#leaving me with a lot less in my stocking that was actually ya know. for me

[cloudsmovingcastle]

bleh, covid is making me all emotional over stupid shit and it’s annoying.

[istherewifiinhell]

okayyyy more. revisting 03s version of the 'leonardo #1' aka 'leo fights all those dudes in the rain' aka 'leo vs that damn window' aka 'one of wifis fav moments of the "i want episode were he pass away not because i hate him because i love him" variety'...

At this point i have seen. as fair as i know EVERY version of that specific moment. 90s movie (its raph actually!), 03, 12, mirage and idws (both incredible. i believe eastmans layouts for mirage, stunning. and soph. campbell art on the idw one. so EMOTIONAL). oh and its in the mobile game on apple arcade too. yeah.

and in my mind, 03 a lot of legs up, you get motion over still image for action heavy scenes, animation over live action for less physical limitations on the action, and 2d over cg, which specifically for the relavant eras on tv budgets, helps tune in the colour pallet and textures. is dark and its raining, can you can really see both. cool tone pallets and rain that just poors down the characters skin. at least in the close up shots. lol.

BUT i will admit. and oh i am not usually this person. like. kids/all ages media is gonna be the way it is. its silly to expect it to be otherwise. I WAS. a little struck. by feeling the absence of really heavy hits. like. he cant KILL people. its 4kids.... but as their throwing ya know. waves of enemies, and just using the stock animation attacks and cut away techique. its a little diminished. now it still has the escalation of stakes, gives you that sense of pronglonged exhausting battle, lets you feel both leos skill and when hes in too deep. just the composition/choreo leaves a little wanting.

THAT SAID. it IS a 2 parter. the adaption of the leo micro is part one. issue 11 is part 2. AND. OH i found out where they put all the animation! Its here. NOW this. pretty much makes complete sense when youre not me who just got sicko focused on the endurance sad boy test...

the second half is of course where you have ALL of the characters getting in the mix, an established set piece location of aprils apartment and shop. and you know, time for THE SHREDDER. to actually get in the mix. and not just get his guys to do the work. the difference is kinda wild.

you have a lot of really specific locational fighting, not cuting to the action lines background. constant awareness of where all our players are and what their doing. and when the turtles fight the 'elite guard', (about as literally as you can get to, they are mini bosses). i was thinking. Hey is this rotoscoped? cause something about the form factor of the characters, the heft of their movement, and the full body mechanics of the fighting. it feels so night and day. super impactful and very cool to see.

also what we call. casey with the good hair. instead of the flat middle part hair, they draw him with a bit of volume, some wavy texture... it really gives the impression he JUST tried a new conditioner thats really working for him... its not really here nor there. fun tho.

so. as much as i will silently morn not getting a rise leo no 1 moment (hell they could make it raph again. why not). just cause. god could you imagine? or any of the other newer animations... if you let the batturtles team do it they could get some brutality.. or if they do it in the mm show... shit.

I AM still, getting appreciation for 03 playing the beautiful game, of how you work your stories around animated tv show restrictions. just the previous arc, notes from the underground, has so much unique style of lighting, and one other shot that really stuck out to me. just the turtles repelling down a cliff, arms out front and behind, walking basically, straight down. Its necessarily such an awkward gesture, but it looked really nice, just for a short little transitional shot. respect.

[sugamamacustard]

Rut

Pairing: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Atsumu Miya x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Kiyoomi Sakusa x Omega! Reader

Genre: NSFW

Request: Hi, custard💕 your writing is soso wonderful! Can I request headcanons about alpha!Kuroo, alpha!Atsumu, alpha!Sakusa (separately) going into rut with his fem!omega!S/O?

Summary: You and your alpha have been through so much together, but how are the reacting when their rut hits?

Author’s Note: Holy wow guys, going through my requests, there’s a lot of Sakusa ones. So I caved and decided this is a good a place as any to start with him! And thank you so much! 

I’m vibrating bc I just got accepted into Uni and just-

Requests: Open!

WARNING: Smut, Daddy Kink in Atsumu, slight bondage in Sakusa’s. Please give me some daddy kink asks

Tetsuro Kuroo

➵Ah yes, thirst asks. One of my favorites- even if I try keeping up the innocent writer façade. I’m not. My other blog has some filthy smut on it. 

➵ Anyway, moving on. 

➵    Kuroo is a rough lover as is. He teases, he drags you along a long, long road for you orgasm, pounding you into the mattress. and drawing all sorts of pathetic mewls out of you.

➵It’s okay to drool.

➵It’s just his alpha instincts that make him want to mark you from tit to toe. 

➵He, on a normal basis, bites you and claws your hips anyway, but when his rut hits?

➵He’s feral. 

➵ There will be bite marks littered up and down your spine and bruises practically imprinted on your hips. 

➵You better believe you are not leaving your nest until his rut is done. You are stuck. 

➵Though he’s always ears open incase you need to tap out, his alpha always always putting you first.

➵But if you stick through it?

➵He is rough and feral and pounding into your poor abused entrance until your sobbing. 

➵ You most likely have to plan for his rut two weeks in advance 

➵Which is hard between dancing around his pre-rut symptoms and prepping yourself for what is sure to be a week of pure, filthy sex. 

➵Okay let’s side bar into Pre-rut bc I don’t think I went into a lot. 

➵Tetsuro’s Pre-rut isn’t terrible. He mostly just sticks around as often as he can, growling at anyone who steps too close to you, feeding you his lunch, scenting you constantly. 

➵Definitely one of the better ones to have during this time, I tell ya. 

➵But of course, he makes it a little difficult while your trying to discreetly stock up on easy grab snacks and water jugs. 

➵Kenma helps out a lot though, he honestly is probably your best friend is your dating Kuroo.

---

The hand around your throat kept you pinned to the plush bottom of your nest. Your mewls and moans were muffled but at this point you couldn’t hear them, even if you wanted too, through the blood rushing through your ears. Your hips hurt with how hard Tetsuro was gripping them, pulling you in time with his thrusts. 

“Fuck kitten.” His growl had you gushing slick around his cock, making him, in turn, growl lower. His hips were moving at such a rapid pace, you couldn’t see them, even if you wanted to. All you could do was feel his cock drag in and out of your gushing hole, pleasure wringing your stomach like a wet towel. 

“Alpha- Alpha, gonna- gonna cum on your- your- holy FUCK-” You turned your head to bite the pillows beneath you, feeling yourself tighten around Tetsuro. He sunk his teeth into your mating mark, making you gasp as you came with a loud whimper, pushing back onto him as he continued fucking you within an inch of any actual thoughts. 

Just your alpha and how good he was making you feel. 

You felt his hips still as a warm load of cum shot into you, filling you to the brim and making you hum in bliss.  Tetsuro chuckled, unlatching from your neck and lapping at the pearls of blood poking through. He allowed you to catch your breath before pulling you to sit on his thighs, cock still buried deep inside of you-- his knot just barely staying out. 

“Good kitten. Now, let’s see if I can fuck some pups into you.”

Atsumu Miya

➵Alright, let’s set the seeds of how I imagine one of the Miya’s in bed. 

➵Atsumu absolutely adores the earth you walk on. 

➵Even if he had to fight Osamu for you in the beginning. It was all worth it. 

➵He treated you well, worshipping you in bed. There is never a time he hasn’t had you quivering because of his tongue. 

➵He, however, is also such an asshole in the bedroom. 

➵Like yes, he’s pulling you to sit on his face, but yes, he’s also edging you until your sobbing and grinding your self against him. 

➵If your riding him, he’s suddenly holding your hips down and making you cockwarm him while he does some sort of shit on his phone. 

➵If he’s holding you missionary, he can just as quickly can pull you into a mating press, locking your arms between your chest and knees, absolutely pounding into your poor entrance. 

➵ So while Atsumu can be generous and can absolutely worship you, he also can and will be a huge asshole. 

➵His rut doesn’t make it any better. 

➵He just gets worse.  

➵He either makes you sob with pleasure or beg for something. 

➵Like, you thought Atsumu would be the horny, needy, whiny one?

➵You thought wrong. Atsumu knows exactly how to turn his hormones against you, make them work for him

➵Side bar once more: Atsumu’s pre-rut? SUCKS-

➵Sorry not sorry. 

➵This man prolly doesn’t realize his rut is approaching until you pop into the gym, excusing him from practice for the week.

➵He doesn’t care about it before that. Sorry man.

---

“Is your alpha’s cock not enough for you?” His voice was silky as he hissed at you, fingers clawing at your hips, keeping you perched just above his knot. “I thought I was the horny one.” 

You whimpered above him, hands clawing his shoulders as you struggled to hold yourself up. You didn’t want to disappoint daddy, did you?

A harsh smack to your ass had you yelping, throwing your head back as you cried out a mix between a chirp and a moan. 

“Answer Daddy when he’s talking to you.” 

“I’m sorry Daddy- so sorry! I promise to be good. Be good for Daddy. Patient and good. Daddy’s cock fills me so nicely-”  You yelped when another smack stung your ass cheeks, making you shut your mouth. 

Atsumu grumbled into your chest, loosening his grip ever so slightly before pulling you up, quickly slamming you down before repeating the process. He ignored any protest you gave, instead chasing his own release. Slick dripped between your thighs, coating his own thighs as well. 

“Is my prince(ss) making a mess of themselves?” He snickered, keeping his pace as you built up to your orgasm. You nodded wildly, trying to keep up with his brutal pace. 

“Just for daddy!” You yelped, throwing your head onto his shoulder. “Daddy- gonna-gonna cum!” 

You nearly cried when he stopped, feeling him chuckle into your chest.  

“Not yet, sweet cheeks. After all...This week is all about daddy.” 

Kiyoomi Sakusa

➵Sakusa, Sakusa, Sakusa. Where do I begin with you sweet prince. 

➵ You know what, we’ll start with our sidebar. 

➵It’s not you prepping. It’s him. He like- hardcore- nests. Like he’s the alpha, yeah, but there’s so many things he has to prep.

➵Like your nest? All the blankets have to be sanitized and re-scented and the pillows have to be washed and re fluffed-

➵His room (Where you keep one of many nests) has to be cleaned and reorganized and he has to restock your snack stash and purify the water jugs-

➵God he just has so much to do okay-

➵Sex itself is just a lot of work for poor Sakusa.

➵He’s come a long way though. 

➵Only for you though. 

➵I can imagine Omi being super into Toys because less... ya know... 

➵He’ll still fuck you until your knees wobble and knock together, but he’s also into the little bullet vibrators that he can hold onto your nipples or clit (Dependent) 

➵His rut makes these unacceptable. His alpha won’t allow it. 

➵He can pleasure you just fine without the use of toys, 

➵I can also imagine he’d be super into, like, face to face positions so he focus on your beautiful features instead on the mess below you guys. 

---

Your wrists were bound above your head with your knees pressed to your chest. The smell of alcohol was pungent under the stench of sex, making your nose scrunch.  Omi was keeping you pinned, thrusting in slow, calculated thrusts, grinding against you with ever pull. 

You were whimpering with every pull and push of Omi’s cock against your walls, teasing you in the most aggravating, but delicious, way.   

You could see the way he eyes your every reaction, beautiful eyes blown with lust tracing every facial feature of yours. Watching every reaction you gave him. Watching you. 

He grunted when your walls clutched him a little too tightly, slowing his thrusts a little more. “So good to me omega, letting me use you any way I want. “ 

He hissed when the praise seemed to do nothing but clutch him tighter, teetering him even closer to the edge. He wouldn’t give in, pulling out completely, instead replacing his dick with his fingers and teasing your sweet spot (He could practically pinpoint it at this point). 

Slick coated his fingers, making him smirk as you withered against him. Turns out, you were just as close as he was, if not closer.  

“Now, let’s see how good I can be to you.”

[yandere-sins]

Idk If you have rules cuz I can't seem to find it but Osamu(Haikyuu) as mafia(if ur not comfy then you can ignore this part) who Kidnapped u and is obsessed(the "I'd rip out my heart for you" type of obsessed) who would literally do anything for you😋and puts you always first before anyone else🗿a soft yandere but will k!ll anyone who gets near you type so Osamu being possesive of you🤩

Nope! No rules, there aren’t enough people who care for them and I don’t want to stress about it anymore. If I don’t like a request, I just delete it. I prefer Yakuza over Mafia, hope you don’t mind! Thanks for requesting, enjoy ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

Even the careful Osamu couldn’t keep you from stirring in your sleep as he opened the door to the apartment. This was probably the first night ever you had been able to fall asleep in peace, and yet, you sat up while he tiptoed through the hallway towards the only room you two shared. Rubbing your eyes, you heard a soft gasp, making you look up.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya...” Osamu grumbled before stepping into the room fully, walking over to the mini-fridge he kept stocked with basic food like rice balls and ice cream in the freezer compartment. The light briefly illuminated his body, showing you a sight you didn’t want to see while he restocked some food in the fridge, either unaware or indifferent about his looks.

You looked away, biting your lips. It had all started out innocently enough, your father paying a Yakuza to keep you safe while there were some even worse guys after him. Even if the arrangement had been strange, especially after he - Osamu - moved into a small, one-room apartment with you, basically just sticking around and rarely leaving, by now, it was more than just a nightmare.

How long had it been since you last left the apartment? Almost a month now? Osamu took you for a walk once or twice, returning after mere ten minutes and stating it was too dangerous. However, whenever he did leave, he returned bloody and dirty. Frankly, you were too afraid to ask what happened, but the secrecy between you two wasn’t helping in soothing your mind.

In the beginning, you still had been hopeful that the matter would resolve quickly and you could go back to your normal life. But apparently, it just kept dragging on, Osamu only ever stating that it wasn’t over yet. Even your dad stopped responding to your messages, asking if he was okay, by now, and you were nothing but worried about him. Now, you just wondered how many more days you’d have to spend with this guy that you still considered to be a total stranger.

Gripping your blanket tightly, it took you a lot of courage to speak up, but the situation was awkward as it is, there was nothing you could do to mess it up more. “Are you okay?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries. His hand stopped, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you, simply staring for a moment before turning back to finish his task.

“Yeah, just a rough night.”

“Then... are you hurt?” you continued, feeling relieved after hearing his casual answer.

“Why? Ya worried about me?” Only being able to see his side profile over his shoulder, you noticed him smile - presumably for the first time ever that you knew him. “I-I mean!” you stuttered, twiddling your thumbs as you felt flustered. It wasn’t actually that bad talking to him; he actually had a hint of a joke in his voice as he spoke with you, even if you only ever perceived him as a mean-looking fellow with a bad career choice.

“It would be bad if something happened and you were injured...”

A soft chuckle fell off his lips, and you presumed he must have been tired if you actually managed to make him laugh. Either that, or you had to admit he wasn’t half as bad as you thought him to be. Closing the fridge - and with it, the only light in the room - you heard him groan as he stood up. However, even if he tried, his footsteps were audible because of his muscular build, especially as they drew closer.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you, plopping down on your bed. “I got it all under control, promise.”

“If you say so...” Pulling in your legs, you made some space, prompting him to lean back, and the smell of blood and dirt made its way to your nose. “So... not your blood?”

There was a certain risk in asking this, but you were awake now and, for the first time, had a conversation with him. “Nope,” he casually admitted, and it brought back some of the fears you first had when he was introduced to you. Mainly that he had already become numb towards violence. “Hey...” Osamu tore you out of your thoughts quickly as he spoke up first, noticing your silence.

“Has anyone been bothering you lately? Talked to some bad eggs on your phone?”

Blinking a few times, you delayed your response, nervously glancing at your phone. It was true that after you had to go undercover, you had quite a few arguments with your boyfriend and friends. They wouldn’t understand why you’d ghost them and avoid their questions about your whereabouts. “Not really?” you mumbled, unsure if he’d be interested in that kind of complaint from you. After all, they were more or less just relationship problems, and you two weren’t close in any way.

“I see,” he curtly replied, silence falling between you two until he sighed, sitting up straight again. “After you fell asleep, there was a guy outside to room. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the knocks, but I guess you were tired for a change.”

Immediately, you tensed up. Worried about the sudden revelation about a visitor, you didn’t even mind his last comment, revealing he had been aware and watching you as you had struggled to sleep the last few weeks in his presence. “W-Who was it?” you questioned, scared of hearing that you had been found out and you’d have to leave soon and hide somewhere else.

“Don’t know him. He got very agitated when he saw me and tried to get into the apartment, but I couldn’t let him, of course.”

Ears peeking up, you almost jumped out of bed as you leaned forward, intrigued by what Osamu was telling you. “And? What happened?” you pushed for a continuation.

“Nothing special. Told him he can’t get in and to leave. But he was one persistent bastard, yelling weird stuff like he was your boyfriend and he loved you and should be able to see you. These things.”

“W-Wait! What do you mean it was my boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have confirmed it! I’d really have liked... to see him...”

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, any fear of being found out was now turned into sadness, knowing you had been asleep while a vital piece of your life and of ‘normality’ had been so close. “Ridiculous, as if I could just let anyone come and claim he knew ya,” Osamu grumbled, and the heaviness of your situation returned back to you. Of course, he couldn’t allow the risk of someone hurting you after everything you two went through already.

“He did ask me to give you something, though,” Osamu seemed to suddenly remember, contemplatively. “What is it?” you inquired, hoping that maybe it really had been your boyfriend after all, and perhaps he brought you something to help you through these challenging times.

But instead, you were met with two fingers around your chin, pulling you in closely until you felt Osamu’s breath against your mouth. Much too late did you understand the intention, his lips kissing yours gently yet longingly. You felt an immediate gut-wrenching response, tearing away repulsed by the actions of your guard. Pushing him away, you rubbed off the feeling of his lips on yours with the back of your hand, spluttering, “What are you doing?!” while you tried not to feel sicker as the smell of iron reached your nose.

“Ya know,” Osamu continued, his tone indifferent, but you could hear the smile on his lips. “I’m just repaying my debt to him. There’s no ‘being too safe’, but I guess you really did matter a lot to him. He kept crying and telling me he loved ya.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up to confirm it then?” By now, you felt the pain of your boyfriend, worried sick about you, and then faced with someone like Osamu as his only clue. “Are you kidding?” was all that the Yakuza responded. Getting up, he stretched audibly.

“I beat him to a pulp and took care of him and his phone with the tracking app.”

What?

“H-How could you...?!” was the only thing you could stutter.

“Yeah, he won’t bother you anymore. I know you two have been fighting lately.”

“Excuse me?”

Walking over to the entrance to the bath, Osamu flipped on the light before looking back at you. Dreadful splatters of blood were all over his face, even more than you had seen before. His knuckles seemed to be straight out of a horror movie, and the black clothes he wore had dark, firm spots on them.

And yet, he smiled at you affectionately.

“As if I’d let anyone put a frown on ya cute face, Babe. Doesn’t matter who, I’ll protect you from anyone trying to get close and hurt you. I told ya, didn’t I? I’ve got everything under control.”

With that, he entered the bath, and you heard the familiar sound of the shower. Confused but mostly worried, you threw back the blanket and hopped out of bed with unsteady feet, racing to the front door. Sliding off the door chain, you pushed the handle, expecting it to open, but it wouldn’t budge.

The faint sound of a chuckle echoed from the bathroom, the walls thin as paper, much to your dismay. You didn’t want to believe it; even more, you wanted to see it. See that what Osamu described didn’t happen to someone so dear to you. You wanted to know that everything was okay. Know that the man you shared this locked apartment with wasn’t some kind of maniac going around killing people on ‘your behalf’.

But when you looked at your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, saying he tracked you down and would be coming to get you now. It had been read before you, even replied to, but you didn’t remember ever seeing it or replying to it at all. Especially not when the last message eerily read:

<< Waiting for you (:

[exosmutfactory]

◤Off The Rails◢

You remembered the first time you met, passing his figure that was enveloped in a cloud of smoke; a cancerous stick held between his fingertips. You knew he was trouble, knew the chaos he comes with. Yet every time he had to skip town, you wished… he’d come back for you instead.

Originally posted by tipannies

(This is my favorite gif to date, okay. I’m a hoe for Bambi Baek)

— Pairing: You & Baekhyun

— Genre/AU: smut, angst, fluff & comedy (if ya squint),

— Word Count: 11.7k (yikes!)

— Rating: 18-21+ (M) This sh*t is filthy, I’m not even kidding, don’t @ me (just kidding, please do, I’d love to discuss 😇)

— [ Contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, unprotected sex, public sex, oral / blow job / whatever you’d like to call it, bbh goes deep in that throat ok ]

— Warnings: blood, weapons, violence (mafia!au style), mention of prostitution, and a whole lot of bad luck.

❥ New year, new smut, new me, yo. Hehe, hello! I’m back with another shame(ful)less one-shot. This one will be longer than the rest. I hope you enjoy the ride this Baekhyun emits!

❥ Ps: sorry to all spaghetti lovers out there. Don’t read this while eating or if you’re queasy. It’s not that bad, but it’s mafia au. I’ll just leave it at that :’) 💔

❥ Happy reading, readers and lovelies~ Take a peek over at aff for more goodies 🌹

⏰🚂Off The Rails Tag List:🚂⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love  @insta1010 @bellamendoza @wooya1224 @byuntrash101 @ateliersaab @geniusloey​ @blahblahblah-boo​ @taehcore​ @thegreatandi​ @kimyhappy​ @bigbobohu​ @byunbabybaek​ @byuns-asscheeks​ 

❥ Forgive me for the long plot :’)

You don’t know how you got here. Backed up against the wall of a darkened alleyway, too far away from the main street for anyone to hear you if you screamed.

Well... you actually do, but you wish you didn’t.

“Please...” your voice is a mere whisper against the ambiance of the late December air. “Please just- just one more month and I’ll have everything-”

“You said that last month, girly.” A tall, burly man steps forward from the shadows, the glint of his golden tooth making you shiver, pressing yourself further against the rough brick wall. “And the month before that.” His white, sinister grin is the only clear thing you can see in the dim lighting as his goons close in around you. “Time to,” he punches his fist into his hand, “pay up.”

In that moment, you lose your composure, swearing your late stepfather’s name loud enough for the heavens to hear. How dare that asshole take the easy way out and set you up to be the one to pay off his staggering debt of 3 million dollars? Who is foolish enough to rank up such a high price from gabbling - gabbling?! You’ve been kicked out of your house earlier today and fired from your stable job last week. There’s no way you’ll ever be able to pay it off at this rate, and now you are meeting your fate. All because of a selfish, addict-gabbling prick.

“Mother fucking, boot-licking son of a b-”

Just as the men step in front of you, a loud bang! crackles through the still night.

You freeze, squeezing your eyes shut. You know exactly what that sound was; there’s no mistaking it. The smell of gunpowder and the heavy thud of bodies falling to the ground around you only adds to your building fear. Your breath catches in your throat, something warm and sticky slides down your cheek. Breathe, you have to remind yourself, scraping your nails over the rough wall. You can handle many things, but gore isn’t your strong suit.

“The coast is clear.” A gruff voice pipes up from the entrance of the alleyway, switching off their static radio soon after. Multiple pairs of boots stomp closer to you and you can only flinch at the squish of human remains under their feet. “And then there was one…” A different voice humors.

You stay stock-still, maybe they won’t notice you. You’re wearing all black, how can they possibly see you in the darkness?

Unfortunately, your hiccup gives you away. Three sets of flashlights beam at you from beyond your eyelids. Great. Just great. Luck really isn’t on your side today. You are now faced with two options, either accept your new fate or make a break for it…

When you sense someone reaching for you, you duck your head and bolt.

“Hey!” They yell after you. You don’t even stop for a second, you pretend that the pile of bodies under your feet is merely spilled spaghetti while high-tailing it out of there. Their footsteps thunder after you on the pavement, growing fainter the more you force yourself forward. You can thank your lucky stars for running track in high school and having to avoid rabid canines on the streets of your shabby neighborhood. Everything happens for a reason, and you aren’t one to endlessly question what the universe has in store for you.

You push yourself further, working your legs to the limit for a couple of blocks. After a few twists and turns down alleyways you’ve memorized by heart, you don’t hear their furious strides and demanding voices anymore. Listening carefully to your surroundings, you slow down to a light jog, looking for a place to hide for a while. All you see are barren buildings and a lone road that stretches out for miles. “Shit,” you pant, leaning onto a collapsed building. You slowly make your way down the street, screaming on the inside at your bad luck. Every single place you come across is too dangerous to enter, with various warning signs plastered onto their boarded-up doors.

“For fuck sake.” You tangle your fingers into your hair, too pumped up on adrenaline to care about the burn on your scalp from pulling mercilessly on the tangled locks. Please. I need something. Anything. Just as you’re ready to give up, coming to terms with the fact that you will either die from the cold or the bloodied hands of strangers, you see a faint light up ahead. There… There! Just beyond a fallen wall partially hidden behind an old staircase.

You fly through the small hole in the wall, just big enough for you to fit through, and you manage to go down the steep slope of the crumbled wall without falling on your face. Your surroundings are a blur as you faintly hear a heated conversation between the men from before, coming closer to where you are. You take cover behind the first wide, stone pillar you see, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. God... what the hell was that? What has your life turned into? How could your life go from worrying about paying off student debt to running from loan sharks and other hoodlums?

“What a fucking joke.” You chuckle at your expense, resting your back against the pillar. Thankfully the group of men seems to have moved on, or at least they are not hovering around where you are anymore…

Uh, where are you exactly?

A spark of fear goes down your spine - even more so when you hear an amused chuckle that is definitely not your own.

You spin around on your heel quick enough to give yourself whiplash and raise your fists, bracing yourself for anything. Your eyes widen at your surroundings. All you see is an underground train track that goes on for miles, and a wispy cloud of smoke that is coming from more than just the freezing late night December air.

“If you think you’re being intimidating, sweetheart,” a low, raspy voice echoes across the abandoned concrete walls, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not.”

The smoke clears up for a moment, letting you catch a glimpse of the man and his midnight black hair. His eyebrows are hidden behind the length of his hair, the straight locks long enough to dangle into his droopy brown eyes. You lock eyes with those deep, brooding orbs before smoke obstructs your view of him again. “Your form is off, your shoulders are too stiff.” He lists off in a humorous tone. “You’d break your own hand before you’d break anyone’s nose, sweetheart.”

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, not ready to let your guard down yet.

He seems to be even more amused. “I go by many names,” he shares, the smoke clearing up just enough to show the quirk of his lips as he holds up a cigarette. His all-black outfit of a dark blazer, black tie, matching dress pants, and a white button-down shirt makes him stick out like a sore thumb compared to the stone pillar he’s leaning against. And to your horror, you realize he’s standing inside of the train tracks… you’re standing inside of the train tracks!

“What’s yours?” he inquires while you frantically look around for an exit.

You pause, throwing him an unamused look over your shoulder. “None of your business, creep,” you sneer, having enough of his antics. What reason does he have to hang out on an abandoned railroad anyway? Definitely not something you’re up for waiting around to find out.

He actually laughs. “You’re a feisty one, huh, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, trying to find a way to climb back out the way you came in.

“You really are a handful, huh.” The raven sighs, lowering his cigarette and stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “I guess that is to be expected.”

“Excuse me?” your voice is higher in pitch as your anxiety reaches uncharted levels. What the fuck is this guy going on about?

“Tsk so ungrateful.” He shakes his head as the smoke clears and you realize that he has a fucking mullet while he snubs the cigarette under his boot.

Before you can reply, he’s tilting his head to the side, long strands of hair following the movement. A wishful-like smile forms on his lips. “Tell me, sweetheart.” His voice carries through the still air. He lifts up his gloved hand to reveal a gold coin. “Heads,” he flips it around, “or tails?”

You narrow your eyes, scrutinizing him for a moment. He does nothing but keep those deep brown eyes focused on you. You shrug after a while. Oh, what the hell. You’re homeless, jobless, and technically still on the run from your stepfather’s debt. You’ll play his little game; it’s not like you have anything else better to do. “Tails,” you decide, crossing your arms and lifting your chin only to freeze. A lone, echoing whistle fills the air of the abandoned railroad - or well, what you thought was abandoned.

The ground starts to shake under your feet, stray pieces of gravel and chunks of concrete jumping up like water bubbling in a pot. You start to make your way over to the man continuing to rest against the pillar without a care in the world, moving faster as the train’s whistle drowns out your voice.

He flicks the coin into the air and nonchalantly turns his head towards the train. The coin plummets to the ground, landing right in the middle of the train track. You watch in horror while he steps out to pick up the coin, briefly struggling to get it in his grip. You scream for him to move, the train close enough to cast his shadow in its light. Its tires screech in protest as if the driver has noticed you standing in the tracks-

You cover your ears and turn away, pressing yourself against the nearest pillar. The volume of the train going past nearly deafens you. Its high speed and aged machinery croaking loudly while the tracks quiver under its weight. You can do nothing but cling onto that cold, stone wall until it leaves just as suddenly as it came.

You wait until you can’t hear the train anymore before stepping back, nearly falling onto the ground in a heap. For a moment, you wonder why the tracks are still trembling until you realize it’s you that is shaking like a leaf, your knees buckling under the weight of your own emotions. Tears brim your eyes, stinging them painfully when you turn around. The wintry cold wind continues to be unmerciful while you look all over the place, trying to spot his head of black hair against your better judgment.

Something shiny on the other side of the railroad catches your eye. You slowly make your way over to it, stumbling along the way. The cold air brushes against the fresh, open wounds on your elbows, the sleeves of your old denim jacket torn in your haste to run for cover. You barely plant down your hands on the ledge in time to catch yourself before you fall, your ankle throbbing painfully under your unsupported weight. Your lips tremble, emotions from the tiring day hitting you all at once when your eyes spot the shiny object again. You reach for it, pulling it closer while roughly rubbing the blur from your eyes. Your eyes widen as the metal rests in the palm of your hand.

His gold coin; the face of a deer on one side and its rear end on the other. That isn’t why fear grips at your heart for the fourth time tonight, however. No.

It’s the fact that the coin had landed on Heads.

“That’ll be $9.65, ma’am.”

“Alright,” you mumble distractedly, dragging your eyes away from the rainy view of the backseat window. You open up your purse, searching and digging around for your wallet. Come on… The last thing you need right now is bad luck.

Earlier this week you had managed to land yourself an apartment and a new job in a local grocery store. It’s a downgrade from the office position you once had, but beggars can’t be choosers. You’re just grateful that someone took you in after weeks spent going door to door with a stack of your resume in hand. You’ve gotten so many paper cuts over the last two weeks alone that you have sworn to get a laptop as soon as you have enough money saved up.

When you do pull out your wallet, it feels lighter than it should be between your fingertips. You flip it open in a hurry, mindful of the driver tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

Right before you stepped into the back of the cab, a group of children had approached you. Anyone from miles away could tell that they didn’t come from a “well-off” home, with their tattered clothes and smudge-covered faces. They pleaded for your help, for a few dollars to buy themselves food to get through the night. You caved in. You couldn’t just walk away after hearing their cries and seeing them clutch their growling stomachs. Their little eyes had lit up when you pulled out your wallet, counting enough notes for each of them to be able to afford their own meal. If only you had paid more attention when all three of them decided to wrap their arms around you in a hug…

“Ah…” you smile nervously, looking up at the irritated driver with a sheepish expression on your face. “I… I seem to have left my wallet at home - can I run and get it?” you propose, noticing the annoyance rise on his aged face.

“No.”

“It’s right around the corner-”

The old man shakes his head, putting the car back into drive. Before you can say a word, he does an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street, tires squealing in protest as you slide onto the sidewalk for a few seconds. He roughly spins the wheel in the opposite direction to get off of the patch of black ice and zooms back down the way you came. Taking shortcuts down roads you’ve never seen before until you reach a bridge that crosses a railroad and the beginning of a highway.

“Get out.”

“I-” you protest, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. What the fuck? I’ve never been on this side of town before! “You-”

He glares at you from the rearview mirror, spitting a mouthful of tobacco into his empty beer can. “Beat it.”

You want to stand your ground, demand that he at least drop you off closer to a populated area, but something in his beady eyes dares you to utter a single word. So you bite your tongue, and climb out of the cab, already shivering from the cold wind. The old man doesn’t even wait for you to step onto the sidewalk before he revs the engine, making another illegal U-turn to speed off back the way he came.

“Asshole!” you scream after him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. You realize too late that you have forgotten your winter coat in the back of the cab. Now standing at the side of a silent underpass, barely sheltered from the heavy rain, you really are starting to think that the universe has just decided for your luck to run out.

“Fucking dick,” you mutter, eyes stinging from your tears and the cold. Great. Your phone is dead, you’re God knows where, and your fingertips are going numb. What a perfect way to end the week. So much for a new lease on life.

After a while, you start to grow weary of the quiet underpass. No one has driven past you in the last ten minutes, car or train. Did he… drop me off at an abandoned road? You shiver at the thought, and even more so when you remember what happened to you a month ago.

Somehow, between those thirty sleepless nights and bleary mornings, you haven’t forgotten that man you met on those train tracks. Not even for a second. His brown eyes plague your thoughts, his raspy voice takes over your dreams. Sometimes you even swear you see him around town, hanging out in the shadows that reflect his mysterious aura so well-

“Achoo!” your nose and eyes burn as one. “Shit.” You hiss before letting out a sigh. There’s no use standing here like an idiot, you need to find the nearest payphone to use with the coins you keep stashed in your shirt pocket-

Coins.

You instinctively reach down inside of your shirt, flinching at the cold that touches your skin. The familiar piece of metal tucked safely next to your heart calms you down a little. It’s funny how a reminder of such a fear-inducing situation helps you find your peace.

You’ve tried to throw away that damn coin multiple times: on the train tracks, over a bridge, inside a dumpster… But every single time, you curled your fist around it as if it was some sacred trinket of a past lover. An object that you had to keep. For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…

A bone-chilling breeze washes over you, mercilessly freezing your exposed skin. Your teeth chatter; you quickly pull your hand out of your bra. Whatever. You need to get out of here. You can reminisce about your encounter with that infuriating stranger when you’re not becoming an icicle.

Patches of ice cling onto the sidewalk, not making your life any easier. Your choice of wearing converses today has left you in the hands of fate - the fate of slipping and sliding with every other step you take. Inconvenience or not, you’re just glad you still have shoes. Even if you have to hold onto the stone walls for support.  

“Well, well, well,” a voice echoes throughout the underpass.

You lose your footing, nearly falling face-first on the ground if it wasn’t for a nearby trash can. You whip your head around, staring at the person behind you with wide eyes. Your heart stops dead in its tracks. Oh no.

It’s a fucking biker, seated on top of a brand new motorcycle. A brand of the vehicle that you have no idea how to pronounce, but can recognize anywhere thanks to the lousy friends of your stepfather. Have they found you? Are you going to have to face those loan sharks again? You can’t help but tremble while watching the biker take off their helmet as the engine continues to purr. How the hell you didn’t hear it, you have no idea. All you know is that their all-black, leather outfit is hella intimidating...

until you see a mullet.

He slowly raises his head and those familiar, droopy brown eyes greet you from under the veil of heavy rain. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh my god, he’s alive! “Oh…” you mumble dryly, “you’re alive.” 

“That I am.” He raises a brow, a mischievous grin tugging on his lips. “It takes more than that to kill me, sweetheart.”

Yeah… right. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Business meeting.” He looks you over for a moment. “You?”

“Minding my business,” you lean against the trash can, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. Just because you are in a dire situation doesn’t mean you’ll let him know about it. 

“‘Minding my business,’ she says,” he humors, raising another brow. “You don’t look too comfortable doing that out here.”

His words remind you of the lack of your coat. You don’t respond to prevent your teeth from chattering and giving yourself away, wrapping your sweater tighter around you.

His eyes narrow, “what are you doing on this side of town, darling?” his words are sugar-sweet, the expression on his face is not.

“Nothing,” you quip.

He pulls something shiny out of his jacket, something much bigger than a coin. “You might want to start talking, sweetheart.” His lips curl up in warning, combat knife in full view.

“I-” you gasp, staring horrified at the red stains clinging to the silver metal. “I got put out, okay?!” you yell, backing away from his murderous glare. “I-I got robbed by a group of fucking kids earlier and my cab put me out…” Just repeating what happened to you less than an hour ago has your eyes filling up with tears all over again. “God...” you hide your face in your hands, “God I’m so stupid.”

“Stupid isn’t the term I’d use,” he murmurs, carrying on despite your cries, “more like gullible.”

You stop at once, peeking at him from between your numb fingers. “Wow,” you sniff, not sure if you’re more upset at him or yourself, “how comforting of you.”

He looks into your eyes for a while. “Get on,” he commands, gesturing towards the back of the motorcycle with his chin.

“And what makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?” you can’t help but scoff, wrapping your arms around yourself. Shivering involuntarily from the drops of rain meeting your skin in the bitter wind.

“You have two options, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice, his tone filled with barely-concealed annoyance. “Either let me take you home or freeze your ass off,” he raises a brow. “Your call.”

You glare at him, warily eyeing his motorcycle. You’d have to cling onto him if you didn’t want to fly off of his bike the moment he drives off, and that’s not something you particularly want to do. But that versus the likelihood of you getting frostbite…

“Take me straight home,” you demand, stepping closer to him, the tips of your hair getting wet from the rain. “I mean it.”

The raven slowly drags his eyes to meet yours, looking at you with an emotion you can’t quite identify. He wordlessly lifts up his helmet and places it on your head, surrounding you in the smell of smoke with a hint of vanilla. You bite your lip to refrain yourself from mentioning how bad smoking is; now is not the time for a life lecture. But the way his eyes drop down as if he can see your lips through the helmet’s dark tint and the flickering streetlight overhead has you feeling a lot less cold than you did two minutes ago...

“Come on,” his breath fogs up your view of him, reminding you of the first time you met while he urges you to climb on. You glare at the back of the motorcycle. It’s not just the fact that it’s his bike that has you apprehensive, it's the fact that you have never been anywhere near a motorcycle in your life. Yeah, you’ve seen them around town. Yes, you hear about biker gangs all the time - you just never dared to step foot near one of the vehicles your mother had deemed the most dangerous on the road, let alone climb on the back of one. How the hell do you mount this thing? It’s way too complex for your cold and exhausted brain right now.

After a few failed attempts to climb on - your shoes having no chance of gripping onto its rain-covered surface, the man gives a loud, suffering sigh. He throws his head back, face pinched up in utter annoyance. For once you feel bad about giving him a hard time. You’re at your wits end over here; it’s not like you are doing it on purpose!

His eyes snap open when you slip one more time, and before you can blink, his hands are on your waist, pulling you up onto the seat as if you weigh nothing.

“Hold on tight if you don’t want to fall,” he mutters lowly, ignoring your gasp. He removes his hands as soon as you are settled. You carefully wrap your arms around him, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. Something rough brushes against your chin. You lean back a little, blinking at the letter stitched onto the back of his leather jacket. “B?” you ask, tracing it with your finger.

He tenses up for a moment, seemingly surprised by your question. “Baekhyun,” he clears his throat, gripping onto the handlebars.

“Oh,” you smile, “good. I thought it was for Bernard.”

You feel more than hear the rumble of laughter in his chest when he revs up the engine, speeding away from the underpass.

You haven’t seen Baekhyun since that night. For someone who meets you in the most random of places, he sure isn’t easy to find. Maybe that’s all he is… All he’ll ever be. Someone you meet on late nights in the middle of dangerous situations. Wondering when the hell he showed up and how long before he leaves…

A loud chink brings you back to the present, you quickly catch the spinning gold coin before it can fall to the floor. The familiarity of its weight in your hand confirms the reason for your stray thoughts even further.

You have a confession to make, something long overdue: a fact that you need to accept… 

How you feel about Baekhyun.

You’re not stupid - you’re hella dumb in some parts of life, yes, but you’re not purely idiotic. You know you have the tiniest crush on him, and you know what that means. Your feelings are one-sided, your emotions are a mess. You’re that good girl slash damsel in distress falling for her mysterious, bad boy savior…

How clique, but can you help it, really? When he’s all lean muscle, broad stature, and has brown eyes you want to hide from yet fall into at the same time?

Baekhyun is bad, like the cigarettes he smokes, but you know he’s more than what meets the eye. At first glance, he’s intimidating, daring you to approach him. But if you stick around long enough, you’ll see his softer side. Still rough around the edges, but he isn’t completely heartless. And the final blow, the last straw that has you in this particular predicament…

Being in his presence is more addictive than the nicotine in his favorite brand of cigarettes. 

He’s mysterious, charming despite you rejecting him every time, and downright gorgeous to look at. With his brown eyes, button nose, slightly chapped lips, sharp jawline, and that neck. God, that long, slender neck.

-Everything that I don’t need.

You sigh, leaning your head back against your leather seat. There’s a lot of things that you don’t need, but what you do need is a drink.

With that in mind, you get up to make your way to the bar. You saw it on your way inside of the train, and now you plan to use it. Fully intending to wash away all your stray thoughts of that mullet man while on your way to a pharmacy across town. Not your best idea to go get multi-vitamins - since the store you work at has run out - but anything is better than spending another day daydreaming about dark brown eyes and a man you cannot have...

until you trip in the middle of the aisle.

A walking cane owned by an oblivious elderly lady is the only one to blame for you falling to your demise, but to make matters even worse, the train’s stewardess has returned, with a tray full of drinks. Hot drinks. Delicious coco-filled beverages meant to help passengers shake off the hands of the bitter cold beyond the fogged-up windows.

-Basically, you are fucked.

Your fall seems to happen in slow motion, seconds dragging by as you come face to face with that tray full of glasses heading your way. You close your eyes, bracing for the scorching hot liquid to burn your skin…

-only to be yanked right out of the stewardess’ path.

You gasp, landing onto someone’s lap in a heap. You brace your hands against their chest, snapping your head up, eyes widening at the familiar man in front of you. “B-Baekhyun?!”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips curling up into a lopsided smile that knocks the wind out of you.

“I…” you don’t know what to say, you can only stare at him, blinking in disbelief. He looks just as good as he did the other day, except this time you can appreciate his leather outfit in proper lighting. The smooth material hangs onto his shoulders for dear life, most likely pushed further down from you abruptly landing on his lap. His white t-shirt is a little wrinkled, with a few rips and tears, as if snagged on the edge of something during a hasty getaway. His leather pants are cool to the touch when your hand lands on his thigh, still struggling to get up from his lap. Why hasn’t that woman moved her cane? Can’t she see that you’re struggling here through those wide-rimmed glasses of hers?!

“What do you say?” Baekhyun perks up after a while, raising a brow.

“Huh?” you blink at him, finally managing to get off of his lap and settle beside him in the seat. Drink be damned, you need to sit down for this.

Baekhyun continues to look at you with those brown eyes, pointedly arching his other brow. Your heart is still in your throat and you’re growing more frustrated by the minute. What the hell is up with him? It’s not like he saved you or some-

Your eyes widen, not even the cold air drafting from the window can cool the warmth growing on your cheeks. “T-thank you,” you cough, looking away from him. His smug ass, you want to wipe that smirk right off his handsome face.

“You kept it,” he mentions out of nowhere, prompting you to look back at him.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at the hint of surprise on his face, “what?”

Baekhyun opens his hand, revealing a coin in his palm - a coin you know all-too-well after these past two months. “Bambi,” he breathes, smiling so softly when he looks back up at you that you have to do a double-take.

“Listen, Baekhyun.” You lean closer to him, keeping your voice low. Something tells you he wouldn’t appreciate it if the whole train knew his name - then again, he could have made it up. But you aren’t up for facing the consequences if it is his name, so you make sure the conversation stays between you and him. “This…” you pause, making hand gestures between you two. “Whatever ‘this’ is,” you look him in the eye. “I’m done with it.”

“What?” he frowns, brows furrowed.

“I’m tired of playing games with you, Baekhyun,” you explain. “You always show up when I need help, flirt with me, and the minute I ask you anything, you’re gone,” you snap your fingers, “like that.”

“Some things are better left unsaid, little fawn,” he utters lowly, irritation swirling in his dark orbs. “Knowing too much can and will get you hurt.”

“I’m a big girl,” you scoff, lips curling up into a mocking smile. “Admit it, you’re scared I’ll find out that you’re all bark and no bite.” You don’t know what possessed you to be so brave, but you regret it the moment you look into Baekhyun’s eyes.

“Oh?” he raises a brow, the hard expression on his face dares you to utter another word. “You’re a big girl, huh?” you can only put your hand on his chest as a feeble attempt to push him away when he leans closer, his minty breath fanning over your face. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he voices lowers to a lifeless monotone that you never wanted to hear from him, “how much money do you think it took to keep those loan sharks from selling your ass out on the streets?”

You gasp, appalled beyond belief, feeling tears sting at your eyes despite your wishes to save face. It all makes sense... the shootout, the chasing, the railroad, the underpass… Baekhyun is everything you thought he’d be, and everything you wish he wasn’t. He’s one of them. The gangs partaking in bloodbaths to claim ownership over your worthless town. And by what happened all those months ago… he’s not just one of them, he’s a ringleader.

“I-I’m done,” your voice wavers. You bow your head, crying or not, you won’t let him see you like this. Not again. Not over something so stupid and so damn obvious you could kick yourself over it. “I’m done, Baekhyun. Thank you for all the help you’ve given me, but I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

“What do you want?” he asks. He asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

You sniff, throwing the last of your dignity out the window when your voice cracks. “I want to be left alone.”

“What if that isn’t what I want?” he tucks a finger under your chin, coaxing you to lift your head and meet his brown eyes that express more than words ever could. “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

“Stop playing with me,” you pull away, you can’t even bear to face him now. Or listen to that damn chink of the coin he keeps tossing in his palm.

“One more,” he urges you to look at him again. “Heads, or tails.”

“Baek-”

“If you win,” he talks over you, “I’ll leave you alone. If you lose…” he trails off, looking you dead in the eye, his voice no louder than a whisper, “I won’t.”

“Fuck you,” you sniff, shaking your head, pressing yourself against the cold window. “Your games have been rigged since day one.” You look out as the wintry landscape passes you by, your stomach turning when you notice the frozen lake below the train tracks. “Why do you do this?” you can’t help but ask. “Huh? Why do you do it? What reason do you have for this?”

Baekhyun sighs loudly, closing his eyes and holding his head in his hand. “Because you’re my favorite.”

“What?” you sit up at once. If you were a porcupine, all your needles would have launched into his ass by now. What did he mean by that? Are you some… side piece? His certain flavor of the week? Are you competing with others in some race that you didn’t even know you were in?!

Baekhyun just shakes his head, alarming you when he gets up. “Wait, Baekhyun-” you hurry after him, nearly falling over again in your haste. Last time you checked, the next stop for the train was in less than ten minutes, and something tells you that if you don’t do something now, you’ll never see him again.

He heads over to the bar you wanted to go to earlier, ordering what looks like Bourbon, and you swear you see a golden deer head attached to the center of the glass.

“Baekhyun…” you tug on his sleeve, trying to get his attention while he scrutinizes the drink in his glass. “About what you said, what-”

“That’s a nice coin you got there.” The bartender chimes in, drying a wine glass in his hand, eyeing the gold coin sitting idly on the counter. “Mind if I give it a go?”

“Be my guest,” Baekhyun mutters, rolling the drink in his hand.

“Heads,” the bartender grins, flicking it over, “or tails?”

Baekhyun looks over at you, resting his arm on the counter. “Heads.”

You stare right back at him; you know how this goes. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about flipping a coin, the losing side is always… “Tails.”

The bartender hums, grinning while the coin is in mid-air. He covers it with his hand before you can see, waiting a few moments for effect. When he finally uncovers the coin, your jaw practically drops to the floor:

Tails.

Baekhyun’s nostrils flare and he nods, leaving a tip just as an announcement of the next train stop plays overhead. He gets up and walks to collect his fedora from a coat rack without saying a word.

“Wait-” you look between him and the bartender before taking back the coin, skidding your bar stool loudly across the floor while standing up to follow him. “Baekhyun, wait!” He walks ahead of you with determined strides - determined not to give you the time of day, as he swore he would. You have to double your speed to catch up to him when he turns the corner to exit the train.

“Baek- excuse me,” you bump into various passengers, pushing past them. No one else seems to be in a hurry to step off of the train, and you have a raven head man to find before he disappears on you.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you’ve stepped off the train, how your roles have reversed. For once, you’re not the one being chased. For once, you’re willingly - willingly seeking him out. Chasing after him in your yellow trench coat that is instantly drenched under the merciless rain.

“Baekhyun!” you scream for him in the middle of the icy, deserted streets. You don’t care anymore about what he does, who he is. You just need to find him.

Thunder booms overhead, the world around you brightening up with streaks of lightning scattered across the sky, and for one time - for one last time, you swear his name up to the heavens.

“Good for nothing asshole wearing all black during a mother fucking thunder-”

Someone yanks you into an alleyway, and for once, there isn’t an ounce of fear or uncertainty in your heart.

You lift your head up to look at him as he tucks your wet hair behind your ear, leaning down to capture your blue lips in a chapped kiss that warms you up from the inside out.

Baekhyun has been coming around more often. He still is shit at picking you up from your place, but he walks you home from work - more often than not when you don’t know it's him and you feel watched for the entire journey home. He gets off on keeping you on your toes and you just let him get away with it because it’s him.

Tonight is different, however - hell, you’d even say it's special because tonight, oh tonight, Baekhyun wants to take you out. On a date.

A date on a train you don’t frequently ride, but you won’t question it. You don’t bore him with your daily endeavors and he doesn’t tell you his body count from the previous evening. If this is the only functioning dynamic you will have between you, you’ll take all you can get.

“Baekhyun~”

“You ready?” his voice rings through your phone, tickling your ear in the most pleasant of ways.

“Almost,” you muse, biting back a smile while wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder to slip on your low-platform heels. Rain, sleet, or snow, you’re on a mission tonight, and that mission is… well, you can take a guess. “Are you here?”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, but you hear a knock at your door. You smile, adding final touches to your makeup before hanging up the phone. With your clutch in hand, umbrella hanging from your finger, and a dress way too short for the middle of winter, you are ready to go.

“Coming, coming!” you yell at the impatient knocking at your door. You’re flattered by the enthusiasm, but your neighbor just put her newborn to sleep and you know what glare you’ll receive in the morning for ruining the little sleep she could get. You unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open to reveal a sharply dressed Baekhyun. The way he looks in a suit will never fail to have butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Hi,” you breathe, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Baekhyun chuckles, raising a brow with a smirk. “Hey, baby.”

Baby.

You’re either going to faint or cry, so you choose neither, closing the door behind you to be by his side instead. “Are we going by motorcycle today?” you inquire, a little too late to change anything if you must admit. Maybe you should have put shorts on underneath your dress...

Thankfully, Baekhyun shakes his head. “I rented a car.”

“Rented?” you arch a brow, “you didn’t hotwire some poor soul’s BMW, did you?”

“A Range Rover,” he mumbles.

Your neck cracks when you snap your head around to look at him. “Range Rover?!”

Baekhyun only smiles, encouraging you to link your arm with his.

It doesn’t take long to reach your destination, between the fast car and Baekhyun’s, (illegal,) driving skills, you make it to the train station in record time, and, thankfully, in one piece.

“Whoa…” you blink, peeking from under your umbrella, “is that a steam engine?”

Baekhyun nods, readjusting his fedora before closing the passenger door for you.

“I’ve only seen those from far away…” you continue, staring at the coal-filled train with astonishment. “Why are we riding on it, though? We could have taken another random train.”

Baekhyun merely hums at your endless chatter - helpless on your part. Your skin is buzzing from being near him and you’ve just arrived!

Okay, okay. Less talk, more walk. Be cool-

Anddd you slip on the icy asphalt.

“You know,” Baekhyun murmurs, distracting you from your own embarrassment. “You don’t have to fall to be in my arms, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that infamous smirk. “All you had to do was ask.”

You groan so loud you turn heads while grabbing his hand and power-walking over to the line waiting for the train. God, why does he have to be so infuriating and sexy at the same time? It’s making your head spin.

You move up the line without a hitch, thankful that it doesn’t take too long to get inside of the train once it arrives. The sooner you get out of the chilling rain, the better. You climb on board, being greeted by decorative picture frames and lively chatter within the homey cabin. To your surprise, however, Baekhyun gestures to the stewardess upfront before leading you away from everyone else to a door at the very back.

“Baekhyun..? Is this okay?” you whisper, looking around worriedly. It’s not that you don’t trust him, you just don’t want one of his mischievous schemes getting you kicked out again, or worse.

He stops in a dark corner of a cabin filled with boxes to press you against the wall, pulling you into a kiss that makes you forget everything else entirely. “Do you trust me?” he holds your face in his hands, looking into your eyes. The shadow casting over his face from his fedora adds onto that mysterious flare that riles you up all over again.

You can only nod, gulping a little when he shoots you one of those rare, soft smiles before leading you further into the back of the train. Soon you arrive at another cabin, filled with dining booths and pretty string chandeliers like the one towards the front of the train.

“Whoa…” You look around, in awe of the simple yet beautiful touches of small knick-knacks and antiques around the room.

“What do you think?” you feel Baekhyun behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s so…” you’re at a loss for words; it’s hard to describe how wholesome and warm it makes you feel, “pretty.”

“Mm.” His nose brushes over your neck, making you shiver, “like you.”

You blush all the way up to your ears.

Baekhyun takes a seat, sitting with his back facing the front of the train to your surprise. You’d think they’d teach mafia guys not to sit with their back exposed or something. You move to sit across from him only to feel his hand wrap around your wrist, wordlessly beckoning you with his brown eyes to sit next to him. And who are you to deny?

“This place is really nice,” you run your hands over the tabletop, marveling at how crisp and clean the table mat is, “where did you find it?”

“Asked around,” he shrugs, folding his arms behind his head.

“Oh,” you leave the conversation at that, having been around him long enough to recognize when you’re stepping into uncharted territories. The last thing you want to do is ruin the time you and Baekhyun spend together - especially when it’s your ‘first date.’ You tuck your hands between your thighs, sticking to your side of the booth. Even after three months of meeting him and a few weeks of getting to know him, being in close proximity with Baekhyun hasn’t gotten easier. Blame your bashfulness on the indifferent aura constantly around his broad form.

“Good evening!” someone perks up out of nowhere, making you jump. You turn around, looking wide-eyed at the young man stepping through the door. His name tag on the front of his uniform and the notepad in his hand calms you down a little, but your heart is still in your throat. Geez, you inwardly roll your eyes - at yourself or Baekhyun, no one really knows. Probably both.

Baekhyun shifts next to you and you freeze. Thanks to your panic, your body is completely pressed against his. Well shit... You need to do something - would it be rude if you moved away? The warmth of his body is too much to handle, your face will burst into flames at this rate.

“What can I get you today?” the waiter asks you with big eyes, clicking open his pen. The way he looks at you doesn’t help your situation at all.

Baekhyun turns to you, raising a brow. Something about the way his jaw clenches comes off as a warning to you.

“A-ah!” you smile, hurrying to pick up one of the menus you failed to notice earlier. You scan your eyes over the pages quickly but carefully, mindful of the other two pairs of eyes set on you. Um... can you look away? Staring into the side of your face won’t make you decide faster, in fact, it makes you have to reread the same page again. Do they have nothing else better to do?! 

Finally! you set the menu down, feeling like you’ve struck gold when you find your favorite drink and meal. “I’ll have this with extra fries, please.” Hopefully, the waiter will leave soon, there’s only so much staring you can take before you sweat out your hair. The quicker you order, the faster he’ll leave.

“No problem!” the waiter smiles, not even looking down while scribbling your order onto his notepad. “Anything else?”

“I’ll have what she’s having.” Baekhyun joins in, his voice deeper than usual.

“Y-yes, sir.” You can only imagine the look he’s giving the poor waiter until a cold hand lands on your inner thigh. You gasp, banging your knee on the table.

“Are you okay, Miss?” the waiter focuses on you again, pen not even pressed to his paper.

“I-I’m good!” you reassure, trying to play it off as best you can as if Baekhyun’s wandering hand isn’t sliding up your thigh. “Just slipped,” you lie, shooting him a warning look. He only grins in reply, biting his lip and playing with the edge of your underwear.

“Okay,” the waiter glances down at his notepad and looks back at you with a sheepish expression, “um let me repeat what I have to make sure I got everything right.”

Baekhyun grunts in reply, slowly rubbing your folds through your underwear. 

Mother fucker. You clench your fists, holding onto the bottom of your dress, trying to be discreet while shooing his hand away. You breathe heavily when he presses his palm flat against you, having to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a moan.

The waiter repeats your order, having to fix it three times. Is he just having a bad day or are you having a bad life because you are not keeping it together with Baekhyun’s fingers slipping under the hem of your panties. Your wet core shows no resistance to his slender fingers sliding inside of you. You bite back a gasp, gripping his thigh as he lightly taps your clit. The rumble in his chest makes your cheeks flush; you’re struggling to keep quiet over here and he’s getting off on it.

“Anything else?” the poor waiter asks, oblivious to what’s happening underneath the very booth you’re sitting at.

Baekhyun turns to you then, all nonchalant as if he isn’t knuckle-deep inside your pussy. “Anything else, baby?”

Baby. Yep. You know you’re in deep shit.

“N-” it takes all your willpower not to moan when he crooks up his fingers just right, you don’t even want to imagine the expression that’s on your face right now. “N-no, that will be all.”

Baekhyun flashes another one of those rare little smiles your way while the waiter departs from your secluded cabin, and you can’t help but beam back at him, proud to have evoked such emotion out of him - until your lips tremble, thighs shaking under the work of his merciless fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, or maybe that’s just the tears slipping out the corner of your eyes.

Baekhyun doesn’t stop when your nails dig into his thigh, in fact, he goes even faster, egged on by how hard you’re trying not to make a sound. The slick noises of his digits driving into your weeping cunt are enough to echo around the confined room, pushing you closer to the edge. Just as you’re there, stomach coiled tight, back arched like a broken bedspring, he fucking pulls his fingers out.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes as your high vanishes quicker than an extinguished flame, ready to give him a piece of your mind. The words die on your lips when you notice him holding his dick in his hands, using your slick to tease around his tip.

“What do you say?” his voice comes out husky, scorching in lust while looking at you with his dark brown eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, flushing all over again at the way he looks at you.

Baekhyun smirks devilishly, pausing in stroking his lubricated cock. Then, he spreads his legs, his dress pants straining against his sturdy thighs. “Come show me how thankful you are.”

You don’t know how you do it, but somehow you manage to climb under the booth with the little space you have in between the chair and the table, shuffling closer to Baekhyun’s waiting cock on your aching knees. You’ve only been on the cold, hardwood floor for a few moments and you already know you’ll have matching bruises on your knees for days, but you don’t mind. Not for him.

You pause in the realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his cock, and damn is it pretty. Why does he have to be perfect all over and ruin every other man for you? Who gave him the right? The sting on your scalp brings you back to the task at hand, Baekhyun’s fingers brushing your hair out of the way so he can see when his cock enters your mouth. It hurts like a bitch, and yet… It ignites the fire between your legs all over again. Especially when he moans at the first touch of your tongue swirling around his tip, tightening his grip on your hair. You could get drunk off of his moans - you could get drunk off of him period.

Praises fall from Baekhyun’s lips as you lower your mouth onto his shaft, tears brimming your eyes when he hits the back of your throat. But you push yourself onward; you take a deep breath and relax your jaw to cram the rest of his cock in until his fine hairs tickle your nose.

“Fuck,” Baekhyun groans, jerking his hips, aiding you in fitting that last little bit of his cock down your throat. He holds you there for a while, until you choke, throat constricting around his length.

“Good girl,” he whispers, tracing the bulge in your throat with his fingertips. “Fuck, such a good girl.” He groans. “My perfect little cock slut.”

You preen under his praise, pulling back for a much-needed breath when he releases you. The little moan he lets out when you flick your tongue over his slit just makes you hungry for more - hungry for him; his eyes, moans, cock, and everything that makes him, him. You bob your head faster, lathering the prominent vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His breathy gasps and low grunts have you in a frenzy. No matter how much your throat burns and eyes well up with tears, you’re on a mission to give him the best suck of his life.

Baekhyun is in heaven by how loud he’s getting, fucking further into your throat. He swears under his breath when you lock eyes with him. “Fucking perfect,” he breathes, swiping under your eye with his thumb.

You moan, noting how his movements falter, hips jerking erratically and cock throbbing on the back of your tongue. The thought of him finishing in your mouth turns you on more than you’d like to admit, and the thought of him shoving it down your throat…

Suddenly, Baekhyun’s grip on your hair turns brutal, bringing tears to your eyes when he yanks your head back. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, another voice fills the empty cabin.

“Here are your drinks!” the waiter walks up to the booth, the tips of his shoe inches away from your hidden form under the table. “Sorry for the wait.”

Feeling brave, you lean forward, lapping at the head of Baekhyun’s cock.

“It’s fine.” He gruffs, tapping his fingers on the table and clearing his throat. You hear his breath hitch when you take him in deep again; his thighs tense up under your wandering hands. Seeing him like this makes you smirk around his dick in your mouth, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. He’s twitching more and more in your mouth by the minute.

“Your order will be out shortly.”

Before the waiter can take a step back, Baekhyun’s gripping your hair once again, shoving you so far down his cock that your nose touches his pelvis. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out why; the spasms on your tongue are immediate. He fills up your throat with his cum, bringing tears to your eyes from the endless spurts of his release. You try your best to not choke and give yourself away.

“Thank you,” he says softly; the breathy tone of his voice has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, swallowing every last drop he has to offer. You wait until you hear the door close behind the waiter before pulling off of him, gasping for air; you already know your throat is going to be fucked in the morning, and not by his cock.

Baekhyun detangles his fingers from your hair, smoothing it down in a gentle manner that leaves your heart and pussy quivering as one. “Come here.” He grunts, urging you out from under the table.

You crawl out on shaky hands and knees, looking up at him only to gasp, clutching onto his arms when he pulls you off of the floor, “what-”

Baekhyun’s lips crash to yours. “You.” He hisses, gripping your waist and sitting you on top of the table. “You little minx.”

You can’t help but giggle, pointedly licking your lips while he wraps your legs around his waist. His unwavering gaze makes you ache between your legs and goosebumps cover your skin. “What about it?” you murmur, tugging him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun’s eyes are like two deep pools of mahogany wood, swirling with excitement and lust. He presses his index and middle fingers to your lips, eyes blazing in heat when you don’t even hesitate to take them into your mouth. A chuckle falls from his kiss-swollen lips. “Let’s see how fast that pussy can come before the waiter gets back.”

A hint of worry sparks in your chest, making your breath hitch, blinking wide-eyed at him. Are you really about to get dicked down in public? On a train nonetheless? Where any passenger or employee could walk in at any moment? You’re left shocked by how wound up the thought makes you; the possibility of someone finding you spread out for Baekhyun, too blissed out in pleasure to care... You barely held it together with his fingers inside of you earlier, you can only imagine what that cock can really do.

Before you can utter a word, he’s yanking your underwear out of the way, guiding his cock into your weeping core. The stretch of his thick cock has your jaw dropping, hands gripping the edge of the table when he slams inside of you. Baekhyun doesn’t even give you a moment to adjust, he goes straight for fucking your brains out.

It takes all your might to keep quiet. You hold onto the table for dear life, sucking on his fingers to muffle your moans, and Baekhyun isn’t having any of it.

“Let me hear you.” He whispers, spreading his fingers to keep your mouth open. You’re in no position to deny him with the way he’s pounding into your cunt - as if you’d ever want to. Anything he wants, he gets. Baekhyun is taking you to the seventh heaven with every thrust and swirl of his hips, and you have no complaints on how he’ll get you there. 

The squelch of your arousal coating his cock, loud creaks of the table, and his balls slapping against your ass fills the room with the filthy sounds of sex, bringing you to a dangerous peak. Being denied an orgasm earlier has left you way too high strung to fight against the wave about to wash over you. You try not to bite down on his fingers while feeling the pressure build in your stomach.

“You might want to come, sweetheart.” Baekhyun pipes up in a humorous tone, tightening his grip on your hips. “Your loverboy is coming.”

Your eyes snap open, you don’t even remember when you closed them as you frantically look around, craning your neck to see the silhouette of someone approaching the door to your cabin. Shit. Arousal and fear grip your heart all in one. You’re tempted to just tell Baekhyun to stop to save yourself the embarrass-

“Come on,” he whispers, slipping his fingers from your mouth to slide his hand down between your legs. “Don’t be shy.”

You bite on your lip hard enough to bleed while meeting his eyes, clenching around him when he lifts your hips to slam into that spot that has your mouth falling open.

“That’s it.” He grunts, rubbing vigorously on your clit. The little smirk on his face and mischievous glint in his eyes push you further over the edge. “Come for me, slut. Drench this cock for everyone to see.”

You start to say something - to tell him to stop or keep going, you have no idea. All you know is that one minute you’re watching the waiter open the door, and in the next, the train skids to an abrupt halt. Tires squealing in protest while the coil in your stomach unravels faster than Baekhyun flickering open his lighter to ignite a cigarette.

Stars burst behind your eyelids, heightened by Baekhyun continuing with his earth-shattering pace. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears when your thighs slam shut, trembling as you dig your heels into his lower back. He doesn’t stop for a second to let you cool down when you reach the tail-end of your climax.

“What do you say?” he pants, hovering his thumb over your clit. You catch a glimpse of his wet hair sticking to his forehead under the shadow of his fedora while the shrill screams of the other passengers on the train reach your ears.

“T-” you have no idea how he expects you to be able to talk much less think under the works of his unrelenting hips. Just when you think it can’t get even worse, (or better, as you hate to admit,) he’s back to roughly rubbing your clit. “T-Thank you,” you choke out, arching your back. The force of the pressure building in your stomach this time is stronger than the last. It feels so good it almost hurts - especially when he shifts to rest your right leg on his shoulder.

“Tsk coming again?” Baekhyun grins, the wind and rain whipping from the open doorway behind him casting him in a misty glow. “What a greedy whore you are,” he murmurs.

Before you fall over that blissful, yet frightening edge, you start to notice the signs: his sloppy thrusts, tightening grip, and the clench of his jaw.

“J-Just for you,” you pull him closer, purposely clamping your walls down on him, the sway of his hips when he falls out of rhythm egging you on. “Only for you.”

Baekhyun sucks in a breath, holding you down to the table, watching intently as your wet cunt spasms around his cock. “Fuck.” He growls, throwing his head back. You shake under the force of your orgasm, pulling him closer. “Fuck!” with one last, hard thrust, Baekhyun trembles, filling you to the brim with warm spurts of cum. The sensation is enough to make your toes curl, warmth bursting in your chest, the feeling leaving you content. You have little time to enjoy it, however, because the table gives one last, aching croak before falling out from under you.

You scream, gripping onto Baekhyun. His quick hands grab the back of your thighs, tugging you onto his lap when he sits back down with a huff. “Shit...” he chuckles breathlessly, running a hand through his hair before meeting your eye. “Guess this piece of shit is old after all.”

You know you should say something, but your attention is elsewhere. Between watching sweat slide down his chest from his messily unbuttoned shirt and his cock twitching inside of you, you’re more than a little preoccupied at the moment.

Baekhyun sits up after a minute, “let’s get out of here.” He tries to grin, but something is off in his smile while he swivels his head around, hurrying to pull you off of him. You stumble over a little, taking two steps away from the booth before your legs give out. Baekhyun swoops you up into his arms without a word, carrying you bridal style out of the cabin that reeks of sweat and sex. His wide strides make for a very rough ride within his arms. “Baekhyun,” you look up at him, confused at the hint of panic on his face. “What’s wrong-”

He doesn’t even walk back to the main cabin. He turns left and fucking leaps clean off of the train, hitting the ground running. Climbing up the steep hill alongside the railway. You’re even more confused at his hurry. “Baek-”

“Cover your ears.” He demands.

For once, you do what he says without complaint. And your hands do little to drown out the explosion that makes you jump in his arms. Baekhyun keeps running while you peek over his shoulder, staring horrified at the train that has burst into flames.

“I need you to do something for me, okay?” he sets you down at a bench a few feet away. “Stay here while I grab my bike.”

“Baek-” you keep glancing back at the fire, watching it envelop the field in flames. “But-”

He crouches down to look you dead in the eye. “Stay. Here.”

You quickly nod, urging him to go on. Now is not the time to argue. You need to get out of here and you need to get out of here now. If only you could fucking walk. You swear you can feel the heat waves coming off the fire.

A loud roar rings out into the empty clearing. You’ve never been more relieved to hear the loud-ass engine of Baekhyun’s motorcycle heading towards you. “Get on!” he yells, holding out his helmet, waiting for you.

Looking back at the fire nearing the bench you’re sitting on, you use every last ounce of strength you have left in your jelly-like legs to climb onto the back of his bike. Baekhyun waits until you strap on the helmet before speeding off, leaving the ablaze train and burning field in the dust.

You cling onto him like a lifeline, hiding in his back to shelter your face from the icy rain. Funny how you just began to appreciate the cold after encountering that inferno. If you had to choose between that and shivering under the rain, you’d gladly tremble like a wet rat.

Baekhyun doesn’t speak for the entire ride, wordlessly navigating down endless alleyways and streets until you start to recognize your surroundings. As shabby as your apartment is, you’re so damn glad to be back home.

Baekhyun pulls up to the curb, slowly climbing the hill your place resides on. You breathe a sigh of relief, hugging him briefly before stepping off of his bike.

“Thank you for tonight,” you scan the street, confused to not find a single soul outside this time of night. You glance back at him, managing a smile, “wanna come up?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Busy,” he insists. Something in the air tells you that there’s more to that simple word.

“Okay,” you chirp, not wanting the night to end. Crazy train explosions and all, you’re not ready to let go of him yet. “When are you free? Tomorrow? Next week?”

Baekhyun turns off the motorcycle, slowly climbing off of it before making his way to you. Every step he takes feels like a goodbye, and you don’t understand why…

“I have to skip town,” he drops, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“W-why..?” you falter.

“They found me,” he shrugs.

“How?”

“How do you think?” he snaps, the flickering street light reflecting the anger in his dark brown eyes.

“I…” Him? Having to leave town? To leave you? You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it.

“They found me.” Baekhyun sighs, running his hand through his hair. “They found me and traced it back to you.”

Your heart stops, something tells you that you don’t want to know who they are, or what they’d do if they come for you. After the situation with your stepfather, you are even more wary of being in the Mafia’s eye.

Baekhyun takes a step closer, standing in front of you. “They caught onto me, little fawn.” He cups your cheeks in his hands, “and I can’t bring them to you...” He pauses as if carefully choosing his words. “You deserve better than that.”

“No,” you’re automatically shaking your head, holding his hand to your cheek. “I don’t care.”

“Bambi-”

“I don’t-”

“Well I do!” his thunderous tone is loud in the quiet night. “I do,” he softens, brushing away a tear from your cheek, “and I can’t let you throw your life away for someone like me.”

“Baekhyun,” you can’t - you literally cannot right now. “You can’t do this.”

“I can,” he straightens up, determination in his low voice, “and I will.”

“B-But,” you grab onto his wrist, blabbering and fighting back tears like the coward you are. “C-Can’t I go with you? Can’t you take me-”

“No.”

The finality in those words hurt more than any other heartache you’ve ever felt in your life.

Baekhyun turns to head back to his bike but stops in his tracks, looking back at you. He walks to you again, pulling something out of his pocket. Something shiny that catches your eye...

“Keep this,” he lowers his voice, wanting an audience with you and only you. “Keep this and the memory of me close to your heart.”

You don’t even try muffling your sobs, because he is your heart.

Baekhyun slips the coin into the palm of your hand, and you ball your hand up into a fist, finding comfort in its contours and shapes that you know by heart.

“W-will you come back one day?” you can’t help but ask, your view of his broad back growing blurrier by the second.

Baekhyun looks back at you and he nods, a solemn smile on his handsome face. “One day,” he promises. “Remember me, okay?”

You watch him climb onto his motorcycle, trying to memorize every part of his face, his voice, his presence growing farther and farther away. All you can offer him is a small nod, plastering a shaky smile on your face.

Baekhyun smiles, and for the first time, you see a spark of unmistakable affection in his brown eyes. “I hope the sun doesn’t rise while I keep my eyes closed,” he whispers, yet somehow you hear it; the words caressing your tear-stained cheeks like the cold wind. That’s what he is, after all: your night. Your hero when the rest of the world turned its back on you. The one you could only spend time with during those few hours before the sun rose again.

A smile cracks at your lips and a chuckle escapes you despite the sadness entrapping your heart. “See you, Peter pan.”

Baekhyun tips his fedora, his eyes crinkling when he smiles, and you watch him start his engine, driving back down the road you’ve watched him drive up so many times.

You roll the coin around in your hand, taking deep, shaky breaths. The unfairness of the situation dawns on you in waves.

It’s so unfair - he’s so unfair.

There are over seven billion people on earth, yet you know in your heart that you’ll never meet another him, you wouldn’t dream of meeting another Baekhyun. You can’t forget him, he’s engraved in your heart, tattooed on your mind...

It’s so unfair... because all it takes is another pretty little thing for him to forget you.

“For some reason, the thought of tossing it away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if it wasn’t so pretty…”

-More like:

“For some reason, the thought of tossing him away makes your chest ache. It would be so much easier if he wasn’t so pretty…”

Come on, OC, we know you’re whipped for Baekhyun :’)

Hi guys! So that was the long asf Bambi inspired one-shot I’ve been planning since last month. I honestly expected this to come out as 4k at best. I don’t know what the heck happened, but I hope it was a good read? Let me know! My ask box is always open. I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰

By the way… 👀 anyone up for a part 2? My schedule is packed, but damn if I don’t miss Rattlesnake already 🥺

Who’s Rattlesnake you ask? Well well well then, you should check out Mafia!Baekhyun from this universe’s present/future in Need.

-Yes I plan to write a whole mafia fic eventually :'DDD my drafts are screaming at me rn-

Thank you for reading, everyone! I’m running away now to do my walk of detailed plot and smutty shame :’D Stay happy, healthy, and hydrated! (>.<) See you next time!~

[bonjour-rainycity]

Cold Shoulder

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Rating: T 

Disclaimer: I am not making any money from this nor do I own anything recognizable. Also, I edited after a glass of wine. So. I think I shall blame any mistakes on that. 

Word count: 2317

Warnings: Mild descriptions of violence

Request: Aragorn x Reader where he protects the reader but she is mad at him because of that and gives him a silent shoulder. Much fluff please (Anon)

A/n Anon, thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this and love me some Aragorn content <3 Also, for context, I placed the reader in the Fellowship. Okay, read on!

The sharp cry pierces the peace of the early morning.

“Orcs!”

Legolas, who had been standing watch and discovered the threat, immediately begins firing arrows, keeping the pack at bay. The rest of us spring into action, drawing weapons and shouldering our bags, looking to Aragorn to determine our next move. Despite the jolt of fear that runs through me, I know that luck is on our side. For one, our group had planned to set out shortly, meaning our camp is packed and we run no risk of leaving anything behind. Second, it was Legolas on watch, and his keen eyesight gave us critical early warning.

I feel a rough hand wrap around mine, and I’m yanked into a sprint. I nearly stumble at the speed Aragorn sets, but force myself to keep pace. A quick look at my surroundings tells me why we’re running — our camp is secluded, but there are too many high spots around us for it to be favorable in a fight. I can assume that we are making for higher or more open ground, so that we will not be at a disadvantage when the orc pack inevitably catches us.

There’s a muffled yelp, and I whip my head around to see Frodo tripping and falling roughly to the ground.

“Aragorn—” His name has barely left my lips when I feel his hands on my back, spurring me on, and he leaves my side, running back to aid our hobbit friend. Closer than I would like, the wails of the orc grow louder, and, at my right, Boromir speeds up, hauling Merry along with him.

The three of us break through the tree-line first, and immediately, an arrow whizzes above my head.

Damn it, they cut us off!

I don’t have much time to dwell on how the monsters got around us unnoticed, because a tall, imposing orc lunges in my direction. I raise my dagger and put all my focus into not letting the orc’s razor-sharp sword pierce my skin.

The shrieks and grunts of battle, as well as the shrill clanking of metal hitting metal fill the air. The orc jabs his sword at me, and I jump to my left. As the orc takes another swing, an arrow soars mere millimeters from my ear and imbeds itself in my attacker’s eye. I don’t even have time to shoot Legolas a thankful glance, because another beast catches my arm and pulls me against his foul-smelling side. I swipe at his arm with my dagger, and with a howl of pain, he throws me to the ground, raising his sword. I roll to the side, narrowly dodging the slice of steel, and push myself back to my feet. The orc is distracted, struggling with his weapon which is embedded in the ground, leaving the side of his neck exposed. I lift my dagger, and step forward, intent on ending this fight—

An arm grips my waist and pulls me back, moving me out of the way and slaying the orc.

I gawk at Aragorn, who, with the focused eyes of battle, rips his sword free of the orc’s neck and spins, killing a beast to his right.

“I had it,” I shout over the noise, unable to contain my frustration.

Aragorn straightens to face me, eyes wide. “Your back!”

Immediately, I turn on my heel and raise my dagger, pushing against the knife meant to impale my unguarded back. The orc is stronger than me, but if I can hold him off for just a few seconds more, I can reach for my other dagger and stab him in the stomach. As my hand twitches towards my belt, a sword passes around my side, impaling the orc with a sickening squelch.

Once again, I fix Aragorn with disbelieving eyes.

What was the point of investing all that time training me if I don’t get to use any of said training?!

The sounds of battle begin to fade, and, with a final swing of Gimili’s axe, the fighting is done.

We take stock of our injuries which are, thankfully, minor, and pull the dead orc deep into the tree line, not wanting to draw attention to our path. After the quickest of rests and a wash-up in the stream, we continue, Aragorn insisting that we cannot take any unnecessary delays now that we have orc interested in us.

We begin our trek, mostly in tired silence.

At the front of the group, Aragorn and Legolas do a mixture of scouting and chatting, seeming more relaxed the farther we get from the site of the attack. Aragorn doesn’t usually walk with me, preferring instead to lead with Legolas and keep an eye out for danger. Usually, I wish he would stay by my side, but today, I am grateful for the distance, as I’m not feeling too kindly towards him at the moment. I can’t stop myself from glaring at his back, resenting him taking away my right to handle myself in battle. But after an hour of lonely overthinking, resentment gives way to insecurity. What if he only jumped in because he thinks I’m weak? He’s probably not the only one…compared to everyone else, what advantages do I have? They probably all, to some extent, see me as a burden.

Gimli jogs up next to me, fixing me with a mildly concerned look.

“You alright, lassie? Not hurt, are ya?”

Aragorn’s head tilts in our direction. He’s listening.

Unable to contain my annoyance at his continued monitoring, I huff. “I’m fine, Gimli, thanks. Just tired.”

Gimli looks at the ground, seemingly unable to reconcile my usual friendliness with this foul mood. “Aye, well, t’is to be expected, after the morning we had. You fought well.”

I cross my arms, cocking my head to the side. “Did I? Because, as I remember it, I was barely allowed to fight at all.”

At this, I hear light sniggering behind me, and whip my head around to see a quickly composed Merry and Pippin looking anywhere but me.

Gimli makes a sighing, almost grumbling noise, and walks off to join his friends at the front of the group. Aragorn hangs back a little, waiting for me to catch up before resuming a slower pace.

“What troubles you?”

Getting right to the chase, then.

I huff angrily, my annoyance from this morning only growing now that I’ve had hours to stew about it. Because really, I am well-trained, I am capable, and he had no business neglecting his own safety to help me when I wasn’t in any actual danger. I had it all under control! And rather than feeling like a warrior equal with my companions, I feel like a girl who just slows them down and needs babysitting.

Aragorn stops walking and grips my elbow lightly, pulling me to stop with him. “I cannot help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

I glare at him. Can I handle nothing on my own?! “Well, maybe I don’t want your help, Aragorn.”

He sighs, sounding frustrated, but lets me go.

Neither of us makes an attempt to talk to the other for the remainder of our hike.

{***}

We stop when it is well and properly dark, making hasty camp. I drop my bedroll and begin preparing for the night, cleaning my dagger and shoes as best I can. The others sit on rocks near the fire, eyeing me warily.

Pippin elbows Merry and hisses in a low voice,“go and talk to her, something’s obviously wrong with her.”

Merry’s eyes grow comically wide, and he fixes his friend with an indignant expression. “Why does it have to be me, then?! I don’t want to get yelled at.”

“Because I checked on Frodo last Thursday when he was in a mood, and now it’s your turn.”

“I didn’t realize we were taking turns,” Merry whisper-shouts, oblivious to the fact that everyone can hear their argument just fine.

Sam fixes them with a pleading look before glancing over to me. “Miss Y/n, do you not want supper?” He hesitantly holds a bowl in my general direction.

“No, thank you,” I respond, cooler than intended. He blinks at me for a moment, and then hands the bowl to an amused Boromir.

I feel the weight of everyone’s questioning stares, hear their hushed whispers, and cannot take it one moment longer.

“I’m going to get more firewood,” I declare, tucking my dagger back into my belt and trudging deeper into the forest.

The woods are dark, but there is sufficient light from the moon, and I pick my way through the trees, looking for fallen logs and branches. I don’t stray to where I can no longer hear the voices of my friends, though — I may be angry, but I’m not stupid.

Less than two minutes later, the sound of light footsteps creeps into my hearing.

Aragorn walks to my side, bending to grasp and examine a log that might make for good firewood. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “Sam put aside some soup for you, though I would not delay if you wish to eat it. I saw Pippin eyeing it with interest.”

When I don’t laugh or give any indication that I heard him, he shifts on his feet, unsure. “I feel tension between us. I’ve upset you?”

I make a noncommittal noise and go a few yards deeper in the forest.

“Y/n?”

With a resigned sigh, I turn to face him, knowing that my silence is hurting him. “It’s stupid.”

Obviously pleased that I’m speaking to him now, Aragorn takes quick steps towards me, wearing an open expression. “If I have done something to hurt you, you have every right to be upset.”

I resist the urge to groan. Stop being so good and noble, it makes it hard to stay mad at you. I reign in my frustrations and sigh, forcing myself to look him in the eyes. “I feel like the weakest link. I’m the youngest, the only woman, I don’t possess any special abilities or extensive battle experience. I put a lot of work into being competent with my daggers, and still there are days when I question my right to be here with you all. So when you jump in to protect me, well-intentioned as you may be, I feel like a child that needs looking after rather than someone capable of standing her own ground.”

His face falls, and discomfort spreads in my stomach. But before I can apologize and take back my words, he offers his hands, and I take them gratefully.

“I did not consider how my actions would make you feel, though I understand now. Forgive me, Y/n?”

At his heartfelt words, my anger ebbs away. I use my grip on his hands to pull him closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “Of course.”

He pulls back slightly to bring my hands to his lips, pressing kisses on my knuckles. “I intervened during the fight not because I think you incapable, but because I wanted to keep you as much removed from the danger as possible. You are precious to me, Y/n. I won’t risk losing you.”

At this, he leans his forehead against mine, and I can’t help how I soften at his words. I didn’t think about it like that. “There is the slightest possibility that I may have accidentally overreacted a little.”

Aragorn rewards me with a deep chuckle, one I can feel vibrating through his chest, and shakes his head against mine. “Are you sure, my love? I think ignoring me all day was a completely proportionate response.”

I roll my eyes at the dripping sarcasm in his voice and raise a hand to smack his chest. Before I can get anywhere near him, his own hand shoots out and grabs my wrist —  an act that has me grumbling in irritation and him shaking with laughter. Once he regains composure, he brings my wrist to his lips and places the softest of kisses there, watching my face carefully for my reaction.

I look away, trying to distract myself from the fluttering in my stomach. He trails a line of kisses up my forearm, and I scramble for something to say before my brain gets scattered beyond help. “For the record, you mean the world to me and I would defend you in battle too, if the need were to arise.”

His lips pause against my skin. I turn my head back to him to see that he’s, much to my annoyance, trying to fight a smile. Unable to school his smirk, he raises his head, still holding my hand in his. “I thank you, dearest, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. I’ve been battling for decades, I can handle a few stray orc.”

I step back out of his embrace, crossing my arms and regarding him with raised eyebrows.

He realizes his mistake.

“Oh—um, I meant, I—”

I shake my head. “No, you know what? Not ‘should the need arise’, I’ll just do it anyway! Next fight, you better watch out buddy, I’m throwing myself in front of anything that comes at you!”

His eyes blow open and his voice takes on a strangled quality. “Y/n, please don’t, that’s just unnecessary—”

“Nope!” I stomp away from him, picking up branches at random. “You brought this upon yourself. Get ready to be defended!”

Before walking back to camp, I turn to give him a sickeningly sweet smile. “I love you.”

Aragorn dramatically drops his head into his hands. “I shall die from stress.”

Our companions, who obviously heard our argument, roar with laughter.

A/n Thank you for reading! If you have a moment, I’d love it if you could check out my masterlist! Thank you :)

[into-crazy]

horror and chill

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader one shot

Summary: You and J watch a horror flick. Eventually you both grow bored, turning your attention onto one another. You don't make it through the movie.

Warnings- Cursing, NSFW, SMUT, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, light knife play, spanking, use of the word daddy(once), unprotected sex, brief degradation, choking, light blood play, J style fluff, ages 18+

This sort of popped into my head while I was watching a scary movie. I'm a sucker for watching horror movies in the dark. Let's just say my self indulgences deff kicked in with this one whew! Also forewarning, it’s very long.

The month of October has always been a favorite for you. That time of the year when Autumn is in full effect. The air outside is cooled down, where it's not too hot and not quite cold yet. Seasonal items return with a comeback, available to stock up on- whether they be edible goodies or scented candles. Then, of course, there's Halloween. Or spooky season, as the kids like to call it.

That special time where watching horror movies is an absolute must. Ordering takeout, nothing on but panties and an oversized tee, cuddling on the couch with a blanket, turning out all of the lights, and blasting the volume on the television to get the full effect. Yeah, it's one of your most prized traditions.

You and Joker have been together for well over year now. Let's just say he was around this time last year. He knew of your passion for this month, but he hasn't fully experienced it with you. Since that was a point where your relationship- if that's what you want to call it- was still fresh. Too early to establish complete trust and understanding in one another. Actually, you believe that still may be the case for J.

Not that you have anything against it. He's a highly complex and guarded man, he has a difficult time trusting people. In fact, he doesn't. But he's allowed you- and no one else- to come this close into his life, and it's pretty damn close. He trusts you enough and he's trying. There's nothing you'd ever do to betray that. You've come to accept it'll take a longer period before you'd get there fully.

Though it can be rough sometimes, you've had your fair share of fights. But he's never given you a reason to leave. You trust him, you've grown to love him. And while J would never confess to it, would never say it aloud, he adores you. He shows it in everything that he does for you. As for love, you've become aware and accepted that the word doesn't apply to him. He can't love. And that's okay.

Fast forward over to now, already a week into October. It's a Saturday night, and you're ready to continue your cherished routine, but with your beloved J. You've only watched two horror flicks thus far. Both nights had been alone, minus him and the takeout. He's been busy with his usual chaotic jobs, which kept him out later hours into the night. However you don't care about that right now, he called and informed you that he'll be home for tonight's showing.

"An' don't ah, don't ya dare start without me." J warned on the other end of the phone line.

"Well then you better hurry back," you playfully teased into the phone, "I already ordered the pizza and the movie is set to play."

That conversation ended about forty minutes ago. You sat on the couch in your shared apartment, waiting for him. Everything good to go, pizza has arrived, scented candles are lit, movie ready to proceed at the click of a button, and the lights are off- save for the small lamp by the entryway. The overall setting feeling eerily, just how you like it. It also feels quite romantic, which is a bonus.

You're wearing one of J's dress shirts with a blush thong underneath. Wrapped snug in a huge fluffy blanket in your designated spot(rightfully decided by you as this was your apartment first). Since he prefers to keep the apartment cold, you tend to get chilly a lot. Which was fine considering you have J and a vast selection of blankets to keep you warm. Currently, you have the blanket. All that's missing is J.

What's taking him so long? I'm gonna start the movie, I don't care. He'll just have to deal with it.. and I'm not rewinding it either.

You began to ponder while sitting in silence. Fingers tapping impatiently on the remote, debating whether or not you should carry on without him. With a loud huff, you glance over at the pizza box on the small table directly in front of you. In the amount of time you've waited, you managed to eat two slices already.

Then, you heard the familiar ruffling noise at the front door. The sound of the lock hurriedly being turned getting you to shoot your eyes towards it without moving your head. The door swings open and in walks J in all his glory, quickly shutting and locking the closure behind him.

"I'm home-ah!" A lilt in his voice as he exaggerates his arrival.

"You're late," you return displeasingly.

He narrows his glare at you, "well uh, hello to you too."

Rolling your eyes, you motion with your fingers, "I was this close to starting the movie without you. What took you so long?"

J works on shrugging off his plum trench coat. "What can I say? It was such a ah, easy breeze to get here." He throws sarcastically.

Shaking your head, you laugh, "I'm sorry J, I didn't mean to sound rude. I just missed you is all." You really do appreciate the extra efforts he goes through to make sure he gets here safe and undetected. To not be traced or followed. Be it by his fellow rivals, Gotham police, and in some cases- the Batman.

"Yeah doll, I know," he licks his lips, "I know." You watch him remove a few of his other articles to get more comfortable. His face paint isn't too disheveled which tells you his day went rather smoothly. Or as he prefers to call it- boring.

You open up the blanket to make space for him. Patting the empty spot right next to you, "hurry and get over here, pizza's getting cold."

Left in his purple slacks, dress shirt, and socks, he shuts off the last light before making his way over to plop onto the couch next to you. He allows you to snuggle against him. With the cover behind him, he doesn't feel the need to wrap himself in it. You, on the other hand, have your end burrito wrapped over you. Finally, you stick your hand out the blanket to hit play on the remote.

Twenty minutes in, you were beginning to grow less and less interested in the film. Nothing but a predictable storyline with a bunch of weak jump scares. Not to mention the overly cheesy acting. Though it wasn't completely terrible, it had a few good points to it. However this film probably won't make it onto your rewatch list. You failed to previously read the reviews for this one like you normally would when picking a new movie to watch. The plot sounded good when you had read it. Oh well, you gave it a shot.

J wasn't fond of the movie either. He's actually more bored of it than you are. Occasionally would he exhale blatantly or comment on one of the bad moments that came across. This. Is. Torture. He thought to himself staring blankly at the screen. And not the good kind. Alas, he'll bite his tongue and miserably sit through another hour because it is your movie night, and he knows how much this means to you.

You can't help but feel bad for having him sit through this with you- for you. Soon, you lost total interest in the film and your mind began to drift.. elsewhere. To his hand, resting freely between your soft thighs. His palm feels so warm against your flesh. But that's just J- always giving off heat. He's like your own personal heater. Sometimes warming you to the point you don't even need a blanket because it becomes too hot. Speaking of which, you removed the cover, preferring his signature warmth over the fabric's any day.

Your fingers start to brush lightly on his wrists and knuckles. The subtle touch earns you half smile followed with a pleased hum, which you see in your peripheral vision. He hasn't caught on yet, but your need for him is building fast.

You scooch closer to him in attempt to get his hand where you need it most without him catching on just yet. It didn't work, his hand isn't touching you. It's right there, mere millimeters away. Thinking about how amazing his hands feel when he touches you. When he grants you with friction as he rubs your throbbing clit. The wonderful spots he reaches when he relentlessly fucks you with those paint speckled fingers. Curling them deep, making you writhe and cry beneath him.

Clamping his wrist, your breath hitches at the thought. Shit. That was audible. For a split second, you thought you might have blown it. But Joker took it as something from the film frightening you.

"Quiet doll," he shushes, "you an' I both know the ah, movie ain't scary."

Fuck, you can't take it anymore. You want him to touch you. With a slight roll of your hips, you manage to get his hand to brush against your clothed heat. The smallest bit of friction causes you to release a muffled whimper.

J's arm stiffens and his face instantly snaps to look at you. You seize, halting your movement. No question, he felt what you did, sees the burning desperation in your eyes. Tossing his head back, he erupts in a delighted, high pitched cackle. "Oh-" more cackling laughter as he glances at you again, "so that's what that was." A malicious smirk spreads his scarred cheeks. He firmly grips the inside of your thigh, pulling you against him. "What happened bunny? Growin' needy?" Cupping your clothed mound, his fingers rub you teasingly.

"Yeah," you admit, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Tightening your thighs around his wrist. Would've been no use lying to him when he'd easily seen and felt otherwise.

His rubbing comes to an abrupt stop. He taunts, "Ahh, this was your idea, hm. You were the one keen on a movie night, remember?"

"I know, but-"

"Ah-ta-ta," He cuts you off, "But nothing. This is what ya wanted, so that's what we'll do. We'll ah, sit here and watch."

Suddenly, he lifts you, effortlessly moving you into his lap. You yelp as your back is pressed flush against his torso. He separates your legs apart, you can feel his cock beginning to harden under you, pushing into the plush of your ass. One hand wraps around your chest, to roughly knead your breasts. The other slides under the shirt, gliding over your abdomen, down between your legs. To rub harsh circles on your excited clit through the thinly soaked fabric of your underwear.

"Ahh- fuck!" You whine, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, reaching around to grip his green locks.

J starts to kiss and nip his way down your neck. Leaving dark patches into your skin, accompanied by red and white splotches- completely marking you. Once he was satisfied with his marks, he leans closely by your ear. "You're dripping, doll," he whispers huskily, his hot breath brushing against your neck. "Now, you will sit here and watch the flick like a good girl, while I play with this needy little cunt of yours. No fussin' or fightin'. Got it?"

"Mhm, yes sir," you answer. Biting back the urge to smile at the thought of finally getting what you want. Fighting it off because, let's be real here, you know with J, it never comes along that easy. But he always makes it damn well worth it.

"Good, now sit still." He growls lowly onto your neck. With that, he pushed your panties to the side and began his torture. His fingers transitioning from fucking your aching hole to rubbing the drenched digits on your throbbing clit. Whispering twistingly sweet and dirty words into your ear while he slathers your own arousal all over your pussy.

He'd bring you close, on the verge of your orgasm, only to stop his movements entirely. Tearing it away from you before you could fall over that edge into pure ecstasy. You grew more and more frustrated each time he'd do that. Though you haven't fully, but you're rapidly losing your composure. Which already may be broken. Sweat is forming on your hairline, tears are prickling your eyes, your breath is starting to hitch. Starting to want it so bad you're teetering towards retaliating to get what you crave.

Joker's counting on it. He thrives on edging you, demands the control over you. As much as he prefers having you entirely at his mercy, he likes it when you lash back. Finds it rather amusing, makes for something a little bit more interesting. See how far you'll go before you snap so beautifully.

And that's now.

You start to buck your hips against his fingers that are going in and out of your pussy, along with his thumb assaulting your clit. Feeling that powerful knot reforming, you need to orgasm. "Oh f-fuck! Please!" You start pleading, "I-I can't take it anymore. Please J, l-let me cum!"

"You wanna cum?" He hints, removing his chin from your neck.

"Yes, God- yes please!" You cry out, clawing your nails into his thighs. Clamping down to gain better leverage. The wild rolling of your hips gets your ass brushing more against his hardened cock. Your arousal had already soaked through his pants a long time ago.

"Fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, digging his fingers hard into your hip that's sure to leave an array of dotted bruises. He bucks absently into you, licking a wet, hot trail up your neck. "Mm, dirty girl. So you wanna play that game-ah?"

He moves his fingers faster and harder. Even over the loud volume from the television could the wet squelching sounds deriving from his ministrations be heard. The air filled with the scent of sex- your sex. So desperate and ready to let go and orgasm. It's driving you crazy.

"P-please- Ahh! Can I cum?" You plead. Hoping he'll reward you at least for asking.

"You can cum. Go on, babygirl. Cum on my fingers." He finally grants, fingers continuing to get you to ecstasy.

Well you didn't have to be told twice.

You release with a broken cry, orgasm gushing out onto his digits. Drenching the fabric of his pants beneath you. Your body spasming madly over his own while you ride out your high.

Coming down, J removed his hand from your pussy. His fingers are glistening, coated in your cum. He sticks them into your mouth. "Clean my fingers of the mess you made," he growls the command in your ear. Groaning in approval when you comply. Eagerly licking and sucking his digits clean of your juices. "Come here," he grabs your face, turning your head, making you look at him. "Give me a taste."

He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to savor the taste of your delectable juices. You kiss him back feverishly. One hand fisting in his hair, the other goes to stroke his cock. Still clothed, still hard. The action causing him to snarl against your lips, "such a greedy little thing. Always ah, wanting more. Ya just can't get enough of me, huh?"

"Never," you huff with a grin, "and telling by this-" you rub him again, "neither could you." His eyes snap to glare into yours viciously. Ohh, he's gonna make you pay for that snarky remark.

With hasty movements, J turns you around so that you're now facing him. Straddling his lap. He tears the shirt that adorned your body open, buttons flying to scatter the couch and floor. Someone's gonna have to sew those back on later, most likely you. He removes the shirt from you, carelessly tossing it aside.

With the large article gone, it granted him with a better view of the mess you made on his custom, pricey slacks. His entire crotch and thigh area is completely drenched in your juices. He gave a sigh which tried to make him sound annoyed or displeased. However, with the straining bulge pushing against you below, you know that was far from the case. His eyes traveled to land on your barley covered pussy, he groaned at the sight. The flimsy fabric of your thong sticking to one of your wonderful, wet lips. Your orgasm, still dribbling out your cunt.

He hooked a finger under the thin strap hugging your hip, pulling far enough only to have it fall and snap against you. Chuckling at your slightly startled reaction. "Bad girl. Misbehaving, talking back, making a mess of my pants? These aren't exactly 'buy at the store' ready. Maybe I should put your dirty mouth to use and have you suck your own juices up, hm?"

"I misbehaved?" You mock a pout, fully knowing what you did. Regardless, asking anyway.

His kneads the plush of your ass roughly. The callousness of his hands making you shiver in his grasp. You may think this position is in your favor, that you could use it to your advantage. But Joker's got you right where he wants you. The stern look in his blackened eyes and the firm hold he's got on you make that known. "You ah- were supposed to make it through the film without so much as a fuss. Remember that?"

"I was?" Your fingers ghost up his chest, "I don't remember that part." Now you're pushing it. He notices the smile threatening to creep your face. One of his hands shoots up to grasp a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your marked neck.

"Yes," he acknowledges slowly trailing his lips up your throat, "yes you do. You just chose to be a brat and not listen." His tone is dangerous, and it would've been absolutely frightening had you been anyone else instead of the only person he cares about in his life. Even though he'd never verbally admit that, frustrating as it is for him, he does care. He does. Which is why whenever you feel that tingle dubbed as fear creep up your spine, you still hold assurance. The flesh of his scars brush the underside of your chin, making you moan unabashedly. "Ya know I gotta punish you for that."

J uses his hold on your hair and hip to guide you to lay over his lap, your naked stomach pressed against his wet thighs, and most of all, his erection. He reaches over to the small table beside the couch, plucking an item you assume to be one of his signature knives. The distinct clicking sound indicates you were correct. It's a switchblade.

He drags the razor sharp blade along your spine until it reaches your underwear, almost on the verge of slicing into you. The thrill gets your heart pounding faster in your chest and ears. You love it when he cuts you, and he's aware of that. But this is a punishment, so you won't be getting what you want.. least not yet. Placing it under the strap, he tears the article to shreds, carelessly nicking you a few times in the process. Alright, so the little nicks he can't control. Those just come naturally. Tossing the ruined fabric aside, he palms your ass cheeks, favoring a spot to start spanking. "Count. We'll ah, stop when I decide you've had enough."

His palm came down hard against your ass, sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body causing you to yelp. "One!" You count. The stinging grew worse with each spank. He hit you hard, but it wasn't anything you couldn't bare. Warm tears steamed down your reddened cheeks. It hurt in a wonderful way, your pussy leaking more arousal as it progressed. He continued to spank you until he grew bored of hearing the same cries and whines.

"Last one bunny," he subtly praised, soothing over the bright marks in your flesh that are starting to welt and bruise. With that, his hand came down a final time. This one stinging the worst.

"Fif- fifteen." You manage to rasp, mind overcome with the lust you had building up. At this point you need him inside you. You need his cock buried deep in your aching core and you need him now. "Please f-fuck me J. I need you!" Your body arched into his as you begged.

J snickered, "need me huh? How bad?" His hand went back to your abused ass to shove you forward, so that your pelvis was atop his as he purposely rolled his erection against your painfully heated sex. The friction drawing a long, strained moan from your lips which pleased him. "Tell me bunny. How, how bad do ya need my cock?"

"Bad- oh so fucking bad- I need your cock! P-Please J, please daddy, fuck me!" You practically shout, resorting to the word daddy. A word which you hardly use, but do when need be. And now was a time of great need.

A snarl left his lips as he yanks you off briefly to undo his pants and shove them down. His cock finally free from the uncomfortable confines, he sighs with relief as he takes it into his hand, pumping a few times. The tip, red and angry with his precum beading out. "Get over here now," he growls impatiently.

Wasting no time, you swing your leg over both of his, reclaiming your previous place of straddling him. You grabbed-rather pawed- his shoulders for leverage. His thick head lines up with your dripping entrance, then he pulls you down, driving his length inside with a powerful thrust. Knocking the wind from you as he filled you. Fuck, how he stretched you so good.

After a brief second for you both to adjust- you to his size and him to recompose himself- he instructs you to- "Move."

To which you do. Rapidly bouncing yourself up and down on his cock. Unashamed at the loud moans and whimpers continuously leaving your lips. This was exactly what you needed, and having been denied lots tonight it felt amazing to finally have this. You moved like your life depended on it.

J grunted as he met your thrusts with his languid ones, his hands guiding the movement of your hips. He held back from pounding into you, oh how he's going to pound into you, just not yet. Which means he's definitely in the mood to tease you to an extent, in any and every way that he can. What an asshole.. Your asshole.

Your arms went to wrap around him. To your surprise, he didn't shove them off. Instead, his chin went to rest in the crook of your neck, catching glimpse of the illuminated TV screen. The movie was still on.

"Mhm, you're just a horny little slut, aren't ya?" He sneered. "Can't even get through a movie without having my cock inside of ya."

There was no way you could give him a proper response. So wrapped were you in the exhilarating feeling of him that any words to a sentence you tried to form wouldn't come out. What did manage to slip out was muddled babbling. He snickered at your incoherence.

The female protagonist on the screen started to scream. The shrieking noise caught both your attention, though your actions didn't falter. "This woman's a terrible actor," J criticized the lady, "her scream is so fake, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes- ah," you return finding your voice, "It s-sure is."

He removed one hand from your hip, gliding it up the valley between your breasts to grip your neck. Glaring menacingly into your eyes momentarily before muttering, "I think you could give me a better one." You knew from his low tone that something malicious just popped into his head. His fingers tightened, "Let's see if you could scream louder than the girl on the screen. Can ya do that for me sweets?"

You nodded feverishly within his hold, "yes J."

Satisfied with the answer, he began driving his cock vigorously up into you. The harsh slapping of skin heard as his hips pound mercilessly against your own. The spontaneous change of pace left you almost completely breathless. Your orgasm was fast approaching. Eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you relentlessly. You screamed, "Oh fuck!"

Your beautiful screams rang harmoniously in his ears like a favored tune. That he could play on repeat over and over and never grow tired of hearing. Your screams and moans are definitely his favorite sounds, aside from explosions and gunfire. He can't help but want more. Crave more.

"Come on doll, get louder," he teases, "I know ya could do better than that." He went to tug your head to the side, exposing the junction between your neck and shoulder. Sinking his yellowed teeth in, biting down hard to draw blood. That was just the push you needed. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench tightly around his length, releasing a shattering scream as you cum violently around his cock.

J lapped the fresh blood from where he bit you. "Hm, that's it," he groaned, "now that's a real scream." He kept going, his pace never letting up. In fact, soon as your hands went to tug at his hair did his thrusts speed up.

You yank his head from your neck to look into his intoxicating eyes, moving to glance towards your blood on his lips. Crashing them with yours to taste that savory metallic flavor for yourself. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and bite down harshly, earning a rumbling groan from him.

He's getting closer and closer to his own peak as you're nearing another. When you feel his thumb move to rub rigorous circles on your sensitive clit, you release his lip with a sharp cry. "J!"

Your walls clamping painfully tight around his throbbing dick, vision blurring as you cum. Nails digging into his broad chest, probably creating tiny bruises under the shirt.

He relishes in the pinch of pain you give him. Combined together with your sinful noises, the sight of your face contorted in ecstasy, and the feeling of your tight warm walls. With that, he buries himself in you and cums hard. A moan mixed with a groan like noise slipping from his lips while he shoots his hot load into your cervix. So much, that some leaks out while you milk him of every last drop.

J collects his breath before lifting your weight up to slip out of you. Your pussy lips are so swollen that his cum isn't even able to drip down once he's out. He sets you onto the couch beside him, getting up to go into the restroom to clean himself and grab a damp rag to bring back to you.

As you regain yourself, you manage to sit a little more up on the couch. Wincing, trying not to sit up all the way due to the soreness already starting to form between your legs. You wrap the blanket around your naked form and silently contemplate. The sex was amazing sure, but you still felt bad for ruining movie night with a terrible movie.

The sound of J coming back in hadn't even registered with you until he waved his hand in your view, tearing you from your thoughts. You blink quickly, offering him a smile to hide it. But J had already seen the small frown when he walked back. And he wanted to know the reason behind it, since it was out of the ordinary. Usually you're always smiling in your post orgasmic state.

"What's carving a frown in ya, pumpkin?" He asks, a hint of concern in his tone as he hands you the small towel. The strange nickname causes you to giggle and he eases knowing you're alright.

"It's nothing J," you say shyly, "I'm just.. I'm sorry the movie sucked. I promise I'll pick a better one next time."

He hums, saying nothing else as he sits back down beside you. Draping his arm behind the couch behind you. Blankly watching the last of the movies end credits while you clean yourself with the rag.

You start to laugh again, "Well, now I really wanna carve a pumpkin. This place could use a couple. How about tomorrow I get some for us to carve?"

He grins sinisterly, "ya know, I'm usually carving into people."

"Pumpkins are less messy. Like, way less." You playfully respond.

"I like messy," he huffs.

"Yeah I know you do." You smile knowingly at him, lightly tracing the hexagonal patterns on his shirt. "I thought it would be fun. You don't have to if you don't want to."

J licks his scars as he ponders on it. Any activity having to do with a carving into something with a knife, count him in. "Ah, what the hell. Alright. What better way then to uh, help me spruce up on my slicing skills." He traces his hand out in front of him, as if he were carving a smile into something. This action causes you to release a genuine laugh. And in that moment, J relishes in hearing yet another one of his favorite sounds~

Woah, so that's the end! I hope you guys liked it. Again, sorry that it was so long. I can't help but make these super lengthy when it comes to smut😭

[wouldduskwood]

Descendants of Despair Part 28

I wandered through to the bedroom to find Jake staring at the computer screen in mild frustration. “Yeah, not feeling the phone thing when you’re just through here.” I mumbled. Jake turned and smiled at me, capturing me in his arms. “I agree, having you here is far more pleasing.” He murmured softly.

“Okay, here’s the situation, I’m wired as fuck right now. Biting my tongue doesn’t always come easily. Also, I can’t remember the last time I ate and we have yet to find clear escape routes. I think we need to remedy some of this stuff, before I go completely nuts.” I sighed, hating to show any form of weakness.

Jake nodded solemnly. “I get it, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on this and making stupid mistakes. We need to sort the food situation out pronto." “I can go into Duskwood and pick something up?” I suggested, only partly joking. “No deal, we go together or not at all.” Jake responded with finality. “Okay, but you stay in the car where cameras can’t pick you up and I get in and out. Deal?” Jake nodded again. “Okay, but we order online from some place near here but not Duskwood. You go in and pick up, that’s it. We can’t get much, I don’t have a lot of money.” Jake sighed, embarrassed. “Yeah, money isn’t much of an issue.” I shrugged. “We order what we need and I pay for it in cash.” Jake looked at me, cocking his head to the side in apparent skepticism.

I sighed, “ I don’t trust banks with that much information about me...oh surprised?” I grinned, seeing his eyes widen briefly. “Very little of my money is used through banks...only what I want people to find actually. I withdraw a fair bit of money whenever I can. I purposefully use machines close to casinos to give the illusion of a gambling problem, but in actuality I keep the money in various envelopes with different quantities. A few days before I had to take off, I had gathered it all into my backpack. I kind of suspected I'd need to leave sooner rather than later. I guess this is a habit I picked up on the street. Hidden cash in various portions. If someone robs you on the street, they usually stop when they find something. If you spread it out in various places, they won’t find it all. Anyway, I guess I feel comforted having cash. It will also be helpful now, right?” I prodded Jake.

“Wow, you really are perfect aren’t you?” he grinned. “I have been busy racking my brain with how I will raise enough money to keep you alive and here you are sitting on money that will save us.” I smiled. “I think it will be plenty to keep us going for however long we need. There is a little less than $200,000.” This must have taken Jake by surprise as he stepped backwards momentarily.

“That much?” he croaked.

“Yeah, I spent a bit after I left the last place I was staying, on clothes and shit, but there should be enough here for as long as we need.”

“Uh, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but is it all...legally obtained?” Jake questioned. “It’s just...they can trace the serial numbers…”

I smiled and paused before responding. Jake looked at me questioningly. “Okay, yeah it is all legal. See, I told you I became qualified in teaching and technology. Well...I kind of found a little bit of a loophole. See, many international families want their children to learn English through a qualified English as a first language teacher. So, I found that if you...taught in a more relaxed and fun style than what the children were used to in their home land...well they tended to enjoy it more. They learnt fast. They also told their parents how great it was. Many of these families respect teachers and the market is massive, so they pay well...they also get their friends involved. Well, once I had a few networks set up, I worked out I could get more money if I taught more than 1 kid at a time, so I organised online classes. Parents were happy, their kids were happy, they were learning English and I was receiving full tutoring rates for every single child I had...no matter how many I taught at a time…I was pulling in a fair bit of money, even with taxes taken out, until I stopped recently to focus on you and Hannah…The other benefit was, I could do it on the run. I had tried once, ya know, to have a normal life. Began a normal job teaching and quit soon after as my past caught up to me.”

Jake shook his head slowly. “You are even more incredible than I ever thought before. Maybe it is no wonder I fell in love with you. You are perfect.”

I smiled then prompted Jake once more “So, groceries and essentials?”

“Come here and help me order,” he murmured, as he sat on the floor and pulled me onto his knee. We spent several minutes playing the happy couple as we browsed stock and picked out the various things we needed to survive. It was momentarily peaceful, but soon my phone was buzzing, notifying me that I had not yet escaped from my obligations to Duskwood.

“Fuck off,” I groaned out loud.

Jake grinned. “They won’t give up, you know.”

“Can I say ‘Be right back, after I have done some fine shagging?’ I questioned innocently, partly serious. I didn’t think it deserved the belly laugh it got from Jake.

“No you cannot!”

“But it would be conversation stopping!” I pointed out

“Or rumour starting!” He countered. “Fine,” I sighed. I opened the Groupchat and once again ignored the messages to pen my own.

GROUPCHAT

MC: I am going to get groceries. I need food and sleep. I promise I’ll talk to you later.

MC is offline.

“Take this, before I throw it.” I asked Jake then headed for the car, with Jake following close behind. “Once you go into the store, you take this back. I’ll field their comments. You focus on the task at hand, but I need to know I can track you if something does go wrong.”

I nodded weakly. It was taking some getting used to, having someone so concerned for my safety...and my own feelings of having someone I cared for more than myself.

“Jake. I love you.” I murmured quietly, partially trying not to be heard. Jake smiled, kissed my lips softly, then pulled on his mask and handed me my cap. “Time to cover up again, my Princess, and never forget, I love you more than life itself.”

Part 29

[slashersins-abandoned]

It’s quiet . The volume off in your car as you drive through back roads . Music didn’t seem to help your mood . In fact , it seemed to worsen it . Happy sounds tore at you as you remembered flicking moments when you had thought you were loved . Sad songs cut deep as you remembered the way he had so easily left , telling you he couldn’t care less how he hurt you . How he’d never loved you . The emotions had swarmed in your head and you’d done your best to refuse to cry . You hated to cry , hated how your voice got thick and dry and overly wet at the same time . Hated how splotchy and heated and red your face became when you tried to hold back tears . Hated how it felt to have your eyes so raw , being so exhausted afterwards . So the music was turned off only ten minutes into your drive .

You weren’t sure how long you’d been driving . Crossing from Texas into Louisiana an hour in , and it’s been miles and hours since then . You had no where to go . Just wanting to get away . And you really should have been paying attention to how much gas you had . Frustrated , you let out a scream , hitting your steering wheel as your car stuttered to a halt , barely able to pull off backroads gravel and half way into a shallow ditch . You just couldn’t do anything right . Couldn’t keep the love of a man , couldn’t even get the damn man to love you . And you couldn’t keep track of your gas and now you stuck in some back roads miles from the last town and who knew how many to the next .

You didn’t see the point in getting out just yet . The sky was starting to light up with the red and orange and purple hues of the sunset . And you had enough sense in you to know walking a lonely country road at night wasn’t the smartest thing to do . At least it was pretty , wherever you were . Somewhere in Louisiana . The trees tall and rich with green leaves . The road curving and familiar , so much like back home . At least you could spend the next few minutes enjoying how the sun set before it got dark and you were forced to sleep in your car the rest of the night .

The lights of a truck had you squinting awake from your restless slumber . Curled up in your front seat , you managed to shield your eyes , sitting up . Looks like someone found you . A yawn left your lips , the concern that should have flooded you pushed aside as grogginess made itself a home . Without a cautious thought , you opened your door , got out , wrapped up in an old sweater you were using as a makeshift blanket .

Suppressing a yawn and failing as you put the back of your hand to your mouth , you gave a lazy wave , eyes still adjusting to the bright headlights and the dark all at the same time . For a moment you think no ones going to get out of the truck , and you tilt your head some before turning to get back into your car .

“You okay , ma’am?” The sound of a truck door being slammed shut draws your attention back . And the southern drawl is almost comforting to hear after being stuck out in the middle of nowhere . You give a sheepish smile and shift on your feet , looking as embarrassed at the situation as you felt despite trying not to show it .

“I ran outta gas . Kinda stuck out here . But I figured it’d be safer to walk during the day than at night so I’m camping out.” The man moves closer . Tall , oil stained coveralls and a red jacket to keep himself warm .

“Well ain’t that all kinds of unlucky.” He laughed some , looking over the car and then you . Giving a jerk to his truck . “If you wanna keep enjoying your little sleep over I won’t bother ya . But if you’d rather sleep on a bed I don’t mind taking ya into town . Ambrose ain’t too far from here . And a bed might be better than a car seat .”

You blink , the sudden offer alluring . You really didn’t have a lot of options . And a bed would be better than sleeping in the car . Plus if you were close to town that’d mean you could get gas for your car and stock up on some snacks before … before you decide to head back home or keep on driving . You scratch at your cheek , giving a laugh and sighing in defeat .

“I think I might have to take you up on that offer . And thank you . I really appreciate it .” You lean into your car , grabbing the bag you’d haphazardly packed before taking off and slung it over your shoulder . Waking over to him you offer your hand , a half sleepy smile on your lips . “I’m y/n . Nice to meet you.”

The man grins , grabbing your hand and shaking , letting out a low whistle when you don’t just limp grip his hand but firmly shake it with purpose . You just shrug and smile . “Bo. Bo Sinclair. Nice to meet ya. And don’t worry about you’re car . I’ll have one of the guys come get in in the morning and bring it to my shop. Get you gas and get you on your way.”

You perk up a bit , letting him walk you to the passenger side and opening the door for you . “What ? You don’t have to . I can walk back . Really I don’t wanna cause you too much trouble.” He shakes his head , flashing you a smile as he shuts the door and walks around the front to the other side .

“Isn’t any trouble . Would be a shitty ass mechanic and car shop owner if I let you walk all the way to your car carrying a jug of gas.” He flashes you a smile and you shakes your head .

“I think you’re just trying to show off your southern hospitality .” Bo snickered , moving his truck out of park and turning it around , headed to … “Ambrose . Is it a small town ?” You shift the conversation , curious about where you’re headed .

Bo gives you a side glance , smiling to himself , “Maybe I’m just this charmin’.” You laugh and he raises a brow at you , only to seem to somber as you mention Ambrose. “It’s my home town . It’s small , but big enough . We gotta fancy wax museum up on the hill past the fields . It’s ‘bout the only reason anyone passes through anymore.”

“Really?” Despite your obvious sleepiness , you manage to perk up , curious as he mentions the wax museum . “We don’t even have a dollar store in my home town!” You laugh some, bringing your feet up to sit crisscross in the worn down seat of Bo’s truck . “Would it be too much to go look at it before I take off tomorrow ? Is there an entry fee ? I should have enough to pay for the tow and the gas and maybe some snacks , but if I have any left over I’d love to see it.”

Bo blinks at you for a moment , as if he’s considering something before he chuckles and turns his gaze back to the road . “Sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble . It’s a donation ran kinda museum . If your feeling’ inclined to pay for your visit , I won’t be stoppin’ ya .”

You grin , already looking forward to tomorrow . Which was something you hadn’t done in a while . At least not since … Your smile fell , a different kind of tiredness taking over as you gazed out the window . A large sign coming into view that read “Welcome to Ambrose” it looked like it needed a fresh coat of paint , but was well maintained . It chased away your previous sadness , replacing it with a mixture of nostalgia for your own home town and excitement to see this small one .

“Isn’t much to look at this time of night , but it’s home.” You give a glance to Bo , brow raised as he played up his home town . The southern boy charm oozing off him was refreshingly adorable . And it seemed he knew it .

“Sir , I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.” You’re almost laughing as you look at Bo . It seems he likes showing off because he’s smirking like crazy and laying on his accent thicker and thicker .

“Ma’am , I got no idea what yer talk in’ about.” He pulls into a drive , parking his car before tossing an arm over the empty middle seat and giving you a grin . “Hope ya don’t mind the fact we don’t gotta fancy motel .”

“I can’t believe you expect me to stay in a motel . I have a perfectly unfunctioning car to sleep in.” Bo laughs at that , shaking his head and shooting you a playful look .

“I could always drive you back and dump you there . Make you walk all the way to this little town o’ mine.” He winks , getting out of the truck and walking to your side , opening the door for you . You get out , taking a moment to be serious as he shuts the door and jerks his head towards the house .

“Really , though , I do appreciate you giving me a lift and a place to sleep.” You smile , genuinely thankful , and it makes Bo pause . Once again looking down at you as if he was mulling something over in his head . Wanting to ease the silence you playfully nudge his shoulder with your fist . “And all that country boy charm was refreshing to hear . I’m starting to wonder if people come here for the wax museum or for the way you talk.” Your words break him out of his thoughts and he laughs .

“Trust me . It’s the museum that brings people in . I ain’t all rainbows and sunshine all the time . Even us charmin’ southern gentlemen got a little bit of a bastard inside ‘em .” You roll your eyes , feeling so at home with how Bo went on . Maybe you should visit your home town for a while after you get gas . It’d be nice to go back .

The two of you joked , each one trying to lay on your accents thicker and thicker , jabbing at each other in an almost snarky way as bo grabbed a key from the motel counter and walked you to your room . Once again you went from light hearted to sincere thanks for the help . Bo just waved it off . Giving you a good night before you shut the door .

Outside Bo frowned to himself . He should of just killed you and taken you to Vinny . Should of ended your life , but something about you … He wasn’t sure . But whatever it was kept him from killing you . Plus you were entertaining . Not falling for his charm but actually enjoying it in a casual way . Maybe it was the small town solidarity he got from you . Either way , you were alive . For now , at least . He’d deal with it in the morning . Or better yet , he’d let Vincent decide on what to do with you .

[sacklerscumrag]

Part I of III: Stay With Me Series

Notes: Hey ya’ll so i decided to do a little three part Clyde series with some fall vibes! I’ve been feeling a little off lately so i wrote this last night to take my mind off things :) hope you guys like it, I'm already halfway through part 2 and its a long one 😅 There's something about Clyde and a bookstore that just gets me going. Enjoy :)

Summary: Moving to Boone County, West Virginia a year ago today, your entire life has changed. With owning your own bookstore and your favorite holiday around the corner, could love also be in the books for you?

Wordcount: 1.6K 

      The air was cooler, and the leaves had already changed. It was official, Autumn had arrived in Boone County, West Virginia. It had been a year since you moved here and started helping Sam out at your favorite bookstore. Until about a month ago, when he decided it was getting to be too much work for him to keep up with, so he asked you to take over. You headed to the bookstore early that morning to start decorating for Halloween and take in some new inventory for the holiday season. Hanging some orange twinkling lights along the frame of the windows and doors and setting up pumpkins with black tinsel on the bottom of the large window out front to display some books. The store was small and cozy, so there wasn’t space for much.

     You weren’t expecting too many customers today, seeing as it was Sunday, so you settled behind the counter with a good book and some coffee. Flipping through the last pages of your Frankenstein novel, you heard the door chime at around 11:00 am.

     “Good Morning, welcome to Sams” you said barely peeling your eyes away from your book long enough to see who came in. You stood up, setting your coffee down, and walked over to the entrance.

     “Good mornin’ Miss, uh is Sam around?” you turned your gaze to him, about to give him an answer but were taken back by the man standing in front of you. He towered over you with long, wavy, dark locks drizzling down to his broad shoulders that you just wanted to wrap yourself around and never let go. He had dark, sultry eyes with the most exquisite nose you had ever seen, his lips were full, plush, it made you want to drown in them. You noticed his mechanical arm but paid no mind to it, how could you when the man was built like a Greek god. You were sure you had never seen him in the store before, you definitely would’ve remembered.    

     “Ya alright there Miss?” his deep voice snapping you out of your thoughts, you didn’t even realize you were biting your lip, almost tearing at the skin.

     “Yeah sorry I-uh Sam’s not working anymore so I’ll be taking over. Is there anything I can help you find?” trying your best to compose yourself, interlocking your index fingers behind your back.

     “No ma’am its alri- well actually ya got any good books for Halloween? I’m always lookin to read somethin good for the holidays” he put his hand in his pocket, keeping the mechanical one tightly to his side.

     “Of course, follow me” you guided him through the bookshelves, his heavy footsteps following closely behind you. He was slightly hunching over to fit himself in between the shelves before you reached a small, black table decorated with spiderwebs in the back of the store.

     “These are all my favorite Halloween books I’ve read so far” stepping to the side to give him a better view of the array of books.

     “Ya read all o’ these?”

     “Yeah, I guess you could say readings a hobby of mine” you turned to give him a smile only to see he was already smiling at you. “If you need anything else, I’ll be by the counter” quickly walking away before he could see the heat rising to your face.

     About an hour or so later, he came back with two books in his hand and placed them on the counter along with a crisp bill.

     “On the house” you said pushing them back towards him.

     “I can’t let ya do that Miss I-“ he placed his hand on the books but you cut him off by putting your hand on his.

     “The only form of payment I’ll be accepting is your name” he swallowed hard, looking down at where your hands were still touching then looking back at you.

     “My name’s Clyde” you withdrew your hand from his, already missing the warmth, and settled back behind the counter.

     “It’s nice to meet you Clyde” you told him your name as he stuffed the money back in his pocket.

     “Well, that’s a beautiful name. It’s nice to meet ya. I better head on out then. Have a nice day, and thank ya again” you gave him a smile, noticing the flush in his cheeks.

      “Have a nice day, Clyde” he grabbed his book and headed out the door. It wasn’t until after he left that you realized how flustered he made you, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

      The following week flew by and as Halloween approached the bookstore got busier. Finding yourself with less time to daydream about Clyde and those alluring eyes of his, you were dumbfounded as to how such a large man could be as shy and reserved as Clyde was.

     When Sunday rolled around, you were looking forward to seeing him again. You woke up that morning, did your hair and applied some light make up. Wearing your favorite pair of high waisted black jeans, throwing on a long black sleeve with a ghost in the center, and your black boots as you grabbed your coat and headed out the door.

     A few customers passed through in the morning, still giving you time to read through your book and tidy up the store a bit. Clyde came in at his usual time, looking as handsome as ever.

     “Mornin” your name sounded like honey coming from his mouth, you could listen to that man talk all day. He stood by the door, hands fidgeting with the sides of his jeans.

     “Good Morning Clyde, how’s your day going?” putting your coffee down to look at him.

     “Gettin much better now” he said looking down, a slight smirk appearing on his face “I loved the book ya recommended for me, finished it last night.”

     “I’m glad you liked it, are you back for another?” you made your way around the counter, suddenly needing to be as close to him as possible.

     “Yes ma’am, do you happen to have Frankenstein? Saw the movie last night n I been dyin to read it”

     “I just finished reading that one actually, it’s a classic. Did you see the original black and white film? That’s my favorite”

     “Yeah, it’s the only one I’ll watch, I love all em black and white movies. Thought I was the only one.”

     “Not at all, those are my favorite too” you said pacing towards the bookshelf, scanning it. “We actually don’t have that one in stock but” walking to the counter, returning with the novel. “You can borrow mine if you’d like”

     “Ya don’t have to, I’d hate to cause ya any trouble.”

     “Clyde, it’s no trouble at all” you said handing the book to him.

     “You have any favorites you can show me? I really wanted to take home more than one today” he clutched the book you gave him close to his side. You both made your way over as you showed Clyde your favorite section of the store. It seemed like hours passed as you both discussed your favorite books and authors. The more you talked, the more you realized you and Clyde had much more in common than you thought.

     After some time, Clyde paid for his book, mumbling something about being late to work as he walked out. Your heart raced watching him nervously fumble with the books in hand.

      Another week went by with Clyde on your mind. Before you knew it, it was another chilly, Sunday morning. You had picked up some cookies and pastries for some of your loyal customers and settled in with your book behind the counter. You saw Clyde’s truck pull into the parking lot a bit earlier than usual.

     “Mornin” Clyde walked in with a book under his arm and two coffee cups in his hands. He was wearing a navy-blue button-down shirt with a black undershirt and jeans that were too tight for your own good.

     “Good morning Clyde, back for something new?” he chuckled lightly at your response while walking towards you.

     “This if for ya” he places the book and a coffee cup on the counter “For lending me this, I appreciate it” the way he smiled at you making something ignite in your core.

     “You brought me coffee? Thank you, Clyde” you damn near melted at this gesture “Anything I can help you find today?”

     He approached the counter, arms tightly at his side and chewing on his lip. You could tell whatever it was he had to say was making him nervous. He placed a hand on the counter and took a deep breath.

     “I just came by to ask ya something. M’ sorry if this is too forward o’ me or if it makes ya uncomfortable but will ya do me the honor of goin out on a date with me? I been meanin’ to ask ya since the first day I came in. I know a girl like you can do a heck of a lot better than me but if you just-”

     “Clyde, I would love to go on a date with you” his eyes darted to yours, almost like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.     

     “How bout a movie then? At the drive-in? Their showin a black and white movie, Frankstein like the book ya been readin. Tomorrow at 7?” he cleared his throat, worried he sounded too eager as soon as the words left his mouth.

     “That sounds wonderful Clyde” he smiled at you before looking at his watch.

     “I gotta go Darlin but I’ll pick ya up tomorrow at 7 then” you nodded as he turned and walked out.

     Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

[nyxdelanuit]

Hey my little constellations, I've been chatting with @beatific-drabbles and @mammonrights all day, and may have accidentally wrote a lil something. We were talking about reunion hugs and throughout the day I wrote this mess in our chat. It's not proofread or edited or anything, but I thought I'd share.

Pairing: Mammon x Reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a lil angst, mostly fluff

You had hoped he would have been honest with you before you left. Maybe he just hadn't been honest with himself. It had been obvious to everyone around you that the two of you were head over heels for each other, but Mammon denied their accusations at every turn. Now you sat in your bed, late into the night years later, reminiscing on the fading memories of his hand stuck to yours as you ran through the fun house.

You had tried to move on. A string of unsatisfying relationships and grasps at the connection you and Mammon shared only made you feel more hollow. Did he even remember you anymore? Did he stay awake missing you too?

You tried, like usual, to put those memories away with the rising of the sun. Devildom daydreams had no place in the light of day, that was how you survived all this time without them. But the light glinting off white hair gave you pause, long enough for its owner to recognize you.

It wasn't Mammon, of course it wasn't. But Solomon was a decent replacement. He treated you to coffee as you caught up, seeing through your happy facade to the melancholy that plagued your every waking moment. Even in sleep, the only brother to visit was Belphie, assuring you they all missed you and leaving you with pleasant dreams without them.

"Do you want to go back?" The question was teasing, but you couldn't help the break in your voice as you answered.

"More than anything."

Solomon was surprisingly helpful, the two of you had never been terribly close. Yet now he was helping you pack, the bag slung over his shoulder full of all he'd need to help you go back. Once you had deemed yourself ready, your world exploded into white, fading to the foyer you had so desperately missed.

Lucifer stood before you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, but the smile on his face let you know he wasn't surprised.

"A letter every once in a while would have been appreciated." You tried to stutter out something- an excuse, a greeting, an apology- but he quieted you with a motion of his hand. "It's good to have you back."

The next few hours were spent getting resituated in your room. Lucifer had easily slipped away from RAD with the excuse of doing something for Diavolo. He wasn't lying, of course, Diavolo had welcomed you back willingly when you had Solomon ask. With Barbatos at his side, you knew better than to try to keep secrets from him.

Now you stood nervously in the music room as the brothers arrived home. One by one, Lucifer called them to meet you, letting you have a moment of privacy with each before the house erupted into chaos.

He let Belphie in first, the sleepy smile something that had grown into a comfort over the years.

"I knew you'd come back. You kept trying to dream of us." You let out a watery chuckle as he wrapped you up in his arms. "Maybe now you'll actually sleep. I'll drag you off to take naps with me if you don't." The threat wasn't hollow, but also wasn't unwelcome. There was so much you wanted to say to him. Belphie had been the one to keep you sane, granting you sleep on sleepless nights and making sure it was only good dreams that came to you. He understood though, when your mouth opened and shut. You had time now, and he wasn't the one on your mind. With a gentle squeeze as farewell, he stepped away. The click of the door echoed behind him.

Next came Beel, the twins never too far apart. He didn't need words, the gentle arms lifting you up to squeeze you delicately spoke volumes. He shuffled you around until he was sure you were comfortable in his hold, never once letting your feet drop to the floor as he drank in your presence. As nice as seeing Belphie again was, it grounded you more to see Beel again. The feeling of your hands patting his hair and the tensing of his arms as he held you close, but not tight enough to hurt you like you knew he could. He remembered, even after all this time.

You could have stayed like that all night, and there had been nights where you did. Nights when Mammon's denial hurt too much or Beel's nightmares made him feel like he needed your weight by his side. But he knew, just as Belphie did, that he wasn't the one your attention was focused on.

"I'll bring you some food later. I stocked up on your favorites, just in case."

Another click, another moment of silence separating you

Asmo was next through the door, his squeel splitting through the silence before he launched himself at you. He wasn't shy about the tears glimmering in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head in your chest.

"I've missed you so, it's been so dull without you." You chuckled as you returned his embrace.

"I've missed you too, almost as much as my skin has missed your pampering." He gasped, pulling back to you stare at your face, delicate, soft fingers caressing your neglected skin.

"This is terrible. You must let me fix this. Twice a week, my room, we'll have a spa night." You grinned at his pleading eyes.

"Of course, Asmo. I'll be there." With your promise, he finally relinquished his hold. A soft kiss was placed to your cheek before he left. Just a few more now.

You hadn't even heard Satan come in, only noticing him leaning against the the doorway with a grin.

"I knew there must have been something going on with how Lucifer has been hounding us all night, but I never assumed it would be you." You rolled your eyes, opening your arms to him.

His legs took him quickly to you, long strides closing the space before his firm hug enveloped you. He pulled away faster than the others, hands smoothing down your arms as he took you in.

"You'll be staying for a while, won't you?" You nodded your agreement, forever if you could... "Good, we have much to talk about. I wouldn't want to keep you too long, I'm sure you're eager to see the others." The mischievous grin made you roll your eyes.

"I haven't been home for a day, and you're already teasing me?" He didn't continue his teasing, instead smiling at you.

"Home?" He asked, hoping you'd clarify.

"Yeah, home." That was answer enough for him, and he left, the soft smile not leaving his face.

You weren't sure if you were ready for Levi when he came in, keeping his distance. The two of you shuffled awkwardly, neither reaching out.

"You didn't call. Or text. Or hop on Mononoke Land."

"I know... I'm sorry." You lowered your gaze to the ground, not wanting to see the anger you were sure you'd see in his eyes.

"You were supposed to be my Henry..." Your heart hurts at the sniffles you hear after his statement. "Was I not good enough?" Your head snaps up at that, seeing Levi roughly wiping away tears with his sleeves.

"No Levi, never that. I was just scared you guys forgot about me." You took a tentative step towards him, but he quickly comes to you, falling to cry into your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around his shuddering frame. You let him cry and wrap his arms around you, clinging to you desperately as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Once his sobs die down, he speaks again, voice hoarse. "You have a lot to catch up on." You laugh, noticing how rough your voice was too.

"Guess I'll be spending a lot of time in your room then." He nods, squeezing you once more before stepping back.

"I'll hold you to that, so don't skip out on me."

You wanted a moment to get tourself together before you saw him. To straighten out your clothes, to rub the remnants of tears from your face before your first twenty minutes of being reunited with Mammon became an interrogation of who hurt you.

The door opened with a click, denying you that chance. You turned toward him, all the explanations dying on your tongue.

Lucifer.

He strode toward you, gloved hand wiping away the last remnants of wetness on your cheek.

"You seem surprised."

"I thought Mammon would be next..." You stammered, trying to find the words to convey that you were happy to see him but confused, but his pride stayed in tact with a chuckle.

"I'm not daft. I know how the two of you are together, if I wanted a moment, I needed to steal one before he attaches himself to you for the remainder of the night." You laughed softly, leaning into the gentle warmth that bled through his glove.

"Why not earlier?"

"And have your attention divided between myself and settling back into your place in the devildom? That would not be fair to you, and much less to me. For now, I have your attention all to myself."

"Careful, Luci, you're starting to sound like Mammon." That ever rare blush graced his cheeks as he turned away, clearing his throat.

"You bring many things out of myself and my brothers. Greed, adoration, selflessness. We have you to thank for a taste of who we used to be." It was your turn to blush, the compliment unexpected. Lucifer smiled down at you, dropping his hand from your face once he laid a chaste peck on your forehead.

His arms surrounded you, an unparalleled safety you wouldn't find with anyone else.

"I hope you never grow to regret your choice. And if Mammon were to ever lose your affections, please let me be the first to know." With his emotions laid bare, he turned, quickly fleeing the room, leaving you to your thoughts and anticipation.

You fixed yourself in the mirrors of the music room, worrying the hem of your clothes as the time started to stretch. Anxiety started to thrum through your veins, what if he heard you were back? Did he run? Did he truly not care, were you really just some puny human that glued themselves to his side for a year?

Your thoughts were interrupted as he fell through the doors, pushed by a multitude of hands and cursing the bodies behind the now closed door.

"What do ya think you're doin? I've got shit to do tonight!" His hands pounded on the door, begging Lucifer for an explanation of why he was being punished this time. He hadn't noticed you yet, until you took a step forward.

Your small step echoed through the room, causing Mammon to stop and collect himself to his full height. He turned to you slowly, catching your eyes in his gaze. It felt like seeing the sun after a long winter, warm, golden, melting you to your very bones, and yet you were frozen to your spot. He drank you in, eyes never leaving your form as he tried to figure out if it was truly you. You and not some taunting daydream, a cruel ghost of words left unsaid and feelings unexplored.

The spell was broken once he took a step toward you, urging you both to rush for each other, meeting in the middle of the room. His hands flew to you, one arm wrapping around your waist to bring you flush against his chest, and the other hand trailing up your neck to bury in your hair, pulling your face into his neck. He sunk slowly to his knees, pulling you down to sit on the floor with him, on him, in his arms.

"I thought I'd never see ya again." His voice was barely more than a breath on your skin, his face hidden from your view.

"I wanted to come back as soon as I left." You ignored the shuddering in your voice, excitement, nervousness, trepidation dripping from your tongue. Nothing had felt more right than he did under your hands, clutching his jacket in your fists, unwilling to let him go again.

"I shoulda asked ya to stay. I shoulda asked ya a lot of things."

"You can ask me now, I'm here." You felt the anticipation in the shaking of his hands against you, in the way he held you as if you were precious. All combining into this sweet tension that you were begging for him to break.

"Stay with me? Be with me? Be my girl? Fuck, let me show ya how much I feel for ya?" You were scared to pull away, to look at his face. Would he still back pedal after all of this, still clam up now that he's finally asked? Yet you needed to know, needed to see the look in his face.

He was red, you had expected that much, but the panic he normally wore was replaced by a gentle desire. A plea for release from his long wait, to finally be something with you. He didn't turn away, didn't avert his gaze as you forgot your words, the shaking in his arms spreading throughout his body.

"Yes, Mammon, yes to all of them, I've only been waiting for you to ask." Your hands released Mammon's jacket in favor of caressing his face, trying to convey all of your love through the simple touch.

"Ya really mean it? You'll be mine? Just mine?" His voice broke as he asked, the emotion to heavy to carry.

"Yes, all yours Mammon."

He kissed you then, the way you both craved for so long. Deep and slow and sweet. Even when his brothers flooded the room, he didn't relinquish your lips, holding your head to his and claiming his place at your side.

[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.

[touyasdoll]

Ya fuel me with all responses, ya know? 🥺🥰😘

 

NSFW AREA NOW 🚨

 

All the Todoroki’s can make ice spreader bars — Touya doesn’t need to, he can have you spread just right with just an order to bend over something, the right length ingrained in your mind and muscle memory whenever you’re with him, one of the few things that can get an easy praise of “good girl” — and they all have and will use them.

Fuyumi used them more when she was first training you, as you needed the reminders and the help learning how to be good for her. She was making them constantly then; sometimes as punishments, sometimes as training tools and sometimes to hold you for a reward.

When it came to punishments, you always knew you had messed up because the ice just had this different feeling to it — and she would have you spread out farther than usual until there was no mistake that you were exposed in full. Your hands were either spread out too, or sometimes chained together depending on where she had you. Sometimes your limbs were all spread on the same bar in such a way you were practically folded in half and exposed. The bars were always attached to where you couldn’t move and it was during these times that you learned how bad you had fucked up with her. She folded you in half this way so she could have both her hands free. You yelped each time, despite knowing what was coming — firm, ice cold fingers to spread you open (because despite however pissed you had made her she truly did not want to seriously harm you), warmed lube pushed inside, an ice cold dildo thrust into you deep and just staying there making you moan in discomfort as she worked on your other openings. Sometimes when she was mad she would make standing ice stocks and use them to hold you while she took a belt to your ass, turning it bright red and heated, only to switch to a chilled paddle that had you squirming from the change.

As training tools you didn’t hate them, the spreader bars let you learn and prove you could be a good girl for her. They always started off at a smaller length and worked their way up to what she would deem perfect. When you could manage whatever she was teaching you, you would always get a cool nod and praise, sometimes head pats, too. When you stopped needing the spreader bars as an aide, that’s when you often found yourself getting them in another manner. Sometimes Fuyumi used smaller, shaped ones as accessories for you, or even toys. You’ve been on all fours before her, nipples in ice clamps and an actual dildo made of ice spearing you repeatedly as she used her strap on to take you until you begged to cum. She had let you as that time was a reward for good behavior, you having been good for your Mistress. If it hadn’t been, than she would only let you once she was satisfied and if you begged prettily enough. Otherwise you were stuck wanting until one of her brothers demanded a turn with you.

With Natsuo, he used them primarily as bedroom aides. While he could pin you to the wall with his dick alone, sometimes he wanted to keep using it and have you attached by others means. A nice couple of bars to have you spread eagle and facing him, a couple inches off the ground, looking gorgeous, like a piece of art before him. And then he was pounding into your sweet little pussy that stretched and stretched to take him, fitting him finally because you were just that perfect, with a perfect little pussy to have you be able to take him and so deep, too. It left you drunk off the feel of such girth splitting you in half, you couldn’t even mentioning cuming.

He used them to help keep you bent in a certain position in other times, like when he has hogtied you, a gag in your mouth as he used your perfect fitting pussy over and over again, letting you cum whenever you wanted but not letting up until he was through with you. Those times always left you spent, but Natsuo was sweet, kind and gentle when not in his dominance moods. He had the least of them compared to the others, but damn did he still have them.

Shōto was the last to decide on using them and he did it purely by accident, though ultimately followed the same path Fuyumi did in using hers.

You had been in a bratty mood all day to his annoyance, even going so far as to disconnect a phone call he was having with his friend — though that had been purely by accident, you didn’t say a thing so as maybe now he’d give you attention. And he did.

He had made the bar and cuffs before he even realized he had and was midway through putting you in them. Not letting on that he had done it on instinct, he held your gaze with a cold stare of anger before you demurely dropped your eyes to the floor and complied with him manhandling you into your position for punishment. Bars made and attached to the bed, his form of punishment was overstimulation with vibes while he worked in the background. Any noise made meant you had an extra ten minutes added to your time and if you managed to somehow misbehave further, well. He was very good at shaping his ice. He wasn’t sure you wanted to know how good he was just yet. (You didn’t want to know, but you did end up with an extra half hour of painful over stimulation — even if they did give you some very aroused orgasms for the new novelty of the situation.)

You did your time and it wasn’t until later, several days, when you admitted that you hadn’t done the deed that pushed him over the edge on purpose. You knew being a hero took a lot of time away from Shōto being able to talk with his friends like he used to and always respected his time alone to do so. He was not impressed that you hadn’t spoken up, but did use the bars again. This time in holding your knees aside as you were allowed to taste him and him you, 69ing as a new reward you happily earned more than once.

Surprisingly, like children like Mother as when Rei was better and moved back into the house, your place in it explained and offered to her she took it.

And immediately has you in bars as soon as you striped down, a squeak leaving your lips at how fast that had happened. She admitted kindly that she had had a partner who needed a firm hand in their relationship, while another was far more soft and eager to please. She was curious as to find out what type you were and you couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks as she pressed against you, gentle dominating your mouth and unknowing to you hooking you up to the way between her main bedroom and sitting area, at least until she ended the kiss.

You were then given one helluva show as she stripped herself and hummed lightly before coming back over to you with a small bottle in hand. Sitting forward in a plush chair she looked up at you with an impish little smile and slowly inserted a finger amongst your folds, rubbing gently until she reached your core and pressed in. You hissed for a moment, which she verbally soothed you with calm praise, before going further. Soon one turned to two that then spread to scissor you open, causing you to yelp in surprise and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation. In response, the restraints tightened and she lightly reprimanded you, scolding you for how she could’ve accidentally harmed you by your sudden movements.

You looked away in shame and murmured a soft “Sorry, Mommy” before turning bright red in surprise. You had no idea where that came from but Rei was delighted and surged up to briefly peck you on the lips. She told you what a good girl you were, telling of how she was so happy you had come around so quickly and was looking forward to being your Mommy. All the while she had moved up until she was four fingers in and about to be well enough to fist you. The first of all the Todoroki’s, though you supposed with the side of Rei’s hands it was less than what Natsuo was packing and therefore you could take it.

You were not expecting Mommy to switch temperature and chill her hand as she slipped her entire five fingers inside. “A-Ah! Mommy,”you cried out trembling. She used her other hand to gentle rub circles against the junction of your hip as she gently shushed you until you were giving off only the occasional soft whimper. “There, there. Mommy has you, Sweet Girl. She’s going to move now, okay?”

Though phrased a question, Mommy didn’t wait as she slowly began to move, another whimper leaving your lips as you became her living puppet as she slowly withdrew before adding more lube and entering your again. There was little talking as she explored your insides like no other had and slowly you began to feel different, good and gave a low, drawn out moan.

Rei chuckled, a light overtaking her eyes as her hand and wrist were taking your body. If asked, she would never deny that being in control made her feel so… good. “Do you like that, Sweet Girl?”

After a brief moment, in which Rei had stopped moving, you realized you were supposed to reply. Another blush overtook your face. “Sorry, Mommy,” you apologized again, before quickly nodding. “Y-Yes, I like it, Mommy! I like it a lot! Your fingers felt so good, and all of them at once feels much more so! Thank you, Mommy!”

As you chirped out your reply, Mommy had begun slowly moving again, going in and out a little easier than before but still catching your breath by surprise. Rei was pleased, particularly so when you remembered your manners. It seems her children had taught you those well and she wouldn’t have to. Continuing to move her hand Rei heard your breath hitch and looked up with that same impish smile from before.

“My sweet girl, is everything okay?”

“Y-yes! Yes, M-mommy, everything is oka-okay!”

Mommy hummed to herself, like Mistress did sometimes, and nodded. She lightly grazed the same spot as before, enjoying the little hitches in your breath, in your voice as she came into contact with those little spots inside. Every time she did, she pressed a little more firmly, again and again and again until you cried out.

“Mommy! M-mommy ple-please!”, you begged, tears starting to stream down your face, barely kept yourself from thrashing, as you knew your Mommy was touching places inside you that felt so good. So, so good.

“Oh?” Mommy looked surprised, “is something a matter, baby?”

“Hnnnng! Mooooommy!”, you gave a small sob as you felt a firmer touch than before.

“Use your words like a good girl.”she admonished, giving you a supportive smile as you looked at her through your tears.

“Please, Mommy…”you began, voice soft as you sniffled. You needed to feel more, firmer good touches! You really, really needed to but your words were getting lost. “P-please more? A lo-lot more? Touches?” Your voice barely came out in a whisper on the last word, trying hard to concentrate on using your words.

Mommy smiled brightly, still hearing you and cooed. “Oh, listen how well you did, my Sweet Girl! Mommy will take care of you, don’t worry. Just relax and leave it all up to her.”

You nodded eagerly, lapping up the praise and promises and pretty soon you began to feel more, the “a lot more touches” that you had tried so hard and asked for. Pressing, caressing, harder and harder and harder until you yelled out, seeing stars as your eyes rolled back.

“MOMMY!”

You didn’t see or feel as you came squirting, your pussy stuffed full. You did see or feel as your new Mommy carefully withdrew her hand from inside you and gave her fingers a curious lick, than suck each one clean with a happy little hum. You didn’t see or feel as you were helped down, cleaned up or settled on the bed, head resting against your new Mommy’s chest. You barely realized you had murmured a “thank you”, or that there was a reply back in “Of course, Sweet Girl. Your Mommy’s now, too, and Mommy will teach you how to behave so she can make you feel good again later. Sleep for now.”, or that you replied to that.

“Okay, Mommy. I’ll make you feel good after a nap”

With a little laugh, a kiss was pressed against your forehead.

“I look forward to it, Sweet Girl.”

- FIN.

 

*flops over* All in one go~ Now it’s time for me to grab a nap! 😂

- InvisibleRibbitch

This ice spreader bar thing is just too good 😩😍

[poptod]

Hi I hope ur having a great day! I love ur writing so freaking much! This request is a little different than what I’m sure ur used to but hopefully ur comfortable enough with writing it. Could u write a one shot (or headcanons if it’s easier) where Snafu from the Pacific is crushing big time on the reader (like almost in love) and he’s always hitting on her but she never shown any interest toward him. Then a few days in when the nurses come Snafu walks in on the reader making out with one of the nurses. They see each other and he walks out all like CONFUSED and shook and the reader runs after him to swear him to secrecy. He’s still shook and admits his feelings and she comes out as a lesbian to him. He’s even more SHOOK but he’s rly understanding and accepting even tho he’s incredibly heartbroken. Sorry if it’s not what u usually write, as a bi I’m just always a sucker for “I’m dumb she’s a lesbian”

notes: anon i love you you're literally perfect WC: 1.9k

+

He was used to this sort of behavior when he first met girls – curt and rude, meant to pry his eyes off their figure. Eventually though, after time, he would win their affection through his shining personality (or, at least, that's what he thought happened). Usually it only took about a week or less; he was good at what he did. This was ridiculous, though – he was ranging on the sixth week of knowing you. That's one and a half months, far above his usual score.

But you're beautiful. Even if you won't share a genuine conversation with him, you 'let' him watch you, allowing yourself to become his only source of entertainment on the island. The shine in your hair – always neatly pulled back – is a fantastic distraction from the blisters on his palms and the heat of his sunburnt skin.

You're the last piece of humanity here. It makes sense he would never be able to win you.

Today you're tending to his wounds, an activity he thought he would never love as much as he does. Your fingers are still soft somehow, brushing against the exposed skin of his arms, sliding over the bandages to ensure they won't slip. The concentration evident in your sharp eyes is revealed in the way you bite your lip, gaze never leaving the bloody blisters on his hands.

"Not for nothin' babe, but," he began to speak, voice raspy and dry, "last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid."

You very slowly raise your head, reluctantly meeting his eye with a dead stare.

"Not today, Snafu," you say.

"Tomorrow then?"

You scoff, shake your head, almost laugh, but in the end you say nothing. Instead you return to your work, diligently cleaning the scabs and covering them up. He can't say he minds––whether or not you truly engaged with him, he heard your voice, and felt your touch. That would be enough. For now.

Surprisingly enough, they still get to have movie night sometimes. That doesn't mean the movies are good, but they're generally more entertaining than watching the shore birds. Every now and then, Snafu will even go and join his tent mates, ogling more at the nurses than paying attention to the actual movie. Those are always good nights, and the forest is close enough that it's not a problem if he gets too excited.

Tonight's movie is titled 'Godzilla Goes to College,' and upon hearing the name Snafu knew he would not be able to attend a full hour of it. Instead he wanders around the encampment, watching shadow silhouettes and the movement of the breeze on tent flaps. The sound of shuffling catches his ear, and when he turns, he's pleasantly surprised to find you beside him, drowning in an oversized jacket. He laughs, loud and probably impolite, but the juxtaposition of him being shirtless beside you truly tickles him.

"Evenin', doll," he says through his laughter, stopping you in the middle of the pathway. A soft groan leaves you as you turn to face him.

"And good night," you say in a too-cheery tone, your saccharine smile instantly falling into a dead stare as you go back to walking, a renewed vigor in your step.

"Hey, where y' goin' in such a hurry?" He asks, and begins to trail slowly after you. He allows a decent amount of space to grow between you before he continues with, "stay n' chat a minute, cher!"

You don't even bother to respond once you turn the corner, where Snafu loses his trail on you. He curses to himself, turns back around, and finds several of his mates coming back from the movie rather tipsy. How long have they been there?

"Reeaaaall lucky with the girls, aren't'ya, Snaf?" Burgie asks, and the four of them fall into teasing laughter.

"I'll get her, you'll see," he promises, turning back to see if he can glimpse you between all the tents. "One a' these days, she's mine."

Later that evening he sees you again, through the sheer fabric of your tent, where you've been burning a candle. It casts your shadow clearly against the wall, allowing him to see you perfectly.

Snafu likes to claim he isn't a pervert, but most who know him in any way know that's not really true. Sure, he can be a gentleman, but if no one's looking he doesn't especially care. No one but him will know, not even you. Even if he wasn't a pervert, he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away––you're undressing, peeling the clothes off your skin and he can see the whole of your body. In outline, of course, but there nonetheless.

Fucking creep, he tells himself, calls himself, but he doesn't cease his staring till you've put out your candle. At that point he can no longer see you, and he returns to his own tent with fantasies circling his head like vultures.

It's not that you're particularly rude to him. You just don't engage or indulge any of his bullshit, which is fair enough he thinks. He has a lot of bullshit coming out of his mouth 24/7. Everyone knows that. There's a theory he has, though––a theory he came up with just a little while ago, that you would treat him perfectly normal as long as he didn't come on to you in conversation. If he treated you just like he treated most others, then you might actually be nice to him. You're a good person. You're not going to be needlessly mean.

"Afternoon," he says to you, and he has to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from calling you cher. You quirk one of your brows.

"Afternoon," you repeat back. "Something ailing you?"

"Why'd ya think that?" He asks, slinking into one of the chairs in the aid tent.

"This is a medical tent," you say, and he wants to facepalm himself.

I'm just achin' with love for you, boo, he wants to say, and again, he has to bite his tongue to stop it from coming out. Damn it, he thinks, that's actually a good line.

"So why are you here then?" You ask.

"Better than tryin' ta find somethin' edible in my lunch," he grumbles out, leaning back against the chair and closing his eyes. He lets out a satisfied sigh.

You giggle, you actually laugh from something he did, and say, "understandable. You should still eat, though. Here."

You move from your spot at a nearly-fully stocked tray, instead digging through one of the numerous unlabelled boxes piled like towers in the aid tent. From there you pull out a granola bar, brand name, and throw it at Snafu's face. He nearly falls off balance, but catches it before he loses his cool.

"Thank ya kindly, ma'am," he says with a grin, tipping an imaginary hat your direction. Again you smile; there is nothing better than this, sitting across from you, and being the reason for your happiness.

Eventually he has to leave in order to make room for those who actually do require medical aid, but he leaves singing on a high note. You say good-bye to him this time, for the first time, and a smile tugs at his lips all day. Therein lies the secret to your affection––a blazingly obvious secret that all men should know––that he must treat you as an equal, not size you up to something he can win over, something he can buy with cheap words and undressing eyes.

He thinks it over all day, lets it mull over in his head how he should next approach you. Things get twisted in his mind if he doesn't speak them out loud, and by eveningtime he's convinced that he should meet you tonight, even if it's just him barging into your tent. Politely, of course. A polite barging in.

For a moment he stops, his hand poised above the handle of your tent flap. You're definitely in there––or someone is––as there's shuffling behind the material, a sound he can barely process over the rushing of his heart.

Fuck it, he finally says, and without giving himself a chance to doubt, he pulls open the flap.

You don't even notice him. To be fair, your eyes are closed. And you're a bit preoccupied. Your tongue is pretty far down that nurse's throat.

His mouth falls open as every muscle in his body freezes. It's the other nurse that actually sees him, and she taps you harshly with her wide eyes set on Snafu. You tear yourself away from her touch, turn to the marine, and all the air in the tent goes stagnant.

He leaves. Throws the flap back into place and all but sprints away, wide eyes burning in the cool night air. It's only a second or two of running before he hears the flap open and close again, followed by you yelling something, and ultimately your chasing footsteps.

You end up being surprisingly fast, and you easily catch up to him. Once you do you grab his wrist, tugging him back, and forcing him to face you. Both of your hearts are racing a hundred miles a minute, both of your eyes wide with shock.

"Merriel I am begging you, you cannot tell anyone about this, please, please, you can't, I’ll do anything," you beg him, and it's then he notices there's tears on the edge of your eyes. "Please do this for me, you can't tell anyone. Don't even think about it––just, pretend it never happened?"

He's panting, unable to formulate any response, only able to stare into your panic and sink in the fear pouring out of your desperate eyes.

"(Y/N), I'm––no, I won't," he says at last, and you practically collapse with relief, falling into him with your forehead on his shoulder. He continues in a murmur, awkwardly holding you, "I just... I'm.. I'm in love with you. I––I couldn't do that to you."

"Fuck, I know," you say in a breath, removing yourself to look him in the eye. "But I can't be with you."

You pause, and he waits a moment for you to continue, his brow quirked in curiosity.

"I'm a lesbian, Snafu."

"Oh," he says, but it doesn't process. Not for a minute, anyway. "Oh. Ohh. OHHHH."

"Yeah," you say with a vigorous nod.

"Okay, I thought – I thought I jus’ lost my touch, you're just.. a lesbian, okay," he says, sparking a laugh from you.

"You're not angry?"

"Shit cher, you can't control who you wanna get freaky with jus' as much as I can't," he says, smiling, and the tears in your eyes finally fall. They aren't sad, though––birthed from fear, yes, but falling from happiness.

"You're a lifesaver, Snaf."

As heartbroken as he truly is, none of it really shows in his face. At least now he knows it wasn't really his fault that you didn't show interest in him. Still, disappointment fills up his chest, until you tell him that he makes a good friend. It's then he realizes he can still keep you in his life, a version of modesty and stature and innocence that he can't achieve alone.

He won't ever be able to kiss you, which he does mourn––your lips are painfully soft, and every time he catches sight of them he yearns to press his own against them. Your statement on him works in reverse, though; you're a good friend, and that would be enough for Snafu. But Merriel hides within the bravado, within the suaveness of his voice and actions, and Merriel weeps childish tears that Snafu doesn't know how to wipe away and comfort. Snafu understands the reality of the world, but Merriel will always lament the unfairness of life.

You're the last piece of humanity here. It makes sense Merriel would never be able to win you.

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

A Semester Early

request: Pony goes on a winter walk, revisiting his hometown a year after college. He is happier now. 

-

I loved this prompt, and wish I had someone to credit it for, but it was sent anonymously. it was so much fun to write! of course, a one-shot about Ponyboy can’t be written without some angst in there, right? ;) 

ENJOY. let me know what you think!!! 

-

There’s something to be said for the feeling of outgrowing a place. I decided that was it. That was the feeling I’ve felt ever since returning home from college. I hadn’t been home for this long since I was eighteen years old. After graduating a semester early a few weeks ago, Darry managed to talk me into coming home for a few months. I hemmed and hawed about it - living in a city like New York has a way of liberating you in the same way that a small town in Oklahoma can make you feel too small - but finally conceded defeat and agreed to move back in with him and Soda before I found a job. 

It wasn’t the idea of seeing them that deterred me from returning home. Lord knows my arm doesn’t need to be twisted to find an excuse to see Sodapop, Darry, and the gang. It was the idea of not wanting to leave again. Of getting too comfortable for my own good, I guess. 

Before I could dwell too long on the irrational doom I’ve felt since I walked in the door, I had to admit that it was good to be back home. Where I was just Ponyboy. Where everyone knew embarrassing stories about me and knew how I liked my eggs cooked and I never had to remind them of anything about myself. I didn’t have to make myself look cool or nuanced in their presence. They knew who I was. They loved me for who I was.

Darry has all the Christmas decorations sitting in boxes scattered on the floor when I walk in. Him and Soda had refused to decorate without me the past few years. It was something we did together and a tradition that meant even more for him to continue since mom and dad were gone. 

Our mother loved Christmas. I try my best not to tear up when I notice that Darry has her Loretta Lynn Christmas album sitting on top of the record player, waiting for us to play it and sit in bittersweet silence like we’ve done every year. Decorating for Christmas reminds me of her the most, I’ve decided. 

I couldn’t believe this was almost the tenth Christmas without them. It feels like a lifetime.

When I set foot into my childhood bedroom, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia, like I always am. Nothing changes. Not that I expected it to, but it was like walking through a museum. Back at school, I felt like a nomad. I never really had a place to call my own in New York. I was in a different apartment every few months, and none of them were satisfactory, but I had learned to regard it as charm. Perhaps Sodapop knew this, because he always made sure to leave everything as I had it from the last time I had been there.

“I didn’t want to move anything,” Soda said, slinging an arm over my shoulder sweetly, though my height had finally crept beyond his. “I wanted to make sure you’d recognize the place when you finally came back.”

“I guess you guys really do love me,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Always, kiddo,” he said, messing with my hair. 

The gang - or what’s left of it - piles in our small kitchen for “family dinner”, as Two-Bit lovingly referred to it. Darry made us spaghetti - another favorite of mine. He had improved his cooking tenfold since I’ve been gone, I remark.

“It’s that girl of his,” Sodapop says with a sly smirk. I blush. Darry was secretive about his love life. More secretive than me, which was saying something. “She’s taught him a thing or two.”

“And not just in the kitchen,” Two-Bit adds with an immature, clownish smile on his face, never missing an opportunity for an impish euphemism. 

Darry shoots him a look that conveys pure annoyance and deadly threat. I knew that look all too well. I’m pretty sure Darry invented that look for me.

“What?” Two-Bit asks innocently. “She taught him how to clean, too.”

We all break into laughter. “Asshole,” Darry says under his breath.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” I say. 

“Don’t sweat it, Pone,” Soda says. “He didn’t tell me either. I picked up the phone one day when she called about a date with him. I just about dropped dead right then and there.”

I blush, sheepish at the thought of Darry caring about anyone else other than us. As charismatic as he is, Darry is sometimes more shy than I am about girls.  

We fall into our normal rhythm of camaraderie quickly at dinner. It never takes long for me to fall back in line with the gang, catching up on their stories and mine from the last time we were together. Though Tulsa no longer feels the way it used to for me, the gang has. I know they’re the only reason I’d ever come back to this place.

“Gee, Pony,” Two-Bit says while we’re cleaning up the table. “Every time you visit, you seem smarter.”

“Smarter?” I ask.

“‘Ya know… cooler. Different, in a good way.”

“I think the word he’s looking for is ’sophisticated’,” Darry says, slinging the dish towel over his shoulder. “A college scholar.” He smiles at me proudly.

“Thanks,” I say almost inaudibly. It’s surely a compliment, but it makes chills run up my spine. I’m not sure why. 

Before we begin decorating, I head towards the door, grabbing my coat. 

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” I say, reaching for the door knob. “To… clear my head.”

“You okay, kiddo?” Darry asks, puzzled. “It’s 8 o’clock at night.”

“I’m okay,” I say. “Just trying to take it all in.”

He looks at Sodapop, confused. “Do you want me to go with you, buddy?” Sodapop asks. 

I shake my head vehemently. “I’m fine, really,” I say. “I just want to walk around like I used to.” 

Darry shrugs. “Don’t be gone for too long. Soda can barely wait to put up the stockings.”

I chuckle, a bit emptily. “Roger that.”

The cold air fills my warm lungs with a shock. New York winters are much more brutal than in Oklahoma. The snow piles high, and it isn’t as picturesque as you see in the movies, either. Just a lot of brown and grey slush. One year, a few of my friends and I went Upstate to go skiing, and that was really nice, though.

I make my way down the sidewalk, not really believing that I’m actually home. I mean, I’ve been home multiple times before now. But it feels different now, because another stage of my life is finished, another chapter closed. And I didn’t think I would be living with my brothers forever or cooped up in Tulsa for the rest of my life, but I’m finally realizing that life is changing. I just can’t realize why I’m bothered so much by it. I think I realize things too late.  

I make my way around the block, lost in thought. I notice some of our neighbors have hung Christmas decorations outside their houses. They decorate the same exact way every year, as Darry does, and it makes me feel a bit nostalgic. Dad used to drive us around in his old truck to look at all the lights in our neighborhood. We never really had money to spend on visiting the light displays on the better side of town, but we wouldn’t have ever known it. This was just as fun.

I realize that the perpetual feeling of a broken heart during Christmastime doesn’t do much for my sadness right now. 

I stop at a forelorn house at the end of our street, on the corner. It’s a small yellow house, a bit less dilapidated than ours. Typically adorned with all types of big, ceramic lights this time of year, the house sits solemnly, vacant and dark. I stare at it a bit, the writer in me trying to make a metaphor out of its image.

“Mrs. Friedman died two months ago,” I hear a voice behind me. “Her house has been empty ever since.” 

“You followed me,” I say, more as a statement than a question.

“I could tell something was bothering you,” Sodapop says.

I laugh, a little curtly. “You can always tell.”

“Of course I can,” he smiles. "And I didn’t want you to be out here alone.”

“You didn’t tell me Mrs. Friedman died,” I say, a bit offended. “She cooked us meals every week after mom and dad died. She always gave us her son’s old clothes, too, remember?”

“I know,” Soda says. “Darry and I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You thought I’d be upset?”

Soda looks at me. “You’re a little bit more sentimental than the rest of us.”

I scoff. “She was our neighbor for years. Did you go to her funeral?”

“Of course,” Sodapop says. “'Woulda been silly for you to come all the way home for a 100-year-old woman’s funeral, though. Don’tcha think?”

“I guess."

We sit in silence for a few moments, and I focus on our breath in the air. It’s white, like cigarette smoke. I laugh a bit in my mind, reminiscing on the period of time where I couldn’t go more than fifteen minutes without smoking. It’s been nearly three years since I’ve quit.

“What’s up, Pone?” Soda finally asks. “What’s wrong?" I give him a look.

“What?” he says. “I can see right through you.”

I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly it is.

“It’s just… I always had an excuse. I had New York. I had college. I knew I was leaving, but I always knew I would come back. And four years seemed so far away,” I say. “Now I’m not sure there’s a place for me here anymore. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Well… no,” Soda says. “Because that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Pone. There’s always gonna be a place for you here. This is your home. Don’t you know that?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, it’s never going to be like it was. We’re never going to be living under the same roof as one another. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m going next. But it’ll never just be all of us together again. I feel like we’re losing another part of the gang for good, but that part is me. And it feels like….”

“It feels like Dal and Johnny all over again.” 

“Kinda.”

Sodapop pauses for a moment, thinking about this. Though he isn’t the most articulate, he’s certainly the most insightful. 

“Wanna know how I see it?” Sodapop asks.

I nod. “Of course.”

“You’re twenty-two years old. You graduated college at the top of your class. You have job offers all over the country. That’s something to be proud of, Pone. That doesn’t happen for just anyone. Hell, it didn’t happen for me and Darry. It won’t happen for Steve or Two-Bit. It didn’t happen for Dally or Johnny. You should be grateful you are where you are.”

“Oh, come on…” I say. “I didn’t mean it like that-"

“No, listen,” Sodapop says. "You think you should be feelin’ guilty about leaving, but you shouldn’t be. Me, Darry, the gang, even mom and dad would want you getting the hell out of this pokey ‘ol town,” he says with a laugh. “It’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.” 

“I know that. I’m thankful for that.”

“Hell of a way of showin’ it,” Soda says jokingly.

“I guess I never thought of it that way,” I say. “I always figured you and Darry would think I left you guys behind or somethin’. I never wanted you to think that.”

“C’mon, Pone. We’d never think that. We’ve worked so hard to help you make somethin’ of yourself. We’re real proud.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Thanks for knocking some sense into me.”

“You know, you’re afraid of changin’, but that’s one thing that will never change about you,” he says as we begin to walk back to the house. “You’ll always need your big brothers to help you see what’s right in front of you.”

“You’re right about that,” I say. 

“And don’t think you’ll never come back here to visit the gang,” he says. “We’ll drag you back here if it’s the last thing we do. You’ll know where to find us.”

“You’re right,” I say. “I’ll never be able to get away from you guys."

“Exactly,” he says. “Now, can we go back and decorate for Christmas? Please? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

“Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “Let’s go."

-

I really could’ve written this conversation forever, but I wanted to keep it short and sweet. Let me know what you think!!!

P.S. if you have any one-shot requests, my ask is always open. I love when you all send in your ideas :)

P.P.S. if you’d like to write a review, this one-shot (along with my other writing) is also posted to my fanfiction.net account, which is linked here 🖤

[slashersins]

Enjoy something I probably won’t finish .

It’s quiet . The volume off in your car as you drive through back roads . Music didn’t seem to help your mood . In fact , it seemed to worsen it . Happy sounds tore at you as you remembered flicking moments when you had thought you were loved . Sad songs cut deep as you remembered the way he had so easily left , telling you he couldn’t care less how he hurt you . How he’d never loved you . The emotions had swarmed in your head and you’d done your best to refuse to cry . You hated to cry , hated how your voice got thick and dry and overly wet at the same time . Hated how splotchy and heated and red your face became when you tried to hold back tears . Hated how it felt to have your eyes so raw , being so exhausted afterwards . So the music was turned off only ten minutes into your drive .

You weren’t sure how long you’d been driving . Crossing from Texas into Louisiana an hour in , and it’s been miles and hours since then . You had no where to go . Just wanting to get away . And you really should have been paying attention to how much gas you had . Frustrated , you let out a scream , hitting your steering wheel as your car stuttered to a halt , barely able to pull off backroads gravel and half way into a shallow ditch . You just couldn’t do anything right . Couldn’t keep the love of a man , couldn’t even get the damn man to love you . And you couldn’t keep track of your gas and now you stuck in some back roads miles from the last town and who knew how many to the next .

You didn’t see the point in getting out just yet . The sky was starting to light up with the red and orange and purple hues of the sunset . And you had enough sense in you to know walking a lonely country road at night wasn’t the smartest thing to do . At least it was pretty , wherever you were . Somewhere in Louisiana . The trees tall and rich with green leaves . The road curving and familiar , so much like back home . At least you could spend the next few minutes enjoying how the sun set before it got dark and you were forced to sleep in your car the rest of the night .

The lights of a truck had you squinting awake from your restless slumber . Curled up in your front seat , you managed to shield your eyes , sitting up . Looks like someone found you . A yawn left your lips , the concern that should have flooded you pushed aside as grogginess made itself a home . Without a cautious thought , you opened your door , got out , wrapped up in an old sweater you were using as a makeshift blanket .

Suppressing a yawn and failing as you put the back of your hand to your mouth , you gave a lazy wave , eyes still adjusting to the bright headlights and the dark all at the same time . For a moment you think no ones going to get out of the truck , and you tilt your head some before turning to get back into your car .

“You okay , ma’am?” The sound of a truck door being slammed shut draws your attention back . And the southern drawl is almost comforting to hear after being stuck out in the middle of nowhere . You give a sheepish smile and shift on your feet , looking as embarrassed at the situation as you felt despite trying not to show it .

“I ran outta gas . Kinda stuck out here . But I figured it’d be safer to walk during the day than at night so I’m camping out.” The man moves closer . Tall , oil stained coveralls and a red jacket to keep himself warm .

“Well ain’t that all kinds of unlucky.” He laughed some , looking over the car and then you . Giving a jerk to his truck . “If you wanna keep enjoying your little sleep over I won’t bother ya . But if you’d rather sleep on a bed I don’t mind taking ya into town . Ambrose ain’t too far from here . And a bed might be better than a car seat .”

You blink , the sudden offer alluring . You really didn’t have a lot of options . And a bed would be better than sleeping in the car . Plus if you were close to town that’d mean you could get gas for your car and stock up on some snacks before . . . before you decide to head back home or keep on driving . You scratch at your cheek , giving a laugh and sighing in defeat .

“I think I might have to take you up on that offer . And thank you . I really appreciate it .” You lean into your car , grabbing the bag you’d haphazardly packed before taking off and slung it over your shoulder . Waking over to him you offer your hand , a half sleepy smile on your lips . “I’m y/n . Nice to meet you.”

The man grins , grabbing your hand and shaking , letting out a low whistle when you don’t just limp grip his hand but firmly shake it with purpose . You just shrug and smile . “Bo. Bo Sinclair. Nice to meet ya. And don’t worry about you’re car . I’ll have one of the guys come get in in the morning and bring it to my shop. Get you gas and get you on your way.”

You perk up a bit , letting him walk you to the passenger side and opening the door for you . “What ? You don’t have to . I can walk back . Really I don’t wanna cause you too much trouble.” He shakes his head , flashing you a smile as he shuts the door and walks around the front to the other side .

“Isn’t any trouble . Would be a shitty ass mechanic and car shop owner if I let you walk all the way to your car carrying a jug of gas.” He flashes you a smile and you shakes your head .

“I think you’re just trying to show off your southern hospitality .” Bo snickered , moving his truck out of park and turning it around , headed to . . . “Ambrose . Is it a small town ?” You shift the conversation , curious about where you’re headed .

Bo gives you a side glance , smiling to himself , “Maybe I’m just this charmin’.” You laugh and he raises a brow at you , only to seem to somber as you mention Ambrose. “It’s my home town . It’s small , but big enough . We gotta fancy wax museum up on the hill past the fields . It’s ‘bout the only reason anyone passes through anymore.”

“Really?” Despite your obvious sleepiness , you manage to perk up , curious as he mentions the wax museum . “We don’t even have a dollar store in my home town!” You laugh some, bringing your feet up to sit crisscross in the worn down seat of Bo’s truck . “Would it be too much to go look at it before I take off tomorrow ? Is there an entry fee ? I should have enough to pay for the tow and the gas and maybe some snacks , but if I have any left over I’d love to see it.”

Bo blinks at you for a moment , as if he’s considering something before he chuckles and turns his gaze back to the road . “Sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble . It’s a donation ran kinda museum . If your feeling’ inclined to pay for your visit , I won’t be stoppin’ ya .”

You grin , already looking forward to tomorrow . Which was something you hadn’t done in a while . At least not since . . . Your smile fell , a different kind of tiredness taking over as you gazed out the window . A large sign coming into view that read “Welcome to Ambrose” it looked like it needed a fresh coat of paint , but was well maintained . It chased away your previous sadness , replacing it with a mixture of nostalgia for your own home town and excitement to see this small one .

“Isn’t much to look at this time of night , but it’s home.” You give a glance to Bo , brow raised as he played up his home town . The southern boy charm oozing off him was refreshingly adorable . And it seemed he knew it .

“Sir , I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.” You’re almost laughing as you look at Bo . It seems he likes showing off because he’s smirking like crazy and laying on his accent thicker and thicker .

“Ma’am , I got no idea what yer talk in’ about.” He pulls into a drive , parking his car before tossing an arm over the empty middle seat and giving you a grin . “Hope ya don’t mind the fact we don’t gotta fancy motel .”

“I can’t believe you expect me to stay in a motel . I have a perfectly unfunctioning car to sleep in.” Bo laughs at that , shaking his head and shooting you a playful look .

“I could always drive you back and dump you there . Make you walk all the way to this little town o’ mine.” He winks , getting out of the truck and walking to your side , opening the door for you . You get out , taking a moment to be serious as he shuts the door and jerks his head towards the house .

“Really , though , I do appreciate you giving me a lift and a place to sleep.” You smile , genuinely thankful , and it makes Bo pause . Once again looking down at you as if he was mulling something over in his head . Wanting to ease the silence you playfully nudge his shoulder with your fist . “And all that country boy charm was refreshing to hear . I’m starting to wonder if people come here for the wax museum or for the way you talk.” Your words break him out of his thoughts and he laughs .

“Trust me . It’s the museum that brings people in . I ain’t all rainbows and sunshine all the time . Even us charmin’ southern gentlemen got a little bit of a bastard inside ‘em .” You roll your eyes , feeling so at home with how Bo went on . Maybe you should visit your home town for a while after you get gas . It’d be nice to go back .

The two of you joked , each one trying to lay on your accents thicker and thicker , jabbing at each other in an almost snarky way as bo grabbed a key from the motel counter and walked you to your room . Once again you went from light hearted to sincere thanks for the help . Bo just waved it off . Giving you a good night before you shut the door .

Outside Bo frowned to himself . He should of just killed you and taken you to Vinny . Should of ended your life , but something about you . . . He wasn’t sure . But whatever it was kept him from killing you . Plus you were entertaining . Not falling for his charm but actually enjoying it in a casual way . Maybe it was the small town solidarity he got from you . Either way , you were alive . For now , at least . He’d deal with it in the morning . Or better yet , he’d let Vincent decide on what to do with you .