#i feel like a million bees are gently buzzing in my head

[swiftmitsu]

And splashed

HeLPAKSKKNDJN!#€{€*.’r💥💥💫💞💞💫✨💫😭💞💥💞😭😭

i cant.

even—

i have the biggest stupidest smile. help.

you’re too NNNICE. 😭😭💛💛💛🫂🫂

#mitsuasks #rushin-safire #<3333 #Uusbejak #EUEEUEU #💛🫂🫂💛😭💛😭💛💫✨💛💫😭 #i feel like a million bees are gently buzzing in my head #that sounds bad but #its not it’s a nice warm fuzzy feeling #tTHHANK YOUU 😭😭😭😭😭 #<- for the fifth time.

[apas-95]

Norman Bethune, "Wounds"

The kerosene lamp overhead makes a steady buzzing sound like an incandescent hive of bees. Mud walls. Mud floor. Mud bed. White paper windows. Smell of blood and chloroform. Cold. Three o'clock in the morning, December 1, North China, near Lin Chu, with the 8th Route Army. Men with wounds. Wounds like little dried pools, caked with blackbrown earth; wounds with torn edges frilled with black gangrene; neat wounds, concealing beneath the abscess in their depths, burrowing into and around the great firm muscles like a dammed-back river, running around and between the muscles like a hot stream; wounds, expanding outward, decaying orchids or crushed carnations, terrible flowers of flesh; wounds from which the dark blood is spewed out in clots, mixed with the ominous gas bubbles, floating on the fresh flood of the still-continuing secondary haemorrhage.

Old filthy bandages stuck to the skin with blood-glue. Careful. Belief moisten first. Through the thigh. Pick the leg up. Why it's like a bag, a long, loose red stocking. What kind of stocking? A Christmas stocking. Where's that find strong rod of bone now? In a dozen pieces. Pick them out with your fingers; white as a dog's teeth, sharp and jagged. Now feel. Any more left? Yes, here. All? Yes; no, here's another piece. Is this muscle dead? Pinch it. Yes, it's dead, Cut it out. How can that heal? How can those muscles, once so strong, now so torn, so devastated, so ruined, resume their proud tension? Pull, relax. Pull, relax. What fun it was! Now that is finished. Now that's done. Now we are destroyed. Now what will we do with ourselves?

Next. What an infant! Seventeen. Shot through the belly. Chloroform. Ready? Gas rushes out of the opened peritoneal cavity. Odour of feces. Pink coils of distended intestine. Four perforations. Close them. Purse string suture. Sponge out the pelvis. Tube. Three tubes. Hard to close. Keep him warm. How? Dip those bricks into hot water.

Gangrene is a cunning, creeping fellow. Is this one alive? Yes, he lives. Technically speaking, he is alive. Give him saline intravenously. Perhaps the innumerable tiny cells of his body will remember. They may remember the hot salty sea, their ancestral home, their first food. With the memory of a million years, they may remember other tides, other oceans, and life being born of the sea and sun. It may make them raise their tired little heads, drink deep and struggle back into life again. It may do that.

And this one. Will he run along the road beside his mule at another harvest, with cries of pleasure and happiness? No, that one will never run again. How can you run with one leg? What will he do? Why, he'll sit and watch the other boys run. What will he think? He'll think what you and I would think. What's the good of pity? Don't pity him! Pity would diminish his sacrifice. He did this for the defence of China. Help him. Lift him off the table. Carry him in your arms. Why, he's as light as a child! Yes, your child, my child.

How beautiful the body is: how perfect its pads; with what precision it moves; how obedient, proud and strong. How terrible when torn. The little flame of life sinks lower and lower, and with a flicker, goes out. It goes out like a candle goes out. Quietly and gently. It makes its protest at extinction, then submits. It has its day, then is silent.

Any more? Four Japanese prisoners. Bring them in. In this community of pain, there are no enemies. Cut away that blood-stained uniform. Stop that haemorrhage. Lay them beside the others. Why, they're alike as brothers! Are these soldiers professional man-killers? No, these are amateurs-in-arms. Workman's hands. These are workers-in-uniform.

No more. Six o'clock in the morning. God, it's cold in this room. Open the door. Over the distant, dark-blue mountains, a pale, faint line of light appears in the east. In an hour the sun will be up. To bed and sleep.

But sleep will not come. What is the cause of this cruelty, this stupidity? A million workmen come from Japan to kill or mutilate a million Chinese workmen. Why should the Japanese worker attack his brother worker, who is forced merely to defend himself. Will the Japanese worker benefit by the death of the Chinese? No, how can he gain? Then, in God's name, who will gain? Who is responsible for sending these Japanese workmen on this murderous mission? Who will profit from it? How was it possible to persuade the Japanese workmen to attack the Chinese Workman -- his brother in poverty; his companion in misery?

Is it possible that a few rich men, a small class of men, have persuaded a million men to attack, and attempt to destroy, another million men as poor as they? So that these rich may be richer still? Terrible thought! How did they persuade these poor men to come to China? By telling them the truth? No, they would never have cone if they had known the truth, Did they dare to tell these workmen that the rich only wanted cheaper raw materials, more markets and more profit? No, they told them that this brutal war was "The Destiny of the Race," it was for the "Glory of the Emperor," it was for the "Honour of the State," it was for their "King and Country."

False. False as hell!

The agents of a criminal war of aggression, such as this, must be looked for like the agents of other crimes, such as murder, among those who are likely to benefit from those crimes. Will the 80,000,000 workers of Japan, the poor farmers, the unemployed industrial workers -- will they gain? In the entire history of the wars of aggression, from the conquest of Mexico by Spain, the capture of India by England, the rape of Ethiopia by Italy, have the workers of those "victorious" countries ever been known to benefit? No, these never benefit by such wars. Does the Japanese workman benefit by the natural resources of even his own country, by the gold, the silver, the iron, the coal, the oil? Long ago he ceased to possess that natural wealth. It belongs to the rich, the ruling class. The millions who work those mines live in poverty. So how is he likely to benefit by the armed robbery of the gold, silver, iron, coal and oil from China? Will not the rich owners of the one retain for their own profit the wealth of the other? Have they not always done so?

It would seem inescapable that the militarists and the capitalists of Japan are the only class likely to gain by this mass murder, this authorized madness, this sanctified butchery. That ruling class, the true state, stands accused.

Are wars of aggression, wars for the conquest of colonies, then, just big business? Yes, it would seem so, however much the perpetrators of such national crimes seek to hide their true purpose under banners of high-sounding abstractions and ideals. They make war to capture markets by murder; raw materials by rape. They find it cheaper to steal than to exchange; easier to butcher than to buy. This is the secret of war. This is the secret of all wars. Profit. Business. Profit. Blood money.

Behind all stands that terrible, implacable God of Business and Blood, whose name is Profit. Money, like an insatiable Moloch, demands its interest, its return, and will stop at nothing, not even the murder of millions, to satisfy its greed. Behind the army stand the militarists. Behind the militarists stand finance capital and the capitalist. Brothers in blood; companions in crime.

What do these enemies of the human race look like? Do they wear on their foreheads a sign so that they may be told, shunned and condemned as criminals? No. On the contrary. they are the respectable ones. They are honoured. They call themselves, and are called, gentlemen. What a travesty on the name, Gentlemen! They are the pillars of the state, of the church, of society. They support private and public charity out of the excess of their wealth. they endow institutions. In their private lives they are kind and considerate. they obey the law, their law, the law of property. But there is one sign by which these gentle gunmen can be told. Threaten a reduction on the profit of their money and the beast in them awakes with a snarl. They become ruthless as savages, brutal as madmen, remorseless as executioners. Such men as these must perish if the human race is to continue. There can be no permanent peace in the world while they live. Such an organization of human society as permits them to exist must be abolished.

These men make the wounds.

#china #norman bethune

[obsessive-ego]

A late night hand nsft

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You give beej a handjob in your sleep

Reader has a vagina

Warning dubious consent, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda

Shout out to the anon that told me to do this

Its been a full week of beetlejuice being underfoot and in your personal space, from the moment youd wake up, and left for work, to when you got home again, not that you minded at all, in fact you adored the demon, hell, you were head over heels for the ghoul, not that you had the balls to say it.

But this whole week he's been up on you, clinging to you, nuzzling his scratch beard into your neck, pinching your rear, poking at you, he just couldnt keep his hands off, not that you minded, though you did scold him for getting too friendly with your bum, you two even slept together and the man was a cuddler. All this physical attention wasnt usually an issue, you could normally deal with this pent up frustration and sexual neediness during some alone time with some less then wholesome thoughts of the bastard who made you feel that way to begin with.

But not this time, beetlejuice just wouldnt give you the time of day, normally he would duck out and scare the neighbors or lydia would summon him away, but lydia was off on a family vacation or something, and beej just wasnt in the mood to be a pest to anyone but you.

You envied the ghoul, his ability to just leave and do whatever he wanted, hell for all you know the bastard could be jerking off on the roof, shooting his load over the edge and watching it splat on the sidewalk, honestly you wouldnt put it past him, you couldnt help but snicker at that image, but your mirth was cut short when a familiar gravelly voice grabs your attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, just remembered a stupid tiktok I saw the other day, dont worry about" you shrug

The ghoul grunts, alittle annoyed you wont elaborate on the joke, but his attention returns to the film the two of you were watching, he was watching, you were too busy in your own head.

It was the regular movie night the two of you shared, you would order pizza, beetlejuice would scare the piss out of the poor delivery guy, and the two of you would stay up till the early morning watching B list horror, all the while the demon had an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side, he would claim he did it cuz he was cold and you were warm, and under normal circumstances you didnt mind, but now? You felt like you were gonna die, you swore the demon could hear your heart pounding away, or feel the warmth from your face, god couldnt tell you were in desperate need to deal with your pent up frustrations could he? Hell you wanted the ghoul to absolutely rail you on the couch, and you're pretty sure he'd do it if youd asked, but you werent that type of person, nor did you want friends with benefits relationship with beetlejuice, if anything you wanted something more romantic, as cheesy as that sounds, a loving relationship with a literal demon, I mean the two of you DO get along nicely, so maybe it wasnt too out of the question?

You were so busy in your on head freaking out you didnt hear beetlejuice trying to get your attention.

With a poke on the cheek you yelp in surprise

"You sick or something?" He smirked, amused by your cry

"Yeah, feeling alittle dizzy" you mumble avoiding the ghoul's eyes, he was leaning into now, his face way too close to yours, he had no idea what personal space even was, and you were in no state to deal with his clingyness unless you wanted to cum your pants infront of a jackass who'll never let you forget it.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed early" you shift away from the demon and up off the couch, he huffs in annoyance

"Really babes? You got the day off tomorrow, how bout you relax here with me, I dont mind if you doze off on me~, I'll keep ya nice and cozy all night~" he purrs, eyeing you up and down, if you werent wet earlier you were sure as fuck were now, you swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your legs together and squeak out a soft "no thanks, I think sleeping in my bed would be ideal, I dont want to make you sick or anything, I mean If i am sick, night" you babbled as you scurried to your room.

With the closing of the door you were home safe in your room, not safe enough to jerk away these annoying pent up sexual feelings, yes you could be quite, but beetlejuice was nosy and had the nasty habbit of appearing when you least wanted him to, fantasies of him walking in on you then helping you finish is one thing, but in reality? Its terrifying.

You can stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror and snear "horny dumbass" you mumble as you plug your phone into its charger and slip in bed hoping tomorrow these frustrations would vanish.

Beetlejuice stifled a laugh at your exit, one of his favourite things about you was that you were a terrible liar, he could read you like an open book, that's how he found out you liked him and not just in a sexy way, he saw how much you liked him as a person, even though he wasnt one, you treated him with genuine kindness and wanted him around, not strings attached, that in itself was rare, a pretty little breather like you having the hots for a smelly creepy old guy of a corpse? One in a million, and he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it go.

He knew you liked him, and yes he's seen you masturbate more then he's willing to admit, but seeing you so turned on you looked like you were gonna explode? That was new, and he'd be lying if he wasnt a tad turned on by it at all.

Let's be honest beetlejuice knew he was winding you up all week, he wanted to see you're cute flustered expression, but soaking your panties? That was a bonus, he didnt think youd get so hot under the collar by his games, he was actually quite flattered that he had that level of effect on you.

The ghoul quietly floats over to your bedroom, pressing an ear against the door, nothing, he frowns, no sounds of soft panting, or the muffled buzz of your little vibrator, nothing. Maybe he was asking for too much, hoping youd have the guts to jerk one out while his presence was known, but no, no little peep show tonight.

As much as the demon would love to slip into bed with you and catch some Zs, it was still too early to do so, you'd still be awake, and in your current state would be pretty jumpy, he floats back over to the couch to wait it out, despite his creepy nature beetlejuice occasionally had these moments of respecting you and your feelings, it was odd, maybe the maitlands were rubbing off on him.

Beetlejuice spent most of this time waiting for you to doze off just staring at the ceiling as he reclined on the couch, he pulls a clock out from his jacket and gives a small smirk, enough time as finally pasted for you to be out and for him to slink in.

The ghoul fazes his way through your bedroom door, seeing you fast asleep, he smiles, floating towards the edge of the bed and with the snap of his finger his striped suit vanishes leaving behind nothing but a pair of stripe boxers.

Beetlejuice gently pulls aside the covers to reveal your sleeping form, you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, and with further inspection a pair of boxers, that were hidden by the shirt.

The ghoul slips in beside you and sighs at the welcoming of your warmth, the ghoul pulls you close being ever so gentle, trying not to wake you. The demon settles on the position of you using his soft chest as a pillow, your body pressed up against his side, and an arm around your shoulder with his hand on your upper back.

Beetlejuice let's out a soft sigh, this, this was nice, the feeling of warmth from your living body against his cold one, you were so soft, and warm, and alive, and you were all his, you just didn't know it yet. The ghoul couldnt help himself, you made him feel so wanted for nothing, of course he was going to fall for you, soon he'll get you to confess your feelings to him and then things will be perfect, but until that day, the demon was fine to snuggle with you, and get satisfaction from you in anyway he could.

His musings of your future love life was cut short with a soft whisper, it was unintelligible, but it was from you.

The ghoul stifled a laugh, you were talking in your sleep again, something you did often, but rarely was the demon able to make out what you were saying.

"What's up sweets? You okay?" He chuckled, hand running up and down your back

You mumble in response

"Oh, what's that? You need mr beebleboose to help you out?"

You hum

"You need me to rub your clothed vagina? Oh, y/n you naughty minx, is it because your so pent up from my little game of teasing-"

The ghoul's mirth was cut short when he felt the soft touch of a warm hand against his clothed dick.

"Whoa, babes, y/n ah-"

At first beetlejuice could have mistaken the first stroke as a slip of the hand, but another? You were gently rubbing his crotch in your sleep.

The ghoul quickly changes his hue to electric  pink, and bites his knuckles to try and stop from moaning out as your warm hand continously brushes clumsily against his cock, now fully erect, it was embarrassing how quick the ghoul's meat rose to your touch alone.

"Sugar, you're not playing fair" he groans before bucking into your touch, this wasnt fair, you're dead asleep and playing him like a goddamn fiddle, was this karma? Was this his punishment for making you hot under the collar? I mean as far as punishments go, it could have been worse, but having you touch him in such a way, and not being able to do damn thing about it? Still drove the demon nuts, god slash satan he wanted to wake and rail you, though he knew you would die of embarrassment if you found out what you did to him in your sleep, so here beetlejuice was, stuck between a tock and a hard place.

"Bee..."

The noise nearly stopped the demon's heart, if it was still pumping, beetlejuice glances away from the ceiling over to you, which thank God, you were still asleep, just rambling again.

The ghoul lets out a soft sigh of relief before you interrupt

"Faster?"

The demon nearly dropped his jaw at what you uttered, though he clenched it back shut when he felt your soft hand squeeze his cock through his boxers.

"Harder?" You mumble

"Y/n please" he whines softly "fine, you win babes" he ghoul groans before begrudging brushing your hand away and pulling his painfully hard cock out of his boxers, the ghoul gently guides your eager hand back to his desperate meat, which you gently take hold of, the demon stifles a moan at the rush of warmth of your soft hand against his hard cool cock. Beetlejuice slowly begins to guide your hand up and down his shaft, all while he pants and and moans, hips trying their best not to buck too hard and wake you.

"Oh y/n, theres nothing like doing the stranger, especially if you already know them huh?" He chuckles between pants

"You like that?" You mumble in a whisper

"God slash satan yes" the demon whines, he wanted this for so long, he would have preferred you be awake, but he wasnt going to punch a gift horse in the mouth.

His hand guiding your own began to pick up pace, running up and down his shaft, stopping at the base ever so often to give it a light squeeze.

"Is this good?" You sighed

"Sugar you have no idea" been groaned biting on his knuckles

As good as beetlejuice was at edging he knew he wasnt gonna last long, the warmth and softness of your hand was gonna be the second death of him.

He was in heaven, or as close as a born dead demon was gonna get, but he was brought back quickly to reality when movement beside him.

The smallest squeak of movement from the mattress followed by a soft whine from you, if the ghoul's heart was still pumping it would have stopped by now.

This was it, he was done for, you were gonna see his dirty transgression and banish him forever.

Seconds pass and there was nothing, no screaming, nothing.

Beetlejuice let's out a sigh before returning to guiding your hand up and down his desperate erection.

But you move you body again, a soft bump against the ghoul's side, and another bump, then another, followed by a soft whine from you.

Were you trying to get off?

The demon smiles and stifles a laugh, here he was tending to himself while his sweet little y/n was desperate for a release of their own, what kind of lover would he be if he was to leave his favourite breather hanging?

Beetlejuice moves his free hand from your back, and softly slides it between yours and his bodies, slipping it gently between your legs, where it was greeted with a great warmth. His cool fingers gently press against your clothed sex, he could feel you were already wet, you've been hot under the collar all week due to his teasing, the demon couldnt help but smile at how this was all his doing, with another press against your clothed folds, you let out a soft whine and gently buck up against his hand.

"Bee" you whimper

"Y/n" he sighs, returning his other hand into guiding yours up and down his leaking cock.

Many a nights has beetlejuice dreamed if this exact situation, although in his fantasy you were awake, but this was good too.

"Want me to make a mess honey?" You whined

At this point the ghoul was close to his limit, it was if you could read his mind "oh yeah baby, help daddy make a mess" he groaned using your hand at a more brutal pace, chasing his own orgasm.

"Fuck y/n, that's it, that's it doll, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty hand baby" the ghoul babbled before finally cumming, his ectoplasm splattering all over your hand and the sheets that hid his dirty deed from view, moving you hand away from his now spent cock.

Beetlejuice takes a moment to bask in the after glow, before finally coming down from his sexual high to help you finish.

His attention now, 100% on you, a slight increase in pressure on your crotch as he rubbed, you whined and bucked into his hand, mumbling his name.

Beetlejuice took this opportunity to be a tad more bold, slipping a finger up the pant leg of your boxers and into your soaked vagina, he shivers at the new sensation, warm, wet, alive.

He slowly begins to pump his finger in and out, while his thumb eagerly runs at the clit.

It didnt take long for you to finish ether, due to how tightly wound you already were.

"That's it doll, cum all over my hand, eye for an eye right?" He chuckles

With a gasp and a few messy movements from you hips you cum, coding the demon's hand in your juices.

You slowly stop your thrashing and you panting dies down to soft breathing.

"Was it good for you too?" The ghoul snorts removing his hand from your crotch and bringing it to his mouth, sucking the lucky finger that explored your entrance.

Electricity leaving his hair, but remining pink, content in his late night activities, he snaps his fingers and his cum covering your hand and sheets vanish, as nice a thought was to have you sleep in that mess, youd be furious, and he couldnt have you finding him out just yet.

"Good night y/n" he sighs giving your forehead a soft kiss before dozing off.

Bonus

You woke up groping around for your phone, 10am, you huff, you start to sit up before being yanked back down, into the arms of the demon who snuck into you bed again.

"Wheres the fore babes? It's your day off, come play with old mr beebleboose~" the familiar coo of the undead bastard you welcome into your heart graced your ears.

"Morning beetlejuice" you sigh

"Sleep well doll? Feeling better, you sure were hot last night~" he teased giving your cheek a pinch

"Yeah, I am feeling better..." you trailed off, clearly amazed that you really DID sleep off those frustrations "werid dreams though.." you mumbled

Beej immediately perked up at that "oh~" he leans in nuzzling his face against yours "care to elaborate babes?" This was gonna be good, you were gonna be a cute flustered mess again.

You snort "dont get too excited there Bee, it's not like that, I was standing in the living room shaking a can of pop" you say flatly giving a jerk off type of movement with your hand, the ghoul's eyes grow wide at the gesture, tips of his hair turning pink "you were there, sitting infront of me, I tried to talk to you, but you didnt respond, I just kept shaking the can, till my arm hurt, then I opened it pointed directly at my face, spraying pop all over myself, then the rest is kinda fuzzy..." you trail off knitting your eyebrows together ad if you were trying to remember.

The demon let out a loud cackle causing you to flinch

"Oh babes, guess that dream helped you release all that tension huh?"

Your face burns when It clicks, rubbing you legs together and feeling the familiar feeling of a recent masterbation session, you didnt cum in your sleep did you? God, let's just hope beetlejuice wasnt awake when it happened...

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 9

A/N: Hello! It is finally time for some more Frankie! I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: drug and alcohol mentions; mild smut (18+ only)

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I love you, Honey Bee,” Frankie’s voice was soft and warm in your ear, still thick with sleep. You murmured your gentle agreement as you buried your face in his chest. His body was warm, as warm as you remembered as he held you tightly in his arms, legs tangled together. You reached up and ran a hand through his soft curls, wondering if this was a dream or reality. It felt too good to be real. 

“Francisco,” you finally opened your eyes and his dark ones, your grin matching his own, “you’re so warm and soft. I don’t want to get up.”

“Then don’t,” he insisted as you nodded, leaning up and pressing your lips gently against his. His large hands found your waist as he pulled on top of him, earning a small sound of approval from you, “stay.”

“Only if you promise to stay too,” you insisted, nuzzling your face against his as he quietly promised the same, “don’t go away again. I’m your girl. I’ve always been your girl.”

His arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you to him, feeling all of your bare skin against his. A tear had rolled down your cheek, which he quickly wiped away before tenderly cradling your face. The way he looked at you with such pure adoration in his soft chocolate brown eyes was enough to make your heart melt. He was studying you with fervent intensity, that you could tell a million things were going through his mind.  You wondered how you’d ever managed to walk away from him...you should have followed him, you shouldn’t have spent the last twenty years without him. It should always have been the two of you. 

“I’m not leaving,” he whispered gently, tracing the tips of his fingers over your face, “never again. I swear it.”

“I love you,” you reached up and grabbed his hand in yours, holding on it like you were afraid that if you let it go, he would disappear, before bringing it to your lips and kissing it, “I’ve missed you so much. Even if we were just silly kids back then, my love for you was real. Always, and if we could go back I would have followed you anywhere.”

“I would never have asked you to do that,” he insisted, a hand going to the back of your neck as he pulled you down towards him, “it would not have been fair to you.”

“I would have done it anyway,” you were firm with your answer as you looked at him soft, sensitive eyes, “an imperfect life with you would have been better than a life without you.”

“What did I ever do to deserve to be loved by you?” he whispered against your lips before you kissed, gently but with a sense of urgency, “will you let me love you?”

“Always,” you promised gently as his ran his large hands down your sides before settling them on your lips and pulling you flush against him, “I’m yours, Frankie.”

“And I am yours,” he promised as you buried your face into the juncture of neck and shoulder. He reached down in between your bodies, touching you where you needed him most, where you could already feel your arousal pooling. His touch was gentle, as he ran his fingers through your soaked folds, causing you to moan into his soft skin. 

“Francisco,” it was but a breathy whisper against, like the sweetest music to his ears as you lightly bucked into his touch. He whispered soft praises and reassurances into your ear as he pressed kisses against the side of your head. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him tightly, pressing kisses along his jaw, as he delicately pushed a few fingers inside of you. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered as he turned his face in order to capture your lips with his. His kisses were still as soft and gentle as you always remember, leaving you wanting more and more. If you had any say in it, you would have never ever left his arms again, “my sweet bee.” 

“I love you,” you nuzzled your nose against his before delicately kissing it, “I need you, please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked as you nodded. His heart felt his heart skip a few beats at your gentle, tender willingness, but continued to touch you and kiss you. He was moving slowly, deliberately and gently so as to not hurt you, and it was enough to leave you almost breathless. 

When you knew you were ready, you reached down to find his hand, moving it gently out of the way, before lining him up at your entrance. It took a moment but you slowly sunk down on him, the two of you moaning lightly at the feeling. Frankie had a look of pure adoration on his face as he watched you with reverence before pulling you back down against him. He wanted to feel all of you, to feel every inch of your skin against his. You both had so much lost to make up for and Frankie vowed to memorize every touch, feel, and sound you made. 

“You are perfect,” he whispered as he started to move under you, setting a slow and gentle pace that you felt no need to increase it, “you are so perfect to me - for me.”

“Francisco,” you pressed kisses along his jaw and neck as you moved with him, “you feel so good, so perfect. I love you.”

“I love you,” he held you tightly in his arms, as a few tears rolled down your cheek. They were not tears of pain or fear or worry, but of love. It had been so long, so much time that you had been waiting for this - for him. It was like your heart, your soul, had always been waiting for him and only him. It had never felt the same with any else as it did with him; it was like the two of you were meant to be together and no matter what, the universe, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, was determined to do. You like that idea - the idea that your soul was forever entwined with his, that you were meant to be. His was your home and you were his, “don’t cry, my sweet love.”

“I’m not sad,” you promised, “I-I just...I missed you. After all this time, I know it’s been you.”

“It was always you,” he promised, gently kissing away your tears, “you feel so perfect...I love you.”

“I love you too,” it was a soft declaration as your vision started to get hazy and the warmth and fire between your legs was getting to its peak, that tight coil in your belly threatening to snap, “I’m not going to last, Francisco.”

“Me neither,” he whispered, “it’s okay. You can let go, I’ve got you. Always.”

“Always,” you agreed as you closed your eyes and buried your face in his chest, feeling your climax wash over you. You whispered his name over and over like a prayer, like it was the only you knew how to say. Frankie held you tightly as he found his own release, following closely behind you. You could feel him inside you as he slowly stopped moving and you both worked to catch your breath, “oh Francisco.”

“Honey bee,” he whispered softly as his grip around you loosened and he moved a few stray looks of hair out of your face. You grinned at him, working your kisses up the column of his neck and only stopping one you got to his lips, pressing a kiss to them before beaming at him, “how I’ve missed you. Nothing could ever compare to you.”

“Nor you,” you opened your mouth to say something else, but were promptly cut off by the loud buzzing of your phone on your nightstand. You groaned heavily before the two of you burst into laughter before you kissed him and snatched the phone, “shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asked you looked at whatever was on your screen. You slowly rolled off of him, landing next to him with a soft thud as you quickly typed away, “work?”

“Yup,” you said as you gave him an almost pleading look, “I’m afraid I’ve lost track of time, and am running late for an appointment.”

“Shit,” he said as a wicked little grin crossed his features, and you could help but mimic it, “is it bad if I said I’m not even remotely sorry?”

“Not at all,” you promised, giving him one last little kiss before sliding out from under the covers and heading for the bathroom. When you turned around, you found Frankie watching and staring at you with pure reverence, “I’m not one bit sorry…but unfortunately I do need to go. If it wasn’t so…”

“Relax,” he insisted softly, “I understand. Your job is very important. Besides, it’s not like this was...planned. I’ll see myself out.”

“You can stay,” you promised, “as long as you want. Are you working today?”

“No...I’m off for a bit,” his response was normal, but you could tell there was something...off, “I’ll be home.”

“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to watch Daisy today?” you asked as grabbed some clean clothes from your wardrobe as he sat up and nodded, “she really likes you and it might be nice for her to be around you and away from me for a bit. I can pick her up this evening, or you’re welcome to stay.” 

“I’ll figure it,” he offered you a small smile, “I’ll let you know what we end up doing. Are you free tonight...for dinner? I can make dinner or we can go out or get take out…”

“Whichever works for me,” you grinned at him, “maybe we can get take out. We still...we have a lot to talk about, Frankie.”

“Yes,” he agreed as he got up and came over to you, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “you better get going. You don’t want to keep them waiting much longer…”

“I’m just going to take a quick shower, care to join me?”

“I’m afraid if I did that, it wouldn’t be a very quick shower at all, “ he joked as he grabbed his clothes from the floor, “go on. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Goodbye Frankie,” you said softly, running a hand through his mused curls, “goodbye for now, anyways. Just for now. Not forever.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The minutes slowly bled into hours which painstakingly slowly turned into the majority of your day. You'd tried your best to keep your focus on your work, which today consisted mostly of some paperwork. At least that way you weren't taking away from anyone that actually came to you for help.

You felt like a giddy school girl again, young and carefree - happy. The smile that hadn't reached your eyes for what seemed like ever, finally did again. You looked and seemed truly happy. It wasn't just about the sex or the intimacy, it was everything. Everything you had been missing on and craving for so long seemed like it was slowly coming to you. That alone was enough instill such a sense of hope you within you that it was almost scary.

You'd exchanged a few texts with Frankie here and there, nothing of significance, but enough to make your heart race with excitement each time his name popped up.

Never in a million years would you have thought you would be in this position...and yet here you were. And something about it just felt right. Natural.

By the time you left the office you were giddy and starving. You called Frankie and were ready to ask him if you should pick up take out when you quickly learned that he had beaten you to the punch.

When you got home, Frankie was still at your place, unpacking the containers you quickly realized contained Chinese food. It made the whole kitchen smell delicious. Next to all of that was a big beautiful bouquet of a rainbow of tulips.

"Hi," your grin was stretching from ear to ear as you were greeted by Daisy running up to in sheer excitement and Frankie offering you a warm smile.

"Hi," he grinned back, "you're just in time. I got back a few minutes ago."

"Better not be Panda Express!"

"Absolutely not," he insisted firmly, "this is from the best Chinese place in town. And flowers for you, of course. Daisy helped me pick them."

"My favorites," you whispered as you went over and lightly touched some of the dainty petals, "you remembered."

"Of course I did," he whispered softly as kissed the top of your head, "I hope you're hungry, I went a little overboard, I think..."

"Starving," you grabbed a plate as you surveyed the spread in front of you, "especially after this morning."

"Cheeky," a light flush rose up in his cheeks as he piled up both of your plates, "some things never change."

»»————-　♡　————-««

As he finished loading up the plates, you went to the fridge and grabbed out a few beers, making quick of popping the caps off and taking them to the living room, setting them down on the table as you waited for him. 

“Too casual?” you asked as he sat down next to you, setting the plates down. He shook his head as he took the beer you offered him, pausing to clink it against yours before you both took a sip, “to new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” he agreed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. Daisy made a small sound of content as she settled into her big fluffy bed, a new bone in her mouth as she looked between the two of you.

“Is that...a new bone?” you snorted with laughter as you looked at him with a crooked eyebrow and he sheepishly nodded, “ahh, she’s already got you around her paw.”

“Look at that face,” he groaned defensively, “how am I supposed to say not to her?”

“You don’t,” you agreed as she gnawed on the bone, “why do you think she has all those toys and beds?”

“Soft hearts win over soft hearts,” Frankie said it so quietly you almost didn’t hear him as you turned on the television and put on some random show on Netflix. You doubted you would be spending too much time getting invested in the show it didn’t really matter what you put on. You still had so many things you wanted to say to him, to ask him, but you figured it would all happen in due time. 

Dinner was delicious; Frankie had been right that it was indeed the best Chinese place in town. Conversation flowed freely and in many ways it was like no time at all had passed between the two of you. You discussed some simple things, things that the made the two of you laugh, and deeper things, events and situations that had happened to both of you that made your heart ache for the other. 

With Frankie, things were easy, you didn’t have to think about them. You wondered if it would have always been like this. You definitely wouldn’t have minded if they were. 

But there was one thing still on your mind that was starting to slowly drive you crazy. The past two times you’d come across Frankie, he had been...completely out of it. You had your suspicions as to what was going on, but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was, you wanted to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Maybe your fears were for nothing, maybe it was nothing and you were overreacting…

“What’s wrong, sweet bee?” he asked as he gently nudged your leg with his. You swallowed thickly, setting down the beer and turning to face him, “you’re thinking very loudly.”

“Francisco,” as soon as his name spilled from your lips in that tone of voice he knew something was up, and he was not a stupid man and never had been. Frankie knew exactly where you were going. He exhaled sharply through his nose as he focused his attention on you, “when I found you at your house last week...and then the other night..what...what was going on?”

The shift in the air in the room was palpable, and the tension in the air was so thick you could have sliced it with the dullest of knives. He was silent for a few moments, hands on knees as he squeezed them lightly. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he seemed to be at a loss for words. 

“Please, Frankie...you can tell me anything,” your voice was soft as you moved to reached over and grab his hand, but he quickly moved out of your way, shifting so you weren’t able to touch him. You were so surprised by his action that a small gasp left your lips as recoiled, “Frankie? Baby, please talk to me...if there’s something going on, you can tell me.” 

“It’s nothing,” his voice was sharp; biting even. It was a tone you don’t you had ever heard from him...not since...not since the day he had told you that he was enlisting, “it’s not a big deal, so just let it go.”

“It’s not...Frankie,” you set down your beer on the table and angled your body towards him. He stiffened, visibly trying to avoid your eyes, “it’s something that’s affecting you, obviously it’s something. You don’t have to hide anything from me - I can help…”

“It’s nothing, and it’s not affecting me,” he said softly, his voice losing the edge as he stared at the floor. His throat felt heavy and thick, constricting as he desperately wished you would let it, “don’t just assume you know it’s affecting me when you have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I know enough to know you’ve had at least two bad trips, Francisco,” you could sense that he was trying to shut you out but you desperately hoped you could turn this conversation around. Now that you had him back, this gaping hole in your heart felt like it was finally filled again, you didn’t just want to let him go. Not without a fight anyway, “I found you lying on living room floor, high and out of it, Frankie. You came to my door high and barely able to stand. Tell me I’m wrong, tell me there’s nothing.”

“It’s not a problem,” he insisted sharply as you crossed your arms over your chest, unsure if you wanted to argue back or cry, “it’s not a big deal-”

“Then why did you come to my door, crying and apologizing to me?” your voice shook as you reached over and grabbed his face in a firm but tender hold. His dark eyes studied you as his lip trembling, “if you need help, I am here for you, but I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, baby.”

“Stop,” it was somewhere between a plea and a command as his large hands found your wrists and pulled you away from him, “stop. I am not your patient, you don’t need to try and psychoanalyze me.”

“I want to help you!” you insisted as he stood up, running his hands over his face in exasperation. Before you could try and stop him, he started heading towards the door, grabbing his jean jacket from where it was draped over one of the stools, “Frankie! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he stopped at the door, turned around to face you. His eyes were glossy with tears that were threatening to spill over as your own were already rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t even bother to try and wipe them as you watched him, mouth open as you tried to figure out what you wanted to say.

Don’t go. Stay. Please don’t leave me.

“Frankie,” your voice shook with every syllable, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m not blaming you or whatever. I just want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on with you. I am here to support you always.”

“I don’t need your support,” the words were laced with venom as a deep frown etched itself on his face, “because there is nothing going on. It’s not a problem or an issue.”

“Francisco,” you could tell he was blatantly lying, either unwilling to confide in you or admit he had a problem, “two times in the time we’ve been reunited you’ve been completely gone. Please just...talk to me, that’s all I’m asking.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” he insisted and you could feel your heart breaking all over again. This time your heart wasn’t hurt for yourself, instead it was aching for him. You wanted him to be okay, wanted him to be the best for himself, “you’re making a big deal out of nothing!”

“Then why did not mention it to me?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” he almost shouted, “you don’t get to come back into my life and then just do this!”

“Do what?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, treading carefully in order to keep him from running away, “care about you? Want what’s best for you? I love you, Frankie.”

“You don’t know,” he inhaled shakily, expelling his long breath slowly, “you don’t know what’s happened, what’s been going on...you’ve been gone.”

“Yeah?” you put your hands on your hips, unsure if you wanted to hold him and remind him that everything would be okay, or if you wanted to slap some sense into him. But in the moment, you could feel your own temper flair up, “and who’s fault is that, Frankie? I’m not the one who gave up everything and walked away!”

“I know that,” he said as he hung his head, “I know that! And I have regretted that decision every single day. I shouldn’t have...but you...I called, and you never called back. I waited for your call for so long…”

“What did you expect me to do, Frankie?” you shouted back at him, “we talked and we didn’t and then months went bye and nothing. I couldn’t wait forever. I couldn’t put myself back together and then have it come crashing down again. I couldn’t do it anymore…”

“Did you even...did you listen to my message?” he asked as you met his eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to control your emotions.

“No,” you admitted, “I deleted it.”

“Y-you deleted it?”

“Yes,” you shrugged, “I never expected to see you again. I didn’t want to have my heart broken more, Frankie.”

“That message was everything-”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you dabbed at your eyes, “you would have still been and I still would have ended up here.”

“I…” his hand was on the knob as he stared at his feet, pulling his signature cap back onto his head, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry….”

He opened the door, letting a cold rush of frigid winter air as your heart sank. You wanted to run and stop him, but you found yourself rooted in your spot, “don’t. Frankie, don’t go.”

“I can’t stay,” he almost choked on his words as your eyes widened in surprise.

“Please don’t walk away,” you were begging him at this point, not caring how pathetic you sounded, “don’t leave again. Stay. Please.”

“We’re only going to fight…”

“Then stay,” you rushed over to him, reaching for his hand on the knob, “and let’s fight. We can figure this out.”

“I can’t,” the words caught in his throat as he started to walk out of the door, his hand slipping out of yours, “I can’t do this to you. You deserve….the world, Honey Bee. I can’t give you that.”

“I want you,” you insisted, “I want you and only you, you are my world, Frankie! I don’t care about whatever you’re going through, we can figure it out, anything, together. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he turned to you and offered the weakest ghost of a smile, “you are everything. Please don’t forget that.”

“Frankie, don’t walk away,” you called after him as he slowly got further and further down your driveway, “Frankie, please! Please come back!” 

But he didn’t. He didn’t turn back and look at you for even a moment. He just kept walking until he was gone. 

Just like that, Frankie was gone again. 

Your lips trembled as you turned to walk back inside, slowly closing the door and locking it. Tears were running hot down your face as your vision grew bleary. You didn’t even make it to the living from leaning against the wall and slumping to the floor. Your whole body was shaking from your soft sobs as you tried to contain yourself. Had you just made the second biggest mistake of your life?

You heard soft footsteps as Daisy gently padded over to you, nuzzling your face gently with her snout as you wrapped your arms around her. She was calm and patient as she let you cry into her, offering you the occasional sweet kiss to try and make you feel better. 

“Daisy,” your voice was dry and cracking as you scratched her ears, “thank you for being there for me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Her tail wagged lightly as she sat down next to you. Her eyes were soft and gentle and it was almost as if she was trying to communicate with you. Sometimes you wished she was able to speak, just to hear what she wanted to say. But this time...you didn’t need her to - what she was saying was loud and clear. 

“You’re right,” you told her as she made a small sound of acknowledgement, “you’re right. I’ve lost him once, but I’m not going to lose him again. I can’t - he’s...he’s everything. And I’m never letting go again, no matter what.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas

Frankie Taglist:   @misslolasworld  @annathewitch  @synystersilenceinblacknwhite  @mrscrain-x7 @jaime1110 @lokiaddicted @prettylittlegoldfish @heythere-mel @mrsparknuts @mrpascals @agingerindenial @knittingqueen13 @wickedfrsgrl @rogueonestan @i-ship-it-ironically @lv7867 @heyitmelexie @lordmotherofcats @godohammers @stitchers-in-stitches @none-of-your-bullshit @ghostwiththemostbitch @computeringturtle @hayley-the-comet​ @bex-03​ @emesispo @wille-zarr @driedgreentomatoes @mrsdaamneron @laymegentlytorest

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier #afterglow

[slothgiirl]

the trash pile: alex turner x reader

The cybernetic augmentation juts out from her temple, leading down to her chin, the metal a dull grey. Nothing says belter more than slap job augmentations, Alex thinks as she smiles at him, reaching out with her hand to him.

He takes it.

She's pretty from what he can see from the dim yellow lights in the club. The augmentation somehow complementing her already well formed cheekbones. A mess of bleached blonde hair falling down her shoulders.

And she's already offered, dragging him out onto the floor shamelessly. He'd rather dance with a beautiful woman than stand around drinking and having to listen to all his friends talk about people, things, he's unfamiliar with.

They've moved on.

The floor flashes bright blue to the beat of the music. Too loud to carry a conversation. Too loud to think. Alex can finally stop overthinking, what he's done since he landed on Tranquility base six hours ago.

Her touch is solid and confident, hands on his shoulders as she laughs, one hundred percent in the moment. He doesn't think he's ever been like that. Her ease is as natural as Alexa's charm.

His gaze flickers back to the table they'd been sharing, but they've dispersed into the club. He can't see a trace of any of his friends. Matt had long since left, having a ceremony to wake up for. "Tomorrow," he'd grinned, promising a night of debauchery.

"Hey," Taylor calls into his ear, bringing his attention back to her, blue eyes like the sky back on earth. None of the gaudy recreations of sky broadcasted through the colonies. Mars was said to not even bother, letting it's people grow up with an orange sky.

She smiles, tilting her head, before leaning in.

And wow, Alex really has been alone for too long, as her lips on his send his heart beat into a frenzy. Blood rushing in his ears like a teenage boy all over again. It isn't real, but he thinks in that second he loves her.

Alex always has been a romantic.

They leave the club together. The corridors are still red for the night. The one thing he hadn't missed. Even Ceres had better artificial lighting mods.

"I've got to go to work," Taylor tells him bluntly, "but you should give me your number. I think we could have a lot of fun together." She looks at him with hopeful eyes, biting her lower lip. He wants to kiss her again.

But, he'll be gone the day after tomorrow. The entire base holds too many ghosts for him to feel entirely comfortable. It makes him keep looking over his shoulder, expecting Josh or Julian. Two people he's long since lost touch with.

"I'm actually not staying that long," he admits as she leads them through the corridors. Alex can still recognize the alcoves he and Matt would take smoke breaks in. Which turn would lead them back to the lifts. Another life.

"That's a shame."

He chuckles. Before his mind catches up with his tongue, "wait, did you say you're going to work now?"

"Yeah. Its so fucking boring," Taylor says, stopping besides the lifts. "Coms graveyard shift." She rolls her eyes.

"I don't blame ya," he admits. Alexa had worked the coms. She'd always complained about having to go thirty seven floors below, bundled up in jackets. Since it was less populated, the government enacted more energy saving features.

"Maybe we'll see each other again in the drift," she grins suggestively, right as she steps into the lift.

Alex watches the doors closed, before he turns around, deciding to go find an open store. He could go for some more coffee while he's here. Maybe even stock up on it. It shouldn't be hard. The Base wasn't a residential area. Tourists were coming and going as well as SFN members.

There was the launchpad.

He lets himself wander. Too buzzed to be as tired despite the early call time he has in the morning. It would be just his luck to miss Matt's big promotion because he'd overslept after having traveled a month to be here.

It's not hard to find an open bodega. The open sign flashing green in the dim of the night.

Maybe he should've gotten the night vision implants after all. Miles never shut up about it. How easy it was to make his way about different colonies even during night cycles. And you could only tell if you were looking for the little silver ring around the iris.

Alex slips inside, making a bee line for the food. It's been hours since he last ate. At this point a cup of noodles and instant coffee sound like a dream. He gets the little powdered donuts as well. Then goes for the liquid milk creamer.

Who knows when he'll next have that option. No one had yet to figure out how to increase cows milk production in space. And powdered never tasted the same.

He looks at the fruit. Incredibly overpriced since it's a bodega. But apples and oranges. . .Alex could still remember the taste of fresh squeezed orange juice his mother would make. She'd cut them all open, let him squeeze the juice out before sucking on the pulp.

Alex grabs the smallest oranges.

There's no reason not to splurge. He has the money for it. And work is never hard to come by with his skill set. There's a large market for the skills SFN ensigns have, but most of those ensigns just stay with the navy.

He turns to go pay for his small haul, but the sight of a woman staring out of a faux porthole stops him in his tracks.

Her profile could not hide how beautiful she was, her gaze caught by the live feed of the earth on the other side of the moon. Romantic dark eyes gazing into the side of the bodega, her questionable egg salad sandwich forgotten in her hand. The bump in her prominent nose only served to make her profile more striking.

"That's not actually the earth," Alex starts gently, catching her attention. "Ya know." She turns to him, trying to hide the fact that she'd jumped, startled by his presence. And doing a damn good job at brushing off the surprise.

He was right. She's beautiful. Well formed full lips. Her dark hair tucked a braid, looking better in trousers and patched up hoodie than most people could dressed to the nines. Her shoes stick out from the casual ensemble, patent red leather with a split toe. There's the hint of dark circles under her eyes, probably from a missed nights sleep.

And a scattering of light scars like stars by her left cheekbone.

"I know," she responds, "I just never thought I'd ever be this close to the earth."

"You could take a trip to the other side and see the real thing," he muses, unable to hide the longing in his voice. Alex knew in his bones he'd never step foot on earth again. Never walk the streets in Sheffield or London again. But he couldn't help but wish for a miracle.

She shakes her head, the warmth in her eyes receding as she closes herself off. "Can't. Have to meet with a friend and then go back."

"Must be a good friend if you've come all this way."

She shrugs noncommittally, "He's more of an acquaintance of a friend. I've never actually met the man. But things being as they are," she explains, "it's best done in person."

Alex is now intrigued, a red flag raised in the back of his mind that still flies away information happening in the corner of his eye just in case. It makes him a damn good private investigator. "Mysterious."

"Forgive me for not spilling all my secrets to a stranger," she notes, arching a brow.

He can't help but chuckle. "Ya got me there love. Let's try something else."

"Like what," she asks, the corners of his lips turning up.

"How are you finding our moon?" The moon might not think it was the earth's, and the government sure wasn't, but the moon still spun around the earth the way it had for millions of years.

"Disappointing," she admits, frowning, "Ceres is livelier. And would it kill them to use brighter lighting?"

"Austerity measures," Alex shrugs. It had been the answer for as long as he'd been alive.

"From what," she asks, tilting her head, a smirk forming on her lips, "there's no war or reason for shortages."

"Just repeating the party line," he admits.

"Well," she raises her sandwich like a sad little white flag, "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you."

"Can I get your number?"

Surprising him, she shakes her head, "No. I doubt we'll ever meet again. I don't plan to stay on the moon for long."

"Lucky for you," he counters, following her to the sales woman, built like a rugby player, "I'm not from the moon. So there's hope yet for our paths to cross."

She snorts, digging around her pockets for money, slowly building up a pile of change to pay with. "Let me guess," she says knowingly, as her eyes look him over, taking in his hair now curling past his ears, the navy blue sweater and white shirt combo that had felt smart earlier but had wrinkled in the course of the night. "you're from earth."

Alex answers bashfully, "born there." He always felt like apologizing for having been born on Earth. For having spent his childhood breathing in air without a care. For not knowing how precious an atmosphere was.

"Well I don't plan to go to earth," she trails off, waving her receipt away.

"Neither do I." He hands the lady a bill too large for what he's bought and follows her out the door, not bothering for his change. "But I take it there's no way I can convince you to give me a number?"

"None."

"How about a name," he offers. Alex had not seen one person that he'd bothered to chase in years. And here she was, indulging him as though he was a stray puppy she had fed once and now followed her around in hopes of more scraps.

"Yours first," she snipes back, not missing a beat.

"Alex." He doesn't ever bring up his last name. Too much weight. A famous family. And an infamous past. Being just Alex was a luxury.

"Tisiphone."

A name fitting for someone born in the jovian system. Maybe even Dione. But Dione, while a newer colony, wasn't bloody awful for someone to want to leave. It had to be-"Titian," he guesses. The wild west of space. SFN cadets hated getting assigned there. Johanna had said the worst part was the perpetual twilight.

Too many crevices to hide in.

"Yes," she responds, "and hopefully never again."

"If we ever meet again," the romantic in him already imagining them crossing paths in a Callisto settlement, planting trees for the rest of their lives and learning to work wood, "can I take you out for a cuppa?"

Tisiphone laughs, smiling tight lipped, "If it happens then I'll say yes earth boy."

** ** ch 2

The ceremony drags on.

They all sit, gathered around the Kennedy Hab, the first large permanent building on the dark side of the moon. The benches are as uncomfortable as ever, as Alex gazes down at a sea of navy uniforms all with various ranks on their right shoulders. He's seated right next to Alexa. The boys down there somewhere with Matt.

It's an SFN event so Alex's paranoia is right for once. The second glances the captains and commanders threw his way were knowing. They recognized him.

It sets his teeth on edge.

Alexa pats his knee, comfortable around him despite their shared history. Johanna besides him with her fiancé. They both keep glancing at each other, infinite in their whispering. He wants that.

"I'll throw hands at anyone who says anything," Alexa reassured him. Looking especially nice in a long red dress. She's not single. But it clearly isn't serious enough if she didn't bring him along to celebrate her friends.

"That would make it worse," Alex responds, keeping his gaze forward, careful to keep his face neutral. It usually wasn't a problem. That being his default expression. But this was bringing up events from his past he's long since buried.

"Derek was supposed to be here," Alexa says to try to distract him, "you would've liked him. Life of the party. Miles and him had a one night stand and now we're all friends."

"Well that's not saying much considering Miles will sleep with anything."

She laughs, "True. But even Nick gets jazzed to hang out with him and you know how hard it is to get close to Nick."

"He's just careful about who his friends are," Alex acknowledges. Unlike Nick, Alex was just terribly bad at opening up.

Nick was just picky. "That says something good about little old me." Alexa twirls her hands over her head. Sticking her nose in the air. "Not such a mess after all."

"You've never been a mess," he tells her, watching as they begin to call up all the newly minted commanders. Matt shouldn't take long. H being closer to the front of the alphabet.

"Yeah but I've never been particularly good at anything but charming my way into things," she shrugs shamelessly. Alexa wasn't the type to lose sleep over her insecurities.

The Admiral present at the ceremony, Marcus Kapoor, speaks clearly over the microphone, "Commander Matthew Helders."

Alexa and Johanna both stand up, yelling, "congrats!" Alex claps as loud as he can for a beat longer than the rest of the room as Matt shakes hands with the Admiral.

Alex remembers his own ceremony seven years ago now. It had been a smaller affair. His entire career accelerated by his talent.

He swallows back the bitter lump that forms in his throat. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk, his father had often told him back on earth.

Try telling that to anyone who doesn't live on earth: most milk is powdered in space.

He finally lets his eyes search through the crowd, trying to spy the man who'd once been his great mentor and friend. But if Julian is present, Alex doesn't see him among the uniforms. He's sure that he'd know Julian anywhere. His hair perpetually sticking out wildly like he'd just woken from a nap, streaks of color running through.

It was a welcome sight from the mandated navy and neutral colors the SFN preferred. Everything was done to keep the SFN neutral, trying to avoid any conflicts between the colonies. And especially between Mars and Earth.

Unable to wait, Alex asks Alexa, "did Julian come?" Julian and Matt had never been as close as Alex had been to the older man, one of the rare people to turn down a promotion. But Alex thinks Julian still would've come and cheered Matt on.

Drinking at bars until morning talking about life and chatting about their mutual obsession with vintage terran music cemented friendship like nothing else.

She frowns, lines forming between her brows. "Captain Casablancas?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, a nervousness creeping into the lining of his stomach. Julian had also been the only person present during the incident that had chosen not to testify. If he had, Alex had agonized long hours over that large IF, he'd probably have been given a far harsher sentence.

And it looked like the man had finally accepted the rank of Captain.

Alexa places her hand on his arm, doe eyes settling on his, before gently attempting to break the news, which given what she was saying, was impossible to break gently. "You haven't heard?"

"No."

"Julian's dead Alex," Alexa explains, her hand anchoring him to reality, even as his world lurches, "some accident with a faulty seal."

Fuck.

What the bloody hell!

Alex clenches his jaw. Julian deserved more than dying in a preventable accident. He was, and remained the only person to have jumped tracks at the SFN, going from maintenance to exploration.

"I'm sorry," she tries, patting his arm with her hand. "I know you two were close. This is sort of the worst way to hear the news isn't it?"

"How long ago," Alex asks in lieu of responding to her. Julian. Alex could hardly call him a friend anymore.

By the time he'd worked up the courage to message the man, Julian hadn't bothered responding at all. A cold message that Alex could understand.

He hadn't tried to contact him again.

"Three weeks."

Alex nods, fixing his gaze on the stage. The names being spoken, called up on stage, meaningless now that Matt had gone.

He'd been traveling to the Base.

No one had bothered to tell him.

They make their way down to Matt, navigating the crowd who are also here to celebrate their relatives and friends. Alexa led the way, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter.

Jo and her fiancé hold hands. His eyes never leave her form as she leads on.

Alex frowns.

He'd thought. . .he'd thought, when Matt had first met him upon arrival at the base's landing pad, that he could slide back into his old life. Pick up where he'd left off. Maybe get a job here permanently.

Alex hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he'd sat around and watched all his friends eat and drink. Easily communicating with each other they way only tightly knit groups of friends could. Finishing each other's sentences.

They had once been like that with Alex. But years in between meetings left him out of the loop. It didn't help that he had chosen to self isolate. Choosing to take jobs that left him without a permanent home, spending his free time tucked into various hotel rooms.

"Alexander Turner," a voice calls out.

He turns, faced with a black woman in a sleek khaki green suit, a moon police officer uniform. Her hair is as sleek as the press of her suit. Dark curls dusted with grey hairs.

"Yes," he asks, halting with great hesitation. The last time he'd dealt with the moon police, they were ensuring he was under house arrest during his trial. For his safety they'd told him over and over.

"I'm Major Gabriela Moss," she tells him, sticking her hand out with great formality. "If you'd please come with me," she continues, as he shakes her hand. "There's a job I'd like to discuss with you."

Swallowing any nervousness he has, he nods. How bad could it be? Probably some white collar crime that the police don't want to deal with. Alex could stock up on lots of coffee with the money. "Lead the way."

She takes him to the precinct, located next to the base. Tranquility Base fell under SFN jurisdiction. But the residential areas ringing the building were left to the MP 505 precinct.

Her office is just like every other police office. Bright disorienting lights. Cream walls, with no decor. A desk bolted down to the floor, in case the artificial gravity malfunctions. And a photo of her wife and kids tilted just out of his view.

"What's the job?" Alex wonders if some idiot tried to rob the casino that was right within the base’s building. Trying to steal from SFN was asking for it.

"A man was found murdered in residential bloc 571 this morning," she explains, lighting up her monitor. A photo of an older man with a walrus mustache came up on the screen.

"Isn't homicide your department," Alex asks, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Usually," Major Moss admits, back straight, hands on the desk. "But this man had a false identification bracelet. According to our records he was born on the Moon. But when my officers requested his file from the Bloc listed, nothing appeared."

"You think he was hiding?" Only criminals bothered to falsify ID bands. But why the moon? He could see why a fugitive from the law or a crime boss would come to the moon, but to stay here this long?

Even earth was easier to get lost in, among billions.

"Yes," she surmises, "and for quite a few months. How he's gone undetected this long is a mystery."

"So you'd like to save your skin and sweep this all under the cover." Alex can see a coverup as it happens. The MPs would be humiliated at having let a fugitive run wild for this long.

But, he probably wasn't a criminal if he spent this long without so much as a word. Probably fleeing loan sharks back on some asteroid. Maybe from Titan.

The murder must have landed yesterday. Within the week at most.

"Will you take the job on," Major Moss asks, "there's more information I have if you agree to take on the case."

Alex sighs. He's intrigued. But taking on this case would mean spending more time on the moon which is both a good and bad thing. He hasn't had a proper chat with any of the lads since he last saw Matt on Vesta nearly two years ago now.

But he isn't exactly at ease this close to SFN. At least in the belt, there's lots of stations with little to no navy presence. Callisto's base was generally isolated from the rest of the population due to the way in which the colony on Callisto had developed.

A man's dead.

And from what he can tell, Major Moss would be more than happy for the case to go cold and never have to explain to her superiors how a man went undetected for so long.

But why bother?

Alex can't understand why the man needed to falsify his identity only to sit around. Unless he wasn't a criminal but innocently caught up with the wrong crowd.

It happened easily enough.

"Why me," Alex asked, still considering how suspicious it looked that the MP were giving away a case just because of the implications the man's murder had. The IDB read Sidney Trojan which made Alex laugh a little inside. Whoever had made the ID had a certain sense of humor. "I'm sure you've read my record by now."

Major Moss nods, leaning back in her metal chair, "Mutiny and treason are certainly high charges. But Mr. Turner, If I am being frank, I am more concerned right now with keeping the peace in my precinct. The last thing I want is any belter extremist to start making baseless accusations about how someone who is more than likely one of their own was treated."

"I'm not a belter." Alex had spent enough time among belters to know, no matter how much time he spent on Vesta or Pallas, he'd never be one of them. Being born and raised there was what made you a belter for the rest of your life. Johanna never bothered to hide the augments along her spine, jutting out like filled out ports. Held her chin up proudly despite the harassment she got, and proceeded to destroy them all in combat training.

"But you have spent time among them," the woman argues, revealing how little she knows and understands about belters. Major Moss had probably never left the moon. Never spent time amongst people in the belt, in the places the SFN never went. "My men are mostly from here or earth. You're my best option."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't seem like a trap to lock him up after all these years. Just a very ignorant MP major trying to do her job. "Alright," Alex nods. "Show me the surveillance tapes."

The older woman smiles, but no warmth reaches her eyes, a picture of cold professionalism, as she ignites the screen. The tapes start playing almost immediately. The night vision casting everything into grayscale in the corridors. The older residential buildings hadn't anticipated the amount of people that would live on the moon, the walkways connected the blocs only fitting three people at a time, a nightmare in an emergency. They were colorless concrete slabs, the metal having long gone dull.

Time stamped to 05:46 am.

A single figure appears, walking into bloc 571, looking like any person would after a long shift. In jeans and a loose hoodie, holding a very sad convenience store sandwich. A profile he wouldn't soon forget, complete with split toe boots.

Tisiphone.

Alex tries to justify her appearance. The death hadn't happened until 7 am. She must've been meeting her friend in one of the habs in the bloc. But he'd never been one to discount a coincidence.

It seemed that they would be having a chat sooner than anticipated under less than favorable circumstances. He just had to track her down.

His eyes watch the screen as the time ticks by, creeping closer to the time of death.

She claimed to be here to visit a friend which could very easily have been a lie to cover up meeting her potential victim. Tisiphone hadn't been here for very long, no one would willingly choose to eat convenience store sandwiches if they'd spent time here to get other food. Alex wasn't discounting the possibility of her commitment to looking inconspicuous at 5 in the morning, but then, if Sidney Trojan had feared for his life there would've been a struggle.

Someone would have heard in those older habs.

The time stamp reads 6:24am.

Tisiphone leaves the bloc, taking the passageway leading back to Tranquility. Mr Trojan would still be alive. Did she have an accomplice? Or is Alex making the wrong connection.

The time stamp reads 7:46 am. Mr Trojan would've been dead by now.

7 am was hardly the time for a murder to be committed. People going to work. So many witnesses. They must have been desperate. But the tapes proved useless to narrow down any suspects. Too many people, a perfect crowd to hide in. So there was that advantage. As well as, "I need all the records of the passenger manifests arriving for the last three days on the dark side of the moon and today's departures."

"Alright," she replies, holding out her hand.

Alex hands over his com. Letting her synch it up to her system and sending the files over.

"Good luck Mr. Turner."

This time, Alex does roll his eyes as he leaves her office.

Tisiphone had claimed to be from Titan, so that's the first thing he checks. Three days sound about right. He also highlights any belter arrivals. But apart from one family two days before, no one has come from the belt.

He finds the name he's looking for. Tisiphone Velazques, arriving from Hygiea the same night he had. Born on Titian twenty two years ago according to her IDB. It said a lot about how pathetic Alex was that he was currently finding a potential date on a suspect list.

She might still be innocent. But she was the only lead.

If she's a criminal, she'll be staying off grid, not wanting to leave her IDB just anywhere. But, being through, Alex checks Tranquility Hotel anyways, sending a message.

Want to surprise my girlfriend T. Velazques. It's our anniversary and I got back from a trip into Tethys four sols early. Has she checked in yet?

People were really stupid and easily fooled. Alex had learned that in the last few years.

Then he checks his messages. Twenty seven texts from his friends. Two missed calls from Matt. Shit. He'd forgotten all about Matt.

** *** ch 3

Matt clasps an arm over his shoulders, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about Julian. I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it."

Alex considers coming clean, but decides letting Matt think this is about Julian is easier. "No one tells me anything anymore."

The taller man sighs, "you must think I'm a wanker for not even telling you. Julian always asked me how you were doing you know."

Alex shakes his head. "I tried-It doesn't matter anymore. I just think it's bloody awful to have died so young in an accident of all things."

"The idiot engineers better have been court martialed," Matt comments, as they follow behind their friends to a bar in the casino. They've all been casting looks towards Alex when they think he's not looking, like he's a bomb about to go off.

Things can never go back to the way they were.

They get a few pitchers of beer. Singing Matts praises at every sip, taking the piss about how he's going to be the worst commander ever. Alexa's boyfriend, looking tall, dark and handsome, slips into the conversation with ease while Alex, drinks and checks his phone for a response.

"Alexa's boy toy," Johanna mutters under her breath to Alex. "Does the books for one of the gambling halls."

Alex nods. But finds he doesn't care. All that earlier anxiety about his leftover feelings for Alexa, his first love, gone when he realizes there's no sting as she turns to kiss her boyfriend.

He looks down at his com, refusing a refill of beer when he realizes the hotel's written him back. With a digital key and their congratulations. There goes the supposed privacy and protections hotels were supposed to offer their clients.

But this meant he was now leaning to Tisiphone being innocent. But he could tell she was connected to Mr. Trojan somehow. A gut feeling that t9ld him he was barking up the right tree. She might be able to tell him who would want the old man dead and why.

Alex excuses himself from the celebration, pointedly ignoring Nick's suspicious gaze as he leaves.

He stops and picks up a bottle of wine and a quart of strawberries, each the size of his smallest nail with a hint of red at the tip, just in case anyone in the hotel decides to verify any of his information. He can play the part.

Alex presses the elevator up to floor 10, brings up the key on his com, when the machine asks for verification.

The doors slide shut and Alex tries to formulate a plan.

He can't frighten his only suspect-link to the crime. A man was murdered and if he doesn't solve it, justice will never be served. It's his good conscience that's going to get him in trouble all over again.

The hallway is empty.

A tacky red coat of paint that's made worse by the orange lighting. The crimson hue edging towards black. Hardly a happy atmosphere.

Alex runs his hand over the rail, a vestige from the days before antigravity, as he makes his way to room 1004.

Unlike the lobby, the floor is still metal plates welded together. Shiny compared to the rest of the place.

The casino had seen better days.

And more occupied days.

Hesitating outside the door, he places an ear near the seal, hoping that Tisiphone isn't there. It would give her the advantage if she turns out to be the murder.

Better for her to be out. Gives him a chance to look around.

He takes a deep breath and unlocks the door with the key. It slides open smoothly, revealing mustard walls and a plush navy carpet flecked with gold. There's a small bed on one side of the wall, a black backpack laying carelessly on it.

The small cabinet looks untouched, but Alex still goes through every drawer, making sure he misses nothing, peaking into the bathroom and combing the medicine cupboard.

There's a needle and dental floss. A complimentary bottle of toothbrush tabs laying in its side.

Needle and floss.

For an injury, Alex surmises. Perhaps a fresh one that Mr Trojan had managed to inflict while defending himself? It wasn't the easiest way to treat an injury, but it was the way to go if you didn't want to draw any attention.

He slips back into the small main room, and begins to go through the backpack. It looks standard issue, the fabric a vegetable leather nylon mixture that wouldn't be out of place in an SFN pack. But he doesn't recognize it from any planetary police force.

Inside there's a plasma gun with two full charges. Shrapnel in a jar. An extra shirt along with a lined jacket, also black. And a small copper data box.

He checks the jackets pockets, finding two extra IDBs. Both blank.

It's all very incriminating.

And he didn't think to bring a gun along himself.

Alex removes the charge from the plasma gun, using the pillowcase to ensure he doesn't wipe away any fingerprints, tossing both of the charges into the bottom drawer of the cabinet. And leaves the gun on top of the blanket.

Then he takes a seat and waits.

No one would leave a gun with no plans to come back and get it. Plasma guns were hard to come by. Especially for civilians on the right side of the law.

It was just his luck that the first woman he feels any connection with, ends up tied up in criminal activity.

The whoosh of a door sliding open jolts him out of his thoughts.

Alex sits up straight, deciding he looks less confrontational if he's sitting down. Besides, years of training haven't left. His body still remembers combat maneuvers. He still wakes up at 0600 and goes through basic training like clockwork.

Even when he goes back to sleep right after.

A red boot steps inside.

Tisiphone holds a brand new pair of ear pods, still in their case. The moment she spots him sitting casually in her bed, her almond eyes narrowing in suspicion. Her grip tightens on the case, before she schools her features carefully blank.

In better lighting, the scars marring her cheekbones are more prominent. Flecks of silver against honeyed skin.

"'ello again," Alex says, giving a small wave, strands of his hair falling into his eyes with the movement.

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "Why are you here? Who even let you in?"

"I asked nicely," he explains, "terrible hotel service if you ask me. But as for why I'm here, you wouldn't happen to know who Sidney Trojan is?"

Tisphones lips form a tight line, her stance edging dangerously close to someone expecting a fight. Weight distributed well between her legs. "He's dead isn't he. Someone killed him."

" 'fraid so," Alex nods.

"Who do you work for?" Her eyes scrutinize him, as if waiting for him to strike.

Alex raises both his hands up in the air. "No one. The MP of the precinct where Mr. Trojan lived asked me to take the case on."

She doesn't move. "Earth then? Or some secret division of the SFN?"

It was a popular belief that the SFN held a secret military division. Especially among belters and martians.

"You don't seem surprised to hear he's been murdered," Alex observes, not missing a thing, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"Lots of people wanted him dead."

Tisiphone must have decided he wasn't a threat. She takes a step closer, waking into the bathroom and grabbing the meager supplies, tossing them into her bag, unbothered by Alex's presence right next to her. He's incredibly aware of the small distance between them as her hands make quick work of packing, ignoring the wine and fruit he'd brought: the small distance between her hands and his thigh.

But he doubts that there's a chance in hell she'll go out with him after today. She has the same determined look on her face Johanna had right as she'd punched him day 1 of hand to hand combat. A woman who doesn't take anyone's shit.

Alex snorts, "mind telling me who wanted him dead?"

"SFN. Earth. Mars. The Children of Prometheus. Park Vader's cronies back on Titan. Maybe even Park himself. Take your pick."

"Why," Alex can't help but ask, standing up as she slings her bag over her shoulder. If he lets her walk out now, he'll likely never set eyes on her again. And she has become his only connection to this man's murder.

He can't just let her go.

"He knew too much," Tisiphone shrugs.

"I can't just let you disappear," Alex tells her, sliding between her and the door. It was a dangerous position to be in. He keeps his hands up, trying to reassure her.

"Whoever killed Ivan is going to be after me too," she states, weighing her options.

"Let me help you."

She laughs humorlessly, "I'm long past help. I’ll only drag you down. And you seem like a nice enough man despite everything."

"Despite being born on earth," Alex guesses. War hadn't touched the system in a hundred years, yet there was a lot of bitterness from the colonies over earth. Over the imagined bountiful resources. The air, breathable unlike in so many other places.

He'd lived in enough places in the system to know that it was hard living in every corner of the solarium federation.

"Good bye Alex." Her dark eyes hold his gaze, waiting for Alex to step aside. He isn't sure how long her patience will last.

"If you leave the moon now," Alex threatens, "I'll have no choice but to find you suspect under the circumstances."

Tisiphone glares at him, "are you an officer? Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then you have no jurisdiction," she counters.

"But I was able to find you. I'm the only person who could've made that connection." Her shoes had given her away. Too distinctive for anyone trying to hide out, Alex notes. "Everyone else would've written you off. You played the part of a tired commuter perfectly. Your face isn't visible enough for facial recognition. And the timing is wrong."

"So you have to know I didn't kill him," Tisiphone observes.

"I do." Alex nods. "And I also know that you came here for a reason. I'm willing to bet it's why Ivan is dead now. Help me catch his killer and get some people off your back."

“Why do you care so much about him? He’s just another nameless belter to you people.”

He shakes his head, “because a man’s dead. He deserves justice.”

"How do I know I can trust you," Tisiphone asks, her knuckles relaxing their grip on her bag.

"I could've arrived here with the MP," Alex states, "but I'm here all on my own. Because I believe you're innocent."

She sighs. "Alright. I'll stay. But only for another twenty four hours. That's all I can give you."

He can work with that.

"Okay now let's get out of here. If I can waltz right in so can whoever killed Trojan."

"Ivan," Tisiphone corrects. "His name was Ivan Schlossberg."

"And is Tisiphone your real name," Alex asks.

She doesn't meet his eyes.

** ** ch 4

His hotel room is on the top floor. A half circle window looks out into the expanse. The grey panorama, flattened by robots, is broken up by the tops of other bloc, jutting out of the landscape like hills. The sun is the only recognizable feature in the sky. All the other stars and planets are too distant to be visible.

But Alex has the map of the system imprinted into the backs of his eyes. He could tell where earth and mars fall, navigating by stars like explorers of old, even with the slight changes that arise depending on where you were in the system.

Tisiphone looks out into space, eyes full of stars, as Alex interrogates her.

"Why would the UN or Mars be after Ivan?"

"I already told you," she responds evenly, her gaze still fixed on outer space, a melancholic quality that held none of the wonder people usually had when staring into the stars, "he knew too much."

"About what," Alex presses. Earlier she had named all the major players in politics. That which all SFN members despised because it made doing their job a nightmare of red tape.

Tisiphone looks over at him, turning her whole head towards him. "He was involved with the children of prometheus. Selling information. And Park doesn't like when his people decide to leave him."

It didn't take a genius to know what kind of information would be of value to the children of prometheus. "And your mutual friend."

She swallows thickly before answering. "Told me to find Ivan. That he could help me. I don't know anything more than that. Ivan was going to leave the moon with me and explain this later."

Alex doesn't believe that for a second. Tisiphone wouldn't have left so easily that morning if Ivan hadn't given her something. But he also knows when to let things go. "And why would they also be after you?" The usual targets for the children of prometheus were high ranking UN members or members of the Martian Presidium: the operating companies on the belt that treated their workers as expendable.

Tisiphone was none of those.

She takes a seat on Alex's current bed, her knuckles white as she grips the covers, studying the much more pleasant purple carpet. Not as matted or stained as the one in her room.

Her now shoeless feet revealing mismatched socks.

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen." She bites her lip as her eyes water. Alex forces himself not to look away, wanting to give her privacy. "Someone killed my friend and covered it up. And now they want to kill me."

He takes a step towards her, kneeling down in front of her seated figure, "I'm going to help you."

"You can't help me." Tisiphone shakes her head, looking straight at him, "you can only buy me time."

She flips through the stations as Alex combs through the flight records once more. He's isn't looking for random thugs. If this is a high profiled cover up the way she is alleging, then he needs to find a slicker cover.

He checks for any terrans that've landed here in the last few days. Any native mooners with no permanent address on record: the types of people that would easily fly under the recons. The least likely to be scrutinized.

Alex finds three profiles that fit the description. Two had arrived together under the IDBs Gemma and Nick Ryan. Siblings on vacation from earth.

They were passingly related, the same brown coloring. But Alex's searching gaze found no similar features. The bone structure was all wrong. Gemma's strong, squared. While Nick had a delicateness to his features that was absent in Gemma's.

They had the look of UN division operatives. A learned blankness that helped them slip from memory.

The third was on a flight from Ceres. An older asian man: Hugh Shen. There was no way he was born on the moon and had no records of living here. Alex knew most people born on the moon didn't chance leaving.

Opening for new immigrants were few and far between.

Then there was an oily quality that reminded him of many UN cogs that surrounded his mother like gnats.

In order to be sure that they are division members, Alex'll have to go to the scene of the crime. He knows the UN’s playbook. The methods that division uses. Growing up around his mother, he couldn't not have learned something.

Though Penelope Turner was an idealist, she was willing to do what was necessary to get the job done. It's why she was such an effective politician.

He coms Major Moss, letting her know he'll need access to Ivan's hab.

"Stay here," he tells Tisiphone. "Help yourself to anything I've got."

"Anything," she asks archly, "because I could run a bath. Never had one of those."

"Then by all means," he shrugs. The water bill was bound to burn a hole in his pocket, but going through life without knowing the laziness that baths inspired was no life at all.

She rolls her eyes, shamelessly combing through Alex's meager possessions As meager as hers really. Though he didn't have the excuse of being in hiding.

Alex takes the plasma charges with him.

Major Moss, along with another woman of medium build and asian descent, meets him at the entrance to bloc 571, the white paint having long since peeled off the metal walls. The orange lights flickered, needing replacement, as he walks beside her into bloc 571. He can hear the pressure seals around the door, as it slides open, letting them inside.

While the oldest blocs on this side of the moon, their shortcomings in cramped corridors were nothing compared to the space of the older habs.

Unlike Tranquility base, and the rest of the blocs on the moon, the lights inside bloc 571 were LED and white, the costliest to maintain. A knot of tension eased up in Alex's shoulders. His mind, despite the years in space, always unconsciously yearned for earth's natural light.

"This is officer Cong Xi," Major Moss says blandly, "she'll be taking you through all our available evidence. We're receiving pressure to wrap things up as quickly as possible. There are lots of people who want to move into a hub as spacious as this."

Alex snorts. That's what they cared about.

Cong nods, smiling warmly at him as she drinks coffee from her hot pink tumbler. "Nice to meet you Alex Turner."

Which meant she'd been briefed and knew all about him. There was probably a non-SFN version of his file on her com as they spoke.

Alex had never gotten the chance to read his file after the trail. His dishonorable discharge had left him without any credentials to ask for his file without heavy redaction if he got any response at all. He'd have asked his parents if he hadn't been a coward and taken the first ship to Vesta, hell bent on drinking himself to death.

"Likewise," he responds, realizing he's waited a beat too long to respond.

With that said, the Major turns on her heel, and leaves.

"Shall we," Cong asks him, waiting for him to follow. How did such a pleasant person end up working for the MP? Had to be an idealist. Or hadn't been working for long.

He nods.

Alex takes in the bloc.

The floors dull from nearly four centuries of feet walking over it. Not a scrap of white paint left. But the walls are covered with green plexiglass, an attempt to make up for the lack of actual greenery that hadn't been planned for in old models. Even Pallas had some weeds growing among the tangle of wires.

Each door is painted a different color, giving the neighborhood character. Ivan's hab is red, with a pattern of florals overlaid.

Officer Cong hands him shoe covers and a pair of gloves, "standard procedure," she tells him with a tinge of apologies interwoven in her voice, before she unlocks the door, letting them both inside.

Like most crime scenes, the place is covered with tape and plastic to preserve the integrity. But Alex can see the coziness that Ivan Schlossberg had built inside his hab. A glass top table with mismatched but colorful plastic chairs. Books covering a side table ranging from subjects like "Bloom: a guide to space plant maintenance," to "Catching Fire."

His desk is covered with bits of computer parts. Motherboards and processor chips. Different size screens, some with cracks.

This was the picture of a man who believed himself to be safe. He wasn't planning on running at the drop of a dime. So how had they found him?

Tisiphone had entered first.

Why not kill them both at once?

Or had they believed them both to be inside and cursed themselves when they realized the girl had gotten away?

As Alex looks about the room, noting no signs of struggle, Officer Cong studies him. Her gaze curious.

The mess of computer equipment makes Alex guess that Ivan tinkered with it to communicate with whatever group he was working with, likely using it to hack information from earth and mars. The rudimentary nature of his devices would have confused the much more advanced systems Earth relied on, massive data banks in the tundra chugging along. Ivan would've also had the flexibility of pulling the system apart and rebuilding it with different bits of code each time.

A waste of time, unless you were an old man with lots of time on your hands.

His collection of parts would've been written off as eccentricity.

"You can ask," Alex finally says, when he gets tired of the awkward silence.

"Are you really the mutineer?"

It was much better than being asked if he was that traitor. Particularly bitter belters had taken the liberty of making his days hell in the beginning, knowing he wasn't about to go get help from the SFN.

He nods, looking back at the door. Division wasn't above using chemical weapons. The seals on older habs built with the care of spaceships, no one outside this hab would've noticed. "The one and only," he finally says.

While there were lots of people who had problems with the SFN, it generally wasn't seen among rank and file members.

Cong hums, slurping her coffee.

Alex peels back the plastic over a particularly large pile of electronics, his eyes searching for something small, like a computer chip or drive that would be overlooked to the untrained eye. Toxic gases needn't be in large doses to pack a punch.

"I remember the trial on the net," she comments, "it was all my parents could talk about. My whole family really . . ."

A glint of copper catches his eye. Alex keeps his face neutral, letting Cong ramble on as he plays at looking at the body outline on the couch, as if he could magically find a guilty dust bunny, slipping the casing into his hand for later.

"-guess I was too young to care about that. Too caught up with boys and the latest hairstyles."

Alex nods, trying to pay attention. But with that casing, he's sure it was division. Certain mixtures created the same symptoms in the body as a heart attack. Given his age, it created the perfect cover.

But why come in and stab him after?

Who were they trying to frame-

They were after Tisiphone.

She had led them to Ivan, Alex's thoughts come together, each piece falling into place. They had watched her since she arrived. Which meant they knew she was headed to the moon, hence the two early dispatched division agents, purposely waiting for her to leave before killing Ivan, making sure she'd be the only suspect.

But their plan had gone to the pits.

They hadn't planned on Major Moss trying to burry the case. Or that Alex would be called on.

Instead of an easy frame job, it was a cold case waiting to happen. An MP officer would've just taken Tisiphone in. Assumed that the time of death was off due to some lab error and closed the case. But their plan had gone sideways.

"Find anything," Cong asks him suddenly, having given up trying to chat when it became obvious he wasn't listening. Though why he would make small talk about the event that had sliced his life into two distinct parts, he didn't have the foggiest idea.

Alex shakes his head, "thought the scene might hold a clue." He stands up straight, faking the appearance of disappointment channeling his mother's face when he'd come home with an F. "Whatever crime boss hired the hit must've hired a couple of top notch lads."

"Oh well them," Cong continues, holding up her com for him to read, "Major Moss needs us to come in. Apparently there's been a new development in the homicide."

Alex's chest tightens. God he hopes they haven't found Tisiphone dead. Or arrested her.

No. There's no way. He'd already be under arrest for harboring a criminal. No amount of goodwill would keep him out of prison this time.

Alex had to continue under the impression that she was fine. Because no one else had linked her to this case. No one had any reason to suspect her of anything at all. "Led the way then love."

Cong, like most girls (and some boys) since Alex had turned sixteen, blushes pink, before stepping around him and leading him back to the precinct--and to Major Moss's office.

The division agents who had landed on Tranquility base as siblings named Gemma and Nick, introduce themselves as, "Agents Barnes and Khan." They're already seated in front of Major Moss, only confirming Alex's conclusion.

The capsule in his pocket feels like a block of lead, weighing him down.

There's no way they know he knows.

Except they've been tailing Tisiphone since she landed. They might already know she's sitting in his room.

He needs to get off the moon. Alex had promised Tisiphone he'd keep her safe. And this case had just gotten much bigger than a homicide.

It was the type of cover up that required a neutral party to uncover. A High ranking SFN member that would do the right thing. Unfortunately Alex had learned the hard way that organizations were never as impartial and righteous as they claimed to be.

Bloody hell.

In between two impossible choices, giving Tisiphone up or calling his old mentor Vice Admiral Homme, he wasn't sure which was worse. Would Josh Homme even care?

Or was the UN's influence great enough to buy Homme's cooperation?

"I understand that Major Moss has made the mistake of handing a homicide to a private investigator," Agent Barnes says, smiling brightly as if she hadn't just flung shit at Major Moss, who to her credit, didn't even flinch.

"I'm the private investigator," Alex responds evenly.

"They've just finished informing me," Major Moss interrupts, smoothing down the lapels of her pants suit, "that they've identified the culprit."

Agent Barnes nods, then proceeds to do the very Earth thing of pulling out an actual paper file from a jacket and displaying it on the desk. "A career criminal from Titan named Tisiphone Velasquez. We believe her employer to be some drug lord that Mr Trojan was a long time customer of. When he got clean and moved to the moon, well. . ." Barnes trails off leaving a dramatic pause before clearing his throat, "Titian didn't forget his debts."

Ivan's hab was not the home of a drug user. Or a recovering drug user. He'd never been to Titan, to the city under the ocean, but he knew enough about drug lords to know that they had more to deal with than a customer with lots of debts on a colony as secure as the moon.

But Alex can see Major Moss eat up the story, her eyes gazing over as there's one less problem for her to deal with.

"Well Mr. Turner," Major Moss turns to him, "It looks like your services are no longer needed. I'll wire you the payment promptly. Meanwhile I'll circulate the perpetrators photo and have my officers be on the lookout."

"We will be taking custody of Miss Velasquez," Agent Barnes interrupts, "she has insider knowledge of a crime ring we have been monitoring for years."

"Of course," Major Moss responds, already typing out the paperwork.

He has to get off the base. He has to take Tisiphone far from here.

Alex turns to leave, reaching the door before he hears Agent Barnes mutter pointedly under her breath, "It's a wonder Ambassador Turner hasn't resigned out of shame. No clue how he can show his face in public."

Agent Khan coughs to hide a snigger.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. It's bait. And an obvious one at that. He has more than a few scars to prove how stupid responding to it would be, but they did just insult his mother.

"What did you just say," Alex asks through clenched teeth, not turning back to look at them, robbing them of the satisfaction. Mentally, he counts to ten.

He's not going to give them an excuse to place him under arrest.

Tisiphone is counting on him.

The fact that they're baiting him instead of just following him back to the hotel room is a good sign they don't know he's hiding Tisiphone. He tries to concentrate on the and not the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Tisiphone.

Her petite figure sitting on his bed, scrutinizing everything with an arched brow. The look in her eyes as she'd stared with a refugee's longing for their ancestral home at the image of earth, the green returning to the land after hundreds of long reclamation projects initiated by the UN.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with Alexander Turner," Agent Barnes replies patronizingly, "There is no further use for your services here."

Alex clenches his jaw, and walks out the door.

He lights a cigarette as he makes his way through the dim corridors, the orange fading into scarlet, stopping only to pick up supplies he imagines needing as they travel to space together. Not all at the same store.

Alex will have to get everything out of her, if he's going to throw in his lot with her and hope they get to the bottom of the conspiracy before they're arrested and killed. Or just killed.

What could be bad enough that the UN felt it necessary to send division agents after a woman?

The problem is the IDB has been made.

He's going to have to hope she can get another one quickly. Tisiphone, whose name is more than likely not Tisiphone as all, wouldn't have survived this long is she was stupid.

Fuck.

He really should just turn her in. Or give her a heads up and be on his way. Alex could be on Pallas in four weeks, having the most questionable weed in the system, laced with the hell knows what. Take a case every now and then. Finally make his way out to Titan.

Logan had been his favorite western growing up. Right after The magnificent Seven. He'd made Matt have stand offs against him for days after seeing it, pretending he could manipulate metal. And Titan was the new wild west of space. And still people flocked out to carve their little piece of real estate.

Humanity is ever expanding.

Alex has to press the lift button twice, cursing and lighting another cigarette when the lift's lighting system dies as he ascends up, connecting with Tranquility's passageways.

More than once, he has to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, sure he'll see an Agent following him. Hugh Shen had been absent from their little meeting. But that didn't mean he wasn't still skulking about.

Even the air changes from the corridors to the base. It's drastic compared to Ceres where the air quality is shit everywhere you go. The base has crisp clean air that didn't leave you all cotton mouthed for the wrong reasons.

From there it's easy enough to head to his room. Alex is already flicking through the net, looking for tickets to the belt. Or maybe they should go to Callisto. It was famous for being a no extradition zone: refusing to acknowledge any authority other than theirs and SFN's by extension. The relative safety was tempting, but he couldn't plan until Tisiphone told him everything she knew.

Alex wasn't stupid enough to think she wasn't holding something back. Her earlier explanation had been as vague as she could manage given the circumstances. He had no clue who her friend was. What she had seen other than a wrongful death.

There had to be a reason behind the coverup after all.

No government went around coverup murder for no reason. It just wasn't economical.

"You have to tell me everything you know," Alex tells Tisiphone in what he hopes is a commanding voice, as he tosses his bags on the bed, plopping down. His only shortcoming as a commander had been the complete and utter lack of confidence he had when giving orders. "Division has just shown up and thrown you under the bus."

Tisiphone's hair hangs down, damp as she listlessly scrolls through the catalogue of music offered by the hotel. She flinches at his words. "I should've left when I had the chance," she tells him harshly, uncurling from the settee and moving to grab her things. She jams her feet into her boots in one swift motion, clearly having been ready to make a run for it at a moment's notice.

"You're right," Alex tries, taking out the gas casing, ensuring the glint of metal catches her eyes. "It's a coverup."

"Obviously," Tisiphone scowls.

"I'm sure they've circulated your IDB by now," he continues, "they wanted to frame you for Ivan's death. I want to know what you saw so I can help you."

"Why so they can kill you as well," Tisiphone shakes her head, "No. . .no."

"What's so important that Division would risk breaking the treaty of Schiaparelli for," Alex asks, rubbing his temples. He wasn't a politician. The inner workings of government fell to the wayside of his thoughts.

There had been no major battles fought in a hundred years but relations between colonies were always fraught with tension over resources. Those skirmishes were usually fought in the Solarium Federations regulatory body, but Alex wasn't naive enough to discount the darker talk of division--their tendency to enhanced interrogation.

"Why do you want to help me so badly," Tisiphone counters, hands on her hip, glaring down at him as if he was the reason that Division had found her at all.

"Someone should," Alex shrugs, peering up at her. The line of her body fell naturally into a defensive stance, something that could only be so natural if she'd started training when she was very young. Tisiphone wasn't an innocent civilian, but she still didn't deserve to be disposed of. "And if I don't, they'll probably kill you and throw your body in some incinerator."

"Or they'll kill us both," Tisiphone replies archly.

"I'm offering you my help if you want it."

She peers down her nose at him, her lips pressed into a flat line, the slim line of her jaw fitting in perfectly with her feline features: a cat deciding if batting the toy was worth it. Turning on her heel, stepping into the bathroom, Tisiphone orders him to, "strip."

Smart girl.

It doesn't keep the burn from making its way up his neck as she turns the refresher, the low static drowning out any background noise as she takes a seat inside the fogged glass.

Alex kicks off his boots, gratefully that he'd actually kept up with his fitness all these years as he pulls his shirt off. There's still bruising in the crook of his elbow. He doubts she misses it as she stares up at him. It's a rush of relief when he notices the scarlet on her cheeks. This is embarrassing for both of them then, as he unbuttons his trousers, before taking a seat in front of her.

"Division blew up my crew." She starts with, staring at a spot behind him, her eyes welling up with tears. "They launched a missile and it tore their ship apart." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, shaking her head, "I'm sorry I just. . .let me start over."

"It's okay."

"Shut up Alex and let me tell this in a way that makes sense." She swallows thickly. Taking a deep breathe during which she closes her eyes before continuing. "My name is Vera Albaicin. I'm an agent of the Guoanbu. Sixty eight sols ago my crew was handpicked to participate in an interplanetary task force with the UN. It was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission. We met up with the other crew. Everything was normal."

T-Vera closes her eyes, her hands closed tightly by her sides, trying to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine. Alex wants to offer comfort, but he isn't sure there is anything he can do to make things better in this situation.

"I took an EMU suit to-it was a strange ship. More like a capsule or probe. I had just made contact when my ship was hit." She shakes her head, a desperation in her eyes at the helplessness she must keep on feeling. Not having been able to do anything to save her crew. "Space. They died in seconds. The thing is. . .the only people who would've known about the mission were the UN and MPC. Earth and mars."

Alex nods, trying to probe her as gently as possible because there is still one unanswered question, "how did you know to find Ivan."

The UN and MPC must have decided that the knowledge was better off lost after having sent a retrieval team. Something they didn't want anyone to know about it. That fact that mars and earth had cooperated at all was throwing Alex off. Weapons would make sense if it was just mars or earth. But together?

Vera shakes her head slowly, her gaze meeting his, an intense anger to their depth he had not seen before. She was digging because she was fucking mad. This was a woman seeking justice. "I can't."

"Vera," Alex utters, unable to look away, trying her real name out on his tongue. "My name is Alexander Turner. I'm kind of famous for breaking the law," he finished with a self deprecating smile.

Usually, the last thing he wanted a potential date to know was his past.

Her eyes widen, her whole body freezing up as she takes in the new information, pursing her lips in an attempt to suppress a telling gasp. But instead of recoiling in disgust as he expects her to, Vera reaches for her neck, revealing a necklace obscured by her hoodie. It's a cheap metal thing that must be of sentimental value.

She doesn't stop there, thumbing the ring at the end of the chain before meeting his gaze once more. This time there's no hard glint to her cognac eyes, but a woman at last having caught on to a life preserver. "Julian-Captain Casablancas told me to find Ivan. Trust no one-trust no one but Alex Turner," Vera admits, unable to hold his gaze. "He must have known what was coming."

It's a ring he recognizes well, a twin to his own commander ring. The classic exploration insignia: the atom. Every detail identical for Julian and Alex had received their rank at the same ceremony, only Julian had been eight years older. Already the man Alex wanted to be: wanted to be with. The man had inspired camaraderie the way a good leader should, and clearly he had managed it in a martian girl as well if she had come all this way on his word alone.

"Can I," he motions, aware of the closing distance between them. Between him and Vera. Vera. He had to get his head around that one. Same woman, different name.

No. Not the same woman.

This woman was a martian secret intelligence agent. Not some naive little girl.

She nods, closing her fist around the ring before yanking the chain in a quick motion. It snaps off. The sound like the hull of a ship nearing the end of its lifetime, creaking. Then drops the ring into his outstretched palm.

Without Alex having to prompt this time, still caught up in seeing Julian's ring, still warm from Vera's body heat, in his hand. Julian hadn't responded to Alex's messages. He'd assumed it was because of Alex's past, but now he was left to wonder if Julian had wanted to protect him by keeping away from him. Keeping whatever he'd gotten caught up in that had killed him away from Alex. Vera adds, "I was confused why he'd told me that, given me his ring as I got into the EMU suit but. . .Ivan told me that he was just the messenger. He'd worked for so many sides not asking questions. Earth, Solarium, Mars. They were all the same to him. So he decided that the children of prometheus had a point and got in contact with them. Relaid information. Ivan-he was going to tell me more."

But he'd died.

Vera looks at him meaningfully, "but he did manage to give me the coordinates that he was given by his CoP contact. In case he ever needed a safe house or extraction."

"He never-," Alex begins to ask, not taking his eyes off the ring. In his hand was proof that Julian had been killed.

"He never met his contact," Vera confirms. "But they're on Callisto. Some hippie hub." She rolls her eyes and what a martian thing to do. Look down on every colony not hell bent on terraforming.

Alex turns his gaze on her once more, seeing her in a different light for the first time. Trying to spot what made her a martian. As if he could spot in vitro augmentation just by looking her over.

But all he saw was a petite woman with a hollowness under her eyes. Her full lips pressed into a grim line. Hair slowly drying into waves, catching the light like oil on water. Despite Alex's new information about Vera, he was no less drawn to her.

There was no sadistic edge that spoke of oprichnik operatives who the Martian People's council refused to acknowledge existed despite all the mounting evidence about their methods.

His gut was telling him that Vera was telling the truth.

"One thing though," Alex points out, taking off his own ring for the first time since he'd first received command rank, a command long since stripped from him, and sliding Julian's ring on his finger in its place as he stands up. His mind was made up. He was going to help Vera uncover this conspiracy. Clear Julian and Vera's name. And maybe, just maybe, reclaim some respect on his name.

"What?"

"You said earth and mars sent you," he says gently, having encountered enough martians to know how loyal to their colony they were otherwise known as having bought into the propaganda, "but Division killed your crew.. ."

"Yes," Vera nods, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Then wouldn't both earth and mars have sent the missile that killed your crew? Or wouldn't have mars already used this as an excuse to advance their agenda?"

"No," she supplies, refusing to even contemplate the idea that Mars would've been complicit in such an act. "The Guoanbu wouldn't have killed their own. We're-they're not like that."

“Vera," he sighs, "there's nastiness under every corner, no matter how nice everything is on top you know."

She shakes her head again, averting her gaze, There wasn't much to look at on the walls, but she was making due.

"Let's just find ya another IDB and get to Callisto-"

There's a knock at the door.

Alex and Vera trade wide eyed looks, having taken the plunge off the same cliff with nothing but a string of brand new fucking trust between them. A dead man's word to go on.

Fucking hell.

Matt and Nick flank each side of the room's door. Nick's stone face offsets the mixture of parental concern Matt's features contain, sighing at Alex's appearance, sticking his head out the door. Vera hiding next to the door, alert to every word.

He has to wonder how good her hearing is. Martian's always messed with embryos biology, designing the next generation to be fitter. Could she hear down the hall? What the people in the next room were saying?

Matt steps forward, "jesus fuck mate," he shakes his head. "Can't respond to a bloody com now Alex."

"I told you I got a job," he protests, trying to remember if that was true. His friends had fallen to the bottom of his priorities quickly. Alex had a habit of self absorption with whatever obsession came his way. It had made him a terrific ensign, practicing the same maneuver for hours until he could do it with his eyes closed.

"No," Nick corrects, not bothering to move the curls out of his face, watching him carefully, "you didn't."

Alex sighs, but doesn't budge. They mustn't see Vera. Soon her face will be plastered all over the net as a manhunt begins. Her IDB must already be flagged for travel.

He had to make his rightfully concerned friends go away and quickly.

"Al," Matt levels with him, "I asked you to be here because you might as well be my brother. I knew when I did that it would mean coming back to the moon. That it would bring up a load of shit for you."

"We're worried about you mate," Nick explains. "You're still here. You won't talk to any of us."

" 'm fine," Alex mumbles, unable to hold eye contact with either of his friends. He looks at his shoes as he realizes how unfair he's been to them both in the last two days.

This trip was supposed to be about Matt.

He shouldn't be here worried that Alex finally went off the rails.

"Alex," Matt utters, placing his hand on the door frame, leaning in close to Alex. "You know you can talk to me. I don't care what you did or why."

"Really," Alex tries, because as much as he'd like to have this long overdue discussion, finally get to explain why--no one had ever asked him why, they'd just condemned his actions as w r o n g--he has to get Vera off the moon. "I'm fine. Just been in me head."

"That's what I'm worried about," Matt responds, eyes locked onto his, as if Alex could disappear at any moment. "You've always been in your head too much Al. And it didn't matter when I knew you were looking after yourself. Had me and the lads with you but-Alex you looked like utter shit back in Vesta last time I saw you, hopped up on who knows what."

Alex swears internally. They really knew when to pick the worst moments. He was actually doing good. "I know. . .," he tries to find the words that don't require him to have an emotional breakdown in Tranquility Hotel, aware Vera's listening in, "it's been rough. Some days worse than others but Matthew," he whines, "I really am good."

"For how long though," Nick counters, crossing his arms against his chest. It was a good point but Alex really hadn't been in the dark lonely place in months. Maybe closer to a year now. Progress.

Something about waking up missing shoes and jammed into the seediest by corners of an asteroid had lit a fire under his arse about moving on.

He hadn't even hit the agents earlier. They would've deserved it but who gives a shit. Alex will always be a mutineer but at least his hands were clean. His conscience is a white pearl like a meditating bodhisattva.

"Can we just go inside and talk man," Matt pleads, his shoulder resting against the door, clearly seconds away from shoving his way in.

Guilt wells up in his mouth. Despite having every reason to say no, Alex wants to say yes, the word making its way to the tip of his tongue at Matt's insistence.

It was Matt and he was Alex and he couldn't just deny him like this after everything.

Terrans were only allowed one child.

The law didn't keep Matt from being his brother any less.

"I can't," Alex sighs. "I just-you've given me a lot to think about."

Matt rolls his eyes, hurt flashing through his features as he takes a step back, "bullshit."

"Just open up the damn door Alexander," Nick tries, clearly having had it with trying to do things the nice way, realizing Alex wasn't going to budge on his own. "We're ya friends."

"It's been six years Alex," Matt added. "I thought you'd want to talk by now."

Alex shakes his head, "it's not always a straight line."

"Let's have this conversation inside," Nick insists, "who knows when you'll be around next Al. And now Matt has a command. . ."

Matt shoves his way in.

Alex had forgotten how hot headed he could be. The foil to his cool and calm temperament: translating Alex's lit to others. Not that Alex had much trouble verbalizing, necessity being the mother invention. He no longer took hours to get a sentence out of his mouth.

"Matt!"

"Don't Matt me Al," Matt retorts spying Vera in seconds, who's already fallen into a defensive stance.

Matt brings a hand to his face, pinching his nose bridge, before heavily sighing, "You've got to be kidding me Al. You're hiding a murderer now."

"She's no-"

"I didn't kill anyone," she tries, folding into herself, trying to appear smaller and innocent than she actually is. Vera tries to play at being Tisiphone once more. "It's all a misunderstanding!"

"Then turn yourself in," Nick challenges, closing the door behind him.

"Al," Matt says, placing his hands on Alex's shoulders, "what the hell are you thinking mate! They're going to lock you up for this and not even-"

"Matt," he interrupts, "trust me. I'd love to have a nice long chat but things have gotten. . .complicated and-it's safer if ya don't know. Just. . .trust me."

Matt stares back at him, mouth drawn. An entire childhood together on earth, their toes digging into the soil, tracking mud all over the floors. Later a shared adolescence, their accents charming the girls and boys at school, Matt doing all the talking and never leaving a painfully shy Alex behind.

He nods. "You better come back because we're having this talk even if I have to go visit you in prison."

"There are things far worse than prison," Vera unhelpfully points out, tugging on her jacket over her hoodie, the collar lined with actual animal fur. Given the martian rationing system, it was an untold luxury for Vera to own a leather jacket with fur at all. "I'd even take death over enhanced interrogation."

She pretends to tremble with fear, "anything but gravity."

Alex snorts in spite of the dark subject matter. "Not helping."

Ignoring the other two men in the room, Vera hands Alex one of the spare IDB's he'd seen in her bag earlier. Had it really been only hours ago? "Here's your IDB now. Alexander Collins. Born on Pallas. Married to Morgana Collins," she points at herself, already dispatching the old IDB off her wrist and throwing it in her bag. "Came to the moon to get married. Off to Callisto to make a living," she explains calmly.

"Short and sweet," Alex notes, looking down at his own wrist, the IDB a second skin. He hadn't taken it off since he'd left earth. Many colonies like Callisto chose to implant the ID chip.

It was the key to getting on any ship. His passport and last link to earth. His last hope at ever stepping foot on the big blue planet again, however slim.

Visas for foreigners pretty much nonexistent.

Nick hands him a swiss army laser, "I implanted mine." It's news to Alex who hadn't even noticed, Nick having always been a bit chilly, wearing long sleeves year round. " 's nice actually."

Matt dramatically covers his eyes.

Alex slices through the metal, leaving a band of unblemished creamy skin.

It doesn't last long, as Vera easily replaces it.

"You should keep it," she tells him, patting his arm like a parent half heartedly consoling their child after a pet fish dies. "We are planning on fixing things."

"Yeah," Alex answers, running his fingers over the band. He already felt less confident without it.

#trash pile #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #space opera fic i wont finish

[voidcat]

– The Old Jukebox

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader

Genre & Word Count: fluff & 1.4k

Synposis: As that time of the year rolls up, your friend makes a fuss of it again. All you want is to walk home through your favorite park as the old jukebox in the corner catches your attention and takes you to a dream of dances with a certain someone.

A/N: Happy birthday Linette!! and Happy (belated) birthday Bokuto!! I love u two<33

ps. i didnt proof read, lets hope i didnt forget any verbs<3

The day begins off rather quietly, without much of a fuss.

It’s expected, really, nothing special about it. Just like any other day, it goes on as you live it. It shouldn’t be any different just because some certain event took place on the exact same date ages ago.

Ages, you think, and try pushing back the thought. It doesn’t feel that long, neither has it been that long, certainly not filled with so much excitement, and yet using the phrase “ages” for any amount of time feels light in your head. It adds up to the dramatic effect.

So you get up, water the plants, wash your face and with a deep breath you begin your day.

As tasks move on and hours pass by, with breaks and little chit chat, tea here and there too keep you up, time rolls up to an end. Tiny greetings your way throughout the day, small smiles sent your way as well as good wishes, you cannot wait to get back home and drown in the save havens of your couch.

Before you can get the chance to pack up, your friend stands by the side and asks you out for a night. “It’ll be fun!” she says. Your vary looks tell it all and she guarantees “Not many will be there. Come on! Just a night out with friends.” A sigh of defeat leave your lips and upon your nod, she leaves.

Despite your worries the pub seems cozy and clean. One step in and you can spot the familiar faces. Although you don’t want many people, you hope you’re not the last and you decide seeing a certain someone will hurt no one.

As drinks start coming, two or three others arrive at last and the night begins, for them.

Uncontainable laughter fils the tiny space and rings in your ears, cheap snacks lunged at and finished in a second, the never dying sound of glasses hitting against each other, clink, clink, clink they go.

Staring at your glass after a while, you raise your head up to meet with the familiar tips of uncontrollable hair. Shoulders slumping when you see it’s tamed tonight, a little part of you hopes it’s for today and not for any other night-out.

“Come on, have another drink!” Yells your friend and few others. You’ve lost count of the times their voice got mixed up with strangers. Maybe that’s what they’ve always been, strangers.

With a shake of your head, you decline. As the classic “killjoy” comment comes, you reply. “I like to walk home and I’d rather do that with my head clear of any fog.” This seems to make them back off a little and they go back to another round of drinks short after.

At least there are no tacky songs or birthday music playing loud from the worn out speakers. The cast aside jukebox strikes your attention and you make sure to check it out next time you’re dragged here.

With your gazed focused on it, the chatter tones down and old tunes start playing in your mind. You can’t help but picture yourself dancing, imagine yourself swinging with someone by your side. Hands laced together, fingers intervening as well as hearts, a full laughter fills the air. It feels liberating to smile so freely, with no worries, finally doing whatever your soul aches for and asks for.

With the second laughter, not as filled with delight as the previous one, you’re snapped out of your dream and your eyes find his sadly. He seems to be talking with someone else, another beautiful smile decorating his face with the hint of something else, something you can’t name contrasting this portrait of happy.

And so the night rolls and streams flow, people scatter away one by one as the drinks increase in numbers. And with the ones in your booth looking mostly knocked up, you all get up.

Calling cabs for many of them, you hug your friend one last time and face the direction to the park.

A “Hold up!” Coming from behind, almost running to you, you wait. “Mind if I tag along and walk you home?” He offers with a trademark grin of his.

“Sure.” You say and begins the walk back.

“Doesn’t this make the walk longer?” He asks as you enter the part.

“It’s not the length but the quality of time that matters at hours like this.” You offer and walk ahead. With the long lamps lighting up the place, as the leaves shudder against one another, it’s only your and his breathing that reaches your ears.

With each step, your posture softens, your muscles no longer tense, face no longer in a forced mask; is that how taking your first breath like, as you enter this world, you wonder. As the lights illuminate the stars and blink once or twice, a melody pauses through your head and you hear it short after.

Barely a hum, a voice you are certain is not yours, you look to your side and see him swinging his head slowly to the song. Each rhythm and each note, the lyrics gaining a new life…

As he turns and his faces morphs into one of surprise, he gives you a shy smile and you realize you’ve been staring this whole time.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.” You speak into the night sky a moment later.

“Really? Didn’t notice, not like I do it intentionally.” Somehow his words sound softer than usual, you’re at a loss of what to feel.

Another moment of silence, you’re not sure for how long; and he adds as an afterthought: “It’s not like- too bad, is it? Me being quiet, I mean.”

You turn to face him with a smile reserved for him, only for it to falter. He seems down, or rather afraid. Is it because of the answer? Or stepping out of his usual cycle of things once in a while?

“No!” You almost yell, he gives a confused look. “On the contrary, I like seeing this part of you. This- unseen side of you.” As if your words bring him comfort like a warm blanket draped over his shoulders, his posture relaxes.

As the walk continues, a poke to your ribs make itself apparent, and looking to the side, you see his arm offered to you. Hooking your arm, your smile gets brighter as does his.

Steps fall into the serene rhythm of the night as you pace. Soon after he begins humming another melody, coloring the sky above you as you go. Steps carry the songs as they carry his hand to yours. Fingers interlacing oh so naturally, as if you’ve done this million times before.

As the pacing blooms into a movement completely new, your figures move with the rhythm. It feels cliché, seems like a daydream and for a moment you suspect if it is one, only to lose focus and trip on your feet for a millisecond. The pain indicates this is very much a reality.

More like a moment in between passings, when you tilt your head to whatever it is that comes from your headphones, only for the move itself to be barely acknowledged by those around, those who are not you… Another moment of hushed whispers and chocked up flowers. Of tiny laughs and shy smiles, slight movements but big dances in your hearts as you hold onto the same tie that binds you to life.

As the tiles of the park reach an end in the distance, you pay no mind. Instead you let yourself get lost in the warm embrace around, swing around and skip, sway and beam. The lights glow just like fireflies as the bushes resemble dark deep waters.

And when you spin once, twice, thrice; you never stop, never stop smiling, breathing, feeling. Feeling everything around, the melody inside, the smell of the old jukebox nearby, the notes gently caressing your ears. When you turn to face Bokuto again, you’re convinced your smile cannot grow any wider. And his to match yours, you lean towards one another. As you kiss, the warmth shared between the two, it feels as natural as the dance and the walk, just like fish swimming and bees buzzing, dancing from one flower to another as they bloom together.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuucreations #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto fluff #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x reader #hq bokuto #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x you #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #bokuto imagine #bokuto scenario #bokuto koutarou fluff #haikyuu writing #haikyuu fanfiction #gender neutral reader #reader insert #hq!! fluff #hq imagines #hq scenario #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine

[jyunshiim]

An Oath to Thy King༆

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Romance |

Themes:  Royal!Taehyun | Bestfriend!Beomgyu | Royal!au | friends to lovers | friends to acquaintances | rejection |

listen to: love poem | i hate to admit 

summary: Childhood friends face struggles and are faced with secret promises that no one knew about until her 18th birthday.

TW: a little suggestive but no nsfw

A King has been born. The palace was overjoyed with the birth of the new king who was ought to take the throne on his 19th birthday. The current reigning King’s smile painted across his honey toned skin beckoning all his servants to attend his wife. The palace was as blithesome as it had ever been, with servants, helpers and even some guards visiting the sweet, blessed baby boy, cradled in his mothers arms as she coos at him jubilantly. He was gifted many things by many of the King’s companions and people who worked for him and he helped. “One day son, you will take my throne and rule our kingdom,” he smiles at the child, his finger brushing against his soft cheeks “but for now, you are my little Prince Taehyun,”. 

A couple years went by and at the age of 5, Little Taehyun met his first friend. He was a year older than him but they got along from the first day bonding over toy cars and hide and seek. On a balmy spring day the little ones waddled and sprinted around the lavish rose bushes, hiding behind the hedges giggling gingerly before the other pounces out and startled the other. The would often tackle each other to the floor and tickle on another on the luscious verdant grass, sweet laughters filling the soft warm atmosphere. On Beomgyu’s 6th birthday there was a party at the palace on behalf on King Kang, since Beomgyu’s father was a close friend and a worker for him. The balloons were decorated around the dining hall and the guest lounge, blue and green streamers hanging from the tall ceilings and a little Taehyun excited about gifting his best friend a gift he begged his father to buy. When the king ordered everyone to assemble at the guest dining table, allowing the young Beomgyu to sit at the top of the table, he ordered his butlers to bring his gifts in but before that took place, you come running in with a box. Taehyun smiles ear to ear. “Father, yn is here!” he runs up to her and grabs her petite hand and pulls her towards Beomgyu and you tried to reach the table to put the gift in front of him but the King takes it from you gently helping you place it on the table. The gifts come in a Beomgyu’s smile was ever so precious. As the sun was pondering on the horizon, Taehyun, Beomgyu and you were sat on the balcony that was  connected to Taehyun’s bedroom; the view was of the kingdom and the fragrant rose garden just below him the the vine covered archway at the end of the garden. It was no regular garden, it was a garden that the king made for his wife before they got married hence why the archway was at the end with some green space. The you and the boys played together in Taehyun’s room as the parents were in a meeting discussing important matters. It was a warm evening, the ambience so enthusiastic, the warmth of the air embracing the three of the children on the balcony as they exchange gifts. “open your present Beomie” Taehyun giggled clapping his hands, his cheeks a light blushed pink and his honey orbs filled with pure happiness and joy. Beomgyu ripped open the silver wrapping paper swiftly to reveal a velvet box. Beomgyu gasped, the stars in his eyes illuminating his face and the smile growing on his face when he realises what it was. The box contained a bracelet made out of gold with the three of your initials on it, ‘Taehyun, Beomgyu and Yn’. Although, a little saddened you  looked down; a little disheartened you present wasn't as good but Taehyun comforted you. “yn! it’s okay! don’t be sad please” he frowns and hands you a little box too so the trio of you all had the same friendship bracelet. “OH MY- Taehyun thank you so much I love it so much we’re all matching now!” Beomgyu squeals in excitement. He opens your present and it was a crocheted teddy with ‘CB’ oh his chest with a little heart. “you are my best friends forever!” Beomgyu squeals with excitement as he tackles the pair of you to the floor. The two giggle under Beomgyu; “B-Beomgyu get up,” Taehyun giggles. “You have to call me Hyung i’m 6 and you’re 5,” Beomgyu plays around teasing him. “Yeah but IM a Prince!” Taehyun throws his stuffed cat at his head before it fell off the balcony. “NOO! kitty” Taehyun frowns whilst looking down from his balcony looking at his toy wedged between two rose bushes. “It’s okay Taehyun, you can get it tomorrow morning, your father said that you have to be asleep soon, we have to go,” Beomgyu frowns. As soon and Beomgyu uttered, rainclouds began to sheathe the blueish sky, turning them a dismal grey. Thunder and lightening began to arise, causing Taehyun and Beomgyu to become a little frightened. “hey, it’s okay! Beomgyu you have the teddy i gave you,” you point out before tiny Taehyun turns to you hugging you. “im scared i don’t like the thunder,” he whines. Your father and Beomgyu’s father wait at Taehyun’s door waiting for the pair of you to go home. “don’t worry, I’ll get kitty tomorrow,”. 

Six years later, your 10th birthday. You could remember this day almost perfectly as if it were a vivd dream that reoccured over and over again. The skies were painted a beautiful cerulean blue with specks of alabaster clouds dancing gracefully above you. The warmth of the sun grazed over your skin, gleaming over your slightly blinding you playfully. The bees buzzed around you and the joyous feeling in your stomach felt so exhilarating. “YN!” Beomgyu yelled as he saw you sitting in a slight daze holding your puppy plushie, sitting on your hand-built porch your father built; “happy birthday!” he smiled his puppy like features peering at her past the small gate. She skips over to him and opens the gate and he hugs her, as best friends do, and he passes you a little basket with some gifts. “I got you some of the best baked goods for your birthday as well as a little charm to!” he hands it to you. Your heart fluttered as if there were a million butterflies swarming inside. Beomgyu had always gifted her something on her birthday since they lived in the same neighbourhood but as for Taehyun, he wasn’t allowed out of the Palace as much as he was used to. Taehyun was often stuck in his tenebrous palace, studying ‘Royal etiquettes’, general studies, practicing fencing and also Korean literature too. It was tedious and at the age of 11 he barely understood the literature he was given but the King demanded he know each and every book inside and out. Taehyun would sit at his window seat each evening, gazing out into the nothingness of the town craving to venture into the main markets, the small forest and the mountain gardens just outside his palace. He held the leather book between his soft palms analysing and marking each sentence and word to learn about it further. Being so young yet so lonely meant he was able to focus on literature and reading and by the time he was 18, each and every word would be engraved into his mind. The palace was vast, but the emptiness of the building added to the loneliness.His father claimed it was only to make him ‘mature’ and to ‘teach’ him the ways of a royal but you and Beomgyu thought that it wasn’t fair. One afternoon, Beomgyu went outside Taehyun’s window and threw small stones to get his attention. It looked like Beomgyu was the Knight in shining armour and Taehyun was the damsel in distress but in reality it was Taehyun who was the imprisoned Prince and Beomgyu the resilient friend. That was until The King spotted Beomgyu and was asked to leave the palace grounds immediately and was reported for breaking and entering. That was indeed his first warning. As you and Beomgyu sat together in front of your house, your father approached you with a serious expression on his face; “we are ordered to go to the King’s palace for an urgent meeting,” he informs her. “Can I come too, Sir?” Beomgyu asked your father. “of course Beomgyu,” he ruffles his chestnut hair before holding your hand and making his way to the palace

 “Dont go anywhere too far okay sweetie,” your father reminds you. Of course you obey your father, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. “okay father i wont,” your sweet smile warming his heart, as well as Beomgyu’s. As soon as you and Beomgyu walked into the palace, a servant was escorting Taehyun to the main entrance before his dejected expression uplifted and his eyes were like two shining marbles glistening in the palace lighting. “oh my! you guys came!”  His happiness was through the roof when he saw you both. There was nothing more exciting to you than to sit with your best friends in the rose garden that held significant sentimental value to the Royals. You, Taehyun and Beomgyu sit outside in the rose garden watching the stars gleaming, the spring breeze sending slight shivers down your spine as the heavenly bodies setting the dark abyss of the night sky aglow; “happy birthday, Yn” Taehyun hugged not forgetting your birthday. “Thank you! you didn’t forget!” you giggle hugging him tighter, his arms gently embracing you. 

Years went on and You and Beomgyu gradually became closer since your father used to work with his father and also for the King. Taehyun became busier and busier the more the three of you grew up and the King limited the amount of time Taehyun could spend outdoors and outside the palace and meeting his friends and spending his precious time was useless to the King. By the time You were 17, Taehyun was completely unavailable to go outside and meet his friends which made you distant from Taehyun since the Palace grounds were now out of bounds. He was cooped up in his lavish palace, being served by his servants and butlers, everything in a silver platter whenever he asked for something, his bed being three times the size of him with sheer curtains draping over the frames, red and gold bedding fitted with almost no creases every time he got into bed, his attire always ironed and chosen for him; what a perfect life, right? However one thing that he couldn’t demand for was time. Although, You and Beomgyu didn’t know what happened behind closed door.

One winter’s night, ivory snowflakes glided on to the greyish cobble path sheathing the walk way as you and Beomgyu walk home together. You pulled your scarf over her face slightly to warm her icy cheeks, the piercing cold reddening your skin. Beomgyu’s hands were deep in his coat pockets and an idea sparked up in his head; “hey wanna go somewhere?” Beomgyu asks.

“like where? it’s freezing” you whine as you show her pinkish fingertips, pouting at him. Beomgyu puts his arm around your shoulders, “the barn house? our usual hang out spot” he chuckles and then smiles before the realisation hits you. You felt a bit stupid but Beomgyu found it oh so endearing. “ohh yeah, sure, I have nothing to do. My father is at the palace at a meeting again, he’s been going to a lot of meetings recently” you scrunch your nose before Beomgyu taps his cold finger on the top of your nose playfully before bolting ahead. “h-HEY!” you whined again as Beomgyu starts running. “Come and get me,” he teases as he runs down the street, laughter emitting into the icy atmosphere. The both of you end up at his barn house out of breath and sheltered from the blizzard that was about to hit the town, collapsing on the sofa’s he had there. “I win,” Beomgyu’s smug face teases, his vexatious energy radiating off of him. “only this time,” You warn jokily. Beomgyu prepares some hot drinks for you to warm up your frost bitten hands; When you held the cup of hot cocoa, the warmth flooded your body rapidly melting away the icy sensation in your hands. You looked up at Beomgyu as he was cleaning up the spillages, his messy hair over his forehead; and her mind reminisced.

Beomgyu looked different to what he did 7 years ago but it was clearly because of how he aged. He was 19, only a couple years older than you but his features were more defined and he just seemed so beautiful. His chestnut brown hair framed his charming face. His eyes, pools of dark cocoa always gleaming in the light and his skin a soft honey tone. You both sat together in the barn house which you both often did when you had nothing to do or had no plans such as tending to the Kings needs or desires and would talk about your secrets or things you were feeling~ thats how you both became closer over time. As you both sit cozily with the fireplace burning the logs Beomgyu threw in, you sigh and gaze at each other. “So anything today?” Beomgyu asks, leaning into the couch swinging his head back so his brown locks fell back. You thought for a bit and tilted your head slightly and sighed, “have you ever loved anyone before?” you ask nervously. He stops mid sip, licking the whip cream off his lips and smiling back, “I don’t know, have you?” He asks back. “perhaps,” you shrug. “what do you mean perhaps? do you have a crush on anyone? if they break your heart I will beat them up,” he threatens and puts his fists up punching the air making you giggle. “no.. I don’t know, don’t worry forget i even asked,” she shakes her head. “uh? you can’t just do that?” he scoffs and then silence deafens the room. He suddenly pounces on you making you yelp, his hands wrapping around your waist and tackling you to the couch. You were trapped between the couch and Beomgyu, his arms either side of you and his face directly in front of you. There was slight tension between the two of you, you gulp nervously. “i guess you still wont tell me?” he gives a playful little smirk before you push him away. Your heart was beating out of your chest. You divert the attention and sit up on the sofa, “i miss Taehyun, he hasn’t been seeing anyone lately,” you sighs, “ahh yeah me too, I do miss him,”

Their childhood had always been with the young prince but the King established new rules for Taehyun as he grew. It was as if he were trapped in a cage unable to escape from his preordained future he had waiting for him. Being a Prince wasn’t easy and in Taehyun’s case, being the only son, there was more pressure on him. - On the same night, when the blizzard hit the town, Taehyun gazed outside his tall glass windows that were draped in red and gold embroidered curtains and sighed. He sat in bed writing a letter which he did since he was 11 ever since he couldn’t go outside. It was like a diary account only to a specific person, his best friend of course. 

‘To my best friend, It has been a long day for me. I woke up at 5am and had breakfast at 5:30am making sure it was filling and nutritious and then starting my fencing training at 6am. After that I was tutored for 3 hours which was tiring and boring but it’s what my father wants. Lunch was lonely, i remember how we used to run amongst the rose bushes and you used to pretend you were a royal. it was cute i must say. I miss those days so much. My coronation is so soon and it’s nerve wracking, i’m sure you’d be there right? to see me finally turn King and I’ll let you stay here and we can be together again.’

The King’s personal servant knocks on the door and asks Taehyun to go to sleep. The hope and light in his eyes dissipates into the nothingness of his bedroom but before the servant left she left some valuable information. “Prince Taehyun, your father has asked me to tell you that there will be a compulsory meeting with your father to discuss some important matters next Friday.” she bows. “oh okay..” Taehyun responds. Next Friday. That was Taehyun’s 19th Birthday. When a royal is 19, they would need to be taught everything a budding King would need to know and what they should do. It wasn’t easy. Also marriage was to be organised by Taehyun’s father so the royal bloodline would stay intact but of course Taehyun wouldn’t be able to choose his lover... As the lights were turned off, white alabaster specks began blanketing the window pane, Taheyun pulled his sheets closer to his face pondered for a while. I miss you... 

“Yn,” her father calls out reading a letter that was from the King himself. “yes father?” you walk into the room where your father worked and he turned around handing you the letter, “ this is from the King to you sweetheart,” you take the letter into your hands and unfold it, reading it as you walks to you room. You stops. “invited to a meeting with the King and the Prince?” you say to yourself.You think about it. Beomgyu knocks at the door just before you closed your bedroom door, so instead he opened her window. “Hey yn wanna go on a walk?” he asks holding two hot drinks in his hands and a little white wooly hat sitting on the top of his head.You looks at the letter and back at him. “yeah hold on, lemme get my coat,”. “what’s that?” he asks as he passes the drink to her and points at the royal letter. “some meeting I have to attend next week,” you say. “just you?” Beomgyu asks curiously. “yeah I guess so? I think my father will come too,” you assure herself. Beomgyu nods his head in affirmation and then thinks for a little bit and decides to go somewhere else; “let’s go somewhere different today.” Beomgyu’s cheerful charming smile suggests and of course you went along with it, sipping at the saccharine hot chocolate, the warmth of the liquid swirling in your mouth, the softness of the melted marshmallows colliding with the savour of the dark chocolate. He grabbed your hand, fingers unintentionally interlocking and he ran to a special place, special to him anyway. After passing the stalls and passing the little meadow where you, Taehyun and Beomgyu used to frolic, Beomgyu took you to a desolate garden which was situated on higher ground not too far away from the palace. “wait this is the hidden garden you found when we were kids ,” you gasp. The tree was beginning to blossom and the flowers were spread across the concrete and between the crevices. There was a bench which wasn’t there from when you could remember. “I built this bench here so we could sit here and enjoy the view,” Beomgyu expressed to you. “BUILT IT?” you respond shocked! You both sat down on the bench, close together as you rested your head on your best friends shoulder. 

The stars gleamed down reflecting off the town’s architecture, the sheen of the town making you feel nostalgic. You sigh but you didn’t realise that Beomgyu was lovingly gazed at you, his finger tips fiddling with your hair that cascaded over your shoulders. His heart began to palpitate when you realised he was playing with you hair. “you having fun there?” she teases sitting up and facing him, your sultry, pinkish lips caught his eyes and his eyes. The chilling breeze raised the hairs on the back of your neck, or at least you hoped it was the breezed and not his delicate touch. His doe eyes were like two Tiger’s eye - the beautiful warm toned gemstone- and his blushed cheeks were like red apples. “Why are you staring at me like that?” you let out a slight giggle although there was a glint of admiration and love that you denied to yourself, but before you could laugh it off, Beomgyu’s hands cupped you face. A gasp left your lips before it even got the chance, it was swallowed up by his tender kiss, the velvety sensation of his lips against yours. This was your first ever kiss.

He felt confident and you didn’t seem to want to pull away but there you were, in his arms letting him guide you his hands around your waist. Perhaps it was the unconscious desire and the tension that had been present for years but you let him kiss you, of course giving the same energy and you allowed him to adulate her innocent lips with his own. Once he calmly pulled away, their eyes met; “I’m sorry, I know i shouldn’t have without asking but-” Beomgyu was interrupted by you, “if i didn’t like it i would’ve pulled away, no?” the atmosphere was awkward but it was clear to see you and Beomgyu had a fire burning within. After that day, they would meet in the same location and often share an act of affection, nothing was official since Beomgyu wanted to wait until your birthday to surprise her with flowers. He kept his feelings concealed and away from their ‘friendship’ respecting your choices but ever since that day when he asked if you liked anyone, it just made sense to him and of course he shot his shot. His heart fluttered every time he saw you and that was when he was 100% sure that he was in fact in love with you.  It was your 18th birthday: You  had to go to the meeting before you could do anything celebratory. You wore something flattering and formal to present yourself appropriately. The flowers were fragrant and blossoming, the soft sun light beaming over you as you skipped your way to the palace but as you arrived there, the King, the Prince and two guards were waiting for you. There was uneasiness lingering in the air; you began to feel suffocated, your throat closing slightly. Something wasn’t right. “Good morning Ms. L/N, please, follow us through to the meeting room,”. You looked over at Taheyun, the light in his eyes absent and empty. “hey Taehyun, how have you been?” you whisper, playfully smiling as you always did. “i’ve been fine, busy too,” there was no smile, nothing. “ i missed you so much,” You walk next to him and whisper and you swore you saw the corner of his lip curl slightly before dropping again...

Taehyun’s POV:

‘Her voice was like a breath of fresh air. Hearing her made my heart sing and seeing her was as if i were dreaming. She looked so... beautiful. Why is my heart beating so fast? Why have my ears gone red’ That was my thoughts. I had a crush on Yn since we were kids and it never changed, but it felt stupid to me that I had a crush on her for so long. “Why is she even here? was she supposed to be the designer for the coronation?” I thought again. The room felt bright again, her ecstatic energy radiating warm oranges, vibrant pinks and shades of yellow painting the aura of the dismal room but there was also the sense of comfort and being at home. I still dont know why my father invited just her, It didn’t make sense until my father began to speak at the table.~

The king seated you all down and he began to speak instantly. “ Thank you for coming to the meeting Yn,” he greets you with a simple thank you before he begins his main point. “I have gathered the Prince, myself and you all to discuss  Prince Taehyun’s coronation,” It sounded rather simple, perhaps you were supposed to hold the crown at the front or even decorate for the function? “I would like for you, Yn to marry my Son, Taehyun,” The King smiled proudly after letting hell run loose within Your mind. You and Taehyun lock eyes with worry and shock. “ sorry father, what did you say?” Taehyun gulped in fear of speaking back to his father since he knew the consequences. “Son, in order to be a King you’d have to marry and continue our bloodline. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the family do you?” The temper of the King was gradually rising, “your father made a promise to me 8 years ago that you would marry my son since i have helped your family with fortune and let you live on my land,” there was complete silence between the two.  “this isn’t me asking, this is me telling you that the marriage will occur before the coronation of Taehyun and therefore you would need to be at the palace for your fittings and other preparations,” The King said rather calmly as if it were such an easy thing to accept. How were you supposed to tell Beomgyu that she’s marrying his best friend, the prince?Your heart shattered at the thought of turning your back on Beomgyu; the vacant chasm in your chest only growing more and more as the King spoke. “ I shall let you both talk about this matter,” The King ups and leaves leaving you both alone, in silence.

“so..” Taehyun begins “ how has life been treating you huh?” he asks sounding genuinely interested in what you’ve been doing without him all these years. “oh um...” you start off. What do you start off with? The fact you’ve been lip-locking his best friend or that you have feelings for Beomgyu. “um well I have been studying a lot and often just taking walks and hanging out with Beomgyu,” You nod, her fingernails dug deep into her skin under the table. “How is he? I miss him quite a bit but I cant have anyone over until.. well..I’m king,” he sighs frantically biting his lip as a habit, rolling his eyes, . “Im sorry my father blackmailed your father,” Taheyun gulps “Just for the sake of my father, do this marriage thing.. but you can love anyone you want” His words ring in your ears. “ so you’re saying that I marry you for your publicity and your reputation but I can go on and live my life?” you asks feeling your stomach go bitter. Taehyun nods with a sombre expression. The silence was every so deafening and all you wanted was to run away from this mess but you didn’t want to leave Taehyun. “um so what have you been up to?” you try to change the subject but you instantly felt regret. “training, learning how to be king, i dont know it’s the sae every day from 5am every morning,” He sighs and a servant brings him water and places it in front of him. “You see that,” he eyes the water that was placed, “whatever I do, something is given to me even if I dont need it,” he scoffs. Taehyun wasn’t having a good time in the palace and your heart ached to see him this way. Before you could say anything else, a guard comes in and notifies you that you have been asked to be escorted out to make your way home. “i’ll see you soon Taehyun,” You run up to him and hug him, standing on your tiptoes. He has gotten a lot taller hasn’t he?

That evening you left the palace after being escorted to the front gates, jumping down the stairs before suddenly looking up to see Beomgyu with a bouquet of white and red roses waiting at the entrance with a charming smile on his face.You swore he could’ve been mistaken for a Royal. “how are you my love,” he says handing her the flowers and you accepted them, the aroma of the fresh flowers bringing memories back to Taehyun’s rose garden, before walking beside him and replying to him. “i’m fine,” although Beomgyu knew you long enough to know that you weren’t fine. He stopped you and put his hands on your shoulders; “what’s wrong?” he frowned, his glossy coffee bean orbs gazing back at you like a lost puppy. He didn't like seeing you sad, he made sure you were smiling and would dry your tears whenever you were crying. “It’s nothing,” you say before standing on the tip of your toes to kiss him, stumbling since you lost your balance but Beomgyu’s arms caught you. Not long after, he took you to your special place again, her head resting on his shoulder whilst saddening thoughts raced through your busy mind before Beomgyu broke the silence. The moonlight was beaming over the two tonight as the trees calmly rustled, dancing with the wind, whistling melodically. “Yn..” he begins clearing his throat, “After all these years i have made it clear to myself that-” he was interrupted by you, since you knew exactly what he was going to say. “you love me? that’s what you’re going to say right?” your voice cracked, your throat drying making it hard for you to speak. “I was, yes, I was also going to ask for you to be my girlfriend because I love you so much,” you couldn’t lie to him, you didnt want to hurt him. “The King and my father had a deal that I’d marry the Prince in return for what the King had helped us with,” your voice was hoarse and you could feel your eyes pool. Beomgyu’s bright, elated smile dropped, his sparkly eyes dimmed and his flame burnt out. His aura was grey, almost as if a matchstick lost it’s flame. “you.. the prince..” he scoffs, the corner of his lip curls half upset and half hurt, “of course, because you’re the only daughter out of the King’s companions... ” His head was in the palm of his hand. You put your hand on him gently and despite the butterflies and warmth he felt he couldn’t accept the Prince’s to be wife to be so intimate with him, it felt wrong to Taehyun and to himself. There was silence before Beomgyu decided it was time to take you home. It was midnight and all you could do is walk beside him in the darkness lit up by the street lamps, the air dense and humid with a slight breeze. You got to your house, the lights all turned off, everyone must’ve gone to bed. You turn around to Beomgyu, his sorrowful face looks at you; “have a goodnight yn,” he says before he leaves. There was no kiss goodbye, not even a heartfelt farewell. He just left.

 From the following day and onwards you had to go to the palace regularly and often had to meet Taehyun. There was a dress fitting in which the Prince and yourself  had to attend although you didnt want to go. The room was only occupied by a tailor, a dress designer, the Prince and yourself. The uneasy atmosphere making you feel anxious. “ G’day, Princess,” the tailor and designer bowed to you. Princess didn’t settle with you well at all. “we have picked out a few dresses for you to try and to get fitted for you,” the pair smiled before handing you a few dresses to go and try on. You went through a few of them and Prince Taehyun shook his head to most except one. It was a muted blue dress, with a tulle skirt that did make you feel like a princess. The bodice was embroidered with little blue flowers making it look like a miniature flower garden as well as the bottom of the tulle skirt. The veil was also a light blue which was attached to a white flower headpiece which was small and elegant. Taehyun’s eyes widened at the beauty he saw. “you look uh...” he struggled to find words to say. “pretty?” you finished his sentence as he nods to confirm what he thought, his cheeks burning up a crimson hue. “oh it seems like Taehyun likes this one, we shall get the measurements done as soon as possible,” the pair begin to take your measurements, tape measures around your body. You were already treated like the Princess and it felt.. weird. You learned about many Royal etiquettes over time, every time you went to the Palace and it was a big jump from being a regular towns person to a Princess. Not something you would expect every day. 

On a spring morning, Taehyun stands out on his balcony letting the cool, placid atmosphere sink in before he was interrupted by his father’s servant. Frustration took over his body, his fists clenching and his ears turning red, he despised his father and his fathers servants. He exhaled before turning around to see you standing there in a royal dress you had been styled in. “The King has asked me to leave The Princess with you until he calls you both down for the last meeting before the-” the servant was interrupted. “marriage okay, you may leave.” his tone was stern and his button eyes turned fierce and filled will hurt, anger and sadness. “yes sir,” the servant closes the door before he was left with you alone. “so, is this royal treatment any fun,” he sighs leaning against the frame of his balcony arms crossed. “i dont know..” you reply as you dig your fingernails into your skin again and Taehyun notices. He walks over, still furious from earlier, and grabs her wrist. “what is this? why do you keep doing it?” He asks, a taint of worry in his eyes but his tone sounding angry, his brows furrowed. “don’t do it, you always did it as a kid when your father yelled at you for getting lost in the palace,” he chuckles, easing off a little, reminiscing about the past; “remember how it was so easy to be kids,”. He remembers something and makes his way over to his bedside table. “ i have something to show you,” he says before getting a little wooden box out of his draws and opening it. The box was filled with letters, things he wanted to share with you and also a brooch he kept from his 16th. you looked through the crumpled papers and there was many letters addressed to his ‘best friends’ and some that weren’t addressed to anyone. The papers were discoloured and crumpled and also tear stained which you assumed from the random smudged ink on the letters. you read the letters carefully each one of then addressed to ‘best friends’ until at one point it changed; it wasn’t addressed to anyone. What happened there? you ask Taehyun and he looks down thinking of how to say what he was thinking. “Over time being in pure isolation, I missed your laugh, your energetic aura and i guess over time I developed a strong liking towards you and i can’t deny that,” he shrugged “so i just wrote whenever i felt my heart ache,” . The silence grew louder again. “you liked me? for how long?” you put the letter down. “since i don’t know, it just happened but you and Beomgyu seemed to have a stronger bond and it made sense so i tried not to get involved” Taehyun slowly closing the draw, observing the way the muscles in your face tensed up and the way you clenched your jaw. What did you feel? anger? sadness? frustration? you didn’t know what you felt but you knew for a fact it wasn’t positive. “did i say anything yn?” Taehyun lifts your chin up with his finger, the worry inundating his glossy, almond eyes “did i say anything to upset you,” his hand rests on your knee. You had to work up the courage to tell him but you couldn’t do it. The cowardice. 

Beomgyu waited outside your house as he always did which was strange to you since he hasn’t spoke to you for a week or two. You walk up to him in your tailored dress, made just for you, and he turns around. “hi,” he speaks forcing himself to smile before looking you up and down; You could almost hear his heart flutter... or was that yours? “Beomgyu, h-hi,” you stutter since apparently you forgot how to speak! “What are you doing here?” you ask him inching closer to him. “I came to say sorry, none of this is your fault and to be quite honest, i hope, over time you do love Taehyun,” his smile appears, his real, genuine smile. “of course I still love you and i will do anything to protect you but sometimes it’s just the right person but in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong life....” he rests his hands on your shoulders before pulling you into a warm embrace and you could feel your tears pooling at your eyes. You grasp his sleeve before burying your head into his chest and let your emotions run free. You were confused and lost; you felt lied to by your own father and felt like you were a part of a game, a stupid pawn to be played with. You didn’t want to hurt Taehyun or Beomgyu but there was only one path to take. “i’m so sorry Beomgyu..” you sob into his chest as he caresses your head gently. 

The more you hung out with Taehyun the more the bitter taste in your mouth left, the tense atmosphere was lifted and everything felt so...comfortable. You would go to the palace nearly every day to ‘reconnect’ with Taehyun. One day Taehyun’s father would organise a dinner for just the two of you to supposedly grow feelings for each other. The table for the two of you was set up in the well known and loved rose garden, a cylindrical wax candle in the middle illuminating the seating area prepared for you both. The chairs were in ivory white covers and the table cloth was a blood red. A vase was gently placed by a servant, the roses delicately presented. Your eyes locked with Taheyun’s as he pulled the chair out for you, you couldn’t help but smile. “what’s that smile for huh?” Taehyun teases, easing out of his ‘professional’ royal upfront and showing his real persona. “nothing,” you smile playfully before tucking your chair in, “why are you smiling so much for?” you tease back. His cheeks blush up a soft pink before he begins to speak again, “because I’m spending so much more time with you and it feels like we’re kids again,” he fiddles with the friendship bracelet he still had on. “kids, except me and you are getting married very soon which I understand was way out of our control,” Taehyun nods in agreement. “how are you feeling though?” Taehyun asks you. You couldn’t lie but you felt like there was a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks burning up at the question. Are you falling for him? It’s too quick right? You ponder for a little bit. “i’m feeling.. I’m feeling great,” you smile at him, and everything felt as it were merging back into colour again. What was happening? It felt like some sort of epiphany. The evening went as planned, the pair of you talked and caught up with all sorts of things that happened. Soon after, for the second meeting between you both arrived which was a couple days before the big day. You waltz into the Palace happily to meet Taehyun but abruptly stop when you see Beomgyu with his father in the meeting room with Taehyun’s father. Your heart stops and everything goes grey again. You see Taehyun being escorted to you by his servants. you wanted to run and hide. Your eyes were so fixated on Beomgyu and he saw you; thats when your heart shattered when he smiled back and waved, his sweeter than bubblegum smile making your throat go dry. Once Taehyun approaches you he sees you focused on his best friend moreover, his best man. His hand rests on your shoulders and Taehyun smiles at you before gesturing to walk with him. You hoped he didn’t see your reaction to Beomgyu but unfortunately he did. “hey, are you okay? did anything happen?” Despite Taehyun assuming one thing he didnt want to come to conclusions without asking you. “I- uh, y-yeah,” you stutter, but he knew you werent telling the truth. He lift your chin up with his finger making your eyes meet his. “please Yn, tell me what’s bothering you,” he pleaded. He just wanted you to be okay and besides, telling the truth is better than lying. “Beomgyu and I-” he cut you off, “had a thing but my father forced you to marry me and you felt hurt and every time you see him your heart aches?” You could see he was feeling hurt, but not because you liked someone else. He felt hurt because he knew this would happen , that you would fall for someone else, he felt hurt for taking something away from you that made you happy. “Taehyun, listen I feel hurt because yes i did like him but he told me to move on and it just feels painful here,” you put you hand on your chest “and ... after all these weeks if being with you i-” He listens and then speaks “you’re falling for me?” there was some silence. “it’s okay, don’t force yourself,” he says, holding your hand as his fingers interlock with yours. Suddenly you begin to ease. 

You both went to his room, the balcony doors were wide open and you go to stand outside to get some air. You inhale the crisp air and exhale. You look out into the town and let your mind roam free for a little while but as you do you feel Taehyun’s hands wrap around your body and his head rests on your shoulder. You didn’t move, you didnt’ want him to move. It was comforting. “are you okay with this?” he asks you, and you nod your head in response. You could feel your heart beating faster but you could also feel his too. Beomgyu walks out of the palace and sees you on the balcony and gives you a smile and a thumbs up. You smile back at him before he walks away. Once Taehyun raises his head, you turn around to him, your watery eyes glistening in the sunset. “what’s wrong?” he asks but without any warning you cup his face and pressed your lips against, on the tip of your toes to reach him. Once you part , he had a shocked expression on his face but with nothing said, he presses his lips to yours again, one hand above your waist and the other on the nape of your neck.  Whilst you both share something so passionate such as this kiss, he guides you   to his bed; as you sit on his bed, you look up at him. You couldn’t believe what was happening. “are you okay with this,” he asks as you nod. instead of a gentle passionate kiss, his lips crash onto yours, Taehyun gently lowering himself onto you. An hour or so later, the pair of you were notified about dinner and Taehyun asked for his stylists to help you both pick out dinner attire. Although you couldn’t just forget about the moment you spent in his room despite it being impulsive, it meant something. Especially to you, as if it were a conclusion to whatever chaos disrupted your mind.

~a few weeks later~

It was warm springs day, the sun was beaming through Taehyun’s window. He sighs as he wakes up and it hit him what day it was today. The Royal Wedding. It wasn’t long until the servants came in with his attire and his pin to go on his blazer. It felt surreal that i would be marrying my best friend and even the thought of it was nice but of course i did feel bad for, although ever since that one evening in my room it felt like all our questions were answered from one simple kiss. okay simple may be an understatement but regardless...  Thoughts raced through his mind before he thought to ask about you; “where is yn?” he asks and the servants look at him blankly, “The Princess,” his voice sounding slightly angrier. Taehyun didn’t like how foolish his fathers servants were and luckily enough his status gave him authority to teach the imbecilic servants the correct way to approach him and pay attention whilst working. “she is getting ready your highness, should I get her for you?” one of them asks. “just give her this,” he takes his pin off his blazer and hands it to the servant. You on the other hand, were getting your dress fitted and hair done for such an important day but you couldn’t get one thing off your mind; what Beomgyu told you that one night. He wanted you to be in the right hands, perhaps he thought he wasn’t good enough and Taehyun was better for you but that evening you spent with Taehyun felt like a solution to all your questions. The King and the guests all gather in the beloved rose garden where you, Taehyun and Beomgyu grew up together, sitting under the white archway every time you visited; Taehyun stood  at the front with Beomgyu as his best man, standing behind him. Of course he’d be the best man, since Taehyun didnt have very many friends. “treat her well okay,” Beomgyu pat Taehyun’s back. The music queues as petals began to suddenly fall from above you. You inhale sharply, is this really happening? You see your father waiting for you so he could walk down with you and Taehyun at the end waiting along with Beomgyu. “yn sweetie, i’m sorry for making you go through this,” her father apologises as he walks with you until you got to Taehyun, “don’t worry, i understand and i can make this work,” you smile at him before you stand face to face with Taehyun, looking a beautiful as a Prince could be with his elegant white suit with his gold finishes here and there, gold epaulettes on his shoulders along with the gold friendship bracelet that the three of you had on. As the ceremony begun, Taehyun took your hands into his gently and stood up tall. The atmosphere felt magical, like you were some cinderella in your baby blue gown, holding the future King’s hands; you couldn’t help but forget about everything and get lost in Taehyun’s eyes. It was time for the vows and Taehyun went first. 

“From being children to blossoming into the young adults we are now, i promise to keep you safe from whatever harm comes in the way. I will promise to love you and take care of you and support you in whatever you choose to do and listen to you. I want to be your safe place front start to end, hand in hand you and I Yn. Even from the sidelines i will cheer you on and make sure you are happy and loved because you deserve every bit of it .This is the beginning of our journey, and I hope to spend every little bit with you.- Taehyun”

You exchanged your vows. The guests were in awe, applauding the newly wed couple as you both slip the silver rings onto each others finger before it was official. You were officially married to Prince Taehyun and had the new title as Princess. As everyone was free to enjoy the function, Taehyun offered his hand to walk you back down the isle and make your way to where the main function was held which was inside the palace. “congratulations Prince Taehyun and Princess,” Beomgyu smiles whilst bowing respectfully before you punch him playfully like the old days. “stop, it’s weird,” you smile a little “well I am a respectful being, am I not?” he nudges Taehyun. “Of course,”. The King notifies everyone that the dance will start soon and of course Taehyun help his hand out, bowing down at you, offering the first dance with you formally. “Would you care to join me on our first dance,” he asks you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. The lights dimmed and everyone watched the new couple dance together for the first time. Taehyun’s soft gaze making your stomach flutter, his hand on your lower back leading you to the music. “everything okay?” he asks and you nod. Beomgyu watches from the side, “that’s my girl..” he sways gently with the music as you and Taehyun dance. Little did you know, those vows were written by Beomgyu and he wrote it on the behalf of himself as well as Taehyun. Taehyun appreciated Beomgyu helping him write the vows since he felt the same too but it was time for Beomgyu to move on.. just like you moved on with Taehyun. Taehyun stood on his balcony that night thinking to himself and you ask him what was wrong before you got nothing but silence. You did what he did to you and wrapped your arms around his torso and you never felt so sure about your feelings now. “My love,” he turns around before hugging you again so your head rested on his chest so you could hear his beating heart “what’s gotten into you?” he asks. “I like when you call me that,” you mumble into his chest. “well you’ll hear it a lot often now,” he says cupping your face, before kissing your forehead. You finally got the courage to say those three words to him, after making sure your feelings were true; “Taehyun.. I-I love you..”~ “I love you too” he whispers back

Meanwhile a lot goes through Beomgyu’s mind; “I can’t give up on you... but i might as well forget you.. to help me but i cant stop thinking about you..” His mind races as he goes home to the 2nd bouquet of flowers that he bought for you that one night to keep him company..., now withered and fallen..

#txt taehyun #txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #au #fanfic #readerxtaehyun #readerxbeomgyu #bts x reader #txt x reader #fem reader #soobin #yeonjun #hueningkai #friends to lovers #kpop #kpop au

[perriewinklenerdie]

After working hours (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! It’s Christmas break! Finally! That means lots of sleep and time to write (kind of, sort of, I think, I hope).  We’re still in the other timeline, and I’m still not sure how to go around the whole ‘series’ thing, but it’s pretty obvious that it’s going to be a series :D

Previous parts in timeline order:

~Before we met again

~Into your arms

~Sugary lips

~After working hours

~Convincing enough

AO3 link:

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21900202

 Tag list:   @paleweasels , @lilyofchoices , @hopelessromantic1352 , @aloehasrose , @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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

His office was as quiet as it could have been at that time of the day. Theoretically, his shift was over an hour ago, but being a doctor meant that his work never really stopped. That’s why he was there, buried in paperwork, when he could have been at home, with Jenner, much more comfortable than his office chair could ever be. Two empty cups where coffee used to be were sitting next to his phone on his desk, along with his calendar. He debated whether he should stand up and get himself a third cup when the door to his office flew open. Too surprised to react, he watched as his intruder walked over to him, sat down on the edge of his desk and smiled at him.

“Get up, Ramsey, we’re going out.” Claire spoke up, reaching with her hand to brush a stray lock of his hair away from his face. Her touch lingered on his cheek and he leaned into it, the corners of his lips rising slightly.

“Next time you pull off a stunt like that, Herondale, I’ll drive you up against the wall.” He warned, their eyes meeting. Playful specks flickered in hers, his words sparking humor.

“Kinky. Just make sure you keep me against it or else I’ll escape. Press me with your body or something.”

She was seeking his reaction and that’s exactly what she got. His strangled moan filled the space between them, causing her to grin widely, clearly satisfied with herself. Ethan ran his hands up the sides of her legs, coming to a stop at her hips, pulling her closer to him. She looked down at him, smirking slightly, before leaning into him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He hummed slightly, smiling at her as he got lost in the sensation.

A sharp knock on the door caused them to pull away but didn’t give them enough time to step away from each other, so when a person came in, Ethan’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her. First, he saw a white coat, then he saw long, brown hair, and he immediately knew who it was.

“Well, that was certainly not what I expected you to be doing.” A woman mused, looking between the pair with an unreadable expression. Claire stood up hastily, her cheeks flushed. Ethan stood up slowly, placing his hand on the small of Claire’s back to calm her down.

“It’s past my working hours, I can do whatever I please.”

“You sure can, just make sure you don’t break anything while you’re at it.” the woman flashed them both a smirk, causing Claire to blush even more. Ethan stepped forward, smiling softly.

“Claire, this is Harper Emery, Chief of medicine here. Harper, this is Clarissa Herondale-“

“Yes, I recall you telling me about her. As a matter of fact… ” Harper interrupted him, grinning with mischief as she approached Claire, leaning closer to her. “… he doesn’t shut up about you. So much so, that it’s getting a bit annoying.”

Claire’s mouth fell open as she smiled, looking at him teasingly. Ethan looked at the floor, trying to avoid her gaze, but the moment he felt her hand gripping his arm, he lifted his eyes to her, shrugging his shoulders.

“Is that so?” she spoke brightly, then turned to Harper, extending her hand towards her. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Claire. You’re definitely something else, I don’t remember him being so struck when we were together. His behavior now… that’s a first.” She wondered out loud, revealing the nature of their relationship, making Claire’s stomach twist with insecurity. Harper dropped her voice to a gentle whisper. “Take care of him.” and with that, she left the room.

Neither of them said a word for a long moment. For the most part, Claire was confused. Harper intimidated her, made her feel like she met a potential friend and a potential enemy at the same time. She waited for Ethan to say something, but it seemed as though he was at a loss of words.

There were a million of thoughts, running through his head. He didn’t plan for Claire to meet Harper that soon, and he definitely didn’t want her to find out that they dated from her. He tried to read Claire’s face, tried to figure out what was going on in that beautiful head of hers, but, as always, she was an enigma. He took a deep breath and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together loosely.

“How are you feeling?” he muttered slowly, unsure how to proceed. She sighed, looking down at their joined hands.

“I’m not sure. I mean, I wasn’t ready to meet your ex today, and I guess I just… don’t know how what to think.” She answered quietly, her shoulders falling. He noticed it right away, and immediately knew what the reason for her foul mood was. Letting go of her hands, he embraced her hesitantly, giving her an option to push him away if she wanted. She didn’t, instead falling into his arms, groaning in frustration. “I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous. I know that I shouldn’t feel that way, you’re probably thinking I’m acting like a child.”

“I don’t think you’re being immature if that’s what you’re worried about. I would however like to know what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.” He muttered, pressing his lips to her hair.

“What else is new.” She grinned slightly, wrapping her arms around his middle, nuzzling into his chest. Silence fell upon them again, their bodies remaining in the same position for such a long amount of time that their balance started to falter, so instead of standing in one place, Ethan began gently swaying from side to side, pulling her along with him. He placed his hands on her hips, humming a song that sounded almost too familiar to her.

“What is that tune?” she asked, giggling a little as his lips brushed against her neck, tickling her.

“Frank Sinatra.” He responded, picking her up and twirling her around. Claire’s laughter rang in the air, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

“Why am I not surprised.” With her forehead resting against his collarbone, she took a deep breath, steadying herself for their conversation ahead. “Okay, let’s get to the point.”

She pulled him by his hand to the couch, pushing him lightly to sit down, and she went to sit down next to him, but he was faster, wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her onto his lap. She squealed, stroking his cheek with her finger delicately when she was sitting safely in his embrace.

“I’m not sure what to think of Harper. She’s a beautiful woman and I don’t want you to jump in and start ensuring me that I have nothing to worry about and blah blah blah, I’m not like that… oh my god, I sound like such a teenager, please stop me now.” she sighed, stopping her rant for only a second, giving him absolutely no time to react or say anything. “Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I kinda want Harper to like me and I feel like we could be best goddamn friends, but I also feel like she is just… better than me?” she shrugged her shoulders, laying her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, her breathing evening out as she let everything out. Ethan remained silent for the next few seconds before turning his head, guiding her lips to his, capturing them in a soft kiss that seemed to never end. By the time they came up for air, their breathing was elevated, and there was a goofy grin on her lips. “If you’re trying to reassure me, let me tell you that one, it’s kinda working but two, I’ll definitely need more convincing.”

“If you need me to kiss you to reassure you that you’re the one I want…” he dropped his voice to a deep, smooth whisper before kissing her again.

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

One year later

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

Ethan opened the door to his apartment with a sigh, the stress of a full day in the hospital leaving his body, leaving his muscles feeling light. He heard giggles in the living room, and was pretty sure it was Claire, most probably watching some silly TV show that made her giggle. Jenner greeted him, waggling his tail and walked with him as Ethan made his way further into his home. A sight that was waiting for him was not what he expected.

Claire was there, lying on the couch, covered by a blanket, what looked like an empty cup where tea used to be was on the coffee table. She was not alone, next to her was no other than Harper, laughing along with his wife, tears streaming down their faces.

“Do you want tissues? Food? A sedative?” he asked as he approached him, bending down to kiss Claire’s forehead tenderly. Harper snickered, pretending she’s puking.

“Every time I see you two being affectionate, I can’t believe it’s the same Ethan. I must congratulate and thank you, Claire, work has never been easier than it is now.” she punched Ethan’s shoulder playfully before he managed to take a step back.

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m kicking you out but-“

“You’re kicking me out.” She concluded, hugging Claire tightly before standing up.

“It’s been a long day and I want a quiet evening with my wife.” He justified, seeing the teasing smile sliding onto Harper’s face.

“Trust me, I get it. And hear me when I say, I don’t want to hear anything more about it.” she winked at Claire, making her way to the door. Just as she was about to walk out of their apartment, she called out to them. “Don’t break the bed!”

When they were alone, he hovered over her, his hands resting on her shoulders, massaging her slightly. She groaned, falling deeper into the couch, her eyes falling shut.

“How was your day?” she asked, patting a space next to her. He complied with her wishes, sitting down by her side, and then once more when she maneuvered him to lie down with his head on her lap, her fingers running through his hair.

“Long. Full of goddamn interns.”

“Yeah, I heard they are the worst.” Claire trailed off playfully, thinking back to her own day, to her new friends, other interns, how much she had to stop herself from even thinking about touching Ethan, because even the mere thought of him made her weak. She knew he was going through the same struggle, which quickly became the main cause of jokes in their group of friends that consisted of them, Harper, Naveen, Zaid and Ines, all very much aware of the situation and very much aware of all the ways they could mess with the married couple, aware that Ethan and Claire wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to defend themselves in the public setting.

“All I could think about for the whole day was how I was going to get home and pull you into my arms, carry you to our bedroom and throw you onto the bed, make you writhe against the mattress, say my name so many times it becomes etched into your mind…” he muttered, looking up at her with a smirk, his eyes impossibly dark. Claire groaned, biting down on her lower lip, her legs brushing against one another to provide any form of friction.

“You’re tired. Think you can keep up with me?” she challenged him, trailing a single finger down his jaw, along the column of his neck. He stood up, gathering her in his arms, walking towards their bedroom with confidence and in great hurry.

“Be cocky all you want, Rookie, you’re going to sing a different tune soon.”

She pressed her lips to his ear, moaning into it. “Let’s go break that bed.”

#ethan ramsey #open heart #fic #fluff #choices fanfiction #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey choices #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

[hydrangeasimagination]

The Fool’s Game

Pairing: Bakugo X Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary: The last day before it'd begin again. Whether it'd happen again or it would be the last time you had to deal with it, you didn't know. But spending the day with your friends really soothed the fear you felt. A moment alone with Bakugo changed the whole game and uncovered another terrible fear. One you've been hiding since the start.

Warning: Angst.

A/N: THE FINALEEEEE!! I hope this ending is okay?? I’ve been wanting to post this for a while so here it is now? If I feel it’s not good once I’m back on top of my writing game, I’ll go back and fix it.

(AO3 Link)

[First Part] [Second Part] [Third Part]

The time grew less and less.

As you grew more and more restless, fingers entangled in the knots of the piece you were working on. Staring blankly down at the yarn that was meant to be turned into a scarf for your dear friend, the feeling of emptiness settled low in the pit of your belly. Tossing it away, you stood and snatched up your hoodie.

The underlying sense of dread seeped into every pore of your being, the anxiety welling in your chest.

But there wasn't time for that, as you had to meet with your friends.

Shuffling from your dorm, you made a bee-line for the common rooms. The distinct voices of the Bakusquad making your shot nerves slowly just buzz soundlessly under your skin.

"Hey." You greeted, unable to even force yourself to smile.

A mixture of greetings came back in return, their voices so soft that it made your heart ache.

Bakugo was looking at you, his carmine eyes full of something you couldn't place. But they weren't unreadable, as you usually found they were if he wasn't pissed, smug, or amused. He moved aside, leaving the last space for you to sit down beside him.

Mina then turned up her grin, the full million-watts of it, as she chirped, "Alright, let's get this party started!!"

Denki and Kiri gave a whoop before the board games began. There was a lot for you all to play so it was only logical you'd work your way through the less than rage-inducing games and start ramping up. Starting off with Clue, Sero walked away with several points to his name and guessed the results right with almost 100% accuracy.

Katsuki couldn't help but be amused since you didn't seem to mind losing at all.

"Why the hell are you so happy? You got iced the first round."

Simply giving him an elated grin, you elbowed him, "I didn't know what was gonna happen!"

He snorted at that before a thought slowly came to him, inching over his skin like cold water. The realization made him feel cold and warm at the same time, so much so that he thought he might as well be that damn Icy-Hot. Peering at you whilst you celebrated another loss, his fingers gripping at the fabric of his sweats.

"Bakugo, it's your turn!"

The ash blond turned his attention back to the game at hand.

It could wait.

Right now, he just wanted to let you enjoy yourself.

You deserve it.

While the hours slowly inched past, Bakugo took notice of your change in demeanor. How your eyes would look from the clock back to the game, how your voice shifted from exuberant to almost silent. It was getting closer and closer to Midnight. It was apparent that you were stressed, your knuckles white with how tight you were gripping onto the Uno cards.

The others took notice as well, their concerned faces apparent as they tried to lighten the mood or get your mind off of it.

It didn't work.

Nothing worked.

This is terrifying.

What are you going to do?

What can you do?!

The screaming thoughts in your head were placed on pause as a warm hand touched your's, fingers lacing carefully. The scent of fireword almost soothing. Shifting your gaze to Katsuki, you found that he was looking at you again, with that type of emotion that you couldn't put your finger on.

He gruffly asked, "Let's get some air, yeah?"

Robotically, you nodded, not seeing the looks that the others were giving the ash blond holding your hand. Simply glaring daggers into them, he took up his coat and the two of you stepped out of the dorms. Eyes aimed down at your feet, you let him lead you. His hand was warm, perfectly fitting your's in it.

The ache in your chest was palpable.

But you squeezed his hand anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you breathed in the cool, night air. Tilting your head back to the sky, you opened them again, watching the stars shimmer overhead.

Peace.

"Thanks." You whispered, warm breath fogging the air.

"No problem." He muttered.

There was silence again, although a comfortable one. The fur of your hoodie tickled your cheeks as you leaned against him, just savoring the chance to spend time with him until it all reset again. Until you were forced to go through the week with the same dialogue, until you were nothing more than an exhausted shell of your former self.

"Hey, Dumbass..." Bakugo's voice was full of hesitance.

Glancing at him, you blinked to see him looking at you. His eyes almost soft, warm hand giving your's a squeeze.

"Why'd you kiss me?"

You blinked, turning to look at him properly. Raising a brow, amusement slowly ebbing into your expression.

"What?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" He repeated with a little bit of bite to his tone.

With a slight laugh, you tucked your free hand into your pocket.

After thinking for a moment, you turned to give him a cheeky grin while you teased, "What? Would you prefer gettin' kissed by Kiri?"

Unbeknownst to you, his heart gently fluttered. He missed seeing you like this, so vibrant and full of life. It was how you were before this week started, before you had to deal with shit like the loop.

"Like hell... I was just wondering." He grumbled, embarrassed.

"Hah, I knew you'd say that." You chuckled, voice slowly lowering into a somber tone.

The squeeze around his heart returned and Bakugo squeezed your hand when he felt it. The words he wanted to say felt heavy on his tongue, just remaining like a lump in his throat while he mustered up some type of nerve to say something.

Anything...

But what would bring you comfort in a time like this?

His feelings remained tumultuous as ever, writhing under the surface and wanting to escape. With how you act, it seems it's never happened. But this time, it was going to be different.

He wasn't gonna stand aside and watch the life be drained from you.

While someone he cared about slowly gave away to nothing.

"Dumbass."

"Yeah?"

It was now or never.

"I fucking like you."

There was silence.

The breath felt like it was stolen from your lungs, your cheeks hot. Widened eyes and shrinking pupils displaying your shock.

Katsuki wasn't any better. The tips of his ears were burning as he glared at you, redness seeping down his neck very clearly.

His hand gripped your's tight.

He was warm.

So warm.

Welcoming.

"I've liked you for a long time."

The racing of your heartbeat filled your ears as you looked into his eyes, for anything, for any indication of deception. You couldn't speak in that moment, tongue like lead and voice taken from you with his confession.

Eventually, you could think again.

But the sinking of your stomach overshadowed all of the warmth that you should be feeling.

"B - Bakugo... I - I..." You stammered.

You didn't know what to say.

"Woah, hey, hey, hey..." He murmured, frowning in concern as he realized you were hyperventilating.

Rubbing your back with his free hand, he let you lean against him. Supporting all of your weight with relative ease as he slowly helped you sit down on the steps. The both of you sat there for a while, your short and sharp breaths all of what is heard.

Slowly but surely, your breathing had evened out and you remained, leaning heavily against him. Trying to collect all of your racing thoughts while he sat by your side. 

Bakugo's dry warmth felt nice, a stark contrast to the chill in the air. It was amazing how at ease you were, but it only added the fear that plagued your mind.

"I like you too..." You spoke, almost as if you didn’t believe it.

His arm around you tightened and you leaned into his embrace.

Shutting your eyes, you reached and gripped onto him, like he was going to disappear if you didn't as you whispered, "I'm so scared."

"Did I ever do this before?" The ash blond asked, voice low as he held you.

"No..."

His heart hurt again.

"I never... I never told you because if I had to remind you of something like this.... I'd risk pushing you away for good."

Admitting this seemed to be hard for you, with how much you were shaking.

"Like hell you would, I'd kick my own ass if I did." He growled.

You couldn't help but laugh at that. Sinking into his side, you pressed your face into his neck and breathed in his scent, arms curled around him as the cool hair nipped at your face. He turned his head, brushing his nose over your temple almost lovingly. His hand found your's again, entwining your fingers as you soaked in the comfort and affection he gave.

He was still a bit stiff but you appreciated him holding you like this.

The fear still gripped at you, digging its claws into your back and ensnaring you. But you stayed with him, quietly counting down the minutes.

Bakugo held you like he was going to lose you.

In that moment, you found that you wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Even if it might be the last you'd have of it.

Slowly, you shut your eyes, savoring the last few minutes of this timeline.

The blaring of your alarm fills your ears.

A sob wrenches itself from your throat and you pressed your palms to your face. The noise of the clock rang on while you curled up on your bed.

Sinking into your sheets, you cried, your badly beaten and battered heart pathetically wailing with you.

You clawed at your chest, trying to get it to stop.

So you didn't have to feel anymore pain.

So you could go through this without caring for anyone or anything.

So you didn't feel anything for Bakugo Katsuki.

You had no idea how long you laid there, tears streaking your cheeks as you sniveled and curled up.

But the intense knocking at your door made you jerk your head up.

No one ever came to you at this time.

Tears and all, you dragged yourself to your feet to answer.

Despite every instinct in you screaming for you to stop.

Unlocking it, you rubbed at your face to try and hide what you were doing. You gasped as the door swung open, a blur passing over your tear tainted line of vision pushing the door shut behind them.

In an instant, the smell of firewood flooded your senses.

Your tears clearing as you looked into the face of the ash blond, his carmine eyes dark and complexion a little pale.

But he looked relieved to see you.

His hands drifted up, gently brushing away your tears with his warm hands. His forehead rested against your's, holding you as if you were something that could be broken if he wasn't careful.

Your heart thudded against your ribcage, fingers curling around his wrists and greedily pressing your face into his palms.

"I remember everything." He breathed.

Reprieve.

taglist: @otomaniac​ @thecryingsombra​

#bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #x reader #x reader insert #reader insert #angst #dari writes #the king's game series #Kaminari Denki #Ashido Mina #Sero Hanta #kirishima eijiro

[josiebeale]

Turn Right

Request:  Could you write a fic about being a nobleman daughter or royalty and being best friends with jasmine but both of you are in love and genie and abu trying to set both of them up

/

The hairbrush easily slid through your dark locks as you hum a sweet melody to yourself in front of the mirror. You glance outside your window and notice the descending sun on the sky, ready to fully disappear. The day dragged on uneventfully and you barely left the palace. You performed the duties of a nobleman’s daughter as perfectly as you could before running back to your room to hid from the world. Wishing to be a normal girl. 

“Daydreaming again, N/Y?” 

The corner of your lips turned upright at the sound of her voice. Your eyes snaps to the mirror, seeing her standing there with a smile.

“That’s all that was left for us to do, don’t you agree?” You tilt your head to the side. “Our fate had been decided since the moment we were born. Marrying a rich and powerful prince so that our people will finally have the strong leader that they deserve...Like we weren’t here all along.” You puff in frustration and turn sideways on your chair. You can’t see her but you feel her burning stare.

“I refuse to believe that.” You here the determination in her voice, the willpower she inherited from her mother refuses to die down. “I believe we get to make the decisions for ourselves. Even if we had to do it in secret.” Her light footsteps make your head turn.

“What are you doing here, Jasmine?” The sight of her eyes makes you sigh. You knew her for so many years now, loving her for even more.

“I just wanted to see you.” Her tone soft as your heart speeds up. “It’s been a long day and you always put a smile on my face.” The sentence was uttered so gently that you felt your cheeks turn red. 

She had such a strong impact on you since the first time you met her that it wasn’t a surprise when you looked at her smile one day and finally realized what being in love felt like. And it’s breaking your heart that she would never be with you like that. Not the way you want her to be.

Your heads fall forward because you can’t stand looking in her eyes. 

“Maybe you should go and get some sleep.” You say lowly. She stays silent before you hear her clear her throat pointedly and you knew you hurt her. You look at her and she’s standing straight, her lips in a tight line. 

“Very well.” She says shortly. “Goodnight.” She murmurs before turning to leave.

You let out a deep breath as the door closes behind her.

“Well, that was just pathetic.” 

Your eyes roll hardly as Genie puffs out of thin air, dragging Abu with him. The monkey lands on your bed and he grabs his head as the world spins around him. Genie sends him an apologetic smile before focusing back on you.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You say deliberately and turn back to the mirror.

“Oh, please.” Genie scoffs before he transfers into the mirror as you and mockingly repeats your last sentence to Jasmine, adding way too much drama and sadness into it. You grind your teeth and stand up, going to your closet to change.

Genie appears in front of you. “Don’t run from the truth.” He smiles and points a finger to your heart.

You frown your eyebrows and throw your hands up. “There’s nothing to run from. Everything’s the same. Nothing will ever change.”

“But it could!” Genie raises his eyebrows with the biggest smile on his face and opens his arms wide. “Right, Abu?” 

Abu fiercely nods his head and gives you two thumbs up.

“Come on, N/Y.” Genie changes into human form as his face softens seeing you struggle. “That girl is crazy for you. You’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”  

You swallow before your palms run across your face. You refuse to even have the smallest amount of hope that Jasmine might return your feelings because you knew she wouldn’t. And to have Genie and Abu encouraging you to take that chance...it was the last thing you needed.

“You know, it can never happen.” You whisper. “I’m not the one she’s supposed to be with.” 

You are done talking and go around Genie, closing the closet door behind you.

Genie tsks with his tongue before he looks at Abu. 

“Well, we’re gonna have to change that, right, monkey?” His face lit up as Abu’s face covers in fear.

/

After a dreamless night, the next day moves similarly like the one before. You don’t see Jasmine or anybody for that matter as you do your job before it becomes overwhelming.

You sigh as you close the door and you are ready to fall into bed and sleep the night away. But just as your hands reach out to touch your pillow and pull back the covers, Genie pops out from underneath, stealing your place.

“Hey.” You say unconsciously as he grins.

“Not so fast.” He singsongs before he snaps and he’s out of the bed, standing beside you with his arm around your shoulder. “There’s no time for sleeping.”

“What?” 

Genie pushes you further toward the closet. “You have to get ready.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you resist him but he’s stronger.

The biggest smile covers his face as he says. “Why, your date of course.” And before you could say ‘Abu’ he snaps his fingers and you suddenly found yourself in the garden beside the fountain. There are million lights hanging up on the pillars and everything is stunning.

You are flabbergasted as you look down and see a beautiful dress that you have never seen before.

“Genie!” You shriek but he’s nowhere to be found. You turn in circles but stop short when you realize you aren’t alone.

Jasmine steps out of the shadows, clad in a more beautiful dress than you can imagine.

“Did he -” Jasmine starts and you nod. 

“You too?”

“Yeah.” She snickers and without anything left to do you join her. 

“Do you have any idea why he’s doing this?” Jasmine asks genuinely and you turn away. You don’t want to lie to her but telling the truth might be more terrifying. So you just shake your head no.

“Tell her she’s pretty.” Genie’s suddenly buzzes beside your ear as a bee and out of reflex you swat him away. “Ouch, girl, calm down. I won’t sting unless you want me too.” He smirks and you want to smack him again.

“Go away.” You order loudly and Jasmine snips around.

“What?” 

You panic and your words smear slightly. “No, no...Not you. I - I was talking to somebody else.”

Genie slaps his forehead. “Nice save.” He murmurs before he disappears. 

Jasmine raises her eyebrows but can’t hide the curious smile on her face. “Oh really? You hear voices, N/Y?” 

You decide to play along. This can’t be any worst than that. “Almost daily, I’m afraid.” You smile slightly and exhale. “More often than not, it’s my father’s voice. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t get him out.”

Jasmine falls silent as a sympathy crosses her face. If somebody would understand the pressure their title carries, it would be Jasmine. You knew this, the two of you grew up together. She was the only real person in your life that you knew you could be honest with and don’t have to hide from.

And this is the moment when you realized you were doing just that.

“But you know...” You speak again, now your voice shaking slightly. “Sometimes it’s your voice.” 

Jasmine tilts her head and takes a step closer but her mouth stays closed as she listens intently.

You look deep into her eyes. “Telling me to take a deep breath. To stop. To take it slow.” Your heart hammers inside your chest as you reveal your inner thoughts. “Your voice saying you’re here if I need you. But I never acted on it.” 

Jasmine breaths steadily as she comes closer. “Why not?” Her voice low almost whispering and it makes your eyes flatter.

“You know why.” You whisper back, your voice is defeated and weak. You don’t want to fight against your feelings but something still pulls you back. 

“You don’t have to be afraid.” She says softly as her hand hesitantly reach out and touches your arm. You lean into her touch.

“It’s never that simple.” You argue slightly as you step closer. You gently touch her waist and she gasps at the connect. This is the closest the two of you have ever been. 

She smiles. “It can be.” 

You can’t fight the smile that wants to break out anymore and your head falls forward until your forehead rests on Jasmine’s. Time stops as the two of you breath the same air. You feel like this is just a dream that you are going to wake up from. 

But when Jasmine pulls you closer by your neck and captures your lips in a sweet kiss, you know you can never imagine something like this. 

The End.

Masterlist

#princess jasmine #disney jasmine #aladdin 2019 #aladdin live action #princess jasmine x reader #jasmine x reader #aladdin x reader #disney #genie #abu #aladdin abu #aladdin genie #x reader #fanfiction #request #naomi scott

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighteen

Part Seventeen

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning(s): Language, Drug Abuse

Tag List: @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif

———————————————————————

They went Gold in January of 1984, due to Shout At The Devil selling half a million copies.

Cameras, reporters and fans crowd the scene of the Limelight Club in Manhattan as Sparkie, Tansy, and I, stand aside and watch Nikki, Tommy, Mick and Vince are presented with their plaques, all of them looking the most proud I've ever seen them.

Once the last one is handed out to Tommy, the crowd's whistling and clapping, feeding at their egos. But, surprisingly enough, they stay humble.

"How're you fellas feeling tonight? Any words for it?" Their presenter asks into a microphone as a video camera captures the four of them.

"Mom, I'm sorry I had that first party in the living room. I didn't know it would lead to this." Vince admits with a smile, chuckling a little bit.

"Completely speechless." Even Mick is smiling like a kid as he speaks. "Thank you very much."

"We never believed it would actually happen. We were happy just to play supporting other bands, getting out there and having a good time with the kids, and then to be awarded with something is a feeling you can't really express. It just feels fantastic." Nikki tells him with a vividness in his hazel eyes.

"What about you, Tommy?" The man asks and Tommy shakes his head a little.

"I'm the happiest guy in the whole world." He dopily replies, high on excitement and utter joy. "Wait, no, my dad's probably the first happiest."

They're bombarded with questions from reporters once the presentation is over, taking time to answer each of them as cameras continue to flash.

I turn my back to speak to Tansy, the two of us striking up conversation because if I keep looking at the guys I'll start crying.

"Viv!" Nikki's calling over the noise after a couple minutes, and I turn to see him waving me over. "C'mere!"

I walk to him, pushing past security officials and record company executives and what not.

"We wanted a picture with the girlfriend." A woman behind a flashing camera explains.

"Oh, well, she’s not here so you’re just gonna have to settle for my wife." Nikki corrects her jokingly, his free arm over my shoulders and I gently elbow him in the ribs and shoot him a look.

The crowd “oohs” at him getting in trouble before they start clicking away at their cameras to capture all of us.

"Where's Tansy?" Vince asks and I nod to the corner I was standing in with her. "Tansalyn, get your ass up here!" He playfully demands and the crowd parts like the Red Sea, quickly realizing who she is, and then they start popping off pictures like riled up bees buzzing around and throwing out a million questions about her relationship with the band.

She's secured between Vince and Tommy, rightfully so, and we all give our best smiles for the group picture.

Nikki turns to look down at me, the background noise fading out as he smirks and pulls me closer to him before giving the press a hot, steamy, tongue filled kiss shared between us to get a picture of and plaster anywhere they'd like.

My mother called us white-trash for the hot and heavy PDA that was published in gossip tabloids across the country, but I didn't care for the opinion from someone who thinks blowjobs, anal, and getting eaten out is a sin because it's not contributing to the creation of life.

We finish up at the Limelight with everyone—except me—already buzzed from pregaming, and then we all head back to Tansy's apartment to continue the celebration for the guys, and they get to witness the extent of Tansy's hardcore partying habits first hand.

"Holy fuck!" Nikki exclaims, shocked that Tansy's matching him line for line of coke.

"What's next?" Tansy asks him, slurring a bit, and wiping her nose and I try not to look skeptical from my seat beside Tommy and Sparkie.

They've already run their livers in to the ground for night with alcohol, now they're trying to wreck their brains.

Sparkie makes a show of pulling a spoon from his boot, a chunk of tar, and a lighter and I look at Nikki, who's got his eyes on the prize that is the gear before him.

Tansy does, too, and Sparkie side eyes me.

"Sixx, you want me to get my dealer up here?" He asks just to get a rise out of me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I thought you were the dealer." I blurt, crossing my arms and arching a brow, and Sparkie rolls his jaw.

"Why the fuck does it matter?" He shoots back at me, smartly.

Nikki pretends to think about it but I know he's hungry enough for something cocaine can't give him that he doesn't care if I'm present watch him do it or not.

"Get him up here." Nikki tells Sparkie, swigging from his bottle of Jack.

"Alright, lemme call him." Sparkie tells him, struggling to get up without stumbling, and he heads for the phone in Tansy's kitchen.

Nikki takes a drag of his cigarette, laughing with Vince about something said that I don't hear, and Tommy glances at me.

"You okay, Viv?" He asks me in my ear and I nod.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." I assure him and he just looks at me. "What?"

"Nothin'." He shakes his head.

"Babe, do you really need to—"

"Viv, if you don't like it, you can leave." Nikki cuts me short, raising his brows and I swear I sit and stare at him until the dealer arrives.

"Nikki, this is James. He's gonna fix us up." Sparkie tells him and Nikki finally looks away from me.

"Hey, man." He greets him, scooting over so James has a spot next to him on the couch.

They start trying to figure out what exactly they want to do now being that James has a little bit of everything and I probably look like my best friend just died—mainly because I'm watching them slowly kill themselves.

"The fucks wrong with her?" I hear James ask Sparkie and Nikki under his breath.

"Oh, she doesn't feel good. She's been kinda sick lately." Nikki lies for me, and I keep my eyes on my shoes as Sparkie mumbles something to them, but I hear my name.

"Talk your shit with your chest." I can't stop from saying it, and Tommy, Vince, and Tansy all stop what they're doing to watch what's about to unfold.

Sparkie looks at me pointedly.

"I said, 'nah, Viv just prays at the sight of even a cigarette or beer bottle. She's probably about to have a little come apart once we start up'." Sparkie viscously spews out.

"Sparkie!" Tansy scolds him.

"Tansy, it's fine." I say, looking at her. "I could give a fuck what someone says when all that typically comes out of their mouth is bullshit and vomit."

"Fuck you." Sparkie barks at me.

"Fuck you!" Tommy argues with him before I can.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck everybody, we doin' this or not, man?" James irritatedly reminds us all why he's here and I keep look at Nikki and wait for him to defend me like Tommy did, but he just scratches at his forehead awkwardly and looks at me.

"You can go back to the hotel, babe." He passively orders, and I stand as fast as I can and stomp out, slamming the door without saying “bye” to anybody.

I got over it once I slept it off in Tommy’s bed since he was sharing a room with us. When Nikki asked me why I didn’t sleep in our bed, I told him, “I only sleep with people that defend me.” I was foreshadowing a shit-show without even realizing it.

The very next night after being certified Gold, they were certified Platinum—over a million copies sold of the album—and were given their awards on stage at Madison Square Garden. And the rest of the tour was a dream...kind of.

Vitamin D sinks in to my skin in the form of heat, sounds of water splashing from the pool and bare feet pattering against the wet pavement of the ground.

I keep my eyes closed, my sunglasses providing a good amount of darkness despite the sunshine beaming down on me, Tansy, Nikki, Vince, Tommy and Mick.

"Hey, Viv, can you put some more sunscreen on my back?" Tansy asks me politely, sitting up from where she's sprawled out in her chair.

"Yeah." I nod, sitting up and reaching over Nikki to grab my bag.

Before I can get the sunscreen from it, Nikki's hand is nonchalantly pinching my nipple through the top of my bikini and I swat his hand away.

"Stop!" I scold him with a light-hearted laugh, hitting his chest with the back of my hand.

Once I get a good amount of sunscreen in my hand, Vince is taking his sunglasses off.

"Wait, wait!" He stops me, and Tansy and I look at him. "Lemme get a better view."

I'm throwing my flip-flop at him in a milisecond, hitting him in the forehead.

"You're disgusting." I scold him and he throws my shoe back at me, opting Nikki to glare at him from behind his sunglasses.

Just as Vince is about to say something smart to me, a girl in a hot pink bikini walks by, catching Vince's, Tommy's and even Nikki's attention, their eyes glued to her as she walks by.

I pretend I don't notice, rolling my eyes and rubbing sunscreen between Tansy's shoulder blades.

"How many chicks have you fucked so far?" I hear Nikki ask Vince.

"Three." Vince answers him and I close the sunscreen and lean back in my chair, trying to not hear the guys have another conversation about easy pussy.

"No, not today, on the tour." Nikki explains and Vince chuckles.

"Oh, man. I lost count after that gang-bang in Salt Lake City." He laughs out and Tommy and Nikki join in.

"Yeah, that sounded fun." Nikki tells him as if he wished he could've joined in and I, again, don't bother saying anything about it.

"What about you, old man?" Vince asks Mick, who's sitting at a table with a giant umbrella blocking him from the sun.

"You ever stop to think that the slobs who fuck you guys probably fuck every other band that comes through town?" Mick points out a valid fact and I raise my brows and look at the guys to see their reaction after this revelation.

They think about it for a moment, then all three of them combust in to laughter.

"Yeah." Vince agrees through his smile. "Yes, they do."

"We're like pussy brothers with the whole scene." Tommy realizes aloud as if it's the coolest honor to have.

"I happen to have respect for myself and the females of our species. Unlike you animals." Mick says, completely unenthused by their attitude about the matter.

"Let's have some fuckin' fun, huh?" The voice of the legendary Ozzy Osbourne catches our attention and he's stumbling in to the pool area in one of Sharon's floral dresses.

"Mornin', Oz." Nikki says to him from our place on the other side of the pool.

Ozzy passes by an older couple who's drinks are obviously low and Ozzy stops to harass them.

"You guys need some more drinks, eh?" He asks the couple. "Well, drinks are on me." He bends over, lifts the dress and his bare ass cheeks have a folded up bill of money between them, leaving the two strangers horrified and disgusted. "Go on, take it. It's like a piggy bank in here." Ozzy encourages them, causing the guys to cackle.

The couple scrambles away and Ozzy makes his way over to us, causing me to mentally prepare myself for another dose of psychological warfare.

"Mornin', Oz." Tommy greets him like Nikki did, and Nikki holds his glass up.

"I'll take a refill." He sarcastically throws out and Ozzy stops in front of us and lifts his dress again, flashing all of us his penis, and all of us groan, squeezing our eyes shut.

"Ugh, gross." Tommy comments and I look at him and chuckle.

"I gotta hand it to you, Oz. All these years and you're still keeping up with us kids." Nikki says as Ozzy's climbing onto the lifeguard stand and plopping down in the chair in a moment's time.

"Keeping up with them? I've fucking lapped you, mate." Ozzy states matter of fact and I can't help but smile because we all know it's true. "Now, come here and have a talk with your uncle Oz."

They all glance at each other to make sure he's being serious.

"Come on, come on." Ozzy adds, motioning his hand and the four of them stand up and stand around him where he's peering down at them. "Now, this is your first real tour, right?"

They all nod and Ozzy looks at each of them before starting.

"I want you to be careful. Have fun, but know when to say when. 'Cause a life full of booze, drugs and unprotected sex will really fuck you up, man." I'm impressed by his advice, nudging Nikki with my foot in hopes he's paying attention to what his predecessor is saying, but he, Tommy and Vince are just giggling like children. Not listening to a word of it. "I mean, you take it too far, and you'll go fucking mad." Ozzy grips at his greasy hair with his hands, his eyes crossing to add emphasis.

Before we even know what's happening, he's jumping down from the lifeguard stand, and Vince and Tommy help him steady himself when he hits the ground clumsily.

"Give me a straw I fancy a bump." Ozzy says as he holds his hand out to Tommy.

"Oh, we're all outta blow, man." Tommy tells him.

"We're all out." Vince says at the same time as Tommy and Ozzy looks at them pointedly.

"I said I want a bump. Straw, please." Ozzy reaches his hand out to Tommy and Tommy hesitantly pulls the straw from his drink and hands it to Ozzy.

He gets a mischievous glint in his eye before getting on the pavement and lining the straw up with a line of busy ants, snorting a good amount of them up as if they're cocaine.

"Oh, dear God." I hiss out in pain, my lungs aching at the thought of ants biting at them.

Tansy and the boys are groaning and gasping in shock and amusement, their skin crawling at the idea as well.

Ozzy gets up and discards the straw, looking the guys over.

"You think you're ready for that?" He asks them as they ogle at his stupidity...and then he whips his prick out and starts pissing in front of everyone, earning disgusted sounds and facial expressions from the onlookers as he whistles.

Once he's finished he looks around and then back at the ground.

"Everybody else has a drink." He mumbles, grinning slyly before hitting the ground and licking his own piss off the concrete.

I nearly fall out of my seat, Tansy and I gagging as the guys are in utter awe.

"You're a god, dude." Tommy praises him.

"Crazy fucker." Nikki says to Ozzy, his hands pulling at his own belt. "Watch this."

"Baby, no." I stand from my spot.

"Nikki, please don't." Tommy agrees with me but there's no stopping him from pissing in the same spot Ozzy did, letting out an over exaggerated, "ahh."

Just as he's about to crouch down and lick it up, Ozzy's shoving him out of the way and lapping Nikki's piss from the ground.

"And I'm going to get a shower!" I announce, completely done with this, as everybody continues to give mixed reactions to the scene before them.

Ozzy was a catalyst for Mötley's bad behavior...and they could do bad all by themselves without the help of drugs or booze so if you can imagine how eventful their time with him was, it was as wild as you think times a thousand.

I start scrubbing at my scalp with shampoo when the door opens and I hear shushing and giggling voices before the door shuts again.

Before I can open the curtain and see who it is, Vince, Tommy and Nikki are piling in to the shower with me and closing the curtain.

Nikki's in front of Tommy and Vince and keeps me covered for the most part.

"What the hell are—" Nikki puts his hand over my mouth, before I can yell at them, and the door of the bathroom opens again and Tommy and Nikki crouch down to avoid being seen.

"Hey, Viv, Have you seen the idiots? They're dicking around again and they're about to get us kicked out." Doc tells me angrily and I blink at the guys, and Nikki slowly uncovers my mouth.

"No, I haven't seen them." I lie, cutting my eyes at the three of them.

"Damn it." He grumbles and slams the bathroom door, and my room door as he leaves.

"Thank you." Nikki tells me in relief, waiting a moment before his eyes start trailing down my wet, sudsy body.

"Get out." I snap at the three of them and Tommy and Vince scram out of the shower, shaking off like wet dogs, and Vince complains about the steam fucking with his hair as they go to check if the coast is clear.

Nikki hasn't even gotten out of the shower and I nudge at him.

"Babe, go." I try not to laugh, opening the curtain. "Nikki."

He's snatching me up before I know it, shampoo running down my body as I squeal out and kick my feet as he pulls me from the shower and throws me over his shoulder to the room.

He doesn't even warn Vince or Tommy before dropping me on the mattress and pulling his shirt over his head.

"Ugh!" Tommy over exaggerates a gag, covering his eyes as he darts for the door.

My stomach aches due to me laughing so hard as Tommy practically drags Vince behind him with the blonde fighting back to try to stare at my body longer.

Nikki's not worried about it, his lips and teeth bruising up my neck.

When Ozzy's wife, Sharon, was absent, I was attempting to follow a strict list of rules she sent me to keep her husband in check. I don't know how the hell she managed to be successful in terms of keeping him at bay, but I failed miserably. And of course, Vince, Tommy, and Nikki, were no help when Ozzy would get spun up. They'd sneak him drugs and booze and use "what Sharon doesn't know won't hurt her" as a tagline for their antics.

That was their tagline for their own antics, too. Just replace "Sharon" with "Vivian", "Roxie" or "Beth".

But when Sharon was back on tour with us, her presence was known. The guys didn't drink, do drugs...or even have sex with other girls.

I can still hear her lecture, clear as day, in her little accent that just added heaps of conviction on to them:

"You have a wife, Vince. Tommy, you've got a fiancée, and Nikki, Vivian is not a bloody blow-up doll. Let her have some time to herself before you start humping at her like a wild animal."

She had Ozzy behaving like a good little boy, and she had Mötley Crüe playing board games instead of snorting coke up girl's spines while simultaneously screwing them.

Sharon Osbourne was my gift from God himself.

She had to leave half way through the tour and I went to New York with Tansy for half of a week, and in the midst of the half-week of me being gone, Nikki screwed groupies. I didn't know, obviously, and don't even think Nikki knows if he really did or if he just guessed he cheated since I left him unattended.

He still had his love for smoking heroin around that time, too, so anything he did, said, or had sex with is all a grey area from 1984 to 1988.

They finished their tour with Ozzy before being thrown back on a headlining tour for six weeks. I didn't realize how much damage was exactly being done anytime I wasn't around, because there was plenty enough being done when I actually was around.

My head leans back against the seat as I drift from light sleep to near unconsciousness, but not quite. We've been going for hours now, the bus not wasting a minute.

Tommy and Nikki are chattering, Tommy mostly, and snorting coke, Nikki mostly, sitting at the table, while Roxie sits behind them and examines her finger nails, Vince sits at the table beside me, and Mick's laying down on the other side of me and dozing.

"...I keep having this vision, right, where my drum set, it rises up, like this, and then bam! Smoke, lights, a-and the whole thing starts spinning around, and I'm playing drums upside down, and uh...I should just draw it for you. Hey, Rox, got a pen? Gimme a pen." He asks her energetically and I peek an eye open to see her scowling but grabbing a pen from her purse.

"Your mom's a cunt." She randomly states to him, casually, and I snap my eyes open and look at her as if she's lost her damn mind, my blood already beginning to boil.

"What?" Tommy asks her, turning around. "Why would you say that?"

"Because She is. She's a cunt." She continues.

"Quit it." Tommy tells her. "Gimme the pen, alright?"

"I don't even know why you told them. It's not like she has anything to do with us getting married." She starts raising her voice.

"Baby, it's sweet. Alright? It's tradition." Tommy tries to tell her patiently and she stands up.

"Which tradition the mandatory meeting of the cunt?!"

He stands to face her, his finger in her face, his voice sternly warning:

"Don't you ever call her that again. You hear me?"

She just stares at him, and he sits back down. She's suddenly stabbing him in the back with the pen, causing him to scream out in pain as she hisses, "here's your pen!"

"Ow, What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He asks her.

"Fuck you. And fuck your mother!"

"That's it, this fucking bitch is outta here, pull over!" Tommy shouts, and grabs Roxie harshly by the arm. "Get the fuck off my bus! Get the fuck out!" He shoves her down the aisle and I'm nearly shocked, never seeing Tommy this angry before.

She turns around and pushes him as hard as she can, sending him stumbling back a few feet, causing Nikki to turn and look at her.

"You are such a spoiled little mama's boy because you want to crawl back inside her cunt!"

Tommy's fist makes impact with her mouth hard enough to knock her over, the sound echoing through the bus.

"Tommy!" I snap, standing up just as Nikki says, "Jesus Christ!" In shock to what just happened.

Tommy's mortified with himself, seemingly paralyzed for a moment as she turns back to us, blood dribbling from her mouth.

"I told you not to say that." He gasps out quietly, eyes wide and mouth open. "Fuck."

It's the last thing he says before sprinting to the back, closing the door behind him.

"Are you proud?" I hurl the words at her, staring her down before turning on my heel to go check on Tommy as the bus comes to a halt.

"Tommy?" I hesitantly ask, seeing him sitting, holding his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry." His broken voice cracks, sniffling back tears and I crouch in front of him and grab at his wrists, making him look at me.

His watery eyes meet mine, his face red with embarrassment, and his lips shake a little bit. "You probably think I'm a shitty, psycho, person or something.”

"I almost broke Vince's nose." I remind him, wiping away at the tears threatening to spill over his lashes. "I punched him in the face for a hell of a lot less than what Roxie just did. You're not a shitty person, Tommy. You’re not crazy. You just have a temper. Which is a human attribute that can be managed. I'm just surprised you let her get that much in, honestly. I would've knocked her out the second she called your mom that to begin with."

"I just got so angry, Viv. She shouldn't have said that."

"No, she shouldn't have." I agree, brushing his hair from his face.

"If other people hear about this, you'll know what they'll say, and I didn't mean to. It was just—I got so angry."

"We all know you didn't mean to, Tommy. God knows. Let people think what they want to." I suggest. "Besides, you can do better than someone who sells pictures of you guys having sex to porn magazines without your permission."

He wipes his eyes and smiles a little, looking at me.

"Yeah, I guess." He shrugs and I hug him tightly, closing my eyes for a moment.

"It will work itself out, Tommy. I promise."

Later that night at the hotel we pulled in at, Nikki's attempting to start on something new, strumming endlessly at his bass with a notepad in front of him on the floor as I brush my teeth and then comb through my hair to braid it loosely and keep it from tangling through the night.

Once I'm finished I cut the bathroom light off and step into the bedroom, crawling on the bed and sitting at the foot of it.

He's hard at work, attempting to come up with an instrumental to match whatever inspiration is brewing in his mind.

I wait for him to reach a stopping point before I hang my legs over the edge of the bed on either side of his neck, the heels of my feet touching at his abdomen and I fall back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

His head turns for a moment his lips press to the side of my calf muscle of my right leg before he's back to work, and I drift off to sleep to the sound of him playing.

Early the next morning, the sunshine starts peaking through the curtains of the hotel room and I barely have time to sit up when I'm hit with—more like bombarded with—a heavy wave of nausea.

On my way to sprinting to the bathroom I nearly trip and fall on something in the floor, and I notice it's Nikki in the floor, a spoon and lighter beside him.

I don't make it to the toilet, vomiting in the sink instead, turning on the scalding hot water to wash it down as I wipe my mouth and look at myself in the mirror.

"Shit."

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mötley crüe #colson baker #daniel webber #douglas booth #the dirt #the dirt movie #douglas booth!nikki sixx x oc

[princess-of-the-worlds]

our love was never meant to last

For Day One of Klaroline AU Week 2019: Mythological Creatures.

Happy KC AU Week! It was always my favorite part of the Klaroline fandom, and I’m so glad that Luiza (@klaroline-events and @itsnotacrimetoloveyou) brought it back! Lu, ily!

Prompt was partially suggested by @dottie-wan-kenobi who told me to write mermaids and partially by a short story I wrote in high school that I never completed.

Also, can I mention, I hate the new tumblr text formatting.

***

ao3 link: here

word count: 6281

summary: When Hope Mikaelson begs her grandfather Klaus for a story, he tells her off a love long-lost. Seventy years ago, Klaus Mikaelson, then a RAF pilot, tumbled into the sea when his plane was shot down and was rescued by a beautiful girl with sunshine hair, a wolfish smile, and a silver tail. Their story was tragic and never meant to last.

***

One of Hope’s earliest memories begins like this:

It is a late summer afternoon in Albany, New York. The house is empty; Hope’s parents and grandmother are away running errands. The air is muggy and thick enough to choke on; Hope’s grandfather sits in his rickety old rocking chair on the porch to take refuge from the scorching rays of the sun. Hope perches at the edge of the porch, only a small distance away, kicking her slender feet out in no discernable rhythm. She stares out into the empty street in boredom, finding no fellow children to run out and play with.

It's too hot; everyone is avoiding the heat, choosing to remain indoors with the artificial chill of their air conditioners and fans.

Her grandfather leans back in the chair, and it creaks as he shifts his weight. He too cannot stave his impatience with the spy thriller he had been reading, so he sets it aside, down on the floor.

“Would you like to hear a story, Hope?”

His voice, a low baritone tinged with an eclectic mix between a Southern and British accent, is a startling relief from the sleepy silence of the neighborhood, and Hope perks up, turning to face him.

“Yes! That would be awesome! I am so bored.” She stretches out the syllables of her words in child-like exaggeration, pouting up at her grandfather.

“There are several that I can think of…” he begins, but Hope interrupts.

“No, grandad!” she cries. “You’ve already told me all of your stories.” Hope blinks eyes heavy with exhaustion up at him. “Tell me a new one.”

“A new story?” her grandfather mutters, stormy eyes going distant as he thinks back. Having decided on one, he turns his attention back to his granddaughter and smiles gently. “I think there is one story from your old grandad that you have never heard.”

***

I know that you have learned somewhat about the Second World War at school. It was a terrible war; there were so many innocent deaths, so much violence. But, I was never involved directly in the fighting.

No, I was a pilot. I flew airplanes for the British Royal Air Force. We often went on dangerous missions; it wasn’t always a guarantee that we would come back home. And, what we were doing, dropping bombs to destroy German U-boats, it wasn’t a terribly-good thing to do. But we were saving lives.

On one such mission in…September of 1945, I think, I was flying over the ocean. The Atlantic Ocean, it is the ocean between the United States and Great Britain.

Around me, the sky was surrounded in inky darkness; it was nighttime. And it was raining, such stormy weather that hadn’t been seen all summer. Still, I was safe inside my airplane.

Suddenly…I saw a flash of fiery light streaking toward me; it hit my plane with such a loud boom that my ears still rang for moments after.

My plane had been hit by fire from an enemy pilot.

They had ruined my plane’s engine, and I no longer had control. The plane began to plummet down so swiftly that my head smacked against the ceiling, and I was knocked unconscious.

I woke up once, only briefly. I had somehow fallen out of the plane, and I was dropping towards the ocean like a stone. My side was aching; I could not feel it, but I was paralyzed with fear and shock. I thought I was going to die, and I passed out again.

Once more I woke up. I had just plunged underwater; it was freezing, my entire body ached, and the water kept dragging me further down.

I opened my mouth to breath, a stupid mistake. The water rushed into my mouth, filling up my lungs, stinging the way skinning a knee does but everywhere. I tried to swim, I reached out a hand to claw my way out of the water, but it was too heavy, my body was too heavy. I only sank faster.

The water burned like hot lava in my stomach after I was forced to swallow some.

Everything began to become fuzzy at the edges, and I couldn’t tell upside from down. Still, I fought to keep my eyes open, but it was a losing battle.

And, then, imagine this.

Just as all I could see became darkness, there was a flash of silver, almost like light. It was shimmery, metallic. And I tried to reach for it.

But my body was still not under my control.

I thought I saw a face, a human face, but that was not possible. No one could be underwater with me.

I could not ponder this, because unconsciousness came quickly.

***

When I came to, I saw the brightest sky I had ever seen. Brilliant and clear, not a cloud to be seen. And below me? The softest, purest sand ever felt against the exposed skin of my arms.

I shifted against the sand, pain licking like flames down my sides. I was in the most agony that I had ever felt. Something hot was boiling up in my throat, and I gagged, unsuccessful in keeping it down. I turned my head and vomited the remains of my last meal onto the sand; I kept my eyes away from the mess. My stomach roiled again as I dry-heaved.

Something hovered into my view.

A face. The face I had caught a brief glimpse of underwater.

It was a woman-no, it was a girl.

She was beautiful, yes, but did not surpass my childhood sweetheart Camille in beauty. Her skin was unblemished and fair like the sand I lay against, and her hair, hanging loose further than I could see, was a sunshine yellow, though it gleamed even more golden when it caught the light. But, more remarkable, was the keen intelligence that shone in the depths of her cerulean eyes, muddled against the stare of a predator.

I craned my head to allow my gaze to travel further than her delicate collarbones and a slash of nearly sheer fabric that covered her entire upper body; I glanced down and then immediately jerked my head back in bewilderment. I snuck another painful look to make sure that my tired eyes and brain were not playing tricks on my mind.

This girl had a tail.

At her waist, where Camille would wear her skirt, was a majestic tail, silver in color. It was a beauty, iridescent, wide at the waist but narrow where the flipper protruded. It flexed, shimmering with lustrous color under the rays of the luminous sun.

My brain could not compensate for both the agony and the impossibility of a girl with the tail of a fish.

I screamed, the sound ripping itself from my throat. It was the sound of a wild man, a man losing his soul; it was a sound that I believed myself incapable of making until that moment. I screamed myself hoarse, until my throat rubbed raw against itself as I attempted to make noise, but the girl with a tail made no indication to move.

Finally, when all the noise and all the fight was drained out of me, sucked away and replaced by an exhaustion so heavy I felt it in my bones, the girl lunged into my view. I could not flinch away; my limbs dragged against each other as I attempted to move.

She opened her lips, a slash of bright color against the white sand, and I braced my body, stiffening away the best I could.

But she spoke not.

No, she sang.

And her song, oh her song, light, airy, melodious, unlike anything I had ever heard. It was distant at first, the hushed background noise of a radio while the channel is being adjusted. It was still one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

Then I began to listen.

It was harmonious, it was precise, her song was in tune with the rhythmic beating of my heart.

A magical spell was woven in her music, in her song, in her voice. Her voice wove threads in my mind, dulled it until I could no longer refuse to obey, fogged the rest of my brain until the slapping of ocean waves no longer registered. The color of my vision faded, her face disappearing, only her voice left as my guiding focus.

Her voice paralyzed my body. I could not flinch, I could not tremble, I could not resist.

So, I obeyed her song.

And my mind slept.

***

For a second time, my mind stirred, and my eyes fluttered open. The aching in my bones was now a lingering memory, my pain receptors somehow dulled so my body was temporarily relaxed from the pain. There was faint light filtering from above, though my eyes were staring straight ahead at the slate cavernous ceiling of a cave. My body rested on a surface more solid than the sand had been, but my fingers twitched unconsciously and stroked against the slippery silk of cloth.

I shifted my body; there was heat flaring over my body suddenly, so thick it weighed heavy in my chest and lungs. I coughed, a million bees buzzed in my mouth and throat.

Immediately, there was relief in the form of a cool, soaked rag draped against the delicate skin of my forehead. The difference in temperature was as distinct as the difference between black and white. Water trickled down the sides of my temples, and I sighed audibly.

The rag was a heavenly gift to me in my poor state.

I turned my face towards my savior as a blind man would to the sun, but, immediately, I recoiled and tried to shove myself further away.

The girl had placed the rag on my forehead and was now lifting it. I traced the paths of her slender hands with my eyes and watched as she dipped the rag into a small pot likely filled with water, allowing the cloth to become weighty. Then, in rapid, harsh movements, she retrieved the rag, squeezed the liquid from it thoroughly, and returned it to its position on my forehead.

Her hand brushed against the prickling skin on my forehead; her skin was smooth and soft against the dampness of my temple.

I stiffened, heart roaring to life, but there was no escape. Despite the lack of pain in my body, I was pinned between her and the cavern wall.

“Get away from me,” I demanded weakly, bursting into a fit of violent coughing that left me doubled over. Even speaking strained my voice after my bout of screaming…days ago? Hours ago? Time seemed to have passed so sluggishly since I fell from my plane that I could no longer tell.

She ignored me.

“Humans.” She clicked her tongue with strange indifference. Her voice was cool, evenly-pitched, almost throaty. It struck me as odd; after hearing her song, I had expected her speaking voice to also be honeyed and lilting. “So clumsy and fragile.”

Singing…

“What did you do to me?” I blurted in outrage and immediately regretted it when my throat ached.

“Hmm?” The girl swept the rag from my forehead, and, though the heat was swiftly returning, I shivered. “What did I do?”

“You forced me to sleep!” I protested.

“Oh, yes. That,” she replied tonelessly, as though it had suddenly occurred to her. “I sung to you.”

“You sung to me?” I managed to prop my head up at a slight angle; my eyes unconsciously travelled back to her waist.

I would have blushed at the shamelessness of my gaze, several years in the air force had not trained away the innocence and decency ingrained in me by my family and culture, but my eyes were then popping out of my head at her current lack of tail.

“You have legs!” I gasped audibly. “Where did your legs go?”

She rolled her cerulean eyes, a gesture usually found uncouth on most ladies but that strangely suited her. Once again, she ignored my question. “You have several broken ribs and deep surface wounds. None are critical, but some may scar and mar your pretty face.”

I was unsure if she meant that as a compliment.

The girl continued, “I have treated your wounds with a paste made of lavender and wintergreen; both are natural anesthetics. Your ribs I have numbed with a gel of clove oils. They must heal internally, and you must keep them tightly wrapped.”

“Why are you doing this?” I must have mumbled, and the girl smiled, a wolf smile not fit for her fair features.

“I don’t like my victims untainted.”

The air was snuffed from my lungs, and the blood must have drained from my face, leaving my countenance considerably paler, because the wolf girl’s wolf smile grew wider.

“Relax,” she purred, voice silky and deceptive. “I won’t harm you. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I only sing humans to death; that’s where the fun is, the deception and the chase and the hunt. I’m a predator.”

Chills ran down my spine, warning bells echoing in my ears. “Dangerous girl, what kind of creature are you?” I managed to gasp through my strangled throat.

“Silly human boy.” Wolf girls’ laughs were not meant to sound like tinkling silver bells. “I am a monster. I lure boys like you in and watch you crash to your own death into rocks. I am a siren like in those myths humans are so proud of. I change form at will.” The tense silence that stretched between her next words brought tentative hope to my heart. “I will heal you, and then you will leave.”

I had no time to flinch when she yanked the threadbare fabric of my shirt up and ripped wraps of fabric away from the skin that covered my ribs. If the pain had not been dampened, I would have howled.

She would have likely sneered in satisfaction.

“Hold your shirt away from your skin,” the siren ordered, and I obeyed out of fear. “I must replace your bandages. I will return in a moment.”

I must have drifted off from the exertion of my body, because, when I focused my dazed eyes, there was a subtle gleaming between new cloth on my ribs, likely more numbing gel.

My stomach growled noisily.

Strange. My brain had not registered hunger.

The siren materialized at my side, clutching what appeared to be a hollow coconut shell. Something sloshed inside it as she shoved it none-to-gently toward me.

“What is that?” I mumbled. When she raised an eyebrow, I repeated my words with more volume.

“Food,” she replied crisply. “Careful when you raise yourself up.”

She lent no helping hand as I tenderly propped myself up, leaning my back against the hard rock behind me. I retrieved the shell from her hands, avoiding skin contact.

The liquid inside the coconut was thick and slightly murky, though the color was most likely due to the small herbs dotting its surface. I raised the lip of the shell to my mouth and tilted; the brew had a sharp, sour flavor that I did not shy away from. It reminded me of my mother Esther’s chicken stew, something I had not had in several years, or at least not since rationing began in England.

My hunger took over me, and I drained the shell. Some liquid dribbled over my lips as I swallowed; I wiped the excess away with the back of my hand as I set the shell on the cot besides me.

The siren watched me with clever eyes, smile finally gone.

Hunger momentarily quelled, my body not in any immediate trouble, I surveyed the cave in which we rested.

The space was small and tidy, furnished with a mishmash of objects like the cot I was laying on, a burgundy rug embroidered with ornate patterns, or the curtains of translucent cloth that fluttered as a light breeze brushed through the entrance of the cavern.

“Where am I?” I dared question.

“An island,” came her brief response.

“An island where?”

The siren’s eyes glimmered as jewels would. “That is not a concern of yours when you remain in this condition. You are to remain on this island, my island, under my care until you recover to near-perfect condition.”

“Do I have a say in this?”

“No.” Her refusal was perfunctory but decisive, and I realized that I did, in fact, not have a say in my condition.

“Sleep,” she instructed, and, though this time her words were more of a mere suggestion, I still heeded them.

For several days, we existed like that. I slept on the cot, feeling as if my legs were deteriorating from their lack of movement. The siren would drift into the cavern occasionally to change my bandages or apply more ointment or forcibly hand me a shell of the same brew. She would always disappear to the water at nightfall, always wearing dresses of the same nearly-sheer fabric. My pain remained numbed for most of the passing time, leaving me to assume that the siren slipped her painkilling substance in my meals.

We shared vague, undisturbed conversation. She never proved intimidating after the day I first awoke, though she behaved as if I remained uninteresting.

One of our exchanges went like this:

“Have you no name I may call you?” I asked her as she scraped a paste of herbs for my next ointment. It had been less than a week after I nearly drowned, and I lounged the best I could against the solid surface of the cot.

“What may I call you?” she shot back rapidly, clever hands at swift work.

I detected no venom in her taunts, a usual occurrence of late; it seems that she was beginning to warm up to me. “Klaus,” I told her.

“Klaus.” She tested my name several times, weighing it on her tongue with curiosity. “What is the significance of your name?” Her voice had taken a near childlike quality.

“It is a diminutive of Niklaus, which means victory of the people in a certain language.”

“Victory?” The siren’s full lips curled into a soft expression, lacking the sharpness of her wolf smile. “What war are you fighting?”

Her question struck a chord with me, and I laughed hollowly. “No war that I can win.”

She eyed me intuitively before nodding silently, her hair bobbing along with the movement of her head. “You may call me whatever you please. I have no name and have grown accustomed to the titles others award me.”

It took mere seconds until inspiration struck me. “May I call you Caroline?” I briefly knew a Caroline once, a daughter of distant family acquaintances, and something about the sharp stare of the curious siren reminds me of her.

The siren nodded her assent, and Caroline she became.

***

“Why do your fellow humans war in the sky and in the sea?” she questioned only a few days later.

I gaped at her in astonishment. This was one inquiry I had never expected. “We’re fighting a war,” I finally managed to reply. “The last war like this that my country fought in was called the war to end all wars. It seems that this might be the war to end all wars.”

“What is the conflict?”

“Conflict?” I echoed with bewilderment.

“Why does your country fight?”

“We must crush the forces that threaten the will of the world as I know it,” I stated, a sentiment I had heard from many of my fellow pilots.

She glances at me and then away, as if one view into my eyes has exposed my meager secrets. “And why do you fight?”

“I fight, because my country chose me to,” I reply swiftly, but she had heard what I had left unsaid

“But you do not choose to,” Caroline guessed.

My silence served as confirmation.

Her eyes softened to the closest that I had seen as kindness in her expressions. “It was never my intent to force you to sleep against your will,” she confessed, “but it was a necessity for your body to heal.”

“I have never had my mind turned against my will until that instance,” I commented quietly. “I never intend for it to happen again.”

“Take this as my word. Or, rather as my vow.” Caroline had been kneeling on the rug besides my cot, but, now, she rose to look down upon me. “I will never sing to you again,” she promised sincerely.

After that day, the last vestiges of our stony animosity were washed away, and we treated each other as equals, dare I say friends.

***

Several days later, Caroline determined that my wounds had healed well-enough for her to allow me to venture outside.

First, however, she urged me to practice walking around the cave.

It was easier said than done.

Despite Caroline’s assistance in slipping off the cot, the moment I attempted to stand I wobbled so critically that I would have fallen had Caroline not been there to catch me.

“Steady,” she murmured, eyes shifting down to my trembling legs. “Take this step by step, and, soon, you will be able to stand.”

How odd had our acquaintanceship become that it never once occurred to me to doubt her words.

Steady step by steady step, I spent hours that day relearning how to walk, and not once did Caroline ever leave my side.

At the end, I was trembling and sweating, my legs aching hollowly as if I had run miles and exerted my body more tremendously than I had done, but I had managed to walk the length of the cavern several times.

“What did I say?” Caroline crowed as I moved to perch on the edge of the cot in exhaustion.

“Even a blind miner strikes gold once,” I replied stubbornly.

The next day, Caroline dragged me from my cot early in the morning.

“What?” I groaned, rubbing my eyes blearily. My last meal had been last night, and her pain-numbing concoction’s effects were wearing off; I could feel the aching beginning, deep in my bones. If I still sustained true pain from my injuries, even after two weeks, it would hit sooner or later. “I think I’ll need more of your painkilling substance soon.”

“I will give it to you soon,” she promised sincerely, “but hurry!” Caroline bundled me towards the entrance of the cave while I tottered for balance. Her push was gentle but steady, and, slowly, I limped towards the lip of the cave, further than I had ever been.

I broke through the shadow of the cave, bare feet brushing against the velvety but grainy sand, my boats having left unworn in the cave for weeks, and gasped, heart nearly thudding out of my chest as I surveyed the landscape that unfolded below me.

The sun had just risen, casting yellow light that washed over the dark sea and formed a trail of white where the light hit the water. Around me, the dusky purple of the night sky was lightening for day, revealing a verdant forest of green to my right. The snow-like beach lay spread to my left, speckled with grey and brown boulders.

“Of all the sights in the world,” I breathed quietly, “this is one I am glad that never went unseen.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Caroline admitted. “Come.” She motioned with a single hand as she began to herd me down a gentle slope that led to the beach.

“You wouldn’t know?” I questioned curiously.

She shook my question off and took off running towards the long stretch of beach. “Chase me,” she demanded in a joyful cry.

I laughed loudly for the first time in weeks, and the sound echoed in the silence around me. I followed Caroline, trailing behind in a quick walk, not trusting my legs enough to run.

In front of me, Caroline reached the water and came to an abrupt halt. She waited a few moments for me to catch up, glancing back at me with invitation in the endless oceans that were her eyes. As I grew closer, she began to chuckle, a melody almost as stunning as her song.

She took a running start, water flying up behind her as she dashed forward, before diving forward into the water.

As her head became submerged in the water, the air surrounding her legs began to blur slightly, as if becoming covered with a smoke screen.

I will never be able to describe exactly how it happened, but it was almost magical, the way her legs metamorphized into her shimmering tail.

I had reached the edge of the water and hesitated slightly.

The memory began to loop itself in my head: how the water had reached into every crevice of my lungs, how it had filled my nostrils until I could no longer breath, how I had begun to choke, how the water weighed me down, dragging me further into its depths.

A cool spray of water slapped me in the face, and I gasped, breaking free from that nightmare’s hold, head turning to gaze at Caroline.

She had splashed me with the fin of her tail, and she did it again, sending a torrent of water splashing into my face.

I only blinked slowly as my hair became plastered to my head.

“Well,” she called eagerly, “are you coming in or not?” When I failed to respond after a brief pause, her face took on an expression of concern. “Oh. It did not occur to me that you may have retained a fear of the water after your near death.”

“No,” I said frantically, attempting to soothe her worries. “That is not what it is.”

She shook her head in refusal. “I am centuries old, Klaus. I am not oblivious. It should have occurred to me, I apologize.”

“No…really…” I sighed. “It is not right for me to be afraid.”

Caroline stared at me critically. “Why is it not right?” she asked calculatingly.

“Men in my society,” I began softly. “We are not supposed to have such ordinary weaknesses.”

Snorting in disbelief, she swam up to where the shallowness of the water began, and, when she edged out of the water, she walked on her feet, skin still covered by the cloth of her dress, now soaked and floating above the water.

I gaped briefly, amazed by her transformation.

She strode up to me, nearing closer until we were nose to nose. “That is complete and utter bullshit,” she snapped. “I have swum the waters of this world for far longer than you could imagine, and, of every man and women who have sailed these seas, for there have been many women, and who I have lured with my song, all were susceptible to ordinary weaknesses or fears. It is only natural. Every person has fears; one must simply be courageous enough to brave them.” Caroline seated herself on the sand and reached up a hand. “Come.”

I gently eased myself into the sand beside her. “You have lived long, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“Yet you have never seen the world,” I stated in confusion.

“I cannot,” Caroline explained. “It is not in my nature. I am not meant to walk among the humans; I am meant to be their death and destruction. I was created from sea foam to be such.”

“You walk alongside me; you have cared for me.”

She laughed in melancholy. “That is different. I will never be able to live amongst the humans; there is no point in pretending otherwise.”

“If I could,” I breathed. “I would take you anywhere in the world. You deserve to see it as such.”

“That is the kindest offer anyone has ever made me.” Her smile could have launched a thousand ships; she would have been Helen of Troy, her beauty amplified by her happiness.

I do not know how we shifted until our sides were pressed together; I could feel the heat of her skin brushing against mine through the thin fabric of her dress and my trousers.

She turned her face towards mine, and I must have done the same for our lips were touching.

Her lips were soft as they brushed against mine, a whisper of butterfly wings.

Our kiss was sweet and soulful, but there was a dissonant cacophony of danger bells clanging themselves in my head.

I reached a tender hand to cup her face, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone, before slowly drawing my head back.

“I cannot,” I apologized in a hushed voice. “In other circumstances, I would be able to love you, but I cannot now. My heart already belongs to another.”

Her eyes were understanding. “Who?”

“I can only show you.”

So, my heart writhing in emotional pain, I led her back to the cave and to the heap where my bomber jacket and boots lay. From that inner pocket, I withdrew my compass. Amazingly, it remained intact, despite all the trauma it had gone through; the lid was only the slightest bit dented. I flipped it open to reveal the photograph that lay embedded within.

“This is Camille,” I stated softly. “We met as children.”

The photograph was from that last occasion we saw each other before my training, before she had gone off to work as a nurse in the war hospitals; we had gone dancing. Though the print was black and white, my mind filled in the brassy yellow of her hair - not too dissimilar to Caroline’s, the flecks of green and grey in her eyes, the rosy red of her cheeks. She remained burned in my memory: her sparkling eyes, her angular chin, the narrows of her delicate hands, the melody of her laugh.

“Do you love her?” Caroline’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Very much.” A lovestruck expression overtook my face. “She is kind but witty; her words can be barbs on her tongue, but she never wields them to hurt, only to sooth.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She is.” I nodded eagerly.

Caroline laughed without venom. “Love is the one human emotion I never understood,” she said straightforwardly. “I believe I never will.”

I could not respond to that.

***

For days after, conversation between us remained stilted and awkward until, one day, Caroline sat me down and forced me to talk about Camille.

“I’m a sucker for love stories,” she demanded.

I could only oblige.

From then, we laughed and talked the way we had before.

A day almost four weeks later, Caroline declared that my injuries had healed almost fully.

“Now what?” I inquired as I perched on the edge of my cot.

“I do not know.” She shrugged, hands fiddling with the cloth of her dress. “Let us eat while we ponder your next opportunities”

After another meal of broth, we traveled out the beach. My fear of the water had dulled slightly, enough that I did not panic when we waded out into the water as we were currently doing.

“It never seemed that you wished to fight in your human war,” Caroline told me.

“That is true,” I remarked. “I was drafted; I had no choice.”

“Do you not need to return?” she asked.

“I do not know,” I replied truthfully.

The war had not occurred to me in all my weeks with Caroline; it was a thing of the outside world, distant and nearly forgotten.

“I do not need to,” I mused. “I could stay here with you.”

Her eyes flashed. “No, you would not survive here. Humans have short lives, and yours would end soon enough. I would be lonely again. Besides, you have family and someone who loves you.”

“You can come with me!” I cried passionately.

She barked a bitter laugh. “I have already told you, Klaus. I cannot be a human; I cannot live amongst them.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

Her wolf smile had returned. “You are so naïve,” Caroline hissed. “I bring death with my song. I would destroy humanity. It is not a choice; it is a compulsion. I stayed away from humans for a reason, watching from a distance. You showed me the best of humanity, but even my song was too much for you. My song will ruin you; we will never be able to live together in harmony anywhere.”

There was a flood of agony to my heart and head. “I have never met a soul like you,” I said, trying to appeal to her. “We could figure it out together.”

Her angry demeanor cracked as her eyes flooded with tears. “It will not work,” she stated simply, turning her face away.

“How do you know?” I protested.

“You will never understand.” She rose elegantly, like a queen. “Come with me.”

I did not follow. “Why?” I asked stubbornly, holding my ground, bare toes digging into the sand.

“Please.” Her airy voice cracked with emotion I could not understand.

At the pleading in her voice, I loosened my body and took a step towards her. “Fine.”

Briefly, there was brightness in her pained smile. She began to walk towards the cave, and I trailed behind her, my bewilderment growing as we entered the cave. Caroline grabbed my bomber jacket and stuffed it into my arms. “Put those on,” she ordered, gesturing to my boots. “You’ll need them where we’re going.”

I obeyed, asking as I balanced to pull my boots on, “Where are we going?”

Caroline held out a hand to me. “Wait.” The moment I had tied the laces of my boots and slid my jacket on, she led me out of the cave.

We traveled along the cave until the path became steeper and steeper, until I was gasping for breath, though Caroline remained unaffected, until the cave became a mound of rock surrounded by dirt. We were crossing to a side of the island I had never seen before, following the line of trees from the forest but never venturing inside. Finally, roughly ten minutes later, we arrived at a small cove with a direct view to the sea. I stopped at the entrance while Caroline ventured to a large rocky overhang.

From its shadow, she heaved out, with incredible strength, a vast wooden platform, made of logs tied tightly together, with a narrow paddle attached.

It was a raft.

“Sirens have always had an innate sense of the sea. For example, I know that, if you paddle out for a few hours and drift in the same direction for some more, you will find yourself in the path of a ship,” she told me nonchalantly. “It could be a U-boat, but it is more likely to be one of your country’s boats.”

“I do not understand,” I stuttered.

On the contrary, however, a small seed of comprehension began to sprout in my mind.

“You do not need to.”

Then, she opened her mouth again, lips stretched wide, and I understood.

Caroline began to sing.

It was a terrible song, music of hopelessness and frustration and sorrow and loss. Her voice, as airy and beautiful as it was, was also rough and full of turmoil, a voice of grated rocks and sharp edges. One listen would open up your heart, one listen would cut a wound, one listen would cause bleeding.

I tried to steel myself against her voice; I stilled my heart and mind, left them as hardened as possible.

It was futile.

Her song drove itself into my mind, wrapped itself around my heart. Her warbling ordered my feet to move against my will, to stride toward the raft and toward her in clumsy steps.

My body couldn’t resist as it stumbled toward her.

I came to stand in front of her.

“Why, why are you doing this?” I cried emotionally. “Let me stay here with you.”

At that moment, all thought of the war, of my home, of my Camille were driven from my mind; my only focus was Caroline.

She turned her head to face me, still singing. Her eyes were wide, the endless water in the endless oceans of her eyes finally spilling over and down her quivering cheeks as she took miniscule gasping breaths between notes. Her lips met and parted as she articulated her music.

My body moved itself to the raft and tugged it further to the ocean tide that teased the shore.

Of my own accord, I called out to her, but my helpless pleading fell on deaf ears.

I was seated on the raft, able to sprawl my full body across it and still reach the oar.

Caroline continued to sing.

“Please…” was all I could manage.

She gave me a bitter, sea salt smile as one of my hands lifted the oar.

No amount of resistance could tear my palms from the oar as my arms began to paddle, pulling the raft into the hungry tide. The song never lifted from my mind, though my heart remained free to beat in relentless agony.

As the raft began to drift into the ocean, my head was forced to turn to face the water, until I could no longer see Caroline.

Only her voice continued, tainting itself into my ears.

Her song changed suddenly, no longer heavy or dark but now light and freeing. There was loss, yes, but it was overcome by the coolness of sacrifice, by the sweetness of innate selflessness.

The siren’s song remained in my ears all the way to sea…

#kcauweek2019 #klaroline #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #klaroline drabble

[galoots]

Team Uncle Week 2019 Day 1: Domestic Life/Parenting It’s Bring Your Child to Work day at McDuck Enterprises, and Scrooge has brought his nephew Donald in like every year before. Scrooge is certain that his nephew, on the cusp of adulthood, will pursue the same career path as him, but when Donald gets fed up with his lofty expectations, Scrooge learns a hard lesson. Sometimes what’s best for our children is letting them find their own path.

 “Listen up, everyone!” The rap of Scrooge’s cane against the tile floor echoed throughout the buzzing lobby of McDuck Enterprise’s central headquarters. Heads swiveled from every direction to face the source of the noise, and once all eyes were firmly on the company’s CEO, Scrooge could begin his announcement. Brandishing the tip of his cane towards Donald, who looked equal parts uncomfortable and mortified, Scrooge loudly announced the following to his faithful employees.

           “This,” he declared, with a waggle of his cane, “is my darling ward, Donald. Many of you—those who have worked here a long time—know him already. For the few employees for which this is their first year here, and may not recognize him, I caution you to listen up. Take a good look at his face and commit it to memory. Study his features. Remember them well. Because some day in the future, this will be the face of your new boss.”

Longtime employees of McDuck Enterprise looked on with weary, bored expressions. They had heard this spiel many times and were no stranger to McDuck’s bravado when it came to his nephew. A few company greenhorns let out spasmodic bouts of weak, uncertain applause that quickly faded away when they realized no one had joined them. Scrooge beamed out at his little worker bees, his face a mélange of pride and confidence.

           Today was the day of the 17th annual “Bring Your Child to Work Day” at McDuck Enterprise. An event Scrooge had initiated as a company-wide event the same year his nephew was born. Naturally, Scrooge schlepped Donald to the yearly occasion in order to educate his ward and as an excuse to tout around his little CEO-in-the-making. A fact Donald would find touching, if not for his uncle’s adamant insistence that he repeat the same declaration year after year, after year, after year. At first, he’d found it inspiring: a motivating promise he hoped to fulfill to make his uncle proud. Later on, he found it lost its oomph after repeat viewings until it had become plain funny to hear Scrooge’s artless, yet sincere affirmation. However, now, well into his teen years, he found it deeply troubling. Every year, he’d find himself smiling apologetically at the other parents and their children as his uncle dragged him from event to event. Usually, he was met with conciliatory expressions from the other parents, weary but understanding, or at least pretending to be. Occasionally, from the more sycophantic employees, he’d receive cajoling, self-servicing attention meant to ingratiate themselves into his good graces. He found neither of these congenial per se, but they were certainly preferable to the looks of out-right disdain from some of the other teenagers that were present. Even though these looks pained him, Donald couldn’t find it in himself to blame these teens, many of them his classmates, for their malice. Instead, he sympathized with them. From their perspective, he must appear the spoiled son of a business magnate, whose privileged future was secured with blatant nepotism. So, while he could find no reason to complain about a day off from school, nor one spent with his adoring uncle, he dreaded the annual event all the same. Scrooge, benign to the loaded atmosphere, merely placed a supportive, guiding arm around his shoulders.

           “Come now, Donald. I’ve got plenty to show you this year. I’m terribly excited for you to see what I’ve got in store for you.” Scrooge gently lead him down the hall, unaware of the worry brewing in his nephew’s troubled head.

           Touring the facility reminded Donald of the undeniable fact that his uncle truly was a titan of the industry, regardless of the market or its reach. It seemed like there was no piece of the pie that Scrooge didn’t own, and it was enough to make Donald’s head spin. As they toured his facility, Scrooge lectured Donald about their various entrepreneurial pursuits—their challenges, their compromises, and—most importantly—their victories. While he didn’t find it uninteresting, Donald found it incredibly overwhelming to the point of exhaustion. He couldn’t understand how his uncle could juggle it all, and still manage to have a life on top of work. So rather than listen to the particulars of the tales of commerce and finance his uncle spun, he chose to attend to the man’s warm and ardent tone.

           It was endearing to hear a loved one go on at length about a fervent interest, Donald thought. Many people perceived his Uncle Scrooge as a cold, indifferent man, but Donald knew this wasn’t true. His uncle’s single-minded pursuit to his work was admirable, and Scrooge spoke of it in the same tenor he used to discuss Donald’s own accomplishments. Comparatively, he knew his odd A+ paper or sports trophy couldn’t hold a candle to his uncle’s vast empire, yet he never felt lesser than Scrooge or his devotion to his company. Scrooge held him in tantamount, if not greater, esteem to his vast fortune, his legacy, and immortal empire he’d built. His uncle would often jokingly exclaim that he’d been a poor old man until Donald became a part of his life despite having well-established his estate long before his birth.

           Nonetheless, Scrooge’s ensured confidence in Donald’s ability to serve as his heir unsettled the boy. What should he do, if he proved himself unworthy of that esteem?

           “Donald?” Scrooge shook him gently, sending his trouble thoughts running to the corners of his mind. “Are you alright there, lad?”

           “Peachy keen, Uncle Scrooge.” Donald flashed his uncle a smile, hoping it was a convincing one.

           Scrooge smiled at him, patting his shoulder approvingly. “Good. Shall we make our way to the conference room then?”

           “What for?” Donald couldn’t remember a prior year where he’d been allowed to sit on one of Scrooge’s influential, industry-changing business meetings.        

           “I’ve a meeting to attend of course. I’d like you to observe.”

           The meeting was suitably dull as Donald had expected. Droning executives, confusing jargon, and pressed black and navy suits as far as the eye could see. Twenty minutes in, and Donald already found himself lost. He simply adopted a strategy he often employed in similarly less than stimulating classes. He kept his eyes bright and intent, focused on whoever was speaking, head nodding like a bobblehead, while his mind was a million miles away. As the bigwigs around him discussed at length whatever issue at hand, Donald began to draft a villanelle he was writing in his head. Lost in the lyrical pleasures of poetic composition, he barely heard an unfamiliar voice call his name.

           Snapping to attention, he found the room’s eyes trained on him. A woman smiled wryly at him and repeated her phrase. “Donald, I asked if you had any insights into our predicament. A new, foreign perspective often proves beneficial in such matters, and you are Mr. McDuck’s heir, after all.”

           Donald couldn’t decipher the woman’s obfuscating smile. Was she asking earnestly? Did she mean to test him? Or did she simply intend to embarrass him, proving to the other higher-ups that he was unfit for his privileged role?

           The audible click of the nearby clock’s second hand marked the passing of his elapsed silence. A moment, seconds long, stretched thin to an eternity on the blade of his anxiety, until Scrooge cleared his throat with authoritative control.

           “Mrs. Montgomery, while I applaud your initiative, Donald is here only to learn, not to provide input. I’d ask that you stay on track and treat his presence here as you would any observing third-party. While I have no doubt of Donald’s illuminating judgement, it’s neither the time nor place to put him on the spot to share it.”

           Sinking down low into his chair, Donald wished for the ability to disappear. He calmly waited until the meeting had ended before briskly leaving the room to bolt for the nearest unenclosed space. Panic squeezed his throat and his ears were filled with the pounding of his heart, in frantic rhythm with his footsteps as he climbed the stairwell. Bursting out onto the roof terrace, Donald gasped for breath. He choked on the air, a sharp pain in his chest, while the feeling he was coming untethered from reality settled upon him. The world turned bizarre and alien around him, as if suddenly viewed through kaleidoscopic vision. His perception pulled away from him like a dolly zoom as he fell away from himself. Gradually, he recognized a warm, unimposing hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles there, and a voice instructing him to breathe. He imagined a feather floating in front of him, ascending with each inhaled and descending with each subsequent exhale.

           Slowly, he clicked back into place, and became aware of Scrooge kneeling next to him, on his bad knee no less, on top of the windy roof terrace. When he fully came to, he was sitting next to his uncle on the rooftop bench, sipping a bottle of herbal tea purchased from a nearby vending machine.

           “I’m sorry.” He choked out, looking firmly at the cement underneath his unsteady feet.

           Scrooge kept a steady hand on the expanse between his shoulder blades. “Don’t apologize, Donald. I had no clue Mrs. Montgomery would put you on the spot like that. I’m so sorry.” That hand kept Donald anchored as he squeezed out angry tears. They splattered onto the cement, marking it a dark gray. Scrooge continued to comfort him as he cried. “The worst of it is over now. We can go home right away or stay here if you prefer. Whatever you need to make you feel better.”

           He felt calmer now but still raw, like the wind could rip right through him at any moment. One more stiff breeze and he might topple off the precarious position he occupied on top of this roof. The feelings he’d been trying to push away all day only continued their assault and Donald could feel himself finally buckle.

           “Uncle Scrooge, what if I don’t want to run your company?” A small voice, that must have been his own, queried.

           “What?” From the sound of his uncle’s voice, he must have caught Scrooge off-guard. “I thought… do you not want to?”

           Donald swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “Business is your thing. I know you just want what’s best for me, and I want to make you proud, but—What if I’m no good at it?! What if I don’t like it? I feel like there’s all this pressure to be like you and—” His voice hitched as it reached a frantic pitch.

           “Slow down. Don’t forget to breathe.” His uncle held him reassuringly, letting Donald rest on his shoulder and catch his breath. “Oh Donald… I had no idea you felt like this. Tell me everything that’s bothering you.”

           With his uncle’s go-ahead, the truth welled up inside him, fit to burst. Donald unburdened himself of the mounting pressure that had dogged him all day and all these years. His fears of disappointing Scrooge, his growing anxiety he couldn’t meet his expectations, his doubts he even wanted to follow Scrooge’s career path. He felt lighter and lighter with each admission that slipped from his beak. Scrooge listened quietly and attentively to all he had to say. When he came to a close, Scrooge waited for him to continue before he collected his own thoughts to speak.

           “I owe you an apology, Donald.” His uncle braced him with a protective grasp. “I feel utterly wretched putting you through all this. It sounds like you were incredibly stressed because I was pushing you into something you felt ill-suited for. You must have felt so trapped. This was eating away at you for a while, wasn’t it?”

           Donald nodded meekly, his head nestled in crook of Scrooges neck.

           “Of course, you were. You had every right to be. I know nothing I can say can undo the pain I’ve already put you through, but I am truly sorry.” The tell-tale sound of emotion choked Scrooge’s throat as he spoke. “I love you so much, darling. I’ll be proud of you no matter what you chose to do. I hope you know that.”

           Scrooge sighed deeply before he resumed speaking. “I should have asked you what you wanted, instead of bullheadedly forcing my own expectations for your future on you. I’m so sorry, Donnie. I’ll do better from here on out, I swear.”

           He hugged him tightly, rocking him slightly in his arms. Donald hugged him back, his arms wrapped around his uncle’s waist, feeling younger than his years, smaller than his frame, and calmer than he’d felt all day.

           Speaking in a subdued tone, Donald murmured into his uncle’s feathery neck: “I forgive you, Uncle Scrooge.”

           The sun was starting to set as Scrooge and Donald walked the length of the park. They walked in silence for the most part, until Scrooge cleared his throat with a nervous tremor. “Donald… When I made all those speeches about you, I never intended to pressure you. I wanted you to know that I believe in you, because I really do believe you could run my company in the future. You’d be great at it! I never doubted that for a moment. And I guess… I wanted everyone else to know how amazing you are.” Scrooge took off his hat. “I was foolish. I thought if I let everyone know how proud I am of you and how much I believe in you, then you’d feel motivated and empowered to step up to the plate! But all I did was make you miserable.” Scrooge fumbled awkwardly with the brim, keeping his eyes downcast and off of Donald’s face.

           His uncle looked vulnerable and uncertain as he stumbled through his explanation. “Donald, I don’t want you to get the impression I’m pressuring you to be like me. I don’t want you to be like me.” His shoulders slumped and his hands dropped to his sides.

           Donald’s breath caught in his throat, completely blindsided by his uncle’s admission. Reeling with confusion, he tried to parse the meaning of that declaration but found himself more lost than before. “Why not? You’re so,” he searched for the right word to encapsulate his image of Scrooge with the floundering desperation of a drowning man, “…amazing.” He shook his head at the descriptor he’d chosen. That wasn’t even close to what he wanted to express. Maybe, he thought, words couldn’t describe it. “No, I mean, it’s just that, well, I guess I’m trying to say is—you’re Scrooge McDuck!” He spoke the name with such adoration and wonder in his voice his uncle started to chuckle self-consciously.

          “Ach, Donnie.” Scrooge wore a far-off, sad expression that Donald was to young to truly understand. He ran a hand over his head, looking exhausted all of a sudden. “I haven’t been the best person in the past, Donald. Far from it. My path here has been paved with innumerable misdeeds, and there are many things I regret. If I could go back and right them, I would.” Here Scrooge raised his eyes, full of solemnity, to meet his nephew’s concerned gaze. “But there’s one thing I’d never change, and it’s you. I am the man I am today because you came into my life. You forced me to care again.”

          Scrooge was silent for a long moment, looking off into the horizon then placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I used to think a parent guided their child’s life and shaped them into the person they ought to be. Like you were a lump of clay I had to mold into a finished piece.” Shaking his head, Scrooge laughed at himself. “I know better now. Children shape themselves. All I did was make sure you didn’t stray too far from your proper path.”

          The warmth of his uncle’s fond countenance made something settle in Donald’s chest, something he hadn’t known was stirring or even there to begin with. Now that it had calmed and settled into place, Donald felt like he had untensed a muscle that had been locked for a long time or released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

          “Donald, I love watching you grow, and I love growing with you. You are your own person. You aren’t like me, nor should you be. Maybe there’s an impression of myself in you, probably the stubborn part of you, but you do things in a way all your own and by your own agency. My company is yours to run in the future, but it’s up to you decide how to run it. In your own Donald-like way.”

           The hand on his shoulder lifted to pat him before Scrooge returned it to his side. “T-that is, if you want to, of course.”

           Donald let out a little chuckle, and the two of them continued their lazy promenade through the park for a silent stretch of time. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as the evening twilight spread over the city of Duckburg, painting it in cool blues and honey-toned pinks and oranges.

           “Now that I know how you feel, what do you want to do, nephew?”

           Donald gave a lame shrug. “I’m not sure. There’s so much I’m interested in. Picking one thing is so hard.”

           Scrooge gave a curt little nod, but remained silent, looking at him sincerely.

           “I like poetry.” He stated with equally faltering sentiment as before.

           “You are quite good at it.” Scrooge admitted with that resonant tone of voice Donald had admired earlier.

           “You read my poetry?” Donald often handed his recently drafted compositions to Scrooge, but he’d always assumed his uncle was too busy to actually read through them.

           “Of course!” Scrooge said with a haughty tone.

           Donald chuckled at his uncle’s mock offense, shaking his head. He’d never thought of his uncle as the literary type, but he trusted that he always spoke his mind.  

           “Maybe… maybe I do want to follow your footsteps in the future, Uncle Scrooge. Maybe not by running your business, but I do want to find something that makes me as happy as you are when you’re talking about your business.” Donald shuffled his feet. “I think its cool. How much you care. And how hard you work. I think that’s really admirable.”

           They walked on in meditative silence. From the corner of his eye, Donald caught Scrooge grinning heartily.

           Donald felt his beak reflexively curve into a grin. He took his hands from his pockets and looped his arm around Scrooge’s own. “I don’t know what you were like in the past, Uncle Scrooge, but I do know that I’m really lucky to have a parent like you. Maybe you don’t always do stuff right or smart or whatever, but you always listen to me when you mess up. You listened to me today, and you were ready and willing to change afterwards. No matter what, you treat me with empathy and respect. Whatever I do in the future… I know I want to be just like you.”

           Arm in arm, walking amongst shaded poplars and creeping ivy, Donald politely declined to tease his uncle for the tears welling from his eyes.

#duckverse #disney ducks #duck comics #fanfiction #teamuncleweek2019

[toxitalks]

ROBSTAR WEEK 2019 - DAY TWO

day two! this prompt was really hard so shoutout to my friends for getting the creative juices pumping!

|| day one: wayne manor || day two: stardust || day three: lost ||

|| day four: fever || day five: tba || day six: tba || day seven: tba ||

“This is bizarre! A discovery such as this one we have uncovered today is indeed something to remark about! Oh, who among us can say that they are responsible for identifying and conducting studies on a new species?!”

Starfire buzzed and bumbled around excitedly, something akin to a bee as she babbled on to Cyborg, then Beast Boy before moving on to Raven and finally stopping beside Robin, feet hovering above the ground.

“Remind me what we have decreed them as?” Starfire queried, hands clasped together. Her emerald eyes remained affixed on the glass that separated the group of Titans from the stardust-composed creatures.

“Specklings,” provided Robin as he continued to observe the creatures. They danced and wove together in the vacuum of space, their white beady eyes embedded with glowing dust from the cosmos surrounding them. “We don’t know if they’re docile or not, but… I guess they are a tad bit cute.” He cracked a grin.

“Cute, but potentially deadly,” chimed in Cyborg as he approached the duo with a holographic screen projecting from his arm. He typed away at the keyboard embedded in his cybernetic parts, occasionally shifting his gaze to the Specklings gathered outside of the spacecraft. “I took a sample of one to see what these things are made of and they’re almost 100 percent stardust. I just don’t know where they came from. If I did, I’d bet we’d know a lot more about ‘em, too.”

Starfire’s eyes lit up with excitement as she flew over to Cyborg with a wide smile. “We must conduct a search!” beamed the Tamaranean girl, giggling to herself. “I will venture to all the nearby planetoids, nebulas, and asteroid belts to find them!”

As the alien princess began to float down the hall to the ejection bay, Robin snatched her by the hand to stop her from flying out into the emptiness of space on her own.

“Hold up, Star,” Robin frowned as he dragged Starfire back to his side. He gestured with one latex-covered glove to the Specklings behind the glass. “It’s like Cyborg said; we don’t know if they’re a hostile species or not. The experiments concluded they don’t have anything similar to a brain, but they obviously exhibit intelligence. They’re kind of like-”

“Like a jellyfish!” chimed Beast Boy as he popped up between Robin and Starfire with an award-winning grin. “Those things are way cool, dude. No brains, no heart, nothing! They’re like, almost totally made of water or something.”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common,” Raven remarked with the ghost of a sly grin on her lip. Beast Boy shot her a venomous glare that Raven returned wordlessly, leaving the sorceress and the changeling to begin bickering.

Starfire sighed to herself and planted her feet back on the ground, resting her chin on Robin’s shoulder despondently, snickering quietly as she felt him tense up. His face flushed at the sudden contact, but the Boy Wonder only cleared his throat before tugging at the ends of his latex gloves.

“B-but what if they’re out there? Alone?” Starfire’s eyes were as big as moons now as she looked at Robin both endearingly and pleadingly. She jut out her bottom lip in a pout as her emerald eyes glistened. “We cannot leave the Specklings to isolation! Who knows what will befall their colony should we neglect them?!”

“Star, they’re made up of dust particles,” pointed out the dark-haired teen with a smile, his brows furrowed beneath the mask at his accomplice’s evident concern. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Cyborg and I suspect that there’s some sort of gravitational core holding them together, but we have no clue how they’re sentient. Either way, I’m not too worried for them.”

“Though if we proceeded with the investigation, perhaps we would know more about their kind and their components,” argued Starfire with a mischievous look written upon her features. When Robin shot her a hesitant stare, the Tamaranean recoiled with a sigh, her shoulders shrugging in defeat.

“Maybe another time,” said Robin, entwining their fingers together. He guided her down the hall of the spacecraft they stood in; their temporary home as they conducted a series of tests on the newly-discovered species. “I’d like to keep you on the ground for a bit—keep your head of the stars.”

“I suppose so,” Starfire sighed, though the corners of her lips were upturned in a smile. “Eventually, we will voyage to uncover more about this species, yes?”

“I’m sure we will, Starfire. You have my word.”

Starfire squealed in delight, suddenly beaming with unbridled joy. “Oh, glorious! I shall wait with the most eager of anticipation until that day arises! What will be done with the Specklings in the meantime?”

Robin frowned, shrugging in response. He guided Starfire down the hall of the spacecraft with one hand, pressing a button on the wall that would slide open the door to his room. “Cyborg, Raven, and I will probably keep studying them to get the information we need. We’ll make sure nothing happens to them. Promise.”

“Then, for now…” Starfire squeezed Robin’s hand tight and brought it close to her heart. Her lips were twisted in a gleeful smile; eyes earnest and reminiscent of reflective pools the brightest green the Boy Wonder had ever seen.

Robin was sure he felt his heart skip a beat.

“May we observe the creatures of stardust together?”

Robin smiled with a nod, guiding Starfire to a window that took up an entire wall. From there, the Specklings were visible as they danced amongst one another; their cosmic bodies glistened with a foreign glow that filled the Tamaranean with the energy to fire off a million starbolts. It made her feel light as a feather, watching the Specklings as they entwined in groups with nothing but darkness surrounding them. Their own glow, however, brought a beautiful light to the emptiness of space they lived in.

Their own cosmic dust mirrored the stardust-like glow of amazement in Starfire’s eyes as she observed them. She was mesmerized by their alien movement, her mouth ajar as emerald eyes locked onto them.

When Robin tugged her towards him gently, shocking her back into reality, the Tamaranean gasped as the Boy Wonder unraveled their hands for a moment, setting one of her own on his shoulder. He placed his free hand gingerly on her hip, entwining Starfire’s into his once more as he held it in the open air, his secure grasp supporting her.

As Robin began to sway, guiding Starfire alongside him through each step of the room, he smiled at Starfire’s awestruck gaze. Her breath was hitched and Robin snickered to himself in satisfaction. Each step in the room mirrored that of the Specklings as they waltzed in the vacuum of space.

Starfire’s lip drew back into a smile as they danced among the stardust.

#robstar week #robstar #robstar week 2019 #robin #starfire #dick grayson #richard grayson #koriand'r #teen titans #dickkory #nightwing #dc #titans

[anarchist-puppet-on-strings]

Property Gets Branded

SUMMARY: He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers (let me know if you want to be added)

Dim candlelight danced across the floor, the shadows of the dark warehouse pushing and recoiling. It’s an eerie sight but he supposed that's the energy ill rituals should give off.

Getting over the chain link fence surrounding the abandoned warehouse was difficult—especially in combat boots—but Marvin did it somehow. Here he is, standing inside a circle of lit black candles and jagged, angry looking runes with an ancient tome opened to the last few pages. Inside the circle were more runes drawn in charcoal but this time they were significantly smaller and more numerous than the ones outside the circle. It’s ominous and screamed danger. Not like he particularly cared.

“And now I need a blood sacrifice…” he muttered under his breath, before dogearring the page and setting the book down. He tiptoed around the candles and stood in the middle.

It said a ritual dagger would be preferable but all he had is a boxcutter, so he guessed the ritual had to deal with it. Why'd you even need a specific dagger to draw blood? Blood is blood, right?

Dragging the blade across his forearm hurt more than he thought, and he couldn't help but hiss through his grit teeth. He made sure to angle the cut away from his blue veins. He squeezed the flesh around the cut to milk some more blood out and watched as the red and cyan drops fell onto some of the runes.

He stepped back outside the circle and picked the book back up, ignoring the lingering ebb of pain on his arm.

“Next step: chant the incantation and pour as much magic as you can into the summoning spell. If you're lucky, a nearby demon will be attracted to the blood and magic and come visit you. The process could take anywhere from up to a minute to a few hours, so remain vigilant.” Marvin frowned deeply. So the demon had to choose to come to him based on his magic and blood? That’s… annoying.

The chant wasn't anything particularly difficult—if you counted Latin easy. His magic reacted to the language easily, he could feel it swelling in his veins and intertwining with his words. The atmosphere grew lighter, magic filling the empty warehouse and permeating the air. As soon as the last word fell from his lips, the magic flow halted abruptly and the silence returned heavier than before.

Seconds ticked by… seconds turned into a minute… a minute turned into several…

Every muscle in his body was tense, magic bristling. His breaths had to be forcefully regulated otherwise he might lose control of his magic in his worry. After several minutes, his shoulders slumped forward and he let out a shaky exhale.

He left the summoning ritual, staggering to a nearby wall and slumping against it, hands shoving his mask up and dragging down his face as he groaned loudly.

“This is fucking insane. What am I hoping to accomplish with this?”

Well, obviously he’s trying to find a demon that could remove his shitty curse. And now that he’s thinking about it, this was a very stupid idea. Literally every warning about magic had been ignored to do such a thing. Hell, he even snuck off without Spades and Clubs! Well, it’s a good thing nothing happened, because that meant he could bail before anything decided to show up.

He let a gentle gust of magic blow out the candles before he shoved them back into his bag. Scuffing some the runes off with his battered tennis shoes was harder than he thought but eventually it’s destroyed enough that some poor bastard couldn't recognize what had been going on.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to tilt dangerously and squeeze his eyes shut. His stomach gurgled unhappily, a pang of hunger hitting his gut. Wrapping an arm around his middle, he let out a shaky exhale. Okay, next order of business is to get something to get his stomach to shut up. Then he’d… do whatever. He’ll cross that bridge once he gets to it.

Just as he recollected himself enough to begin to head out, the building’s energy shifted. What had been a neutral energy quickly turned into a violent buzzing—it kind of reminded him of angry bees. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and gooseflesh broke out on his arms. His magic curled up, clearly spooked by whatever is coming.

“L̷ȩa͢vi͞n̡g wi͠t̛hoút͏ me?”͏ A distorted, broken voice asked from behind him. Just hearing it was enough to make his magic cringe.

Marvin spun on his heel, eyes wild. Standing there, shrouded in nearly palpable static, is most certainly a demon. It’s definitely taller than him—probably twice as tall—with unproportional stick thin limbs. Its scaly black skin is tight around its bones, unnaturally long claws tapping the concrete inanely. Its mouth is crammed full of pink stained teeth, translucent black saliva dripping from its jaws and splattering on the ground. Neon green eyes littered the creature’s body, masses of the blinking welts smattering its cheeks and neck. It’s hunched over, spine bent like a quadruped animal. Its body glitched violently, pieces scattering into millions of pixels and magnetizing back together in a different order.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

“̶S͜ur͘p͟rise̕d ͢I sh͘owe̕d͏ up̀?”̨ It asked, stalking forward, knuckles supporting half its weight. It seemed more like a wolf circling its prey. “Ho͏ẃ c͏o҉u̢ld͏ ̸I ͢no̵t w̵it҉h̴ ̨suc̷h ̷p͟ower̷f̷u̸l ḿa͟gic͠ çàl̡l̷i̵ng t̴o ͢me͏?”҉

Marvin wished he could move—wished he could teleport back into the alleyway he called home—but he’s rooted to the spot.

It cocked its head at an inhuman angle, large eyes blinking owlishly. ”̡Wha̶t’s ͞w̸ro͜ng͞?̸ Ca̢t g̨ot your̨ ͡t͝ong͘ue͘?́”͞ Its grin spread at the joke, rows of jagged fangs exposed in some sick smile. “Oh͘! I͡s i̛t̶ ҉ho͞w ͡I͟ lo̸o͢k҉? Wo҉uld̀ you̕ li͝ke me ̀t̵o s̕híf́t̀ ̡in͜to s̵om̕et̡h̀ìn͟g ͜e̕asi͞e͟r t̕o ́l̷ook ͏a̕t?̵”̡

He swallowed, nearly choking on saliva before nodding hesitantly.

Suddenly its body tensed and froze up, glitched, and then burst into a cloud of pixels. When it reformed it no longer looked like an eldritch being—it’s a human.

Oh, great; it’s kinda hot.

It’s still taller than him—probably half a foot or so—with bones showing through pale skin. It had spiked dark green hair, neon green and black eyes, black plugs, pointed ears, a crooked nose, black claws, sharp teeth, a laceration that went from ear to ear and wept liquid static and code. It wore a black shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, black combat boots.

All in all, the definition of intimidating.

“B҉e͜t̢ter?̵”

Willing the heat in his face to go away, Marvin nodded.

It bared its teeth in another poor smile. “̨Gǫòd.̕ I̛t's͡ ̢ņot ́a̕s̨ f̴u̷ņ ̕ẃhen ͝yo͜u҉ c͝an҉'t str̛ug͘gle.”̛

Well fuck. That wasn't good.

It prowled forward—oh where the fuck did the knife come from—eyes predatory. “I ͝do h̵òp͜e͟ ́yơu̕ ҉s̷tru͢gg͝l҉e; th͢e st̛ronger ̸o͟nȩs̨ p̀ųt̢ u͢p ͢more̡ ͜of ̴a͜ f̧i̸g̨ht̕.͠”

“W-wait! I wanted to… I want to make a deal?” He choked out, backing up, magic flaring to life and resting in the very tips of his fingers. It’s stuck. Of all the fucking times—

It stopped in its tracks, head cocked at that same unnerving angle. “̶Òh rea͘l̸ly̡?̵ W̕h̨a̵t couļd y̶ou͡ ̨possi͝b͞ly g͟ai̷n̴ fr̶om t̛hat?̛”͢ The malicious glitter in its eyes sent shivers down his spine.

His throat is dry and the words were lodged under the lump in his throat. All of a sudden it’s hard to find the words and get them out.

“͝Hów͟ ̡a͘bóu͢t͘ this?” It lunged forward, tackling him and pulling him to the ground. His startled shrieking swear only spurred the other on.

Marvin didn't even stand a chance against the demon.

The heel of its palm crushed his airway, knife pressed to his jugular. His hands came up to grasp at its wrist, clawing desperately at the exposed skin. He could feel skin catching under his nails, some kind of tingly, hot liquid caking the underside of his nails. Within mere seconds, the pressure on his neck had him choking and wheezing. Damn his fucking shitty ass lungs.

“I̷f̶ yo̶u mak͜e ̵a ̨d̢e͝al͢ ͏with ͞me, i͡t’́l̴l ͞be on ̧my ͞t͝e̷rms͢ o̶r̸ I͜’͘l͞l ͠r͠i̶p͞ ỳoúr s͞p͝in̴e̢ ̧out ̴y̡o̸u͠r̴ thr͞oa͝t͢. ͏G̵ot͢ ͏ìt?̶” It snarled, face inches from his own.

All he could do is writhe in panic. He didn't register the static from the demon’s neck wound dripping onto his body. Finally—finally—his magic overcame the block and surged forward, cyan fire sparking to life and clinging to the demon.

It howled, recoiling violently, and Marvin gasped when he felt the blade of the knife nick under his jaw and send warmth spilling down his neck. It wasn't enough to kill him… hopefully. It'd be just his luck it caught and tore an artery.

Seeing the demon trying to put out the fire would've normally made him laugh had he not been gasping. His lungs and throat burned and no amount of air was fixing it. He gently touched his hand to his neck, wincing at the soreness there. That’s definitely going to bruise.

“M͟ày̛b͠e͝ yo͜u ͏a̸re̵n̕'͟t͟ a͘s̸ st̴up̕id a͟s ̨y̡ơu loo͝k҉,̨”͏ it hissed. The burns the fire caused vanished with a single glitch.

Oh… that's quite unfortunate.

"I'l̴l̵ g͡iv̢e͟ ̨yo͢u͡ ̛óne ͡c͝h͟an҉c̴e,́" it snarled, circling around Marvin like a shark. "I'l͝l sp͠ár҉e ͜your l̴ife̕ ҉if̡ ̶ỳou s͡e̴l̡l y͞o͝ursel͟f ̴to͘ m̧e.̡"͏

The magician stiffened up, eyes tracking the demon's movements. He knew he couldn't take the beast on himself based on that recent display of power, but taking this deal could end up being a fate worse than death.

"Why... why should I? I wanted to make a deal with you," Marvin said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"I͜'͝m͞ n͝ot ͠a̕ d̵ȩm̀o̴n ̨wh̶o plays ̵fa͞ir,"͝ it growled, teeth bared. "Yòu táke̶ ̴this̀ ͘déal n̵o͡w or̴ I'l͝l b͞reak ͟y̵ou int̷ǫ p͢i͡e͏c͠es a͞nd ͝m͢ak͝e͝ you a͢cc̴e̡p̵t i̢t.͡"

He paled, heart thumping in his throat. So it’s either certain death or prolonged death? What a shitty situation he's gotten himself into. Why does this always happen to him? He already knew which one he’s going to choose but weighing his options... what’s stopping the demon from killing him when he made the deal? What did the demon want with him anyway?

"How do I know you're not just going to off me once I agree?" He asked warily, eyeing the monster suspiciously.

It scoffed. "Yo̸u͟ r͜eall͟y ̧th̴i̷nk ́I̶'m̧ ̷g̀o͡i͏ng thr͞ou̧g̴h́ a͘ll th̵i̶s͞ trouble t̀o͡ o͞ņly ̕k̷il҉l ҉yo͜u any͞w̧ay͝?̷ No̕,͜ ͢I͞'̷ll be k̡eepin̵g y̛ou ҉alįve ̵f̛or as͏ l͟ơn͡g͡ ͡as̴ ̴y͘óų ̸çoope̡ra͟t̕e͠. ͜Mage̛s ́a̧re rar҉e no͞wad̕ays͡, es҉pe̴c͘ially the ͟str̛on̵ger ̢ones͟." It cocked its head. "T̡hough͞ ͞I̴ ̷a̸m̴ qu̵i̷t̷e̢ c̸uri͢ous ab͏óu͟t̡ ̶tha̸t͏ ̸n͟asty ̧littļè ̡cuŕse͏ y̸ou ͝ha͏ve.̢"̡

His blood ran cold at the knowledge it knew about his curse. Maybe… maybe demons could just sense magic on others, especially since it’s a darker type of magic? He chewed his bottom lip, magic squirming inside him in discomfort. He didn't like the implications of that statement but...

"O-okay..." Marvin muttered, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. He could see its eyes glittering in triumph. It grinned, the teeth seeming to take up half his face.

"͠Very͟ ̧goo͠d.̨"̀

Like everything in his life, this had failed spectacularly. He couldn't even manage to summon a fair demon to make a deal with! All he got was an asshole with a god complex and absolutely nothing to help him remove his curse! And to top it all off, he sold himself to it to save whatever’s left of his shitty life. Fantastic. Absolutely perfect.

His cynical thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"̢Y͞o͏u͟ stop̶ped͡ ̸pay͞ìn͢g ̸a͏tt̢en̛t̛ión.͢"̸

The demon stalked closer, its arm with the knife in hand swinging at its side. It walked with intent, drawing uncomfortably closer and closer to the vulnerable magician. Its eyes were... its eyes were shifting with static. And not just static either: it’s like those old technical difficulties screen that popped up and nearly blinded the viewer with bright, neon colors. A bar of yellow, cyan, green, magenta, red, and dark blue covered with a thin layer of static. They shifted, colors bouncing from one bar to the next, forcing his brain to try and keep track of the moving colors.

Thoughts started worming their way into his head. Just fleeting ones but they distracted him.

K͢e͟ep w͏atc̴hi͜n̕g the̛ c̡òl̨o͜rś. R̨el̨ax.͟ Y̧ou'͞r̡e̕ s̀a̶fe. N͟o ̷pai͝n.͡ W͢o͝n't hur̵t.

He blinked, struggling to keep his focus on the situation at hand.

Where were the thoughts... coming...

The eyes were... it's pretty. He's never seen anything so beautiful. He wanted to stare at them forever. He didn't know why he was panicking before. Why'd he need to be upset? He’s safe.

S̶ubmi͠t͏..́.̡..̀ ̀r̵e̡l̸ax̀.́..̴.. ̧giv͟e ͜up͞....̸.̢ ̛l͞e̴t ͠g̸o ̶of ͝y͡ou̶r m̢a͜gi̧c̶..... c͢oơp͘e͘ra̢te..̀.̡..̧ s̨ubm̴it͜..͢. rel̛ax̛..͜. ̨g̸i̷v̡e̴ u̵p̴..͝.͝ ́l͏e͞t ͘ģơ of y̸o͡ur̕ magi͞c͘.́.̷.̕ co͠ope҉r͡a͡t͝e..́.͢ su͞b̸m̀it,͏ ͡re̷lax,͏ ģive ̴up, ̶let̢ ͞g̨o of̵ y̶ou̕r ͘m̴agíc̵, ̕coo͠p̴èrate.͠ ̨Su͠bmit r͢e̢l͝a̢x ͟g͜iv̕e̶ u̵p l͝e̶t g̕o ́o͡f̷ yoùr mag̛ic͘ coopér͘at̛e̴ s͟u̕b͡mits҉u̕bmítg͞i̷v̧e͜up̴subm̕i̷t̵s͜u҉b̡mi͢t͟submitgive͏u̕p͜gi͜veup̶g̷i̸v̶e͟up͝—͡

Marvin was stuck standing still when the demon closed the gap between them.

"̛No͞t ̀so͜ ̧śt͠r̛on͘g͠ ̀a͞n͠ym͠oŕè, ͢eh?̛"͟ It asked, examining the magician curiously.

Everything felt... detached. Like he’s there but not mentally. The static curled around his consciousness like a blanket. He’s unable to move but the whispers in his head soothed his worry.

N͠ot͝hi̕n͢g ba͡d̸ ͟w͜i҉l̴l͘ h̕ap̶pen. ̕Yoư’͜re s̴afe. An̵ţį wil̸l p͟rot̕ec̢t͞ ̧ỳo̡u.̛

Weird... he didn't recognize that name but it had to be the demon's.

The creature—Anti—seemed to be satisfied with his work, a smug smile gracing his features. Seeing him smile made Marvin's lips twitch up, eyes wide and unfocused.

A hand came up and fingers ran carefully across his mask before they dipped down and stroked his cheek delicately.

"̸I ͢wońde͡r̛... ̧wha͠t'͜s u̵nd̕érne̵àt͠h͠ th͡a̕t ͠m̀as͏k ͟o̷f̕ ̶y͠our̛s̶? It̡ ͘l̴oo͜ks͜ ̧q̵u҉ite̛ rid͘icul҉oưs͜. I'́m s͢ur̴e you w̴o̧ul̸d̢n'̧t m͏i̶nd̶,̢ r̛i̸ght͡,͘ ki̶t̀t͟en͝?"͘ Anti's voice is sweet—saccharine.

He hummed uncomprehendingly, unfocused eyes staring forward dazedly.

The mask was removed and dropped to the ground, countless pieces shattering across the cement.

"҉I c̨a͏n̡ s͝e͘e͢ ̧w͝h̴y̷ you͠ wear̢ i͞t̕…҉̷ t̴hóse ́sc̶a͜rs ͏a͏r͘e hi͏deous̛.̧"͞ He remarked, eyes glittering with glee as he looked upon what Marvin tried so hard to hide from the world—and himself.

The voices couldn't calm him down now. Panic spread through his body like wildfire and he thrashed in whatever trance had him pinned down.

His mask is gone, his talisman is broken, he’s exposed, it’s staring at his face—

Anti dragged his claws over the scars with featherlight touches, tracing the edges and watching how the magician twitched and shuddered. The moment he let his claws sink in too deep and rip open skin, Marvin used the last of his mental power to surge through the now screaming voices and regain control.

A burst of magic and the demon was gone in a flurry of glitches. The sound of static appeared behind him and then something yanked on the hood of his cloak, sending him stumbling back into a body. An arm coiled around his waist and held him in place.

“́No̴ẃ t́h̶at̸ ̛y̵ou’r͠ȩ m̸y̶ ͞p̀r͝o̶per͏ty͡–”̧ Anti drawled nonchalantly—as if the previous hadn’t happened—trailing the knife down Marvin’s jawbone–“I͘’͘ve͢ ̀g͏òt͝ ҉to ̡b̀r͠a͞nd͝ you.”

His eyes went wide, heart stuttering to a stop. His magic instinctively swelled, prepared to prevent such a thing from happening only for the static in the air to grow denser, smothering it.

“A̶h̸ ah ah,̸ noǹe͜ ̡of͞ ͟t̢hat̢,̕” Anti chided. “̕Now̧…͟ wh͘ere to ͘p͘ut́ it͝…”̶ Marvin tensed at the hand that reached up and carresed his jawbone reverently. “Ḿaybe̸ yo̢úr ̸che̡e̸k?͠ O͢r...”̧ the hand trailed down, claws digging into the side of his neck, pricking skin. He couldn’t help the pitiful whimper that escaped him. “Yo̵ųr neck? ͢H͘m̵mm...”

The magic inside screamed, boiling to uncomfortable temperatures. His face was flushed so hot he’s worried he’d pass out before whatever the hell happened next.

“A̶ctu͏al̸ļy... I t͟h͢ink̵ ̀I’l̶l͜ m͏ake̴ i̡t̡ b̢i͝gg̛e̕r ̨t̨his̛ t̷i҉me̷. D͢o͜n’̵t̢ ̕w̛ant ̛a͏n͏y͡ ̧o̧th͞e͏r f̕u̕çks ̸to͏ưch̡i͢ng ẃhat̸’̨s͢ m̡i̶n͝e̷.”̸

His heart sank into his stomach.

It released him. “T͟ur͘n ̸a̛round̢. Ag̵a͞in͟s̢t the͝ w҉a͟ll͞.͝”

The magician obeyed, fearing what would happen if he didn’t obey. The stone wall is cool against his forehead. When he felt his cloak and shirt being shoved up, he reacted immediately, thrashing only to feel the knife being dug into his back. He stilled after that.

“̶Stay. ̨F̕uck̸i̕n̕g. ̛Still̢. ͘Or I͜’̴l͏l m̴ès̡s ̴up̡.”

His hands shook against the wall, every instinct in his brain screaming for him to move, to get away—

The first cut drew a startled gasp out of him, pain flaring up in the middle of his back. The next cut came relatively quickly, so he had to grit his teeth. Tiny noises slipped through his teeth, and within a few seconds his jaw is aching. Thankfully, it only lasted a minute or so. Once Anti was done(?), it retraced the lines, sinking the knife deeper into the original cuts. Tears that had been collecting in his eyes spilled down his cheeks and his jaw gave up, letting a pained sob out.

“͘Re͟alĺy?”͝ Anti asked, voice amused as it drug the knife down the previous cut. “҉Th͘ís isn’͜t͝ ̴e̶ven th̸at̷ bad. ͝Gųes̢s we’l̨l҉ ̧h̀av͢e̡ ͡t͜o ̷w̕or̢k on͘ ̸it̵.”̀

Guess we’ll have to work on it.

Dear gods, this was going to be a regular occurance. The thought made his eyes sting more.

He wasn’t sure how long this process lasted but then the knife is removed, and he sagged forward, choked gasps and sobs breaking the silence. The wounds throbbed and he cried out when Anti traced the lines, smearing warmth in its wake. It’s letters.

ANTI.

“̴T͟h҉er͘e̡ w̴e͞ g̨o. ͡M͡u̷ch b̡ette̡r͡, ͞hm͟m?́”̕

Fingers curled in his hair, tugging his head uncomfortably to the side. Bloodied fingers stroked his cheek tenderly, making him cringe. Seeing Anti suck his blood off its fingers only made his empty stomach roil.

“Q͡uit̴e̡ ̨t҉h̵e͟ ͠p͢re҉t͟t̸y ̀do͞ll̴.̢..”̶ the demon murmured, clearly lost in thought. Marvin wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear that but his cheeks flushed, and he cursed himself for getting flustered over such a creepy comment. “D͜on̴’t q͠u̶i͡tę k̢n̢ow͘ wh̢at́ ͟I͢’l̸l dò wi̡t̛h ̸yo̷u y҉et̢, bu̷t͘ ̸I͝’̕m ͠su͠r̷e ̛I’͝l̶l̢ ̴f͏ind͘ a pur͡po̸se fo͝r ỳou̴ ̧soo̸n.”

That look…. Marvin’s seen that look from people he’s met on the streets. Just like always, it made his insides twist.

Anti blinked, mind coming back to reality. It withdrew its hand and backed away. “Wel͟l,̀ ̢I͞ neęd͢ to ͜b̵e g͞oin͞g҉. I ͏e̡x͞pect̨ ͝yoư t̕o ̡lea͡rn͜ ̸how͢ to lis͠t͜éń b̵e̴tter̷ n͠ext̴ t̛i̵me.͡“͟ ͞The air warped, its figure glitching violently before disappearing.

The static lifted as soon as it had come and the oppressive atmosphere shifted back into its neutral one.

He’s alone.

His legs shook violently and he slid down the wall, the remains of his mask littering the ground around him, cursing colorfully when the wall rubbed the fabrics into his wounds.

What the fuck happened. What the fuck happened? Did he… did he really make a deal with a demon...? And not fucking get his curse removed? Gods, he truly is stupider than he thought.

For the first time in a long time, Marvin bowed his head and cried.

#anarchist tries to write #let me help pick up the pieces #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #sparky #4N71 #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye alter egos #jse egos #writersofjack #angst #torture #open/ambiguous ending #swearing #zalgo text #first meetings #magic #auras #dark magic #dubious magic practices #trespassing #curses #summoning rituals #demons #threats #demon deals #pet names #frustration #anger #anxiety

[fresh-outta-jams]

Red Carnations

Red Carnations Sequel to Pink Camellias (Link in Masterlist) Seokjin x Reader

Author: Admin Mo Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: None? Genre: Fluffy Merman!Jin Fluff with a teensy bit of angst

“Jagiyaaaaaa, which suit should I wear?” Jin was standing in front of your bed, holding up the two options. Wrapped around his finger was a little gift from Yoongi, an enchanted ring that would prevent him from ever risking turning into seafoam again. It also didn’t restrict his speech when he used it like some transformation spells did.

“I told you, you don’t need to wear a suit. Just a polo and some khaki shorts.” You reminded him, pointing to the outfit you had hung on your dresser for him. Jin was nervous. It was radiating off of him. His brown eyes were filled with fear for what was coming in just a few hours.

“We are going to meet a literal goddess. I can’t just wear a polo and khakis.”

“She’s my MOTHER, so I’m sure it’s okay. And we’re going for a picnic, not to a five-star restaurant.” You got up from your bed, already dressed in your sundress, a ring of flowers sitting around your head. You hadn’t seen your mother in months. She was a busy woman. But she decided it was about time she met the merman that had stolen your heart.

You slipped your hands into Jin’s, taking deep breaths and encouraging him to do the same. He did, his shoulders rising every time he filled his lungs. His eyes wandered to your shoulder, where a flower was taking form.

“What does this one mean?” Jin whispered, gently lifting the flower for you to see.

“Hydrangea: Heartfelt Emotions,” you explained.

He nodded and tucked the flower into your crown. Jin pulled you back into his arms, exhaling a long sigh. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous, jagiya. You’re the first girl I’ve ever cared about this much before. I just...I want everything to be perfect. I want her to like me.”

“She will love you.” You promised, looking up at your handsome merman. The stray scales on his cheekbones glimmered, golden flecks swimming around in his irises. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.”

“All she wants is for me to be happy, and you make me happier than I’ve ever been.”

***

Jin kept nervously glancing at the time on your phone. Any moment now, Persephone would show herself and join you for the picnic that the two of you had set up.

“Jinnie, it’s fine.” You gripped his hand. He offered a sheepish smile, still nervous, but less so now that he remembered you were there with him. He wasn’t in this alone.

“I know, I’m just-”

“There’s my little girl!” It was as though she had appeared from thin air, forming from the flowers in the field, Persephone emerged, a crown of flowers that was much larger and more magnificent than yours sitting in her scarlet curls. A queen, by any definition. And you were her princess.

You stood up from the checkered blanket and rushed into her arms, hugging her tightly. It had been too long. When you were on break, you spent more time with her and your stepfather, Hades, but during school, you didn’t get to see her that often.

“Hi Mom.” You murmured into her hair. She was always so warm. So summery. And with her arrival, the sun seemed to shine brighter. Daffodils emerged from the field, their yellow announcing your happiness at being reunited with her. She kissed your forehead.

“And this must be Jin.” She said once she finally pulled away from you.

Jin held out his hand for her to shake, but she pulled him into her arms instead, holding him tightly. Jin’s eyes widened and then his expression softened, embracing her back. Now he knew why you were so fond of her. It almost didn’t register with him that he was hugging a goddess until he noticed the faint glow of her shimmering skin, a reminder that she was indeed immortal and all-powerful.

“It’s nice to meet you, your highness.” Jin replied, nervousness bubbling up within him. How did you even address a goddess? Surely she deserved a higher respect than any king or queen.

“Oh no, none of that.” She laughed. “No need for formalities. To you, I’m just your girlfriend’s mom. So you can call me Mom. Or Mrs. (L/N). Whatever makes you more comfortable, honey.”

“O-okay. Mrs. (L/N).” Jin smiled, squeezing your hand. He loved your mom. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise. It’s nice to finally get to meet the merman that’s been making my little sunflower so happy face to face.” Persephone smiled softly, adjusting the gorgeous red curls draped over her shoulders. “But Hades and I have been watching from the Underworld.”

“Mooooom,” You whined, laughing. “What did I say about spying on me?”

“I just like to make sure my sweetheart is happy is all. And even when I’m not watching, I hear things through the grapevine.” Persephone laughed. Jin was pretty sure she meant it literally. “And may I just say, Poseidon took his time on you, Jin.”

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” You smiled, reaching up to stroke Jin’s soft cheek. The merman leaned into your touch, savoring your summery warmth. You were so warm in the summer, so happy. In the winter, you got quiet and cold, and so did he, when the fountain was too frozen to sit in. But you were in your element, surrounded by fresh flowers and buzzing bees. Everything was so green and alive and it made you so happy.

“Thank you, jagiya.” Jin leaned over to kiss your cheek. “That means a lot coming from the most beautiful girl on the planet.”

“Jinnieeeeee,” you gave him a little shove, laughing. “Stoooooop.”

It had been a while since Persephone had witnessed a love like this. It had been so long since you had cared about someone as much as you cared about this merman. He was sweet. He was kind. He was handsome. And he loved you with everything in his soul. That was something she could see.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own secrets. Secrets that weren’t Persephone’s to tell. Yet, she hoped that for the sake of your relationship that he would work up the courage to tell you soon.

***

That night, Jin came over to your place for some late night cuddles, and to finally tell you something that had been drifting around in the forefront of his mind for what felt like ages. Since you had met him, since he had fallen in love with you, he had been meaning to tell you, aching to tell you what he was. What he truly was. And it killed him to think that it might change anything between you, but the possibility remained.

So with a shaking breath, Jin walked into the living room, where you were wrapped up in a mermaid tail blanket, dressed in your Ariel pajamas. His heart melted at the sight. Jin walked over, his top half wearing a loose gray t-shirt and his temporarily human legs only wearing a pair of black boxers. He walked over to you and sat down, wrapping his arm around you and kissing your forehead softly.

“I have to tell you something, princess.” He whispered, slipping his enchanted ring off, immediately releasing his pink, scaly tail. He sighed in ecstacy. Jin had explained to you once that taking off his ring and letting his tail out was a bit like the feeling you got when you took off your bra. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

“What is it, Jin?” You took his hand, your other hand tracing patterns in the smooth shiny pink scales that gleamed on his heavy tail.

“I’ve been keeping something from you.” He spoke softly, fear wrapping its inky tentacles around his heart. Red carnations slowly bloomed on the vines hanging in front of your window. ~My Heart Aches For You. “And I was afraid. And I’m sorry.” His voice broke and a tear slipped down his cheek. You reached up and wiped it away, kissing him softly.

“There is nothing on this earth that could make me stop loving you.” You reassured him, pulling him into your arms. He surrendered to your warmth, burying his handsome face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m half siren.” He sobbed. “I-I use a glamour to change my teeth...a-and I-”

“Oh baby,” you cooed, holding him tighter. “Sweet, sweet Jinnie, I could never ever hate you for that. Never in a million years.”

“B-but...But I’m a monster!” He cried, tears soaking your pajamas. You noticed spots appearing in his scales, gray striping the beautiful pink color you had come to love so dearly. “My kind...they lure humans into the sea...they...t-they…”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” You shushed him gently. “But you’re not like that. And I know that. You are so kind. And so sweet. I love you, Jin, with all of my heart. Something like this could never change that. Ever. I’m half goddess. Do you know how many atrocities and wars my mother’s kind have started over the stupidest things? There is so much blood on their hands, it’s impossible to count all of the lives lost because of them. But our past does not define us. And our parents do not make us who we are. We have the choice to make our own decisions and pick our own paths.”

Jin took a few deep breaths, still not brave enough to look you in the eyes. He drowned himself in your touch, surrounding himself in your warmth and burying his red eyes in the softness of your hair and the sweetness of your scent. “I love you so much.” he whimpered weakly, his beautiful voice rough from sobbing.

“I love you too.” You reassured him, stroking his head gently. “And I will always love you, half-siren or not.”

It was a promise you knew you would keep, as long as you lived. 

#kpopwonderlandtag #jin #jin x reader #jin imagine #seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #merman au #fantasy au #fluff