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bymoonchild · 5 years

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Get You The Moon (M)

Pairing | Taehyung x Reader Genre | Fluff, smut, angst / College!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, football!AU, jock!Taehyung x student reporter!OC Warnings | Explicit language, sarcastic banter, dirty talk, blowjob, facefucking, eating out, cumplay, cum-dumpster, fingering, rough sex, slight dom!tae, spanking, degradation, unprotected sex, ass-pining, tae has the phattest ass and dick but wbk Summary | Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate. Word count | 19.6k

“What a surprise, you’re alive.”

It is exactly that fake enthusiasm and subtle mirthful nuance that’s too familiar to your liking that gives rise to the arch of your eyebrow. You don’t even need to look up at the owner of the voice to picture the shit-eating smirk that belongs to none other than your editor-in-chief-slash-best-friend, Min Yoongi. Such morbid greetings have been long established as an inside joke between the two of you due to the peculiar sense of humour that you two share.

This is just how he likes to start his mornings. Being the systematic person he is, he has his own morning routine in the newsroom. Regardless of the pile of work on his desk, he’ll first make a beeline for his first cup of coffee of the day, after which he will come sauntering your way to provoke you with his laundry list of snarky remarks – about work, being tired, being alive and dead, about how bureaucracy sucks, the negative sides of capitalism and what not. Well, you two share a deep-seated sense of misanthropy so albeit provocative, his laments are refreshing in the morning – a literal morning boost of positivity from negativity.

“Not for long buddy,” you shrug, looking up from your laptop and your eyes land on Yoongi, who looks just as dead.

“I barely slept last night – was busy rushing my essays. Essays, might I repeat. So it would be great if you don’t have much for me today, although I know you have a kink for torturing me.”

At this, the edges of his lips curl up and you instantly register the meaning behind the sinister smile: your impending doom.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do have something for my most talented and gung-ho reporter and best friend.”

“Kindly elaborate,” you smile back acrimoniously, squinting your eyes in distrust.

“It involves a profile feature of a popular varsity athlete.”

An involuntary groan escapes your lips almost instantly. Athletes are the worst people to interview.

“That’s not even the worst part yet. As we’re celebrating the 50th anniversary of our publication this year, we’ll be doing a special spread on honorary members of the school, including club presidents, captains and valedictorians. Oh, which reminds me – maybe I should feature myself for being the most overworked Editor-In-Chief because this publication is sucking my entire soul, but anyway, I digress.”

He brings up his mug to his lips. It’s only 10am, but you wonder how many cups he has had, eyeing the pallor of his face.

“I’ve already assigned the other reporters their respective targets for the lack of a better word, and left the toughest nut for you to crack,” he grins smugly and that’s when it hits you.

Clocking you square in the face.

“Yoongi, no you didn—”

“Yoongi, yes,” his smirk widens at your aghast expression, “A profile feature on Kim Taehyung, for my most talented and hardworking reporter.”

Kim Taehyung.

Your biggest nemesis.

The boy who lives to torment you.

Literally everyone in school and their mother (or their dog) knows him because 1) he’s quite a looker (he’s known for having a god damn symmetrical face and you’re honestly baffled and amazed at how people even took the time to check the degree of symmetry), 2) he’s the captain of the varsity football team (cue the huge hoo-ha about varsity captains), 3) he’s probably slept with everyone in school and their mother (okay, that’s an exaggeration, but he is a dumb fuckboy to the bone), and 4) he’s also the poster boy for the department of narcissistic and annoying fuckboys, star football player and all that jazz.

“What the fuck?”

You challenge the carefully hidden astonishment reflected in Yoongi’s eyes, disregarding how the other reporters in the newsroom have jumped in their seats at your abrupt outburst.

“You know I fucking hate him!”

Yoongi, per contra, does absolutely nothing to show the slightest of empathy, simply because he has none, and even finds the scowl on your face hilarious, “Which is exactly why you’re the perfect person for this story.”

“There must be someone else whom I can cover. Please, Yoongi – I really, really don’t want to take this up.”

“Listen,” he sighs, running his hand through his fingers and you know that signifies that his sigh is genuine, “As your friend, I’m really sorry that you’ve been assigned to this story, but there’s no one more suitable than you. No one does profiles as incredible as you. Look, you just need to follow him around for a week – observe how he is in class, what he does after class and how he performs on the field. I can promise that it won’t be that bad.”

You frown, “As my friend? Then… what about–”

You don’t miss the 180 change from his previous expression, the soft in his comforting smile replaced with a sneer that is all malign in a blink of an eye.

Panic starts to form a thick film in your throat.

Lowering his voice by two tones, he snarls, “As your Editor-In-Chief, I only have three words for you: suck it up. The journalism world is a dog-eat-dog world. You don’t and can’t choose your beats. What you can do is to go out there and come back with a story, or this newspaper is going to flop at your hands, along with your GPA.”

Such audacity.

You glare at him in disbelief, squinting your eyes at the sneer that’s still plastered on his face.

“As my friend,” you mimic, dragging each word, “Fuck you bitch.”

Sighing out loud with absolute disregard, you clench your fists to tamper down the vexation that threatens to escape your throat, “But for the sake of my GPA and this publication that is my precious baby, I’ll take this up. Very unwillingly though, I must add. But if he refuses to cooperate, he can suck my ass.”

“You have my seal of approval if you meant that literally.”

“Fuck off—”

“Anyways, you won’t need to worry about Tae. I contacted him just now – he’ll be expecting you at practice on Monday.”

You roll your eyes, “Tae? I can never understand how you two are close.”

He inches closer to taunt you further, “May I remind you that Tae and I literally grew up together in Daegu, so he’s like my little bro. Anyways, he also told me to tell you that he cannot wait to see you.”

Nose scrunched up in disgust, you groan out loud at the duality before you, before flipping your friend off and burying your head in your palms.

But as much as you hate to admit it, Yoongi’s right. You have to suck it up.

If doing this profile is the only way to save your GPA and the publication, to hell with your pride and Kim Taehyung. You’re going to do this story well and you’re going to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing – including Kim Taehyung and his fuckboy antics – is going to fuck that up.

Not in this economy.

Building up to Monday aka the Big Day as what Yoongi calls it, while you refer to it as the Day You Die), Yoongi has left you very specific instructions for the profile feature, expecting you to find some easy way out of this. He normally leaves you on your own, knowing that you’d always return with a solid piece that he won’t be able to find anything to nit-pick on. But for this task, he has ordered you to follow the boy around for a whole damn week and expects you to submit your voice recordings for accurate transcription.

Right from the get-go, you can already deem this profile to be the most stressful and frustrating piece in your entire journalism career. In other words, it’s a sham. A popularity stunt. A hoax. An opportunity to give Kim Taehyung even more clout and undeserving commendation than what the resident fuckboy deserves.

The day you finish your story will the best day of your life because you won’t ever need to interact with the said boy ever again.

To say that you hate him would be an understatement – sure, hate is a strong emotion, yadda yadda yadda, but the cacophony of arrogance and smugness that radiates off him makes your face scrunch up in disdain whenever he’s around. Though you would never allow him to have such power over you, he has tormented you countless of times with his shameless flirting whenever he has the chance to, and by simply existing and being his annoying, putrid self. You really don’t know why Taehyung has taken a liking to teasing you and pushing your buttons, ever since Yoongi introduced the two of you two years ago.

The sun is dripping down on the soccer field with delicacy, casting its golden light on the grass patch when Coach blows the whistle from the sidelines. Right in the heart of the field, Number 6 springs into action on the field, shouting commands at his teammates who listen to him intently.

Indeed, there are many other guys running all over the field, decked in the same jersey, but you could instantly recognise the outline of Taehyung’s ass, your eyes fixated on how the fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin. Much to your dismay, one of your thirsty friends had hooked up with Taehyung last Christmas and didn’t allow you to forget the details of his bomb dick game and the thickness of his ass, so it’s fair to say that you have a good gauge of how his ass looks like. Not that you take pride in that knowledge though.

A smug smirk plays on his lips when he scores another goal as he instinctively pumps his fist to the air. You observe how he proceeds to run around the field, high-fiving and patting his teammates to spur them on.

Being the captain of the precious varsity football team, Kim Taehyung naturally carries an aura of confidence, which easily moulds into palpable cockiness. He’s infuriatingly talented and thus, his big ego sadly, and he also doesn’t have much of a filter and says anything that comes to mind. You’ve come to a conclusion that his language is an unfortunate concatenation of sexual jokes, sarcastic taunts and indolent mischief.

As if having sensed your gaze, he cranes his neck in the midst of practice and shoots you a seemingly innocent grin when he spots you standing awkwardly at the sidelines, hugging your notebook like they’re a piece of armour shield. But you know that there is more to his smile than just innocence. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he grabs the hem of his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead and smirks in satisfaction when your face drops disgruntledly.

After calling for a five, he jogs up to you, his smile unwavering. Behind him, his teammates have all huddled together, pretending to drink up and talk amongst each other, but their eyes are all glued on the interaction between you and their captain.

“My my, look who we have here. Isn’t it my favourite girl cheering me on during practice?”

Taehyung’s awful voice pierces your eardrums, thick with honey and mixed with some other cloyingly sweet substances.

Your annoyance reaches its peak level as your eyes narrow to slits when he stops right in front of you.

You could leave right this instance. In fact, you very much want to, but your conscience is holding you back. While you’ve contemplated smoking your way for the profile one too many times, you know that Yoongi, being the smart shit he is, would be able to see through it (and also, Taehyung might just snitch on you) and the mere thought of a disappointed Yoongi just bites you.

“Look,” you spit, facing him properly for the first time, “I’m here against my own will because I have a story to write and that’s the only reason why I am even here. So I would very much appreciate it if you could quit acting like a jerk and let me do my job so I can leave ASAP.”

You’ve never been this up-close with Taehyung before, not when all you ever focus on around him is putting on your bitchiest expression, coming up with spiteful retorts, or pretending that you didn’t see him in the hallway which is actually impossible because he comes for you like a plague.

“Sssh, did you hear that?”

“Huh—”

“That’s the sound of you begging for my help.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Taehyung’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe it off his lips. Your glare seems to only spur it to grow wider, as if somehow your clear distaste for him is amusing to him.

“Going to fake a quote for me again?” He continues, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“If you continue pissing me off, I just might.”

For your previous article which involved having to interact with Taehyung, he had refused to answer your questions properly, spouting nonsense and idiotic pickup lines that served of no value to your article. You just needed a one-liner from the egotistical football captain, but all he did was obliterate your gossamer thin patience and last few braincells. Given his insistent reluctance to cooperate, you eventually made up a quote for him – something along the lines of “I don’t really think much about life – I just YOLO it because you know, YOLO” – and made sure that it reflected him badly.

The quote eventually became the unofficial quote of the year and it gives you so much satisfaction, knowing that it made a small dent on Taehyung’s reputation. On bad days, you’d think of the fake quote and laugh to yourself. Needless to say, he was enraged and even sent complaint emails to Yoongi for false reporting. Journalism ethics? You don’t know her.

“Oh yes, where were we?” He draws out each word with a smooth tone, unfazed, “We were talking about how I hold your fate in the palm of my hands, Princess.”

You hate that nickname he has for you. You don’t even remember when and how it started or what led to the nickname. Grunting out loud in abhorrence, you stop to contemplate kicking him in the shin and running away, but you lack the courage to carry out the former because if you’re to ever hurt the precious varsity captain, you can jolly well bid farewell to your collegiate life.

But before you can even take a step away, he stops you by blocking your passage with an even wider smirk. If he is fucking ecstatic at your rage, he’s determined on making sure that you’re well aware of it.

“Seriously, if you don’t want to do this, let me know right now so we don’t waste each other’s time.”

“Oh Y/N,” he calls out dramatically and you cringe at how your name rolls off his tongue, “I did promise Yoongi-hyung about that profile, but I didn’t promise him that I won’t make your life a living hell.”

If it’s possible for your eyeballs to roll out of the socket, you’re pretty sure it would have already happened by now because Kim Taehyung is impossible.

“Okay,” you exhale, gathering your thoughts, “Then I will, for the better of mankind, start this civilly. But let me just say that I’ll take the mantle of being the bigger person here, which isn’t hard because you’re technically not a person.”

“Of course, I’m more than just a person,” he laughs and a devilish smirk, way too familiar against your own will, tugs at his lips, “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

“Did I ask? Can we just get this over and done with so that I can stop being around your despicable presence, stat.”

“Now, that’s not the way to treat your interviewee. Also, Yoongi said you’ll be following me around for a week. You’ll be around my ‘despicable presence’,” he holds up his fingers in the air to quote, “For an entire week. You think up for it, babe?”

He waggles his eyebrows with a mischievous glint blazing in his eyes, enjoying the scowl on your face.

“Fuck off, Kim.”

His eyes light up when he realises that he’s hit a nerve.

“Every breath you draw in my presence annoys the heck of me,” you edge, words slowing down to a pace that’s normally used on children.

His large, almond eyes continue to regard you with keen interest.

“That’s funny. I thought that after all this while, you would be used to me scoring right into your goal.”

“Get your head out your ass.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know that I have a bomb ass. 10 out of 10 would tap.”

He laughs with an amused grin on his face, the same one he always has whenever he riles you up, finding entertainment in your fury. You hate his laughter. He’s always laughing, his smile huge and genuine and his out of this world personality knocking girls off-kilter. You hate it. Everything about it.

“What the fuck,” you spit scathingly, mouth agape in utter disbelief at the boy in front of you, or Satan himself wearing the flesh of a human.

You end up only asking two questions from your entire list of 15 questions, but it’s as though you’re stuck at square one because his answers are either half-assed or pure nonsense, and boy are you pissed.

“Hey, you’re alive.”

You look up from your misery and see the very cause of the said misery, standing at the door with an eyebrow raised. You don’t miss the extra sarcastic bite to his voice and the irritating smirk on his face, but you’d like to believe that he’s actually impressed by your unyielding resilience.

“Highly arguable. Mentally, no, but physically, yes I am. Not for long though,” you grunt, tone imbued in sarcasm because you are seriously done with this profile feature and you can’t wait for this torture to end.

Lifting your tumbler, you suck on the dregs of your coffee and groan louder at how it’s no longer hot. Lukewarm coffee is like torture to the tongue, much more than burning your tongue. You’re one of the annoying customers who would request for extra hot coffee, because you simply can, and you’re used to them faking a smile and then rolling their eyes when they’ve turned on their backs.

“I take it that something happened?”

“Oh nothing,” you shoot him a sarcastic grin, “Except for the fact that the bastard just toyed with me and wasted my Monday evening. If this is how it’s going to be, I say that we stop immediately.”

“Oh come on, it’s just the first day! I get that Tae can be playful and says a lot of stupid things, but he’s actually a really nice dude.”

“I just don’t like him,” you mumble and your voice trails off upon realising that you sound like a bratty preschool kid who can’t get along with the others.

Yoongi scoffs at your remark to correct you, “You don’t like anybody.”

“As if you’re not the most misanthropic person I know.”

“Wow, this ain’t about me,” Yoongi throws his hands up in the air in faux-defeat, “This is about you and Taehyung. Can you at least tell me why you hate his guts?”

The empty remark that brews on the tip of your tongue dies instantly and all you can lamely mutter is, “Over my dead body.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.”

“Wait, what? Did you embarrass yourself in front of him?” Yoongi urges with a confused frown, but your lips are still sealed.

“Something like that.”

“Would you be so kind as to elaborate on that?”

“Nope, continue suffering.”

He rolls his eyes in disbelief, before flipping you the bird.

The next two mornings, you find yourself dragging yourself across the campus and past the newsroom, just to show up at the football field. Upon your arrival, the entire team ditches their warmup session and falls into a collective silence, openly gawking at you and your every movement. The sudden change in the atmosphere elicits an uncomfortable shiver to crawl up your spine. Looks like your social anxiety is about to have a field day.

“Captain, you have a visitor!”

One of the boys hollers with a playful glint in his voice, breaking the silence. At that, some teammates instantly gather in their own circles to whisper to one another, while some discuss your presence without bothering to be discrete. Is this… a jock version of Mean Girls?

“Tae! Your girl is here again!” Another dude shouts and you turn around to shoot a glare at the owner of the voice, eyebrows furrowed.

“Call me his girl one more time and I’ll make sure your legs won’t make it to finals.”

“Damn, a feisty babe. Noice.”

Another guy comes up to you – Jungkook, you recognise him because he’s in one of your classes. His build towers over you, while he flashes you a small, shy smile and you can’t deny that he is pretty cute with his dimples and doe eyes, which makes him look like a little bunny, but all hope is irrevocably lost when he opens his mouth.

“Hey, I think I lost my number. Can I get yours?”

“Seriously?”

The earlier guy who calls you feisty butts in, “If Taehyung isn’t fucking you right, call me yeah? I’ll make you feel real goo—”

“Minjae, leave her alone.”

You hear a displeased grunt from behind you and turn around to an annoyed Taehyung. His grip on the football in his hand tightens, before he shoves it roughly at Minjae, throwing his teammate off completely.

“Guys, please leave Y/N alone. She’s here to interview me, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep it in your pants and have some decency or respect for yourself.”

The boys instantly mutter a sorry, the peculiar sharp undercurrent of their captain’s voice has them heaving themselves upright in alarm.

You turn your head slightly to look at Taehyung, who’s wearing a vexed frown on his face – well that’s a first for someone who is joking around and laughing. Seeing his strong side profile irks the fuck out of you because someone this attractive shouldn’t be such a big nuisance. What an unfortunate waste. Of course, you would rather be impaled than admit this.

“If you don’t go back to warmups, you’re getting another 5 more laps around the field!” He raises his voice to the entire team and they scramble back to their warmup positions like ants.

After making sure that the team is back on the grind, he spares you another look and leads you to an empty bench away from the warmup area.

“Pretty sure you could have handled it yourself, but you looked uncomfortable,” he smiles apologetically, resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“Well, if you didn’t make me wait, I wouldn’t have needed to go through that.”

“I was helping this freshman who needed extra help with his dribbling. It’s a one-on-one thing so we were in the clubroom.”

“Whatever, it’s cool.”

“Anyways… I got an earful from Yoongi-hyung this morning. He said that I was being too annoying yesterday, so yeah, sorry about that…” His voice trails off and for once, the smile playing on his lips is sheepish, instead of a cocky one.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry. And also for my teammates’ behaviour. Don’t know why they act like this every time they see a girl on the field.”

“D-Did you just apologise to me? Is everything okay, like you know, with your brain?”

“What?” He scoffs, but the smile on his face still remains, “I’m not an asshole. I will apologise if I crossed the line.”

“Kim, not to burst your bubble, but you’ve crossed the line with your annoying and rude ass self since the beginning of time.”

And there it is again. That little grin tugging softly at his lips as his eyes lock themselves on yours.

“Not going to lie, that’s part of my charm.”

You hastily ignore the stirrings of intrigue in your chest, deciding to stop with the chit-chat, “Yeah sure. Let’s just start with the interview. I’ve got a class in an hour.”

He extends an arm to gesture you to sit down on the bench, while he settles down beside you and leans back in an elegant slouch, one ankle crossed over a knee.

“So, let’s talk about the freshmen players this year. Anyone potential successors yet? Do you have a lot of one-on-one trainings?”

“Wow, we playing 20 questions now?”

“Kim,” you sigh loudly with every intention of making sure that he knows how done you are, “I’m literally here to interview you. If I don’t ask questions, then what’s the point.”

“I was just kidding!” He throws his head back with a chuckle, “All right, shoot me with your best shot.”

“Okay,” you clear your throat, “You’re called the dark horse of the school. How do you feel about that?

“Do you like horses?”

“What?”

“Bet you’ll like mine.”

You cup your face in your palm, as your heaving suspire lowers into an interminable groan, “Kim Taehyung. Before I—”

“Hmmm, so a dark horse…” he begins slowly, “I think it’s a respectable and fulfilling title. It’s when you amaze them with how unexpectedly good you are. It’s about really proving your competence to everyone who didn’t think highly of you before, so I’ll take it with pride and satisfaction.”

You nod your head as he speaks and when he finishes his sentence, you ask with a raised eyebrow, “Practiced that much?”

“Every day before I go to bed.”

“Clearly.”

“Well, I can show you first-hand.”

“You fucking wish.”

Thankfully, Taehyung gradually stops playing around and actually starts answering your questions properly without giving bullshit answers or making suggestive remarks.

At your last question about his legacy in school, he even elaborates without any prompters and you gratefully take everything down, nodding once in a while when he brings up a good point.

“Wow, you’re writing all these down while I’m talking? Can I see?”

You casually hand him your notebook and he gapes dramatically at the notes you’ve taken.

“These are just scribbles, but they’ll help with transcribing later on.”

“Wow I have to say, I’m impressed and also a little turned on right now.”

Rolling your eyes for the nth time in disbelief, you grunt, “Kim, you do know that you’re still being recorded, right?”

“Of course,” he smirks, raising instant flags for mischief etched across his lips, “Here’s a little note for Y/N who will listen to this when she gets home – I think she’s hot as fuck.”

“You’re shameless.”

Laughter bellows from his lungs, “That I am. I’m not going to deny it.”

Afterwards, he offers to take you for a tour around the clubroom, showing you the medals and trophies that the team has snagged over the years. As he elaborates on the trajectory of the varsity team, the noisy chatter of other students outside fades into background noise like timing in your ears.

He shows you a picture of the team taken from two years ago and your eyes nearly pop out at how small and out of place freshman Taehyung looks. He’s grinning widely at the camera, surrounded by his poker-faced burly seniors, painfully sticking out like a sore tongue, even more so with his scrawny build.

“You look way too happy in the picture that I actually have second-hand embarrassment,” you mutter, but Taehyung manages to catch it.

“Hey! I was an excited freshie and they didn’t tell me it was a formal picture.”

When you leave the clubroom that day, you take along with you new knowledge about Kim Taehyung. Firstly, you learn that he has only been playing football for two years, which comes off as a shock and almost a form of embarrassment when compared to the other guys with at least a decade of football experience, thus deserving the title of a dark horse. He’s always been more of an arts dude, but he got sucked into the sport when he and his best friend from high school Jimin walked past the football tryouts during orientation.

Secondly, either his cologne or shampoo has a fruity undertone and this is derived from the fact that he is suddenly standing so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath and see each glimmer of darkness that surfaces in his orbs, alongside the humming warmth radiating off of his body.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart starts slamming against your chest out of nowhere at the proximity. You’re not used to being so physically close to him and you try not to think about how his alluring scent has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Taehyung seems to know his effect on you because his lips start to spread into a wolfish grin, inching closer to you.

“Your fuckboy antics won’t work on me, Kim.”

Your voice doesn’t come off as strong as you wanted it to, but you hope that he doesn’t catch on.

“You sure about that, princess?” His breath fans out across your cheeks when he speaks, causing instant warmth to scatter over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh.

Irritation bubbles like a brook throughout your entire body.

It’s taking every single willpower of yours not to headbutt him in the face. You desperately want to, but because you’re obviously the bigger person here and you need to prevent yourself from being expelled from school, you could only jab your finger harshly at his chest.

“Try it on another chick, yeah?”

He uncoils from his slouch and rises to his full height, exuding a smug superiority.

“What if you’re the only one I want to try it on?” He teases, his voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

You shoot him a leer, accompanied with the imaginary daggers to his face, trying to ignore the steadfast flutter in your belly. By the anger that undulates from your pinched features, he knows he’s left you tongue-tied, and this only spurs his grin to widen, your clear distaste for him a pure entertainment and amusement to him.

“I hate you.”

You grit, but your voice comes out as a mere squeak. You feel like burying yourself from the weight of his longing gaze. Clearing your throat, you push the strange flutter that’s settling in your belly as you hoist your bag over your shoulder and speed-walk away from him, missing the way he smiles at your departing silhouette.

The shift in Taehyung’s demeanour on the field is beyond commendable, almost palpable to everyone who has their eyes on him. When he’s on the field, there is no fooling around, only the giving of his one hundred and one percent to the game.

Moving agilely with astounding precision, you observe how his sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his eyes sparkle with intensity.

All right. There is some truth that Taehyung looks kind of cool (do people still use that word to describe someone?) and charismatic like this, all serious and immersed in the game. You just wonder if he could be the same when answering your questions.

His brown mop of tousled locks is damp, parted haphazardly, while his jersey clings onto his frame, drenched with perspiration. His biceps strain against the fabric and the veins on his exposed forearms are given prominence when he grabs onto the ball with his fingers effortlessly. Taehyung’s not the buffest, but he is lean with just a nice amount of toned muscles.

When your eyes trail further south for an infinitesimal moment, his tight football pants accentuating the swell of his thighs and the curve of his ass on full display come into view.

Fuck. Your eyes divert back up to his face when you realise what you’ve been gawking at. As the sun hikes up in the sky, it casts a pretty golden glow on his profile, highlighting his sun-kissed skin. You push away the sensation of a small bud blooming in your chest when you meet his gaze, especially when he shoots you his signature boyish smile, a foil to your frown.

Well, looks like someone is happy to see you.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach when Taehyung approaches you without wiping that smile off his face.

“Good job for surviving two and a half days with me. You ready for today?”

“Replying yes or no literally won’t make a difference at all.”

Shrugging, you lift your tumbler to sip on your coffee before pulling a face.

“Fuck,” you curse quietly under your breath, unexpecting Taehyung to catch it but he does.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… My coffee isn’t hot anymore.”

“Oh—”

“I bought this tumbler not long ago and it’s supposed to be good at trapping heat, but it just sucks and it was kind of expensive? I’m so angry I need to get another one—”

You stop your rant abruptly when you realise that Taehyung’s been staring at you quietly. He even urges you to continue with a nod of his head.

“Sorry, I’m oversharing.”

It’s not your fault that you tend to get too passionate when talking about your distaste for lukewarm coffee. For something that’s your bloodline, it has to be the right temperature, or else.

“Is that your pet peeve?”

You nod, “You can’t judge me though, or I’ll punch you.”

“It’s cool. If your greatest nemesis is lukewarm coffee—”

“Wrong. My greatest nemesis is the boy who’s currently talking to me right now.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance, “I absolutely detest coffee, big ass pills that I can’t swallow, and bread crusts.”

“Wait,” you stare at him pointedly in a cursory silence. “You don’t like coffee?”

“Nah, never liked the bitter taste.”

“Okay…” You drag your word out, “But you can just add sugar? Not that I do, I like it bitter. But please elaborate on the big ass pills and bread crusts. For a big boy like you, I have to say that this is pretty amusing.”

Laughter rises in Taehyung’s lungs at the pure confusion on your face, “I can’t swallow pills. Used to always puke them out. I usually crush them and yes, I know it tastes even worse but really, how else can I take my medicine? And bread crusts? Incardinate of evil. I’m really picky when it comes to bread.”

You can’t help but laugh at his dramatic expression. You don’t think you’ve ever had a proper chat with Taehyung that didn’t include insults, remarks, or retorts of any kind.

“You’re one weird boy, Kim.”

The conversation carries on smoothly, tucking itself into every available space, and you’ve got to admit that not only is Taehyung not bad at holding a conversation, he’s also a decent listener and listens quietly when necessary. This really piques your curiosity – maybe Yoongi’s right about him, maybe there is indeed a decent side to him. You’re just not sure why Taehyung loves to push your buttons. It’s as if he wants you to give him the time of day.

From your periphery, you realise that Taehyung’s looking straight at you and you freeze at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs.

After mustering up some courage, you look up to meet his eyes to reciprocate his actions, but your gaze diverts to the ground when you realise that his eyes are piercing right into your soul, like they’re searching or yearning for something.

“Kim,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” he replies matter-of-factly, his intense gaze never leaving your face. You want to bury yourself alive when you feel a persistent heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink.

“And may I know why?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The right corner of his lips curls up into a smirk. He’s raising a challenge.

“Spit it out.”

“Do I say the truth or?”

“Not that bold after all, huh?”

“Well,” he opens his mouth again with a devious little gleam in his eyes, “I was thinking about kissing you.”

You don’t miss how he is openly gawking at your lips and your eyes instinctively rest on his as well, which are somewhere between the colour of peaches and cherries. You’re not sure of what washes over you, but your mouth takes the better of you. And for the first time, your words aren’t clogged in your throat.

“Do it then.”

You look at him through your lashes, dark and coy, eyebrow raised, testing the very limits of Taehyung’s restraint.

The erratic beating of his heart is in sync with yours, but it increases within a second when you notice his gaze fall back on your lips from your eyes. Suddenly, this sparks your curiosity and all you can think about is how good Taehyung’s would feel on yours.

“W-What?”

“Do it, Taehyun—”

Before you could even mutter his name, his lips are suddenly smashed against yours.

Goosebumps rise on your skin in its wake when his tongue grazes along the flesh of your lower lip, and you, suddenly so enthralled by the boy in front of you, part your mouth to meet him halfway.

You don’t know how long it has been. With his lips pressed against yours, you lose track of time, watch it fly away in the form of the licks on your mouth. Taehyung slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, cupping your face with his hands to bring you closer to him. His tongue brushes against the underside of yours and then he recedes slightly before tangling for dominance.

Your name leaves his swollen lips in a dulcet whisper, causing your heart to spike in your chest and your stomach to unravel and knot again. You press your palm over your chest to calm the injured patter of your heart against the depths of your stomach.

The way his eyelashes that are almost impossibly thick and dark flutter just a fraction with each breath, brushing slightly against your nose and you squirm at the intimacy of the moment.

When he finally parts away, you feel like you’ve been electrocuted. But your stomach drops again when a pretty blush blooms over Taehyung’s face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. His hands continue to rest on your shoulders, but his touch is so hot and tantalising that it makes you want to melt.

Taehyung has always called bullshit on all those romance novels that rave about how lips can taste as sweet as strawberries. But you taste like the strawberries from his grandparents’ farm – sweet and delectable.

When he licks his lips again, he shudders when his senses register the honey musk of you and the ghost of your afternoon coffee. He hates bitter coffee with a passion, but you taste so fucking sweet. Overly saccharine that he feels dizzy.

You don’t talk about the incident the previous night and you’re grateful that Taehyung doesn’t act any differently. It was most probably the adrenaline that took over you and also perhaps your curiosity because you’re a reporter and reporters are supposed to be nosey, curious and also dreaming about kissing the varsity soccer team’s captain. Yep, absolutely.

Your pride be damned. While it kills you to admit it, it’s common knowledge to everyone in the fucking school that Taehyung is just really nice to look at, be it when he dons his jersey, a button up or his colourful printed clothes. There is no doubting his ravishing features – his sharp nose, big almond eyes, long eyelashes, perky lips and the little moles that adorn his face.

Unbeknownst to you, you cross paths with Taehyung in a day more often than you think you do. Too often for your own good. Most of the time, you can hear him before he comes into view. His boisterous laughter that highlights a lilting charm to his low voice fills your ears like a plague. It is as though he has intended to haunt you with his loud presence. And though you’ve already made up your mind to avoid him unless it’s necessary to spare him a glance, it’s quite impossible. After all, you have one job – and that is to follow Taehyung for a week.

“Hey Princess!”

You could almost hear the sneer hidden in his coo and envision it with perfect clarity, that infuriating spark in his eye whenever he manages to rile you up. You don’t turn around, your feet bringing you further away from him, but eventually come to a halt when he jogs up to you, blocking your way of passage.

“Princess!”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And you still ignored me? I’m hurt.”

“What do you want?” You grunt loudly, having absolutely no qualms about showing your displeasure.

He slings his football bag over his right shoulder and smiles, “You know, you shouldn’t be mean to a person who just bought you coffee.”

“Wha—”

With a goofy smile pulling at his lips, he pushes a tumbler towards you that was initially hidden behind his back.

“You said you don’t like lukewarm coffee and a styrofoam cup wouldn’t keep it warm by the time I pass it to you, so I got you a tumbler… Besides, you said yours wasn’t good so I figured that I’ll just get you a new one.”

Warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink at his words. You try not to let the fact that he remembers get to you, but he fucking remembers.

You are a college student to the bone. Turning your back on coffee would be a sin. But coffee from Taehyung? In a tumbler that he purposely bought because he fucking remembers what you said?

“How—”

He beams, simpering at your speechless self. He thinks your shocked expression is adorable, doing nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of his chest.

“Did you, like, stalk me or something?”

“Pfft. Maybe?” He runs a hand through his hair with a lopsided smile, eyes filled with mirth.

“You’re so weird.”

Despite being surrounded by the steaming, teeming mass of students in the crowded hallway, the moment you two share is as private and as comforting as sitting on the sideline bench alone.

“Enjoy your coffee! This tumbler has very good reviews, I checked! So your coffee should be still hot. If not, text me and I’ll give them a bad review.”

“W-What? Tae—”

Before you could call out for him, he has already scrambled away and blended in with the crowd. You deadpan mentally when you realise that the entire hallway is gawking at you and the tumbler around your hand. But what’s more alarming is the strange tightness in your chest and the warm, tingling feeling coursing through your fingertips that you can’t get rid of.

You start learning random things about Taehyung beyond just football and general facts that everyone knows about him. It’s surreal how drastically your relationship with Taehyung has changed over the past few days. While snarky ripostes and greasy comments (from Taehyung, of course) are still exchanged, talking and listening to each other, or just being with each other, feels almost natural to you. But you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased.

The daily meetings bring the two of you into line: by tacit and unconscious consent, you two have begun to weave a space for each other in your lives, forming a joint narrative like a breeze in the boughs, hanging in the spaces in between the two of you.

He was telling you about how he likes comparing his cheeks to bread buns, and he likes to stuff his cheeks when he eats, and that his grandparents would get upset if he returns to his hometown with sunken cheeks. You don’t realise that you’ve been grinning this entire time listening to him ramble on about his cheeks, but your smile grows even wider at Taehyung’s lock screen when his phone lights up from a notification.

“Oh my god, is that a dog?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, a little too loudly and shoves his phone in your face, “Say hi to Yeontan! Isn’t he just adorable?”

Your heart jumps at his excited smile and the tinges of pure adoration dancing in his orbs.

“Aww, he looks like a little ball of fluff.”

“He is! But he can also be very grumpy. Like you.”

“Did you just compare me to a dog?” You fold your arms fold over your chest in faux-rage.

“Such audacity!” He raises his palm to his chest with a gasp, feigning indignation. “He’s not just a dog. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me ever since I saw him at the shelter.”

“Shelter?”

“Oh, I volunteer at a shelter for abandoned and stray pets every month. You know, Yeontan was actually abandoned by his previous owner and I don’t know, I just had to take him in? I would take all the animals at the shelter if I could, to be honest. Maybe next time. Anyways, let me show you more pictures! I have an album full of his pictures.”

“Dude…”

“Don’t be like that. I already have a Yeontan who gets super unenthusiastic whenever I show him pictures of other dogs. I think he’s jealous.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well.

“Well, Yeontannie sure is one lucky dog.”

“More like I am one lucky boy,” he beams, flashing his honey bread cheeks in all their glory.

There’s no denying the sweet quiet of Taehyung’s presence when he’s not making stupid remarks, and this is expounded by how time seems to forget about its own existence these few days. Before you know it, it’s already dark and you’re soon packing up to head back home.

“I’ll need you to go through some fact-checking with you tomorrow. You free around 6pm?”

“Shit, I think I have something on,” Taehyung pouts, fishing out his phone from his pocket, “Let me check.”

“Oh, then it’s fine—”

“Do you want me to cancel it?”

“No! No, it’s fine!”

“It’s okay, I can just postpone it—”

“That’ll mean that you’re cancelling for me.... and you know, you don’t have to.”

“It’s just dinner with Jimin. Fact-checking is important for your article, right?” He says quietly, while his eyes come slowly round and rivet themselves upon your face.

You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes, igniting a blaze deep in your bones and washing your senses away. All of a sudden, your throat feels constricted, breaths coming out short. You’re hyperaware of how close he is and to be honest, you feel like you’re standing in a room that’s on fire, too hot for the chilly evening which has a very high chance of rain.

Even if you continue to insist that you despise him, you can’t help but admit that somewhere deep down, something between the two of you is now different.

Exhaustion creeps up onto Taehyung, the pain in his arms manifested in his back as well, gradually sneaking into his legs until all his limbs are aching and stiff. Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth in frustration, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill.

On Friday, you’ve walked into the team huddled in a circle, frowns all over their faces, a congealing tension evident in the air. From the clamour, it seems that one of the boys have gotten injured during practice and the team was split into two on who to be held responsible and whether there was any foul play involved.

From the sidelines, you watch Taehyung order everyone to shush and makes everyone sit down for a deconflict session. He appears surprisingly calm and addresses the issue in a collected manner. Afterwards, he invites the team to share about how they feel, allowing the conflict to openly spoken about and viewed from different perspectives. He listens attentively, like he always does with you, and speaks clearly and practically, easing the tension in the air till their teammates start coming to a consensus.

When he sees you standing at the sidelines, he gives you a small smile that you easily see through and approaches you after making sure that his teammates are cool with one another and reminds them that whatever happens on the field stays in the field.

“So um,” you begin quietly, treading carefully around his feelings, “Are fights like that common?”

You already know the answer from looking at the size of the dark bags under his eyes. He is slowly breaking down, but still holding tightly onto the carefree façade that he puts on for show, for the team. It’s also mid-terms period and from the earlier interviews, you remember that he is on a scholarship that he cannot afford to lose because his parents are struggling to send his other siblings to school as well.

Contrary to popular belief, Taehyung isn’t an open book. He’s more of a sealed book, covered in dust and trapped in a forgotten corner of a bookstore. He has his own elusive way of dealing with ways, befriending people, treasuring the people and things around him, but he has also his own way of hiding his feelings. He hates the idea of being vulnerable with people.

He is a combination of hot and cold – sometimes you feel like he’s an old friend because of the emotional compatibility and his comfortable presence, but sometimes, he just goes back to being the cocky fuckboy he is. Maybe that’s just part of the jock persona – to deceive people into thinking that he’s more than that. But in all honesty, that’s not Taehyung and you wouldn’t compartmentalise him like that or homogenise him as just another fuckboy no matter how much you dislike him.

You think you’d know him quite well from having shadowed him the past week. It has come to your realisation that you’re no longer at each other’s throats and his annoying retorts have significantly decreased, but you’re not sure whether it’s because he’s just tired from everything to go out of his way to be annoying. But you don’t have any complaints.

He lets out a dry chuckle at your question, his words sounding sugar crystalised and rough in his throat, “Are you asking this as a friend or as a reporter?”

“We’re friends?”

“We–”

Some threads of a biting remark begin to sew themselves together in his mind, but he stops instantly, too tired to really fabricate anything, much less bother to speak.

“Taehyung,” you call out after drawing a furtive breath, “Don’t doubt yourself. You’re a great friend and captain.”

Your soft and sincere tone permeates through Taehyung’s every last prickle of frustration, especially when you offer him a reassuring smile, “What you did out there was one of the selfless acts I’ve ever seen in a leader. And this should mean something, you know, considering that it’s coming from me.”

“Of course I am, I’m actually nicer than I look.”

“I know you’re kidding, but I’m trying to be serious here and on the off chance you’re not, fuck off.”

He remains quiet.

“I’m serious though. It’s obviously not easy being the captain, but it’s clear that you have rightfully earned the respect from all your teammates. You handled it quite well without being biased or losing your cool.”

“I did?” His tone, deep in timbre, is so quietly surprised that it gnaws at your heart.

“Yeah.”

“Conflicts like that are a daily occurrence,” he mumbles, “But they can really break or make our teamwork and… the momentum for me as their captain, so I have to try? I have to be responsible for my guys.”

You watch how a cocky smirk instantly settles itself on his lips right after you think that he has opened up, “But I might be just great at forming relationships and team-bonding.”

“Judging from how you treat the girls around you, I don’t think that’s completely true.”

“Girls around me?”

“You’re a fuckboy. I don’t think it’s safe to say that your relationships with girls are great.”

“It’s just sex, no big deal.”

“And that gives you the right to play with their feelings?”

“Of course not, we just hook up that’s all. No hard feelings. It’s just sex with no strings attached and they all know it. Before I hook up with someone, I make it very clear that I’m not looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun.”

“Okay, but let’s say for example, a girl does end up falling for you. Is that solely her fault?”

He stops to think.

“For now, I just don’t wish to get involved in anything serious. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with feelings.”

You scrunch your nose up in distaste when Taehyung shrugs his shoulders casually, dismissing the conversation.

You’re not someone who is easily lost for words, always quick to retort with a witty comeback, especially when it’s with Taehyung. But this time, all you could mutter is an “I see”, before pretending to focus on writing on your notepad. For some reason, you feel like your heart just took a dip. The thought of him playing around with girls leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you can’t comprehend why. Since when did you care what Taehyung does with his life? You never did before.

Maybe it’s because at the back of your mind, you know that your said example might not exactly be one. Maybe.

Sunday arrives quicker than ever. In retrospect, you know this day would come – in fact, you’ve been waiting for this day ever since Yoongi assigned you the profile. But there’s just something – sort of a difference in the air surrounding you and Taehyung – that kneads at your heart about this coming to an end. Whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word when you take a sip from the tumbler that he gave you, but you’re pretty sure that the way his eyes instantly lit up with a smile to match says it all.

“Oh right! Have you eaten breakfast? I, um,” he coughs awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his hand with a nervous smile, “made some sandwiches this morning.”

He turns around to his sports bag and fishes out a lunchbox, “Strawberry cream sandwiches!”

“My grandparents own a strawberry farm, so I get all the best strawberries!” He beams, and his eyes turn into little sparkly crescents. At that, your heart skips in two, one half in your throat and the other down in your gut.

“Not to be biased, but these are the tastiest and sweetest strawberries ever. Oh! After Japanese strawberries, but don’t tell my grandparents. They’ll be sad.”

“Anyways, try it,” he hands you a sandwich and you take a moment to observe how it screams Kim Taehyung at his finest. He has trimmed the bread crusts (his nemesis) and added a shit ton of cream cheese.

Taehyung’s crescent-like eyes are now staring straight into you as he watches you bite into the sandwich, anticipating for your reaction. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting.

You smile at the sweet and sour taste and he literally jumps with joy, flashing his honeyed cheeks.

“It’s good, right?” He chirps, beckoning you to eat more and you ignore how Taehyung’s cheeks are fully stuffed and how he chews with a natural pout on his lips.

For a moment, the world seems to be out of space and time as you sit on the bench, savouring the sweetness of everything. Taehyung is looking at you and the moment is lengthening. He becomes severely tongue-tied, no longer knowing what to say, but yearns for this moment to stay the way it is.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Talking about the weather now?” You ask in a bemused tone and he puffs, rolling his eyes playfully, but the growing tingle of pink on his cheeks doesn’t escape your notice.

“I-I mean... It’s nice.”

A softness settles into the lines of Taehyung’s face, and you can’t bring yourself to look away when his eyes land on yours, “It’s nice being here with you.”

And he means it. He generally feels good around you. He isn’t an anxious or socially awkward person, and he’s got tons of friends, but he still finds himself putting on a mask with most of them. A slightly louder, a more playful and enthusiastic version of himself. He almost always becomes the life of the party, the person who makes things easier and more comfortable for everyone else – breaking the silence, making jokes, drawing people out of their shells and easing them into conversations. He likes being that kind of person.

But it does get tiring, sometimes.

He likes being quiet, sometimes.

Sometimes, he just likes to curl up on the couch in his PJs and not feel like he has to be Funny! Loud! And gregarious! All at once. On some days, he just wants to laze around and watch anime till his eyes bleed. On some days, he just wants to be a normal college student without a team to manage and reputation to uphold.

You roll your eyes at his sudden confession, hoping that the warmth that sits high on your cheeks isn’t that obvious, but it probably is, from the way your heart ensnares at how Taehyung’s lips are stretched so widely across his face, his crescent eyes crinkling so adorably that you find yourself smiling too.

“You’re a loser,” you tease, shoving him lightly.

Then Taehyung is laughing, highlighting the undertones of oak and berries. He is laughing so hard that his stomach hurts and his chest aches with a drumming sound against his ribcage. Soon, laughter pokes its way across your glassy eyes, with tinges of amusement waltzing in your orbs, and pink cheeks and you’re doubling over him, with tears in your eyes and nose all scrunched up. Taehyung is holding onto you and the moment is lovely, everything is lovely.

You’re lovely.

Taehyung raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you and chuckles again when you jump slightly.

“Gotta say that I’d miss having you around. You and your pesky presence. Can’t believe a week just went by just like that.”

“Rude,” you half-heartedly taunt, pushing his hand away, while a corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation.

“It was fun being your side hoe though. Do you know how many glares I’ve received by strangers, literally girls I’ve never seen before in my entire life, in the hallway? Imagine the power I have.”

“What side hoe?” He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, “You’re as good as my main.”

Your heart pulses erratically in your chest, cheeks flushed with a warmth that matches the one that blooms in your heart. The way he makes your heart soar terrifies the fuck out of you.

“Not sure if I should feel honoured.”

“You know, I actually don’t know how we ended up like this. You hated me for the longest time and now we’re sitting here.”

“I did hate you, all right.”

“You have such a personality.”

“That’s another way of calling me a bitch.”

“As in… vibrant, colourful, I don’t know how else to describe you. You’re rude and endearing at the same time – it’s weird.”

The most adorable of smiles form on his face as he lets out a wholehearted laugh, it makes your insides melt.

A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own, “And you’re still a huge pain in the ass.”

“Still a bomb ass that I’ll tap.”

Later in the day, you receive a text from Taehyung. It’s not the first time that he has texted you. But little did you know that he would be a freaking double texter.

[from annoying ass jock] [18:49] hey you [18:49] do you want to grab dinner [18:49] i am very hungry right now lol [18:49] i mean you’re probably hungry unless you’ve eaten? [18:49] take this as a goodbye dinner, celebratory dinner wtv [18:51] feel free to say no tho HAHAHAHA

[you] [18:53] stfu I wasn’t going to say no [18:53] clam down [18:54] i’m kinda craving for a good burger and cheese fries

The night passes by smoother and faster than expected. Maybe it’s because you don’t realise the possibility of it being a date. The way Taehyung has asked you for dinner seems rather impromptu, so you’ve completely eliminated the idea of it being a date.

On the other hand, Taehyung himself knows that this is a date. While you’re cutting into your burger, he is furiously chewing on his fries, struggling to believe that you had even taken up his absurd offer of eating dinner together. On a Friday evening. With him. Is it a sign of peace? Or even something more?

He offers to walk you back to your dorm after that, telling you that he needs to walk off his burger. When he walks side-by-side with you, you focus at how he is so tall, how his height literally hovers over you, doing nothing but darkening the pink high on your cheeks.

When he stops in his track abruptly, you have to tilt your head upwards to look at his face, and each passing streetlamp casts his already golden skin in an orange glow, throwing tiny suns in his eyes into orbit.

Tonight is a little different.

The way he’s looking at you is a little different.

He takes your palms into his and starts playing with your fingers, allowing the two of you to stew and bask in the quiet contentment of the night.

His other hand rests gingerly on your waist, before bringing you closer to him. Then you find his lips graze the shell of your ear and shudder at his warm breath on your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your body.

Your mind goes blank. All you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face, and how there are little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours. How he’s so gentle with you as if you’re a delicate piece of art.

How much you want him to kiss you.

Honestly, it takes you by surprise how much you actually want him to do just that, how much you’ve unconsciously thought about this so often that you can already imagine the ghost of his fingers down the cleft of your chin.

A fizzle of electricity runs down your spine when he brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to each finger, before he brushes over your knuckles to intertwine his fingers with yours.

He’s looking at you with as much certainty as you know that he’s going to sweep in and kiss you. You offer him a smile, and it is all the reassurance Taehyung needs before he leans in to press his lips against yours. Something akin to fireworks explodes inside you, colouring your insides and nerves with rainbow sparks. It makes you feel so alive.

The gentle brush of skin becomes static charge. He takes his time with you and kisses you like he’s always had the intention of doing so, like this isn't a spur of the moment catastrophe. Like he wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for the longest time.

You are abstrusely drawn to Taehyung. Like planets condemned by gravity to collide, you two have become yoked as one. It’s the headiness of his scent, the taste of his lips, his tongue that carefully darts over your bottom lip and seeks entrance. It’s the way he’s kissing you, so different, so soft and gentle, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place, compared to the first kiss.

Taehyung’s lips are soft like the cup of his hands around your face, but it is the settling of the repeated brush of his mouth against yours that makes you almost melt into the ground.

Nipping lightly at your lower lip, his lips curl up into a smirk when he hears a gasp escape from your mouth, your heart ricocheting in your chest.

It’s an amalgamation of teeth, hidden feelings and pure adoration that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you wanted and more. But even when your tongues tangle with one another, it is more sensual and romantic than hasty and lustful.

The night is upon you when he parts from you moments later, allowing you to catch the breaths that have escaped from your now swollen-red lips and come down from your highs. You’re staring at him with eyes laced with fondness, before he leans in to meet your forehead and chuckles to himself at how surreal everything is.

You shouldn’t be feeling so happy, so satisfied, but you feel like you’ve been moon-struck. God, you can’t even figure it out yourself. Not when you’re tucked into his broad sturdy chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head and hand resting gently around your waist. Listening to his heartbeat. Though you’re aware that he isn’t looking for anything serious, you want to believe that maybe, just maybe his heart is beating as thunderously as yours because he’s serious this time.

“Not about to feint surprise at how you’re still alive because I’m going to need that profile from you, but I have to ask. Did you not sleep last night?” You look up to see Yoongi raising his eyebrow at you with suspicion.

“Ah, the appearance of negation in a question – my cup of tea. Do I reply yes or no to your pervasive question?”

“Very snarky today, I see. You look like melted ice cream, topped with tasteless sprinkles.”

“And you look like a boiled dumpling.”

“Thanks.”

“I was up doing work last night.”

“You’ve already handed up all your submissions,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I know… I just… was,” you shoot Yoongi a pointed look, “thinking about stuff.”

The change in his expression lets you in that he knows exactly about what’s up, “Thinking about stuff, huh?”

“I’m just so—”

“Whipped for Kim Taehyung and I want to tap that ass. South Korea’s ass, yeah?”

“Disoriented. The word I was going for was disoriented, thank you very much. But also, what the fuck?”

“I said what I said.”

“I also said what I said. Don’t be gross.”

“Look,” Yoongi clears his throat, as if to brace himself for his forthcoming words, “I don’t really want to be involved in whatever feud or relationship you have – look how I didn’t overgeneralise because I’m generally confused. But one thing’s for sure. You clearly have feelings for him.”

“Yeah, of course I do. Anger, impatience and animosity.”

“You know what I mean,” he sighs in incredulity and gives you a look like he can look through your soul and tell that you’re lying through your teeth.

“What the fuck, dude? Kim Taehyung is just urgh. There is nothing good about that jock – all he knows is fucking around and getting onto my nerves. Seriously—"

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that? Don’t think I didn’t notice you smiling at your laptop while working on that profile? Or how you’re glued to your phone because he’s texting you or sending you memes?”

“What?” You blurt out in disbelief.

“Don’t fight me on that – you hate texting. I’m not blind, Y/N. He obviously ignited something in you.”

“What the fuck,” you snarl, “That’s disgusting. I don’t even know what’s so interesting about him, like why the heck are people so smitten by him. They must be blind or something. I swear that I’ve lost at least 10 years of my life from spending an entire week with him. Don’t know how I’m still alive.”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t fucking understand why people put him on a pedestal. He’s really your typical jock? Another egotistical fuckboy. An airhead with no personality. I don’t understand why people like him so much—"

“Um… Taehyung…”

“What?” You flare up impatiently, acrimonious at how Yoongi keeps interrupting your hate speech, totally missing the grimace on his face.

“Y/N, Taehyung… He’s behind you.”

You spin around and your heart drowns in your chest.

The sight of Taehyung’s face of reticence at the door punches you straight in the gut. He shakes his head with a forlorn smile that you can easily see through and turns on his heels, walking away quickly.

Without hesitation, you run after him, your chest tightening with a disconsolate, stifling feeling, as if you’ve just swallowed a hard lump of cloud.

“Tae! I can explain–”

He turns around, maintaining his distance from you, “Gee Y/N, I didn’t know you hated me that much. I thought… thought that after spending all this time with me, your feelings might have changed. But you still… you still hate me, don’t you?”

“Taehyung, listen – I didn’t mean it. I j-just–”

His brows crinkled together in a tight wedge, eyes pressed shut.

“You meant it.”

“I–”

Your tongue feels heavy, like it’s made of iron.

“You meant it,” he repeats, shoulders sunken low, crestfallen, and you swear, you see hurt in his eyes.

Your heart immediately falls with it, knowing that you’re the cause of his sadness. It feels like there’s a fist seizing your heart and squeezing it until it bursts and splatters all over the walls. When he walks away from you, the pain remains, unabated.

Only heaven and you yourself know how much you did not mean it.

When you wake up the next few mornings, it’s as if a shadow is lurking at the back of your mind.

There is a tirade running on loop in the back of your mind, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. But anger is merely a convenient emotion that easily covered up for sorrow. You are angry at yourself for hurting Taehyung.

You’d never say it, but in between glances, hazy mornings at the field and the exchange of witty ripostes, your feelings for Taehyung have changed, unbeknownst to the world. You have no idea when it happened. When the lines that so clearly distinguished you from Taehyung became so blurred. When he stopped being irritating, an obstacle, an enemy and became something else entirely.

You don’t exactly know when you started to thaw and let your guard down to let him in, but you know that you… like seeing Taehyung smile. And you also know that you want to be one of the reasons for his smile.

Despite the overwhelming amount of work you need to attend to, these few days, you spend a lot less time working on your assignments like you should be and a lot more daydreaming about twinkling eyes and a distinctive laughter from a boxy smile. It doesn’t go past your notice – how your heart goes all erratic when a particular football player is around, his sunshine smile radiating the darkest part of your mind and threatening to break your steely, collected demeanour into bits.

You have been so scared to let him in, so afraid to let yourself fully submerge in the comfort of his touches, in the calm that envelops you when Taehyung is beside you, listening to you ramble, or when he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

You tell yourself that you’d be fine. That life goes on. That Taehyung is just another almost and you can live without talking to him again like how your life was before this whole shit-show. But you remember the current that zaps you whenever he brushes his hand against yours, the ricocheting of your heart whenever you find him staring at you. You also think about the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes whenever he laughs and the music of his laughter that you’ve grown to adore. Little did you know, the warmth at the pit of your stomach has long built a house to reside in and it’s yearning for its owner to come home.

It hurts.

It hurts because Taehyung has the prettiest, purest and brightest of all souls. He views the world in a different light with all his little quirks. You adore his ardent love for classical jazz (he accidentally played his music out loud when you were with him and gave you a whole lecture on and you didn’t stop him for he spoke so animatedly with stars in his eyes), for strawberries and his family that he would have been a farmer with his grandparents if he didn’t attend college.

Because when he loves, he loves so fiercely, softly and dearly, like the first snow, like the fresh dew on a perfectly bloomed rose. Soon, the gentle heat of the morning will send him back to the clouds and the bloom will raise her head, calling to the summer bees. Taehyung flows like honey in your soul and makes you feel so whole, but vulnerable at the same time.

He’s a dream come true, a daydream, a part of the labyrinth where reveries rest. He’s just so wonderfully and ethereally endearing.

The ache in your chest throbs especially when you spot a cute dog on the way to the café downtown and whip out your phone to snap a picture to tell Taehyung that it’s one of Yeontan’s little friends. You almost hit the send button, but your thumb freezes into place when you remember.

Right.

He’s never going to talk to you again.

It also hurts extra bad when you’re glued to your laptop, fingers hacking away to finish up the feature article on the said boy, writing about the true Kim Taehyung that currently, only you know of. But he probably hates your face right now.

“Hey, you’re—”

“Yoongi, no. I’m not alive. I’ve never felt more dead before.”

“I was going to commend you for being here today after you know, yesterday’s incident.”

He grabs a chair and sits by you and a dreadful sigh escapes from your lips because you’re well-aware that Yoongi is going to make you talk. He isn’t the type to let you ignore your feelings, preferring in honest and open communication even if it pains you to talk about your feelings because you’re so emotionally constipated.

“How are you?”

Burying your face in your hands, you somehow manage to choke out the words lodged deep in your throat, “Feel like shit. I thought I hit rock bottom. But now it’s rock bottom, 50 feet of crap and then me.”

If Yoongi notices the tremble of your fingers, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.

“Tell me more.”

It’s not a question.

God, you hate it when he presses. Fuck journalists and their persistence of sticking their noses into other people’s business. You want to laugh at how ironic this is.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you laugh dryly and cringe at how fake it sounds.

You have your usual self-defensive answer rolling off the tip of your tongue, “I am just another dumb bitch who fell for him.”

“You know, if you’re going to continue being like this, I don’t really know how to help you.”

“I’m not kidding. I feel so dumb for liking him. In fact, one part of me is fucking furious that I’m so vulnerable right now. I hate feelings.”

“First of all, you’re not dumb for liking him. And second of all, human beings are vulnerable and all feelings, no matter how small or insignificant or cliché they are, are all valid. That’s how we grow.”

He continues sagely, “Look, whatever happened between you two is a mess. So you hated him last time, but you’ve developed feelings for him, and that’s all that should matter, no? Don’t refuse your feelings just because you know, you’re too ashamed or scared to acknowledge them.”

Your mouth opens and then snaps close. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything that has occurred.

“Does it matter if I acknowledge my feelings?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He told me that he isn’t looking for anything serious. Just meaningless sex and fun. I literally just played myself.”

“I don’t exactly know what Taehyung feels about this. But what I know is that they have their first game in a few days and he hasn’t been doing well. Coach has been going really hard on him. You should go talk to him, yeah?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper helplessly, “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

He puts his hand atop yours as a form of comfort and suddenly, everything seems okay. Even if it is just in that moment.

Before you clock out of the editorial room, Yoongi sends you back with your article to vet through before giving the green light to the designers. Scrolling all the way to the bottom of the document, you realise that Yoongi hasn’t fixed anything at all to the point that you wonder if he has accidentally sent the wrong version. Until you spot his message at the bottom in really tiny font because you know, Yoongi.

I said that you’re the only person who could cover this feature article and I wasn’t wrong. Well done. Hope you know that I’ll always have your back, alive or dead.

You decide to drop by football practice the next day. Lurking near the bleachers, you jump in horror when Jungkook spots you being suspicious. From the way his eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights upon the sight of you, you know that he’s aware of the recent happenings.

“Hey,” he offers you a small smile, but you could tell from the size of the dark bags under his eyes that he is shagged to the bone.

“Hi.”

“Y/N, right? You okay?”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because Cap is a mess?”

“Is he really?”

He laughs dryly, “Aren’t you here to confirm that?”

“Um—”

“Sorry, I just… the stress is getting to all of us. But especially to hyung. He’s being really grilled by Coach for the sudden dip in performance.”

“Right… I’m sorry… If I caused this. I just—”

Across the field, Coach’s whistle shrills through the air and you realise that it’s directed at Taehyung. From where you’re standing, his grunts are almost inaudible, but the sound of his voice still traverses the darkness of your mind.

“You know, this is the first thing hyung is being grilled by Coach. He’s always been Coach’s favourite, even right from the very start, so Coach doesn’t really know how to deal with him either. Hyung’s even worse than his freshman self. You know, hyung didn’t know shit about football when he first joined? It was a joke. He really worked his way up, even though all he wanted was just to play on the field.”

A sudden prick of guilt pinches at your chest.

“Hey Jungkook, could you do me a favour? Could you pass this to him? You can just leave it on top of his bag? I think he’ll know.”

When Taehyung hobbles into the locker room feeling like death after a vigorous grilling session, his legs almost collapse on the floor. But then he sees a lunch box atop his bag and runs towards it, huffing louder than usual, so hard that he feels like his lungs might collapse like his legs. And when he opens it, only to see a nicely packed strawberry sandwich with a little post-it note on top of it, he lets out a huge breath and for the first time in years after his grandmother’s passing, Taehyung cries.

Don’t tell your grandparents (sorry!) but these are Japanese strawberries. Good luck for Sat, Yeontannie and I believe in your galaxy 💜

A big commotion startles Taehyung from his mandatory quiet time that he sets aside before each game. He’ll put on his headphones and play his jazz playlist to meditate for at least a good 10 minutes, allowing both his muscles and mind to rest. But even his noise-cancelling headphones can do so much in blocking out his rambunctious and adrenaline-filled teammates.

“Captain! Your girlfriend’s here!”

“Captain!”

“Tae!”

“Wha—”

Before Taehyung could even remove his headphones to bark at his teammates for disturbing his peace, the door that swings open reveals his very confusion, rendering him utterly speechless.

He sees you standing there with an apprehensive expression, looking out of place as fuck, and if it’s possible, Taehyung can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically from here.

When your eyes land on Taehyung sitting across the room, the first thought that pops into your mind is that it feels like eons since you’ve last seen his face. It’s only been a few days, but you miss seeing him. You miss him so fucking badly.

He looks tired. There are dark circles painting his under-eyes and frown lines on his forehead and that doesn’t sit well with you, because there’s always either an annoying smirk or a bright smile plastered on his face.

For moments and moments, your eyes rest on the boy in front of you, drinking in his presence – the coruscating eyes and pretty lips behind his inspired, untiring voice.

“Hi,” he breathes with an indifferent expression, removing his headphones hastily before he stands up to close the gap between the two of you. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice.

“Hey,” you whisper back, lips quivering. There are many more words on the tip of your tongue, but the prevailing fear that catches in your throat freezes your lungs.

The boys have filed out of the locker room to give you two some privacy and now the world is basking in their awkward, ricocheting off the window in a quiet plea for noise. It is so quiet that if you focus more, you could hear the erratic thumping of your heart.

“How’s your article?” Taehyung asks and silence comes to splinter like a stone thrown at a wall, colliding with it and shattering like lightning bolts.

A frown settles itself on your temple at how he is trying to make everything seem all right. How the first thing he does is ask you about your article when you’re the one clearly at fault and he isn’t even showing signs of anger towards you. How could he be so selfless?

“It’s fine,” you mumble, “But I’m not here to…. I’m…”

Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for the rosy flesh on his mouth. At your touch, his entire body softens. It feels like there’s a cavernous hole in his aching heart.

“I’m sorry, Tae.”

Taehyung gives you a little nod, his way of saying it’s okay, before closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his long black lashes.

You kiss him with profound earnestness that had been missing during the first kiss, dusting kisses over every inch of his blushing features, until you’re breathless, dizzy with want. There’s this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from inside out. Your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Gosh, you’ve missed this so much.

Taehyung’s hands find your face, cradling your cheeks as if you’re the most delicate flower he has ever encountered, as if your petals would tear apart if he wasn’t gentle with you. He doesn’t look away from your eyes, searching your gaze silently. Now that you’re here, standing right in front of his very eyes, it makes everything all the more painful.

You move your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into another gentle kiss, falling onto him like moonlight on a window seat.

“Princess…” He calls for you, voice deep and huskier than you’d ever heard it, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine, “You know that I’m physically incapable of being angry or upset with you.”

The two of you move silently in each other's orbits, solitary planets in a lonely galaxy.

“I’m sorry for everything,” you whisper against his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, love. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

More words are lost on his tongue as he seizes the opportunity to drink in the sight of you, his eyes trace the outline of your visage, from the curve of your nose to the arch of your philtrum and down to the soft of your lips.

“Are we just going to stare at each other until the buzzer rings?” You joke.

“Can I? I haven’t looked at your face enough lately,” he laughs, “Missed your face. A lot.”

His eyelashes brush against his cheeks, following the stare of your eyes into deep brown irises. When he leans a fraction of a space closer, his bangs brush softly against your forehead.

“Taehyung…” You breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing away his bangs from his eyes, “Can I ask you something?”

“As a friend or a reporter?”

“Neither,” you reply, “I just wanted to know… Since when?”

“Since when?” He tilts his head.

“Since when did you start having feelings for me?”

He laughs like it’s an obvious question, tugging the fallen strand of your hair behind your ears. His expression is hard to decipher, it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but he is smiling so widely that it’s almost blinding.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. Remember when Yoongi-hyung introduced you to me and you were angry about something?”

“I’m always angry about something.”

“I thought you were interesting as fuck.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“Okay, but can you at least tell me why you hated me?”

“Fine. It’s because… Iwasjealousathowyou’regoodateverything.”

“W-What?”

“I was jealous… because you’re good at everything. Like without even trying. And I thought it was plain unfair, because people like me need to work so hard to do well, while there are people like you who are just… born talented.”

“I—”

“But after getting to know you, I realised that I’ve completely misunderstood you. You hide a lot of things about yourself, but you’re incredibly humble and hardworking even though you’re fucking annoying and cocky. And you’re so selfless, you offer help to your teammates when you notice them struggling. And you’re also so nice to everyone, you make them feel comfortable. Y-You kind of bring light to everyone around you. That’s just your charm, I guess.”

You reach out to hold his hand, but he beats you to it, taking your palm into his. He starts playing with your fingers, mapping every whorl of the ridges on your fingertips.

“Remember the day Yoongi introduced us to each other? It was also the day I failed my scholarship interview. I was up against you and there was only one slot left. You got it, so when you were teasing me for being grumpy, I kind of took my anger out on you. Felt like you were making fun of me.”

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, “I was smiling at you because I found you cute, dumbass. I kept pestering Yoongi-hyung to introduce me to you so when he finally, I was so nervous and didn’t know how to behave in front of you. I didn’t even know that I was up against you for the scholarship.”

When Yoongi first introduced you to Taehyung, he thought that you two would hit off long. But he didn’t take into account the fact that Taehyung and you are polar opposites – your petulance and Taehyung’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a stark juxtaposition. So when Taehyung opened his mouth and told Yoongi (right in front of you, bitch) that you looked like you were about to cry, his chin tilted up slightly, one eyebrow cocked, right after you found out that you failed your scholarship, so it was a straight-up no for Kim.

“Well, we’re both dumb.”

You look away in faux-annoyance, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. “Long story short: I’m mean and I don’t deserve you.”

He cups your face with a smile so bright that his nose scrunches up adorable, “What are you on about? We were made to complete the living hell of each other.”

This prompts another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks.

When you realise that time’s running out, you tip-toe to press another kiss on his cheek, “For good luck. Go out there and get the trophy for me, bitch.”

The smile you give is soft and pink-cheeked, but familiar in every kind of way and for the umpteenth time, Taehyung gets the fucking air truly knocked out of his lungs. He’s a goner.

“You know,” his eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his rosy lips, “I’ll get you the moon if you asked. But you deserve so much more than just the moon, Princess.”

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you have almost always wanted to kiss Kim Taehyung. From the very start. And if there’s one thing that you don’t, it’s that the same boy will almost always kiss you back until you’re drowning in honey.

After Taehyung receives the trophy and lifts it high in the air for everyone to see with his teammates cheering around him, the entire ordeal almost has you in tears and you run to him, pressing kisses and bites down necks and collarbones. The ministrations don’t stop even when the two of you waltz-dance and skip all the way to his apartment, never getting enough of each other’s touches.

Taehyung’s fingers knot in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand finding purchase on the curve of your waist and teeth digging into the swell of your lower lip. You let out a whine that only encourages Taehyung to press against you closer and kiss you harder, in such a primal way that has heat swirling in your belly and wetness to pool between your thighs.

Your fire to him is the most peerless of lights.

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like fireworks as he removes your shirt and openly soaks in the sight of your body, how your breasts are cupped by your lacey bra and how you’re blushing fervently.

“So pretty for me. All for me.”

You don’t miss the way he growls and licks his lips, eyes hooded as he stares at you like you’re a piece of meat that he can’t wait to devour. And his actions prove his ardent hunger when he grabs your chin and tilts it to the side, before attaching his lips greedily to the skin on your neck and licking a stripe over the flesh. He carries on nibbling on the sensitive part of your skin, sucking and biting in a way that is sure to leave you crying for more.

“Wow, and I thought you’d be tired after the game.”

He is already breathing heavily as he towers over you, biting back his moans, rocking his hips upwards for some needed friction.

“Can’t be tired when I’m just getting started with you.”

He pushes you onto the bed and comes crawling to hover over you within seconds as he connects his lips aggressively with your neck once more. While he continues to suck faint lilac bruises into your skin, you can’t help but jut your hips firmly against his, an instinctive reaction to feel more of him.

He groans loudly and this spurs you to give another experimental roll of your hips over his. This time he freezes and accidentally bites down on your neck a little harder than before which earns another sharp gasp from you, but this only douses the flames licking your abdomen. He leans back to apologise, but his words are lost at the tip of his tongue when you continue to grind against him shamelessly. His hands fall to your hips, nails digging firmly in place, and holds you down against his raging boner that now pokes at your inner thighs.

Thrashing in Taehyung’s grip, you sit up, hands finding the courage to explore the soft material of his shirt. Running your fingers over the buttons, you hastily tug it off him, lingering your fingers over his bare skin that you desperately want to kiss with your lips, lick with your tongue and mark with your teeth as yours.

You feel his hunger swallow you whole, his gaze leaving trails of fire as they run all over your body, electrifying you all over.

“Can I eat you out?” His voice is deep, much huskier than ever, and the timber of it sends shivers raking down your spine.

“God, why did you ever think that I would say no?”

In the briefest of moments, Taehyung tugs your shorts down with a grunt. Your eyes lock briefly, heat blooming like a stove burner, flaring up with that low flickering blue when you notice the pure, unadulterated lust in his concupiscent eyes. Fizzy warmth floods your belly, the knot of lust tightening within your abdomen.

His hands rub at your thighs, spreading them widely as he moves down the expanse of your body. There’s a raw power hidden in his hands and it’s tantalisingly arousing to feel those fingertips pressing into the meat of your thighs, wandering under you to squeeze at your ass.

Leaning in, he begins to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso, before trailing lower to your inner thighs and giving them a few kitten licks. You squirm underneath him at the intimacy, while an involuntary gasp leaves your lips at the sensation of his warm breath and lips dusting across your sensitive skin. The sudden stimulation leaves you aching for his lips to be somewhere else, somewhere where it’s throbbing to be touched, to be filled.

Taehyung seems to sense exactly what you want and the next thing you know, you’re falling back onto your elbows and his nose is pressed into the cotton of your underwear. He inhales deeply and groans, eyes cloudy with lust and pleasure, relishing the unbidden scent of your arousal.

Fucking hell.

The hot of his tongue starts teasing your bud through the sheer fabric, sucking through your underwear. Timidly, you lift your lips up, seeking for friction, but Taehyung doesn’t relent, pushing you back down.

“Gotta be patient, Princess.”

When he finally, like finally, removes your soaked underwear, he dips his head between your thighs and licks a long, languid strip along your folds. This elicits a loud keen from you, hips bucking but he winds his arms under your legs and over your hips to properly restrain you. He begins slowly again, lapping up your juices like a man starved, his satisfied whimpers sending vibrations straight to your clit.

“You smell so fucking good,” he continues on to wrap his plush lips around your clit, growling against your pussy and you feel it vibrate deep in your core, “But taste even fucking better.”

Ecstasy washes over you and you cry out, pleasure hot and sharp shooting through your veins to feed the tightening coil in your abdomen as you writhe in his iron grasp, fingers grasping for purchase at his hair.

“Can fucking eat you out all day, want to bet?”

His teeth scrape lightly against the nub when he speaks, and your back arches at the pleasure. He continues to slurp up whatever you offer him, before giving in to your unspoken request, trailing a finger up your folds and sliding it in.

You’ve always known that Taehyung has long, slender fingers – you’ve noticed how long and pretty they are when they’re wrapped around the football, when he waves to you and when he plays with your fingers. And perhaps, you’ve thought about him doing things to you with those fingers before, but now that he has his finger in you, you cannot emphasise how otherworldly it feels. Fucking delirious.

His long digit meets no resistance, instantly enveloped in the tight, slick heat of your core as he goes in knuckle-deep and adds another finger, and it makes you feel so full that you’re losing your mind. You scream even more when he fucks you deep with both his knuckles and the flat of his hot tongue, bringing the inklings of stars behind your eyes.

His fingers continue to pump into you in a quicker succession that has you trembling and keening. Your pussy gushes at his merciless, erratic flicks and pokes at your hot spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking them in your intoxicating sweetness. Shockwaves begin to tear through you and you’re coming too hard and too fast. But Taehyung doesn’t stop and continues to suck harder to help you ride out the pleasure, the squelch of his tongue lapping at your juices filling the entire room in their entirety.

“Please, Tae, please I’m c-close. Your fingers… Fuck. Feel so good. Fuck, fuck!”

You’re dripping, leaking even by now and when he detaches away from your clit to look at you, you can see your own juices glisten on his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. The throb in your core has never been more torturous.

He leans in to give your clit another chaste kiss and your hips buck up instantly into his face as he gathers the arousal onto his tongue, tasting the heavenly mix of your juices and his saliva.

“Does Princess want to taste how sweet she is? Princess likes my fingers, doesn’t she?” He purrs, coating your juices with his fingers and holding them up so you can see how they coruscate in the dim light.

Nodding hazily, you open your mouth and he doesn’t hesitate to slide three of his digits in and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin, enjoying your own taste and the weight and fit of his slender fingers in your mouth. Taehyung swallows in satisfaction and fervour at how dirty you look.

“Fuck, Y/N. Can’t wait to fuck you. Going to fuck you so good you can’t walk for days.”

A spark of a fire in the very core of your being, beginning to fizzle outward at his words.

Without warning, he pounces onto you, planting kisses on your jawline and down your neck again. When you crane your neck to give him more space, he takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a bruise begins to bloom.

“So fucking beautiful, God,” he croons, threading his fingers through your hair as he groans at how hot this is.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, looking up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust, “Want your fat cock in my fucking mouth. Please?”

Taehyung grunts loudly at your crude request, rolling his eyes in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. He wants your words, this exact memory, to be burned into the very cells of his brain.

“Yeah? Princess wants my dick?”

Pushing his sweats and underwear down with swift fingers, you watch how his dick slaps hard against his stomach. It is searing red at the tip, the head thicker than the shaft, begging to be touched.

You want to fucking sit on it, suck him till you’ve milked him of all his cum. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before, not when his long fingers are wrapped around his fat cock, giving it a couple of quick strokes. Fuck, his fingers can barely wrap around his dick and that itself makes you dizzy with arousal.

“Open wide, sweetie.”

You throw yourself in front of his thighs, mouth wide, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. You can’t help but moan out loud when Taehyung slaps the head of his dick against your cheek, spreading precum all over, and then on your tongue, before slowly feeding you his cock. Fuck, you feel so dirty.

Taehyung’s cock rests heavy on your tongue, throbbing in the wet heat of your mouth. You lick a long stripe with your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the very veins that have popped out.

He doesn’t believe that it’s happening. He can’t, not at how he has dreamt about this more times than he can count with both hands, and now it is actually fucking happening.

He grunts, “Dreamt about this so many times. You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off to this.”

“Jerked off to what?” You tease as your fingers wrap themselves around the base of Taehyung’s dick to keep it steady, massaging his balls every now and then, as you suck noisily around the tip. Running your tongue along the side of his shaft and then back up to swirl your tongue at his slit to lick at his precum, you rejoice in the almost pained whine he lets out.

“Jerked off to you on your knees, looking pretty as fuck, while sucking my fat cock,” he smirks, without blinking an eye at the announcement of his fantasy.

Shuddering at his words, you start to bob your head, taking a little more of him every time you go down until you’re choking and your eyes are watering.

“Fuck yeah, just like that. Does Princess want me to fuck her throat? Feel so full and good?”

A low groan rumbles from deep within his throat, bordering on animalistic, which sends tremors of desire to thrum through your veins.

Peering up through fluttering lashes at Taehyung with your plush lips stretched wide around him, you smile at his fucked-out expression and proceed to alternate licking between his balls and his hard shaft.

When you take his cock into your mouth again, you purr at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until he’s fucked himself to the hilt of your throat, your nose buried in the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel.

“Not so snarky anymore now with my cock in your mouth, huh?”

You don’t reply. The darkness in your eyes is enough to send a punch of heat straight into the pit of Taehyung’s gut and he can’t help but buck his hips forward, sliding right into the wet, hot vice of your throat, fucking right into your throat ruthlessly, leaving you a whimpering, writhing mess.

You don’t stop suckling with your lips, coating his length in saliva and then pull off with a little 'pop’, your hands still working at the base of Taehyung’s cock, fondling his balls.

“C-Cum,” your lips gleam in saliva and precum, “Please… Cum on my face.”

“Want me to come all over your face, doll? You’re so fucking dirty.”

Taehyung grips at his cock, stroking it a few times, before he taps his cock against your cheek again. His mind is sent in turmoil when you stick your tongue out and before he knows it, he’s ejaculating in thick spurts all over your face.

You look so fucking pretty with globs of white all over your chin and cheek and Taehyung shivers in ecstasy, a growl ready at the back of his throat, “Y-You really have no idea what you do to me.”

You lick off what he can, relishing in the taste of Taehyung as you swipe your thumb over your mouth to coat it with his cum and suck on it, while your other hand reaches behind to squeeze his ass.

“You weren’t kidding about your ass,” you whirl, slapping his ass and loving the way it jiggles.

“Yeah? It’s all yours, Princess.”

Taehyung traces the knobs on the base of your spine with his other hand, finding warm and soft skin. You let out another desperate sound against your lips, feeling a shock of electricity zip through your back down to your very core.

Arching your back, you throw your head back and Taehyung takes this opportunity and slips his tongue in the hot wet of your mouth and licks fervently at the four corners, rougher and needier this time round.

It’s as if all at once, something connects between you two. You find it impossible to breathe properly, hands fisted in Taehyung’s locks, dizzy and lightheaded and hot all over. Taehyung’s teeth scrape over your bottom lip. It’s almost impossible to pull away, but when you finally break apart, a strand of saliva connects your mouths together and it lands on your chest.

“Fuck, so dirty,” Taehyung’s eyes are golden, blown wide, and he smiles at you so dearly that it makes your chest gnaw. It’s the littlest of moments and softest of gasps that render you breathless. Every part of your body that Taehyung has touched feels like it’s on fire, but it’s the deep timber of his voice, almost a growl, that makes you feel like he’s melting.

“So wet for me.”

He yearns to memorize the map of your body, the trenches of the grooves on your lower back, the stars living in your eyes, the parts of your body that have you shuddering from the pleasure.

You can feel it, the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness and you let out a soft plea. Your stomach ties into a knot when he slaps his dick against your clit a few times, loving how his head is already soaked by your juices. When you search for his eyes, you see that his irises are long gone, blanketed with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Want you. Want you to fuck me with your fat cock, Tae.”

He has to bite his own flesh to suppress the feral moan threatening to drip from his swollen, red lips, “Fucking hell. Can’t believe you used to hate me. Now here you are, begging me to fuck you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel him enter you, his cock pushing against your walls and stretching you out so good. He eases his cock slowly until it fills you the brim, pushing against your hot walls until he can go no further.

“You’re so tight for me. Feels fucking good,” he breathes out with a hazy smile, and your eyes flutter closed.

He doesn’t move for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch and burn, before the wriggle of your hips urges him to move and he knows that he’s about to take you higher than ever. He lifts his lips to almost pull all the way out, the tip nestling an inch within your entrance, and without warning, slams back into your cunt, drawing a choked moan from the both of you as his length drags against your walls and hits a spot deep inside you.

Your back arches off the bed at the pleasure, a sharp cry leaving your lips.

“Fuck yeah, you like that princess? Going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck Taehyung. You feel so good.”

This only prompts him to repeat the movement a few more times, until he settles on pounding into you mercilessly with a precision that he flaunts on the field. He continues fucking into that same sensitive spot over and over again with no signs of slowing down, finally able to fulfil the primal, animalistic need and urge that has accumulated ever since the day he met you.

As his hips snap into yours, his palm remains gentle on your face, his tongue hot and assimilating your own so passionately and tenderly that it makes your heart melt. There’s just something so tangibly tender and sensual about the way he’s kissing you, while fucking you senseless, as if he wants you to know how much he wants this, how much he wants to give himself to you with each stroke.

How much love he has to devote to you.

“Faster, faster, don’t stop, Taehyung. Fuck.”

You can feel every drag of Taehyung’s thick cock inside you, his ridges sliding against your walls and hitting that little bundle of nerves inside you that has got you babbling nonsense and your eyes rolled all the way up.

Screwing your eyes closed, the sparks glow brighter, and your moans heighten in pitch, while you sink your teeth into the swollen flesh of your lower lip. Above you, Taehyung learns that your mouth is sinful from the way you’re repeating curses and cries like a mantra and from the way drool is dripping down your chin. It’s just how unbelievably rough he’s fucking you, rough enough that you’re convinced there will be bruises all over your body and he’s going to rip you apart. But maybe that’s what you want, maybe that’s exactly what Taehyung intends to do to you.

“Say please.”

He then sits up and leans back to rest on his calves, before he hikes your leg up to rest over his shoulder, effectively folding you into half, and pulls you towards him roughly to fuck into you harder. You keen loudly at the new angle, how he’s able to fuck into you so much deeper, hands clawing at the sheets and dragging long, red marks on his back.

“Please, Taehyung. Please, you fuck me so fucking good.”

He smirks at how helpless you are underneath him and frees his hand from your thigh, reaching to search for yours, intertwining them tightly.

Which each thrust, the both of you grow closer to your impending orgasms, excitement curling in your abdomen along with pleasure that shoots straight to your core as Taehyung continues to pummel into your welcoming heat, strong thighs trembling against the backs of yours.

His other hand rest on your hips as his fingers squeeze and caress your skin each time you curse and whimper his name lasciviously, blending in with the symphony of skin slapping against skin, of his balls and thighs smacking against your ass that stirs the silence.

“I’m on the pill. Cum inside me, please. Want your hot cum in me.”

“Princess wants to be my personal cum-dumpster, doesn’t she?”

Taehyung dips his head over your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking it lavishly as if the taste of you is suddenly too much to bear. You wail in pleasure, back arched all the way up, the grip on his hand tightening as your hips rise to meet the brutal thrusts of his hips, pleasure shooting white hot to join the heated desire in your core.

That’s all you need to lurch over the edge. The coil within your core suddenly snaps with the tension and then comes the onslaught of immense white-hot pleasure, curling and roaring like a beast in your stomach, the pressure between your legs immeasurably high. You clamp around him one last time, galaxies firing in the murky red of your eyelids as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You know Taehyung’s close too – now faster, more erratic, as he chases his release relentlessly. For a moment, all you can see is glorious light, blinding your vision until it consumes you whole and you’re shaking ferociously.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Taehyung comes hard with a harsh shudder and an animalistic growl from between his clenched teeth, thrumming at his warm seed inside you. He isn’t done with you yet though. When he pulls out, the emptying sensation of his cock being drawn out of your walls gives rise to another wail from you, but you forget all over it when he rubs the swollen tip of his dick against your clit in a circular movement, playing to its sensitivity and pushing in his cum inside you again. His personal cum-dumpster.

Taehyung kisses you once more just because he can, and then lets his eyes run over the girl in front of him and his mind goes blank because wow, that actually happened – and it certainly did, evident from the mussed hair, blown hazy pupils, lovebites all over flustered skin and the soft, dreamy smile belonging to a pair of swollen-red lips.

This, Taehyung registers despite the giddy turbulence in his mind, is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen. So unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly beautiful that he can feel something in his chest splinter.

There’s a passing second of staring at each other, your cheek deep in the pillow, his head lulled against the headboard.

Taehyung lets out a chuckle, airy and filled with a rasp of post-sleep that would never come. He moves slowly, creaking the mattress in droning successions as he slips his arm around your waist, dusting little kisses on your nose before bringing up your hand to his lips. You realise that he likes doing that.

He stares at you for a long while, thumb over the back of your hand in tandem with the flick of his eyes, back and forth, between yours.

Even in the dark, Taehyung’s lovely flush is brilliant, otherworldly effervescent.

“You know when you said those things to Yoongi, I knew you said it out of a fit, but I couldn’t help but be upset about it.”

“Tae—”

His lips quirk upward on the edges into something knowing, “Then I realised that this was the first time I was genuinely upset about someone’s opinion about me. I usually don’t care what people think of me. I mean I don’t live to impress them, so this made me realised that I actually care a lot about what you think about me. About how you feel about me, whether I’m just a dumb fuckboy to you or whether you see the real me.”

He presses another kiss to your knuckles and your entire body tingles with warmth, “Then it hit me. That you know, maybe I really, really do have feelings for you and I want you to like me too. Like for real. I know I said that I don’t have the time and energy to deal with feelings. But you… You drive me insane. I used to be cynical about being so vulnerable for someone, and it’s so scary how much you can yearn for someone’s attention and affection. It’s just crazy – the things you do to me.”

As his words spill into the spaces between you, you simmer in the comfortable silence, ignoring the sharp tugs at your heartstrings.

“Never thought I’d live to see this day,” he mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your forehead with an earnestness that heightens the tugs at your heartstrings.

“Talk about character development,” you joke, burying your face in his chest and finding solace in the warmth of the sweet honey gold that he possesses. His hand on your waist begins caressing the small of your back, bringing you closer to him, until his nose is settled in the crook of your neck.

“Looks like my YOLO-ing did me some good,” he whispers into your ear and there’s a resplendent lilt to his voice.

It takes you a while for you to realise that he’s referring to the fake quote you’ve assigned to him.

Taehyung smiles at your deadpan expression and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. His mouth is pulled into a rectangle and his eyes are curved into crescents. You realise this a long time ago, but you will finally admit to it now – Taehyung is beautiful. He is so beautiful that he could rearrange continent with that smile of his.

When he laughs and the moonlight catches on the flecks of gold in melted brown, that’s when you know that you’re struck with a love the size of the entire galaxy for him. To hell with your past hatred and feud with him, you’re just grateful to have your entire universe lying right beside you, right in this moment, under the burning light of the great, yellow moon that hangs heavy and radiant above the two of you.

that’s it. that’s the mammoth i’ve been brewing over the past few months (and rushing it like mad over the past two weeks)! i wanted to depict tae as accurately as possible so i made sure to include the little tiny details and quirks of his ;; did you know that he was the one who coined the term bread cheeks??? there’s a video of him comparing his cheeks to bread buns and i think that started the entire trend i’m just. i never want tae to be sad he has the purest and biggest heart

thank you so much for reading this and if you enjoyed it, please please hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ i love receiving asks and messages tho sometimes ;; i just disappear from the face of the earth. i literally post a fic every 6 months sobs but next up sugarplum elegy (and i promise i won’t take another 6 months, my aim to upload it is end june!) love you guys much and remember to take care of yourself – i believe in your galaxy ☁️💫💜💞🌃✨

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brujahinaskirt · 4 years

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@missn11 says:

Ask and ye shall receive, fellow neonate! <3 Bear with me, because I’m about to hammer out 2000 words very quickly...

This massive rant by its topic nature is sort of Nines-critical, so lemme start by saying that, in my own way, I love Rodriguez. (I was partially self-burning in the shitpost that ignited this rant because I SEVERELY exaggerated Nines’s canonical shadiness levels in my ancient fanfiction, and for no other reason than because I was a teenage edgelord. I am appropriately embarrassed, but only by my excess and melodrama, not by Troika’s characterization. I think the writing behind VTMB’s Nines is superb.)

When it comes to Bloodlines, I think he’s one of the most psychologically interesting profiles in the game. In fact, I could never get into LA by Night because they so de-toothed Troika’s vision of him. Not to say LA by Night’s Nines was a poorly-developed character in his own right, ‘cause he wasn’t at all, but “my” Nines will always be unapologetically and only Troika’s: boiling angry, viciously pragmatic, a survivor who doesn’t let anyone too close lest they see through him, whose over-the-top confident façade cracks a little more every time his back’s against the wall. Troika’s Nines is the epitome of greater VTM’s “fallen rebel” archetype, and even though we don’t get to see it on all playthoughs, that makes it even better and more believable.

But as with all characterization in Bloodlines, we have to read between the lines and between our own play styles a bit to piece the truth of the puzzle together...

Besides the direct evidence Troika gives us—i.e. the music cues, which are a bit overbearing if I’m honest (sorry, Troika! ilu); the absence of Nines in Rosa’s prophecy re: people you can trust; and the overt warnings Camarilla-aligned characters give us about him—the biggest red flag about Rodriguez, imo? It’s twofold:

the way the characters he surrounds himself with talk about him and the type of vampire he chooses to fill his den. Namely: Nines exclusively recruits angry, spurned, mistreated people who are younger and far less experienced than he is

those messy, ugly, fleeting moments where you see his toughguy everyman personality crack

So! Starting with point one:

THE PERSONALITY CULT ITSELF

We can’t deny that Nines does not surround himself with peers. He surrounds himself with followers—people who don’t challenge him in any way, who are fanatically loyal, who openly profess their worship of him and their conviction he could never/would never do anything wrong. If you listen to how Damsel and Skelter talk about him, it’s with frightening adulation, often repeating Nines’s lines word-for-word without truly understanding the argumentation behind them. (Damsel’s the main offender here with her “IT’S A PYRAMID SCHEME… it just makes sense, you know? It just makes sense!” And then, of course, she gets pissed and refuses to speak to you when you push her into elaborating.)

Nines has clearly made himself much more than just a friend-figure or a Sire-figure to them. He’s utterly and completely mythologized by the LA Anarchs, held up next to other politically mythologized names like George Washington and Ho Chi Minh. His followers love him… but there’s a pecking order, and like good body shields, they believe their lives don’t matter as much as he matters. And they love that, too. They want to die for Nines. They’re not just willing to or resigned to it; they’re eager to die. Damsel will volunteer this information the first time you meet her. She just can’t wait to prove herself by taking a bullet for goddamn Nines Rodriguez. It’s literally how she introduces herself to new people.

And yet Nines deliberately withholds his attention and time from his followers. He uses his attention as a reward, as incentive. He rations some care and reassurance and help—makes you feel good and gives you reason to crave his attention—and then he pushes you away, back into his adoring ranks until the next “two minutes” you earn from him in which you’re special enough for such an exceptional, important, cool guy to talk to. That’s a classic manipulation tactic, and a classic personality cult tell.

And Troika is so damn fuckin’ brilliant about it because they don’t stop at showing us that an Anarch-aligned fledgling might feel this way—no, they make the PLAYER also feel this way. On our first playthrough of Bloodlines, we’re desperate to talk to Nines. We want the reward. “Let me finish the plaguebearer quests… let me run to the Elizabeth Dane… I hope Nines talks to me again now! Quick, to the Last Round! Maybe if I say the right thing to make him like me, he’ll give me another free EXPERIENCE POINT!” (iirc he’s one of two characters who will do so, and the only one who gives multiple points.)

But at the end of the day, Nines is indisputably the leader of the Anarchs, and even fledgling figures that out. (“Sounds like you’re the Prince of the Anarchs.”) He’s very much the Baron of Downtown LA, even if he won’t use that language. As for the grating day-to-day management and leadership stuff that might make him somewhat unpopular among the Anarchs, though? He fobs all that stuff off on Damsel!

Damsel, his Minion No. 1—whom a lot of players will hate on their early playthroughs, because she assigns tough missions with little to no reward. Damsel, who has no real power role in the Anarchs and functions only to serve Nines. You help Damsel, and you do Nines’s work—i.e. you do the work of the Barony of LA—and he doesn’t even have to take the admiration hit by having to ask you himself.

There’s only one non-follower of note around Nines. It’s Jack, and by his own words, he’s not one of Nines’s people; he disparages them, in fact. And we’ll notice that Jack—who is stronger, older, and wiser than Nines—very much doesn’t talk about Nines the same way Nines’s followers do. While Jack doesn’t directly insult him and occasionally defends him, Jack also has a downright shocking response to the announcement of the Blood Hunt. When fledgling desperately asks what they can do to help Nines—Jack says, word-for-word: I could give a damn.

Something ain’t quite right about this place.

Moving right along:

NINES IS A FAKE ALPHA MALE WHO KNOWS HE’S GOING TO DIE

Part of why Nines is so attractive to someone scared and weak like our fledgling (or Skelter or Damsel) is that he seems utterly fucking untouchable—like nothing scares him, and that must be reassuring when two of your age-old enemies are moving into town. But Nines’s tough, cool, Devil-may-care persona outs itself as a protective shell, too… and this is another thing I think Troika handled so subtly and so well.

You’ll notice that even Nines’s voice is dramatically different in a couple different situations: when Ming Xiao is borrowing his body, when he’s afraid, and when he’s distracted or deeply disturbed. (A successful Malkavian mind read will really slam a crack in his coolguy persona. For a second, the nonchalance shatters and he childishly screams SHUT UP!)

But whether you Malk him or not: In those isolated moments, the Coolguy Nines Rodriguez we normally see frays. Physically, even! His accent loses its burr (that ballsy rural American everyman accent), shoots up to a higher register—and reveals a much softer voice than the one he uses in front of other people. No wonder; part of Nines’s charisma comes from his performance of masculine confidence, and even if it’s not a toxically patriarchal masculinity in the way we often picture it, the fact this performance cracks at all shows it’s not his genuine self. He’s acting. In the way a lot of toughguy men do—but for Nines, whose survival depends upon attraction now, he’s acting toughguy for his very life.

I think those little fray-under-pressure moments are the “real” Nines, or as close as we’re going to get: scared, desperate, worn-down, and very aware of his doom.

Now, all that said…

BLATANT FALLEN REBEL CONCEPT APOLOGISM

I don’t think we can quite throw Rodriguez into the same Mean Monster Morality Dungeon for Evil Vampires as other Big Bads in LA. This is where motivation comes into play, at least for me. We know Nines can be merciless and violent, and he doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own soldiers (namely, um, US!) to protect his holdings. But he does seem to have a twinge of genuine anger over injustices wrought upon “little people” (look no further than Nocturne)—one that seems like it stems from a sense of right v. wrong rather than sheer pragmatism. This stands in stark opposition to the rationed pacificism of characters like LaCroix, who simply doesn’t want the headache of cleaning up a pile of dead humans on his nightly to-do list.

Nines also, of course, just doesn’t have the same kind of disaster reach other Bloodlines Big Bads do in how much harm he can cause. When LaCroix gets up to some bullshit, he crashes the national economy. Nines, like, crashes a car into a corporate office window or takes over a street or something. Can’t really compare the two when it comes to the scale of damage done.

And even Nines Rodriguez is, for all his strategy, still an honestly angry person. Not all of him is fake—what’s troubling about him is what he’s willing to sacrifice and do to satiate his anger-passion. It’s the standard Brujah emotional-moral struggle. Even though I agree with much of what he says about bloodsucking late capitalist vampires (tbh he seems to hate vampires in general!), one wonders if it’s not partially the anger-passion that’s warped him into the façade of a noble leader he’s become. It’s not a pure anger anymore; he’s weaponized it in selfish, unhealthy, destructive ways.

But if he’s a fallen rebel—and since he is still apparently capable of some genuine anger and sadness—then we can infer he wasn’t always like this. He fell, and narratively, that’s key to understanding Clan Brujah. Maybe he fell in a way all of us angry rebel-types risk falling if we let our hatred of the bloodsuckers in real life outgrow and consume our care for the real-world little people.

I think we also have to appreciate that—as far as we know—the shady shit Nines does, he primarily does to prolong his power. But for a threatened Anarch like Nines, power doesn’t mean expansion or accumulation as it might for an ascending Ventrue; it primarily means survival. The Camarilla and Kuei-jin incursions into LA have numbered his days, and he can’t possibly have any delusions about this, no matter how much he swaggers. So he does what he can do with the skills and limited resources he has. He corrupts vulnerable, angry, abused people by giving them the appearance of friendship, family, and hope they can become stronger—much like effective gang leaders do.

If he’s morally nastier than other power-players like LaCroix in some way, imo, it’s here. It’s the intimacy with which he manipulates the people around him. LaCroix may lie to you; Strauss may withhold information from you; Ming Xiao may double-cross you. But none of them ask that you love them. That’s not their goal; that’s not how they operate. None of them expect or encourage anyone to happily die for them of their own free will. If they get you killed, you’ll die resenting them—resenting that you had to die, at all.

But when you die for people like Nines Rodriguez, you do it willingly, if only because you believed he cared somehow and that he’d fight tooth-and-nail for you, too. You believed that you were a member of his little outcast family—or that you would be, if you just proved yourself a little bit more. If you just fought a little harder. If you were just a little happier about having the chance to die for the cause. Maybe if you die for Nines, then Nines will love you, too.

I don’t think he does. I don’t think he will. If he’s a true fallen rebel archetype, I don’t know if he can anymore.

That’s enough Anarchs for now! I’m gonna peace out with some copy/pasted lyrics from the theme song of Nines’s den: the ballad of the charming and vengeful Lecher Bitch. Stay sharp, my little Bloodlines fanatics!

Tell me your story Don't worry, I've been there Crown me your savior Don't worry, I'll be there

[Chorus] I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay I'm diggin' all the way All the way down I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay Gonna rip you every way On the way down again [Bridge] Don't belong lording above me Won't be hard to pull you underground It won't be long 'til you love me And I'll be coming at your back To break it down

#vtmb #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #nines rodriguez #tune in next week for my 5 page essay on why Wong Ho is the only nice person in Bloodlines!#not really #but maybe really #in conclusion nines ain't shit [drops mic]#[is mauled by damsel]

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emberfrostlovesloki · 4 years

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# 12 Comic Con

Gif credit; @prettyboyspence

Prompt: Comic Con - Spencer and Garcia go to a convention in Pennsylvania so Spencer can see his favorite cosplayer [the reader] again in person.

Couple: Spencer Reid/ Reader (female)

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: None

A/N: I wanted to write something completely fluffy, because I’ve only written angst for either the Reader or Spencer and I thought I should switch it up a little. This one shot is based on the reader being a cosplayer, but as long as you have a basic understanding of conventions this shouldn’t pose a problem. It’s not a super romantic fic, but it leans in that direction. I hope you enjoy! Like/ reblog please.

List with all stories

Word Count: 6K

_y/n_ = your name

_y/i_ = your initials

_h/c_ = hair color

Spencer tried to make himself comfortable in the economy seat of the airplane he was currently on. With his long legs, unfortunately, the task was futile. After he gave up, the lanky man returned to his book. The genius FBI agent was not on the plane for a case, in fact he was on the plane for pleasure, or at least future pleasure. Reid was on his way to Pennsylvania to attend Steel City Comic Con. He had never attended the convention before, what was really drawing him to the state of virtue and independence was the cosplayer FrindlyFighter.

Reid had stumbled across their account a few years ago. They cosplayed from Star Trek, Marvel, and many other fandoms that Spencer enjoyed. He had the opportunity of meeting FriendlyFighter at San Diego Comic Con in 2017. She was hosting a panel about the psychology of the Red Shirt from Star Trek. Although they hadn’t gotten all of the hard science right, Spencer was still enamored at someone being dedicated enough to do the research to pull off the panel. After the discussion was over he had approached the area where the host was chatting with some of the volunteers at the convention. She had noticed him and turned and walked up to him. “Hey, how are you enjoying the convention?” Spencer had stumbled over his words as he replied, “I’m good, I mean the convention has been great. I was really excited to see that you were hosting a panel this year.” The cosplayer smiled at his statement and asked, “So you’re interested in the psychological elements of Star Trek? It’s good to hear because every time I give one of these panel’s I’m not sure why there are so many people in the audience. You might say I’ve got impostor syndrome.” FriendlyFighter laughed at her self-deprecating humor and Spencer quickly replied, “I’m very interested in what you have to say. I actually use psychology a lot where I work, and I don’t think you’re an impostor. Upon hearing that one of her fans was more qualified in the field of psychology than her, she asked, “Where do you work?” She had not expected his response of, “I’m a profiler for the FBI, actually.” Her eyes grew wide at the information and she quickly said, “Wow, that must be a very difficult job. You’re a lot better at the science than I am. How did I do up there? Did I butcher all of the science?” The woman cringed at the idea, but she had asked and wanted to know if she was super off base in her assertions. Thankfully the man said, “You did really good. Not all of your claims are bullet proof, but generally you got it right.” The cosplayer relaxed and the knowledge and said, “Sorry I’m interrogating you over here, I haven’t even asked your name.” Spencer smiled and said, “My name is Spencer Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” She at him and said, “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” The tall man stood for a second. He hadn’t realized that a short line of FriendlyFighter’s fans had formed behind him. The panelist looked back at him and said, “Would you like a picture.” At this statement Spencer smiled and fumbled for his phone. He positioned himself beside the cosplayer. She lifted her hand in the Vulcan salute and Reid snapped the photo. He said, “Thank you so much.” To which she replied, “Of course. Have a good rest of the con.”

Spencer was brought back into the moment when the wheels of the plane touched the earth with a lurch. After he had grabbed his suitcase from the baggage terminal the agent flagged down a taxi and went straight to his hotel. The hotel was just across the road from the Monroeville convention center where the event was taking place. The hotel was already bustling with guests with large props and costume pieces on their luggage carts. The atmosphere was so different from his normal 24/7 work induced stress. After the lean man made it up to his room on the fourth floor he set his suitcase in the entrance way and he flopped down on the bed. He told himself that after a short nap he would go out on the town to find something to eat, but right now he was content to rest. While Reid was sleeping Garcia was sitting on a train, also headed to Pennsylvania. She was listening to one of her favorite trashy audio books and was thinking, ‘how the hell did Reid rope me into this mess.’ After all it had only been a week ago when she had asked him, “So do you have any plans for the weekend.” The boy genius had casually brought up that he was going to a convention. Garcia wasn’t really paying attention to his rambling conversation and she cut off his stream of conscious monologue by asking, “So who’s going to be at this convention, anyone special?” When she asked this Reid changed gears and started listing off names, saying, “Well I’m really excited to see a cosplayer named FriendlyFighter, she’s part of the opening ceremony and is holding a few panels, also Denis Lawson, Wil Wheaton, Catherine Tate.” The lanky agent continued listing the names. Garcia was about to start tuning out the man, but then he said the magic words, “and some guy named Duke Lancelot of Camelot.” When Spencer said this the technical analyst quickly swung around in her chair, mouth open in surprise. Upon seeing her expression Spencer asked, “Is everything okay?” Garcia closed her mouth and said, “Duke Lancelot of Camelot is one of the most famous players of World of Warcraft. He’s a legend, Reid.” Although Spencer had never heard of this legend he said, “Well you could come with me and meet him. Just get a two day pass or something.” Garcia was so enamored with the idea of meeting one of her video game heroes that she said, “I am absolutely coming with you Spencer.” The male agent hadn’t expected such a fast response and said, “Cool. I’ll catch up with you after work and we can figure out the details.” And that was how Penelope Garcia was convinced to go to a comic con in Pennsylvania.

While Garcia was taking the slower, and safer method of getting up to the convention Spencer was just getting to the front of the registration line. A woman motioned for him to move forward to the window that she was sitting behind. When he got to the window the woman asked, “Do you have your pass pre-printed or do you need to pick it up, or are you going to buy a pass now?” As Spencer rummaged through his bag he said, “I have it pre-printed.” When Reid finally found the badge in his bag he pulled it out and held it up for the woman to see. The convention staff worker took a moment to look at the pass before she turned to the computer in front of her. She input his name and crossed it off the excel spreadsheet. After she finished this she said, “Have a nice convention Mr. Reid.” Spencer said thanks and walked toward the main hall. The opening ceremony of the con was going to start in fifteen minutes, and he wanted to be close to the front. When he had first met FriendlyFighter, or her other name on social media of _y/i_, she was a small cosplayer who had a small following. But after a few months she had grown in size, and started appearing at more and more conventions. Spencer couldn’t tell what had changed, after all she hadn’t changed her content too much. Spencer took a moment to consider that the cultural zeitgeist had changed around popular culture and conventions in general. It was true that attendance at conventions like Blizzcon or Emerald City Comicon had been going up by twenty percent each year. As he was musing over these facts the lights in the ballroom dimmed and a loud male voice came over the hotel sound system. “Friends, fans and people of all sorts, welcome to Steel City Con 2019!” The crowd cheered as the man who was making the announcement came out from behind the red curtain and stood in the center of the stage. The master of ceremony said, “My name is Greg Hicks and I’ll be your master of ceremony for the weekend. But I know you’re not here for me, so let me introduce you to just a few of the very talented people you can meet this weekend.” At this statement the crowd went wild again. Reid had to cover his ears to stop a headache from forming. Greg continued by saying, “First of all we are happy to welcome, Megan Coffee!” Megan came out from the curtain dressed as a Pokemon Go character, she waved at the crowd and said into a microphone attached to her shirt, “Hi everybody! I hope you’re ready for a good weekend.” The woman walked to the other side of the stage. Greg announced a few more people, including Duke Lancelot of Camelot. Finally the MC said, “And last but certainly not least we are happy to announce the charming FriendlyFighter!” The crowd gave less cheers as the young cosplayer came out dressed as Catra from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Spencer clapped quietly and listened as she said, “Good evening fellow fans. I’m so happy to get to see, and meet you all this weekend.” The gathered crowd dispersed after the ceremony. Many of the younger participants would stay up all night to talk or work on last minute costumes, Reid on the other hand headed back to his room at the hotel.

When he walked through the sliding glass doors Garcia was standing at guest services getting the key to her room. The tall agent used his stealth skills to walk right behind Garcia and tapped her shoulder and said, “Hi.” at the same time. The computer genius was so startled that she jumped up, screamed, spun around and hit Spencer in the stomach. The tall agent coughed and grabbed onto his abdomen and wheezed out, “Geez Penelope, I thought you were excited to hangout with me this weekend.” When Garcia realized who it was she said, “Oh my God Spence I’m so sorry.” She wrapped him in a hug and whispered in his ear, “Never sneak up on me again.” Spencer smiled at the pseudo threat and said, “I’ll take that into consideration.” Reid waited for Garcia to get her key and walked her up to her room. The blonde agents room was three doors down from his. After Garcia was settled in her room Spencer said, “I think I’m going to go to my room and do some reading.” When she heard this, the computer analyst said, “Would you wait a minute. There’s a 24 hour gaming room and I’ve heard the servers are really good. I’m going to go over there and play for a few hours. Would you walk me over?” Spencer was already feeling tired, but knew that it was 22% safer for a woman to walk at night with a man, rather than walking alone. So he replied, “Sure thing.” Garcia took off her blazer and put on a more comfortable sweatshirt over the bright pink shirt she wore. Of course Spencer had turned toward the door to not look at Penelope change, even though it was just a piece of outer clothing. As the pair returned to the convention center Garcia was catching Reid up on the interesting passengers on her train ride up to the con. Once inside the main lobby of the building Penelope took in the size of the convention. There were groups of people lounging around at the tables and couches, some in cosplay and some in regular clothes, or the people in their pajamas. Garcia thought, ‘Now those people have the right idea. But if I was in front of Reid in my P.J.’s I’d probably scar him for life.” As her eyes danced around the room they landed on a Catra cosplayer. When she saw her she grabbed Spencer's arm and said, “Oh my God. I have to get a picture with that woman.” Spencer followed the direction of her finger and he saw that it was _y/i_. The male agent could see that the guest attendant was talking to two other cosplayers and said, “That's FriendlyFighter, the person I came here to see. She looks a little busy right now.” Garcia looked up to Spencer and was shocked to see that his cheeks were flushed. With this detail in mind the analyst said, “Come on Reid, you know that guest attendants at cons usually wear a different costume each day. Maybe two costumes a day. This might be my only chance to get a picture with her.” Reid sighed and gave in saying, “Alright.”

The pair of FBI agents approached the group of cosplayers. As the agents approached the She-Ra group, they looked up at the pair. Garcia stepped forward and said, “You all look so amazing! Could I get a picture with your group?” FriendlyFighter smiled and said, “Sure thing.” The group got up and stood beside Penelope. Garcia waited a second and completely forgot that she needed to have a device to take the picture on. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out her phone, saying, “Wow I can be totally brain dead when I’m around talented people.” She found her phone and extended it out to Spencer saying, “Spence can you take the picture please?” Reid took the phone and said, “Of course.” As he swiped to open the camera, Penelope took her place again, and smiled broadly. FriendlyFighter put her arm around Garcia’s shoulder and gave the peace sign, while the Bow cosplayer held his prop bow and arrow, and Glimmer took her classic power stance. Reid held up his hand and signaled three, two, one, while saying, “Three, two one.” The lanky man took a few pictures and then stepped forward to hand Penelope her phone. As the blond woman checked her photos FriendlyFighter smiled at Reid. Once Garcia was satisfied with the quality of her pictures she said, “Thank you all so much. Your costumes are really amazing!” The whole group chorused, “You’re welcome!” and the two agents continued down the hall toward the gaming room.

As they were walking away FriendlyFighter was thinking about the tall man and wondered, ‘have I met him somewhere before.’ She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to find out, so she said to the other members of her group, “I’m going to find something out. I’ll find you in a few minutes.” The cosplayer walked after the pair moved further into the convention building. The cosplayer quickly caught up with Reid and Garcia. When the agents saw her they stopped walking and Penelope said, “Is something wrong?” FriendlyFighter blushed and said, “Um, this is kind of awkward, but have I met you before?” She pointed to Spencer and the agent opened and closed his mouth for a second. He was surprised that she would remember him at all. He considered, ‘Maybe she’s just mistaking me for someone else.’ After a moment of silence the cosplayer said, “I don’t mean to hold you up from something. I know it’s a weird question.” Spencer snapped out of his head as Garcia sharply elbowed him and the male agent replied, “I met you at SDCC in 2017. You gave a panel on the psychology of the Red Shirt in Star Trek. It was really cool.” The cosplayer nodded as she thought back to the convention so long ago. She muttered, “Yeah,” and then more loudly, but still with some hesitation, asked, “You were into psychology weren’t you. You said I didn’t completely fuck up the science?” Spencer smiled and quickly replied, “Yup, that’s me.” FriendlyFighter’s eyes lit up and she said, “Wow, that’s super cool. Sorry I don’t mean to keep you both standing here. Where are you walking, do you mind if I come with?” Spencer looked to Garcia and she smiled and said, “Where'd love for you to walk with us.” The trio continued on their journey to the game room and FriendlyFighter said, “My name is _y/n_, I’ve unfortunately forgotten yours.” The cosplayer extended her hand to Spencer, and he took it and said, “I’s Spencer Reid. Nice to meet you again _y/n_.’ _Y/n_ then looked to Garcia and extended her hand. Garcia shook it enthusiastically and said, “I’m Penelope Garcia.” “It’s nice to meet you Penelope, “ _y/n_ replied. The cosplayer turned back to Spencer and said, “I know this is already weird, but I’m giving a panel on Saturday on Trauma and Grief in the Star Wars squeals and I know that you’re really good at analyzing character traits. Would you be willing to look over my notes and make some corrections? You can totally say no, I get that it’s a big request. It’s just that I haven’t given a big panel over character psychology in a while. And now that I’m more popular I’d like to have my facts as accurate as possible.” The group had arrived at room #115 where the gaming was taking place and they all stopped. Spencer thought about the possibility for helping out one of his favorite creators and said, “I’d be happy to.” The two nerds smiled and Garcia looked at them and rolled her eyes and said, “I hate to break up this moment, but I’m just going to say goodnight to this dork.” _Y/n_ snapped out of her trance at smiling at Spencer and the male agent did the same. Spencer turned to Garcia and said, “Well, have fun in there. If you plan on coming back to the hotel later tonight, or some other ungodly hour just call me.” After _y/n_ had said goodbye to Penelope, her cosplay group found her and she was whisked away to a rave on the third floor. But not before she got Spencer’s email and said, “I’ll send you the document with my notes for Saturday.”

The next morning Spencer woke up to find an email from _y/n_ with a seven page document of well planned notes. At the top of the first page was a thesis statement that Spencer wanted to study right away, but decided to wait until he could procure some coffee. Twenty minutes later the agent was at a coffee shop, a five minute walk away from the hotel with this computer open, coffee in hand, ready to make notes on the document. Garcia had not called him last night and he assumed that she had stayed up all night and was currently sleeping off the late night gaming. After an hour Spencer had gotten his caffeine fix and added some notes to _y/n’s_ panel discussion. Spencer considered email that he had made some changes, but was cut off when he realized that a panel he wanted to see was starting in twenty minutes. He quickly closed his laptop and made a mental note to email _y/n_ by the evening.

Before Reid knew it the day was almost over. Whenever he was at a convention time seemed to slip away from him. He was currently sitting with Garcia, who had woken up at 2:00 P.M., in a panel hosted by Duke Lancelot of Camelot. The older man was giving tips on the best shortcuts to getting a high ranking in World of Warcraft. The panel had started at 8:30 P.M. and had been going on for about ten minutes and people were slowly trickling in. After another ten minutes there was only room to stand and sit at the back of the room. The door opened one more time and Penelope turned and saw _y/n_ walk in and take a seat at the back of the room. She was wearing her Mr. Spock cosplay. She apparently knew a few people already seated and she was quietly talking to them. Garcia looked over to Reid, who was zoning out of the discussion. She elbowed him again and leaned over and whispered. “Hey Spence, you’re favorite cosplayer is here. At least she has good taste.” Spencer looked confused and Garcia jerked her head in _y/n’s_ direction. Spencer turned to see _y/n_. At the same time he did this FriendlyFighter looked up and saw him looking at her. The cosplayer raised her hand slightly and waved at the agents. After the panel was over the duo walked out of the room. _Y/n_ was leaning against the wall and when she saw them she walked toward the pair. She smiled at both of them and said, “Hey, are you having a good time so far?” Garcia quickly replied, “Absolutely. I’ve been so excited for this panel, and it was worth coming up here for it.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “The Duke is a pretty cool dude. Have you had a good time?” Spencer smiled back and said, “Yes, it’s been very fun. I actually have a few notes for you. I can email them back to you, but it might be easier to explain them if I could do it in person?” _Y/n_ nodded and said, “I think that would be useful. I need to do some last minute costume alterations and ironing, could you possibly come over to my room in an hour? I’ve got a photo shoot in ten minutes, but I’ll be free after then.” Spencer’s cheeks flushed and said he stuttered out, “Uh, yeah of course.” The man was panicking and added on, “Can Penelope come too?” _Y/n_ looked disappointed for a microsecond and then replied, “Sure thing. I’m at the hotel across the street. Room #301. See you two in an hour. Sorry I’ve gotta run, I look forward to it.” With that the cosplayer dashed down the hallway. Once she was out of earshot Garcia grabbed onto his shoulder and almost screamed, “Why would you invite me to the room with you! Reid this was a great chance for you to meet someone new. Someone who seems to be into you, shares the same interests as you.” Spencer was blushing now and said, “Well I realized that and panicked. Sorry I don’t want to make it weird.” Penelope shrugged her shoulders, understanding that Spencer’s social skills were not the greatest. She replied, “Hey I get it Spence. I’ll come with you for a little bit, but I’m going to have to dip after a while. The Duke is going to be playing World of Warcraft live and I’m not missing that for anything.

An hour later the agents walked up to room #301. Spencer knocked on the door and heard the response, “One second.” After five seconds the door swung open and _y/n_ stood in a long sleeved shirt and shorts. Her _h/c_ hair was pulled back with a headband. She stepped beside the door and said, “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Once Spencer and Reid were in the room she closed the door and pulled out the chair from the desk for one of her guests to sit in. She continued saying, “Feel free to sit on the bed, I don’t mind.” At the offer Penelope made a beeline for the bed and sat down falling back and sighing deeply. At seeing this _y/n_ laughed and said, “I feel you Penelope. I love a con, but it’s killer on the feet.” Garcia laughed and replied, “Talk about it, I must have walked ten miles alone today.” While this conversation had been happening Spencer took a seat at the desk and pulled out his computer. He looked over to _y/n_and said, “If you give me a second I can pull up my notes, if that’s cool with you.” _Y/n_ nodded and said, ``That sounds awesome.” As Spencer booted up his computer the cosplayer walked back to the iron draped in a black robe. She picked up the steaming device and looked down pressing the seams of the fabric to create a crisp seam. Garcia was looking around the room and her eye’s caught sight of the three light sabers in the room and had to ask, “Um, _y/n_, I’ve always wanted to get a light saber. Could I test your’s out? I promise I’ll be gentle.” The cosplayer laughed again and looked up to Penelope saying, “Well they're not all mine. It was my job to be the pack horse for my group in terms of the light sabers. The trisaber is mine and you are absolutely free to try it out. Press the top button to turn on the light and the bottom button for sound effects.’ Garcia giddily got up and cautiously held the replica of Kylo Ren’s trisaber. She pressed both buttons. She swung it around carefully. Spencer turned to look at his friend being a child , and then turned to _y/n_ saying, “I’ve got my comments pulled up, if your ready.” _Y/n_ turned from Garcia’s enthusiasm to Spencer's down to earth manner. She turned off the iron and was about to sit down on the ground, but before she could Spencer stood and said, “Please take the chair.” The cosplayer smiled and said, “Thanks.” Penelope quieted down and returned to the bed. She silently watched Reid interact with the other woman. It was so rare to see him with someone else that was not the team. It made Penelope's heart glad.

The two nerds were on paragraph three and _y/n_ was saying, “So do you think that my analogy between Ben and Rey and Romeo and Juliet is too cliche?” Spencer replied, “No not at all. But I do think that you need to specifically pin down how their relationship is considered in the genre of star crossed lovers.” _Y/n_ got up from her seat and reached into a suitcase and pulled out her copy of Romeo and Juliet. As she opened the first page she said, “I need to find a scene that will give supporting evidence to the claim.” Before the girl could even turn to the second page Reid had said, “Act 3 scene one page 6.” Before Reid could quote it to her, the cosplayer said, “Get thee to a nunnery, go. Farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell.” Reid nodded and the woman in shorts said, “That’s perfect, It would totally parallel when Ben and Rey see each other through their dyad bond in The Last Jedi.” Reid agreed with the assertion. Before the pair could spring into the next paragraph Penelope got up from the bed and said, “Alright team. It sounds like you’ve done some good work, but from what I hear from Spencer you have at least another hour of work to do; and I have a panel to get too. So I’m going to boogie out of here and leave you to work.” Spencer and _y/n_ turned, almost forgetting that Garcia was in the room. Spencer took his arm off the back of _y/n’s_ chair and stood up straight. _Y/n_ got out of the chair and held out her arms and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m a hugger.” Penelope leaned into the woman's arms and said, “I hope you know you’re really cool.” _Y/n_ smiled at the complement and opened the door for Garcia, after the blond agent assured Spencer that she did not need to be walked over to the convention center. Once Penelope had left _y/n_ looked to Spencer and said, “You’re girlfriend, partner, wife, is really cool.” The cosplayer didn’t know Reid’s relationship to the other agent, and she didn’t want to assume anything. She looked up to Spencer who’s cheek’s were redder than before. He said, “Penelope’s just a friend from work. We’re not together.” Now it was _y/n’s_ turn to blush and she cleared her throat before saying, “Oh, um, sorry for assuming. I just thought..” Spencer released a breath and then replied, “So you want to get back to work?” At the last page of notes the panelist put her hands over her eyes and said, “Could I take a quick break. Looking at a screen for so long makes my head hurt.” Spencer replied, “Of course.” The young woman stood up and moved over to the bed and lay back on it, like Garcia had done an hour earlier. Spencer, who thought that being alone in a room with _y/n_ would be very uncomfortable, was finding the sound of her breathing very comforting. The man looked around the room and stared wistfully at the light saber Garcia had banished earlier. _Y/n_ noticed the direction of his glance and said, “You can try it out too if you want.” Spencer got up and inspected the light saber. After examining it closely for a minute the man said, “This is so accurate to the real prop. Did you make it yourself?” The girl on the bed smiled and replied, “I’d give most of the credit to my grandfather. I’m not very good with electronics.” After Reid had swung the object around for a few minutes he set it down. The man looked to the computer and the last page of the document. The cosplayer looked at the screen and blinked a few times before hesitantly asking, “Would you mind if you brought the computer over to the bed, and we finished it here.” The women moved over the bed to make room for Spencer. The blush was back on Reid’s face as the man grabbed the computer and sat down on the bed. It only took five minutes to finish the last page and Reid wasn’t sure how, or what to do next. Thankfully _y/n_ sat up and said, “Thank’s Spencer. I’m sure this job doesn’t seem very important, but my joy comes from talking to people as characters that I like, and I want to make the most of my fans happy as possible. My other job is a dead end, and at least here I can live a little. I owe you for this one.” Reid smiled and said, “I think you make a lot of people happy with this work. You make me happy.” The last sentence came out unintentionally but it made _y/n_ happy to hear. She got up and plugged the iron back in and looked back at Spencer on the bed and said, “You can hang here as long as you want. Just be prepared for me to curse at my inept ability to sew.” Reid ended up staying another thirty minutes helping the woman hold onto loose fabric that couldn’t be reigned in by the iron. When he left her room she had said goodnight, and he was shocked that there was no hint of awkwardness around them. It was a new sensation for him. She had even asked him and Penelope to come backstage before she went to her panel, she offered to get him the best seats in the room if he wanted.

The next day arrived and Spencer accompanied Garcia to her photo op with the Duke and they both watched one of the cosplay competitions that _y/n_ was judging. The award had gone to a younger cosplayer that had accurately recreated a costume from Hamilton. In the next hour Spencer and Garcia were standing at the lobby of the hotel when FriendlyFighter approached them in her Kylo Ren costume, sans mask. She smiled when she saw them and said, “I’m happy you want to come backstage. It’s pretty boring, but something that not every con goer gets to see.” The group crossed the street and the panelist checked her guests backstage. When behind the curtain she pointed to two chairs in front of the room that were marked as ‘reserved.’ When it was ten minutes to the panel _y/n_ turned to Spencer and said, “How would you like me to credit you for your contributions to the panel?” The male agent replied, “You can just say that a friend looked it over.” Reid said this to both conceal his identity, and because he was just happy to help a friend out. The cosplayer was struggling to put her helmet on, plus hold her notes and light saber when Spencer offered to put the helmet on for her. _Y/n_ handed the agent the helmet and Spencer placed it over her head. Just as the FBI duo was about to walk to their reserved seats Penelope’s phone went off. The agent picked up and her appearance suddenly looked very seriously. The other two nerds looked her way when she said, “Yes Sir. We’ll catch a flight right away. Yes of course, I’ll tell Reid.” When Penelope hung up Spencer looked over to her and asked, “New case?” Garcia nodded and said, “In rural Ohio. We need to go right away.” Spencer nodded and turned to _y/n_ who was looking concerned for both of her new friends. Reid said, “I’m sorry, we have to go for work. It was really fun meeting you. Have a great rest of your convention.” Before Reid could walk away the cosplayer grabbed a pen from a nearby table and took Spencer’s arm, scribbling her number on his arm. After doing so she said in a muffled voice, “Text me, stay safe out there.” She then turned and took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. As Spencer and Garcia ran out of the backstage area they could both hear the Imperial March playing over the ballroom speakers, The panel was beginning.

It wasn’t until the con going agents were in the jet with the rest of the team that Penelope asked Spencer the question that had been on her mind for an hour. The team had made an emergency landing to pick up Spencer and Garcia from the Pennsylvania airstrip. Garcia snapped back to the present and asked, “Are you going to text her?” Spencer’s eyes snapped to hers. He bit his lip and said, “We’re going to find a serial killer that targets people _y/n’s_ age. How can I text her when my job is to find monsters lurking among us?” Penelope looked sad and replied, “And what are you going to do when we get him Spence? Who are you going to go home to and relax with, because I sure as hell know you’re not relaxing in your apartment when you come home after cases like these.” Penelope left the question open as she stood up and sat next to J.J. After another ten minutes Spencer pulled out his personal phone typed in _y/n’s_ number. The ink from her writing still faintly showing on his arm. He texted, “Hey, it’s Spencer Reid. Sorry I had to run earlier today. I hope that I can see you again soon under less stressful circumstances for both of us.” After Reid hit send he relaxed back into his chair. It wasn’t until after the panel, that had been a roaring success that _y/n_ saw the text from Spencer. The cosplayer pulled off her right glove so she could text back, “Sounds good. Stay safe and let me know when it’s convenient to plan a get together. I’m giving a panel on The Lord of The Rings and I need my resident expert to give me notes while I plan my speech.”C

_________________________________________

Shakespeare, William, and Anne Collins. Romeo and Juliet. Pearson Education Limited, 2017.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #j.j.#reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #fluff #fanfiction #reader one shot

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bopinion · 3 years

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2021 / 28

Aperçu of the Week:

"For some reason, the climate issue has suddenly become a global issue."

(Armin Laschet, current Minister President of, of all places, North Rhine-Westphalia, who apparently lacks both foresight and perspective. Yet he leads in the polls to become Germany's next chancellor).

Bad News of the Week:

Last week I wrote: "Who still doubts the man-made climate change: look out of the damn window!" And now it is really here, the climate change. Or rather its effects. On our doorstep. No more threatened islands in the South Pacific, no more melting polar ice caps far away, no more fires in North America, no more sinking groundwater in the Middle East - here, in our neighborhood, immediately, now.

It doesn't take a tsunami, a tornado, an earthquake, or a volcanic eruption. It just needs rain. Much rain. Lots of rain. Former small streams burst their banks as torrents, mountain slopes slide down, floods rush through inhabited areas, sweeping everything away. Entire towns are under water, houses collapse, cars are thrown around like tennis balls, complete infrastructures are destroyed, people drown - almost 200 so far.

In parts of Bavaria and Saxony, but especially in North Rhine-Westphalia and Rhineland-Palatinate, the pictures look like a war zone. Not only because military recovery vehicles are often the only vehicles that can even pass the roads full of rubble and mud. The suffering of fellow citizens who have lost a loved one or simply their entire possessions from one moment to the next seems incomprehensible. Overcoming the consequences is a joint task. Politicians are putting together aid packages, while the solidarity of individuals and the commitment of many volunteers are setting standards.

One of the hardest hit places is called "Schuld", literally "Guilt". And this brings a bizarre realization: yes, we are guilty for what is happening. Not an unexpected phenomenon that comes out of nowhere. But the concrete result of what we have done and are doing. Or rather, what we have not done or are not doing.

It is always said that a crisis is the hour of the executive. Because it can decide, take concrete measures, send help, make money available. Normally, this is done - yes, we are currently campaigning for the federal elections in September - at the expense of the opposition, which, in the absence of government responsibility, can really only show concern. In this case, the Greens, the strongest challenger to the current governing coalition of conservatives and social democrats. But they are the ones who have always warned about the consequences of ignoring nature, who have declared sustainability to be the guiding principle and who are the only ones with concrete environmental and climate protection plans in their party program. Let's see how this realistic far-sightedness and this credible commitment will carry the day when the voters have to put their crosses. Hopefully in the right place...

Good News of the Week:

At the Eurovision Song Contest, many are always surprised by the hardly known countries in Europe (okay, we'll leave out the questionable participations of Israel or Australia). This includes for example the Republica Moldova. A small country between Romania and Ukraine, (almost) on the Black Sea, one of the many former Soviet republics. It shares the same classic fate of autocratic structures, corruption, an ailing economy, isolation from the West, and dependence on big brother Russia. In Transnistria, there were already pro-Russian independence efforts supported by Moscow before there were more high-profile ones in the Ukrainian Donbas region.

But just as in Ukraine, a democratic spring is dawning. Back in the 2014 parliamentary elections, pro-EU parties won a clear majority of 55 seats to the pro-Russian 46, but then failed due to cronyism, dubious entanglements and sabotage. But then came Maia Sandu. Coming from the World Bank as a lateral entrant, she first gained a reputation as a fearless fighter against corruption as education minister in the Liberal Democratic Party before failing as prime minister due to a lack of support for her radical judicial reform. In 2020, however, as the candidate of the "Partidul Acțiune și Solidaritate" ("Action and Solidarity Party" / PAS), which she co-founded, she finally won the presidential election with 58% in the runoff against incumbent Igor Dodon.

In last week's parliamentary elections, PAS was now the clear winner, winning a clear absolute majority in parliament with 63 of 101 seats. Memories of Emanuel Macron and "En marche" are awakening. PAS and Sandu now have the power to shape the government, freed from coalition concessions or multiparty dependencies. And their objectives were unambiguously defined as democratization and turning toward Europe. Sandu: "The people here have been lied to and disappointed so many times". The election results express "the desire of our people that order be established in this country and that corruption be fought. People want law and justice."

The great challenge will be to rid the country's institutions of the felt, to clean up and reorganize the administrative apparatus. For only on this basis can an economic perspective emerge for one of the poorest countries in Europe. It is precisely this lack of prospects that has caused an exodus of those willing and able to perform: one-third of Moldova's population now lives abroad. Sandu's first priority is therefore to modernize the education system and infrastructure and to develop a healthy sector of small and medium-sized enterprises. Only then would positive outlooks for the future have been created for the population - by their own efforts and they could then seek cooperative support from the EU. That this is not a foregone conclusion can be seen by looking across the border to neighboring Romania: a member of the EU for 14 years, the country is still struggling with economic misery and fundamental structural reforms. One can only wish the Republic of Moldova all the best and Maia Sandu a lucky hand.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I don't really know...

How pleased am I that Japan will not succumb to the commercial temptation to allow the same spectator madness at the Summer Olympics starting next week as England and Hungary did at the European soccer championships?

How satisfied am I to have found a solid solution to a complex challenge in weekend work that I can present to colleagues in the office tomorrow?

How relieved am I to live neither on a riverbank nor in a valley and therefore to be exposed to flood hazards only in underground garages and underpasses?

How happy am I that my wife will be standing in the kitchen tonight while I open the red wine, listen to the spherical sounds of Tangerine Dream and comfortably read the newspaper?

In some weeks you just have to be satisfied with the little pleasures in between. All good.

I couldn't care less...

...that insurance companies fear being confronted with claims arising from the flood disaster. After all, their business model should be to provide support in the event of an emergency. And not to look for backdoors and exclusion clauses in the fine print of their cryptic contracts.

As I write this...

...I'm tasting delicious olives my daughter brought back from her graduation trip in Tuscany.

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jj-ktae · 5 years

Text

Protect me not - Chapter 1 -

Title : Protect me not Genre : Soldier!Au, Action, Angst, Fluff Pairing : Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader Words : 3597 Summary : You’re just a university student, they are part of a hidden force in the Army. Their duty is to protect you from the people who want you dead. Their plan? Do whatever it takes to succeed. It’s the very first time they get handed such a job, so it’s no surprise when one of them gets involved more than he should be.

AN : It’s a rewrite from a series I started back in 2016 on another website so if you already saw this around the internet, don’t freak out.

Every chapter will have a picture, always ‘from the past’ and in different locations all over the world. Obviously, the locations won’t match with where the pictures were actually taken. I will use them as photos taken during previous missions.

Credit to @softseunies for the picture!

Teaser /

Chapter 1

“Food is the best.” Seven boys are walking down the streets, enjoying a well-deserved day off. It’s a sunny day with many people walking around, something they have yet to get accustomed to.

It’s been two days. Two days of coming back to old habits and finding peace in the comfort of their home.

“Jackson, you got drunk so many times that I’m surprised you are still alive.” One boy answers, tone mocking.

“It’s not like we almost all died because of Bambam.” A third person adds.

“It’s not my fault!” Said Bambam sounds outraged, his accent getting thicker with each word. “You tell me to press the detonator, so I press the detonator! This is because the initial plan was a failure. Jinyoung thought we could kill twenty Russian Mercenaries in fifteen minutes…no wonder we almost died.” Bambam adds, tone accusing.

“The plan was just fine!” Jinyoung snaps, “If Youngjae could actually use a computer, it would have been easier for you.” His mocking tone makes them laugh.

“I can use a computer, not a Russian computer. Yugyeom played online games and it all turned gibberish!” Youngjae is quick to answer, hitting Jinyoung on the back with a loud scoff.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re all here, right? You’re so tiring, kids.” One very annoyed boy chirps in, jaw tensed and eyes dark.

Jackson agrees, repeating the same sentence in a falsely angry tone, sticking his tongue playfully toward the rest and laughing when a couple of cursing words are thrown his way.

“As I said,” Jaebeom adds lowly, “you’re so tiring.” He opens the entrance door of a little building, trying to busy himself with anything else but the constant bickering of the boys he calls his team.

“Well, I miss Russian women.” Bambam presses on the elevator’s button, mouth curving upwards and eyebrow wiggling.

Jinyoung snorts, rolling his eyes because how on earth did Bambam become such a womanizer?

“Mark was the luckiest, and he didn’t even touch any of them.” Jaebum muses before wriggling his brows at the latter, who still hasn’t uttered a word.

“So much for calling them kids…” Said boy barely sighs, not the least surprised by their behaviour.

None of them are normal.

Jackson puts an arm around his shoulders comfortingly, whispering about how much of a pro his friend is.

“I don’t get how you can think about this even when you have guns put on your temple.” Mark answers, eyeing the boys as they are busy mimicking weird dance moves.

They shrug, not getting how much of a problem it is to think about their needs, no matter the situation.

“If we could put all the shit off of your head, they would be room for a real brain, actually.” Mark’s comment makes them laugh, not the least annoyed by what he implies.

“Bastard.” Is the only answer he receives.

The day is quiet, with no major events and too much noise. The group of boys barely came back from their last mission and can finally rest – and Jaebeom would hardly call it that way if you ask him – while doing nothing.

But it never stays that way.

“Come here! The major is on the phone.” Jaebum’s voice makes them stop to go to the living-room, where he is sitting on the huge couch, eyes serious.

“Sir, yes sir! Private Im Jae beom speaking.”

They all hear some shuffling on the phone, followed by quick whispering. The major looks busy sorting things out so they keep quiet, waiting for what seems to be important enough to call them while they’re off-duty.

“You’ll be on duty starting tomorrow. The next mission is in South-Korea. The name’s Y/N. She’s 25 and is a university student at Korea University. The mission is to Keep her safe. I sent the mission’s content to Private Choi Young Jae. You have until tomorrow to agree on a plan. If the target dies, we all die. You’re all dismissed.”

Youngjae is quick to grab is laptop. His fingers fly on the keyboard while the rest gathers around him. He opens a file that turned them all silent, too busy reading.

Y/N, 25 years old. University student. Main mission: Infiltrate the university and keep her alive. Second mission: Discover the secret behind a chemical medicine called Orion. Means: Full permission.

You are all part of the university now.

Im Jaebum: University supervisor Mark Tuan: Student, International Transfer from the US. Jackson Wang: Student, International Transfer from HONG KONG Park Jinyoung: In charge of tutoring and academic support. Choi Youngjae: Information Technology worker. Bambam: Student, International Transfer from THAILAND Kim Yugyeom: Security volunteer.

Here is a file with all the information about the target and your false profiles.

They all look at each other.

“Looks like a shitty mission.” Jackson says.

“I’d rather go back to Russia. What do I do, do I tell them not to run in the hall?” Yugyeom sighs, not the least convinced.

Mark points at Jackson and Bambam who bat their lashes at him before coughing loudly, not liking the team choice.

“You three are too unstable to actually work at a university.” Jaebum seems to hear Mark’s silent plea and smirks when the later closes his eyes, already done with them.

Y/N lives in Apgujeong, Gangnam. No relatives. One friend: Kim Yebin. Majoring in Marketing. Working part-time at a convenience store in Apgujeong. Background: Dr Cheol’s daughter and only alive member of his family. Here is a picture. She mustn’t discover about the mission. You will be dismissed as soon as she knows it.

Tomorrow, 8 a.m., Korea University.

PS: Report is every night at 9 PM

“That’s all?” Jinyoung says. He doesn’t know about what they should do, but he can already tell this isn’t going to be easy.

“I’m going to be a university student!” Bambam boasts, already overly confident because he is going to be such a perfect student, he can’t wait.

If only they knew.

*-*

It’s barely 8a.m when you hear your best friend complain loudly. The day barely started, but all she can do is whine at how you didn’t let her grab some random guy at a party. Her voice is too high for someone who woke up less than an hour ago.

“Better thank me rather than sulking. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have slept with him.” You stop midway in the stairs to point a judging finger at her dishevelled state.

She starts sulking, her face a tad swollen from her wild night.

“You have a boyfriend! Next time you want to do this, just…don’t do it while I’m here.”

“But you’re my best friend!”

“That’s right, that’s what best-friends are for, Yebin.” You conclude, feeling apologetic because Yebin totally looks exhausted despite her silly grin. “My first class is English. How about you?”

“Economy. Meet you at 12, same place?”

You wave at her, hurrying before it gets too late. The class is barely filled with students when you enter the room, head dipping in your bag and feet fast as you pick a sit somewhere calm.

Calm is what you aim for, no matter what.

It has been that way ever since your father died. Well, even before that, considering he spent most of his life locked in his laboratory to work on things that were out of your reach.

When he died, you decided to continue your own way, because there wasn’t a lot you could do anyway. You were not sad nor happy, and every day was more like a calm road. University was great so far because there were so many people that you were barely noticeable in the crowd.

English is the most bearable class and you could even sleep, sometimes. As the teacher enters, a simple wave serves as a greeting before a suitcase falls on the long desk.

“We’ll be working on a text about stock exchange and monetary system. I’ll put the course on the internet platform so just take notes.” A huge text appears on the whiteboard and the teacher sits, ready to read the exact same sentences with a monotone voice.

You take your laptop off your bag and start taking notes but it ends up looking like a mess when you notice you won’t be able to concentrate.

And you can totally thank the three boys in front of you for making things harder than they already are.

“Fuck you, I don’t understand!” One very agitated young guy whispers, hair wild and clothes shiny.

“Shut up, just sit down.” The second guy answers. He looks bored and it seems his arms are crossed over his chest in a laid-back manner.

“I’m going to hit you, Bam.” The third one is a bit bustier, you notice it from the way his arm looks huge as his head rests over his hand.

“I’m Thai! How would I know about Sock exchange!”

One of them whispers a soft it’s stock exchange, making the guy laugh, not even embarrassed.

You shake your head, blaming your lack of concentration on the lack of sleep. You can do this. You can totally listen to-

“What’s the point in taking this class if I can’t follow.” You end up glancing again just as the agitated guy leans, arms going behind his head.

You don’t remember seeing them and you’ve been taking this class for quite a few years now.

The teacher starts explaining about what you’ll have to do for the next class, which includes a series of questions about the text and a presentation of the stock exchange and how you think it would work, based on three big companies of your choice.

You sigh yet don’t stop typing, not ready to spend more sleepless nights. You hear the guys in front of you complain about having homework while the skinny one laughs and when the busty guy tries to kick him under the table, his arms almost knock your laptop over the little desk. He turns around hastily.

“Sorry! Did I break it?” You are finally able to see his face, surprised by his perfect switch into another language to address you.

You just shake your head and the guy gives you his best goofy smile. “It’s boring, right?” He adds before the quiet guy’s voice cuts him, icy. You’re not sure but he seems to be talking about distracting other students.

“I almost broke her laptop! Just listen and leave me alone!” He raises some protective arm and proceeds to engage in a heated argument with his friend about how university is also supposed to be about being friendly.

You stay put, blinking at the two when a deep and icy voice startles you. He seems to be trying to threaten his friends but they barely listen to him and soon the guy turns again, hand going up in a polite manner.

“My name’s Bambam, I’m a transfer student from Thailand.” He extends his hand, smile cheeky yet looking genuinely friendly.

“Y/N” He nods and shakes your palm, his eyes shining. He gives you one last smile before turning around, avoiding his two friends’ death glare.

When the class ends, you were barely done answering the questions and your text was full of mistakes. You give up, putting your stuff back into your bag and proceed to go to your next class.

Marketing Analytics.

You enter an almost empty class – the fact that it was abnormally hard to score good grades with that evil teacher probably the reason why no one was picking this subject. You let your bag rest on one of the tables at the far end of the room and sit leisurely, ready to fight against sleepiness.

A hand on your arm makes you look up, hand freezing on your laptop.

“You’re taking this class, too!” This Bambam guy is back, with his white teeth and extraordinary fancy clothes.

“Yes, why?”

“Just sayin’. Can I sit here?” He sits down without waiting for an answer, making you narrow your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

“It’s our first day here. We need to make friends, right?” Bambam giggles, stopping when he hears exasperated sighs. You both look to the side, slowly

His two friends are literally glaring at him.

“Come and sit with us, at the front.” The quiet guy is looking at him like he is dead meat but Bambam brushes him off, already dismissing the other two take a notebook from his shiny backpack. You shrug, turning your laptop on and deciding not to engage in more conversation with the guy in hope he would let you be for the rest of the day. You hear noises and the sound of chairs moving so you assume they decided to join because a second later everything is silent again as the teacher enters.

“We’re going to continue where we left things off. There are, as we saw, tools that can help gauge how successful the marketing of a company is. What I want is the creation of your own tools. Take 4 items, explain them, and send me the report. Since this project is only going to last two hours, you’ll start now and will continue next week. The deadline is the end of next class. You can do it alone or in group. The number doesn’t matter; I just want everybody’s name written.” He puts a blank paper on the first desk and proceeds to go out of the class, leaving the students to discuss things with each other.

“That’s so cool! Let’s team!” Bambam squeals, his hand aiming for your shoulder again and making you flinch.

“I’d rather do it alone…” You try to explain, eyes reaching up to meet the guy’s pouty face and puppy eyes. He blinks cutely, looking hurt and sad to be rejected.

“We started today, we know nothing about last week’s class…” He trails off, hand stopping on his notebook and eyes looking around the room in distress.

“We’ll figure something out, Bam. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” The busty guy leans and sends you a sorry smile before leaning back again. The piece of papers arrives at his desk and you see him write his name briefly before passing the paper.

Great, now you feel guilty. You sigh inwardly, already regretting what your next words are going to be.

“Ok, let’s do it together. I’m not really good when it comes to Analytics though…” You explain, hoping they won’t hate you later when they’ll discover their grade.

But Bambam dismisses your worries, explaining that Jackson is smart - and even the latter seems surprised by the sudden praise - while jumping on his chair.

You smile at Bambam and chuckle when he reaches for his pen to listen to whatever you’re going to say.

They know a bit about analytics and Bambam was right, Jackson is rather smart. He translated a couple of sentences from English to Korean and it helped them a lot. Bambam noted everything down, teasing his friend yet complimenting his skills. The third one was silent and didn’t say much so she didn’t push him. The two others were already taking a lot of your space anyway.

You noticed they can be quite noisy, too.

When the class ends, you take your stuff and leave before they can greet you, eager to find your dear peacefulness back.

The three find themselves alone in the classroom and it doesn’t take a minute before Mark speaks, shaking his head and looking terribly annoyed by the situation “If we weren’t in a university, I would have already attached you to a car and took the speedway.” He threatens, a hand reaching for his scalp to rub his locks messily.

“We need to make sure she’s alive! What’s so bad about being friends with her? It’s not like we can stalk her! We’re not in battlefield, y’know.” Bambam answers defensively.

“I thought he was crazy at first, but it makes sense. We can’t stalk a girl like that. She might think we’re crazy, but at least we’re crazy friendly, not crazy creepy.” Jackson adds, trying to calm an obviously fuming Mark.

“We can’t be too close. Did you forget that she can’t know about this?” Mark tries to explain, feeling like he will not have a choice in what is going to happen starting now.

“You’re the weird one. We’ll watch out for her, that’s all.” Jackson concludes, putting a hand around Bambam’s shoulder as the two proceed to leave the classroom.

Picking these three as students wasn’t just some random idea from their hierarchy. The reason behind such a choice also had to do with the fact that each private had its specialty. Each of them had something they were the best at and with Jackson, Bambam and Mark watching after you, it was going to be complicated for anyone to hurt you without ending with broken limbs or a hole in their body.

Jackson is specialised in Martial art. His knowledge of the combat techniques is beyond anyone else and his agility makes it hard for anyone to win a fight.

Bambam is an expert of weaponry. His love and knowledge about guns put him in charge of supplying the group, just like his skills in craftsmanship which makes him unbeatable in this field.

Mark’s situation is not the same. He has a different background and a different path, one that doesn’t put him on the same page as the others.

Because Mark is nothing but an ex-assassin.

It doesn’t make him unskilled or incapable of protecting a target and on the contrary, his ability to do whatever is takes to succeed a mission makes him one of the most dangerous to deal with. He also has a thing for cutlery, something that he explains as something that had to do with his past.

Making the three of them the closest persons to the target wasn’t just out of pure luck and with them, you are the safest girl around town.

You meet a yawning Yebin during lunch, eating leisurely and looking as done as ever.

“I can’t believe I survived a 4 hours long Economy class.” She sighs, stretching slowly and groaning when a couple of bones crack in the process.

You laugh, “I survived a bunch of weird guys, today.” You explain, grabbing your food quietly. “Transferred students.”

Yebin can only laugh tiredly, fork dipping into your lunchbox to steal some food. “Life is hard.”

*-*

“We can’t even hang out with the guys because of their schedule.” Jackson complains as he gives his friends their sandwich.

“Seven new guy students together is a bit too difficult to hide anyway.” Bambam answers, aiming for a calm spot to eat.

Mark is silent, eyes scanning the unknown place because all of this is so not familiar. Students run, others are asleep in the park, he can see guys flirting with girls, others playing football.

He sees his two colleagues go toward the park and follows, glancing around from time to time. He is not used to such commotion, unless it comes from a battlefield or a fight. This place makes him go on alert so much, because everything is unpredictable and he feels like something would run into him any minute. He sees the target with her friend and puts a hand on Bambam, signalling him to aim for a spot not far from the two.

“She’s at 6, don’t turn around, Bam.” Jackson says, looking at his food. “I suppose it’s Kim Yebin.” he adds.

Bambam groans “I wanna see too! Is she hot?”

“Can you stop this?” Mark turns to them. “We don’t give a shit if they’re hot.”

“Correction: You don’t give a shit. We do. We get stuck with you party pooper and we don’t even get to check out on girls.” Bambam claps his hands at Jackson’s sharp comment, nodding in appreciation.

Mark gets up silently and leaves the two guys, which doesn’t even worry them. Bambam grabs the opportunity to sit next to Jackson before grabbing his pink sunglasses to let them rest on his nose.

“Is this your cover? You look stupid, Bam.”

Mark decides he’d be better off alone. He isn’t surprised when his friends don’t try to stop him. It’s a habit; he’d leave to go on his own and appear when help was needed. Mark isn’t one to put up with such stupidity and he knows better than strangle them in public, so might as well isolate himself and check on the girl alone.

He sits in another corner where he could see her without revealing himself. She is chatting happily, smiling and pushing the other girl whose cheeks are turning red from all the laugh.

She looks like a normal girl.

What could possibly be the cause of such a mission?

Mark tries and observes. He looks at the way she stares at the crowd, how her hands play with her jacket, but nothing strikes him. You’re just a university student. Mark isn’t one to think for too long. His thing is running in the heap, cutting bodies and finishing the work, making sure everyone was still alive.

Jinyoung calls him the Punisher because he is killing faster than a heartbeat, or so to speak. He isn’t just an emotionless military dog, but his character is one of an executor, and it had been this way for 10 years now. Thinking of a plan is usually Jaebeom’s role, his objective being making sure nothing could stop them. Mark sighs when he understands he’d only be baby-sitting.

What a shitty mission.

82 notes · View notes

spiltscribbles · 5 years

Note

combo of 7 & 8 for pynch hehe :)

Notes: Thank you so much love!!! | Send Me A Prompt

“It’s the last straw! I’m done! I’m over it!” Blue stabs the spoon into her yogurt, teeth clenched, and knuckles white. Adam, like the good friend he is, just calmly slides it out of her hand and gives her a banana instead.

“She’s not that bad of a roommate,” he tells her with a one armed shrug. The look she shoots him can only be described as the personification of betrayal. Adam can’t believe it’s the third time he’s rolled his eyes at her and it hasn’t hit nine in the morning yet.

“They were naked Adam! Nude! Birthday suits!”

“The biblical state,” Henry tacks on and Blue nods along graciously.

Make it four times before nine in the morning.

“It’s Orla…. She’s eccentric

“It was on the couch! I sit on that couch Adam!” blue hits her hand against the table, fully indignant now.

“I really would recommend having it at the very least steam cleaned before partaking in that activity again,” Henry advises sagely as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Oh no! No way! I will never sit on that couch another day of my life!”

“Glad to see you’re taking this reasonably,” Adam says, voice blithe, as he brings their cereal bowls to the sink.

“Don’t start with me Adam! You haven’t seen the things I have! The freckles and birthmarks— The hair.” Blue shutters and henry slings an arm around her slim shoulders in comfort, clucking his tongue all the while.

Fifth…. It’s been the fifth time now.

“So how do you reckon you’ll live in there without sitting on the couch ever again?” He needles with a quirked brow, fully having decided to just fall into the dramatics. It’s always easier for him at the end of the day when just excepting it.

“I’m moving out! Duh.”

“Oo, My Blueberry is becoming her very own American woman!” Henry preens. “Let me get you a chic new outfit Sabrina style!”

“That movie is sexist and culturally appropriates middle eastern garb.” Blue sniffs.

“Good to know that the new Blue has still got all her old spunk.”

“You’re both ridiculous,” Adam tells them, lips pinched.

“We bring bursts of color into your otherwise stale existence,” Blue argues loftily.

“Ridiculous,” Adam repeats with feeling.

“Lying doesn’t become you my dear Henrietta Prince,” Henry tells him far too frankly before turning his attention back to Blue. “You know you’ve got a place here if you want it.”

“Where?” Blue snorts. “In your living room?”

“Our couch doesn’t have naked Orla germs,” Adam offers halfheartedly.

Blue just levels him with a unimpressed look, and Adam’s got flashbacks to junior year when Maura caught the pair of them getting drunk off Persephone’s peach wine coolers.

It’s terrifying.

“Charming. But no need, I’ve already begun sifting around for places nearby that are looking for a new roommate.”

Adam takes the papers she’s already printed off and begins shuffling through them.

“This one has like five cats,” he tells her with a curled lip.

“It sounds homey.”

“You’re allergic,” Adam rebukes.

“I’m desperate Adam!” Blue reminds him.

“This one has a picture of him wearing a MAGA hat on his facebook profile pic,” Henry informs her, holding a second listing.

“Okay not that desperate,” Blue crumples it up and tosses it to the side. Adam would tell her to throw it in the trash like an adult but reasons she’s having a moment.

“Mmm, what about this one,” she waves around the paper and Henry takes it to look over himself.

“It’s with three random dudes.”

“Three normal looking dudes,” Blue presses. “And so to reiterate, I’m desperate.”

“Ted Bundy was a normal looking dude,” Adam charges, making Blue glare at him menacingly.

“Adam I can still see flesh in my nightmares!”

Sixth, sixth time he’s rolled his eyes. Jesus fucking Christ Adam is gonna be sent to an early grave because of an aneurism from them.

The problem is that when Blue sets her mind on something, not even the angels above can dissuade her from it, so that’s why Adam spends his Saturday afternoon— the only one he’s had off from a shoot in literally three months— driving to some sketch apartment with her and Henry, in the latter’s abrasively flashy sports car.

He feels like a fraud.

“Blueberry are you sure you put in the right address?” Henry asks, face scrunched in confusion once they cruise into the open parking spot in front of a dilapidated looking manufacturing building.

Blue flickers her eyes back down towards her phone before glancing up with a sure nod.

“Look it says Monmouth right over there on the sign near the front door. This’s the right place.”

“Right place to get murdered,” Adam intones darkly.

Blue only tosses him a glare before slipping out.

“Are we bad people for going along with this?” Henry asks Adam, his mouth downturned in concern.

“Nah, we were bad people long before this.” Adam assures him wryly before following suit.

“I don’t want a new roommate,” Ronan tells Gansey for the third time in the past hour. In turn, Gansey only rolls his eyes before trying to stuff the old pizza boxes into the trash can. God fucking damn it, Helen’s right, they do live like pigs.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Noah contends. “It’ll bring some new energy in this place.”

“Oy, what did I tell you about saying shit like energy and chakras.”

“That’s it’s something a douche hipster would say and you’d throw me out a window if you heard it again.”

“And yet.”

“All I can say to that is dude you need to clear your chakras.” Noah says, fully goading, and making it so an unexpected laugh tears out of Ronan, the total prick.

“For the love that is all holy and right, will you two please just attempt to act normal when she gets here.”

“It’s a girl?”

“A girl with models as friends,” Noah perks, completely beaming. “And you know what that means,” Noah winks and Ronan, for the good of the public, cuffs him on the back of the head. Hard.

“You fucking sly dog, how do you even know that?”

“Preliminary interview through the phone,” Noah shrugs. “She sounds nice, better than living with that guy with a pet snake.”

“That snake was fucking cool.” Ronan argues.

“There’s a one pet limit here, and your raven has taken the slot.” Gansey huffs, hand on his hip like Aurora would do if Ronan and Declan were being especially rowdy. “And Noah don’t ask about her model friends, that’s creepy.”

“That’s kind of my shtick man.” Noah points out, wide eyed.

“Less horror film creepy and more loser from Revenge of the Nerds creepy,” Gansey clarifies scoldingly.

Noah swallows down a lump, properly cowed.

It’s right then when the doorbell rings and Gansey frantically puts in the last of the empty cups into the dishwasher from the sink before scurrying to the doorway, Noah and Ronan on his heals.

Ronan knows he lost the battle and the war the moment the door swings open and the first thing the pixie sized, colorfully dressed girl says is a glowing “Blank 182?” While gesturing towards Noah’s… Well Noah’s everything.

Noah looks like the cat who’s gotten into the cream, Gansey looks more glowing than usual, and Ronan can’t take his eyes off the sandy haired boy she’s brought along with her.

Living with Blue is a beast that Ronan can’t quite figure out how to defeat.

She, probably like any sane person, expects the house to be in some sort of semblance— aka no more jackets and other innocuous articles of clothing thrown about the shared living space, and for dishes to be rinsed after use and put into the dishwasher accordingly.

“Your rooms can be as trashy as you want, but can we please not make the whole place a pigsty,” she had sniffed with a cocked head and jut out hip. Gansey of course nodded giddily— on account to his staring at her all moony ever since meeting her— Noah had shrugged, indifferent. But Ronan held out as long as possible, sneer on his lips. But alas, she met his every zig with a zag and he found himself in a stalemate.

But Ronan could deal with the tidiness and even the impromptu yoga sessions she holds with randoms from her classes at university. Hell he could deal with her weird obsession with Yogurt too, and can actually listen to her rants about the patriarchy and institutional blocks that keeps the impoverished and people of color and women down from being able to achieve feats once only meant for wealthy white men. Fuck, Ronan’s come to think her particular brand of spitfire humor is actually hilarious.

So yes all of this is fine. But with Blue comes them. Henry Cheng, best friend she met at some art class her freshman year. And fucking Adam Parrish, apparently someone she’s known for so long and so intimately that she refers to him as family more often than not.

And yeah. Ronan is not jealous and Noah needs to take that fucking sneer off his face.

“You’re jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Ronan yells emphatically for the fifth time.

“Ronan has a crush!”

“Noah God so help me!” He threatens, totally venomous.

“You’re in loveee!”

“Noah I will destroy you!”

Okay so Ronan might be sorta, kinda, not jealous…. But bothered. Yes Bothered. He’s bothered because he can’t fucking figure out Blue and Adam’s deal. One second they’re sniping at one another about the economy and the next she’s lying her head in his lap while he’s carding a hand through her hair.

Fucking salacious shit.

But occasionally, on especially good days, Blue falls asleep early and instead of going back home right away, Adam stays. He stays and he shares a drink with Ronan on the porch and they talk about nothing really, but also a lot of things. Ronan find’s out he basically grew up with Blue, that she was his first everything. He’s deaf in his left ear and he didn’t mean to fall into modeling but he didn’t have enough money to finish the semester at MIT and instead of giving up he took up some side gigs which eventually culminated into a career of his own.

Ronan finds out that Adam’s favorite flavor of ice cream is cow tracks and his front tooth is chipped from behind. Adam has a small, crooked smile and when he laughs its more breath than sound and its absolutely lovely.

Ronan finds this all out but still has no idea whether he has a shot.

And again, he’s bothered.

“I vote on something classic,” Blue tells them with a sip of her shake. (Read the shake Adam bought but Blue somehow still always drinks half of even while she complains about being on a diet, which then leads her to grouse about how Adam stays narrow and lithe even if he eats four quarter pounders back to back).

Sadly, this happened once and only once when Adam was especially stressed over a finals week and hadn’t eaten for literally three straight days.

She really has seen him at his worst.

“Ooo, let’s watch some singing in the rain! I’m ready to belt out some toons.” Henry crows.

“Oh well if it includes your perfectly pitched singing,” Adam says flatly. Blue promptly elbow checks him and Henry waggles his tongue out.

“Sounds good to me Henry, so where?”

“Your place?” Adam says, brow kinked and trying to smother down the hopefulness in his voice. Of course, it doesn’t work. They know him better than anyone else, and they immediately stick him with matching smirks.

“Pray tell Parrish, me and you have the better entertainment system by far, and yet you’ve been insistent on heading to Blueberry’s place for our weekly movie nights for the past two months…. Hah, I wonder what two months signify?”

“Ooo ooo! I know Henry, I know!” Blue teases swinging her arm up high like an excited school girl. “I just moved into Monmouth and Then Adam over here got all slack jawed and goofily eyed over my scary roommate!”

“Blueberry gets the point!” Henry squawks, giving her a makeshift bracelet out of the straw wrapper.

Adam looks at them both with as much fury as he could muster, cheeks infused red, and jaw locked.

In retort, they only laugh ebulliently.

Adam is so tempted to make new friends.

Ronan opens the door on a random Thursday afternoon a week later and Adam steels his nerves, not about to back down.

“Oh, ah Parrish.” His prominent brows furrow together, suspicious. “Maggot isn’t here yet.”

“I know,” Adam says, head tipped high. “Can I come in?”

Ronan only shrugs as he moves aside to give him the room to enter.

“You look like you have something squirming up your ass,” Ronan tells him, as blunt and as crass as ever.

Adam silently questions to the universe why is it that he’s so resoundingly attracted to him for that.

“You’re so eloquent with your words Lynch, you know that?” Adam tells him, completely flat, and making it so Ronan’s answering grin is something feral and amused.

“So you gonna just stand there looking pretty or actually get it out?”

“Jesus Christ, do you have an ounce of patience in your entire body?”

“I sweat it out at the gym, you wouldn’t know that skinny.” Ronan barbs, hip checking him while he struts to the kitchen.

Adam just glares after his form… His well built and deliciously broad shoulders.

“Still got enough muscle to beat your ass,” Adam teases and Ronan leers, impressed. Adam walks closer, magnetized.

“So Blue’s enlightened me about something.”

Ronan hikes up a brow, betraying his mask of indifference.

“Is that right. What? Did Maggot make you understand that the hand holding and lovey-dovey looks are getting abrasive?”

Adam is utterly confused to what he’s talking about— Did he find out about the crush, and if so does that mean he’s already, wordlessly rejected Adam. Is Ronan completely uncomfortable right now.

Adam shakes off the questions, is determined to just plunge in for once in his life without beating a situation to death with analysis.

“She’s enlightened me that my crush on you is getting to ridiculous levels of yearning and i should just ask you out like an adult.”

A thousand different expressions pull at Ronan’s face until finding landing at something Adam can only call aw.

“Oh— Ah, wait. Wait do you like me?”

Adam rolls his eyes heavenwards. God he really is going to get an aneurysm.

“You are such a doofus,” Adam sighs before inkling his head forwards and kissing Ronan senseless.

Ronan grabs his head and presses impossibly closer.

Later that night, when Henry and Blue march in with the decided upon movie they both begin to preen at the sight of them, exchange bills with Noah and Gansey too.

Again, Adam is going to be sent to an early grave. But hey, if in the meanwhile Ronan does that thing with his tongue, Adam will at least enjoy his final earthly days.

#PYNCH #ADAM PARRISH #RONAN LYNCH #THE RAVEN CYCLE #Spilled Ink #rainy day prompts #SPILT INK

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s-j-ace · 5 years

Text

New Plan!

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 9,119

Summary:

Kokichi Ouma, leader of the mysterious group of thieves that go only by DICE, is going through the motions of orchestrating their biggest heist ever when an unexpected bump in the road changes everything. That bump in the road is a detective and his name is Shuichi Saihara.

Essentially the events of That’s the Thing About Airplanes from Kokichi’s POV

Read on AO3

Kokichi Ouma was ready to be bored out of his mind for the next eight hours as he boarded the flight behind his motley crew. He was trying to keep himself busy by being generally exasperated with them. They were supposed to be posing as different family units or strangers that didn’t know one another, but King was supposed to be Rook’s uncle and they were touching each other’s butts while handing the lady their boarding passes. Bishop and Hearts were practically leaning on each other like they were tired or whatever, but they were supposed to be total strangers. Maybe they could be rewritten as half siblings or a whirlwind romance or something? Ugh whatever.

Kokichi would normally kick their asses about this, but he’d already anticipated their horrid 2 AM acting skills. The lady taking boarding passes was a plant. Jack had wriggled herself in as a flight attendant three days ago. She was currently taking boarding passes because of an understaffing issue. An issue that may or may not have been of natural causes...

Anyway, she’d get on the flight and smuggle the tea on board. The heist plan didn’t really involve the plane at all, so this was kind of unnecessary, but god would he want that half-way to Paris hot tea party. Besides, he wasn’t really one to leave much to chance when it came to scheming. Although that characteristic was more out of habit than any sort of innate perfectionistic tendencies. He was a king of thinking on the fly, but nowadays he rarely ran amok in that court because he just so happened to also be just as much of a genius at premeditated mischief.

It was a good thing Jack had volunteered herself for the plant job. He’d call her the most competent of DICE at 2 AM if she hadn’t drawn a dick on his boarding pass while checking it.

“Wow, it’s almost like you’ve actually seen one, you virgin loser.” He had told her as he tucked the pass into his hoodie pocket.

She smiled at him like he had complimented her handwriting or something inane like that. “Thanks! I’ve been working on my portraits. My boss is a real inspiration in my art you know…”

“I’d love to meet him someday,” Kokichi replied congenially, “He sounds handsome and brilliant and like he should always be listened to.”

She gave a thoughtful humm, “Actually he’s kind of a prick.” She blew a raspberry at him.

He frowned. “Well that’s rude,” he commented with an offended tone, “And out of character.” He shifted to an angrier persona. "Do you want to ruin everything?" Maybe it wasn’t entirely persona, he was a little tired too after all.

“Relax boss,” Jack said, looking at the screen in front of her with all the boarding information, “It says here you’re the last passenger.”

To be honest Kokichi’s concern-o-meter for this heist was in the negatives. He was pretty much bored by how well thought out this plan was, but he felt like he had to make a point and he was rarely ever honest besides.

Kokichi huffed moodily. “Yeah sure, but what if that detective from the smithsonian, like, stole the security camera footage from this airport or something totally plausible like that.”

He was kind of planning this conversation out a couple steps ahead. He did that sometimes, when he was bored. She’d refute him by calling the detective a goody-two-shoes or something and he’d say something about caution and she’d dismiss him and then something would pop up later where he could say ‘I told you so’ and re-establish his authority. The same happened when Ace wanted to prove how buff he was by lifting the mammoth bones from the Smithsonian. They'd had to stash it insecurely and the police got to it before they could come back for it later. That was a big ‘I told you so’ moment and as a result no one questioned him on his plans for the Louvre this time around.

Weirdly enough, his conversation forecast did not come to pass this time around.

Jack frowned, looking at the screen. “Hey, what was that guy’s name again? The guy from the Smithsonian.”

Kokichi frowned. “What, the mammoth?”

“No, like, the detective.”

Kokichi squinted at her. He was an evil mastermind, he could recall the exact angle of every laser scanner in the Louvre, of course he could remember the name of some guy. Shuichi Saihara. The novice detective whose dumb friend had tripped that allarm the night of the Smithsonian heist. They’d only had three minutes to get out with the picture frames and hide the mammoth because of him. The detective had showed up at a couple heists and had gotten in the paper, but honestly the mammoth thing was a bit of a fluke. They really hadn’t had a lot of time to stash it. Overall not a big deal.

Which was why it was weird that happy-go-lucky Jack of all people was bringing him up.

“What about him?”

“He’s, like, on the flight I think.”

She showed him the screen and sure enough, Shuichi Saihara was sitting in economy class by the emergency exits. Well, it didn’t really say that on the screen, but given his seat number Kokichi could triangulate it from the diagram of the plane he had memorized. Not that he had really needed to that, but… wait… what if he did need to...

A light bulb went on in Kokichi’s head. In cartoons lightbulbs were just a little blink that meant a switch had flipped for a single eureka moment, but for Kokichi it was more like the real life current of electricity as all of the steps of a brand new heist plan tripped over each other to course through his mind. He forgot to be bored for a second as his brain was lit up with a new scheme and all the possible scenarios that could accompany it.

He had been missing this.

Something... unexpected.

Something... exciting.

Something... unnecessarily convoluted!

Jack took one look at his carefully not grinning face and groaned with exasperation. “Awww boss you ain’t changing the plan again are ya? You already wrote us like a 100 page novel about the first one…”

“Eh, fuck that plan.” Kokichi said doing some mental calculations, “Get me ten parachutes and see if Clubs has extra sleeping drugs I want you to put them in the passengers’ drinks. The strong stuff. Direct Queen towards the rooftop diagrams I shoved in his carry on. Tell me when it gets to be around 1:34 AM Paris time.”

She looked at him with annoyance at the sudden deluge of tasks. “Oh yeah, sure thing. And what are you going to do?”

He gave her his biggest, bestest, shit-eating-est grin. “Be myself, of course.”

Then he turned and boarded the plane, imagining and relishing in the weirded out look she was definitely giving him.

When he got to the entryway of the plane from the boarding hallway, he came upon Rook gossiping with one of the flight attendants. Kokichi heard something about a wedding and a honeymoon before Rook spotted him and excused themselves to find their seat.

“Good evening, sir.” The flight attendant said, still clearly coming off of the social high of talking about his personal happiness. Kokichi decided to slam him down from it, hard.

“It will now that I’m finally on the same damn plane as my husband.” He gave his best impression of a disgruntled everyman, which meant it was a great impression because his best was always great.

“R-right.” Ah yes, the security of making someone else feel socially awkward. Kokichi would make a great playground bully, that’s for sure. At least he was self aware. And putting his talents to good use! Bullying pseudo-law-enforcement was 100% valid according to all levels of morality.

As he walked down the aisle he noticed the rest of DICE ahead of him chattering like sparrows as they moved to the back of the plane. Originally they had planned to keep a low profile and have a pre-heist tea party before touching down in Paris, but now…

Kokichi spotted him, sure enough right by the emergency exits. He looked dead tired and about to doze off, so Kokichi took a second to make some quick observations he hadn’t gotten the chance to get on the night of the Smithsonian heist. The guy had this very detective-esque trench coat with lots of pockets, which was a shame because it meant that if Kokichi decided to pickpocket him he’d have trouble figuring out where his wallet was. Something that didn’t really fit Kokichi’s imaginings of a stereotypical detective, however was that the guy was around his own age in the mid twenties and didn’t seem like the grizzled gumshoe type at all. In fact he was kind of anti-grizzled. He had a boring pretty boy face like a model or something and instead of the full beard and square jaw Kokichi had half imagined any time the word “detective” came up in his mind’s eye he had eyeliner accentuating the only hair on his face and a very breakable looking face. Ok that was a very play ground bully thing to think. Except young people weren’t really as fun to bully as old people because they actually might be poor or emotionally insecure or something, which always made Kokichi feel a semblance of an emotion akin to guilt. But this guy was flying to Paris in the summer season and had been in America a couple weeks before, so fuck him basically. Didn’t he have a job or something?

Oh shit the guy was looking at him, how long had he been doing that?

Don't panic, analyze then act.

He seemed freaked. Probably because Kokichi had been staring at him for a couple seconds now.

He put on a menacingly friendly grin and slipped into the seat next to the detective. Not the one in front of him, or one of the ones in his completely empty row, or even the aisle seat, literally the one right next to him. He put his elbow on the armrest the detective had so kindly pulled down for him.

The guy still looked super freaked out, so Kokichi tried to shift his grin to the more congenial side of menacing.

“Hey, aren't you Shuichi Saihara?” He asked, extending his hand. He thought about coming up with a pseudonym but was too busy being delighted by the absolute terror on the detective’s face. “I'm your biiiggest fan.”

The guy shook his hand like it was the lever for his very own personal electric chair. Dramatic much?

It seemed to freak him out so Kokichi decided to run with the ‘biggest fan’ thread, chattering on, “I read aaall about that thing with the hairy elephant and the stupid ugly criminal you've been tracking.”

He would keep talking about the ironic impudence of this imaginary criminal but it really seemed like Saihara was having a dissociative episode while he was talking.

He frowned. That was kind of boring. “Hey are you like deaf or something?” That would be kind of extra boring because then Kokichi would be trying to bully a deaf dude and that would be lame. “Hey. Heyyyy. Earth to Shuichi Saihara.” Maybe he could thread some truth in here. “Geez I didn't expect you to be this boring in person…”

That seemed to get him.

Saihara shook his head like he was getting the dust out and stuttered out an "I-I-I'm sorry, what?"

Well maybe he had the soul of an old man, if not the looks of one, Kokichi thought to himself as he blithered on. “Have you been ignoring me? Not a very nice way to treat your biggest fans." He crossed his arms. "I, like, totally hate when heroes don't live up to your expectations."

Guy still looked half asleep… Maybe a change of scenery was in order…

Kokichi noticed the chatty flight attendant from earlier coming down the aisle. It was time to act on his earlier framework...

He said something like “You can make it up to me,” but honestly even he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying anymore. That was the only warning he gave before reaching over the detective to break his chair. If he had stopped to think about it, he might have thought it was awkward, but it wasn’t like he had to care about what this guy thought. He was going to leave him on the plane and probably never see him again.

Kokichi held himself back from giggling when the detective toppled over backwards.

“Oh no!” He feigned surprise, “How could this happen?”

"What happens to be the problem here gentlemen?" The flight attendant asked right on cue.

Saihara was looking pretty dubious but also not that talkative so Kokichi thought about the right words to spin this.

Distract. You’re the threat here, Kokichi.

"What's the problem? You're asking me what the problem is?" He shifted his tone to that of a white soccer mom used to getting what she wants. "The problem, good sir, is that this Rusty bucket of bolts you call an airplane just tried to give my husband a concussion! I could sue for this, you know."

The flight attendant broke easy.

"I'm so, so sorry sir." He quibbled. "Here, we'll make it up to you. It's a long flight and we don't have many guests so I can upgrade you both to first class with no additional charge."

Kokichi gave a rather hearty harrumph. Not bad as far as harrumphs go.

"You better. Or my lawyer will be hearing about this."

Hah. If Kokichi tried to talk to a lawyer he’d probably get arrested. Small claims lawyers were like cops but with even less spine and more capitalistic tendencies in his book.

The flight attendant didn’t seem to care about the rot of society, though, and tarried forth to first class. Saihara hadn’t quite caught on yet, so Kokichi grabbed his arm. For some reason he didn’t expect the detective to be so draggable. Detectives just didn’t seem that way. Like they could be dragged, but Saihara seemed too tired and confused to not be dragged. Thrilling! Boring. Okay okay don’t get ahead of the horses here. Horses? Uh.

First class was more Kokichi’s style. He let Saihara shuffle into the window seat so he’d be able to keep a look out for Jack’s signals in the aisle.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you." The flight attendant said as Kokichi sat down.

Ugh it’s like he actually cared about his job or something. Being in customer service must be insufferable.

Kokichi didn’t actually want to harrass this asshole when there was a perfectly good fake cop right next to him, so he replied with an apologetic smile, “Of course. Ah, I'm so rry for causing so much trouble, it's just the honeymoon you see and everything just has to be perfect, you know?”

"No, it's quite alright, I understand completely." The flight attendant seemed to relax a little, “I went through the same trouble with my husband. Really let me know if I can help you at all.”

Droll. “Thanks sooo much!" he intoned gratefully. He turned to Saihara who still looked like he was in shock. "Wasn't he just the nicest Shuichi?"

Saihara blinked at him. "... If you had enough money to hire a lawyer that could sue an airline so frivolously then you would've already been in first class."

Hey! That sounded like something a detective would say!

"I'm just stingy." Hah. Beat that logic. Nice one Kokichi.

Saihara squinted like he was about to bless Ouma with another brilliant deduction.

"... Did you sit next to me so you could convince that gay flight attendant to put you in first class?"

Wow!!! He was thinking!!! He was totally wrong but at least he was trying.

"I can't believe you figured it out!" Kokichi did his best impression of a widow revealing a dark secret on prime time television. "It's true…Detective Saihara I was lying about being married to you the whole time. I thought you knew..."

"Wha- of course I knew that!" Saihara sputtered.

"Oh! How can you ever forgive me?" The flight attendant was definitely out of range by now so this seemed like a good time for some melodramatic tears. "Waah!"

"H-hey! Stop that." Wow what a bad detective. Is that how you comfort people? Sad.

Kokichi was about to weep even more for the loss of chivalry when the asshole shoved something at him. Was that… a handkerchief? This guy just had a handkerchief? Is that not something that only people in movies do?

Weird.

Kokichi snatched it from him, exclaiming, “"Oh wow! What a gentlemanly thing to do!"

He proceeded to make his most grotesque snot noises imaginable.

“A-are you alright?” The detective stuttered out.

Kokichi pondered a couple iterations of “no, and it’s your fault” before deciding that was boring and saying “Perfectly fine.” He flicked out the handkerchief and held it a bit to make sure Shuichi noticed it was clean before tucking it in his pockets. “Just a liar is all.”

"A-a liar?"

Kokichi frowned at him. "No, where did you hear that?" He made an expression of disgust. “Ick, I hate liars after all.” He put on his manic pixie dream girl sees a light bulb for a first time look. “That's why I'm such a big fan of yours, Shuichi.”

"I-is that so?" Ah, the panic of a person unprepared for social interaction at two am was a sight for sore eyes. “Um.” Or maybe it said nothing of Ouma’s own skill that this guy was an awkward glob. "Y-you seem to know my name, but, uh, what's yours?"

A question! An inquiry! One for which Kokichi had the perfect answer....

"Kaito Momota."

“What.”

Wow! What a flat tone Saihara had! Almost like he didn’t believe him or something absurd like that.

Kokichi waved his hands dismissively. "I know, I know, isn't that the name of your friend who was in the paper? That's why I read it, by the way," he said matter of factly. "Because we have the same name."

Ugh, he was adding too much supporting detail. That’s something bad liars do and he wasn’t a bad liar. He was the best liar. Accept no substitutions. Unless they were really good at lying about being a substitution… then they would probably be the best liar…

Ok whatever ranking of liar he was it was probably good enough to fool-

"... I-is that another lie?"

Ah fuck.

"Neeheehee… ya caught me." Best to bail early on this kind of thing. "If you guess my real name by the end of the flight I'll give you a prize!"

"Like Rumplestiltskin?"

Really? Was his own charade getting that cartoonish already?

“Aww man. You guessed it the first try. That's no fun.” Logically this was boring but he was doing okay as far as airplanes went. "I guess now you'll just have to guess my second, less cool, real name instead."

As great as he was at being evasive in all situations why was the subject not changed by now.

"... Honestly I'd much rather be sleeping through this flight." The detective rubbed his face, and Kokichi noticed the darker shades of his eyelids weren’t all eyeliner. He must have business. Something that was keeping him up at night.

Kokichi determined some short term goals for this conversation. Find out why the detective was going to Paris was primary among them. That information would narrow down his field of options for how to spend the rest of the flight.

Kokichi scoffed. “Why would anyone get on a flight to Paris at 2 AM if they weren't prepared to be up all night?" He shifted back into the fanboy thread, "Oh! Oh! Oh! I bet you've got another case you're hot on the trail of, huh Mr. Detective?”

Saihara seemed to hesitate. “Uh, sort of.”

Kokichi thought he was going to say something more but after a few seconds of silence, it was clear he needed further prompting.

"What kind of answer is that?" His words seemed to surprise the Detective, which was a bit silly considering that they had been having a conversation, where words being exchanged should be the norm. "How can you only sort of be solving a mystery?" Kokichi lied through his teeth. "You know, I just so happen to also be a world class detective."

“Really? Saihara’s skeptical and unassertive response was less of a question in this conversation and more of a way to measure how gullible he was.

"Yes, really!" Kokichi replied, storming ahead, "And as a real life detective I just so happen to know that when you're working a case you work it with 100% of yourself!"

Saihara made this weird, soft sound. It took Kokichi a moment's consideration to realize it was supposed to be a laugh because it sounded not at all like the howling cackles growing up with DICE had familiarized him with.

"I guess you're kind of right about that…” He fidgeted with the edges of his coat. “There's, uh, this case that I've been looking into for a long time now and I guess I have really been putting 100% of myself into it. My friends think I'm going a little crazy…"

Ooh, that was something.

“Your friends? Like that purple haired guy who was in the paper? The one with the dumb name?”

Considering the nitwit Saihara had been romping around the Smithsonian with, the detective must really be off the deep end on this case to be considered looney by his friends.

Kokichi was predicting a silly story that he could use to justify to DICE his choice to sit next to the detective the whole flight beyond satiating this little whim of his for a taste of the unexpected. He imagined them laughing about the detective from the smithsonian who thought the Eiffel tower was a secret spaceship or something as Kokichi explained how he just had to stick around to make fun of him.

Oh shit the detective was saying something.

"-him and one other friend think I'm making this thing about the Louvre up… and maybe I am a little crazy."

… The Louvre, huh?

Kokichi scrutinized the detective. He couldn’t mean… “The Louvre? Like, someone's gonna steal the Mona Lisa?"

"Uh, no." The detective looked away as if mildly embarrassed. "I think, uh, someone's going to take the plumbing from the renovated bathrooms…"

Kokichi’s brain registered two things about Shuichi Saihara at the same time. One: he was a real detective. Not a hopeless buffoon of a gumshoe like the ones you saw in video games about dystopian court systems and gay lawyers. He had made a real life deduction and had done so accurately. He was on a case. The second thing he realised was that Shuichi Saihara was a direct threat to his entire operation.

People usually categorize threats as something to induce fear. Some would describe the fear as “bone chilling.”

When Kokichi registered a threat his toes got cold. Not because he was scared or something dumb like that, but because his blood suddenly had a better place to be.

Kokichi’s brain raced with possibilities, brand new scenarios and personas that he could put on. Like he had been sitting at a boring ass company play only to realize that the curtains were rising to reveal a dramatic opera where he was the star. Ok, Kokichi wasn’t exactly a poet laureate when it came to analogies, but he was excited okay?

Kokichi shuffled the deck of options and picked a card.

"Wow. You must be really smart to have figured that out." Ok, good thought to start with praise. He has a low self esteem. "You know…" Kokichi leaned in. Shuichi leaned away. Good. Make him uncomfortable by getting in his bubble.

Now, just for fun, lie wildly.

"I just so happen to be the leader of a secret organization with about 10,000 members. We rule the world from the shadows. I think we could use a detective like you."

Shuichi obviously didn’t believe him, which was, to his credit, absolutely fair. “That- that has to be a lie. There is no possible way for such an organization to exist.”

Sad detective, falling for the classic hiding in plain sight maneuver. Disguise the truth of DICE in an unbelievable lie and he doesn’t believe any of it.

"And here I was thinking you were particularly clever." And, twist. "Seeing as you've refused to join my organization… it seems I'll have to kill you."

Oh man that really seemed to frazzle the good detective. What, had he never gotten a death threat before? Typical. It would be funny to see his expression if Kokichi were to just stab him right now. Except ew because blood and also ending human life. Yikes. Weird train of thought.

"But I'll let you leave this flight with your life if you can beat me in a game."

That seemed to calm the detective down a bit, like he realized Kokichi was just joking. It’d be funny when Kokichi pulled out the knife later. Ah, ah, ah, no spoilers.

"How about Russian Roulette with a full barrel?"

Shuichi sputtered, "This is a plane, you don't have a gun!"

Kokichi considered the ‘my ruse has been discovered….’ line again before he realized he’d used it like twice now and tossed it aside for: "Oh that's right, left it on my tchotchke shelf, silly me. Well I guess if you just want to beg like a dog and then split your guts open that would be acceptable."

Wow ok a little harsh there. Kokichi’s single brain cell devoted to tact whispered. What? No. No filter. Fuck you brain trying to conform to social conventions, shut the fuck up and stay out of my personality.

"Um, no that would kill me."

"Damn, nothing gets past you… Hmm… Ok, how about…" Kokichi reached into the pocket he usually left his Yu-Gi-Oh deck in. "A shadow game!"

He held up the cards only to realize they were actually just a normal playing deck. Oh yeah, he left his deck at home because he thought Rook might steal his blue eyes while he slept on the plane. Shit. Oh well, playing cards could be fun too.

"It's time to du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duel!"

Shuichi blinked. "A...duel? Shadow Game...?"

"Hmhmhm... Yes, the loser's soul will get sent to the Shadow Realm…" he shuffled them so that Shuichi and him would draw the same cards, "We each pull one card from this deck, and whoever has the largest number wins!"

Shuichi looked rather befuddled but Kokichi kept going full steam ahead.

This wasn’t really a game of chance anyhow. That wasn’t the point. The game had two motives, the first being to gauge Shuichi’s reactions to different scenarios, the second being to build up Kokichi himself as someone intimidating and mysterious. The card game wasn’t extremely telling, but the ensuing bout of rock paper scissors was.

Kokichi was keeping pretty busy predicting what Shuichi was going to pick next in order to make it a tie, but Shuichi didn’t protest at all to the mindless repetitive game it must have been for him. He was either easily impressed by rock paper scissors or just too awkward to tell Kokichi to fuck off.

Apparently the guy sitting in the row in front of them had no qualms about such things. He hit the back of his seat and grumbled “Oh my God shut up already.”

A bunch of weirdly indignant thoughts ran through Kokichi’s head.

Wow! Rude asshole! Mind your own fucking business! Get some damn headphones!

Shuichi looked like being told he was annoyed by a random asshole was his equivalent of seeing a ghost as he muttered out some inane apology.

Not that he cared about how this guy felt, but him suddenly clamming up just wasn’t very fun at all.

Just when he was making headway too…

… Maybe it was time to get rid of the distractions.

"Gosh Shuichi you really were being just too loud. You're like the loudest person I've ever met."

Shuichi looked at him like he was crazy which Kokichi appreciated for a millisecond before raising his voice to say, “Ugh that game was getting boring though, and no one won so it's probably time for something else.” He leaned over the aisle, noticing that Jack was standing in the aisle at the back of the plane chit chatting with Spades as Queen stole pretzel packets from the snack cart.

"Hey,” he called, “When's drink service?"

The three DICE members under his scrutiny froze like they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. They were probably gossiping about him again. Great.

Jack got her bearings fairly quickly, pushing the drink cart up the aisle. "Coming right up~" She trilled cheerfully.

As she passed by to start service at the front of the plane, Kokichi noticed a little green vial tucked into Jack’s sleeve. Most likely the sleep drug Kokichi had requested before he got on the plane. Hmm. He wanted to get rid of the distractions, but he wasn’t exactly sure distractions included Shuichi anymore. The flight was still pretty long and Kokichi knew he’d be bored out of his mind forever if he didn’t get through this whole game gambit with the detective.

Another spur of the moment change of plans was in order and it hit Kokichi with yet another wave of excitement.

"Hey, Shuichi!” He exclaimed, “We should have a tea party!"

Shuichi gave him another look. “A tea party? I don't think they ha-”

Kokichi didn’t have the patience not to speedrun Shuichi’s disbelief.

“Well oooobviously you wouldn't know anything about it.” He interrupted. “I'm the leader of a super secret organization after all, so of course I know about the super secret drink menu available on all air planes.

Shuichi frowned. "But they couldn't bring anything to-”

He stopped listening. Something something blah blah blah doubt doubt doubt.

Kokichi shook his head dismissively, getting ready to set up an I told you so moment.

“Just watch.”

When Jack rolled up with the drink cart she made a hand signal that told Kokichi things were going well on DICE’s end of things. "And what would you fine sirs like to drink?" She asked in a register slightly higher than usual. Jack was being smarter than Kokichi about this and had basically contoured all of her distinctive facial traits away, so Kokichi wouldn’t have to worry about Shuichi tracking her down from this interaction.

"A cup of hot green tea."

Pretty much the only reason he was going along with this impulsive plan of his was that the only person who would get any heat for it if things was south was him. He wouldn’t put DICE’s livelihoods in danger for a whim such as this.

"Sure thing!"

Was this even a whim anymore?

"And what about you?"

Of course it was.

"Shuichi here will have the same thing."

If it wasn’t then it would have to be something else.

And if it were something else, then Kokichi wouldn’t know what it was.

He couldn’t afford to be that stupid.

"Of course.” Jack smiled almost a little too fakely. “Anything added in like sugar or cream?"

She was obviously double checking that Kokichi didn’t want this bastard drugged.

"No, we're both taking it plain today."

"Oh, really? Alright then."

She poured the tea.

“"I hear you two are on a honeymoon? That's so lovely. Can I see the rings?”

Kokichi usually appreciated that Jack was quick to catch on to things, but she was bordering on insubordination at this point.

"You know what I hear?” Time to play real housewives of DICE with this gossip again. “That lonely flight attendants should realize they're sad and nosey losers who should keep their noses out of happy people's business."

Aw shit she was going to think he was flustered and covering up something wasn’t she.

"Teehee~ Yes sir! Enjoy the flight." Yeah she totally was on to him

Wait no because to be on to him she would have to be right and she wasn’t so there.

Oh shit wait Shuichi was still here. Looking extremely awkward and unsure if he was also supposed to start bitching at flight attendants like it was common etiquette or something.

"That was all code you know.” He brushed it off. “Super secret organization stuff. You probably wouldn't understand."

"Uh, yeah." He said, "I probably wouldn't."

Wow this guy was funny. Kokichi was moderately glad he wasn’t in a drug induced coma right now. Moderately glad was pretty good for an airplane vis a vis emotional stability.

"Neeheehee…” He let himself laugh a little. “Drink the tea Shuichi, I've got to pull you into a false sense of security before your final trial."

Shuichi frowned. "I feel like by pointing out that you're trying to lull me into a false sense of security you have essentially not done so."

"See, but because you feel that way it means I have succeeded in lulling you."

Shuichi frowned again, but seemed to see no logic in arguing. He decided to take a sip of his tea instead. Kokichi noticed the asshole in the chair in front of him was asleep. So was the guy in the seat across from his, and the woman in front of that guy was dozing too. Everyone else had a drink and would be soon to follow.

Everyone except for…

“So how do you like the tea, Shuichi?” Ouma asked.

Shuichi was drinking that hot leaf juice like a pro who didn’t even feel the burn. He made a contemplative expression.

“It’s pretty good as far as tea goes.” He shrugged. “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

Kokichi felt a little offended on the behalf of DICE’s custom blend as well as all of the classy tea drinkers in the world. He shook his head

"Fff, what are you, a cop or something? Next you’ll be telling me you like donuts more than cupcakes."

Shuichi made a weird face before looking away.

"Holy shit," Kokichi said. This was the perfect time to both change the subject and do a little investigating of his own. " Are you a cop? Like a really funny undercover cop who decided to pretend to be someone with the exact same job?"

"Uh, no, that's not it."

Was it something about the donuts then or- wait no that was stupid it was obviously the cop thing.

Shuichi was looking out the window now. "I, uh, did used to be a force detective."

"Huh," Kokichi remarked, trying to peek around at Shuichi's face, "Were you fired or something? You must've been pretty bad to get fired from some backwater police station."

"No that's not it." He seemed to be leaning into some sort of memory, "I quit actually…"

Ugh, who gave this fucking loser the right to be interesting. It was totally unfair.

Kokichi kept digging, "Man why wouldn't you want to be a cop. Clearly the most respectable public service someone can provide for their country…" but that was totally a lie. Cops suck.

Shuichi frowned. "I, uh, kind of disagree with that." He was pulling at his fingers like he was trying to stretch them like taffy. "I met a lot of people on the force who really did care about making the community better, but I feel like the existence of law enforcement is really a symptom of larger societal problems, and that the structure of power doesn't work to reduce crime or violence but instead works increase it by giving a group of privileged individuals the power to instill generational trauma in communities."

Uh… huh. Kokichi took a moment to process that because he had never thought about “cops = bad” beyond their innate fuddy duddy inclinations to stop him specifically from doing whatever the hell he wanted. What the fuck? Did this guy actually have, like, opinions??? And legitimate reasons for them??? Who gave him the right??? How could Kokichi hear more of them???

Pff wait he was probably some rich kid who took maybe one social justice class in college and became a stooge of the state anyway. Maybe he was, like, a real policeman's embittered assistant or something.

"That's lame." He lied, "cops are the cops, do you want folks to be murdering people left and right all the time??? I bet you've never even met a criminal." Hehe that one was a bit ironic, he'd laugh about it later.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at him, "Well, I have… I was a homicide detective, actually. I've arrested murderers in person many times..."

What???? Is this what talking to all strangers for extended periods of time was like? You found out they actually had lives? And cool careers? That they made their livings in murder?

Nah, Shuichi was probably an exception. You don't meet an anti cop homicide detective everyday after all…

Kokichi decided he was being too endeared so he planned out a new branch of conversation that would hopefully make Shuichi squeamish, or at least unnerved.

He put on his best enthusiasm face. "Tell me about a murder! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Shuichi blinked at him, surprised at his sudden shift in mood. "Uh, alright then…" he said.

Shuichi started to go into detail about a case he had solved his first year on the force. Some guy turned up dead in a public pool and everyone else had basically given up on the case. Shuichi was describing how he figured it out through deductions and use of specific forensic techniques, and to be honest he wasn't exactly a master of suspense. Kokichi was able to deduce the murderer from the details Shuichi chose to include. No, none of that was why he was completely mesmerized with Shuichi while he talked.

Hearing about the things that Shuichi did to get to the evidence in the first place was… impressive???

No that couldn’t be right.

Maybe it was just weird to see a mousey guy like him get as jazzed up as Kokichi about solving murders, and not even in a weird or vaguely creepy way. He just seemed like… Kokichi hadn't thought about it in a long time but when he was a kid he read a shit ton of mystery manga, where the heroes were detectives. He had since then moved on to more sophisticated literature such as airplane diagrams and police radio transcripts, but Shuichi reminded him of those detectives instead of the old fuddy duddies with which he had begun to associate the profession. He was just kind of… cool. Yeah that was the word for it. Cool. Like he was always going to get around to the right answer no matter what. Yeah, he had that abstract "coolness" factor that had drawn Kokichi to protagonists as a kid.

Kokichi wanted to steal it from him. Break his composure, become the center of the stage in this narrative. Yet, at the same time he suddenly dreaded his own inevitable heel turn. This was something rare, he decided, getting to talk one on one with Shuichi like this. It would probably never happen again.

So Kokichi listened. He teased, interjected, and prompted superfluous explanations, but he listened.

And Shuichi talked. He talked about murder most foul, crooked cops, elusive evidence, and the friends he made along the way. Shit straight out of a manga that Kokichi was spending his Saturday morning hyper-fixating on.

The conversation only ended when Shuichi had to get up to use the toilet. A stark reminder that manga wasn’t real and in meatspace human beings had to shit every now and then. Kokichi watched him go and felt a little sad. Like he knew whatever it was worth, the moment had passed. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and now all he had was to dissect it over and over again in his head until it became mangled beyond recognition...

Yeah yeah ok, world's tiniest violin, scattered ashes, ceremonial boat burning, yadda yadda.

Kokichi had a heist to pull off, no time for any of this silly stuff. He dismissed whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest and decided to go with the more practical inspiration that struck him. He took a couple seconds to plan out his grand exit. He decided to leave Shuichi a note and justified to himself that heists had been getting boring lately and as a proper game master he should give Shuichi a hint. Hmm were his initials too much? It might seem like…

Well he didn't really know what it seemed like, which was weird because he was a genius. Was he actually trying to figure out how Shuichi would react to this? He hadn't really thought about what Shuichi's opinion of him had been because he had only started thinking of Shuichi as an actual person halfway through the flight. That was the thing about being in a close knit organization, he always thought about DICE as an extension of himself and everyone else as some sort of nebulous other he had to predict the movements of. Sometimes he forgot that if you spent a lot of time talking to some stranger you find out they have brains and lives and stuff.

Speaking of things that probably have brains and lives and stuff, things seemed to be going good with DICE. Jack had signaled him that she told everyone about the plan when she came by to collect trash.

Of course, he and Shuichi were the only ones she took trash from. Everyone else was fast asleep, all according to plan. Kokichi had written some last minute details on a napkin he had put in the trash bag, so they all knew they were dropping soon.

They were also all probably gossiping about him. He supposed that's what he got for ditching them to sit with a detective dressed in black like a sexy motorcycle. Wow that was terrible where did his brain even get that line and how could he use it to make Shuichi freak out. Probably pretty easily...

Except if everything went according to plan maybe he wouldn't have the chance. Not like this. He imagined himself yelling the comment at Shuichi from the safety of a getaway chopper, like in the movies…

Ok his note was basically done now. Oh hmm. This actually seemed kind of desperate, the note. It kind of screamed "track me down to the end of the world please" like some sort of piss baby cry for help.

Aw shit. He was thinking about what Shuichi thought about him again...

Speak of the devil and he shall appear but Kokichi was already here and hadn't talked about himself in a bit, so Shuichi showed up instead. His hands were wet which meant he washed them and goddammit it was insufferable how tolerable this guy was. Did he have no weaknesses besides being generally awkward and also being someone who used to be a cop? Ugh wait the latter was kind of cool too. Insufferable.

Well you know what they say, if you can't beat em plan to jump off an airplane because you did beat them they just don't know it yet.

Kokichi decided their final trial together deserved some dramatic build up, so he bowed to Shuichi as he got up to let him sit back down.

"Welcome, combatants." He illustriated, "Take your seat and prepare for the final trial."

Shuichi gave him a wary look as he slid back into his seat.

"What is it this time?" he asked.

Kokichi considered pulling out the crying on that one, but got too excited about how Shuichi would react to his pulling out the knife instead. Thusly he reprimanded the detective’s lack of enthusiasm with a single tsk.

“You could stand to be a little more concerned mister detective, it’s your life on the line after all.”

Shuichi gave him a dubious look, like he trusted airport security and general societal norms to keep him from being murdered.

Kokichi wanted to tear down the walls of that trust.

He pulled out the knife.

Shuichi’s reaction was instantaneous. He practically jumped away from Kokichi in his seat. Weirdly enough... that just made Kokichi realize they had been sitting pretty close before...

How did that happen?

Eh no time for that.

“Is that a knife?” Shuichi yelped, “How did you get a knife on the plane?”

It was weird how Shuichi stuttered about everything except things that were actually dangerous. Well maybe Kokichi having a knife wasn’t really dangerous, but Shuichi didn’t know that and here he was saying complete words. Sentences and all. And yet it still had the streak of incredulity running through it that shot through to Kokichi’s head faster than his own signature panta-redbull blend.

“Oh, a villain's got his ways.” He said in a way that he thought was pretty cool and mysterious.

Shuichi still seemed to be panicking a bit and Kokichi was getting a little tired of that so he brushed past it.

“Now this game's pretty easy to understand, but you gotta be skilled,” he explained matter of factly, “I'll go first to show you how it's done.”

When some other kids had showed him this game when he was an even tinier bastard they had started off slow and slowly sped up. But he was still kind of leaning into the shock factor, and going slow was lame. He started stabbing the table through his fingers at a breakneck pace.

“H-hey!” Shuichi exclaimed (oh so now he stutters), “You're gonna hurt yourself doing that!”

“Pff, as if I would.”

The thing about this game is that it required rhythm, and rhythm required predictable repetition, and being predictable was the antithesis to everything that brought him joy in life.

He sped up.

“Here it's really easy.”

He went even faster.

The knife went *thuck thuck thuck* as it massacred the table.

When you did something the same way for a long time it gave you time to think about things. It didn’t really give you anything specific to think about, though, so Kokichi always felt like he was wasting time.

The knife went *thkthkthk* between his fingers.

He wanted to consider next steps. How long he would do this for and what would he do if Shuichi lost the game… Instead he started thinking about when he learned the game. He remembered he had picked it up from some of the older kids at one of the homes. The only other thing he remembered about them was one time they had stood by a rose bush with him, tearing off thorns and pushing them into their fingertips. Kokichi had done it and remembered that it didn’t feel like anything at all.

*Schlick*

Your fingers are full of blood vessels and nerves, but if you push down to the cartilage-

Oh wait.

“Agh!” Shuichi exclaimed from beside him, “You’re bleeding!”

Kokichi was bleeding.

He was looking at his hand. His knife had nicked a millimeter of skin on the inner side of his ring finger, just at the junction between the tip of his finger and the second part of the ligament. It occurred to him that he was in pain.

“Ow,” He said on instinct. Or maybe he thought it in his head. It didn’t matter because he was busy also thinking about how Shuichi had just grabbed his wrist and pulled it over to him.

The detective placed Kokichi’s hand in his lap like a sandwich he was saving for later while he ruffled through his coat pockets. He drew out a bandaid and lifted Kokichi’s hand again. His fingers were longer than Kokichi’s, and they felt sort of cold, like his blood had better places to be than his fingertips. They were very, very gentle as they wrapped a bandage around the bleeding finger. Almost like Shuichi cared or something.

The detective’s greyish green eyes flickered up to him and Kokichi realized Shuichi had really long eyelashes. “You really ought to be more careful.” He said in his soft way.

Kokichi was honestly having more emotions than were necessary about this, so he focused on the annoyance.

Man, good at figuring things out, is interesting, has opinions, and actually cares about other people? Was this guy even a real person??? That seemed like too many character traits. Geez Shuichi, why did mom let you have all of the attractive personality qualities?

Did he say attractive? He meant annoying.

Shuichi squinted at him. His eye lashes weren’t that long, he was wearing eyeliner. Kokichi had already noticed that. He just had to start thinking coherent thoughts again.

“What is it? Are you alright?”

Yeah, for sure.

Shuichi was still holding his hand and Kokichi decided it was time to not be touching another person again, so he quickly whipped it away. He tried to settle into a boastful kind of hands behind the head pose, but worried that the effect was lost by the sudden squirming of emotions in his gut.

"Geez," Kokichi said petulantly, "I can't believe you actually beat me."

He stomped everything down. It was time for action not... not whatever this was.

Shuichi blinked at him in confusion. "Beat you? But I didn't even play…"

"Doesn't matter." Kokichi shifted to a new pose where he leaned his arm on the rest in between them and propped his head up, positioned for his next steps. "The rules were if I cut myself I lose, and I lost."

“...Although, it doesn't matter if you join my organization or not anymore, Shuichi."

Shuichi looked at him in confusion and Kokichi found it kind of frustrating that he didn’t know which aspect of this that Shuichi was contemplating.

“Uh, it doesn’t?”

Very eloquent, Shuichi, that clears things up.

"Nope." Kokichi moved a bit so that both elbows rested on the arm rest and propped his head up closer to Shuichi’s. "Because I've already done something much more important than winning."

As Kokichi leaned in Shuichi leaned back. Shuichi was staring pretty intensely at his eyes which made this the perfect opportunity. Kokichi’s hands went lightly down to Shuichi’s waist, where he put the detective’s seat belt into a dreadknot.

“W-what's that?” The detective stammered, no doubt as alarmed by the proximity as Kokichi had anticipated.

Kokichi hadn’t really anticipated what he would say next though.

He went with, “I've stolen your heart.” He felt a millennia of DICE movie nights spent making fun of romantic comedies crash against his soul and decided to change the genre before he embarrassed himself. “Because I'm a thief you know?”

He was practically breathing in Shuichi’s ear by now, which made this next part a little hard. He unbuckled his seatbelt. Then, in a fluid motion Kokichi’s hands went behind his head as he arched to place them on the aisle armrest. He did a handstand for an instant on the arm rest before landing his feet across the aisle on to some poor bastard’s tray table.

When he came up for air he observed that he had knocked a cup over and that Shuichi had just noticed his own seat belt malfunction. The detective’s look of dawning realization felt like a standing ovation.

"Hmmm, I really should kill you, now that you've seen my face," and maybe he would if DICE were that kind of organization. It was kind of troubling that the police would get sketches, and the gang would probably harrang him about it. But eh, what can you do.

Certainly not murder. You can’t just murder people. That’d be dumb. Boring even.

Kokichi hopped down from the tray table and grabbed his heist bag. It would’ve been bad to forget that, he considered as he pulled out his mask, Louvre cameras are a lot more reliable than a half asleep detective’s recount.

Said detective was certainly fully awake now, looking at Kokichi in an utterly gobsmacked manner. Kokichi felt like he was sinking his teeth into the stem of a rose thrown from the audience.

"... But I think that'd be a waste, don't you?" Maybe the trouble was what he was looking for, after all. He wondered if they would fingerprint the arm rests when the plane touched down. They wouldn’t find any matches in any criminal database, so it didn’t matter much to him. He put on his gloves anyway before tossing Shuichi the note he had written.

No time for second drafts. He thought as he started walking down the aisle.

“Somebody! Stop him!” Shuichi yelled from behind him. It was so manga detective that Kokichi wanted to scream.

The rest of DICE was already getting up with their parachutes on, and a few turned towards Shuichi’s call. Thank goodness they were wearing their masks because he wasn’t sure if Shuichi could still see down the aisle or not. He might’ve seen Jack’s face, but she had been wearing a lot of makeup so it was probably fine.

She certainly didn’t seem concerned. She was checking the knots the only actual flight attendant on the plane was trussed up in.

Ace, always a little over eager, wrenched open the emergency exit as Kokichi was still putting his parachute on. He felt the drastic change of air pressure in those spaces you feel it in your skull and stomach. He hadn’t realized how warm the inside of the plane was until the cold air sucked it out.

He used convenient zippers to close up his hoodie pockets, knife included, and buckled up the rest of the parachute’s straps.

He looked back, just once. Shuichi was peering out at him in the aisle. He looked like his world was ending and Kokichi reveled in the power of that. That he was just that important to this detective.

The curtains are about to drop but there are still people screaming in the balconies.

He smiled.

The encore wasn’t up to him.

“So long, Mr. Detective!" He got to the window. "Better luck next time.”

Kokichi jumped back first out of the plane and the walls and the aisles and the lights of the plane slipped out of view through the emergency exit one by one.

And he fell.

He fell and flipped over to take in the view of Paris below. The city of lights indeed. It was beautiful, he supposed.

He fell, letting himself enjoy the breeze a bit before reaching terminal velocity.

He didn't though.

Enjoy it.

It felt like getting on a fucking awesome roller coaster except it’s also your every day ride to your job at some dead end minimum wage desk.

It was… boring. Routine.

Just victory, just the Louvre, just air.

Even as the other members of DICE whooped and hollered on their descent, Kokichi realized the fun part of the heist was already over. The whole heist was over.

He could predict it all.

He would deploy his parachute, he would float down to the Louvre, and he would orchestrate a perfect heist.

But Kokichi Ouma realized then that he would never stopped falling.

#saiouma #oumasai #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #ouff yall im gay and probably have adhd so that's my excuse for going absolutely feral on this #first time writing ouma so hope yall like it #writing

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i-choose-liam · 5 years

Text

Stress Buster - King Liam x MC

A/N: I apologise for the length of this post for those who want to scroll past. I wrote this on the fly and I'm posting it from mobile, so I couldn't add the "Keep reading" line. Sorry! 💙

Hello! This is my first time posting a fic in quite a few months. So any feedback is appreciated. It's sort of a continuation (with a major leap in between) of my TRR Chapter Tie-Ins series. You don't have to read the previous parts to make sense of this story. For those who haven't read the previous parts, my MC in this series is Riley Spencer, a law school dropout and twin sister to Dani Spencer, the MC from Lovehacks. So this is actually a The Royal Romance and LoveHacks crossover.

This is for the anon who asked me to write a fanfic about Liam teasing a tired Riley. It's a bit different than what you asked for, but I hope you like it, anon! ☺️

***

It was the end of a long, tiresome week. Liam was holding himself back from grabbing Riley and jumping into bed together. He took deep, calming breaths as he sat on the ottoman and took his shoes off, watching his Queen fire away some rapid texts on her phone. He wondered how it was possible that she grew more and more beautiful with each passing day. There she stood by their bed, holding her phone up at eye level.

"Constantly looking down at the phone causes neck and spine problems, babe", she had told him once.

A small smile curved the corner of his lips, as he took in the sight of her. Those silken locks in ombre, which he had curled around his fingers nearly every night since their wedding. The graceful bearing with which she carried herself, even as she stood still. And that face - the one which had illuminated his life, like the moon did to a clouded night.

"Are you texting Madeleine?", Liam teased.

"Yes"

Normally, that name was enough to make Riley roll her eyes or crack some joke about the Countess. But she kept typing away, filling in Liam about some event she had to attend on Monday and how important it was for the apple export. It didn't sit well with Liam to see his lovely wife in her Queen mode when they had done with their duties for the day and were now alone in their bedroom. He shed his coat and unbuttoned his collar as he walked to her. The fading smell of her shower gel and deodorant, with just a smidgen of that womanly musk, was what greeted him first. Liam placed his chin on Riley's shoulder from behind, letting his arms wrap themselves around her. He closed his eyes as he kissed her cheek, gently rocking her sideways in his snug embrace.

"Honey, not right now. This is important stuff", she said, without looking back at him.

Liam didn't get upset or angry. He smiled in defeat as he recognised what was happening. He let go of her, but couldn't help putting his hands on her shoulders. He said,

"Do you realise what's going on?"

Riley said, still looking at her phone screen,

"What?"

"You're pulling a Riley"

That earned him a tired glare from over her shoulder. Liam grinned.

"I'm sorry but that's what this is. You have been doing so much these last few weeks. And unlike a normal person when overworked, you just jump deeper into the deep end"

She said, pouting a bit at her phone as she typed,

"This is not a "Riley". I'm just... just busy"

"Darling, you remember what happened the last time you got overburdened and wouldn't let anyone help you?", Liam reminded her, "You ended up eating all the cake at Maxwell's birthday, you called Drake a denim whore, then you wept while hugging both our corgis, and kept saying "It's a cool name, Mr. T! Mr. T's a cool name!*"

Riley's shoulders stiffened a bit under his hands. Liam smiled and massaged them.

"Do we want an encore of that?", he asked, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

His wife was stubborn as she was beautiful. She said,

"There's not going to be an encore cause I'm not overworked. I've got everything under control. Totally"

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and took her phone to the bathroom. Liam decided to let her have her privacy. But he was worried about her now. She had confided in him about her law school days, and how she had been put on "leave" by the school for reasons concerning her own mental and physical well being. That was when she had started working as a waitress and met him.

'Ah, fateful night', Liam thought.

How fearless and carefree she had seemed to him then. In a way, she was still all that. But her type A personality reared its head every now and then when the going got tough. If she kept throwing herself into work 24x7 like she had been doing lately, Liam was sure there would be repercussions for her health.

'If only there was someone who could...'

Liam smiled to himself. There was. There was someone who could pull Riley out of her workaholic spiral. The only person who could do it in fact.

Liam checked the time, and making sure it was still daytime in San Francisco, he called.

"Liamm, hii!", answered the voice from the other end.

Liam grinned at that enthusiastic tone and the thumping sound of music coming from somewhere behind his sister-in-law. He said,

"Hello, Dani"

***

Riley had back to back appearances scheduled before apple picking season. As a suitor for Liam's hand in marriage, she had hated the Cordonian obsession with apples. But as the Queen of her people, she had come to realise that the apples were a symbol of the Cordonian spirit. The Cordonian Ruby was one of their most valued exports and she knew its importance to the Cordonian morale and economy quite well.

"Riley, this is such a lovely dress. I didn't know you had something from Ana de Luca's summer '19 collection", Hana said.

Riley had to turn her head to look at Hana, who was sitting next to her in the car. At first glance, she saw a large apple in place of Hana's face.

'What?'

Overworked for the last few days, she had to shake her head to clearly see the winsome face of Lady Hana Lee.

"I haven't even seen Ana's summer collection this year, let alone buy something. What are you talking about?", Riley said.

Hana showed her the webpage on her phone, the picture just taken that morning... of Liam and Riley leaving the Parliament.

Her mind was so bungled with apples and all the bullet points on her schedule for the day that she had to take a minute to think. Hana pointed out,

"This was taken a few hours ago. But you've been with me since morning"

Riley asked, clearly confused,

"What?"

Hana looked concerned. She said,

"Riley, you were photographed with Liam outside the Parliament this morning. But that can't be you cause you have been with me all day. So who is this? And what happened to you? Are you okay?"

In a quick snatch, Riley had Hana's phone in her own hands. She speed-read through the article and slowly scrolled past the three pictures. Only her side profile was caught in the pictures, most of it hidden by a gigantic hat. Riley scowled, angered but not scared. She handed the phone back to Hana.

"That's my twin sister", Riley said, "And she and Liam have a lot to answer for when I get to them"

***

Come evening, Riley nearly stormed into the palace, followed by her assistant who frantically tried to keep in pace with her. She had confirmed with Liam's assistant that he was at home after the day's work. Dani she hadn't bothered calling because her head already felt like it would burst. If she had to argue with her reckless, impulsive sister for one...

"That's one big butt to carry on your neck, butthead"

Riley turned around at the call that had come from behind her. Dani stood laughing in the distance, in casual attire that made her stand out even more amidst the palace interior. She met Riley halfway, hugging her tight.

"Oh Riiless, it's been sooo long!"

Dani hugged her tight, shaking her a bit. Riley would have offered an even tighter hug which her family, the Spencers, were known for. But she remembered what had put her in a bad mood for the entirety of her day.

"The photos this morning", she said, without any emotion.

Dani drew back, still grinning,

"Your press secretary didn't tell you? I was on my way to surprise you here at the palace. She... what's her name... like that cookie Mom likes?"

"Madeleine?"

"Yeah, that one. So she saw me and she was like, "Ah the twin sister". I tried to be polite and all but she didn't seem to have time for that. She asked me if I'd be okay to stand in as you for a few pictures for the paparazzi. I thought what the hell, and did it"

Riley folded her arms and asked, raising her eyebrows,

"Oh really? You just conveniently happened to run into Countess Madeleine and she asked you, even though I was just a phone call away, to take pictures with Liam? And for whom, the paparazzi? Dani, I know this is some stupid prank of yours but you've really lost your touch. That is so absurd I can't even..."

"I'm not kidding, seriously", Dani explained, with an earnest expression, "I told her that someone might notice the slight differences in our features. You know, twins being mirror images and all. She said that your face was plain enough to not warrant such close scrutiny. Yikes"

Riley bit her lip. She said,

"Fine. That does sound like something Madeleine would say but it doesn't make any sense why she would want me and Liam to be photographed together by some paparazzo"

Dani explained,

"Right? I asked her the same thing. She said it was because rumours have been going about your marriage losing its spark cause you two are barely seen together in public anymore"

Ouch.

It took Riley a moment to counter that. She tried,

"But... it's not... it's just because we've both been busy with our individual duties. There's nothing wrong with our marriage. We love each other"

"I'm sure you do, Riles. Don't listen to what the haters say. They have nothing better to do", Dani assured her.

Riley couldn't stop thinking about it though. Had it really been so long since she and Liam had been seen together in public? She couldn't recall the last time they had had a private moment together let alone one in front of other people. She had thrown herself into the role of the best Queen she could be and yet...

"You okay?", Dani said, "If I had known it would bother you so much, I wouldn't have done it. That Madeleine said she would let you know and you'd be okay with it"

What hurt her - more than the speculation about her marriage - was the fact that Liam had gone along with this scheme. He had let himself be photographed with Dani as a substitute to his lawfully wedded wife.

Riley had to ask,

"What did Liam say? He must have felt pretty uncomfortable pretending you were me"

"I don't think he noticed it was me and not you. We didn't say anything to each other. We just walked side by side, not even holding hands. And that was it", Dani shrugged.

'No way. Not in a m...'

Riley shook her head, giving a little laugh of disbelief.

"Now that's taking it too far. Liam would have immediately known it was not me. Or Madeleine must have told him it was you. Yeah. That's why he..."

Really? She thought to herself. Did Liam really not care or notice that the woman next to him wasn't his wife?

It hurt. But Riley endured. She put on a smiling face for her sister and saw her to the guest chambers.

***

Riley dropped the impassive act when she walked into her own bedroom that she shared with Liam. He was sitting on the settee, reading a book. Like a child in want of attention, Riley walked over and stood right in front of him. Liam looked up at her from his book then, asking,

"When did you get in, my love?"

Oh the nerve.

She folded her arms across her chest, trying her best not to let her cheeks swell in anger like they always did. And which was enough to make Liam not take her seriously as he kept trying to "puncture" her cheeks instead.

"Did you seriously pose with Dani this morning and not know it wasn't me?", she asked.

Liam closed the book, his perfect eyebrows furrowing just a bit. He asked sweetly,

"Dani? Your sister?"

"You posed for paparazzi bait shots with her this morning. Did you really not know it wasn't me?"

Liam stood up and peered down into her face. He said sincerely,

"Riley, I really didn't think for a moment that it wasn't you. And Dani... when did she arrive? And why was she the one posing with me?"

Riley recapped for him what Dani had told her. He sighed, scratching the side of his brow.

"That's too much, even for Madeleine. I'll talk to her"

"I'm not jealous or something that you posed for a picture with my sister. It's not that", Riley said in small voice.

"What is it then?"

She could feel her stupid cheeks inflate as she spoke.

"It's just that... you couldn't even tell that it wasn't me. I know Dani and I are identical twins but I thought...", she mumbled, "I thought you would always be able to tell"

"Oh"

That's it? Oh? That was what he had to say in his defence?

Liam said, a bit sheepish,

"Well, to be honest with you, we didn't talk during the photos. She was wearing a very... interesting hat that hid nearly half her face from me. I supposed that you were busy and didn't want to talk, that's all. I didn't want to annoy you"

This wasn't something she had expected to hear from her Liam. Riley gripped his arms with her hands, saying,

"You don't think I'd ever be so mean and want to avoid you? Not you, Liam. You're the only reason I'm even here. You know that, right?"

He took her in his arms. But cautiously, she noted.

"I know. I'm sorry", he said, "It's... you have been so busy lately. I know how hard you try to give your best to everything you are called upon to do as the Queen of Cordonia. I just didn't want to annoy you when you have been working yourself to the bone lately"

That sure did it. Riley could feel the tears murking her vision. She had been so occupied with being a good queen lately that she had forgotten who she was doing it all for. The man who was holding her in his arms like she were made of fire and would burn him any instant.

She didn't want to know the answer to it but she asked anyway.

"Liam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You're not scared of me, are you?"

He stroked her hair away from her forehead, smiling.

"Of course not, my love. I'm in awe of your strength and your courage every day. But you have never given me any reason to fear you"

Throwing herself into his embrace, Riley muffled her face against Liam's shirt. He seemed to panic.

"Hey. You okay? What's wrong?"

Riley mumbled,

"I pulled a Riley"

She could feel the laugh reverberating through Liam's chest. He kissed the top of her head, saying,

"There, there"

"I'm so sorry", she said, sniffing.

"Don't be. I appreciate how much effort you put into being a good ruler. You have no idea how grateful I am for that", Liam held her face so she was looking up at him, "But nothing's worth the anguish and damage to your health. You are the most important person in the world to me. And if anything were to happen to..."

Riley sniffed petulantly, interrupting him,

"Why am I like this?"

Liam kept reassuring her, kissing her tears away.

"There's nothing wrong with you, my love. I just wanted to remind you to take it easy"

She wiped another tear falling down her cheek. The exhaustion of the past few weeks was catching up with her. More than that, she was chiding herself for reverting back to her old workaholic ways. She didn't need all the stress when they were trying for a baby.

Liam looked at her like a sad, guilty puppy, which just added to her confusion. He suddenly pulled her closer.

"Oh my darling, I'm sorry. Don't cry. I'm so sorry", he said.

"Why?", she wondered.

"If I had known it would make you feel so bad, I never would have agreed to Dani's plan"

Hold up.

Riley looked up sharply through tearful eyes that were now blazing with a slow fury. She repeated,

"Dani's plan?"

Liam confessed,

"Yes. I asked her if she knew how I could stop you from overworking yourself to a burnout, and she said that she would fly to Cordonia and help. She didn't tell me much. She just said that I shouldn't speak a word to you or her today if we met in public, and that she would handle the rest. I knew it was not you with me this morning outside the Parliament, but since she had forbidden me from speaking to either of you, I didn't say anything"

Liam was startled when a woman's voice in an American accent called him "Tattle tits!". Both he and Riley turned to see Dani standing in the door to their bedroom, with her hands on her hips.

"For the record", Dani said to her sister, carefully taking a step backwards, "Lady Hana and Madeleine were in on this too. So you can't just punish me for the whole thing"

Riley gave her husband a sweet smile that spelled murder. She said,

"I'm going to deal with you tonight, right after I kill my sister"

She could tell from Liam's eyes that he was up for whatever sexual punishment she had hinted at. He said softly, so only she could hear,

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me"

She shook her head at him in horror, saying,

"Oh my god. You only spent like half a day with her... Jesus Christ. Dani!"

Liam couldn't help but grin as he stood there watching. Dani dashed out of their rooms with a laugh, followed by the Queen of Cordonia and her shoe.

"Oww!", he heard Dani yelp from somewhere outside, "That hurt, you jerk!"

The loud bickering he - and the guards - could hear outside reminded him of similar occasions from his own childhood.

Not wanting to get in Riley's way when she was in an avenging mood, Liam took his phone and dialled a number.

"Leo?", he smiled on hearing the voice, "Hello to your filthy self, brother"

He sat down to catch up with his own sibling while Riley punished her imp of a twin outside.

---

*That line's from a Key & Peele sketch. God I miss that show.

#king liam x mc #fanfiction #riley & dani #lovehacks #trr #trh #the royal heir #the royal romance #playchoices #romance #comedy #siblings #twins #king liam #thatoclady fanfics

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nelsonkillertimer-blog · 5 years

Text

Nothing to fear but the fear itself

am in love with ya

https://makeawebsitehub.com/social-media-sites/

Dont involve people in violence this time round Mr Ruto we got the camera to monitor people at the pooling room, like we can literally count how many have cast their ballot papers. The Barclays people are organizing crime, they want to know if i got the ID even after warning them that i did not open an account with them bro. The tumblr link on the post that comes up with the name you used to create the a/c with if you open another tumblr a/c and right click that link to open in a new tab you see all the post of the other tumblr which its like has the name like the one below

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nelsonbotomsiepa

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chalmerslynnmonde

The link with names like above signify a new opened tumblr each, so go to my twitter outcustmonde and within every link with name i have provided click as well others inside it that it brings with name and count how many they are. So many dude and i have run out of name to write anything. Get it straight dude when you guess the email & password or you simply cut the password you have written randomly you cant get into that account you or another person but if you have the name you opened it with in mind or the url with the opened name with if you open a new tumblr a/c & write in search tumblr bar or click the url to open in a new tab you the whats in the a/c you dont know the password as you guessed it or cut it, same as the email and you can try that as in youtube- how to reset email or tumblr password bro.

Russia controls the world, they can dig many holes from below to deplete all the oil from the oil fields of the world. Mfalme wa yahoodi to cement the truth into the outter space. This can be done when other feasible ways to power gadgets have been achieved like solar cars in Holland and you can google or charged electric cars in Germany or AE technology found at mrmonde tumblr a/c or kevinelsonmondy Facebook pictures. And guys you can check that bro!! They as well can loop 4 another nation oil from another nation from below dude to fund their pursuits. Buy a world receiver radio and listen to radio station for state like Kansas, Guys, wow!! Gives you respect but riddim and twitter if you use brings you disrespect bro. Loop oil 4 Egypt and Tunisia from Libya as well as Spain & Itally does that to sell to Eu. S.A loops from Angloa, botswana from mozambique no-mattter those nations are lazy but rich as the jew will rise kenya loops from abieyi in S.sudan as well as Uganda, so they could have said that of Zimbabwe but Mugabe had seen that and created a beef with the whites likewise the whites of S.A should be dealt with as they are rich of the same. Brazil, Chile, Argentina loops from Venezuela. They look 4 more flight destinations across the world and in that plane that lands every-time in that country carry oil in Jericans and put them in plastic suit case then buy a petrol station and employ someone native to disguise himself as the owner/beneficiary, then load the oil into that gas station to maximize profits as oil is priced on the radious from where its mined or nations that mines it charge it cheaper like in kenya its $ 1 per litre but in Libya its 1 dime. So see how they get super-normal profits and Norway and Denmark is rich out of this bro. Click this link below and find how Mr kebi is happy after taking shower in the plastic showers as chawer/bedbug and b4 that took a shit in its iron sheet counter part ya mabati. Worker and vineyard parable to cement the truth- dont i have the right to do what i want with my own life bro!!! Long time it was this link below https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNQ_Zg09ZsN-YyG-YDNBnILJocir2A:1570427046634&q=mabati+toilets&tbm=isch&source=univ&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ACYBGNQ_Zg09ZsN-YyG-YDNBnILJocir2A:1570427046634&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjvoorSuInlAhUMWxoKHUQqAesQsAR6BAgJEAE&biw=1280&bih=922 Now its this link below https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNTBDDvqFspYO33ncImUVIq7aY9YJw%3A1570427072563&sa=1&ei=wNCaXZeAIrXD8gLOjoiYBw&q=plastic+toilets&oq=plastic+toilets&gs_l=img.3..0i67l2j0i24l3.60085.65290..66109…0.0..0.465.5271.3-13j2……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….35i39j0.3nnEMd2zKgg&ved=0ahUKEwiX4LjeuInlAhW1oVwKHU4HAnMQ4dUDCAY&uact=5 https://www.google.com/search?q=iron+sheet++toilets+from+the+company&client=firefox-b-d&tbm=isch&tbs=rimg:CbsEwYyDk5XiImB8EtcHVXHnfle7vPJ71v2Fj7Q1clb03_1hQJ58dUtz2J4gv8IiZcFsBR7EFCm_1gKOhzaoSu3mU049G1N57-TYX_1Zq9DucobWGYoos-r5jPGCX0uU_1pe-80bgGSEaRBA0HUqEgl8EtcHVXHnfhFFgshYTlywsCoSCVe7vPJ71v2FEYVa-sDtQI4gKhIJj7Q1clb03_1gRgdwt3PvGkZsqEglQJ58dUtz2JxEa9YHZh8ow-yoSCYgv8IiZcFsBEVd0VKa0i2mAKhIJR7EFCm_1gKOgR29FPVbyLifwqEglzaoSu3mU04xE57cWW7gQvByoSCdG1N57-TYX_1EebPPVIthvMbKhIJZq9DucobWGYR_1jIjSzAinEUqEgkoos-r5jPGCRGEX6c5PrbmmCoSCX0uU_1pe-80bEf4yI0swIpxFKhIJgGSEaRBA0HUReT0pKybplfw&tbo=u&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjcvZC7uYnlAhVPOBoKHas_CTQQuIIBegQIARAz&biw=1280&bih=922&dpr=1 After taking shower link bro, it was omitted the advert between a mum and a son, who smiles to the mother https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=2005+geisha+soap+adverts+in+kenya+involving+a+mum+and+a+son get my post on this link https://www.spreely.com/members/settings/privacy called spreely and the name used is monde nelsonodenyi as the search name and profile name is mrvokeoutcust. this the link to find me below https://www.spreely.com/mrvokeoutcust open one and click the link to open in another new tab to see bro Get out every url or link with the very very url i have provide that ends with a name i have opened the very very tumblr account with then click the link after you have open your own tumblr account to open in a new tab. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chalmerslynnmonde my tumblr name is mrmonde, upholsterynelson, nelsonunderwood, my twitter is outcustnelson, kevinelsonmonde or outcustmonde. Market ya post on fb or tumblr to different groups from different nations you have chosen dude to reach many. The way to go is poligamy 4 the rich to divide the wealth not kept within one person. They get money via petty theft and give a folk like ruto to build an hotel as his to attract women yet he is just paid out of it, so upon his death to delude the whole story they say he had many wives in that that wealth will be subdivided to meaningless public attraction to defuse bro. Take heed wome dont be fooled.They bring you kids if you got some money yet if you warmn these women of these men they wanna even cut ya with a panga yet their ways have been subdued. Street urchins su, sumu/poison, yesus like the luo or kikuyou character must be sub dued, christ was caned out of this and killed as these people became radical if their wired unknown ways have been blocked and lure people with not actions but mere talks, want to sit around and iddle even wanting people food without sense and moreover are thieves like petty theft. Must be eliminated or reshuffled to alonely island of the sea to live alone or can tantamount to power and slow everything in the economy. Britons, thais got this blood as well. They were ninja in satan who purported they were good people whom rights were denied so were brought here. Christ with little kids/children and lost coin parable to cement the truth bro.Malachi 4- who to the people who long to sea the day of the lord. Western SEA, south East Asia dude. Take heed fellows!!!! click this link bro below https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nelsonbotomsiepa

Key can be controlled from the phone like the usb speakers, not opened via a key but via your phone, that key can resemble the digital crane measuring scale. Click the link below 4 more bro https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNTAM-9LjRpPctYUmp_2qVmtv427cg:1570541445137&q=digital+crane+weighing+and+measuring+scale+photos&tbm=isch&source=univ&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ACYBGNTAM-9LjRpPctYUmp_2qVmtv427cg:1570541445137&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiA1cTn4ozlAhV5A2MBHV8IB4QQsAR6BAgJEAE&biw=1280&bih=910 White men as hindu or arabs not to mention dignitary affiliated men are meeting the people who pick scrap metal in small towns like kisumu, malindi, eldoret and so no and paying them 20% off their picked metal more than they sell to the local vendor and at night transport them via the country buses or small cars that head to Nairobi or even the lorry/trella men to gain 80% in profit as hinterlands prices are half Nairobi even from congo, ug, tz and cameroon. Unscrupulous business men whom women are following. Dont be fooled women as get this, copper wire price in kisumu is khs 300 per killo in Nairobi 4 example is khs 500, Alluminium in ksm is khs 80 per kilo but in Nairobi is khs 150 per kilo, Brass in ksm is khs 200 per kg but in Nairobi is khs 300 per kilo and Plastic container is khs 15 in ksm but in Nairobi is khs 30 while Normal chuma like iron or zinc is khs 20-25 in ksm while in Nairobi is about khs 40-50 depending with the vendor location. See how dignitaries and hooligans getting money or funding their empire and they channel this cash into matatu business or put it in onlinecash like bulishtrade and you know Nairobi with exhoubitant fares bro and even bros have been alerted of this and are busy capitalizing on this are. The metal prices should be uniform, we dont give a damn like bread price different dude not to oppress others while you, you gain as twice bro.

An ahelo thopi mamalindi, kinduko timo ni tho tho tho, death death death, kufa x3, ama atleast x3 sindiyo adriano says delanu. TfT tv brings good mood, feeling into the surrounding and coming together of people as seen recently in many cities as oposed to long time big bootied tv which brings jealousy, anger and bad mood as fights. Mochana nyimi dhuno nyima, nitamu shana itatoboa cd jonyakama, ni fanye nini wajameni. Delanu, ikibamba sana piga ndulu. Inachuna mbolo changu hicho senye chako magdalin. Mitu x3.

His hair promise in the bible in the end signs shows you the bible was written. When you use tumblr it even removes ya bald- women with barnabas to cement the truth, kihara, jesus with the Rabbi as teacher/cheater/liear- lazarus parable to cement the truth. When drilling oil from below the earth crust or laying the pipeline, sometimes they detonate explosive in-vent that triggers earth tremors then they say its earthquake to delude the people of sata/God or the radio-activity of the earth crust. This creates fear of God and finds so many in church, 4 God to forgive them later that they put many souls to God. Like the quakes in carli4nia, Himalaya, japan, Indonesia or nepal, they were just making holes where there was huge big hard rock to drill from below. There is nothing like quakes but are just artificial as revelation 5 the root of David Rod.Learn to use charcoal in you kitchen, can never take you to hell fire but make sure its made, artificial charcoal AC, If you use gas, kinda, you are like promoting the dubious ways of those countries relaying on gas from petroleum like Nigeria etc. You can use electric coil as well bro. click the link below bro to see the evidence that the bible was committed and omitted https://biblehub.com/luke/21-18.htm Click the link below 4 images of electric timer https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1RLNS_enKE863KE863&sxsrf=ACYBGNQtf5mLH9DX7HBkoXTqplQrfmfyYw:1570687868266&q=images+showing+digital+electric+timer&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiun8OjhJHlAhVPAWMBHcjLDXEQsAR6BAgIEAE&biw=1272&bih=856

Still my post are all found under this tumblr link if you manage to delete the ones i left around in the local cyber cafe. Click the links below 4 more dudes

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nelsonwordy

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondetrinidad

Medical waste M-waste like syringes many are heaped and used to make gadgets like range rovers, Roll roys, hammer, Lamborghini, buses, stage coaches, generator and any known gadget, you hurl sperm or spit saliva many people from lofty high or urinate, defecate while the above offering is in like a pool like position.

The earth crust is 16 km and if the jew/Egyptian could let people know this then the bible will loose reality bro, River Nile turned red, they could as well dug a hole from below to meet the river up at the source put a pipe from below to the upper river like the oil pipe then pump red liquid on the river to make it red since the river was seasonal and with the frog plague take many people who transfigure from India or china they turned to frog since they know white men value animals, its very hard for them to kill them. King of the jew, vineyard and workers parable to cement the truth as well as the transfiguration of Christ. R-Nile is the present R-Arkansas in Wichita KS, it passes there bro. So thats the reason they migrated from N-America to Europe as Europe was well situated for trade, ready market from huge nations like China and india, The end of the world at N-pole that allows you to go to below to siphon oil illegally or pour another liquid into the River like Nile from below to deceive the people of Power of God bro. Europe was more fertile than America, so much land could grow cereals compared to N-America. Click the link below 4 more dude

https://www.worldatlas.com/articles/top-wheat-producing-countries.html

http://www.yieldgap.org/europe

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&ei=oVikXb71Oo-YjLsP87S6OA&q=dairy+firming+in+denmark&oq=dairy+firming+in+denmark&gs_l=psy-ab.3..0i13l4j0i22i30l6.7959.13874..14203…0.2..0.632.5288.2-1j4j4j3……0….1..gws-wiz…….0i71j0i8i13i30j0i13i30.Jd-2WDZ-gsE&ved=0ahUKEwj-ybXLz5vlAhUPDGMBHXOaDgcQ4dUDCAo&uact=5

https://www.google.com/search?q=fishing+in+norway&tbm=isch&source=univ&client=firefox-b-d&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjUvuT2z5vlAhUGBGMBHRaQBmMQsAR6BAgEEAE&biw=1280&bih=869

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=869&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=BVmkXdOLFNKYafX_keAH&q=horticulture+in+netherlands&oq=horticulture+in+&gs_l=img.1.5.0l10.11507.16356..19656…0.0..0.530.5122.2-8j6j0j2……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….0i67.VO_7VR03ObY

The waters of mara, and the manna in the wilderness cements the truth of how food is being made right-now by every tribe as well as gadgets that it was magics bro. Stop the bible hypocrisy dude, accept the fact that what you wanted is now blocked in FB, tumblr, linkedin or twitter a/c as mr monde has narrated bro, stop Japan/Itally alliances as they have also learnt to made drones to go to the outer space and to make oil drill. African leaders are to blame 4 this, they should follow mugabe Footsteps. Buy esp small electronic gadgets made out of khart as Mira as this got less side effects bro. Thats why every tribe has lias with the whites to oppose the fact that gadgets are not rituals but made as well as food which we now know are junc or artificial bro. Stop the shit bro, if few people can buy then they will be worshiped but if put in hire purchase or credit it means every tom hurry and dick can buy thus no-one gets to hell fire out of this reason but others like abuses, theft etc And the beauty is that each and every tribe has known automation, so things which are made locally should be 50% cheap than the ones made overseas out of the shipping cost and thats the shit with locally produced goods which aint that original, so they want to maximize profits and be rich quick to cement the bible truth, the jew will rise bro.

If you think i want your women then find me with them and beat me up, stop silly accusation bro. If i need just pussy i pay 4 dat shit bro, no stalking dude.

The link below show how you can connect 2 or more wet cells of 12v or 24v, then the output you channel into a welding machine to give you the voltage of the connected wet cell double bro. click to find out more

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=how+2+loorry+battry+are+connected+to+give+24+24v+

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=24+volt+battery+charger+circuit+diagram

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=how+to+connect+an+inverter+to+a+solar+charge+controller+and+the+solar+panel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TrrKJKfbSGs

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=how+to+connect+a+welding+machine+to+a+battery+charger

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=mig+welding+machine+current+voltage+setting&sp=eAE%253D

You can connect 2 24v wet cell or just one 24v to a welding machine to give you the voltage double to 50 volts or connect 2 24v to give you 100v to power your house. You look 4 the welding machine with adjustable voltage from maybe400 0r 350v to 20v to charge either 2 24v wet-cell at 50v or 2 12v or just one 24v at 24v when adjusted.

Inquire first to want madly someone who wants to strangle himself women. There is a fighting spirit among people out of the explanation on the bible hypocrisy. People are looking 4 what to follow, even grown ups bro, people wanna put up a fight with each other. They champion high population as much as squeezing people in Africa yet them they got vast lands to increase the liquidity ratio as cash flow for them to benefit out of many small business opened as you pay 4 life if right management extend credit to ya which many operate their business with in Africa dude. Mfalme wa yawhodi to cement the truth bro.

If the land around lake Victoria sinks then the water will rush to fill the rift valley which has the tea and white lands as cereal thus will destroy those lands & central and Eastern province will to a great percentage survive so Tea will thrive there making it scars as the bread basket has been destroyed so will be priced much high in world price to benefit the people to be in a good position world wide to cement the truth the jew will rise somehow if it happens and the G-5 wants that coz most of the wife to Jacob and Esau had from far kikuyouth blood. King of the jew to cement the truth esp the made servants MS.

Small accessories like phone, Radios, watches or TV are made with offering like khart/mira, grass, matawi/leaves, hide, fruits as well as seeds, mafi are put in an enclosure like big suit case, water tank, super drum, wooden or metal or plastic boxes, fridges, oven, cookers, plastic/metallic toilets, big dust bin within the pool like structure in the dark, then a group of people urinate, piss, salivate, spit saliva, hurl shit unto the container from outside to form gadgets like the latest phones, Tv, Radio etc Same with copper wires in the same cabin makes tie, suits, jewelries, perfumes, watches etc

Mr kenyatta, i swear this time round if a chopper is seen shooting folks from above, bringing it down we shall and mark my words. Kikuyu stop, kenya is poor and all ya loop holes have been blocked of getting money. Shut up and resort to work, in a nutshell accept defeat.

2,338 notes

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Black population per state link below

https://blackdemographics.com/population/black-state-population/

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/ktnnews/video/2000173572/ktn-news-investigative-reporter-hussein-mohamed-weds-lover-in-nairobi

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

The link show on that page which got the name you opened it with if you copy paste and post on the subject of compose after you specify the email address on yahoo a/c to a gmail a/c after opening another tumblr a/c if you click it to open in a new tab you see the same thing of that previous a/c dude. You go to account arrow on the link below then you click on post to highlight the url given or the one give that ends with many number if you wanna send it to another email to use it later.

Writting on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

I dont want the money period dude, keep it, dont send it later. It connects me with useless men who cant help me and criminals. Women spare me my penis!!!. Am SHOUTING, Well Understood.

Never will i go to a white-man country to help frustrate some1 i knew like Andrea of wsu or i dont know in pursuit of his happiness. There you will never find me, it doesn’t belong to me, don’t look 4 good land strive to live where you are. Let me change citizenship and let the Kenyan Government change law that once you change citizenship you forfeit your Kenyan one to remove the gimmick that i will return here again if all goes well bro even with any nations green-card.

Under the conditions of dug deep pool well cemented with offering in it during the dark, many people with dim spotlight append there signatures many times or even of others and there its is, boom the gadget you want. Buy Gadgets made this way bro. Now they want to organize bank robbery with the money WSU is to give me which i have done them a letter informing them i now dont want. Dont force me dude connecting me with hooligans and putting my life in danger bro. Let them have it and i have said it period. Its good to their side dude. They lias with wsu and any white man as local Kenyan people with the wsu police and the Kenyan one. Jacob edoms/Esau brother wives got the Nigerian blood though they were white, lover of good things who during post war went to USA en-mass as Germans.

Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_immigration_to_the_United_States

http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/political-migration-exile/claus-dieter-krohn-emigration-1933-1945-1950

https://www.vanderbilt.edu/AnS/physics/brau/H182/Term%20Papers/Eric%20Weiss.html

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&ei=8bqFXdKWEdGFhbIP0cqGmAs&q=migration+of+europeans+germans+to+the+usa+during+ww2&oq=migration+of+europeans+germans+to+the+usa+during+ww2&gs_l=psy-ab.3…8138.12235..12577…1.2..0.265.2310.2-9……0….1..gws-wiz…….0i71.Hd96iw9sxC8&ved=0ahUKEwiS05D-nOHkAhXRQkEAHVGlAbMQ4dUDCAo&uact=5

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hurlmonde

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

Writing on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

KTN News Investigative Reporter Hussein Mohamed weds lover in Nairobi : KTN News

A quarter liter lighter like the cigarette one for kitchen as a new market, burnsen burner size to eliminate match box as Hindu and other have ventured into this to make much money without kworol or not known as public eye. Boa as bank of America my money was not stollen in that bank and by virtue of me saying that you should stop on that bank theft saga neither did i operate an a/c with that bank. Why open an account with my name and even if i tell you the above you dont stop liaising with the kenyan dignitaries and hooligans to jeopardize me not to mention white men like denis and the pajero mitsubishi rider who want money they dont know including Jehova witness whites who even wants to put up a fight. The same indictment falls on barclays kenya, i dint open an a/c there if any its staff a/c and was closed 8 yrs back. A quarter liter lighter like the cigarette one for kitchen as a new market, burnsen burner size to eliminate match box as Hindu and other have ventured into this to make much money without kworol or not known as public eye. Boa as bank of America my money was not stollen in that bank and by virtue of me saying that you should stop on that bank theft saga neither did i operate an a/c with that bank. Why open an account with my name and even if i tell you the above you dont stop liaising with the kenyan dignitaries and hooligans to jeopardize me not to mention white men like denis and the pajero mitsubishi rider who want money they dont know including Jehova witness whites who even wants to put up a fight. The same indictment falls on barclays kenya, i dint open an a/c there if any its staff a/c and was closed 8 yrs back. Why do that BBK and if i go to the bank to complain of the same you call the stupid soldiers on me to ambush me. Stop daytime theft dude, sending colleague there to me that there is money in the a/c i opened not if i go to confirm they do the above to me. Take that money, impersonate my pulse rate which is 68 and my finger prints in the huduma things with people who transfigure. I wont arrest with that and i have said it, leave me alone women lest i skin you alive. And dont tell me to take the Greencard, specify the person who has it, so i take it and tear it, dont just put it up on the air “chukuwa” and now its 5 yrs with that saying without progress dude. My money was not stolen wsu its a hoax and get it straight dude and leave me alone. I just wanted to be rich quick. Do me a letter informing me of the same so i post it on youtube on prisoner lucky dube song for people to see or when paying me do the same so i roll the cash into 5 thousand kenyan money units and i hurl all to people on the bank parking lot to signify you my main agenda wasnt money. And if you are luo, kikuyu, kisii claiming allegiance do the same like in window shopper song mase hurling the same in water. click the link below 4 dat song https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=window+shopper+50+cent

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Buy the curved type of key 4 your padlock or the 3 edged key which is very hard to craft to safe guard your business and thwart the turf headed and rudeness of the people who open them during the day as much as the security and police officers safe-guarding other business during the day. Let respect reigns bro, Nelly G they got to know. Click the down link below bro but leave the one hanging on the gate as it is easy to craft. Buy the one in 4;40 minute hard to open on the youtube link and leave the on in 5:58 th minute also easy to make as the old flat one.

https://www.homestratosphere.com/types-of-keys/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk3lBEn9ljM

https://www.google.com/search?q=types+of+keys+for+padlocks&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjI7OvKrubkAhXsDWMBHXiIAFwQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.grainger.com/know-how/safety/control-hazardous-energy-lockout-tagout-loto/kh-types-of-padlocks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fq-dPkazoK0

Fellow buy the ones in the link below you cant craft lest you cut the handle for the owner to know bro.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=curved+type+of+key

When that thing i said is done call the police, dont put my with words, it can just be a word of mouth bro. Dont come and warn me dont go there, if i go there shoot me then or call the police bro. Dont say i want that or this girl, dont speak 4 me, my mouth is big and aint smelling, i can talk myself.

am in love with ya

https://makeawebsitehub.com/social-media-sites/

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chalmerslynnmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/upholsterynelson

When you you write your gmail account email with or without password you go to forget password it will take you 1st to enter last password then you click try another way below to take you to get a phone verification code if you didnt remove the number but when it doesnt bring you to that are it show the number was removed then click i dont have my phone option then takes you to get a verification on the recovery email you had written in case it was not blocked as me i do write always [email protected] with omenana as my pas-code and try logging it will give you the pattern to infinity. Try another way brings you to answer your security question which was long time ago when phone number was optional, the the time you created the a/c which i can remember then try another way still to bring you to enter an email We need some time to review your requestEnter an email address where we can contact you later, which says google cant recover your email or a verification sent to your email which the email has still the recovery email it cant send unless you removed it bro. Mr hindu what do you want !!!! Finally says this bro Google couldn’t verify this account belongs to you.

With the recovery of an email i just guess as write letters or numbers randomly as [email protected] so i dont get back to it. What do you want Mr hindu, the recovery email is 10 years old and i guessed it, so you want to cut my head with a machete to open up my brain to retrieve it or what? Its crystal clear i dont know the recovery email and it should stop at that bro.

click the links below 4 more information dude

https://support.google.com/accounts/answer/7682439?hl=en

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=steps+on+how+to+recover+your+gmail+account

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=steps+on+how+to+recover+your+yahoo+account

So am speaking kijaluo as you wanted previously, what do you want, to eat my 2 dime food 4 people. Dont be silly, hustle dude, lest i stub you. Silly guy!!!

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You can tumblr search nelsonbotomsiepa or chalmerslynnmonde and still find my post bro

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Black population per state link below

https://blackdemographics.com/population/black-state-population/

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/ktnnews/video/2000173572/ktn-news-investigative-reporter-hussein-mohamed-weds-lover-in-nairobi

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

Writting on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

I dont want the money period dude, keep it, dont send it later. It connects me with useless men who cant help me and criminals. Women spare me my penis!!!. Am SHOUTING, Well Understood.

Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_immigration_to_the_United_States

http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/political-migration-exile/claus-dieter-krohn-emigration-1933-1945-1950

https://www.vanderbilt.edu/AnS/physics/brau/H182/Term%20Papers/Eric%20Weiss.html

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hurlmonde

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

Writing on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

KTN News Investigative Reporter Hussein Mohamed weds lover in Nairobi : KTN News

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kingparksmonde

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https://nelsonmonde.skyrock.com/3326227590-the-tumblr-link-bro.html

https://www.homestratosphere.com/types-of-keys/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk3lBEn9ljM

https://www.google.com/search?q=types+of+keys+for+padlocks&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjI7OvKrubkAhXsDWMBHXiIAFwQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.grainger.com/know-how/safety/control-hazardous-energy-lockout-tagout-loto/kh-types-of-padlocks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fq-dPkazoK0

Fellow buy the ones in the link below you cant craft lest you cut the handle for the owner to know bro.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=curved+type+of+key

am in love with ya

https://makeawebsitehub.com/social-media-sites/

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

The malindi man who was killed his money is used to buy plots to build and to Heep others businesses. If you put a coin in the palm of your hand then you meditate you see his killers a 1000 miles away not 10 km radius Hindu, anyone. King of the jew to cement the truth. click the link below

https://www.nation.co.ke/counties/kilifi/Italian-tourist-found-dead-Malindi/1183282-4742652-29edc0/index.html

Other Food Restaurant i want to open in the Developed world once i got my cash. The logo is the Delicacies you need at your reach or A better food Restaurant. J continue saying am your uncle, continue singing that hymn or rhythm, the fact is you 4get of the DNA factor and no-sooner i get my money than i run away unless you make a kidnap. You say am begging but the bottom line i dont beg you, you wanna eat my food, you hungry dude, looking 4 a eating place, so you kidnap to take the key to steel dude and claim supremacy still. This time round am armed try me and no bullet by the silly police will stop my pursuit. Russia cheat people the crust is to deep to reach its bottom yet they go to the bottom via a big drone knowing the bearing the take out oil from those nation with oil then they sell and thats why its said Russia has big oil reservoir. They print it in the books to keep you out of dark not to know this sad fact. Click the link below, this can be made big to even rotate the stater of an Electric Generator or car alternator to power houses or business premises.

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNTEQI3_yW660jrvYnpN3gX_sm9ORQ%3A1568729072136&sa=1&ei=8OeAXYT1B4u_gQaQ67_4DA&q=timer+of+an+electric+cooker&oq=timer+of+an+electric+cooker&gs_l=img.3…25832.30774..31776…1.0..0.275.1452.2-6……0….1..gws-wiz-img.yRLphKn-ehg&ved=0ahUKEwiErd-Yg9jkAhWLX8AKHZD1D88Q4dUDCAY&uact=5

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNSmfwET0hR-GWQ8XK6Gf4Bu5jHJEw%3A1568729105771&sa=1&ei=EeiAXfXgLsmJgQbD9qmQDQ&q=timer+of+an+electric+fun&oq=timer+of+an+electric+fun&gs_l=img.3…257713.259826..260231…0.0..0.249.1407.2-6……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….35i39.cVRcUQ7RHx4&ved=0ahUKEwi1reSog9jkAhXJRMAKHUN7CtIQ4dUDCAY&uact=5

White dent paste is made out of tea the same way gadgets are made from above in a deep dug pool and thats why their is much illegal picking of tea leaves in Kenya and kisumu being the central point on the tea hub to reach it and thats why 4reigners want to settle here come what may dude. Try me and come alone dude, you haven’t been finished yet, where have you reached and precisely talking where is ya pride, talk to me dude!! Click the link below and see even what Nigerians, Tz have apart from India and italy in their own cruise ship dude. This facilitate illicit tea plucking in Kenya at Night period. https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNTPknbMH_QRHbfb0aQ5pM0pd9IOxg%3A1568729367404&sa=1&ei=F-mAXbiZGM6S8gLJ8o6IAg&q=micro+tea+processing+plant&oq=micro+tea+processing+plant&gs_l=img.3…20085.27992..28403…0.0..0.335.6183.2-25j1……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….0j0i67j0i10j0i30j0i24.KvXttislfSg&ved=0ahUKEwj4gMWlhNjkAhVOiVwKHUm5AyEQ4dUDCAY&uact=5

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/furtsonmonde

Links of My Facebook disabled, click dude

https://www.facebook.com/checkpoint/?next=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2F https://www.facebook.com/checkpoint/?next=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2F https://www.facebook.com/login/device-based/regular/login/?login_attempt=1&lwv=110 https://www.facebook.com/checkpoint/?next https://www.facebook.com/login/device-based/regular/login/?login_attempt=1&lwv=300 https://www.facebook.com/login/device-based/regular/login/?login_attempt=1&lwv=301 Click the links below, Migration into the New World https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNQgW4Ud6yJLGN0vxr5fZIwmnSEU9w:1569051557088&q=migration+into+australia+by+the+europeans&tbm=isch&source=univ&client=firefox-b-d&sxsrf=ACYBGNQgW4Ud6yJLGN0vxr5fZIwmnSEU9w:1569051557088&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwik4sbFtOHkAhXKyIUKHe_ZAroQsAR6BAgCEAE&biw=1280&bih=922 https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNSrrZnI8j0f1HUvTqT3Rk3yiRdkKQ%3A1569051600923&sa=1&ei=0NOFXcT4N4zJgQaV8IwQ&q=migration+into+australia+by+the+british&oq=migration+into+australia+by+the+british&gs_l=img.3…0.0..6327…0.0..0.0.0…….0……gws-wiz-img.VefJSCaDozs&ved=0ahUKEwjEoLratOHkAhWMZMAKHRU4AwIQ4dUDCAY&uact=5 https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNR-p5k2v_mFmU_Fcco2hTBlzpNMIQ%3A1569051608364&sa=1&ei=2NOFXZXzFc6S8gLyz5-YAQ&q=migration+into+australia+by+the+germans&oq=migration+into+australia+by+the+germans&gs_l=img.3…12338.16927..17350…0.0..0.296.2528.2-10……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….35i39.rXaaHjzjyP0&ved=0ahUKEwiVv4DetOHkAhVOiVwKHfLnBxMQ4dUDCAY&uact=5 https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&biw=1280&bih=922&tbm=isch&sxsrf=ACYBGNQA3-or1I0p6u3ryapOwbNrInw_lw%3A1569051626997&sa=1&ei=6tOFXfG6PM-4gQadnqSYBQ&q=migration+into+canada+by+europeans&oq=migration+into+canada+by+europeans&gs_l=img.3…20180.31557..32092…0.0..0.332.8655.2-32j2……0….1..gws-wiz-img…….35i39j0i67j0j0i5i30j0i8i30j0i24.X7SGKUo4Ynw&ved=0ahUKEwjx1_HmtOHkAhVPXMAKHR0PCVMQ4dUDCAY&uact=5

Click all the links after opening ya tumblr to open in a new tab

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/ktnnews/video/2000173572/ktn-news-investigative-reporter-hussein-mohamed-weds-lover-in-nairobi

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

Writting on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

I dont want the money period dude, keep it, dont send it later. It connects me with useless men who cant help me and criminals. Women spare me my penis!!!. Am SHOUTING, Well Understood.

Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_immigration_to_the_United_States

http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/political-migration-exile/claus-dieter-krohn-emigration-1933-1945-1950

https://www.vanderbilt.edu/AnS/physics/brau/H182/Term%20Papers/Eric%20Weiss.html

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hurlmonde

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

Writing on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

KTN News Investigative Reporter Hussein Mohamed weds lover in Nairobi : KTN News

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kingparksmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/kingparksmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187853926601

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

https://africanporn.blog/cold-evening-turned-into-a-warm-sex/

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/finestviewsagain

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/allthingsliteskin

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/assartathletics

Green-card how is awarded to countries the winners minus their spouse or the kids. This is the individual winner dude, click the link below

https://www.immihelp.com/green-card-lottery/american-visa-lottery-eligible-countries.html

https://www.green-card.com/winner-statistics/

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-d&q=how+usa+greencard+is+awarded+to+countries

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondelocketo

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondegooch

Tumblrhttps://www.tumblr.com/safe-mode?url=https%3A%2F%2Forgasmicallyelectric.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178919392266

U look great in it u should keep it

https://twitter.com/account/access

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/assartathletics

https://sexyhottanlines.tumblr.com/post/179787154635

https://imwanorde.tumblr.com/post/186357251581

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/daddies-dreamgirls

https://sexyhotbutts.tumblr.com/post/186621990614

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nelsonburfield

Uhuru kenyatta and the Gikuyu were giving people long time piki piki even b4 you pay nothing, any youth who is willing but 4 2 years everyday you submit to meet your target of 500 bob then the motor bike is yours solely to build Nairobi and its environs and central kenya not to mention in East Africa as well and other tribes like the luo have clogged into it to also build their spheres.

Boltsofware link below

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=ee.mtakso.client&referrer=af_tranid%3DU_htGeBEWISqrk5kk0ObsA%26shortlink%3Dd81f73c6%26pid%3Dwebsite%26af_web_id%3Db5921e1f-933c-4b40-bb3c-189ecb17729f

De trut 2 set ya free. Highlight the link the on the left button of the mouse click open in a new tab

https://www.nation.co.ke/counties/kilifi/Italian-tourist-found-dead-Malindi/1183282-4742652-29edc0/index.html

I wanna show you dat you have stepped on a wrong toe or stone

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/furtsonmondehttps://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/mondebruntley Log in | Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondegooch

open ya tumblr account then click this link to open in another tab https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondelocketo Log in | Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondelocketo

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/furtsonmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/mondebruntley

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/asninelson click to open in a new tab after you open you own tumblr account bro. Get the full picture. I have finalised and dienabled all the account as i have put it, neither me nor you can enter, Jesus with the needle and camel and its on youtube bro, the Gmail and tumblr or twitter i use. Now what do you want bro!!! Fight, with me i got the dagga, grab me please am killing this man, anege bwana. Asninelson also if you write under search tumblr it pops out even minus the link bro. Everything there dude, kill me but you wont get into it to eat with my things yet dhach.

Email change pas code link

https://login.yahoo.com/account/change-password?context=mc&el=1&done=https%3A%2F%2Flogin.yahoo.com%2Faccount%2Fsecurity%3Fscrumb%3DAm.h7yG%252FWrf&scrumb=Am.h7yG%2FWrf

In Wichita find the apprentice location downtown to give you how to start working at Coleman company when you got your green-card handy dude!!! No need to get into a friend apartment or house which builds quarrel bro. Click the down link 4 more infor, or go direct to coleman company and ask

https://www.google.com/search?q=coleman+wichiata&oq=coleman+wichiata&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.6945j0j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

https://www.facebook.com/ApprenticePersonnel.Wichita/

am in love with ya

https://makeawebsitehub.com/social-media-sites/

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Black population per state link below

https://blackdemographics.com/population/black-state-population/

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/ktnnews/video/2000173572/ktn-news-investigative-reporter-hussein-mohamed-weds-lover-in-nairobi

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

Writting on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

I dont want the money period dude, keep it, dont send it later. It connects me with useless men who cant help me and criminals. Women spare me my penis!!!. Am SHOUTING, Well Understood.

Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_immigration_to_the_United_States

http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/political-migration-exile/claus-dieter-krohn-emigration-1933-1945-1950

https://www.vanderbilt.edu/AnS/physics/brau/H182/Term%20Papers/Eric%20Weiss.html

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hurlmonde

Click the link below on how to edit a tumblr account post

https://www.wikihow.com/Edit-a-Tumblr-Post-After-It%27s-Been-Posted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSZa2DZkf14

Writing on yahoo subject makes your link not to be distorted but its well with a gmail a/c you can just write your text as a message body.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/murrymonde

Go to Sumner county jail in Wichita which in its junction there is the McDonald restaurant and get a glimpse of the real mirror, send the man under this link below bro to report back to you.

KTN News Investigative Reporter Hussein Mohamed weds lover in Nairobi : KTN News

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kingparksmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/asninelson

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/kingparksmonde

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187853926601

https://www.tumblr.com/edit/187836457183

https://africanporn.blog/cold-evening-turned-into-a-warm-sex/

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/finestviewsagain

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/allthingsliteskin

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/assartathletics

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/daddies-dreamgirls

https://nelsonmonde.skyrock.com/3326227590-the-tumblr-link-bro.html

https://www.homestratosphere.com/types-of-keys/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk3lBEn9ljM

https://www.google.com/search?q=types+of+keys+for+padlocks&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjI7OvKrubkAhXsDWMBHXiIAFwQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.grainger.com/know-how/safety/control-hazardous-energy-lockout-tagout-loto/kh-types-of-padlocks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fq-dPkazoK0

Fellow buy the ones in the link below you cant craft lest you cut the handle for the owner to know bro.

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=curved+type+of+key

am in love with ya

https://makeawebsitehub.com/social-media-sites/

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

The greencar is given per county and on the id the emabasy has all the counties of the fellow given evenly not per tribe but kikuyu and masai as luo are not given out of the kitten like earlobe or bad teeth period dude.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondemchay

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/platosmonde

https://www.google.com/search?q=price+4+mobile+mobile+plastic+toilets+in+kenya&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwis8MXKqfPkAhUSahQKHWC7DIwQsAR6BAgIEAE&biw=1280&bih=924

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondeoutcust

If I get to Chicago i will use my turf head and walk on the up bridges on R.Michigan or go to down town direct and walk with white women. I swear any police who arrest me will have a rude awakening in the court room.

An aelo thuthan ma mombasane, kigolo yaani delanu kililis timo ni thup thup nyadidek, yaani mala tatu moch, mitu yawa kitanda- awhoyo.

Mr orezo included, if they see you handsamu and somehow nit and ya life going on as usual, they signal ya to go to S.A liaising even with white-men around, the message is a man cant live on bread alone bro. One mans meat is another mans poison and that poison is wealth bro. Provide i can exist or survive bro its cool with me.

Mama nene nyako mofuo ni, oketho gimwaseloso, mama saying “Go tik there” Abrogoyo tik theri, i will beat the chin of your pussy bro

The aluminum petitions used to make windows or doors or to petition offices can be used to make cheap shower rooms or toilets with flat iron sheet instead of painted glass within the edges bro. Inside you can put cardboard or you can just use normal metals used in welding to make the same. Click the below links bro

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNQ4S05tlnI4m8Vq2oHBvg4jXeHTDA:1571295682652&q=the+aluminium+partitions+used+make+windows+photos&tbm=isch&source=univ&sxsrf=ACYBGNQ4S05tlnI4m8Vq2oHBvg4jXeHTDA:1571295682652&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiZoYHI3KLlAhUR7eAKHbktB0wQsAR6BAgJEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNQn6n9-dne4CE9nJ2fggrwEV9AFFQ:1571296410531&q=flat+not+corrugated+iron+sheet+photos&tbm=isch&source=univ&sxsrf=ACYBGNQn6n9-dne4CE9nJ2fggrwEV9AFFQ:1571296410531&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjzwouj36LlAhVLDmMBHZmJCiUQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNTaO3q8-mtnh8lLMNCmWdtAq1eF0w:1571296447197&q=flat+iron+sheets&tbm=isch&source=univ&sxsrf=ACYBGNTaO3q8-mtnh8lLMNCmWdtAq1eF0w:1571296447197&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjkosm036LlAhUKkhQKHe9JBOYQsAR6BAgFEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

Bath cheaply and any pretty woman who sends me a love text 1st, i promise will 1st take shower with in in the shower enclosure/cabin. Promise girl and its a guarantee to you!!!! This has been forwarded to me by kevin sumba of usa friends with Enuri of Seattle bro to save the poor family PF pier,pussy fat/french dude.

Kenya wants you to commit crime in SA failure to which he sends boda boda people to pock you to cut you down with a panga or injure you bro but 2morrow he is still the big man.

my monde a/c of this email [email protected] i have cut a password on it and the email above is already taken if u try to sign up a new a/c with it so what u want dude? The tumblr name is nelsonbotomsiepa and you can tumblr check or click this live dude https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nelsonbotomsiepa. If you go to its following as well you can follow all he followed and get a taste of his likes.

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mondeworkerholic-blog · 5 years

Text

de trut

The manual cooker timer if made big can rotate the stator of a generator or wind turbine to produce power. Or it can be mounted on a strong 12 volts dynamore to be connected to an electric invator or just to a powerful 200 volts dynamore to power gadgets. It can come that way straight from the company to save the world of electric burden bro according to twits from Eddie Roy. Click the link below 4 de song

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n0ZkjfsQKnk

https://www.google.com/search?safe=active&rlz=1C1CHBD_enKE798KE798&q=iron+sheet+toilets&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwir-qaKr_vkAhWt5OAKHbkiBW0QsAR6BAgCEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

The link below shows mabatea iron sheet rest rooms from $ 200

Bath in the/inside the big double door fridge then the cash on ya feet or house

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/farmermillsfunston

The link below explains

https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBD_enKE798KE798&q=photos+of+big+double+door+fridge&tbm=isch&source=univ&safe=active&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj4wqWpsfvkAhUZD2MBHZdOCBkQsAR6BAgJEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ia6aFDqr38

https://iqoption.com/land/start-trading/en/?aff=2082&afftrack=phouse_push&clickid=28415

You can burn up ya money in a big cooler in the bank to evade the outside planned robbery dude, click the down link dude

https://www.thenakedscientists.com/forum/index.php?topic=40959.0

Sources from Michael Masita, with one 12 volts battery connected to a solar panel and then to that solar power controller spc, then on the same battery connected to 2 230 invator with electric timer that used dry cells as the mechanism to power them- china has made such, you can make them to alternate like this one works 40 mins then switches of then the other picks up and do the same like the 1st one then you connect it to a refrigerator or cooking coil, Folks it will never burn up the invator out of over-heating coz b4 it over heats to burn, the timer switches off to open the other invator as it switched on by the other timer. It work all day-night long, 24/7, 365 days a year. And folks this is cheap, the invator is $ 60, Battery $ 100 and the timer close to $ 30 and so in totality is $ 250, the total cost. Dont bring your kids to disturb one who has given up in life bro, i aint a lover of good things whom their mothers want, dont disturb my peace bro.

The mexican border they still dig holes down the fence to still find way into the USA, along the fence they should dig like 1 km artificial pool, a half km on the other side and on the other side as well, one in the usa and the other in Mexico and channel strong electric current to that water to electrocute the invader. That pool of water should be deep like the height of one electric pole as well the fence should go that deep to completely thwart the works of the invader dude. Then perpetual crossing of that border with intruders who commit crime in usa ends abruptly dude

They follow you to where you buy your food, saying they are investigating your begging/nagging character they have heard yet they themselves in that pretense as well investigate what is “fat“ in the shop shelves to steal not to be realized dude at night when the owner aint around with made keys and the people who transfigure bro.

Kalonzo has brought all this absurdities according to nundu kakan by joining hands with kibaki to defeat Raila completely. He ought to have merged with odm to pass a vote of no-confidence to PNU to get them out the government. Little is said of the rich man and lazarus, the richman burning in hell same indictment falls on kalaonzo and his tribe. Mr Uhuru has left the country to hide in the usa coz their plan that makes Mr ruto to shake the head when taking is over-due and is well known- the plan of recruiting kids and women to do petty theft to build up the Nairobi and its environs dude. NOW shake ya head or quit politics, address the nation dude stop dilly dally and silly games of women bro.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/farmermillsfunston

S.A should also build their own fence to stop women from disrespecting poor handsamu people as they tell them secretly to find their way to sa to rob to please their wants.

The padlock security as googled should not have the key opening and the one stuck hole where the upper shinny loop roles on to open the locked padlock should not be fixed but just the same with the other side where each day or evening you cut it with a wireless grinder chargeable or with wire from a nearby socket outlet. So the upper parts which are serialized can be bought at an extra cost in the shops or hardware. This serial allows you to find if it was tampered with but with normal padlocks you can use along if you wanna dude.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mondebrilliant

Just continue saying gadgets are not made yet am seeing progress from every nation what they have made as i have reached them in youtube or via email. You would rather try to find out what they have made and you have not bro.

With electric timer you can open it and locate with a volt meter its transformer wire outlet to use dc power and connect it to the battery that powers the same inverter bro.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nixonmonde

Germany invaded Poland, china should also do that to India so they stop their absurdities.

The gate-man in many places in town in those premises they guard have made keys on a soap or by scanning, snap shot and making the same their by at night all sex in those business premises for an extra- cash liaising with the managers.

The link below show the parts of a padlock dude click and get the upper part that should be bought in shops called the shank/shackle

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=ACYBGNTIa7-5XyzcgJc9gBqiHWjb8x6OBg:1570253480512&q=photo+of+parts+of+padlocks&tbm=isch&source=univ&sxsrf=ACYBGNTIa7-5XyzcgJc9gBqiHWjb8x6OBg:1570253480512&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiA3aaHsoTlAhWvDWMBHakcAH0QsAR6BAgGEAE&biw=1280&bih=913

Final destination movie one shows you exactly what can happen to you if you get money off the 2goinvoice via the certificate or bolt or in rights.com then you lie to others its handwork. Click the link below dude

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=final+destination+movies+1

The jew, Egyptian thing that its East Africa was in place if oil is finished with another method like AE, coz no-matter how much you worship God the truth is oil is finished and its 90% of your Economy so you must resort to lies or theft or slow down as reduce the population. Worshiping God wont transform a country like saudi or Naigeria into an highland got to do something bro. Worshipping of God is easy when your land is very fertile like Rwand, kisii, cameroon, tz, ethiopia or Congo but when dry like Nigeria better look 4 another way to feed ya stomach even if it means killing yaself- king of jew to cement the truth. Many africa nations had it in pray to find oil like Nigeria so they are not left behind, but the irony is the same same oil has been rendered useless by solar or chargeable cars which are just about to hit the market. So what you gonna do bro!!!!

Market ya post on fb or tumblr to different groups from different nations you have chosen dude to reach many. The way to go is poligamy 4 the rich to divide the wealth not kept within one person. They get money via petty theft and give a folk like ruto to build an hotel as his to attract women yet he is just paid out of it, so upon his death to delude the whole story they say he had many wives in that that wealth will be subdivided to meaningless public attraction to defuse bro. Take heed wome dont be fooled.They bring you kids if you got some money yet if you warmn these women of these men they wanna even cut ya with a panga yet their ways have been subdued. Street urchins su, sumu/poison, yesus like the luo or kikuyou character must be sub dued, christ was caned out of this and killed as these people became radical if their wired unknown ways have been blocked and lure people with not actions but mere talks, want to sit around and iddle even wanting people food without sense and moreover are thieves like petty theft. Must be eliminated or reshuffled to alonely island of the sea to live alone or can tantamount to power and slow everything in the economy. Britons, thais got this blood as well. They were ninja in satan who purported they were good people whom rights were denied so were brought here. Christ with little kids/children and lost coin parable to cement the truth bro.Malachi 4- who to the people who long to sea the day of the lord. Western SEA, south East Asia dude. Take heed fellows!!!!

Greenade nyale, forcing people with church to open the offering bag to see how much you have given to channel you to being cut by a panga. M-pesa number per church you send your offering. Magdalin and Robinson wont benefit either from my things bro, am saying this kinda biting my lower lips then changing it to the down one signifying anger or being helpless and sometimes carrying one of my legs up as if am in disgust while sited. The devol will be chained 4 a 1000 years then set free, at that time you wont be able to make gadgets unless you have made many and are in store. Revelation five- the root of david Rod. Click the link below 4 more information

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation+20&version=NLV

God made the earth crust 16 km to show that he is also limited as 1 way can only see you under light and 4 the people to dig it & take oil from below to develop other nations for other nations to worship as they worship God as America say it was built on strict christian doctrines which aint the case as you now know fellows. Think twice dude!!! You cant force water out magumo tree, of what significance is the church when oil is over-shadowed by a new technology 4 those opec nations rather reduce population or kill ya self, king of the jew and Vineyard & worker parable to cement the truth. I did not had the computer, i was racing against time thats why i write alone vineyard parable Lord God LG.

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Small bodied people were associated with long china playful like movie, malaysians and the kamba hunger on the tv, so if you are small bodied and want to rest somewhere people thing you gonna be there 4 long coz now you have learnt automation and how to generate food as you are safe now wanting to get into luxary bro and wanting women to play with. Thats why people want to get them out as fast as posible but with big bodied people are associated with Nigeria, Somali with oil or botswana with low population, so people thing oil has been finished what will they do is their thought, as thinking of their downfall so are left at a place 4 long, with botswana no how to increase their population maybe their is a new oil discovery in that desert. This is as well with libya or mali with big bodied people, thinking of what to do if oil is finished whenever they are, so are left to stay 4 long at a place without people worrying much as short or small people moreover running 4 them is hard not as easy for the small people in case of petty theft or robbery and that is the gimmick of small/big bodied people puzzle with other people in their houses or any sitting place dude. Get this straight fellows.

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Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

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Click the link below to see who formed USA per state

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http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/europe-on-the-road/political-migration-exile/claus-dieter-krohn-emigration-1933-1945-1950

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