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#i also coloured the ears in rainbow order from front to back
g-r-a-y-p-h-i-c · 2 years
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“All Ears”
25 credits under the cut:
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1. "Untitled” is from Pxfuel; Modifications: colours adjusted, converted into a filter, cropped, filtered over, resized
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7. "Les degrés (1964) - Maria Helena Vieira da Silva (1908-1992)" by pedrosimoes7 is marked with CC BY 2.0; Modifications: cropped, resized
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dracothelizard · 4 months
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HEY HEY HEY. Frigging amazing idea to do an askbox prompt thing for most of the world :D
Prompt for you: Beard4Beard. Please? I have a mighty need and it's completely my own fault. (can be super short, can also be completely sfw, I just have.... cravings)
In the spirit of not excluding anyone, have some Ed/Sinterklaas Beard4Beard fic in English!
(Ohgod)
---
Ed's pretty proud of his beard, even if it's grey rather than black nowadays. He can see the envy in the eyes of men who can't grow beards this lush, or who don't take care of it and end up with a rat's nest on their chin.
He takes good care of his beard — can't be Blackbeard with an unkempt mess of a beard, obviously.
But when he hears about another man sailing the seas with a magnificent beard, Ed gets… he doesn't get jealous. He's Blackbeard. There's nothing in the world he can't get have if he wants it.
He orders Izzy to track down this Sinterklaas guy, which is trickier than expected because for some reason he's only around during November and early December. No one knows where he is for the rest of the year.
Fascinating.
The ship they follow is fascinating as well, so different from the ships Ed's familiar with, and the crew! The crew, all with some soot on their faces, is dressed in bright outfits, all the colours of the rainbow, and the boat is decorated with flags. It looks fun.
Ed makes sure to have a scowl on his face when they board. He's Blackbeard and Blackbeard doesn't like brightly coloured outfits or flags as decoration, pfsh, of course not.
He leaves Izzy with the boat's first mate - Chief Pete, as they called it, another weird, fascinating thing - and he goes to find the man himself.
Sinterklaas.
Ed finds him in an office, an old man with long white hair and, dammit, a lush and impressive white beard, longer than Ed's, definitely better-maintained, so pristine.
Ed wants to rub his face against it. Rub his beard against it.
"This is a raid," Ed announces.
Sinterklaas looks up. He's wearing a red robe over his white shirt. "Oh, Edward Teach!"
Ed blinks. "It's Blackbeard."
Sinterklaas consults the book in front of him. "Hmm, pretty sure it's Edward Teach." He raises an eyebrow as he looks at Ed again.
Ed feels... he feels chastised, and he raises his pistol. "This is a raid! Give me all your beard care supplies!"
Sinterklaas doesn't look concerned. "Is that really what you're here for? I mean, your beard is magnificent, so you clearly have good beard care supplies already."
"Yeah, well," Ed replies, grinning a little at the compliment, "maybe I want more beard care supplies. From a guy who clearly knows what he's doing with his own beard."
Sinterklaas strokes his beard with a gloved hand. "Oh, thank you." He winks at Ed. "That's always lovely to hear from a beard expert."
Ed shifts on his feet. This raid isn't going like he planned, but he's not complaining. "Uh, yeah, of course I'm a beard expert." He strokes his beard with his free hand.
"I don't suppose..." Sinterklaas trails off, eyes on Ed's beard. "I don't suppose you'd mind coming closer so I can take a better look? None of my Petes can grow a beard as fine as yours."
Ed tucks his pistol away and saunters over, and maybe he sways his hips a little. He puts his hands on Sinterklaas's desk and leans closer to loom over him. "You wanna appreciate my beard, hm?"
Sinterklaas pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "How about you sit here? That's traditional when people visit me."
Ed eyes the lap, then meets Sinterklaas's eyes. "Interesting tradition. What other traditions do you have?"
Sinterklaas smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, Edward, that depends on whether you've been naughty... or nice..."
Ed grins and drops into Sinterklaas's lap. "I'm Blackbeard," he purrs into the old man's ear. "I'm naughty and nice."
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vintage--owl · 2 years
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So hey, i also draw ponies lol. These are my mane 6 headcanon/redesgins for one of my many next gen universe, the RoseVerse. Which is my second main/top universe? 
We got, in order from left to right;
Apple jack -  shes a big pone and her harmony gem is on her back leg              
Pinkie Pie -  She has dwarfism and heterochromia. Her harmony gem is on her neck~ She has some crystal pony genes she gets from her dads side of the family and when sad or depressed her colours will fade                          
Twilight Sparkle -  A pure blood bat pony, she was born a unicorn and when she went through her alicorn process she gained her bat wings. Due to fighting with the Storm king and others, her wings are a bit torn but shes still able to fly. Her harmony gem is on a hair pin and rairty will often move it to a crown for more formal events
Rarity Bell -  Shes half crystal pony, half true unicorn. Due to a mutation from her crystal pony genes, her back half is made of crystal and is cracked instead of scars. Because of this, she also dosent have a cuite mark. Her jewellery is made of onyx and her harmony gem is on her neck on a chocker. Due to her crystal pony genes, she sparkles~!
Fluttershy -  She's a hybrid of a deer pony and a pegaus and as such dosent have a cutie mark. Her harmony gem is an ear ring on the other ear
Rainbow Dash -  Rainbow is half bat pony, half pegasus. She lost her front leg, wing and tail feathers being reckless on a mission with AJ. Her harmony gem is located on her back and helps power her leg and wing/tail feathers
All bases are by a user on dA: https://www.deviantart.com/selenaede
Please dont use these desgins~
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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years
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Love You Too Much
Part 13
Yandere!Namjoon x Army!Y/N
Warnings: Yandere fic, this chapter mentions nausea. Smut in the next chapter
(back)/(next)/(masterlist)
The underground is extremely busy when you board, but Joon manages to snag himself a seat. He tugs you down into his arms and cages you too him; tightly hugging your waist to keep you from sliding off when the train jerks. You blush noticing the eyes on you, public affection isn’t common in places like this. Instead of focusing on the glares of other passengers you try to look around the cabin, unfortunately, you don’t get very far before Namjoon stops you.
“You can’t look around; you’ll figure out where we are going too easily.” His eyes lock with yours showing how serious he is about this being a surprise. You pout back at him, bringing your finger up to poke at his cheek.
“Then what am I supposed to do for the next hour you said we would be down here?” The question is answered with a small kiss, and then another, and another. He kisses all over your face as you turn redder and redder at the attention. You try to push him back a little, but the death grip he has on your waist won’t let you.
“I know I could keep this up the entire time.” He says in between each peck. Its makes you giggle as his voice vibrates against your skin. You keep wriggling until he stops. Sighing dramatically he adds “Unless you want to spend the time on your phone, that’s good too I guess.”
“That sounds like a much more appropriate plan,” you confirm laughing. You kiss him once more before pulling out your phone for the rest of the journey. With each stop more people exit without being replaced, but even with ten empty seats around you Namjoon won’t let you slip off his lap grumbling and burying his fae into your neck every time you try. Anyone else would be thankful for the reprieve, having someone sat on your lap for so long can not be comfortable. Eventually the train changes from underground to overground and you can see the city around you.
Clearly nowhere near the massive towers and bustling stores of the centre. However, there is a very suspicious looking building on the horizon. The tops of blue turrets can be seen hidden in the distance. You dare to glance around the train and find a lot of people wearing character clothing and excessively bright colours.
“Joon?” you tap at his arms to get him to lift his head away from where it rested on your shoulder.
“Hmm?” he answers, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
“Are we going to Disneyland?” its hard to contain your excitement, as you start to bounce a little in his lap.
“I don’t know… are we?” he raises an eyebrow at you, completely failing to keep the grin off his face as he watches you get more fidgety.
It feels like the rest of the journey takes a lifetime, even if it is just two more stops. Namjoon lets you up just as the door slide open. You take his hand and follow him through the station. Instead of the expansive white walls and large advertisements of the other stations this one is coated in rainbow Disney character silhouettes, all it doe is add to the knot of anticipation that’s building in your stomach.
Along the walk-way different Disney princess theme songs play leading all the way from the station doors to the gate. Pathways are framed with cherry blossoms and ornate streetlamps. Even before you reach the park they try their best to make sure guests are fully emerged in the experience. A giant inflatable Donald Duck welcomes people from the nearby lake, many waiting to take their pictures with the beloved blow-up character.
You slow to take in your surroundings but Namjoon seems determined to carry on. He squeezes your hand to bring you back to him and starts moving a little quicker.
“Come on there is a ride I really want to take you on, but the line can be pretty long so the sooner we get through that one the better.” He smiles back at you but your stomach drops. You hadn’t thought about the rides. Yes it’s a theme park… but it’s more of an experience situation. Big rides are terrifying. As you waited to be admitted into the park you tried to come up with a way to break it to Namjoon gently that fast rides weren’t for you. He just looked so excited, and maybe its time to try something new.
Luckily being a weekday the line for entry was reasonably short. Just inside the gates there is a board with described wait times. You chew your lip anxiously as he searches for the ride in question. He doesn’t even bother to tell you the name before heading off in, what you assume is, the right direction. It doesn’t take long to reach the dreaded thing; Shanghai is a reasonably small Disney park after all.
*Soaring Over the Horizon*
 Terrifying…
The ride itself seems to be in a large amphitheatre. Hidden so you can’t tell how bad it is. Joon tries to keep heading for the ride but you force him stop.
“I’m sorry Joon… I’m… I’m not good at rides.” You force your stomach to stop flipping as he studies you. It’s uncomfortable for a moment and then his normal relaxed demeanour reappears.
“I promise you this one isn’t bad baby.” He reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. “It’s like a cinema, you get lifted up to watch a movie, no scary rollercoaster I promise.” You nuzzle into the warmth of his hand, allowing it to calm you a little. “If you don’t like it you just close your eyes and most of it just goes away. After the turn you had in the tower, I would never risk putting you on a fast ride. I just had all of these big plans 0for what we were going to do today. I know you’ll enjoy it all if you just try… Don’t you trust me?” the last words sting a little. The tone too severe for the context.
“Of course I trust you,” you take a deep breath and steel your resolve, determined to show him that you have faith in him. You charge towards the queue as he falls into step behind you. Inside the building is stunning. Modelled after temples in a desert, the ceiling has been strung with a million tiny lights to make it look like a clear night sky. You lean back into Joon to get a better view of what’s above you, also using his solid body to keep you grounded. The closer you get the more you regret you decision to force yourself onto the ride. With each shuffle forward you can feel your heartbeat faster. He must feel it too because he tightens his grip on you and leans down to whisper in your ear.
“I’ve got you Y/N, every moment.” The tension in your shoulders loosens a little, until it’s your turn at the front of the queue. The attendant usher two dozen people into a new room to watch a video. A video in Chinese. You glance around at the other guests wrapped up in the magic of the ride. Kids as young as eight stand around you, and you can’t help but feel a little silly. As the preamble ends, doors open to your left and you are told to strap into a row of seats set out like paraglider. You place your loose items in the tray under your chair and strap your self in, clinging desperately to the chair arm on you left and Namjoon on the right.
When the ride starts to move you can’t help but squeal, making Namjoon laugh. You shoot a glare at the idol before returning your attention to the screen at the front of the ride. It takes you throughout the world. 3D images of the world’s greatest wonders and animals. The entire show is breath taking, you almost don’t want it to end. But it has to.
You are lowered back to the floor and sent on out into the park. The stress of working yourself up hasn’t helped the queasy feeling that had been lingering since the bout of vertigo, Namjoon wraps his arm around you shoulder and pulls you close.
“See that wasn’t so bad was it.” He grins, you try to match his enthusiasm with your reply but apparently there is no hiding your unease from him. “Come on I think you need lunch before we do anything.” You start to protest, determined to do all the fun things he had planned. However, your stomach grumbling beat you to the punch. You check your watch to find out it had been a long time since breakfast.
“Okay, where so you want to eat?” you end up leaving the park. Just outside there is a large selection of restaurants to choose from. He pulls you into the cheesecake factory, citing something about familiar western food being easier for you, although you can’t hide your disappointment at not being able to try more traditional Asian dishes. The food is great though, and you get to share dessert. He orders an oreo cheesecake, feeding it to you from his fork “Accidentally” getting it on your face and leaning over to kiss it off. You can already feel the boost in blood sugar helping you to feel better. By the time he has paid the cheque, you are more than ready to take on the rest of the park for the afternoon.
Masterlist
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tobebbanburg · 2 years
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I posted 1,171 times in 2021
205 posts created (18%)
966 posts reblogged (82%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 4.7 posts.
I added 517 tags in 2021
#art - 241 posts
#lmmbingo - 54 posts
#the old guard - 47 posts
#richard - 37 posts
#ask - 25 posts
#nicolo di genova - 25 posts
#tog fanfic - 25 posts
#luca marinelli - 23 posts
#joe x nicky - 21 posts
#yusuf al kaysani - 19 posts
Longest Tag: 132 characters
#meanwhile also picture andy in a vinyard somewhere with quynh getting shitfaced off bad fruit wine and reading the latest periodical
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
Still thinking about Nicky and Joe letting the old man side come through even though they look 30 and can’t get the image of them shuffling off to bed together dressed like this out of my mind:
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157 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 20:15:27 GMT
#4
A ficlet based off a post I made earlier about Joe and Nicky swapping sun/moon imagery with each other. I could imagine canon Joe with rings or necklaces with the moon incorporated into them, or AU Joe with moonstone earrings or moon phase tattoos, but I wasn’t sure what would fit Nicky. And so I wrote this:
“What’s your favourite colour?” Claudia asks, her voice pulling Nicky out of the light doze he’d fallen into as their train speeds through the countryside.
“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really have a favourite colour,” he says, offering the child a rueful smile.
“Everyone has a favourite colour,” she tells him firmly. Nicky laughs.
“How about... blue.”
Claudia grins. “Blue is a very nice colour. Probably my second favourite.”
“What’s your first favourite?”
“Red,” Claudia says decisively. “Like strawberries.”
She pulls down the little tray table from the seat in front of her and solemnly lays out a series of brightly coloured threads, selecting a light and a navy blue from her hoard.
The bracelet making kit had come from Andy, who’d been waiting for them at the train station and had clearly spent too much time in the newsagents.
“It’s a long journey, and kids get bored,” she’d said, giving Claudia a grin as she handed the kit over. Nicky decided not to mention the colouring book and ziplock bag of Lego he already had in his backpack- Andy seemed pleased with herself, and Claudia was delighted with her gift.
“I’m going to make Mama one when I see her again,” Claudia chatters as she starts to tie knots in the thread. “Her favourite colour is purple. She has a lot of bracelets already, but I think she’ll like mine.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” Nicky replies, silently relieved that Joe had messaged not half an hour earlier to say that he’d already taken Claudia’s mother to the safe house. Claudia seems blissfully unaware of the danger she and her family are in, and Nicky would like to keep it that way.
Claudia hums as she twists the threads together, and Nicky is almost on the verge of drifting off again when she asks: “What charm do you want?”
Nicky opens his eyes to find that she’s upended the small box of brightly coloured plastic charms onto the table. There are hearts, and rainbows, and animals, and...
“Could I have this one, please?” Nicky asks, pointing to the charm he’d like.
Claudia nods, and threads it onto the bracelet, tying it into place.
“Here we go,” she says triumphantly, holding out the finished bracelet. “Gimme your hand.”
Nicky obligingly holds out his hand and lets her ties the bracelet around his wrist, thanking her as she sits back to already start work on another. He smiles, watching her grab the purple threads, and touches the yellow smiling sun charm on his bracelet as he closes his eyes once again. He’ll be with Joe again soon.
159 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 20:13:08 GMT
#3
Today in niche content no one asked for: The Old Guard as crimes and misdemeanours of my family over the years
Andy: Forged Lebanese driving license that turned into an underserved British license
Nile: Smuggled a shot of vodka into a football game by disguising it in a tampon wrapper
Joe: Scaled the walls of the British embassy in Egypt in order to steal their flag and humiliate them
Nicky: Accidentally stole a hymn book from Church because he got distracted and forgot he was holding it
Booker: Started a Victorian dating agency that scammed people by promising to find them a perfect match but in actuality just took their money and ran
Quynh: Diamond theft
203 notes • Posted 2021-04-27 17:38:37 GMT
#2
@kiaya mentioned that between Marwan’s pecs and Luca’s thighs they make a top+bottom pair, and so pyjama sharing happened:
Andy, Nile was pretty sure, predated shopping lists. Which went some way to explaining why the scrap of paper she handed to Nile a) wasn’t even a list and b) made no sense at all.
“Okayyyy...” Nile mused as she turned the paper round, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Well first of all, you don’t just ‘buy an internet’.”
Andy made a dismissive noise and handed Nile another 500 Euro note as if that solved the issue. Nile didn’t have the energy to argue the point, and instead moved on to her next question:
“I’m not sure I can get Pirozhki here either, this village only has one store and it’s pretty tiny. And French.”
“Just do your best,” Andy said warmly.
“And,” Nile continued, hitting her stride, “you’ve written ‘2 pyjamas’ when there are, in fact, four of us.”
“Yes, but I don’t wear pyjamas,” Andy pointed out.
“That still doesn’t add up.”
“Oh you don’t either? Make it just the one set then.”
Nile took a long, slow breath. Maybe either Nicky or Joe already had a pair, or like Andy didn’t subscribe to the notion of night clothes. Either way, asking questions about the ‘list’ only seemed to confuse things further, so she grabbed her jacket and headed out into the cold.
*****
Joe was only wearing pyjama trousers. Nile felt a little bad.
“I’m sorry, did the top not fit?” she asked. “Sometimes people try things on and put them back in the wrong places, I should’ve checked the label instead of trusting the hanger.”
“No, no, it fits perfectly,” Joe reassured her with a smile. “Thank you, Nile.”
Maybe Joe just didn’t like wearing tops in bed. Nile had an ex like that- he always complained about overheating and never wore any sort of tshirt to sleep. She settled back onto the sofa and thought no more of it, working her way through a bowl of what she thought was granola but may well have been bird feed. Her French was a little rusty and the store had been laid out in a similar fashion to Andy’s list: anything and everything spread out in a jumble.
“Good morning, Nile,” Nicky greeted her as he ambled into the kitchen.
“Mornin’,” Nile replied, then froze for a second as everything finally clicked into place: Nicky was wearing the pyjama top. Ah. That made sense.
“What makes sense?” Joe asked, handing Nicky a cup of coffee.
Damn, Nile hadn’t realised she was thinking aloud.
“I just thought it was weird, initially, Andy telling me just to buy one pair of pyjamas for the two of you.” Nile swallowed her bird feed. “But this makes sense. It’s kind of cute, really.”
“Mmm,” Joe agreed absently, his eyes firmly fixed on where Nicky’s top rode up as he reached up for the bowls on the top shelf. He was wearing boxers underneath, thank goodness, but the way Joe’s eyes glazed over it was like Nicky was wearing nothing at all.
“Told you the top fitted perfectly.”
448 notes • Posted 2021-02-08 16:28:20 GMT
#1
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Bingo prompt 5: pasta. Make of this what you will.
804 notes • Posted 2021-06-06 11:05:03 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
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Crow of hope
Hey @duneska​ I want to wish you a Happy and full of delight filled Birthday, you truly deserve it 😊.
You have become a wonderful friend over the little time I knew you and you just brightened up my whole day with even the littlest message. The conversations we had were always so bright and funny to me, and I just bonded with you over similarities I always believed no one would get.
But I am so glad I was wrong and I was able to form this friendship with you, you were after all one of the persons who brightened up my tumblr experience the most. 
And like I said, you brightened up my day with even the littlest message.
I hope I could also brighten your day a bit and wish you a lot of fun with this piece I’ve written.
It might not be your taste as it is rather angsty at the beginning, but I’ll promise there is a lot of fluff making up for it. Something I also want to apologise in advance for is that it turned out soo long, but when I tried to shorten it - I just wasn’t happy with it. So buckle up and enjoy this fic with a well deserved piece of cake 😊
However, I have brabbled enough - enjoy your Birthday present and your B-day😊
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Words: ~8.5k
„Alright, put the daffodils right there – yes, to the Dahlias.” Commanded Elain in a soft voice as fae of all kinds bustled around the grand hall – her voice a drowned-out whisper in all the other murmurs which echoed off the sleek white walls. Bustling skirts, hurried steps, exhausted breaths, and small conversations all around her lithe body, while everyone -female, male, old and young – worked together to make their High Lady proud.
No one knew that it wasn’t their priced High Lady who organized all this; the flowers, the decoration, the cluttery – it was all chosen by Elain, though the main idea really came from Feyre and perhaps that was all that mattered, but right now there was no time to frown at that.
Tables were still in the need to be placed by the walls, so everyone could dance to their hearts content in the middle of the great hall with tapered ceilings, the last bits of food needed preparation and mostly had the decoration to be finished -the colours a special order from Feyre herself when she had approached Elain two weeks ago. Telling her sister in a rushed afternoon, which the seer spent working in her greenhouse, that she would love to have an garland of flowers – rowed in the colours of the rainbow – stretching all over the room.
Considering the fact that the hall was at least thrice the size of the river Estates living room and mid-January – it was a miracle that there were even that many flowers available in Velaris. Many florists had given their last flowers to the charity event of the High Lady, once Elain’s begging voice whispered through their ears, having to close for the next couple of days as they had no other arrangements to put on display, but no one of the shop owners seemed to care.
And honestly, Elain didn’t either -having put the blooming part of her spacious greenhouse to good use – as the last flowers were braided into a river of poinsettias, orange Dahlias, daffodils, Jasmines, light blue Delphiniums and many, many more. If the seer was truly truthful, were it a bit too varying shades of colours to her, as they nearly seemed to jump into one’s eye, but who was she to care. Feyre was the artist who wished to paint this dull hall into a sea of happiness and surely knew what she was doing – hopefully.
Thought Elain while her delicate hands smoothed over the sea of flowers, a coughing fit crawling from her throat the moment all those different smells hit her flaring nose thrills – giving her already a headache – while she ordered for the garland to be pulled up.
“It’s just … magnificent.” Breathed Feyre next to Elain, a swirling cloud of dark chiffon skirts swaying to her feet, as she watched how the rainbow expanded over their heads in a bow, like a real rainbow. “It sure is.” Coughed Elain, while she tried to hide her coughing fit and tearing eyes behind the back of her hand – this was just too much for her nose!
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay till the party starts? You know, my students keep nagging me to bring my pretty sister back to the art lessons.” Mocked her carefree voice the tearing seer, who just shook her head – to more she wasn’t able anyway as Feyre already rushed off to Rhysand, who strode into the grand hall as if it was a catwalk, together with Nyx on his hip. Smiling sadly to herself did the seer shake her head and avoided to gaze at the happy family, safe, together and alive – unlike many other families who had fallen victim to the war.
The cold luring song of death pulling all those warriors and innocent fae away from their loved ones. This evening was for those loved ones, who stayed in the charts and rubble of a past life. This evening was supposed to be  giving them  hope – hope of a healed life as they were to laugh to their hearts content again. And Elain should have been happy for Feyre and Rhys – is happy for them – but somehow this was never all she felt, somehow there was this pinch. Twisting and stabbing her guts whenever she thought of all of the happiness, the freedom – all which she denied herself and did not dare to believe in anymore, as it was taken from her. Her freedom – her choice. Given to a male she nearly did not change a word with and did not even whish to have a bond with as her happiness vanished in the puff of a stary night as a ravenous voice declared to her: ‘It was a mistake.’
Never would she forget those words. Never would she ever be able to hear them from him again -whispered, yelled, breathed, or just told in a voice as cold as a grave – as no matter how, they would always be her end. Always send her heart bleeding in a flood of scarlet red while her eyes cried the river of a thousand seas binding together.
But it was no use- mourning after someone she was not supposed to be with. After all immortality awaited her and right now were the things on her mind far more important than a male – no matter how charming, generous, kind, patient and good looking he was. Elain tried to shake her head at those silly thoughts, her bleeding-heart wandering in a mine of salt with them, as her golden locks flew around her like a spinning skirt of the finest silk twirling under the glimmering lights of a chandelier. Sparkling and sprinkling as if a thousand stars lived in those heavy strands of hair. But those stars would not shine, would not rise as she hurried with silent steps away from the last preparations.
Past a happily laughing Rhys and Feyre as they listened to Nyx blabbering and let her pass without a second glance into the dull hallway.
‘She forgot!’
‘Of course, she forgot!’
Raged her mind while she waltzed over the marble in a barrel of sky blue chiffon skirts; ‘Why would she remember?’ , asked her heart her, this traitorous head of hers silently answering her ‘She has many things swirling in her head right now, she just forgot this year – there are millennia’s to come, don’t be too hard on her.’
Lie! Screamed her shattered heart, as tears dreaded to fall from her doe eyes, waiting like brave sailors at a plank end for the final push of the captain, while her delicate hands gathered the soft material of a dainty blue chiffon. But this last push never came.
The words in her head and memory those of a salt dipped dagger, but she did not cry, did not bend as her cruel heart sang to her, that her sister had not only forgotten this years Birthday, but the one of last year and the one before that and even before that.
Feyre forgot Elain’s birthday for the fourth time in a row and if things were going to continue like they were now, her younger sister would surely wonder in a century, if Elain was truly born or just popped out of a seed on some nameless day. Though Nesta was not of much difference, her number of rows only a three, while her pretendence of knowing her beloved gardener sister hurt just as much as Feyres.
Both seeming to know what was best for her.
Both seeming to know that a rainbow would wait to be spotted in her life – funny thing was just, that instead of letting her watch out for the numerous colours painted in her fate, did those two stand in front of her. Clouding her vision and senses with their good believed thoughts as they were ready to fight for this miraculous happiness of hers with a shield, dagger and sword, and bow and arrow. Never letting anyone past them, as they watched out for her, believing that this suffocating grip they had on her heart was something non-existent.
But they didn’t know that she felt about them this way, after all – Elain never really spoke a word of discomfort to them, never truly. All that spoke for her was her body – lithe a pale swaying from time to time under the glowing sun, whilst her last meal had been days ago. A peaceful sleep seemingly something which mocked her from a century long distance as it escaped her over and over again.
But no one noticed -except for Nuala and Cerridwen, who tried to nurse the delicate fawn silently back to health with heart sweetening friendship and occasional baking lessons, in which they all ate the results after wards.
Though did another name occur in her mind, as she raced through the long, sleek corridors and farther away from the shining stomach of the bustling manor. Grabbing her lilac cloak in a hurried way, while she repeated that same name over and over again in her head. The smile she wore stretching itself impossibly wider on her lips the more often she thought of him and his dazzling smile. Him and his gleaming eyes and sun lightening laughter.
And it were those thoughts which made her rushed walk to her home so much lighter, almost jumping from one step to the other as she hurried past chatting fae on the cobbled street. Only noticing with a distant consciousness that each house she passed grew darker and darker. Colour fading, whilst walls crumbled under the broken roofs.
Her nose didn’t even scrunch up at the rotten smell which wafted through the air, unlike she had done before, because she knew -just knew- that this was a familiar scent. One which would come without suffocating sisters, one which would come without an always smiling gardener but one which would come with a light sweet hearted boy, who lived among greys and browns.
Only a few houses stood crumbled, but proud, under the sinking sun of the night court. Rags and hastily put-up tents dominating the dark paths far in the outskirts of Velaris. Though some did not want to acknowledge that they were still part of this shining city, feeling out of place and unheard, whilst the high fae and lesser fae lived in glorious peace with their High Lord and Lady, who believed to have restored houses and families of their city. The healing of the peoples hearts a process which started long ago. The charity ball of Feyre was a part of this process too.
Her cheery and optimistic self, which also understood the pain and grief of the fae, made them all come together for those in need -mostly for those at the rainbow. Little did one of them know that those who needed the help the most, suffered in silence under ruins, and decayed bodies of their loved ones. Skeletons of delicate fae females, bulky males, Illyrians and even children resting in dreading ivory colour among crumbled walls and roofs.
Fortunately, he was not one of them, luckily, he was brave enough to get a hold of her skirt one fateful day on which she got lost. Mortified by the skeletons, ruins and death singing streets, did her heart nearly leap out of her chest once this little hand brought her to a halt. This traitorous muscle already readying her to meet the empty eye sockets of a dead being. But those eyes glittering and shimmering like a mountain lake at her were pretty much the liveliest she had ever seen. Specks of brown and green swimming in those eyes of his, that one could think they were fishes enjoying the warm presence of him.
Just like Elain would do now, as she reached a small house. A cracked door -rotten and hanging off on one hinge- was all which kept her from seeing him again. Eager to see his blinding smile, did she knock three times: one short and two long, just like she had told him.
“Elain!” squeaked his voice already from the inside, as he hurried to haul the door open. The seer could only smile at the little boy standing in front of her with this dazzling grin – one of his front incisors gone. “Hey Amel! Would you let me in?” “Of course!” beamed the boy and crushed the seer into a warm hug once she closed the door behind her. “What did I miss while I was gone?” spoke her voice softly, once she had picked him up and carried him towards the rag of a couch only a few steps away. His little wings twitching up for the shortest of moments, when she accidentally brushed the base of his wings with a slightly calloused hand. “Nothing much.”, mumbled Amels voice into her shoulder, “though I did miss you. Does that count?” Elain giggled at his hopeful eyes and could only plop his little nose; “Of course it does! I missed you too after all.”
Amel nuzzled into her at those sweet words and enjoyed her warmth like a giant cat, which curled up on the seers chest. Though he did not purr, but did the boy fold his wings neatly back in – almost as if he were ready to fall asleep.
“I have a surprise for you!” spoke up the little Illyrian in a rush, once Elain sat on the slightly mushy pillows of the couch, as if he had just remembered the surprise himself rather than to tell Elain. “And which one is that?” But she did not even receive an answer, as the little Illyrian had long scurried to the kitchenette in the back of the giant room, in which next to the sofa and a kitchenette stood an old table, with two chairs, accompanied by an old cask, which worked as a bathtub and an ancient fireplace. The in grey stone set cleft gaping at her, whilst the heavy stones crumbled, but the important parts of the old fireplace were still intact. The empty blackness reminding her that she had to feed it with wood and light them up in order to have some warmth in the perforated house.
Kneeling in front of the ancient fireplace did she fed log for log and lit the stack of wood with cold shaken fingers up, silently listening how Amel dragged a chair over to the kitchenette and climbed on top of it.
It were mere minutes which the seer had spend here, yet had the sun sunken that low already, that the stars begun their twinkling evening dance atop of their heads – bringing chilly January coldness with them, that let her breath fog. And that was the sign for Elain to start the nightly preparations with a whistling wind around her shaking shoulders, picking up various piles of blankets, while Amel still bustled around in the rotten kitchen cabins.
Blanket after blanket were strained atop of the clumsily, over the holes nailed wood. Blocking out any roaring sound of cold gusts and any light. And whilst the seer put the last blanket over the gaping slit of the broken door, did Amel sit down eagerly on the couch. “Come on, Elain! You are going to miss your surprise!” She smiled then, nailing the last blanket for today against the old wood and strode over towards the young boy with two thick wool blankets in her hand.
Once she sat down on the slightly warmed pillows, did Amel pull something to the front, from behind his back, the happiest smile he ever wore stretched on his thin lips: “Happy Birthday, Elain!” Exclaimed his cheery voice and let her gaze on a plain little muffin, which was topped with a half burned Birthday candle. “You shouldn’t have, Amel.” Whispered the seer as tears welled up in her eyes and hugged him with all her blazing heart.
She had only mentioned the day of her Birthday once, in a bedtime story she told him, and here he was – this young soul, full of happiness despite all his pain, who presented her a sweet little muffin as if it was a great Birthday cake. And it was, for her it was everything she ever asked for. Elain did not need any gowns or jewellery on her Birthday as presents, she just wanted a soul which remembered her.
And Amel was together with Nuala and Cerridwen the only souls which truly remembered her. Perhaps Azriel remembered the date too, but after the Solstice a few weeks ago it was probably clear that he would not wish to speak his congratulations to her, after all – she was a mistake. One he was likely to never do again, as he seemed to avoid her like the plague – only letting her catch one accidental glance at him while he admired the work in her Greenhouse from afar.
“You have to blow out the candle!” cheered Amel. Though did his eyebrows raise once Elain told with a slightly stern voice, that he was the one to eat the muffin. “I already ate lots of cake Amel, one more bite and I’ll explode!” joked the seer, but the Illyrians wings only lowered itself down on the brown pillows “I knew it is not good enough…” “It is, Amel. This is all I could ever ask for and I bet it tastes delicious,” Elain rested her cold hands over those of the little Illyrian, cupping the muffin together with him “but you need to eat more than me. You are still growing.” He nodded at that and let the seer blow out the striped candle.
She did not have a wish then, but after Amel devoured the baked good and went to take a bath with her, did he ask her sleepily “What did you wish for?” Elain tugged the blankets around them impossibly closer, a cocoon of warmth, “I can’t tell you; it won’t come true otherwise.” “Pleaseee…” “Alright.” Chuckled Elain at the Illyrian, whose wet black hair stuck out as if it were hedgehog spikes and leaned down to him: “I wished for your Mama and Papa to come home and that you three live in a cute little hut together.” “Without you?” “I’ll come by to visit – verry often.” spoke Elain once she saw his sad blue eyes, that lit up the moment she announced her regular visits.
It made her smile, when Amel cuddled closer into the pillows of the large couch and into her warm side, his arms and wings sleepily drabbed over her while he tried, even in his sleep, to protect her and hold her close to him. Elain could only draw calming circles over his wet hair, as she too pulled his little body closer. The sad awareness of her lie chuckling behind the sofa leans at her.
She knew that Amels parents were to never return. Their broken bodies one of the first she had found and buried, after she decided to come and help those who needed it. Fae of all kind had helped her burry those which did not survive the Hybern attack and had taken her advice on going into the starlight kissed city. Only this little boy stayed.
She had met him the week after she buried the winged female and in rind covered male, the descriptions he made to her sending chills down her spine as she realized that he was the child of those two lovers. An orphan now – though did he not know it, as he eagerly waited for his parents to come home after their grocery shopping and Elain did not have the heart to tell him of his parents passing. The only thing she had told him, was that they were asleep and that for a verry, verry long time – forever-she had told.
But Amel did not understand the meaning of those words and simply waited for his parents, in their house, to wake up and get him back. Elain couldn’t count the times she had asked the boy to come with her anymore. His reason of stay always the same – “Mama and Papa won’t find me, if I’ll leave.” And so, all she could do was visit him, as often as she could and if one considered that her presence at the river estate was barely acknowledged, did she spend almost all her time here. The only ones which knew about her whereabouts were Nuala and Cerridwen, who occasionally send her with a basket ‘into town’ to get something for them, if Feyre ever asked. Though did the basket never come back filled – it was always empty. The smuggled loaves of bread and wheels of cheese always staying at the little hut together with Amel, who had fallen soundly asleep next to her.
His little snores pulling her under too, whilst wind and darkness raged outside and slowly let the fire die down.
A heavy knock on the door was what pulled them awake. Sleep mused and dry did the Illyrian boy and Elain look at each other and waited for another knock, which followed soon. The seer already wanted to go and check the door herself as Amel only hurried past her, to haul the door open again. Letting her poke the dying ember glimmers in the ashes awake.
And then he just stood there at the door, wings dropped and mouth wide in amazement, did the boy not even shiver when coldness cloaked his in rags covered body. “Who is it, Amel?” shouted Elain from the fireplace, as her eyebrows furrowed together. At this time of day no one had any business to attend here. The worry she felt overtaking her once no one answered her. And as she saw the one standing on the other side of the threshold, did she nearly lose the black fire poker in her hands. Shock, delight, and pain all suddenly exploding and chasing around in her heart.
Amel only took her free hand, once he saw her frozen face – widened eyes and a slightly parted lips. “He looks like the one you always describe in my bedtime stories.” Stated his happy voice in a hushed tone, as if he feared the person at the threshold – chunky as a cupboard – was just a ghost. He was certainly not the only one believing that, as Elain herself could not process the picture in front of her.
Azriel stood there, in flesh and blood, with a heavy breath fogging the air as his murky coat and wind mussed mass of dark hair stood black against the stary night. At first glance one could believe he was one with the darkness, but at second glance one saw the broad shoulders, tugged in wings and tousled hair standing darker than the shadows against the sky. A silhouette painted in the depths of a night blooming sky in one of Feyres paintings.
And he was just that, a painting whose face lit it up in a golden hue with surprise once he saw the little Illyrian hauling the door open with his yet dainty fingers, now clutching to the seers hand. His breath halting the moment he saw her -just like hers had flogged itself away in her chest once she saw his eyes again. Dulled and almost entirely hazel, the specks of grey and green which she had spotted over a year ago, nearly gone as they seemed to hide away from pain and hurt.
“Elain.” Tore her his ravenous voice away from his empty eyes. She felt shocked, to say the least as they were always warm and seemed to sing of companionship and appreciation whenever her gaze wandered into them, but now there was nothing – just a murky sea of hazel, empty and without a feeling. “Can I come in?” “Of course!” chirped Amel before she could even lift her tongue for an answer. Sending the boy a stern look -accompanied by a suppressed smile – when he left her delicate hand and placed his little palm against Azriels large one, dragging a stumbling Shadowsinger into the little hut, as they left the seer to close the door.
Elain could only smile and shake her head, once she saw how the two took their seats on the coach, a strong wind- piercing and shivering- flickered through the rotten walls and send the fire dancing, whilst the seer merely shook at the gust. Hazily closing the door after this howling bite reminded her of the gaping opening in the wall.
“Are you really the Shadowsinger?” whispered Amel at the gigantic male by his side, as if he were afraid to accidently summon an ancient creature. “I am.” Azriel inclided his head, “At your service little lord … .” “Amel.” The Shadowsinger send a rare grin to the boy and repeated his name, which set the Illyrian giggling “But I am no Lord!”
“Really? But I thought you had the heart of one.” Mused Elain as she stepped back to the two again, her arms loaden with wood and those delicate shoulders covered in a sheet of wool. Amel watched her with raised eyebrows feed the fireplace. “How do you know one has the heart of a lord?”
“Well, that’s easy.” Smiled the seer to herself once she sat down with the two curious males. Amel a small curious bundle of wings between her and Azriel – watching her with the same curious stare as the Shadowsinger. “A lord is one of a noble kind, though I do not mean the kind of nobility you are born with. I mean a kind of nobility you grow over time, one which is not defined by money or jewels, but by the weight of the heart and one’s decisions.” Whispered her small voice at him and poked the spot above his heart with a teasing finger. “A lord is -for me- not someone born with the claim of a throne or a higher stance in society, only minding his own business and his alone. A Lord is someone who is kind and generous, with a heart as bright and pure as the sun.” And somehow her gaze wandered over the ash black locks on Amels head and into the curious eyes of the Shadowsinger.
Specks of life and colour returning to these irises in green streaks once her words had settled into his heart. A shy smile stretching on her lips after she had spotted the faint blush in his cheeks, under the glowing light of fire.  
Amel only hummed at the words. “So does that mean I am a Lord?” “To me, yes!” smiled Elain at the boy and wrapped him into the wool blanket beside him. Afraid that the wind which rattled at the planks and blankets would bite into his warmed body. Tucking him away with a careful hand and slowly pushing him down on the spacious couch. “Come on, Amel, it is time for bed.” “But I don’t wanna go to bed! We have a visitor!” Protested the young boy with an uprising of his wings and voice.
Making the Shadowsinger uncomfortable as he was brought into the argument. “I can go … if you need your rest little boy.” The little Illyrian jumped at that – not on the floor to have a temper tantrum – but to the Shadowsinger. His little fingers holding on tightly to Azriels’ neck as he sat in his lap, “No! Please don’t go! It’s nice to have you around!”
“You are certainly the only one who is thinking that.” Grinned Azriel at his head. Somehow laughter and sadness lacing those uplifted corners. Those twisted ties drawing in the seer so much, that she could not prevent those childish words from slipping; “That is not true. I like your company very much.” Only when his head snapped to her, those eyes widened and brimming with green and grey again, did she hear her own words pounding against her ear and nearly punching her heart out of her chest, as she got lost in the forest in his eyes.
Only catching herself once a last crack of wood screamed in the flames, making the burning ember jump out of the chimney and onto the rotten wooden tiles. It had the seer nearly jumping to her feet – pushing the glowing ember back with the heavy fire poker, as if she were stabbing a chicken.
Or a king for that matter, as suddenly not the gleaming heat of the fire covered her hand, but the warmth of freshly spilled blood. Elain shrieked at the sight, eyes wide and mortified did she throw the iron poker in front of the fireplace. Wiping her ash covered hand at those chiffon layers of sky blue.
Azriel was there the moment her back hit the old couch. Setting Amel on the old cushions and picking up the slightly heated fire poker with a careful, scarred, hand.
He took the space beside her the moment his ears heard the Illyrian boy shuffle to lay down, trying to give them at least the imagination of privacy with his back turned to the two fae. “El, are you alright?”
Her heart jumped at her nickname on his tongue. Rolling off of it so easily, as if he had done it a hundred times. “I am fine.” Croaked this silent voice of hers at him. Making her laugh at her ruined try of steadiness. “It’s fine Az, really. Nothing to be worried about.”
He didn’t answer her.
Hearing the lie a mile away even if he were deaf.
But he gave her time to sort herself out and collect all the silent thoughts she did not share with him. The moment she wanted to, his words flowing into hers as they were to interrupt each other’s sentences; “What are you doing here Azriel?” “I wanted to wish you a happy Birthday.”
They looked at each other then, really and for the first time in weeks. Those brown swirls in the seers’ eyes drawing him in, as if he were a child yearning for chocolate. Whilst the seer wandered into those streaks of green in his irises as if they were a mystical forest, she long wished to discover, but never dared to.
It had them still, yet throwing their heads back as laughs, as sweet as the first flowers in spring bloomed from the seer’s mouth. Whilst those frail petals slithered down Azriels spine, had the rich ravenous sound of his laughter goosebumps emitting on the seer’s skin. Amel merely turned around, peeking at the two adults merely sitting inches away from each other. The Shadowsingers wings slightly extended to Elain’s side as content silence wrapped around them as a warming blanket.
Even after weeks of silence did not change a thing of their companionship.
Even after all this time, after all the mistakes, had nothing changed.
There was a bond, buzzing and glowing, as warm as a hearth between them. But something dimmed this radiant glow.
Though it was no shadow which touched this magnificent bond. Enthralled by this golden glow themselves did they sneak around it like curious snakes, watching and gazing, tracing and tickling.
But neither of the two fae acknowledged this bond, this tether between night and day.
And so Amel saw it upon himself to cut through this thick silence, once no one dared to utter a word, not even a heave of a silent breath. “Elain, I am tired. Can you tell me a story, please?” “Of course!” jumped the seer to answer immediately, as she turned to wrap him up. Snuggling onto the couch close to his fragile body, to prevent him from freezing, and put another blanket atop his frame.
It didn’t take long for the boy to nuzzle into the seers side, pressing his rounded ear next to her left ribcage -listening to the thundering sound of her heart. “Do you want to listen too, Shadowsinger?”
“Please, call me Azriel. And only will I stay if your mother is alright with it.” Elain stiffned at that, barely noticeable -at least for Amel- as the little boy merely answered him “Elain is not my Mama – but she is waiting, together with me, for her to come back.”
Dread immediately filled Azriels guts as he saw the almost invisible shake of her head. He was an orphan. Left in the rubble of Hyberns attack.
He had to chock down a small “I am sorry.” For the boy did not yet know of his parents passing. But even though this was a message as dark as a shadow, did he still feel a spark of light inside this black mist, when he remembered how long ago the attack was and Elain was still here to watch and guid him. “Before you ask, Azriel, I don’t want to go into the city. Mama and Papa won’t know where I am if I leave.” Yawned the boy tiredly, surprising the Shadowsinger ever more, as he seemed to have known his next question.
Elain merely smiled at the boy and caressed his back protectively, whispering to no one in particular “I have tried to convince him for months now to come with me into Velaris, or at least a little hut -not a ruin- but this stubborn Illyrian doesn’t even give me a chance to reason with him.” Her gaze shifted then, from a warm fire to a cold batch of earth “But I am already used to that.”
Azriel didn’t know if she meant the incident on solstice, or if she was talking about her lack of choice in general, but he did not dare to pry any further as the shadows whispered of her uneasiness to him.
Amel seemed almost fast asleep in her arms, lulled in by the beat of her heart -how he would have liked to switch places with the little boy – barely noticing anything around him as he carefully got up from the creaking floor. “I better get –“ “Stay.” Interrupted him Elain before his heavy booted feet could even make one tentative step towards the door.
The Shadowsinger was torn between leaving and staying. The High Lords words,as well as his own ringing in his rounded ears. ‘You are to stay away from her.’ ‘It was a mistake.’
Did these words hunt her just as much as they chased him?
Letting him grief and nearly cry out in anger at a love he was denied being with, as his brother -His High Lord- assumed him to be driven by the need of his lusts. But this was by far the furthest thing from reality. He had long admitted to himself, that the taste of the seer on his tongue would send him to heaven and hell all the same.
But what he carved more than any taste of her, was just the feeling of her. The warmth of her lithe body seeping into him, whenever she would hug him. The sound of her voice giggling at one of his dry jokes – whilst her smile brightened up his world. Her smell a perfume of Jasmin he wished to smell for the rest of eternity.
And driven by all that -his hearts carvings- did he give in to the temptation of her company and settled to rest at the other end of the brown couch. One of the woollen blankets Elain had carried before resting atop his massive frame with slight scratches, but they gave him warmth and something other to concentrate on than the seers smell.
„All right. You settled in, Amel?” “Uhmm.” Hummed his young voice at Elain, sleep already drenching from every little sound. It had the seer giggling, whilst the Illyrian only nuzzled into her. Merely peeking an eye open when he had heard nothing of the silent Shadowsinger. Only to see the picture of darkness at the wrong spot.
Elain was sure, that if Feyre, or any other artist was to capture this moment, it would not be the taunt reality with a shy Shadowsinger trying to hide at the other end of the couch. For anyone else it would be death peering down on his next victims. The shadows behind him seemingly lashing and wiping at those preys, whilst the truth was one of shyness. The shadows not knowing what to do with themselves as their master was fully at ease and their presence of needlessness. But the curiosity they harboured, for the story that was to come, made them stay. Shyly settling down by Azriels wings and shoulders as they waited patient as dogs for the seer to begin.
But apparently was Amel not happy with the arrangements. Huffing a loud puff of air at the seer when he had realized the uncomfortable shyness with which Azriel gazed at them. “Azriel, please come here too – I wanna cuddle with you too!” It had the Shadowsinger go stiff as a board, the calm shadows beside him suddenly twitching alive again. But instead of lashing out to protect this cupboard of a male, did they more seem to gather behind his back. As if trying to push him.
“Traitors!” muttered the Shadowsinger under his breath, making the seer giggle ever the softest at his stern gaze into the black void. Amel hadn’t heard this word, which echoed through the seers pointed ear, but was delighted when he saw the dark male standing and gathering his blanket. The fire beside them dancing and seemingly caressing the stern panels of his face and gigantic wings.
Every other kid would have trembled in fear at him. Afraid that those painful eyes would hide a volcano of rage and violence, but Amel knew it better. And Elain couldn’t help as to smile at herself, with the knowledge that this better knowledge of the boy was her fault – telling him every night a tale of the Shadowsinger, which she herself heard from Nuala and Cerridwen.
“Scoot over.” Ordered Amel with the try to push the seer at the sofa lean. Even though the seating was rather large considered to regular couches, it still was not enough to fit all three next to each other.
Azriel already wanted to see it as a cue to finally go. A sigh of relief, but also exhaustion flooding him, as his heart yearned for the company of the seer. But also was afraid to come too close to her. Hurting her perhaps. He didn’t wanted to do that.
To his relief or unluck, he wasn’t sure, grabbed the seven year old his tainted hand and pushed him into the space next to Elain.
The seer, as well as the Shadowsinger, gazed at each other in a moment of surprise. Their widened eyes searching the company of each other as Azriels wings twitched beneath him, adjusting ever the slightest to his new form of rest -trying to make them some space.
But as it turned out was the only option to let Elain slightly lean up and let the wing pass under her. Cradling this lithe body of hers, while Amel crawled on the males chest and snuggled between the two. His own wings a warm cocoon around him. “Comfortable?” asked Azriel the boy and had his heart leaping in his chest at the bright smile the boy offered him. Hugging him close as if he were not a monster, as if he were not covered in the blood of hundreds and hundreds, but as if he were a male like everyone else. With a heart and a life and a mind which could make generous decisions.
It was the case that he did, but right now, even this moment seemed too innocent to weigh against all the bad decisions he made. Sensing his discomfort snaked the seer an arm around the little Illyrian between them, and let her palm silently rest on his drumming heart. She felt every nervous pump of blood on her skin, yet she merely smiled and tugged the blankets -which were shortly discarded- up to cover all three of them.
The fire still crackling happily in its pit. Whilst those three souls lay in comfort there.
It was the physically closest they had ever been. Even with Amel between them could the seer not say were his heaving chest ended and her calming hand started, connecting them as if he were a vibrant tree sprouting out of her calming earth. Somehow this coaxed a smile out of her and using the situation shamelessly by snuggling even closer.
But it did not like as if Azriel minded, as his scarred hand grabbed a hold of her waist. Steadily keeping her against him.
“Ready for your story?” whispered Elain in the warmth before the fire. “Yes!” declared the boy and too, snuggled closer to the Shadowsinger. In whose chest seemed to bloom a flower of happiness, nurtured by the appreciation, patience and love of those two in his arms.
Elain merely smiled and started a tale which the quiet Shadowsinger was to remember even in the passage of centuries.
“Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She was of utter beauty and kindness, pure and entirely unstained. Something her two sisters wanted to prevent from ever happening, as they searched the truest, kindest and sweetest soul for her sister to marry. Promising her hand to him at a time she had not even met this mysterious man. The bubble of solitude and guarded safety her sisters kept her in, stifling her chances of ever getting to know him before their wedding was to happen. Promising her forever to the hand of a stranger, who did not even own her trust.” Azriel noticed, that during sometime at her telling – had slipped a sting of pain in those normally bright shining eyes. But Azriel assumed to know why this was the case, her fingers starting to rub unconscious circles over his heart – chanting searing circles through his burning skin as his heart thundered and pumped in response at them. At even the softest of flame rings did this beating muscle in his heart not miss a chance to capture this circle.
And then she whispered again -at the night, at Amel, at him or at the fire, he wasn’t sure. “But this marriage was a trap. Not for the lovely sister, but for the poor man -who would spend his entire life in the fear of losing his wife to a so believed demon inside of her. This creature inside of her -so it was told- capturing her and leaving her eyes in a mist of grey whenever he was to talk to her. “
“Her sisters had worried for their beloved, lovely sister ever more with the passing years, as this haze of grey seemingly hunted her day and night. Fearing that this beast might kill her, had they locked her up, far, far into a tower with barred windows. Her entire freedom taken away from her, when her sisters had sent a guard to watch over her.” Elain chuckled, and sneaked a glance at the Shadowsinger, who cradled the tired Illyrian, as if her were worth an entire court. “At first, she believed him to be a statue, one created without emotions displayed on his looming face. But over the time she got to spend with him – she saw it was actually a massive cauldron brewing beneath his bronze skin. Mixing happiness, kindness, gratitude, sadness, anger and so much more into one pot that he just didn’t know how to express them.”
“But over time -even when those hazy moments possessed her- did they grow to know each other. Finding more similarities in the other than it was ever believed of a guard and a princess to have. Her sisters however were blind to the obvious trust between the guard and their sister and kept the engagement to the other man. It was when she first saw the male, so in contrast to the guard who had her trust, that this demon overtook her. Not just her eyes, but also her mouth. Speaking of a riddle which was to occupy the entire Kingdome of the princess for years: ‘The one with the deepest of values, shall be able to set her free – the one of the greatest of powers. The one having fate at her hand, a two-sided blade -one old and one new- wielding at her will. A mist of grey laying ahead of her eyes, whilst the path behind her, shall be paved forever more. The stone to rest, one which she can’t move.’ “
Her eyes glazed over at that – when her voice talked almost sacredly about those prophecies – as if she were in a memory only months away. Absently starting to trace Amels ash black curls with a tentative finger. His deep snore vibrating through the Shadowsingers chest as both watched in trance the rise of his little body. When she realized that Amel had long gone into the depths of sleep, she withdrew her hand, closing her eyes for the rest of slumber. That was until the Shadowsinger asked, a careful edge lacing his voice, “Could you please continue? I wanna know the answer to the riddle.”
Her eyes snapped woken at that, a shy smile stretching her lips, before she used the hand to cradle the felty matt of Amels hair, to caress his lightly stubbled cheek “I assume you already know the answer, Shadowsinger.” “Still. Please.” He wanted to hear her voice just for a little longer. Wanted to enjoy her embrace as long as he could – savouring every searing fingerprint of her on his skin.
Elain did not argue father than that, simply letting her words lull him in again; “Her sisters believed, that the one who had the deepest of value, was the betrothed of their beloved sister. Claiming that her love was his. But to their disappointment had he no clue, no answer with could free the lovely princess from her haze. And so, she stayed locked up, in the tower and murky depths of grey, her hand free to take – as the sisters saw that the man they chose, was a choice for another princess. The riddle, which was spoken, carried near and far. Surprisingly, luring a lot of man into the trance of the cursed princess, so it was said. “
“Her beauty had man forget the oddity ,this curse seemed to be, and made them simply wish to take her hand with the freeing of her haze. And yet, determined they all were, no one had the ability to free her from those murky grey depths. The only soul loyal by her side -unafraid- was the devoted guard by her side. Watching and protecting her like the human she was before. “
“Year went by, beforethe guard got fed up with presenting the princess constantly as if she were an animal in the zoo. A mere attraction, not a living being. The guard had heard the riddle so many times, he himself was able to recite it as if it were his own words, yet it took time too, for him to realize the meanings of the words.”
Elains brown orbs gazed deep into his then, a bright smile seemingly lightening each freckle and trace of colour in her eyes, when she recited the words he once declared “A seer. That was what the guard had told. Freeing the princess from the grey murky depths of future and past with two simple words. Spoken as if they weighed nothing. But the world rose at that day, colour, smells and feelings returning to the princess. The cry of happiness was roaring through the entire castle, as the two sisters wanted to hug their beloved sister, though had she heard nothing of that. Running past her extended arms and down the pedestal on which they kept her. Jumping right into the guards’ arms and clinging to him, as if he were her air.”
“Is that what you would have liked to do?” grinned the Shadowsinger. The tenseness of his shoulders -of his entire being- seemingly vanished into thin air within this stolen moment. Elain blushed a little, but nodded nonetheless – snuggling a bit closer to his warmth and body – whilst his wings drew in tighter and tighter around the three. As if they were the boundary between the world and their peace. “If Lucien wouldn’t have been there -as well as my sisters- I would have done so. I would have weeped into your arms out of joy.” Admitted Elain with crimson cheeks. But Azriel merely pulled her tighter with the hand around her hip.
A silent understanding that he, too, would have liked to change this moment now. But the past is paved and set in stone – no matter how many mistakes one might have done, they could only change the future. And Azriel knew the moment a loud snore left Amels lungs, that he wanted a future where this was not a stolen moment – where this was their life. And one in which this would not be a ruin, but their home.
Their home.
How he liked that sound. Making him feel all fuzzy and warms as he imagined it, not even the cold reality of the story able to catch up to him. He was with Elain in her embrace he could dream – he always did. It should have been a warning- that his mentality had went from cautious and professional to this cotton candy sprinkled mind of happiness and without boundaries – but he would take the consequences for that on another day, in another setting.
“Where did you even know from where I was?” whispered Elain into the dimming light. “I didn’t. The shadows had guided me.” And as if on queue flickered a whisper of darkness over her cheek, caressing her, as if they were a ribbon of silk. Fluttering briefly over the snoring Illyrian between them too.
“They seem to like you and him.” “I like them too.” Smiled the seer. “They are you after all.”
Azriels heart nearly burst at this as blinked away the prickling sensation in his eyes. Never, not in 500 years, had one spoken of him and his shadows like this. Never had he felt those words more than now as he was on an emotionl edge.  Torn between his High Lords command and the calming presence of this beloved female. But as she hugged him impossibly closer, he knew that he no longer was torn – that he no longer had to fight against a wish he wanted fulfilled.
Azriel was sure that he wanted Elain, courts and everything be damned, as he only hugged her closer too. She and Amel, right now the only ones which counted to him. And he was ready to die for them – if Lucien or Beron insisted on the blood duel.
“I am sorry I haven’t gotten you a Birthday gift, El.” Exclaimed his strained voice suddenly, when he noticed the seers eyes glaze over with tiredness – believing that she could not answer him anymore.
“It’s alright Az, your company is gift enough.”
And it was in that moment, when silence and sleep rested on the wind’s breath, that he didn’t know if it was the seers Birthday or his. As this was the greatest present he ever received.
*
*
*
The wind sored loudly around them, as a curtain of honey whipped in front of his face -the seer having once again not listened into braiding her hair- clouding his vision on the small hut. “We are almost home!” yelled Amels voice next to the two. His yet delicate wings carrying him carefully on the gusts of wind, as if they were lifting him up into the arms.
Azriel and Elain merely smiled, once they saw the little hut. Hidden away into a garden of wildflowers and trees, as Elain had planted them there. Around their home. Around their secret.
It was yet a story to be told to their family, of how the crow -how Azriel translated Amels name to her- had connected death and the fawn. Letting them soar high into the sky in the arms of each other. Away from responsibilitys and fate.
They knew it would all come to an end eventually -spilling the secret – but until then they had this.
A life full of sunshine, yet covered in the shadows, as they flew further and further to the wooden hut. The sun guiding them their path with a shining smile.
Whilst the Seer and the Shadowsinger could only smile as bright as the rise of a new day, “Yes, Amel, we are almost home!”
__________________________________
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cheri-translates · 4 years
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Headcanon - When he confesses to you
This work, 当他向你表白, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸
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[ VICTOR] 
You can’t help but sense that Victor is slightly different from his usual self. Although he often finds reasonable excuses to bring you to Souvenir for a meal, it has never felt the way it does right now.
Perhaps due to your occasional suggestions, the chilly white lamps have been replaced by warm lights, exuding a hazy, pleasant comfort.
“Why are you daydreaming? Come over and eat.” 
While you’re steeped in your thoughts, Victor walks over, carrying the meticulously prepared beef steak.
“Victor... why is the beef steak in this shape...” You stare dazedly at the heart-shaped steak on the plate, knowing the answer deep in your heart, yet not daring to confirm it.
“I initially thought you’d understand if I gave you sufficient time. Looks like I’ve overestimated your IQ. Now, I can’t wait any longer.” 
Victor retrieves a rose from the dining cart, and offers it to you the same way he has offered you pudding countless times. 
His actions are smooth, as though he has rehearsed them several times.
The weight in your heart is lifted. 
Wanting to lighten the atmosphere, you quip, “Victor, do I get any special privileges as your girlfriend? For example, submitting...”
You watch as his brows furrow.
“There’s no discussion on whether you can submit proposals at a later date. But I will watch as you amend them, and will raise your chances of getting them approved.” 
Considering how well Victor understands you, he can always make you swallow your words even before you’ve finished speaking.
“...”
Victor, is it too late to return the rose?
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[ GAVIN ]
It’s rare to see Gavin in formal attire. When you had troubled him that year to accompany you home to deal with your aunt, he mentioned that he wasn’t used to wearing them. 
So, when he appears in front of you in a suit and tie, you’re left slightly flabbergasted.
“Gavin, does the revolving restaurant have a dress code? Is my skirt too simple...”
You shift your gaze to your own attire - a white, off-shoulder dress which looks plain no matter how you look at it. 
“No, there isn’t such a requirement. Also, you look very pretty like this,” Gavin says with certainty. “Let’s go. It’s almost time.”
“Gavin, hold on.” 
Standing on your tiptoes, you tug at the shell of his tie, straightening it. “All right, it’s fine now.”
“Cough...” 
It’s always an interesting sight to see Officer Gavin’s ears turn red.
Dinner is a quiet affair. Most of the time is spent admiring the night scenery offered by Loveland City from various angles. Right now, the tall buildings are dyed in dazzling light, as though they’re competing with the stars to see which one is brighter.
Seeing that you’re almost done with your meal, Gavin inconspicuously signals to the staff to bring out the thing he prepared.
The lights in the restaurant suddenly grow dim, and your table is illuminated more brightly than the others, casting it in yellow light. 
Gavin takes the white lily handed to him by the staff, then gets down on one knee before you.
“Are you willing to be my girlfriend?” His eyes are sincere and tender. 
As though entranced by a spell, you nod.
Mixed with the cheers and noises from the restaurant, Gavin takes you into his arms gently. 
“That’s good, we didn’t miss out on each other.”
-
A few days later, you recollect the scene.
“Gavin, why did you get down on one knee when you were confessing? It wasn’t... a proposal...”
“Cough, Minor said that doing so would make me appear more genuine.”
Gavin, honest as always, sells out the man operating behind-the-scenes.
“...next time, spend less time playing around with Minor!”
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[ LUCIEN ]
When Lucien invited you to a movie, you thought it would be a classic, black-and-white film. However, it was only when you reached the cinema that you discovered he chose a coloured movie you know very well - “Flipped”.
In the movie, it’s only after the male and female protagonists go through various experiences that they finally see their feelings clearly.
“Lucien, why did you choose this movie?” You press him, wanting to confirm that what has been in your heart isn’t merely your own wishful thinking.
“The way they planted the tree together - doesn’t it resemble how we tended to the gardenia back then?” Lucien doesn’t give you a straightforward answer, and simply gives you a slight smile. 
Lucien turns his gaze to the screen, but seems to be looking at something else far beyond it. “The movie says that one day, you’ll meet someone who’s as magnificent as a rainbow. From then on, everyone else would be passing clouds.” His line of sight returns to you.
He offers you his palm slowly, seeming to wait for your response.
“I think I’ve met my rainbow.”
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[ KIRO ]
Ever since finding out that the biggest commonality between the two of you is eating, Kiro often looks for you (when Savin doesn’t notice of course) in order to share newly discovered delicacies.
“Miss Chips, I put in a massive amount of effort to pick a place with amazing food to share with you~” 
His trademark smile is contagious. With him, any sorrows and unhappiness can be cured.
“Is that so? I’ll have to give it a try then~” Mimicking his exaggerated tone, you rub your hands together excitedly, then use a toothpick to bring a small meatball into your mouth. 
“Is the meatball delicious?” Kiro looks at you, begging to be complimented.
“Yes.”
“Is the milk tea tasty?”
“Yes.”
“Is the mousse nice?”
“Yes.”
“Be my girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great! I hereby announce that from this day onwards, Miss Chips is Kiro’s official girlfriend!”
“???”
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[ SHAW ]
“Why the sudden invite to KFC?” You ask in a garble, chewing on a New Orleans chicken wing. Meanwhile, Shaw is just about to stuff a handful of fries into his mouth. 
“It’s not fun to eat on my own.” 
He wipes grains of salt off his fingers with a tissue. Then, he tears open the plastic covering to take out the small toy that came along with the kid’s meal he ordered for you. 
He complains, “Why is there only one? They’re cheating their customer’s feelings.”
“Agreed.” You nod, snagging the final popcorn chicken laying before him. “The advertisements said the toys come in a pair.”
Shaw stands up. “Sit here and don’t move. I’ll get another kid’s meal for you.”
“...”
Even though he’s the one paying, you kind of feel like you’re being taken advantage of.
There aren’t many people at this time, so Shaw returns fairly quickly, holding the other toy featured in the advertisement.
“Since you’re single, why don’t we get together. You like me anyway.”
“Cough cough cough...” His words nearly send cola down the wrong tube. “Who said I liked you?”
“I can tell for myself.” Shaw shrugs, an innocent expression on his face.
“...”
“Do you lack the guts?” He banters, biting the straw. He’s in an incredible mood while watching you squirm. 
“Who says I lack the guts? Let’s get together then, boyfriend!”
-
More translated and original works: here
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[ Permission to translate ]
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君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author
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Something more than Dreaming (One Shot)
Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)
Warnings: weird dreams. Panic blushing
Word Count: It feels so weird to work in an office which has one-fourth of the workload of your previous office (though this one has ten times the responsibility, coz I am the head here). Anywhooo, I am in a place where there is no booze, no bars, no friends. :/
MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)
The lights are a mixture of all the flavours the Gods can taste on their tongue. The seventy-five coloured rainbow seems like the perfect vibe for the buzz that is setting in on the nerves currently. Bass-boosted music and the cool air running through the building filled with heated, sweat-ridden bodies is driving everyone up on a new high. Wait. Is everyone feeling the same high? Or is it just me? Before that sharp brain of his can evaluate the situation, a new beat is hitting him hard along with the scene he witnesses unfolding in front of him. There in the unruly crowd of drunk and horny strangers, seven hottest aliens dance along with the one person his eyes seem to be searching for. You.
It's not good enough for me, since I been with you It's not gonna work for you, nobody can equal me
Everything else fades away in the background- and he is convincing himself that it is because his senses are heightened in a dark place filled with lunatics- and the only focus is you. That is what he repeats to himself when his eyes land on the movement of your fingers in your hair; that is what he is singing internally when watching you pout and bite your lip makes him gulp.
I'm gonna sip on this drink when I'm fucked up I should know how to pick up
That is what he wants to smack into his head when he feels his body gravitate in your direction while you are swinging your hips in a way he feels should be considered a sin; a sweet seductive sin.
I'm gonna catch the rhythm while she push up against me Ooh, and she tipsy
He keeps denying the internal dialogue of feeling jealous with all these strangers around you all this time, and still cannot get his icy glare off anyone who gets even an inch closer to you. At one point he is happy to see the boys be distracted by the light show that begins at the bar. That is until he sees something he does not like. He does not even realise the eyes he turns with those veins popping out of his arms and neck, neither does he acknowledge the dangerous vibe he gives off that automatically clears his path to you to remove that excuse of a lizard trying to prey on you from your back. With one tight hold on his neck, he is making that pervy lizard writhe and struggle where he stands, making him shed his skin with just the poisonous look in those green eyes. That devilish glare is enough to send that creature running. Once he is convinced there is no sign of any more ill intentions, he turns back to the most unaware person in the world- you, of course- and watches you struggling to twerk.
I had enough convo for 24 I peep'd you from across the room Pretty little body, dancing like GoGo, aye
There is a minute pause when he tries to absorb what exactly it is that you are trying to do and has to question how you are the same person he saw dancing so effortlessly a few seconds ago. Just when his patience runs out, he grabs your hand and takes you away, walking through the dispersing crowd without looking back till he finds the darkest corner in this excuse of a building and pushes you towards it. He can easily assess that with the amount of bao-bao in your system, you won't struggle. And you don't. Your back is against the wall and by the time you can ask him- in between the giggles- what was going on, you find those familiar arms caging you from either side.
But you are unforgettable I need to get you alone Why not?
The bubbles of fun are suddenly popping from the heat your whole body feels at once with Loki's body so close to yours. That perfect mess that is his hair is covering his face while eyes are stuck on you. His brows are struggling to loosen themselves up and his breaths are shallow.
A fucking good time, never hurt nobody I got a little drink but it's not Bacardi
You can tell he has been sweating, for you can smell his very intense natural odour- something you have become quite familiar with on this space trip; the trip that continues to make you conscious about your own body's smell now that you do not have any deodorants to cover it up. You can also tell there is something wrong with the way his veins are popping in his neck- though you do not refrain from admitting to yourself that it kinda makes him look hot. Very hot.
If you loved the girl then I'm so, so sorry I got to give it to her like we in a marriage
You know it is that bao-bao making you so bold but you could swear to all the powers in the universe you want to take a chance. The thought is tempting and fun to fantasise about till you realise that his hands have come close enough to brush against your arms and the mere touch is sending an unfathomable buzz up and down your body. "Loki-" is all you struggle to get out of your dry throat that is thirsting for things it should not be. And to add to these strange waves crashing inside your limbs, he brings his face closer to yours. You know your heart has taken a dive and your lungs are fluttering with that sweet scent of alcohol that brushes on your lips with his sigh. So close is his face that you can spot every single cell of flawlessness on his skin. Is this really happening?
Oh, like we in a hurry No, no I won't tell nobody
It feels like he can hear your thoughts for his hand comes to pick those sweaty stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. This is really happening. The world is swirling all around you. So are your breaths when they see those wanting lips come closer. Not able to take this twist along with the stuff you are high on, you close your eyes and wait with parted lips.
You're on your level too Tryna do what lovers do
The fire inside his gut is driving him closer to you even though his sanity is questioning every logical reason behind this. But that sweet scent coming off you is clouding every possible sane answer there could be. That's the thing. He does not want to be sane anymore. What is the advantage in that anyway? His hand is moving on its own, catching his breath when he feels your heated skin on the back of his fingers while brushing away those hair strands that are driving him mad for making you look so...he dare not say such things even to himself- that make him feel things. And boy, does he not like feeling things, especially such things. Oh, lords be praised! He loves the way your gaze is struggling to rest at one place, walking all over his eyes to his jaw before settling on his lips. And then closing themselves shut. He does not know whether that is an invitation or not. But looks like this sweet alcohol is making him bold. So, this is what alcohol really does to you, huh, he wonders, thanking the maker for this ale that was able to make a God feel the buzz. ... Wait. I am feeling the buzz. His own statement makes him blink out of the drunken trance for a second. "Why did the beer taste sweet?" his suspicion speaks. That suspicion is quickly turned right when he sees your meek smile and feels the floor beneath his feet sweep him face down into the ground. "Oh f-"
   The boy band patiently sits in the lounge in their own particular ways. While one is sipping on their drink, the other has got their face in their palms. One has that mischievous smirk on his face and the one sitting next to him is gazing with a look of pure confusion. One has got his brow up while tapping his lips with his index and the other one is pushing two glasses of- what looks like- water towards the one particular side. And their captain is just plain tired at this point, looking at the ones who are their centre of attention. You and Loki.
You sway to and fro on the couch while Loki sits next to you with his head in his palms, his eyes lost in a void, given up on this world. You are pouting by this point, looking at the empty table in the middle of the crowd of you nine. "So...are we going to order food soon?" You had to ask. You feel a movement from your left and are nervous to look in that direction, whining internally when Loki drowns you in his judgmental gaze. "I'm hungry," you mutter as you look down. "I don't think you're getting any food today, Princess," Violet mentions, turning all the heads to him. "What, I was just translating what Loki's eyes are saying." "But I'm hungryyy," you cry. Loki closes his eyes and sighs. "Serves you right to starve." Violet carries on with his translation. "Stop it," Loki commands with his eyes still shut. "Okay." "Why did you spike his drink though?" Green asks put loud, making it hard for you to get away from all those curious eyes. You shrug. "I just thought it'd be fun. Loki will let his hair down and, I don't know, dance." "From the looks of it, it was gonna be more than a dance." "What?" "I said from the looks of it Loki can't dance." Loki pretends to have not heard White's word but narrows his eyes at him when he gets the chance. "Relax-" White gestures you two to drink the water-like liquid- "both of you are on the fourth stage. One more and it'll wear off like it was never there." "What's the fifth stage?" you tilt your head while your hands are squeezing your abdomen. "And how do you know about these stages?" "The Bao-Baos are our people's speciality," all seven of them say in sync, leaving you a little speechless. "So what's the fif-" You pause and never come back to the sentence. Your eyes are looking at infinity, seemingly lost in a trance, your body has let go of all the tightness, easing into the couch. Loki turns to watch the slow transformation. Anyone can tell from the look on his face that the word 'worried' right now begins and ends on you. He also knows that with that metabolism of his, he is going to hit that stage you are in, in no time. And so he goes, letting his trance begin while his gaze is still settled on you. There is a pause around the table as seven pairs of eyes observe the both of you. "Alright boys-" White slaps his thighs- "you know what to do." All of them get up with different tasks in mind. Violet takes two fuzzy blankets out of nowhere to put them around you and Loki. Green lights a candle and puts it a little close to the side where his tranced bunnies sit. Orange takes the charge to put headphones on and takes a few seconds to decide whether to put on his romance playlist or horror playlist. Red and Yellow draw the curtains to the private lounge while Sky puts shades on you and Loki before tucking a plushy under your arm, Loki's arm and handing one to Lulu as well. "Perfect," White announces, "now let's have some fun till they sober up." He calls for Lulu- who readily jumps and settles on his shoulder- and goes out into the crowd with his brothers, leaving the two of you to go through the final stage of your colourful high.
You The music is a soft melody with a depth given to the bass, and you can automatically tell there is a touch of Galimatias in there somewhere. Blinking and feeling the environment around you, you find yourself out in the open, an unlit paper lamp in your hand surrounded by the building and creatures you were just dancing around. This cannot be real, is just a passing thought in your mind, never given the weight it deserves. Why? Because you are already distracted by the pairs sitting on the grass under the shimmering night sky and oil lamps either hung on the trees, rested on rock piles or kept safely on the grass. The scenic beauty is too romantic and the smell of vanilla burning somewhere is bringing up emotions you wanted to keep hidden from the world for some time more. If it isn't for the voice that calls out for you from behind, you are quite sure another minute would have ended in tears. "Is this the spot?" You know the voice all too well to turn around voluntarily but a part of your subconscious itches at this new wavelength you feel in that very sound. That silken voice that has a veil over it suddenly seems...free. And to add to your surprise, the God of Mischief who adores the shades of gold, green and black is out of the blue walking towards you in a white shirt and blue jeans. Are those ripped jeans? And did he just tie his hair back? You are in the middle of thinking about this new persona when you are pushed into the river of questions with that slight tilt of his head and a huge smile. If only you could see the look on your face like Loki 2.0 was seeing right now. Your frown; your wrinkled nose and those lips turned as if they have tasted something sour.  "What?" He laughs. "You're laughing?" Your gasp of unbelief is not making it easy for the God. "I just asked you if we're sitting here and you looked at me as if I was some strange alien." He shakes his head. So do you- at the fact that you could see his teeth throughout that sentence. "It's just-" you lick your lips and try to move a liiiittle back, away from him- "I've never seen you smile this much, let alone laugh." He breaks in a giggle, making you pause your breath. "Staahhp," he nearly sings and pokes you on your collar, trying to act all shy, forcing you to wonder if he is an imposter. "Okay, something is definitely of-faa-" The distraction in front of you makes you miss the end of the stone beneath your step, almost sending you down seven feet but Loki is quick to catch you by your hand and pulling in towards him by your waist. Ah. Now, this chest to chest nearness is quite familiar. So is that scent that naturally lingers on him. It is him. More or less.
Loki The illuminated aquatic ball gets a red and yellow micro planet down the hole. The tentacled pink alien grumbles something at his opponent, breaks his cue stick and stomps out of the bar. A nonchalant chuckle comes of that very opponent as he straightens himself after those smooth three shots. "Come back when you are old enough to stop whining." "One Midgardian Sex on the Beach for Loki," the waitress sings before setting the twirling glass down beside his cue stick and walking away- but not before she has felt that ass on her fingers. There is not much colour on his face except for a tired look in his eyes when he feels those intruding hands on his jeans. "Get those hands away be-" "Before he cuts them off clean." Loki has to turn to find the source of the voice that is somewhat quite usual to his ears. And when he does, the waitress is forgotten right at that moment, for all his senses are on you. You stand at the entrance facing Loki, who has to take a lungful of this musty bar air to come to terms that the person wearing a generous amount of kajal and smokey eyes is you. That smile on your lips assures him that. But the outfit brings back some more questions. All black. Those jeans- black. That tank top- black. That leather jacket- black. Those high boots- black. Those belt accessories hanging off those thighs- wait, they actually look good on her. And is that a nose ring? Your steps come to a halt right in front of the God; the very God who stands there nearly toppling over his cue stick. Your fingers take the liberty to tap him under the chin and draw yourself close enough. "Better keep that butt safe from unwanted hands before I claw someone for even looking at them," you whisper before pretending to bite him and walking away with his drink. The chill around his neck does not subside even after you're gone. And he is still wondering just one thing. "What kind of bao-bao did she eat now?"
You "What?" "...Nothing." Loki smiles and tries to hide his face in his hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" It's no lie. You have been staring at Loki for the past twenty minutes with a smile on your face. You are sitting the same way you were sitting when he longingly looked at a couple making out, or when he moaned while eating a burger, or when he said you looked pretty in the moonlight. "I am wondering," you hum, letting your arm cradle your head, your gaze still stuck on him. "Wondering what." Loki mirrors you. "How amazing you are," you sigh, closing your eyes, "and yet I miss my Loki."
Loki "Are you comfortable in those?" He is still getting used to your eyes following every single hot body that passes by the room, checking them out without any restraints. Your eyes finally come back to him and find him pointing at your outfit. "Why? You wanna borrow them for the night?" Your suggestive voice raises the God's brows and forces him to inhale through his mouth before blowing all that air out. "I will just borrow my own drink for now," he acknowledges while taking his cocktail and downing it in huge gulps, all the while you sit there with your legs apart, resting quite casually with your arms on the bar table. Breathing in through your teeth you lick your lips. "You are looking quite yummy today, Loki-" you tilt your head and smirk with your eyes- "wonder how you'll look on that pool table there." "Quite heavy on top of you," he quips, feeling a burp come up. His arms go past you to keep the glass over the tabletop when he feels your legs wind themselves around his to pull him closer. "What makes you think you'll get to the top?" you point out while playing with his belt loops. Loki looks at you for one long minute. Eventually, he lets his hand set those two hair strands in their place, every from those side braids that add something to your look which clearly does something to Loki. "As painfully lovely as that offer is," Loki hums and looks right into your eyes, "I feel I should rather bear with the Y/N I know."
You wake up with a jolt to the bass-boosted music thumping outside. Removing the shades and rubbing your eyes you nearly slip your lenses out. "Fuck," you mumble under your breath before realising you had been drooling. On Loki's shirt. Your fingers work discreetly to wipe that drool off his black shirt. "You are buying me a new one." His voice reverberates in your ear that is closer to his chest, sending goosebumps down your body. Slowly moving away from his chest to sit straight, you wipe the marks of your saliva away from your lips and clear your throat. Loki clears his throat and snaps the knots in his neck and then removes his shades. "I didn't realise when I fell asleep," you mumble as your fingers move through your hair to straighten them out. "Probably went through the last stage," Loki insists, removing any wrinkles from his shirt and finding something resembling a plushy under his arm. "Which was one bizarre dream," he mutters. "Felt like a weird dream," you utter. Both of you freeze for a short second at the synchronisation of your thoughts, turning to face each other for one fleeting moment. As if looking into each other's eyes opens certain doors that did not seem to be there before, both of you turn away to hide your heated faces- questioning whether the other one knows something. You busy your hands to move your hair behind your ears. Loki pulls at his cuffs before trying to scratch an itch in the back of his head. You move the blanket over you closer to your chest before wanting to bury your face in it. Loki tries to play with the plushy's head, trying his best to check if he could see you from the corner of his eyes. "Do you wear white?" You blurt out without a warning and it is only later that your eyes are popping out as words register in your mind. "What?" Loki is confused. He blinks and tilts his head a bit. "Uhh, no. I...don't." He does not know why he is answering that question. "Do you have a naval piercing?" He asks, genuinely curious; more like cautious. "God no," you gasp, feeling your hand go over your naval to check. You blow out some of that hot air burning inside you. Loki inhales, trying to look at anything but you. "Have you ever tried braiding your hair?" Even though it is an interesting question, it is a bit strange coming from Loki. "Like, like those side braids?" You ask softly, showing him a rough example on your hair. Loki nods. "No-" you shake your head- "but it'll look good on you." Loki nods. "You too. It will look great on you as well." "And a bun at back will look good on you as well." A minute or two passes as you two sit there awkwardly, trying to find something to talk about. You look at your wrist to watch the time before realising you are not wearing a watch. Loki is scratching an itch on his palm as he tries to come up with a strategy. "Oh!" you jolt up in your seat at a sudden realisation. "the kids!" "Hmm?" "We should find Lulu and Javier." "Oh! Yes!" Loki nods and gathers the blankets and the headphones, keeping them at one side before getting up with you. "We should find them and get back home." "I hope they are okay." "They better be okay or I will kill those colourful bastards for neglecting the kids in their care." And off you two go into the alien rave, thinking the new door has been shut for good, never anticipating the events that are about to come that would change the whole dynamic of many relationships.
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hyunhour · 3 years
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right behind you ] [ felix au
a/n: yoohoo! been wanting to write a yandere themed fic for the longest time and finally got around to it. note that i do not condone this sort of behaviour and it certainly isn’t meant to be glamourized. yes, this story isn’t supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows. loosely inspired by “never ever getting rid of me – christopher fitzgerald” this is for fictional purposes only! it doesn’t depict the actuality of my sunshine boy at all!
yandere!felix, barista!hyunjin, barista!reader, unrequited love, obsessive love, toxicity
tw: yandere themes
word count: 2k
walking home alone after midnight had been a common occurrence for you after taking late night shifts at work. maybe you should start taking earlier shifts instead.
Your steps were heavy, slugged as you dragged your feet across the concrete path. There was only the sound of the wind howling as it gently caresses you, accompanied by the music softly playing from your earphones.
The streets were dimly lit, only neon lights of pubs being a reliable source of light. All the stores that lined the pavement were closes, shutters locked shut. There was not a single soul in sight, besides yours of course. It felt lonely, but comforting, the tranquility of the serene night enveloping you in a newfound safety.
« Shuffle, shuffle. »
More shuffling.
You quickened your pace. You were dubious about whether those footsteps were yours, but they weren’t matching with yours at all.
So, you’re not alone after all.
Anxiety washed over you, goosebumps prickling at the surface of your skin. You no longer felt the peace that the night held you in, only fear and panic surging from within you. Perhaps, you were overreacting. It could very well be a passer-by, just wanting to hurry back home, like you.
You shrugged off your doubts momentarily, warranting yourself a bit of relief. Right, you are probably overreacting.
But, just to be sure. You took a sharp left turn on your heels, opposite from the usual route you took home. Just as you thought, the footsteps trailed behind you. They were slow and steady, as if it was mocking you. You could just turn, it was right behind you.
Your hands stiffened in the pockets of your jacket, gathering sweat in your palms. You know that the way down this road was going to be to your old elementary school, otherwise known as a dead end. This person had to stop sooner or later at one of the houses scattered around the area. That had to be it. You’re overthinking this all.
« Shuffle. Shuffle. »
It had been a good five minutes of you walking down this pathway. This person is still hot on your trail, close enough for you to hear them but far away enough for them to.. to?
You’re overthinking. Overreacting. Over–
“Hah,”
That wasn’t you. Your lips were firmly pressed into a tight line, which made it harder for you to breathe in the cold weather. The only sounds escaping from you was the light wheezing of your lungs from your ragged breathing.
Your legs were losing vigour, instead they were shaking. Your stomach felt knotted, the deepening anxiety further tightening it. The inky darkness of the night no longer felt welcoming, instead it began to engulf you. You felt the invisible walls closing in on you as the footsteps behind you, got closer, and closer.
Right behind you.
Just turn.
Turn and see it.
Finally, mustering all the bits of bravery inside of you, your steps came to a halt. You had to be sure. This was the only way.
The footsteps had stopped as well.
Dread twisted in your gut as you turned around, painfully slow.
Within a blink of an eye, a dark figure that you couldn’t quite make out from the lack of light, sped off to the alley right around the corner. It was quick, and it almost made you doubt yourself, that you even saw it in the first place.
All your self-doubts dissolved immediately once you noticed something had actually fallen out of the person’s hold. It flayed around helplessly in the light breeze on the concrete path. It was a handkerchief, a pale cream coloured one, delicate to the touch. Your hands briefly hovering above, before retrieving it.
Your eyes scanned the foreign object, your fingers just ghosting along the seam lines. Down the handkerchief, your finger continued to trail.
« F.L »
Were those initials? They had been sewed on in a garish red thread, completely in contrast with the cream coloured cloth.
You slipped it into your pocket without thinking much of it, your mind was clouded with pride, the fact that you were actually able to ward off the creep.
It has been a day since that odd incident.
Hyunjin was busying himself with making the drinks, avoiding the cashier at all costs in order to dodge the multiple girls that lined up just for him. You laughed silently to yourself as yet another girl approached you, the cashier, for Hyunjin’s help instead.
“Sorry bub, he’s busy right now.” you meekly apologized, a faint smile plastered onto your face.
The girl before you whined, her eyes glued onto Hyunjin, who was at the back of the counter. He sneered, he lost count of how many times you had to say that fixated reply to almost every customer. He almost felt bad for you.
You finished tending to all the customers, immediately scurrying over to Hyunjin to help him out with making the drinks. You were adjusting the apron around your body before Hyunjin holds an arm out in front of you.
“Don’t.” he pauses briefly, “your coffee is fucking bitter.”
Your lips part apart in shock, smacking him at his arm. He winces in pain before retracting himself and scoffing.
“I’m trying, okay?” you roll your eyes at him, not amused at his usual bluntness. He reiterates you in a mocking way, rolling his eyes in return as well.
“Where the fuck is your nametag?” he stares down at your breast pocket, where sure enough, it was empty. You were hoping that he wouldn’t realize about your missing nametag, which you left at home. “Stop cussing at work, you asshole. I promise to bring it tomorrow,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Are you kidding me? You had like, one job–“ he berated, a string of incoherent words mumbled under his breath. You just couldn’t be bothered to even listen to his nagging anymore, thus putting on a deaf ear and just nodding your head to whatever words he relentlessly spewed out. “I swear your nametag spends more time at home than at work. You’re lucky, boss doesn’t know.” he remarked, causing you to grunt in response.
“Boss doesn’t care, thus boss will never know.” you smirked smugly at him, before distancing yourself from him as he flings a couple more vulgar insults at your face.
You had recently just started working as a barista, after Hyunjin pestered you about being lonely at work. It was another impulsive decision that Hyunjin easily manipulated you into taking without ever doing a double take. How could you resist when he pulled out those puppy dog eyes and pouty lips? Annoying fuck.
The bell against the front door chimed, a clear indication that a new customer had just stepped foot.
“Welcome!” both you and Hyunjin greeted, softly laughing at each other because of the unplanned perfect timing.
You were ready to receive another order, probably from another hormonal teenage girl that was ready to pounce on Hyunjin.
Boy, you were wrong.
It was a man. A very beautiful man at that. He stood at the door, soft eyes meeting your tentative ones. He sweeps his silver tresses back with his hand, before offering you one of the most gingerly-looking smiles. Your heart fluttered at the enticing sight. He didn’t go straight for the cashier. His eyes darted from the menu that was on the wall behind you, and then back to you, shyly avoiding your eyes now. What happened to that confidence he strutted in with?
He lingered at the entrance for a while, taking hesitant steps as he ventures further in to the café. You had gotten tired of waiting around for him, so you decided to help out Hyunjin—this time with refilling the coffee beans into the hopper. He so stubbornly insisted upon you not making any drinks until he could properly guide you, which would be after the store closes.
“That dude is iffy,” Hyunjin mumbles under his breath, briefly turning to face the entrance of the store, and then back to you.
“Iffy? Yeah, you.” you mock, and he nudges your arm a little too hard.
“I’m serious, Y/N.” he says, before leaning down to your ear, “he keeps looking at you, and like– salivating? Not over the food, but you.” You follow him, and sure enough, the silver-haired man had been staring right back at you unabashedly before looking away moments later. “Of all things.. you?” he reiterates, putting his finger on his chin, as if deep in thought.
You almost choke at his choice of words, caught off guard by his bluntness yet again. You pinch his arm, earning a whimper from him before he returns the same pinch onto your arm, if not more painful.
“Fuck you.” you hiss under your breath, pulling away.
“I was being a nice friend, looking out for you.” he hisses in return. You and Hyunjin both bicker for a while, causing you to spill some coffee beans onto the countertop, earning another earful from Hyunjin. God, he wasn’t even the manager but he sure was niggling like one.
“May I..” a voice from a distance interrupted your bickering, and you were almost thankful for it. You stick your tongue out at Hyunjin playfully before tending to the cashier.
“Yes! How may I help you?” maybe you were a little too excited, the poor boy in front of you jumping a little, obviously surprised at your gleefulness. It was the same person that had been standing around the entrance of the café, he was also always picking at the bed of his nails with his teeth, a habit that you noticed from just a few moments of looking at him. You felt an inkling of pity for this boy.
“I’d–” he choked on his words, his cheeks reddening. You chuckled softly, this kid probably has some major social anxiety. It wasn’t new to you to receive shy customers.
“It’s okay.” you motioned for him to continue, nodding your head. His eyes locked with yours briefly, a glow of light circled around his pupils momentarily, sparse freckles adorned his pale face as he chewed incessantly on the bottom of his lip. Out of anxiety, probably.
You had to break away the eye contact, feeling tense under his watchful eyes. It had gotten a bit uncomfortable with him doing more of staring than talking. This wasn’t normal.
“I’d like..” he resumes, sucking in a deep breath, “a medium vanilla frappe.” the sides of his lips tug upwards tremulously, and his eyes begin to waver.
“That’ll be $6!” you chirped, trying to coat the awkwardness within you with glee instead. He nodded, his hands frantically fishing for change in his pockets.
You open your palm up to him, not losing notice of the way he stares at it. His eyes linger for a moment before placing his money onto your palm, his fingertips just barely grazing the surface of your skin. It all went by painfully slow. You sighed, retracting your hand. He, however, seemed a lot more happier than before. His eyes glistening still at the newfound physical interaction, although small; it was still something. A wide smile crept up onto his face.
Brushing it all off, you returned his change by sliding it over the counter. Usually, you wouldn’t be that rude but this customer particularly did actually feel iffy as per Hyunjin’s words. You took in his smile that disappeared, a solemn frown in place instead on his freckled face.
“Your name, Sir?” you questioned, readying a plastic cup and a permanent marker. He cleared his throat, “Felix.”
“Felix Lee.”
You could’ve sworn your heart had stopped beating for a moment. Moments of the previous night flickered on and off in your head, whizzing by quickly before you could even comprehend what you had just realized.
« F.L »
Felix Lee.
“I’ll be waiting, Y/N.” he coos, before backing away from you. His words, his tone and the volume of his already low voice, letting goosebumps bubbling to the surface of your skin. The familiar feeling of anxiousness washing over you once again, fear having a grip on your throat, causing you to have the inability to even interrogate him.
When did you tell him your name? Right, it must be from your nametag–
Your nametag?
Your finger ghosted over the bare breast pocket of your apron, no nametag pinned onto it. You recall only remembering your nametag once, which was your first day of work. Other than that, it was stuck at home.
This all had to be some sort of sick, sick coincidence.
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twst-sumi-squad · 3 years
Text
Cinder-Vil-a: A short story
♢ Sumi B exited the classroom with a weary sigh, lifting a hand to her head and holding it as she thought of her troubles. It was her turn to watch over the club so that no one they didn't want around came and trashed it. It may or may not also be to hide it from some of the people they write about. Groaning once more, she turned to head down the corridor, not focused on where she went. Even though her eyes were cast to the floor, she noticed Vil even before the collision, and only didn't dodge because she thought he would. However, today, this was not the case. Instead of his normally impeccable sense of self awareness, it seemed that the dorm leader had been distracted by something, his eyebrows knit tensely together even after they both noticed they'd fallen. Vil got up first, offering a hand that was politely declined by Sumi B. After humbling her with an apology, he soon set off again, clearly headed to deal with the task worrying him, leaving behind something on the floor. Sumi B picked it up and smiled, laughing a little as she examined the compact mirror.
"Wow, you'd have thought he was Cinderella running from his prince to have forgotten this by running in such a hurry..."
Turning back, she called him with a smirk.
"Hey~ Lampa alu~! You dropped something."
Later, in the clubroom, oceanic currents flew over her head as she sat at the alcove's desk. Staring down at a blank piece of paper as blue lights swam all around it, she tapped the pen to her lips in thought.
"Cinderella huh…"
Smiling, she began to write a small story springing from the fertile ground of her imagination. ♢
“Rise.”
Soft supple lips part in a humbled smile, his sparkling lashes rising to show the gleaming grin within his amethyst irises. Nodding softly with grace, he stands to face you, the glimmering makeup over his eyes colouring his smile with glittering rainbows. It’s stunning to view and you hold your breath, taking in his elegant beauty. Dressed in a deep blue dress adorned with golden roses and split in two at the chest, he smooths it out, fingertips delicately clinging to the edges where they clutched it for his curtsy. Champagne gold hair that faded into a light lavender was tied up in a coiled bun, showing off the light blue earrings hanging from his ears, the almost diamond hearts shining like he’d plucked droplets of water from a river and hung its tears on his ears. The mystical aura that seemed to surround him led you to believe that might be true…
“Yes, my prince?”
His voice is light and alluring, you swallow as he addresses you, taking in a breath to compose yourself. You must not lose your image in front of all the people attending the ball, all the eyes cast indirectly at your way, through mirrors and whispers. They all watch you, scouring for a weakness - an opportunity. But instead of dismissing him, you can’t help but ask.
“What is your name?”
Calm in manner, he holds a hand to his heart and tilts his head slightly to the side, delight dancing in his eyes.
“My name… is Vil.”
Curious, you mirror his tilted head, holding a hand to your chin.
“Is that your full name?”
“My prince, my name is all I have. If you will not accept it for what it is, what else do I say?”
Smirking with a subtle flair of pride at your confusion, he bows his head to you as you reply.
“You avoided the question. Will you not answer to your prince?”
“I do and I answer only the truth.”
With that and flourished twirl, you are left staring at his back receding into the crowd, catching just the mere glimpse of his head turning back to gaze at you for just an instant - before your view is blocked by another person bowing at your heel.
Swilling from side to side, your reflection seems dulled in the drink you hold, the long glass cool against your fingers. All its shiny surface seemed to do was reflect the leering eyes glancing at you from every side as you walk along the table, taking care not to stumble in your poise as you do. The golden drink in your hands - apple juice? or was it alcohol? you can’t recall what was ordered for the party, you’d grabbed something random after all - served little as a suitable distraction from your nerves. Greetings sometimes bombard you and you check your reflection is smiling before looking up to reply, keeping your performance as prince as perfect as possible. Just as you settle to brood within a corner, a flashing golden rose decorating blue dashes by your sight. Instantly, you snap your attention to it, watching it disappear behind a corner and chasing after it. A name, short and sweet when spoken by his lips, flashes across your mind. It stands doubtful but you place your hope in it anyway, heat rushing to your cheeks. The warmth of your face is met by the cool breeze of air as you leave through the back door, still searching for that snatch of blue. Smiling with a laugh, he stands before you at the bottom of the steps that lead to the garden, holding his hands behind his back as he looks up at you. Vil presses a decorated nail against the edge of his lips, grinning. You try not to let your eyes focus on those lips as they move, teasingly calling out.
“Catch me if you can~”
His laugh is infectious, rendering you sick in its terribly fast spread as you start to smile, rushing forward down the steps. Every step forward you take, he skips back, before he begins to run away in the opposite direction. Unable to and not intending to do anything else, you follow him delightedly.
Casting moonlit shadows and sparkling spotlights down on you two, both of your performances shed, stripping you of your duties as you shrug the burdens off your shoulders and throw your heads back. And laugh into the night. Vil’s voice is musical to your ears, alighting your face aflame every time he sings to you from behind a bush, darting away from your grasp.
“My prince~!”
Running as fast as you’re able, you dash after his cooing words, letting your chuckles run free. Eventually, you sneak up on him, stealthily sidling up behind him, asking carefully beforehand.
“May I hold you in my arms?” 
Stiffening, he pauses before nodding coolly. Though he isn’t turned to you, you nod before slipping your arms around his waist. He smells of coal and roses, fire burnt petals and shadows overcast flowers.
“Then...I’ve caught you.”
Almost breathlessly, you whisper, knowing he’ll hear. Vil’s face pinkens to a crimson, flushing at your touch as he pulls out of your embrace. Holding the back of his hand to his mouth, he looks away from you and gently releases your arms from around him.
“...Indeed. Ah, I apologise, I lost my composure. I shouldn’t have teased you like that, you’re the prince after all and I’m...”
Hearing his voice sends your heart aflutter but hearing its notes strike a sadder tone fills your heart with sadness as well. Consolingly, you shake your head, smiling. 
“No, it was the most fun I’ve ever had in such a while.”
Your words seem to uplift him, as his crystalline eyes seem to shine a little brighter, their blazing purple gazing deep into yours. Smirking, he crosses a finger to his lips once more, tilting his head to his right.
“Well, I suppose your beautiful eyes must be quite the appraiser since a beautiful jewel like myself has caught your attention so easily.”
The moon casts light from behind his head, brilliantly shining as if he was glowing in the night. Upon his head, there almost seemed to be a crown of starlight, a halo of their shine surrounding his golden hair. Melting at the sight of his smile, you hesitate before reaching out to catch his hand, bowing with perfect posture as you plant a gentle kiss across the back of his palm.
“Then, may I ask for this beautiful gem to join me for a dance?”
Flushing a little, he nods wordlessly and you smile, feeling heat rise to your cheeks once more.
The waltz is slow and sweet as you both dance to the tune of melodic breezes, the air sweetened in fragrance by the aroma of the flower bed surrounding you and Vil’s own scent. His eyes sparkle as brightly as his earrings, but they hold an added edge of fondness that seems to deepen everytime he looks at you. There is a precious silence that hangs around both of you, soft in its touch as caresses your faces. Here, in the comforting emptiness of the garden, you’re both free from the whispers that would follow you. You take a step to the side, in time with the silent music, and feel him step closer. Another step and your heart begins to beat faster. His lips draw closer to yours as you stop dancing, standing still in each other's arms. Gently holding your chin, he pulls you closer and then steals your heart with a kiss, the gap between the two of you closing within a heartbeat. He holds the kiss for a dreamlike moment, drawing it out, as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his lips against yours. A loud bell rings, signalling midnight, causing Vil to gasp. You barely get to open them after he hastily breaks it in a panic since he covers your eyes with his hands. Shaking, he grimaces.
“I’m sorry, my prince. This jewel cannot stay.”
Shoving you to the side, he rushes off, his fluttering marine skirts disappearing to the image of rags.
All that you have left, to remind you that this dreamy mystery beauty existed, is a golden pin shining in the grass, a silent image of a knife stabbing into a heart. Much like how yours is feeling. It was the one that held his bun. Picking it up, you examine it, twirling it around between your fingers, imagining the golden pin against the lighted gold of his hair. You press it against your chest, feeling the beat of your heart still pace quick against it through the fabric of your outfit. You aren’t going to let it end like this. Running after Vil, you dash through the gardens and towards the exit, delighted as you catch the sight of someone else running away. Rags flutter against their body and dark black soot is dusted over their fair hair. But as they turn back and pause at the sight of you, you know it’s Vil. His sparkling makeup is all gone, replaced by tarred marks that smear across his face. His hair is scraggly and thin, his clothes no more than sheets of fabric better suited for beds. But still, his amethyst eyes gaze longingly at you and you take a deep breath and walk closer. Even without the dress, the hair, the makeup, you know what he looks like. Beautiful.
“May I hold you in my arms?”
Your voice is soft and tempting, carefully holding your arms open for him. He looks away, unable to face you.
“Are you sure you even want to, my prince?”
“I know that I don’t want to chase you if you don’t want me to. But if I need to, I will.”
He laughs bitterly, skeptically replying.
“Really… even when your beautiful jewel isn’t as perfectly cut as it should be?”
Walking closer, you don’t let your arms fall.
“I don’t know what you mean. As long as you’re Vil, you’re perfect to me.”
Surprised, he looks at you with wide eyes before sighing.
“Well, you truly do have beautiful eyes. Ones that can see me for the beauty I am.”
Softly, he slips his arms around you and squeezes you into a tight hug. You feel your cheeks burn but your heart swells with happiness. Smiling, you whisper into the wind with a short laugh.
“I’ve caught you, my gemstone.”
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agoodpersonrose · 3 years
Note
I was drawn to three of the meet-cute prompts. Maybe one of them will inspire you! #1 (sitting next to each other at a wedding), #43 (last umbrella), or #50 (amusement park ride).
Okay so of all these the umbrella one was just calling out to me so I wrote that one!! (this one is actually a meet-cute I promise) and I have already posted it on ao3 here! I really hope you enjoy!! ☔️
43. You both reach for the last umbrella in the store on a rainy day.
Today could physically not get any worse.
Not only has David had to lower himself to the mortifying standards of an interview at the Blouse Barn, but then Stevie, his only friend with a car (or only friend at all, depending on who you ask) had abandoned him to his fate after “taking too long” and “taking advantage of her generous spirit.”
So David had ended up spending the entire day, trawling across the shop floor in front of Wendy, trying to prove himself worthy to work in retail by suggesting the least offensive outfits for the town’s worst dressed townspeople. All the while, trying desperately not to show on his face how truly disgusted he is by more than half of their style choices.
And now, here he is, waiting on the curb side, storm clouds rolling in, and no Stevie in sight.
“Fuck,” David hisses as the first raindrops begin to fall thick and fast, immediately chilling David to the bone as he hurries away from the road and into the nearest store he can.
Billie’s Bobs and Bits is hardly a store name that fills him with hope, but he spots a stack of large umbrella’s in a stand in the back corner which he immediately hurries over to. There’s a single umbrella left, a horrible, gaudy, rainbow thing which David would usually never be seen dead with.
However, he also knows that if he doesn’t wait by the curb exactly where Stevie told him she would pick him up, she will leave him in Elmdale overnight. He cannot make the walk back on his own, and he will not wasting his precious final dollars on a cheap motel room only half an hour drive away from the cheap motel room he doesn’t have to pay for.
And so, the umbrella is his final hope.
He hurries across the store, his shoes squeaking wildly on the linoleum floor as he tries not to skid, finally reaching out his hand for the umbrella.
Only, another hand immediately covers his.
“Oh--”
“Hey!” David exclaims, furrowing his eyebrows at the drowned rat of a man standing before him. He clearly hadn’t managed to escape the rain quite as fast as David had; his fringe is slick on his head, and his light blue button up is soaked through, sticking tight to his torso and becoming almost see through in the process.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” the man says politely, though not letting his hand fall from where it is resting over David’s. “You don’t mind if I take this, do you? It’s just that I don’t have a jacket and I’m waiting for my roommate to come and pick me up- my car broke down, and he is not known for his patience. I don’t trust that he won’t get distracted and disappear somewhere else if I’m not where he’s expecting me to be.”
“Yeah, well? I need it,” David says, pulling the umbrella, and therefore their joint hands, further towards him. “This outfit probably cost--” he takes a judgemental look at the man’s cheap clothes and pulls a face. “Well, let’s say that it cost more money than you can quite comprehend.”
Surprisingly enough, the man actually laughs at this. His laugh is nice, all things considered, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in a way that makes David’s stomach erupt in flutters. Although of course he would never admit that to anyone, not even under durance.
“I don’t doubt that. It’s just- I’m kind of soaked, and if I get any more soaked, I’m scared I might catch hypothermia. Plus, I’m really terrified of hospitals, so--” the man winces exaggeratedly. “I’m in kind of a sticky situation here.”
“Huh, well. It looks like the only way to solve this is--”
“Dibs”
David opens his mouth in surprise, and then closes it, and then opens it again, but the man just continues to stare evenly at him, as if he hasn’t just lowered himself to the most childish of standards.
“Dibs doesn’t count.”
“Oh, I think it does.”
“Mm, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. Plus, I clearly had dibs, because my hand is on the umbrella, whereas your hand is just kind of holding- mine.”
David grins to himself when he catches the man’s ears slowly tinting a dark red colour, but his grip doesn’t waver, and he looks up with a determined glint in his eye.
“Does that mean I have dibs on you then?”
This shocks David to silence for a moment, but he soon recovers, and tilts his head. “Okay,” he says slowly. “As interesting as this conversation just got, I really do need to be by the road when my friend gets here, so can we hurry this to its inevitable conclusion maybe?”
“Inevitable conclusion?”
“Yeah, mhm, you let me buy the umbrella in return for my number?” David suggests cheekily, biting the inside of his lip to try and stop his smile from growing too big.
The man makes a soft gasping noise which David initially takes as a success, until he realises that he’s being teased again. “It’s going to be hard for me to date you from a hospital bed,” he says slowly.
“Ooh, did I say date? I meant you could have my number for you know, fashion advice, perhaps. Or as a first call for the next time you genuinely go to a store and pick up a braided belt.”
“I’m not particularly attached to the belt. I’m sure I could go without if you would prefer.”
“Ah- now who’s getting ahead of themselves. I don’t even know your name.”
The man is grinning now hopelessly now and looks down at the floor bashfully before tilting his head back up. “I’m Patrick.”
“David.”
“It’s nice to meet you, David. I’d shake your hand, but I fear that if I do that, I might lose my only stake on the umbrella.”
“Mm, your non-existent claim over it, of course.”
Patrick is silent for a minute, looking contemplatively at their hands, before finally coming up with a solution. “Here’s an idea, David. This umbrella seems pretty big. Perhaps we could split it and wait by the road together.”
David purses his lips in thought. It seems like the only solution other than a fist fight, and even if David knew how to punch, he doesn’t trust that he wouldn’t lessen his aim in order to protect the soft skin on the other man’s face.
“Come on, David. I’ll make sure the rain doesn’t get you.”
David wiggles a little but ultimately nods. “Ugh, fine! Buy the umbrella and let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, why exactly am I buying the umbrella?”
“Oh, because you were the one who asked me on a date,” David answers, unable to stop himself from smirking slightly in amusement. “And usually, the person who asked pays for the first date.”
“First--” Patrick’s voice is soft and filled with awe. “Okay, David. Thought I have to say, if I’d known I’d be going on a date this afternoon I would have picked a nicer shirt.”
“Do you have anything nicer than that?”
“You like my shirt?”
“No, I just, the fact that you’re wearing it says something about your standards in general and I--” Patrick is laughing again, and David trails off, unsure where to go from there. “Go and buy the umbrella, Patrick.”
He lets his hand fall from their joint grip, and watches as Patrick wanders over towards the cash desk, his shoes squeaking loudly as he goes. He keeps looking back as he pulls his wallet out the depths of his tight jeans, as if to check David hasn’t disappeared on him. Either that or to check that he hadn’t imagined David’s presence all along.
When the umbrella is bought, they head towards the doors and look out at the hammering rain. Patrick sticks the umbrella outside first and puts it up, making sure that David can step under it without being hit by any of the rain. It’s a gentlemanly gesture that makes David smile giddily, following Patrick out under the waterproof material, although not without noticing at the last minute the second rack of umbrella’s on sale right by the doors.
Oh well.
There is just enough room for the both of them under the umbrella, but it is a tight squeeze. David hunches his shoulders to try and stay close, and shivers, a move that Patrick clearly catches as he reaches an arm out and around David’s waist to keep them locked together as they return to the street corner.
The roads are almost empty of cars, and there’s an eery silence filling the small town under the hammering of the rain. When they come to a stop on the corner, Patrick seems to step just slightly closer, shivering as his wet clothes are accosted by the breeze brushing along the street and blowing the rain closer to their ankles despite the coverage from above.
David finds himself leaning closer into the body heat that Patrick provides, in a move he hopes appears to be a selfless act of protection for the other man, but actually provides him with equally as much comfort himself. Patrick’s arm is still around his waist, so David moves to put his own right arm loosely past his shoulders, rubbing at the wet fabric on his back as if to soothe him.
“Maybe we should have stayed inside for a while,” David muses. “I thought you were joking about the whole hypothermia thing.”
Patrick lets out a breath and nods. “Don’t worry, I think I’ll survive,” he says, though his teeth are chattering slightly. “Couldn’t let out first date end with a trip to the hospital now, could I?”
“You really need to stop calling this our first date, it doesn’t count.”
Patrick hums questioningly, and when David looks over at him, he notices his eyelashes are slightly wet from the rain still dripping down his forehead in slow, repetitive pats.
“I think we should probably have our first date indoors somewhere, don’t you? There’s no point in risking your life if we don’t need to.”
“So, where are you taking me then, David?”
“A restaurant, maybe. Or a café,” David replies, dropping his voice slightly. “And then, we’ll just have to see about after, depending on how well you do,” he murmurs directly into Patrick’s ear, hoping that this time, the shiver that erupts is more due to his statement than the cold. “You’ll be paying though, of course,” he carries on, this time at normal volume, looking away at the road and trying to appear casual.
“What- I paid for this!”
“Mm, and you only bought us one,” David says. “What kind of cheap date do you think I am?”
Patrick laughs slightly, his cheeks tinted red, and he shifts to look up at David better. “I don’t know, David, but I intend to find out.”
His head is tilted up cockily, and his eyes roam David’s face unreservedly, skimming from his eyes, to his lips, and back up, with absolutely no shame. David would be put off by how confident he seems if he couldn’t feel the way Patrick is shivering, and how his fist is clenched and turning white due to his grip on the umbrella handle.  
David nods to himself, already having made his mind up, and slowly as he possibly can, raises one hand to Patrick’s cheek. Patrick immediately lets out a throaty hum and leans into the contact, which gives David all the permission he needs to lean in and catch the other man’s lips in a quick kiss.
Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss. An ‘I’m being serious please call me so we can go on this date’ kiss, an ‘I know we’ve only met but this is me saying I like you’ kiss.
Except, then Patrick opens his mouth, and David can’t resist following his lead, slipping his tongue just slightly between Patrick’s cold lips and into the heat of his mouth. Patrick is so responsive in the ways he pushes back, trying to force his way closer to David as if an insatiable hunger has overcome his senses and left him desperate for more.
And David feels it too. He feels it in the way Patrick is kissing him forcefully but gently, desperately but tenderly. Wanting more but unwilling to force it without David initiating.
David doesn’t know how long they stand there, connected at the mouth, his hand still holding Patrick’s cheek which is steadily growing warmer even despite the freezing weather. In fact, it’s only when two things happen in quick succession that he is finally forced to pull away.
First, the sound of a car he hadn’t noticed pull up beeping relentlessly from the curb only a few steps away startles them slightly and causes Patrick to stumble a step backward. David immediately reaches out and grabs the front of his shirt, keeping him close, but it’s too late.
The surprise causes Patrick to loosen his grip on the umbrella handle, tipping it sideways, and causing the water that had collected on top of it, as well as the rain that is still hammering down around them, to splash down, and soak both of them to the bone.
David opens his mouth in shock and horror as he feels the fabric of his black, dropped fabric sweatshirt slowly become sodden and heavy as the water is absorbed. His hair too is damp against his forehead, alerting David to the fact that his usual flawless quiff will be nothing more than a damp, tangled mess of curls even once dry.
Patrick is staring at him with a face full of guilt; his brown eyes are wide and terrified, and he immediately begins the apologies.
“David I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- it was totally my fault I should have been paying more attention to the--”
David’s attention is drawn away to the sound of a familiar laugh coming from the car by the curb. He turns to find Stevie sat in the driver seat, the window rolled down as she cackles unreservedly to herself, clearly very proud of what had just happened.
Patrick trails off and follows his gaze, chewing his lip nervously all the while as he slowly tilts the umbrella back to cover their heads, despite the fact that the damage is long done.
“Are you coming?” Stevie yells once she has finally calmed down. “I wasn’t kidding when I said this is your final chance, I won’t hesitate to leave again.”
David bares his teeth at her and looks back at Patrick. “Look, I--”
“Oh, wait- Are you Patrick?” Stevie calls out again.
“Um, yeah?”
“Perfect, Ray asked me if I could pick you up while I was here. He says he had a surprise meeting with a man about some boudoir photos and I really didn’t want any more information, so I just agreed.”
“Your roommate is Ray?”
“You live in Schitt’s Creek?”
Both David and Patrick stare at each other for a second before Stevie beeps on the horn again in annoyance. “Are you quite finished?”
David nods, already shivering again from the cold and pulls Patrick over to the car. He climbs into the backseat and immediately pulls his sweater off before it can soak too far into the undershirt underneath. He folds it neatly and places it on his lap as Patrick follows, shaking the umbrella and stashing it in the foot well as he slides in next to David.
Stevie raises an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror but doesn’t say anything as she puts the car into gear and pulls away. The car heating rattles as it tries desperately to heat up, but it does soon enough, and David finds himself relaxing slightly in the warm air.
Even so, he can’t stop himself from shivering just slightly when he feels a rough hand slide across the back seat and lightly cover where his own is gripping the fabric. He looks over at Patrick in the corner of his eye and finds the other man smiling even as he stares determinedly out of the window.
David flips his hand over, interlaces their fingers, and squeezes back.
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tiramisiyu · 3 years
Text
【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 5-29 Translation
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Translated parts: Chapter 5 – Sounds of Falling Snow (Part 1, 2, 3): 5-1 / 5-3 / 5-5 / 5-7 / 5-9 / 5-11 / 5-13 ♦️ ♦️  5-14 / 5-16 / 5-18 / 5-20 / 5-22 / 5-24 / 5-26 / 5-28 ♦️ ♦️ 5-29 / 5-31 / 5-33 / 5-35 / 5-37 / 5-39 / 5-40 / 5-42 / 5-43
  Translation Masterlist: here
Video: (0:01) https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV15a4y1j7CW?
Stellis City Police Station
Tuesday morning, 7AM, Stellis City Police Station.
10 hours had already passed since the laboratory Heirson built at Rainbow River Village caught fire.
I could no longer remember how I was able to get through these past 10 hours.
The pictures in my mind were like stained glass that the sun couldn’t shine through. The colours were sharp, but they were blurred out of clarity.
Xia Yan: You must be tired. I’ll send you home first.
A thin and light blanket wrapped on my body. Unable to control myself, I toppled towards Xia Yan’s shoulder.
I was indeed very tired, from my heart to my body. Fatigue had chipped away my ability to think. For now, I just wanted to follow my instincts and find something I could rely on.
MC: Was there really nothing left in that laboratory?
Xia Yan: I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring out that bottle of samples.
MC: Xia Yan, I’m not talking about that bottle of samples. You being able to run out from the fire, safe and unharmed, is already the biggest comfort to me.
MC: Not to mention that you were able to catch Wang Han, who set the fire.
MC: I just think it’s a pity that some fire could actually burn that laboratory so thoroughly, leaving not a single bit of worthwhile information.
Xia Yan: It is true that Wang Han appeared outside the laboratory, but I think he was actually just finding out about our movements.
Xia Yan: With Wang Han’s ability, devising a plan on the spot to set some fire shouldn’t be enough to burn everything so thoroughly.
Xia Yan: This laboratory just might have a self-destruction mechanism. The fire might be an internal, self-starting installation.
MC: Either way, Wang Han has already been brought to the city police station. No matter what suspicious points there are, we’ll wait until we can ask him.
MC: We also don’t have to pretend to deal with him with sincerity. We can uncover all his lies in front of him. 
Xia Yan: Right, what’s up with Sun Heping? Why did he follow us to the city police station?
MC: He came to be an eyewitness. I really need to thank Grandpa Sun well, he helped me a lot.
--
[Flashback]
In the warlike turmoil and chaos, I finally finished the whole process of calling the police.
I took up my phone and kept dialing Xia Yan’s number, mechanically and repeating, just like a programmed robot.
MC: Xia Yan, pick up the phone… hurry and pick up, I’m begging you.
MC: Let me hear your sound - even just replying with a number is enough. 
All my attention was set on my phone, so I naturally wasn’t aware of the gradually-nearing danger behind me.
Sun Heping: Little brat, get smacked!
???: Ow!
The cry of pain coming from behind me startled me to consciousness.
I turned around, pulled out the lipstick tranquillizer gun that Xia Yan had given me from my pocket, shooting towards the man who was holding his leg and collapsed on the ground.
Just as Xia Yan said, within 30 seconds, that man lost consciousness.
Sun Heping: Whoa, the young woman brought a self-defense weapon. Not bad, not bad.
MC: Grandpa Sun, what are you doing here?
I looked carefully at the man lying down. It was an unfamiliar face.
MC: Who is this person? He snuck into the yard, wanting to… assault me?
Zhao Yuncui’s agritourism guest house was one floor, connected to the little yard outside. The yard perimeter was surrounded by plants. A grown man could’ve easily gotten past them.
The push-pull door connecting the house and the yard was wide open. It would have been as easy was blowing away dust for this man to intrude in…
Sun Heping: He’s Wang Han’s son, just called back from the city by his father.
Sun Heping: Your phone is right there, so call the police. I’ll go be a witness for you.
[Flashback end]
--
Xia Yan: So it was like this…
I thought that Xia Yan would be very angry after listening, but his expression was very calm – it was just that his tone when talking…
This expression of his looked extremely like the calm before a storm. He must not be thinking about personally teaching a lesson to Wang Han’s son!
MC: Xia Yan, you… though Wang Han’s son is pretty hateful, he didn’t manage to do anything…
MC: We live in a lawful society, so please don’t act rashly.
From when we were small to now, Xia Yan’s always been the person who is most defensive of me, but…
MC: Think about it - if you hit him and got taken into custody, that wouldn’t be worth it at all.
I suddenly had an “idea”, and what escaped from my mouth sounded as if it were missing something.
MC: If you got detained, then Peanut*, that one bird, will starve to death at home.
Xia Yan: …
MC: (What am I saying…)
Xia Yan: I didn’t think that if I got detained, then the one you would be worried about wouldn’t actually be me – it would be Peanut!
Peanut was a myna bird that Xia Yan raised. After going through professional training, it was very smart.
I thought it strange, why Xia Yan would raise a defense animal like a myna bird.
Thinking about his agent identity now, it must be some special reason having to do with that.
MC: You really have gotten more and more “mature” - splitting hairs with a bird.
Xia Yan: Alright, I know you’re teasing me.
Xia Yan: Don’t worry, I won’t directly do anything to Wang Han’s son.
Xia Yan: My mission is to protect the order and maintain the safety of society. How could I do illegal things?
Xia Yan: But…
He leaned close to my ear. The hot breath brushed over my ear, tickling it.
Xia Yan: I’ll definitely give him a taste of suffering and blow off steam for you.
MC: Okay, then I’ll look forward to it.
Just like in years of youth, how children will often mutually “shelter” little secrets about mischievous actions – this was Xia Yan’s and my secret.
Xia Yan: I should send you home. You really need rest.
MC: There’s no issue, I’m still fine…
Sun Heping: Didn’t you two say that you specifically planned to go to the village to find me?
Sun Heping: Why is it that I’ve been troubled for a day and a night, yet I still haven’t seen you ask me anything?
I hadn’t finished speaking when Sun Heping appeared from who knows what place. “Disappearing and appearing randomly” really is an apt description for him…
MC: (Grandpa Sun… it was clearly you who refused to talk, alright…)
MC: Your willingness to provide help really is great. How about we find a quiet place to slowly talk about it?
Sun Heping: No need, here is fine. This old man is open and candid. I’ve got nothing that I need to hide from people.
MC: (I just wanted to ensure that the investigation wouldn’t leak…)
Xia Yan: I just greeted Leader Yan. This office won’t have anyone come in for now, don’t worry.
MC: Okay, then let’s talk here.
INTERROGATION START
Sun Heping’s whereabouts that day
MC: Last year on September 12, did you not know Kong Moli was coming?
Sun Heping: No, I don’t really use cellphones, and I didn’t keep any ways of getting in contact with Moli.
Sun Heping: Originally, I thought that either way, I wasn’t going out of the village, so she’d be able to find me anyways. Who would’ve thought… ah.
Sun Heping: That day, my home suffered a thievery. I caught the little thief and went to the police station to create a record.
Sun Heping: Who would have thought that the thief wouldn’t admit it no matter what. We spent a good half of the day at the police station. Moli couldn’t wait, so she left first.
Xia Yan: Is the thief you are talking about Qiu Heng?
On the return road to the city, I told Xia Yan about the information from Zuo Ran’s investigation yesterday.
Sun Heping: It was indeed him. He even said that he thought that the mutated Rainbow heart fish was worth money, so he went to steal it, hah hah – you could clearly tell it’s a lie from listening to it.
MC: He even had the face to say this kind of reason…
MC: Do you know the reason Kong Moli left in a rush?
Sun Heping: I heard from Wang Han that it was for someone’s birthday. It should be the birthday of the child she adopted.
Kong Moli’s reason for coming
MC: On September 12, what was Kong Moli’s reason for visiting you?
Sun Heping: She wanted the mutated Rainbow heart fish I had raised.
Xia Yan: Mutated? What kind of mutations are you talking about – could you explain in detail?
Sun Heping: Mutated was actually just what Moli called it. From my perspective, those fish were just smaller than typical Rainbow heart fish, and were unable to grow large.
Sun Heping: Moli had taken pictures of the mutated Rainbow heart fish before, but according to her, those photos were stolen by people, so she needed the living fish as physical evidence.
MC: Stolen?
The stolen pictures made me think of Kong Moli’s notebook that had two pages ripped out.
Up to now, we still didn’t know exactly what the notebook was missing.
Sun Heping: Before that lawsuit of Moli’s, the paper mill was closed. Heirson also stopped operations. Both sides weren’t able to collect water samples.
Sun Heping: Without any way to examine again, the fish I raised was the only proof.
Youyou’s origin
MC: You know Youyou? That is, Mu Ziyou.
Sun Heping: I don’t quite remember the name. I just know it’s a boy.
Sun Heping: Kong Moli met that child the first time she went to the laboratory.
Sun Heping: No one knew who or where the child’s parents were. When we asked if he ran out of the laboratory, he also didn’t say.
Sun Heping: The only people from outside in Rainbow River Village were those from the paper mill and the laboratory.
Sun Heping: If it was a child lost on vacation, he would’ve been found much earlier.
Sun Heping: Thinking about it, that child most likely ran out of the laboratory.
Noticing Kong Moli’s death
MC: Do you know how Kong Moli’s accident was discovered?
Sun Heping: It was me who noticed it. It was also me who called the police.
MC: Weren’t you unable meet with her that day?
Sun Heping: It was because I didn’t find her, and I knew that she urgently needed those fish, that I thought about sending it to her in the city.
Sun Heping: I drove the house’s tractor to the passenger terminal at the bottom of the mountain. Halfway, I saw Moli’s car stuck on the guardrails.
Sun Heping: I didn’t see her, so I called police.
Xia Yan: At the scene of the accident, did you notice anything abnormal?
Sun Heping: No. I also didn’t dare to touch anything at the scene, fearing that I would end up causing trouble to the police.
[Got Sun Heping’s Testimony!]
Household situation
MC: We heard that you live alone. Your family members aren’t with you?
Sun Heping: …
Seeming to not expect that we would ask this, Sun Heping froze.
Sun Heping: The situation in my house doesn’t have any relation to this case. You two, don’t ask without grounds.
Looking at it, there really is no need to investigate Sun Heping’s family situation. I just asked casually. If he’s not willing to talk about it, then we’ll just forget it. 
INTERROGATION END
Sun Heping: I’m finished being a witness for the police, and you’ve finished asking the questions you need to ask, so I’ll return to the village.
Xia Yan: Grandpa Sun, I’ll send you.
Sun Heping: No need. If you have time, you should accompany your little girlfriend instead.
Xia Yan: …
MC: …
Sun Heping headed off, while Xia Yan and I had more, harder questions to solve.
Xia Yan: Combined with my investigation at the laboratory, I can basically guess where Mu Ziyou came from.
--
TL notes:
* “Peanut” in Chinese also sounds nearly identical to the Chinese for “Watson” (both are “huasheng”).
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ggyuwwoo · 3 years
Text
nostalgic; winter.
a cold winter's night brought upon memories of deep pasts.
seventeen imagine inspr. [ j.ww | flame ]
- a small imagine/oneshot based of this picture
word count: 1.7k
a/n: okay, so.... this was pretty abrupt, literally I was scrolling through twitter and saw this picture and I’m like whoa. holdup, gotta make sth real quick. and somehow, a hour later, boom! I really don’t know how this happened but I could say I’m kinda proud of it - not that its amazing and wow i feel just impressed, hell nah more like, wow I actually finished sth - and the time it took was a record for me, so yeah, please I hope you enjoy!
Cold air filled the streets of Seoul, people walking about in coats, padding, scarves, basking in the warmth they provided. Different coloured lights displayed across the street lamps, trees, and almost anywhere people go through. Taking account the small droplets of white falling down from the dark sky, its winter again. 
Hand clutched to his shoulder bag, scrunching his nose from the cold, Wonwoo simply watched as people pass by during the freezing weather. It was a habit of his - when it started, he couldn’t say - observing. He’d take out his small book, a small white composition notebook with minimal design on the front, and starts jotting down things that he thinks would likely be interesting for his book. You could say, it’s his way of inspirations.
Winter has always been something of a change for Wonwoo. Be it the start of something, or the end of another. It was never in-between.
This time around, he was writing something new, something he’d been working on for a while now. Something he has yet to finish. Something in-complete.
Looking through the series of crowds, he spots a young blonde boy in just a white sweatshirt. The boy had just walked out from a building - Red Tiger Dance Studio, Wonwoo notices - and realizing the frosty season, the blonde put on a blue hoodie with the number 10 etched on the back. He ruffled his hair and placed on the hoodie before running off to the underground station. 
Wonwoo smiles, the scene reminded him of such a boy, a boy he knew fondly, knew. Looking back, his smile faded, replaced only by a thin line of his lips and eyes dropping with a sad tone. Only realizing then, he had written down a few things.
Blonde. Tiger. Dance. 10. 
Wonwoo’s eyes was shaking slightly, taken aback to what he wrote. He took his pen, planning on scratching the entirety of what was written. He stopped. Wonwoo let out a long sigh before placing down the pen. His hands were shivering, coldness numbing his fingertips. Taking out a hot-pack from his bag, Wonwoo pushed back his glasses and continued his observation. 
*
It was almost 9 o’clock, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t eaten yet. The raven haired boy got up from his seat to find a nearby diner, hopefully somewhere with accessible view to the streets. After walking for about 30 minutes, he finds one, Universe Diner. 
Walking in, Wonwoo finds a spot right near a corner, with just the right window for him to observe. He goes to the counter, placing an order of hot coffee and a small meal. Going to his seat, he saw a boy in a grey hoodie on the other side of the diner. The boy was focused on his laptop, earphones hanging from the sides. The boy also seemed to be stressed with something, as he was writing down things on a yellow notepad, furiously. 
Wonwoo glanced at the boy, guessing he possibly is a stressed out college kid. He did look rather small, maybe high school? Wonwoo continued his guesses. Remembering his earlier activity, Wonwoo turned his attention to the glass pane that showed the streets. He saw a few couples walking by, hand-in-hand, a group of friends - one being particularly tall, had his arms over the other two’s shoulders - laughing, a boy wearing a suit was waiting by the bus stop, head down staring at his phone, whilst another boy in a rainbow-coloured tie-dye sweater was on his headphones sat next to the boy in the suit. Was he wearing sunglasses??
He took down another series of notes from the people he saw. Reviewing them once again after finishing. 
Love. Friendship. Work. Leisure. Sunglasses?
Wonwoo took in his notes -ignoring the last one- noting how one correlates with the other. He looked up from his book, coming face to face with the boy on the other side of the room. The boy’s head was still focused on whatever he was doing. Sighs, groans, hums, and mutters were audible from time to time. Wonwoo pitied the boy, he wants to help but he was only a stranger. And who knows, maybe he doesn’t like help? There could be a reason why he is sitting there alone. 
Wonwoo took a sip of his coffee once more, before opening up his phone. He didn’t realize it was nearing 11. He has been sitting there since 9. Woah, time does fly.
The sudden sound of a chair backing up was heard, Wonwoo faced up and saw the boy in the grey hoodie, flashing out a smile at his papers and laptop. 
“Finally!” the boy exclaimed. “I’m calling it Downpour.”
The boy hurriedly went to his laptop before closing it and packed the remaining of his items into his bag. He placed his earphones back to his ears, smiling contently while walking out of the diner. Wonwoo couldn’t help but grin at the sight. I guess he didn’t need help, just time.
Upon the thought, Wonwoo’s head flashed with memories of a shorter boy, the boy in his thoughts wearing a content smile as music played in the background. The room had only four occupants - including Wonwoo - all four of them were laughing and smiling. 
Wonwoo placed a hand on his head, feeling a small headache from the sides. He frowned, knowing these are things of the past. He looked back at his notes, finding a few more words below the previous ones. 
Music. Happiness. Satisfaction.
Again, Wonwoo was taken aback for the second time. He knew the things he wrote tonight were from observation, but deep down he felt it was also something more. Something of his past, almost haunting him. Wonwoo’s eyes were getting watery, he didn’t know why. Wiping them off, he took his things. Walking out of the diner, embraced by the chilly winds of winter.
*
Wonwoo walked back to his place, wanting to linger in the cold season a little longer. He used a longer route that circles his neighbourhood before reaching his house. Only a few people were still out on the streets, some looked like they just got off working overtime, some were drunk being carried by their friends, and some were just like Wonwoo, enjoying the breeze of the night. 
The neigbourhood convenience store was coming to view, signaling Wonwoo that he were to turn right later. He notices a tall lanky boy just walking out from the store, holding a black plastic bag over his shoulder. The boy turned to the direction Wonwoo was in. The moment the two faced each other, both pair of eyes were stunned. 
Wonwoo took in the boy’s face and figure, trying to see if it is indeed who he thinks it is. He had a white bandage patch on his cheek, chestnut hair peeking through his hoodie, his size hadn’t change much except for possibly height. Guess he’s taller than me now. Wonwoo chuckled internally.
“..Jun?”
The hooded boy let out a short squeak, getting the confirmation of what he had been wondering. Jun walked over to Wonwoo, smiling like a child who found his long lost pet. “Wonwoo! It’s been so long!”
“Jun, why are - no, wait - you’re here?! But I thought..” 
Jun gave out a nervous but tired chuckled, the older boy knew he probably has a lot of explaining to do. But he didn’t mind. “Yeah, hehe, it’s a pretty darn long story. Have the time for it?” Jun proposed. 
Wonwoo was still in quite the shocked. Seeing his best friend of seven years, who disappeared suddenly, and after five years, meeting him in a coincidence. Well, it’s the third time a memory of the past came to Wonwoo tonight. The third time he was taken aback. 
Third time’s the charm, said the universe.
Wonwoo shrugged the small voice on the back of his head, “Yes, please do.”
The two sat down on the table in front of the convenience store. Jun taking out two cans of sweet drinks - Wonwoo hoped it was beer, it might’ve made the whole thing better - from his plastic bag, handing one to Wonwoo. 
“So, where should I start?” 
*
After an hour of lengthy explanation by Jun, another half an hour of Wonwoo’s extended questioning, and the other half catching up, the conversation was finally over. 
“You know, we would’ve understood.” Wonwoo said, gulping the remaining liquid from his can. Jun stared at his own, a small smile but defeated eyes on his face. “I know, but I didn’t have the guts then.” 
Wonwoo let out a sigh, white puff of smoke visible from his mouth, placing the can down. “Well, I’m glad you managed it. As long as you are fine now, it’s good then.” 
Jun brought out a relieved smile at the younger’s comment. Taking his can, throwing it to the bin besides the stairs. “Yeah, me too. It all happened already and thankfully, is over. I’m just really glad I get to meet you and give out an explanation.”
Wonwoo nodded. 
“Fixing up broken pasts, and repairing them for a better future. It’s nice.”
Wonwoo’s head perked up at the words, Jun may be a chaotic messy cat, but he indeed is insightful. Wonwoo had forgotten about that for a moment. 
“Maybe you should try it Woo, who knows? Maybe it’ll give you a clearer picture about what you are writing.” 
Wonwoo was about to respond when Jun cuts him off, “Oh damn, look at the time, it’s almost two! Uh, I gotta go Woo, I forgot my little brother needed a small night lamp.” Jun waved at the stunned Wonwoo, as he scurried off yelling, “See you! Soon!”
Wonwoo stood there for a minute. 
Fixing broken pasts, huh?
With the night coming to an end, Wonwoo realized something as he walked down the path to his house. The words Jun said had lit up something in his heart, a spark, slowly turning into a flame. It was warm despite the harsh coldness. 
After reaching his room, preparing for what looked to be a long sleep, he took out his phone. Scrolled through a few messages, until he reached the one he was looking for.
<Cats and a Tiger>
Wonwoo opened the chat room, contemplating a while before sending the message he’d written. Pressing send, his heart thumped.
‘Hey. Long time.’
He stared at the screen a while, eyes lighting up at as a small indication changed beside his text bubble. 
Read by 3.
Followed by another,
junhui is typing...
And another,
jihoon is typing...
And another.
soonyoung is typing...
Wonwoo beamed, maybe he’ll be able to finish that book after all. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll title it,
Us, Who Lights a Flame.
*
fin.
17 notes · View notes
solecize · 4 years
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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. the boy you meet in detention, felix, doesn’t see colours. you want to gift his eyes with the kaleidoscopes and the rainbows of your world. the palette of your love story is supposed to bring together a work of art, but calamity lies beneath the canvas. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. felix x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑���𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. do i actually ever proofread anything that i write? also yes this is really late oops anyways i’d appreciate any and all feedback, comments, speculations, etc. i just wanna hear that u guys are actually enjoying this <3 pls and thank you
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ORANGE. | PART II - “THE BEACH”
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you lived that sweltering summer to the tune of jim morrison and the taste of ocean breeze kissing the tip of your tongue. those moments played back at the back of your mind like a film reel, the rainbows and glimmering lights of it all with felix. before that, though, a dark shadow loomed over and stood firmly in your way. the first challenge you were forced to tackle before embracing your newfound freedom, was tackling graduation. 
everyone hated graduation, save for their own few moments of spotlight, before they were rushed off the stage and reduced to trying to not doze off for the rest of the ceremony. it was an event for the parents of said graduate, rather that the newly finished student themselves. maybe that’s why some people made such a big deal out of prom, claiming it as “their night” and the “pinnacle of youth” or whatever other bullshit your classmates wanted to spew out in order to convince themselves that spending hundreds of dollars on one night was reasonable. obviously, you had skipped. that also meant that today really was a true goodbye to the last four years of pure lunacy. 
“don’t you want to take pictures with your friends?” your mom had asked, after you finished posing for what seemed like an hour for pictures at the front of the school. 
a myriad of graduates and their families teemed along the sidewalks and the parking lot and even just a few feet away from yourself at the entranceway. there were the mandatory pictures with the parents, maybe some with a favourite teacher, as kids held up their awards and flowers with stretched grins plastered upon their faces. you weren’t one of them, though you did get one decent award and a bouquet of forget me nots to show for it. 
you shrugged. “nah. it’s okay.” at that, your mom proceeded to shrug and was distracted momentarily by a fellow pta mom, as they engaged in conversation about the terrible speeches that they were forced to sit through.
the four or so people consisting of people you once considered your “group” were taking pictures in the other direction, doing the stupid jumping in the air pose, as one of their boyfriends was dragged into capturing the moment on someone’s hello kitty cased iphone. you rolled your eyes at the sight. they were crying, something about how they were going to be friends forever.
“what a bunch of saps.”
whirling around, the one thing that wasn’t forced that day was the bright smile tugging at the corners of your lips upon the sight of felix. the chances of finding him before the ceremony were slim, as you had overslept and were basically heaved and yanked and hauled into your parents’ minivan to make it to the graduation. when you finally met once again, your heart began to stumble and leap. 
even despite finding the entire occasion a snooze, you felt a little bad about sleeping right after you were handed your diploma. you missed felix crossing the stage and receiving his own. however, no such disappointment shone in his eyes, which were smiling at you.
you snorted in response. “tell me about it.”
giving him a once over, felix looked.  . .good. you never saw him outside of school and thus, never saw him outside of the ugly polyester uniform that he had no intention of actually wearing properly. he’d abandoned his cap and gown at some point, just left in a grey button up and black slacks. his over the ear headphones still hung around his neck.
“congratulations,” felix said, shyly shoving his hands into his pockets.
you couldn’t help but smile wider. “same to you.”
the two of you had yet to cross paths again since that day in detention. it was almost as if he’d begun skipping class as much as you begun to do so towards the end of the year. maybe a little part of you tried looking for him—you weren’t going to ever admit that—when you poked your head inside the detention room some days hoping to see him or lingered around paradise ice cream a little too long. 
but, you didn’t see him. felix came and went as he pleased, like a ghost. nothing was haunting about that smile, though, as you melted a bit under the sun because of it. you’d never met someone so genuine. 
felix leaned against the wall, peering over at the crowd forming in the parking lot. “you’re not going to that beach party everyone’s talking about?”
he really did listen. you, on the other hand, had no idea about it. frankly, you didn’t care and felix caught onto that quickly with your silent, indifferent shrug.
“your mom?” he questioned and pointed towards her. it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance, as you took after her well.
you nodded in response. “where are your parents?”
“oh, they went back to work. always busy, they were only able to leave for a few hours.” that situation tugged at your heart slightly, trying to imagine what that would’ve been like for him. at least felix didn’t have to go through the mushy traditions. 
a stuffy dinner party was in the works for you later that evening, with your mother calling up just about every relative within two hours away to come and celebrate your milestone. you wanted no part in it, preferring to jump face first back into bed and waste the rest of the day away watching tiktoks. felix made a confused face when you mentioned that.
“i can see why you don’t feeling like celebrating,” felix said, glancing around the streamer decorated walls, trying not to feel tiny underneath the intimidating ‘congratulations graduates’ banner hanging from wall to wall. “when you’re stuck around this place for so long, you’re just relieved enough that you made it out of here.” 
you blinked at him and after a pause, let out a soft chuckle. he’d hit it right on the nail. you didn’t even realize that yourself. 
“honestly? i can’t stand being here for another second.” you sighed, trying to cool down the blood beginning to boil. your patience was ticking and it seemed like your mom wasn’t going to tear away from her conversation with the other ‘can i see your manager?’ pinterest-loving, wine-drinking moms. 
“so don’t.”
biting back a snort, it was obvious that felix was used to just not being somewhere if he didn’t feel like it. however, he had no idea that he sparked an imaginary lightbulb to shine above your head. your eyes darted over to your mother, as your confirmed her lost engagement in her conversation. she wasn’t going to budge anytime soon and that gave you an idea. 
felix noticed the flicker of change in your expression and raised an eyebrow. “what is it?”
a grin spread across your lips. “say, felix.” you dug into your mom’s purse, which she had abandoned for you to hold while she left to talk to the other mothers. it didn’t take long for you to find it and you giggled when you came in contact with the cold metal. with a swift pull, you dangled the keys to your mom’s minivan in the air. 
“uh, yeah?” he cocked his head slightly.
“you got your license?”
in retrospect, felix never actually answered the question. he only said that it’d “been a while” since he was behind the wheel, but that didn’t stop you from suddenly leading the way to the honda odyssey with scratched on the rear from your practice driving from when you began doing so. maybe you should’ve caught on that he either never had his license or was warning you of how fucking bad of a driver he was. but you didn’t feel like getting in the driver’s seat in favour of controlling the aux, so you gave him that responsibility.
“let’s go for a drive. you got nowhere else to be, right?” it was probably a little cruel to guess that felix was not invited to the aforementioned beach party, but you’d already spoken the words. 
felix gave a mirror of your indifferent shrug and you grinned wider. 
“you know how i feel already about those guys. drinking cheap beer around a campfire isn’t really my idea of ‘having the time of our lives,’ yeah?” he replied. 
you weren’t sure what exactly took over and possessed you to basically steal your mom’s minivan with somebody you barely knew. maybe it was because of that feeling, the carefree feeling that zipped and danced through your veins like a breeze the last time you hung out with felix. it was unlike anything else you’d ever felt before.
a hint of hesitance painted over his face. “um, so where are we going?”
“you go out often?” the question was blunt, but you couldn’t help but ask, considering the surprise he wore when you invited him out after detention.
felix smiled bashfully. “no.” that was all he said, as the two of you made your way over to the old odyssey. “will your mom be okay with this?”
“huh? oh, hell no.” yet, you still unlocked the car with a click and gave an under hand throw of the keys to him.
the wash of uncertainty lingered on felix’s expression, as you opened the door to the passenger’s seat. then, he met your eyes and something shifted within his muscles and energy. warmth formed at the eye contact, gifting him with confidence to proceed. 
time was ticking and you knew that the two of you had to back out of the parking lot as quickly as possible, in order to remain unseen and undetected by your mother. you reiterated this to felix and suddenly, you were wishing that you didn’t.
“watch out!” you hissed, as felix reversed and almost ran over a former member of the hockey team. the said male began cussing at the car, which only prompted felix to get out of the parking lot in even more of a hurry.
swivelling and swerving around some stray individuals and other cars like a madman, it was a wonder that the two of you made it out and onto the street in one piece. it felt as though your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach and was threatening to burst out of your throat. your breathing paused for the entire time. 
worse than a goddamned rollercoaster.
“oops?” was all felix had to say, as innocently as possible.
you allowed yourself to breathe, finally. the car was on the street and you were alive. hysteria bubbled at the back of your head and you began to giggle uncontrollably. felix looked over at your, eyebrows knitted together, before he, too, burst out into laughter. 
the car stopped at the first red light and you nodded at something in the distance. “straight ahead and then onto the highway.”
“where exactly am i going?” felix gave you a side eye, as you began fiddling with my phone. he glanced at it and raised an eyebrow, watching you scroll through your favourite early 2000s throwback playlist.
“take the exit for the beach.”
felix’s eyes nearly leapt out of his skull. “uh, are. . .are we gonna crash that party?”
you froze midway through your motions and began laughing once again, uncontrollably. but, felix didn’t react and you realized that he was being serious. you cleared your throat and paused.
“no,” you responded, in awe that he thought you were that rebellious. frankly, it wasn’t just that, but you were never going to carry those kind of guts. “screw that party. i know another cool spot on the beach, it’s kind of like my hideaway.”
and like that, felix shrugged and returned to his usual carefree demeanour. you thought about how much you dug that about him. then, you promptly shut that thought down because it came out of absolutely nowhere. plus, the two of you were still sitting in silence. not for long.
you turned on “ms jackson” by outkast and the two of you sung along to it. every. single. word. at some point, someone rolled down the windows and the wind began roaring in your ears and through your hair, but the only thing you could hear were your voice, straining to be heard at the top of your lungs. 
as the opening notes of “get ur freak on” began, you looked over to felix. the curiosity you felt must have been pronounced because he cocked an eyebrow at you. you continued staring at him.
“why are you here? you’re awfully trusting,” you chuckled, as you caught eye of the upcoming exit you were meant to take. 
he made the turn. “i’m bored. like you said, i don’t have anywhere else to go.” felix’s tone was light, but you felt bad about the comment. “plus, i’m the one behind the wheel. if anything, you’re the trusting one, putting me in this position.” you managed to snort at that.
“what, i’m not scary enough that i could be leading you to some crack house?”
felix smirked. “aren’t you the girl who volunteers before school hours to help the lunch ladies? the one who exclusively wore pink butterfly hair clips for two years straight? the one who wrote valentine cards for everyone in homeroom last year? the one with a pikachu—”
“okay, shut up. that doesn’t mean shit.” you scowled and he laughed at that. you didn’t realize that he noticed all of these little things about you, considering you’d barely spoken for four years straight and you tried to ignore the butterflies taking flight in your stomach as a result. 
he said, “senioritis really killed your soft side, huh?” 
“just a little,” you admitted. or maybe you were tired of being the good girl that everyone wanted you to be. something in you must’ve changed, like felix said, after ditching your long time friends and beginning to do things like skip class and warrant detentions. at this point, you were in way too deep and clearly, you no longer cared. high school was a chapter finished and you were perfectly okay with that.
the next song that drowned out your surroundings, just as the smell of sea salt filled your senses, was “we could be so good together” by the doors. the song was definitely not on this specific playlist as far as you knew, perhaps it was slipped in by accident when you were downloading your music. regardless, you kept it playing and you saw the way felix began drumming his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel.
“your influence, by the way,” you revealed and he smiled just a little brighter, if that was even possible. 
he said, “you remembered.” of course you remembered the way he lost himself in this band that day in detention on his stupid first generation ipod. how could you forget?
eventually, the beach emerged closer and closer in your line of sight. the traffic grew heavier, as the sound of trap music overcame the bluesy twangs of the doors. you rolled your eyes; the rest of the kids from your school had caught up.
“take the left here.”
“isn’t it a dead end?”
you shook your head no, they had long since expanded the street a few years ago. thankfully for you, the extended pedestrian way gave access to one of the best hidden gems in town. he didn’t argue and followed the direction.
felix turned up the music a little bit louder, even though you were now a little bit farther away from everyone else now. “i’d never thought i’d meet anyone as annoyed by everyone else at school until you.” 
“yeah—wait, turn onto this path there, don’t worry about the trees—aren’t we just quirky and different?” you snorted.
although it was still a path nonetheless, it was a little bit cramped for the heap that was your mom’s car. a wrinkle formed in between felix’s brows and you tried to relax the atmosphere by continuing to mindlessly sing to the music. he nervously hummed along. 
he blinked rapidly. "it looks like there’s no end. . .”
lush trees stood firmly on both sides of the path, dangling branches over in a wispy pose. sunlight weaved in and out of every open spot, creating a storm of sun on your surroundings. the taste of sea salt continued to dance in the air, though, dispelling any thought of suddenly finding yourself in a mystic forest. in the distance, underneath the voice of jim morrison, the sound of ocean waves commanded your ears. the car lurched up, tilting ever so slightly up to indicate the uphill drive. 
“why are you avoiding your parents?” felix asked out of nowhere, glancing at you and trying to not appear nervous at the path. 
“because today sucks. i don’t get the big deal.” you shrugged. “and honestly, i’m just a little bit overwhelmed.” your life had been moving in the fastlane for so long and upon the sudden closure, you ached for just a moment of relaxation. 
felix responded, with a thoughtful gaze to the distance. “yeah, i guess you’re right. same thing every year, just a new class of idiotic seniors forced out into the world on their own.”
eventually sunlight transformed from small dots leaking in from the weaves of branches and leafs into a full glaze from above. darkness disappeared and you were treated with a kiss of the bluest sky your eyes had ever laid eyes on. the tranquility came to an abrupt stop due to felix’s unpolished brake. he was in shock and that sacrificed your back because the two of you hurled forward in the sudden movement.
“sorry,” felix said, but neither of you chose to make a joke about his driving when this beautiful of a distraction presented itself in front of you.
the engine was killed and the music paused in one swift second. felix wanted to drink up his surroundings as much as he could. the two of you were perched on the top of a small hill, overlooking the rest of the beach from the height. even though you still remained on the same earth and balance as the people down there, it felt like you were far above. 
he managed to sputter out a low whistle. you grinned in response and hopped out of the car, trying your absolute best to refrain from stumbling in your heels. upon meeting the fresh air, you took a deep inhale.
“where the hell did you find out about this place?” felix looked around, eyes wide as he took in the view. 
you were not going to expose the fact that you were taken here the first time by a boy that wanted to hook up with you. he’d parked at the top of the hill, just as the two of you had just done moment before, hoping to get lucky before you swore at him and demanded that he brought you home. oh, freshman year. 
“i have my secrets,” you exchanged that embarrassing memory for what you hoped was a mysterious smile. “it really is beautiful, though, right? i feel like i’m on top of the world. the sky is clearer from up here and the ocean is, like, so goddamn blue. . .”
it was then when you remembered who you were with and your jaw snap shut after those words. 
he couldn’t know how blue the ocean was. felix probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for your sudden reaction, but he only shook his head with a smile at your sheepishness. “it’s okay. don’t be embarrassed, people forget.” a lie, you guessed, as he’d mentioned so few people knew about his sight.
a weight of gloom settled at the pit of your stomach, but you pushed the feeling aside. he trusted you with the knowledge of his condition and you forgot to consider it. you bit your lip, raining down on the apologies, to which he just waved off. 
the male kicked a loose stone off the hill, watching it fly across the air and rocked into the deep, icy waters. “it’s really is beautiful, anyway. thanks for bringing me here.” 
“actually, you did the driving,” you grinned. “but, this isn’t all. you still trust me?” 
felix looked at you with a questioning regard and you took that as an answer. you had to swallow some fear down and the next thing you did surprised even you. you held out your hand and after a beat, he took it and intertwined your fingers with his.
his hand was warm and molded with yours to perfection. his skin was soft and pillowy, as if they’d been waiting for you for years to grasp. upon the grip, your hands became one and you wished to the clouds that you’d never have to let go. you took a glimpse of felix’s expression and you wondered if he felt the same way, trying to read the small small forming on his face and the light tint of pink glowing on his ears. 
then, you remembered what the hell you were doing and snapped out of your daydream. he locked the car for you and you led him down the hill, just a few feet back from where you were parked. there, you tugged him towards the smallest of entryways in between two trees, having to duck underneath some branches and step over some bushes to get through.
the path from there was clear, as shades of creamy corn coloured sand roughened up against your shoes and you dared to not sink into the ground with each step. it was one, steep trail that led straight into the land below, with waves just about stirring up against the sand. there was not much room to walk and you had to walk in front of felix for the two of you to fit. 
“hold on,” you said, as you wiggled out of your already dirty graduation gown, which you realized you should have abandoned at the car. you left to to lay on the ground, losing interest in it. 
felix gave you a once over. “that’s a nice dress.” did he just check you out? 
when you woke up that morning, almost afternoon, you were ill prepared for the day ahead of you. you jumped into the quickest shower of your life and nearly broke your fingers trying to braid your hair in record time. there was no room for daydreaming about what you were going to wear and you figured that it was going to be hidden underneath your graduation gown, anyway, so you grabbed the first thing in your closet, which was a yawn of an orange bridesmaid dress from a past wedding. it was a boring, floor-length with a sweetheart neckline and a semi-modest slit running up the leg. you’d ripped off the hideous bow on your way down the stairs, after not bothering with any makeup and from there, was hauled into the old minivan because you were already late. 
“what?” you laughed. “i hate this dress. i put on the first thing i saw and unfortunately, it was this abomination.” you thought your tone dripped with hatred, but felix didn’t look convinced. 
you climbed up onto some large rocks that marked the end of the path and tried to keep your balance. felix helped you steady yourself, hand still grasped in his and the other holding you by the waist. at that point, you’d also kicked off your nude pumps in favour of actually being able to stand. 
felix helped himself up on the rock, following your motions, and hopped over the rocks with you. you grabbed a handful of the tangerine fabric and pulled it up, at least caring enough to make sure that it didn’t get wet. the two of you landed together, just before a darkened entrance into a cave. the entry was concealed from the main beach, far too tucked away at the corner at every angle and only visible from hopping over the rocks.
“what colour is it?” 
the question was sudden and you gaped, as if you forgot how to speak. “huh?”
“your dress. what colour is it?” felix wasn’t even focused on the cave, his eyes still locked on you.
“it’s orange,” you told him. he nodded, his gaze not leaving, as if he were trying to memorize the sight. you frowned and put your free hand to his arm, beckoning him to continue following you. 
squeezing inside of the compact entryway, the two of you were introduced to the interior of the same golden sand that brushed against the waterline in a narrow opening at the very base of the cave. another gap was framed higher up, a bigger outlet that allowed most of the sunlight to stream in. 
“wow. just wow.” his hand squeezed yours just a little bit tighter, even there was no need to hold each other, now that you arrived at your destination.
you couldn’t help but notice the little things now. there were little fragments etched into the walls of different mineral colours, from the deep maroons and the slate greys and the rare navy blue. the small waves rushing in shone just a little bit differently depending on where you stood, just a little bit brighter or darker either way. even in the sand, there were bits of ivory for every handful of gold. they made the sight all the more gorgeous and felix couldn’t experience that. 
he noticed your sudden daze, staring off into the larger outlet and your mind miles away. that’s when you were hit with a wall of cold water, hand released from felix’s and your entire left side endured the splash. you gasped, whirling around to see him with an mischievous glint in his eyes. with the addition of a soaked arm sleeve.
“felix!” your jaw dropped and he responded with yet another splash. 
this escalated into a full on splashing match, until the two of you were completely soaked. your hair was dripping wet and felix’s sneakers were probably ruined. 
you also somehow also ended up tackling him to the ground.
that resulted in the unexpected position of being on top of him, as the two of you gasped to catch your breaths in between your hysterical bubbles of laughter. it took at least five minutes minimum before the two of you were able to inhale properly again. 
that didn’t mean you moved from your position, though. neither did he. felix wore a lazy smile and brushed a piece of wet hair out of your face.
“you ruined my dress. not so pretty now, huh?” you teased.
felix replied, “you said you hated it, i was just tryin’ to help you out.” he then paused for a moment, stumbling over his words. “plusimeantthatyoulookednice. notthedress.”
you weren’t sure if you were normal because you managed to actually understand his jumbled up words. you laughed off the blush heating up your cheeks and finally pulled yourself up, trying to hide it. sitting up, the two of you gazed up at the sky through the main gap in the wall. 
for the nth time that day, you decided to say “fuck it” and swallowed down your nerves. felix sat up, awkwardly running his hand through his grown out hair. he looked at you, seeing that it appeared as though you were struggling to say something.
“what’s wrong?”
you managed to choke it out. “can i kiss you?” some sort of monster, one that was definitely not you, had overcome your being because you were in shock that you actually just said that.
felix nodded without hesitation, which put you into even deeper of a shock. you didn’t even notice that you were already slowly leaning in and he, too, as he reached out to lightly touch your cheek as he did so. 
from a distance, the sound of music and laughter dallyed and with every passing second, a new wave of water rushed in. the smell of salt and summer lingered about. your orange dress was doused and at some point in the psudeo fight, your once tightly wound braids broke free into loose waves. none of it mattered when felix pressed his lips against yours. they were just as soft as his hands. 
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Rose Bushes
One: Higher Power
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Word Count: 8.5K+
Author’s Note: This is my first Criminal Minds fic, so please be gentle. It’s also the longest chapter I’ve ever written, and others will follow in this vein. I hope you enjoy, and if you want tagged just let me know!
Warning: discussion of murder and suicide, graphic description of murder.
More chapters can be found right here. [updated every week]
Woodbridge, Virginia.
She gardened when she was anxious, and while she never particularly liked the task, and had never thought of herself as someone who would own a garden for long enough that tending to it became a hobby, the whole thing was rather therapeutic. Pulling out weeds before they took hold of her flower beds, pruning her pastel rainbow of rose bushes along the south border, keeping her herb garden on the kitchen’s window ledge freshly watered and healthy. 
That morning, she was hunkered down over her garden’s stone pathway, clearing away loose clumps of grass and moss that spoiled the cleanliness of the stone, when her landline rang from the kitchen, the noise travelling to the young woman through her open kitchen window. She took a few more moments to scrape away the last of the moss with an old knife before pushing herself up to her feet and jogging back into the house, a two-storey on Maybury Drive.
It was the sort of house you’d expect more than one person to live in, especially a woman of her age. It had grandeur and class and a level of warmth that one would expect from a home owned by an upper-middle class family, the nuclear life of a boy and a girl, a mother and father. Instead, the sole resident had converted rooms no doubt meant for children into an office and a library, turning her own abode into a workplace. Neighbours who had visited in the past would tell you the whole building was impeccably clean, the kitchen counter tops alone exuding an air of wealth no one in the neighbourhood could match. The place was entirely monochrome, white and grey and black, the only colour seeming to appear in her garden, which she was clearly quite proud of.
No-one else in the county had rose bushes like Miss Y/N Clarkson.
On the particular morning that the phone rang, and Miss Clarkson heard it through the kitchen window, other forces were at play. When she finally answered the landline, she listened instead of talking. The call was expected, and something that led to the young woman in her mid-twenties, spending her early morning gardening, to rush around clearing away her weeding tools. It caused her to shower once more that day, to take time on her makeup and curling her hair, when the plan for the day had been progressively more tiring labour in her backyard. The phone call made Clarkson pick out and put on her most recently dry-cleaned suit and take time to repack her matching handbag three separate times.
Her heels clicked on the white tile floors as she headed for her front door, taking a pause to scan her reflection, ensuring she was presenting perfection to those who saw her. Her morning had begun at 03.56, and after two hours of gardening as the sun rose, and a little over an hour getting ready for the day ahead, Clarkson left her home at 07.24, confirmed by the clock in her peripheral vision. She left her home, locking the doors behind her, taking her time getting to her car, a sleek sports style vehicle, sitting her bag on the passenger seat, heading down to her post box and grabbing the mail to take with her, though it was doubtful she would get to reading any of it. 
That morning, at 07.26, Clarkson left her home and made the 27-minute drive from her home to the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, every spin of her car tyres propelling her toward endless mounting possibilities. The radio played in the background, the reports filled with what the untrained ear would assume were statistics, perhaps a stock market report. When the radio finally fell silent mid-drive, Clarkson changed the station to a local news channel, her fingers drumming on their steering wheel in time with the music’s beat. It helped drown out the thumping in her chest, the ringing in her ears, and allowed a release for the energy in her system that caused her stomach to twist into knots.
Miss Y/N Clarkson was not the specimen of woman who would admit she was scared, quite stubborn in her belief that fear was an enemy one had to overcome to achieve greatness, but the fact of the matter was that she was scared shitless. She hid it well, a composed woman thanks to her former career; but she continued to tap the wheel as songs switched, matching the new tempos and giving her attention to the road before her.
All she had to do was make it to her destination, and she could work out the rest later. So, focusing on the road and the music instead of the urge to vomit was the best way to go, and she was determined to do that well.
She liked the suit she was wearing.
--
Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Academy. Quantico, Virginia.
“Reid, I swear to God if you didn’t get me something good…” Derek Morgan marched over as Dr Spencer Reid muddled his way through the door to the BAU offices at Quantico, doing his best to balance coffee and pastries along with his own work bag. Out of intrigue more than kindness, Morgan snatched the food and coffees from his co-worker, setting them down on his desk and quickly distributing amongst the team. Coffees made to exact order for, by the scribbled names on the cups, Emily Prentiss, JJ, himself, Reid and David Rossi; a chai tea for Aaron Hotchner, which he was often reminded by Reid was just ‘tea tea’, since chai was the Hindi word for tea, and a bottle of water for Garcia, who quickly snatched her own drink from Morgan before taking the man’s chair, spinning around in it. When Morgan moved immediately on to finding the best muffin in the bag, he did a double take, looking back at the drink holders, Prentiss stealing the best muffin of the bunch when she was sure Morgan was distracted enough.
“I win!” She proclaimed, walking back to her desk with a swing of her hips, sharing a smile with JJ, who had come over to collect her own coffee. Hotch and Rossi were due to arrive any minute, Reid deciding to take down orders last night to ensure everyone got what they wanted. Reid even got up twenty minutes earlier to fit the coffee shop trip into his schedule.
“Reid, why is there an extra coffee here? And why doesn’t it have a name?” Morgan questioned the younger, much skinnier, man, causing the three women to look over at the duo. There was never extra coffee.
“Hotch ordered it.” Reid said quickly, gesturing to their superior as he walked through the door, Rossi following behind, both picking up their own drinks and swiftly disappearing into their offices, Hotch leaving the mystery beverage he had ordered untouched still, now the only unaccounted for drink on Morgan’s desk.
“I think I can explain this one.” JJ sighed, attention quickly turning to her as she took a gulp of her latte, trying to wake up as quickly as possible. She had been working late the night before going through possible cases for the team, picking out one before she went home for a debriefing that morning. “It seems we have a new recruit joining us.” She said with a light shrug, heading towards the conference room to prep for the morning meeting.
“Garcia-” Morgan started, but the brightly dressed blonde was already heading for her own office, shouting a quick “On it!” as she power walked towards her fortress of magic.
“I wonder who he is…” Reid wondered aloud, sitting himself down and biting into a croissant, chewing thoughtfully on the bread product like it might give him some sort of answer. Considering the genius of the kid, it was entirely possible.
“Why do you so quickly assume it’s a he?” Prentiss asked pointedly. “We could use another woman around here, level the playing field.”
“Statistically speaking, the FBI has almost four times as many male special agents as it does female. It’s far more likely that a new recruit will be male, and by the drink I ordered for him, probably older.” Spencer began typing away at his computer, looking up about a minute later to find Morgan and Prentiss still looking at him for further explanation. Reid coughed. “It’s English breakfast tea, not coffee. The only other person I know that drinks dirt in a cloth bag is Larry on seventh, and he turned 48 last month.” Reid said quickly, almost rambling as if he were trying to apologise for the delay in response through his talking speed. Prentiss and Morgan shared a shrug, and JJ waved them over from the walkway, the three picking up their pastries and coffees before following Rossi into the conference room. Garcia appeared behind them, but no one sat down, JJ getting straight to the point.
“Three months ago, a fire in the Shadyside rec centre killed fourteen children.” She set a newspaper clipping on the table before the team, folding her arms as they all examined the headline and subheading of the page.
“I remember that.” Morgan commented.
“What does that have to do with us?” Rossi asked, making eye contact with Agent Jureau. JJ might have been in charge of offering the team cases, but he needed to know why they were called, whether or not it was something to turn down.
“Well, over the past three months there’s been five suicides. All of them lost a child in the fire.” JJ explained as Derek picked up the article, scanning over it slowly. JJ glanced down at her own notes, making sure to get it right. “The last one was Paul Baleman, he was found electrocuted in his bathtub yesterday.” Reid took JJ’s notepad from her, glancing for a second at the note to read it. “I received a request for our help.”
“Why do they need our help? They’re suicides.” Morgan asked, feeling like he was stating the obvious.
“All of the suicides were within two weeks of each other.” Reid spoke up, answering Morgan’s question on behalf of JJ. “It could be some kind of pattern.”
“Detective Ronnie Baleman, Pittsburgh P.D. thinks that something’s going on.” JJ continued on, and Morgan shrugged.
“Well, of course he does.”
“Why do you say that?” Prentiss asked, taking her own turn to look over the file.
“He’s related to that man, right?” Rossi asked, and JJ sighed, avoiding eye contact.
“His brother.”
“A cop who doesn’t believe his brother committed suicide.” Morgan stated the obvious once more, taking a sip of his coffee. “Come on, next case.” He instructed JJ, turning to leave the room.
“Now, wait a second.” Prentiss spoke up, causing Morgan to stop in his tracks. “Five suicides in the same neighbourhood within months? That’s a serious spike.”
“Suicides don’t spike after a tragedy.” Rossi seemed to agree with JJ and Prentiss on this one, and Reid soon followed, armed with statistics.
“Quite the opposite, actually. Following World War one and two, right after Kennedy was shot, and following 9/11, suicides plummeted. Within a society, external threats usually create group integrations.” Reid info dumped on the team as Rossi’s eyes scanned outside the window. Hotchner was taking the day for himself, finding time to see his son Jack after Haley filed for divorce. He only needed a day, and Rossi knew the team would do fine without him for a few hours. Another body caught his eye, dressed in a suit as expensive as his own, stopping at Morgan’s desk to take the English tea that had been ordered for a secret new recruit. She glanced up as she took a sip, nodding towards the window before disappearing back out the door, taking a moment to talk with Hotchner before the pair separated.
“People come together…” JJ said softly, and Rossi tuned back into the group conversation with a tilt of his head.
“So if there’s a reason for doubt, which there obviously is, don’t these families left behind have a right to know?” Prentiss argued like a lawyer, making her closing statement in favour of taking the case.
“Yes, they do.” Rossi agreed, Morgan quickly stepping in.
“Ok, sure, they deserve to know but let somebody else tell them. Like social services.” The dark-skinned man retorted, clearly not for taking on this case at all. Rossi took a moment, closing his eyes to think for a few seconds before fully turning his body to face the team, coming to his decision on the matter.
“Contact Detective Baleman. Let him know we’re coming.” Rossi ordered, JJ nodded with a small smile, glad the case was being taken on. “Thank you, JJ…” Rossi added with a quick nod, moving towards the doorway. It was wheels up in thirty to Pittsburgh, and he had a few more files to sort through before they left.
“Uh, Rossi?” Garcia spoke up for the first time, tucked in the corner of the room just listening in, and the older gentleman sending her back a smile. Ever since Garcia’s new boyfriend, Kevin, had asked to sit down with Rossi and have a man-to-man talk, the pair had gotten a lot closer. “The new recruit…” She started, the rest of the team looking to him for answers.
“Will be joining us in Pittsburgh once their processing is completed.” Rossi informed them with a half-smile playing on his lips, running a hand over his hair, making sure it was all in place before leaving the room.
“They really are pushing this new guy straight into the deep end, huh?” JJ commented, starting to collect all the necessary information into boxes, looking up from her task as Morgan scoffed.
“We have a couple of suicides in the middle of Nowhere, Pittsburgh. This isn’t the deep end, JJ. This is barely the kiddie pool.” Morgan said with confidence, like he was so sure this trip would be a waste of time, and he jogged out to his desk to collect his things. He stopped on the walkway, a smirk on his face as he looked between Prentiss, JJ and Reid. “Our new recruit has already stopped by.” He said, gesturing to his desk, the tea sat there no more than ten minutes ago having now vanished into thin air.
--
As the team sat on the jet, working through possibilities of who could have caused these deaths if they were not suicides, a call came through on the laptop. Rossi, unaware, left for the bathroom, and Reid took charge to accept the call and position the laptop for the team, or the four younger members, to view.
“What you got for us baby girl?” Morgan asked, knowing this wasn’t about the case. All the five of them could talk about was the new recruit, this mystery man who would soon join their ranks. Garcia smirked, typing away on her own end.
“So, I did a little digging into FBI hires within the past month, going through everything to find a match for our unit, and there is one, I repeat one, probable candidate but the information is in a sealed file. I’ve been trying to get into it for the last half hour, turns out it was my own code that locked the thing, and we all know how good I am.” Garcia explained, shrugging her shoulders a little. If her facial expressions were anything to go off, they wouldn’t know any time soon, and would have to wait and be surprised in Pittsburgh.
“You tried, Garcia…” JJ sighed, folding her arms. The team shared the same reaction, not liking the idea of not knowing. They were profilers, they could know an unsub better than anyone just from a few clues, and they couldn’t find out who their new colleague was?
“Oh! I did, however, get a last name. I think. Clarkson. C, L, A, R, K, S, O, N. Any of you got ideas?” She pitched a last-ditch effort, and Reid looked up.
“Wasn’t there a guy called Clarkson on Fourth? Black hair, round face, sort of… Fat?” Reid suggested, and Prentiss scoffed.
“He got fired a month ago for misconduct in the Cyber Branch, not likely he would be handed over to us.” She shook her head, quite confident in her deduction that it wasn’t that man. “There has to be something we’re missing.” As she spoke, a knocking came from Garcia’s end of the line, the blonde looking back and giving the team a wave goodbye before logging off.
Garcia didn’t get visitors to her castle often, and when she did it was usually members of the BAU, or Kevin on occasion. But the BAU was out, and Kevin had assured her he would never bother her when she was busy, so Garcia wasn’t sure who to expect when opening that door.
“Apologies, ma’am, but are you Agent Garcia?” The door swung open and Garcia was addressed by a woman, fairly soft spoken, in a wardrobe so completely contrasting with her own she couldn’t help but admire her. A black pant suit, with a light grey high neck blouse, and heels as high as Garcia’s.
“I am…” Garcia responded after looking over the woman, just trying to figure out who she was. Maybe a head of another branch, or a corporate outsider? Someone with the CIA? If so, why on Earth was she asking for her? “Are you sure you’ve got the right person, ma’am? I mean, are you not looking for Agent Hotchner?”
“He and I spoke on the phone, and earlier this morning; he’s taking a personal day. I’ll be travelling with him tomorrow to Pittsburgh. I wanted to introduce myself to you before I left.” The woman held out a hand, the first part of her not completely flawless. The extended hand had a large scar on the back of it, and Garcia shook it gingerly, welcoming the woman into her palace with uncertainty.
“I’m sorry, I’m confused. Are you an auditor of the team?” Garcia confessed, trying to figure out why the woman looked around her office with such intrigue, why she stopped to study a digital file of their newest case.
“What? No… Do I really look like an auditor? I was hoping for something a bit more threatening with the outfit than the auditor.” The woman said with a breezy laugh, and the dots slowly pieced together in Garcia’s head.
“You’re not a man… We thought you’d be a man…”
“Have I disappointed?”
“No! Finally, we have even numbers. Hello, Special Agent Clarkson, it is so nice to meet you.” Garcia walked over and quickly shook Clarkson’s hand a second time, much more eager in her disposition now knowing she was, in fact, talking to the new recruit.
“I was hoping you could send me over information as the team relay it from the ground. In return, I could get us some lunch?” Clarkson suggested, Garcia sitting herself down and relaxing in her swivel chair, beginning to type once more.
“First rule of befriending yours truly, buy me food.” Garcia smiled back, and Clarkson nodded, leaving the technical analyst to her job. With approximately an hour to kill until lunch, it would give Clarkson a chance to map out the building, discover her new workplace for the first time without the distractions of colleagues. Despite her years of service, despite relationships, despite many things that would suggest otherwise, she preferred the life of a lone wolf to that of a social butterfly. It was easier on the mind, the soul, the heart and the wallet.
Clarkson’s traversing around the Quantico FBI Academy led her to certain conclusions about the team she was about to join: Garcia was famous amongst the tech staff, and rightly so, and had recently been shot; Prentiss and Morgan had made a name for themselves in the gym, with their own whiteboard tucked away by the sparring mats to track their progress whenever they trained; JJ was a swimmer in her free time, using the Academy pool, though she hadn’t been in the last week according to the log book; and Dr Reid had managed to read the entirety on the FBI’s library, not only being their most frequent patron, but he had managed to read everything at least twice. She knew of Rossi and Hotchner before joining, of course, the latter an old work friend, but it was nice to learn a little more about those her own age on the team.
Only after a stop by the canteen to pick up lunch for herself and Garcia did she return to the BAU. Her plan was to eat with the blonde, run over the case a little more, when her new Bureau issued mobile started to ring. Clarkson knocked on Garcia’s door, passing her over a box of Singapore noodles before walking off with her own Chow Mein, sitting at the empty desk in the office and answering the phone.
“Sergea- Special Agent Clarkson, Federal Bureau. Who is calling?” Clarkson answered the phone with a sigh, and a small chuckle came from the other end.
“You’ll need to work on that, Clarkson.” The voice was deep, stern, and ever so familiar. 
“Give me a day, sir… I thought you were taking personal time?” She asked Hotch, powering up the computer on her desk. Strauss had spoken to her that morning, setting out instructions for getting herself a place in the system, direct orders for gaining access to classified documents.
“I am. We’ll be flying out first thing in the morning. I thought I would call, see how your first day was faring?” While the pitching and tone never wavered, a trait she had always envied of Hotch, he was sincere in his words, and it caused Clarkson to smile.
“As well as one might expect. I still have plenty to do before we fly out, I’ll be kept occupied.” She assured, typing in her login information on the computer before her.
“Remember to speak to Thomas about being issued a gun. I know you are only accompanying this first case but being armed is more than recommended.” Hotch continued on, and with a final thanks and confirmation of flight times and locations, Clarkson ended the call, making her first job to email Garcia about any new information on the case the team had received. Within minutes, photos from the first crime scene, because Clarkson had learned quickly there would always be another crime scene coming, were on her screen, captioned by Garcia with details of the suicide, victim names, everything else that could be provided.
It was an odd case to begin on, Clarkson knew as such, but she sat at her new desk, going through file after file the entire day, receiving occasional updates from the team on the ground through Garcia. And as the day became evening and then night, Clarkson was invested, riveted, and borderline excited to be in the BAU, to be in a workplace with such an interesting focus, to deal with cases like this that just confounded so many others.
Shadyside Police Precinct, Pittsburgh.
The following afternoon, with another body and increasing pressure being placed on the BAU for a profile, the team had just returned from a morning at the newest victim’s house, analysing the scene, to the local police station, Dr Reid working with interest through the suicide notes recovered from the crime scenes and comparing them with sample texts. It was undeniable that the victims had written their notes, but something was off. It seemed that Detective Baleman wanted to understand the science behind Reid’s close examination of the notes, he and JJ coming to check the young doctor’s progress.
“Anything to tell us if these were suicides or not?” JJ asked, arms folded as she walked around Reid’s workspace: he had taken up a full table and multiple boards in the corner of the building.
“These are some samples from Deidre Nollard, the jumper.” Reid walked over quickly to present the evidence. “Let’s see, we have an insurance form, a letter she wrote to her neighbour a month ago, a birthday card she wrote to her husband a week ago, and her suicide note as found on her body.” Reid explained, JJ leaning over to examine them.
“Suicide note matches, right?” Baleman asked.
“It’s definitely by her own hand, but she’s professing regret. Look.” Reid scooted past JJ to read the note aloud to the pair of them. “Uh, ‘I’m sorry I let you down’. ‘Please forgive me’. ‘I disappointed you’. And so on. But the handwriting, the forensic analysis is saying the exact opposite.”
“What do you mean?” JJ asked, trying to see what Reid could see.
“Um… Well, you see how the handwriting slants uphill? It’s a clear sign of optimism. The same with how the spacing is so consistent. And these long T-bars, those indicate an enthusiastic person.” Reid pointed to each aspect of the handwriting as he spoke, and JJ nodded along.
“Not someone who would take a swan dive off a five-storey walk-up.” Baleman chimed in, seeming to like that Reid’s findings led him somewhere other than suicide.
“Look, even if we had alerted the media-” JJ started. She tried not to hold it on herself that more people were dead, they couldn’t have been sure that it wasn’t a coincidence the deaths happened weekly.
“Now we’ll never know. Like I said, that’s on me. But, hey, now we have the proof that these aren’t suicides. Those notes, were they coerced?” Baleman asked, and Reid made a face, trying to understand the situation himself.
“If you were to force someone to write their own suicide note, these are words you generally wouldn’t use.” Spencer said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“I’ll take that as a no. And… My brother’s journal?” Baleman asked, and JJ looked over. This man was too personal with the case, she knew it, but at this point they couldn’t stop him.
“It’s extensive, I… I haven’t even-” Reid began.
“Another no.” Baleman decided for Reid, looking up at JJ. “Can we inform the media now?” He asked.
“I have.” JJ nodded, giving the detective some form of relief. A knock came on the panelling, and the trio turned to look at Derek.
“I need you all outside.”
The team congregated outside within a few minutes of Morgan’s ask, accompanied by Baleman, a black unmarked car pulling up as the circle formed on the lawn outside the precinct. With the fast-paced case and all their focus on work, the younger team members were only reminded of the new recruit’s arrival with Hotch as they stepped out the vehicle, though Morgan and Reid had been very, very wrong in their assumptions.
The new recruit who followed Hotch was an attractive female, dressed more like a businesswoman than a profiler, and looked about the same age as Spencer. She was very good-looking, and it took a second for everyone, including Baleman, to focus back on the conversation they were supposed to be having.
“This is SSA Hotchner and SSA Clarkson, they’ve just arrived from Virginia.” Rossi introduces the pair to Baleman, who nodded a hello to both.
“What have we got?” Hotch asked, getting right down to business, glancing back at Clarkson. The look they shared was a conversation: him asking if she was ready, her responding she most definitely was. 
“Including extended families, over one hundred individuals within the Pittsburgh area were affected by that fire.” Rossi said quickly, informing the two agents of more recent discoveries. Clarkson’s eyes scanned over the team she would now be working with, studying their stances, their expressions, trying to get a read on who these people were before she spoke to them .She pulled a small notebook from her pocket and a pen, beginning to write in shorthand as her fellow teammates spoke.
“So, this unsub is targeting grief, then?” Hotch stated as a question, but the rest of the team were sure of it. It was a clarification more than anything, and needed too, since Baleman looked confused.
“Grief?” He asked.
“An event.” Reid spoke from behind Baleman. “A single event in this unsub’s life led him to end the life of someone he believes had to die. From that moment on, he created his own sense of morality - what is right and what is wrong - and he rationalises what he did with that first kill over and over again by targeting people he believes can’t be saved by anyone other than himself. He decides who lives and who dies, and this gives him an all-consuming sense of power.” Reid explained.
“So they’re not going to stop anytime soon.” Baleman confirmed.
“Well, that’s assuming there’s someone to actually stop.” Derek commented. By his closed off body language, and matter-of-fact tone, Clarkson could tell straight away Morgan was sceptical of a killer in Shadyside.
“And if there is,” Hotch spoke up, “he’s convinced he’s on a mission of mercy, and even after he’s caught, he’ll maintain he did nothing wrong.”
“He?” Baleman questioned.
“White male, mid to late thirties. He’s polite, forthcoming, doesn’t stand out.” Rossi rattled off the profile quickly. “And we believe his victims, these families, are all letting him in.”
“My brother and his wife weren’t letting anyone in. If anything, they were closing themselves off.” Baleman disputed, and Rossi shrugged.
“Well, this unsub has found a way in, one that’s very hard to trace.”
“In every case there was no evidence of a struggle, no attempt at escape.” Derek added.
“He finds a personal connection and uses it to buy time.” Hotch sighed.
“My officers need to know this.” Baleman said with a nod, readying to head back inside, when Clarkson finally spoke up to stop him, glancing up and closing her notebook.
“The BAU has found that Angels of Mercy are often people in the medical profession, as well as law enforcement.” She spoke up, the team looking over at her in surprise, for the majority of them it was the first time hearing her voice.
“Cops.” Baleman scoffed, and she nodded.
“Which is why we’re meeting out here, Detective Baleman.” Clarkson added, gesturing to the street corner they were congregated on.
“Now, we’re only fishing. We don’t want to point a finger.” Rossi quickly followed up, but Baleman shook his head, shrugging.
“Point it. I don’t give a damn.” Baleman was beyond a point of community with his department, that was more than clear.
“If that’s what it’s about, let us figure out where to point it.” Prentiss said reassuringly, and Baleman nodded a little.
“I asked Garcia to check into emergency responders around the scene of the fire.” Reid informed Hotch and Clarkson, the subject changing back to an update.
“Good, Prentiss?” Hotch looked over at the brunette, who straightened up a little.
“He’s smart. He knows all about these people’s schedules, their routines.” She informed the team, and Clarkson went back to noting things down.
“Look, if this unsub does exist, this is a guy who’s all about control. He chooses how they die, when they die. He even positions them exactly how he wants them to die. That makes him hypervigilant, a guy who’s always on the lookout. Risk averse, unseen.” Derek seemed to entertain the idea he was so against.
“The only way to stop him is to find out how he’s managed to get into all of his victim’s lives.” Prentiss added.
“We find that out, we’ve got our killer.” Rossi sighed, the profile complete, Baleman, Hotch and Clarkson now fully aware of the facts.
“We can start bringing people in, find the connection.” Hotch gave the go-ahead. The team slowly dispersed, heading back inside, Clarkson finding herself falling into step with Prentiss and who she could only assume was Jareau. Garcia had been good enough to send over files on each of the team members.
“Not the most ideal circumstances to meet under, but I’m Jennifer Jareau, JJ for short.” the blonde held out a hand to Clarkson, who shook it gently, the same introduction occurring with Prentiss.
“Y/N Clarkson.” She informed them, three sets of heels hitting the police station steps in time with each other. As she entered the chaos that was a police station mid-morning, Prentiss and JJ led Clarkson towards a back office that had been made available to them.
“I need to start making phone calls, I’ll get to know you properly at dinner.” JJ promised, grabbing herself a coffee before heading back out into the bullpen to make the calls to the families. Prentiss looked the new recruit over before helping herself to a cup of coffee.
“I would offer, but you don’t drink it, do you?” Prentiss checked, and Clarkson nodded, taking a seat on the table. Prentiss smirked. “Thought so. Reid had us all convinced you were an old white guy because you drink Earl Grey.” The words cause a smile to form on Y/N’s face, she couldn’t deny it was rather amusing. “So, where are you coming from? Not FBI, obviously, we would have known you before now.” Prentiss’ intentions became a lot clearer as she sipped her coffee. This wasn’t friendly chatter; it was an interrogation. Luckily for Clarkson, she was very good at those.
“Agent Prentiss, I admire the tactic, truly, but isn’t it your job to profile people?” The words were borderline a taunt to the brunette, but the tone of voice and smile on Clarkson’s face dismissed ideas of hostility. Prentiss herself was a private woman, it seemed Clarkson shared the same attributes, and as such, this was now a game. Not just for Prentiss, for the team as a whole. There were things to be uncovered about Clarkson she would never share willingly, Prentiss knew it.
“Game on, Clarkson.” Prentiss accepted the challenge, but before they could go further, a knock came on the meeting room door, followed by Derek opening it quickly.
“Emily, JJ says the first family will be here in a minute.” Derek told her, and Prentiss quickly left the room. Clarkson looked at Derek with a raised eyebrow as his eyes scanned over her body. “Newbie, we have another victim. Ready for a crime scene?” He offered, and Clarkson jumped up, following him out to the black SUV waiting for them. As she left, her eyes drifted towards the far corner of the room, where the lean man around her age, Dr Spencer Reid, stood surrounded by boards and paper, before following Derek out to the car, nodding to Rossi as they all got in and headed, with Morgan driving, to their next location.
As Morgan sped through traffic, lights on, a call came through on Morgan’s phone. He passed it back to Clarkson quickly, and the young woman answered the phone, putting it on speaker.
“Garcia?” She said.
“Go ahead, hot stuff, talk to me. You’re on speaker.” Morgan called, and Clarkson leaned forward with the phone so all three of them could hear the technical analyst clearly.
“Hey. So, Prentiss was looking for some narcotics, my burning love hunk, and I scored humongously.” Garcia stated, and Clarkson did her very best not to laugh at the pet names Garcia and Morgan had for one another. There was a whir of a chair moving before Garcia started again, Clarkson pulling out her notebook once more. “I ran every toxicological panel known to man on the victims and came up with zilch, which means he must be knocking them out with a neuromuscular agent.”
“With a what?” Morgan shouted so Garcia could hear him clearly.
“A paralytic.” Rossi said from the passenger seat, saving Garcia the trouble.
“Yeah, yeah. Something like succinylcholine or vecuronium, one of those ones that would metabolize in the body so quickly, it wouldn’t be detectable. Plus, plus, also, and I called me up Mr Coroner and said, how would you do this? And he says, by injection. So I say, hey, guy, wouldn’t that leave a mark? And he’s all ‘hold up’. And then he goes and looks at Beth Smoler’s body and finds the mark. A hole, right in her hairline.”
“Ok, so you have to be in the medical profession to get a hold of those drugs, right?” Derek asked, and Clarkson frowned. The conclusion was too quick.
“Not really.” She spoke up from the back. “You can get anything online nowadays, right Garcia?”
“The monochrome marvel of a woman is right, boys.” Garcia agreed.
“This drug leaves no trace?” Derek had to be sure.
“None.”
“Even if the coroner was looking for something, the evidence was gone, and Beth Smoler didn’t see anything coming.” Rossi sighed, thinking to himself as they pulled up at the crime scene.
“No sir, she completely saw it coming. They all saw it coming.” Garcia sighed, and Clarkson could hear the hesitation. She didn’t want to say it.
“Sir, neuromuscular blockers paralyse the muscles, but it does nothing for the mind. These victims were awake until the unsub killed them, they just couldn’t move.” Clarkson explained quickly, and Rossi glanced back at her. He was aware they had a new recruit; he had discussed it with Hotch, but he had no idea she would be so knowledgeable on the first case. She wasn’t even meant to be helping in this case, rather observing and taking in the atmosphere.
“So he sedates them, then quickly engineers their suicide.” Rossi nodded, Morgan turning off the engine and taking the phone back from Clarkson.
“Well, if that’s true it means this unsub’s not looking for the glory of the kill.” Morgan and Rossi got out of the car in sync, Clarkson following a few beats after them, back to scribbling in her little notebook.
“No, but unfortunately for our victims they’re wide awake when he decides it’s time for them to move on.” Rossi flashed his credentials to the police officer stationed by the tape, ducking under the yellow barricade and heading into the house. Morgan followed, quickly thanking Garcia as he shut off the phone, and Clarkson took a second to put away her notes and do the same, the feeling unfamiliar. She had never become acquainted with the action of showing credentials or a badge, or slipping on latex gloves, never been all too versed in being the most important person on a crime scene, but she knew she would get used to it soon enough.
Much like she would get used to the smell of blood and gunpowder that hit her like a brick wall as she entered the house, Rossi and Morgan already with the Medical Examiner to her right, their newest victim having been shot in the head. While Clarkson was familiar with blood spatter, brain spatter was another thing entirely, and it took her a moment to process the scene before her.
“Don’t worry if you need to take a second.” Derek spoke up, his eyes having been on her for a few moments now. He was aware of how hard a crime scene like this could be for someone’s first time. Clarkson shook her head, taking a deep breath before walking over to join them, the ME just beginning to explain his findings.
“Barrel was placed right there, under the chin, he shoots, and the bullet went up and through the small and hard palate of his mouth, then exited out through his-”
“Cranium.” Rossi finished for the ME. “Check the back of his head, his hairline.” Rossi instructed, and the ME tilted the victim’s head until he found what they were all looking for. “There, see it?” Rossi pointed, and Clarkson looked over Derek’s shoulder to view the find: a hole, right by his ear.
“A puncture wound. Caused by a needle.” The ME and Rossi said the last word at the same time, Derek looking over to a nearby police officer.
“Did he leave a note?” Morgan asked, the evidence being handed over. As he took the note, Clarkson’s brow furrowed, a frown forming on her lips. “What do you see?” He asked her, Rossi looking back at the pair.
“It’s… It’s probably nothing…” Clarkson admitted. She didn’t want to follow a dead end; she didn’t need to ruin her first investigation.
“If you see something, Clarkson, you tell us.” Rossi ordered, standing up beside them.
“This isn’t a suicide note.” She said definitively. “Could you get Dr Reid on the phone?” She asked Morgan, who nodded, following outside and dialling Reid’s number.
“Morgan?” Reid sounded surprised by the call.
“Clarkson… Dr Reid, it isn’t a suicide note. It’s an amends. You write them in support groups, a way to confront what you’ve done and move past it… I think the unsub has been attending meetings and finding parents.” She said quickly, Morgan looking up at her as she spoke.
“I was coming to the same conclusion… None of our victims' notes ever say goodbye.” Reid said on the other end of the phone.
“Could you have Garcia looking for any meetings tonight? These parents have full time jobs, it’s more likely they’ll be attending evening groups, between.” She looked at her watch. “Between 5 and 9 pm. Might be an idea to get in touch with organisers as soon as we can.” She decided.
“I’ll call her now. Hotch will want you back here, we’ll have the search organised by the time you get back.” Reid said quickly, ending the call to get in touch with Garcia. Derek looked over at Clarkson, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s your first day, and you’ve made a connection none of us would have thought of for another week.” Morgan said with a puzzled look, trying to understand why this woman knew so quickly what these notes were.
“There are support groups for everything, Agent Morgan. Drugs, alcohol, sex, anything you could think of.” She responded, walking towards the car, Rossi exiting the house as she opened the SUV’s back door.
“So which one were you?” Derek asked, hand on the door, looking into her eyes as she took off the gloves.
“PTSD.” She answered, her demeanour changing as Rossi jumped in the car. Morgan nodded, closing her door after Clarkson was in the vehicle before getting into the driver’s seat. He was curious as to what caused a woman so young to need support groups for PTSD, sure, but Derek knew better than to confront her about it on her first day.
Instead, they drove in silence back to the precinct, and then split themselves over the eleven separate main support groups in a two-mile radius of Shadyside, their afternoon spent trying to find out confidential information about who their unsub might be. It was coming on 5 o’clock when the team got back to the precinct to share their discoveries, all finding a common story between the groups: a story about his brother, and a family so poor they shared the same bedroom until the age of 15. Said his name was Peter, his father was a professor at Brassard. It was, in short, a horrific tale of molestation.
“If it’s true, it could be what started our unsub on his mission of mercy.” Hotch spoke up after each team provided what details they had, Clarkson having been with him and Morgan didn’t say anything.
“If it is, we know it didn’t end well.” Rossi added. “At least not for James, the older brother. This guy says his older brother slashed his wrists one night and he watched him die.”
“Ok, so we’ve got two names: James and Peter.” Prentiss offered as a positive, since at least they were getting closer to a possible lead.
“And a university: Brassard.” Hotch added.
“That should make it easier for you Garcia.” JJ sighed, the eccentric blonde on the other end of the phone beginning her search.
“If the unsub’s father really taught at Brassard, chances are he’s local.” Rossi suggested, Reid making a noise from the back corner that drew the attention of the group.
“Reid?” Hotch questioned. The younger man took a second to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before walking from his spot at the back of the room, stopping beside Clarkson, who was sat at the table with her notebook.
“Angels of mercy repeat the same event over and over again.” Reid declared, and Morgan spoke up, arms folded and a frown on his face. He had come to agree that there was an unsub at the crime scene, and Clarkson found it interesting to see the change in his attitude: now fully behind the theory, he wasn’t wasting any more time on solving the case.
“What are you getting at?”
“Well, if as you said, the story’s true, then he’s leaving one key piece of information out, the event that started it all.” Reid explained, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked over to see what Clarkson was writing, confused by her use of British shorthand instead of American.
“The brother didn’t kill himself.” Clarkson spoke up, closing her notebook and looking back at Reid, whose eyes quickly darted away, trying to look like he hadn’t just been caught red handed. “Peter killed him.”
“The fire caused such grief and suffering that it became a trigger.” Reid shrugged.
“And unable to stop himself, he targets someone he believes needs his help.” Morgan finished the thought, Reid nodding along.
“First, he keeps to some kind of timeline, a few weeks, but the last two kills were within days.” Reid added, and Clarkson looked back.
“So, he’s devolving?” She said with a slight air of uncertainty, but with Reid’s nod assuring her that she had got it right, her face once again became expressionless.
“Got it!” Garcia’s voice came over the telephone, followed by some typing. “It’s from 1984, it’s the Brassard College university newspaper.” 
“Wait, Garcia, they lived on campus?” Prentiss asked, the rest of the team subconsciously leaning in to hear more.
“Yeah. Says here that James Redding was the youngest suicide in Pennsylvanian history. And his father Charles Redding was a professor… Creep.” Garcia mumbled the last word. Prentiss was on her feet now, walking around the table, glancing over their evidence and case files.
“Is there any possibility that while we’ve been talking, you’ve been multitasking?” Prentiss asked, a smile hidden in her voice.
“What, track down his current address?” Garcia’s voice was smug, but there was right to be. Morgan and Prentiss let out chuckles, the latter doing so as she finished the phone call.
“I love you, Penelope Garcia.” Prentiss grinned, and Clarkson noted it was the first genuine smile she had seen on any of her teammates since she and Hotch arrived.
“Ha. Get in line.” Garcia said over the phone before hanging up, phones buzzing with the address, Garcia’s computer sending out a mass text to the BAU.
Prentiss, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan headed out to the unsub’s address, leaving Reid, JJ and Clarkson in the station, the former of whom was taking great interest in Paul Baleman’s, the detective’s late brother, journal. Clarkson had managed to find a nearby grocery store and had taken up JJ on a proper introduction over dinner.
“So, where did you grow up?” JJ asked, taking a bite into the chicken club sandwich, suddenly grimacing and pushing it away. Clarkson, without a beat missed, switched their sandwiches. JJ smiled gratefully, double checking it was ok before taking a bite of BLT. “I don’t know why, but the chicken club doesn’t taste right...”
“It’s mustard mayo, not regular mayo.” Clarkson commented after taking a bite herself, swallowing her rather tasty sandwich before speaking again. “Born in Maine, moved to Virginia in my teens.” She explained, taking a drink of her water and looking over to Reid with interest, seemingly skimming through the journal.
“I read 20,000 words a minute, and have an eidetic memory, Agent Clarkson. I am reading, I just do it very fast.” Reid spoke up without a question needed, and Clarkson nodded.
“We haven’t been properly introduced.” She said. “I’m Y/N Clarkson.”
“I know. We’ve met before.” Reid looked up, and Clarkson had an amused look on her face. JJ raised an eyebrow.
“Reid, none of us know her.”
“Dr Reid lectured at Georgetown two years ago.” Clarkson took another sip of water.
“Agent Clarkson was the only person who laughed at my class joke.” Reid said, a small smile appearing on his face.
“Which was?” JJ asked, looking between Clarkson and Reid.
“During a lecture titled “Ritualistic Tendencies of Cults and the Communally Insane”, Dr Reid decided to stop mid presentation, and he says.” Clarkson cleared her throat. “A campus advisor asks their student what class they are having the most difficulty with, and the student replies the bourgeoisie.” Clarkson couldn’t help the smile on her face as she retold the joke, which sent Reid at the other end of the table into a bout of laughter. JJ looked amused, more by Reid’s pure enjoyment of the joke rather than the joke itself. “And while the joke has a rather funny punchline, what actually made me laugh was in its delivery. This man decided to stop mid-sentence because he said the word class, told the joke, and then continued to discuss “class” A narcotics a cult in Idaho took before slaughtering half of their rural farming town.” Clarkson explained, and only then did JJ laugh, and, in tandem, Reid’s chuckle died away.
“So did you study sociology?” JJ asked, and Clarkson shook her head, taking another bite of her sandwich.
“No, I was visiting Georgetown to hear Dr Reid speak.” Clarkson confirmed.
“What did you study then?” JJ asked, but before she could get an answer out of the new recruit her phone rang. “Hotch?” she said, putting her cell phone on speaker.
“Our unsub has been detained. You can pack up the case. We leave tomorrow morning.” Hotch informed the team, Clarkson getting up quickly to begin untacking the boards. Reid and JJ watched her speed at clearing the boards with awe, not sure if they should interrupt her efficiency. Within fifteen minutes, the entire case had been packed away in boxes, sorted by victim, the boards tidied away into storage, and any trace of the FBI being in the building gone.
“I’ve seen Morgan take three hours to pack up a case.” JJ commented once Clarkson had finished, and Reid sat back in his chair, looking the new recruit over. He had yet to find a member of the BAU who seemed so meticulous, and it concerned him. She had taken the time to wipe down tables, the coffee machine, erasing their presence from the room entirely. Clarkson simply smiled at JJ’s comment, taking the boxes out to the car, Reid again noting her deliberate actions to not touch the doors with skin, kicking the meeting room door open with her foot, and pressing her elbow to the precinct entrance. Had it been anyone else, any other job, Reid would have ignored it, but something felt wrong.
Who had taught Y/N Clarkson to cover her tracks so well?
100 notes · View notes
sxfterhearts · 4 years
Text
20. [9:40 am]
28A… 29A… Ah, 30A! You thought to yourself as your eyes glanced over the seat numbers slightly above your line of sight, your feet finally coming to a stop beside your reserved seat.
Much to your dismay, it was a window seat, facing in the opposite direction of the train’s movements. It was also one of the few face-to-face seats on the entire KTX train, with a table between the two pairs of seats which were facing each other.
You groaned internally. As much as you liked having a proper surface for writing or doodling in your journal, you didn’t like sharing. You much preferred having your own privacy while glancing out the windows, watching the greenery and the countryside pass by in a colourful blur, with soft tunes to accompany you on your journey. It’s fine, you reminded yourself, trying to stay positive, it’s only two hours, no big deal…
You hauled your backpack over your head and into the overhead compartment with practiced movements. Pulling out your travel necessities, which included your fully-charged phone, a pair of wireless earphones, a large, ice-cold Americano and your trusty journal, you settled into your seat for the rest of the morning. A part of you wished that the seat in front of you wouldn’t be occupied, while another part of you contemplated whether it was better to just try and fall asleep for the remainder of the train ride to Gangneung.
You quickly dismissed the latter thought, as the scenery throughout the train ride was too good to miss. You could deal with a couple of awkward silences and accidental glances with the unlucky stranger who reserved the seat opposite yours. Besides, it was your first time visiting your parents in two months – you weren’t going to let anything sour your mood.
The last-minute trip to Gangneung, your hometown, was planned just two days ago, as you were graciously granted two days of paid leave by your manager. After finally submitting the last tax return for your clients, your manager had treated the entire team to a congratulatory dinner and gave everyone a few days of leave to make up for the never-ending client meetings and late nights spent slaving away at the office desk during the tax busy season. You were overwhelmed with joy once your manager announced the news, pulling her usually stoic self into a tight embrace under the yellow glow of  the pojangmacha, a tent bar selling alcohol and street food, due to the heightened levels of alcohol within your system.
Giggling to yourself at the memory, you reached out for your phone and typed a message to your mother to inform her that you were about to depart Seoul. It was a message that she read and replied immediately with her usual “Be careful, dear, and have a safe journey.”, which you missed dearly during the busy season. On off-periods, you would make the effort to visit your parents once a fortnight. You moved to Seoul for university a few years back and found a job in the bustling city, leaving your parents and the family’s bicycle store behind in the coastal neighbourhood. Sometime in your early twenties, your father experienced a mild health scare and had to close the store during his month-long recovery. This made you realise that as the years went by, your parents were not getting any younger. With that in mind, you tried to clear your hectic schedule to spend as much time with your parents as possible.
“This is the 10:01am number 811 KTX train bound for Gangneung. The train will be departing shortly.”
The familiar female voice flooded the carriages of the train and distracted you from your thoughts. The seat in front of you was still unoccupied. You held on to the tiny glimmer of hope that it would remain that way for the rest of the journey, despite knowing very well that the summer holidays were approaching, turning Gangneung into an ideal weekend getaway for tourists and locals alike. The prospect of spending the next few days basking in the summer sunshine, helping out at the bicycle store and frolicking in the sea excited you to no end. After long hours cooped up in the office, you were looking forward to spending your break in the great outdoors.
“28… 29… 30, 31! Here it is, Mark, 31A and 31B. Dibs the window seat!” A cheerful voice spoke in English, pulling you out of your delightful daydream. Before you could turn your head to face its owner, a bright streak of reflected rainbow dancing across the table caught your eye.
“Okay, Bella,” A deep chuckle originated from the man standing beside your seat. “Wait a sec, pass me your bag, honey.”
Your eyes traced the source of the deep timbre notes of the American-sounding voice. What you found was a man, dressed in an oversized white shirt and black ripped jeans, who was placing the girl’s pink Barbie bag into the overhead compartment. Even though he was wearing a cap, you could make out his cherubic features and the gentle smile he directed towards the girl.
The thought that he was a bit too young to have a daughter crossed your mind for a split second, but you quickly shook it off to return the little girl’s excited smile with a polite wave. She was wearing a cute pink dress and looked to be about six or seven years old. The pair got comfortable in their seats, just as the announcement informed the passengers the doors were closing.
The man sitting diagonally opposite of you took off his cap to reveal a head of blonde hair. He met your gaze, and you watched as a surprised look flashed across his face. As the two of you exchanged polite greetings, you couldn’t shake off the thought that you had seen him somewhere before.
A phone chirped, signalling an incoming call. It was a call for him. He answered it, and you looked out the window to give him some privacy and not seem too nosy. You wracked your brain for answers. Did he work at the café I frequented? Or was it the Chinese restaurant that I ordered takeaways from? No… You mused silently. Maybe he’s the cashier at the convenience store near the apartment… But that doesn’t seem right either. Wait, is he-?
“Bell, your Mummy wants to speak to you.”
“Yes, Mummy! Mark said…”
You drowned out the rest of the conversation to refocus your thinking. You sneaked another glance at the man in question, only to find half of his face covered by his laptop screen as he tapped away furiously. It seems like it’s him… You adjusted your position several times to get a better look at his face without seeming too suspicious. Blonde hair and shiny helix piercing, it must be him.
The person you were referring to was someone you’ve only ever seen from afar. There was usually a safe distance between you two on your morning subway ride to the office, with him leaning casually against a pole and you standing steadily in the middle of the crowd. The closest you’ve been to him was when you were running late, and you happened to share the elevator with a blonde-haired man from the eighth floor of your apartment. He always had the top button of his crisp button-up undone, a tie hanging haphazardly over one shoulder and his headphones sitting snugly atop his blonde head, while munching on a piece of burnt toast. You had never encountered this strange gentleman until mid-May, so you assumed that he had recently moved into the floor below you. The two of you never exchanged words either, as he was always busy shoving down his breakfast, but you would always bow politely to each other. Unbeknownst to him, you were intrigued. Not many office workers were brave enough to sport such a striking hair colour, and you had to admit, it suited him perfectly.
You just never expected him to have a child.
“Mark!” The girl, Bella, whined while grabbing his hand. Your ears were still getting accustomed to hearing English after so long. The last time you were surrounded by native speakers was during your six-month-long secondment to the New York branch of your company. “Do my hair, pretty please! I want two braids.”
The man, Mark, sighed in fake annoyance, playfully poking her cheeks. “Yes, Your Highness. Hand over your other hair tie.” A part of you wasn’t used to how the girl didn’t address him with honorifics, but you busied yourself with your phone, pretending that you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I thought you took them for me when we left your house.” She huffed, clearly unsatisfied.
“Nope, I only have one with me.”
Your fingers reached for the simple, black hair tie around your wrist. “Here, you can borrow mine.” Smiling, you handed it over to Bella, who accepted it with a grateful smile.
Mark leaned down to whisper in her ear, unable to hide the surprised smile on his face. “Thank the pretty eonnie in Korean.”
“Thank you, eonnie!” Bella chirped, so excited that she was practically bouncing in her seat.
“You’re most welcome.” You said in perfect English, intrigued at Mark’s earlier interaction with the girl.
He proceeded to divide her hair into two even halves, combing her dark locks with long, thin fingers. Expertly, Mark separated the first half into three parts and began to braid. He stuck out his tongue cutely in concentration, trying his best to not mess up.
“Don’t move so much, Bell.” He scolded lightly when the girl pulled out her colouring book and painted the sky a light shade of blue with large strokes of her coloured pencil.
“You’re pretty good at this. Mark, right?” You commented.
“Yeah, guess it comes with practice. I’m Mark, by the way. We never got to introduce each other properly. Your name is…?”
“Y/N.”
“Ah yes, Y/N. It suits you well. Always so prim and proper in your blazer and kitten heels. I must seem like a fool to you, with my tie undone and all.”
You laughed at his self-deprecating humour. This man is funny, and he can braid hair. His wife sure is a lucky woman, you thought. “No, not at all. Where do you work?”
Light conversation regarding your respective careers ensued. You found out that he was also working at a company close to yours, which explained the frequent encounters on the train. He moved in about a month ago from another side of the city because of his new job. When the conversation about work dwindled, you shifted the topic to the girl.
“How old is she?”
Mark secured the first braid with your hair tie, smiling to himself, satisfied. “Bella, how old are you?”
“I’m six, Mark! How could you forget?” The girl sat up from her position to shoot daggers with her eyes at him.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. Come, turn to the other side so I can finish this up.” He moved her to sit facing the window instead and starting on the second braid. “She’s six,” Mark turned to you and answered with a sheepish expression. Before you started to wonder what kind of father would forget his daughter’s age, he continued, “Bella doesn’t visit very often.”
Your eyebrows quirked upwards in response. Does that mean he was… divorced?
Mark saw your confused expression and hastened to add, “She’s my niece.” You let out a breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. “My sister and her family came over from LA to visit me.”
It all made sense to you now. “Right…”
“Her parents wanted some alone time so I’m taking her to Gangneung for a day trip cos she wants to visit Jumunjin beach and take some pictures.” He paused, and went on to mouth, “She loves BTS.”
“The bus stop near the beach? The one on their album cover?” You wondered, knowing exactly which photo spot he was referring to. “It’s about a bit of a drive from my parent’s bicycle shop. I took a couple of days off to visit them.”
“You’ve seen the bus stop? That’s so cool!” Bella’s ears perked up.
“Sit still, honey.” Mark reminded sternly as he got closer to the end of the braid.
You nodded eagerly. “Yup! They’ve got a map of a BTS bus route with their album names as the bus stops.”
“Don’t encourage her, Y/N…” Mark groaned as he tied the second braid. He inspected his handiwork and seemed very proud of himself.
“Well, I have a suggestion,” You started carefully. “How about this? I can be your local tour guide for Gangneung today. I can show you the best photo spots, the most popular places to get your daily coffee fix and even get you a discount for bike rentals so you can cycle around the beach and the lake!”
The two of them nodded eagerly at your proposition.
//
It was a long, eventful day. The three of you had visited a hanok café, took way too many pictures at the Jumunjin bus stop and breakwater where they filmed Goblin, dipped your toes in Gyeongpo Beach and cycled around Gyeongpo lake. Your parents had immediately taken a liking to your new friend Mark and his cute niece, even insisting on packing them a container full of kimbap and banana milk for their journey back to Seoul.
“Thank you so, so much for today, Y/N.” Mark whispered as the three of you sat at the train station, waiting for their train. Bella had already dozed off with her head on Mark’s lap. It was an adorable sight. “We both had a lot of fun.”
“Not a problem at all. I enjoyed showing you around and visiting touristy places. I got to see my hometown in a different light.” You faced him, giving him a sincere smile.
He returned you with an equally bright smile that showed off his cute, pointy canines. “Let me take you out for dinner or something. You know, to make it up to you.” Mark’s ears began to heat up and were painted in a faint tinge of red. “Let’s exchange numbers.”
“Sure!” You replied. Was he asking me out on a date? You wondered. “I’ve been craving sticky barbecue ribs since I left the States.”
“I know a good place. How about next Saturday night?”
“I’m free.”
“Great, it’s a date.”
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