#and have the energy to keep repeating what you’ve said in a million different ways??

[brutal-out-here]

Saw someone in a instagram comment section earlier saying repeatedly that she was not to be called “cis” because she was in fact a women and not instead a term “made up by the internet to discriminate against and make people who aren’t transgender feel bad about themselves”…. Like there was dozens of replies from this person saying this over and over again to anyone who tried to explain what being cis actually meant

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[underworldreaderinserts]

Hey, this is my first time doing a request and I don’t know if this is the right place to put it (I hope it is). But I was wondering if you do do multiple characters, if you could do (separate) headcannons for Zagreus, Thanatos, and Hypnos falling for someone completely mortal on the surface? Thank you so much and I’m really sorry if I didn’t input my request correctly!

Hello, love! No, you did absolutely fine, this is exactly where you’re supposed to submit your requests♡ Thank you so much for sending it in! I hope it’s to your liking♡ I’m so sorry it took so long to publish. The past few days have been hectic! But I’m back♡ Do these even count as headcanons? I’m so sorry-- I know you asked for them separate, but I thought of them all together, and I accidentally made a poly circle. Since this post is long enough already, I’ll leave them out, but please let me know if you’d want me to make a post with them! I had so much fun imagining and writing it that I couldn’t help myself♡  -- Ryan

Thanatos:

✧ Your modest, mortal life hadn’t been too grandiose; you worked as a humble physician, tending to your village in ways of medication and treatment, everything between minor procedures and check ups.

     ✧ In your line of work, death was no stranger. It wasn’t very frequent that patients died in your care, but when they did -- whether it was a life lost to infection, injury, or illness -- they were only in extreme cases. (Needless to say, Thanatos had made all those visits to your practice)

✧ In the beginning, he'd refrained from any involvement in your life -- only watching over the soul whose allotted time was running out before reaping them, then departing. 

✧ But one day, he’d watched you fighting to keep your patient alive. Tears streaming down your face as you did everything in your power to stabilize the boy. His parchment read, ‘name; Nicos, age; 10, cause of death; injury by stampede’. 

     ✧ He knew that he’d have no other choice but to take the boy’s soul -- living with those irreversible damages would be a worse outcome.

✧ After that, he began to notice things he never did before. 

     ✧ The care you put in to making your patients comfortable before they passed. How you went above and beyond caring for them, and giving preventative measures to prolong their life (though he’d still be there to take the soul regardless, he’d watched as you did your best to preserve their life). All of it showed how limitless your strength was.

✧ “He’s.. doing fine. The boy.” You heard a voice one day, an unfamiliar one. You turn around from the bookshelf you stand before, holding a journal and a vial of ointment. 

     ✧ “Excuse me?” You blink, asking the stranger softly, taking in his features. He wasn’t from the village, you were aware of that. The village rarely had travelers passing through, and given this man’s robes and garments, you weren’t quite sure he was an ordinary man.

          ✧ “Nicos. He’s doing well.” The man wields his scythe, gently shifting its weight from one hand to the other. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “Than..atos?” Correctly identifying him, he seems to give a small bow of his head.

               ✧ You do as any sane person would, in the presence of a god; you drop everything in your hands and take a step back. You had enough reason to believe him -- after all, you knew everyone in this village, and Nicos had passed months before his arrival. There was no way he’d have known.

               ✧ “Are you... Is it my time?” You ask, leaving Thanatos a bit puzzled. “Are you here to collect my soul?” You repeat, and the understanding visually clicks in Thanatos, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Of course, you’d believe he’d come for your soul, as he’d only ever appeared before humans who have met their time. “Then... What is it you’ve come for?”

               ✧ You’d asked the million dollar question. Why had he even appeared before you? What was it that drew him out like this? “I... Can’t tell you myself. I just came to tell you, he’s doing well.” And with a toll of a bell, he’d disappeared. No word of goodbye, no mention of ever coming back.

               ✧ Reflecting on what had just happened; The God of Death himself had come into your home, just to tell you that Nicos was alright. It warmed your heart to take comfort in that, knowing that he was no longer in pain.

               ✧ Sitting on the situation a little longer, and judging by that little bit of information, it finally dawned on you that he was there, personally, for that event, and that he’d thought of you enough to reassure you.

✧ Due to his work, Thanatos makes frequent trips to the surface. 

✧ Frequent trips to the surface, meant frequent visits (where he could, of course. Lord Hades would have his head if he didn’t prioritize his job).

✧ At first, he refrained from any sort of involvement in your life -- he’d come for his job, and nothing more. But now he seeks you out. He’ll stop by to check in, or even just to see your face. And one thing differs now, when he comes to reap the soul’s whose allotted time had run out.

     ✧ “Take good care of them, Thanatos.” You’d smile softly as you place a coin over your patient’s mouth, voicing your little prayer to him. You said this each time, too, and it made him think you could see him.

✧ He wasn’t sure when it began, but thoughts of seeing you as he carried out his job filled him with a warm, soft feeling.

Hypnos:

✧ In charge of the census of the dead, Hypnos was aware of how everyone dies; when they died, and where they end up in the Underworld.

     ✧ He found that his job became so ingrained in his being that, when he’d drift off at work, his dreams would take him to visions of the lives of some of the mortals he had met, or have yet the pleasure of meeting when they come to the underworld.

          ✧ Most of these dreams always tie back to a particular individual -- someone who seems to touch the lives of everyone they’ve ever met.

✧ At first, he’d just assumed that you’d met and knew everyone in the world, as the only common denominator throughout these dreams was you. But upon further evaluation of that statement, he had determined that was impossible.

     ✧ Next, he had to admit that perhaps he was drawn to you. Whether it was a connection the Fates mandated, or it was his subconscious actively seeking you out, he’d have these visions of your life, these interactions with the people in your life.

          ✧ An image of your smile, the depiction of an experience you had. You’d invaded his dreams, and eventually his thoughts.

✧ Being shackled to the House, and without the luxury that Thanatos or Zagreus have to go to the surface, Hypnos only has a very one-sided means of interacting with you; and though he doesn’t know you, he’s very drawn to you.

✧ It’s curious. As he’s seen all these snippets of your life, he feels he simultaneously knows everything about you, yet nothing about you at all. He could see these candid shots of your life, but he doesn’t know your dreams, your ambitions, or even the sound of your voice.

✧ With his thoughts always falling back to you, he’s a bit more spacey on the job, receiving reprimands from Hades more and more often, looks judgement from his brother, and looks of solemn understanding from his mother.

✧ Achilles teases him, recognizing traits of “a lovesick puppy”, but never really gets an answer on what that means (he might even observe Cerberus for a while to see if he can understand it a little more).

✧ He awaits enthusiastically, and a tad bittersweetly, for your eventual arrival to the Underworld, desiring nothing more than to meet you, and to hear your experiences of life on the surface.

⚠️Spoilers Ahead!! ⚠️

Zagreus:

✧ Most of your mortal life is spent in Persephone’s vibrant and luscious gardens.

     ✧ You lived not too far from her cottage, and you made frequent visits to her, bringing her goods and gifts from the market, and the words from all the gossipers of the town.

          ✧ As far as you knew, she was the only one who lived here, and she didn’t seem to have any family of her own. Taking care of her gardens seemed to be her passion, and to be honest you enjoyed her company. There was something about her, so lively and inviting, that made it hard to stay away for long.

✧ Trips to Persephone were always fragrant, delicious, and warm, despite the permanent snow in the region. Conversations over meals, fishing by the river, and of course time spent in the garden where you got to watch your toils bear great produce.

✧ One day, you return to the cottage, a basket of bass and trout resting on your hip as you walk. The plan was to make a profit selling them in town, and use the coin to get better tools for the garden and the kitchen.

     ✧ Though, on the way to the cottage, you notice scorched earth in the shape of a bare footprints. The trail leads up to the garden, where you find Persephone with a man you’ve never seen before. A man like you’ve never seen before.

          ✧ You watch on as Persephone embraces this ethereal form, whose skin is much like ash and moonstone. He looked beyond out of place, yet, something about him felt so familiar.

               ✧ Focused on the two before you, carelessly unaware of your surroundings, you snap a branch under your foot, alerting them of your presence. The stranger flinched, tensing as he pulls his guard up. He turns to meet your eyes, and whatever words you’d formed in your mind vanished.

               ✧ One red, one green -- his eyes bore into yours as you admire his. That electrifying moment of attraction ends in time with Persephone clearing her throat.

               ✧ No one needed to say anything for you to recognize he’d had the same energy as Persephone. You could deduct immediately that he was her son. But nonetheless, Persephone’s words broke the silence, “[Y/N], This is... my son. This is Zagreus.”

               ✧ “Zagreus..” You sit a moment, tasting his name as it falls from your tongue, and it was something about the way you said his name that drew a shiver up his spine.

               ✧ “[Y/N]... Have you been here the whole time? How much did you hear? Do the Olympians know of you, too?” His questions went miles a minute, but made no sense to you. “Why would the Olympians...? What, do you mean the Gods?” You ask, and Zagreus exchanged a look to his mother, recognizing his own mistake.

               ✧ However, he’d reached his limit in that moment, and Zagreus clutched his chest, stumbling. Immediately, you drop your basket in worry, and go over to help him maintain his balance. Persephone placed her hand on your shoulder, and you watched as his body faded away.

✧ It was then, between that day and the next visit Zagreus paid to the garden, that the whole truth was told to you. How Persephone was actually the daughter of Demeter, the cause of the perpetual snow, and Zagreus was her son with the God of the Underworld, Hades.

✧ Since the day he’d met you in his mother’s garden, his curiosity was piqued. 

     ✧ How long had you been visiting his mother? If you hadn’t known she was a Goddess of Olympus, what was it that drove you to help her? His heart beat faster with his recount of your eyes, your voice, your worry as he felt the tug of the Styx back to the Underworld.

✧ His mission remained escaping to see his mother again, and again, but he found himself hoping each time that you were there.

     ✧ To try the food that you’d make for him. To hear the newest rumor that was spreading around the town. To help around the garden, and see you glow with happiness as each of the plants met maturity. 

✧ You’d invaded his mind, tugging at the strings of his heart -- and on the days when you were away from the garden, his mother had no problems teasing him about his crush on you. Though, she admits, if she’d have to give her only son away to anyone, it would absolutely be you.

[scattered-winter]

it's been a while since my last "superheroes and health" post, and I've been thinking about speedsters and running, since running is what I do, so it's what I know the most about! This might get kind of long, so I added a cutoff haha

First of all is the food intake. I've touched on this subject before with the Batfam, but the basic thing to remember is that food gives you calories, which are in turn burned when you're engaging in physical activity. The more calories you burn, the more food you have to eat to refuel. I'm going to venture a guess and say that Barry and Wally and the other speedsters burn at least 3 million calories a day. It's just a guess, since the average runner burns about 3,100 calories a day, and speedsters are the farthest thing from average, with their hyper-fast metabolisms and all. That means they have to eat roughly 3 million calories a day, which isn't even taking into account how much protein and healthy fats they would need. To effectively fuel their bodies, they would need to eat an ungodly amount of carbs (pasta, bread, etc) and protein (meats, nuts, eggs), not to mention fruits and vegetables. In a pinch, if they needed energy quickly, they might have some candy bars on hand, since sugar spikes your energy really high really fast, but the crash would probably be extremely drastic because of the way their bodies process energy so much more efficiently than ours do. They all probably eat a lot of pasta and bread (whole wheat or whole grain, not white; whole grains have a lot of fiber, which gives your body consistent energy instead of a spike like white bread does) and all kinds of proteins. Since it’s canon that Wally (maybe other speedsters too, I don’t know for sure) carries snacks around with him in his suit during missions (from what I’ve seen of the animated shows), he probably carries things like nuts, granola bars, and crackers. Things that’ll give him the calories he needs without being too heavy....

.....which brings us to the other thing. (tw vomiting throughout this paragraph) Runners have to be careful about eating too soon before competition, because you will throw up during the race if you’ve eaten too much too soon. I’ve had people on my team drop out of races because they were vomiting and cramping so badly that they couldn’t run. They had eaten a sandwich or something similarly sized about half an hour before racing. I’m not sure how speedsters would be affected by this because they burn everything so quickly, but it’s just something to think about. (I don’t think eating too much too soon would be a huge issue unless they did a very long-distance run without stopping, but it’s just an interesting thing to consider.)

Staying on the thread of fueling their bodies, I don’t even want to think about how much water a speedster would have to drink. Normal human runners need about 2-3 liters a day, more when it’s hot and dry, so the speedsters probably drink water in the GALLONS. Their bodies just process food and fluids so quickly that they probably have to be drinking water pretty much all day long, every day. (It probably freaked the JL the fuck out the first time they saw Barry chug an entire gallon of water in 5 seconds flat). They would also need plenty of electrolytes, so I like to imagine that the Watchtower and Titans Tower fridges stay pretty well-stocked with sports drinks.

Nutrition and hydration aside, there's still a lot of things we runners have to do to take care of our bodies. Running is a very repetitive motion that is repeated for a very long time, so runners have some of the tightest muscles in the athlete world. We have to stretch and roll out our muscles pretty much every day to keep them loose and relaxed. My coaches like to give us golf balls to roll out and massage the arches of our feet, and foam rollers for our calves, shins, quads, and thighs. There's also a lot of different stretching routines we do, but I won't get into those that much.

There's also the matter of flexibility. The more speed work you put into a workout or race, the less flexible your body becomes. Basically, the more you train to be faster, the harder it is to be as flexible as usual. In the late weeks of the season, none of us can touch our toes. It's hilarious. What I'm getting at here is that the speedsters are probably the Least flexible superheroes on the planet. I can just imagine sooooo many funny interactions here ("Wally why can you only reach down to your knees?" "shut the hell up Dick I'm trying")

Runners also have to sleep A Lot. Sleep = energy, and running takes a lot of energy. We don't have to sleep More than the average person, but we definitely have to sleep as much as possible. I don't think this would be affected too much by the speedsters' powers, but they would all definitely be trying to stay on top of their sleep. (honestly, the same could be said for All of the superheroes and vigilantes. sleep is important)

that's all I have for now! I'm having a lot of fun thinking about stuff like this!

[wwilloww]

backstage | myg

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader

Genre:  Smut.

Rating: Explicit.  

WC: 4.2k

Summary: With the sounds of the stadium still ringing in his ears, Yoongi just needs to get away — just for a moment. And you have exactly the right idea about how to distract him.

Warnings: bathroom sex. oral (m receiving). implicit themes of powerplay. dirty talk. mild hair pulling. throat fucking. super duper like barely visible breathplay. penetrative sex. unprotected sex (don’t be a silly goose!! wrap it before ya tap it!). themes of exhibitionism. creampie. cumplay. mentions of group sex.

AN: What was supposed to be a simple 1k of smut turned into 4k of… more smut. What originally started as a challenge to write a bj in a way I enjoyed turned into 4k of a bj that I really enjoyed. I have to give 1 million baskets of thanks to Renae @mygsii​ and Lil @hesperantha​ for being the most incredible beta readers out there. They put so much time and energy into this and helped me sculpt this into its final version. And of course, thank you to the crew at BTS Smut Hub for their eternal thirst and support. Ya keep me going. 

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©���wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission. 

Backstage

Yoongi sighs, letting his eyes fall shut as he leans back against the door. The sound of the screaming crowd still rings in his ears, muffling the sounds of the world around him. He can still feel the rhythm and vibration of tonight’s music reverberating through his bones. If anything, the combination of exhaustion and overstimulation should have left him dead to the world. But instead every nerve in his body is alight, singing in sensitivity.

He’d needed air away from the post-concert bustle. The smallest details were grating on his nerves, even when they should have been insignificant, unnoticeable. He’d been so busy lately, no time for the things that actually brought him pleasure. He needed to get away, just for a moment.

With one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping the doorknob, he looks down at you. All he can think is that he’d never seen anything quite so angelic. Your eyes turned devotedly up to him, lashes fluttering so sweetly — you could be sucking on a lollipop.

“God, you look so fucking cute sucking my dick.”

The timbre of his voice resonates through you, going straight to your cunt. The tight pout you have around him turns up as you try not to smile, mouth full of cock.

“You couldn’t fucking wait until we got home before you needed cock? Are you that desperate?”

You answer with your eyes, a mischievous glint sparking through them.

He had been stealing glances at you the whole night, searching the darkness of the wings for your familiar figure. Every swell and curve of your body was so familiar to him now that he swore he could have spotted you even if you were lost in the masses of the audience. What would it have been like for you to be out there, your eyes locking together? Hunting through a sea of searching hands to find your undeniable steadiness and gleaming presence. There’s a part of him that thinks that even with the lights blinding him and the unending wave of faces that he would know you were out there, would be able to feel your company.

Still, he chased your gaze in the crowd of stage hands and stylists and technicians. You were hidden away, watching him perform from a small break in the stage. The whole night you had watched, aptly glancing between the performance screen and the small crack, just waiting for Yoongi to pop into view on your small sliver of sight. And everytime he did, you couldn’t help but glow, a smile pouring across your face and lighting up your entire being.

You’d seen him rehearse, of course. You’d seen him perform in front of cameras and studio audiences and at awards shows. But this was different. There was an extra sharpness to his movements, a force behind his voice. The energy of the audience was undeniable and you knew it pushed him forward to perform the best you’d ever seen him perform.

You grabbed his hand almost immediately after he had stepped off stage, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” you mumbled into his chest. You held him there in silence, heart full of awe and admiration. It was a moment before you looked up to see a stylist just standing there, still holding a towel to his face. You quickly apologized to her, as she continued to try to pat the sweat off of his face. Technicians and staff and members bustled around, everyone jostling into one another. Even as you held his hand, he looked lost. As you watched, you noticed frustration flit across his face, saw his slip into stubbornness as she continued to do her job. You’d seen this look before and knew it well: overload.

In a snap decision, you tugged him away without explanation to the woman still dabbing his forehead or any of the members busting around him, mumbling “Come with me.” You left the poor stylist stuttering and flustered behind you as you dragged him— much to his protest— to the closest single bathroom.

Slamming the door shut, you turned him around so he was leaning against the frame.  

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded, leaning into your touch as you reached up to hold his face between your hands. You let your thumbs run over the pink of his cheeks until you saw the frustration dissipate from his features. You knew he was tired. Knew he was riding the high of the concert. Knew he was stuck somewhere between excitement and overwhelm. As soon as the crease in his brow softened, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Light, fluttering. Just enough to ground the both of you.

“What did you think?” he asked when you pulled back, searching your eyes.

“You’re amazing.”

“Everyone did so well tonight, I was—”

“No. You’re amazing.” you repeated. “You.”

He began to reach for your lips again, that heavy-lidded look that you loved so much taking over his features. But instead of taking him into your embrace, you pushed him back against the door, his back hitting the solid wood with a slight thud.

“Let me,” you said, swatting away his wandering hands. “Hands off.” You stepped back, letting your hand wander up the warm skin of your arm until you reached the strap of your dress, teasing it between your fingers. “You’re frustrated. And you’ve been working so hard. Don’t you think you’ve earned something for all of your efforts?”

You watched him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. Ever-so-slowly, you began to slide the soft fabric down your body, taking your sweet time as you did so. Even as your attentions were focused on dragging out this moment as long as possible — making him wait for you — your gaze was focused on his features. His every movement. The way his eyes darkened, his head tilting down to better gaze upon you, his jaw dropping ever so slightly as he watched on. As the dress came down to your hips, you let go and it pooled around your ankles.

Delicately, you stepped over it and towards the dazed man in front of you.

“No bra?” he gulped. You shook your head as he swallowed and righted himself, his voice dropping as he spoke.  “You walked around all night with nothing on, but that tiny piece of fabric underneath that dress?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, walking towards him. “Just for you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Would you really have been able to focus on stage — thinking about me, like this, just waiting for you?”

He reached for you then, rather than answering you, but you pushed his hands away and slid to your knees before him. You made quick work of unbuckling his belt, not bothering to pull his pants down before you pulled his already-hard cock out of his boxers.

“How long have you been hard?” you asked, slowly stroking him, watching the way his cock twitched in your hand.

“For the past hour.”

“Good.” You smirked up at him before opening your mouth just enough that he could see your pink tongue. “Then use me.” He sucked a harsh breath in. With one hand still wrapped around his length, you leaned closer and let the head rest heavy on your tongue.

Seeing you like this, so perfectly laid out for him, feeling the cushiony softness of your tongue against the base of his cock, Yoongi couldn’t help but groan, his hips thrusting involuntarily towards you.

You’d had enough teasing. You had wrapped your lips around him and took him into your mouth.

He fell apart beneath your touch.

And now you slowly slide down his length, taking as much of him into the wet warmth of your mouth as possible. He watches as your lips wrap even tighter around him, the perfect mix of pout and absolute devastation. You swirl your tongue against the bottom of his cock to the best of your ability as you bob up and down on him.

He groans. Loudly. Loud enough that you hear a muffled “What the fuck was that?” on the other side of the door.

Your sharp inhale of breath, still wrapped around him, catches his attention.

“You like knowing that someone out there knows I’ve got my cock down your throat, don’t you?”

The sharpness of his words sends a shock straight through your body. You nod to the best of your ability. Other than the hand he has in your hair, you hadn’t let him touch you all night — and because of that you are left overly sensitive to his every word, his every touch.

“Good girl.”

Cunt clenching involuntarily at the words, you’re thankful you left your panties on, knowing you’d be dripping down your thighs by now if you had opted to take them off.

Usually, you would take it slow. Torture his orgasm out of him like it was something to be built towards, drawn out. But tonight you are chasing his pleasure, watching every little fold in his brow, noticing every moment his grip in your hair tightened, feeling every time his clothed thighs tensed beneath your grasp.

He’s still dressed in his last outfit of the concert. His brow glistens with sweat. The flush on his face is a mixture of the remnants of his performance and the pleasure you were currently coaxing from him.

“Fuck my mouth, baby,” you say, pulling off of his cock long enough to let the words slip out. A trail of saliva connects your swollen lips to the head of his dick, red and darkened with his near-painful arousal.

“How can you be so adorable and say such filthy things?”

It was more of a muse than an actual question. He loved your duality. Your ability to flirt and play so innocently out in public, and then flip a switch as soon as the door was closed. And not just the bedroom door, he thinks. Any door, apparently.

He is quick to press his hand to the back of your neck to pull you back to his crotch, the head of his cock bumping up against your cheek. He quickly wraps a hand around the base, teasing your searching lips with the bulbous head. You chase him, whining when he chuckles. It isn’t until you look up to him, a serious pout falling across your lips that he finally feeds it to you.

You take him in one go, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. It hits just hard enough that you gag. He tries to slow his motions—to pull back— but you blink away your tears and glance up at him, before pushing down further, knowing you could take it, knowing you want to take it.

A choked moan slips out of him as you ease him into your throat, the tightness of your pulsing walls sending stars through his body. Hands gripping his thighs like they were the only things in the world, you begin to pulse back and forth. When you look up at him, he is gazing down at you, that mix of power and desire that you so love dancing in his eyes.

You release him from your throat, gasping hoarsely.

“Is that all you can take?” He slips both of his hands into your hair where they tangle with your thick locks. The hardness of his many rings presses against your scalp, offered a startling contrast to the strength of his hands and the gentle tug of your hair. He waits for a moment, gauging your unyielding eye contact to make sure you could. As soon as he recognizes that spark in your eyes and feels your hands squeeze twice around him—your signal of consent—he’s  moving again, easing his thick cock back into you.

He pushes fully into your mouth, a deep graveled groan ripping through his chest as the tightness of your throat wraps around him. Beginning to thrust, he tightens his grip in your hair, bobbing your head to his own pace. You do your best to relax the muscles in your neck and throat, to erase everything but the sensation of the man you love fucking in and out of your mouth.

His pace is perfect, not too fast, not too slow. You feel the head of his cock push past your uvula and into your throat. With one hand, you reach up, your hand coming to wrap around your own throat.

Beneath the sensitive skin of your hand, you feel his tip bulging through the delicate skin with each thrust and you groan at the sensation. He shudders at the reverberations of your voice, pulsing through him. There’s something wild, indescribably dirty, to the feeling of his cock through your skin, to feeling him chasing his orgasm from inside and outside you at the same time. His nails scrape deliciously against your scalp as you continue to moan around him, the vibrations of your pleasure coursing through his cock and straight up his spine.

“Take all of it, baby,” he grunts, and you know he’s close to his release. Your hand tightens around your throat, tears springing to your eyes, drool dripping down your chin.

As Yoongi looks down on you—mascara running and mouth sloppy with a mix of your drool and his precum—arousal sears through his body. The absolute devotion in your eyes pushes him further towards the edge.

Tonight was supposed to be about you, too. Even though you had been around the other guys for months now, this was your first stadium concert, your chance to really step into his world— and yet here you are on your knees in a backstage bathroom with a very thin door, just for him.

What had he ever done to deserve someone like you?

He thrusts his hips forward into your waiting mouth, earning a delighted moan from you. He is so close— so close to his release, so close to pouring himself out down your warm, waiting throat. That unmistakable warmth sears through his abdomen, pulling him closer, drawing him nearer to— he feels your hand tap gently twice against his thigh, your tell for him to release you.

He stops immediately, gripping his cock as he pulls out of the confines of your throat and untangles his grip from your hair. He drops to his knees before you, reaching for you. His thumb brushes over the streams of mascara off of your cheeks.

“You alright, love?” The dominating tone is gone now, concern in its place.

You smile at him, coming to place your hand over the one that cupped your cheek. It’s a sweet, loving gesture — and you sigh into it — but all sense of sweetness is broken by your next words.  

“I need you to fuck me.”

“I— uh, what? Are you sure?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you repeat, seriously. “I can’t believe you would think I could go without your cock all night — that I could walk out of here without your cum dripping down my legs.” You pout.

Just like that, he’s pulling you to your feet and spinning you around so that your waist hits the cold marble of the sink. With absolute control, he runs his hand up your spine until it reaches the middle and he pushes, adding a delicious arch to your back.

He is quick to line himself up with your sopping entrance, pulling the fabric of your panties to the side so he can slide the head of his cock through your dripping folds.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet?” You whine, pushing back on him, desperate to feel him fill you. He clucks his tongue. “You’re so eager to please, maybe I should just shove my cock right back down your throat and take my own pleasure.”

“Noo,” you whine wantonly. “Need you.” You look up at the pair of you in the mirror. Your eyes are dark and filled with lust, face stained with mascara and remnants of his fucking. You are bare naked, minus the thin straps of your panties. Behind you, Yoongi stands fully clothed, his belt unbuckled just enough for him to grip his cock and hold it against you. The top button of his shirt has come undone, revealing a sheen of sweat. But it’s his face, the look he wears, that captures you.

Pure, unadulterated adoration dresses his features as he meets your gaze in the mirror.

He hooks a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side, and runs a thumb over your entrance. Your back arches at the touch, having denied yourself for so long.

Without warning, he presses the head of his cock to your entrance and begins to slide in.

Getting him off had always been a practice in edging yourself. You’d learned this over the months you’d spent with the beautiful man behind you. The more you saw his pleasure unravel before you, the more pleasure you felt. It didn’t matter if you weren’t particularly interested in whatever it was you were doing — you were interested in him. So as his thick girth begins to fill you, the new sensation bursts through your senses, searing your cunt with pleasure.

You let loose a whine, one that feels like it was pulled from the depths of your abdomen. Primal. Wanting. “Yoongi,” you gasp.

“What the fuck is going on in there?!” You hear someone call from the other side of the door, but you choose to ignore them, instead turning your attention to pushing back on Yoongi’s cock.

“Did you lock the door?” you pant.

“No — did you?”

“No.” He turns to lock it, but you stop him, reaching behind you to grab his arm. 

“Leave it. Just fuck me, please.”

He grins at you in the mirror. “Fuck,” he hisses. “You like the idea of someone walking in on you?” You groan, your cunt clenching around him at his words. “To see you split open on my cock, moaning my name like only I can make you?”

“Yes,” you choke out as he rams into you especially hard. “Wan’ them to know.”

“To know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

Yoongi swivels his hips against yours, drawing a particularly loud moan from you.

“Fuck.”

“Touch yourself,” he growls. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

You whimper, your body shaken by his relentless thrusts. Still, you reach down, fingers drifting over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Yoongi continues to rail into you, his hips grinding in a slight circle each time he bottoms out. Even as your breath hitches in your throat as you begin your ministrations on your clit — slow circles, building in strength and speed — all you can think about iss the way he bit his lip as he looked down on you. The way his brow furrowed in delicious concentration like you were the only thing worth paying attention to in the world.

He adjusts his grip on your hips, his long fingers pressing into your abdomen. You know there will be bruises there tomorrow.

The new grip allows him to thrust up into you with a new viciousness.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so tight around me.”

The glaze in his eyes tells you he is close to his release and so you increase your pace, the sensation of his cock pounding into you and the calculated swirl of your fingers building the perfect tension.

“Ah, fuck, gonna cum,” Yoongi hisses.

“Cum inside,” you beg.

He groans at your words. You want him as deep within you as you could possibly get him. Want him on you, in you, surrounding you.

With one final thrust, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his clothed torso to your bare back. He thrusts shallowly a couple times before a thin groan resonates through his chest and you can feel his cock twitch within you, painting your walls with his cum.

With a cry, you feel the watery band of pleasure snap inside of you. You fall forward, catching yourself on your elbows as you feel Yoongi’s hand drift down to your clit, circling you through your pleasure.

His breath is heavy, shakey against your back. The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing together.

Yoongi pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants. He begins to reach for one of the hand towels in the stack but you hold your hand out.

“Keep it in,” you whisper. His eyes shoot up to yours. With a slight grin, he pulls your panties back over your cunt, sealing his cum inside you. With a playful tap to your still-sensitive mound, he stands, hands pressed into your hips.

“You’re gonna keep that inside for me, hm?” he murmurs into your ear, the brush of his words raising goosebumps on your skin. “You’re gonna walk around all night with my cum still inside of you. You’re gonna leave it in until we get back to the hotel and I can fuck it out of you again.”

Your eyes widen as you looked at Yoongi.

If he keeps talking like that, you’d be ready to go again in a minute. And judging by the semi he was sporting, he would be too.

You giggle to yourself as you pull your dress back on. Yoongi has finished dressing and now stands, facing the mirror, picking through his hair as he continues to steal glances at you. You are glad you brought your purse into the bathroom. You reach in to pull out a pack of makeup removers. Just as you are about to dab away the mix of tears and mascara from your cheeks, you feel Yoongi’s fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Here,” he says softly. “Let me.”

You smile at the man, a pink flush still painting his cheeks. Ever so gently he wipes away the black makeup from your face, taking his time to make sure he doesn’t pull at your skin or miss a spot.

“All done,” he says, tossing the wipe into the trash can. “Good as new.”

You turn back to the mirror. Makeupless, fuck evident, but good enough.

“Thanks babe,” you say, pulling him tight against you and kissing him lightly. Your tongue skates over the pink swell of his lower lip, but the kiss remains light and playful. He sighs into you, his hand running up your back.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips before stepping back. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

“Oh!” You can feel your mixed cum beginning to leak out of your cunt and run down your leg. You snap your legs together, impulsively reaching out to Yoongi to grasp onto his arm as a nervous laugh bursts out of you.

“What—” His eyes flicker downwards to where a rivulet of white shines on the skin of your inner thigh. The dress you wore tonight is short, and leaves little to the imagination. But the image of his, his cum running down your inner thigh has him swallowing hard, his hand coming into a fist as his heart jumps into his throat.

Your eyes are large, blinking up at him as his hand comes down to rest on your waist. Ever-so-slowly, he kneels before you, eyes level with your hips. Gently, he pushes your leg aside so your thighs are no longer clenched together and rolls the hem of your dress up.

“Wha—”

“Shh,” he hushes you.

Looking up at you, he leans in. His pink tongue darts out between swollen lips and he presses it to the inside of your leg. You gasp at the warmth. In the afterglow of your orgasm, your whole body sings with sensitivity.

Slowly, deliberately, he licks up the trail of his own come, collecting the white substance into his mouth. You nearly groan at the sight. When he reaches your panties, he closes his mouth and swallows, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before rising to his feet. You run a hand through his hair, tugging him to you. As he kisses you, you can taste the mix of both of your juices on his tongue and you press deeper into the salty taste.

“We should go back,” Yoongi murmurs against you. “Before anyone thinks we’ve gone missing.” He chuckles in your hair, finally unlocking the door.

Jimin stands there, his mouth agape.

“Why do you always have to be so fucking loud?” he asks with a scowl, shaking the shock out of his eyes. “Like great, we all know you have a killer sex life, do you have to rub it in our faces too?” he grumbles.

You chuckle, pulling your friend into a side hug.

“Maybe next time you should join us, and we can do something about that bruised ego of yours.” You wink at Yoongi, feeling his hand settle heavy on your lower back as you rejoin the sway of the crowd.

“Maybe,” he growls into your ear. He pulls you tight against him as he smirks at Jimin.

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[prfctethereal]

imagine. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play imagine by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader

summary: your boyfriend takes you on a day of wonder and comfort

word count: 3,006

warnings: non sexual nudity ig?? just a lot of fluff

a/n: thank you so much for 50 followers! all the support from you guys is crazy. i appreciate every single like, reblog, and comment. here’s a piece that i put my heart and soul into so i hope you all love it as much as i do. - kennedy

***

“Alright darling, now remember, no peeking, ‘mkay?”

With James’ hands covering my eyes, he guided me through the halls of the deserted castle. He spoke barely above a whisper, keeping his voice down so it didn’t echo throughout the corridors.

I was a bit surprised this morning to be woken up before the sun had risen. Even yet, no birds had started their usual choir. It was early, too early. Not even Remus would wake up this early, so it was odd this morning to be woken up by a cheery looking James.

Somehow, James had found the counter jinx that normally prohibited any boy to come up to the girl’s dormitories, which I hadn’t known until I felt the lulling voice of my boyfriend singing me awake at four in the morning, the pads of his fingers tenderly brushing stray hairs away from my restful face. Soft lips brushed down onto my glabella, humming a gentle tune.

“Good morning beautiful.”

I pressed some sort of agreeing sound past my lips and moved closer to James, wrapping my arm around his torso, nuzzling my head into his stomach. Laughter escaped his mouth, cupping my cheek with his hand, trying to pull me away from him, but I put up a fight, smacking his hand away.

“I want to show you something.”

Intrigued, I opened one of my eyes incredulously, letting it adjust to my sights. It was definitely early morning, with slits of moonlight still peering through the sheer curtains of the dormitories. Everyone else in the room was still sleeping peacefully, soft snores rhythmically keeping everyone asleep.

Staring right at me was the love of my life, my one and only, my boyfriend, James Fleamont Potter. In the moonlight, his bright hazel eyes dazzled, showing the flecks of his green and blue hues. His round glasses sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose, making it too easy for me to take them in my hands and place them over my own eyes. It was a little blurry but I could see James’ pouting playfully.

“Why would you do that? Now I can’t see your beautiful face.” A bright rouge tinted my cheeks as he said that, an impulse to bury my embarrassment following suit. Taking back his glasses, I could clearly see a smile creeping on his lips making me ask the age old question:

What’s gotten him so happy?

“I want to show you something.” James repeated, putting his hand over mine, helping me into a sitting position so I could really see what was going on.

James looked like he had been awake for a while, essence of energy flickering in his eyes. He was fully dressed in clothes that looked to be sticky to his body. His glistening body.

“Jamie, are you sweating?” I asked, placing my hand to his forehead, concerned. I wasn’t sure if it was the heat or the heat of the moment, but his face was glowing pink, and I only just noticed now his racing heartbeat.

“I’ve been up all morning working on something.” He cheeked, placing another gentle kiss on my cupid’s bow. “Now get up, I want to show you something.”

Eventually, I gave in, swinging my legs around the side of my bed. Dazed, I reached from my dressing gown to drape over my nightdress, as I wasn’t sure how chilly it would be outside of the common room. As silently as I could, I followed my doting boyfriend from my bedroom and through the sleeping portrait of the Fat Lady, leading up to where we are now.

“Can I open my eyes now?” I pleaded, a whimper leaving my throat as James pulled us around another corner. I had already accidentally trodden on James’ toes one too many times and I was itching to know where we were.

“Keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” James whispered into my ear, a chill running down my spine as I nodded compliantly. The initial heat of James’ hands left me face and I felt empty, even more when I heard his feet shuffling away. Using my hearing, I tried to figure out what he was doing, as he walked away from me then back towards me.

Was he pacing?

My thoughts were answered when I heard what sounded like a block of cinder moving, the rustle of rock rubbing together snapping me into my senses. Then, I heard the creaking of a door opening and I realised where we were: The Room of Requirement.

To some, it was a myth, an urban legend, but I knew it was real, as the marauders had planned their fair shares of pranks in that room. I smiled, wondering what James had gotten up to last night and why he was dragging me here at a ridiculous hour in the morning.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now sweetheart.” Greedily, I opened my eyes and took in the astonishing surroundings. The room had turned into an eloquent bedroom, with a blush king size bed up against the wall. In the corner was a closed off area with a sheer curtain keeping it hidden. An aroma of fresh linen and warm vanilla filled the room as I stepped further in. A vinyl player was set near the middle of the room, playing some quiet music to set the mood. Up against the player was a bunch of couches and a table, which seemed to be holding a plethora of different fruits and pastries.

I bee-lined for the bed though, diving into the blankets and duvet, sinking into the mattress, sighing in content. James followed behind, peeling off his shoes and over layer of his clothes, stripping into a more comfortable option. Together, we pulled the blankets over the bed, ready to go back to sleep.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, my love.” James hummed, pulling me close to his side so I could snuggle further into his torso. His heart beat soothed me, calming me down enough to pull me into a deep slumber in the arms of my one true love.

***

When I woke, James was already awake, playing with the ends of my hair, mesmerised. As he noticed I was waking, he kissed my forehead lovingly, tightening his grip around me, cuddling me more.

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked, his raspy morning voice sending a flush to my cheeks. I straightened up to him, placing a kiss directly to his lips.

“Of course, but I would also like to know what all this is for too.” I questioned, palming the edge of his shirt over in my hands, my fingers brushing over his bare stomach.

“We can talk over breakfast.” Taking my hand, he hoisted both of us out of the covers and guided me over to the couches, making sure I was sitting comfortably before going into an enchanted refrigerator to bring out some food. Even though refrigerators are typically cold places, two steaming plates of waffles and berries emerged from the fridge, with a smiling man carrying them over.

Hungrily, I took a plate from my boyfriend and started cutting into the sweet food, placing a piece into my mouth and chewing slowly, watching James from the corner of my eyes, who hadn’t stopped grinning since I had woken up.

“So,” I started, swallowing my mouthful, “what’s all this for?” James cocked an eyebrow but I continued dutifully. “I mean, it’s just a random Saturday morning and you surprised me with all this, and I’m-” I couldn’t even find the words to describe how I felt at the moment. The adoration I had for my boyfriend was too much.

“NEWT season is over and I know how much you’ve been stressing over these exams. I just wanted one weekend for you to distance yourself from the real world. I wanted to do something for you, because you mean so much to me, and I love you more than I can even imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot.” I giggled, placing a sour berry on my tongue.

“Oh?” James challenged, licking his lips, a million thoughts running through his head. “What else can you imagine?”

I thought about that for a while, taking another bite out of the crisp waffle on my plate, before speaking up again. “I can imagine us taking a bubble bath together, like what we did on our first date, do you remember?”

“How could I forget? There were bubbles everywhere! I could never imagine how messy it would turn out but, oh well.”

“We can imagine it now.” I smiled, a silence settling between us as we finished off our breakfast. Taking sneaky glances at James while eating, I saw the way his eyes were moving, like his brain was working overtime. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. I’m in love with that man.

After a while, when both the plates had been cleared, James cleared his throat, speaking once again. “We don’t have to imagine anymore. Follow me.”

My eyes lit up as I traipsed behind James to the corner of the room. He peeled back the curtain to reveal a full bathtub, warm soapy water coming off of it in swirling vapours. Hues of different liquids poured into the tub in thick streams, mixing together.

It was exactly like our first date, when James and I had broken into the prefect’s bathroom and bathed in all the different baths they had. The memories that it brought back welled tears up in my eyes, my hand wiping them away before he could notice.

“After you, m’lady.” A smile crept up my face as I slowly stripped the night dress off my body, criss crossing my arms up and over my head, pulling it off. Hesitantly, I unclasped my bra and pulled down my panties, before stepping into the bath, the warmth of the water calming my nerves in a second. As I turned back around, I noticed the bars James following me in, climbing into the tub and sitting down next to me. His arm wrapped around my waist pulling me into his side, my head dropping down to his shoulder.

“You really are the most beautiful girl in the world.” His words spoke deeply to me as his hand stroked up and down my side lovingly. I felt like a princess who had just found her prince.

“And you are the most dashing person I’ve ever met.” I cheeked back, taking a handful of bubbles from the water and blowing them into James’ face. Sensing a fight coming on, James pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose and sat them down on the edge of the bath, getting his game face ready.

“Oh, you’re on.” Is all he said before taking his own fistfull of bubbles and dropping them over my head, trickles of water running down the side of my face. Grinning menacingly, I gripped onto his shoulders, pulling him closer to my body before diving under the water, pulling his in with me. The world seemed to slow down for a moment as we stared at each other in the tinted water, holding our breaths as we waited for the next person to make their move. We didn’t wait long though as James used his strength to flip me over so he was on top of me, pulled us out of the water and pinned me to the side of the bath.

“Okay, okay, you win.” I pouted, a giggle falling from my lips as James released me from his grasp.

“What’s my prize?” A cunning grin rose on his face as I contemplated what to do. I could pull him back under the water or let him meet another ball of bubbles.

“This.” I said, pulling him close towards me, kissing him slowly on his lips. What was meant to be a short and sweet kiss turned longer and sensual as James' arms pulled me closer by my waist and my arms shot up around his neck. The kiss quickly turned passionate as James tilted my head up just a little to make me gasp, his tongue using this as an invitation to slip into my mouth.

After a few more minutes of just being with each other, we pulled away, our lungs thanking us for returning air into our systems. We were left breathless, panting as James’ hands went up to my cheeks, his thumb gently caressing my cheekbone.

“I really enjoyed that prize.” He smirked, running his fingers through my tresses of hair. I playfully splashed him with the water in the tub, swinging my legs over his lap to snuggle back into his chest. His breathing matched mine as we sat like this for a quiet moment.

“You know I love you, right?” James croaked out, a slight amount of anxiety detected in his voice. The question surprised me for a moment, catching me off guard, but I soon composed myself, looking at James directly in his doe like eyes.

“Of course, I do, love.” I sighed, running my thumb over his plump lips before leaning upwards to place one more peck at the corner of his mouth. “And I love you too. More than anything.”

“More than anything?” James laughed, his fingers falling down to my waist to tickle me gently. “More than waffles?”

“More than anything. Definitely more than waffles.” I melted in his grasp, pulling his hands off my waist and into my own hands, tugging him upwards into a standing position. “Do you know what else I can imagine?”

“Oh? What else can you imagine?”

“I can imagine us dancing around right now.”

“Whatever you can imagine can come true. Anything for you.” And with that, James bent down, kissing my knuckles like a true gentleman.

Carefully, we stepped out of the bathtub together and I took a few towels from a table and gave one to James. He rubbed the towel gently over his chest before tying it down so it hung loosely off of his hips. I patted the towel against my hot skin, feeling a bit of relief from the cold material. Once I was sufficiently dry, I tied it just above my breasts, so the towel covered my torso and most of my thighs.

I followed James out of the secluded bath area and into the open room where I found his playing with the vinyl player. When a new song started playing, he took my hand in his and placed his other hand on my waist, waiting for me to take his shoulder. As I did, I felt James immediately spin me around and dip me softly, kissing my forehead. Blushing again, I let James take control a bit, spinning me around like we were at a ball. This time, I wasn’t stepping on his toes with every moment and it felt like magic. The world seemed to have slowed down for us and we were the only two left. Nothing mattered except the man holding me right now and trying to listen out for the music so I didn’t fall on my head.

“Do you know what this song is?” James asked, spinning me in his arms once more.

“I don’t actually.” I pondered for a moment then spoke again. “It’s very lovely. What is it called?”

“It’s called Euphemia.” My eyes widened slightly as I recognised that name as the name of James’ mother. “My dad wrote it for her for their first anniversary. Whenever my mum would have a bad day, my dad would always play it through the house. One time, I was supposed to be asleep but I could hear my mum crying in the room over. So, I got up and started playing the song. She immediately stopped crying. To this day, I don’t know what she was crying about, but I do know that this song brought her joy.”

I paused before speaking again, not wanting to ruin the moment. “It’s beautiful, James. I never knew your dad wrote music.”

“It was the only song he ever wrote. He told me that when I find someone that I love, I should play it for them. So I did.” My heart leaped when James said that, a few tears dripping down my cheeks in happiness, just for James to brush them away with his fingers. Then, without thinking, I spoke again.

“Imagine if we grow old together. We could be dancing in our own living room to this song.” I didn’t realise what I had said until I saw James’ eyes light up and the biggest smile ever crept up on his face. Without being able to even register what was happening, James got down on one knee and removed the Potter family ring from his finger.

“[Y/N] [L/N], I am here to make anything you can imagine come true. This ring has been in the Potter family for generations and it’s time I give it to you, for you are going to be the next Potter. You make me the happiest man ever and it’s time you know how much you mean to me. I know there’s a war going on outside of Hogwarts, but frankly, I don’t care. I want to be with you forever, through thick and thin, through high and low. If you will let me, I can be your everything. Once we get out of school, we can buy our own little cottage in the countryside like you always wanted. We can wake up next to each other each morning like you always wanted. My darling angel, will you marry me?”

It was perfect. My head was nodding frantically before I even had time to get the words out of my mouth. All I knew was the love of my life on his knee in front of me, ready to take the next step in our lives together.

“Yes, James Potter. I will marry you.”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol. 3 Sakamaki Shuu Stellaworth Tokuten: “Monopolizing Her”

Original title: 彼が貴女を独り占めするCD

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 3 Sakamaki Shuu Stellaworth Tokuten CD [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke

Translator’s note:  I enjoyed this CD a little more than I would like to admit, haha. Shuu teasing the MC honestly gives me life. > < It has been a while since I played any Shuu route since he almost always first and I’m close to finishing one game and about halfway through the other, so I’m glad you guys are still requesting his stuff so I can get my Shuu fix. xD

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

You enter the room and walk up to a sleeping Shuu.

“Zzー... Nn...”

You start trying to wake him up.

*Rustle rustle*

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Rustle rustle*

You eventually give up and call his name.

“Nnー Shut up...Hm...”

You beg for him to wake up.

*Rustle rustle*

“...Nnh...You’re annoying...What do you want?”

You offer to go outside. 

“Hah...? You woke me up just to say that? My answer’s no. If you want to head out, you can do so by yourself. I’m gonna nap.”

*Rustle*

“Ugh...Stop talking to me...You really are trying everything to prevent me from sleeping, aren’t you?”

You insist.

“Who cares if you won the tickets? I’m not interested in some mucisian’s concert. If you want to go, be my guest.”

You explain the situation.

“Haah...It’s couples only, huh? Guess you can’t get in then. Too bad for you. Why not watch the broadcast on TV then?”

You keep on begging.

“Nn...You’re persistent. Didn’t I just tell you that I’m not going? That is the one thing I want to be clear about. I am not moving, no matter what happens.”

You mention that there will be a part on classical music as well.

“...! What did you say just now?”

You repeat yourself.

“Hm...There’s a classical recital as well? I changed my mind.”

You blink in confusion.

“What are you spacing out for? We’re going to this concert. Shouldn’t you get ready?”

You remind him of his earlier words. 

“I never said I wouldn’t move.”

You shake your head.

“I didn’t. Do you want to go with me? Or not? Which one is it?”

You tell Shuu you want to go.

“Then hurry up and get ready. I’m leaving you behind if you keep me waiting.”

You nod, quickly running off.

*TIMESKIP*

Upbeat music plays in the background followed by fans cheers.

“Haah...It’s so loud...I know this is supposed to be one of those lives (1), but I didn’t think the music would be this annoying. It’s crowded as well, I’m feeling fed up already. ...It’s still not over? How far are we in right now?”

You reply.

“It’s long...Only halfway? So, when exactly is the classical part? I’m starting to itch to go home.”

You tell him that the musician has to speak first.

“A speech by the artist? (2)”

You explain.

“Ah, you’re referring to him talking right now? The recital comes after this, right? In that case, I’ll listen just a little longer.”

The artist talks to the crowd.

“Haah? That guy’s telling us to hold hands or something?”

You nod.

“Ah, right. I guess the whole crowd consists of couples, huh? They’re trying to appeal to the audience like that? What a drag.”

You offer your hand.

“We don’t have to follow his orders, do we? ...Or do you want to hold my hand, perhaps? In that case, I’ll offer you one. Why not do as you please?”

You hesitate.

“Why are you hesitating? Ah. You don’t want to? In that case, I don’t mind either.”

You shake your head, begging to hold his hand. 

“Haha, you’re way too desperate. You’re such a cheap woman too, getting all happy over something like this. However, I’m well aware that those innocent reactions of yours are just for show. There’s no way something this childish would be able to satisfy you, right? So you don’t mind if I run my fingers across yours like this, do you?”

*Rustle*

You flinch.

“Does it tickle? Or did you feel it just now? You’re as sensitive as ever. You’re so lewd to feel good over something like this.”

You protest. 

“Hm? What was that? I can’t hear you over all the other noise. You’ll have to come closer to tell me. Bring your lips towards my ear.”

You repeat yourself.

“Hmm~? You want me to stop? But the artist told us to do this, so I won’t stop.”

You ask if he is mad at you.

“Haah...? I’m not upset or anything. Well, I might be a little agitated by this ruckus and ridiculous crowd. I’d love to suck your blood right now just to distract myself but...”

You flinch.

“...I’ll keep that for after we’re back home. Right now, I’ll enjoy watching you struggle instead. You can use this as an opportunity to anticipate my fangs. Your blood tastes so much richer and sweeter after you’ve been teased after all.”

You puff out your cheeks.

“...Hm? He wants us to face each other next.”

You turn to the side.

“Oi. Don’t turn your head away. What’s the point in getting embarrassed still? Look my way.”

You refuse.

“Heeh...You’re stubborn, huh? Come on, look at me, I said.”

*Rustle*

“...Don’t waste your energy resisting when you’ve looked at my face a million times already. It’s a pain to keep on having to force you to turn your head. Also scoot a little closer. Don’t move away from me.”

Shuu pulls you close.

*Rustle rustle*

“Haha...You’re restless. Are you having a hard time relaxing when I’ve got my arms looped around your waist? Don’t be playing innocent, I usually do things much more intense to you. Both your body and soul already belong to me, don’t they? If this much is enough to make you throw in the towel, you might not be able to keep up with me in the future, you know? Well, I wouldn’t mind if you were to break or go crazy though. I will stay by your side, no matter what happens to you.”

They get the next instructions from the artist.

“...Hah. Did you hear that?”

Your cheeks turn bright red.

“He wants us to kiss while looking at one another. We have to listen to him, no? So you should initiate the kiss.”

Your eyes widen in shock. 

“What? Don’t tell me you can’t?”

You tell him it’s embarrassing.

“Heeh...You find it embarrassing in front of other people, huh? I’ll let you off the hook then.”

You seem somewhat disappointed.

“What? You don’t want to, no? If you’re not up for it, I guess I have no other choice.”

You frown.

“The next song’s about to start. Guess we should turn back to the stage and find ourselves a spot.”

The music begins to play.

“...What?”

You ask for permission to kiss him.

“Haha...You should have just said so earlier. Lift your face then. ...I’ll tuck your hair behind your ear so it’s easier.”

*Rustle*

“...You’re hot. Not just your ears, your whole body feels feverish.”

Shuu steps closer.

“I’m leaning in, so you can reach, right? Wouldn’t it be better to cup both sides of my face with your hands so you can do it properly?”

You cup his cheeks.

“Hahaha...You’re actually gonna do it? Your hands are shaking though. Bring your face closer to mine. ...Exactly, just a little further. A little more...”

*Smooch*

“Heh. I was expecting this, but you actually went for my cheek after getting that flustered? Okay then. I’ll teach you. Not only it is dim in here, but there’s a flashy concert going on. I doubt anyone will take notice of us.”

He pulls you close.

*Rustle*

“I’ll use the remaining time to teach you thoroughly. Although I’m not sure if just kisses will actually be enough to satisfy you.”

You become even more flustered. 

“Didn’t I tell you? The more I tease you, the more delicious you become...I’ll give it to you plenty once we’re back. Both kisses, and my fangs...”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) I think he says ショー気分ライブ or ‘show-kibun live’ here, which literally means ‘a live concert with the feeling/vibes of a show’. I was not quite sure how to accurately translate this to English. xD I guess it means one of those really upbeat concerts where everyone is screaming and waving those light sticks in the air. 

(2) Te word トーク or ‘talk’, derived from English, is used in Japanese to refer to an artist talking on stage in between performing different songs. 

[siriusheadspace]

illicit affairs - sirius black x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You and Sirius start seeing each other in secret around Hogwarts since his best friend Remus has a crush on you, but is too shy to act on it. Inspired by "Illicit Affairs", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: God, all of a sudden I developed this hyper fixation with Sirius. I got a bunch of ideas for stories with him (and all of them inspired by songs lol) but this was the one that felt more structured. I haven't written in a while and English is not my first language so be kind lol

Words: 2k ish

-

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down

You could swear the entire Hogwarts castle heard your hitched breath while you tried to make your way to the Gryffindor tower as silently as possible. Sirius was the one to leave first this time, heading for his dormitory while you had to count to 300 - you forgot your watch this time. You were sure it was his time to wait, but you didn't contradict him after he zipped his pants, gave you one last rough kiss, and said "Later, then?".

Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

It took some time to develop this relationship to the point where you didn't have to talk and check each other's stories to avoid being caught. You knew your friends and roommates didn't believe you were risking getting caught and losing house points just for a night walk around the castle, but they gave up on you telling them who you were seeing.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

It started last year, in your sixth year in Hogwarts. You always had a crush on Sirius, but that's not uncommon - nearly every girl on your year couldn't help falling for his long, silky hair, his gray eyes, his long, yet toned body, and, of course, his devil may care attitude. But he never really paid attention to you, just some light flirting in a party at the Gryffindor common room one time; you were pretty sure he didn't know your name. But it changed last year. You can't quite point to when, exactly, you noticed the Marauders would go quiet once you walked by. But it got to the point where you would always notice. You'd pass by them on purpose, flattered by the attention Black was finally giving you. But you didn't notice that it was his friend, Remus, that gave you the most passionate looks.

What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

At a party right after a Quiddich match, you decided you would do something about it and give Sirius the chance to make a move. You took hours getting ready, borrowed a dress from a friend, the cleavage more revealing than anything else you ever wore, the fire whiskey burning your throat and your shyness. Once you came down the stairs, you could feel the glances at you, running up and down your body, another rush to add to the whiskey and to boost your confidence. Your friend group was close to the Marauders and you thanked the gods for it. You were all dancing together, and Remus excused himself after a few songs - you later figured he might be trying to get confident enough to make a move - once Sirius perfume got to you. Sandalwood, something citric and tobacco, all mixed to intoxicate you. You started dancing closer to him, and, in a spike of lust, grabbed his hand and went to an empty room. He looked confused but didn't complain when you pushed him against the wall and kissed him fervently. You felt his smirk, his excitement, once he pushed you back against a table and pulled your legs around him so he could lift you and sit you on it. He only stopped to catch his breath once you were panting and pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You felt like a goddess when his long fingers explored your body, lingering on your exposed curves. You unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped your dress, and, without giving it a second thought, with a spark of pain between all the pleasure, you had your first time with the infamous Sirius Black.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares

When you were finished, the combination of soreness and embarrassment started to make your chest heavy - the first time of many. Sirius was a gentleman, though, helping you fix yourself enough so it wasn’t obvious that you were doing what you just did, not commenting on the blood, or when your nails pressed against the skin of his shoulders out of pain. You felt his stares during the next few weeks, trying to find a way of talking to him and meet him again, maybe on a date, something more romantic than snogging on dark, empty classrooms. One night, you were reading in the common room and noticed him alone, leaning against the wall, close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once he felt your eyes on him, he left the room, and you felt a rush, getting up, counting to ten, and following him to another empty classroom, where he quickly took your book off your hands and moved them to his neck.

It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

You were anxious to repeat his steps, standing against the wall, waiting for him to look at you. But he sure followed you to yet another empty room. That time, you actually had a conversation after you were done, but it was far from the romantic invitation for a date at Madame Puddifoot. "You need to be less obvious", he said, buttoning up his shirt. "I just did what you've done last time", you said, pulling your skirt up, feeling the warmness between your legs, the humiliation of being scolded like a kid by the person responsible for it. "But if it's going to happen that often", he smirked, "we have to figure out a way to do it in a way that people don't have to pay the tiniest amount of attention to find out, baby", he completed, and started scheming. You agreed to his plan: whenever any of you wanted to see the other, you'd send a note with a smiley face, something that wouldn't be revealing and wouldn't mean anything to anyone but the two of you, and you'd meet at three in the morning at the come and go room. "It's safe. And it has an appropriate name, don't you think?", he laughed, and you shot him a weak smile. He walked to the door but before he opened it, you put your hand on his arm. "Sirius", you said, and he noticed that he liked the way his name sounded on your lips when you were composed as well, and scolded himself for the flutter in his chest caused by it, "Are you doing something this weekend? I thought we could go to Madame Pu..." "We shouldn't be seen in public, doll", he said, trying to give you one of his smirks, but you noticed how his eyes still looked sad. It didn't matter, though - the weight of rejection pulled you down and you had to use all of your energy not to break down crying while going back to your room. Sirius went first. Once you were about to go up the stairs that would lead to your room, you heard his laughter with his friends coming from the other staircase. Unbothered by your encounter.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist

You've dealt with by rationalizing it in many different ways. You thought that the next time you got a piece of parchment with a smiley face, you'd just ignore him, happy to imagine him alone and pathetic, waiting for you. But you never had the strength to do it. You'd always fix your hair and some makeup and went straight back to his arms.

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

"Why does it have to be like this?", you asked, feeling brave, six months after your first encounter. "Y/N", he said - you felt a shiver up your spine like you always did when you heard your name in his voice - "I'm a bad friend. And I'm trying to avoid coming to terms with that", he completed with a sad smile on his face. Once he noticed your confusion, he explained how he started noticing you after Remus admitted to having a crush on you, but never had the guts to tell you. That Remus made him notice things about you he wasn't paying attention before - how your lips would pout when you were concentrating during Charms, how your soft curves were visible under the heavy wool of the sweaters you liked to wear - but it was you, in a burst of attitude, pushing him against a wall that made him give up on being a good friend for Remus on what concerned you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

You accepted your status as a shameful secret. Remus still gave you fond looks and eventually had the courage to get close to you, trying to help with your DADA homework, complimenting haircuts, holding doors open to you. And you thanked him with your heart full of guilt, Sirius' stare burning on your back. After one of your encounters, Sirius brushed his fingers against your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You were still shocked at the demonstration of affection when he left the room first, and you started counting to 300 again. 151… Is he falling for you? 208… It can't be. It has to be just physical. Why would he fall for you and still keep you as a secret? 299… It clicked. He could fall for you a million times, it would never be as important as his friendship with Remus. And you loved him a bit more because of that. 300.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

You tried seeing other guys. You went on dates, and you blushed at their compliments, but none of them had a fraction of the effect of Sirius had on you. You still hoped he noticed when one of them would hold your hand on the way to Hogsmeade. You could only hope it hurt him as much as it hurt you to see him flirt with other girls. To listen to his voice calling them "baby".

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

One night, you were whispering his name with him already inside you, your shirt undone, your bra unclasped, your skirt pulled up, when the door opened. The pain in Remus’s eyes as he understood what was happening in front of him was something you knew you would never forget. Sirius left you there, dressing himself quickly while apologizing profusely to his friend. You turned around and tried to fix yourself, and they left without even looking back at you.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

None of them ever spoke with you again. It was as if you were taboo. Even James and Peter wouldn't pay attention to you once you spoke in class or told a funny joke to your friend in the common room. You figured it was fair. They had to do what's best for their friendship. And if pretending you didn't exist was the price to pay for that, they'd all pay it. When you saw them all laughing together, joyful, you knew you'd do the same.

But, sometimes, you could swear you felt Sirius’ gaze against you. And you knew that was as close as he'd get to ever touching you again.

[lustbile-archive]

Come Here Often?

MarkxReader

Word Count: 4K

Summary/Warnings: usual for the series. Smut, public sex, sharp objects and blood play. Also rip sorry for the dumb title I thought it was funny

APART OF THE CLUB X SERIES  (recommend reading other works)

“So which dating app did you meet this guy on?” you teased your friend as you stumbled out of the back of the taxi, the last of your friends to exit.

The friend in question grabs onto your forearm, helping you get steady on your feet making sure you don’t fall regardless of the way your words makes her face warm in her shyness, “Bumble. So if it makes me seem any better I did make the first move.”

You pull your arm out of her hold to wrap it around her waist, nuzzling at her neck as the rest of the group laughs at your conversation and begins walking to the entrance of the club. You two follow slowly behind, cuddling and tripping over each other as you walk, “nothing bad about finding him from an app, i’m just teasing because I love you.”

“I know, I love you too,” she lovingly pets at the top of your head as you get closer to the entrance. The person leading the group almost steps through the door, before someone interrupts, quieting the group.

“Wait, don’t we have to show our ID’s?” they ask, warily eyeing two men that stand by the door. Their all black clothing and the way they carry themselves telling you they are the bouncers of the club, but when you lock eyes with the shorter of the two, his eyes look hollow and disinterested as he shakes his head.

“Nah,” you shake your head as you playfully curl into your friend, unable to move your eyes from the men, “I don’t think they really give a fuck about what we do.”

Your words only earn satisfied hums and giggles from your group, and a slightly amused shake of the head from the men, before you crowd the entrance, pushing against one another to get in.

The loud music rattles against you as you continue to cling to your friend, the dark red lighting forcing you to stop and let your eyes adjust to the room. The atmosphere of the room makes your breathing deepens and slows as it feels like there’s something that lingers in the air and slows down your mind with every breath you take. It feels like you’re cemented in the same spot, staring blankly into the crowd of writhing bodies, before your friend’s voice and the way she tugs on your arm breaks you away from your daze.

“C’mon,” a few more tugs and your feet pick up again, and you're following behind her as she moves through the club like she’s been here a million times, “he texted and said they had one of the big booths towards the back.”

You can only dumbly nod as you follow closely behind, some of the other people in your group also following while the others break off in search of drinks.

It’s as if your body had gone numb when you walked in, as you barely register the way that the sweaty bodies of strangers bump and knock into you. You’re only brought back to reality momentarily when a man wearing a decorated mask interrupts your path. He only nods in a quick apology when he sees you jump, but continues walking as if he’s trying to catch up with something.

“Come on, don’t be so slow,” your friend finally resorts to wrapping her arm around your waist and all but dragging you in the direction she wants, as you move it feels like the room is passing you at a hundred miles a minute, “I think I can see the booth.”

She thought correctly, as it's only seconds before you’re approaching a booth in the shape of a semicircle, one half of it being occupied by a group of men.

You’d be lying if you said they weren’t all attractive. All in their own different ways as they look up and smile at your approaching group, but when you meet eyes with the boy at the center you’re hit with a concerning feeling of recognition. The way he smiles doesn’t fully reach his eyes, this and his slim face and dark hair makes it feel like your brain short circuits.

You don’t have time to process the feelings seeing this man makes you feel, nor break the eye contact he’s forced you into, before your friend is shoving you into the booth to sit directly next to him as she babbles apologies for keeping the boys waiting.

You can tell which of the boys she was meant to be meeting, as when you start to settle into the seating, he eyes her in admiration from his spot in the middle of his friends and he reassures her that the wait was no problem. He seems enraptured with her regardless of her frazzled energy as she sits you and your other friends as if you were rowdy children, the infatuation he radiates for her warms your heart so much you almost don’t notice how close your seated to the boy that still continues to stare at you.

You’re smiling at their interactions, when you feel something touch your arm, making you jump. An amused chuckle comes from beside you as you look over to the man, the tips of his fingers still brushing the skin of your forearm. The dark around his eyes makes them seem sharper than they we’re probably naturally, and the taunting smile he wears makes you want to lean away, but there’s an aura that dances around him that makes it impossible to look away and you even find yourself leaning closer when he speaks.

“I’m Mark,” he offers as he smiles at you, the surrounding noise of the club almost muffling as he speaks. His hand moves from your arm as he reaches to rest his arm on the seat behind your head, and you offer your name in return. He repeats your name back at you slowly and moves a few inches closer, the low rasp in his voice when he speaks makes a shiver run up your spine and your body starts to warm.

Your eyes are unmoving from his face as he glances at the other people that sit around you, and you feel your eyebrows thread together at the oddly determined look he wears.

“You don’t seem like the type that would be brought here,” he says when his eyes return to you. You smile softly, slightly confused as when he says it, all he knows so far is your name so how would he know anything about your “type?” But the way he smiles and forms his words, it doesn’t seem like he means it in the way that it sounds.

“Well this is where your friend wanted to meet mine, and since he was bringing his friends, she wanted to bring hers,” you ramble from the way speaking to him makes you nervous, you shrug quickly before continuing, “you make it sound like you come here often, so what type of people usually come in here?”

“Ah yeah,” he nods, reaching to pick up his glass from the table, taking a drink as his arm slips from the seat to rest on your shoulders, “sometimes it feels like I can never leave this place honestly, but with all the people I’ve seen, none of them have been as gorgeous as you.”

Any other man, and those words would have made your skin crawl as you tried to find an excuse to leave, but when his eyes lock onto yours as he speaks, it feels like leaving was never an option and you feel yourself leaning into his hold.

Your mouth opens slightly, but before you can respond you feel your friend grab at your knee to get your attention. She seems just as dazed as you when you turn to look at her, and you exchange dopey smiles. You ignore the way her eyebrows wiggle at the way Mark holds you, and instead let out a questioning ‘hm?’

“We’re going to get drinks,” she says as her and the rest of your friends go to stand from the booth, the group of boys following suit, “you two wanna come with?”

The way his fingers softly dig into the flesh of your arm locks you in place. His hold on you isn’t strong enough that you couldn’t get up if you had wanted, but the way it makes your chest tighten makes it feel like his grip was made of steel.

“Ah no,” you smile, shifting closer to the boy as you shake your head, “I think I’m gonna stay back and get to know Mark better.”

She grins at your words, clearly thrilled that you’ve found someone to talk to so quickly. She nods to the rest of the group and they start to move towards the bar, your head tilting in confusion when the last boy to stand looks at you confused at the last words you spoke.

Your confusion is short-lived, when Mark squeezes at your arm to bring your focus back to him, “well i guess we’re alone now,” the suggestive tone he adopts warms your skin and the pit of your stomach.

“Seems like it,” you nod as you're filled with nerves mixed with a weird sense of calm. Something about the way he smiles and speaks to you makes your mind swim and your stomach turn. With a small dose of shame you admit to yourself that, if he were to ask, you would go home with him right then.

“What made you want to hang back with me?” his head jerks back slightly when he asks, the gesture making you grin at how endearing his mannerisms are.

“I don’t know,” your tone is far more flirty than you had intended as you answer honestly, but he only looks amused as he moves his hand from your shoulder to cup the back of your neck.

“Hm… you will eventually,” he murmurs in a way that suggests he was speaking to himself as he ignores the confused look that returns to your face, “so you just came for your friend huh?”

“Um.. hm yeah,” you stutter and nod as his fingers start to pet at the skin protecting your jugular, making you squirm slightly in your seat, “she gets nervous meeting new people so we wanted to make it a group thing to make her more comfortable.”

“But is that the only reason?” you feel your body flinch back at the nonsensical question, but his hold keeps you in place, “I think you’re also here for yourself.”

“Is that so?” you asked, amused at his assumption. Admittedly, you had been stressed lately with all that was happening in your life but it was odd that he would just guess that.

“Yeah,” he nods as he moves his face closer to yours, “I think you need some stress relief, and lucky for you I'm really talented at relieving stress.”

“Are you now? And how would you do that Mark?”

“Well,” he starts, repeating your name in the same inflection that you spoke his, “I can help in any way that you’re willing to let me.”

His hand lands high on your bare thigh once he finishes speaking, the gleam that dances in his eyes is dangerous and feeds the excitement that builds in your chest. If you were willing to let him take you home earlier, the way that he looks at you makes you even more willing now.

“If you think it will help,” you tease as you start to drag a finger down his chest, “I’d say you can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” he asks rhetorically as if he knew that would be your answer.

“Yeah you’ll just have to drive cause we took a taxi,” your nail catches on the collar of his shirt, ready to drag him up from his seat.

“Nah,” his hand moves to hook at the back of your thigh, pulling you from the leather of the booth to straddle his lap. You can’t help but let out a surprised yelp when your skirt shifts up, allowing you to feel his bulge pressing into the fabric of your underwear, “I think I can get what I want done right here.”

“You want to mess around in the middle of this club?” your fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt to help balance yourself. The cocky smile he wears on his face at your shocked expression makes your stomach flip. Why didn’t this sound like a bad idea?

“Yeah I don’t see why not,” he shrugs, his fingers dance up the skin of your thighs until they slip under the fabric of your skirt to grab at the flesh of your ass.

“Really? You don’t?” you say sarcastically while leaning back to get a better look at his face, “don’t see why messing around with someone you just met in the middle of a crowded club where anyone can see might be a bad idea?”

Regardless of your words, you allow him to start moving your hips to drag you against his crotch, little sparks of pleasure making your shoulders relax and your head tilt back.

“You might think its a bad idea,” he speaks slowly, one hand moving from your hips to wrap around your throat as his hips start thrusting up to meet yours, “but your body doesn’t.”

“Shut up,” you groan as the grip he has on the sides of your neck cuts off the blood flow to your head, making you dizzy. You could feel yourself cracking, your comment of letting him do whatever he wanted only becoming more true, “if anyone sees us, especially our friends, I will kick your ass.”

“Trust me when I say, no ones going to see us,” the intensity in his eyes when he says this makes it feel like he really does have control over everything in the room. He most definitely has control over every inch of you when, after you gently nod with a pout forming on your lips, he pulls you down by your neck to press his lips against yours.

His tongue is warm in your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours and making you feel like you could get drunk on just his lips. You release the fabric of his shirt to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to your chest, when you get this sudden need to be as closely pressed against him as possible. Your hips begin to desperately grind on him at a faster pace, this and the way you start to quietly whimper into his mouth makes his chest shake slightly as he laughs.

“How wet are you right now?” he breaks away to ask, only leaving centimeters between your mouths.

“Wet enough,” you speak without thinking, but it was the truth. You could feel your thin underwear sticking to your core, his lips and hands and every inch of him getting you aroused faster than you’ve ever been before.

“Good,” his hand falls from your neck, squeezing between your bodies to undo the button and zipper of his pants. As he works, your lips press harshly back against his and you feel him groan roughly into your mouth when he reaches inside his underwear to pull himself out.

You can’t help the happy sigh you let out when you feel his fist brush the inside of your thighs as he tugs on himself a few times. The idea of him touching himself to get ready to fuck you makes excitement build in your body and you begin to bounce slightly on top of him.

“So impatient,” he breaks away from your mouth again, his hand that isn’t wrapped around himself moving to flip up your skirt and move your underwear to the side. The feeling of the stuffy club air hitting your newly exposed skin makes you pant and clench at the possibility of being seen, “but I don’t know if we have a lot of time, so I don’t think I'll get the pleasure of teasing you too much.”

“Mark please,” you plead, pressing your mouth against the skin under his jaw before digging your teeth into the sensitive skin. The pain that shoots through his neck from your mouth, makes his hips stutter against his hand and his dampened tip nudges against your clit.

He must enjoy the way you jump at the contact, as he starts dragging his tips from your entrance and back up to your clit over and over, quiet grunts falling from his lips.

“Feel a lot more than just wet enough sweetheart,” he teases, pressing less than an inch inside you before going back to teasing your skin.

“Fuck Mark,” you curl around him trying to sink down every time he pushes into you, “please just fuck me already.”

He seems fed up with his own teasing, as after your final complaint, he finally pushes fully inside you. The feeling of him stretching you so suddenly has you moaning loudly as you forget where you are. His hands pull you tightly against his chest as you flutter around him in an attempt at getting adjusted to his sudden intrusion. The warmth of his hands petting your skin making you melt calmly in his hold.

You start to slowly move in his lap, making him drag against the nerves deep inside you. You’re unable to move too much from the tight hold he has on you, but the way the fabric of his shirt rubs against your clit and his breath puffs warm against your neck makes you crumble in his hold.

The air is knocked from your lungs, when he starts to cant his hips up to meet your movements, shoving him deeper than you thought he could go. His name is the only coherent word that slips past your lips as your nails dig into the leather of the seat behind him.

“Look at you,” his fingers squeezing your skin in a way that you know you’ll have bruises from him the next day, “taking me so well aren’t you? I knew you would.”

You keen at his praise, your hips moving quicker in response. The pleasure that builds in the pit of your stomach is enough to distract you from one of his hands moving away from your hips, enough to distract you from the sound of breaking glass behind you, but not enough to distract from the stinging pain that bites into the skin of your collar bone.

He doesn’t let up on the way he thrusts into you, or the way he sweetly coos at you as squirm in pleasure and pain. The same moment he discards the jagged glass and returns his hand to your skin, he latches his mouth to the deep cut he left behind in your skin, his tongue lapping at the blood that spills from it.

You knew that if your mind wasn’t fuzzy with arousal and you weren’t teetering on the edge of your orgasm, you would have freaked out. Something about the man below you skews your judgment, making you willing to fold in any way he’d ask.

He doesn’t move an inch from the wound he created as he starts to rub quick circles onto your clit, the sudden friction has you hurtling faster into your finish. It’s when he starts sucking harshly, bruising the skin around the cut, that you start to come around him.

He doesn’t slow his thrusts in any way, making you feel like you’re being pulled apart at every seam. You can feel moans and whines of pleasure flowing from you, but the static that fills your ears muffles the sound.

Tears begin to roll down your face, as he pushes you away to sit up straight. The air hitting the cut stings enough on its own, but it stings even more when the fingers, that only moments before were abusing your clit, brush against it to collect your blood that continues to spill out.

“There you go,” he says darkly, as he shoves his bloodied fingers deep in your mouth. He’s stopped thrusting as he holds you tightly against him to grind with him pressed fully inside you, “make me come baby.”

Your tongue rolls against his fingers, the taste of your blood mixed with the evidence of your orgasm that was left behind makes your heart pound as you grind faster against him. The way his head tilts back against the seat behind him as he watches you move makes you feel like you’re being hunted.

The second his lip tucks between his teeth is the only indication you need to know that he’s started to come, a pathetic whimper muffles around his fingers when you feel him come deep and warm inside you. You clench harshly around him in hopes to prolong his pleasure, a groan deep from his belly a prize you receive in return.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips for a second. The now free hand moves to join the other on your hips, slowing your grinding until you’re sat still on his lap.

His warm hands knead the wound up muscles of your thighs as you even your breathing, a dopey smile pulling on your lips as he smiles proudly up at you. You can help yourself as you reach out to run your fingers across the skin of his cheek bone as you stare at him in awe. A weird feeling suddenly fills you as you look down at him, a warmth flooding your chest.

He lifts you from his lap, placing you gently back onto your seat and adjusting your clothes back to the right places. He adjusts himself back into his pants, before he turns back to you.

“Your friends are coming back soon,” the sureness of his words twists at you in a weird way, “I have to get going.”

You sit up straight, your hands latching back onto the fabric of his shirt in panic, “I mean I know I said I didn’t want to get caught, but I don’t want you to leave either.”

“Next time you come here, you’ll be by yourself,” he shifts to move away from the booth, his fingers prying yours from his shirt and holding your hands reassuringly, “and you’ll find me pretty easy.”

Words escape your mind as he lets go of your hands and moves away from the booth, the smile he throws over his shoulder making you shiver and sigh.

You’re sinking into the leather as you watch him disappear into the crowd, when your friends come skipping back, the boys following close behind with their drinks held tightly in their hands.

You immediately lighten up as your friend slips into the booth beside you, a warm smile on her face as everyone else sits as well. Her bubbly mood is dampened slightly when she realizes you’re now seated by yourself.

“Where’s um… the guy,” she turns to the boy she came here to meet to ask, “your friend, what was his name?”

The boy who had thrown you a confused look earlier, adopts the look once again as he butts in to answer, “that guy wasn’t our friend.”

You and your friends let out matching sounds of confusion before you speak, “what do you mean he wasn’t your friend?”

“Yeah no,” he shakes his head as he sips his drink, “said he was friends with you guys but took a separate car and got here before you.”

You turn to look at your friend with a concerned look pulling on your features, but the smile she wears fogs your brain, “this club is kind of weird right?” she asks, a dazed laugh following the words.

“Yeah weird,” something about the words feels like cotton in your mouth. You reach for the glass she placed in front of you, hoping that just a sip of alcohol will help with the mixing emotions in your chest when she starts to poke at the skin of your chest.

“Hey, when did you get that scar on your collar bone?”

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Hey! I recently discovered your Tumblr and am loving reading your posts! I would like to place an order if it's not a lot ... You could headcanon the LIs to find out that the MC is pregnant quadruplets? (If you can't, please let me know to put an end to my anxiety) Thanks for everything!

Why hello @ i-dont-know-what-to-put4! Sorry it took a while I���ve had lots of requests to keep me busy. Thank you for the request, I’m super glad you enjoy my writing. So here we are for your entertainment!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, here is my Masterlist.

Up next is Main Six with a MC that has a lot of anxiety.

Asra

There’s been a strange shift in your aura of late, the last few weeks Asra has felt it grow stronger and stronger with each passing day and tonight its particularly strong.

That evening the two of you are just enjoying each others presence, his head resting against your stomach as you twirl a strand of his white hair in your fingertips.

Already he can feel you falling asleep with your hand tangled in his hair and it makes him tired too, eyes fluttering open and shut.

Then all of a sudden the smallest wave of magic taps him on the cheek.

Asra is wide awake in an instant, frowning as he lifts his head to look at your placid face, eyes closed. Was that you?

And then it taps him again.

No it’s not your magic, but it feels similar. Like a combination of your magic and his. Something new...

Trying not to alarm you or wake you from your own slumber Asra shifts to place a palm against your stomach and tentatively prods back with his own magic.

And once more something prods back, four somethings.

Four little sources answer back and Asra’s heart skips a beat.

Oh, that is a surprise.

Asra resists a chuckle and just presses closer to you, making you grumble in your half asleep state.

“Wahzat? Asra?”

“It’s okay love, I’m just getting comfortable is all.” He sees no point in awaking you yet, you’ve only just started to drift off

You haven’t even noticed Asra and the magic he’s radiating, his magic cradling and soothing those tiny beings inside.

How he’s longed for his own child, and now along come four in one.

Asra can’t wait to see the look on your face.

Four children and you don’t even know it yet, he’ll tell you in the morning but for the moment he just wants to let them know he’s there and that he always will be.

Nadia

With the help of a carefully picked donor you have both decided to try for a child, and although you agreed to carry the child she still asked you if you were sure a thousand times over.

Although the first try had no success, the second try became the winner.

Its been weeks and Nadia has been so busy she’s almost forgotten about trying for a child.

You’re in her room changing into a night gown, which in itself isn’t strange, but you seem... different, somehow.

She thinks to herself you’re probably just a bit more sun blemished today or that you’re wearing a different hue of eye shadow.

But you’re glancing at her once every-so-often, more than usual as if you’re waiting for the perfect moment.

The next time she looks up from her seat at her bed you’re knelt by Nadia with the most serious expression on your face. Concerned she asks you if everything is alright, and your expression remains so serious she can’t comprehend the words that come out of your mouth.

“Yes, after all it isn’t everyday I get to tell the love of my life that I’m pregnant.”

And for what seems like the first time since you met her, Nadia blanks, staring at you in confusion.

A slow realisation dawns on her face and she’s standing pulling you up with her with a gasp, and already peppering your face with kisses and laughing clear and crisp.

“You had me worried for a moment Y/N,” she scolds, moving to slide a hand to your stomach with a delighted hum.

“There’s one more surprise, although you might want to sit down again...”

And after you both settle yourselves down, you break the news that there are four babies not just one, Nadia is just too busy smiling thinking of how fitting it is that the two of you should have a large family like her own.

She can’t wait.

Julian

That evening after getting over a bout of ‘food poisoning’ Julian manages to drag you out for a few drinks at the Rowdy Raven.

He’s downing Salty Bitters like there’s no tomorrow, rowdily cheering at the fiddle player who is striking up a feisty tune.

Once every so often grinning back at you, your non-alcoholic drink playing between your hands unnoticed.

Startling as Julian’s hand tugs your’s, asking for a dance with that silly grin on his face. His energy is almost infectious as he leads you out into the jostling crowd.

He’s spinning and twirling you and thankfully you don’t feel as sick as you did earlier in the week because otherwise you’d be sick by now.

As the feisty tune ends you’re almost breathless and Julian curiously asks you if you’re okay as a slow tune sets pace for a slow dance.

“Oh, yes. I’m just finding it harder to catch my breath since I’m pregnant.”

“Well, that would make dancing a lot harder...”

Giving you a bewildered look, Julian in his partly drunk daze grabs your shoulders begging you to repeat what you just said.

“We’re having babies Julian... four of them.” He almost faints, falling back into a chair with a million questions on his mind.

The two of you leave the Raven early that night and as you walk down the street Julian is looking you up and down in adoration. His hand about your waist, just brushing your stomach.

Will he be a good enough father? Will they like him? What if they hate him?! So much to do and think about, he’s so eager and scared at the same time, but when you give him that soft smile Julian’s worries feel almost non-existent.

The two of you together? Those kids are going to have the best parents ever.

Muriel

Something’s up, Muriel knows that much. You’ve been acting weird, well, weirder than usual.

Your moods have been all over the place and Muriel is pretty sure you’re not feeling tired all the time just because of all the ‘late nights’ you’ve had.

Last week you cried over seeing a doe with twin fauns, and again over how good his scrambled eggs were.

And that day finally comes, and for first time in weeks you’re pretty calm accompanying him to a farmer’s orchard to pick some apples (with the farmer’s permission of course.)

Sunshine dappling your faces as you pick fruit from the floor, Muriel spots you visibly wincing when you have to bend low.

Muriel’s eyes are constantly watching you with confusion, as you weave through the trees almost causing him to bash his head against a low branch.

When he finds his way back to your side you point excitedly at a perfectly round red apple, despite his own height it is out of his reach.

Humming in thought you encourage Muriel to sit you on his shoulders, and you just manage to reach the apple yelling in triumph as Muriel sets you back down.

And he notices you’re smiling down at the apple tenderly. “I bet I’ll be rounder than this apple in a few months...”

“What?” Muriel is staring at you. “Why... would you be?” Your hand flies to your mouth as you hide a grin, Muriel’s face is set in a deep frown.

“Well, I’m just, saying... with four babies I’m going to be HUGE!”

The deepest shade of red is colouring Muriel’s cheeks as he looks down at you, to your eyes then to your stomach then back to your eyes.

“You mean...I’m- we’re going to be...parents?” Muriel sidles up to you curiously, tentatively reaching out. Grabbing his hand you slide it to your stomach with a nod and laugh. Using your own hands to cup his face and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

How in the world? He’s astonished and scared, and although Muriel doesn’t know if he’s ready, it doesn’t seem like such a scary thing with you. He wants to try.

Portia

As with Nadia the two of you have, with the help of a donor decided to have a baby together.

The two of you having had a friendly argument about who was going to try having the baby first, through some deductive reasoning you two agreed you would be the best candidate.

Unsurprisingly Portia has been bouncing around at the prospect of having a baby, she’s already knitted 20 little sweaters to pick out as the baby’s first clothes.

And that morning as you come back from a checkup from the ever helpful future uncle Julian, Portia is already jumping up and down after rushing back for a ‘lunch break’ to meet you.

“So? What happened? Any luck, what did Julian say?”

You’re laughing at her excitement and have to force her to sit down on the love seat, trying in vain to calm her down.

“Well Julian had a listen and... I am pregnant!”

Portia tackles you into a bruising hug and you have to quickly remind her you are pregnant, so she goes to nuzzling your face and laughing behind her kisses as you chuckle back.

“Oh, that means you can finally pick out your favourite sweater!” Portia picks up the overflowing basket of baby clothes and presents it to you like its a medal.

Biting back another laugh you survey the clothes and pick out your four favourite ones. Portia watches you eagerly to see which one you’ll pick out of the four but your hand stays gripping them.

“A toss up, hm?”

“Oh, no these four will do.”

“Um, Y/N if you bundle the baby up in four sweaters it might get too warm...”

“I know, that’s why there’s only one for each of them.” Portia purses her lips with a thoughtful frown and then her mouth falls open.

“You’re having FOUR!?” You just burst out laughing in answer.

She’s going to have to make a lot more sweaters, but she can’t wait to coddle four babies and have lots of fun with her family. With any luck they’ll be just as cute as you!

Lucio

You have a surprise for him? But he’s meant to be spoiling you, he loves spoiling you!

Although he can’t help but get excited as you near the bedroom.

So its that kind of surprise?

No, the two of you have already passed your shared room and you lead him to the room across from the door he was expecting.

“Um, Y/N our room is that door!” Lucio points, but you shake your head and tell him to close his eyes.

Lucio is starting to get sceptical of what kind of surprise this is but with a shrug he closes his eyes and allows you to lead him through the door.

The smell of paint hits his nose first and there’s the tinkling of bells somewhere off to his right.

“...and open your eyes!”

Lucio can’t remember what this room used to be but whatever it used to be it looks totally different now.

The walls are painted with a fresh coat of cream above and pastel green below and there are sheer curtains lining the windows and where you are now standing there are four cribs each with a mobile with tinkling bells?

“Don’t worry I had Portia and the other servants help me, there’s a few things to get done still but, do you like it?”

Lucio is examining the room with a critical eye, as he slowly walks toward you turning on the spot before coming to a stop before the crib’s.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Well yes, unless the doctor lied to me...”

“Why are there four?”

Chuckling wryly you suck your teeth with an innocent expression as Lucio turns to gape at you. You can’t even nod before Lucio’s hands are picking you up at the waist and twirling you around with barking laughter kissing your lips as he sets you back down on your toes.

“I guess this makes me look like a good lover,” at the jest you smack him lightly with a warning expression laced with a smile.

How lucky is he to get a second chance with you?

[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.

[willcwthewisp]

next in line | marley & willow

LOCATION: willow’s workplace. PARTIES:  @detectivedreameater and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: marley has some questions for willow concerning a missing person from her work. CONTAINS: head trauma mentions.

Marley pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought back the wave of another headache. Her body felt like it was deflating, slowly, with each hour that passed. Her blackouts were getting worse as well, and maybe Erin had a point, maybe she should get Queenie to look at her head. Maybe the crash had done more damage than she thought. Still, she hesitated, because she felt as if something were different this time. Something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but for now, she would push it to the back of her mind. She was back at work, but only on interrogation terms. So, it was with three other officers, that she’d ended up at a call center where someone had been reported missing. Missing persons were so boring, it was the same ending every time. They were dead or no longer human. In rare occasions, under a fae promise or kept in a vampire’s basement for food. She rubbed her eyes as she went in to her first interview, with one Willow Finch. Her picture looked like she smiled too much, and Marley frowned as she walked in, unsurprised, but still disappointed, the woman matched the photo. She sat in the chair across from her. “Need any water?” she asked, motioning to the pitcher next to them. 

Getting questioned by the police was the absolute last place Willow wanted to be. Sure, they’d brought in literally everyone from the office, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were the one under a magnifying glass, even if that wasn’t true in the least. They couldn’t have possibly come to ask about the man at her gallery, right? The one who’s arm she’d broken? After all, he said he wouldn’t press charges! But no matter what she told herself, Willow’s foot was still tapping anxiously against the office floor as the detective stood across from her. Detective… “Um- sorry- what did you say your name was?” Had the woman even said her name? She always felt at least a little better when she knew someone’s name. As for the water… “Oh- no thank you! I mean...maybe? Or...maybe not! Sorry- I just don’t know what the protocol is here. Which one’s the one that means you’re guilty again? Drinking the water or not drinking it?”

“Neither,” Marley said unenthusiastically as she watched the woman practically bounce in her chair. She talked a million miles an hour and Marley was tired. She poured herself a glass of water and then the other, scooting the extra glass towards the woman. “Neither means you’re guilty, I’m literally just offering you a glass of water.” And it was the truth, actually. Offering a glass of water was supposed to simply establish a baseline for behaviour, but this woman was so squirrelly, Marley knew immediately that wasn’t going to happen. “Stryder,” she announced sitting back and looking her over. She had big, brown eyes and shiny, blonde hair. She looked so unassuming, sitting across from her, almost an opposite to Marley’s all black outfit and her black hair and dark eyes. “So, first things first. I need you to state your name, age, how long you’ve been working here, and you daily schedule, please.” Maybe this would go better. She doubted it, but she could still hope, right?

“Neither?” Willow echoed with brief confusion, her mind working too quickly and anxiously to realize exactly what Marley meant. “But you can’t do neither- you can only take it or not take it?” How was she supposed to look innocent if neither action was the answer? It dawned on her too late what the detective had actually been getting around to. “Oh- you mean...nevermind…” Willow looked away in her embarrassment, cheeks already heating as a flush came over her cheeks. “Sorry I’m just ah- a little nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about!” She didn’t even really know the man that had gone missing due to mostly keeping to herself in the office. There was a reason she’d chosen a job as a telemarketer, and that reason was the exact opposite of any attempts to make friends. “Stryder?” Willow’s head titled quizzically to the side, the name ringing a bell. “You’re the woman who-” The medium glanced around as if making sure they were truly alone before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “-the woman who knows Nora?” Her back straightened against the chair as she prepared to answer the question, as if she were readying for a spelling bee at school. “Right- uh, Willow Finch. I’m 32, and I’ve been working here for…” She did a quick tabulation, grimacing when she realized how long her gallery had been closed. “About six months. Daily schedule like...work schedule or the entire day?”

Yeah, this was going to be a long day. Marley sighed and rubbed her head before setting the file down on the table and leaning forward. Oh, shit, this was that one chick from online? The one Nora had harassed? She almost groaned out loud. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, tapping the papers, “guess I shoulda figured. Not too many Willows in a town like this.” It wasn’t an accurate commentary, really, just another dry joke. Marley’s specialty. She wrote down all the things Willow told her, watching the woman’s face closely. She wasn’t lying about any of it, not that she thought she would. But the straightened back and the momentary pauses between sentences helped establish a quick baseline, in case she did try to lie. “Like work schedule. I don’t need to know what you do with your free time, besides throw bear people around.”

Great. It wasn’t that Willow didn’t like Marley based on her first impressions online. It was just that the woman had seemed abrasive, somewhat aggressive, and a little dismissive. Okay...maybe she didn’t really like Detective Stryder. But the last thing she needed was for a police officer to know that. “Is there...not?” The medium blinked slowly, apparently not catching Marley’s dry humor in person in that same way it’d flown over her head on the forums. “Okay-” she began with a nod, this time looking as if she were getting ready for an oral examination in front of the class. “Well- I usually work five days a week. I’m full-time.” She’d needed to be to even begin to cover her bills. She’d bought her apartment in the prime of her gallery flourishing, and telemarketing wasn’t quite as profitable. “And uh- when I’m here I just...you know- call people and try and sell them things.” With the mention of bear people, Willow’s voice quieted. “I thought you said they’re called bugbears?”

Marley was just trying to drown the exhaustion out when something felt as if it were being lifted from her shoulders, and her body felt suddenly lighter. So light she almost thought she was standing up, but looked down at her hands and found herself in the same position as before. She blinked, looked around, then back at Willow. Though her head still hurt and her eyes still drooped, she no longer felt the extreme exhaustion she’d had since first waking up from her accident a few weeks ago. “Full time, got it,” she noted, picking up her pen slowly and writing that down, too. She’d completely missed Willow’s first question, but breezed right by it as if it had never been said. “When do you take your breaks? Same time every day?” she asked, glancing across the table to Willow and wondering if she was simply seeing things, or if that side of the room suddenly looked darked. “What? Oh, yeah, they are. It was just-- I just...joking.” 

A heaviness settled onto Willow as Marley spoke, suddenly feeling as if she were carrying more weight than she had been before. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake the sensation to no avail. Ugh, was this just another anxious symptom of being interrogated? Maybe she could just go straight to sleep after work, and shake the feeling of being drained by the sensation of being under a microscope. She didn’t feel the need to repeat the question Marley had skipped over concerning her name. The sooner she got out of her the better. “Usually I do. I like to keep a schedule and stuff.” It made it so she knew what to expect of the day. “Every now and then I’ll take it other times, though.” Why did her break schedule matter? Did they think she’d had something to do with the missing person on her breaks? Again she felt the feeling of nerves clawing up her throat, pressing her to ask her next question. “You don’t- you don’t think it was me, right? I mean honestly I would have confessed by now. I’m really bad at keeping secrets that make me feel guilty. You should ask my sister- I always ended up tattling on her, and Forest is a whole other story. Oh- Forest is my brother.” Gosh, that had been a lot of words, hadn’t it? Already it felt as if they were taking a toll on her. A lot of words meant a lot of energy.

“And what time are those breaks?” Marley asked, going down the routine list of questions. No, she didn’t think Willow had anything to do with it, of course she didn’t. The girl had accidentally confessed to hurting Nora like two seconds after finding out Marley was a cop, it was doubtful she could lie even to save her own life. Marley took in a breath and for the first time in ages, felt it reach all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re just routine questions,” she told her, tapping the notebook with the pen, like children do when they have too much energy. “The faster you answer them, the faster you get outta here. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, Willow. You’re a narc, you’d narc on yourself, proof being that you already did it once before.” She gave a smirk, shrugging as she sat back. “I really don’t need to know about your family dynamics right now. But if it turns out you did kidnap this dude, then you can tell me allll about them, sound like a deal?”

The time of the breaks? Willow didn’t understand why these were the questions being asked, and that only sent her a little further over the edge of trepidation. She didn’t know how to give a good answer without knowing what it was Marley was looking for. “Um- I usually take the half hour break first around 12:30 for lunch, and then the fifteen minute break around 3:30.” She liked her mornings longer, saving her break for later in the day when she was less fresh. Now the detective was smiling. Was that good or bad? “Okay...what are the other questions? Or is that all of them?” she asked hopefully, trying to remember if there was any more of the coffee she liked leftover in the breakroom. She wasn’t usually a big drinker of it, but the sudden drowsiness that had taken her over was inspiring her to think differently. A frown came over Willow’s lips, not entirely certain that she liked the way Marley said the words narc, and applied it to her. “What do you mean I did it once before?” Oh god, was Marley lying and she did think that Willow was the reason for the missing person? Had she accidentally somehow admitted to the crime? “I didn’t!” she insisted while her tone grew more worried. “I really didn’t I mean- I don’t even think I could fit a body in my car or anything!”

Marley noted the rest of Willow’s answers and compared them to the notes on when the man went missing, and just like she thought, none of it added up. The poor man had disappeared on the overnight shift, anyway, so interviewing the day shift seemed pointless. But the captain wanted to be thorough, and so they would be thorough. She etched a little note on the pad and closed it, looking up at Willow. “What? Oh, no-- that’s all the questions. You’re good to go.” Except Willow kept talking, rambling, worrying. If this had been ten minutes ago, Marley would have groaned out loud and walked away. But as it were, she was feeling better, so she stayed put. “You practically confessed to me about Nora, remember? You were all worried I was gonna arrest you or fine you or something.” Marley let out a loud chuckle. “Woah, hey, realx, it’s fine. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m kidding. You really, really need to learn how to read sarcasm.”

“Oh, really?” Willow managed to say once she’d finally processed that she was free to live another day, and the shackles of the man wouldn’t be clapping onto her wrists anytime soon. “Thank god,” she sighed while her shoulders sagged, still a little confused as to why the questions had left her feeling so heavy. Sure- she did poorly in situations where she thought she might be arrested, but her anxiety didn’t usually leave her this level of tired. “Oh right, Nora.” She hadn’t realized Marley had been talking about a time other than today, and it was true that Willow had been all too eager to ‘confess’ her crime of throwing Nora through a window despite the bugbear being the one to break in. Willow blinked while Marley made an attempt to calm her, somewhat surprised that the woman was trying to help in the first place. Maybe she was kinder in person than she was online. “I just...I kinda forget it exists when I’m worried,” Willow admitted sheepishly, generally fine with sarcasm if she wasn’t thinking about everything that could go wrong. “But um- I hope you find him. You know- the missing person.” She knew just as well as any other native White Crester that far more people tended to go missing than were found. It was practically a death sentence in a town such as this. Just the thought of it made her want to lie down.

[cherryyharryy]

The First Five

Pairing: Harry and Reader

WC: 3K

Warnings: Pregnancy/Birth 

 The first five minutes after you tell him you’re ready for a baby are chaotic, but the good kind. He’d been ready since you both said I do, but you wanted time, time with just him. 

He bit his tongue more times than he can count, not wanting to pressure you, knowing you’d come to him when you were ready to turn your house of two into three...or four; he kept his fingers crossed. Maybe even five...

He’d seen your wandering eyes linger on a mother and her child while you were out to lunch. You passed through the baby aisle at the store, not grabbing a thing. And when his friends stopped by with their three month old boy, you didn’t want to put him down. But still, he keeps silent. He sees the gears in your head working overtime, and he knows it’s coming. 

It’s a humid day, right in the middle of summer, when you approach him. Harry has flashbacks of the first date you two shared, your bashful smile and nervous hands. 

“I’m ready, Harry,” you whisper, rolling your lips in. “I want a baby.”

He can’t pinpoint exactly what emotions swarm him, they must be new. All he truly recalls is snatching you from the lounge chair you were stretched out on, and pulling you in for a hug that put all other hugs to shame. 

He showers you with kisses, every pet name he can think of tumbles past his lips as he suggests you two get to work right away, tugging you back into the house and up the stairs. 

He spends a lot of these five minutes running his eyes over you, glancing down at your stomach once you’re both bare, with just the thought of his baby, your baby, growing inside his love. 

And he presses a hard, passionate kiss right on your lips, running his thumb over your cheek and declaring his love for you. 

“You’re my world, y’know? My angel. Gonna make another one, yeah? Another darling I can cherish. Give you both anything, and all my love, you’ll have all my love.”

*** 

The first five minutes after you tell him you’re pregnant is silent. You’ve searched the internet for a cute way to present the news, a meaningful way to announce the creation of your love for each other. 

It’d been months since you first started trying, and needless to say, you were both sinking into disappointment every time a test didn’t yield the results you were after. But having bought yet another box while Harry was at work, you decided to try once more. 

And now with Christmas right around the corner, it’d be crazy for you not to make this a gift for him. 

You’re both surrounded by wrapping paper, still in your pajamas with forgotten mugs of coffee abandoned in the kitchen while you tell Harry he still had one gift left. 

It is a small, square box with a red ribbon adorning the green paper that you pull out from the tree itself. Harry chuckles at the hiding place and offers a kiss when you join him back on the floor. 

You’re fidgeting, positively squirming as he gently pulls the ribbon apart and pops off the lid. His brows furrow at the first recognition of a tiny t-shirt—a gag gift perhaps? It would explain your restlessness. 

But when he pulls the shirt out and unfolds it across his lap, he’s sure his heart stops for a moment. He can’t move, staring at the infant sized clothing with ‘Daddy said I’m a Packers Fan’ written across the front. 

His jaw wavers, and he swallows a dry, hollow, gulp. The only thing he wants to look at right now, is you. He needs the nod—the one he’s seen in movies and read about in books, the one where you’ll shyly smile and roll your lips in while your head silently says yes, this is really happening. So he darts his eyes up from the tiny shirt in his shaky hands to your face. You nod. 

He has a million things to say but they all come out in breathless huffs and dizzy laughs. He scrambles over to you and pulls you in, surely giving you the tightest, warmest hug you’ve ever received. 

“You’re...I…” He pulls back and searches your eyes. He must be dreaming. “This is...we’re really…”

You giggle and nod. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe…” His lips finally tug into a smile. He shakes his head and flickers his eyes between your face and your stomach. They’re in there, tiny, microscopic, but they’re there.

“I couldn’t wait to tell you. Almost slipped up a few times.”

“I—I’m speechless.”

A soft laugh bubbles out of your mouth. “I can tell.”

You lean over the few inches he’s allowed between the two of you and press a soft, sweet, we’ve made a baby kiss to his lips. (As best you can, he can’t stop smiling).

 ***

The first five minutes before you endure the joys of pregnancy are much more agonizing than the five after. And Harry knew he’d be that husband—watching every move you make—but he had no idea how well he’d slip into the role. 

Needless to say, when you wake up feeling like you swallowed a model rocket ready for lift off, complete with a watery mouth and sore back, he panics. Your body’s in a state he doesn’t truly know how to take care of—sure he’s obsessed over the idea of being a dad, of you being pregnant. He’s a godfather and has a breeding kink that he won’t admit to. But the actual changes, the actual pain and metamorphosis that you’ve been going through and will continue to go through for the next six months, scares him to pieces. 

So for that first five minutes he’s pacing. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you wait patiently on the cold tile floor, already hunched over the toilet. 

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

You really need him to shut up. You’re fine, you’re throwing up. It’s what pregnant women do. But when he’s nervous—as he gets if you so much as put a hand to your forehead and sigh—it sparks the own nervous energy in you to take over. Because things could go wrong, you’re not out of the woods for nine months. And yeah, you’re probably inching closer to the bowl because of the hot sauce you added to your chicken the night before, (add spicy food to the list of things you can’t eat), but when he asks you again…

“You alright?”

...you burst. 

“Harry for fucks sake would you shut up!”

He’s silent after that. The remainder of the five minutes he obeys and keeps his mouth quiet. He doesn’t leave, stays leant against the counter, but he doesn’t talk. 

When you’re brushing your teeth you look over at him. He’s pale and fidgety, like a child who received forgiveness but knows their parent is still mad. 

“I’m sorry.” You spit out your toothpaste, and repeat the words so he can understand them this time. 

“I hate seeing you like that. I can’t do anything, I can’t fix it, I can’t make you feel better. You’re going through things I’ll never understand and you have to do it all alone. I just…” he sighs, loosening the tension in his shoulders with a roll of his back. “I worry, y’know? You’re my everything. If something happens to you…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, the last few words are lucky they made it out, as wobbly and frail as they were. 

“Hey, look at me.” You’re stern as you approach him. “I'm never alone, okay? I have you.”

“But—”

“Nuh uh. Yeah, I’m the one that’s pregnant, but that’s just a small portion of everything that’s ahead. Nine months. Nine months and then you’ll be put to work.” You smile once he cracks a smirk. “And in the meantime, you've been the best support I could ask for. I never feel alone in all of this.”

His smirk grows from bashful to sly. “Because I never leave you alone.”

You laugh around your words. “Yeah that’s part of it.” Your hands gently slide up his arms to rest on his shoulders. “And I’ll be fine. Doctor says everything’s good. Nothing to worry about.”

“But what if—”

“If...if something happens, we’ll handle it. Worrying about whether something may or may not happen doesn’t prepare us, and it certainly doesn’t make things easier.”

He stares down at you, eyes twinkling with a confident look you haven’t seen in a while. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

The first five minutes after you step out of the shower, the morning Harry is supposed to be home after nearly a month, are bliss. 

He pulls his clothes off tiredly in the bedroom, willing himself to stay awake until he can greet you with a proper kiss once you’re out. He avoids the bed, knowing if he even sits on the edge he’ll pass out. 

He pours a cold glass of water and is on his way back up the stairs when he hears the rush of the shower come to a halt. He speeds up, stepping into the steam-filled room just as you’re unfolding your towel to wrap around your body. 

“You—” He’s pointing at you, frozen in the doorway, and you break into a stifling panic because the last time his words got caught in his throat with a pointed finger, there was a spider the size of your hand behind you. 

“What? What!?”

“You’ve got a bump!”

Your lips tweak into a smile, and for the first time in a long time, you feel truly shy around him. “Noticed it the other day, when I put on my orange dress.”

You hadn’t time to wrap the towel around you before he was wrapped around you; his arms pulling you in flush against his chest, but only for a moment as he steps back to admire the swell of your belly. 

It’s not that noticeable—you’d have to be especially attentive to that part of your body to see the difference compared to a couple of weeks ago. There’s no need to rush out and stock up on maternity wear, and you don’t have to worry about the friends and family you haven’t told yet finding out. 

But it is exciting. It’s your baby, yours and Harry’s baby. And it’s healthy and growing and now you’re showing...Harry’s enthralled. 

He flicks his eyes up and waits for your nod before smoothing his hand over your belly button. His hand is big and warm. His rings are absent which you’re thankful for, not needing the cold on your skin right after a shower. 

“I love our baby,” he muses against your hair. “And I love you.”

“Welcome home.”

*** 

The first five minutes in the baby store are ridiculous. Harry—is ridiculous. He’s got an entire cart overflowing, and he’s really in his own little world. 

“Look at these, love.” He holds up the smallest pair of mittens you’ve ever seen, with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. “Look how tiny.”

“Everything’s tiny, Harry.”

He tosses them in the cart. 

You’re not complaining; his enthusiasm is contagious. You’re excited yourself, but having someone to share it with, someone who’s over the moon at every piece of clothing and accessory added to the pile, is the cherry on top. 

You’re running your eyes over the rows and rows of socks, all a different color, all incredibly small. 

“What color?” He asks, tugging you back to rest against his chest. 

“Would you care if I said one of each?”

“I’ll go get another cart.”

***

The first five minutes into your baby shower are kind of ridiculous. It was Gemma’s job to throw the celebration together, but your lovely husband weaseled his way into the planning, and now you’re sitting amongst friends and family while Harry reads off a list of games the guests are to play. 

“Sorry,” Gemma nudges you on the couch. “I tried. Honest.”

“I guess it was stupid of me to expect him to sit back and do nothing.”

“No, not stupid...just…” she eyes you, holding back a smile. “Okay yeah, maybe it was.”

“Excuse me,” Harry scolds the two of you. He’s standing in front of the fireplace, waiting on each audience member to give him their full attention, his own wife included. “Are you two done?”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Just get on with it, would you?”

“As I was saying,” Harry asserts, “the first game is a bottle chugging challenge.”

***

The first five minutes after your first contraction are scary. It’s definitely a contraction. You’ve endured a bout of Braxton Hicks, but what you’re feeling now are the major leagues. 

It’s the moment of no return. You’ve been in this state for quite a while, but it’s successfully and overwhelmingly dawning on you: you’re going into labor. 

It’s not about the past nine months, and it’s not about the baby a week from now, it’s about this very moment, and the hours to follow that have you second guessing this entire decision. You were ready to be pregnant and ready to teach your six year old how to ride a bike. You are not ready to give birth. 

Harry settles down on the floor beside the tub and cups your cheek in his palm. He holds up his phone with the timer at zero on the screen. “Tell me when,” he whispers. 

You nod and rest your head back against the linoleum, shutting out the light with your eyes and focusing on your body. Your body that is designed to perform this miracle, your body that has gone through nine months of rapid changes, your body that’s been through so much already. 

“Ah.”

“Breathe in.” He watches you relax in the water, making a mental note of your habit of holding your breath. “Good. I love you, you’re doing so good. Have been, always.” 

His thumb strokes over your cheek, and he asks if that’s okay. You nod and peak your eyes open, watching the timer on his phone tick by. It’s going too slow. Five minutes, the doctor had told you. Five minutes and it’s time to leave for the hospital. You’re not ready, please don’t stop at five. 

“The bags are in the car. And I’ve called your mum. Mine too.” He sets the phone down and dips his hand in the water, not letting go of you. “S’this warm enough?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is shakier than you were expecting. You peer up at him, and just by the look on his face, you know he knows. 

“You can do this. You’ve done so much already, and this is the last step.”

“It’s the hardest step though.”

“And you can do it”

You open your mouth, but it takes a couple swallows before you can speak. “I’m so scared. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”

“Tell me what you’re scared about.”

You flicker your eyes up from the timer to his face, brows pulling in to say take a fucking guess. Instead you shrug. “I—just everything. The pain. The stitches. Something going wrong. Me dying, our baby dying. Something being wrong with them. Everything.”

Harry doesn’t blink. He has no right to tell you not to be scared. No right to try and de-rationalize your fears. You’re the one who’s body is preparing for something terrifying at this very moment, something you can’t truly prepare for no matter how many women you’ve asked ...so how bad does it really hurt? You’re the one giving birth, not him. 

“Are you not scared?” He catches the hint behind your words. You’re almost asking for the secret he seems to hold, because ever since you woke up from your nap with a buzzsaw in your gut, he’s been calm and collected. 

“F’course I am. Not gonna lie to you. You’re having a baby...that’ll never not be scary. If we have ten kids I’ll still be scared on our tenth trip to the hospital.” He pauses for a breath. “But I also know that you can do this. I know that you’re incredibly strong, stronger than I’ll ever dream of being. You’re healthy and the baby’s healthy. You’ve got a fight in you that I fell in love with. You don’t give up on anything, you don’t back down. You power through and show me time and time again how un-fucking-believable you are.”

He’s wiping the tears that have started to trickle down your cheeks, and for a second he worries he’s said something wrong. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is still brittle, but when you look up at him, the light in your eyes has changed. 

“Thank you,” he smothers a kiss onto your lips, “thank you, thank you, thank you for everything.”

***

The first five minutes after you’ve brought your child into the world are heavenly. Your body is more than exhausted, numb, yet you feel everything. You’re not even sure if what you’re feeling is your body. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of chaos, as you lay there. 

The voices are all in a tunnel. The only one you really tune in to is the high pitched scream, a decibel breaking siren that is somehow coming from the tiny human being placed on your chest. 

Then it’s your own voice. You’re crying; not sad, just relieved, overworked, and so fucking happy. Despite the excruciating wringer you’ve just been yanked through, you’d do it again in a heartbeat...maybe Harry will actually convince you to have three. 

“Hey little one.” You softly stroke your finger down your newborn’s cheek, the wailing yet to cease. “I’m so happy you’re finally here.”

The room starts to slow down, and soon you’re taking everything in again. Harry’s by your side. He never left, although he’s back in focus now. 

“I’m so, so proud of you.” He’s holding his baby, cradling their head just like he practiced a million times. And he’s looking at you, in you, if that’s possible, into the very depths of whatever harbors the strength you showed today. And of course the tears are dripping down his cheeks. He’s so fucking happy too. “I love you. I love you so—I just love you.” He shakes his head. There aren’t really words, are there?

“And I love you.” He smiles at his child, running his eyes over the features he can’t get enough of. It really is the two of you, all wrapped up in this small bundle blinking up at him. “We’re gonna let muma rest now, aren’t we?”

He bends down to place a kiss on your forehead. You feel a tear beside his lips. “I love you, my darling. Close your eyes, you’ll be fast asleep in five minutes.”

[mysterioh]

Saajan Ji Ghar Aaye - Chapter Two

Bucky Barnes x Desi!Reader

Synopsis: After a brisk romance in London, Bucky follows you back to your home in Upstate New York where the preparations for your marriage to the son of a family friend are well underway. As the inevitable countdown to your wedding begins, Bucky remains optimistic in his pursuit of your love and your family’s acceptance.

Arranged Marriage/Forbidden Lovers AU

“Saajan Ji ghar aaye” means “your beloved has come to your home”.

Masterlist

𝑻𝒖𝒎𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍 𝒌𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒊 𝒋𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒂𝒍 𝒌𝒚𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒏. 

 𝑯𝒐 𝒈𝒂𝒚𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒊 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒂 𝒚𝒆 𝒌𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍 𝒌𝒚𝒂 𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒏.

“Hit me up?” 

Your nose scrunched in disgust when you read the note. Who the hell did he think he was? 

You. 

Eik shareef kandan ki larki fraternizing with strange characters? 

Over your dead body. 

In a rush of anger you ripped up the paper and threw it in the trash. You flipped the lights off and cozied yourself underneath the cover. 

“Kuttay da bacha.” 

“I’m losing my damn mind,” Sam groans. 

“What happened?” Steve questioned, looking up from his paper. 

“This place is too fucking fancy for me,” he waved his arms around. “They gave me three different forks to eat my pancakes with and I don’t know which one is the right one.” 

Steve chuckles. “Just pick any, no one’s gonna judge you here.” 

“You just had to marry rich, didn’t you?” Sam nagged playfully. “Couldn’t just pick a simple girl from Brooklyn.” 

“I’m marrying Peggy because I love her, not for her money,” Steve retorts. 

“The money’s just a bonus,” Bucky cuts in as he approaches the two. Steve frowns as Sam turns his head to watch Bucky walk into the hotel’s dining hall. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sam teased. “Rest well, Sleeping Beauty?” 

“Like a baby,” Bucky replies, as he slides into a chair next to the two. He takes his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and places it on the table so he can sit more comfortably. 

“Holy shit these pancakes are so good,” Sam fawns as he stuffs his mouth. 

“This is a five-star hotel, have some manners,” Steve hisses. 

“My deepest apologies, mother, I won’t do it again,” Sam chides him. 

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, shooting a glare in Sam’s direction, who’s hardly paying any attention to him. His eyes flit towards Bucky, who’s too busy frowning at his phone to entertain their daily squabble. 

“You’re not hungry, Buck?” 

“Hmm?” he looks at Steve. “Oh no, not really,” he shakes his head. 

“Still tired?” 

“Nah,” Bucky denies. 

“Did that girl ever text you?” Sam asked. Bucky kicked Sam’s leg. Sam winces. “What?” 

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What girl?” 

“The girl he met on the plane,” Sam informed their other friend. “He slipped his number in her book.” 

Bucky hides his face in his hands. 

“You slipped your number in a random girl’s book?” Steve repeated. “How’d you even do that?”

“She fell asleep on his shoulder and he decided to go through her stuff,” Sam deadpanned, taking another mouthful of pancake in his mouth. 

“Seriously?” 

“No!” Bucky defended. “It was nothing like that. The book was right there so I decided to just slip it in.” 

“It’s fucking creepy, man,” Sam stated. 

Bucky sulks in his chair and plays with his fingers. “She was pretty alright?” he murmured. 

Steve straightens his paper like an old father. “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s creepy.” 

Bucky groans. “What if she was on a connecting flight? I might never see her again.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. No girl in their right mind would contact a complete stranger that they’ve only exchanged two words with. Especially one that looks like you.” 

Bucky sits straight. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” 

“You look like something I’d draw with my left hand.” 

Steve snorts behind his paper, earning him a glare from Bucky. “I mean he’s not wrong.” 

“Imagine having two best friends that roast your ass instead of console you,” Bucky shades them. 

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve assures him with an easy smile. “There’s plenty of girls out there. You’ll find another one.” 

“But I liked that one,” he grumbles. 

“You don’t know anything about her. Move on already,” Sam retorts. Bucky pouts in his seat like a child. 

“Peggy’s cousin is holding a party tonight and you’re obviously invited,” Steve informed, before returning to his paper. “I know without a doubt that you’ll find someone there.”

Inconsequent polite chatter, canapes, and wine. The three main ingredients for a fancy party held by a social elite. 

The ballroom on the top floor at the Jumeirah Carlton Tower was already brimming with people when you arrived. 

Then again, any party hosted by the one and only Tony Stark would be. 

“Farhan!” Tony greets as he approaches the two of you. His arms were spread out in a welcoming manner with a glass of champagne in one hand. 

“Tony! It’s been too long,” your brother gives him a side hug. 

“And this is…” Tony looks at you completely clueless as to what your name is. 

Typical. 

“Uh, my sister,” Farhan introduces, motioning a hand towards you. “Y/N.” 

“And Farhan’s sister!” he exclaims.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you extend a hand. Tony takes it and gives it an over-excited shake. Must be the champagne. “Farhan’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Hopefully not everything,” Tony laughs. He places his hand on Farhan’s shoulder and shakes it a bit. “Y’know me and him,” he points between the both of them. “We both got into so much trouble at St. Joseph’s, but somehow this motherfucker always got out of it.”

Farhan shakes his head in embarrassment. You look at him with a raised brow paired with an amused smile. Oh how you wished, Abbu was right there with you. 

“You’re lying,” Farhan tries to cover up. “It was all you. I would tell you not to do it.” 

“I’m lying?” Tony retorted, ready to spill all the dirty details from their highschool days. “Remember that time you—” 

“Y/N!” 

You turn to see Peggy running towards you, her perfect auburn curls bouncing as she does. She slams into you, almost toppling you over. “You’re finally here!” she exclaims. She lets go, but keeps you in arm’s length. “And you look gorgeous. Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she pulls you back in for another hug. 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

“I was so worried you wouldn’t make it,” Peggy said. 

“Me? Not make it to your wedding?” you replied, “Not in a million years.” Your chuckles mingled with hers. It’s been so long since you felt this happy.

“Oh, Farhan,” Peggy notices him behind you. “You’re here too!”

“Of course I’m here,” he teased. “You thought I wouldn’t be?” 

“No,” she shakes her head in amusement. “You’re just so busy these days being a hotshot in The City.” 

“I’m never too busy for a friend.” 

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest?” Tony teases. “You use that kinda talk when you're buttering those geezers up?” 

“Well, if it means the best for L/N Enterprises then I see no harm in it,” he shrugs with a pompous grin . “Maybe Stark Industries should take a tip or two from me.”

“Farhan,” you gasped, a habit you picked up from Ummi. 

“Let’s leave these two here,” Peggy told you, taking you by the hand. “Let me introduce you to the wedding party.”

“Alright,” you nodded as she pulled you through the crowd leaving Farhan and Tony behind. 

“Steve!” she calls for the blonde at the bar. He turns around, a smile spreading on his face when he sees his fiance. She scurries up to him with you right behind her. “Look who finally made it.” 

“Y/N!” he greets. “Thank God, you’re here. Peggy was about to raise hell. She’s been driving me nuts all evening.”  

“If she’s driving you nuts now then you sure you want to get married to her?” Sam jabbed walking towards them with a blue-eyed stranger that looked far too familiar beside him. 

Bucky’s eyes light up when they meet yours. He grins at you from ear to ear which you return with a tight-lipped scowl. 

“I am sure,” Steve affirms. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He grins, pulling Peggy into his side and planting a sweet peck on her temple.  

“Y/N, these are Steve’s friends,” Peggy introduces. “Sam and Bucky. Guys, this is Y/N, we were roommates in university.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam nods. 

“You too,” you whisper, feeling uncomfortable with the energy that your reunion with the freak had created in the room.

Bucky chuckles to himself, unable to contain the giddy excitement within him.  

“What’s so funny, Buck?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. You bit your lip, eyes everywhere but on him. His eyes sink you in, etching every detail that he missed into his memory. “It’s a small world after all.” 

You lock eyes with him, and there’s just something about his gaze that you’ve never encountered before. 

A cool London breeze brushes against your arms. You managed to slip out of the party and right under Peggy’s nose for some well-needed fresh air out on the balcony of the high-rise ballroom. 

Farhan was God knows where. Most likely surrounded by colleagues and business partners who had a long list of topics to discuss with him. Topics that you had no interest in and quite literally bored you. That’s why you decided not to go into business and instead went into the medical field. 

Not like you needed to anyway. Farhan was fully capable of taking care of the entirety of L/N Enterprises by himself, and if you had to be honest, you were glad he was. You could call yourself selfish and lazy, but having the weight of Abbu’s legacy resting on your shoulders was something you weren’t capable enough to handle. 

You let out a deep exhale, while leaning against the balcony and looking out at the city skyline that glimmered in the dark night. 

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see who it was. 

“What are you doing here?” you snapped, standing straight with a tight fist, ready to swing if it came to it. 

Bucky grins. “Just getting some fresh air. You?” 

“I was just leaving,” you stated, walking past him in large strides. 

He catches your hand by the wrist. “Wait up.” 

“Don’t touch me,” you pull your hand out of his. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a nervous smile. “Did you get my note?” 

You look away, embarrassed. “I did,” you mumbled. 

“Then why didn’t you reply?” 

You look at him incredulously. “Me? Reply to you?” you asked. “I don’t even know you.” 

“Oh of course where are my manners,” he lunges towards you. “I’m Bucky. I’m twenty-six years old from Brooklyn and a mechanical engineer. How about you?” 

“Leave me alone.” You turn on your heel and head towards the door. 

“Don’t you think you should give me a chance?” Bucky asks from behind. “The fact that we’re meeting again can’t just be a coincidence. I think it’s fate.” 

“Fate?” you repeated with a raised brow. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I mean just think about it. We met on the plane. There’s like a one in a million chance that we would’ve landed on the same plane. And the fact that our friends are getting married and we’re meeting each other again to celebrate?” he brings a finger to his cheek as if he’s thinking. “Uh, I think the universe is plotting something here.” 

You feel a migraine unleashing. “Stop you’re making my head hurt.” 

“All I’m saying is that a guy like me and a girl like you have some sort of connection.” 

“Wrong.” you state flatly. “A girl like me and a guy like you have nothing to do with each other. So if you’ll please excuse me, I have to go. And if you ever try speaking to me again, it will not end well for you.” 

Bucky hands hugs his hips as he watches you leave. He lets out a deep exhale, wondering what your deal was. 

Was he really that ugly?

Translations: 

Eik shareef kandan ki larki - Daughter of a honorable family. 

Kuttay da bacha - Son of a bitch. 

Permanent Taglist: @murdermornings @marshyrebelcloud @chuckennuggets1213 @miraclesoflove @fckdeusername @undiadeestos @hailmary-yramliah @andiebell2023 @anjali750 @gabbie-is-sad @drayshadow @the-wayward-robot @vxidnik @ivvitm1109 @myboyfriendgiriboy @thecurlsofgod @fanfic-fangirl @thinkaboutmara @desibarnes @niall2017 @lestersglitterglue

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @infinity-saga @marvelloonie @chewymoustachio @my-drowning-in-time @shoesonpointe @inactivewhore

SGA: @regainedworld @saintsebastian-stan​ @fanfuckingtastic04​

[ivystjamess]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

WHO: @julienschuester and ivy st.james WHERE: the choir room. WHEN: wednesday, march 10th. WHAT: following a long hiatus from one another, ivy says sorry in the best way she can think of how, and her and julien (finally) start dating again.

IVY: Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, it had been dragging Ivy down and enlightenment was a savior. Ivy St.James and Julien Schuester were tethered to two ends of the same rope, and as of late, there hadn't been much slack to give. Julien's hot and cold moods, tugging on the rope, and bringing it closer kept her up at night was rattling to say the least and it left Ivy tossing, turning, and thinking her brain away. While her actions showed she was sorry, and that she was obviously interested in Julien still, her lips hadn't uttered a formal, heartfelt, i'm sorry. With Spring Awakening rehearsals bringing them close, numbers for lessons, and just generally being back within the same school, Ivy knew something had to be done. What did her dad always say? Sing About It. Under the pretense of an emergency meeting, Ivy beckoned Julien to the choir room with a text. And although he looked surprised to find Ivy alone, she sat on her stool calm as ever and gestured to the red chairs in front of her, "Wanna like, sit? I have some stuff I want...need to say to you." Watching Julien cross to sit had Ivy furiously rubbing her lips as she prepared to place her heart on a platter for Julien. Rarely did she get nervous, but rarely did performance mean so much to her. "Julien, Jules, I just like..." Why couldn't she think? Why did her fingertips feel fuzzy? Ugh! "Sorry, I'm like, kinda nervous." she shamefully admitted, but this was all about honesty, wasn't it? "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for egging you, and for switching schools, and not listening to you, or trusting you. I was being selfish and guarded and whatever, and it wasn't cool." A breath, "But, I'm back now, and I'm like honestly going kinda crazy not being with you. I know who I am without you, and as hot and awesome, and mean as she is...I wanna be like hot and awesome and a little less mean with you." Still having more to say, she didn't want to waste anymore time, so Ivy began to speak rapidly, "But I think, as awful as it all was, I've really like, learned a ton from this! And I hope you have too and stuff. Even with like being sorry or whatever, I totally know the ball is in your court, so I guess I just wanted to like, give you my thoughts, and your space, so, yeah! I think this sums it up." Ivy flashed a nervous smile as she let out a breath and turned to the band. Softly, they began to play Duffy's Oh Boy. It was a simple performance with Ivy, Julien, and her heart speaking to him through song. Sure, she sounded polished, but there were no fabricated tears or elaborate choreography. Just her on a stool, trying to get a message across. And when that was done, and she knew she had tried her best, she clapped her hands down against her thighs, and looked at Julien with an anxious anticipation, "And that's all I have to say, I can totally let you go now, or like I can go, I don't want this to feel weird or whatever I just needed to do that."

JULIEN: When Julien received a text from Ivy about an 'emergency meeting' in the choir room, he sped through the halls of McKinley like his life depended on it. He paced through the hallways against the flow of traffic, narrowly dodging people with frantic 'excuse mes' and 'i'm sorrys' until finally, he busted through the door. "Hi! I'm here," he said breathlessly, fully expecting to find the choir room up in flames, only to find Ivy alone. He paused in the doorway for a moment when she spoke. "Uh oh," he responded as he hesitantly made his way to a chair across from her, "am I in trouble or something?" He was trying to be playful, but a tense energy hung thickly in the air and being around Ivy alone like this instantly made him nervous. Once he took off his backpack and set it down beside him, he sat down and relaxed. "Okay...I'm listening..." he drawled, waiting for her to continue. At her admission that she was nervous, Julien felt his cheeks starting to burn and his lips curving up into a slight smile. "It's okay, I'm nervous too and I don't even know why, so we can be nervous together," he encouraged with a nod, gently nudging her to keep going. It was no secret that things between them had been inconsistent and unpredictable as of late. It was obvious that they still had feelings for each other, however, it was also obvious that there was still a lot of hurt between them...and Finn had been right. Julien had been acting like all of the horrible Vocal Adrenaline stuff hadn't happened. Being with Ivy was just so easy and it felt so good and it was what he wanted...but if he just rolled over and decided to forgive her without her ever even really saying sorry, then what would all of his growth have been for? He had to stand up for himself. Even if it hurt. After Ivy had asked 'what changed' and Julien answered, the last thing he had expected was for her to summon him to the choir room for a genuine, earnest, and thoughtful apology. But here she was. And here he was—slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. "Ivy..." he said quietly, sitting up slightly as he took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was like his head was suddenly empty. Like she could sense his state of shock, Ivy kept talking and eventually that talking turned into singing. When the band started playing the opening chords to 'oh boy' by Duffy, Julien softened and relaxed back into his chair. As Ivy's crisp voice filled the choir room, he kept his eyes glued to hers and watched, in awe, as she sang directly to him. She chipped away at his hurt with each sweet lyric she sang until eventually, he was left with nothing for her but love and forgiveness. Julien was a soft and tender hearted person, so it was surprising to exactly no one that when the song came to an end, he was indisputably misty eyed. As she concluded her song with a finalizing statement, Julien rose to his feet and shook his head as he walked towards her. "Don't go," was all he said before he placed his hands on either side of her face and crashed his lips into hers. He knew he would actually have to say something in response to everything she had said, but he needed to do that first. Once he pulled away, he smiled down at her and gently strummed her cheeks with his thumbs, "thank you. You know, like, for saying all that stuff and for the song." Before Julien could say more, he caught a glimpse of something sparkly dangling from around Ivy's neck. Looking down at it, his smile warmed and he shook his head. "You've been wearing this thing this whole time..." he stated,  moving his hands to the back of her neck to unclasp the chain, "how come?"

IVY: Although Ivy hadn't gone that long since meeting Julien's lips whether it be sneaking him into her room, or on stage for Spring Awakening, it had felt like a life time had passed since their lips connected like this. Both of them were absolved of tension and aiming their potential animosity at one another. Instead, it once again felt like they were just them, but better than ever. Like a tulip emerging after a long winter, Ivy felt like she was sprouting from the dark ground and up into Julien's sun. Changed, but the same. While there wasn't any verbal confirmation, Ivy knew that rejuvenated feeling was mutual. Julien need not say it. She could feel it in the pads of his fingertips brushing her cheeks, and in how tenderly he moved his lips against her own. Pulling away, in a post-kiss haze, Ivy blinked Julien into view and nodded, "I won't go. Ever." As one hand cascaded down his arm to lace their fingers, the other popped up as she extended her pinky, "Pinky Promise." Ivy said seriously, then shrugged. "Seriously like, don't mention it. I wanted to." There was still some response to be desired though. Did he hate it? Did he love it? Was he just being polite? Before she could push him into answer her, Ivy inhaled sharply as Julien roped the chain  she was wearing into his grasp, then eventually moved closer to her to unclasp it. It took some serious willpower not to kiss him again, but she found the strength to answer his question. Now moving her own hand to cup Julien's cheek, Ivy made sure to lock up and into his stare so he knew she was being serious. "Because we like....made a promise?" That was the obvious answer, and the deeper one-- "It wasn't like I stopped loving you just because I was being stupid or whatever."

JULIEN: Despite not being together, Ivy and Julien had still been making an awful lot of time to kiss each other. Whether it be in the dark of night or under the glow of a spotlight, the universe always carved out a path for them to get back to each other. This kiss though, in the fluorescent choir room in the middle of the day, felt different than the rest. It wasn't tainted with doubt or stage directions or alcohol. It was just them—albeit a little wiser and a little more mature—choosing each other. Hearing Ivy confirm that she wouldn't go and then watching her raise her pinky caused a warm sensation to bloom from Julien's chest and spread through his whole body. "Ever," he echoed, repeating the promise back to her and linking his pinky through hers without any hesitation. With a sigh, he dropped her hands and swiftly shifted his attention to her necklace. He made quick work of slipping the ring off the chain to hold it in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the ruby jewel, a million thoughts running through his head, until Ivy touched his cheek and brought him back down to Earth again. Hearing Ivy say she never stopped loving him sent his heart into overdrive. "We did make a promise, didn't we?" he asked rhetorically, tilting his head as he glanced back down at the ring and reached for her hand. "I never stopped either," he admitted as he began slipping the ring back on to her finger, where it belonged. He stared at it for a little while longer before turning his attention back to Ivy and closing some of the distance between them by stepping towards her. "I owe you an apology too," he started, holding her gaze and shrugging, "I should've like stood up for you more and stuff or just...I don't know...talked to you more. I know I haven't always been good at that. But I will be now," he playfully raised his eye brows, "getting punched in the face kinda changes you like that." A breathy laugh escaped him before he pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck as he hugged her tightly. "I missed you," he confessed, pulling back slightly to look at her, "I don't wanna waste more time not being together." A pause as a doting smile danced its way on to his lips and he bashfully added, "you really almost made me cry with that song! It was like 'run to you' but more intense but in a good way and stuff because it was just us. But I mean, jeez, you're..." a dreamy sigh, "you're like...perfect. The song was perfect." He playfully bumped his nose into her cheek and then into her nose before bringing his lips back to hers for another kiss—one to seal the deal. "I love you," he said as he pulled back, "let's never do the whole breaking up thing again."

IVY: In full agreement with Julien, Ivy couldn’t have felt happier. Her only regret? She had to go away for Cheerios Nationals this weekend, and she couldn’t spend it tucked into her bed with him. Lots about them had changed, they’d both garnered a deeper sense of clarity, learned their lessons the hard way, but one thing that wouldn’t ever change was Ivy’s constant need to feel close to him. Enough of the apologies and reminiscing on their worse times, Ivy was completely wrapped up in staring down at the Christmas Present on her finger, “Yknow, this looks like, way better on my hand than on a chain on my chest.” Ivy commented offhandedly before shifting her gaze back to Julien. “Well I’m glad we’re on the same page and stuff. I totally missed being in sync. And being with you.” she admitted, welcoming the warmth that his breath brought into the curve of her neck. “You can’t help that you almost cried, I’m like really good, and I love you a lot.” Ivy explained, as if anything about this whole months-long debacle had been simple. Her entire expression lifted into a smile as he called her perfect and Ivy was quick to cut in with a “Only the best for my guy.” Her arms made their way back to the familiar place around his neck as she pulled herself fully into him. “i love you.” Ivy repeated, tone filled with adoration. And as her way of agreeing with the final sentiment, she shook her head, and whispered, “Never.” Into Julien’s lips as she pressed her lips to her boyfriend’s for a final, affirming kiss. And just like that, once again, all was well.

THE END.

[topproductsreview]

Subliminal Guru Reviews - ⚠️Does Subliminal Guru Really Work?⚠️

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