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cryinginthebackseat · 3 years

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part iii

part i part ii AO3

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 6.572

Warnings: here’s where the smut tag comes into play, boy with a copious amount of power play and yeah, it’s messy af

Author’s note: after three months, a couple of brainstorming in the bathtub, delays, revisions and self-doubt, chapter 3 is finally done. i hope you'll enjoy it. also, i don't think i have to warn you what will go down in this chapter.

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Fast forward to twenty-four hours since he discovers that Bell is fucking someone, Lazar drops about half a dozen of dusty manilas on his desk. Adler’s eyes sweep over them. He recognizes Bell’s handwriting etched across the memo attached to one of the folders right away.

He picks it up. It’s becoming second nature to him lately; drawing himself to her, an ineradicable magnetic force pulling his end of the pole.

A muscle on his jaw twitches.

For a moment, Adler despises her. He allows himself to really despise her. She’s started something in his head- a war; an intangible, unmanageable riot and if he lets her, she’ll rearrange him until he’s insane.

And he can’t let that happen. He’s the one holding the leash here, not vice versa.

“This is what we have on Dragovich’s activities in Yamantau,” Lazar informs him, pulling him back down to earth.

Adler stands, keeping his face easy, neutral. “Is this everything?”

“So far, yeah. Bell says she’ll let us know if she digs up something more from the archives though.”

Bell- the Bell in question- can be heard sighing, like she turns the corner and finds herself at a cul-de-sac; hunching over her desk, reading, her fingers keep buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her shirt, madly distracting (him).

She remains in her seat, for pretty much the remainder of the day. Eyes glued to the pages before her, factory-like dedication. She hardly looks up when Sims borrows her pen or when Park stands over her, sipping her coffee, inquiring about her progress behind a plume of smoke.

The only- truly time Bell ever lifts her head from her work is when Mason approaches her desk. She gazes up at him, notes forgotten, a kittenish smile etched across her face, come-hither eyes that could have time hung in motion, or held at ransom, perhaps. Mason’s own smile is full-blown, too wide, too genial, as he stalks closer and closer to her table, her whirlpool.

Adler does a double-take, like his eyeballs only functioning for the first time. He might as well be hallucinating it because no... this can’t be right, can it?

But then Mason is touching her hand, a blink-and-you-miss-it movement that was not lost on Adler and oh, she’s looking at him hopefully now.

The knots in Adler's stomach are vertiginous. Realization rings in his head like a gunshot, nearly leaving him in a daze. There’s no denying it. Not when the exchange unfurls before his eyes like a broken, warped film reel and there’s nothing to stop him from seeing it.

The thought of her and him haunts the rest of his waking hours, until there’s absolutely no telling how far he’s fallen into his own pit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ( Alex Mason fucked her that night.

Mason was in her bed; beside her, above her, under her. Inside her. He imagines her fingers digging into the mattress as Mason rolled her onto her stomach, mouth trailing down the ladder of her spine. Their breaths intermingled in the seraphic glow of her hotel room.

Alex Mason fucked her. It shouldn't leave an acrid taste in his mouth, but it does.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ She haphazardly reaches for the mug and takes a hearty gulp of its content. It’s not hers.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Bell says, mortified and places the mug down noisily on the desk. “I’m sorry, I thought it was mine.”

The rim of his mug is now stained with her lipstick. Adler bites down on a careful retort.

He thinks he knows now. Why he lets it happen, why he thinks of her in metaphors, why she gives him that vertigo. The answer is at the tip of his tongue- he can almost taste it, like spoiled milk or rancid gardenia. But it’s much easier to ignore it until the words grow diminuendo and disappear, that he thinks he imagined it all along.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You can’t obsess without turning around and getting lost in the middle.

Or losing a part of yourself in the process.

The idea of obsession, to obsess, perhaps is a far riskier thing for a person to have than playing the knife game, blindfolded with absolutely no telling where to start.

Yet we all do it, despite knowing the very dark flipside it possesses.

Perhaps it’s the very nature of humans, tucked deep within the pigeonhole of our minds, suffused by the very promise of bogus achievements that usually leads most of us insane, thinking that obsession is essential to living. But without it, artists are corporate slaves, slack-jawed know-it-alls moving stiffly in the middle of the hullabaloo that is our world; Paris would be just as unrecognizable today without Napoleon’s artistic legacy.

Obsession is good.

Obsession is dangerous.

The very dichotomy should have us all warded off of it.

Yet, again, we all do it. Again, and again, and again until it taints our veins. And it’s always far too late until you realize, that yes, now all you see is her, the air has been poisoned by her perfume, that her name is now forevermore engraved in your skin, like an overgild tattoo.

That you end up in downtown Berlin, out of sight, out of mind.

He finds them there, in a shoebox-sized cafe. Ill-lit, low-ceiling, coffee-stained floor that shows the wear of three decades worth of boots, pantoffels and high heels and Adler is sitting in his car, nursing a beer with but one all-consuming, perplexing thought:

Bell and Mason.

Someone told him they arrived together, about an hour ago. The cafe has become their usual haunts, his source said, ever since they’ve returned from Ukraine and Adler just can’t wrap his head around this- them. In his head, they’re wholly different entities. Two proper nouns separated by a conjunction, or a comma if mentioned in a list.

They’re the kind of opposites that he thought don’t attract, yet here they are.

Perhaps it's inevitable, both are products of brainwashing. Maybe they sensed one another, speaking in code, like detecting an RF signal from a nuclear bunker.

Then the doors to the cafe swing open. They step outside, cheeks flushed, his arm wrapped around her waist, her lips glueing on the slope of his neck. Shaded eyes watch them from the opposite street, his disgust obvious.

Now, Adler wonders how this all began. Someone must have made the first move.

He wonders if it was her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanted to see me?"

Adler looks up from his desk and nods. "Lock the door behind you."

And Alex Mason, the root of all this trouble, obeys. Looking somewhat uncertain under the scrutiny of the harsh lights, and shuts the blinds. Unlike Woods, he takes a seat at the chair Adler sets up before the desk.

"What is it?" Mason asks, after a long, almost unending silence. His curiosity seeps through the room.

There is very little control when the first domino falls. Oftentimes, once it starts, it’s like crossing the Rubico n and the next thing you know, you are lying flat on the ground in some theater, 23 fresh stab wounds decorating your body and the beat of your pulse seems dim and distant, everything feels cold except your blood; warm, bright and thick like gasoline, crawling into every space until it goes into your throat and strangles you, kills you. Fini, kaput.

But then again, he's not Caesar and this isn't Rome.

Adler pushes the first tile.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks without fanfare, tight and composed as ever. Never mind the way his eyes ignite like cold blue fire behind his glasses.

"How long has what been going on?"

“You and Bell." And Mason blinks at him in surprise. Bingo. "I saw the two of you leaving for her hotel from a cafe in Downtown Berlin last night. So don't bother skirting your way around this.” Adler leans forward across his desk. He’s a man on a mission- there’s no stopping him now.

“Now, let me rephrase the question, how long have you been fucking her?"

"Hold on, hold on, you were stalking us?" Mason asks, waspish.

Adler winces inwardly. "I was keeping an eye out for my asset.”

“Asset?” Mason hisses, like Adler just blasphemed. “Jesus Christ, Russ, is that all she ever is to you? An asset? She’s your protégé, for god’s sake- a person! What is wrong with you?"

"Plenty. Or apparently, so I've been told.”

"I don't find you amusing.”

“I'm hardly ever,” Adler parries. Mason remains silent, yet the tilt of his lips translate exactly what words can't. "And you haven't answered my question."

“Bullshit. I don’t owe you anything."

"Listen, Al-"

"No, you listen to me. You may be calling the shots around here, but this has absolutely nothing to do with you. Whatever- or whoever - we're doing in our spare time is none of your business, do you understand? So you can just drop it," Mason seethes, bitter, and, much to Adler’s surprise, rises to leave. “We’re done here.”

"That's where you're wrong."

Mason has only managed to put a few paces between them before he turns around, once again stepping inside this metaphorical boxing ring.

"What?"

"This has everything to do with me," Adler says coolly. "You said it yourself, I'm the one who calls the shots here. Meaning, anything that could potentially fuck up my operation is my concern and I have the right to intervene should it needed. This, being a case in point."

Mason looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What the hell does fucking her have to do with this whole operation?”

“Everything.” He says it like quiet resignation. It’s time to acknowledge the truth, he thinks, to that unusual idea that has been swirling in the deep recesses of his mind, that everyone’s weakness is varied.

Achilles had his heel, and Adler has her.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Al. You don't even know her."

Mason gives him a level stare. "And you do?"

Adler is so hard-pressed to say 'I made her' but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"That is beside the point,” Adler tells him instead as he turns to his vice- one of them, at least- and lights it.

“There is literally no point to this conversation.”

“The point is, stay the hell away from Bell. I'm saying this for your own good."

"My own good or yours?"

Adler does not flinch, but his hand does ball into a fist under the table, how the fingers curl and then flex.

"Don't be ridiculous. I gain nothing from this except assurance." It's a lie, it's the truth. There's no in between. He doesn’t know which is which anymore. "You, on the other hand, I'm sure the old ball and chain wouldn't be near as thrilled about hearing this if word ever gets out."

Mason is quiet for a beat.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only once I pulled the pin," Adler replies, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

But the thing with Mason, he'll come to realize later, is how much, like with Bell, weaving through his mind is like trying to grasp for purchase in the dark as he, once again, does the unpredicted and smile- a venomous grin warps his face, like he’s mocking him, challenging him to move his piece on the board and make this mistake.

Adler stares back, surprised despite himself.

He shocks him further by saying, "Go ahead, then. Pull the pin, throw the grenade, tell her. See if she cares."

Adler’s eyes narrow at his askance. He then drags his attention to Mason’s left hand, and something grave and familiar rises in his chest.

The absence of the metal band around his ring finger tells him why.

“You know where to reach her. If anything, I’m sure she’d trust your words better than anyone else’s. So please, do it.” And Mason’s so goddamn sanctimonious about it. He’s clearly expecting this particular reaction out of Adler. It only leaves Adler angrier.

Another long pause stretches, heavy and unkind.

"Fine. Maybe she won't mind, but I'm sure the Agency wouldn’t be as tolerant.” Adler takes one last drag of his cigarette. He has that ‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose’ look on his face that makes Mason frowns. “Not when you’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.”

"What?”

"Bell. She’s not who you think she is, Al. Tell me, who do you think is the sorry bastard we saved in Trabzon?”

Mason blinks. His face is blank with shock, then he shakes his head. And he keeps shaking it, almost manic. If he laughs, which one would come first, he wonders, the gun or his fist pummeling the side of his face?

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I lie to you about this?”

"No, no, no, Woods- he told me the guy’s dead,” Mason says, his words are shaky.

“He’s not. And he wasn’t a he."

A crease forms between Mason's eyebrows, the starting of another frown.

“Hold on, if she’s helping us get Perseus then why is she the enemy?”

"Because she doesn't know that."

"Doesn't know what?"

"That she's the enemy."

Mason holds his gaze for a moment, his expression tense, like a slingshot.

And that cold elastic band finally snaps.

“What did you do to her?” He’s openly glaring at him now, mouth tight, an icy fury that is no longer dormant and for the first time since Adler has known him, he finds the man dangerous.

Adler takes a steadying breath. “We did what had to be done.”

"You sick son of a bitch. You brainwa- You-” Mason clamps his mouth shut, trembling hands finding his head. “Shit. How could you?"

Adler ignores his colorful outburst.

“She resisted every form of interrogations we threw at her, Al. We had no choice but to implement MK-Ultra as a last resort. We needed what’s in her head.” Mason is silent in reply. Adler continues, “Look, it’s nasty business, I know, but some of us have to cross a line just to make sure that line's still there in the morning. And as much as I hate agreeing with Hudson, he’s right. We need to preserve our way of life.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to play God,” his voice is resentful and crisp. “Do you have any idea what you are doing? You could jeopardize everything, and for what? You’ve seen what this- this experiment did to me, this won’t end the way you think!”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

"You’re really willing to gamble on that?”

Adler scowls. “I don’t gamble, Mason. I calculate. And if by some chance I was given a second chance, I’d do it all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mason doesn’t say anything at first, his loaded gun stare never falters. Then, “The flag may be different, but the methods are the same.”

"What was that?”

“Someone warned me, a long time ago, about how people like you will use people like me or Bell as pawns in your own game. You’d do whatever it takes to get what you want- and my, how you get results, don’t you? But you’re actually no different than the rest of the assholes you're fighting against,” Mason tells him, like he’s spitting out acid in Adler’s face.

“Bell may be the enemy- heck, she could be the architect behind all the chaos Perseus has done, but what you’re doing to her is vile and unethical. There are many ways to make her spill the beans, yet you chose the most immoral method there is out there. I sincerely hope you rot in hell for this."

Before Adler could formulate a response to his tirade, Mason stands to his feet.

“You want me to stay away from her? Fine. Consider this as my formal resignation. After Yamatau, I’m done. I’m out of the team. And if you know what’s good for you, you stay the fuck away from me because I don't ever want to see your face again, do you hear me?” he snarls. “If you think Woods is dangerous, Adler, just remember I nearly could have killed my own president."

Then Mason turns on his heel and walks out of the room, once and for all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The fist is very much expected, and so does the pain that follows.

"You're out of your fucking depth, shithead," Woods spits, venom lacing his words.

Adler doesn't even bother to retaliate.

He doesn’t see the point. He didn’t think it would get this far. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The garage grows quiet and stodgy with now Mason and Woods are out of the picture. Everyone settles back into their own normal rhythm, the same routine before both men set their feet here almost a week ago.

Hudson doesn’t take the news of their departure kindly, naturally. He stands in Adler’s office, pacing, fuming. Adler ignores him, trying to nurse the skull-splitting migraine he's having at his desk instead. The nasty black eye hidden underneath his glasses. A secret locked, the key thrown away.

His headache, thankfully, has subsided when Sims takes a seat on the other side of the desk, hours later after Hudson left.

"I'm not trying to cause an alarm here, but you'd better watch your back."

Adler's brows furrow but doesn’t look up from the papers before him. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I think you just pissed off the wrong beast," Sims tells him. Adler pauses, then lifts his head to look at his cohort. There's genuine worry flashing over his face.

“Are you talking about Bell?”

“Who else?”

If she's a beast, then what am I? What he wants to ask, but there's a knock at the door and he swallows the words down his throat.

"Come in," Adler says, pretending to be reading again.

The door opens and Bell, fucking Bell, enters his office. It's like watching a tiger pass by your hiding spot in near dark. Neither he nor Sims breathes a word.

Bell's gaze immediately swings to him, like a cosmic pull. She's watching him as she wanders over to the desk and the weight of her stare burns him like Greek fire.

He pushes the documents close, all the while returning her stare. He is never the one who backs out of a challenge, and at this point, he knows that she probably knows that. Maybe that’s why she initiated it in the first place.

"Bell, what is it?" Adler asks firmly, in possession of his full power in this place.

Bell produces three diskettes from her pocket. Something odd definitely shining in her eyes.

"These have been lying on Lazar's desk for hours, but he's busy, so I thought I'd deliver them to you myself," Bell says. And he's trying to work out on her angle but she is unreadable. As always.

Adler nods, frustrated and indignant. "You can leave them here. Thank you."

It is only once the woman leaves that the two agents share a dark, significant look. That was too close.

And it goes without saying, something needs to be done about this. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

March 7th. A's insistence on raising the dosage is illogical. Recent behavioural analysis indicates depression. Will monitor for the next few days. Considering lowering the dosage instead. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The elevator reeks of smoke, cheap Soviet air freshener and something far more poisonous than the devil’s spider, silky hands.

It embodies the woman standing next to him right now- this special animal, emotionless, a constant mystery wrapped with a warning sign.

Adler is tempted to shut his eyes.

Or get out of here. He doesn’t dwell well in this atmosphere, this limited space shared with her alone. He probably should have listened to Hudson about taking Bell for this mission, but she’s the only one he trusts who won’t fuck this up. Not to mention her spotless Russian has proven to help them blend in with the crowd seamlessly.

He needs her, whether he would admit it aloud or not.

But she puts his head in such a spin.

She’s been near-mute since they departed from Germany. She barely acknowledges his questions and orders, barely looks at him. She’s been treating him as if he’s another shadow on the wall.

He rubs the side of his jaw. Something does need to be done about this.

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?” Adler asks. He’s bad at this, but he can’t stand her silence for much longer. Not to mention, they’re at the Lubysnka- the fucking lion's den. If she wants to wallow over Mason’s absence or sinks into whatever melancholic feeling she’s in, she can do it later.

Bell hums, her mouth curls up like serpentine. Adler sketches a confused frown. And she says, “I don’t know. Should I?”

And then, sudden and swift, Bell undoes the cuffs of her uniform. Beady eyes never leave his.

The sight catches him off guard. Somewhere in his mind, he curses something like ‘you’re a beast’ and ‘what the hell are you?’ at her, all in negative connotations. The effects she inflicts on him is maddening.

“What are you doing?” Adler doesn’t bother to hide his surprise.

Bell shrugs and gestures to the duffle bag at their feet. “Gearing up.”

Oh. Embarrassment wells up in him. Fucking hell, this woman will be the death of him.

Her fingers quickly move on to the buttons, still indifferent, nearly tearing them from the seams. The first glimpse of her skin and Adler can’t help but give in, openly stares at her in a way he has never imagined before. Her clavicles like daggers glinting in the lamplight.

Curiosity is a dangerous and heavy load.

He should have closed his eyes.

“Enjoying the show?” Her voice pulls him back from his musings. Her eyes still zero in on him, cutting him to pieces.

Her cleavage comes into view.

The lines on Adler’s face grow taut.

“What do you want, Bell?” He asks, intending for a bark but it ends somewhere like a plea.

“I want many things. As of right now, I want Alex’s cock inside me.” And Adler nearly chokes on his own breath. Bell, eagle-eyed as ever, caught the movement. “But it seems someone insists on being in control of everything, isn’t he?” she snaps.

Adler’s back goes rigid. Trepidation bubbles up in his chest.

Of course, she knows.

“It's not about control.” Adler turns around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s avoiding at this point, her flesh or the truth. “It’s about what’s right.”

He hears her uniform touches her floor as she laughs, mirthless, like broken chandeliers. “I didn’t know whose cock I’m riding is any concern of yours.”

“It is when he’s a member of the team,” he seethes. “What you’re doing with Alex will only lead to complications. And I can’t have tha-”

“Because this is all about you, isn’t it? It’s about upholding your precious reputation in the Agency, controlling the narrative the way you want it no matter how many characters you kill off in the process. It’s always about what you want.” Bell interrupts, not missing a beat. “You selfish motherfucker.”

"This has nothing to do with my reputation in the CIA."

She scoffs. "Spare me the crap, Adler."

Adler turns to fully face her again and holds his arms open, the way someone is facing the firing squad. “Fine. Fine, yes, I’m a selfish motherfucker. I did it because I thought it could ruin the operation. Is that what you wanted to hear? Now, what are you going to do about it?”

She says nothing at first. He silently catalogues her movements as she steps towards him now, half-naked and furious. He feels pinned.

Then, “What do you want me to do about it?”

His mouth dries at the implication. She is temptation, benediction, the coarse ice block before the carver.

How terrible it is to lose control, even just once.

A knowing, vicious smirk flashes over her face. Adler feels like he’s just shown his hand.

“You are one selfish bastard and a coward to boot, aren’t you?” Bell sneers before he has a chance to respond. “At least, Alex was brave enough to make the first move, but you…” her gaze raking up and down his figure coldly, a jeweller presented with second-grade imitations. Wind her up and this honey bee stings.

“You’ll always be the man who hides behind his shades,” she says, dry as dust, and steps back and snatches her clothes from the bag.

This is, without a single doubt, the longest elevator ride he’s ever experienced in his life. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler arrived back in Berlin breathing a little harder. Worry wrapped around his neck like a noose, placed by Bell herself; the judge, jury and executioner.

The knot tightens every time his mind refers to her.

The agency trained him, specifically, to keep calm under pressure. He didn’t coin the title “America’s Monster” from his colleagues for nothing. They don’t fear him because he’s hot-headed or thinks in large-scale violence— guns blazing, napalm-induced flames over the hill in the morning, bloodied knuckles and fractured jaw, blood-soaked soles tarnishing the white marble floor. Someone can point a fucking shotgun to his face and he’ll barely flinch. Only monsters remain impassive to direct threats of violence.

But there’s something about Bell that elicits this visceral, primal reaction out of him. Something strange and new; lightning about to be uncapped from its chains.

It chokes him, frightens him to the core.

How gauche is it, don’t you think, that his own mind is conspiring against him?

Now, in the garage, where it dawns on Adler that she’s probably the only person who can make him walk around the city, feeling like a fool, he decides he’s had enough. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’ll drive you back.”

Adler apprehends Bell outside the garage. He kind of assumed she’d have a pistol aimed at his head right now, but she spins around, hands shoved deep inside her pockets and clayey mouth curls in distaste.

“Get in the car, Bell,” Adler says tightly, almost adding please.

But he would not beg.

The brunette remains rooted in her place. For a moment, a calculating look crossed her face. Always, always that sharp mind of hers turning and he wonders where it would take her this time.

“Try asking nicely,” she demands.

Adler’s eyes flash. She really is testing him. But fine, he'll play her game.

“Bell, would you kindly get in the car?” He is all but snarls, teeth gritting. Bell hardly wavers- he wishes she would waver for a change.

She does what he asked of her, finally, the shadow of a smirk on her face mocking him. Adler follows suit, teeth still clenched together, and starts the car and drives away.

It's sort of like a deja-vu, he supposes; him and her in this very same car, except that stupid krautrock music is absent this time. Neither says anything for the first twenty minutes. Everything feels heavily still.

Until he realizes she’s probably waiting for his move.

This might gloriously blow up in his face, yes, he knows this. Especially remembering the last time he was alone in a tight space with her, it had cost him his pride.

And his mind.

But he’s been here before, in the eye of the storm. He was at his calmest here. He has his cards prepared now.

Adler inhales deeply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he utters resolutely. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t want to. “I was out of line, I admit it. Your affair with Mason should be no concern of mine but I really am just trying to look out for you.”

It’s weak, he knows. The words feel more like an anchor than an actual apology in his tongue anyway, but Adler didn’t expect that Bell would give him nothing. Not even an acknowledging hum, a scathing retort, a scoff. Nothing.

A twinge of irritation brews in his stomach. Why does she insist on playing games?

The car comes to a stop. They’ve arrived. Adler wrests his hands from the steering wheel to say something harsh to her, but Bell is already stepping out of the car.

She stands on the sidewalk; an enigma in royal red, and her lethal, all-seeing eyes gravitate to him in the night.

There is a long paralyzing beat where they just stare at each other- which seems to be a running theme between them lately. Adler is fuming, as he is confused.

It feels like hours, centuries, eons, but, like all magic, the spell is broken. Courtesy of a stranger hailing a cab behind his car.

Bell turns and walks inside the building. She doesn’t bother sparing him the final glance or extend her appreciation for the ride back and Adler thinks to himself, this universe, god fucking damnit, nothing makes sense here.

But it is also in moments like this that the world spins, when he notices a singular, significant detail that makes his stomach roll, nearly throwing him off balance:

Bell left the passenger door open.

And he’s insane- he has to be, right? He’s looking too much into this. It doesn’t mean anything. His mind conjures an image, like a graphic guideline or something, step one: get out of the car, two: make your way around and close the passenger door, and third: zoom out of the neighborhood while your sanity is still intact, all in that order. Easy to comprehend, to follow.

Adler only does the first two steps. He’s ass-backwards doesn’t even bother to digest the third step.

He enters the hotel instead and takes in the surroundings. The lobby is pointedly bare, but warm and smoky. The concierge is reading behind the counter- a young, wiry boy with shocking bleached hair- with headphones on. It’s late, he probably doesn’t expect anyone to check in at this hour.

A movement by the staircase catches his interest. He sees Bell climbing up the steps slowly, leisurely. Adler makes his way there.

Halfway reaching her floor, Adler has the inkling that she knows that he’s following her. Also, because the next she does is glancing back at him over her shoulder. He waits for her to push him down the stairs or wrap those delicate hands around his neck. She does neither. She doesn’t want him gone.

Yet, his mind betrays him. Only because she doesn’t know what other atrocities he’s committed to her.

She stops by her door, opens it and goes in first. Adler, without waiting for a formal fucking invitation, slips in behind her.

Her room is much smaller than his. The TV is still on- a German dubbed of All the President’s Men is playing- a stack of books and meds lying haphazardly on the desk table.

The door clicks shut behind him. Bell wanders over to the table and turns off the TV. Her back to him.

She doesn’t bother turning the light switch on. The green neon of the hotel sign outside illuminates the room, bathes her in it, making her look even stranger and faraway.

He doesn’t take off his sunglasses.

“What do you want, Bell?” Adler is all but snarling. His anger comes in a bottle with a twist-off cap. “I’m fucking sick of playing your games. I apologized, I admitted I was wrong- I fucked up, but what more could you want?”

Jesus, and now he’s losing his temper over a brainwashed Russian who rarely talks. How did it come to this?

She tugs off her gloves. Once again, barely acknowledging him. Apparently, if ignoring him is an art form, she is the fucking Monet.

Until:

“Take them off.”

Adler blinks hard behind his glasses. Like he’s just stepped into a whole different earth.

His mouth moves.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses. Take them off.”

He stares at her back. Trying really, really hard to make sure he’s not hallucinating this, but then Bell turns around, a finger tapping against her arm, waiting.

Realization hits him like an uppercut in the face and nearly leaves him in a daze. He’s walked into a trap. That much is clear as day. She wants him to suffer as she does. An eye for an eye.

Adler holds no modicum of control in her domain, not unless she gives the reins. Once again, she plays the judge, jury and executioner at her own court.

But, like before, he’ll play her game.

There, the glasses are off. His eyes, bare, blue like fractured ice, meeting hers. In the dark, he feels her eyes shift to assess his bruise.

His heart booms against his ribs.

"Kneel,” she says glibly.

He obeys, again. His legs and hands don’t shake, but his mind is much less governable than his limbs. No, the CIA didn’t prepare a manual for situations like this and he doesn’t trust his instincts to help him dance his way around this.

Nor does he want to.

The thought fucks him up to a degree.

Adler should have known that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees, no, no. That would have been too easy, anyway. Although history has dictated and taught him that women are never to be underestimated, Adler hasn’t expected that one woman would be able to do the deed and succeed.

But then again, when that woman is Bell, he supposes anything is possible.

When Bell approaches him, he’s unable to take his gaze from her. Her eyes spangle with determination, an avenging soul in the neon lights. Her fingers work on the sash of her coat. The line of her mouth is flat and inscrutable. The air crackles with electricity and a promise of the unsayable, the unattainable.

She stands over him now, gloveless and coatless. She’s powerful like this and he can only crane his head up at her, ceding his fate in her hands, against his better judgement. She catches that.

Suddenly, something unpleasant breaks on her face, like when one’s smelling something foul or pungent.

Bell reaches down and grips his jaw painfully in one hand, her nails digging into his skin, and tilts his head sideways. Strange that his stomach leaps at that.

“Say you’re sorry,” she spits furiously. “And say it like you fucking mean it.”

He feels, suddenly, triumphant and chuckles darkly. Eight fucking long weeks and the beast finally shows her claws.

“Try asking nicely,” Adler parrots her words from before, not a beat missed. Two can play that game, he thinks. "Or are you above niceness, Bell?”

Her grip tightens.

"You’re one to talk,” Bell says. Then, rubs the pad of her thumb over his scarred cheek and it feels like forgiveness, or the beginning of it, at least.

His confusion spikes.

Her nose skims down his jawline.

A better, sensible man would apologize. He'd squander it until his tongue burns acid, he'd beg for her forgiveness like a man asking for repentance before his god.

“Why did you do it, Russell?” Bell whispers against his skin now, baleful and raspy. Her chest rising and falling too rapidly.

But he’s a sick bastard, a selfish motherfucker, a heartless monster. All he does is hurt the people around him. He doesn’t get to take from her, not after what he's done.

Still, Adler catches her wrist. Relishing the way her wrist bone grinds under his hold. He pulls his face back to look at her.

“You know why.”

Her eyes flick dangerously to his lips.

Desperation really can make the most vulgar things tolerable.

“Then prove it.”

So he does. As his hand reaches up to her neck, past the delicious column of her throat and with a precise swift, Adler grabs a fistful of her hair, the feminine gasp escaping her mouth is like a jolt to his groin, and kisses her.

Bell responds in kind. That little beast. She grasps his collar and drags him up to his feet, impatient with want. She laps at him, bites and sucks. His free hand snakes around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

She pulls away, catching her breath, and his teeth skim down her jaw, her neck. He bites her there in retaliation, on the delicious junction of her neck and shoulder, into the fabric of her shirt, making his intentions clear. Bell chokes in surprise and scrapes her nails over his scalp.

It hurts. But with pain, along comes pleasure and it’s good. It’s so good, Adler melts with a shaky breath.

His gloves come off first. Next, she pulls him free off his jacket, his sweater and snakes a hand between his legs, stroking him. He bites off a strangled ‘fuck’ into her throat. He’s worked up real fast already. Adler manages to make a short work of her shirt, unclasping her bra before he’s all but pushes her onto the bed.

Adler settles above her, capturing her lips in another feverish, hot-blooded kiss. He tugs her zipper down and slips his hand inside her pants. Her cunt’s everything he’s come to expect: wet, warm and oh-so wrong. She sucks in a breath. Her hips move against his hand. His blood sings. She throws her head back against the pillow, while his finds her earlobe.

“Has this proven my point, Bell?” he asks. His answer starts on a moan and ends with a breathless ‘yes’.

He doesn’t let her come that easily. No, he wants to drag this out for as long as he can until it drives her mad. So, Adler peels the rest of her clothes away, pulls her shoulder and turns her onto her stomach. He pins her down, hard. She gasps loudly against the white pillowcase, her hand fists into the sheets.

Adler slots himself behind her. His hand tracing along her spine, followed by his mouth, just how he fantasized once upon a time. His other hand quickly undoes the snap of his pants. Everything has been poisoned by her and her only; she is in his tongue, his veins, his mind, his lungs. She takes the centrefold of his mind and it's ridiculous.

He presses himself against her ass. His mouth falls open. Her body trembles. She’s all sin and racing hearts and sweaty flesh. She’s perfect. His now free hand slides up to the nape of Bell’s neck, reaching her throat, pressing down. She makes this high-pitched, demanding noise as she moves her hips back against him, leaving him wanting, helpless at the thought of having her right here, right now, in the warm neon glow of her hotel room.

“Please,” Bell begs. He groans in response and he gives it to her. Fuck, he’d give her anything if she begs just exactly like that.

When Adler is finally inside her, he thinks his world drops dead. He sets a merciless pace. He is not a gentle man and there is nothing gentle in the supple arch of her back, a rose bent backwards in the wind, as he pants along her neck before he pulls out, twists her onto her back again and pushes deeper into her until she comes apart underneath him (he’s made sure she begs for it- please, Russell. Oh god, Russell)

(He didn’t have to. Russell Adler is never the kind of man to fall for his dark side, but Christ knows he is only one man)

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #adler x bell #cod cold war #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

BTS Reaction ||Prank Wars [Request]

BTS X GN!Reader

WARNING: FAKE PHYSICAL FIGHT IN JIMIN’S REACTION

SEOKJIN:

Jin smirked to himself as he finished applying the small fake hickey's up and down his neck, he was proud of himself for making them look at least a little convincing in low light. He knew you were due home any minute and he was determined that he was going to be the one winning this prank war the two of you had seemed to have found yourselves in together. It started off with the small squirt of water here and there but now it had turned into a full-fledged war between you both, each of you outstepping the other. The door turned to the bedroom and he picked up some concealer from the desk quickly pretending that he was attempting to cover up the purple marks when you walked through the door.

"J-Jin?" You stuttered out as you stared at the marks on his neck, your heart sinking as you began to think of him sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn't you.

"Babe, it isn't what it looked like-" You began crying into your hands dramatically as you thought of him with another person and Jin couldn't help but feel bad at the thought of a joke making you this upset.

"Baby please, listen-"

"No, we're done...I-I can't believe you would ever cheat on me." You whimpered as you walked out of the bedroom door, tears rolling down your face as you headed towards the front door of your shared home. Jin continued to plead with you to turn around and look at him but you stood at the door with your back to him,

"I can't believe you would ever do something like that...T-That you think I would fall for something like that," You laughed as you turned to look at him, turning on the flash light to show the sparkles of the purple eyeshadow he'd used on his neck.

"Dang it," He hissed out as he realised you had been pranking him, of course, you knew they were fake the moment you walked into the bedroom door, the light reflected on the glitter and he'd left the evidence all over the vanity.

YOONGI:

Yoongi whined out as you continued tickling his sides, you knew just how ticklish he was under his arms and down his hips so you were doing your best to tickle him in revenge for him putting salt in the sugar pot making your drink salty.

"You're evil Min Yoongi," You cried out as you straddled his lap continuing to tickle him as he thrashed around beneath you doing everything he could to get you off him but that was when he came up with the genius idea.

"Babe! Stop!" He whined out as he continued trying to push you off him, slapping your hands away before he whined again.

"Areum stop!" You froze in place at the mention of his ex-girlfriends name and you stared down at him,

"What?" You questioned thinking you might have just misheard him through all the laughter and whining but he frowned,

"I said stop Y/n," You shook your head as you struggled to get away from him,

"You called me Areum-" As soon as a giant smirk took over his face you knew that it was his plan to just get you to stop tickling him so much so you grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face, laughing as he rolled back against the floor in a fit of chuckles.

HOSEOK:

You stared over at Hoseok as he worked on his laptop from home, he had planned to take some time off and spend it with you but so far he'd been working from home.

"Hoseok can you get me my jacket please?" His whole body tensed and you smirked to yourself knowing that your plan was working, he slowly turned to look at you with sad eyes.

"What?" He questioned, you glanced over at him innocently as if you had no idea why he was so upset all of a sudden.

"Hoseok, can you get me my jacket? Please..." You repeated but his eyes seemed to get sadder and it felt as though you were staring down at Bambi.

"Why? Why are you calling me Hoseok? Did I do something wrong? Did I forget our anniversary?!" You could hear the panic in his voice as he rushed to his feet checking the calendar as you did your best to hold back a small laugh as you watched him.

"Baby relax, I was just playing." You laughed as he looked at you, his eyes still sad as he began to pout a little, sitting beside you and kissing you all over your face.

"I promise to spend today with you after I've finished this email." He whispered before going back to his laptop.

NAMJOON:

Namjoon left half an hour ago to go to the studio for some kind of emergency leaving you home alone after watching the scariest horror movie you'd ever watched. You thought you would be able to manage it without being too scared but that was before Namjoon up and left you in the middle of the night.

"I'm fine, it's just a movie." You whispered to yourself as you headed up the stairs to bed, flicking the light switch on as you entered the bedroom, you sat down on the bed and tried to calm yourself down when all of a sudden the light turned off and you let out a scream.

"I-It's fine! It's just the light bulb, it's old." You tried to reassure yourself but it came back on only to go off again a couple of more times making you scream out and hide under the blankets as Namjoon continued turning the lights on and off from the main switch downstairs.

"Babe!" He yelled out as he heard you crying to yourself under the sheets, he sprinted up to you bringing you into his arms as he did his best to hide his laugher.

"I was just playing around, I'm sorry." He whispered as you sniffled in his arms, shaking at the thought of a ghost being in the house only for it to turn out to be your dumb ass boyfriend.

"If I wasn't so scared you'd be sleeping on the sofa." You complained before pouting up at him.

JIMIN:

Jungkook and yourself had been practising the routine for weeks, you had fake sugar glass around the apartment as well as fake blood pods stashed in your pockets. Jimin had the genius idea of starting a prank war between everyone and you and Jungkook teamed up together to end it, deciding to "fight" one another as if a prank had gotten out of hand and you were truly mad at him.

"You're a fucking bitch!" Jungkook yelled out as soon as the front door opened to reveal a concerned Jimin standing there watching you both.

"Yeah! Well, at least I'm not a fucking cry baby!" You yelled out as you playfully shoved Jungkook against the wall only for him to light push you back, knocking you into the coffee table that smashed and made you hit the ground. Jimin yelled out for you to stop but Jungkook stood above you, pretending to punch you since Jimin couldn't see which was your cue to bite down on the blood pill in your mouth. Jungkook was dragged off you and placed on the floor as Jimin began to lecture him about how much of an idiot he was, getting ready to hit his friend when you jumped up.

"Now will you stop with the stupid pranks, before this really happens?" You gestured to the floor as Jimin's face ran pale realising all of it had been fake, he nodded before kissing your face softly relieved that you were okay.

TAEHYUNG:

You woke up from a nap to see Taehyung sitting above you with a panicked look on his face, you frowned wondering what was wrong when you suddenly felt something on your head.

"B-Babe?" You questioned as your fingers graced over the piece of paper that was attached to your eyebrow,

"Baby, don't overreact...I-I was going to prank you by "waxing" your eyebrow but I've accidentally put a real wax strip on." Taehyung's voice gave you all the sincerity you needed to know he was being serious and you let out a whine at the thought of having one eyebrow.

"You can just draw the other one on." He said as he tried to remind you that this was all going to be okay but you were up on your feet and staring at yourself in the mirror trying to come up with a way to take it off without taking the hairs out.

"Here, the internet says to do this-" Taehyung spoke as he looked at his phone, you turned to look at him wondering what it was when he suddenly ripped the sheet off making you scream out.

"BABE! MY EYEBROWS!" You yelled turning back to the mirror in a panic to see it was still sitting there fine while Taehyung died of laughter in the background.

"Oh it's on." You breathed out as you stared at him,

"You want a prank war...You'll get one," You smirked at him, turning to leave the room to come up with some ideas to prank him back with.

JUNGKOOK:

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," The boys were all crowding around you as Jungkook bought a cake into the room, your age on the cake with sparklier candles as all of them sang together.

"Happy birthday to Y/n, happy birthday to you!" They all chorused as the cake was placed down in front of you, you smiled happily as you saw an image of you and all seven of the guys sitting on top of the white cake, it looked like it was going to taste heavenly.

"I want my face," Yoongi said as he watched you picking up the knife to cut into the cake with, Jungkook was watching with a smirk on his face the entire time while Namjoon set his phone to record.

"Does everyone want their own face?" You questioned innocently not knowing that the cake wasn't a fake at all but that Jungkook had covered floral foam in icing to make it look real.

"Sure," They all said together as you tried to stick the knife in, the smile fading from your lips as you thought maybe the cake had gone bad,

"Baby I can't cut it." You looked at Jungkook who told you to try again but when you did you heard a creaking noise and you knew why,

"You're evil!" You whined as you stabbed the knife into the centre of the "cake" and wiggled it apart to see the green floral foam poking through you began pouting playfully while all the boys laughed.

"Here baby, a real cake." Jungkook laughed as he placed a real cake down in front of you this time.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @taestannie @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @agustdjoon @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @justbangtanthingz @anxiousbobatea

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

Becky's debut novel (Sugar Sugar fic)

A/N: So, @thelastsock gave me such a great idea: a snippet of Becky's book. So I have a snippet here, including a front cover, back cover and a little dedication page (because I am extra like that 😂😂, what else do you expect from me). Hope you like it xoxo

Chapter 1

YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.

Those are the exact words that greet me when I walk up our porch to our front door. Let’s just say that my mom has a special way of welcoming her quests. I step over the slightly offensive doormat to get inside. Not a lot of people would expect this kind of welcome from the mayor, but then again: no one expected her to win the elections in our town Starfall Fields in the first way.

Not to be mean, but even I never believed in my mom and not for a second did I think she had any chance of winning. Mom has been quite the controversy the second she moved into town. How on earth would she be able to be the mayor?

Weirdly enough, she hasn’t made a complete fool out of herself in these two months she has been mayor. Actually, she’s been doing quite well. It’s just that her housekeeping skills have been lower than low.

I open the refrigerator and scrunch up my nose when I notice there is barely anything edible in here. Great.

I grab my phone and send my mom a text.

Josie: You need to do groceries

Mom: Do it yourself, you lazy bitch

Mom: Still love you though 😘

I chuckle as I read her text. She’s quite something, my mom, and if we don’t call each other bitch at least once a day, there’s something up and we should worry.

People might find it odd that we call one another bitch, but it’s just our way of showing our affection towards the other.

Somehow I find some left over yogurt that isn’t expired already. I peel a banana (to only throw half of it away, because it’s brown and squishy, therefore absolutely repulsive) and cut it into slices. I drizzle some maple syrup on top of it and want to add some raisins, but when I open the jar, I find out there is only one raisin left in it.

‘Mom,’ I whine, though she can’t hear me. ‘Really?’ This is just absolutely fantastic. After a long day at school, a girl can barely enjoy a nice little afternoon snack. I grab my bowl and walk over to the dining table. My butt barely touched the soft seating of the chair, when my best friend Andy FaceTimes me. I place the phone against the fruit bowl before I press answer. ‘What do you want?’ I ask him. ‘You literally saw me half an hour ago.’

He smiles, two dimples appearing in his full cheeks. ‘You know I can’t get enough of you, sugar.’

Andy and I have been best friends since I can remember, but that is mostly because we’ve been in the same class the moment we both stepped foot into kindergarten and we’re neighbors. We’re literally the two houses in a radius of around half a mile (yes, we took the time to measure it) and he isn’t the worst guy to hang around with.

Okay, he is the only one that doesn’t make me that angry, I have to fight the urge to claw his eyes out. I’m not gonna beat around the bush: I love hanging out with him.

While we see each other the moment we step out of our houses to go to school, share every class of the day with one another and we walk from school back to our houses, it’s hard to function without the other one. Therefore, we usually FaceTime the second we can after separating.

We’re quite the symbiotic pair.

‘Spit it out, Andy. What do you want?’ I ask.

‘I was wondering what your plans are,’ Andy says. ‘Mainly for tonight.’

I can’t help but chuckle. ‘There was a plan of me hanging on the couch, watching a movie with my best friend while we eat junk food, but your voice is telling me that you have something else in mind for the two of us.’

He nods. ‘I was thinking about you and I doing some FindUrPricing tonight.’

‘FindUrPricing is not a word, you idiot.’

‘I don’t care, miss Doyle,’ he retorts with a sassy undertone. He shakes his head, gestures I have to wait (like I’m going anywhere) and comes back into frame, this time with a tablet in his hands. ‘I have like five of these things, so what do you say? Want to bury them tonight, while we try to find something cool for it in return?’

Andy has this obsession with solving puzzles in newspapers like the old soul he is and since he is quite good and really fast, he has won multiple prizes, including multiple tablets.

‘Only if I find a diamond ring,’ I answer with my mouth full of yogurt.

‘Yeah, that’s attractive. You’ll find yourself a boyfriend in no time with those manners.’

I show him the finger. ‘I don’t need etiquette lessons from you,’ I say.

Andy sticks out his tongue. ‘Are you coming with me tonight?’ he asks me. ‘You know I need you.’

I chuckle. Andy is a disaster when it comes to being in the dark, but since FindUrPrice is just more fun at night, I have become his personal guard. ‘Okay, okay, but only if I can sleep at your place tonight. I have no idea what time my mom will be back from work.’

Andy’s parents are going to the opera’s tonight and afterwards, they’re staying in a hotel near the big city. Normally, they aren’t the type of people to go to the opera’s, but when their son wins tickets, including a stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in the area, who are they to say no?

Since I have no idea what time my mom manages to pull herself from city hall (to say she is a workaholic is an understatement), I’d rather sleep at Andy’s, then telling her we’ve been wandering on the street late at night.

Especially on a school night.

Sure, my mom knows about FindUrPrice, but she forbade me to ever do it late at night, because “you never know what can happen”. I personally think it’s not that big of a deal, since Starfall Fields is boring as hell and absolutely harmless, but my mother wouldn’t be my mother if she didn’t envision my death.

FindUrPrice is an app for the younger folks in our city and the few around. The organization hid a few gifts and presents and whenever you follow the leads and find something, you have to place something nice in return. It’s cute and me and Andy do it from time to time.

‘You’re coming over now?’ Andy asks.

‘To help you do your laundry?’ I ask, nodding towards the screen, mainly towards the enormous pile of clothes on his bed. ‘Didn’t think so. See you in a few hours, Andy.’

‘Please,’ he begs, right at the same time as I hear his mom in the background yelling for him. ‘Yes, wait a minute!’ he yells. ‘Can I live with you? I feel like your mother never pushes you to do chores around the house.’

‘That’s because I do them voluntarily. If mom doesn’t do laundry, no one does it. If mom doesn’t clean the toilet, no one does it. Believe me, with a mom who all of the sudden turns a bit blind when it comes house chores, there is more to do here than there is at your place. Don’t you dare whine about it, Andrew Carter.’

We hang up and I grab a magazine from the table, reading through some of the articles. How to painlessly bikini wax yourself, how to get rid of strawberry legs, how to get yourself a man in a week.

Geez, mom, why do you read this?

No wait, better question: mom, why haven’t you gotten yourself a man in a week? This issue is three months old.

My phone rings again and without looking I answer, since I know exactly who is calling me. ‘Andy, I’m not helping you with your laundry,’ I say. ‘Shirts, sweaters and other items for your upper body go on a hanger and the rest with clothespins on a drying rack. How many times do I have to tell you that?’

‘Thank you for this wise, yet unnecessary lesson in laundry,’ mom says and I can hear her smile in her voice. ‘But laundry is your chore, so I pretend I didn’t hear it.’

‘What do you want?’ I ask my mom.

‘Wanted to know your plans for tonight.’

‘I was planning on hanging out with Andy,’ I say. Go outside, do some FindUrPricing. ‘Watch a movie. Probably sleep at his place. He is home alone, you know how he gets.’

Mom snorts. ‘Oh, do I know. How old was he when he rang our doorbell, nearly crying because he was afraid of the dark?’

‘The last time was a few months ago,’ I chuckle. ‘Why do you want to know my plans for tonight?’

‘You know,’ mom starts and I do know. ‘There is still a lot to do here at city hall.’

‘Right,’ I say, ‘and you wanted to know whether or not I mind. Mom, I’m your daughter, I truly don’t care.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ she says, mostly because she is trying to feel less guilty.

And I wouldn’t be her daughter if I wasn’t going to totally exploit her sweet offer. ‘So, you’re making breakfast for me and Andy tomorrow?’

She sighs. ‘Goodness gracious, really? I’m going to pull an all nighter.’

‘You wanted to be mayor and you’re also a mother. Deal with it.’

Mom scoffs. ‘And here I was thinking I was gonna get some sympathy from my daughter.’

‘Ew never,’ I say.

‘Well, I might just make breakfast for you, only if you eat it here. I might be your chef, but I’m not a waiter and I’m certainly not gonna walk it to the Carters.’

I scoff. ‘Okay, I think I can live with that.’

‘Alright, enjoy your night, Josie and don’t make it too late okay? Ten o’clock lights out, okay?’

No. ‘Of course. Bye mom.’

I look at the picture on the dining table. Despite not being blood related, my mom and I are really close. According to Andy’s mom, it never seemed like my mom would settle down. She moved to this boring place a few years prior to finding me on her doorstep. She was thirty and didn’t have a husband (nor had any intention of settling down with anyone—she turned down a lot of men who asked her out in Starfall Fields). Even back then, she was already a workaholic and worked over time as the mayor’s assistant.

One day, when she was getting herself ready for work, she heard soft cries from her front porch and when she checked it out, there was yours truly.

I was around a year old and in the cradle, there was a note saying that whoever found me, to take good care of me. My DNA wasn’t available in any database, just like there were no matches at all.

I have no idea who I am, who my biological family is and where I’m from.

Mom adopted me, because I only felt safe with her and since that moment, we were a duo.

A year and a half ago she became the mayor and since then she is everywhere in Starfall Fields, except home. I barely see her, but she does a lot for this town and I don’t think I have the right to whine about it, especially because it means many many sleepovers with Andy and many nights wandering around the woods to play FindUrPrice.

Sure, I miss her from time to time, because she’s still my mom. From someone who was home a lot, would wait for me on the porch no matter the weather when I came back from school and had chocolate pie ready for me and Andy, she changed to a real career woman who is everywhere in town.

But that’s okay, she’s happy and when she is, I am too. I should be, especially after everything she has done for me.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x becky kim #becky kim #asian ofc #sugar daddy!henry cavill #sugar sugar #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #becky kim is an author

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dialovers-translations · 4 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma [After Story]

ー The scene starts in the garden

Yui: ( One year has passed since Yuma-kun and I got married... )

( And now it’s time to harvest the vegetables we’ve been meticulously growing ever since. )

Nn...Just a...little more...!

( And right now, while Yuma-kun is letting me ride on his shoulder, I am in the middle of plucking them... )

( However, there’s just no way Yuma-kun - being the bully he is - would let me harvest them in peace... )

Yuma: Come on, ya gotta extend yer arms some more, Sow!

*Rustle*

Yui: Easy for you to say...!

You’re the one shaking me around...! I can’t get a good grip...!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Aahn? It’s shakin’?

Yui: I-It is...!

Yuma: How so?

Yui: How, you ask...? Kyah!

Yuma: Oi, oi. Don’t want any misunderstandings, do ya?

I’m not the one to blame, ya end up swayin’ from left to right ‘cause you’re too damn heavy.

It’s ‘cause ya haven’t been looking after yer own physique, right? Not my fault.

This is what they’d call ‘ya reap what ya sow’.

Yui: A-Am I that heavy?

( I thought I was around average, so it’s somewhat of a shocker if I actually am on the heavy side... )

Yuma: Aah, so heavy! If I continue havin’ to carry ya like this, Imma bust my shoulder.

Yui: Eeh!? It’s that bad!?

( ...Uu, I seriously have to go on a diet then...! )

Yuma: ーー As if, there’s just no way.

Yui: ...!? You were lying just now!? You meanie!

Yuma: Aah? Who ya callin’ a meanie?

Yui: B-But...! I was about to fall into a depression for real...!

Yuma: Haah? Why? Aah, ‘cause I called ya a fattie?

Haha! That was obviously a joke?

Do I really look like the type of guy who would struggle carryin’ ‘round a skinny chick like ya on my shoulder?

Oi, what’s yer answer? Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: W-Wah...!

Yuma: Come on, what’s wrong, Sow? I’m askin’ for yer answer, aren’t I?

Yui: L-Like I said! Stop shaking me like that!

Yuma: That’s not an answer to my question. If ya won’t listen to me, guess I’ll have to punish ya then.

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah! A-Aaaah, it’s dangerous!

Yuma: Hah! What? Pissin’ yer pants or somethin’?

This is kinda fun, makes me want to shake ya ‘round even more...There!

Yui: Wah! I-It’s scary when I’m up high like this!

Yuma: Hm? Scary?

Do ya have a fear of heights or somethin’?

Yui: I-I don’t but...

( T-Thank god...He stopped moving around... )

Yuma: Damn, ya gave me a scare for nothin’...

For one, you’re to blame for not gettin’ on with it.

Come on, don’t be such a slowpoke!

We’re runnin’ out of time! I have a busy schedule!

*Rustle*

Yui: Even if you say that...!

Do you want to let me harvest these vegetables or notーー

Which one is it, honestly?

Yuma: Are ya stupid?

Why do ya think I’m carryin’ ya, if I wouldn’t let ya help me with the harvest?

Ya don’t understand why I’m goin’ out of my way to lift ya into the air like this?

Yui: W-Well...I think it’s so I can pluck the vegetables.

( I want to believe that’s the case...But! )

Yuma: Then get those hands movin’!

Or what? Are ya doin’ this on purpose ‘cause ya wanna get punished?

Yui: That’s not it!

Yuma: Then get on with it! Geez, ya start cryin’ ‘round like a baby just ‘cause of some minor shakin’...

Come on, those ones on top look pretty good, huh? Hurry up and grab them!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah! Like I said, it’s dangerous!

Yuma: Hehehe! Yer voice is quaverin’, Yui!

Yui: I-I’m gonna fall...!

Besides, if you keep on messing around like this, I don’t think we’ll ever finish the task at hand...!

Yuma: Aahn? You’re gonna start lecturin’ me...?

*Rustle*

Yui: I-It’s not about...lecturing you...! Kyaah!!

Yuma: Idiot. Ya really think I’d drop ya?

Look at that dumb expression on yer face. Who do ya think I am?

No matter what stupid things I may do on a daily basis, I wouldn’t let ya get hurt.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: I’m shakin’ ya ‘round ‘cause you’re too damn slow...

In other words, a punishment...Wait, no.

It’s tough love! (1)

Yui: Kyaah!

( I figured he’d stop but Yuma-kun’s really having a blast...! )

( I don’t want this ‘tough love’... )

Yuma: Come on! Pick them already, Sow!

Yui: Kyah...!

( Yuma-kun really always seems to enjoy himself whenever he’s teasing me. )

( But...I won’t lose. )

( If I give in here, we’ll never get anywhere...! )

( I have to...stretch my arm all the way... )

( Okay...! I got it...There! )

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah! G-Geez! Yuma-kun! Ah...Watch...out!

Yuma: Haha, you’re makin’ these really funny sounds.

Yui: Say, if you do this, we really won’t get this done, you know?

We have to properly pluck these in time for the harvest festival...

Yuma: Aah? You’re the one who brought that up though?

Yui: T-That’s true but...

( We managed to get this many delicious, ripe vegetables just in time for harvest season. )

( So I brought up the idea of holding a celebration. )

( Speaking of which, I feel like Yuma-kun was never truly on board with it... )

ー A flashback ensues

Yui: You know, these vegetables from our garden really are delicious.

Yuma: They sure are.

Yui: Say, why don’t we do something with these?

Yuma: Haah? What do ya have in mind then?

Yui: Hm...For example...Why don’t we hold a harvest festival like they do abroad?

Yuma: Harvest festival?

Why do we have to do that shit?

Yui: Look, we could turn it into a garden party and have a meal together with everyone outside...

I’m sure the vegetables we eat every day will taste even better than usual.

Yuma: Ya think so?

Yui: Of course! I’m sure it’ll be fun!

Yuma: But we’re eatin’ these veggies every day, right? What’s the point in doin’ this now?

Yui: ( Uu, seems like Yuma-kun isn’t too stoked about my idea... )

But you spent so much time and effort into growing them, so I just wanted to think of a way to enjoy them even more...

Yuma: ...

Yui: Please, Yuma-kun? Let’s harvest a bunch of vegetables and hold a party?

Yuma: ...

Yui: ...No?

Yuma: ...Che. Guess ya leave me with no other choice.

If ya want to do it that badly, I’ll tag along.

Yui: Really!?

Yuma: In return, you’re gonna be the one doin’ most of the work. That’s my condition.

Yui: Hooray! I’m so happy...Thank you, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Haah...I always go way too easy on ya.

I can’t be like this...Gotta be more strict...

Soon, she’ll play me like a fiddle...!

She may be the chick I fell head over heels for, I’m not gonna let her use me as her loyal lil’ servant...I gotta think of some sort of plan...

Yui: ...

( I managed to convince him somehow, I guess? )

( Okay, I’ll try my best on the preparations for harvest season! )

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( He gave me green light back then, but it’s Yuma-kun we’re talking about, so he might be sick of it already... )

Yuma: Whatcha spacin’ out for? Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!?

*Swoosh*

Yuma: Woah there!

Yui: I-It’s dangerous...You just gave me a heart attack...!

Yuma: See? I caught ya so ya wouldn’t fall, didn’t I?

Even if I spook ya a lil’, I would never put ya through pain.

Yui: You big dummy...! I was really scared...!

Yuma: Who ya callin’ a dummy, Sow? Ya can’t trust me or somethin’?

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah! Y-Yuma-kun...?

Yuma: This is what I do...to cheeky women like ya!

ー Yuma bites her

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Nn...

Yui: Ah...

( Geez, Yuma-kun, he suddenly bit my neck...! )

Yuma: Don’t be fightin’ back...! Nn...

Yui: ...Nn...!

Yuma: Nn...!

Haah...Nn...

...Per usual...Your blood’s...Nn...

The sweetest thing ever...Surpassin’ even Sugar-chan...Nn...

Yui: ...Geez...Oh you...~

Yuma: You’re at fault. For having...such delicious blood.

Haah...It’s hella delicious...Nn...Kuh...!

When I drink yer blood, I feel like I’ll let everythin’ else slide, it’s kinda odd.

I might have seriously fallen head over heels for yer blood...Haha!

Yui: Only my blood...?

Yuma: ...Aahn?

Yui: You only like my blood...? How about me as a person...?

Yuma Fool.

Whatcha soundin’ so miserable for?

Yui: W-Well...

Yuma: Whatcha sayin’ at this point? Ya really are a fool.

Yui: H-How could you!

Yuma: Listen to me. ...Yer blood is definitely delicious.

But if that was the only thing, ya really think I would have gone through the trouble of marryin’ ya?

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Che. Geez, I really have to spell everythin’ out for ya, don’t I...?

Or maybe this is enough to satisfy ya? Aah?

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...!

Yuma: ...Geez...

I...love ya.

Didn’t I say that I’m head over heels for ya?

Yet that’s not enough for ya, huh? You’re so greedy.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Che. You’re makin’ me say all the embarrassin’ shit. ...Fuck.

For now, lemme suck yer blood...!

Yui: K-Kyah...! Hold up, Yuma-kun!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the shopping mall

Yuma: ...Say, there’s still more stuff to buy...?

Yui: Yeah. There’s still some daily necessities we’re running low on...

Yuma: Ahー Fuck! This damn crowd is drivin’ me mad!

Yui: It’s a holiday, so it’s more crowded than usual, isn’t it?

Yuma: Ya really should have just come by yerself.

Yui: But I can’t carry all of this stuff by myself...

Yuma: Hooh? So ya always intended to bring me along just to carry yer bags, huh?

Yui: I’m pretty sure I was honest about that when I invited you along...

Yuma: Yeah. I tagged along ‘cause I felt like I had no other choice after ya came cryin’ to me like that.

Yui: I-I wasn’t crying...!

( I also asked him because I enjoy going out shopping with Yuma-kun though... )

Yuma: Ya didn’t speak a word of this crowd tho!

Ah-ah, if I had known this, I would have much rather taken a nice nap at home.

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...What? Don’t go quiet on me.

Yui: ...But...I didn’t think you’d dislike it this much...

I’m sorry, Yuma-kun...

Yuma: ...Oi, don’t look like you’re ‘bout to cry.

I don’t hate it that much.

If I did, I wouldn’t have come.

Yui: ...Really!? Thank god...!

Then, can we go look at some clothes after getting the daily necessities?

Yuma: ...Excuse me? Ya sure change yer mood from one second to another...

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: Ya were in tears just now! Where did those go?

Yui: But you said you don’t dislike this, right?

ー She holds onto his arm

*Rustle*

Yui: I’m happy to be able to head out together and shop like this!

Yuma: ...Che. You’re a wicked woman.

Yui: Eh? How so?

Yuma: Oh well, whatever. But only use yer charms on me, ‘kay?

Come on, let’s go!

Yui: Kyah! You walk way too fast!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Ah, look! There’s so many delicious-looking fruits...!

Yuma: Ahー? We’re growin’ these at home so we don’t need them, right?

Yui: But there’s ones we’re not growing as well. We should buy different ones every now and then...

Yuma: Like I said, we don’t need them...

Yui: But...

Yuma: Are ya even listenin’!? If there’s a kind ya wanna eat, just tell me!

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: If ya want it, I’ll grow it!

Well, I can’t do it overnight ‘course.

But I’ll make sure they will be ripe and ready to be eaten by next year.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Why are ya in tears again?

Yui: B-Because...!

Yuma: If ya actually start cryin’, I’m leavin’ ya behind, got it?

Yui: Eh? W-Wait! Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Che. Don’t go ‘bout shoutin’ like that!

Azusa: Huh...? Yui-san? And...Yuma as well.

Kou: Seems like the two of you are being lovey-dovey per usual~

Yui: Huh? You guys! What brings you all here? Out shopping?

Kou: Yeah, exactly. But the two of you really are close both at home and outside, huh? It’s almost making me jealous.

Ruki: Don’t stand out too much in public.

Kou: You tell them!

Yui: ...Uu, sorry...

Yuma: The fuck? Ya guys appear out of nowhere and you’re already callin’ us out?

Kou: Don’t you think you two are to blame for flirting out in the open like that?

Yuma: Fuck off! That’s our business, isn’t it?

We’re a married couple and she’s my woman.

I obviously gotta keep her close so some weird fucker doesn’t set his sights on her.

ー Yuma wraps his arm around her

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!?

Yuma: Come on, let’s go, Sow!

Yui: Y-Yeah!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...

Yui: ...

Yuma: ...What? You’ve been quiet this whole time.

Yui: Yeah...Ruki-kun and the others saw us earlier...

Yuma: Ahn?

Yui: It never bothered me up till then, but I suddenly grew embarrassed.

Yuma: Ah? What do ya mean, embarrassed?

What’s so embarrassin’ ‘bout bein’ seen together with me?

Yui: N-No. That’s not what I meant...

It was the first time they all saw us together outside, so I suddenly grew very self-conscious.

Yuma: You’re the one who clung onto me, right? It’s yer own fault.

Yui: That’s...true but...

Yuma: It’s not like we did somethin’ naughty in front of them, so don’t let it bother ya.

Yui: W-Well of course we didn’t!

( Who would do that in public...!? )

Yuma: Hmm?

Yui: W-What?

Yuma: I see.

Yui: Honestly, what?

Yuma: Next time ya give me that kinda cheeky attitude, I should just knock ya out with a single kiss, huh?

Yui: Eh!?

Yuma: It’s fun to see ya cry ‘bout as well, but I guess I should just do this when I want to shut ya up real quick?

Yui: W-W-Wait, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: ...What?

Yui: Y-You can’t? L-Like...kissing and stuff...Out in public...

Yuma: I won’t if ya behave. Yer fate is in yer own hands!

Yui: Eeh!?

Yuma: Well, ya better be careful!

Yui: ( Uu...! I will... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the garden at night

Yuma: ...They still won’t bloom, huh?

Haah...

Honestly...What has gotten into me...?

Why am I puttin’ so much effort into growin’ these...?

Do I blame it on her? Or am I doing it for her...?

Haah...

This doesn’t suit me tho...

...

But she was super happy with them the other time.

And she looked rather pretty when I put it into her hair...

It marked...the first step of our relationship after all.

I guess I can’t do much wrong by tryin’ to please her...

For one, it’s out of character for me to even worry ‘bout something like a wedding anniversary.

I guess this shows that love makes a guy go weak...

...

These roses are different from the ones I grew in memory of my comrades back then...

I grew these with her in mind...

I won’t give up, even if they won’t bloom.

I’ll keep lookin’ after them till they grow beautiful flowers...

...

...Che, I’m really not actin’ like myself...

Makes me laugh...

I can’t let her see me like this.

I hope they’ll bloom in time for the anniversary.

Or rather, I’ll make sure of it!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the dining hall

Yui: Say, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: Things are gonna get busy today!

Yuma: ...Why?

Yui: Did you forget already? Today is the harvest festival! I have to prepare for the party.

Yuma: Aah, that’s today?

Yui: I told you several times yesterday! How come you’re so out of it?

Is it because...you don’t want to celebrate the harvest festival?

Yuma: ...Not really, honestly.

Yui: ...

( I wonder what’s wrong with him? He’s been like this for a few days... )

Yuma: ...Aahn? Why are ya lookin’ at me with that weird look on yer face?

Got a problem with my behavior or somethin’?

Yui: No, I don’t but...

Ah, right.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: I’m gonna start cooking now, so you lend me a hand too, okay?

Yuma: A hand?

I told ya that you’re gonna do most of the work for this festival, right?

Yui: Of course, I’ll give it my best shot as well. But it’d be a great help if you could at least assist me a little...

I can’t rely on you for help?

I’m sure you would be such an amazing help though...

Yuma: Che, ya always give me that crap. I don’t mind tho.

Yui: Hooray! Let’s start preparing the food right away then.

I’ll leave setting up the table outside up to you!

Yuma: Roger...

...Geez, first she butters up to ya and then starts orderin’ ya around like a slave...

Yui: ...Hm? Did you say something?

Yuma: No? Nothing?

Yui: Really? Okay then...

Well then, I gotta give it my best shot! I have to make sure it’s extra delicious today!

ー Yui walks to the kitchen

Yuma: Geez...Look at her bein’ all excited.

I shouldn’t have agreed to lettin’ her organize this garden party so easily.

Why do I have to help my own wife prepare food for some other guys?

I fucked up...

Yui: Hm? Did you say something?

Yuma: Nothin’! ...Ya sure have some sharp ears...

Yui: Ah! You were talking bad behind my back just now, weren’t you!?

Yuma: ...I wasn’t! Geez...

Yui: Really?

Yuma: Like I said, have some faith in me.

Yui: ( I do trust him but...He definitely said something just now, didn’t he? )

Yuma: You’re gonna make a real feast, right? Hurry up and get started on the food!

Yui: Yeah! Look forward to it, okay?

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the kitchen

Yui: Phew...Guess this is the best I can do...

Yuma: I’m all done. Woah! Looks good!

Yui: Really? I’m glad! Thank you for helping me, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Yeah. Should I carry these?

Yui: Yeah. I’d appreciate it if you could take all finished dishes with you.

Yuma: Roger.

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Yuma: Oh? Ya guys are already here?

Azusa: Because it’s already...the designated time...

Kou: Wooow~ M-neko-chan’s homemade cooking looks delicious!

Azusa: I’ve gotten...kinda hungry...

Ruki: The meals she makes aren’t half bad for livestock.

Yuma: Hah! Right?

My Sow is well-trained after all!

Kou: And what are you so proud about...?

Ruki: Good grief, how shameless...

Azusa: You’ve become a total softie when it comes to her, haven’t you, Yuma...?

Yuma: Hah! What’s the problem with bragging ‘bout what belongs to me?

Kou: How many times do I have to tell you to stop subconsciously going into ‘loving husband’ mode!?

Yuma: I’m not doin’ that!

Anyway, what is she up to? She’s still not done?

She really is such a slowpoke...

ー The scene shifts back to the kitchen

Yui: Nn...There we go.

This wraps up the final dish...I guess?

What should I do? I’d love to sprinkle some herbs on top of the meat but...

I don’t think we’re growing any in our own garden?

I’ll go take a look.

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Yui: Hm...?

( There’s an enclosure I haven’t seen before...? )

I wonder what it’s for...?

*SCENE SHIFT*

Yuma: Hm...? Why is she there!?

ー Yuma rushes over to her

Yuma: Oi! Yui!!

Yui: Eh? Kyah...!

*Rustle*

Yuma: What are ya doing here!?

Yui: Hey, you’re hurting me, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: I’m askin’ ya a question!

Yui: I wanted to sprinkle some herbs on top of the meat of the main dish...

Yuma: Herbs?

Yui: Then I found this unfamiliar enclosure...So I was wondering what it could be for...

See, over theーー Ow!

You’re hurting my arm, Yuma-kun!

Yuma: Ya...can’t look at that.

Look away! Geez. I really can’t lower my guard for one second ‘round ya...!

Yui: ( Lower his guard...What does he mean? )

Say, what has gotten into you all of a sudden?

Yuma: Ah? ...Nothin’, really.

That’s just none of yer business.

Yui: W-What...?

I was just curious. Why do you have to get so mad?

Yuma: Fuck off! It’s none of yer damn business! ーー That’s all.

Anyway, stay away from it. Understood?

Yui: Yeah...But you could always tell me...

Yuma: Shut up!

Yuma: Just get goin’ and join those guys already!

All ya have to do is shut yer damn mouth and listen to me!

Yui: I know, I will. You don’t need to shout at me like that...

Yuma: Scram!

Yui: ...!

ー Yui walks away

Yuma: ...Che!

I didn’t think she’d come here...

Fuck!

I started panickin’ and accidentally lashed out at her...!

Yui, she seemed frightened...

Haah...

...Fuck...I don’t want to make her cry or anythin’ tho...

Why can I never be honest...?

*TIMESKIP*

*Cling*

Kou: Nnー! This is deliciousー!

Yuma: Oi, stop chowin’ down ya guys! I’m fuckin’ starvin’ too!

Kou: The same goes for us though? Right, Azusa-kun~?

Azusa: Yeah, I’m hungry too...I came here with an empty stomach because I was looking forward to Yui-san’s cooking...

Ruki: You are all being way too gluttonous. It’s a disgrace...

Yui: There’s still plenty left, so you don’t have to eat that quickly, you know...?

Kou: Really? Then keep it coming!

Azusa: I still have plenty of space in my tummy...

Yui: You’ll have some more as well, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: ...

Yui: ( ...Seems like he’s upset after all. )

( He has never given me the silent treatment like this... )

( I must have done something truly upsetting... )

Yuma: ...

...Haah, I’m goin’ to the restroom.

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: ( So he really is mad at me for what I did... )

( What should I do...? )

Kou: Sayー Aren’t the two of them acting kind of off?

Ruki: They are...

Azusa: It’s odd...

Kou: I wonder what happened?

*TIMESKIP*

Kou: Phew~ I’m stuffed! Thank you for the feast! It was delicious!

Yui: Fufu, I’m glad to hear that. Thank you guys for joining us today as well.

Kou: Yeah!

Yuma: ...

Azusa: The food was extremely delicious.

Yui: Thank you, Azusa-kun.

Ruki: See you.

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Phew...

( Yuma-kun’s mood remained sour the whole time after that... )

( That was never my intention...It should have been so much more fun of a day... )

( ーー Why did things have to turn out like this? )

( Yuma-kun retreated back into his room right away... )

I feel a little...lonely.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Yui: ( A few days have passed since but...Yuma-kun’s mood just won’t improve. )

( He won’t shout at me, but he barely talks to me either. )

( It’s obvious he seems to be avoiding me... )

( What should I do...? )

*Ding dong*

Yui: ( Huh? A visitor...? )

Coming!

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall

Reinhart: Hello.

Yui: Oh? Reinhart-sensei? Hello.

Reinhart: Hey, it’s been a while.

Yui: What brings you here today?

Reinhart: Yeah, I’ve got a little something to discuss with Ruki-kun.

Yui: I see... Ah, please come in. (2) I’ll go call Ruki-kun right away.

Reinhart: Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.

Yui: It’s nothing...

ー Yuma enters the manor

Yui: Ah, Yuma-kun, welcome back. Reinhart-sensei is visiting us right now...

Yuma: ...Heeh.

Yui: Uhm, I’m going to set some tea so would you care for a cup as well?

Yuma: ...Nah.

Yui: ...Really?

Yuma: Yeah.

ー Yuma leaves

Yui: Ah, I’ll go make the tea then.

Reinhart: Thank you.

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun’s mood really won’t get better. )

( Furthermore, that attitude...Sensei might think of us weirdly now. )

( Sensei was there to witness our wedding vows, so I wouldn’t want to make him worry. )

( What should I do...? )

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: Ah! Sensei’s actually here! Hello~

Reinhart: Seems like you’re doing well too, Kou-kun. Hello.

I ran into Yuma-kun earlier and...Did something happen between the two of them? The mood seemed somewhat tense.

Ruki: Right...

Kou: It’s been like that for days now. As fellow members of this household, it’s become kind of awkward for us as well, right?

Azusa: ...Exactly...

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Sorry for the wait.

*Cling*

Reinhart: Ah, thank you.

Yui: You guys can have some as well if you’d like.

*Cling*

Kou: Thank you, M-neko-chan~

Ruki: I shall have a sip then.

Azusa: Thanks...Eve...

Reinhart: Smells wonderful. Is this a herbal tea?

Yui: Ah, yes. It’s made with the herbs we grow in our garden.

Reinhart: Heeh, you’re growing them yourself?

Yui: Rather than alone, I do it together with Yuma-kun.

Reinhart: Right, about the two of you.

Yui: ...Yes?

Reinhart: Things seemed a little awkward. What happened exactly?

Yui: ...Well...

( So he did notice after all... )

( But I’m not sure how to explain this... )

Things aren’t going so well...

Everyone: ...

Reinhart: Well, I’m sure being together every day comes with its up and downs but...

Since you married out of mutual love, I hope the two of you can talk it out soon.

Yui: ...Yes.

Reinhart: You know, I witnessed the two of you getting married, so I can’t help but be a little worried.

I know I might be sticking my nose into someone else’s business by saying this but...Are you okay?

Yui: ( Sensei’s worried about us... )

( I’m sure Ruki-kun and the others are as well... )

Sensei.

Reinhart: Yes?

Yui: I’ll try my best to make up.

So...We’re okay.

Reinhart: ...I see.

However, don’t push yourself, okay? When you feel like you’re at the end of your devices, make sure to rely on the people around you, okay?

Yui: Yes...Thank you very much.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Yui’s bedroom

Yui: Haah...

( I told everyone we would talk things out but... )

( In the end, we still haven’t had a proper conversation... )

( It’s almost our one-year wedding anniversary, yet things are still awkward between us. )

( What should I do...? )

( I know that I tried to approach something Yuma-kun wants to keep hidden back then. )

( But if I apologize without knowing why he got so upset exactly, he might only grow even more angry with me... )

( I hope the two of us can have a good talk... )

I wonder how we can make up...?

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...It’s finally our wedding anniversary...

( I would have liked to have talked things out with Yuma-kun by today... )

He was so very upset back then...

( However, he wouldn’t become aggressive towards me without a reason. )

( There was definitely some sort of reason behind his anger. )

...

I wonder if he has forgotten that it’s our wedding anniversary today?

( Even if he has, this is an important day to me. I do want to talk things out. )

( I have to talk to him...! )

( I don’t want this misunderstanding to last forever...! )

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: ( I’ll go see him...! )

*Thud*

Yui: ...Kyah!

Yuma: ...Yui?

Yui: Yuma-kun!?

Perfect timing...I was just about to drop by your room.

You see...I want to talk to you and make up...

Yuma: ...The fuck?

Ya really are...!

Yui: Eh...?

Yuma: Che...! Whatever, just follow me for a sec!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah!? Y-Yuma-kun? W-Wait...!?

ー Yuma tugs her along as they move to the garden

Yui: ( This is where we fought on the day of the garden party... )

( I’m sure there’s something here which he doesn’t want me to get close to... )

( ...Even though I didn’t know, I should apologize for upsetting him. )

U-Uhm...Yuma-kun...!

Yuma: Yui. Can ya listen to me first?

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Yuma: Ahー... Ya see...

Yui: Mmh.

Yuma: ‘Bout the other day...

Yui: Yeah...

Yuma: ...

Yui: ( Yuma-kun...? )

Yuma: Well, it’s that...

Yui: ...I’m listening?

Yuma: ...I know that much!

Yui: ( I wonder what has gotten into him? Unlike usual, he seems to be having a hard time expressing himself... )

Yuma: Oi, Yui!

Yui: ーー Y-Yes!

Yuma: ...I’m sorry for what happened the other day.

Yui: ...Eh?

Yuma: ‘Eh?’, my ass!

Knowin’ ya, I’m pretty sure that...Ya haven’t looked ‘cause I told ya not to, right?

At the...flowers from the other day.

Yui: Flowers...?

Yuma: So ya really haven’t looked.

Yui: Which flowers are you talking about?

Yuma: I lashed out at ya the other day, right? ‘Cause ya approached this place.

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: I didn’t actually mean to get that upset.

But ya were suddenly standin’ here, I got completely thrown off.

Then I panicked and took it out on ya. ...I really do feel bad.

Yui: D-Don’t say that...! It was the first time seeing you so mad for me as well...

I figured I must have done something horrible, so I was going to apologize as well.

...I’m sorry too.

Yuma: Idiot, you’ve got nothin’ to say sorry for. ...I won’t suddenly shout at ya like that from here on out.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Take a look. I just wanted to keep the fact I was growin’ these a secret.

Yui: These are...Roses...!

Wah...Amazing! They’ve bloomed beautifully...

Yuma: Back then they hadn’t bloomed yet...So that’s why I panicked.

But I somehow got them to bloom in time for today.

Yui: Eh? In time...?

Yuma: ...Say, Yui. Do ya remember the wedding ceremony we held here one year ago?

Yui: I do. I could never forget.

( Yuma-kun gave me such a wonderful memory back then... )

( I could never forget about such a lovely day... )

Today is a special day to me as well. That’s why I’ve been looking forward to it this whole time.

Yuma: Heeh?

Yui: That’s why I was on my way to meet you, because I definitely wanted to make things up to you today.

That’s when I coincidentally ran into you.

Yuma: I see. Guess ya were lookin’ forward to it in yer own way as well.

Yui: ...? What do you mean?

Yuma: Listen up.

I proposed to ya last year, right?

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: Back then, I vowed to only ever love ya, forever.

That feeling hasn’t changed to this day.

Yui: Yes...

Yuma: So...

It was a rocky road but, I chose ya and ya chose me.

Yui: Mmh...

Yuma: But I’m not very smooth.

So there’s times where I can’t always treat ya with care.

And I might take things out on ya like the other day.

...But even so.

My feelings towards ya are the only thing which won’t ever change.

...Even after one year, they’re still the same.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: If anything...

Rather than changin’, I treasure ya even more than I did back then.

Yui: ...

Yuma: Che, this shit really is embarrassin’...

Yui: Yuma-kun...

( He’s a little awkward, but despite that, he’s still expressing himself... )

Yuma: Well, I do love ya properly.

It’s our anniversary, so I figured I should tell ya that.

Yui: I feel the same way, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: Ah?

Yui: I love you too.

Yuma: ...Whatcha sayin’ all of a sudden?

I know that already!

Yui: Fufu, but you gave me such a wonderful love confession. I want to return the favor as well.

However...I really can’t believe one year has gone by already.

Back then ーー I felt so happy when you made that vow to me.

Yuma: ...I only stated the truth, that’s all.

Yui: But you usually wouldn’t say those things, right?

Yuma: ‘Course not! Why would I have to proclaim my love to ya 24/7?

Yui: Maybe not 24/7, but I still feel happy when you do.

Yuma: Happy, huh?

Yui: Also back then, I was happy to receive the rose you had so carefully grown.

Yuma: That was...

Yui: You gave me the rose you had grown for the special people in your life.

So I felt as if I had become someone special to you as well...

Yuma: ...You...

Say, Yui.

Yui: Yes?

Yuma: I did raise that rose for Boss and the others but...

These are different...

I grew this one from scratch, with ya in mind.

Yui: Me...?

Yuma: Well, it’s still a rose of course. And both roses are special to me in their own right.

...But ya know.

But I wanted to give ya a rose, which was grown for yer sake.

This might just be my own self-satisfaction showin’ again tho.

How do I put it? I wanted to put my ‘feelings’ (3) in there...

So when ya nearly saw them before they bloomed...

I felt as if they wouldn’t properly convey my feelings so...

Yui: I see...

Yuma: ...It’s bullshit, huh? And there was really no point in fightin’ with ya over somethin’ like that.

Yui: It isn’t ridiculous...

( He’s properly conveying to me his thoughts in his own words. )

( Not a single one of those is pointless. )

Yuma: Well, I guess I wanted to make a distinction for myself.

Also, there’s actually one more reason why I grew these roses.

Yui: And that is?

Yuma: ...It’d be too out-of-character so I’m not tellin’ ya.

Yui: Eeh~? You already hinted at it, so I’d love to hear the rest now though...

Yuma: ...Geez, stop lookin’ at me with those puppy eyes (4)! Ya know I’m weak to those suckers!

Yui: Eh? Sorry...

( That wasn’t my intention... )

Yuma: Then, I’ll only say it once.

Yui: Yeah.

Yuma: I put a rose in yer hair last year, remember?

Back then, ya looked a lil’ different than what I expected...

Yui: What did you expect then?

Yuma: ーー For some reason, ya looked hella stunnin’ back then.

So I wanted to put one in there again, I guess...

It’s a really shallow reason. I just wanted to...see ya with a rose in yer hair again.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: So!

This rose I grow with ya in mind...

I’ll put it on ya again.

*Rustle*

Yui: W-Wait! Yuma-kun.

Yuma: ...What?

Yui: You worked so hard growing those roses...It’d be a waste.

Yuma: It’s fine. These are for ya.

Yui: But...

Yuma: If ya really think it’s such a waste, we can just grow some new ones again.

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: Next year and the year after all, forever. As long as ya want the roses I grow...

I’ll raise them for ya, year after year.

Right...In that case, I might as well raise 999 roses at some pointーー

Then turn them into a rose bouquet for ya.

Yui: ...Fufu, I doubt I’d be able to carry that in my arms.

( However, I’m not happy just to receive roses... )

( The fact he’s giving me these flowers he grew with me in mind, is what makes me so happy... )

Thank you, Yuma-kun.

Yuma: ...Yeah.

Yuma: Say, Yui.

Stay by my side another year.

Then next year, lemme vow to ya again. That I love ya...

Next year I won’t just stick to one, but grow lots for ya.

*Rustle*

Yuma: Yui, I love ya...

Yuma: Better brace yerself for next year, ‘kay...? Nn...

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Ya will be my woman forever. Understood...?

Yui: Yeah...! We’ve made up now, right...?

Yuma: Yeah...We have.

Yui: If we can make up like this, then perhaps having a fight every once in a while isn’t too bad.

Yuma: Don’t be silly.

I seriously don’t want any fights.

Honestly, I thought I was gonna go fuckin’ bald from thinkin’ of a good way to apologize to ya...

Yui: You had such a hard time deciding? You did?

Yuma: I did! ‘Cause I definitely didn’t want ya to hate me.

Yui: Fufu...I don’t want to quarrel with you either.

Yuma: Good to know ya understand...Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: Geez...Yuma-kun...Nn...

There’s no end...!

Yuma: Oh right. The harvest festival ya were lookin’ forward to so much kind of ended up being anticlimactic as well.

Yui: Yeah, but everyone enjoyed it...

Yuma: Next year we definitely won’t fight.

Even if we do, we’ll make up right away.

We just have to honestly apologize to each other.

Yui: Yes.

Yuma: So...

Let’s hold an even bigger party next time!

We’ll make so much food, even Kou will be stuffed to the point he can’t take another bite...

Yui: Yeah, we will. I’ll cook even bigger of a feast next time!

Also, want to try inviting someone over? The more, the merrier!

Yuma: Who would ya invite then? We barely have any acquaintances, do we?

Yui: How about Reinhart-sensei? He did seem worried about us after all.

Yuma: Well, he was pretty much our Priest too. I wouldn’t mind inviting him.

Yui: Gosh, Yuma-kun. Don’t put it like that.

Yuma: In that case, I wouldn’t mind addin’ one more into the mix by next year. A family member.

Yui: Eh?

D-Do you mean...!?

Yuma: You’re the one who said the more, the merrier, right?

If that’s what ya wish, I wouldn’t mind helpin’ out a lil’?

Yui: Geez...

( However, that might not be a bad idea... )

( Expand our little family by next year...Invite a bunch of people over... )

( And all have a feast together. )

( I’m sure...it’ll be a blast. )

Yuma: Well, either way, as long as you’re here with me, I’m enjoying myself, and feel happy.

Don’t ya dare forget that. ーー Never.

Yui: ...Yeah!

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, the term is 愛の鞭 or ‘ai no muchi’ which literally means ‘the whip of love’.

(2) When inviting someone inside your house, you can use the verb 上がる or ‘agaru’ which literally means ‘to go up’ or ‘to ascend’. Most Japanese houses have a little step at the entrance hall to indicate, hence why they use said verb.

(3) When 想い or ‘omoi’ is written with said particular kanji, it doesn’t just refer to ‘thoughts’, but to ‘feelings’ (often in the romantic sense of the word) as well.

(4) Literally he says she’s looking at him with ‘upturned eyes’.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumaafterstory

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mellointheory · 3 years

Text

Metal Elephant, Carried By Mice - 2

Punz lay on his back and thought, dimly, about pain.

He was familiar with it, of course. Anyone who had worked in half of the careers he had most definitely was at some point. Smuggler, mercenary, racer…not the kind of jobs that were known for their low risk. High rewards, though. Most definitely high rewards. Of course there were high rewards, when Punz was involved. It was practically his brand.

Off topic. The point was: Punz knew the best way to deal with a bullet in the shoulder was focus on something else. He cracked one eye open, weakly digging his fingertips in the grit of the roof beneath him. Rain spattered on the outside of his helmet, slid off the reinforced fabric of his white cloak, droplets glimmering on the glowing blue barrel of his gun.

Ah, yes. They had left him his gun. They hadn’t even gotten near him, actually. Fucking cowards sniped him from a rooftop and then dipped, too afraid to disarm him even with an injury like this. Sure, he could have stabbed a few if they had approached, but fuck if it didn’t hurt like hell. He closed his eyes again as a stray drop of rain made it through the hole in his cloak and sizzled against the open rawness of his wound. Fuck. Fucking hell that hurt.

Punz lifted one hand, the one on the good side, and slid it underneath his hood. He had an emergency stash for times like this, times when he was on his own in the rain with warm blood soaking his clothes. These times came more often than he would like to admit, but at least he’d learned the proper procedure for dealing with them.

There. Punz folded his fingers around the pack of candy in his emergency pouch and pulled it out, sliding the visor of his pumpkin helmet up just enough so that he could rip the plastic open with his teeth and dump a few of the candies into his mouth. They were sour and aggressively fruit flavored, with little granules of sugar that melted on his tongue as he chewed pensively. Now that was the kind of sensory input he preferred.

The blonde man sat up slowly, tucking the open bag of candy back into its protective pouch, and opened his eyes. He tapped the side of his helmet and the display on his visor glowed back to life. He’d been lying on the ground for at least ten minutes now. Who knew where the NeoSkars were headed now that they’d gotten past him.

The largest thing in the display was a little icon that signified an incoming call from Sam. Punz braced himself and hit the answer button.

“Punz, what happened?” Sam demanded. The hybrid was on the move as they spoke, the background noise of rain from his end of the call combining with the sound of droplets on the ground around Punz. His eyes, black sclera and faintly glowing green irises, were focused on the communicator he was calling with.

“I got shot.” Punz chewed for a few seconds longer, then swallowed the mouthful of candy. “The rats are probably moving up past where I was, towards the north. Unless they split up or something. I dunno."

“The north?” Sam frowned. “The only thing up there is the docks—unless they looped around and went towards the…” he trailed off, gaze darkening.

“Sam, I’m sitting on top of a four story skyscraper with a bullet in my goddamn arm.”

“You should be mostly safe, if they just left you. The area shouldn’t be that dangerous…” Sam prodded.

“The hell does that mean?” Punz tilted his head back and poured a quarter of the bag of candy into his mouth.

“It means we’re stretched out across the city and everyone with actual fighting skills is guarding our weak points.” Sam sounded distracted. “Call Foolish to pick you up, get to Ponk’s place and get fixed up.”

“Fine. Bye, Sam.”

“Love you,” Sam said—almost warningly, as if Punz would do something stupid if he ever forgot the fact.

“Love you too, Sam. Get the bitches.” Punz tapped the end call button.

It was only with a fraction of guilt that he texted Foolish to come get him. The mental crisis went something like this: Foolish didn’t sign up for this, followed by Foolish signed up for this when he started playing poker with us every Saturday, followed by Is it a school night? Does he have any exams to study for? and finally ended with Fuck I’m fucking bleeding everywhere oh shit.

Foolish was a good man. That was what made it so weird that he was involved with the Pummel gang at all. The man was an architecture student, for God’s sake. Yet here he was, responding to Punz’s message without any hesitation, ready to drive halfway across the territory in toxic rain to pick up a friend who got shot on top of a skyscraper.

Yeah, like Punz said. A good man.

“What’s it like getting shot?” Foolish asked as Punz eased himself into the passenger’s seat.

“Hurts.” Punz gritted, closing the door. He unslung his gun from around his shoulder, laying it carefully on the back seat.

“Oh, ‘cause I’ve been thinking about trying it. Like, how bad can it be exactly?” Foolish turned on the windshield wipers.

Punz pried his helmet off as best as he could with one hand and set it on the dashboard. The glowing blue frowny face on the visor—triangle eyes, jagged mouth—blinked off. “Very bad.”

“I mean, you seem fine.” Foolish pointed out, stepping on the gas and wheeling out into the street.

“I have high pain tolerance.” Punz popped another gummy candy in his mouth and chewed.

“Can I have some?”

Punz squinted one eye shut. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Rude. How did you get shot, anyway?”

Punz was half torn between annoyance at himself for forgetting to explain a single thing to Foolish, and being touched that the man had come anyway without any questions asked.

“Some other gang broke into our territory. I spotted them but one of them sniped me. Hybrid,” Punz added, because he didn’t want Foolish thinking that any two-bit thug with a pistol could put a bullet in him. “Some kinda camouflage.”

“What do they want?”

Punz frowned, tipping his head sideways to rest it on the window. “Dunno. But it’s probably not good. Gang shit, they’ll target the things we’re known for and most value to take down our street cred.”

Foolish grinned, white teeth flashing in the glow of street lamps. “What do you most value? The gas station?”

“If they blew up the gas station I might actually cry.” Punz bumped his forehead against the glass. “But they’ll probably go for more stuff like Ant’s sanctuary or Red’s shop or…Sam’s…”

Shit.

“The plant.” Punz realized. “Sam’s in charge of it and it processes the toxins for most of our territory. If they destroyed it we’d be absolutely ruined.”

“Can you text with one hand?” Foolish asked, tossing his phone across the seat. Punz pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner and it opened to the Pummel group chat.

They’re gonna go for the plant. He typed. Our territory is worthless if the plant’s gone. They were headed to the docks when I saw them, and that’s where the plant is.

Me and Gumi are on it. Antfrost replied almost instantly.

Go to the doctor, Punz. Gumi’s message came right after. We’ll take care of it.

Punz turned Foolish’s phone off and dropped it on the seat next to him. Of everyone in the Pummel gang, he trusted Gumi and Ant to take care of it the most. Along with him, they were the fighters, the tryharders, the ones who the very sight of was a warning. Could they take on the entire group the NeoSkars had sent?

Probably not, but he believed in them.

#pummel party crew #punz #foolish gamers #awesamdude #CYBERPUNK AU IS BACK BABY #antfrost #vgumiho #mello writes #ppcrew cyberpunk

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michaelbogild · 3 years

Text

Lines by Bruce Springsteen

Shithole on the corner, no light, no sign Nobody on the street except the deaf, dumb, and blind

Now your death is upon us, and we'll return your ashes to the earth And I know you'll take comfort in knowing you've been roundly blessed and cursed

Some girls, they want a handsome Dan Or some good-lookin' Joe on their arm Some girls like a sweet-talkin' Romeo Well, 'round here, baby I learned you get what you can get So if you're rough enough for love Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

Can't see nothing in front of me Can't see nothing coming up behind Make my way through this darkness I can't feel nothing but this chain that binds me Lost track of how far I've gone How far I've gone, how high I've climbed On my back's a sixty pound stone On my shoulder, a half-mile line

A mother prays, "Sleep tight, my child, sleep well For I'll be at your side That no shadow, no darkness, no tolling bell Shall pierce your dreams this night"

Tonight we'll sing the songs I'll dream of you, my corazón And tomorrow my heart will be strong And may the saints blessing and grace Carry me safely into your arms There, across the border

We are alive And though our bodies lie alone here in the dark Our spirits rise To carry the fire and light the spark To stand shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart

The condition you're in Now you just can't get out of this skin

The hurricane blows, brings a hard rain When the blue sky breaks, it feels like the world's gonna change We'll start caring for each other like Jesus said that we might I'm a Jack of all trades, we'll be alright

You shot through my anger and rage To show me my prison was just an open cage There were no keys no guards Just one frightened man and some old shadows for bars

You gave your love to see In fields of red and autumn brown You gave your love to me And lay your young body down

If the angels are unkind or the season is dark Or if in the end Love just falls apart Then here's to our destruction Baby let me be your soul driver

I know we're different you and me Got a different way of walking The time has come to let the past be history Yeah, if we could just start talking

I chased the heat of her blood Like it was the holy grail Descend beautiful spirit Into the evening pale Her appaloosa's Kicking in the corral smelling rain There's a low thunder rolling Across the mesquite plain

The dust of civilizations and love's sweet remains Slip off of your fingers and come drifting down like rain The pages of Revelation lie open in your empty eyes of blue I watch you slip that comb through your hair and this, I promise you, I'll work for your love, dear

Tend to your flock or they will stray We'll be called for our service come judgment day Before we cross that river wide The blood on our hands will come back on us twice

Bird on a wire outside my motel room But he ain't singing Girl in white outside a church in June But the church bells ain't ringing I'm sitting here in this bar tonight But all I'm thinking Is I'm the same old story, same old act One step up and two steps back

Goodbye, my darling For your love, I give God thanks, Meet me on the Matamoros banks

Trees on fire with the first fall's frost Long black line in front of Holy Cross Blood moon rising in a sky of black dust Tell me baby, who do you trust?

He saw the watcher at the city gates Jonah in the belly of a whale He watched you walk your ragged mile His mercy it did not fail

I got somethin' in my heart, I been waitin' to give I got a life I wanna start, one I been waitin' to live No more waitin', tonight I feel the light I say the prayer I open the door, I climb the stairs

Yeah funny, I thought I felt a sweet summer breeze Must have been you sighing so deep, Don't worry, we're going to find a way

So you been broken and you been hurt Show me somebody who ain't Yeah I know I ain't nobody's bargain But hell a little touchup And a little paint

Tires on the highway hissing that something's coming You can feel the wires in the tree tops humming Devil's on the horizon line Your kiss and I'm alive

Mister trouble come walkin' this way Year gone past feels like one long day But I'm alive and I'm feelin' all right Well I run that hard road outta hearbreak city Built a roadside carnival out of hurt and self-pity It was all wrong well now I'm movin' on

Band's counting out midnight Floor's rumbling loud Singer's calling up daylight And waiting for that shout from the crowd

Remember the morning we dug up your gun The worms in the barrel, the hanging sun Those first nervous evenings of perfume and gin The lost smell on your breath as I helped you get it in The rush of your lips, the feel of your name The beat in your heart, the devil's arcade

You're looking for the key of that box you locked yourself in

I hold my breath and close my eyes And I wait for paradise

The road is dark And it's a thin thin line But I want you to know I'll walk it for you any time Maybe your other boyfriends Couldn't pass the test Well, if you're rough and ready for love Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

Well now on a summer night in a dusky room Come a little piece of the Lord's undying light Crying like he swallowed the fiery moon In his mother's arms it was all the beauty I could take Like the missing words to some prayer that I could never make In a world so hard and dirty so fouled and confused Searching for a little bit of God's mercy I found living proof

Now it's some old Stones' song the band is trashin' But if you feel like dancin', baby, I'm askin'

I got seven pictures of Buddha The prophet's on my tongue Eleven angels of mercy Sighing over that black hole in the sun My heart's dark but it's rising I'm pulling all the faith I can see From that black hole on the horizon I hear your voice calling me

So tell me what I see when I look in your eyes Is that you baby or just a brilliant disguise

I wanna build me a house, on higher ground I wanna find me a world, where love's the only sound High above this road, filled with shadow and doubt I want to shoulder my load, and figure it all out With Leah

But love and duty called you some place higher Somewhere up the stairs, into the fire

Hard times, baby well they come to us all Sure as the ticking of the clock on the wall Sure as the turning of the night into day Your smile girl, brings the morning light to my eyes Lifts away the blues when I rise I hope that you're coming to stay

I heard somebody call your name from underneath our willow I saw something tucked in shame underneath your pillow Well I've tried so hard baby but I just can't see What a woman like you is doing with me

Now everyone dreams of a love lasting and true But you and I know what this world can do So let's make our steps clear that the other may see And I'll wait for you If I should fall behind Wait for me

Now I was young and pretty on the mean streets of the city And I fought to make 'em my home With just the shirt on my back I left and swore I'd never look back And man I was gone gone gone But there's things that'll knock you down you don't even see coming And send you crawling like a baby back home You're gonna find out that day, sugar

She sits on the porch of her daddy's house Oh but honey your pretty dress is torn She stared off alone into the night With the eyes of one who hates for just being born

Well here's to your good looks baby now here's to my health Here's to the loaded places that we take ourselves When it comes to luck you make your own Tonight I got to dirt on my hands but I'm building me a new home

My father said, "Son, we're lucky in this town It's a beautiful place to be born It just wraps its arms around you Nobody crowds you, and nobody goes it alone"

In the darkness my fingers slip across your skin I feel your sweet reply The room fades away and suddenly I'm way up high Just holdin' you to me As through the window the moonlight streams Oh won't you baby be in my book of dreams

Well it's never too late so come on girl The tables are waiting You and me and lady luck well tonight We'll be celebrating Drinkin' champagne on ice In just another roll of the dice

Same old faces it's the same old town What once was laughs is draggin' me now Waitin' on rain hangin' on for love Words of forgiveness from some God above Ain't no words of mercy comin' from on high Oh no just a long goodbye

We've given each other some hard lessons lately We ain't learning We're the same sad story, that's a fact One step up and two steps back

Taj Mahal, the pyramids of Egypt are unique, I suppose But when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

I need you to chase these blues away Without you, I'm a drummer girl that can't keep a beat, Ice cream truck on a deserted street

Good times got a way of slipping away

It's the same thing night on night Who's wrong baby who's right Another fight and I slam the door On another battle in our dirty little war

Is dry lightning on the horizon line Just dry lightning and you on my mind

The day rips apart A dark and bloody arrow pierced my heart

There's a cross up yonder on Calvary Hill There's a slip of blood on a silver knife There's a graveyard kid down below Where at night the dead come to life

My soul went walkin' but I stayed here Feel like I been workin' for a thousand years Chippin' away at this chain of my own lies Climbin' a wall a hundred miles high Well I woke up this morning on the other side Yeah yeah this is the long goodbye

Now sometimes tomorrow comes soaked in treasure and blood Here we stood the drought, now we'll stand the flood There's a new world coming, I can see the light I'm a Jack of all trades, we'll be alright

I'm trudging through the dark in a world gone wrong I woke up this morning shackled and drawn

Now, when all this steel and these stories Drift away to rust And all our youth and beauty Has been given to the dust When the game has been decided And we're burnin' down the clock And all our little victories and glories Have turned into parking lots

The rain it keeps on falling on twisted bones and dirt I'm buried to my heart here in this hurt

These are better days baby Yeah there's better days shining through These are better days baby Better days with a girl like you

Now I ply my trade in the land of king dollar Where you get paid and your silence passes as honor And all the hatred and dirty little lies Been written off the books and into decent men's eyes

Well, darling if you're weary Lay your head upon my chest We'll take what we can carry Yeah, and we'll leave the rest

Give me help, give me strength Give a soul a night of fearless sleep Give me love, give me peace Don't you know these days you pay for everything

Where're the eyes, the eyes with the will to see Where're the hearts that run over with mercy Where's the love that has not forsaken me Where's the work that set my hands, my soul free Where's the spirit that'll reign, reign over me Where's the promise from sea to the shining sea

Been on a barbed wire highway 40 days and nights I ain't complaining, it's my job and it suits me right I got a sweet soft fever rushing around my head I'm gonna sleep tonight in Maria's bed

Baby, once I thought I knew Everything I needed to know about you Your sweet whisper, your tender touch I didn't really know that much Joke's on me, but it's going to be okay If I can just get through this lonesome day

Ain't no mercy on the streets of this town Ain't no bread from heavenly skies Ain't nobody drawin' wine from this blood It's just you and me tonight

I knew some day your running would be through and you'd think back on me and you And your love would be strong You'd forget all about the bad and think only of all the laughs that we had And you'd wanna come home Well, now it ain't hard feelings or nothing, sugar That ain't what's got me singing this song It's just nobody knows baby where love goes But when it goes it's gone gone

Dark and bloody autumn pierces my heart The memory of your kiss tears me apart The sky above is turning, the world below's gone gray I thought that I could turn and walk away

Einstein and Shakespeare Sitting having a beer Einstein trying to figure out the number that adds up to this Shakespeare said, "Man it all starts with a kiss" Einstein is scratching Numbers on his napkin Shakespeare said, "Man, it's just one and one make three Ah, that's why it's poetry"

Your sweet memory comes on the evening wind I sleep and dream of holding you in my arms again The lights of Brownsville across the river shine A shout rings out, into the silty red river, I dive

Seven days, seven candles In my window, light your way Your favorite record's on the turntable I drop the needle and pray

Well, the piss yellow sun Comes bringing up the day She said "Ain't nobody can give nobody What they really need anyway"

Your voice comes calling through the mist I awake from a dream and my heart begins to drift

I'll hammer the nails and I'll set the stone I'll harvest your crops when they're ripe and grown I'll pull that engine apart and patch her up 'til she's running right I'm a Jack of all trades, we'll be alright

I want a thousand guitars I want pounding drums I want a million different voices speaking in tongues

Out where the sky's been cleared by a good hard rain There's somebody callin' my secret name

Blood on the streets Yeah, blood flowing down I hear the blood of my blood Crying from the ground

Well, it ought to be easy, it ought to be simple enough Yeah, man meets woman and they fall in love But this house is haunted and the ride gets rough You've got to learn to live with what you can't rise above If you want to ride on down, down in through this tunnel of love

You said, "Heroes are needed, so heroes get made" Somebody made a bet, somebody paid The cool desert morning and nothing to save Just metal and plastic where your body caved

Well I took a piss at fortune's sweet kiss It's like eatin' caviar and dirt It's sad funny ending to find yourself pretending A rich man in a poor man's shirt

In the late afternoon sun fills the room with a mist in the garden before the fall I watch your hands smooth the front of your blouse and seven drops of blood fall

I'm standing in the backyard Listening to the party inside Tonight I'm drinkin' in the forgiveness This life provides

We've got no fairytale ending In God's hands our fate is complete Your heaven's here in my heart Our love's this dust beneath my feet

Billy felt a coldness rise up inside him that he couldn't name Just as the words tattooed 'cross his knuckles he knew would always remain At their bedside, he brushed the hair from his wife's face as the moon shone on her skin so white Filling their room in the beauty of God's fallen light

Now Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air Look for me, Mom, I'll be there

Well tonight I just wanna shout I feel my soul waist deep and sinking Into this black river of doubt I just wanna rise and walk along the riverside And when the morning comes baby I don't wanna hide I'll stand right at your side with my arms open wide

Hands me two tickets, smiles and whispers good luck Well cuddle up angel, cuddle up my little dove We'll ride down baby into this tunnel of love

Everything is everything But you're missing

Where the distant oceans sing and rise to the plains In this dry and troubled country, your beauty remains Down from the mountain roads where the highway rolls to dark Beneath Allah's blessed rain, we remain worlds apart

The moon is high and here I am Sittin' here with this hammer in hand One more drink oughta ease the pain Starin' at that last link in the chain Well let's raise our glass and let the hammer fly Hey yeah this is the long goodbye

Baby let's get our bags packed We'll take it here to hell and heaven and back And if love is hopeless hopeless at best Come on put on your party dress it's ours tonight And we're going with the tumblin' dice

I got a cold mind to go tripping across that thin line I'm sick of doing straight time

There's a girl across the bar I get the message she's sending Hmm she ain't looking too married Me well honey I'm pretending Last night I dreamed I held you in my arms The music was never ending We danced as the evening sky faded to black One step up and two steps back

Well the highway is alive tonight But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes I'm sitting down here in the campfire light Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad

I got my finger on the trigger But I don't know who to trust When I look into your eyes There's just devils and dust

Well now his kisses may thrill Those other girls that he likes But when it comes to treatin' A real woman right Well all of his tricks No they won't be enough 'Cause lovin' you baby lovin' you woman Lovin' you darlin' is a man's man's job

There was a woman waiting at the well Drawing water beneath a desert sky of blue She said "He'll heal the blind, raise the dead Cure the sickness out of you"

I been knocking on the door that holds the throne I been looking for the map that leads me home I been stumbling on good hearts turned to stone The road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone

Wherever somebody's fighting for a place to stand Or a decent job or a helping hand Wherever somebody's struggling to be free Look in their eyes, Ma, and you'll see me"

Tell me in a world without pity Do you think what I'm askin's too much? I just want something to hold on to And a little of that human touch

Tell me someone, what's the price I want to buy some time and maybe live my life I want to have a wife, I want to have some kids I want to look in their eyes and know they'll stand a chance

Well, your desires for your sweet confusion I'll walk away then, I don't buy your delusions

She gave me candy stick kisses 'neath a wolf-dog moon One sweet breath and she'll take you, mister, to the upper room I was burned by the angels, sold wings of lead Then I fell in the roses and sweet salvation of Maria's bed

It's a fairytale so tragic There's no prince to break the spell I don't believe in magic But for you, I will

Now a life of leisure and a pirate's treasure Don't make much for tragedy But it's a sad man my friend who's livin' in his own skin And can't stand the company. Every fool's got a reason for feelin' sorry for himself And turning his heart to stone Tonight this fool's halfway to heaven and just a mile outta hell And I feel like I'm comin' home

Is it the sound of the leaves left blown by the wayside That's got me out here on this spooky old highway tonight Is it the cry of the river with the moonlight shining through That ain't what scares me baby, what scares me is losing you

Darlin' give me your kiss Come and take my hand I am the nothing man

Now there's a loss that can never be replaced A destination that can never be reached A light you'll never find in another's face A sea whose distance cannot be breached

They destroyed our families, factories And they took our homes They left our bodies on the plains The vultures picked our bones

Like a thief on Sunday morning It all falls apart with no warning

I got the fortunes of heaven in diamonds and gold I got all the bonds baby that the bank could hold I got houses 'cross the country honey end to end And everybody buddy wants to be my friend Well I got all the riches baby any man ever knew But the only thing I ain't got, honey, I ain't got you

Gray morning light spits through the shade Another day older, closer to the grave Closer to the grave and come the dawn I woke up this morning shackled and drawn

Now you play the loving woman, I'll play the faithful man But just don't look too close into the palm of my hand Well we stood at the alter, the gypsy swore our future was right But come the wee wee hours maybe baby the gypsy lied

You walk real pretty and you talk real fine But night after night babe I'm on the line

I'm counting on a miracle

Dancing down a dark hole Just searching for a world with some soul

Gambling man rolls the dice, workingman pays the bill It's still fat and easy up on banker's hill Up on banker's hill, the party's going strong Down here below we're shackled and drawn

Well, Jesus kissed his mother's hands Whispered, "Mother, still your tears For remember the soul of the universe Willed a world and it appeared

Come to the door, Ma, and unlock the chain I was just passing through and got caught in the rain There's nothing that I want, nothing that you need say Just let me lie down for a while and I'll be on my way

Your world keeps turning round and round But everything is upside down Your own worst enemy has come to town

Shackled and drawn, shackled and drawn Pick up the rock son, carry it on What's a poor boy to do in a world gone wrong? I woke up this morning shackled and drawn

And though my heart's grown weary And more than a little bit shy Tonight I'll drink from her waters to quench my thirst And leave the angels to worry With every wish

Rode through forty nights of the gospels' rain Black sky pourin' snakes frogs And love in vain You were down where the river grows wider Baby let me be your soul driver

Don't worry, darling No baby, don't you fret We're living in the future And none of this has happened yet

There's a lot of talk going around you Let them talk, you know you're the only one There's a lot of walls need tearing down Together we could take them down one by one

I could smell the same deep green of summer Above me the same night sky was glowing In the distance I could see the town where I was born

Oh feelin' like a real man I ain't no fighter that's easy to see And as a lover I ain't goin' down in history But when the lights go down and you pull me close Well I look in your eyes and there's one thing I know Baby I'll be tough enough If I can find the guts to give you all my love Then I'll be feelin' like a real man

I hold you in my arms as the band plays What are those words whispered baby just as you turn away I saw you last night out on the edge of town I wanna read your mind to know just what I've got in this new thing I've found

Maybe I'm just a clown throwin' down Lookin' to come up busted I'm a thief in the house of love And I can't be trusted Well I'll be makin' my heist In just another roll of the dice

Now I see your pieces crumbled, and our book of faith's been tossed And I'm just down here searching for my own piece of the cross

Pockets full of dust, my mouth filled with cool stone The pale moon opens the earth to its bones

raise your hand And together we'll walk into Canaan land

On the plains of Jordan I cut my bow from the wood Of this tree of evil Of this tree of good

Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening To the hours and minutes tickin' away Yeah just sittin' around waitin' for my life to begin While it was all just slippin' away I'm tired of waitin' for tomorrow to come Or that train to come roarin' 'round the bend I got a new suit of clothes a pretty red rose And a woman I can call my friend

From a house on a hill a sacred light shines I walk through these rooms but none of them are mine Down empty hallways I went from door to door Searching for my beautiful reward

A little sweet talk to cover over all of the lies You came runnin' back but to my surprise Well there was somethin' gone in Gloria's eyes

Last night I stood at your doorstep Tryna figure out what went wrong You just slipped something into my palm, and you were gone

I sink beneath the river cool and clear Drifting down, I disappear I see you on the other side I search for the peace in your eyes

I had some victory that was just failure in deceit Now the joke's comin' up through the soles of my feet I been a long time walking on fortune's cane Tonight I'm sleepin' lightly and feelin' no pain

Better ask questions before you shoot Deceit and betrayal's a bitter fruit It's hard to swallow, come time to pay That taste on your tongue don't easily slip away Thy kingdom come, I'm going to find my way Yeah, through this lonesome day

Well there in the high trees love's bluebird glides Guiding us 'cross to another river on the other side And there someone is waitin' with a look in her eyes

Oh girl that feeling of safety you prize Well it comes with a hard hard price You can't shut off the risk and pain Without losin' the love that remains We're all riders on this train

I walk this road, with a hammer and a fiery lantern With this hand I've built, and with this I've burned I wanna live in the same house, beneath the same roof Sleep in the same bed, search for the same proof As Leah

I built a shrine in my heart it wasn't pretty to see Made out of fool's gold memory and tears cried Now I'm heading over the rise I'm searching for one clear moment of love and truth I still got a little faith But what I need is some proof tonight I'm lookin' for it in your eyes

I been out in the desert, yeah, doing my time Sifting through the dust for fool's gold, looking for a sign Holy man said "Hold on, brother, there's a light up ahead" Ain't nothing like a light that shines on me in Maria's bed

They say if you die in your dreams, you really die in your bed But honey last night I dreamed my eyes rolled straight back in my head And God's light came shinin' on through I woke up in the darkness scared and breathin' and born anew It wasn't the cold river bottom I felt rushing over me It wasn't the bitterness of a dream that didn't come true It wasn't the wind in the grey fields I felt rushing through my arms No no baby, baby it was you

Now if you're lookin' for a hero Someone to save the day Well darlin' my feet They're made of clay But I've got somethin' in my soul And I wanna give it up But gettin' up the nerve Gettin' up the nerve Gettin' up the nerve is a man's man's job

If the sun should fall from the sky tomorrow If the rain brings the tears to your eye, I would share your sorrow

I've stumbled and I know I made my mistakes But tonight I'm gonna be playin' for all of the stakes

Well, no cannonball did fly, no rifles cut us down No bombs fell from the sky, no blood soaked the ground No powder flash blinded the eye No deathly thunder sounded But just as sure as the hand of God They brought death to my hometown

With these hands We pray for the strength, Lord

On the road to Basra stood young Lieutenant Jimmy Bly Detailed to go through the clothes of the soldiers who died At night in dreams he sees their souls rise Like dark geese into the Oklahoma skies

Well your hair shone in the sun I was so high I was the lucky one Then I came crashing down like a drunk on a barroom floor Searching for my beautiful reward

I'll mow your lawn, clean the leaves out your drain I'll mend your roof to keep out the rain I'll take the work that God provides I'm a Jack of all trades, honey, we'll be alright

Past the playgrounds and empty switching yards The turtles eat the skin from your eyes, so they lay open to the stars

Me and my girl Saturday night Late movie on channel five The girls were droppin' they're droppin' like flies To some smooth talkin' cool walkin' private eye I ain't got no nerves of steel But all I got to know is if your love is real

Sleeping beauty awakes from her dream With her lover's kiss on her lips Your kiss was taken from me Now all I have is this

I put my heart and soul I put 'em high upon a shelf Right next to the faith the faith that I'd lost in myself I went down into the desert city Just tryin' so hard to shed my skin I crawled deep into some kind of darkness Lookin' to burn out every trace of who I'd been You do some sad sad things baby When it's you you're tryin' to lose You do some sad and hurtful things I've seen living proof

It was dark, too dark to see You held me in the light you gave You lay your hand on me Then walked into the darkness of your smoky grave

My life's the same story Again and again I' m on the outside looking in

My ship Liberty sailed away On a bloody red horizon The groundskeeper opened the gates And let the wild dogs run

Now you were the Red Sea I was Moses I kissed you and slipped into a bed of roses The waters parted and love rushed inside I was Jesus' son sanctified

Now the sweet bells of mercy Drift through the evening trees Young men on the corner Like scattered leaves

Around here everybody acts the same Around here everybody acts like nothing's changed

Oh there's somethin' in your soul That he's gonna rob And lovin' you baby lovin' you darlin' Lovin' you woman is a man's man's job

Well now all that's sure on the boulevard Is that life is just a house of cards As fragile as each and every breath Of this boy sleepin' in our bed

He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag Preacher lights up a butt and he takes a drag Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass

Now the world is filled with many wonders under the passing sun And sometimes something comes along, and you know it's for sure the only one The Mona Lisa, the David, the Sistine Chapel, Jesus, Mary, and Joe And when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

You said my act was funny but we both knew what was missing, honey

Tonight I can feel the cold wind at my back I'm flying high over gray fields my feathers long and black Down along the river's silent edge I soar Searching for my beautiful reward

Now get yourself a song to sing and sing it till you're done Sing it hard and sing it well Send the robber barons straight to hell

I'm just a lonely pilgrim, I walk this world in wealth I want to know if it's you I don't trust 'cause I damn sure don't trust myself

This is radio nowhere Is there anybody alive out there?

All over the world the rain was pourin' I was scratchin' where it itched Oh heartbreak and despair got nothing but boring So I grabbed you baby like a wild pitch

Tonight our bed is cold, I'm lost in the darkness of our love God have mercy on the man who doubts what he's sure of

Well I've been a losin' gambler Just throwin' snake eyes Love ain't got me downhearted I know up around the corner lies My fool's paradise In just another roll of the dice

The Virginia hills have gone to brown Another day, another sun going down I visit you in another dream

When they built you, brother, they turned dust into gold When they built you, brother, they broke the mold

It's coming on closing time Bartender, he's ringin' last call These days I don't stand on pride I ain't afraid to take a fall

They say you can't take it with you, but I think that they're wrong Because all I know is I woke up this morning, and something big was gone Gone into that dark ether where you're still young and hard and cold Just like when they built you, brother, they broke the mold

You'll be fine long as your pretty face holds out Then it's going to get pretty cold out

You and me we were the pretenders We let it all slip away In the end what you don't surrender Well the world just strips away

So when you look at me you better look hard and look twice Is that me baby or just a brilliant disguise

You can't sleep at night You can't dream your dream Your fingerprints on file Left clumsily at the scene

On his right hand, Billy'd tattooed the word "love", on his left hand was the word "fear" And in which hand he held his fate was never clear Come Indian summer, he took his young lover for his bride And with his own hands built her a great house down by the riverside

We've got God on our side We're just trying to survive What if what you do to survive Kills the things you love

Now my ass was draggin' when from a passin' gypsy wagon Your heart like a diamond shone Tonight I'm layin' in your arms carvin' lucky charms Out of these hard luck bones

It'll take your God-filled soul Fill it with devils and dust

I'm driving a big lazy car rushin' up the highway in the dark I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin' over my heart It's pounding baby like it's gonna bust right on through And it ain't gonna stop till I'm alone again with you

For all the blown-off strangers and hot rod angels Stumbling through this promised land Tonight my baby and me we're gonna ride to the sea And wash these sins off our hands

But they're as empty as paradise

Quiet afternoon in the empty house On the edge of the bed, you slip off your blouse The room is burning with the noon sun Your bittersweet taste on my tongue

Well now our old fears and failures, oh baby, they do linger Like the shadow of that ring that was on your finger

Well by Our Lady Of The Roses we lived in the shadow of the elms I remember ma dragging me and my sister up the street to the church whenever she heard those wedding bells Well would they ever look so happy again yeah the handsome groom and his bride As they stepped into that long black limousine for their mystery ride Well tonight you step away from me and alone at the alter I stand As I watch my bride coming down the aisle I pray for the strength to walk like a man

You got a one-way ticket to the promised land You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock Bathing in the city's aqueduct

You might need somethin' to hold on to When all the answers they don't amount to much Somebody that you can just talk to And a little of that human touch

Easy street, a quick buck, and true lies Smiles as thin as those dusky blue skies

I'm running through the forest With this wolf at my heels My king is lost at midnight When the tower bells peal

Forty-one shots and we'll take that ride Across the bloody river to the other side Forty-one shots cut through the night You're kneeling over his body in the vestibule Praying for his life

Let your mind rest easy Sleep well my friend It's only our bodies that betray us in the end

Well now the years have gone and I've grown yeah from that seed you've sown But I didn't think there'd been so many steps I'd have to learn on my own Well I was young and I didn't know what to do when I saw your best steps stolen away from you Now I'll do what I can, I'll walk like a man And I'll keep on walking

I got a house full of Rembrandt and priceless art And all the little girls, they wanna tear me apart When I walk down the street, people stop and stare Well, you'd think I might be thrilled but baby I don't care 'Cause I got more good luck honey than old King Farouk But the only thing I ain't got, baby, I ain't got you

Coming from the city, coming from the wild I see a breathless army breaking like a cloud They're going to smother love, they're going to shoot your hopes Before the meek inherit they'll learn to hate themselves

Got on a dead man's suit and a smiling skull ring Lucky graveyard boots and a song to sing I keep my heart in my work, my troubles in my head And I keep my soul in Maria's bed

"Every cloud has a silver lining, every dog has his day" She said "Now don't say nothing If you don't have something nice to say

Now Billy was an honest man, he wanted to do what was right He worked hard to fill their lives with happy days and loving night Alone on his knees in the darkness for steadiness he'd pray For he knew in a restless heart the seed of betrayal lay

Whose blood will spill, whose heart will break Who'll be the last to die for a mistake

Well I awoke last night in the dark and dreamy deep From my head to my feet my body's gone stone cold There were worms crawling all around me My fingers scratching at an earth black and six foot low Alone in the blackness of my grave Alone I'd been left to die Then I heard voices calling all around me The earth rose above me My eyes filled with sky

Plastics, wire and your kiss The breath of eternity on your lips

For a while you'll go sparkling by Just another pretty thing on high

Don't know when this chance might come again Good times got a way of coming to an end

I search for you on the other side Where the river runs clean and wide Up to my heart, the waters rise

Hell's brewing, dark sun's on the rise This storm will blow through, by and by House is on fire, vipers in the grass Little revenge and this too shall pass This too shall pass, darling, yeah I'm going to pray Right now, all I got is this lonesome day

I love to see your hair shining In the long summer's light I love to watch the stars fill the sky On a summer night The music plays you take his hand I watch how you touch him as you start to dance And I wish I were blind When I see you with your man

Rising from a long night as dark as the grave On a thin chain of next moments and something like faith

Ain't no church bells ringing Ain't no flags unfurled Just me and you and the love we're bringing Into the real world

A silver plate of pearls, my golden child It's all yours, at least for a little while

I got a picture of you in my locket I keep it close to my heart This light shining in my breast Leading me through the dark

The times, they got too clear So you removed all the mirrors Once the family felt secure Now no one's very sure

I've got my finger on the trigger And tonight faith just ain't enough When I look inside my heart There's just devils and dust

I feel my soul waist deep and sinking Into this black river of doubt

Where the road is dark and the seed is sowed Where the gun is cocked and the bullet's cold Where the miles are marked in blood and gold I'll meet you further on up the road

In the garden at Gethsemane He prayed for the life he'd never live He beseeched his Heavenly Father to remove The cup of death from his lips

I love to see the cottonwood blossom In the early spring I love to see the message of love That the bluebird brings But when I see you walkin' with him Down along the strand I wish I were blind When I see you with your man

I hold you in my arms, yeah that's when it starts I seek faith in your kiss and comfort in your heart Taste the seed upon your lips, lay my tongue upon your scars When I look into your eyes and we stand worlds apart

Now's there's tears on the pillow, darling, where we slept And you took my heart when you left Without your sweet kiss my soul is lost, my friend Tell me how do I begin again?

May your strength give us strength May your faith give us faith May your hope give us hope May your love give us love

We took the highway till the road went black We marked 'Truth Or Consequences' on our map

We'll let blood build a bridge over mountains draped in stars I'll meet you on the ridge between these worlds apart We've got this moment now to live, then it's all just dust and dark Let's let love give what it gives

Now no one knows which way love's wheel turns Will we hit it rich Or crash and burn Does fortune wait or just the black hand of fate This love potion's all we've got One toast before it's too late

And the things of the earth, they make their claim That the things of heaven may do the same

God's drifting in heaven, devil's in the mailbox I got dust on my shoes, nothing but teardrops

I got a pound of caviar sitting home on ice I got a fancy foreign car that rides like paradise I got a hundred pretty women knockin' down my door And folks wanna kiss me I ain't even seen before I been around the world and all across the seven seas Been paid a king's ransom for doin' what comes naturally But I'm still the biggest fool, honey, this world ever knew 'Cause the only thing I ain't got, baby, I ain't got you

But love is a power greater than death, just like the songs and stories told And when she built you, brother, she broke the mold

Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams Meet me in a land of hope and dreams

Alone I limp through town A lost cowboy at sundown Got my monkey on a leash Got my ear tuned to the ground My faith's been torn asunder Tell me is that rolling thunder Or just the sinking sound Of something righteous going under

Men walking 'long the railroad tracks Going someplace, there's no going back Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge Shelter line stretching 'round the corner Welcome to the new world order Families sleeping in the cars in the southwest No home, no job, no peace, no rest

Sometimes the truth just ain't enough Or is it too much in times like this Let's throw the truth away, we'll find it in this kiss In your skin upon my skin in the beating of our hearts May the living let us in before the dead tear us apart

So hold me close honey, say you're forever mine And tell me you'll be my lonely valentine

There's spirits above and behind me Faces gone black, eyes burning bright May their precious blood bind me Lord, as I stand before your fiery light

Girl ain't no kindness in the face of strangers Ain't gonna find no miracles here Well you can wait on your blessings darlin' But I got a deal for you right here

Familiar faces around me Laughter fills the air Your loving grace surrounds me Everybody's here Furniture's out on the front porch Music's up loud I dream of you in my arms I lose myself in the crowd

Woke up election day Sky's gunpowder and shades of grey Beneath the dirty sun I whistle my time away Then just about sundown You come walking through town Your boot heels clicking like The barrel of a pistol spinning round

Well, it ain't no secret I've been around a time or two Well, I don't know baby maybe you've been around too Well, there's another dance All you gotta do is say yes And if you're rough and ready for love Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

The fuse is burning Shut out the lights The fuse is burning Come on let me do you right

When I look at myself I don't see The man I wanted to be Somewhere 'long the line I slipped off track I'm caught moving one step up and two steps back

Days just keep on falling Your voice it keeps on calling I'm going to dig right here until I get you back

I was driving through the misty rain Just a-searching for a mystery train Bopping through the wild blue Trying to make a connection with you

It's been a long long drought baby Tonight the rain's pourin' down on our roof Looking for a little bit of God's mercy I found living proof

I always loved the feel of sweat on my shirt Stand back son and let a man work

Well, it's Saturday night You're all dressed up in blue I been watching you awhile Maybe you been watching me, too So somebody ran out Left somebody's heart in a mess Well, if you're looking for love Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

It's been a long time coming, my dear It's been a long time coming, but now it's here

It takes a leap of faith to get things going It takes a leap of faith you gotta show some guts It takes a leap of faith to get things going In your heart you must trust

Fear's a powerful thing, baby It can turn your heart black, you can trust It'll take your God-filled soul And fill it with devils and dust

Well above the stars they crackle and fire A dead man's moon throws seven rings We'd put our ears to the cold grave stones This is the song they'd sing

A letter come blowing in On an ill wind Something about me and you Never seeing one another again And what I knew had come Stars struck deaf and dumb Like when we kissed That taste of blood on your tongue

The sun sets in flames as the city burns Another day gone down as the night turns And I hold you here in my heart As things fall apart

Now the ritual begins 'Neath the wedding garland we meet as strangers The dance floor is alive with beauty Mystery and danger We dance out 'neath the stars' ancient light into the darkening trees Oh won't you baby be in my book of dreams

For you I'll build a house High upon a grassy hill Somewhere across the border Where pain and memory Pain and memory have been stilled There, across the border And sweet blossoms fill the air Pastures of gold and green Roll down into cool clear waters And in your arms beneath open skies I'll kiss the sorrow from your eyes There, across the border

An endless stream of stars shooting by You got your hopes on high

I ain't lookin' for prayers or pity I ain't comin' 'round searchin' for a crutch I just want someone to talk to And a little of that human touch

World peace gonna break out From here on in, we're eating take out

Tonight the moon's looking young but I'm feelin' younger 'Neath a veil of dreams sweet blessings rain Honey I can feel the first breeze of summer And in your love I'm born again

I see you Mary in the garden In the garden of a thousand sighs There's holy pictures of our children Dancing in a sky filled with light

I got a big diamond watch sittin' on my wrist I try to tempt you, baby, but you just resist I made a deal with the devil, babe, I won't deny Until I got you in my arms, I can't be satisfied

And though this world is filled With the grace and beauty of God's hand Oh I wish I were blind When I see you with your man

The sky was falling And streaked with blood I heard you calling me Then you disappeared into the dust

Well, you get so sick of the fighting You lose your fear of the end But I can't lose your memory And the sweet smell of your skin

Love leaves nothin' but shadows and vapor We go on, as is our sad nature, baby

And we're walkin' on the wildside, runnin' down a one way street

You're dancin' with him he's holding you tight I'm standing here waitin' to catch your eye Your hand's on his neck as the music sways All my illusions slip away

If I'm going to live I'll lift my life Darling, to you

The scars we carry remain but the pain slips away it seems Oh won't you baby be in my book of dreams

So listen up, my sonny boy, be ready when they come For they'll be returning sure as the rising sun

I woke up this morning I could barely breathe Just an empty impression In the bed where you used to be I want a kiss from your lips I want an eye for an eye I woke up this morning to an empty sky

The earth, it gave away The sea rose towards the sun I opened up my heart to you It got all damaged and undone

May I feel your arms around me May I feel your blood mix with mine A dream of life comes to me Like a catfish dancing on the end of the line

Now your legs were heaven your breasts were the altar Your body was the holy land You shouted "jump" but my heart faltered You laughted and said "Baby don't you understand?"

I can't sleep so I lay awake listenin' to the sounds of the city below I get dressed and walk the streets but I got nowhere to go

Feelin' like a real man Well you can beat on your chest Hell any monkey can

These days I sit around and laugh At the many rivers I've crossed But on the far banks there's always another forest Where a man can get lost

We struggle here but all our love's in vain Oh these eyes that once filled me with your beauty Now fill me with pain And the light that once entered here Is banished from me And this darkness is all baby that my heart sees

Well if something in the air feels a little unkind Don't worry darlin' It'll slip your mind I'll be your gypsy joker your shotgun rider Baby let me be your soul driver

Well this is a prayer for the souls of the departed Those who've gone and left their babies brokenhearted

I was your big man I was your prince charming King on a white horse hey now look how far I've fallen I tried to trick you yeah but baby you got wise You cut me cut me right right down to size Now I'm just a fool in Gloria's eyes

I been up on sugar mountain, 'cross the sweet blue sea I walked the valley of love and tears and mystery I got run out'a luck and gave myself up for dead And I drank the cool clear waters from Maria's bed

And when that train comes we'll get on board And steal what we can from the treasures treasures of the Lord

A half-drunk beer and your breath in my ear At the Moonlight Motel

American beauty will you be mine Out on this highway counting white lines

And it’s all lies but I’m strung out on the wire In these streets of fire

and it’s one false move and baby the lights go out

And she’s so pretty that you’re lost in the star

And the world is busting at its seams And you’re just a prisoner of your dreams

And you’re in love with all the wonder it brings And every muscle in your body sings as the highway ignites

As you jockey your way through the cars And sit at the light, as it changes to green With your faith in your machine off you scream into the night

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head

At night sometimes it seemed You could hear the whole damn city crying

Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain

Blame it on the lies that killed us, Blame it on the truth that ran us down

But all her pretty dreams are torn, She stares off alone into the night

But I ride by night and I travel in fear That in this darkness I will disappear

But they said, “Johnny, it falls apart so easily, and you know hearts these days are cheap”

But tonight you’re gonna break on through to the inside

But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold

Calling and calling so cold and alone Shining cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned

Dress in the latest rage

Driving all night, chasing some mirage

Eat at your insides and leave you face to face with Streets of fire

Everything dies baby that’s a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back

Explode and tear this old town apart Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart

For one kiss, darling I swear everything I would give Cause you’re a walking, talking reason to live

from the dark heart of a dream

From your front porch to my front seat, The door’s open but the ride ain’t free

He tried sellin’ his heart to the hard girls over on Easy Street

I don’t give a damn For the same old played out scenes Baby, I don’t give a damn For just the in-betweens Honey

I hear that whistle whining I feel her kiss in the misty rain And I feel like I’m a rider on a downbound train

I lie awake in the middle of the night Makin’ a list of things that I didn’t do right With you at the top of a long page filled

I see that lonely ribbon in your hair Tell me am I the man for whom you put it there

I took a wrong turn and I just kept going

I walk with angels that have no place

I’m a rolling stone just rolling on Catch me now ‘cause tomorrow I’ll be gone

I’m caught in a cross fire That I don’t understand

I’m twenty five hundred miles from where I wanna be It feels like a hundred years since you’ve been near to me

In this house it’s so easy to set a world on fire, All you need is the need and the money and a soul full of reckless desire

In this house the guilty go unpunished and blood and silence prevail, Here the dead remain nameless, the nameless remain jailed

It’s a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine, We’re runnin’ now but darlin’ we will stand in time

Just the false taste of paradise and then the fall

Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades

Let your hair down sugar and pick up this beat, Come on and meet me tonight down on Bluebird Street

Like soldiers in the winter’s night with a vow to defend No retreat, baby, no surrender

Lonely-hearted lovers Struggle in dark corners Soul engines running through a night so tender

Man I ain’t getting nowhere I’m just living in a dump like this There’s something happening somewhere baby I just know that there is

My brain takes a vacation just to give my heart more room

My kisses used to turn you inside out

Now the heart’s unsteady, and the night is still All I’ve got’s this melody, and time to kill

Oh-oh come take my hand, We’re riding out tonight to case the promised land, Oh-oh-oh-oh Thunder Road

Outside the street’s on fire In a real death waltz Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy And the poets down here Don’t write nothing at all They just stand back and let it all be

Radio’s jammed up with talk show stations It’s just talk, talk, talk till you lose your patience

remember last summer drifting through our eyes

Show a little faith there’s magic in the night, You ain’t a beauty but hey you’re alright

So come close my pretty darling and let me feel your disease, Tonight I’ll have you naked and crawling at the end of my leash

So you fell for some jerk who was tall, dark and handsome Then he kidnapped your heart and now he’s holdin’ it for ransom

Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull

Standing in that doorway like a dream

Talk about a dream Try to make it real You wake up in the night With a fear so real

That secret pact you made Back when her love could save you From the bitterness

That thunder in your heart At night when you’re kneeling in the dark It says you’re never gonna leave her But there’s this angel in her eyes That tells such desperate lies And all you want to do is believe her

The book of love holds its rules Disobeyed by fools

The hungry and the hunted Explode into rock'n'roll bands That face off against each other out in the street Down in Jungleland

The rat traps filled with soul crusaders, The circuits lined and jammed with chromed invaders

The screen door slams, Mary’s dress waves Like a vision, she dances across the porch As the radio plays Roy Orbison singing for the lonely, Hey that’s me and I want you only

The teenage tramps in skin-tight pants do the E Street dance

There were ghosts in the eyes Of all the boys you sent away, They haunt this dusty beach road In the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets.

There’s a darkness on the edge of town

there’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me

There’s a war outside still raging You say it ain’t ours anymore to win

Theres a sadness hidden in that pretty face, a sadness all her own, from which no man can keep Candy safe

These days you don’t wait on Romeo’s you wait on that welfare check

They say in the end true love prevails But in the end true love can’t be no fairytale

They say you gotta stay hungry hey baby I’m just about starving tonight

They scream your name at night in the street, Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet, And in the lonely cool before dawn, You hear their engines roaring on, When you get to the porch they’re gone On the wind

True love is broken and your tears are fallin’ faster You’re sufferin’ from a pain in your heart or some other natural disaster

Two hearts are better than one, Two hearts girl get the job done

Waiting for the bells that ring In the deep heart of the night

Waste your summer praying in vain, For a saviour to rise from these streets

We got married, and swore we’d never part Then little by little we drifted from each other’s hearts

We got one last chance to make it real, To trade in these wings on some wheels, Climb in back, Heaven’s waiting down on the tracks

We kiss, my hearts pumpin to my brain the blood rushes in my veins, when I touch Candys lips, We go driving, driving deep into the night, I go driving deep into the light, in Candys eyes

We shut ‘em up and than we shut ‘em down

we’re gonna ride to the sea And wash these sins off our hands.

Well I saw you last night down on the avenue Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you You were standin’ in the doorway out of the rain You didn’t answer when I called out your name You just turned, and then you looked away like just another stranger waitin’ to get blown away

Well the night’s busting open, These two lanes will take us anywhere

Well, everybody’s got a secret, Sonny, Something that they just can’t face, Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it, They carry it with them every step that they take.

Well, I believe in the love that you gave me I believe in the faith that can save me

Where we swore forever friends On the backstreets until the end

With a love so hard and filled with defeat

With her long hair falling And her eyes that shine like a midnight sun Oh she’s the one

Words were passed in a shotgun blast

You can hide 'neath your covers, And study your pain, Make crosses from your lovers, Throw roses in the rain

You can’t judge an apple by looking at a tree, You can’t judge honey by looking at the bee, You can’t judge a daughter by looking at the mother, You can’t judge a book by looking at the cover

You don’t have to call me lieutenant, Rosie, and I don’t want to be your son

You end up like a dog that’s been beat too much Till you spend half your life just covering up

You inherit the sins, you inherit the flames, Adam raised a Cain

You know it’s never over, it’s relentless as the rain, Daddy worked his whole life, for nothing but the pain

You never smile girl, you never speak You just walk on by, darlin’, week after week

You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin’ slow And as I pulled you tighter I swore I’d never let you go

You sit and wonder just who’s gonna stop the rain Who’ll ease the sadness, who’s gonna quiet the pain

You wake up and you’re dying you don’t even know what from

You walk cool, but darlin’, can you walk the

You walk too far, you walk away Hello sunshine, won’t you stay

I thought I knew just who I was And what I’d do but I was wrong One minute you’re here Next minute you’re gone

Footsteps cracklin’ on a gravel road Stars vanish in a sky as black as stone

In the afternoon 'neath the summer sun We’d lie by the lake till the evening comes I run my fingers through your sun-streaked hair Baby, that’s the power of prayer

It’s a fixed game without any rules An empty table on a ship of fools I’m holding hearts, I’ll play the pair Darling, it’s just the power of prayer

I’m holding hearts, I’ll play the pair I’m goin’ all in 'cause I don’t care

I’m reaching for heaven, we’ll make it there

Zero’s my number, time is my hunter I wanted you to heal me but instead you set me on fire We were out over the borders, I washed you in holy water We whispered our black prayers and rose up in flames Take me on your burnin’ train

White sun burnin’, black wings beatin’

With our shared faith Rising dark and decayed Take me and shake me from this mortal cage

On your bed of thorns, I brought you shining gifts Wiped the sweat from your brow and I touched your lips Sheets stained with sweat, outside the endless rain Darlin’, I’m blessed in your blood and marked by Cain

Tried to summon all that my heart finds true And send it in my letter to you

Things I found out through hard times and good I wrote 'em all out in ink and blood Dug deep in my soul and signed my name true And sent it in my letter to you

I took all the sunshine and rain All my happiness and all my pain The dark evening stars and the morning sky of blue And I sent it in my letter to you

There’s a light on yonder mountain And it’s calling me to shine There’s a girl over by the water fountain And she’s asking to be mine

Well sweet Virgin Mary runs the Holy Grail saloon Well for a nickel she’ll give you whiskey and a personally blessed balloon

And the Holy Ghost is the host with the most, he runs the burlesque show Where they’ll let you in for free and they hit you when you go

Mary serving Mass on Sunday and she sells her body on Monday To the bootlegger who paid the highest price He don’t know he got stuck with a loser, she’s a stone junkie what’s more she’s a user She’s only been made once or twice by some kind of magic

If Jesus was a sheriff and I were a priest If my lady was an heiress and my Mama was a thief And Papa rode shotgun on the Fargo line There’s still too many outlaws trying to work the same line

Well things ain’t been the same in heaven since Big Bad Bobby came to town He’s been known to down eleven, then ask for another round

Me I’ve got scabs on my knees from kneeling way too long It’s about time I played the man, took a stand where I belong

And I forget about the old friends and the old times There’s just too many new boys trying to work the same line

Hands raised to Yahweh to bring the rain down He comes crawlin’ 'cross the dry fields like a dark shroud

Rainmaker, a little faith for hire Rainmaker, the house is on fire Rainmaker, take everything you have Sometimes folks need to believe in something so bad, so bad,

Rainmaker says white’s black and black’s white Says night’s day and day’s night Says close your eyes and go to sleep now I’m in a burnin’ field unloadin’ buckshot into low clouds

The blood moon shines across the vale Bells ring out through churches and jails I tally my wounds and count the scars Here in the house of a thousand guitars

The criminal clown has stolen the throne He steals what he can never own May the truth ring out from every small-town bar We’ll light up the house of a thousand guitars

Here the bitter and the bored Wake in search of the lost chord That’ll band us together for as long as there’s stars Here in the house of a thousand guitars

So wake and shake off your troubles, my friend We’ll go where the music never ends From the stadiums to the small-town bars We’ll light up the house of a thousand guitars

The road is long and seeming without end The days go on, I remember you my friend And though you’re gone and my heart’s been emptied it seems I’ll see you in my dreams

I’ll see you in my dreams when all our summers have come to an end I’ll see you in my dreams, we’ll meet and live and laugh again I’ll see you in my dreams, yeah around the river bend For death is not the end

Well how many wasted have I seen signed “Hollywood or bust” And left to ride the ever ghostly Arizona gusts Cheerleader tramps and kids with big amps sounding in the void High society vamps, ex-heavyweight champs mistaking soot for soil

Well sons they search for fathers, but the fathers are all gone The lost souls search for saviors, but saviors don’t last long

Those aimless questless renegade brats who live their lives in song They run the length of a candle, with a goodnight whisper and they’re gone

Believe me my good Linda, the aurora will shine the way

Those orphans jumped on silver mountains lost in celestial alleyways They wait for that old tramp Dog Man Moses, he takes in all the strays

Now don’t you grow on empty legends or lonely cradle songs Billy the Kid was just a bowery boy who made a living twirling his guns

The night she’s long and lanky and she speaks in a mother tongue She lullabies the refugees with amplifier’s hum

I hear the sound of your guitar Comin’ in from the mystic far Stone and the gravel in your voice Come in my dreams and I rejoice

It’s your ghost Moving through the night Spirit filled with light

Count the band in then kick into overdrive By the end of the set we leave no one alive

I shoulder your Les Paul and finger the fretboard I make my vows to those who’ve come before I turn up the volume, let the spirits be my guide Meet you brother and sister on the other side

All the redemption I can offer girl Is beneath this dirty hood

#bruce springsteen #springsteen

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iguessilovebakugou · 4 years

Text

Beautiful || {Dabi/F!Reader} --- Heathers: The Musical -- Cause I’m a stupid fuck who can’t control themselves

Me: *Doesn’t post anything for 2 years*

Also Me when Dabi is on screen at any point ever: 👁👄👁

I’m also throwing this out there because like...I highly doubt anyone still looks at my blog, so I can hide my fucking shame that I’ve been thinking of this idea on and off for almost 2 years now.

Now...spoilers under the cut because I have to explain some things...

I know they just recently announced that Dabi “died” when he was a kid. So I will have to specify that I’m aging him up to be 17, since that would just...make sense?

-- -- -- --

“Venti salted caramel coldbrew, extra foam.”

There was a raid against villains that day. It had been the only thing anyone could talk about.

You had overheard the editors talking about it as they made their coffee. It was a good thing, right, that they were taking the fight to the bad guys? That not all hope had been lost? Most people just wanted an ounce of good news. Some confirmation that the way of things would hold strong - a nice sugar coat to swallow the hard pill. Though, it seemed like all any report worth their salt - you included - could discuss was the fall of society, what people were going to do if...or...when, rather, the heroes were yanked from their spot light and cast down in the dirt with the rest of civilization.

You weren’t a giant fan of them, considering, but you understood the necessity for someone to hold the mantle - someone who guaranteed the safety the mass populous required to keep them from falling to complete anarchy.

Your phone buzzed as a message appeared at the top, blocking the article’s title from view. Your boss, Fumihiro...again...for the 8th time since you left the office.

[INCOMING MSG] :: Where are you right now?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam for...”

Your brows furrowed, your stance shifting from one foot to the other.

[OUTGOING MSG] :: Getting the coffee.

[OUTGOING MSG] :: Why? Want me to get you something?

Heroes. The way of things. Society.

Most people didn’t seem to care too much about it once their phones locked and it was out of their line of sight. When the terrible wasn’t in your face, it was easy to forget that everything hung on a tiny thread that was always threatening to snap. It was hard, you figured, to care about the state of the world when you were more concerned about mundane matters that were pressing in the moment. The rest of the world seems small when you have everything else to pressure you. It was easy to forget.

[INCOMING MSG] :: www.wtxz319.rdio.com/live/93901_error

[INCOMING MSG] :: u need to watch this

You wished you could forget about it. Wished that it hadn’t been looming over your head since...well...

Your thumb hovered over the link, the screen went black and a stream started loading. Some radio podcast? You read the title: ENDEVOUR TAKING ON U-A’S BEST AND BRIGHTEST?! UNLIKELY SON AND FATHER DUO?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam!!”

Your heart leapt up into your throat as your eyes met the kid behind the counter. He paused only a moment before using his fingers to nudge your drink closer to edge.

“Oh. Sor-”

“Have a good one.”

You locked your phone as you shoved it into your back pocket, grabbed your drink and made a beeline towards the door. The streets were busy, given the hour. You had just enough time to get back to the office and finish your article on before the evening - just enough time for an editor to look it over, to do some quick fixes and-

You phone buzzed again, and Fumihiro’s face once again flashed on the screen.

[INCOMING MSG] :: Did you see it?

[INCOMING MSG] :: We need to be the first people on this. I don’t care about what else you were working on. This is more important.

You stopped at the crosswalk, staring at your phone and ignoring the woman who had to move around you with a huff. But...you were so close to getting to the meat of what the Safety Commission was hiding. You were so close getting to the heart of it all and, maybe - just maybe - throwing away some of the uncertainty that was hanging over everyone’s head after All Might’s retirement.

After the weeks you spent staking out police stations, hounding hero agencies, digging through dumpsters for any shred of proof the Pros and Police were hiding something - the favors you had to call in for breadcrumbs and scraps alone?! And just like that, he wanted you to drop it all? For what? Some stupid radio show speculation?

You didn’t hesitate to hit the phone icon in the upper corner, stomping towards the intersection.

“Hey-” You cut Fumi before he could even finish your name.

“What do you mean ‘drop the article’? Do you know-”

“I don’t care! This is bigger!!”

“What’s bigger than-”

“Did you even watch the link I sent you? Every station across Japan is getting hacked and it’s been playing on loop for a few minutes now on a few stations. It’s slowly moving to others now.”

“Fumi what the hell are you talking about!?”

“I, TOUYA TODOROKI, WAS BORN THE ELDEST SON OF ENDEVOUR.”

It...was hard to think for a moment. Like a memory, reaching up from the dirt to grab you, to finally take you down to hell.

That voice.

It felt like he was right in your ear, in your head. It had been so long since he had done it to you, since he...no...not him. He was dead. His father confirmed it. You confirmed it. You knew he was gone and there was no bringing him back and -

“I’VE KILLED OVER 30 INNOCENT PEOPLE UNTIL NOW.”

No. No, no no no no it wasn’t in your head - because if it had been, the sound of blood pounding in your ears wouldn’t be able to mask it so well. You froze, your hands shaking as your breath caught in your throat. It couldn’t be him. I couldn’t, it couldn’t...

“You need to get back to the office - I want you on this. I already have a copy of it in case you can’t screen capture it -”

“I WOULD LIKE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW WHY I’D END UP COMMITING SUCH A HIDEOUS ACT.”

Because you’re a fucking monster.

Someone next to you stopped and looked up. Then another and then another. You knew what they were looking at. Who they were looking at. And still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. You couldn’t do it - not again. Not now. Not after so many years of him being dead and buried where he deserved to be.

But he always had a hold on you. Something that drew you to him. And so...you looked up.

And as your phone and drink clattered to your feet, you felt the world stop.

“...Touya?”

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

September 1st, 20xx

Dear Diary - I believe I’m a good person. You know? Like, I believe there’s good in everyone. But um...here we are! First day of our Senior Year and I look around at the kids I’ve known for so long and I can’t help but think to myself - what happened?

You hadn’t really wanted to be friends with the Nori’s. Not really. They were stuck up snobs who made everyone below them miserable. But there was a power to them that everyone respected. You had been taught that knowledge held power. And the Nori’s had power because everyone knew if you double crossed them, your life would be a living fucking hell.

“Ah, Nori and Nori.”

You grimaced into your knees as Nori Ueda vomited for a third time since you had been hiding out in the bathroom. The teacher paused before sighing. “And Nori. Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell? You’re late for class.”

“Nori’s sick! We’re helping her.”

You had given the low price of just sitting at their lunch table - once, no talking would be necessary - in the hopes people would leave you alone. It was a simple fact of life: Where there are teenagers, there are winners and there are losers. And you had spent the majority of your High School career on the low end of the totem pole. You were so low, in fact, it seemed talking to you was all but taboo. Anything other than bullying, shoving into lockers, or calling out unfortunate break outs was strictly forbidden by anyone not wanting to suffer the same fate.

But the Nori’s? Solid Teflon: never bothered. Never harassed like you had been. They had a mystique, a pull, a confidence that couldn’t be matched. And you would have killed to be like them.

Perhaps that why you reached into backpack and yanked out the pad of hall pass papers.

You opened the stall door and slipped out, making your wave over to the group. Nori Ueda wiped her mouth. Nori Makino was leaning against the bathroom counter, focusing on making sure her bright red lipstick was perfectly placed. And Nori Kaneko? She was staring down the teacher, hands on her hips, completely equal and completely ready to start a fight.

The teacher laughed, so sure and so pleased that she had been the one to stumble upon the trio in the bathroom. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. A week’s detention.”

“Uh...ma’am.” Your voice trembled out and reverberated off the tiled wall. It had been louder than you originally intended. Everyone turned quickly to you, only for their attention to be immediately drawn to your outstretched hand you held. “All of us are out on a hall pass...yearbook committee.”

She snatched it from you. For a moment, she simply glanced back between you, the paper, then the Nori’s, then back. After a heavy moment, she nodded. “It looks like you’re all listed.”

Nori Kaneko took it from the teacher, looking it over herself. You tried not to make eye contact as she looked at you. You instead focused on the teacher as she made her way towards the bathroom door. “Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?”

You stuttered your name, shrinking under her sharp gaze. “I uh...I crave a boon.”

“What boon?” You weren’t sure if she was simply aggravated you had dared do more than answer the questions she asked or if the annoyance was just a constant manner of speaking for her.

You could forge anything thanks to your quirk - Copy. All you had to do was see someone or something once or twice, focus on it as best as you could and like that, you could be that person. From their mannerisms, their voice, to their penmanship. Its why you stole the pad of hall passes, to skip class whenever you wanted, to have an excuse to be hiding out in the bathroom.

It had worked...sometimes...

You stuttered out your name. You could see the two Nori’s snicker in the background. They had no clue who you were. It was...somewhat insulting. Their “friends” had done their best to make your life a living hell and yet you had flown under their radar.

Your eyes darted between the three of them. Nori Kaneko stared down at you, foot tapping and arms crossed as she took you in. You couldn’t help but feel like a prey animal, stuck in the line of sight of the Apex Predator.

But your mama didn’t raise no quitter. You swallowed and stood up just a bit straighter. “Let me sit with you at lunch, once. No talking necessary. If...I mean, if people think you guys tolerate me, they might leave me alone.”

The laughter was instantaneous. Kaneko looked back to the other two, her laugh light and condescending. The audacity, it said. The gall of you to ask to sit with them, of all people. “Before you answer, I also do permission slips, report cards, and absent notes.”

“What about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Nori.”

“Sorry, Nori.” Ueda immediately slunk back to the shadows, gaze downcast.

Kaneka stepped forward and you thought for a moment she was going to shove you onto the floor. You braced your feet, mentally preparing yourself for the force of her push...but it never came. She was in front of you for a moment, and then the next, she was at your side. She hummed under her breath and you could feel her eyes trail over your body. Your school uniform a size too big, the bulky cardigan you had worn over it, the scuffed shoes and year old skirt. Your hair was a mess, your face was bare, and you could hear the sound of your knees knocking together in fear.

“For a greasy little nobody,” She started, reaching out a smooth hand and brushing some of your hair back and out of your eyes. “You do have good bone structure.”

Nori Makino perked up, coming over to take a look at you. She took your face in your hand, causing you to tense and try to pull away. For a girl bordering 90 pounds soaking wet, her grip was rather strong. “And a symmetrical face.”

“A...huh?”

“If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I would have matching halves.” She looked back at you, nodding. “That’s very important.”

“Of course,” Ueda added, glaring at you from over Kaneka’s shoulder. “You could stand to lose a few pounds.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to gain some sense of control over the conversation - but like everything, Kaneko had the power. She gripped your shoulders and turned you towards the mirror. You tensed, feeling her arm wrapped around your shoulders. You watched as she tilted her head this way and that before...smirking. “You know...this might be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we might have something.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding once she moved away. “I’ll need some blush, Nori, get your brush.”

You were frozen, watching as each item was brought out and laid on the bathroom counter. A new jacket, skirt, perfume, a pallet of...color? You gripped your bag, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

“Take that thing off - it smells.”

The...thing? You saw the Nori’s staring at you, waiting for you to comply. You glanced down at your cardigan, pausing only a moment to sniff the sleeve. It...wait, did it smell? Would they lie to you? You fumbled with the buttons, sliding it off your shoulders. Makino snatched it out of your hands and before you knew it, it was tossed in the garbage.

“Now, let’s make her beautiful.”

In that moment, you understood what was happening. As Kaneko stepped forward, the smirk on her face, she watched you. This...was an invitation. Into their group. Into the inner sanctum of popularity and the safety it brought. No more bullies, no more humiliation, no more terror.

“Okay?”

“Okay!”

They don’t tell you that being popular is more hell than it’s worth.

You wouldn’t say you and the Nori’s were...friends. It felt more professional than anything else. You had a strict uniform you had to stick to - above what the school required. Any accessory had to be approved by the trio. All meals had to be approved by Ueda - needless to say, the packed lunches your mother made every morning every morning included with a handwritten note never seemed to make the cut. The make up you did every morning never was good enough.

They had high standards, more inline with a sort of...job than actual friendship. In fact, over the past few weeks, it had been hard to tell if the three Nori’s were even friends to begin with. There was definitely a power struggle between Kaneko - the obvious leader - and Ueda - who tried to exert her dominance every chance she could but was shot down by Kaneko. Moniko was harder to figure out, more happy to follow than to lead. She was...nicer than the other two, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was simply because she didn’t want the drama or if she just...simply didn’t understand that what she said held weight beyond being...noises in the air.

Dear Diary - It just seems like our job is being...popular and shit.

“There you are!”

When Kaneko wasn’t around Ueda was hardly as docile. It was hard to tell she had thorns at all when she was standing next to the Cactus that was the head Nori. But any chance she got, she made sure to inform you in less subtle ways that you weren’t welcome among the three of them.

Which was obvious. Your name wasn’t Nori.

You jumped as Ueda’s hand slammed your book shut on your fingers. “Nori wants you in the caf - now.”

Moniko hardly offered you a glance as you flexed the pain from your joints. “Is that so? What for?”

Ueda snorted, “I don’t know. She just said to get your ass there...now.”

You normally punched out for lunch. You sighed, pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up. “How very.”

If the two Nori’s heard your remark, they didn’t say anything. Nor did they relay it to Nori Kaneko when the three of you had reached the cafe.

The Nori table was the nicest table in the entire cafeteria. With the perfect white table cloths, centered exactly in the middle of the room, other kids from the “popular groups” would migrate around it like a port. They would stay for the entire period or would flit about from table to table. And at it’s head, sat Nori Kaneko. She sat with her legs crossed, talking to another student who’s name you couldn’t quite place. You always thought you had been good with names. Turns out, you just didn’t know many people.

“Ah, you’re finally here. Took you long enough.”

When Kaneko had offered the make over and...”admission” into the popular crowd, you had thought maybe you pegged her wrong. Maybe she was just a normal kid, wrapped up in the politics of High School. It didn’t take long for you to realize she was still the same mythic bitch you had thought she had been - you just did things for her now.

“I need you to forge a note - in Souta Ishii’s handwriting.” With a snap of her fingers, the boy she had been talking to reached into his pocket and yanked out a few folded up pieces of paper. You didn’t need to open them to know what they were. But when you did, you couldn’t find yourself surprised at the fact Souta was barely passing most of his classes.

“You’ll need something to write on. Bend over, Nori.”

One day, it would stop shocking you how quickly Ueda would act to Kaneko’s command. You paused, looking to your superior for a moment. “Uh...I could just-”

“You’re not sitting with us.” She answer simply.

“...right.” You took the paper and pen offered by Moniko. You flexed your digits, feeling the flutter under your skin. “What do you want it to say?”

“‘Hey baby girl, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the good old days. I hope you can come to my party this weekend. We can talk about us. Love, Souta.’“ She leaned over, watching your hand glide over the paper in barely legible chicken scratch. “Put an XO after the ‘Souta’ too.”

It was gone the second the O was done. She looked over the note again. “Perfect.”

There was a glint in her eye that didn’t...settle well with you. With your quirk, you noticed certain...things about people. Little ticks and tells that everyone has. Ueda scrunched her nose when she didn’t like something - like everyone. Moniko would fidget with her hands when she was nervous - like everyone. And Kaneko would get a little sparkle in her eyes when she was about to ruin someone’s life.

With each fold of the paper, you stomach dropped closer and closer to your feet. “What’s that for, anyway?”

You never really questioned why she did half of what she did. It wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it. “You know how Souta used to hang out with Arisu Nomaru?”

Of course you did. You considered Arisu a friend - a good one. She was the really only nice person at this school. Of course, hanging out with the Nori’s meant that quality time with Arisu was...well, all but non existent at that point. But she assured you, through texts, that everything was fine. It was exciting! That maybe, she could join you and the Nori’s for lunch one day. It wasn’t possible, of course. You never even bothered to broach the subject to the three. Arisu was never going to be in the popular crowd and would be stuck watching them from a distance.

The only other constant in Arisu’s life - aside from her kindness and her exile from popularity - was the undying love she had for Souta Ishii. Ever since...

“We all hung out with Arisu. In kindergarten.”

Kaneko scoffed, looking up at you from under perfect lashes. “Well, we didn’t all kiss her on the soccer field.”

You had to fight your body’s desire to snatch the paper out of Nori’s hand.

Monika gagged next to you. “Oh my god! I forgot Souta kissed Arisu Nomaru. It was disgusting!!”

It took everything you had not to hit her. She met your glare with cool indifference, adding a laugh for good measure.

“Souta! Just the man I wanted to see!”

Souta was a...handsome man to say the least. You didn’t blame Arisu for having the crush she had on him, not by any means. But what he had in looks, he lacked in anything worthy of personality - aside from just being a huge dick. And where there was a Souta there was Jun Goto. His best friend. He was the smartest one out of his group of friends.

Which amounted as much as being the tallest dwarf, but hey - credit where credit was due. They were both smart enough to know to come when a Nori called you - no questions asked. And in a flash, the two pulled themselves up and made a beeline for the table - not after giggling to themselves first.

“Be a sweetie and give this note to Arisu Nomaru for me.”

Dread immediately filled your stomach. “What? No!”

“What the hell are you talking to Arisu for?” Jun demanded, reaching for the note.

“Don’t read it! She was having a heavy flow, and wanted some advice from Gyno.”

“That’s fucking disgusting!” You would have thought the boy had been burned with the way he flicked the paper onto the table, back away and retreat to the table he had come from.

“Yeah, I’ll take that.” You snatched the note up, gripping it tightly in your hand.

It had been a while since anyone had stared at you with such venom. If looks could kill, Kaneko would have you dead to rights. Her eyes darkened as she glared at you, hands slowly moving to her hips.

But you weren’t going to allow yourself to back down. Not over this. This was too much. “Arisu has had a crush on Souta for 13 years. This...” You waved the note. “This would kill her.”

It was quiet for a moment - and in that moment, you realized you made the biggest mistake of your fucking life. Nori smiled, stepping forward with a soft chuckle. “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

“We’re not but-”

“Are we going to have a problem?”

You faltered for a moment.

“No, I just-”

“So you have a bone to pick.”

“No, Nori I just think you’re bigger than-”

“You know, when I dragged you out of the dredges of inferiority, I was shocked how far you would go.”

Before you knew it, she had succeeded in pushing you down onto the bench. Your elbow slammed into the top, causing you to cry out. Immediately, all eyes were on you. “So you wanna tell me, why now, are you pulling on my dick?”

“Nori! I’m not trying to argue with you! Just doing this-”

“I know!” She snatched the note from your hands. “It will ruin her. That’s the fucking point.” She offered the note to Ueda, who happily took it. You watched helplessly as she skipped back over to Souta. While he didn’t seem too pleased to be the one to deliver the note, he begrudgingly got up from his spot and headed to the corner of the cafeteria.

"You still have a lot to learn about how things work around here." You swallowed, digging your nails into the palm of you hand. "This whole school is my own personal candy store. I do what I want, when I want."

You watched as he slammed a fist on the table, causing Arisu to jump. She froze, stuttered, and then almost dropped the note when he tossed it to her. Your heart hammered - maybe if you got there fast enough, you could stop her from reading it. You could distract her and -

You were forced back down in your spot and perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin. “You got a good thing going here,” Kaneko stated, very matter of factly. “You could join the team, or you could bitch and moan.” You winced when her nails dug deeper into your skin. “But if you test me one more time, you will end up just. Like. Her."

Ueda grinned, an ugly, spiteful thing. "Welcome to our Candy-"

"Shut up, Nori!" All three of you flinched as your leader stood. Fixing her skirt, she offered you a sweet smile that made your stomach roll. "We'll see you after school."

They left you in that spot for a long time, staring at your hands. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that you finally looked up. And there above you was Arisu. She grinned and offered you the note. “Look! Look what Souta wrote me! He invited me to his party this weekend.”

You stared at the paper, then back up at her. You tried to smile - though it didn’t look like she noticed. “This proves he’s been thinking about me!”

She...seemed happy. And you knew in this school that happiness was hard to come by. Especially with people like Nori’s. You opened your mouth, before closing it again. You stared at that letter, at the handwriting that perfectly matched the papers left on the table. You could tell her, warn her it was a prank. Just...break her heart and tell her Souta wanted nothing to do with her.

“...color me stoked!” You grinned.

You were happy when she left. With a heavy sigh, you buried your face in your hands and ignored the bell above your head. You listened to the shuffling of your peers as they made their way towards the doors.

What the hell were you doing? What the fuck did you just do? Arisu had always been a good friend to you and you threw her under the bus? For what? Popularity? Safety?

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to those dogs. They’ll eat that girl alive.”

You had grown used to most voices, labeling them by people who was more likely to hit you or simply ignore your presence entirely.

But his voice? You had never heard that voice before. It was pleasant in it’s own way - low, guttural, and deceptively indifferent to the advice he was giving you. You sat up, turning to look over your shoulder. Your eyes trailed up to stark white hair. Bright blue eyes stared down at you, hands in his pockets. Your breath caught in your chest and your mind scrambled for a response. “I’m...I’m sorry, what?”

He watched you for a moment. Sizing you up. “Look,” He continued, “You clearly have a soul. You just need to work a little harder to keep it clean.” With a final shrug, he turned on his heel and made his way for the door. "We're all marked for evil."

Did...did he just...quote at you? It took you a moment for your mind to catch up to what he said. “Okay, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away. Excuse me?”

You scrambled to your feet. He stopped and turned to look at you. He didn’t move to say anything else however, leaving you in charge of continuing the conversation. You looked him over, took in his long, lanky form, the mess of white hair, they...very pretty eyes. You cleared your throat and motioned to him. “I...uh...I didn’t catch your name.”

He waited a moment before shrugging. “That’s cause I didn’t throw it.”

You watched him turn back around and make his way towards the door, mouth hanging down to your chest. It didn’t take long for you to realize how hot your cheeks were burning, how fast your heart was racing. You couldn’t help as your lips broke out into a smile.

You swore he stole another gaze at you him slip out into the hall.

So yeah. I’ll edit this later. Promise.

How did everyone enjoy their holiday season?

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magnoliasinbloom · 4 years

Text

Lie To Me - 16

AO3 :: Previously

“It’s happening.”

Murtagh’s voice cuts through the early morning fog clouding his brain. He bolts upright, his injured hand twinging.

“What’s happening? Athair-athar?”

“Yer man, Randall, came through. He talked to Grey, and with his support we’re ready, Jamie, my lad. There’s a stint being set up as we speak, Grey’s obtaining a warrant for all of Leoch’s enterprises, bank accounts, payroll, computers, everything. That might take a few days, but this is it.” Murtagh sounds tired, but there is a note of excitement in his tone.

Jamie leaves the bedroom, Claire’s wild curls rumpled on the pillow, still sleeping. In the kitchen, he sits on the dingy chairs and listens to Murtagh give him more information about what will happen. Jamie can’t help it; he begins to fantasize about living a normal life, with Claire at his side—no more hiding, no more pretending, finally free. In the middle of his daydream, he suddenly catches his father’s name and crashes back to reality.

“My father? What did ye say?”

Murtagh clears his throat. “Aye, Jamie. The Fraser surname came up in Randall’s investigations. Apparently, the MacKenzie used Brian Fraser’s name to manage their offshore accounts.”

Hot white rage flares in the pit of his stomach, almost blinding him. To use his father’s name for their lies, their scheming… He swallows hard past the knot in his throat and his left fist tries to curl involuntarily, sending an immediate blaze of pain up his arm.

“What else have they found?”

X-x-X

“Grey got a call from Frank himself,” Jamie tells Claire as she dresses in scrubs for work. The anger from earlier mixes with excitement and hope, making him speak fast. “There’s a video no one’s seen before. Someone saved the originals, where Bonnet’s face is clear.”

“Really?” Claire’s spirits lift and she leans over to kiss Jamie’s mouth. “That’s wonderful! I’m glad Frank came through.”

“Aye, some enterprising soul sent the videos to a centralized data company for storage. It’s the proof we need to clear my name.” Jamie holds her, burying his face in her hair. “Everything’s happening so fast. They dinna want Leoch to get wind of anything and stonewall.”

Claire wraps her arms around him, feeling his heart pound beneath her ear. She can feel the momentum, everything snowballing and she doesn’t know where this will end, but is glad she will be with Jamie, supporting him, no matter what happens. She thinks of the pearls he gave her, now carefully stored in the bag and placed with her other meager jewelry. She’d had some bits and bobs that had belonged to her mother, but this is different, special, sacred.

With another quick kiss, she leaves Jamie at the flat as she heads to work at the hospital. She is intercepted mid-morning by Geillis, and they both go have a quick coffee break in the cafeteria. Claire is aware of just how much she owes her gutsy friend, and knows it is a debt that can never be repaid.

“So, did ye hear? Abernathy called a big staff meeting when the shift ends.”

“Is something wrong?” Claire sips her coffee, almost wincing at the industrial taste of it.

“No’ that I know. He didna seem upset or anything.” Geillis stirs yet another pack of raw sugar into her cup. “How’s things at… home?”

Claire smiles. “Better. Much better.” Geillis perceives she can’t go into detail but is reassured by the expression on her face. “It might… things are looking up, G. I think we’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur, and before Claire realizes, her shift is over. She congregates with the rest of her colleagues and nursing staff in the doctor’s lounge; there is a low-grade buzz of murmurs until Joe Abernathy, the chief, steps forward and asks for silence. Claire likes him very much – American, a sassenach like herself.

“As you all know, we’ve been trying to get funding for new equipment for A&E, new beds, MRI machine, you name it. Well, it seems our prayers have been answered!” He flashes a big smile and the staff chuckles, intrigued. “There’ll be a fundraiser in two-weeks’ time, with all the big Scottish firms sending reps to meet you all, and assess the hospital’s needs. It means a party, good food, booze, the works. And we’re all invited!”

The buzz grew into excited chatter; it wasn’t often that they could enjoy themselves like that. Voices press Joe for more details, and he produces a stack of invitations, handing them out like candy. Claire smiles, wondering if she’ll be on call that weekend, and her colleagues begin to bargain amongst each other, trading favors and shifts for the chance to attend. She thinks of Jamie and wishes they were able to go together, like a real couple.

She’s so absorbed by her thoughts that she returns to Earth only as Geillis presses the square piece of cardstock into her hand, gripping her shoulder enough to hurt.

“Ow, Edgars, what the hell—”

“Read it,” Geillis hisses, eyes wide.

Claire glances down and her blood runs cold. Faint splotches of black dance at the periphery of her vision.

The fundraiser is sponsored by Leoch Holdings.

X-x-X

“Fuck. Fuck, Claire!”

Jamie runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on it with such force Claire’s afraid he’ll rip it from the roots. He paces the length of the flat, his long legs eating up the space in three strides, back and forth.

“We knew they knew. What changes? Couldn’t they have gotten to me at the bloody hospital already? How is this different—”

“Christ, Sassenach, dinna even say that!” Jamie rushes to her side, kneeling beside her as she sits in a kitchen chair, the invitation on the table. “Please, I dinna ken what this means except that they’re targeting you somehow…” The wild look is back in his eyes.

“Even the MacKenzie can’t get away with murder in plain sight of all the hospital staff, Jamie. I think it’s a way for them to manipulate the management or myself, of course, but why not just have me fired?” Claire reasons, stroking the bedhead of red curls.

“Ye are not thinking of going.” Jamie stares at her, panic rising in his wame. The mere thought of Dougal being even fifty feet from Claire is unbearable.

“Of course I’m going. It’s best to play their game. They cannot suspect anything out of the ordinary, especially when we’re so close to the end!” She presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I have no real reason not to go.”

Jamie grips her hand tightly, rising from the floor and lifting Claire from her seat. “We’ll keep our heads down until then. Dougal wants me back in the office. I dinna think, love… our living together is prudent right now.”

“But your hand—”

“I’ll manage. Laoghaire’s in America, and shit is sure to hit the fan when the MacKenzie find out she’s gone. I willna risk ye further, Claire. And if ye’ll go to the fundraiser, I’ll be there.”

“How?” Claire’s arms go around him, head resting on Jamie’s sternum and hearing the steady thump of his heart.

“Dinna mind how. I’ll manage as weel. But for now, give Geillis a ring, and I’ll help ye pack yer things, mo chridhe.” He kisses the top of her head and holds her tight, already longing for her body next to his (under his) at night in bed.

“I’ll miss ye, Sassenach, more than I can say.”

- - -

A/N: We’re back! Tendinitis is sorted, and I’ve been cleared by the doctor to carry on as usual. Thanks for your patience; Happy Holidays to all, and a better, brighter 2021. All my love! <3

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm16 #it's good to be back #happy holidays #merry everything #a better 2021

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years

Text

The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil... She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

#Anevka Sturmvoraus #Girl Genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Klaus Wulfenbach #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Othar Tryggvassen #Agatha Heterodyne #Otharnevka #GG OT3 #Phoenix Posts

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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 4 years

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Prompt: Reunion Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: None Summary: It’s been a truly long winter. They haven’t seen each other in more than four moths. But all the sweeter the reunion.

[This was supposed to be a sugar prompt but then something went horribly wrong.]

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Crossposted on ao3 here

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The city is still covered with a blanket of snow when Geralt rides into Oxenfurt.

It's still an hour or two before nightfall, the sky painted with reds and golds of sunset and the Academy is quiet, all the students still in their classrooms. Geralt can only hope that Jaskier doesn't have any evening lectures to give tonight.

He dismounts from the saddle and hands Roach's reins to a stableboy that knows him well enough to know that it's been a long journey and the mare needs the best care she can get. Geralt is not worried about her, she's in good hands.

He makes his way through the little garden - Jaskier's favourite place in the Academy, unbeaten even by the library - and into the accommodation block, where he takes the stairs all the way up, to the lecturer's rooms floor. Jaskier's room is in the west wing, third to last.

They haven't seen each other in more than four months and if Geralt could, he'd be shaking with anticipation.

When he knocks, there's a rustle of papers from behind the door and Jaskier's voice that asks to just give him a second. The sound of his voice stirs something in the witcher's chest.

"Apologies, I've just been-" Jaskier mutters, opening the door but his words die mid-sentence. "Oh, gods-"

He freezes for a second, eyes wide with surprise and so impossibly blue, and then he's already pulling the witcher closer by one of the belts of his armour and kissing him, hot and eager, tearing a choked moan out of Geralt's chest when he runs his tongue over his lips, parting them, and licks into his mouth.

They're still in the hallway, where anyone can see them, and though Geralt doubts that that would cause any real problems, seeing that Jaskier is no longer a student in the Academy, he still steps even closer, until they're chest to chest, and presses the bard closer to himself, one hand tangled up in his hair and the other one resting on the small of his back. He doesn't have to say anything for Jaskier to take a step back, leading them both into his room without ever breaking the kiss.

Once they're inside and the door closes behind them, Geralt pushes him up against the wall, drinking in the moan that escapes the younger man's lips when his shoulders hid the wooden panels, no pain in that sound, only pleasure.

"Geralt-" he breathes into the witcher's lips, leaning into the witcher's touch with his entire body, eyes shining so bright that it almost hurts.

"I'm here," Geralt whispers, kissing him again, hard and passionate, cupping his cheek with his hand. "I'm here, Jask. I'm back."

"You're back," Jaskier echoes, right into his lips. "I've missed you so much-"

Again, something it Geralt's chest stirs, both painful and pleasant, and he exhales sharply, finding his way to Jaskier's neck, hands blindly searching for the ties of his shirt. It's been so long, so fucking long, and he can't wait any longer, can't control himself, the need to touch, to kiss, to feel burning through his veins like the strongest of elixirs.

"Never spending a winter without you again," Jaskier whispers, undoing the buckles of Geralt's armour with quick, deft fingers. "Never again, do you hear me?"

"Never again," Geralt echoes, pressing their hips together to catch the bard's shaky sigh with his mouth. "If next year you're teaching on winter term again, I'll stay with you here, in Oxenfurt."

Jaskier smiles against his lips, letting go of the witcher for only a second, allowing him to put his swords down.

"You'll stay here?" he asks, the smile never leaving his lips. "In this very room, Witcher? Oh, that would be incredible."

Just as always, he's unable to keep quiet, talking in-between the kisses that he keeps leaving on Geralt's lips, and the witcher would never admit just how much he misses that every time they part.

"Imagine us here, Geralt-" Jaskier whispers, his lips brushing over Geralt's as he undoes the last buckle of his armour which Geralt immediately gets rid off, allowing for it to fall to their feet. "I usually have lectures in the morning. We'd wake up here together, stay in bed for just a little longer than we should- You realise you can't leave any visible marks on me while I teach, don't you?"

As a response, Geralt just grins and bites a mark into Jaskier's neck, right under the sharp of his jaw, where he can't hide it.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and moans, throwing his head back, before shoving the witcher in the shoulder with no real force.

"Fuck, Geralt," he groans, pressing a palm over the love-bite. "How am I going to explain this?"

The complicated laces of his shirt finally give way, and Geralt immediately tugs it off the bard, tossing it somewhere towards one of the armchairs and pulling Jaskier even closer, pressing his chest against his own to feel his laboured breathing, his quickened heartbeat.

"Is anyone going to ask?" he rumbles, low and breathy, dipping his head to run a line of kisses over Jaskier's collarbone before sinking his teeth into it, unable to help himself.

Without even realising, Jaskier snaps his hips forward, a loud, breathless moan escaping his lips. Geralt's sharp teeth have always been a weakness of his, and though the bites would sometimes be a little too hard, would sometimes make him bleed, there weren't too many things that he loved more.

"It's not about anyone asking-" he says, both hands now tangled in the witcher's silver hair. "I'm an authority to those students, Geralt, and I-"

"And you're mine," Geralt growls, cutting him short.

It's incredibly hard to argue with that.

Jaskier's never really forbidden his lovers the pleasure of leaving marks on him, he loved wearing those but being marked and claimed and owned by Geralt was so, so much better.

So he doesn't say a word about it anymore, knowing that his image will not suffer in the slightest, but might, in fact, get even better once one or two students see Geralt in the halls and come to certain conclusions. It's not like any of them don't know they've been together for years now, seeing that they know all of Jaskier's songs and stories by heart.

"Come here," Jaskier whispers, stepping away from the wall and guiding Geralt towards the bed, gasping when the back of his knees hit it a little too soon and he falls on his back, the witcher immediately crawling on top of him.

There's still too many layers of fabric separating them, and Geralt just cannot have that, so he reaches for the hem of his shirt to pull it off but before he can do that, Jaskier takes his hand away and switches it for his own, never the one to deny himself the pleasure of undressing his witcher.

Once Geralt's shirt falls to the floor, Jaskier's hands immediately find their way to his broad chest and shoulders, caressing and scratching in a way that makes the witcher tremble with anticipation, with just how much he'd missed this.

He moans breathlessly when the bard catches his medallion in hand and pulls him into a kiss by it, wrapping his slender legs around Geralt's waist and pulling him closer, gasping into the kiss when their hips press together.

"Talk to me," he pleads, arching his back when Geralt breaks the kiss and focuses all his attention on Jaskier's neck, leaving bruising kisses everywhere he can reach, sharp teeth grazing the delicate skin. "Please, Geralt, I've missed the sound of your voice so much."

Geralt's never been to much a talker, especially in bed, but he knows a trick or two and he also knows that Jaskier absolutely loved it. And anything Jaskier ever wanted, Geralt gave.

"You want to hear me, do you?" he asks, low and rumbling, almost a growl that sends a shiver down Jaskier's spine. "What do you want me to tell you? Do you know how bad I've missed you during the winter in the keep? About the way I thought of you every single night, tying in our bed, thinking that I can still feel your scent on the pillows? Or about all the dirty little fantasies I've come up with on the especially cold night, imagining that my hands are yours?"

"Fuck," Jaskier shiffles, amlost sobs. "All of that."

He lets go of Geralt's shoulders and slides his hands down his chest and abdomen, until the reaches the waist of his trousers, undoing the buttons as fast as he can and cursing under his breath when the last one slips from his fingers twice in a row.

Geralt never breaks away from his neck, kissing and biting only to lick over the marks a second later, complying with the bard's wish to hear him and whispering hot, intoxicating words against his delicate skin but his voice breaks off into a moan when Jaskier finally deals with the buttons and slips his hand underneath, wrapping his fingers around his cock.

"Gods-" Jaskier breathes, his other hand coming up to cup the sharp of the witcher's jaw and lock eyes with him as he strokes him slowly over the entire length. "Every time we part, I almost forget just how big you are."

It only takes Geralt a couple of seconds to push his trousers off completely, kicking them off the bed and paying absolutely no mind to where it is that they'll end up, and find his way back to Jaskier, undoing the laces of his breeches and kissing long, messy lines down his chest and abdomen.

Aside from the neck, Jaskier's skin is completely free of any sort of marks and oh, there's nothing Geralt loves more than that, knowing that he's got full freedom to change that.

He doesn't wait even for a second, dipping his head down and pressing his lips to the inner side of Jaskier's thigh before pushing his knee into the bed to keep him in place and sucking a blood-red mark into the delicate skin, making the bard arch his back and clasp a hand over his mouth to silence a sharp cry, equal parts pain and pleasure.

His cock is flush and hard, curving up towards his stomach in a way that sends a sweet spasm through Geralt's lower abdomen, and he just can't fucking help himself but wrap his lips around the tip, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure.

Jaskier immediately gets his hands into his hair, not controlling but guiding and rolls his hips, breathing out the sweetest of moans.

Geralt takes that as an encouragement, opening his mouth just a little wider to allow Jaskier to roll his hips again, taking his cock in deeper, following every vein with his tongue and slowly moving back up until he lets it out of his mouth almost completely only to repeat the very same thing again. And then again, just a little faster and a little deeper.

And again, until he takes in the entire length, feeling the head somewhere deep in his throat.

"You've never told me, where you, ah-" Jaskier tries, breaking off into a moan and clenching his hands tighter. "You've never told me, where you've learned to do that."

Geralt pays no attention to his words for a little while, but then breaks away, just as slow as before, and grins at him, spit and precome glistening on his lips and chin.

"Had a few teachers here and there," he murmurs, dipping his head to run his tongue over the entire length of the bard's cock without breaking the eye contact.

Before he can say anything else, Jaskier tugs on his hair - just a little harder than necessary - and pulls his up to his lips, into a hot, raw kiss, sharing his own taste with the witcher.

"Give those teachers my compliments if you ever run into them again," he whispers, low and husky, pushing himself off the bed to flip them both over and straddle Geralt's hips, leaning down kiss him again. "Though it would've been fun to teach you myself."

He rolls his hips over Geralt's biting his lip when the witcher's cock slips against the crease of his thighs, and rocks against it, making Geralt roll his eyes with pleasure, silver hair thrown over the pillows like a halo.

"You know, Witcher," Jaskier whispers, adjusting the angle just a little so that his own cock could grind against Geralt's abdomen with every move. "I knew you're going to come back around this time - seeing what you've told me in the letter you've sent me when you were just leaving Kaedwen - and for this last week... I've kept myself prepared."

Geralt's mind is fuzzy with desire and pleasure, and it takes him a second to find a meaning for Jaskier's words but before he can come to any real conclusions, the bard already reaches for the vial of oil on his nightstand and uncorks it. He dips some of it into his hand and runs it over the length of the witcher's cock, making Geralt's breath catch.

"Jask-" he breathes, catching the bard's wrist to ground him, make him look at him. "Jask, are you sure?"

Jaskier's eyes are dark with lust but behind all that darkness, there's still the familiar cornflower-blue and his smile is as gentle as ever when he leans down to brush his lips over Geralt's.

"I am," he says, guiding Geralt's hand between his legs and rolling his hips towards the touch in an inviting gesture. "See for yourself."

Geralt doesn't question him, just runs the tips of his fingers over the length of his cock to slick them with precome and pushes two of them against the bard's hole only to feel them slip inside with almost no resistance.

Jaskier moans breathlessly and rocks onto them, prepared but still so wonderfully tight, and as Geralt pushes his fingers in up to the knuckles, Jaskier's cock twitches, leaking with precome.

"No-" he sniffles, digging his nails into Geralt's shoulder and biting his lips. "No, not like this- I want to come with you inside me and I'm already so fucking close-"

Geralt doesn't need any other words, any other encouragements, just nods, nearly shaking with anticipation, and slips his fingers out, both his hands coming to rest on Jaskier's thighs, calming and guiding him.

They're both breathless, and for a second, Geralt seems to suffocate completely when Jaskier lines up and slowly sink down onto his cock, mouth falling open in a silent moan. He's hot and tight and absolutely fucking perfect when he takes in the entire length and stops, trembling. It takes Geralt everything he's got to allow him the time he needs, knowing that though he's prepared, he's not prepared enough.

"Talk to me," Jaskier pleads, again, his voice no more than a broken whimper. "Please, Geralt, I just need- I just need your voice, please-"

Geralt can smell his own blood where Jaskier's nails are digging into his chest, and throws his head back, forcing himself to take in a deep breath and get a hold on his self-control.

"Come here," he beckons, pulling Jaskier closer, until he can kiss him again, slow and calming, one hand resting on his hip, guiding him in his slow movements, and the other one tangled up in his hair. "I could barely sleep yesterday, thinking about what it's going to feel like to come back to you. I kept picturing your eyes, your lips, your hands. Kept thinking about how it's going to feel to kiss you, hold you in my arms again, how it's going to feel to be inside you."

Jaskier breathes a shaky moan into his lips, gasping when Geralt rocks his hips to meet him half-way.

"Thought of you," he echoes, nosing at the witchers neck in a way that shows Geralt just how overwhelmed, how desperate he is. "Every single time, lying in this very bed, stretching myself open, I thought of you. Of just how good it's going to feel when you're finally here and we won't have to hold back, won't have to think about that."

He's growing confident, rocking his hips at a slow but steady rhythm, Geralt meeting him half-way every time, and they both know that they don't need much. Not now, when it's been so long, when finally being together again makes every touch feel overpowering.

"I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow," Jaskier whispers, his every breath breaking off into a moan. "We can spend the entire day in bed, only you and me."

Every time he rocks his hips, the fire in Geralt's gut burns brighter, hotter, so much that it's almost painful, and he doesn't even think about what it is that he's whispering to the bard but Jaskier trembles in response and that's everything he needs to know he's giving him exactly what he wants.

He moves faster, deeper, tearing moans and whimpers out of Jaskier's chest, and though the bard can barely keep up with him, knees shaking with strain where they're digging into the soft fur of the blanket, his cock is leaking against Geralt's stomach and that's enough for the witcher to know just how close he is.

His hand slips from Jaskier's thigh and in-between his legs but the bard catches his wrist at the last second and takes his hand away to lace their fingers together and press it into the bed, holding onto the witcher so tightly that it hurts.

"No-" he sniffles, sinking his teeth into Geralt's shoulder when he snaps his hips just a little harder. "No, don't- I want to come just like this."

The bite sends a shockwave through Geralt's entire body and it wasn't for his desire to let Jaskier come first, that would've been enough for him.

"Come on, my love," he murmurs, tipping Jaskier's chin up to kiss him again, lick into his mouth. "For me."

Jaskier bites into Geralt's lips, digging his nails into the back of his hand hard enough to draw blood and sinks all the way down, coming in one- two- three thrusts, his moan breaking off into a whine.

The scent of his pleasure spikes up, filling Geralt's lungs from wall to wall and the way Jaskier clenches around him is enough to tip the witcher over the edge, as well. He spills deep inside the bard's body, both of them still moving, taking each other through it, and it's only when Jaskier's knees can no longer hold him that they stop, falling silent for a long moment, just breathing together.

"I love you so much, you know that, right?" Jaskier finally murmurs, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he slowly pulls himself away to lie next to Geralt, nosing at his neck when the witcher throws an arm around him to pull him into an embrace.

"Hmm," Geralt hums, sated and content, a soft rumble escaping his lips when Jaskier places a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Love you more, sunshine."

For some time, they stay just like that, basked in each other's warmth, until finally, Jaskier pulls away, stretching and arching his back in the most tempting of ways.

"So, Witcher," he murmurs, climbing right on top again, running his thin finger down Geralt's chest. "You were saying something about the fantasies you've come up with while you were away?"

#I swear this was supposed to be sweet and innocent but now I have this #but then again #I doubt anyone really minds #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt and jaskier #my writing #calton writes

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

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𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 namjoon x reader ~ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 18k

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

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

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

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

Kim Namjoon looks guilty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trawling through the entire Yankee Candle website.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The lifeguard drowned?”

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

“Jesus. All three had my candles there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y- what? I usually work here alone…”

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

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

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

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

“It’s been slow every morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your brows. “Today...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does it stand for then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice is lost. “Y/n?”

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

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

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

“Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's a Sunday."

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

"The what?"

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

"Hm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach turns when the line goes dead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. "Understood."

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

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

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

"Aye aye, Captain."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry?"

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

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

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

"A kennel?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would never," you promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cha isn’t here.

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

And you’d left Namjoon alone there.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n, where the fuck are you?”

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

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

“Got here? You went to the shop?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first thing you see is Namjoon.

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

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

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

Lighter fluid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cocks his head. “What?”

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

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

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

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

TWO MONTHS LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n? You got here fast!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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