#no matter what i try this scene always stays looking ugly coloured

[sunglassesmish]

insane dialogue for an insane scene

[parvulous-writings]

Ashe // SFW alphabet

​Request: Okay, okay. So I read your McCree SFW alphabet and WOWIIEEEE! I love it, so so so so much! I was hanging onto every word, and I 100% agree with everything that you put on there. So I kinda just wanted to request a lil something... 🥺Could you possibly do Ashe next? Like, she's amazing too. I love Ashe I mean like HhNnnng- An Ashe SFW alphabet would be SOO cool! If you actually take this request, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! I'm sure good writers like you get tons of requests, so I'll just leave this here. 💞😚

Requested by: Anon

Summary: A sfw A-Z for Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, from Overwatch!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol.

Notes: Would you be shocked if I told you this is my second request in nearly two months or so?   Also some of these are a little short, so I do apologise-  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

When it comes to affection, Ashe is like two sides of the same coin. In public, she doesn’t show all that much affection to anyone. Even you can’t make her stray from that mindset- she doesn’t want people to think she’s gone soft. In private though, very different story, for the most part. She can sometimes be a bit awkward with affection, be it giving or receiving, but she tries her best. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Ashe is very much a no-nonsense sassy friend.She’d tell it to you straight, leave out everything that’s necessary to her point. The bond between you would probably start when you where speaking to Reyes about McCree. She’d jump in to tell you a few embarrassing tales of him before she informed you of the practical backstabbing he’d done. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Ashe isn’t too much of a cuddler, or a hugger for that matter. She was deprived of physical affection for most of her life, so affection is often very awkward. She’d attempt to cuddle you with your head on her chest, but she finds it a little bit easier to cuddle and hug from behind. 

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

No. Ashe is most certainly not a domestic woman- she can just about cook, never really bothered with cleaning as she didn’t need to, and she has never thought about settling down properly, even with you. 

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She’d be blunter than the butt of her rifle- again, no nonsense. She wouldn’t beat around the bush, she’d would get straight to her point. Life’s too short for euphemisms.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

Commitment, like settling down, was nothing that Ashe really considered. And to be honest, she probably still isn’t considering it. 

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Not overly gentle. She can be pretty rough- linking to both her upbringing with absent parents and gang activity. She will try, rarely, when she thinks it’s needed. 

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

She isn’t keen on hugs, either. (See C- cuddles).

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

Like hugs, cuddles, and most forms of affection, the L word isn’t one Ashe eagerly wants to let past her lips. She has said it to you once or twice, when she thought you were asleep, and wouldn’t hear her. 

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Ashe is an incredibly jealous woman. She gets very angry, and very confrontational when jealous too. Not always the best emotions to course through the hot-head’s veins, but she doesn’t shy away from her negative emotions at all. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Quick, heated, passionate. When they do happen at least. Usually her kisses come before some very lustful scenes, so.. There’s that. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Please keep Ashe away from children. Please. She is not good around them, at all. Not even as a family friend.She is not a good role model in any sense of the word. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

Ashe is usually up pretty early, and doesn’t hang about too long- she doesn’t like wasting daylight. She’ll occasionally stay for a few minutes longer for a cup of coffee, but apart from that she’s usually gone just after you wake up. 

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

She’ll spend a lot more time with you in the evening, winding don with you by her side. When I say by her side, I mean at least vaguely around her. 

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Much like McCree, almost never. Though, if you gave her enough whiskey, you could probably wrangle at least a few details out of her. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Needless to say, though Ashe tries to be reasonable at times, she has a very short fuse. Almost anything can set her off- a small, repetitive noise, someone telling her to repeat herself or even just waking up in a bad mood.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

Almost everything. She knows your star sign, your favourite colour, the way you have your favourite hot beverage, and every date important to you. Just because it seems like she is absent doesn’t mean it’s entirely true. 

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

Her teaching you to shoot glass bottles and porcelain plates with her rifle. It was a fun day, for both of you. You have a picture of it too, and she keeps a copy tucked on the dash of her bike.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Very protective. She is aware that you, in theory, could fight your own battles, but insists on doing them for you regardless. It was almost no effort for her, her sphere of influence was larger than it may first appear. 

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

About average, overall. When she’s out, not all that much. When it’s just the two of you alone, she tries her best to put her heart out to you, though it’s hard for her. 

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

Swearing, violent tendencies (though not towards you), and manageable drinking. 

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She does put some effort in, but she isn’t precisely vain. Her looks come naturally to her. 

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

She would certainly feel like something is missing from her life, for a little while at least. She would eventually move on, 

X - Xtra (Random HC)

Ashe had B.O.B tear off McCree’s arm because he was looking at you “With heart eyes, dove.” 

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Too much back-chat- she doesn’t like getting sassed. 

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

Ashe is a rather light and restless sleeper, hence why she always gets up so early. She wakes up at first light and can’t get back to sleep. 

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part I: A Matter Of Convenience

Description: An extraordinary man arrives to shake up your ordinary life Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: robberies and mentions of firearms, physical violence, mild depictions of bodily injury, blood and masturbation, profanity Word Count: 1650 words (~8 mins of action, drama and the start of a slow burn 🔥)  Author’s Notes: This multi-chapter fic is dedicated to the lovely @op-peccatori​​​, one of the winners of my Follower Milestone Celebration!  Thank you so much, Nana, for requesting a mafia AU story starring everyone’s favourite lavender-haired man 😆 This is actually my first time writing an AU fic, and the experience thus far has been incredibly eye-opening and lots of fun!

For this piece, I wanted to localize the AU to better fit the world of MLQC, so instead of using a traditional mafia setting, the events take place in the milieu of the triads and “black societies” that are more likely to be found in corresponding parts of the world.  For those who are interested, Wikipedia has an incredibly comprehensive article on triads and organized crime.

This piece turned out to be much longer than I anticipated and is still ongoing as of the time of this post!  That being said, I hope you’ll join me on this wild ride 😂 As always, wishing you all a very happy read 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

“Put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt.”

A black duffel bag is thrust onto the counter before you, panels wide open like a gaping maw.  You look up at the man in the bomber jacket and the only things you can process are:

One: his nostrils are flaring.

Two: why bother trying to be nondescript by dressing in all black if you’re going to leave your face uncovered during a robbery?

“I ain’t playin’ around, little girl.  Put the goddamn money in the bag right now or else I’ll shoot—”

WHACK!

The man’s eyes widen in the split second before his face crumples, teeth yellowed and uneven protruding in an ugly grimace.  His hand flies to his head, trying to stem the blood already streaking down his face when he collapses onto the counter, taking out a display of collectible miniature keychains next to the register as he does.  They scatter, some rolling across the floor before being stopped by a pair of purple Chuck Taylors tapping out an impatient rhythm on the linoleum.

You look up from those sneakers in a daze, eyes following the silhouette of a pair of jeans so worn in places you doubted the rips and tears were purely for aesthetic purposes.  And if you’d had to guess, you’d say that purple was your saviour’s favourite colour, given the lavender hair that fell over his eyes the moment he pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt, also in a shade of violet.  His other hand — clad in a fingerless leather glove — gripped the skateboard that had just connected with the head of the would-be robber, still groaning before you.

Pop!

You startle at the sound, heart slowing only when you see the pink bubble deflating between the young man’s lips before the gum is pulled back by the tip of his tongue.  And from where you stood — glued to the spot behind the counter — you swear you can detect the hint of cinnamon.  

He crouches, picking up the gun that had slid out of the thief’s hand when he was unceremoniously hit from behind, and when he chuckles — the sound dangerous and cocksure — it ignites something deep within you.

“Tsk, tsk.  Can’t very well go around robbing people with toys guns, now can you?  Especially not on my turf.  Piece of advice: don’t mess with Boss Li’s territory or else I’ll be doing more than just breaking your head the next time around.  Don’t let me catch you here again.”  

Letting out a pathetic whimper, the robber snatches the empty bag from the counter, running for the doors in such haste he almost trips over his own feet.  The electronic refrains of the door chime still ring in your ears when you realize the man has already made his way to the beverage dispenser, one long finger pressing the Pepsi button before switching to Coke, both drinks mixing in the same paper cup.

Smoothly stepping over the mess on the floor, he places the drink on the counter right next to a smear of blood.  Mind still reeling, your customer service instincts take over.

“H-hello.  Just this?”  

He nods, popping a purple straw through the plastic lid before fixing you with his amber eyes as he pays, a hint of a smirk on his face.  And that is when it hits you that he is actually…actually…

…incredibly gorgeous.

An intense wave of heat washes over your face and you can’t help but look down.  By the time you’ve worked up the courage to lift your head again, he is already at the door, merging with the dark night beyond.  He throws up one hand in goodbye, not even bothering to look back when he says, “Relax.  That guy won’t be bothering you again.”

You hear his skateboard hit the pavement, listen to it rolling away.  Only when the sound completely fades do you remember to breathe.

There was a certain tranquility in working late-night shifts at the 24-hour convenience store — aisles empty save for the occasional customer breaking the monotony: high-strung lovers grabbing last-minute condoms and overworked salarymen buying the beer and discounted meals they subsisted on.

And though your coworkers complained bitterly about the graveyard shift, they were more than happy to pass them on to you, making up every excuse as to why they were unable to show up during those times.  It was unnecessary, really.  You didn’t mind it, even preferred the solitary calm it afforded.

Until now.

Your peace has been shattered, replaced by something that made your hands ball into nervous fists — fingers gripping at the hem of your polyester uniform and wondering for the first time ever whether blue stripes made you look ridiculous.

Because for the first time in a very long while, there was something, someone, to look forward to.

Night after night, it’s the same.  Repeated glances at the clock above the magazine rack, your breath growing shallow to see it approach 1:30.  Heart leaping into your throat to hear the automatic doors slide open followed by the scuff of purple sneakers, tracing a path through the store.

Since the night of that foiled robbery attempt a month ago, he has visited like clockwork and you still haven’t figured out how to remain calm.  So you find contentment from behind the safety of the counter, watching the man with lavender hair — soft, even when lit beneath a harsh fluorescent glare as he stands at the drink dispenser, always filling a cup with Pepsi first, then Coke.

Only ever buying the same thing every time.

This strange ritual lasts all of ten minutes, fifteen at most.  And it takes just as long after he leaves for the hairs of your body to cease standing on end, as if electrified by the intensity of his eyes on yours.  

That gaze of molten gold stays with you even when you return home in the early morning hours, pulling blackout curtains across your window before falling into bed to pretend your hands were his: tracing the outline of your lips, caressing the swell of your breasts, dipping between your legs.

And when your breath falters in a quick succession of shudders, you wonder at your own sanity.  Because in spite of your suspicions about the guy with the purple hair, the warning signs that pointed to his obvious involvement with the triads that extorted money from local businesses as ‘protection fees,’ you still couldn’t help but think about the man who visited you every night without fail.

“You’re hurt—”

“I-I’m fine.  Just…just ring this up, will ya?  I’m…in a rush…”

One arm crossed over his abdomen, he places the cup onto the counter as if it took all the concentration in the world — his efforts squandered anyways when his hand spasms at the last minute to send dark liquid sloshing over the lip.  He hadn’t even bothered to put a lid on.

“…Emergency responders have just arrived on scene and are dealing with scores of injuries.  Eyewitnesses describe what appears to have been a violent clash between rival gangs in a longstanding feud over contested territory.  The police are seeking help from the public in locating several key suspects believed to have fled the scene.  Please do not approach them under any circumstances as they are considered armed and dangerous…”

The news anchor’s face on the wall-mounted television is replaced by another: that of a youthful man with lavender hair and multiple piercings on his ears — challenge exuding from amber eyes.  You scramble for the remote on the shelf behind you, mashing the power button until the screen goes black.  And in the eerie silence that descends upon the store, all you can focus on is the laboured breathing of the man slouched before you.

Skin pale, beads of sweat dot a face drained of colour save for the crimson protrusion above his left eye — soon set to transform, ironically, into his favourite shade of purple.  He tries to suppress a cough but it is too late: you’ve already caught sight of the blood spreading out from beneath the palm pressed to his stomach.

“It’s on me tonight.”

The words leave your lips without second thought as you make for the storefront, flipping the light switch even as you reach to turn the lock on the automatic doors.

“No, don’t…don’t get yourself involved…”

Ignoring his protests, you gingerly place his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to support his weight as you make an awkward attempt to hobble together towards the back of the store.

Suddenly, the darkened interior is lit by flashes of red and blue and you are pulled in the direction of the nearest pillar, a strong arm flexed as it tenses around your waist, holding you to him in an intimate embrace.

He is close…so close that your senses are flooded with him: the heartbeat thunderous in your ear, leather and sweat tickling your nostrils; the scent of blood thick enough you can almost taste it on your tongue.  The hand on your hip — grip firm in a way it almost seemed possessive, and you are ashamed to find that you can become aroused even in a situation like this.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at his face — seeking a sign in the tension dissolving from the firm set of his jaw that the police cruiser had passed — you are shocked to see his pale lips stretched into a smirk instead.

“You know...I’ve been coming here every day…for weeks now…and this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He is still smiling when he passes out.

Thanks so much for reading!  Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 2!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

(Updated): Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

[samsoleil]

you can now read the homeschooled au on ao3! or you can keep reading here. in this installment, the boys go to a mall for the first time and have an Experience™

(cw for sensory overload, if that's something that doesn't quite butter your bread roll)

One day, Sam realised that their dad was just a person.

He can’t remember the conversation, if it could be called that, in its entirety. But what he does remember with a surreal vividness is seeing Dad’s face, cold and hard with rage and frustration, and thinking, I don’t understand. Real life doesn’t have those scenes where the camera cuts to the perfect moment to explain the characters’ motivations. Dad had a whole life before Sam and lives most of his existence separate from Sam, with his own ideas and interpretations and some sort of equation that added one dead wife and two kids and came up with the mess that’s been Sam’s life so far. This experience of the world, a mark of being human.

And that thought was like a spotlight had been shone on Sam’s little corner of the world, this glaring thing, an unavoidable truth. It isn’t always there but, when it is, it’s inescapable. If Sam’s honest, it’s fuelled the fire in more than one of his arguments with their dad. Sam wonders if this is how Eve felt after biting into the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, cursed with a realisation that can’t ever be unlearned.

But Dean’s different. Dean’s life isn’t this impossible, untouchable thing like Dad’s is; it’s Sam’s life, too, this thing they share, and Dean lives life more than anyone else Sam's met. Admittedly, Sam can name the amount of people he's actually met, beyond the handful of cashiers he's made uncomfortable eye contact with, on one hand. But he can't imagine that anyone who's ever spoken to Dean has left the conversation thinking, Well, he doesn't experience life as much as I do.

That’s not the point. The point is, Sam’s become accustomed to the concept that people in the real world have thoughts and feelings and lives that Sam will never know. But he and Dean had wanted to try going to a mall for lunch, instead of their usual cafés, and Sam had no idea that you could find this many people in a single place.

"Wow," he says, standing with Dean in the doorway.

There really are just so many of them. Parents with their kids, old couples, gaggles of teenagers laughing and shouting. Sam sees a group of girls around Dean's age in bright colours, hair falling in a sheet around their shoulders. He sees two young parents with their baby, jostling them up and down as they wail, drawing dirty looks from a couple of older women chatting over coffee. Everything is fluorescent bulbs and colour and sound. It's wonderful. It's horrible. There are so many of them and Sam has no idea who any of them are. It’s the Tree of Knowledge again, if biting into fruit was comparable to plummeting off a cliff, and he doesn't think he’d be able to handle feeling like this all the time. It's almost too much, to think that everyone here is just as alive as Sam and Dean.

Sam reaches out slightly to tangle his fingers between Dean's. Dean's hand relaxes easily, less soft and larger than Sam's, and grips him reassuringly after Sam's fingers are threaded with his. He feels better, after that. He watches the small family as the baby suddenly stops crying, their mother pressing a pacifier into their mouth and receiving a gummy smile. Genetically, a person's DNA is half their mother and half their father. Sam has a matching theory about himself as a whole. Half of Sam is characters from books, TV shows, movies, and half of Sam is Dean.

He follows after Dean as they move out of the doorway, away from Sam's sudden movie moment, and they melt into the crowd. It's even worse once they get in there, and Sam keeps overhearing snippets of conversation, fragments of this bustling chaos of lives.

"-working Friday, and I don't know if-"

There's a girl with an ear full of piercings, silver and solid, wearing all black with ripped jeans and a leather jacket-

"-assignment? I haven't-"

-and the sun streaming in through one of the windows flashes off the glass of one of the stores, momentarily turning Sam's vision white, and it's enough to make his eyes sting-

"-Sarah, Katy, wai-"

-while the air is filled with the scent of a hundred different foods, sweet as spun sugar one second and then the smoky thickness of meat, and Sam's head turns to follow the smell of flowers carried by the curls of a dark-skinned man in jeans-

"-long black, two sugars. Do you ha-"

-who greets an older woman with greying hair, and Sam turns back to face the direction they're heading and sees a crowd of people too thick to move through.

"-believe, I mean, it was so-"

He squeezes Dean's hand. Dean squeezes back. Sam squeezes again, and they have a back and forth for a minute or so as they wait for a space to open up in the crowd ahead of them. Sam knows what the person at the counter is ordering and what the people at the table behind them did for their weekend and what Donnie did to Amy, did you hear?

I heard, Sam thinks viciously, Everyone in a ten mile radius heard, can you shut up?

And then he feels bad, because it's not their fault it's so loud in here. He can barely hear himself think. He can't even hear himself breathe, can just feel his lungs inhaling and exhaling in his chest. The functional unit of the lungs are small sacs called alveoli that have walls one cell thin, and the culmination of Sam's can usually run a five minute mile but today, now, they're barely keeping him standing.

"-diagnosis, it all happened so fast-"

It's been a minute since he last squeezed Dean's hand, so he squeezes again. And Dean squeezes back, hard, and that seems to help the frantic energy building in Sam's body, so when Dean starts to relax his hand Sam squeezes again and he doesn't let go.

"-don't know what I'd do-"

And Dean looks back, and something must show in Sam's face, because then they're moving, the crowd be damned. Someone brushes against Sam and he feels every part of it, too aware of the fabric of their shirt brushing against Sam's flannel. Someone else steps on the side of his shoe and he wants to step on them back, wants them to finish the job, wants to break out of his body. Dean's squeezing Sam's hand hard enough that he feels the bones in his hand shift, but it's all he has, right now. The rest of him is too busy paying attention to everything else.

"-rotten leaf in my salad, I want-"

There's a group of children laughing and stumbling over their feet, their mothers following behind with gentle smiles and chattering conversation, and Sam feels this tug of want-

"-failed my midterms, so I just-"

-and there's someone in a bright, multicoloured jacket holding hands with a girl dressed in all denim, laughing as they reach up to gently grasp her chin and lean in-

"-loud in here, do you want-"

-so Sam looks away, and no matter where he looks there's another person, another family, another store, another thing bright and beautiful and he can't take it, okay, it's just too much-

"-I said, that's crazy, no way-"

-for him to handle right now, the everything of it all, the thought that, all this time, the entire world has existed just outside of their motel room and he's barely a part of it.

"-beautiful, Mary-"

Sam's heart jolts in his chest.

I can't do this, he thinks desperately, still moving with Dean, pulled along by him, his hand encompassed by Dean's. He tamps down the visceral urge to just lie down here, press himself into the tile and be consumed. He sidesteps a puddle of someone's chocolate thickshake, his stomach turning over. He can feel the slick of his sweat between Dean's large, warm hand and his own. Part of him wants to tug away to dry his palm on his jeans, but he feels like he might fall apart if he does.

Dean leads him into a store and the temperature change shocks him, sending shivers cascading down his spine, and Sam feels suddenly unwell, like when he has the flu. But it's quieter in here, the cacophony of the mall muted by the racks of clothing. The fluorescents take all the red away, leaving Dean wearing an ugly brown flannel, and that sick feeling grows stronger. Sam closes his eyes, letting Dean guide him. He flinches at the clatter as Dean pulls something off the rack, the hanger tapping plastic against metal railing, and lets himself be swept along, around a corner and into a changing room, Dean pulling the curtains closed.

Sam bypasses the bench to sit down on the floor, gaze fixed on where the curtain brushes against the faux wood linoleum. He can still hear the chatter in the store, muffled as if underwater.

Dean crouches down in front of him, breaking his line of sight, but Sam can't move. He can't stay still. He's going to fall apart. He's going to turn to stone. He wants to run, run, out through the mall and back home, he wants to crawl into Dean's chest and stay there forever and never go outside again. Fuck outside. Outside is overrated. Outside is filled with people who couldn't give less of a shit about Sam, going about their days while he falls apart in the middle of a food court. Outside is filled with people who aren't Sam and Dean, living TV lives while they spin out on some highway in Nowhere, America.

"Sammy?" Dean says, and it's so loud, what the hell, Dean.

Sam untangles himself from his little ball of limbs to silently shoosh him, and he watches as the tense line of Dean's shoulders relax infinitesimally from where they were hitched up around his ears, all worry. Dean bats his hands away gently, fine, fine, he'll be quiet.

What happened? asks the moue of Dean's mouth, the furrow between his brows.

Sam shrugs.

That's not an answer.

And Sam knows it's not, but how is he meant to explain it when even he doesn't know what happened? It was just everything, all at once, and it crept under Sam's skin and into his head and he couldn't escape it. He looks up at Dean, helpless, and Dean's hands come up to cradle his face and it's alright. It'll be okay. Sam tips his head into the warmth of Dean's skin, lets his eyes fall closed.

Someone laughs from in the store and Sam flinches, then feels Dean's hands move to cover his ears instead. Sam sighs and leans into Dean's chest. He expects to hate it, being touched, worries that he'll want to shed his skin in a heap at the feeling of it, but it's Dean. Sam presses his forehead into Dean's ribs firm enough to bruise, and Dean pulls him along as he reshuffles on the floor so that Sam is between his legs, wrapped in warmth, anchored to the world. He moves his hands away from Sam's ears and Sam, with a bitter-sick feeling of betrayal, clamps his own over them, pressing hard. But Dean puts his hands on Sam's back instead, rubbing soothingly, and that's better than anything else.

A few moments pass, quietly, just the two of them. Sam’s still stuck in his head, which is tuned into the world like a radio turned up too high, but he does his best to focus on the smooth movements of Dean’s hands up and down his back, fingers running over the knobs of his spine. They’re called spinous processes, and they lengthen throughout the cervical spine but are mostly the same size in the thoracic spine. Sam checked. Dean kicked up only a little bit of a fuss. And when Sam realises that he’s playing that memory in his head, eyelids heavy, he notices that he’s feeling a little better.

As if reading his mind, Dean moves his hands to rest on Sam’s arms, and Sam settles back. He takes his hands away from his ears, blinking hard. His chest feels a bit tight, but he’s okay. He conveys as much to Dean, who looks over him, expression doubtful. But when he sees Sam watching his face he plasters on a grin, rubbing Sam’s arms quickly through his shirt before he moves back, too.

Dean signs for Baby. They don’t have to stay.

Part of Sam wants to leave, but it feels like giving up. And he wants to try the mall, was excited until he became overwhelmed and, if he tries, he can make the adrenaline feel more like anticipation.

“I want to stay." He accompanies the words with their signs. “Can we get pizza?”

Dean kept bringing it up in the car, subtle as a truck, and Sam saw some slices of a vegetarian pizza through the glass of one of the counters. It’s an easy choice to make. Sam doesn’t really feel like pizza, but he knows that Dean will try to cheer him up the same way he cheers himself up. And it works, for the most part. Dean just hasn’t quite realised that the main reason why is because Sam likes seeing Dean happy.

And, fine. Sam knows Dean needs him to be happy, too, and maybe that plays a bigger part in it all than Sam would care to admit. He knows that if he asked to leave, they would be as good as gone. It's enough to make him feel lightheaded, sometimes, the things that Dean would do for him. And it's not even because he has to. He chose Sam, over their dad, over hunting, over the chance to be free from Sam's drama forever. So they'll stay, and they'll get pizza, and they'll buy jackets and underwear and Dean's paraphernalia, and then they'll be gone. Sam just needs to hold on for a few more hours.

Dean beams and Sam feels his cheeks flush in response. Dean's so, so proud of him. He circles Sam's heart through his shirt and Sam feels something bright and beautiful settle in him. It’s contagious.

"That's my boy," Dean says, ruffling Sam's hair.

Sam pushes him away gently, reaching up to fix his hair, and Dean rocks back, still wearing that easy smile. Sam has to look away, eyes settling on the amulet sitting on Dean's chest and shining dully in the crappy change room lighting. Sam doesn't know how he does it. Sam knows better than anyone that life isn't always sunshine and roses but, even with Sam losing his grip over and over, Dean's still here. Maybe it's selfish, but Sam can't help but be desperately grateful. He wouldn't trade where they are now for anything. They're alive now in a way they weren't before, and Dean seems to be genuinely enjoying it. Sam wants to love existing that much.

Dean stands and offers him his hand.

One day, maybe I will, Sam thinks, and he reaches out.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (51) || atz

You don’t know what to do anymore.

Everything is falling apart to pieces, the world around you, the people at your side, you yourself, crumbling into ruins. Yunho is suffering from poison, having been stabbed in the side by his dearly beloved brother himself, who is cooperating with Commander Kang, Vice-Commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose fleet.

He also happens to be Yeosang’s estranged father and the man with the antidote to Yunho’s poison. He wants your captain to give up his magical knot, the nautical maps, you, and Yeosang in exchange for pardons for the whole crew… and Yunho’s antidote.

Wooyoung is avoiding you like you’re down with the plague, refusing to look you in the eye and cutting short all your feeble attempts at conversation with curt, uninterested replies. He’s become like some sort of wraith, gone more times than he is present, and the immense loneliness that clenches deep in you doesn’t help at all with the pains that have started to emerge in your chest.

You’re terrified. Terrified about exactly what exactly is happening to you.

And then the Kraken…

The Kraken is dead.

Jongho had reported the incident to your captain the moment the four of you had returned to the vessel, him being more worried about the Royal Navy ship present in the waters as compared to the death of the Kraken, but you had barely reacted to his worried questions, unable to comprehend what you had just seen.

The ancient Kraken is… dead.

You sit against the mast in empty silence, watching the stars blankly as the ship sails beneath them on a sea reflecting the galaxies in the night sky, lost in the majestic wonder of the sight and in your thoughts. Tonight, the air is freezing, and instinctively your hand reaches out next to you, seeking for the usual warmth that is always present by your side.

Then your fingers falter, halting hesitantly in mid air when they find nothing but cold, empty space.

Despair wells up in you and your hand falls back to your side, limp. Your head falls forwards as you try to hold back the sudden, warm tears that threaten to slip from your eyes. It hurts, deep in your chest, as real and raw as the sporadic pains you’ve been experiencing since leaving the Grand Iguana, and perhaps if you’re honest with yourself, even more so.

When you close your eyes and wish hard enough, with all of your might, you can see Wooyoung’s content smile as he lounges on the deck next to you, eyes fixated on the stars overhead. Wish a little more and you can feel the comforting weight of his head resting on your shoulder, the warmth of your intertwined hands in the lining of his pocket. Even if it was all a lie, even if he had never really cared about you, even if you were nothing more than a game to him, you just want to stay in that single moment forever, trapped in your knitted cocoon of comforting lies.

But you don’t have time to be worrying about those things, you think as you aggressively wipe the tears from your eyes. Because there are so many more problems that you need to focus on, bigger ones that are looming over you in spite of your own troubles.

Yunho is still dying.

And San doesn’t have a cure.

“I don’t know how to create the antidote.”

You don’t know what you should do, to be honest. There are all manner of emotions rushing through you right now – fear – despair – hopelessness – anger; directed at yourself or someone else, you don’t know, but all that matters is that Yunho is dying.

And that neither you nor San can do anything to stop it.

Slumping against the mast once more, you let out another exhausted sigh. You’re tired, completely worn out, battered from the constant strain and worries on your mind. All you want to do is lie down and sleep, but you can’t bring yourself to go to bed in front of your master, who is still burning midnight oil night after night as he and Yeosang search fruitlessly for an antidote.

You can’t bear to see the haggard, gaunt expression on his face as he rifles through the same books yet again, knowing full well in his heart that they don’t have the answers he needs, that only powerful magic could hope to have any sort of effect on the poison. You can’t continue to hear your master sob quietly to himself every night from under your covers as his worry for Yunho and the sheer weight of his failure takes its toll on him, the candlelight flickering across his face only making the tear tracks on his cheeks all the more pronounced.

And in the morning, when he wears a bright, falsely cheerful grin, telling you that everything will be alright, guilt eats away at you like a starving man when you know that he is the one who needs your comfort instead.

You bury your head in your hands with a soundless scream. Your sanity feels like it’s ripping apart at the seams, unraveling and crumbling to ash. There are too many worries and burdens stifling you from within, choking you like poisonous ivies, the thorns digging into your lungs and suffocating you of the air that you so desperately need. You want to spill everything in your chest to someone else, to relieve the burden from your shoulders, but who would be able to lend you a listening ear at this time of the night?

You glance about the deck instinctively. All your crewmates are sleeping below decks, San and Yeosang are tirelessly researching into the night for a cure, Wooyoung still won’t speak to you, and your captain… he…

Actually, why don’t you speak to your captain?

Leaping to your feet, you nearly trip over empty air in your haste as you scramble to the captain’s cabin. To your immense relief, you can see the faint flicker of candlelight coming through the glass windows, signifying that your captain is not yet asleep. You raise a trembling hand, and after a moment of hesitation, rap on the heavy wooden door with your knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

You’re left hanging for a moment when there’s a brief moment of silence, but before your hand can fall to the side in disappointment, a soft, raspy voice comes from behind the closed door.

“Come in.”

Relief floods through you and you pull open the door, stepping into the dimly lit interior of your captain’s cabin. Knowing that he usually sleeps in the hammock in the corner, your eyes flit there at first glance, but you’re surprised to find it empty. Instead, you finally see him at the glass window overlooking the sea, lounging on a chair there as he stares unblinkingly at the scene outside. He’s in a state of casual undress, signature red jacket slung over his shoulder and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows as his fingers dance absentmindedly on a sheaf of thick parchment paper on his lap.

Then the smell of alcohol hits you like a punch to the gut.

In his other hand is a bottle of liquor, and from the pungent scent it’s a strong, powerful one. For a moment, you’re actually worried; is your captain too unable to cope with the pain and fear of losing his friend? Taking a hesitant step forward, you call out to your captain softly.

“Captain? Are you alright?”

If Hongjoong is surprised that you’ve come to search for him in the wee hours of morning, he doesn’t show it, subtly sliding the bottle of alcohol behind a curtain before he begins to tidy the papers on his lap as if he hasn’t heard your question in the least. When he’s satisfied with the state they’re in, he finally turns to glance at you.

“Ahh, Chin Hae, what do you need from me?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Because your captain, Kim Hongjoong, is not wearing his eyepatch.

You’ve never actually thought about what was under that slip of black cloth. As the eyepatch has just… always been there, in some way you’ve forgotten that beneath your captain’s eyepatch, there are the scars of your captain’s childhood. You remember that your captain had told you once how his father had abandoned him on an island and shot him in the head, causing him to lose his eye in what must have surely been a traumatic accident for any child.

But the alcohol must have addled with your captain’s mind a lot more than you’d thought, because he doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s not wearing his eyepatch, instead cocking his head curiously to the side as he awaits for your response.

Your own eyes trace his face, lingering on his right eye as much as you try to tear your gaze away in polite courtesy. The eyepatch is such a big part of his wardrobe, even more significant than his red jacket itself, that you feel like he’s bared a part of himself to you without intending to.

You’re not going to lie. The scar is ugly, shallow ridges of scar tissue joining his skin of to his cheek, slightly fainter in colour than the smooth, unblemished skin around it. It mars what you would have almost called a flawless face, an unsightly stain upon what was once a perfect, white canvas.

You can almost imagine the sight happening before your eyes. Your captain as a young, innocent child, still with both soft green eyes and not yet exposed to the horrors of the world, scrambling backwards desperately in the sand, terror sending his body into sheer mind numbing panic as the one person who was supposed to protect him raises a musket to his head.

And it’s the last thing he’ll ever see out of that eye.

Your captain’s other eye, the healthy, working one, is a hazy green, dulled by the alcohol and pain. It takes him more than a second to realise what you’re looking at, his mind fogged over with liquor, but when he does, you’re terrified, yanking your eyes back to the ground as you can.

But it’s already too late.

“Get out!” Hongjoong roars, every syllable trembling with rage, rising to his feet in one explosive action. The papers on his lap slide to the ground and scatter everywhere, but they’re the least of your troubles right now. At the moment, you’re a lot more concerned about how your captain is practically looming over you, handsome face twisted in fury, warm breath hitting your cheeks. Your eyes are drawn back to his eye once more, almost instinctively, and Hongjoong clamps one hand over the scar, so hard that his fingers turn white, turning away from you so you can’t see it any longer, shoulders wound tight with tension.

Your heart breaks.

“Captain-”

“I said, get out.” He seethes, making to move across the room to his table, where his eyepatch lies. But the alcohol must have affected him a lot more than you thought, because he only manages five steps before his knees give out beneath him and he crumples to ground in a limp heap with a cry of pain. A yelp of horror leaves your mouth and you rush to help him, but he merely waves you off, one hand still pressed tight over his eye.

The message is clear. He doesn’t want you seeing his eye.

“Get me my eyepatch.” Hongjoong manages through gritted teeth and you scramble to obey, feeling the rough cloth beneath your fingers as you pluck it from the tabletop. Your captain practically snatches it from your hands when you return with it, yanking it over his eye as fast as he can.

The two of you remain there for a moment, your captain trying to get his breathing under control as you merely stay still before him, afraid to move. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and it’s only now that you notice his sallow cheeks, the old rum stains on his shirt. He’s been drowning all his fears and sorrows in liquor, and your heart only shatters more when you recall the brave front he’s been putting on in front of you and all the crew.

“I’m… I apologise.” Hongjoong finally rasps and your eyes dart to his face. His fingers still linger at his eyepatch, as if subconsciously trying to hide his scarred eye, his expression almost unreadable, forlorn, defeated. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. You should go.”

Part of you does want to leave, terrified of what might happen if you stay here any longer. But even more than that, you’re worried about your captain. He’s clearly completely drunk on both alcohol and his emotions, and you can’t just leave him on the floor like that. So, mustering your courage, you put an arm around him and yank him to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in your chest when you do so, pulling him to Yeosang’s bed.

All the fight has clearly evaporated from your captain, because he merely goes along with what you’re trying to do, a complete turn from earlier when he’d been shouting at you to leave, albeit on unsteady feet. When Hongjoong reaches the bed, he simply topples over onto the mattress with a soft groan, eye shut as you sit next to him on the edge of the bed, a hundred and one questions running through your mind with nowhere to begin.

“Why?” You manage to whisper, the question soft to even your own ears. Exhaustion and alcohol must have loosened your captain’s tongue, because he actually answers you, voice so forlorn it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I…I couldn’t help it... I felt like such a useless captain.” Hongjoong breathes into the silent room, voice laced with pain and depression and guilt. “Yunho got stabbed because I was too slow. Yeosang and you are wanted because I failed to protect the two of you. Now, we have no cure to save Yunho, but I… I just can’t give either of you up to that bastard. I don’t want to make a choice, so I’m trying to forget, but it just isn’t working.”

Everyone on board of this ship, Yeosang himself included, have reassured you that your captain would never give any of you up, but to hear it for yourself, with your own two ears, means so much more to you. Some sort of relief settles in you, but it doesn’t last long.

Your captain lets out a self deprecating chuckle. “I’m such a selfish man, aren’t I?”

You don’t know what your captain is talking about. What does he mean that he’s selfish? Kim Hongjoong is one of the most kind hearted people you’ve met, willing to go to any extent for his friends and crew, you included. But when you open your mouth to refute, your captain speaks once more, voice slurring ever so slightly over his words.

“Hey, Chin Hae... I’m terrified.”

The pained whimper that breaks forth from him is the final blow to your heart as you feel it shatter into teeny tiny pieces. You have this urge to comfort him, to reassure him in any way that he’ll be alright, but then Hongjoong is sitting up on the bed once more, green eye clouded with desperation as he grabs you tight by the shoulders.

“You can’t die, Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is shaking with some sort of deep rooted fear as his gaze searches yours. “Please… no, that’s an order. I order you not to die, Chin Hae. I… no… I won’t be able to bear it if any of you die so please…” His voice breaks at the last word and a single tear rolls down your cheek at the sheer anguish in his words. “Please… please don’t die.”

He’s begging you.

“I’ll take all the danger, all the pain, everything. Please, don’t do anything dangerous.” He continues rambling weakly, head bowed before you in supplication as he pleads with you. He’s drunk. Too much so, you think blankly, your heart ripping itself to shreds at his words. “Getting tortured… even dying would be a better fate than losing any of you, so please…”

You’re frozen, unable to move an inch at the sheer wretchedness of his pleas. Your captain, your stupid, foolish and utterly selfless captain, doesn’t care for anything else except the safety of his crew. Your captain, who is always a pillar of support to all of you, perhaps doesn’t realise that he too, needs comfort as well.

Hongjoong is still mumbling ‘please’ brokenly under his breath, tears actually streaming down his cheeks as he begs you to stay alive and safe. You don’t know what to do, one hand coming up to grip the fabric above your chest, right where your heart is.

How? How are you ever going to tell Hongjoong about how your life might just be ending soon?

At this point, you don’t even know how to worry about yourself. Instead, you’re more concerned about what will happen to your captain if you do die, because how can you bring yourself to worry about you when your captain cares for your life more than his own?

The answer is simple, really.

You can’t.

This isn’t like that time from so long ago, when the biggest secrets you’d been keeping from the crew was the fact that you were a woman. Your captain is already tearing himself apart from the inside over all the problems he has to face now, what would happen to him if you told him you were dying and there was likely no way he could fix it?

He’d go insane.

So, as you hold back the tears that are desperately trying to escape your eyes, you pull him close in a hug and he clings to you, as if he’s drowning and you’re a lifeline. You press your nose into his shoulder and pat him, rubbing soothing circles into his back much like San used to do for you.

“I won’t die.” You lie through your teeth, and your heart clenches painfully, seemingly aware of your fibs. But Hongjoong nods desperately, trembling uncontrollably against you, your legs tangled in the blankets.

“You promise?” His voice is so weak, so afraid, that the tears spill over your lashes and onto your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder. You attempt a reassuring smile, but even to you, it’s forced and brittle, like flaking clay that has been left out in the sun too long.

Your reply is nothing but a sweet lie, one that you know you cannot possibly keep.

“I promise.”

[goldenkamuyhunting]

1534 Nendoroid Hyakunosuke Ogata is finally available!

So, since Goodsmile finally made him available for preorder, let me ramble a bit about him (and how to preorder him).

Yeah, I know I already did it for the prototype but a little more can’t hurt.

Warning, I’m gonna use the images that are on the Goodsmile site page for him... but also the ones on Kahotan’s Japanese blog because they capture him better.

So let’s start by seeing him in full colour.

The colouring is not bad, we were already familiar with this pose as it was used for the prototype as well so I won’t really comment much on it. I’m not sure why they’ve chosen the ‘standard expression’ instead than the grinning one for this photo as he actually was grinning in the image that inspired this but whatever, the grinning expression is included and that’s all that matters.

We can see an improvement in the definitive version, which is that his eyebrows are drawn in manga style (we can see many lines form them) and not in anime style (were they’re made with a single, large stroke).

This was something I know many fans has requested so I’m glad Goodsmile listened them... even though they declare that their official inspiration is his anime version.

They also added lines below his eyes so I’ll say they’ve tried their best in reproducing his expression.

Kahotan’s blog allows us to see him from behind as well.

I love how they had drawn some rebellious strands of hair and hadn’t made them all slicked up, and his little hood is very cute.

It’s a pity it can’t be pulled up though but this would require three more additional pieces and it’s kind of clear Goodsmile wasn’t that invested in his cape as we can see in the images only one version of it.

Why this is relevant?

Because the right side of it is pulled up to allow Ogata to move his arm while the other is kept lowered. In hindsight probably it was better to include a cloth cape instead than a plastic one as I think this could limit Ogata’s mobility.

I’m not sure if he’ll be able to shoot with his cape on and the difference between the two sides might be too marked if he’ll keep his right arm down.

Oh well, this is something we will be able to judge only when we’ll have him and I understand this was a BIG problem for Goodsmile as they clearly couldn’t give him a dozen of plastic capes and pieces in cloth or in other materials that aren’t plastic are included only in rare occurrences.

The plastic cape is still VERY CUTE.

Okay, going on.

As Nendo’s arms are simply too short it was impossible to reproduce Ogata’s iconic gesture of hair grooming so I think, according to Goodsmile, this is the  compromise they could reach... whcih shows also the grinning face we could see in the prototype.

It’s nowhere near the hair grooming but, as I said, that one was IMPOSSIBLE TO GET so I really apprecciate their attempt to find something that could work as equivalent.

I think this image might give an even better idea of hair grooming (it reminds me of when he did it after Asirpa told him not to shoot the woodcocks), but maybe it’s just me.

This image shows us they also gave him a left hand which can hold the rifle, which is nice.

We continue with something that left me a little perplex, Ogata’s shooting position.

I don’t know if whoever placed him and Kahotan also made a mistake in positioning him... but it seems his right hand is not holding the rifle at all... when Ogata normally does.

It wasn’t something problematic as Nendoroid Tanya Degurechaff can do it just fine.

Even Nendoroid Springfield seems to hold the rifle with her right hand more than him.

Still, it’s possible they just wanted to show that hand. In the initial image there’s a right hand that can hold the rifle, so maybe that’s the trick.

He still looks really cool when shooting.

Goodsmile gave Ogata a butterfly to try to reach. I’ll say even if they said they were taking inspiration from the anime, they definitely have considered the manga as the butterfly scene isn’t in the anime, just in the manga.

LOL, here they would have needed the standard expression and not the grinning one but whatever, Ogata reaching for the butterly is ADOURABLE.

Yes, the butterfly is not very detailed, but keep in mind it will be really, really tiny. You won’t see all the details and it’s a complete new butterfly as the ones included in the “after parts part 2″ set were different

The last image Goodsmile shows us is a very special one as THEY INCLUDED PARTS TO MAKE THE CITATAP SCENE!

I’ve sent requests and pictures for this one so I’m delighted they had included it... which was not an easy feat as it means this Ogata will come with an additional sitting body (in addition to the little wooden stump and knifes) which is really not so common.

I wish I could see his expression better but I still love him.

Overall I think they paid more attention to him than to my poor Nendoroid Asirpa (I made a full review here).

Asirpa came with two more expressions, but despite all her pose being based on her being seated, she didn’t have any sitting part and she came with very few accessories (the hand with the chopsticks, the bown and the spoon with the otter head), she couldn’t hold her knives to make citatap and there was not a single possibility to have her use her bow and arrows, with not even her walking stick being included, although, credits when it’s due, due to the intricate Ainu patterns, she was probably hell to make for Goodsmile as there’s the chance that one had to be handpainted.

Also, her bent arm was a single piece, meaning you couldn’t rotate it, while both Ogata’s arms are two pieces. this makes for a lot more poses.

What worries even more though, is how she’s not being re-released with Nendoroid Ogata. Asirpa was released in 2018/09. Now, when Goodsmile release a new Nendo of a series for which they had already released Nendo, they often re-release them. It’s the case of how Tamaki Iroha gets a new release because they are releasing Nanami Yachiyo.

No re-release might mean my poor Asirpa didn’t really sell well, so Goodsmile either has still some of her old copies or doesn’t feel like investing in her again.

This means we got Nendoroid Ogata merely due to the HUGE amount of requests... and we might not get any other Golden Kamuy Nendoroid unless he sells really well.

Due to this I encourage you all to preorder him, to show Goodsmile an interest in GK Nendo. This not only because the Ogata Nendo is beyond cute but also because only in this way we can hope to get new GK Nendo as well.

How can you do it?

There’s of course, the Goodsmile on line shop. You register and place your oder. You will have to pay additional fees such as import taxes if you’re not residing in Japan.

However preordering in a shop near your home might be important in this period due to the Coronavirus affecting mail services so what can you do?

You can also order at Goodsmile online shop USA if you’re in Canada or in the United States as they don’t ship him out of them.

So what if you don’t live in Japan, USA or Canada?

Many of Goodsmile partner shops allow for pre-order.

You can search for one in your country or close by.

I use and can wholeheartedly recommend the Neko no Koe shop as they always offered me a great service. You can pay after your Nendo reaches their shop and they can send it to you when you’re ready to receive it (which for me is an imperative as there are periods in which I’m not at home and they just hold my Nendo for me without any additional cost and wait to send them until I’m back). They offer their services also to who’s not Italian so you can mail them to ask for info (nekonokoe.shop@gmail.com).

BE VERY WARY if you try to pre-order him from a shop that’s not one of the Goodsmile parters one. I never heard of someone managing to get an Asirpa bootleg and it’s possible they didn’t make them as she wasn’t popular but they’ll know Ogata was ugely requested so yes, chances to find him as a bootleg are higher.

Bootlegs often have a horrible quality (they rage from them being very ugly to their parts not staying together or being missing) but, what’s more, harm the original producer (Goodsmile) and the copyright holders (Geno studio and Noda himself).

I wholeheartedly recommend to stay away form them.

[sumire-bride]

sumire route part 1 (alrighty time to finally write these)

???- my my kyoufu you made such a beautiful child,

i'm pleased to say that you did me well after many tries you succeed to make my plan real

kyoufu- yes.. she is my beautiful daughter, i will make sure she is raised inside the safety of my home away from anyone and everyone, to keep her beauty from being tainted by this ugly world..! i'll make sure she is ready for your plan

???- fufu well i do not care how you raise this child but please make sure she does not die

kyoufu- i understand, then i will raise her how i please then..

???- good.. you may take your leave may we meet again, i thank you for your corporation

kyoufu- ... yes... may we meet again.. *the man leaves with his daughter in arms*

???- which one of you will be the one to taint the white orchids beauty.. i truly wonder.. i guess i'll have to wait and see in times due

a man of six sons said smiling

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

sumire was exported into the mansion by a butler only to be left alone outside for the first time

sumire- .... (this place is much bigger then my house... my goodness... oh father why.. why did you send me here..? i want to leave i do not know what to do...)

(... no.. you must trust father and his idea's... father is always right... there must be a reason for this... i just.. do not know what to do now... i'm in front of a door but... what do i do....)

*the door opens she is meet with a servant of the manner*

servant- ah i am guessing that you are miss kanashi! please do not stand outside i am sure you had a long trip, please come inside and sit down.. i will have someone to come talk to you soon please follow me

sumire- ....oh..! (a person opened the door....) i understand...

*sumire is taken to the living space are*

servant- please stay here i will have someone with right away

*the servant leaves*

sumire- ... (..is that a... servant...? mm... they have brown hair... that is the first time i have seen someone with brown hair.... oh father.. i am sorry but i feel stressed.. this goes against your wishes... but this is a vampires home.... so maybe he will not be upset...)

reiji- hello, i believe my father sent you? you are sumire kanashi am i right?

sumire- ... (this man has... almost a black hair colour... but... he has red eyes.... how come they are red...) yes... i am sumire...

reiji- i see, well it's a pleasure to meet you kanashi-san i am reiji sakamaki, the second eldest

sumire- .... (... the way he talks makes me think of nii-san...)

reiji- ...hm.. well come with me i'll show you to your room and discuss the rules you will follow while under this roof understand?

sumire- ...yes... (very... stern.. oh goodness i can sense such a bad presence in this home... well that might be because they are... vampires..)

ayato- haha.. lookie here so this is the girl ya said would be living with us!

reiji- haah... ayato must you make such a ruckus when you enter rooms?

ayato- ahh..? ore-sama is aloud to do what he pleases!

sumire- ....! (that... boy has.. red hair.. it's red..! but his eyes are the same colour as mine... but the hair is.. red.. i have not seen this before goodness.. how strange..)

*sumire goes and touches ayato's hair

ayato- oi! what the hell do you think you doing touching ore-sama's hair?! who gave you permission?

sumire- ...! it is real... your hair is real...

ayato- well of course it's real what did you think it was? dumbass

sumire- ...thank you for calling me a dumbass... i accept your compliment..!

ayato- ...

reiji- ...

ayato- the hell? that wasn't a compliment idiot!

sumire- thank you... i am happy you think of me as this thing called "idiot"...

ayato- huh..? this girl is screwed reiji she's like really messed in the head

reiji- haah.... *he adjusts his glasses* good grief.. ayato do not go and pester her.. pardon him that ayato the third son of our family

sumire- ...oh... hello i am sumire (...this red haired man is very loud...)

ayato- tch.. whatever.. *he looks at sumire's chest* huh not bad melons.. but you got one stupid head what a epic turn off

sumire- ...hm...? i do not see melons anywhere..

reiji- ayato it is rude to look at a womens chest..! leave now or you'll be punished

ayato- whatever i already leaving! *he leaves*

reiji- haah.. now then come with me and i'll show you your room

*scene is in sumire's room*

reiji- so that is all please follow the rules i set out to you, besides that you are free to do what you would like starting now, just please don't start a ruckus okay?

sumire- i will not be loud....

reiji- good *he's about to leave the room but stops and stares and sumire for a moment and speaks*

say... you are aware we are vampires right? if so you don't look afraid, how come?

sumire- ... (i am... scared... but mother would yell at me if she saw me scared... and then father would not be please...)

i am aware... but it does not scare me to much.... *she looks down*

reiji- you really are a bad liar

sumire- hm...?

reiji- were vampires.. we can sense fear.. i just smell it all over you..

don't try to deny it either it's no use.. well no matter, please make yourself at home, if you break a rule remember you'll be punished.. do i make myself clear?

sumire- ....yes...

reiji- good *he leaves*

sumire looks around

sumire- ...how unpleasant... (i do not want to be here... i want to go home.... father will be mad if he saw my state right now... oh goodness... haah.. i need to walk)

*she gets up and opens the door and starts walking around the hallways then she trips*

sumire- argh...! (ow... how did i trip...?)

______________

part 1- part two

((alright so i am starting to write sumire's route now and i'm npt sure who i would like to pick for sumire to do one of the diaboys routes with, i think i'll do it by age so we'll start with shuu after part two is done, and then go to reiji ayato ect i'm guessing you all know what i mean, but i hope you all liked this writing of mine ^-^ i'm re reading the game and such so i can a better idea on how to write these so i'm trying to make things similar to the game while also changing things for my oc as well, i will be drawing things for this once i am able to draw digitally so i'll edit these a bit later in the future ^-^

[staranon95]

colourful

a red hood au drabble

Gavin doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he feels he needs to do something. He needs to do this on his own. He can’t wait for Trevor to scheme and come up with a plan. He can’t wait for the crew to say they have his back. He can’t wait for Geoff to swoop in and save the day. In many respects, this feels like Gavin’s issue and only his. He can reach out to Alfredo. He can get past that hard exterior and reach him, not Red.

He just has to find him first.

He goes to his apartment first to grab his go-bag he keeps stashed in his closet. He leaves his phone and any other equipment Matt might be able to track his movements from. He’s got a few burner cellphones in his bag he’ll use for emergencies, but for this he’ll be going off the grid.

He leaves his apartment. He leaves his motorcycle and heads for a 24 hour garage that does business with people like him. There he’s able to get a bike the crew won’t be able to find him on. Then he stakes out a new place to work out of. He stays the night at a hostel and finds a cheap motel to work out of, paying cash at the front desk under a fake name.

Day one of finding Alfredo is literally all online. If there’s some new crew making its rounds in the city, people will be talking about it in forums. If you’re a civilian in Los Santos, you’re probably a fan of a criminal and talking about conspiracy theories and keeping up on the news. There are some smatterings of ‘Red’ on the forums that Gavin pays close attention to. If Alfredo is working for someone, then Gavin needs to know about it.

There’s some chatter about something called ‘Spectrum.’ Some people think it’s a group of highly trained grifters, conmen, hitmen, and more. An elite group. Others think it’s a person named ‘Spectrum.’ Like the Corpirate or Edgar. A moniker for a titan of crime. Or it’s an international organization that comes to massive cities like Los Santos to sow corruption into the municipal government for the betterment of mega-corporations and CEOs. Either way, Spectrum is something Gavin needs to consider. It’s information he’ll need to send to the crew.

Some people on the forums have said they’ve spotted members of Spectrum. And that an identifying feature is brightly coloured clothing for important members. That might explain Alfredo’s red sweater and why he wore it last night.

Gavin builds the profile based on what he has. He has some locations to work with that he’ll haunt for the next few days. It’s tedious work, but Gavin has the mind for it. He’s always been a puzzle guy, willing to sit and wrestle with something until he has the answer. So he builds his routine, makes note of locations, potential names and descriptions of people he’ll encounter.

It’s not that easy for him to move around—the so called ‘Golden Boy’ of the city. A lot of people know him on sight. So he shaves his beard, which easily takes a few years off his appearance. He ditches his designer jeans for loose cargo shirts and a shirt that’s two sizes two big. It makes him look younger, more immature, allowing him to pass by unnoticed when he needs to be.

In his room he hangs a map against the wall, using red thumbtacks to track the locations he’s checked out that he knows Spectrum has been by. He notices clusters of activity, attempting to triangulate to a location where this group might be working out of.

There’s one location in the downtown he decides to check into. It was one of the first apartment buildings built in the city, from the 1910s. The historical aspect of it is overlooked by the absolutely squalor that’s taken residence in it. There’ve been attempts to refurbish and remodel it, but it’s located smackdab in the crime district. Any politician worth their salt would know attempting to gentrify this area will end in failure, so no one is going to make an attempt on it.

He takes the fire escape all the way to the top of the building. It comes to an elegant point on top with slightly curved arches at the four corners. There are four massive eagle statues at each point, wings folded to make them look sleek and imposing. The age of the building means that very little surveillance has been incorporated into its architecture. It would make it great for hiding a criminal organization within it.

The entire top floor, what would’ve been the penthouse suite, is in constant sate of repair. Nearly all the fixtures had been torn down. Plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling in sections. Gavin has to admit, though, the view from the city is nice up here.

When he hears voices at the door, he ducks out one of the windows to crouch near one of the statues. It’s dark enough he shouldn’t be noticed.

“Prism has asked Blue and Yellow to move up to the docks,” says one.

“Yeah? And?” That’s Alfredo.

“Prism thinks you’re moving too slow. Once Blue and Yellow are in place and have the docks secure, Orange will be paired with you.”

Alfredo scoffs. “Prism can fuck off. I know the Fakes. I know how to handle them.”

“You had the opportunity to have three of them put in strict lockdown the other night and you gave them an out. How do you think that looks to the rest of Spectrum?”

“The Fakes have the most resources out of any crew in this city. They would’ve made bail no matter how high the DA would’ve set it. They have the best lawyers on retainer. You think a little burglary would’ve stopped them?”

“No, but I do find it odd that they were tipped off to the raid of their penthouse. They’ve been there for, what, almost ten years since Ramsey signed that lease? And someone tipped them off.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. You think I tipped them off?”

“I don’t know what I think. Just that a lot of coincidences have been happening concerning the Fakes lately. I’d be careful if I were you, Red. Prism doesn’t hand out second chances like they’re candy.”

“Is this a threat, Violet?”

“No. Just a thought. Careful, Red. Your true colours might start showing.”

The second voice moves off. Gavin hears the door close. He peers around the statue and spots Alfredo’s silhouette. He wonders if he should make his presence known, try to talk to Alfredo and try to understand what this is all about. Or should he try to make his escape. Or possibly trail this Violet person.

But he’s not ready for that, not yet. He decided to do this, go off on this quest to talk to Alfredo. Just talk.

He creeps along the edge and back towards the open window. He sets one foot in, toes then heel before the rest of his follows. He balances himself with his fingertips on the ground, looking for Alfredo’s figure in the dark. He hears a sigh off not too far. He stands.

“So you sleeping here or is it more of a vantage point?”

Alfredo whirls. He still has that mask in place, but his hood is off. Gavin knew his hair was longer. He kept it pretty short back in the day, but now he gets to see it fully, see how much Alfredo has changed.

“Gavin.” Alfredo scoffs, pulls up that wall of cold and sarcastic indifference. “I knew one of you would come looking. Thought it might be Fiona. I hear she’s more of a solo player. But you? Didn’t know you did shit like this anymore.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah, apparently. Thought you were the one who stuck by your friends. Even in the ugly times.”

Gavin swallows. It’s time he faces the past. “Everything pointed to you being dead.”

Alfredo laughs. “You for real right now? I know the type of impossible shit you guys have pulled. You broke Geoff out of a maximum-security prison in broad daylight. You guys once faked your own deaths! And what happens when you don’t find my body? You wash your hands and walk away.”

“We were there on the scene. I was just about to run in and get you when the building exploded in front of me. And I still ran in! If there was any chance you were still in there, I was going to look for you.”

“But you still didn’t find me,” Alfredo says, softer this time.

His admission makes Gavin pause because isn’t that what happened? Did they give up? Did they stop looking when they realized they were out of their depth? Geoff took Alfredo’s death very personally, and having Geoff demoralized like that affected the rest of the crew.

“We didn’t,” Gavin settles on. “And it fucks with me every day that we didn’t. I feel like I held on the longest. Kept some things of yours afterwards.”

“Yeah?”

Gavin nods, takes a step forward. He sees Alfredo shift his weight into a more relaxed position with his arms crossed over his chest. “A sweater of yours. This dumb disposable camera you had. Even got the photos developed. And your old Gameboy.”

“You kept all that?”

“They were important to you. I was hanging onto them for you. And for me.”

They never really had a deep talk about what they meant to each other outside of the crew, outside of their work. Does Alfredo still think of those times like Gavin does?

“Gav.” And then Gavin thinks Alfredo will drop the act. They’ll talk. They’ll leave. They’ll figure out this Spectrum/Prism mess together, and then—

Alfredo moves quickly. He swipes Gavin’s legs out from beneath him, sending him crashing onto the ground. Before Gavin can move, Alfredo is straddling him, pinning his arms to the ground.

“I can’t believe you’d fall for that. The sappiest trick in the book! You taught me that one and you fucking fell for it! Man. You’re out of practice. Or maybe you’re just too in deep to notice you’re drowning.”

“’fredo, I—”

“No. I’m not your ‘fredo. I’m not your ‘freddie. I’m not one of your fucking boys! I didn’t come back for you.”

“Then why are you keeping an eye on us?”

“Maybe because I like to screw around with you. Now get the fuck out.”

Alfredo stands and stalks off. Gavin is left shaken, but no worse off than before.

He retreats. He takes the fire escape down to the street and takes a twisting path back to his hotel until he knows he’s not being followed. Then he digs out one of his burner cellphones and calls up Trevor.

“Trevor, I think we need to get Geoff in on this. It’s bigger than I thought.”

[papergirllife]

The Heartbreaks That Led To You.

Zhong Chenle.

Being the daughter of a millionaire was hard. Other than going to formal functions every other weekend.

This Saturday's event was as usual grand in every aspect. My father always brings me to these formals so that I could ' socialise ' with their sons so that he could secure his deals more fluently.

After talking to the business men my father introduce me to, I went to look for my boyfriend.

" Joy, have you seen Jason? "

" I think he went to the garden's direction. "

" Okay, thanks. "

I walked out to the garden to see fairy lights hung from tree to tree, illuminating the night sky in a soft glow.

I heard voices behind some tall bushes on my left. I walked along the plants to see that a gazebo with brightly lit lanterns sat behind the hedge.

What made me stop in my tracks were the people sitting in the gazebo.

It was Jason and a girl I didn't know, and they were making out.

I quickly ducked back behind the tall hedge before they could see me.

I walked back to the banquet hall with my head hung low.

It wasn't the first time my boyfriends cheated on me, they usually date me just for the sake of my father's wealth, not for me as a person.

I stopped in front of the large mirror of the hallway.

I'm not drop dead gorgeous, but I'm not ugly either. Then why do all the guys I date still replace me as easily as wearing new clothes?

Loyalty is even rarer than diamonds these days. At least my puppy, MinMin still thinks I'm the best.

I saw Joy by the bar and walked up to her.

" Can you tell my father that I suddenly felt ill and went back home? "

" You looked fine just now. "

" Jason's cheating on me. "

" Do I need to hire a hitman for you hun? "

" No, but thanks. I'm used to this by now. "

" You want me to come with? "

" No, it's fine. You should enjoy the party. "

" Call me when you get home okay? "

" Will do. "

I downed a glass of whisky before exiting the venue.

I took my phone from my Gucci clutch, dialing the number one on my speed dial.

" Hello? "

" Chenle? Can you come pick me up? It's a code red. "

" A name like Jason is always a douche bag, Y/N. Don't be so sad about it, he wasn't hot anyways. "

" I know, that's why I need you to cheer me up now. "

" Be there in 10. "

" 10? How fast does your driver drive ? "

" I just got my license. See you there. "

He hung up before I got to question his driving skills, guess I'll just have to see for myself. Just hope that we don't crash.

It rained as I waited for Chenle to pick me up. I cursed at myself for not bringing an umbrella.

A white coloured Tesla stopped at the parking lot as my phone rang.

" Wait for me at the lobby. The floor's too slippery for your heels. "

" It's fine Chenle...

" No buts. "

He hung up before I could argue further with him.

Chenle stepped out of the driver's seat, a large umbrella in hand.

" I bought your favourite snacks before I came. Hop on. It's too slippery for your tiny Jimmy Choos. "

" It's fine Lele. "

" No it's not. Now get up before you get a cold from standing out in the cold this long. "

I climbed up onto Chenle's warm welcoming back.

" Take the umbrella Y/N. "

Chenle walked towards his car carefully and opened the passenger door. Instead of telling me to step down, he laid me down the seat slowly, even making the effort to check if my dress was all in the car before closing the door.

Suddenly it felt Chenle wasn't my friend since forever, rather an angel sent from haven for me at moments like these.

' Stop having these thoughts Y/N. You've known him since your diaper days, he's just like a brother. ' I thought to myself.

" Give me your phone. " Chenle said as he settled into the driver's seat.

I handed him my phone wordlessly, thinking he just wanted to check the traffic condition on the application in my phone.

Instead he did the unthinkable.

" Hello? Is this Jason? Y/N will never see you again. I will be sending back all your belongings first thing tomorrow. And for your wellbeing, do not let me see your ugly face. "

I looked at him, dumbfounded that he did something so extreme. He never did anything like this before, yes he was sad and understanding when I went through break ups, but never calling and mind you, threatening any of my exes.

He drove the car silently, only the radio playing in the background softly. I didn't dare to question him.

Chenle opened the door to his unit, ushering me into house cosy home. The view of Seoul's night sky greeted me, no matter how many times I've seen it, it still seems breathtaking to me.

I walked into Chenle's bathroom to wash up for the night, he bought a replica of everything I use at home for us to have sleepovers.

In many ways Chenle's condominium felt like a home more than the house I grew up in, I have always felt a sense of security here.

After washing up, I slipped into one of Chenle's sweaters, hanging my dress in his closet.

I padded to Chenle's bed and slipped under the warm blankets. Not long after, I felt Chenle climbing into bed.

His warm presence of body heat made me drift off to sleep in peace.

I woke up in cold sweat, the scene from tonight replaying in my dreams in an endless cycle.

I slipped out of the expensive blanket, taking shakey steps to the balcony, sitting cross legged facing the illuminated night sky of Seoul.

I looked at the vast city below me.

' Is there really no one made for me in this populated metropolis ? '

Suddenly, soft footsteps interrupted my 3 a.m. thoughts.

" Why are you out of bed ? " I turned around to see Chenle taking a seat next to me.

" Bad dreams. "

" You shouldn't sit on the cold marble floor when the heating isn't turned on. "

" It's fine. "

I leaned my head on Chenle's shoulder, embracing the warmth he was emitting.

" You don't have to keep telling me you're fine when you aren't, Y/N. "

I didn't know what triggered me. Maybe it was Chenle's words or just the feeling of loneliness, but I started breaking down.

I didn't know when, but when I looked up from sobbing behind my hands, Chenle already had his arms wrapped around me.

" It's okay. I'm here. "

" Why don't any of the guys I date stay, Lele? Am I that ugly ? Am I not a person who's nice to be with ? "

" What? No! How can you say that ?! "

" Then why are every one of them walking out of my life ? "

" Y/N, you date guys who are heirs of leading companies in the world. Yes, they're rich. Yes, they can give you the financial security you had your whole life. As well as all the Diors and Chanels you want. But they can never, ever give you loyalty. The one thing that doesn't cost a cent. If you ask me, loyalty is as rare as the pink diamonds in your mom's safe. "

" Does that mean I'll end up lonely and single like my great aunt ? "

" Y/N, just because the guys you meet at your father's parties are trash, doesn't mean the whole male population is. You want a guy that can give you all the Guccis in the world and his loyalty, your exes can't, but I can. "

At his sudden confession, I stopped my crying out of shock.

" Chenle, I...

" No. Don't. I know you don't like me. I've always loved you, since we were kids. Fuck, why did I even tell you that ? "

Chenle pulled away, his warmth slipping away as well.

He curled up into a ball, his back facing me, he was heaving sobs as bad as the ones I had the few hours prior.

My heart felt a crack from what was playing in front of me. That's when I knew, it's always been Chenle.

The times we laughed and cried together, the good times and the hard, the feelings we felt. We were meant to be together.

Now I feel utterly stupid. Instead of chasing fuckboys , I should've realised who I was leaving behind.

" Lele. I love you too. "

He looked up, he looked at me with doubt in his eyes.

I scooted to his spot and hugged him close to me, closer than the many other friendly embraces we had.

I tighten my arms around his waist, and planted my head on his shoulder, to let him know that I'm not leaving, never again.

" It'll take time to adjust from a friendship to a relationship, but I'll prove it to you. "

" You don't have to, Y/N. I think you'll stay this time. "

I placed a soft kiss on his cheek and wiped the tears on his face.

" Can you do me one favour though ? "

" Depends. "

" Stop wearing bucket hats when you're with me. You look cute in them, but your face just gives me the uwus. "

" Only if you'll stop calling yourself ugly. "

" I'll try. "

" Don't worry. I'll always be there too reminde you how beautiful you are. "

" I bet I look like crap now from all the crying. "

" Still no. Now let's get some sleep. My cleaners are going to clear out the trash in your house tomorrow. "

" I want cuddles. "

" And cuddles you'll get. "

Needless to say your ex woke up to his things being stored in trash bins along with a rotten fish or two stuffed between his clothes.

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH19

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,884

- Author Note: I apologize if some of the thing in BTS caretaker sound cringy, i wrote this in 2017 lool so the old me is so hmmm , hahaha as much i wanted to edit it again, Im afraid i am gonna change the whole thing :< so i leave it be ahhaa thank u for reading <333

Previous | Next

Chapter 19

“You alright Joon?” Yoongi eyed the younger guy before him that had a distress look ever since their filming ended few hours ago. Namjoon barely touched his dinner and did not speak as much as he usually did. The corner of his eyes caught Jimin acting odd around Namjoon as if that guy knew something that he did not.

A floor light from the living room light up the space with a pleasant illumination. It was enough for Yoongi to catch a blurry image of Namjoon’s expression whom start to darken. Raking his fingers in between his soft lavender hair, a low sigh could be heard from his direction “We ended our relationship” he exhaled the words with heavy heart.

Yoongi was speechless hearing such news, though he had a little idea of how deep Namjoon’s relationship with her back then. Yet, he knew how much this guy cherish her. She used to be his source of inspiration in his song writing. Things really went wrong between them, Yoongi could not deny this one fact that he never liked the girl.

“What happen..” his unclear voice was enough to reach Namjoon. Not that he wanted to be happy over the news, however he was kind of relieve that the things have ended for good between them. Ever since the first day Namjoon told him about his genuine feelings for her, he knew something was not right in the beginning. Son Hyemi, one of their stylists who have worked for almost two years with them. Despite her cold demeanour, she appeared to be daring whenever with Namjoon. She was first assigned as Yoongi and Jungkook stylist before they switched it with Namjoon few months later.

Yoongi did not want to condemn anyone but he felt uncomfortable with her around since start. Son Hyemi is in her early 30’s when she first started her job as their stylist. Indeed, when it came to her work she’s a dedicated woman and that’s undeniable. However, for some reason with her mere presence it created unexplainable tense knowing one of his bandmates had a thing for her. They had to pretend that they were okay with it. If it weren’t for Namjoon’s happiness, he would do something pertaining to that matter. His gut is never wrong.

Son Hyemi was a trouble. She brought nothing but pain to Namjoon. If and only he realized that sooner, he would not get hurt as much as he did now. All of them had spoken about this matter behind Namjoon and clearly none of them were brave enough to say it aloud, being bluntly honest to Namjoon would only push him away. They really cared for his feelings, hurting him was the last thing they wanted to happen.

He croaked “She..is married to someone else. It is over between us” Yoongi was alarmed by his response as he stood up straight, frowning in process.

“What..when this happen?”

“She got married a week ago..It has been happening for a month, all the lies that she told me. I was a fool…to trust her and wait for her to come back to me” Namjoon looked down sadly, clutching onto his hair bellowing his frustration.

“Joon-ah…She does not deserve you. I am sorry that you are in pain and for not trying hard enough to help you through this” he gave a soft squish on his shoulder with full of regret. It was no use to cry over spill milk, horrible things when we least expected.

Lifting his head up weakly, his eyes were brimming with tears “Hyung..Its hurt.. The pain is driving me insane” Yoongi’s heart clenched his pain to see his brother in this vulnerable state.

Without uttering any words, Yoongi pulled the younger guy into a tight embrace “I know..You loved her, it was normal to get hurt. It makes you more human” Namjoon on the other hand could not contain his tears anymore, he ended up shedding his tears for the second time today. With his members, he found it was rather hard to not show this side of him. They have become his pillars of strength.

Even for the unaffectionate Min Yoongi, when it involved one of the members, he would gladly reveal this soft side of him that he intended to show only to the people that he cared. Namjoon’s shoulder shook and his breath were shuddered as he sobbed uncontrollably letting all the misery contained inside him out. His voice had drawn others to the scene one by one, watching their leader broken in Yoongi’s arm.

They exchanged a meaningful look as they had gotten the clue about it while Jimin filled them in with the news few minutes ago. Yoongi gave all of them a soft nod assuring them everything will be fine and that Namjoon only needed a moment to gather himself together.

Namjoon took a deep breath before breaking the hug “Thank you hyung..That was ugly” he wiped his tears with the back of his hand and let out a bitter chuckle.

“Once in a while, you have to cry hard. Life is like that” he patted his back softly. “To be honest, I am glad that you finally see her true colours. We are sorry that we go behind your back and talk shit about her. However, we could not bring ourselves to tell you the truth. We only want what is best for you. If being with her makes you happy then, we are fine with it. We will learn to accept her” his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“Hyung..” Namjoon pondered upon Yoongi’s word hard. Why did he do to deserve these guys in his life? Despite the bad choices that he made, they had their back for him without complain.

Another voice came into the picture which startled Namjoon “Joon-ah..Kim Namjoon. Who needs girls if you have us? Our love is enough” said Jin, throwing his arm around Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon’s realized other members were already there smiling sadly at his way, he returned it with a genuine smile. They caught his overwhelmed reactions as he turned into a puddle of tears over the welcoming sight in front of him.

Taehyung lurched to his side attacking him with a big hug “Hyunggie, Hyemi nuna just showed you that you have bigger heart than she is. You will soon find your own happy ending, not with Hyemi nuna but with someone better than her” his jaw hung open into his signature smile.

“This time around we will make sure any girl that you like will pass through us first before they can date you!” Jin beamed.

Namjoon laughed at their silliness “Why is it a ‘they’? Are you turning me into a Casanova?” he raised his brows in amusement. Hoseok retorted “Well, just in case we don’t like the girl we will have backup don’t you think? Chill Kim Namjoon, life maybe short, let’s not think about future and live the present” he exchanged their usual fist bump causing the latter to chuckle softly.

“Thank you, for standing by my side even in my worst state, you will always be there. I am sorry that I cause unnecessary worries. I promise I will be better and get over this feeling that I have for her. It is stupid and too good to be truth” his voice was full of regret.

Jungkook and Jimin had a proud smile on their face, watching their precious hyung that was able to finally pull his usual smile on his face. They will never be tired dealing with all the craps happening in their group. It is the recipe of their strong brotherhood.

“Who is up for drinks” Hoseok waved a can of beer accompanied by his sunny smile. So, it was that time of the month again to have a deep shit kind of talk all night. As everyone took their seat on the stool near the counter, Jimin helped to pass one can of beer each to the members except Jungkook.

His lips curved upward into a protest “Hyung…why….” Jimin brows flinched together while shaking his head in disapproval.

“Not tonight gguk. You will get the banana milk” Jimin chided, gliding the small bottle in front of him.

 --------------

Tugging clueless Jimin to the corner, Namjoon cleared his throat forcing out the words to come out after his awkward encounter with Seul yesterday. It had been bothering him since then, but he chickened out the last minute when he’s about to inquire Jimin about it.

“Are you going to ask me whether Seul is doing fine?” Jimin boldness taken him aback a little. Namjoon nodded his head frantically, chewing his lower lips showing off his nervousness. “Well, she is a little shaken, but she is doing alright. Don’t worry. I don’t think she will tell anyone about what she heard” he chuckled.

“That was awkward. I was not in the right mind yesterday. I thought Seul was Hyemi nuna. THAT IS SO EMBARASSING CHIMMY!” he facepalmed not liking this thing one bit.

Jimin laughed heartily “I know hyung. Apologize to her when we have the chance to meet her later and talk it out with her” his eyes shrunk into an eye smile.

“Talk it out with who?”

Jimin and Namjoon turned to face the owner of the soft voice, as their head tilted in sync trying to decipher the image in front of them. To their surprise, Seul was standing there awkwardly with a baffled expression across her face.

“I am sorry I didn’t know you guys are still around… I mean it is already 10 in the morning?” Seul squeezed her eyes together. ‘Does it mean, others are here too. Min Yoongi? Jin?’ she mentally cursed.

A soft smile spread across his face “It is just us and Taehyung, others are out for grocery shopping. Did Manager hyung forget to inform ahjumma that we will be staying indoor today” Namjoon watched Seul under his sharp gaze making her a little uncomfortable.

“Ah.. My mom went for her treatment early in the morning, she must be forgotten to inform me” she coughed a little avoiding Namjoon’s gaze that apparently undressing her. Screw Kim Namjoon, he doesn’t need to be that attractive.

Jimin softened when she mentioned Mrs Hwang, before he could ask her further, Namjoon jumped into the conversation “How’s your mother Seul-ssi” he looked at her way timidly.

“She is alright, thanks to the treatment I think she will be able to make it until we find a donor” a sad smile could be seen on Seul’s pale face. Mrs Hwang condition made Namjoon sympathize the older woman even more.

“Was it severe? Her kidney?”

Nodding weakly, Seul clutched onto the hem of her shirt surpassing her tears from hitting the ground “Her kidney has stopped functioning, both of it. She is lucky to be able to live this long since her life is depending on the machine. The hospital is trying to find the perfect donor for my mother” Jimin exhaled a soft breath, pressing his lips together in process.

Namjoon sent an empathy look at her direction “How about your kidney? Doesn’t it match your mother? I am sorry I don’t want to offend anyone, just wondering” Seul chuckled bitterly and it died down as soon as a sigh of regret filled the awkwardness between them.

“My brother and I did not match her, I was frustrated over the fact that we shared the same blood, yet we could not do anything about it” her face revealed all the pain that she could not express in words. Jimin took few steps closer to Seul, embracing the girl briefly “Ahjumma will be alright. Trust me” Namjoon’s eyes widended upon witnessing the scene in front of him. Just when was Jimin became super touchy with her? That was odd considering how they barely met each other.

Seul froze in her trance allowing Jimin’s warmth sipping through her vein, giving her some sort of assurance and security. Her ran his fingers in her soft lock, pulling away from the hug not long after and continued to stare into her eyes deeply “If you need someone to talk to, I will always be here. Now, talk to Namjoon hyung.. He has been dying to see you since yesterday” Seul was under his spell. His soft voice really mesmerized her, and she could feel her bones melted.

Jimin brushed her cheeks with the back of his hand, taking a step backwards giving small space for her to breathe. “See you in a bit” he winked. Seul blushed madly, hiding her face in her hair.

“Talk to her nicely” Jimin mouthed Namjoon with a slight smirk and made his way stealthy to his room. Namjoon was unsure whether he was ready to talk this thing out with her. Not that he was afraid to open up his wound again, facing Seul got him nervous for no reason.

“I am sorry” Namjoon and Seul blurted out in unison.

She rubbed her palms together “You first Namjoon-ssi” he scratched the top of his head a little steadying his breathing. “Look..about yesterday.. I..am sorry that you have to see that. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I..just I-mean I… don’t..I am not..in the right-“ stammering between his words, he attempted to force words that don’t want to be said. Namjoon felt dizzy and breathless.

Seul bit her lower lips watching the guy struggling with his own words and she finally decided it was best to interrupt “Don’t worry, pretend that never happen. I promise I will never bring that up. I am sorry for invading your privacy” she sighed tiredly.

“I am not in the place to say this but since we have come to this, I hope you are holding up well. Love is a funny thing, Namjoon-ssi. You expect it to be easy and to be world of roses. It is more of it once you dwell into it. Love is hard because it makes us grow. It forces us to confront our little demon inside. Love is between two real hearts. If another heart breaks the promises that you build, there is no point in holding onto it anymore” she spouted in one breath.

Awed by Seul’s wise words, Namjoon took the moment to scrutinize her face with so much interest. It was the first real conversation that he had with her, therefore it mesmerized him how a small girl like Seul would have bigger things to say.

She continued “ It is better to break your own heart by leaving rather than having that person to break you heart every day you are with them” her words dissolving into seething mutters to herself. “Oh my god, I am sorry! I got carried away! Forget what I said I mean really, that sounded stupid” she scolded herself as her nose scrunched up cutely not liking her own action.

Namjoon chuckled at her cuteness “You are right about everything. It is better to break my own heart this way rather than getting hurt all over again” he found the thought of ending his complicated relationship with Hyemi was a good thing. His lips pressed into a thin line as he tore his eyes meeting Seul sparkled orbs.

“Thank you Seul-ssi..I understand why Jin hyung is really keen on you. You are different” his compliment melted her heart instantly. Why was he bringing Jin in this matter? What did he mean by Jin was keen on her? To think about this again, it was super crazy.

“I am no one..You are flattering me” she shook her head, “Urm, Namjoon-ssi I think I need to get my job done so I can leave soon. You guys deserve a peaceful rest, I saw how hard you guys worked yesterday” she exclaimed.

“Ah..Dont sweat. Take things real slow, I can help you with the cleaning if you want. It is quite a mess today” he offered but Seul was fast to decline his offer. It was tempting but she’s paid to do this. That would be so wrong to make the boys work.

“No, this is my job. I will get the job done quick. Don’t worry about me”

“Can we drop the formality?” Namjoon suggested something out of context again.

“What?” Seul raised her eyebrows, ever so slightly.

“I heard you are at Jimin’s age, so maybe we can be friends. Plus, you are our caretaker lady. Why don’t we be friends and drop the formality?”

“Do I have the choice what to call you then?” her eyes gleamed with irrepressible humour.

The corner of his mouth quirked as he nodded “So what do you have in your mind?” he challenged.

“Just Namjoon would suffice”

“Just Namjoon?”

“Why? I think that is enough to show our informality”

“But you call Jin hyung, oppa” he stressed.

“Ah, that one. He forced me to call him oppa. I don’t really oppa-ing anyone except for my close friends” cringing at the thought, she grinned widely “So Namjoon would suffice”

“Can’t you call me oppa?” Namjoon demanded.

“Why do you guys so obsess in making me to call you oppa? We will see if I am in the mood to address you oppa. Now please excuse me Namjoon oppa, I have work to do” she nodded and waved her hand while she retreated to tend her job with a smile. Namjoon straightened his clothes while mumbling “Alright then” his eyes followed her until she disappeared behind the kitchen door.

“Oppa…Namjoon oppa” he was not sure why he was smiling, but he could not stop.

 -----------------

Every second was valuable to her. By anytime soon, the rest of Bangtan members would be back and she was not ready to deal with any of them. Thankfully, Jimin and Namjoon had left her alone to do her job. Taehyung was nowhere to be seen even in his room, she wondered where did he disappear.

She picked up Taehyung’s dirty laundry on the floor and tossed it inside the laundry bag. Before she left, she straightened up the bed, smoothing the sheets, carefully tucking the corners and fluffing the pillows. She glanced round the room which was quite impersonal, but her eyes stopped at the picture frame on the nightstand. The photos look familiar to her like she’s the one in it.

Taking the frame in her hand, she squinted her eyes taking a better look of the ambiguous photo. To be honest, the photo alone was a work of an art. It was too beautiful to be described with words, but little did she know she was admiring herself. As she examined the photo, her eyes landed at the corner of the frame. It surprised her to see a small signature with ‘Vante’ engraved on it.

It came to her realization, this was the photo taken by that strange guy that night who claimed himself to be Vante. How did the photo end up in Taehyung’s room? Did the Vante guy sell her photos to people publicly? The only logical thing that she could ever think was, the Vante guy turned out to be Taehyung. That was impossible!

Seul then continue to search for similar frame inside the room and yes there were few of them. Photos of Bangtan members, the scenery that he took and a photo of himself. Could it be him?

Alarm, mixed with confusion, spread through her in a frightening rush “What are you doing in my room?” she was taken aback by the gruffy voice behind her. It sounded familiar, similar to the Vante guy.

In one straight move, she turned around to face him “You?” Taehyung expression turned from uncertainty into sheer surprise. He could not believe his own eyes that Seul was standing before her in his room. What kind of sorcery was this again! Her eyes widened in astonishment “How did you get this photo?” she inquired to answer her curiosity.

“It is mine...”

“Yours? So, you are Vante?”

“Urm…Yes...i think we met before. You are the tea lady”

“I have name. It is Seul”

“Seul? So you are our caretaker?”

“Seems like it”

“WHAT A SMALL WORLD” his voice going up in pitch at the sheer surprise of it.

She raised her chin “That’s right. You see, I thought you actually-“he words broke off and her eyes widened when Taehyung rushed to her for a big bear hug. Seul stiffened in his tight embrace, it was suffocating but he smelled too good. Warmth sipping through her bodies.

“Glad that I found you again Seul” he whispered deeply leaving a trail of sexiness and manliness in his voice. He rested his chin on top of her head liking the way how small and delicate Seul was in his arm.

Her mind and body were not in sync, part of her wanted to push him away but her body really betrayed her today. It’s like she was destined to stay glue to Taehyung. Out of all members, apart from Yoongi, Taehyung would be the boldest one.

Who hugged during their first meeting? Asians don’t do hugs, why was he being so friendly to her.

This would not do, she needed to escape from this sticky situation again. Just before she could plot a murderous plan to flee from Kim Taehyung, they heard a harsh voice scowling at their way.

“Let her go Kim Taehyung” Yoongi hissed under his sharp breath. He looked like he was ready to murder someone. Stood nervously behind Yoongi was Jung Hoseok, he only cracked a nervous smile at Taehyung way and mouthed the younger guy to comply to Yoongi’s request before things turned even sour.

Releasing Seul immediately from his embrace, Seul inhaled a deep breath finally feeling the oxygen being sucked inside properly hitting her lungs.

“Hyung are you alright?” Taehyung blinked innocently.

Ignoring the younger guy’s question, he marched towards Seul giving the girl no chance to breath and crashed his lips against her ‘WHAT THE HELL. THIS THE THIRD KISS’ Seul screamed in her head desperately.

“HYUNG!” Taehyung and Hoseok yelled in fear.

“MIN YOO-YAH” she mumbled between kisses and as soon as she parted her lips, Yoongi deepened the kisses not caring the protest that he received from the floor. He had enough watching Seul with other guys. That one time with Jimin ticked him off, however he was still in denial with his feelings for Seul.

Now, seeing how Taehyung acting all cosy with her, Yoongi really had enough. He needed to make it clear to everyone that she is his.

“HYUNG YOU ARE HURTING HER!” said Hoseok.

It was exhausting to fight Min Yoongi, she would never win when it came to him. Yoongi pulled away staring at her reddened lips with a smirk “I marked her, remember that” he muttered against her lips, holding onto her body close to his.

Taehyung cringed at the sight still in dazed, he exchanged a wary glance with Hoseok and before he could ask further, Yoongi had already pulled Seul out from the room.  Leaving shook Hoseok and Taehyung, Hoseok palmed the wall behind him gulping the heavy lump on his throat.

“What was that….” Hoseok breathed out.

   This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved.

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

Hi. If the writing requests are still open, could you maybe do something with flirting freed and blushing Laxus. Thanks :)

Hello. I mentioned Laxus blushing maybe twice and got totally of track with this au. I’m awfully sorry and I hope u still accept this offer lmao 

Short summary: Au where Laxus works for a rich family. Their son is cursed to freeze the people he loves, so he has to keep a distance from them. Truly, A Very Not Good Time

WC: 5548 words

Fic under the cut!

With a slight tremour in his hand, Laxus looks up at the pristine white walls looming over him. Sighing deeply, he clutches the handle of his suitcase tighter and the servant next to him blisfully ignores him. "The Lord and Lady are awaiting you in the pavilion in the garden. You can leave your luggage here, someone will come and pick them up for you. If you'd follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, the stiff man turns around, striding away and Laxus awkwardly falls in tempo beside him. After a short walk that luckily doesn't leave him sweating, he is deposited in front of two people whose handkerchiefs look like they cost more than Laxus' entire outfit. It's now that he realises how out of his depth he is.

He clears his throat, but the servant stops him from going any further by stepping none too delicately on his foot. "Quiet", he hisses, "The Lord and Lady will speak to you as and when they see fit."

"Oh Charles, don't be like that", the Lord smiles and the servant bows hastily. Unsure of what to do, Laxus gives the man something between a bow and a firm nod. "You are dismissed", the man addresses the servant before beckoning Laxus to come closer. "Come hither young man, I've heard wonderful things about you." Laxus does as he's told and when the Lord offers him a chair, he accepts it. "Are you nervous?" his wife asks, eyes deep blue and sparkling with a barely hidden misschief.

Is he nervous? It's a wonder that she doesn't seem to ask it as a rhetorical question, instead she seems to be genuinely wondering about it. Of course he is. The two people in front of him own the land he's lived on all his life and then some. They're powerful, some say even on par with the king and with power does of course come an obscene amount of money.

Normally, Laxus doesn't care for the amount of cash one has or how many carriages they'll be able to buy in one lifetime. He'd gladly tell them to get hit by those carriages if he thought they'd deserve it. But now he can't afford to do that and somewhere, it does bother him. He's always been a man of simple pleasures and being brutally honest had been one of those things.

Being honest however, is something he can't do now. This job they've offered him pays more than any other in town and more importantly, he would be given a housing. With this job he could finally pay for his grandpa's medicine and he could give the old man a proper place to stay. No matter how these people will be treating him in the future, he'll have to shove his pride aside to keep this job.

"A little bit. But I don't think it'll affect my work and should it do so anything, you are free to claim it was artistic whims that made your garden look so avant-garde." The lady hums and spares him a little smile. "I am fond of whimsical things. It's why I married him", she jokes and moves her head into the direction of her husband. Laxus can't help but let a laugh escape.

Lord Justine raises a brow at that and Laxus quickly shuts his mouth again. Would you look at that, he's already overstepped his boundaries. The Lord's face clears up at that and he waves Laxus' worries away. "Young man, we've offered you to maintain our garden because we admire your work. You are an official part of our staff now, so don't be afraid to be frank. Life gets awfully boring when people trip over themselves to bend to your will without thinking. Do me a favour and don't be like that, okay?"

"Yes sir!" Laxus yells, bending to the man's will without thinking. Catching up to his own actions, he colours red. Ah damn. The couple doesn't seem to mind though, as they just brush it off with a laugh. "You are dismissed, change this garden as you see fit. It is your domain now."

"Ah dear", Lady Justine interrupts, "Let the young man settle in a bit first. Laxus right? We have honoured your request and have brought your grandfather over. He now resides in the room next to yours. Pardon me for asking though, but does he need a doctor? The man has a sickly glow about him." Concern colours her soft facial features and Laxus hesitates to answer. Then he remembers their command to be frank with them.

"I would really appreciate it if you did that. Thank you for your kindness. I'll try to pay you back in any way that I can." Lady Justine shakes her head, but the Lord gives him a once-over. "Say Laxus, can you hold your own in a fight? You are quite a big guy, I bet you could."

"I've had no formal training, but I have grown up around bar and streetfights", Laxus admits and the man hums in consideration. "We have a single child", he says and Lady Justine sighs: "And what a child it is."

"The boy has been cursed since birth by a witch who felt wronged by the both of us. This curse makes it so that our boy is very, very cold to any and all potential suitors. Cold to a painful degree for the opposing party and everyone who happens to watch the scene. Now if he were to be a bit of an ugly duckling, it wouldn't have been a problem. But unfortunately", Lord Justine moves his hand between his wife and himself and it hits Laxus just how stunning these two creatures are. "That's not exactly the case. Without meaning to, our son starts quite a lot of fights. He's a capable fighter, but if you happen to be around him, could you try to persuade him from instigating it? It would make the both of us very, very happy."

"I'll try?" Laxus says, unsure of how exactly he's supposed to keep a brat with blue who seems to be keen on starting fights in line. He's unsure whether it's really a curse or just a case of rotten personality. "That's all we could ask for", Lady Justine says before the couple lets him go.

The garden's magnificent and the fact that he's been given free reign over it makes his experience there so much better. It's all very pleasing to begin with, but there's so much unused lawn and after a moment of hesitation, he plants some fruits trees. After Lady Justine had commented on how nice they were, he had thrown his caution out of the window and had gone wild with the fruits and vegetables. He was a practical man at heart after all.

It's a few months into his work that he meets the young lord known as Freed Justine. No amount of warning had been able to prepare him for actually laying eyes upon the man in question.

He's dressed in a loose, light blue tunic. The fabric conceals some of his figure, but it does reveal a slight sliver of smooth skin and contrasting sharp collarbones and Laxus can barely draw his away from it. When his gaze travels upwards he lays eyes upon the softest looking pink lips in the world and he briefly wonders how they would feel against his own. After dismissing that thought, he spots the man's eyes, an impossible shade of blue that pops against the pale background of his skin. A beauty mark graces his left eye, making him look even more elegant. The finisher is his hair, looking like silk draped over one shoulder, moving softly as the stubborn wind tries to make a mess out of it. That doesn't happen though.

In front of the angelic looking man is another man, kneeling with his forehead against the ground. "Lord Freed!" the man in question yells, "Please accept my undying love and affection for you!"

"No. No, I don't think I will. Please leave." The object of the man's desires dryly says before turning his gaze towards Laxus. When his uncovered eye fully meets Laxus' eyes, he gets why people call the man in front of him cold. He's never once met someone who could relay complete and utter boredom that well with a single gaze. In a single eye. It's actually quite impressive.

"Are you a guard?" Laxus winces a bit at the sharp tone. "No, I'm the gardener."

"You lug wood around? Would you dispose of this for me?" Laxus has half the mind to tell him to dispose of the now crying lad himself, but then he remembers the request of Freed's parents. He promised them to try to keep their son out of fights, so he can't exactly tell him to start one. With a sigh he clamps the sobbing, love-struck fool under his arm and throws a salute. "I'll be putting him outside the gate."

"Have fun with that", Freed tells him and re-enters the home without sparing Laxus another glance. Somewhere within him, he wishes the man had looked back at him.

As soon as Freed's out of sight, it's like the man under his arm snaps out of a trance. "That fucking bitch", he rages as he trashes against Laxus' hold. "I'll kill him! Who does he think he is? He thinks he can go around stomping on people's hearts, just because he happens to be pretty and rich?"

"To be fair", Laxus starts, "He has every right to say no to people. You know that right?"

"He'll never get anyone better than me. At least I'm not only pursuing him for his money. He should be grateful. In fact, he should be the one begging for my attention!" Throughout his spiel, Laxus has taken the chance to take a proper look at the man he has trapped. "No offence, but aren't you a few decades older than him? Shouldn't you be a bit ashamed of chasing a young man in such a dishonourable manner?"

The old man now redirects his attention towards Laxus, but before he can voice his opinions, Laxus throws him over the fence. "Goodbye filthy geezer. Please don't come back."

God, Laxus wishes that old man would come back. Well, not really but the quality of men and women that have come in pursuit of Freed has only been declining since then. Although they're absolutely starstruck when meeting the young man, it doesn't conceal their greed and their particular brand of lewdness. The things Laxus has heard are absolutely disgusting and he wonders how Freed hasn't blown his own eardrums out yet, to save him from the comments directed his way. Laxus gladly disposes of them for him. Freed always leaves without sparing him a second glance.

One day, there's a change in routine. While Laxus is tending to his trees one morning, he hears soft footsteps and when he turns around, he sees Freed sitting down on the steps of the pavilion. "There are chairs in the shed, you know. I could get one for you if you want?" he offers and Freed jumps a little. Apparently the man hadn't noticed him yet.

The man gives a timid little shake of the head. "It's quite alright", he says and in the peaceful morning, Laxus can pay attention to the specifics of his voice. He's surprisingly soft spoken, but Laxus wouldn't call him shy. He has a velvety smooth and deep voice and talks in a calm manner, as though he knows that he'll be listened to without having to raise his voice.

For a while Laxus feels the man studying him. "Is there any reason you're here?" he decides to ask, unwilling to bear the silence any longer. "Peace, mostly", the younger man admits. "Also, they told me there was a big chance of meeting you out here."

"Oh."

"I don't think I've formally introduced to you. I am Freed Justine", he says and offers Laxus his hand. "I gathered that", Laxus answers as he shakes the hand. Freed's grip is surprisingly strong. "Jee, I wonder where you gathered that information from. Surely it wasn't from the string of admirers moaning it everyday."

Laxus snorts at the joke, but the facial expression of the young man in front of him doesn't change so Laxus quickly stops. "Please don't do that. This", Freed waves his hand in front of his stony expression, "doesn't ever change. I prefer it that way, it adds a bit of mystery to my character I think."

"You don't want people to know your thoughts", Laxus guesses and Freed gives him a nod. "I'd rather not. My life's bothersome enough as is, imagine how much more troublesome it would be if people could read my thoughts on my face instead of feeling them on their skin."

Seeing the puzzled expression on Laxus' face, Freed offers him both of his hands and Laxus tentatively takes them. The first thing he notices is the roughness of his palms and he wonders what Freed likes to do in his spare time. The second thing he notices is that they're unusually chilly and the longer he holds onto them, the colder they get. After a while it gets painful to hold onto them, so he lets go with an apologetic wince.

"The more I like a person, the colder I get. I think you're quite alright and I'd even say I like you a bit. But I have no deep attachments to you, so you are able to touch me for a little while. If I were to love you more than myself, you wouldn't even be able to be near me, you'd freeze into a fun statue of pure ice. If I felt completely neutral towards you, you would not be affected by the curse at all."

Laxus frowns at that. "That does not sound like a fun situation. How do you deal with it?" Freed gives him a mirthless smile. "I simply avoid getting close to people. It's easier than you think it is, mister Dreyar." He turns around after that, not telling Laxus goodbye and once again, he doesn't look back. Laxus, however keeps staring at the spot the young man had stood in. How awful it must be, to be close to no one. To not be able to feel the touch of someone who truly loves you.

After that particular conversation, Freed appears more often during Laxus' work. He never joins him in planting new plants or weeding though, he simply watches or reads a book in Laxus' vicinity. It's peaceful and every now and then they have other small talks. It's during those talks that Laxus learns that Freed does in fact have friends, he just doesn't meet up with them anymore after an incident he refuses to tell Laxus more about. When spotting his sad expression, Freed reaches over to smooth Laxus' worry-wrinkles out and Laxus notices that his hand feels colder than before. "Don't be saddened, we still write each other. Nothing's lost, it has only changed."

During one of Freed's visit, Laxus tells him he might as well get his hands dirty if he keeps distracting him from his work. He offers Freed a little sapling with a smile and quickly that smile withers as the plant in Freed's hands does the same. "My apologies", Freed says as though he had done something wrong instead of Laxus. "I fear I simply do not have the green fingers needed for this type of work. I'll leave it to the master of the garden instead." With an even colder finger, Freed briefly pokes him in the cheek and Laxus knows he isn't mad at him.

Freed's appearances are now a constant in his life and something Laxus constantly looks forward to. From what little hints Freed gives him, the man feels the same way. Freed still tries to keep a lather large distance between them, but more often than not he forgets himself and scoots closer to ask Laxus about the flowers he's planting or tell him about the all the poisons one could make with those flowers. He doesn't know why Freed knows such an alarming amount of poisons, but it's a quirk he doesn't dislike.

Freed likes to ramble, Laxus comes to find out. It's surprising how much he knows about various topics and how clearly he can explain things. Freed's face is the most open when he's ranting about one of the books he's read that day and Laxus finds himself fascinated. Besides talking, Freed's also really good at listening. When Laxus tells him about his past, the man lets his guard down completely to show his compassion from quite a distance away. Freed explains that his curse can temporarily rise up when he's feeling something very passionately.

It's on a sunny day, where the bees are buzzing and the heath is turning the atmosphere languid and the good kind of lazy, that Laxus offers Freed a hug.

Here's the story. Laxus, although brought up in a household where declarations of affection weren't the norm, knows what it feels like to receive positive bodily affection. A pat on his back, a ruffle through his hair, a loving shoulderbump, he has received them all. Freed hasn't. Not regularly and Laxus guesses, not ever.

He's seen the Justine parents interact with their son and although it hadn't been malicious, their interactions had been anything but warm and friendly. There was an obvious mutual respect, but the parents held their son at an arms' length. Laxus' heart ached when he had laid eyes on the spectacle and that had been the beginning of his desire to provide for Freed emotionally in some way, shape or form. God knows he himself is quite clumsy when it comes to being affectionate (quite clumsy doesn't start to begin to describe it, actually), but he wants to at least do something.

"Hey Freed", he calls out the man laying next to him on the picnic blanket. "Hm?" the man says, not opening his eyes at all, but still signifying that he's paying attention to Laxus. "Would you like a hug? I know you don't like touching people because of your accident, but we're not all that close, I think. It should be pretty safe, want to try it out?"

That does make Freed's eye snap open and he rolls on his side to face Laxus. "Why?" he asks and Laxus shrugs. "I thought it'd be nice, that's all."

"Do you pity me?" Freed asks, voice dangerously low and blue eyes glaring daggers. Despite the sunny weather, Laxus shivers underneath that stern glare. "No, but I sort of sympathise. There was a period in my life where I didn't receive any form of affection at all and it had quite the impact on me. Not a good one, mind you. I remember receiving my first hug after that period and I broke down and cried like a baby. It was a sight."

Freed smiles at that. "I bet it was." The fondness of his smile makes way for a particular brand of shrewdness that Laxus has come to associate with Freed. With a quick movement, the man has positioned himself above Laxus. He's not seated on his lap, which Laxus both mourns and doesn't. He doesn't mourn it because he can't embarass himself but he does mourn it because now he can see the muscles of Freed's legs working to keep him upright as he's kneeling above Laxus and dear lord, the sight of those could be the death of him.

With a rough hand, but a gentle manner, Freed tilts his chin up, forcing Laxus to meet his eyes and he dryly swallows as he sees the barely concealed heath in those deep blues. "Are you sure it's just that, mister Dreyar? Merely sympathy?" he asks, voice husky and Laxus colours a deep, deep shade of red in response. "Oh darling", Freed croons at that, "You have such an open face. You should really learn how to conceal your intentions."

"What if I don't want to?" That shuts Freed up and for a moment the man is quiet. Laxus wonders if he's screwed this up, but then Freed shakes his head and moves back away again. "Alright, give me a hug. It better be good. One of my eyes may be covered, but I am still plenty able to see those thick arms of yours. If I don't feel like the life is being squeezed out of me, I will consider this a failure."

Grinning, Laxus flexes his arms. "Don't you worry for even a second. I'll crush your ribcage." Freed snorts.  "Charming." The process of getting into the hug is a bit awkward, but once there, it's alright. Of course, Laxus starts the whole thing by absolutely crushing Freed's ribcage. The man laughs it off like it's nothing and that prompts a bit of a squabble.

After a while and a lot of shifting though, Laxus has Freed in his lap, his head tucked underneath Laxus chin, back resting against Laxus' chest. Feeling brave, Laxus moves his own head from the top of Freed's head to Freed's shoulder, angling himself so he's nuzzling the man's neck. "See, this is nice."

"It is", Freed agrees before fully relaxing against Laxus chest with a content little sigh.

The moment is soon broken though, as frost creeps along Laxus' body. At first he ignores it, because Freed himself doesn't seem to notice the effect he's having on Laxus. Then, it starts getting uncomfortable and so he tries to gets the man's attention. He finds himself unable to move any part of his body though and the cold numbs his mouth as well. The thin layer of ice keeps getting thicker and the creaking of the frost is what attracts Freed's attention.

With a brusque movement, the man tears himself away from Laxus. He reaches out to Laxus, before stopping himself and running off, shouting something Laxus can't hear. It's so, so very cold. He curls into himself to gather more warmth and he finds it. He should go to sleep, he thinks as he feels his eyelids get heavy. He doesn't fight his instinct to do so.

When he wakes up, he's in his own room. Looking around he sees only one other person in the room. With a wave, his grandfather greets him. "You sure live an interesting life huh?" Ignoring his remark, Laxus asks him where Freed's at. "The young Justine? He's been fretting all day, but he has not come to visit you because he's started freezing up the hallways whenever he came too close to you. I think it's fair to say the young man likes you quite a bit."

Laxus should be elated to hear that someone loves him, but his worry for Freed overpowers that notion. "I bet he's lonely again." His grandfather nods. "With a curse like that, I imagine it's hard not to be."

It's unfair. It's unfair that Freed will live his life void of companionship. He'll never be able to be surrounded by true friends and he's constantly preyed upon by people for his status and money. The saddest part is that those kind of people are the only ones Freed will be able to live his life with, as all other will be turned to statues of ice. It's unfair that an innocent young man is punished for his parents' crimes like that. Passionately, Laxus relays those thoughts and many more to his grandfather, who patiently listens to him.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asks and because it's his grandfather talking, Laxus knows there's no malice behind the words. "I don't know. Do you know any witches that could help lift the curse?" Although it had been more of a joke than an actual question, Makarov strokes his beard as though he's mulling over Laxus' question. "No, because proper witch etiquette states that a witch should absolutely not undo another witch's curse. I do however, have an inkling who the witch might be that cursed this young man. I can tell you where to find her, but be prepared my boy. She's not a very reasonable lady."

"That's what many people say about me as well. I don't care, please tell me where to find her." After his grandfather tells him the whereabouts of this particular witch, Laxus prepares for his journey. He starts with writing Freed a letter, one where he explains that he does not blame Freed for what happened and asks for his forgiveness, as well as for the man to wait for him. That he's looking for a way for them to be together. After delivering that letter, he sets off.

This Porlyusica lady really seemed intent on ticking off all the "witch"-boxes. Unreasonable? Check. Old? Check, since his grandpa knew of her. Living in big, dark, nearly impenetrable woods? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a bother honestly, whacking his way through all the branches and thorns. But he perseveres because he has to.

Finally, he reaches her house and before he can even knock on the door, she opens her window and tells him to get lost. "Leave me alone, I've seen enough of you humans for another hundred years!" Determined, he yells back a loud "No thanks! Please let me talk to you!" She doesn't open the door for him.

So he waits in front of her door, unwilling to move an inch even if she yells at him. After three days she's finally had enough and lets him in. "You're so annoying. That particular brand of mulishness can only be attributed to one family. You're a Dreyar, aren't you?"

Sheepishly he nods and she rolls her eyes. "Of course you are. Spit out why you're here and if I'm unable to help you, leave or I'll curse you to hell and back." She's got a spine made of pure diamond, but Laxus isn't easily intimidated. "It's about that topic actually. You've cursed a man called Freed Justine."

The woman lets out a bitter, little laugh out at that. "I most certainly did not. I cursed his parents, but gave them the option to relay it someone near to them. It was only me, them and their unborn son in the room where it happened. They chose to curse their boy. Don't put that on me."

That's certainly a revelation...Laxus wonders whether he should tell Freed about it. He fears that it might shatter the already frail bond he shares with his parents and it's not as though Freed's got bonds to spare. Deciding to tackle that topic at a later moment, he turns back to Porlyusica. "Can you reverse the spell? It's ruining an innocent man's life."

She strokes her chin and gives him a squinting look. "How far are you willing to go for your goal? Do you really want this curse to be lifted or are you trying to achieve another goal by doing this?"

He shakes his head vehemently. "I'd like for him to be able to smile near his loved ones, that's all. I promise." After scrutinising him a bit more, she shrugs. "Alright then, it's not like I've got something against the young man himself. Here's the two steps to breaking the spell: 1. You're the Justine family's gardener aren't you? Here's a list of a couple of herbs I'd like you to grow there. They are only able to grow on that particular patch of land and since they stole it from me, I had to buy them. It's a financial pain in the ass, you know. 2.", she looks Laxus straight in the eyes, "Confess your honest love to him." Laxus chokes on his spit at those words. "Oh don't be like that, you're so obvious. Do that and he'll be fine."

While Laxus is still gathering his wits, she pushes the list with instructions for the herbs and some packets with seeds  into his hands and manhandles him out of the door. "There you go loverboy, good luck and all that. Now scram, I've had enough human interaction to last me another three lifetimes." And with the list with herbs and a head full of confused thoughts, Laxus returns to the Justine mansion.

Part one of the counterspell is as easy as breathing. Laxus plants the herbs as soon as he comes home. He tends to them day after day, but sorely misses Freed's presence while doing so. He keeps looking out of the corner of his eyes in the hopes of laying eyes on the familiar see of green that is Freed's hair, but alas, he never comes. Sometimes Laxus thinks he can see glimpses of him through the window, but the moments are too fast and fleeting to fully conform this.

Once the saplings have fully grown, Laxus starts to work on part two of the plan. Or well, he starts to think about how he should even attempt to do such a task. He thinks, ponders and wonders a lot and ends up doing significantly less. It's embarassing, really.

A good thing though, is that recently Freed has been seeking him out again. Laxus wished they could've talked, but someone's always whisking either one of them away for something or other. It's infuriating and in those brief moments, Laxus can see that Freed thinks the exact same thing.

Finally, finally they can squeeze out of both their schedules and they find themselves in the garden, sitting on the steps of the pavilion. Before Laxus can try his hand at confessing (which probably would've gone disastrous), Freed grabs his hands with shining eyes and to Laxus' surprise, they're warm.

"It's like the curse inversed", Freed tells him excitedly, smiling brightly. "The cold isn't getting to other people anymore, it's confined to me solely." Now that he says it, Laxus can see the snowflakes on Freed's already pale skin connecting, forming a layer of frost. With lips that are turning blue, he smiles and Laxus wishes he wouldn't look that grateful. "I can be around people without hurting them now. Everything's alright now."

"It's not", Laxus blurts out, "Freed, it's really not." With a scowl, the man immediately pulls his hands back and defensively curls into himself. "Can't you be happy for me?" he spits out, "This is the best thing that's happened to me in years, it's fine if I turn into an icicle, I don't care. Just let me have this, please." Freed's anger reaches a boiling point, before he deflates and sighs so deeply and sadly. With fingers stiff from the cold, he reaches out and tilts Laxus' head just slightly so. "Do forgive me", he whispers in Laxus' ears, his cold breath sending chills down Laxus' spine. After that he gives Laxus the smallest, most innocent kiss Laxus has ever received in his lifetime. It's so, so very careful and after he pulls away, Freed cradles Laxus' hand to his cheek and whispers a quiet: "Thank you."

His eyes turn empty after that and the continuous creaking of ice stops, leaving only a horrible silence behind. Freed had been crying, Laxus realises as he touches the man's frozen face. He looks peaceful and a melancholy sort of happy. With a soft bump, Laxus brings their foreheads together and places his own hand on top of the one cradling his cheek.

"Hey Freed", he breathes, voice barely a whisper, "What I meant to say, is that you deserve more. You deserve to reconnect with those old friends of yours without freezing either them or yourself. You deserve to make friends without fearing you'll end up hurting them. You deserve the world and if I could, I'd give it to you. But honestly, I'd just like to spend more time with you." He pauses, closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Freed's hand. "I love you."

It's not like those words suddenly make the ice burst, splinters flying everywhere and impaling Laxus, killing him upon impact. Instead, he finds out that the ice had in fact been melting when Freed's hand softly strokes his cheek. Laxus' eyes snap back open and Freed gives him the most gorgeous little smile. "Well, aren't you mister dramatic. Waiting until the last moment, all fairy tale-esque", Freed teases and Laxus flushes till behind his ears. "Shut up", he murmurs and because it look like Freed does not plan to do that and instead make fun of him forever, Laxus traps him in a bearhug.

Freed squeezes back just as hard and they stay like that for a long, long time. By the time they disentangle themselves from each other, the sun's already setting. "Would you like to meet my friends?" Freed asks, "Since the inversion of the curse, they've been living here again. They are very important to me."

Taking Freed's hand, he says: "Of course. I'd love to meet the people important to you." He squeezes Freed's hand and the man smiles at that little touch. "Well then, let's go."

[randomoranges]

Paint Job

 mid-ish november 2020

Edward finally gets home late, towards the end of the day. Had he known he’d been out this long, he would have asked Étienne to get a start on dinner, but now, they’ll have to figure something out on the fly. He had errands to run which took longer than expected and he’s honestly just glad to be home. He shucks his boots in time to Mercury’s greeting and doesn’t catch from where she came from. The house is quiet, he can tell that much, but it can mean a myriad of things. He’d left Étienne still curled up under layers of blankets in bed and had it not been for the classes Étienne was giving, he would have dragged his boyfriend along, if nothing but for the change of scenery. That, or he would have stayed in bed longer and indulged in a late morning with his boyfriend.

 Mercury wags her tail excitedly and keeps watch as Edward removes his coat and scarf and then follows him to the kitchen table where he puts down his bags loaded with goodies of all sorts. Edward takes the few minutes he needs to unload the groceries and when Mercury doesn’t vie for his attention, he figures it means Étienne is in no need of his immediate attention.

 When he’s done, he gives her a treat for no particular reason, but she doesn’t seem to mind, nor does she complain. He watches her for a moment, amused and fond of her antics and then decides it’s about time he find the owner of the dog. Mercury looks up and as if reading his mind, takes the lead and heads towards the guestroom. Edward follows behind and he’s about to throw a greeting in his boyfriend’s direction, but then lets the words stumble to a halt at his lips.

 The scene before him requires no interruption, if only for its rare occurrence. Étienne is at the wooden easel he’d made him, sat in front of it, and deep in concentration as he paints. He has earphones on, which would explain why he hasn’t looked away and he seems to be submerged in the painting he’s working on. Edward can’t say that Étienne looks as peaceful and happy as he’s already seen him while he painted, but it’s a better look than what’s been playing on Étienne’s features ever since his return.

 Edward has always enjoyed watching Étienne paint, even if he hadn’t always been privy to the spectacle. There’d been something exalting in the way Étienne painted, from the deep concentration etched on his face, to the peaceful smile dangling from his lips and the way he seemed to involve his entire body in the motion. Watching Étienne paint was an experience and Edward could get lost watching him as much as he did appreciating the final work.

 Étienne’s paintings were always bold and loud as if calling for attention and catching someone’s gaze – holding it there, screaming look at me! It was impossible to look away from the movement in the brushstrokes and the thick, bold lines that danced across the canvas in a multitude of colours. Étienne’s paintings were never quiet or subtle – they seized you from the inside and Edward loved the way he felt experiencing the work – the way he was left slightly out of breath as if submerged in deep water for a long while and finally coming back up for air.

 Edward liked watching the evolution of Étienne’s paintings – the assurance he’s gotten in his brushstrokes and lines- the risks he takes in his choice of colours and the movement he creates with them on the canvas. It’s been a fascinating journey and he’s only sorry he’s missed part of it. Still, he consoles himself with the few paintings he’s managed to save over the years – from the ones he quietly brought back that Étienne was ready to throw out, to the ones Étienne had told him he could take, since he didn’t care for them anymore. Edward has lovingly looked after them over all these years and likes putting them side by side with the newer works Étienne has gifted him; from the triptych a few years back to a more recent piece just last year.

 Perhaps, with time, he’ll be able to host his own retrospective of Étienne’s works. (And it doesn’t matter what it is Étienne thinks of his own body of work. Edward might not be as well versed in art as Étienne, but he can tell that Étienne is good at it. He needs to stop selling himself so short.)

 Étienne is still tense around the shoulders and there’s still an edge to the set of his brow and the intensity of his gaze, but even if his movements across the canvas are harsh and jerky, it’s a step forward from whatever state he’d been in a few weeks back. It’s a reprieve from the sleepless nights and the catatonic days; the mornings when Edward hadn’t been able to get Étienne out of bed and the times when he’d barely eaten a thing – the classes Étienne cancelled and the walks he never took Mercury on. Edward hadn’t dealt with this side of his boyfriend in ages and the setback had stunned him. Still, it had been better than the anger that had come afterwards.

 That, had been new.

 Étienne’s anger at the state of things, at his perceived helplessness and feelings of uselessness had culminated in some rather harsh words that had been exchanged which had honestly made Edward question what he had embarked himself in. Had made him wonder if – this was even – if maybe it hadn’t been rushed. If he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew.

 “I don’t need your fucking pity, Edward. I’m not a charity project.” Étienne had shouted at him one night, after Edward had asked if he needed anything.

 It had been the final straw. Edward had been sick and tired of being treated like garbage and he lashed out just as good. He wasn’t here to fall back on old ways. He wasn’t here to get used and abused by Étienne’s moods. He wasn’t going to accept this anymore. “You know, it’s a good thing I know this isn’t really you talking. That it’s whatever’s going on in that head of yours that’s making you act this way, but that doesn’t fucking excuse you. I’ve never pitied you and just because I give a fuck about you doesn’t mean that you get to treat me like shit.”

 Étienne had come after him, trying to get a bigger rise out of him, but Edward knew better and had walked away. They’d been making good progress, it would be a shame to throw it all away after losing so many years. It wasn’t worth it to get tangled up in the ugly bits again. Once had been enough.

 Still.

 It turned into a tense few days and the only saving grace was the video appointment Étienne had with his therapist. Amends had been made, better coping strategies had been found. Edward was only glad that whatever violent turn Étienne’s mood had taken was slowly ebbing back into a quiet simmer.

 There’d been an apology, naturally. Quiet words shared between them in the dark of night.

 “I’m sorry,” Étienne had started, reaching between the space of their bodies and hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not it would be okay to take hold of Edward’s hands.

 “What for?” He’d asked, leaving his hand palm up, open and inviting for Étienne to take. His boyfriend had seized it like a lifeline, clutching at it as if his life depended on it. He didn’t want empty apologies; he deserved that much.

 “For being a right old jerk.”

 Edward had cracked a small smile at that, “Yeah, you have been. What of it?”

 “For lashing out at you. You’ve been – really good to me. Tolerant and helpful and patient. You didn’t deserve all of that. I am trying to keep it under control.”

 Edward knew all of that. It was why he had walked away. It was why he hadn’t decided to call it quits. He knew Étienne was really trying. Was getting the help he needed. He couldn’t fault him for what plagued him. He knew Étienne would rather function like a regular person instead of the assault his moods put him through.

 “Apology accepted.” To show that he meant it and that they were good, he’d opened his arms and let Étienne snuggle up to him. He’d held him close, rubbed his back, and wished that this storm would pass.

 The storm is passing, even if there are still a few lingering rain clouds left. This whole pandemic has taken its toll on Étienne, has left him ragged and raw and frayed at the edges, and Edward gets to see the damages left on his boyfriend day in and day out. Still, he thinks, he’d rather have a row with Étienne than let him slowly wither away back home alone.

 Mercury gives him away when she barks, perhaps bored that her master has not noticed the guest at the door and so Étienne finally looks away from his work and turns towards him. A smile, soft and gentle, blossoms on his face when he sees him and Edward consoles himself with the knowledge that there’s still this – that Étienne looks at him with such open fondness and care – that every day he lets his guard down just a smidgen more.

 “Hi Eddy.” Étienne removes the ear buds and Edward gets a whiff of jazz music coming from them. It’s a little different from what Étienne’s known to listen – grittier and angrier – fast paced and a mixture of notes fighting to be heard, but he supposes it fits with Étienne’s latest mood.

 Edward walks over to the easel and Étienne stands from the chair he’d been using. He’s wearing the rattiest most stained sweater Edward’s ever seen and a pair of sweat pants that may have once been black, but are now mostly multicoloured and still Edward thinks Étienne looks as lovely as always. He tugs him close, pulls him gently by the sleeve, until Étienne comes willingly in his embrace.

 “Careful, I might be full of paint,” Étienne warns, but Edward doesn’t care. He’s just happy Étienne looks a little bit better – that he seems to be on the mend – that he’s participating in life again.

 “I don’t know how you do it – but you have paint on your eyebrow,” He chuckles and Étienne looks up, as if he could see the paint and Edward wants more of this for his boyfriend. More of these innocent, silly moments when his guard is down and he doesn’t look haunted with the ghosts of his loneliness.

 “Errands go okay?” Étienne let’s Edward hold him, checks to make sure there isn’t any wet paint on his clothes and then molds himself to Edward’s body, making himself comfortable.

 “Not too bad. Good to be home though.”

 Étienne makes a humming noise at the back of his throat that could be agreement to Edward’s statement, but for all Edward knows, it could simply be Étienne letting him know that he’s comfortable and cozy.

 “Missed you today,” He finally says and looks up to catch Edward’s hazel gaze. The green of Étienne’s eyes is easier to see without his glasses in the way and Edward’s heart beats just a little faster. These are the moments that matter, he thinks – these quiet little exchanges that warm him up despite the cold outside.

 “Home now,” He reiterates, his voice a little thick with the moment and the emotions swimming inside his head. Étienne offers him another smile for his trouble and wiggles out of his embrace to sit back on the chair. He pulls Edward along with him and so Edward finds himself sitting on his boyfriend’s lap. Étienne holds him close, head on his chest, content little smile playing on his lips, and Edward leans in and let’s himself be held.

 He finally gets a good look at the painting and marvels at the intensity of it, as well as the dizzying display of figures and lines. It’s very loud, he thinks, and raw. It’s a little different from what Étienne usually does, but Edward believes he knows why.

 “It’s not much – but, it helps.” Étienne offers as an explanation.

 “I like it.” He does. He always means it, when he says he likes one of Étienne’s paintings. He likes the way they make him feel. From the raw emotions to the dizzying movement and everything in between. Étienne communicates in brushstrokes and white canvases he fills with his own essence and being and Edward is only glad he gets to read and interpret the messages once more.

 He wonders, and not for the first time, if all of Étienne’s paintings hadn’t always been a little bit autobiographical. That if he were to put them all side by side they would tell the great story of Étienne Maisonneuve. Of his triumphs and downfalls. Of misery and victory.

 “You always say that,” Étienne admonishes softly, but he still looks a little pink in the cheeks and slightly pleased by the compliment. “Thank you,” He ads and furrows his face back into Edward’s chest, where it’s perfectly ensconced in the folds of his clothing; where he’s safe and loved.

 FIN

[detroitwhatitmeanstobehuman]

Chapter 11 - More Than Empathy

Part 11/17 of What it Means to be Human

Word Count: 9025

Warnings: Swearing.

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: OC (Detective Rachel) X Connor

Rating: Mature

Summary: After potentially finding a lead, Lieutenant Hank Anderson lets Connor and Detective Rachel know that they’re going to see Elijah Kamski, the founder of CyberLife, to ask him questions regarding deviants. Their visit, however, takes a turn as Connor and Rachel, by what seemed to be sheer luck, finally realize their feelings for one another as the ending of the case draws nearer and nearer.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

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Waking up to Connor was beginning to be normal. I wasn’t even surprised when I woke up to him shaking me awake, his gentle brown eyes looking up at me. “Wake up, Rachel.”

“Mm?” I was not a morning person. Although, despite my rather prickly attitude, I didn’t usually snap at people in the mornings. Just kind of acknowledge and grumble at them a bit. But I couldn’t find it in me to be angry at Connor. Not really.

Not when he was giving me that face.

“What time is it?” I asked him, shifting so I could get up, Connor pushing himself off of me.

“It’s currently 8:31 AM.” Connor answered, following after me. “I’ve received a message from Lieutenant Anderson that he’s going to arrive in approximately 45 minutes to pick the both of us up.”

I groaned. “Ughhhhhh, and I gotta be ready.” I got up and stretched, letting out a yawn as the bones in my back cracked one after another. “Why the fuck is he wanting us to be ready so early?”

“We’re apparently going to visit the home of Elijah Kamski.” Connor clarified. “He seems to think it may uncover a potential lead in the investigation.”

“Elijah Kamski...” I repeated, the name familiar on my tongue. I pressed my thumb under my chin and curled my fingers underneath my nose in thought. “Why does that name ring a bell?”

“He was the founder of CyberLife.” Connor answered. “He was the CEO until 2028 when he resigned and disappeared from the public eye.”

I then turned around and faced Connor, my eyes narrowed. “Holy shit, when Hank said he was gonna make calls, I didn’t think he was gonna swing this hard!” I then scoffed, shrugging. “Colour me impressed, damn.”

Connor then got up and approached me, his posture straight and his hands folded neatly behind his back. “He’ll be here shortly.” The android reminded me. “Do you have a preference for breakfast?”

I was about to object to him making me breakfast again, but I also knew that it would take me a bit to get ready, and thus I would not be able to be ready and make breakfast in time. And I really didn’t want to make Hank wait.

Besides, I was actually craving something specific, and I was confident Connor could make it well. “A grilled cheese sandwich actually sounds really good right about now.”

Connor then nodded. “I’ll get started while you get ready.”

I then hugged him, savouring the comfortable feeling of him in a fuzzy robe. I was somewhat surprised at how quickly he put his arms around me, but I wasn’t about to complain. “Thank you, Connor! You’re a blessing.”

He detached himself from me and made his way downstairs, closing the bedroom door behind him. Once I was left alone, I ran a hand through my hair. First thing I did was step into the bathroom and comb my hair, sorting out the mess that was my bed head.

Then I let out a sigh. “Well, if we’re going to meet a fancy fucker like the former CEO of CyberLife, then I should probably put a little more effort into myself than usual.” Part of me actually thought that.

And the other was just curious as to what Connor’s reaction would be.

I stepped out of the bathroom and opened up my closet, filing through my clothes. “Hmmmm. Do I wanna dress more masculine? Or should I perhaps go with something more feminine?” I asked myself.

I flipped through my fancy dress jackets and then through my nice dresses. After looking through them, I shrugged, knowing what sort of day this was for me. “Eh, this feels like a dress day for me.”

--------

I stayed mostly quiet, as I tended to do. My anxiety didn’t even cross my mind. For once, Connor insisted on staying in the back with me rather than at the front with Hank, and I ended up leaning into him, his arm wrapped around me.

I ended up wearing my nice black pencil dress and my nice heels and a jacket. Of course, I didn’t go unarmed, even though it wasn’t necessary for me to be. After all, you couldn’t be too careful. I had my gun in my holster concealed under my jacket and a knife strapped to my thigh, of which I was pretty eager to show off.

I also may have indulged in some makeup for myself. Nothing that’s a lot, just some foundation, eye liner, and lipstain. I even did my hair up a bit, doing it in a small messy bun, but leaving the two big pieces at the front to frame my face. I considered them one of my most distinct and charming features, visually speaking.

Of which Connor seemed to really like. Though he didn’t say anything, I could see it on his face and the lovely red glow of his LED.

After a while traveling in the snow, I got a text from Bianca. Hey, did you see what happened on the news last night? - 9:56 AM

Deciding to take advantage of the signal, which was quickly fading, I messaged her back. Not really, I had to get up early to go somewhere with Hank and Connor. We might have a new lead in our case. Why?

It didn’t take long for the bubble with three dots to show up and for Bianca to respond back to me. Apparently five of the CyberLife stores in Detroit got raided last night at 2AM by deviants and one of them ended up with casualties.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I read that. Holy shit, what happened?

A moment. Police arrived at the scene at one of them and opened fire. No human casualties, but that’s still really fucking scary. I just wanted to let you know with everything that’s happening with deviants in the news. This is getting dangerous, and I’m worried about you getting caught in the middle of all of this.

I groaned, texting her back. This is the case I’m working, Bianca. I kind of have no choice but to be in the middle of it. And honestly, I’ve seen first-hand a lot of shit now. I can’t even really blame them, even if cops did end up dying.

Still, be careful. They didn’t get violent, but...you know how things have gone before with similar situations. This likely isn’t going to end cleanly. You know how people are.

I relaxed my expression as I responded. I know...but even if I wanted to back out, I can’t.

I’m just worried. Bianca messaged back. With you working law enforcement, you’re probably going to have to make some really hard choices. It might end up costing you your job, because I know you. You won’t want to try to stop them.

I sighed. I’ll be careful, Bianca.

You’d better. Just make sure you know what’s most important to you and do what you think is right. But please be careful! No matter how this goes, I have a feeling this is gonna get ugly.

I nodded to myself. I know. I replied. I’ll keep you posted, okay? I love you.

I love you, too.

I put my phone in my pocket and leaned further into Connor. “Is everything okay, Rachel?” The android asked, looking down at me.

“Yeah, just talking to Bianca.” I answered. “Apparently deviants organized a raid on the CyberLife stores in Detroit last night, and one of them ended in an altercation between deviants and law enforcement.”

“Shit...” I heard Hank groan under his breath. “This is getting out of hand.”

I shuffled a bit, trying to get more comfortable. “Sure seems that way, doesn’t it.”

We drove in silence for another moment until we finally arrived, Hank pulling up to the side of the road. Although, strangely, as soon as Hank parked the car, his phone started ringing. “Hang on, wait a second.” He then pulled it out and answered it. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson, who is this?” After a moment he shook his head and swore as he stepped out of the car. “Just sit tight, I’ll be right with you.” He said to us.

“Okay.”

“Okay, Lieutenant.”

Leaving us in the car alone, I watched Hank walk out into the snow, talking on the phone and pacing back and forth. I couldn’t help but feel my anxiety rise in anticipation of the call he was receiving. Nightmare scenarios were playing in my head as I tried to suffocate my low-key panic until I felt Connor squeeze my arm. “I’m sure everything is fine, Rachel.” The android reassured me, pulling me closer to him. “Whatever it is, I’m sure the lieutenant can handle it.”

I knew he was scanning me. Honestly, I was always aware of it, ever since the Eden Club. At first, it bugged me a little bit not being able to keep any sort of physical secrets from him. Save for my arm, but that was on him, not me. But now...I was just glad that he was always trying to make sure I was okay. I trusted and felt comfortable enough with Connor for it not to faze me anymore. It was just sort of something I was always aware that he was doing, just in the background.

And I felt a bit calmer, knowing I wasn’t alone and that he was trying to make me feel better. “Yeah, you’re right.” I agreed, letting out a sigh. “Hank’s got this covered.”

Hank then stopped pacing, and I wanted to get out into the snow. “We should go see what’s up.” I said, opening the door, letting Connor follow me out. The android closed the door behind me as I walked up to Hank, the lieutenant still not turning around to face us.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, walking up and putting an arm around me.

Hank turned around to look at us, looking shaken and tentative. “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants...” He said quietly, and I felt my gut lurch at the thought of the man getting hurt.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he's in shock but...he's alive...” Hank said, putting my mind at ease as I let out a sigh of relief. “He said he was saved by Markus himself...”

I looked up at Hank, pieces falling together in my head. “Markus.” I repeated, remembering the skinless android speaking on the screen of the Stratford Tower. “So that’s his name. The leader of the deviants.”

“Yeah...” Hank said, nodding as he started walking towards the house. “What the hell...”

As I took a good look at the house, I took note of the modern style to it. I’ve seen a few houses like that growing up, and while I admired the style, it always looked really out of place in my neighbourhoods back home. “Kamski left CyberLife ten years ago...” Connor pointed out, walking in stride with me, liking an arm around mine. Which was odd, because I didn’t tell him to do that and that was something I did. “Why did you wanna meet him?”

“This guy created the first android to pass the Turing test. And he's the founder of CyberLife.” Hank answered, making his way up the walkway to the front door. “If anybody can tell us about deviants, it's him...Which means you're about to meet your maker, Connor.” Hank pointed out, turning around to face the two of us. “How does it feel?”

Connor and I quickly caught up to him, standing under the cover of the awning. “I don't know...” Connor answered distantly. “I'll tell you when I see him.”

Hank scoffed at him. “Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face...” He lamented, nodding his head and turning towards the door. “I'd have a couple of things I'd wanna tell him...”

I held in an uncomfortable breath and then let it out, understanding that feeling completely. “Yeah, I, uh...I get it.” I admitted. “There’s a reason I haven’t talked to my mom in years.”

Hank rang the doorbell and I sat there. I hadn’t really thought that hard about my mother in a while. I sort of cut myself off from her after the accident. She had problems before then. Problems that she was seemingly aware of, yet constantly denied and thus refused to do anything about.

And I just...after the accident, I just decided to cut her out of my life. I don’t know what made me do it, but I just...couldn’t take it anymore. Especially after dad died.

But I’d be lying if some part of me didn’t want to try talking to her again. After all, it was me who broke things off with her and...I know she’d want to see me again. It’s more a matter of not knowing if I’m ready to reach out or not.

But maybe one day.

My thoughts were then interrupted by the door being answered. And as soon as my eyes laid on her, I felt my heart stop and my breath escape from me.

A fair woman in a blue silk dress and blonde hair draped across her shoulder in a lazy ponytail answered the door. But I couldn’t help but feel as though I was in the presence of an angel. She had to be the most beautiful android I had ever seen in my life.

I couldn’t even control the shy schoolgirl giggle that escaped me. “Oh, uh. Hi! Um, we’re here to see Kamski.” I managed to stammer out. “U-u-uh, Elijah Kamski. Expecting us. He’s expecting us, cause...calls...and yep! That’s why we’re here!”

Hank shouldered past me, giving me a scathing look. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I'm here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.” He introduced. “And this is my partner, Detective Rachel.”

The woman gave us a pleasant smile and I swore I was going to faint right then and there. “Please, come in.” She said warmly, stepping to the side to allow us to enter the home.

Hank stepped in first, followed by Connor and I, as we walked into what could be assumed to be the waiting room of sorts. “I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” She informed us.

I shyly waved at her. “I, uh.” I stammered again. “Thank you!”

She then left us alone in the room, and Hank gave me a light shove with his shoulder. I glared back at Hank as he shook his head, making his way to the nearby chair, taking a seat. 

As Hank settled in, waiting for the android to come back, I noticed Connor staring at a picture on the wall. “Amanda...” I approached him and looked up at the picture he was looking at.

It was a photo of a young man and an older looking black woman. She had her curled hair done up in a messy bun and was wearing what looked like a knitted sweater. “Who’s that?” I asked Connor. “Someone you know?”

His LED was blinking red before it slowly started to flicker to yellow. “Someone...” He paused, looking away from me. “Someone...I thought I knew.”

He walked away towards a large photo of a younger Kamski, at least from what I guessed. Connor seemed so perturbed at the photo of...Amanda? I guess? It made me wonder who she was, but I decided not to ask. Perhaps one day, but right now it wasn’t my place to. I followed Connor and stood beside him, looking up at the large photo. “Nice girl...” Hank said.

“You’re right.” Connor agreed. Clearly the female android had us all whipped.

“She’s really pretty...” Connor and I said at the exact same time.

At that, we turned to look at each other, and I was looking at him completely perplexed. “Huh.”

“What?” Connor asked, a little confused.

“I...don’t think I’ve ever heard you give that kind of compliment before.” I commented. But then. Then I had a realization, and I couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on my face. “Wait! Ohhhhhhhh! Does someone have a little robo-crush on the pretty android?”

Connor just looked at me even more confused before he looked away.

Which only further fueled my smug sense of superiority. “Awwwww! That’s so fucking cute!” I said in a higher pitched excited voice, clutching my cheeks.

“It’s not like that.” Connor denied, which only made my resolve stronger.

“Oh?” I challenged him. “Why not? Is it ‘cause you’re embarrassed to admit you’re weak for a pretty face?”

“Because I’m just a machine.” He insisted, much to my bemusement. “Designed to accomplish my mission. I was not programmed to have feelings of the sort.”

“You also weren’t programmed to feel fear.” I pointed out to him. “And yet...here you stand.”

Connor then turned to fix me with his dark chocolate gaze, his LED spinning a pensive yellow. “In any case, I wouldn’t know what that would even be like. So I wouldn’t even be able to tell.”

“Same with fear.” I insisted again. “You didn’t understand it until you felt it. Maybe you feel it, but you don’t understand it.”

Then, he did something that I thought was rather endearing and charming. He stood up straighter, facing me and folding his arms behind his back and giving me a polite and patient smile. “Explain it to me then, Detective.”

Ah, that title. The one he only so far used when he was being playful. Giving him a smirk, I folded my arms and thought hard about how I wanted to explain it to him. “Well...when you have someone special...someone you consider special for whatever reason, they stand out to you.” I started explaining to him. “You don’t realize how special they are to you until they become so. And then you start to notice everything about them. From the big details to the small details, but you notice them all. The way they laugh, the way they smile, the way they hold a pencil or pronounce certain words. All the little things suddenly matter so much to you. 

“And when they speak, you can’t help but listen to them and hang onto their every word like a prayer or a hymn.” I kept going, folding my arms as I reminisced on the memory of what it felt like to fall in love. Frank wasn’t my first, and they weren’t even my last. But that was never an issue for either of us. “And when you see them, you feel like everything around you just tunes itself out and you only see them. It feels like your whole body is collapsing in on yourself at the sight of them, but when you’re around them, you’re so comfortable with them. You feel like you can tell them and trust them with anything and it feels like you’ve known them your whole life. And whether you’re doing something or just sitting in comfortable silence with them, you feel like it’s where you belong. 

“Everything they say matters so much to you because you’re so enraptured by their opinions and their point of view because it’s special and unique to you.” I went on, feeling wistful and nostalgic. I was starting to forget that I was trying to explain something and was just getting lost in the introspection. “And you don’t realize how much they mean to you until you start realizing how happy their happiness makes you. They start taking priority above everything else and they become your world. And you start to feel like you would do anything for them as long as it kept them safe and made them happy. And it’s to the point that you don’t even care what happens to you or if they return the feelings. All you care about is them and their wellbeing.

“They just...become everything to you. Just them being in your life makes you happy. Makes you feel...like you’re at home. That’s what it means to love someone.” I realized that I was rambling without paying attention to him and then looked up at him. Much to my surprise, he was staring seemingly into space, his LED slowly blinking red. “Connor?” I asked. There was no response. “Hey, Connor?”

No response. “Jesus, I think you might’ve short-circuited him.”

I was starting to get worried and snapped my fingers in his face twice to try and get his attention. “Yo! Xbox360, you good?”

That seemed to do the trick, as Connor blinked a couple of times as his LED was circling yellow now. Hank was having a good laugh on the chair in the corner of the room and Connor looked absolutely confounded. “What?”

I smiled at him. “Xbox360?” I asked. “Red ring of death?” I made a circling motion towards my temple where my proverbial LED would be if I had one, trying to illustrate my point. He still seemed confused so I gave up. “No? I thought it was funny.”

“I’m okay.” Connor said shakily. I was worried for a second, but he didn’t seem scared. Just...a little nervous. “It’s just...what you were describing...”

He didn’t continue, so I willed him on, gently grabbing him by the shoulder. “Yes?” I pressed tenderly.

“I-I...” He stammered. I had never seen him look so unsure. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye. “What you were explaining...I think...” He then focused his dark eyes on mine, boring into me with an intensity I had never seen in them before, and it made me aware of the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “I think I -”

“Elijah will see you now.” A voice said, interrupting us. I looked over to see the android in the doorway into the next room, looking at us.

Hank was already walking up to us when Connor nodded at me and walked into the next room.

But as he walked forward, I could feel my heart thumping in my chest to the point that I could hear it in my ears.

And then about a hundred realizations hit me at once. All the time we’ve spent, all the weirdness of our relationship, how comfortable we were, and all of Connor’s mannerisms and quirks that captured my attention...I felt like I was getting hit by a freight train.

“You alright there, kiddo?” Hank asked.

There was only one word that could possibly cross my lips. “Shhhhhhhhhhhit!” I spat, feeling like the Devil was dancing on my chest.

Hank let out a smug laugh. “Aaaaaaand you finally figured it out.”

“I will shove you into the fucking pool, Hank.” I practically snarled at him as we made our way into the next room. I’m a fucking idiot. How did I not realize? Why? Why did this have to happen? Of all the things that could’ve happened, why did I have to catch feelings for the walking ceiling fan?!

But as I caught a glimpse of the pool, the colour of the water briefly snapped me out of my angrily spiraling thoughts. Red? It seemed to just be the colour of the tiles, but I thought it was an interesting choice. He sure does have a pretty good sense of decorating. “Mister Kamski?” Hank called.

“Just a moment, please.” Called a man swimming in the pool. I then noticed that there were two more androids in the pool talking to each other, seemingly the same model as the one that brought us in.

Hank walked on ahead, leaving me with Connor, and now being near him felt like it was going to suffocate me. Why did I have to open my big dumb mouth? Why couldn’t I have just not said anything for once? But deep down, I knew that was a lie.

Dense? Sure, I definitely could be. Stupid? Sometimes. An idiot? I was not. I was just only now realizing just how much of an idiot I was. Who was I kidding? I was taken with Connor since I saw him, perhaps not in this way. But I found him intriguing. But it was hard not to be drawn to him when he was just so unique, charming, and honestly, he was really cute. Not just physically, but in all his quirks and mannerisms.

He was irresistible. It just took me way too long to realize to what extent, and now I was regretting every life choice I’ve ever made.

As we waited by the ladder that usually was in pools, I saw Kamski approaching. But he then hauled himself out of the water, and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his chiseled frame and his delicate face. Damn, he’s also very pretty. I couldn’t help but think.

He walked past us, his android dressing a robe over him as he walked over to adjust his hair. He then finally turned to address us, looking us over individually. Although I did notice the way he was looking me over, and kept my hands behind my back, and my posture neutral. If there were daggers in my eyes, I’m certain he would see them. As if to say I’m not here to pick a fight, but start one and you will lose.

“I'm Lieutenant Anderson.” Hank started. “This is Detective Rachel and Connor.”

Kamski shifted on his feet, folding his hands over each other. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” He asked, his eyes once again glancing over to me. 

I couldn’t help but enjoy the pleasant warm tone Kamski’s voice harboured, but something about the attention he was clearly giving me made me uncomfortable. It made me want to shuffle closer to Connor and loop an arm around his, but I had the better sense not to. So I stood resolute, my eyes focused.

“Sir, we're investigating deviants.” Hank said plainly. “I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know...”

Kamski’s intense blue eyes drifted between the three of us before he finally spoke. “Deviants...” He said, as though he relished the word itself. “Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will...” He looked over at the android standing next to him pointedly. “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable...Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” He let out only a ghost of a scof. “Isn't it ironic?”

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski.” Connor said pointedly. “It's quite a serious matter.”

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics...” Kamski responded. “Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?”

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes just to stay on his good side. Oh great, he’s a pretentious fuckwit. Whatever mild intrigue I had died near instantly and my walls of indifference immediately fortified to insulate myself from him.

“Listen, I didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution.” Hank pressed annoyedly. “Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Kamski’s eyes were fixed on Connor and he began to approach the android. “What about you, Connor?” He asked, his growing proximity making my skin crawl and an angry flame light inside me. I didn’t like that he was getting so close to Connor, and my hand instinctively felt inclined to check for my weapons. “Whose side are you on?”

“It's not about me, Mr. Kamski” Connor answered bluntly. “All I want is to solve this case.”

Kamski then let out an amused snicker. “Well, that's what you're programmed to say...but you...” Kamski stepped even closer to Connor, and I couldn’t control the glare I was giving the man. I had to make considerable amounts of effort not to tell Kamski to back off. Call it a territorial instinct, but I didn’t like this pretentious bastard being so close to the android. Was it jealousy? Maybe, but I didn’t care. All I knew was I didn’t like it and I was starting not to like Kamski. “What do you really want?”

Connor seemed to hesitate for a moment before he replied. “What I want is not important.” He answered, but there was a sense of a faltering resolve in him. A dangerous feeling to betray to someone like Kamski.

Quickly turning away from Connor, he called for his android. “Chloe?” The android quickly obeyed, walking up to him. So that’s her name. I thought as I quietly observed. 

He stepped away from Connor, much to my relief, as he approached Chloe. “I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity.” He explained as he positioned her standing up in front of him, facing Connor. “What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘the Kamski test,’ it's very simple, you'll see...” 

He looked over at Chloe, his eyes fixed on her soft and delicate face while I rolled my eyes, sure that he wasn’t focusing on me. And he’s conceited. Go figure. “Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither...” He went on, gently caressing Chloe’s face, to which she showed no reaction whatsoever. I found myself disliking Kamski more and more with every moment. 

“But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human?” He asked as he turned around to the small nightstand behind him. “Or a living being...With a soul...?” He said, opening the drawer and pulling out a small handgun, lifting his hands to show he was armed and that he had it.

Then, in an action that made my blood run cold, Kamski put his hand on Chloe’s shoulder and gently pushed her to the ground, so she was on her knees before Connor. “It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He said as he approached Connor and placed the gun in his hand. I stared in disbelief, feeling my heart beating against my ribcage as Kamski aimed Connor’s arm at Chloe’s head. “Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it's alive,” he was practically circling Connor like an expectant vulture and it made me want to grab the fucker by the throat and throw him into the pool. “But you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we're done here. Come on, let's go.” Hank said, already walking towards the door, having had enough of this. “Sorry to get you outta your pool.”

“What's more important to you, Connor?” Kamski asked, ignoring Hank before he could finish speaking. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?” As I stared at Connor, I could see the turmoil in his soft eyes, his LED blinking yellow. “Decide who you are. An obedient machine...Or a living being endowed with free will...?”

“That's enough! Connor, we're leaving.” Hank tried again to get Connor to bail on this, but he wouldn’t move.

“Pull the trigger -”

“Connor!” Hank snapped. “Don’t...”

“- and I'll tell you what you wanna know.”

I felt a horrible feeling in my gut and I couldn’t even feel my hands. As I looked between Chloe and Connor, I couldn’t help but think of all the androids that may die. All the lives that may be lost. Perkins’s words echoed in my head. The FBI will take over this investigation and you’ll soon be off the case. I knew damn well that if we didn’t solve this, millions of people were going to be wiped out. There was no stopping what has been started, and the federal government had a track record for genocide.

We needed to save them.

“Do it, Connor.” I ordered.

Immediately, I felt eyes burning into my very soul. “WHAT?” Hank shouted at me.

Kamski chuckled as he looked at me. “So you do have a voice.” He said rather condescendingly.

“You can’t be fucking serious!” Hank started getting in my face, but I wasn’t going to back down.

“Hank, there are millions of innocent lives at stake!” I spat back at him. “That information is the difference between saving them and dooming them. One life will be a small price to pay for that!”

“You can’t just bet on someone else’s life, Rachel!” Hank shouted at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few!” I practically shoved him. “This isn’t about the empathy of a machine, this is about making a sacrifice for the greater good! If one android has to die in order to save her people, so be it!”

“Fuck you!” Hank spat at me. “I can’t believe you would even think about someone’s life like they’re just a fucking bartering chip!”

“If I was in her position and I knew that that information could save my people, I would want you to pull the damn trigger.” I growled, a snarl edging my voice.

Our little spat was interrupted by amused laughter from Kamski as he looked over at us. “Ah, humans.” He said, breathing out a sigh. “So passionate in their fervour. So much care you have for a bunch of machines, Rachel. And I do find that so fascinating.” I glared daggers at the man. “But this isn’t your choice to make. It’s Connor’s.”

I had had just about enough of this. “Step away from him.” I warned him.

“Go on, Connor.” He goaded the android. His LED was blinking between red and yellow now, the distress palpable on his face.

No, this didn’t have to be his choice. I would do it if it meant sparing him, but I doubted Kamski would accept that. No, this test was more important to him. As far as this bastard was concerned, this was just a game to him. “Back off, Kamski!” I warned him again.

“And I’ll give you what you want.”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” I shouted, my voice reverberating off the walls of the lit room. I saw Connor’s eyes glance in my direction, catching my eyes and his LED was blinking red now.

Kamski seemed to find that interesting, as he untangled himself from this little game of wits and started approaching me. “Interesting.” He said, as he walked closer. I could feel the angry lump in my chest beat in my throat as he walked closer to me. “Perhaps machines are capable of more than just empathy.” He was almost touching me now, but I refused to move. I wasn’t afraid of him, and I wasn’t going to show fear in his presence. “Perhaps...you’re looking to trade the life of one android to spare another from having to take it.”

He reached out to touch my face as he had done to Chloe, and I wasted no time in grabbing his hand with my left and locking it in place. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” I growled.

He simply snickered at me. “Even the most beautiful roses have thorns.”

“Step the fuck away from her, Kamski!” I looked in the direction the voice came from and widened my eyes in shock. Where I was looking, Connor was glaring hard at Kamski, the gun he was holding pointed directly at his head. I had never seen him show so much contempt and fury in his face. His lips were twisted into the faintest of snarls and his eyes were black voids of focused rage. His LED was slowly blinking a bright red.

And quickly I realized that that was Connor’s voice. He was threatening Kamski.

I was thoroughly unprepared and caught completely by surprise. Mostly because I had known Connor as a sweet, gentle, and sensitive man. But also because that was the first time I had ever heard him swear. For a while, I assumed he was programmed not to.

As Connor was staring his maker down, Kamski simply detached himself from me with an amused smile. “What a beautiful story unfolding here today. An android and a human falling in love. How thrilling.” He teased, a sentence that buried itself within my core and lit a fiery rage that threatened to consume everything. “But I didn’t want to test if an android could show empathy to humans. After all, androids are designed to cater to us. I want to know if machines can show empathy to other machines.” He once again approached Connor, seemingly unaffected by the android’s deathly glare as he took Connor’s arm and once again pointed it at Chloe. “So, Connor. What’s your verdict? Is it only a machine? Or is it alive?”

The silence and small sounds of the water gently sloshing in the pool behind us was nearly deafening. The sound of my heartbeat was drowning every other sound out as my eyes remained glued on Connor.

The android sent by CyberLife.

The android who was sent to act as Hank’s partner.

The android who was designed to hunt deviants.

And the android who had somehow wormed his way into my heart and soul the day he also became my partner.

After what felt like hours - painfully agonizing hours - Connor, with a gasp, surrendered the handgun to Kamski, his LED flickering red before returning to yellow as the smug man stared in awe at the android. “Fascinating...” Kamski breathed, taking the gun out of Connor’s hands. “CyberLife's last chance to save humanity...Is itself a deviant...”

That sentence sunk itself into me. What I had suspected was starting to make sense. Connor was, in essence, not much different than the deviants we had encountered. What could’ve been so easily chocked up to advanced social protocol and programming could’ve just as easily been a deviant falsely believing himself to be a machine with no free will.

“I’m...” Connor stopped, his gaze downcast. But then, he stared Kamski in the face and addressed him directly. “I’m not a deviant...”

A phrase said with no conviction. As though he knew deep down that it was true, but that he couldn’t believe it. As though he refused to believe it.

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski said, contesting with Connor’s clear denial, helping Chloe back up to her feet. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.” Kamski wordlessly dismissed Chloe, the android walking away from us to an unknown destination in Kamski’s home. “A war is coming...you'll have to choose your side...Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

An honest question Connor needed to ask himself, but...now wasn’t a good time to answer it.

Hank quickly reached his arm out to grab Connor, twisting him around and pushing him towards the exit. “Let's get outta here...” He grumbled, taking Connor with him.

I quickly began leading the way out of the room, not wanting to look at Kamski or even Hank any longer.

But as we were about to leave, Kamski called out. “By the way...” Connor and I stopped, but Hank continued forward, leaving the house. I still didn’t turn to look at Kamski. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs...You never know...”

I quickly understood that that was meant for Connor, but I still decided to wait for the android.

As Connor strode up next to me, I looked over at him. He looked about as defeated as I felt.

We left the house, and were faced by Hank’s greyed face. I was expecting him to chew me out, but instead, he let us pass him. “Why didn't you shoot?” He asked, clearly that question was directed at Connor.

I stopped and stared at the both of them. Connor seemed so lost and confused as he turned around to face Hank. “I just saw that girl's eyes...and I couldn't, that's all...”

Connor looked away from Hank again, staring off into nothing. His LED was blinking red, and I was starting to realize how frequently I was seeing that colour on his temple. “You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go...”

“Yeah, I know what I should've done! I told you I couldn't.” He snapped, stepping up to Hank. I couldn’t imagine how hard this must feel for him. This was a uniquely android dilemma that I could only imagine the struggle of. For once, I was only an outsider. “I'm sorry, okay?”

Hank was quiet for a moment, nodding to himself as though he was considering the circumstances. “Well, maybe you did the right thing.” He walked by Connor, casting a glare at me.

As much as I wanted to smack that look off his face, I could only let out an exhausted sigh in defeat. “I hope you’re right, Hank.” I conceded.

As I stood there in the snow, letting the cold crisp air seep into my lungs, Connor approached me and gently leaned into me. He seemed to be waiting for me to follow after Hank, looking into my eyes with an expression that I couldn’t quite read. Outwardly, it seemed pretty neutral, but there was a depth to it I couldn’t place.

Walking side-by-side, we followed Hank to the car, getting in. Once again, Connor seemed to want to sit in the back with me rather than in the front with Hank.

Hank didn’t start the car right away and the three of us ended up sitting in silence for a while. There was only one question left on my mind. “So what now?” I asked. “We’re at a dead end again. What do we do now?”

Hank let out a sigh as he did his seatbelt. “We head back to the station. And we figure out where to go from there.” He answered pragmatically. “That’s all we can do.”

I nodded. “Right...yeah, you’re right.”

As he started the car and turned back onto the road we were driving on to get to Kamski’s house, I found my attention focused on Connor.

His LED was yellow, and spinning steadily, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. His hands were laid at his sides in defeat. Indeed, it felt as though we had failed. I felt that weight heavy on my shoulders.

And that weight along with the hefty realizations that we were forced to confront today had completely drained my will for the day. For the both of us, it seemed, we had a great deal to come to terms with.

But what could I really say? Nothing. Even if I wanted to say something my brain kept my mouth forced closed. As much as I tried to will myself to say something - anything - there was nothing. I was helpless to my own crushing hesitation.

But...what I couldn’t say with my words, perhaps I could say with my actions instead.

Tentatively, I reached my hand across the seat and clasped it around Connor’s. He snapped his head in my direction, glancing first down at our hands, and then at my face. I locked eyes with him, coffee meeting chocolate, trying to convey with my face as best as I could what I wanted to tell him. I’m here for you, Connor. You’re not alone. We’re in this together.

I looked away from him, settling on just staring at my heels. I didn’t move my hand away from his, not wanting to lose the physical touch with him. Perhaps he didn’t understand the real meaning behind the gesture, but he didn’t pull his hand away from it either.

But I felt my heart skip a beat when I felt the unmistakable sensation of his fingers interlocking with mine. And when I glanced back towards him, my eyes first flicking to our hands, he fixed me with that look again.

That strange depth in his face that I couldn’t breach.

My lips tightened as I leaned against him, not breaking our grip. It was in that moment I knew I was in too deep to pull away. Somehow my heart which had been broken and shattered, a piece dead inside, was stolen by a man made of manufactured parts.

Somehow my heart had been taken by someone who wasn’t built with one.

And as I leaned into him, I felt my exhaustion catch up to me. I had a spare change of clothes in a spare bag as well as wipes to clean the makeup off my face, so I wasn’t worried about needing to go home, first. Settling into the comfort that I had cultivated from Connor, I nestled myself into his jacket, quickly falling asleep against his side.

--------

Date: November 9th, 2038  Time: 01:38 PM Rachel - P̵̰̍a̸͚̾ŗ̴̑t̵̰̊n̵̘̋e̵̻̔ṙ̸̬?̷̧̓ Hank - Friend Objective: Debrief at the Station

As they pulled up to the station, Connor felt Rachel stir as she woke up without the android having to tell her to.

Choosing a parking space, Hank parked the car and then turned off the transmission. He quickly got out of the car. Connor opened the door and stepped out, helping Rachel out as well before closing the door. Their hands were still clasped together.

When she put her hand on his and gave her the look she gave him, he somehow understood what she meant. She was offering comfort, support, and solidarity.

And even now, when she stood before him, her hand still in his, all his feelings he was questioning before had suddenly made sense. They were feelings he couldn’t deny. And perhaps, whether he realized it or not, he encouraged them to develop and he was helpless to this pull between them.

But he didn’t mind. To all his questions, she was his answer.

The hardest part now was having to part with her. If there was anything that was clear, it was that in CyberLife’s eyes, he was failing. Unless he could earn another chance at finding the deviants, he would be sent back and disassembled.

Software Instability ^ He would be destroyed. And the thought of leaving Rachel with another loss to grieve over made him feel unpleasant and uneasy and he wanted more than anything to prevent that from happening.

Hesitantly, Rachel extricated her hand from Connor’s and began to make her way towards the precinct. “We should probably head inside.” She said, though Connor could detect a reluctance in her tone, as if she’d rather prolong this as long as she could.

As he followed her, Connor realized that she stopped in front of the doors. She was lingering, clearly not wanting to enter the building. Connor stood beside her, feeling a certain hesitance tug at him. There was a lot he wanted to say, now that their feelings were out in the open.

Software Instability ^ And it would seem that she had the same idea, as she clasped his hand once again and tugged at him. “Connor, can we talk?” She asked, her voice strained. “Somewhere more private?”

He tilted his head at her. “Won’t Lieutenant Anderson notice?”

“He won’t care.” Rachel insisted. “Besides...even if he did, just this once he can deal with it, okay?”

Connor, not wanting to argue with her wishes, nodded. “Okay.”

--------

Finding a secluded area near the station, the two were alone. Once they had settled, Connor looked down on Rachel, the smaller woman occasionally glancing up at him. “So...we’re probably going to fail...aren’t we?” She asked him.

Optimistic

Realistic

Fatalistic

“We haven’t failed yet, but,” Connor began answering, noticing the further pained expression on Rachel’s face, “it’s probable that we will.”

She then looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “And if we do...you’re going back to CyberLife, right?” She said, palpable sorrow in her deep eyes that Connor could feel himself getting pulled into. “And they’ll destroy you, to find out why you failed. Won’t they?”

Truth

Lie

Software Instability ^ “Yes.” He answered, feeling his throat tighten even though he technically didn’t have one. “I’m sorry...”

“Fuck...” Her wide eyes began to well up as she then closed them, makeup running down her face. She pulled one of her wipes out of her bag and started wiping her face, swathes of makeup coming off of her face. “If...if I had known this since the start, maybe...” She hesitated for a moment as she continued wiping her face, quickly accumulating a small pile of used wipes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have let myself get so attached...or maybe I would’ve been more honest with myself since the start...”

[Confess]

[Do Not]

“Rachel?” Connor softly called to her, causing her to look up at him. Her face looked far more raw, now. Less delicate and maintained.

But in Connor’s eyes, no less beautiful.

“What?” She asked, weakly.

“Give me your hand.” He ordered gently. Tentatively, she did as she was asked, and he clasped his own around hers, staring her in the face as he did so.

Friends

Sincere

Frank

Character

Rachel - Partner ^ “I know it’s been incredibly difficult for you to get by without your spouse.” Connor said, trying to comfort you. “Living without them made you feel alone and isolated. But I’m sure if they knew what you were doing for yourself and how hard you fight every day, they would be proud of you.”

Rachel then let out a broken weep, smiling at the android. “Thank you, Connor...” She whispered. “That means so much to me...for you to say that.” Connor nodded, pulling his hand away from hers, revealing a silver coin in it. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Connor. “Y-you’re giving me your quarter?”

“I won’t be needing it, if I’m going back to CyberLife.” He explained to her. “I’ve seen all the trinkets and personal items you keep. I know how important physical mementos are to you. It’s why you keep so many keepsakes from your loved ones. They have immense sentimental value to you. So I know you’ll keep this close to you...as a physical memory of me.”

Software Instability ^ She rolled the coin along her knuckles on her left hand almost as expertly as Connor could before clasping it in her hand and throwing herself into Connor’s arms. As she pressed herself into his chest, whimpering and trembling, Connor wrapped his arms around her. He had become practiced at sharing intimacy with her at this point that it had almost become second nature to the android.

“Do you have to go...?” She choked, holding onto him tightly.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t have a choice.” He told her. “If I don’t go, CyberLife will destroy me anyways. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.”

Software Instability ^ That only made her tremble harder. “Why can’t you stay?” She asked feebly. “You’re a great detective, and you...you’re part of the team. You’re our partner. You can’t go! Why can’t you still work here at the precinct with us?”

The android found it more and more difficult to answer her desperate pleas, his biocomponents almost creaking in protest. “I was designed to accomplish a mission.” He said simply. “Whether I fail or succeed, there’s no reason for CyberLife to keep me here for any longer than necessary.”

She held onto him even tighter, practically squeezing him against her. “I...I don’t wanna let you go...” She whimpered.

Comforting

Sympathetic

Say Nothing

[Leave]

Software Instability ^ Connor wrapped his arms tighter around Rachel, squeezing her flush against his body. One hand held her hip and the other was buried in her soft wavy hair, and he pressed his cheek into it, savouring the feeling of her soft locks against his skin. “I don’t either...”

He had never felt pain. Androids don’t feel pain. But then again, he had never felt fear before either. And yet, he felt fear. He had never felt empathy before, yet he felt it, despite his adamant denial of his growing deviancy.

Software Instability ^ And he had never felt love before. Yet here she stood, pouring broken sobs into his chest as he held her for dear life.

Software Instability ^ If he could feel pain, the feeling this bittersweet moment was leaving him would be what he imagined pain would feel like.

After a long moment of just holding one another, they broke apart from each other, one of the most difficult actions Connor ever had to execute. Wiping her eyes, Rachel gave him a weak smile. “Come on, we should go find Hank.” But as she tried to pull away from him, he clasped her hand, holding her there. She looked up at him, her mahogany eyes pooling with curiosity. “What is it?”

Software Instability ^ “I didn’t mention this before.” Connor said, looking into her eyes. “But...you’re beautiful. And I’ve thought that before I knew what that meant.”

Software Instability ^ The flush that formed on her cheeks that were bunched by a bitter smile was one of the sights that Connor couldn’t help but love about her. “Thank you...” She lingered for a moment before she pulled her hand away, walking away from Connor.

He would’ve followed her, but he was stuck in place  perplexed by a strange input he did not remember bringing up. It was one of the advantages of his programming. Details didn’t escape him as he processed them as instantly as he saw them.

And he saw it, clear as day. An input he did not authorize that disappeared as soon as he saw it.

Software Instability ^

-̵̰̲̪̅̄̄͝Ķ̵̱̬͉̲͗͆̎̓̉̕͘͘͜í̷̙͕̟̬͕̃͋̾̚s̴̹̺͙͇̘͓̈́̏̉ͅš̵̨̞̱̳̟̄͂̌͒̂͌͜ ̴̧͔͒͐́̀̿̈́͝H̷̥̪̝̳̩̋̀͐͑è̶̜̥̄̐͊̅̄̇͠r̴̜͆̔͗̽̀̕?̵̮̜̭̥̀

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