.

 They would look for you at the high-end establishments, you had to turn to seedy, and you were not looking forward to it.

 Luckily you found an in-between option. While it was no Ritz Carlton, it was suitable enough. Before you could duck inside, your eye caught sight of someone that looked like they worked for him. Instead of walking through the doors, you stopped on the steps. Trying not to draw attention to yourself, you looked around and saw three more of them just idly standing by.

 “Shit,” you whispered. It didn’t look as if they’d seen you just yet. As inconspicuously as possible, you turned around and sauntered down the street you’d just come from.

 “Hey! Y/N!”

 “Shit!” You picked up running down the street, knowing that they were chasing you. This time you didn't have that much of a lead. You looked back to see they were close enough that if you stumbled, they’d catch you.

 When you turned, large, rough hands grabbed you, lifted you into the air, and dropped you to the concrete. The action took the breath right out of your lungs and filled you with pain. You laid there in a groaning heap writhing in pain.

 “Jesus Dro, are you insane? She’s a girl!”

 “She’s not running anymore, is she?”

 “He doesn’t want her hurt. Are you gonna explain this?”

 Pulling yourself together, you rolled onto your knees and tried to get up.

 “Stop running, Y/N. Just come back with us.”

 “Ne—ver!”

 “You’re so stubborn. He’ll never stop searching for you.”

 You knew it was true.

 “You’re his property.”

 Feeling a burst of defiance, you gritted your teeth in preparation for what you knew would come, then flung your head back and connected with his nose. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but the satisfaction made it worth it even though your head was now pounding, and your vision was slightly blurry.

 “I’m not his property!”

 The men around laughed out, and you thought it was enough of an opportunity for you to get away. Somehow you made it a full block before you were surrounded yet again. You stood in the middle, panting, in pain, and annoyed.

 “Just let me go! Tell him when you found me someone killed me. He’ll believe it,” you suggested.

 “Even then, he’ll hunt for your dead body and make everyone pay for it. I like my chances better bringing you back to him.”

 “Please, I have money. My father has a lot of money. I can pay you. Name a price.”

 The men laughed, signaling that they had no intention of taking you up on that offer.

 “Y/N, your money is no good, and you know why. Just accept it.”

 Before you could speak again, gunshots rained down all around you and pierced the bodies of the men that were around you. Screaming, you held your head and prayed that you made it out of this.

 “They will come for you. You won’t be able to stop them.”

 The words echoed in your memory, and your stomach fell. Was this was what he meant?

 When the gunshots stopped, and all was quiet, you slowly lifted your head. All around you, the bodies laid lifeless and oozing blood. None of them were alive. Before you could get up, you saw four figures coming toward you. Terror and exhaustion are what kept you in place to watch them approach you.

 “You have two options. Ascend or die.”

 You’d heard those words before. You knew full well what was meant by them. You didn’t want to do either. You wanted to live your life, the way you chose—for you. Your father knew it. The years of drilling into you your destiny and chosen path, he thought you’d accepted it. You hadn’t.

 “Choose.”

 You stood on shaky legs and held your head high. While he hadn’t drilled into you acceptance for this said destiny, he had drilled into you stubbornness, strength, and resilience you often relied on.

 “No.”

 The one in front of you wore a ski mask in black with a white sun symbol on the forehead. All you saw were their eyes.

 “She did say you were stubborn.”

 They lifted the gun, pointed it at you, and in seconds everything went in slow motion. You heard the gun go off, but once it did, you were grabbed, hoisted into the air, and moved. Before you knew it, you were on the ground watching one man fight off the four assassins. He moved effortlessly, smoothly, and with absolute control and skill. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the way he moved.

He made it look so easy. He punched, kicked, and overpowered each of them, gliding around like he had wheels for feet. He didn’t even use any guns to defend himself. All he used were his hands. After a few minutes, each of them laid on the ground like the others. You watched him bend down, take up one of the guns, and dig it behind him in the waistband of his pants. Then he turned to you. You weren’t afraid, but you shrunk back. Your vision was quickly getting blurrier with each passing moment. Each second that passed, your body felt heavier and heavier until you dropped onto the ground.

  The last thing you saw was Italian leather shoes approaching you. It was all black after that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[selfless1978]

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BROWN AND BLUE

“Leo?”

The eldest looked up from the book he really wasn’t reading. The pages seemed to be just a blur of nothingness in front of him. He sighed and closed it before putting it down. More and more his hobbies seemed to fail in bringing him any kind of comfort.

“What is it, April?” The large turtle asked as he got to his feet to greet her and Casey as they walked in. It didn’t escape his notice that both looked a little hesitant to disturb him.

“Chief Vincent is asking for your help.” April herself looked at the large turtle, her eyes full of sympathy. “I...told her that you guys might not be ready yet, but she’s pretty desperate. She does send her condolences and understanding. She wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t pretty bad.”

Leo looked away from her, tears building in his eyes. Tears he was quick to hide by turning and walking away towards the kitchen.

April and Casey exchanged a worried look, not sure what was running through the leader’s mind.

“What does she want?” Leo asked over his shoulder. A shoulder that was drooped in defeat. He continued his trek towards the kitchen, needing something to soothe his mind. Couldn’t he even mourn his loss in peace?

“She didn’t really go into many details. There is a problem topside with an individual. They can’t catch her much less contain.” The couple followed him into the kitchen where the large turtle was making some tea. “But she did tell me this person is very dangerous and unstable. She’s suffered some losses trying to corral her on her own. Leo, it sounds pretty serious.”

“Very.” Casey chipped in. “She keeps blowing shit up. Personally I think what ever is going on is out of their league.”

“Which is why she is asking for your help.” April leaned on the doorframe, watching her friend as he made his tea.

Leo was quiet a long moment. This simple seeming task taking all of his attention. Only when his cup was finished and was about to be set to steep did he speak again. “I see.” He still didn’t turn to face the pair. 

Then the cup was almost slammed onto the counter top as he whirled around. The hot liquid sloshing over the sides. Both humans winced. 

“I just lost my father and she wants me to go put out her fires?”

“Leo, people are getting hurt.” April kept her tone calm. “She doesn’t know what else to do.”

Leo’s eyes remained hard for a long moment. The struggle to balance his grief out with the dire situation was clear to see on his face. And it wasn’t an easy one for him. “Fine.” He finally sighed in defeat. “We’ll meet with her tonight. Usual time and place.”

April and Casey nodded. Casey turned to leave, but April stepped forward and wrapped her friend in a hug. “I know this is hard, Leo. I miss him too.”

Leo didn’t say anything as he accepted the hug. There was nothing he could say that would make any of this better.

.

.

They arrived to find Chief Vincent already waiting for them. A folder in her hand and an anxious expression on her face. Some of the tension left her features at the sight of the four brothers, only to rise again at the obvious signs of grief on all of them. Mikey was somber and quiet, Raph was glaring at her while Donnie looked like he didn’t even want to be out here. Even Leo’s gaze was hard as he approached.

“Thank you for coming.” 

Only a brief nod was her reply from the leader.

“I’m sorry for-”

“Just get on with it.” Raph growled. “Your condolences ain’t gonna bring him back.”

The woman just nodded and handed over the file to Leo, not wanting to anger the big turtle any further. 

“This her?” Leo asked as he opened the file and began to browse.

“Yes. Her name is Victoria Self. A few months ago her children were put into foster care. They stayed in State custody while she was told to get her life on track.’

Leo frowned a little as he browsed through more. “Not signs of any criminal history. Nothing.”

“She didn’t have anything.” Vincent agreed. “Been clean. Served a few years in the military, got out and lived a normal life. Got married, had two kids, divorced. She only came onto our radar because her kids were taken. Even then she seemed ok. Came to visit them every week. But no progress was made to better her situation so they stayed in foster care. Then, about a month ago, the kids were forcefully taken from the social worker. The attack put him in the hospital in critical condition. But he was able to tell us that it was her.”

“How so?” Leo handed the file to Donnie so he could look over it.

“He heard the kids call her Mom.”

Leo nodded. “Go on.”

“Obviously, we went to arrest her. I don’t know how, but she managed to take down the entire swat team and five or six patrol officers. Leonardo, all of them claim she moved impossibly fast and beat them easily before destroying the vehicles.”

“One woman took down all of them?” Raph raised a brow.

“Yes. Very easily. And-”

“Chief Vincent!”  

For the second time tonight she was being cur off, this time by her assistant running forward. Her face pale. “There was an attack on a federal prison in Georgia! Almost the entire compound was destroyed!”

“What?”

“That’s not all.” Jade continued, handing over another file. “There was also reports of a woman assaulting two individuals in a truck stop in Tennessee. They were able to get pictures of the perpetrator from the security cameras. It was her.”

The police chief began to swear under her breath as she took the file. Which Leo immediately took himself. He opened it and pulled out the pictures within. Indeed it was the same woman that was pictured in the other file. 

“There were numerous injuries. And one causality. One of the inmates was found with his head caved in. With a hammer, of all things.”

“Do we have information on the inmate?”

“Yes ma’am. One Rudy Barlow. Sentenced for murder and child molestation.”

Once more Leo took the file and handed it over to Donnie. “See what else you can dig up.” Donnie nodded. It was rapidly becoming clear to him that his friends were indeed right to pass the message along. For just a single woman to do all this and avoid, or better said beat, her way out of capture was indeed no small matter. “Have her children been seen anywhere?”

“So far, no.” Jade answered. “All the footage we get from her are short, fleeting ones. But none of them have the children with her or anywhere near her.”

Leo nodded. They must have been taken and hidden somewhere. That meant she was going out alone. She would return to the city just to get them if for no other reason. “Alright, Chief Vincent. We’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.” She looked relieved. “I didn’t want to put this on you. But didn’t know what else to do. She has easily taken down or just flat out outran any of my officers. We just can’t get our hands on her.”

Leo looked up to the heavens a moment. His eyes lost in the stars as he searched for something he could never see. A low sigh escaping the mentally weary turtle. He wanted nothing more than to just hide in his home and come to terms with things, but he knew his father would frown upon him letting the chaos continue. Chaos that seemed to be ramping up. 

“It’s fine.” He said quietly in return. “Father would have wanted us look into it. To stop the casualties if nothing else.”

Leo then turned and headed toward the edge of the rooftop. There was nothing else he could do here. Donnie needed time to look the files over and see if he could find more information on her. “We’ll keep in touch.”

He then led his brothers off of the rooftop and out into the night.

[bigfootmountain]

Report # 1083 (Class A)

Submitted by John Green on Saturday, January 1, 2000.

William Roe account -- Highway worker has lengthy sighting at close range & records much detail

YEAR: 1955

SEASON: Fall

MONTH: October

PROVINCE: British Columbia

COUNTRY: Canada

LOCATION DETAILS: Five miles up Mica Mountain near an old deserted mine

OBSERVED: Ever since I was a small boy back in the forest of Michigan I have studied the lives and habits of wild animals. Later, when I supported my family in northern Alberta by hunting and trapping I spent many hours just observing the wild things. They fascinated me. But the most incredible experience I ever had with a wild creature occurred near a little town called Tete Jaune Cache, British Columbia, about eighty miles west of Jasper, Alberta.

I had been working on the highway near Tete Jaune Cache for about two years. In October 1955, I decided to climb five miles up Mica Mountain to an old deserted mine, just for something to do. I came in sight of the mine about three o’clock in the afternoon after an easy climb. I had just come out of a patch of low brush into a clearing, when I saw what I thought was a grizzly bear, in the brush on the other side. I had shot a grizzly near that spot the year before. This one was only about 75 yards away, but I did not want to shoot it, for I had no way of getting it out. So I sat down on a small rock and watched, my rifle in my hands.

I could just see the top of the animal’s head and the top of one shoulder. A moment later it raised up and stepped out into the opening. Then I saw that it was not a bear.

This drawing of the animal William Roe saw was done by his daughter under his direction.

This, to the best of my recollection, is what the creature looked like and how it acted as it came across the clearing directly towards me. My first impression was of a huge man, about six feet tall, almost three feet wide and probably weighing somewhere near 300 pounds. It was covered from head to foot with dark brown, silver-tipped hair. But as it came closer I saw by its breasts that it was a female. And yet, its torso was not curved like a female’s. Its broad frame was straight from shoulder to hip. Its arms were much thicker than a man’s arms, and longer, reaching almost to its knees. Its feet were broader proportionately than a man’s, about five inches wide at the front and tapering to much thinner heels. When it walked it placed the heel of its foot down first, and I could see the grey-brown skin or hide on the soles of its feet.

It came to the edge of the bush I was hiding in, within twenty feet of me, and squatted down on its haunches. Reaching out its hands it pulled the branches of bushes toward it and stripped the leaves with its teeth. Its lips curled flexibly around the leaves as it ate. I was close enough to see that its teeth were white and even.

The shape of this creature’s head somewhat resembled a negro’s. The head was higher at the back than at the front. The nose was broad and flat. The lips and chin protruded farther than its nose. But the hair that covered it, leaving bare only the parts of the face around the mouth, nose and ears, made it resemble an animal as much as a human. None of its hair, even on the back of its head, was longer than an inch, and that on its face was much shorter. Its ears were shaped like a human’s ears. But its eyes were small and black like a bear’s. And its neck was unhuman. Thicker and shorter than any man’s I had ever seen.

As I watched this creature, I wondered if some movie company was making a film at this place and that what I saw was an actor made up to look partly human and partly animal. But as I observed it more I decided it would be impossible to fake such a specimen. Anyway, I learned later that there was no such company near that area. Nor, in fact, did anyone live up Mica Mountain, according to the people who lived in Tete Jaune Cache.

Finally, the wild thing must have got my scent, for it looked directly at me through an opening in the brush. A look of amazement crossed its face. It looked so comical at the moment I had to grin. Still in a crouched position, it backed up three or four steps, then straightened up to its full height and started to walk rapidly back the way it had come. For a moment it watched me over its shoulder as it went, not exactly afraid, but as though it wanted no contact with anything strange.

The thought came to me that if I shot it, I would possibly have a specimen of great Interest to scientists the world over. I had heard stories about the Sasquatch, the giant hairy Indians that live in the legends of British Columbia Indians, and also, many claim, are still in fact alive today. Maybe this was a Sasquatch, I told myself.

I levelled my rifle. The creature was still walking rapidly away, again turning its head to look in my direction. I lowered the rifle. Although I have called the creature “it,” I felt now that it was a human being and I knew I would never forgive myself if I killed it.

Just as it came to the other patch of brush it threw back its head and made a peculiar noise that seemed to be half laugh and half language, and which I can only describe as a kind of whinny. Then it walked from the small brush into a stand of lodgepole pine.

I stepped out into the opening and looked across a small ridge just beyond the pine to see if I could see it again. It came out on the ridge a couple of hundred yards away from me, tipped its head back again, and again emitted the only sound I had heard it make, but what this half-laugh, half-language was meant to convey, I do not know. It disappeared then, and I never saw it again.

I wanted to find out if it lived on vegetation entirely or ate meat as well, so I went down and looked for signs. I found it in five different places, and although I examined it thoroughly, could find no hair or shells of bugs or insects. So I believe it was strictly a vegetarian.

I found one place where it had slept for a couple of nights under a tree. Now, the nights were cool up the mountain, at this time of year especially, and yet it had not used a fire. I found no sign that it possessed even the simplest of tools. Nor a single companion while in this place.

Whether this creature was a Sasquatch I do not know. It will always remain a mystery to me, unless another one is found.

I hereby declare the above statement to be in every part true, to the best of my powers of observation and recollection.

WILLIAM ROE

Sworn before William Clark, a Commissioner for Oaths in and for the Province of Alberta.

Follow-up investigation report by BFRO Investigator John Green:

In addition to the information in this sworn statement, Mr. Roe made the following remarks regarding the sasquatch in a letter:

"The nails were not like a bear’s, but short and heavy like a man’s finger nails are. Its eyes were not light and large but small and black like a bear’s. You couldn’t see any knotted, corded muscles. This animal seemed almost round. It was as deep through as it was wide, and I believe if this animal should have been seven feet tall, it would have weighed close to 500 pounds. We have got to get away from the idea of comparing it to a human being as we know them."

I never did meet Mr. Roe and I knew very little about him, but in 1969 on a trip across Canada I met two zoologists in different cities who had corresponded with him concerning his observations of buffalo. They b

[thestayway90]

Unexpected Attachment: Chapter 2 (SKZ Imagine)

Author: thestayway90

WC: 2802

Warnings: None

Characters: Stray Kids OT8, OFC/Reader, Josh (OFC/Reader’s Brother)

Relationships: Eventual OFC/Reader x Felix

Summary: Fluffy goodness! OFC/Reader meets the rest of the kids and ends up on a lunch with all OT8. A bit of one-to-one time with Felix UWU

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Heres chapter two... its still going slow I know... we’ll get there eventually!!!

Also I’m so soft for Felix and Changbin and I think it shows... sorry in advance :|

I’d love any and all feedback you have please pretty please <3

Enjoy :)

Shocked, dripping in coffee and still holding onto your phone in one hand, you looked up to see the most attractive boy you had ever laid eyes on, looking down at his once white shirt now drenched in brown liquid.

“Weelll...” he drew out in a familiar accented English. “That was well done.” His dark eyes met yours and you were thankful when he flashed a wide smile your way, as he didn’t seem to be taking your attack too personally.

“Oh god! I am so so sorry!” You started stuttering, hands automatically reaching out to wipe at his shirt before realising touching a complete stranger after dumping an entire coffee on him was probably not a good idea.

“Eh, it happens,” he shrugged, really not seeming too concerned, which made you wonder how often it happened to the poor boy.

He cocked his head to the side and examined you quizzically. “You sound Australian?” he commented questioningly.

“So do you,” you answered unhelpfully.

Your answer made him smile even wider, bright eyes flashing with mirth. “Are you related to Josh by any chance?”

“Brother,” you admitted, hoping your clumsiness wouldn’t affect Josh’s work as you realised you recognised the boy in front of you.

You weren’t a huge k-pop fan and weren’t familiar with many of the groups but you had done a little research on the boy band your brother had been promoted to Managing and the boy standing in front of you had been the one who had definitely stood out.

“I’m Felix,” the guy finally said, that wide infectious smile still gracing his lips. “I’ve got some clothes that you can change into,” he kindly offered, gesturing to your own ruined shirt.

You crossed your arms self consciously. “I feel like I should be offering you a change of clothes, since it was my fault, but unfortunately I don’t have any.”

Felix let out a low laugh and indicated for you to follow him back into the elevator you had just exited.

He led you into a room full of lockers and benches, reminiscent of the room that sports players used in schools. Showers and toilets lined one wall while a bank of mirrors lined another to the right.

Felix immediately crossed over to a locker, entering the combination before opening the metal door and rummaging inside. You stood awkwardly, nervous fingers plucking at the hem of your soaked shirt, the sticky fabric feeling uncomfortable against your skin.

“Ah ha,” the silver haired boy exclaimed, whipping out two identical black oversized shirts and turning back to you.

He looked down at the fabric in his hands and then held one out, shrugging his shoulders as he said, “I like the colour black!”

You smiled, chuckling a little at his shy smile. “I never would have guessed,” you teased slightly, as you took the shirt out of his fingers.

You headed for one of the toilet cubicles, quickly shucking out of your ruined shirt and sliding Felix’s tee over your head.

You were emerging from the cubicle, still adjusting the too big shirt, trying to decide whether to tuck it in at the front or not, when three other boys entered the room stopping in their tracks when they took in Felix still tugging a top over his head and you looking extremely disheveled.

“Ah, what is going on here?” One of the boys with long blonde hair questioned in Korean, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

The tall blue haired boy next to the blonde was standing speechless, mouth open in shock, eyes flicking backwards and forwards.

The third and final boy, who had the beauty of a carved sculpture, smirked lopsidedly, mischief evident on his pretty face as he uttered, “Having fun, Lixie?”

You blushed at the comment, cheeks staining a bright red, but Felix just gave an easy unbothered laugh, finishing pulling his shirt down.

“It’s not what you think!” You stuttered out in awful Korean to the newcomers.

Felix turned to you, eyebrows lifted. “Ah, so you do speak Korean!” He sounded delighted by the discovery.

The sculpted boy snorted. “I’m not sure that counts as speaking Korean!”

“Lee Know Hyung!” The blonde next to him scolded, hitting his elder lightly on the shoulder.

“What?” Lee Know sounded genuinely confused, “It’s true.”

“Yes, but you don’t say it,” Felix sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“It’s okay, he’s right. I’m rubbish at speaking Korean,” you told the boy closest to you, fingers worrying at the bottom of your shirt.

The blonde’s face lit up as he heard your English, stepping forward and saying excitably. “You are Aussie, yes?”

You nodded in reply, amused when he grabbed your hands and squeezed them tightly. “I am Hyunjin. This is I.N.” The tall cutie next to him beamed a huge smile your way, waving with one hand. “And that’s Lee Know.” Lee Know gave a simple nod of acknowledgment before turning back to Felix.

“So what were you two doing in here?” He questioned, eyes staring into the younger’s intensely.

Felix returned the look with his signature easy smile, completely unruffled by the elders implications. “We had an unfortunate incident with coffee!” He explained, drawing understanding nods and ahhh’s of sympathy with his words, again making you question how often accidents involving coffee occurred.

As if it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, the door once again opened and Josh walked in accompanied by yet another good looking k-pop idol.

“Ah, what’s going on? I thought you were leaving?” Josh directed the last question at you, confusion clouding his features.

“She tipped coffee all over Felix,” Lee Know told him casually, his eyes telling how much he was enjoying the situation.

“Why did you do that?” The boy with Josh asked you in a genuinely curious tone.

“It’s not like I planned to trip and spill coffee all over him. Its just the way of my people…” you paused and then continued. “And by people I mean those who are extremely clumsy and uncoordinated.”

This elicited laughs out of everyone present and the unfamiliar boy aimed a charismatic smile your way, stating, “Oh, so you and Felix are part of the same people then!”

The new boy flashed a sly look towards Felix who immediately launched himself at the mischief-maker, getting the younger into a headlock and teasingly tickling him.

You laughed as the other boys got involved, feeling like your cheeks were about to split from how wide you were smiling,

Slowly the chaos calmed down with help from Josh, who’s resigned expression told you that this type of bedlam was a normal occurrence.

“Okay, okay, settle down.” Josh waved his hands around as Felix and the other boy separated, patting each other on the back good-naturedly, obviously no hard feelings between them.

“I’m Seungmin by the way,” the boy introduced himself in almost perfect English.

“We were just coming to grab the kids for lunch. You want to come with?” Josh asked you, eyebrows raised, not wanting to put you on the spot but eager for you to join them.

You glanced round at the boys surrounding you, eyes resting on Felix and Hyunjin who were both nodding enthusiastically.

You shrugged in reply. “Sure, why not. I’ve already missed my afternoon class anyways!”

Hyunjin very kindly held the door open for you as the boys piled out into the hallway, loudly talking and teasing one another.

You met up with 3Racha by the elevator, the three boys still discussing music as they patiently waited for the rest of their team to arrive.

They looked surprised but pleased when they spotted you amongst their members, Chan immediately claiming a spot next to you so he could talk about your life back in Australia while you all walked to a nearby restaurant.

The kids were obviously regulars to the eatery, the staff greeting them by name and seating you all in a secluded spot right at the back where the boys antics wouldn’t disturb other customers.

You found yourself sandwiched in between Chan and Han with Josh at the head of the table to Chan’s right and Felix and Changbin seated comfortably across from you. The rest of the boys spread around the left side of the table, talking at a rapid pace and bickering with each other.

While the others discussed what to order you asked Chan to choose for you, not familiar with the Korean Menu.

You sat back, watching silently as you enjoyed the atmosphere the charismatic boys created around you. You glanced over to Josh, who was deep in conversation with Chan, arms waving passionately over what they were saying in such rapid Korean that you struggled to keep up.

“How are you enjoying Seoul?” a soft question came from the opposite side of the table, your eyes meeting Changbin’s intense gaze as he leaned towards you.

You considered your words for a moment then replied. “It’s very different to where I grew up, I’m not used to living in the middle of a large city, but I’m really loving it. I love being able to walk to almost everything and the city is so beautiful, especially at night. I also love the people here. They’re so friendly and helpful, even when I’m struggling to communicate with them, most are super patient with me, which I appreciate.” You finished, realising you probably talked way too much, twisting your hands in your lap.

“It is beautiful,” Felix agreed happily. “We should take you down to the waterway at night one day. It’s absolutely breath taking.” He bumped Changbin’s shoulder with his, including his hyung in the outing.

“That would be amazing,” you immediately perked up at his words, beaming across at the pair.

“It’s a date then,” Changbin commented, smiling mischievously, trying to make you blush with some success.

Luckily you were saved from more teasing by Han capturing your attention, the sweet boy firing questions at you, one after another, making you struggle to keep up. Felix and Changbin still had their attention on you, curious about your answers to Han’s more personal questions.

Once the food arrived it was a brief tussle of hands and elbows as everyone helped themselves to the large dishes in the middle of the table. You thanked Chan profusely as he grabbed a plateful of various goodies and then placed it in front of you to sample, the kind boy merely waving your gratitude off, saying he didn’t want you to accidentally get knocked out by an errant elbow.

A sudden silence fell over the table as everyone tucked in, the only sounds were munching and noises of appreciation. It was the most quiet you had had in several hours but somehow you still missed the noise a little. Not for long though, as the boys surrounding you once again started up their antics but now with food involved it was even more interesting (and messier) than before.

Josh and Chan managed to control the boys before a full-out food war began and you all helped tidy up the table before thanking the restaurant staff and filing out the front door.

“I really have to go home,” you sighed, as the group paused outside on the sidewalk. “Thank you so much for today guys. I had a lot of fun!” You told them, genuinely thankful for them taking you under their wing.

“You’re welcome to hang out with us anytime,” Chan said, wrapping his arms around you in a surprising but much appreciated hug. The rest of the boys parroted the sentiment making you promise to come visit them.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Josh asked worriedly as he enveloped you in a tight hug.

“No, I’ll be fine Josh.” You pulled back and gave your overprotective brother a hard stare. “You’ve got work to go and do.”

Felix cleared his throat behind you, grabbing your attention. “Ah, I’m actually heading back home now anyways. I’d be honoured if you’d walk with me. I believe your apartment is near our dorm, Josh mentioned it at one point.” The sweet silver haired boy looked over to Josh who gave a nod of confirmation.

You stared at Felix, wondering whether to take the offer or not. Your eyes met with Josh’s who gave you an encouraging nod of his head and you knew that he would worry less if you had someone accompanying you home in the still unfamiliar city.

“Thank you Felix. That would be great,” you told the petite boy earning yourself another of his brilliant smiles.

You quickly finished your goodbyes with the rest of the group before heading off in the opposite direction, Felix at your side. There was silence for a while, both of you enjoying the lovely weather.

You had expected to feel nervous and awkward in the presence of the gorgeous boy beside you, but the quiet was a comfortable one. It felt like Felix was exuding effervescent energy, making you feel immediately bubbly and happy just by being in his presence.

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Felix finally asked in his deep voice, breaking the silence and fixing you with his dark eyes.

“About two months,” you told him, trying very hard not to trip over your own feet and make an embarrassment of yourself... again.

“Have you got to do much sightseeing?”

You shrugged, momentarily distracted by the smell of deep-frying Bungeo-ppang. “Not much. Josh has been super busy with work and I have classes and stuff. I was hoping to do more by myself during the mid-year break.”

Felix noticed the direction of your gaze and grinned brightly. He immediately approached the food vendor, asking for two ice-cream filled Bungeo-ppang.

“No, no, you don’t have to do that!” You protested, following behind him. “We only just ate lunch!”

“And this is dessert,” Felix twinkled, passing the fish shaped pastry over to you.

He looked around for a moment then spotted a bench overlooking a small square of garden, indicating that you should sit and eat.

You settled onto the bench, Felix sitting down next to you as you took a big bite of the Bungeo-ppang.

“Mmmh. This is amazing!” You enthused to the boy next to you, not aware of the chocolate smeared on your cheek. Felix lifted a gentle hand and wiped it away with his thumb, his touch immediately bringing a rosy tint to your cheeks.

He dropped his hand, suddenly looking self-conscious. He examined his own dessert asking, “What do you want to see most?” before taking a large bite out of the deep-fried goodness.

It took you a moment to realise he was continuing your previous conversation. You contemplated the question and then replied, “Honestly, the Ansan Jarak-Gil.”

Felix raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Hiking?” he questioned. “Out of everything here in Seoul, that’s what you want to do the most?”

You glared at him as he questioned your choice. “What’s so wrong with hiking? I happen to enjoy it!”

Felix held up his hands to ward off your indignation. “There’s nothing wrong with Hiking. I’ve actually never been to Ansan before but I’ve heard its beautiful.” He flashed you a sweet smile which immediately dissolved any irritation you felt against him.

“Shall we keep going?” He questioned once you’d both finished, standing and extending a hand out to help you stand.

You took the offered hand and let him lever you upright, continuing your walk, comfortably conversing as you led Felix towards your apartment.

Finally reaching your destination, you paused at the entrance of the apartment building, finishing your discussion.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you thanked the silver haired boy standing before you, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“You’re more than welcome. It was fun.” Felix twinkled at you, smiling widely and scrunching his nose in an adorable manner.

He leant in and gave you a tight hug, squeezing tightly for a few long moment before drawing back. “You’ll come visit us at JYP, yeah?” He asked, expectant eyes trained on yours.

“If you guys don’t mind,” was your hesitant reply, not wanting to intrude on these boys who had been strangers only hours earlier.

“Of course we wouldn’t mind. We’d love to see you,” Felix said on behalf of his group members.

You smiled brightly back at him. “I promise to visit at some point then!”

“Stupendous. I look forward to it.” Felix replied, immediately happy with your assurance.

You said your goodbyes and watched as Felix started walking off in the direction of the boys dorm.

You turned and headed up into your apartment, feeling a lot lighter and happier than when you had left, the aftermath of the effervescent boys presence.

[searlaitflanagan]

↪ brief introduction to séarlait flanagan.

BASICS

full name: séarlait maura agnes flanagan. nickname(s): charlie, little bear. age: twenty-six. date of birth: 31 july 1994. zodiac sign: leo. place of birth: manhattan, new york city, new york.  ethnicity: caucasian. nationality: american & irish ( she has dual citizenship ). gender: cis female. sexual orientation: homosexual. romantic orientation: homoromantic. religion: she was raised catholic— she had a confirmation and all but in her adulthood she’s never practiced all that much; the most she does is go to confession on occasion. occupation: freelance artist & bartender at the jagged yard.  language(s) spoken: english, irish & borderline-fluent french from language courses in high school and college. accent: charlie has more of a new york accent than anything else but her inflections on certain words sound a little bizarre if only because her parents both have very pronounced irish accents and they taught her how to talk.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: natalia dyer. hair color: brown, for the most part; she dyes it blonde on occasion but that’s a sporadic thing. eye color: blue. height: 5′4″. weight: 121 lbs. build: slim. tattoos: she has a tattoo on the inside of her wrist of a bear that fades into a forest near the top ( here ) & the initials ‘KM’ on the inside of her left ring finger in honor of her late fiancée.  piercings: she has traditional piercings in her firsts and seconds, a helix piercing in her left ear & and an industrial piercing in her right ear.  distinguishing characteristics: the moments when she’s genuinely outgoing, her penchant for flirting with every pretty girl she meets even if she’s not thinking about it, the fact that she’ll rattle off swears in irish when she’s having a bad day and doesn’t do much to contain it.  

PERSONALITY

label: the tortured artist. positive traits: capable, clever, compassionate, considerate, creative, curious, daring, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, generous, independent, loyal, observant, passionate, protective, reliable, selfless, warm.  negative traits: competitive, irreverent, sarcastic, self-conscious. aloof, anxious, crude, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, timid.  goals/desires: to make art she’ll be remembered for long after she’s gone, to find a way to be happy again, to find love again ( even if that’s something she rarely admits to herself ). fears: autophobia ( fear of being alone ). hobbies: going for walks, people watching for art references, sketching, playing with her cat, taking naps in the sun, playing video games, reading, listening to music, playing piano, painting, learning new things, teaching herself how to use photoshop, practicing new art styles.  quirks: she wears her engagement ring on a leather cord around her neck but very rarely tells anyone what it is, when she’s having a crisis and feels like she needs to talk herself through it she almost always does so in irish, she remembers people’s names and faces after meeting them even if she only interacted with them for a few seconds, she has a working knowledge of current popular children’s shows because of her nieces and nephews, she gives the contacts in her phone their names in irish.  likes: whiskey ( she doesn’t drink anymore but it was her favorite when she did ), cute girls, sci-fi films, historical dramas, most foreign films, bob ross, trivia shows, horror movies, compliments from cute girls, her brothers, being an aunt, new york city, the anonymity of living in big cities, jazz, classical piano pieces, her cat, indiana jones movies.    dislikes: people who treat her with kid gloves because of her life experiences, relapsing, people who don’t take her seriously, blueberries, most sports, how short she is compared to most of her friends. 

FAMILY

father: conor flanagan. mother: moira flanagan ( née delaney ). sibling(s): torin, alasdair, casey & aidan flanagan. pet(s): she has a six month old blue maine coon named indy.  financial status: lower class.

BIOGRAPHY

( TW: mentions of death, drug & alcohol abuse, rehab )

In a small, cozy neighborhood in Dublin-- Conor Flanagan and Moira Delaney met, for the first time either of them could remember, on a rainy afternoon when they were five years old. Their parents had been friends since long before either of the children had even been a thought in anyone’s mind and it seemed only natural that Conor and Moira would follow in the footsteps of their parents where friendship was concerned. Though it had been expected it seemed to take no time at all for them to become the best of friends and throughout their childhoods and well into their teenage years they were joined at the hip. It was no real surprise to anyone when they began to date or when they got engaged and it was no surprise but an incredible delight to their families when they got married shortly after they both moved to London to attend university-- each of them hell bent on becoming physicians. From the moment they enrolled at university their lives seemed to progress at a breakneck pace— they finished university with top marks, Moira had their eldest son nine months after their graduation and still managed to juggle being a mother and attending medical school.

When their third son was born the ever-growing Flanagan family packed up their belongings in London and moved to New York where Conor had been offered a promising position and Moira’s very own offer seemed poised to follow shortly thereafter. It was during their first summer in the United States that their daughter— Séarlait— was born and the delight her birth brought to both her parents and her brothers could not be measured in any way. She was a perpetually rambunctious child - curious almost to a fault and quick to learn things she hadn’t known sometimes only hours previous. She began walking and talking far more quickly than any of her brothers had and even as a child her parents were aware that she would go on to do incredible things— even if her route towards some of those things might cause no shortage of headaches for those around her. For her part Charlie-- as she much preferred to be called-- delighted in getting into everything she possibly could for the sake of what her mother often called her ‘little adventures’.

Charlie’s little adventures were often conducted with her best friends at her side— Cole McLean and Katie Marsden— children who lived in her neighborhood who Charlie met shortly after they moved to New York and got to know given the fact that they were the same age and attended the same school. It was no surprise to anyone at all that they did nearly everything together and when they were fourteen and Charlie quietly admitted to her parents that she was almost certain she was in love with Katie-- well, her parents-- who had been able to see the adoration in their daughter’s eyes long before she seemed to understand it herself-- weren’t surprised and wholeheartedly supported Charlie being happy above all other things. With her parents’ support bolstering her courage it took Charlie only a week or two following her coming out to make whatever feelings she could articulate known to her best friend. She considered it the happiest day of her life when they began to date-- a day that was only eclipsed by Katie accepting her proposal when they were eighteen and planning to move to California for college.

As far as Charlie was concerned her life was absolutely perfect— she was attending art school as she’d always wanted, she was living with her fiancée with their best friend only a few blocks away because none of them had been able to attend college without one another. It remained perfect until the end of their junior year at UCLA when Charlie received a call from a local hospital that gave her the worst news she’d ever imagined receiving in her life: Katie had been involved in a violent mugging when she was walking home from a lecture and by the time she had arrived at the hospital it had been too late to save her. Charlie was crushed— devastated seemed a better word for it. She only managed to continue her course work for another two weeks before she dropped out of school entirely-- turning to drinking in a quantity she’d never embraced prior and drugs in a way she’d never even thought of in her life. Ultimately it was Cole who pulled her out of it-- Cole who encouraged her to get help: to check herself into rehab, to attend therapy and a variety of other things that-- a year and a half later made Charlie feel almost herself again.

It was at that moment that she made the executive decision to leave California behind. Returning to New York was out of the question if only because it held as many memories of Katie as their apartment had and she couldn’t bear to suffocate under the weight of them when she was still trying to hold herself together. Instead, she did perhaps the most impulsive thing she’d ever done in her life: she picked a spot on a map randomly and two weeks later found herself in Providence Peak, Colorado with a dinky apartment to her name and a job as a bartender to keep her afloat in the mean time. She’s lived in Providence Peak for close to four years but it’s only within the last few months that she’s started to branch out into making friends and meeting people and attempting to, at the very least, make herself feel the slightest bit more whole.

[poi-bigbang]

Art Claims

(Thank you @caviezeldaily​ for this amazing banner!)

Here are the remaining summaries up for claim in the POI Big Bang: 

1. Title: Carbines and Capacitors

Relationships: Gen (Joss & Cheyenne, other Team Machine friendships); background John/Joss, brief Harold/Grace and Laskey/OFC, brief unrequited Shaw/Cheyenne, mention of past Joss/Cal and Cheyenne/Irene Travers, two staged scenes that are explicitly not preludes to romance Characters: (in order of appearance) Cheyenne Bodie, Joss Carter, Mike Laskey, Lionel Fusco, John Reese, Harold Finch, Bear, The Machine, Sameen Shaw, Zoe Morgan, Patrick Simmons, Raymond Terney, Genrika Zhirova, Timothy Sloan, Root | Samantha Groves, Peter Collier, Anthony Marconi, Carl Elias, Peter Yogorov, Grace Hendricks, Andrew Monahan, Alonzo Quinn, Fermin Ordoñez, Arthur Claypool, Tom "Sugarfoot" Brewster, Bronco Layne Rating: Teen Summary: A routine day for Team Machine turns into anything but when a cowboy from 1880 falls out of thin air and lands practically at Carter's feet.  Getting him well and acclimated to life in 2013 is only half the battle.  Computers are out of his line, but he does have other skills Finch can use… so the best laid schemes of Greer and Quinn are about to run into a 6'6" tank named Cheyenne Bodie. (Season 3 AU, crossover with Cheyenne, with cameos from Sugarfoot and Bronco)

(Wikipedia links: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheyenne_(TV_series); https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugarfoot; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bronco_(TV_series); Fandom wiki: https://cheyenne.fandom.com/wiki/Cheyenne_Wiki; IMDb: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047720/) Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; References to historical atrocities, uncomfortably timely conversations, canon-typical violence, canon-typical threats of violence, crude remarks by Shaw, Cheyenne comes from a 1950s Western and speaks/thinks/acts accordingly (but as in canon, he hates racism and injustice) Art Wishlist: Open to any media, although traditional/digital might be more suitable than manips because most available images of Cheyenne are B&W--as was the show, so vids and gifs might have the same problem.  Podfic would be welcome, and the story is finished (and long!), but recording could be a challenge because Cheyenne's voice is lower than John's and because there are lots of footnotes and a few words in the Northern Cheyenne dialect, Dutch, Spanish, Sioux, Russian, and Hebrew.  Cheyenne wears a very distinctive hat (brown with silver arrowheads around the band) that could be drawn as part of a still-life banner or divider, possibly with a Colt Peacemaker and a Desert Eagle (crossed?).  Also, if you're interested in illustrating a scene, there are... rather a lot to choose from, but I think I'd go for one of Cheyenne with John, Joss, and/or Shaw.  I will happily work with any artist to find what source/reference materials are needed--I don't know where Cheyenne is available to watch outside the US, but there are at least clips posted on YouTube.

2. Title: Spare Me Relationships: Lionel Fusco/John Reese Characters: Lionel Fusco, John Reese, Lee Fusco, Harold Finch, Bear, Root, Original Characters Rating: (use AO3 system) T (for a kiss and Fusco's bad language) Summary: (<100 words) "I don't need a genius to tell me that you're lonely." Fusco invites John to join the NYPD bowling league to give John something normal and fun to do for once. But soon Fusco realizes that John isn't the only one who's lonely. Warnings: (use AO3 system) None Art Wishlist: (what media you're open to, hoping for, any ideas) Anything is fine by me! I've never had someone make art for a story of mine, so I'm easy to please! 

3. Title: Kingfishers

Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese/Grace Hendricks

Rating: M at the moment, maaaybe E by the time I’m done

Summary:

One morning, a handsome stranger walks up to Grace Hendricks in a park and introduces himself. His name is John, and he likes her paintings.

That afternoon, Grace meets a wealthy insurance executive who offers her a sizable art commission. He’s intelligent, interesting, and easy to talk to. His name is Harold.

(A different-first-meeting story, in which Harold ignored the Machine’s attempts to set him up with Grace in 2006, only to receive her number in 2012 after he and John have been working together for over a year.)

Warnings: inexplicit references to child abuse and alcoholism

Art Wishlist: Grace’s paintings and sketches, and her feelings about the art and artists she admires, are pretty important to the story. There are passages where I describe pictures and paintings she’s created, or beautiful objects of various kinds that she and Harold both admire. An illustration of any of that stuff would be amazing, or maybe a kind of Pre-Raphaelite picture of the characters. Also, kingfishers are kind of thematically/symbolically important, and very beautiful, and would make lovely art.

Two requests: please don’t make art of Harold and John that excludes Grace, and please no NSFW art.

4. [Fic previously claimed! Should not have been here! Apologies!]

5. Title: More Than Words Relationships: John Reese/Harold Finch/Grace Hendricks Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch, Grace Hendricks Rating: General Audiences Summary: John and Harold have a lot in common. They've loved. They've lost. They've done their best to help people. And now they have a matching pair of soulmarks- tattoos bearing the first words your soulmate says to you. The marks aren't what bring John and Harold together. But they might end up tearing the two of them apart. Warnings: Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings (this fic should be tagged for some of John's suicidal ideation pre-season 1 and in the fic) Art Wishlist: Looking for visual media/graphic design. Since this is a soulmate/soulmark AU, I would be very happy if someone could design the tattoos I have in mind, in their medium of choice. I am willing to collaborate, or just see what they come up with. But while that is my ideal art pairing, I am open to anything!

6. Title: Untitled Relationships: Harold/John Characters: Harold, John, Bear, Shaw, Fusco, Carter, OCs, *possibly* an appearance by Root Rating: Teen & Up Summary: When a number goes wrong and Harold is stabbed, his entire life is thrown into disarray. Seriously injured, he's left with no choice but to rely on someone else as he recovers. He chooses John (or, rather, John chooses himself) and invites John into his home and his very private life as he slowly heals from the trauma and the wounds.

What happens when he realizes he wants John to stay close? Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply (additional warning for panic attacks and memories of a violent attack) Art Wishlist: I'd especially love illustrations (traditional or digital), but I'm game for anything.

7. Title: Bonds Not Broken - Maybe??? Relationships: John Reese/Harold Finch Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch, Sameen Shaw, OCs, Elias, Heralds of Valdemar characters, Rolan, Weaponmaster Hersch, King Jesse, Bear the dog, a cast of thousands Rating: Adult M/M Summary: An AU Person of Interest/Heralds of Valdemar crossover. John is not only a Herald, but the King's Own. The story begins with the death of the king, and this is John's journey to find his place in Valdemar. Warnings: Author Chooses None Art Wishlist: I like most styles of fanart except chibi. I love a good photo manip but really anything! If the artist is interested, I have an Instagram where I put pictures that helped me write this monster. The instagram is blackchaps with a Hawkeye icon, easy to find.

8. Title: Untitled (for now) Relationships: Harold Finch/Lionel Fusco, Lionel Fusco & Sameen Shaw, Harold Finch & Sameen Shaw Characters: Harold Finch, Lionel Fusco, Sameen Shaw, Bear, Leon Tao Rating: E Summary: One year after the death of Samaritan, Harold Finch returns to New York City and reunites with his old friends. Sameen Shaw and Lionel Fusco, who have believed him to be dead for the past 12 months, are not exactly eager to trust him again. As Harold handles mysterious cases on the outside of their new organization, he works to repair his relationships with both. Sameen, who doubts his commitment, will be hard to convince. Lionel, who bears deep emotional scars, will be impossible. Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug/alcohol use Art Wishlist: I’m super flexible re: medium. I’m very into the idea of space-centric or detail-centric art, as opposed to character-centric art, if that makes sense. Re: space-centric, a lot of the fic is about loneliness and puts the characters in empty, uncomfortable, or sad rooms and the vibe is very like these Edward Hopper paintings, I think. Alternatively, it’s Finch POV and he’s doing a lot of focusing on tiiiiiiny details and significant objects, and I’d love some fancypants studies or edits of those.

9. Title: Degrees of Separation Relationships: Gen (but the whole point of the story is that they’ve all been separated, so there are no relationships in action) Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch, Sameen Shaw, Root, Lionel Fusco, Bear Rating: Teen and Up (due to a limited use of common profanity) Summary: The lives of the members of Team Machine in their new identities during the first months of Samaritan’s full operation, from the separation of the team at the end of “Deus Ex Machina” through the events that take place in “Panopticon.” Warnings: Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings Art Wishlist: I am open to any medium.  It would be great if the art focused on the separation that the characters are experiencing.

10. Title: If I Could Tell Him Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese; Harold Finch & Root; minor Root/Sameen Shaw; past Harold Finch/Nathan Ingram Characters: Harold Finch, John Reese, Root, Nathan Ingram (mentioned) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Summary: Harold manages to tap on the fourth wall of 4x17 “Karma” and has some thoughts about the mirroring of himself with the victim counselor vigilante Shane Edwards. He and John go on their walk with Bear, but Harold keeps what he’s feeling to himself. Years later, after all of Team Machine survives the defeat of Samaritan, Harold comes across Edwards and realizes he never talked with John about all of the emotions that number still fosters, specifically regarding Nathan. Root gives him some advice, and they all work on a happiness that encompasses the past, present, and future. Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Art Wishlist: I’m open to anything, from digital art to fanmixes and anything else, really. This is a rinch fic but it’s also basically a Harold character study (entirely from his POV and a lot of internal narrative) so any art could probably focus on him.

11. 

Title: The Mysterious Human Heart in New York Relationships: Jessica/John, Harold and Jessica, Harold and John Characters: Jessica, John, Harold, Fusco Rating: Teen Summary: Agent Jessica Reese has managed to claw her way back from Ordos after being betrayed by her partner and the CIA. Gutshot and purposeless, she spends her days haunting the hospital in New Rochelle, watching her ex, John. John has his happily ever after: got his nursing degree, married a great guy, lives in a beautiful house. Jess is glad. He should be happy with Peter.

When she bumps into the mysterious Harold Finch, who knows too much about everyone, he tells her the unpleasant truth about John's dream marriage. Jess must face up to the fact that John needs her help to find safety and happiness. Warnings: Show level violence, some medical detail as John is a nurse. Art Wishlist: I am open to any medium except audio.  

12. Title: To my God, I sacrifice Relationships: John Reese & Root, John Reese/ Kara Stanton Characters: John Reese, Root, Sameen Shaw, Hersh, Kara Stanton, Harold Finch (mentioned) Rating: Mature Summary: Former soldier and CIA agent John Reese has condemned himself to a slow death after being burned by the agency. After witnessing a strange woman answering a forgotten payphone, he suddenly finds himself entangled in a web of secrets, zealotry and violence. Warnings: Canon typical violence, canon typical torture, mentions of suicide and rape, abusive/unbalanced dynamics, alcoholism Art Wishlist: I don't have any particular requests in regards to the art, I'm curious about what will the artist choose to interpret. If I had to choose, a scene illustration or a cover would be very cool :)

If you’d like to make art for any of these fics, the sign-ups for artists are here: 

https://poi-fanworks.dreamwidth.org/27461.html

And the claim post is here: 

https://poi-fanworks.dreamwidth.org/31548.html

[may8344]

The Journey of a Forgotten Soldier (Levi x OC)

This is a story I’m in the process of posting on both AO3 and Wattpad, though I decided to add it to Tumblr as well. However, since I’ll be behind on Tumblr comparing to AO3 and Wattpad, this may remain behind or I might bulk post.

Relationships:

Alana Frey (OC)Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Original Female Character(s)Levi Ackerman/Alana FreyFurlan Church/Original Character(s)Furlan Church/Alana Frey

Characters: 

Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)Furlan ChurchIsabel MagnoliaAlana Frey (OC) - CharacterErwin SmithHange ZoëPetra RalGunther SchultzEld JinnOluo BozadoKeith ShadisSpecial Operations Squad | Squad Levi

Additional Tags: 

Graphic Description of CorpsesBlood and InjuryViolenceMurder

Summary: 

Alana Frey, a girl born in the Underground City, longed to see the true sunlight every morning that she would wake up. Alongside her comrades: Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia, and Levi, Alana’s life as a thug continued with no way around it; until the sudden day she and her companions were offered the deal of a lifetime.

“Once you complete this job, not only will you be generously compensated for your work,

but you will also earn the right to live above ground.”

Word Count: 2.7k 

---

Chapter 1: The Underground City

Underneath the sturdy inner wall—Wall Sina—, a failed and unfinished repopulation project existed full of starving, violent human beings consumed by their wish to leave for the surface. Dilapidated, brick buildings dotted the entire area with only dull torches scattered scantily throughout the city for light. In some areas, there would stand a large, stone pillar to hold the top of the Underground City from collapsing. No light was visible in the sky—at least, not to the average citizen. No sun, no stars, no moon. No rain, snow, or wind. The only sound filling the air would be chatter or a citizen playing the guitar; sometimes even screaming from a few, random fights.

For those who lived in the shadow of the capital city encased by Wall Sina, it was expected they were to die before ever seeing the light above ground.

In one of the back alleyway houses, with an L-shaped staircase leading up to the front door, the noise of paper and voices broke the silence. Inside, four men waited silently as they watched their money being counted by their dealer. Faded green dollars slid against each other as strong, calloused hands pulled them apart. Each little piece of paper held an amount of currency that was wanted by everyone here.

“Here. Sorry I kept you waiting.” A tall man with messy blond hair, called to his four friends sitting on the torn couch in the house. He wore a blue colored vest on top of a white baggy shirt and greenish brown pants held up by a simple belt. After counting the pieces of paper carefully with his sharp baby-blue eyes, he hastily passed it out. “This is for the last job, and the one before.”

One of the younger men took the money with a toothy grin. It was unsurprising that he would take it with pride on his face. Two others, who had also sat on the couch, were no less excited to be paid. After all, they had done their business. The only one not smiling was a brunette on the cushioned chair, seated away from the excited trio. However, he was not exempt from his payment.

“Here.” The man handing out the money gave the unsure brunette his earnings, taking him off guard.

“Oh, thank-” he paused. In his grip, behind the cash he knew he had earned, was more money tied together discreetly. It was easy to tell that this was planned out by the soft-smiling blond. Looking up, the brunette opened his mouth to question the man, but was once again cut off.

“Now, don’t go spending it all at once, you hear? People will get suspicious.” With a hand on his hip, the dealer grinned. He seemed to ignore the fact that he had secretly given more to one than the others.

“We know! Let’s go.”

“Sure.”

As the four recipients began to walk out of the building, the brunette paused for a moment, debating on whether to turn around and question the blond man. However, he decided against it and kept walking forward, closing the wooden door behind him.

The blond, despite knowing his friend’s hesitation, sighed as he turned to the two other occupants of the house.

In the far corner of the room, where the kitchen table had sat, a raven haired man was seated, silently cleaning off his pocket knife. His black bangs, that hung over a recently shaved undercut, covered most of his silver eyes, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He wore similar clothing to the blond, though his vest was more of a brown color.

To the right was a recently cleaned kitchen counter with an integrated sink. Sitting on top of the counter top was a female with her side braid laying on her chest. Her legs were crossed, and in her hand was an apple that she was happily chewing on. Unlike her male roommates, she wore a simple, blue, long sleeved shirt with laces pulling the top near her chest together. Her pants were loose, and brown, and were just shy of her ankle. The girl’s diamond blue eyes watched the men around her with amusement.

“Work’s been a helluva lot easier since we got our hands on these ODM Gears. Now we can pay our guys more.” The talkative blond sat on the couch, relieved that the guests had finally left. As long as his roommates were his only company, he was fine.

The ravenette, who was scanning his blade for any dirt, without glancing the blond’s way, in a low, rough, ever-displeased voice asked. “Seems to me one of them got a little too much. Any reason why?” Although he wasn’t witnessing the quartet receiving money, the action had not been unexcused by the observant man.

The blond with blue eyes had a soft smile on his face, as he averted his eyes to the ground. In a quiet tone, he responded. “His…,” he paused, “You’ve probably noticed that Jan’s leg has been getting worse. Meds are pretty expensive. They’ve gone up recently too.” Suddenly, his voice laced with malice, “Those scumbag shysters…”

That’s when the female spoke up, mouth full of her apple, and her black hair bouncing from the movement of her chest. Her muffled voice filled the room. “Did you hear the toll on the stairways went up? At this rate, paupers like us will never see daylight.”

Along the walls of the Underground, there were multiple staircases leading to the surface. However, the pay to climb these stairs were more than any average person would have. Some of the stuck up men decided to claim the stairways for themselves, setting the fees as they see fit. Even if the money was paid in full, if one didn’t have the correct papers allowing them through, the higher-ups would have no issue sending paupers back down. None of them knew the horrors of living in the cramped, dark city full of malnourished humans fighting to survive.

“Yeah,” the ravenette hummed before turning to his female companion. “Didn’t I tell you to get your filthy ass off of the counter?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled and hopped off of the stone counter, though she still leaned against it. “Whatever you say, captain.”

He scoffed in response and focused his attention back to annihilating the specks of dirt on his trusted blade.

The tall blond continued her train of thought, “Apparently, the lack of sunlight is the reason all those guys got messed-up legs. It’s not like you can do anything about it.”

“Your mother was like that too. I guess that’s why.” The clean-freak decided that his knife was not to his liking, and began scrubbing harder on it as he spoke. Though his words were gentle, his face told another story. It was as if his eyebrows were forever furrowed and his gray eyes slanted. “Nevertheless, you still gave him too much.”

“It was his severance pay.”

That caught the attention of the two raven haired roommates.

Continuing, the blond spoke with dejection, “He’s done for. At the very least, he can find himself a good hospital.”

“Is that so?” The harsh, silver-eyed glare had not gone unnoticed by either of the people in the room, but they chose to ignore it.

“How much more would we need… to live up there?”

Sadness had engulfed the trio as their gazes fell upon the wooden floor. It didn’t take a genius to see how crude their living environment was, even if it was cleaned well. No matter what they did, it was clear that nothing would change.

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard on the other side of the wooden front door. Jolting up, the three readied themselves with blades. It was nothing new for strangers to ram into their home and try to rob them of everything they had. As the trio made their way to the door, they were interrupted by another loud crash. It was as if their assailant was trying to break their door in.

With only a nod, each person readied themselves to see their surprise guest. The blond took his spot at the door, knife in hand, ready to throw it open. The shorter, dark haired boy stood directly in front of the door, not even bothering to hide his handheld weapon by his side. The girl had positioned herself between the boys, diagonal to the entryway. While she was strong enough to hold her own, she knew the dangers of having a man take control of her in this society. After another silent look and nod, the blond yanked open the wooden door.

As he did so, a redhead girl with short, twin ponytails crashed onto the floor. Her hands were drawn to her chest as if she cradled something in them, even as she was propped up on her knees and shoulders. Her hair was ruffled and she wore an older shirt and loose pants.

Wincing with pain, a mumbled ‘ow’ left the newfound girl’s lips. She coughed as if she ran a grand distance after getting bruised up.

“Oh, it’s just a kid.” The shaggy, blond haired man eased up and put his hand on his side. “You gave us a real fright.”

Grumbling, the redhead on the floor disagreed, “I’m not a kid.” With more pride and anger in her voice, she glared up towards the shorter, raven haired male. Repeating her words, she was on the verge of yelling, “I’m not… a kid!”

“Is that so? So that means I can kick you out and it won’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, right?” The shorter replied, obviously annoyed. “I’ll forgive you for dirtying the floor. Now piss off.”

“What’s the matter? Can’t move?” The blond commented as he watched the girl with caution.

“I can! Don’t underestimate me!” Slowly lifting one arm away from her abdomen, she tried prying herself off of the floor.

The ravenette made her way to the fallen girl and tried to move her into a sitting position. Seeing the injured girl up close struck a memory to the blue eyed roommate. "Hold on, you're-." Suddenly, she paused and seemed to be listening closely for something. Quickly, the quiet girl turned to the shorter male. He seemed to be the leader of the group. Hissing under her breath, she muttered, “Levi, there are more people.”

And she was correct. Further away, past the door, angry voices filled the air. They quickened their stomping pace towards the building that the four were sitting in. 

“Over here!”Recognizing the angry voices, the twin tailed girl hurried her way into a sitting position, but fell over against the door. Though she sat up straight, it was plain to see that the girl was in pain. The ravenette stayed kneeled at her right side.

The raven-haired man, Levi, clicked his tongue in anger. “Damn. You were being chased, weren’t you?”

“What should we do?”

As the pursuers made their way through the small alleyways built in between the houses, they grumbled trying to find the girl. Turning the corner, they saw the stairs leading towards the front door of the trio’s home. Outside of the open door, Levi and the blond stood protectively, seeming to observe.

“That little brat…” One of the men spoke up, annoyance evident. He was larger with shortly shaved, brown hair. Two of his companions followed behind. “Can’t believe she bit me that hard.” Glancing at the bite marks on the skin below his thumb, more and more anger flowed in him. “Once we catch her, lemme have a little fun with her.”

“What fun can you have with a brat like that?” His ally questioned.

With only a deep chuckle in return, the brunette gazed up towards the two men standing at the door above the stairway. “Huh? Hey! A dirty little urchin came this way, right?”

“They’re ten a penny here, pal,” the blond laughed, content to anger the larger man even more. The way he crossed his arms had shown that he was obviously looking down at their attackers.

“Huh?” Just as the blond wanted, anger flooded through his veins as he started menacingly climbing the staircase with the two following behind. “You shitheads from around here?” Once he reached the middle ground between the two sets of stairs, his eyebrows lifted up at the sight of the girl leaning against the door between the men. “Hey. Found her. Thought so. You friends with her?”

“Nope.”

“Hand her over, then. Try protecting her and you’re in for a world of hurt.”

One of his allies, with a bowl cut, spoke up next, “After all, she tried to go up the 11th Stairway without paying.”

Those words had startled the three protecting the wounded girl. The blue eyed girl’s head whipped around as she stared daggers at the red head as she hissed. “You what!?”

“You know the one, right? The 11th is in Government Minister Lobov’s jurisdiction. We can’t let that slide, not even for a kid. Of course, you will be charged for harboring her too.”

Only silence filled the air until an angered companion yelled out, “If you understand, then hand her over!”

The four remained quiet, but the black haired girl had slowly moved in a protective stance of the red-head.

“Fine. Move aside!” The large man made his way up the stairs, his goal right in sight. While walking up between the standing men, he placed his large hand on the shoulder of Levi.

That was his mistake.

“Wait-” the worried ravenette was cut off by the sudden slice of a blade cutting through the air. In less than three seconds, the large man held his bleeding hand close to his chest in pain. Levi held his recently clean pocket knife—now painted with blood from the slice—up in the air. Without uttering a word, a punch was launched on the already wounded man.

The raven haired girl closed her eyes and tilted her head away from the sight. The blond stared at the ground, but showed no compassion for the beaten man. The redhead, however, could only stare in disbelief.

Punch after punch was thrown. Once he felt he had done enough, Levi yanked up the pursuer by the collar of his shirt and glared directly in the shaking man’s eyes. With a low, growling voice, he threatened, “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands. You’ll make my clothes dirty.” With one more punch to the nose, Levi shoved the brute back to his companions, who barely caught the bloodied man.“

Oh my… You can’t just stroll in here. We take hygiene very seriously here. Come back after you’ve washed your hands.” The tall blond remarked boldy, signature hand on his side.

Levi was quick to begin wiping down his bloodied knife, as if he hadn't just cut a man. Now, it was if he had no care in the world for them.

“These guys mean business. Let’s get outta here!” And with that, they quickly staggered away from the staircase and from their small corner of the Underground city.

“Hey, how long are you going to cling on to that for? It’s going to die.” Levi stated bluntly, looking at what the redhead had brought in and held to her stomach.

Surprised that she was being acknowledged, the emerald eyed girl quickly looked down at her lap. “Oh! I thought that’d warm it up.” Slowly, she revealed a small bird that was nested. It glanced around confused, seemingly unable to fly away.

The ravenette girl next to her asked, “Where’d you get that bird?”

“It was flying about. Probably came in via the sewers.” she innocently smiled, “So I thought I’d let it free above ground.”

It was the blond’s turn to be shocked. “You tried to go up the stairway for that?”

Slowly stroking the bird with a soft smile, she responded. “This little guy probably prefers soaring the skies instead of wandering the Underground City.”

“That’s fine and dandy, but this bird’s wing is hurt.” The taller blond crouched down to the other side and looked at the girl with almost sadness.

“Huh!? For real?”

---

(A/N) Hello, readers! This is one of my first times creating a work such as this. While my writing may be a little rough and nondescript, I’m hoping to grow as a writer as I continue. I hope you enjoy the story and progress alongside me.

Thank you to Brianna for helping me edit.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 17: The Psychic

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The group's patience is rewarded when Serafine finally arrives in Paris. But with her comes the reality that it's time to buckle down and do what they came here to do. Seeing as none of her previous experiences with psychics have been even remotely good, Nadya can't shake her doubts.

note: from this chapter and going forward this series will contain Adrian x Serafine content/mentions

[READ IT ON AO3]

It’s the longest week of Nadya’s life. A week of unknowns and uncertainties that somehow both keep her exhausted and refuse to let her sleep for fear they would go ignored. Like there’s any chance of that happening.

The suckiest part is there’s no escaping the worry. She doesn’t stray too far from the block the apartment building is on for fear of losing her way, or worse — losing her life.But it’s not like their apartment was the most spacious thing in the world. Only Lily and Nadya are used to living with each other. They aren’t used to living with two grown men.

They scour newspaper stands, memorize the channel numbers for every news station and use Adrian when translations are necessary. Digging almost obsessively for any information on New York and their loved ones. After all, you’d think a giant pitfall in the middle of Central Park would get even one 24-hour news cycle of international attention.

You’d think.

“The police have the entire park sectioned off,” Adrian summarizes; eyes flying over the newsprint of that day’s issue, “looks like they’re trying to write the event off as a scaled-down natural event. Hartfield’s sent out their geology department but I’m guessing that’s for the newspapers rather than to do actual good. Manhattan isn’t exactly known for it’s sprawling underground caverns.”

They stop looking at the papers after that. Or — they stop asking Adrian to expose himself to all of the things he feels he walked out on. He’s got enough on his plate.

And isn’t that an understatement. Yes; Adrian’s worries about being unable to reach Serafine are definitely everyone else’s problem too. But every time he seems to be getting a little too heated or intense Nadya reminds herself of their first night here and the talk they had. He may not admit it aloud but much of his worry for her is personal.

The side effect is as unanticipated as it is worrisome. Adrian’s a vibrant personality; never one to boast his success but always the center of attention because he’s just that interesting. So to see such an extroverted person retreat into themselves as harsh as he does has everyone on edge. He’s quieter at meals and outright avoids the rest of them in the apartment’s lone bedroom most afternoons.

When Nadya tries confronting him about it (she starts off subtle, but screw subtle they’re all in a bad way right now so if he’s going to be miserable he can at least be miserable with the rest of them) he at least does her the courtesy of not pretending to be oblivious about it.

“I’m just worried, that’s all,” he insists; pushy enough that it’s clear he’s trying to convince himself of it too, “about Serafine, and everyone back home too.”

“You think you’re the only one?”

“No, of course not. I —”

“Okay, so stop acting like it. We can’t do this without you.” I can’t do this without you, but she doesn’t need to say it for Adrian to know.

His excuses are always the same; so are the apologies that inevitably follow. Finally Nadya just forces herself to accept that if Adrian won’t confide in her there’s not much she can do about it. Not that acceptance keeps it from hurting her deeply.

The only consolation the universe decides to offer her is a few (worry-addled) days wandering around a snowy Paris at night with her best friend. It gets them out of the claustrophobic confines of the apartment though, so she’ll take it.

Still rosy-cheeked and shivering from their metro ride, Nadya fumbles to Lily’s delight far too long before she manages to get the key into the lock and her butt into the apartment.

“Karma is real you know,” though her huffs of discontent are made less malicious by the way her scarf muffles her words and makes her glasses fog up to the point of blindness, “and it comes after people who watch their friends suffer.”

Lily laughs in the face of karma. “Oh you poor baby, all cold from your visit to the top of the Eiffel Tower. My heart goes out to you.”

“It should!”

“It does!”

“Good!”

They laugh in unison. When Nadya is finished shedding her many wintry layers she grabs for the takeout bag at her feet. “Looks like Jax is still out,” she comments, and doesn’t miss the indescribable look of continued confusion that gets thrown her way. Yeah, she didn’t understand it either at first, but turns out he’s never been out of the country before and likes walking the streets alone.

A woman’s rich and chiming laughter stops both of them in their tracks. Nadya knows full well it’s impossible for her key to have opened any other door in the building yet still she does a quick double-check to make sure they are indeed in the right apartment. Jax’s sword is where he left it on the coffee table, and Adrian’s suit is still hanging over the bedroom door; so it’s definitely their place.

And Adrian doesn’t laugh like that.

“Hold on,” comes Adrian’s voice from the kitchen, “I think I heard the door.”

The laughing woman’s voice is richly accented when she replies. “If your hearing has gotten so terrible, mon chéri, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

Lily wiggles her eyebrows suggestively before calling out; “If you need a minute or ten, we can circle the block!”

Nadya claps her hand over her mouth to stifle her snort, and the fact she can hear Adrian’s rolling eyes when he talks doesn’t help in the least.

“Ha ha, very funny Lily. Come on in — there’s someone here I want you to meet.”

The woman sitting very close to Adrian at the small kitchen table needs no introduction but Adrian gives one anyway. “Nadya, Lily; this is Serafine Dupont.” And she’s a startling beauty to be sure; hair falling in bushy and effortless curls around features that manage to look flawless even under the harsh yellow light overhead. But Nadya can’t look away from Adrian from the moment she sees him.

Adrian who is smiling; really genuinely smiling, for the first time in a long time. She’d almost forgotten what it looked like, but the sight of it is like an old friend and gives her an immense relief. Not just for his sake either — because just maybe something is finally going right for them.

The girls are barely one foot through the doorway when Serafine descends upon them. Feather-light fingertips brushing through the wool of Nadya’s sweater with gentle kisses gifted to her cheeks. She smells of rose perfume and spring morning dew, and carries herself tall and proud in a way that is so familiar it makes Nadya’s heart ache.

Lily returns the kisses enthusiastically. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we got here,” she admits to Serafine’s delight.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.” The woman smiles sweetly at the both of them before taking up her seat again. “Adrian’s been talking the both of you up for hours. I told him that I could not remember the last time he spoke so highly of anyone!”

“Well we are admittedly awesome.”

“And modest, too, I see.”

Her oh-so-courteous vampire friends wait until Nadya’s settled in with her food unpacked to get down to business. There are only two chairs for the table so Lily joins her up on the counters; their legs dangling and colliding on lazy occasion.

“So, Serafine,” and there’s a depth to her warm brown eyes that Nadya recognizes; they may not have discussed it before but she has no trouble believing that Serafine is much older than her current companions, “no offense — but you’re a hard woman to track down.”

At least she seems genuinely apologetic. “Ah, oui. I’ve spent the better part of the evening giving Adrian my apologies but I should offer them to you as well.”

“She’s been in hiding.” Adrian comments, and with no small amount of sympathy.

Nadya and Lily exchange surprised looks. “Are you okay?”

Serafine nods with a hum. “I am alive, and that is more than can be said for those who fell victim to the Order.”

The Order. Nadya’s heard that name before — though never with her own ears. She may not remember all of her visions but they’ve come up too frequently for her to fully forget. With that name comes the chill of fear and the weight of loss. Serafine radiates it and so much more.

“The Order of the Dawn, you mean.”

Which makes Serafine regard her with surprise. “You know of them?” she asks, and because she’s working really hard on this whole being-honest thing Nadya just shrugs in a noncommittal answer.

Lily raises her hand. “And for those of us who skipped Vampire History 1-0-1?”

“The Order of the Dawn is the oldest enemy to our kind. Legend says they have been around since the time of the First Vampire Herself, and with the amount of wealth and influence they have gathered the world over… I would believe it. They are the worst of humanity. Radicals who exist solely to exterminate us. By their teachings, from the moment we are Turned we cease to be people. They paint us as savages; animals controlled by our need for blood and nothing more.”

“Sounds a bit like —”

“Ferals?” Adrian nods grimly. “They’ve been used as a tactic for the Order’s indoctrination for decades. But they don’t see the difference between a Feral or the likes of you and I. To them it’s all the same.”

Indoctrination, he says. And judging by the pain that flashes across Serafine’s face when he isn’t looking it’s not a word chosen for melodrama. When she tries her hardest to recall what few memories she can that even so much as whisper the Order in her ear, it’s not an unfounded fear the older vampires share.

However there’s one thing Nadya doesn’t fully understand.

“If they’re so powerful and connected, why haven’t you mentioned them before?” Frankly it would have been nice to know of yet another reason to look over her shoulder.

“Because I didn’t see any reason to scare you over something that you wouldn’t have to deal with. Or… so I’d hoped.”

Serafine offers Nadya a sympathetic smile; something a hair’s breadth from pitying. “Don’t think too little of him for it, petit. America has the luxury of letting the likes of the Order fade into history. They fought hard enough for the right to do so, after all.”

Her hand falls over Adrian’s with a feather-light touch; offering a look with it that Nadya only sees half of but that’s more than enough to know the feelings behind it. The tension melts from his shoulders in a steady wave.

“There was a secret war in the middle of the 19th century; the War of the Dawn. A decade-long campaign to wipe every vampire from the face of North America; and the Order’s last and bloodiest attempt at killing Gaius and damaging our entire species beyond repair. They all but abandoned Western Europe and poured every resource into the fight. Unfortunately we were forced to do the same… and because of it they very nearly succeeded.”

He’s had Lily’s interest since ‘secret war’ but everything after is meant to frighten them. It succeeds — rightfully so.

It wouldn’t hurt for him to stop there but Adrian continues almost like he’s duty-bound to finish the story for the warning it is. “We won because we were connected to the human world in a symbiosis. Gaius spent years weaving his court into the very fabric of American history and it paid off when the time came. Politics, industry, big business — when we formed the Council we didn’t create these connections, we merely stepped in to fill the void our coup left behind.”

She gets it now. “You have more power than the Order does.”

“And so they can’t touch us. Not without losing for a second—and final—time.”

For all of the terrible things Gaius is and will always be, he can play the long game well. Nearly every vision he showed up in left Nadya confused as to how such a terrible tyrant could inspire such loyalty. Now… it makes a little bit more sense.

Not that it makes him any less of a villain.

“But it is not my enemies that bring you so far from home, Adrian.”

If Serafine was hoping to cut even the smallest hole in the tension between them, sucks to be her. She takes the defeat with grace though. “I relish this chance to reconnect… though I have a sense our night would be better spent with why you are here, in Paris with her dangers, at all.”

His laugh is as dry as it is fake. “Where to start…”

There’ve been enough psychic vampires probing around in Nadya’s head lately that she knows the look their new friend gives her right away. Before she can even open her mouth Nadya feels the itch of Serafine’s psychic influence right at the base of her skull.

“The beginning should suffice.”

While Nadya may not have picked up on much of the French language in their short time here, she has little trouble imagining the long string of words that roll off of Serafine’s tongue are the pretty woman’s equivalent of swearing like a sailor. Judging by the way Adrian raises his eyebrows and suddenly finds the bottom of his wine glass the most fascinating thing in the room… she should have bet money on it.

“You okay there?” Lily asks, and passes what’s left of the bottle wordlessly back to the table. As vampires, they may not be able to get drunk like humans could but Nadya’s coming to realize her favorite thing about the French is handling stressful conversations with an alcoholic buffer.

Serafine looks between the girls in a strange emotion possibly named ‘wild sadness,�� which is valid honestly.

“Non, Lily, I am not. But I cannot fathom how minuscule my emotions must be compared to your own. And you, Nadya,” who tries her best not to cringe under the emotions that make her voice thick and accent thicker, “to have endured what you have, so young and in the prime of your life. I would not wish such a fate on my worst enemy.”

“Yeah well…” she has no idea what to say to that; so she drinks until something comes to mind, “I would. If only to show him what it feels like.”

Serafine gives a fitful nod. “But it doesn’t do any good to sit here and ruminate on the tragic things which have already passed. Whatever is in my power is yours.”

“Well that’s the thing — I wasn’t sure if it was in your power.” She looks offended that Adrian would even think of doubting her. He doubles-back; tries again.

“You’re the strongest psychic Kamilah and I know, Serafine. But I’ll admit I don’t know much about the skill. Is it even possible to undo the damage that’s been done?”

Nadya doesn’t disagree that damage is right but it still hurts to hear it. He glances at her quickly and utterly remorseful. “I mean —”

“I know what you meant. Let it go.”

Serafine shrugs. “Let me see what I’m working with first. Nadya, darling, if you would?” She gestures and Nadya slips from her stool without argument, is glad for the fact that Serafine stays seated only because she knows the woman would tower over her. She cups Nadya’s face in her cool palms; thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.

Isadora had touched at her mind subtle and with caution. By comparison Jameson had all but swung a hatchet at her brain; chipped away at her until he found what he needed and that was that. And Serafine, too, is different in her own way. But it’s more than the simple differences between individuals.

There’s a power in Serafine’s touch. Impossible for her to ignore. A compulsion of the will that drags her eyelids closed and brings her deep within and along for the ride.

Images, emotions, thoughts. Nadya sees them coming from a great distance but doesn’t have time to brace herself before they hit her like a truck.

Grasping for Lily’s hand on the plane—Kamilah’s lips on her forehead tears welling in her eyes emotion choking her throat—pleasedon’tmakemeleaveyou—I’mrighthereI’vegotyou—fear and worry and the brief flicker of joy—Taylor’s inconsistent eyes Kathy’s rich violet hair—all those months of lying begging for the end in those moments just before succumbing to sleep and the horrible things that alwaysinevitablycome…

And then there’s Gaius. Gaius whispering in her ear feeling Nadya’s heart pounding in her chest Vega two steps behind don’tlethimcatchyou! Gaius entering the dining room with silent fanfare — the glamour fading to reveal the rotting corpse beneath — his shoes taptaptap echoing in the Chamber the blood of the First staining his teeth before he rises up upup and into the oblivion of the night—

Serafine tries to pull back her psychic reach — but something, certainly not Nadya, holds her down. Keeps her still and there and demands of her to watch. As I have watched, as I have seen.

Nadya knows so very little but she knows without a shadow of a doubt the images that follow are memories, too. Serafine’s memories. Surprised to be pulled from some abyss, out of order.

The smell of spice and ocean sea-salt freshly sanded wood on beaches sand still warm with the sun’s heat sinking between her bare toes — electronica pounding through modern speakers club lights shining down on her skin slick with sweat her head thrown back in laughter — Adrian’s lips on her neck on her breasts lilted language on her tongue slow down darling we have a long day ahead of us fingers intertwining skin burning where the barest sliver of sunlight catches on their shared bed—

Paris bright and both new and old history not yet written in cobbled streets an empty void in the skyline where the Eiffel Tower will be and the smell of burning flesh and bone wafting up from deep within the earth tears and ash smeared over her skin—Youwillseejusticeatthehandsofyourenemies—and a burning hatred that ignited the flame.

Nadya tastes something unfamiliar and metallic on the tip of her tongue. Blood, her mind tells her — though her body struggles to accept it as more than just another memory.

She opens her eyes just as the red slips from Serafine’s own gaze. Shame and confusion burn hot in her cheeks and she barely registers the combined cries of “Nadya!” from both of her friends before she’s emptying the meager contents of her stomach in the kitchen sink.

Nadya reaches with a shaking hand to push her hair out of her face. Lily beats her to it; holds her through every shaking heaving breath without a word.

The two glasses of water she all but inhales help soothe the sting of the cut inside her cheek. Still, Nadya keeps the flat of her tongue against it out of habit. And though she’d like nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep off the vertigo a nd nausea still churning in her belly Nadya knows she can’t. Sits back on the counter like a good little Bloodkeeper while Lily scrubs the sink before the smell can linger.

“Je suis tellement désolé, Nadya,” apologizes Serafine, to which Nadya only nods to reply. Words are a little bit beyond her right now if that’s alright with them. “I had no idea even a simple exchange would be so… violent.”

Which is a word for it. Though Nadya would almost prefer they find something more dramatic for the future.

Adrian looks between them in a silent war with himself. Torn between apologizing to Nadya and asking Serafine the inevitable. What had she seen?

“Do you truly wish to stay your current course?”

She appreciates Serafine asking; it’s a consideration she hasn’t gotten much of so far. Unfortunately it doesn’t change anything.

“You—gh,” the three vampires wait patiently while she swallows and regains her words, “you saw what happened. You saw what Gaius became. This is the only way.”

Lily throws an arm around Nadya’s shoulders. “Unless you magically happen to have a God-killing stake you can pull outta your back end.”

Serafine’s laughter is more polite than amused. “Would it spare you further pain, I would. But alas. And I would not ask you to try again so soon. Too much has already been forced upon you.”

“So you’re saying I’m damaged beyond repair.”

“Non, I am not. Psychic intrusion is rarely so simple, and cannot be compared to the likes of physical injuries. Judging by what you have told me and the little I was able to see… most—if not all—of your previous encounters within the mind were done without consent?”

Nadya nods slowly; the heartbreak is plain on Serafine’s face. “Then it is of no surprise that you have put barriers in place; even unconsciously. It will take time to bring down those walls safely and without risking further harm to you both mentally and physically.”

“How much time?” asks Adrian.

“I could not say. Up until tonight I too thought the Bloodkeeper only a myth. Even if there were a clear path to recovery, that alone will undoubtedly bring complications.”

He looks down and away. But he doesn’t have to say it — and they don’t need to be psychic to know what he’s thinking.

They don’t have time. The people they love don’t have time.

Nadya inhales shakily. “How big is the risk if we just wing it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Humor me.”

And the distinct lack of humor in her voice makes all three vampires uncomfortable. If she could, Nadya would laugh. They aren’t the ones with anything to be worried about. Serafine glances at Adrian, almost like she hopes he’ll interrupt before the silence becomes a deliberate refusal to answer.

Frankly she’s getting really tired of people making decisions for her. “Adrian didn’t ask you, I did.” She snaps her fingers. “It’s my head and my risk.”

“Nadi’…”

She shoulders Lily away. “No, no ‘Nadi,’ just tell me. If you dig back in for the memory we need right now, how big is the risk?”

There’s no doubt in Nadya’s already-fractured mind that Serafine won’t spare her from the truth. She’s been inside the woman’s head and that kind of knowledge is a dangerous thing. As dangerous as Serafine herself can be, has been, might become.

Maybe some part of her knows this too, because she finally stops holding back.

“Your body would not be able to cope. Your mind would be so focused on the task it would forget to send signals to the rest of your body. Your heart would forget how to beat and you would even forget how to breathe. You could die before I even came close to the answers you seek.”

“So we put me on a respirator or something.”

Adrian looks up at her sharply. “Stop. We’re not entertaining this; that’s not even an option.”

“Well neither is waiting however long it might take,” she snaps back, “they’re risking their lives for us back home — I think the least I can do is return the favor.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“I’m tired of everyone risking their lives for me! It’s not worth it!”

“Getting you out of New York was worth it!”

“Obviously not, since I’ve got too much brain PTSD to be of any freakin’ use!” Nadya gestures wildly, arms spread. She’s got no idea where any of this is coming from but that doesn’t make it any less true; that doesn’t make it any less painful. “Every day we’re sitting here tiptoeing around what we need to do is another day Kamilah or Maricruz or Arnold or anyone could be killed.”

How are they not getting this, she thinks, incredulous and bewildered and borderline angry at them all. How can they let others put themselves on the line and not ask the same of her? Because she’s fragile; because she’s human?

Nadya doesn’t realize she’s on her feet until the dizziness hits her. She doesn’t let it or Adrian’s desperate “Nadya, wait, come back!” stop her from leaving them behind. It’s easier when she doesn’t think about what she’s doing. Just lets her feet carry the rest of her aches and pains and all out of the apartment and down to the frigid streets below.

She doesn’t know how far she has — or could have — walked in her half-conscious daze until a firm and supernatural grasp brings her back to the present.

“Whoa there — where the hell is your coat?” Jax’s frown only deepens as he watches her become aware of her surroundings. Even if she had the strength left to try and pull away, she isn’t sure he’d let her go.

“I… left it back at the apartment.” She means to look back over her shoulder but the thought of their disappointed faces, despite not being there, is too much. It keeps Nadya frozen (literally) in place, shivering under his hands.

“Uh-huh… well, let’s go get it.”

Nadya barely manages to dig her heels into the pavement. It’s just enough resistance for Jax to notice. “Don’t… don’t make me go back there.”

He raises an eyebrow silently, but thankfully doesn’t push it. “I’m not leaving you out here on your own though.”

“Probably for the best.”

After a long moment the man sighs; shouldering off his coat and letting it hang on her shoulders comically large and smothering. “Lead the way.”

Though the pair of them isn’t one often found, well ever, Jax must have understood and accepted the moment they began their shared walk that eventually she was going to unload on him. He takes it all with great grace and stride honestly; and only shows his disapproval in a look rather than an outright argument when she makes them stop for another chocolate-stuffed crepe.

“Don’t I always miss out on all the fun…” he mutters, something Nadya probably wasn’t supposed to hear so she goes back to her sniffly mouthful of sweet pastry like he never said a word.

“What was it you saw that upset you so much?” And that she was supposed to hear. No doubt about it.

It’s to Nadya’s surprise that Jax waits with an uncharacteristic patience for her to answer. Eventually there’s no avoiding it.

“It wasn’t what I saw that… it wasn’t a vision or anything.”

“Then what had you running out of there so fast?”

“How I acted.”

“Well yeah, that was pretty dumb.”

She pretends it’s an uneven bit of pavement that makes her trip and not, well!

“Uh, thanks… I think.”

Jax gives her a careless one-shoulder shrug in return. “What did you expect me to say? Because I’m not going to tell you that you weren’t in the wrong, Nadya. You know that’s not my style.”

Yeah, unfortunately. “I just don’t think she gets how… how crucial time is.”

“If you really believed we had such little time you wouldn’t be here right now stuffing your face.”

“Joke’s on you, I’m always ready to stuff my face.”

He stops; Nadya gives herself three steps ahead before she accepts he won’t be joining her another step further. She turns back and, luckily, manages to hide most of her face with crepe. But Jax doesn’t spare her even the tiniest bit of sympathy. His frown is stern; almost harsh. It’s hard to see what’s in his eyes with the lights of the city glowing behind him but she can’t imagine it’s anything consoling.

“You really don’t get it, do you.”

It isn’t a question. Nadya doesn’t answer. “Alright, okay, I guess it’s gonna be up to me to do this. But I’m warning you,” pointing a stern finger her way, “you’d better listen, and listen good. Because I’ll only say this once.”

“Say what, Jax?”

“None of this is about you.”

“I don’t think —”

But Jax cuts her off. “You’re right; you don’t think. If you did then you wouldn’t have had me go behind Adrian’s and Kamilah’s backs. But that one’s on me — I had to agree to it. So that’s your one free pass. But skirting Lily and me and getting yourself kidnapped was what gave Gaius the lead on the Amulet in the first place.”

“I didn’t exactly choose to give him the memory, Jax.” And it’s really hard to keep the I can’t believe you right now from her offended voice but that doesn’t help things in the least.

“No, but you don’t let anybody forget it either. Have you ever considered that if you spent half as much time helping out as you did moping and crying things might be at least a little bit better?”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Oh I am,” he snorts a dry, humorless laugh, “because everyone else might want to spare your feelings but I don’t see any point in it by now. Not when there’s so much at risk. Do you honestly think for one second I want to be here, thousands of miles away from everything and everyone I’ve spent my entire life caring for? Do you think Lily wanted to leave Espinoza behind, or that Adrian wanted to leave his Clan without a leader? These are genuine questions, by the way. Because I really don’t know what reality you’re living in, but from the way it sounds the only one any of this sucks for is you.”

Word after word comes at her each one like a blow to the face, to the gut; fighting skills Jax has honed but Nadya never knew she needed to prepare herself for that leave her bruised and just barely standing.

“I… no.”

“‘No?’ No what?”

“No I… I know I’m not the only one hurting.”

“Damn right you aren’t. But just like all of us, Nadya, you have a part to play. Of course all of us — you included — would rather have stayed in New York; tried to fight. But standing here crying about it isn’t going to turn back time. All it does is make the sacrifices of those like Arnold, like Sayeed and Espinoza and countless others we’ll probably never meet meaningless. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!”

“Then act like it! Take responsibility and realize everything we’re risking for you. You’re our friend, and a sweet girl and all, but sometimes you’re so self-involved it drives me insane! Newsflash — you’re not the only person hurting right now. But the rest of us can put that aside for the greater good. Now it’s your turn. You keep talking about how much it hurts, well take it from someone who has dealt with a lot of pain in a short amount of time. There comes a time when you have to make all of that suffering mean something. Not just for yourself, but literally for the world.”

Nadya’s way passed the verge of tears but that doesn’t mean she’s not doing everything in her power to keep from falling into a blubbering pathetic mess. Jax is right; worse still, Jax knows he’s right, Nadya knows he’s right. If anything that only makes it hurt more.

“I—I’m… I’m sorry.”

In less than a stride Jax is standing in front of her. His hands on her upper arms this time less forceful, less confused. But kinder than his words and tone would allow for.

“Come on now…” he admonishes; softer but no less insistent, “I’m not saying this to make you cry. I suck at dealing with crying people, actually, so I’d really prefer it if you stopped.”

Which works about as well as politely asking Gaius to not go through with his crazy plan would, which isn’t a surprise to either of them. He sighs and pulls her forward into the world’s strangest hug but it works for them both. He doesn’t want to watch her cry. She doesn’t want him to see her break down against his shirt.

“I—” she hiccoughs, “—I didn’t aa-ask for any of this.”

“I know that. But neither did we. And crying about it doesn’t change what happened. We know what we’re giving up to be here — and… maybe I was a little harsh. Don’t think we don’t care about you or keeping you safe. But, hey—hey. But —” Jax gently pries her back and fixes her glasses where they’ve gone askew, “— that’s our job; to keep you safe. And yours is to figure out how we can stop Gaius.”

“I know. I…” I don’t know what to say. And maybe that means it’s best she not say anything at all.

“Remember —” he waits until she can compose herself enough to look at him without wet hiccups spasming in her lungs; and when she does he surprises her with a small smile, “— whatever it takes.”

Whatever it takes. And isn’t that the kind of mentality that had landed them in all of this in the first place?

Though it was also the mentality that gave her the courage to save Adrian in the Bloody Cellars, to confront the Trinity and evade Vega for as long as she did.

It’s obvious Jax isn’t letting her go until she says it back, and out of the two he doesn’t feel the cold on his cheeks. He can wait her out.

“Whatever it takes.”

[forgedirons]

              *     so  like.  yeah.  it  me,  cc.  i  can’t  read,  spell,  or  write  –  &  yet  i  joined  this  anyway  because  i  am  are  in  love  with  you  all.  anyway.

❛           𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬     ›     𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔     .  

the   communication's   chair   of   the   yale's   elite,   they're   twenty-two   and   a   senior   undergrad   student   majoring   in   print   journalism.   they   are   as   vigilant   as   they   are   importunate.

blackmail  :

(i).  despite claiming to be a journalist that holds the truth over everything, she's being paid off by an embezzling official & keeping the funds for her own personal spending. 

(ii).  she won her current internship by sabotaging her competitors with “strategic investigating”, which she then used against them by creating a gossip buzz under an anonymous pseudonym. 

(iii). death tw: claims that her parents passed away her freshman year of undergrad and uses it as a way to avoid talking about how they’re in prison ( & how it’s her testimony that landed them there ).

 ❛           𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬     ›     𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒     .    

you  wear  sorrow  well,  grief  is  not  a  compliment  –  nor  is  it  to  be  romanticized.  your  heart’s  always  been  broken  &  you  doubt  it  was  ever  whole  to  begin  with.  behind  closed  eyes,  maroon  rose  petals  fall  onto  a  fresh  blanket  of  white  snow;  your  fingers  are  pricked  by  the  thorns  while  you  open  your  eyes  to  the  flickering  lamp  in  your  room.  cloaked  in  shadows,  red  string  is  strung  across  a  board,  connecting  clues  that  nobody  else  but  you  seems  to  see.  you  are  meant  for  so  much  more  than  this  run  down  shack,  you’ve  always  told  yourself  this  –  you  wonder  if  anyone  else  is  listening  (  but,  you’ve  always  been  alone;  your  words  have  always  bounced  back  onto  your  own  skin  ).

 ❛           𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦    ›     𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒     .  

                           ✧  *   core  

↠  full  name  .  isabeau  hwang  . ↠ nickname(s)  /  alias(es)  /   title(s)  .  (  off  brand  )  nancy  drew,  isa,  is,  beau  . ↠  age  /  dob  .  twenty  -  two  /  march,  19  . ↠  hometown  .  ?  idk?  kansas  somewhere  . ↠  current  location  .  yale  idk  what  city  it’s  in  don’t  @  me  . ↠  ethnicity  .  korean  . ↠  nationality  .  american  . ↠  gender .  cis  gender  woman  . ↠  pronouns .  she  /  her  . ↠  orientation  .  bisexual  ,  grayromantic  . ↠  occupation  .  undergraduate  student  . ↠  face  claim  .  kim  sojung  (  sowon  )  .

       ✧  *   countenance

���  height  .  five  feet,  eight  inches  (  172  cm  ) ↠  build .  slim,  well  toned  but  tall  –  slim  /  athletic. ↠  tattoos  .  be  good,  on  the  inside  of  her  left  middle  finger.  also,  this.  ↠  piercings  .  ears  . ↠  scars  .  a  couple,  none  too  prominent  . ↠  hair .  kept  long  &  though  she  seems  to  sport  a  different  color  every  year  since  arriving  on  campus,  she’s  recently  dyed  it  back  to  a  natural  shade  of  black.  it’s  always  in  place  &  always  styled  neatly,  whether  it’s  pulled  back  or  curled  (  to  pretentiously  imperfectly  perfection  )  . ↠  eyes  .  dark  brown  &  often  inquisitive,  like  she’s  trying  to  solve  a  riddle  that  nobody  else  is  in  on  except  herself.  half  of  the  time,  they’re  hidden  behind  gold  -  rimmed  glasses  that  look  a  little  too  expensive  for  someone  of  her  background,  but  she  otherwise  wears  contacts.  has  really  bad  vision,  though,  &  is  a  blind  bitch  . ↠  clothing  style  .  best  described  as  business  casual,  semi-formal,  professional  but  make  it  chic.  lots  of  skirts,  lots  of  turtlenecks,  long  coats  &  expensive  fabrics  that  all  coordinate  to  make  her  look  either  like  she  just  walked  out  of  a  dark  academia  novel  or  a  meeting  with  the  president  of  the  school  where  she  did  nothing  but  argue.  very  rarely  seen  in  sweats  or  anything  “bummy”  –  maybe  she  cares  too  much  about  her  image. ↠  usual  expression  .  resting  bitch  face  –  but  promote  it.  she  just  looks  unapproachable  in  general,  her  usual  expression  is  something  between  disgust  &  apathy,  it  makes  her  look  like  she’s  consistently  looking  at  her  surroundings  &  being  very  displeased  with  everything  around  her  (  it’s  because  she  made  the  face  too  much  as  a  kid,  now  it’s  stuck  that  way  )  . ↠  speech  .  elegant  &  well  -  thought  out.  everything  she  says  sounds  like  it’s  rehearsed  &  practiced,  like  she  wakes  up  in  the  morning  &  writes  a  script  for  her  entire  day.  she  very  obviously  thinks  before  she  speaks,  always,  &  tries  to  sound  like  she  looks,  but  catch  her  without  anyone  around  &  she  speaks  a  lot  like  the  trailer  trash  she  really  is  . ↠  distinguishing  features  .  intense  eyes  that  make  her  look  like  she  always  knows  someone’s  secret,  the  slight  lopsided  grin  –  she  might  be  smirking  or  maybe  she  just  knows  something  you  don’t,  finely  shaped  eyebrows  idk  dude

       ✧  *  ruminations    

↠  (  +  )  positive .  vigilant  ,  heedful  ,  aspiring ↠  (  -  )  negative  .  importunate  ,  reckless  ,  impetuous ↠  moral  alignment  .  true  neutral  -  neutral  evil ↠  likes  .  her  designated  corner  of  the  library  –  especially  late  at  night  when  she  can  sigh  super  loudly  without  anyone  glaring  at  her,  iced  americanos  but  only  on  rainy  days  &  only  on  rainy  days  where  she  wears  her  glasses,  the  feeling  &  the  smell  of  solid  cash,  putting  together  the  pieces  of  a  puzzle  that  she’s  been  working  on  for  a  long  time  (  investigations  or  not  ),  stargazing  but  only  on  beaches  &  only  during  the  wintertime  . ↠  dislikes  .  any  other  journalist  ever,  any  pop  beverages  (  because  she  also  doesn’t  like  to  burp ),  the  smell  of  chlorine  or  gasoline  or  freshly  cut  grass,  being  touched  by  strangers  in  any  sort  of  instance,  waking  up  before  ten  in  the  morning  (  staying  up  until  10  am  however,  different  story  ),  know  it  all  TA’s,  professors  who  can’t  debate  her  for  more  than  fifteen  minutes ↠  quirks  .  always  has  a  small,  moleskin  notebook  on  her  person  that  she’ll  pull  out  to  write  little  notes  in,  has  amazing  penmanship,  speaking  of  –  only  ever  writes  in  pen  &  never  uses  anything  else  to  write,  squints  &  digs  her  front  teeth  into  her  tongue  when  she’s  really  focusing  on  something  . ↠  hobbies  .  disappearing  for  long  periods  of  time  just  to  resurface  &  act  like  nothing  happened  (  solving  mysteries,  like  nancy  drew  ),  being  the  first  to  let  her  opinion  be  heard  by  anyone  who  happens  to  be  nearby,  starting  fights  &  finishing  them  by  cheating.

❛           𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲     ›     𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄     .

trigger  warnings : death  ,  lots  of  illegal  activity

       ✧  *  ISABEAU.

        *     she’s  born  to  a  wanted  pair  .  with  bounties  &  rewards  attached  to  their  mugshots,  they  bring  a  baby  into  the  world  &  decide  to  bring  her  along  for  the  ride.  named  isabeau,  her  first  memory  is  watching  the  door  while  her  parents  count  money  on  a  motel  bed  behind  her.  her  first  word  is  “fuck!”  while  she  rides  in  the  backseat  of  a  stolen  pick  up  truck,  a  toddler  clutching  a  stolen  baby  toy  while  wearing  clothes  that  definitely  don’t  belong  to  her.  whether  it’s  inherited  or  not,  she  grasps  greed  &  holds  it  as  her  biggest  sin.  much  like  her  father,  in  that  aspect  –  there’s  nothing  more  she  craves  than  having  more.  more  money,  more  lust,  more  power,  more  reputation  –  more,  more,  more.  it  sits  in  her  gut  like  a  waning  hunger  she’ll  never  get  rid  of  –  but,  she  doesn’t  know  what  to  call  it  for  almost  her  entire  life. 

she’s  not  the  eldest  of  the  crew.  her  sister  is  three  years  older  than  her  &  much  more  kind  than  anyone  else  in  the  family  will  ever  be.  where  isabeau  takes  after  their  parents  (  often  described  as  ruthless,  greedy,  selfish  &  reckless  ),  pippa  was  her  own  person  through  &  through.  she  was  soft,  &  sweet,  &  she  always  did  what  was  right.  though,  she  was  raised  to  believe  that  lying  to  the  police  was  right,  &  that  stealing  in  the  supermarkets  was  the  right  thing  to  do.  growing  up,  though,  isabeau  always  sort  of  knew  that  it  was  really  just  her  &  pippa  against  the  world.  their  parents,  however  eccentric,  were  often  absent  &  left  them  alone  for  days  on  end  –  only  to  return  with  more  trouble  on  their  hands.

eventually,  they  decided  to  settle  in  buttcrack  nowhere,  kansas  in  the  smallest,  shittiest  trailer  park  they  could  find.  it  was  one  small  trailer  that  kept  the  hwang  family  together;  isabeau  &  pippa  sleeping  on  a  couch  -  turned  -  bed,  their  parents  on  the  big  one  in  the  back.  she  gets  enrolled  in  school  &  is  taught  to  never  tell  anyone  who  her  parents  are  or  what  they  do  for  a  living  (  which,  including  robbery,  dealing,  blackmailing,  etc.  is  a  lot  )  otherwise  she’ll  get  in  a  lot  of  trouble.  but  isabeau  is  a  curious  girl,  she  watches  everything  unfold  in  front  of  her  &  always  wants  to  know  more  (  &  more,  &  more,  &  more  ).

one  of  the  brightest  of  her  class  in  the  small  town,  she  grows  to  be  somewhat  of  a  nancy  drew.  people  of  the  town  know  her,  they  give  her  their  problems  &  missing  cats  &  disappearing  letters  &  mismatched  shoes  to  solve.  isabeau,  no  matter  how  troubled,  is  smart  &  the  townspeople  know  it.  looking  back  on  it,  she’ll  always  remark  that  they  were  trying  to  help  her,  but  she  only  ever  saw  it  as  something  to  do.  her  biggest  case,  finding  a  missing  girl  in  the  seventh  grade  –  her  smallest  case,  finding  a  coin  purse  that  someone  misplaced.

in  eighth  grade,  she  starts  her  own  newspaper  at  school  where  she  publishes  stories  of  her  investigations.  initially,  it’s  just  something  to  keep  her  at  school  longer  (  because,  home  isn’t  really  where  she  wants  to  be  –  she’s  old  enough  now  to  realize  home  isn’t  home  ),  but  she  learns  how  good  she  is  at  it.  creating  pieces,  interviewing  people,  just,  plain  writing  –  it’s  her  thing.  her  english  teacher  (  mrs.  kenningston  )  encourages  her  &  gets  her  a  freelance  spot  with  the  town  newspaper.

things  are  great  for  isabeau  in  high  school.  she’s  popular,  editor  of  the  school  newspaper,  amateur  detective  &  freelance  reporter  for  the  town  newspaper.  her  goal  is  to  get  out  of  town,  to  get  far  away  from  her  family  &  become  some  sort  of  lois  lane.  freshman  year,  her  sister  graduates  high  school  &  is  set  to  go  to  ksu  –  before  sophomore  year,  isabeau’s  burying  her  sister  in  the  graveyard  of  a  town  they  both  hated.  a  freak  accident,  the  newspaper  reports  –  &  for  a  month,  everyone  believes  it.  but,  sophomore  year  starts  &  isabeau  anonymously  testifies  against  her  parents  in  court;  their  recklessness,  along  with  their  shady  dealings  led  to  the  death  of  not  only  pippa,  but  a  group  of  graduated  teenagers  in  town.  the  hwang  parents  go  away  for  life  on  isabeau’s  testimony,  &  she’s  never  seen  in  town  again. 

by  dumb  luck,  she’s  adopted  into  a  middle-class  family  somewhere  in  vermont  &  sent  to  a  very  good  school  that  looks  very  good  on  her  transcripts.  she  goes  into  overdrive  trying  to  bury  her  past,  carefully  crafting  herself  a  new  identity  with  each  year  that  passes  in  her  high  school  career.  things  get  buried,  people  are  swayed  –  isabeau  hwang  isn’t  the  same  isabeau  hwang  from  that  small  town  in  kansas  who  saved  a  group  of  children,  she  isn’t  the  isabeau  hwang  who  befriended  the  unfriendly  folks  on  the  outskirts  of  town  that  people  thought  were  possessed.  isabeau  hwang  from  vermont  is  a  very  lucky  girl  with  a  troubling  past  she  doesn’t  talk  about,  but  manages  to  graduate  top  of  her  class  with  offers  from  three  ivy  league  colleges  &  every  other  school  she  applied  to.  that’s  all  she  offers,  that’s  all  most  people  know.

at  yale,  she  works  even  harder  to  maintain  her  reputation.  she’s  the  girl  who’ll  go  places,  a  poor  girl  who’ll  get  into  yale’s  elites,  the  girl  who  nobody  wants  to  argue  with.  on  campus,  she’s  loud,  she’s  opinionated  &  she’s  (  or,  thinks  she’s  )  powerful.  a  member  of  the  school  newspaper,  her  pieces  are  quick  to  be  published  &  even  quicker  to  gain  traction.  isabeau,  a  nosy  investigator  at  heart,  chooses  to  publish  stories  that  grab  attention  &  often  expose  a  thing  or  two  –  she  gains  a  small  following  just  because  she  tends  to  always  know  a  thing  or  two  about  a  thing  or  two.

it’s  obvious  she  had  her  eye  set  on  the  elites  from  the  moment  she  stepped  foot  onto  campus,  &  after  fighting  tooth  &  nail  to  gain  a  reputation  (  as  an  opinionated,  over  -  achieving,  pretentious  shrew  of  a  person  ),  she  argues  her  way  into  the  elites.  in  her  own  words,  it’s  much  better  to  have  her  on  their  side  rather  than  have  her  against  them  (  empty  threat,  what  she  gonna  do,  she  have  no  money  really  ).  at  the  moment,  it  looks  like  she’s  really  gotten  everything  she’s  dreamed  of  –  but  isabeau  hwang  deals  in  greed,  &  all  she  wants  now  is  more,  more,  more

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 2

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 2,027

“Shit,” Y/N said. Her furious typing came to a standstill. “Patricia, do you have the wite-out?”

Patricia arched her brow at her from behind her own typewriter. “Did you hit the ‘v’ instead of the ‘w’ again?”

Y/N caught the tiny bottle her colleague tossed her. “Why can’t this guy have an easier last name? At least one that’s phonetic?” The feed roller clicked as she turned the typewriter’s carriage knob. Carefully, she extricated the paper without damaging it. “I can’t start anything with ‘Kowlinska,’” she said, carefully fixing her typo with the white liquid.

“I think it starts with a ‘K’,” Patricia retorted.

“Ha-ha,” Y/N deadpanned.

God, she needed break. She’d been working non-stop for three hours. Stretching, she stood and walked across the medium-sized room to look out the window. The streets were full. With a population of ten million, there was always plenty of hustle and bustle. The vendor on the corner was offering pretzels to anyone who came near him.  A little girl ran down the sidewalk excitedly, screeching and dodging trash bags all the way. Y/N smiled, thankful she was now in Gotham. The grime of the city, the variety of people - she wouldn’t trade it for anything. It was miles away from the small town she had wasted almost forty years in.

The sun was already on the horizon, ending the day too early for her taste. She still had a lot of work to do. A status conference on a jeopardy order for three children was tomorrow morning - that file needed to be prepared. The motion she kept mistyping needed to be completed. The shredding needed to be done. She enjoyed being busy, but this week had been more demanding than most. It would be another long night.

“Y/N? I’m getting some coffee. Want some?” Patricia asked.

Y/N turned to her and smirked. “If I drink it now, I’ll never get to sleep tonight, and then you’ll have to deal with me in the morning.” She shook her head and made her way back to her desk. “No thanks. I like you too much for that.”

“Sweet talker!” Patricia called as she walked off.

Y/N leaned back in her cloth chair, eyes roving over the woodwork of the ceiling. When she’d first started at Shaw & Associates, she’d found the intricate office decor intimidating. Fortunately, she’d grown up comfortably, and had been so most of her adult life. But she hadn’t been exposed to such opulence. Now, after a little over a year, she’d gotten used to it. And she was proud to be part of one of Gotham’s most prominent law firms.

Matt Stone, the attorney she worked with most closely, stuck his head out of his office. He was frazzled. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

She swiveled to face him fully and crossed her arms. “Do you have another present for me?”

“I do.” He approached and handed her an expanded pendaflex. It took both hands for her to hold it. “The Wayne Foundation case-”

Y/N’s eyes darted to his, corners of her lips turning up. “You’re letting me work on a Wayne case?”

“Which one?” Patricia interjected as she returned. She blew on the hot coffee she held.

“The case about the abandoned tenements in the borrows? The ones the Wayne Foundation wants to claim?” Matt nodded at the file, hands in his pockets. “The defendant filed a motion to stop it. Again.”

Y/N’s face scrunched up as she opened the file. “That’s odd.” Her fingers leafed through the stack of papers. “Didn’t you say before that they’re falling down? You’d think they’d want to be rid of them before someone gets hurt.”

“Maybe they want to keep the land as investment property. Then try to sell it off later.” He shrugged at her. “Look it over tomorrow. We’ll talk about it in detail next week.” At that, he spun to go back to his office.

Groaning, Y/N wheeled over to watch him as he took a seat behind his large, wooden desk. “That’ll be the third late night this week,” she said.

Matt waved her concern off. “Do you have something better to do?”

She rolled her eyes and scooted back to her work area. “Not being in the office is good enough.” While she didn’t have any plans, she didn’t want him to think she was endlessly available.

He offered an olive branch. “Well, I’ll owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said over her shoulder. “I’ll remind you at Christmas.” She caught Patricia’s eye, then. “I can’t decide if he likes me or hates me.”

Patricia chuckled. “Both. Definitely. Give me the Kowlinska paperwork. Unlike you, I know how to type.”

Y/N snickered as she passed it to her. “Thanks. I’ll finish tomorrow’s conference file.”

~~~~~

It was past seven she left the office. Though Matt had told her to start working on the Wayne file tomorrow, she’d wanted to take a crack at it. Given the size of it, she thought she might sneak it home to peruse over the weekend.

She was happy to be entrusted with a case from the firm’s most prestigious client. And after working there for a relatively short time. It’s not that she was a fan of the Wayne family - they just happened to be wealthy. But it would be nice to work on cases besides the pro-bono family and child protection matters. She was good at those and was able to process them quickly, but reading reports of domestic abuse was wearing. This change would be good.

The small grocery store was fairly deserted when she entered it. She was relieved, not wanting to take too long. A bottle of wine, a bag of chips, and a frozen dinner for tomorrow would do. As she picked up each item, weaving through the disparate aisles, she smirked at herself. Was it pathetic that she was pleased with her basket of alcohol and garbage? Maybe. But she was fine with that.

Y/N sauntered down the frozen food section, scanning the bright TV dinner boxes. The regulars, macaroni and cheese, Salisbury steak, lasagna, were ones she’d already tried. She stopped when a new one caught her eye: Polynesian Style Dinner. Nothing like fried meat chunks in an unnaturally orange sauce. She’d try that one and pretend she was adventurous.

The only thing preventing her from grabbing it and heading to the check-out was the man standing in front of the freezer door.

She watched him. He hadn’t seemed to notice her approach or sense she was a couple feet behind him. She took the opportunity to inspect him. Well worn brown shoes, dark blue slacks a tad loose on him. The basket in his hand had marked-down pens, bread, and a bottle of seltzer. Continuing upward, she could see his tan jacket was well-loved, soft and clean. His longish, slightly dark brown hair had a slight curl to it, and it looked freshly shampooed. Even though she was in heels, he was a couple of inches taller than her.

After waiting to see if the man would realize she was there, she gently cleared her throat. “It’s hard to decide when there are so many choices, isn’t it?”

He slowly moved to look at her. She thought he hadn’t heard her clearly at first, but the corner of his mouth lifted.

She spoke again, starting to grin. “I think I’ve had every one of these. Want me to warn you off a few?”

A soft huff escaped him. She noticed his free hand join his other on the basket handle, squeezing tight. “No. I get these all the time,” he said quietly.

Y/N gave a short nod, then pointed at the door of the freezer. “Would you mind if I grabbed one?”

It took only a moment for him to open the door and hold it for her. He leaned against it lightly, some panache in his movement. The slight smile hadn’t left his face.

She let out a faint laugh and stepped forward to reach past him, and grab the dinner. “Thanks,” she said as she turned to look up at him.

His wide cheekbones and sharp jawline gave her pause. He looked a bit weary, maybe a couple years older than her. The clear, light green of his deep set eyes surprised her, a contrast from his dark, prominent brow. Those eyes were narrowing as she continued to stare at him.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing and averting her gaze. He’d caught her checking him out, and she felt bad for obviously making him feel self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to gawk at you. It’s been a long day and I’m a little dazed.”

He reached into the freezer and grabbed the same frozen meal. “It’s fine.” She thought she heard him chuckle.

She started towards the check-out, looking back over her shoulder. The man was headed the same way, but kept a respectable distance. As she placed her few items on the belt, she noticed him get in line behind her. He held his hands in front of him, head bent downward as he waited. Y/N paid quickly, giving him a small wave as she walked off. “Night.”

“Good night,” he answered.

Once Y/N was back home, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her answering machine was blinking. She played the messages and took her shoes off. They were mostly mundane: confirmation of a dentist appointment, her sister just calling to say hello and catch up. She was in the middle of opening the wine when the last message played.

“Y/N, this is Matt from the office.” He must be working at home, she thought. “Sorry I didn’t catch you before you left. You’ll need to come to the hearing with me tomorrow. I’m this is last minute, but you know the file well and it’ll make the process easier. Sorry to cancel casual Friday.”

She finished opening the wine and poured herself a double. “Now you owe me two favors,” she said to herself. Taking a long drink, she walked to the television, turned it on, and planted herself on the sofa.

The news was on. “Thomas Wayne has formed an exploratory committee to to test the waters for a potential run for mayor,” the reported intoned. “We caught up with Mr. Wayne outside of town hall.”

The picture cut to Thomas Wayne: well-dressed as always, slicked back hair. His wife and son were with him. “I’m the only one who can help Gotham. That’s why I’m considering a run for office.” He brought his hands up to his chest, gesturing for emphasis. “To help the people of this city. To give back some of the blessings I’ve been given.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Even though she was only now starting to work on a Wayne file, she’d heard some of the legal maneuvers the foundation had taken. Yes, there were good intentions behind nearly all of them. But only a small fraction of those plans seemed to come to fruition. With that knowledge, she thought it was arrogant for him to assume he was Gotham’s white knight.

Deciding it was too late to think about politics, she let her mind drift to the guy at the store. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. He’d barely talked with her, as though he didn’t realize how good looking he was. And the way he opened the door with some flourish…  For someone who came across as rather awkward, he certainly appeared to have some grace. The juxtaposition was charming.

Taking another sip of wine, she chastised herself. He’d probably thought she was a desperate creep, staring at him the way she did. She was neither. She wasn’t even looking. But it had been a long time since she’d seen someone who’d piqued her interest at all.

The news broadcast ended and she flipped to Tonight with David Endochrine. Finally, brainless entertainment. She grabbed the folded blanket from the back of the sofa and snuggled down into the couch. She finished the wine and was soon snoozing, still dressed for work.

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